PROLOGUE
I grew up in a small town in Pennsylvania, where most of the nine hundred or so people, who lived there, often didn't lock their doors. Being part of the baby boomer generation, meant that a lot of those residents, were my age, or a few years older or younger, give or take. A lot of our parents were veterans of World War II, and a few families had suffered losses in that war. But this story isn't about wars or hardships.
The summer after I graduated high school, I learned what it meant to work in a very physical, full-time job at a stone quarry. We worked ten-hour shifts and five more on Saturdays. I was in the best shape of my life at eighteen years old. Working that kind of schedule meant we had to squeeze our fun into a few short hours every evening over that summer. In less than a month, I would be starting my freshman year at a major university. So, this summer had kind of a last-chance feeling. If Bryan Adam's song, 'Summer Of '69' had been written then, it would have certainly been our theme song.
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That late July evening started out fairly blah, with no plans to go out anywhere since it was a Thursday, and I had to be at the quarry at seven sharp the next morning. I usually just hung out with my girlfriend, Faye, who lived with her aunt several blocks from my parents' house. Her parents also lived in the same town, but she had moved in with her aunt while still in high school. The official reason for the move was to help her aunt and keep an eye on her in her old age. But the main reason was her mom was an overbearing witch, and her Aunt Mamie threw her a lifesaver.
Faye would usually eat dinner at her parents' house, and after a short visit, just walk over to the next block to stay with Aunt Mamie. Her brother Carl, who was eight years older than her, used that exact same move to escape their mom's domineering persona. Carl Sr., who was a veteran of the war in the south pacific, was more or less pussy whipped to Florence, his wife. Upon graduating high school, Carl junior promptly enlisted in the Air Force, and never lived at home again.
Living with her aunt was the perfect setup for Faye, and me coincidentally. Aunt Mamie never had children, and she doted on both Carl and Faye. She also approved of me for some reason, so I was always welcome in her house. My girlfriend had her bedroom on the second floor. She usually ate her meals at her aunt's house on weekends. I was often invited, and she was a great cook. But my mom was also a great cook, and Faye living with her aunt had other advantages.
I had started to date Faye the previous summer. But I knew her more or less since grade school. I think we started to get interested in each other while attending youth fellowship at our little church as teenagers. Our little town had two churches and three bars. A catholic buddy of mine always said that ratio pretty much defined the moral character of a town. I didn't know what he was talking about then, but he always gave me the Catholic mindset on all things that his priest had shared with him.
That summer of sixty-nine, Faye was working as a clerk-typist at the Indiantown Gap Military Reservation, home of the largest ROTC camp in the U.S. She was an assistant to the head secretary for the officer in charge of personnel. She helped type personnel reports for the ROTC cadets, who were taking their summer training. This military reservation is a pretty large complex and my guess is there were close to seven or eight hundred young men, receiving their training that summer. Many of them would be headed to Viet Nam later that year.
The personnel department at the Gap had over two dozen officers and non-com's attached to it, and exactly three women. Faye, my girlfriend; Marie, an attractive Latino girl; and Norma the middle-aged, head secretary to the Colonel. Faye also reported to both Captain Babb, whom she despised and Sgt. Major Glennon, whom she adored.
Both Faye and Marie wore skirts or dresses to work during that time. It was also that period when dresses and skirts had hemlines above the knee. At five foot eight, Faye often complained about finding skirts that were long enough, especially when she sat down at a desk to type a report. When I first started to date her, my eyes couldn't settle on what part of her to look at first, but I started with her eyes, to be polite. To a young man, she was a feast for the eyes, and also a source of my frustrations.
Faye had great, long legs, and was ogled, pretty much all day, while working with a large group of men, all of whom were away from their girlfriends and wives for months on end. She was very pretty and had dark brown eyes, long brown hair with her bangs cut straight across the front. Her hair fell down to her shoulders and was usually curled up at that point. Her mom used to say that Faye had inherited her paternal grandmother's features, wide at the hips and 'wowza' in the bust.
So, you have an eighteen-year-old, pretty girl working with, what? Almost eight hundred, horny soldiers? These guys had more pickup lines than Carter has pills, as the saying used to go. To top it off, her breasts are large with no sag at eighteen, and an ass that looks great in a short skirt bordering on a mini. And it wasn't like there weren't other women there, probably a dozen and a half in all, mostly young and dressed like Faye and Marie. A few of the older secretaries had been with their commanding officers for years, even a few wives had that job. To the best of my knowledge, all these women were civilians. I'm just setting the stage for some of our conversations that summer, and my frustrations.
My name is Tom, actually Thomas, but only a few of my old-lady teachers called me that, or Mom when I did something wrong. I'm the tallest person in my family at six-foot-three and three-quarters, and actually the tallest person among my friends and my thirty-seven first cousins. Yea, you heard me right, I have thirty-seven cousins, well actually thirty-eight, but one of my girl cousins died before I knew her. A couple of guys in high school were taller than me; one at six-eleven, and no big surprise, he played Division-I college basketball. But I digress, height has no bearing on my story, but cousins do.
So that late July evening, Faye and I just planned on a little drive in my '56 Ford Fairlane. It was a beauty, painted metallic blue. I earned it by working for my dad, helping to rehab a couple of rental houses that he owned. I started doing that work before I could drive at sixteen. It was a good way to learn general carpentry skills, but not what a fourteen-year-old kid wanted to do on his Saturdays. Dad surprised me when I was almost seventeen by giving me that car as payment for all the hours, I'd helped him. He'd bought it from a young electrician who did some wiring for him in the houses he was remodeling. Bob, the electrician was headed to Viet Nam serving in the Marines.
That evening, I pulled up outside Aunt Mamie's semi-detached house and parked under the large maple tree next to her front porch. Faye's second-floor bedroom faced up the main street, and she could see me coming down the street while she was getting ready.
I didn't have long to wait, Faye bounced out the front door, wearing some tan-colored shorts, and a canary V-neck sleeveless blouse. It was a good time to be a young man, as girls wore their shorts, very short and fairly tight. I was waiting next to the passenger door and opened it for her. She quickly got in, and I went around and did the same.
Faye slid across the bench seat and gave me a quick kiss on the lips. She looked and smelled like something to eat. Her hair was shiny, and her arms and legs were lightly tanned. She often spent time lying in the sun on weekends at her parents' pool. She was never satisfied with her tan when she compared her arms to mine. Ten hours a day working in a quarry, I had the darkest tan in memory, and I tan easily.
"Oh, I look pale, compared to you," she lamented while holding up her arm next to mine.
"You look fine hon, stop worrying about your tan," I chided her.
