March 26, 2023 WHEN THINGS GO REALLY WRONG (1967)
In 1967, at Fort Bragg, NC, I had expected to leave the field on a Thursday, but circumstances kept us there until Sunday. Weary and covered in grime, I pulled up to my modest trailer that held not only my worldly possessions but also my girlfriend. To my dismay, a bonfire raged in the yard, consuming all my clothes, boots, and belongings. As a 17-year-old, I realized that I had never raised a hand against a woman, except for my sister. But if I stepped out of that truck, either they would end up in jail or, worse, prison. So, I chose to head to the barracks instead. I found an empty bed with no sheets or covers, located a locker, and went to sleep without a shower or change of clothes. That girl was gone.
A couple of weeks later, late in the evening when visitors weren’t allowed in the barracks (a room filled with 45 double bunks on each side), I heard some catcalling. Men were calling out, “Hey baby, spend some time with me.” Amidst the voices, I heard someone asking about Richard, and several guys shouted, “Hey, I am Richard!” I recognized the voice, and I couldn’t believe it – my ex-girlfriend, “no more,” stood by my bed. She apologized and expressed a desire to get back together. My response was simple, “You’re nuts,” and I refused any reconciliation. As she turned to leave, she used some colorful language to convey her feelings. The men directed her towards the door, suggesting she needed a “real man.”
A month or so later, I got into trouble. They accused me of causing a race riot by throwing a record and a record player out of a four-story building. I wrote about that incident a couple of years ago. I ended up in the stockade for a few days. My Captain from Pennsylvania wanted to see me thrown under the jail, and the Major overseeing our battalion wanted me gone. They decided to cut orders for me to go to Vietnam and gave me a 45-day leave, which meant I had to leave in a few days.
My closest friend in the army had recently married; his wife had come from South Carolina to live off-post. He invited me over for dinner to meet her. It’s funny how you don’t truly know someone until you live with them. She was stunning, and we quickly became friends. However, my friend got drunk and started mistreating her. I tried to calm him down, but dealing with a drunk can be challenging, and things escalated. I ended up hitting him and knocking him out. I left and hitchhiked back to the post. The next day, I learned that after I left, he had hurt her quite badly. She went to our captain and shared her story, explaining that she had no money to return home and wouldn’t stay with him any longer. I told the Captain that I had a friend who could lend me $100 before payday, albeit at a high interest rate, but it would help get her home. I got the money, but by the time I returned, she had left with the MPs to collect her belongings, and I never saw or heard from her again. I was out $100 and a friendship.”
richardwboyanton 