This is the Army Mr. Jones!

 

This is the Army, Mr. Jones!

“No private rooms or telephones.” (Irving Berlin song from a 1942 musical)

In 1960 the US had a compulsory military draft. In my opinion, it was a great system on many levels. It wasn’t totally equitable, but far more fair than the present system. If you were fortunate enough to be going college, you were deferred until graduation. Then it was time to be an officer and serve your country.

It was February, 1960 and we were in a crowded cafe for breakfast in Petersburg, Virginia and my husband, wearing his uniform indicating his rank as 1^st lieutenant was being saluted. Having skipped basic training in Georgia – he had explained he wouldn’t be able to make it because he would be in Florida on his honeymoon. The powers that be said, “okay, just report to Petersburg after your honeymoon!” So here he was, knowing nothing about saluting, responding with, “How are you?” The situation was a source of discomfort for him and a cause of uncontrollable laughter for me.

Our home for the next two weeks was a dirty, run down motel close to the post. Then it was off to Charlottesville, Virginia to a dirty, run down apartment. It appeared that housekeeping standards in the south were not the same as those of Milwaukee housewives. But we had two bedrooms and it was furnished – good thing as our only possessions were a small black and white TV and our wedding presents. Silver flatware and Wedgewood china was nice but not useful at this juncture.

Wow! Charlottesville was beautiful and our neighbors in the 6 unit shabby apartment were couples made up of medical students and their wives. My husband was the only lawyer going the U of V for JAG school. Never having been south of Chicago, I’d had no experience with southern hospitality and boy, it was there in abundance. What these ladies lacked in cleaning skills, they made up for it in charm and warmth. Within a week, I had friends and was playing bridge with my neighbors.

There were too many cultural shocks to list here, however the one that really stuck with me was my dismay at seeing all the community swimming pools drained and closed. Oppressive heat, made more miserable by cloying humidity, replaced snow in Charlottesville in May and June. Oh, where to swim and cool off? Our crummy apartment didn’t have a pool. Why, why were these pools not accessible? Oh my goodness ! Integration had just been made law in Virginia and this was a solution?! A non solution to a non problem, but there it was – nobody swims! So many things to love about the South, but this was not one of them.

Our 4 month stay in Charlottesville came to an end and the southern ladies didn’t disappoint. I was given a going away luncheon and presented with a sterling silver cigarette lighter.

We won the assignment lottery and our orders were to Ft. Ord, in Monterey, California. Not exactly bright lights, big city – but not Ft. Riley, Kansas either. War is hell!

Henry’s critique: Ye gods, when will the nostalgia end?! OTD – older than dirt needs to get current!