On Sunday afternoon July 1, 1962, I sat in the car with my mom and dad at the corner of Cleveland and Main Streets in Electra, Texas. The windows were down, it was hot and I was eager to get on the air conditioned bus that would take me from Electra, Texas, to Dallas, to the U.S. Air Force and to the world.
I was 18 years old and had been out of high school one month. I worked at the local IGA grocery store for the past few years, and, after graduating from high school, had spent one more month working there while saying my goodbyes to the people and places that had been my life for the past 10 years. My mom told me that she had promised herself she would not cry when I boarded the bus. She had cried when Arden left, cried when Curtis left, but, she would not cry when I left. Bet she did.
We stepped out of the car as the Continental Trailways bus pulled up to the curb and stopped. No one got off, no one got on. We walked up to the door as the driver stepped down. "I'm going to Dallas," I said. He took my ticket and I boarded the bus. I sat in a seat that allowed me to wave at my mom and dad, he was wearing khakis and and a long sleeve white shirt and my mom was wearing a light print dress and had short hair. I took a photo of them in my mind.
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On Monday morning, I got up at the freezing-cold Lawrence Hotel in downtown Dallas and walked two blocks to the Air Force induction station. I identified myself, completed a few forms and and joined about 40 other 18 year old young men (we thought we were men) for our physical. I assumed that all of us would spend tonight at Lackland AFB in San Antonio. It was not to be.
Things went ary as our physical was ending. Forty 18 years old boys wearing only their tighty whities sat side by side on a long bench against the wall of a small gym. Five or six white frocked doctors entered the room and closed the doors. Someone told us to leave our underwear on the bench and stand shoulder to shoulder on that black line.
We stripped and stepped forward. For the next 30 minutes, the five doctors went up and down the line probing, prodding, listening with stethoscopes, feeling here, pushing there, shining lights here, sticking tongue depressors there, and, in general, making sure that this amazing example of human flesh was up to what the U.S. Air Force was about to demand of it. We already knew we were amazing.
The doctors gathered at the far end of the room while forty of us stood naked on that black line waiting for the word to put on our underwear, return to our lockers, get dressed and head out. We were ready! But, first, we waited.
The doctors made notes, pointed back at him or him, moved file folders here and there, walked back and asked one of us a question and seemed ready to call it a day. Then, then...
One doctor walked the line all the way to the end, turned around, came halfway back and stopped about eight feet in front of me looking at my waist. That cleared my mind! His head moved back and forth as he studied my hips. When my next-shoulder neighbors glanced down at my hips to see what was up--uh,what was going on, I gave them both one of those, "I'm not happy with what you're doing" looks. Both straightened up.
Doctor 1 called doctor 2 over. They muttered something about me and shared the study of my naked waist. Doctor 1 moved closer to me, got down on his knees and moved his head back and forth obviously entranced by something about my waist. Doctors 3, 4 and 5, wondering what they had missed, joined doctors 1 and 2. The naked to-be airmen 1 through 19 and 21 through 40 all moved forward--off the black line!--to see what was attracting everybody's attention. I would not look down because, well, I just did not want to look down.
Now, with everybody but God looking at my waist, doctor 1 reached up with both hands and touched my hips. He moved my hips a bit, mumbled something to the white frocked crowd gathered around him, and got a unanimous agreement of nods and supporting mumbles. What is going on!
Doctor 1 stood up, told me to put my underwear on and follow him. Watch how fast I can do that.
Doctor one directed me to a table in his office, and, using a tape, measured my legs. He pushed and pulled my feet and heels, rolled my legs left and right and asked me when I broke my leg. I said I never did. He said, "Your right leg is 1 inch longer that your left leg--did you know that?" No. He said that I should get dressed and check in at the lobby. At the lobby, the nice lady told me that I had pneumonia (pneumonia!) and she was giving me a bus ticket back to Electra!
End of story
Because I did not want to return to Electra--I had already checked out of Electra--I opted to join my brother in Fort Worth where I could plan my next move. I went to Fort Worth.
One week later, I explained my plight by telephone to the Fort Worth Air Force recruiter. Ten minutes later, he called me back, drove straight to my brother's house, took me straight to the Dallas induction center and led me to a classroom where I waited most of the day. About midday, forty recruits joined me in the classroom where we stood and swore allegiance to the stars and stripes. Forty one of us promptly left the induction center for Lackland AFB in San Antonio.
I'm sure the U.S. Air Force knew what they were doing on that first and second Monday of July 1962, but, I did not.
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