You Never Know Where The Path Might Lead You

Sometimes its the small and seemingly trivial decisions one makes that turn out to be lifealtering. These little choices seem so insignificant at the time that you often barely even think
about the decision just make the choice and off we go. Its only later and sometimes much,
much later that you take the time to look back on our choice and reflect on it.
Hmmmm.what if I ., instead of .? Wonder what my life would have been like at this
point Of course, theres no way to know what the present would have been if youd made a
different choice in the past at that fateful fork in the road, you chose one way and not the
other, and theres no going back. The past is past, there is only the present which resulted from
past choices. Looking back you can judge those key choices based on how things turned out
good choices, good results, poor choices and you pay the penalty. OK, Ill give an example of
what I mean by looking back on some of the small choices Ive made in my life.
It was 1968. Id just graduated from Southern Illinois University in Carbondale and was now
considering what to do with my immediate future. The Viet Nam War was in high gear and I was
classified 1-A by my friendly, local, draft board. Without a student deferment, all that stood
between me and a free trip to the rice paddies was a bit of time. Id talked over some major
options with my Dad. He was a World War II vet, having served in the infantry. He had seen
war close up and knew there were some things hed sooner forget than remember. In 1968, guys
facing the draft pretty much had four choices. You could refuse to serve, and go to prison instead.
You could try opting to register as a C.O. but that was difficult and I knew it wasnt me anyway.
There was Canada many guys fled north of the border to avoid the draft. But there was no
return ticket on that trip, and Id never been to Canada or knew anyone there. Or you could
enlist. So, if I was going to have to serve in the military anyway, I decided to look into enlisting
in one of the services where I might not actually have to be dodging bullets from an AK-47 or
risk falling into a pit of punji stakes. Ah, how about the Coast Guard? Sorry, said the Chief at
the local USCG recruiting office, Were full up got a waiting list of hundreds of college grads
too. Ok, how about the National Guard? They help flood and hurricane victims, repair levies
and so on, and mainly they stay in the god ol US of A. Nope, same as the Coast Guard, full up
mostly with the sons of well-to-do parents who found it in their hearts to donate generously to
some congressmans political fund. As the son of a truck driver and secretary, that left my family
off the list. Well, lets seeah ha! How about the Navy? Floating around on some destroyer of
carrier out in the Pacific or the Med and see the world as the recruiting posters said. But the
Navy was full-up too. Ok, I decided to at least give the Army a look and see what they had to
offer me as a recent college grad. So down to the local Army recruiting office I went. There at a
desk sat a large, middle-aged sergeant, with a buzz cut and a huge mustache. I explained my
situation and after a few nods and um hums, the sergeant says Weve got just the thing for you!
How would you like to fly? Fly? I thought. Fly what though? I thought the Air Force did all
the flying. Ahh, yeah, well maybe, Sarge. What would I be flying in the Army?
Helicopters! he beamed up a toothsome grin. Helicopters! I thought. Oh no, if Im going to
fly it wont be a helicopter theyre just slow-moving, low-flying targets for ground fire. No
thanks, and I did a quick about face and retreated asap. Finally, I visited my Air Force recruiter.
Ah a college grad eh? Yep, we can get you in. If you qualify we can send you to pilot training
too. Four months and much testing later I was on line to go into the Air Force. On December
15, 1968 my 23rd birthday I received my draft notice. Called up my Air Force recruiter and
he set me up to enlist the day after Christmas.

So, on the 26th of December, 1968, suffering from an awful hangover, I waited to be sworn in at
the local military induction station. There were maybe 50 of us young recruits, sitting around
passing the time and waiting to move out. Most were Army draftees, with a few volunteer
enlistees like me. A Marine Master Sergeant walked into the waiting room. You could tell he
was a career man - or, as I later learned the term, a lifer by his bearing, tailored starched
uniform, campaign hat, battle ribbons, and lots of hash marks and his sleeve. He stood at the
front of the room and shouted out Alright, you scum! Line up! Toes on the blue line, eyes
front! Youre at attention idiot! Dont you look at me slime ball, eyes front! Now count off.
We counted off til the last man in the last row shouted out 52! 53! 54!. Right Said the
Sergeant. Anyone whos enlisting in the Navy, Air Force Marines or Coast Guard move to the
back wall and stand at attention. About a dozen of us hurriedly scurried to the back of the room
and did our best imitation of the requested attention stance. There were about 40 men left in
the ragged formation. The rest of you, Draftees, fill in these gaps, straighten up these lines!
More scurrying by the cowed Draftees. Count off by fours, now! demanded the Sergeant.
One! Two! Three! Four! One!.... until all had finished. Then the Sergeant said All number
ones take two steps forward, Now! There were exactly 10 number Ones. Right. You men have
just volunteered for the United States Marines. Right face, Forward march! And the ten
volunteers went off with the Marine Sergeant to start life in the Marine Corps.
Later that day I raised my hand and took the oath of allegiance thus becoming a new member
of the United States Air Force. So, I had dodged a bullet figuratively, but close to literally and wasnt selected to join the Marines. Im sure all of the volunteers ended up slogging
through rice paddies over in Nam. I wonder if they all made it back?
Late that evening we took off from Midway Airport in Chicago and 4 hours later arrived at
Lackland Air Force Base, San Antonio Texas, to begin Basic Training. I felt pretty awful on the
flight down it was the first time Id ever flown and I was very hungover! By the time wed
landed I was OK though really tired, not having slept in about 36 hours. As soon as we got into
the terminal though, I was wide awake, thanks to a tough looking drill sergeant with a very loud
voice. We managed to board a military bus painted air force blue and white and were
delivered to a brightly lit building that smelled of bacon grease and disinfectant. As I and the
other poor souls shuffled into the entry, the smell of coffee and bacon hit me. This, as I soon
learned, was our Chow Hall kind of a low-rent, high stress version of the typical college
cafeteria.
Line up! Take a tray, and get your breakfast! And make damned sure you eat everything you
take! Move it! Move it! Move it! screamed the DI. I shuffled thru the chow line, as a
succession of tired and grim-looking young trainees slopped scrambled eggs, soggy French
toast, greasy home-fries, greasier sausage, and almost-raw bacon and, of course since this was
The South, grits. Now I had never seen grits before, and wasnt sure what the heck it was. I
whispered to the fellow behind me Whats this stuff?. Luckily this guy was from the South
Hopnoddle, Georgia or some such place - and he knew exactly what this grayish slop was.
Why Yankee, aint you never et grits before? I guess not. My names Tom. Tom
Dudones. Im from Chicago I replied. Well pleased ta meetcha, Tom. Im John, John Deal.
Folks call me JD. I hail from Hickory, North Carolina. So Id met my first buddy in this new ,
and not-so-brave world.
We scarfed down the food in about 10 minutes when the DI shouted out All right, you
scum! Move out and line up by twos! Outside, now!. Move it! We hussled out of the chow hall
and into the night, forming two ragged lines out on the street.
Dress up that line ! shouted our friendly DI. Stand straight! Eyes front! Alright now.By
the leftHarch! Het, 2,3,4! Het 2,3,4! Your other left, knothead! Get in step! Het, 2,3,4! Het
2,3,4!. And so we began our training, marching in the dark. After about ten minutes of

marching we approached a brightly lit barracks. Our DI shouted Squdron.Halt! as we

stumbled to a stop.
Our DI moved to the front of our group or Squadron as we learned it was called in
militaryese . Our DI, in his starched fatigues, Smoky the Bear hat and swagger stick, moved to
the front of our squad. Alright, on my command get in the barracks and find yourself a bunk!
You will put your gear on your bunk and then stand at the foot of your bunk at Attention!
Now...Squadron dismissed! Move! Move! Move!
We all rushed through the narrow front door and into our new home. There were two rows of
bunk beds, lining the walls with a center isle clear except for a pair of bright silver trash cans. We
each took position in front of our bunks and tried to look like we were at attention. Stow your
personal gear, use the latrine and then hit the sack! Lights out in five minutes! Move it! We all
scrambled and it was chaos, but we managed to get things done, and in a few minutes we were
settled in, and climbing into our bunks. A quick look at the clock on the barracks wall showed it
to be 230am. Get in those bunks and get to sleep! Revile is at 5am, so you scum better hit the
sack. Lights out! our DI shouted and our new world went dark. Only the red EXIT sign over
the far entry cast faint shadows down the center of the barracks. Oh god, I thought. If I have to
endure four years of this, maybe going to jail wouldnt have been so bad. And with that happy
thought , I instantly fell asleep.
Sure enough, what seemed like five minutes after my head hit the pillow, I awoke with a start.
All the lights in the barracks were on and our DI, Sgt Dowling, was rattling his baton around the
ribs of the galvanized trash can and shouting Revile! Get you lazy butts out of the sack and
stand at attention at the foot of your bunks! Now! Lets go move it! We stumbled out of our
bunks and lined up barefooted at the foot of the racks. Sergeant D paced along the aisle with his
assistant , Sergeant Anston, shouted at anyone moving too slow. We had five minutes to dress
and make our beds and line up for chow! I dont know how or if we did it in five minutes we
werent allowed watches and the only clock hung over the office door, out of our sight but we
were in formation and marching off to chow. It was still pitch dark and pretty cold but at least
we were going now.
The next 2 weeks were hell, but after those things seemed better as we learned the ropes and
how to behave like soldiers well, airmen anyway. Classes on first aid, military history, phys
ed, rifle range, obstacle course, marching, military courtesy, rank, law, security and so much
more. Things were becoming more routine and the harassing by our DIs had just about ceased.
Sergeants Dowling and Anston werent bad guys once you learned what it was they needed you
to do and were able to perform at the expected level.
So after 10 weeks or so I finished Basic and, as I was a college graduate, was sent off to
Officer Training School. Well it didnt take but about 3 days before I knew I definitely didnt
want to be an officer to me that was for those that wanted to make the military a career, not
reluctant warriors like me who only enlisted to stay out of the rice paddies. As I had qualified
for language specialist training while in basic training, I went to my commandant and said I
would prefer to continue as an enlisted man, and hoped to get into the language program. No
sweat, he signed off on my transfer and the next day I was transferred to a Holding barracks to
await my assignment.
The military had several language programs, including a program called Palace Dog. It was a
volunteer program, in which men (yes, men only, there were no women recruits that I knew of)
were trained to teach English to the Vietnamese. I thought about volunteering for the program,
but the next training session wouldnt start for two months and I didnt want to wait that long to

get moving. There were two language schools run by the military, and the schools were
generally a mixture of all service groups air force, army and navy. The primary training
school was at the Presidio, a military base out in California. Almost all languages were taught
there and I do mean all everything from Hebrew to Arabic, Spanish to Chinese. The other
training program was for Russian and it was at Syracuse University in New York. You didnt get
any choice as to which program or language you would study it was on an as needed basis
and the military made the choice.
The next language class coming up started in about three weeks at The Presidio, and was for
Mandarin Chinese. So I was in line for that group. Until then my days consisted of about an
hour in the morning of clean up in and around our barracks and then you had the rest of the
day free.
After about three weeks, I happened to break a temporary tooth filling I tended to grind my
teeth in my sleep. So I went to see my Sergeant and got his OK to head over to Dental. After
getting my tooth taken care of, I decided that I might as well stop in at the office were orders
were cut and see if anything was cooking on my language school training orders yet. I walked
into the office really just a big old Quonset hut left over from WWII. There at the far end of
the office, sitting at his desk, was the sergeant in charge. Now Id been bugging him about my
orders for language school for a couple of weeks, so he knew me for sure. He was a Tech
Sergeant, and a pretty good guy.
Hey Sarg, anything new on that Chinese school out at the Presidio? Its a real drag just
waiting around here.
Dudones! Hey, how would you like to go to Syracuse University and study Russian? I just had
a guy in that class drop out to go to Officers Training School, and Im one short of my class
quota.
Wow! Syracuse University? Russian? Yeah, sure, Ill take it! When does it start?
The class starts tomorrow. Ill cut the orders and get them to your barracks sergeant. You better
get back to barracks and pack your gear. A vehicle will be there at 1600 to take you to the
airport. Youll fly commercial. The ticket will be with your orders packet. Now get the hell out
of here so I can get this done!
You bet, Sarg! Thanks! And off I hurried back to barracks, threw my meager gear in a
duffle, got my dress blues on and 3 hours later I was in a TWA airliner heading to Syracuse.
We landed at Hancock Field about 10pm. I was met by a Staff Sergeant and he drove me to the
base at Skytop. The base located above the Married Student Housing Area - consisted of two
fairly new two-story brick dorms, a brick cafeteria and about ten World War II era Quonset huts
that were the classrooms. I did some paperwork, got checked in at the office and assigned a
room. Finally got to my new home on the second floor of Barracks I at around midnight. My
roommate Larry McKenna, form Yakima, Washington - greeted me and in a half hour or so I
was finally settled in my bed. A new beginning..little did I realize then that the whole
direction of my life had just changed.
I started classes at Skytop the next morning. Russian is difficult to learn even uses a different
alphabet - and god knows I was no wiz at languages. But the military had a Proficiency
Incentive Program if you flunked out of language school, you would find yourself on a 22 hour
flight to Viet Nam the next day. Instead of studying Russian you would be walking the flight line

at DaNang guarding the aircraft from attacks by the Viet Cong. So I studied hard and was
making a bit of headway. I wasnt the only reluctant warrior in the program. Of the eighty or
so airmen in my class (there were no airwomen in our class, or for that matter in the entire
language school), I only knew of one who actually wanted to be in the military. He was an 18
year old from Texas and wanted to make the military a career. The rest of us volunteers were
there because of the Draft.
After a few weeks, one evening after chow, I was studying the vocabulary list that Id be tested
on the next day. My roommate, Larry, who had been in the program about 6 months by then,
asked if I wanted to go down to a local bar for a beer. Theyre having a free keg and popcorn
and old-time movies tonight at The Big O, Larry said. I dont know Lar. Ive got a vocab test
tomorrow and I dont want to blow it I replied. Ahh, youll do OK. Lets just go down for an
hour or so. So, I relented and we headed down the hill to the Big O. It was a favorite of the
guys at Skytop, mainly because it was the closest place you could get a beer just down the hill
and a about a ten minute walk.
There was a pretty good crowd when we arrived, considering it was a Wednesday night. Most of
the crowd were students from the University, but there was also not a few of us from Skytop.
We stuck out a bit due to our short hair a military obsession. But we didnt get any hassel from
the student group. I think most of them either didnt care who we were or figured we were just
unlucky draftees. Larry and I got a couple of beers and found a table to sit at. We were there
only a short while when a couple of girls came up to our table and asked if they could join us.
One of them knew Larry a bit they had met a few times at the same bar. Sure, pull up a seat
girls!. Larrys friend sat next to him and the other girl, sat next to me. Hi! Im Jan. Whats
your name? she shouted. She, of course had to shout to be heard over the general roar of the
crowd. She was young, pretty and had a very nice figure. She had dark hair, gray eyes, and was
wearing a dress that showed off her nice legs. Hi I shouted. Im Tom, Larrys roommate up at
Skytop. We seemed to hit it off right away, and shared some free popcorn and drank a few cold
beers. We talked for an hour or so and she seemed to be enjoying my company. I sure was
enjoying being with her! Jan, or to be more precise, Janet, was in her third year at Syracuse,
came from some Lake Something up north, and taught skiing at the nearby Drumlins Ski area in
the winter. The time flew by and soon it was nearing time for Larry and me to head back up the
hill to the barracks. I asked Jan if she came to the Big O often. She replied that she might be
back on Friday evening. Great I said, Maybe Ill see you then. :Maybe you will Jan
replied. Bye, Tom! Jan shouted as Larry and I headed for the door. Bye, Jan! See you
Friday? I hollered back. Maybe! Jan said. Well, I figured a maybe was a hell of a lot better
than Not a chance!. So with that happy thought, I followed Larry out the door and we began
our trudge up the hill. It was cold and there was some wind to boot, but with the thought that I
had met this pretty girl tonight and might see her again in another day or two, I didnt let the
weather bother me. I was feeling on top of the world.
We did meet on that Friday night and afterwards I walked her back to her dorm Sherbrook
Hall, or something like that. We kissed goodnight and then I had a 2 mile walk back to Skytop.
But I didnt care. Although I didnt know it then, Id just had my first date with the girl Id
spend the rest of my life with.

Yep, were still together going on 45 years. So, you just never know where the path might
lead you. If I had made even one decision differently
If Id gone to Canada to avoid the Draft, or opted to stay in Officers Training.
If Id not done as well on the military language test, or volunteered for the Palace Dog program.
If I hadnt broken the tooth filling in my sleep or hadnt decided to stop on my way back from
the dental visit to check on my orders.
If Id said no thanks to the offer to go to Syracuse to study Russian.
If I hadnt agreed to join my room mate, Larry, and go down to The Big O that Wednesday night.
If I hadnt gone back that next Friday night, thinking, Na, shell never show up.
If any one of those things happened differently, then Jan and I would never have met.and both
our lives would have been very, very different.
You just never know which small, trivial decision or happenstance may, in fact, turn out to be a
life-altering moment. You never know where a path might lead you.