“The true beginning of our end”
William Shakespeare
Chapter 3 - We Go
Our plan was to get on the road for the West on Sunday. We would
celebrate tonight and take Saturday to rest and clean up the apartment,
do our final preparations and packing.
That night we went over to my friend’s house, not far from where we
lived. He was a First Lieutenant and his name was Danny West. Danny was a
writer and a reader, and an interesting and varied person. He was from
Texas and wore jeans and a denim jacket with cowboy boots; was
slender but strong, and had a way of standing that was uniquely his.
Years later, when I first read Rick Bass, the image that came to mind
was Danny; educated, astute, caring, with a great appreciation of the
natural world and his place in it. He was the first person I knew who
was seriously into backpacking. I remember looking at his backpack and
lightweight camping supplies, it was the beginning of my education in
the growth of technology and equipment made for the enjoyment of the
wilderness. Danny had another year to do at Fort Bragg before he could get
on with the rest of his life.
Danny had a good group of people over to wish us well. I remember the
music we listened to, albums by Traffic (‘John Barleycorn Must Die’,
‘Low Spark of High-heeled Boys’) and Elton John. Elton had recently
released ‘Madman Across the Water’ and it was quite a sensation. Little
did I know what the song, ‘Tiny Dancer’, would mean to me in a few short
weeks. We had a few beers and ate pizza, and made the rounds catching up
with everyone of our friends, friends we would soon be leaving. Every
now and then a joint would make its way around the room, if you wanted
some, you took it; it was a sign of the times.
We also anxiously looked at the clock waiting for midnight, the great
moment when we would actually be released from the control of the
dreaded uniform code of military justice. What a lot of people don’t
realize is that once you are in the armed services you have a six year
commitment. I never understood that until I was in. What traditionally
happens is that, when your active duty tour is over, you move over to
the inactive reserves, unless of course you wanted to be in the active
reserves and do that weekend a month commitment with two weeks of
training in the summer. No thank you. But in the event of war or
national emergency you can be called up at any time within that six year
period. My actual honorable discharge would show up in the mail at my
parent’s house on the 6 year anniversary of my enlistment.
At midnight there was another celebration as all of us raised our
glasses to the milestone of being under the civilian judicial system
once again, and no longer under the uniformed code of military
toughness, where you quickly find you have no rights, only then right to
take it as they give it to you. Soon after, we had our last hugs and
final goodbyes, and left Danny’s house for our apartment a couple of
blocks away.
We got up mid-morning and made coffee. The apartment was already empty
except for the things we were taking with us, and a large pile of our
Army fatigues, clothing and other equipment that we planned to take to a local
surplus store to see if we could sell.
Beds, sofas and dressers were acquired by others at some earlier time
and just came with the place. We sat drinking coffee, looking around
the apartment and at each other.
It was Dave who finally said it; “Hey, let’s just go. I don’t feel like
staying here another night, let’s just go and see how far we get.” Gerry
and I looked at each other, and in short order we were bringing our bags
down and loading the cars. There was a new excitement in the air; this
was it. We loaded our cooler into the back of Gerry’s car, distributed
our packs and duffel bags into the two VW bugs, and made one last
circuit around the apartment. We locked up and left a note on the
counter, the new tenants could sell the Army stuff or throw it out,
whatever they chose to do. We left the keys downstairs with our
neighbors, the keys would be picked up Sunday by the new tenants.
It was a little after twelve noon when we fired up our engines and
headed west. We took rte 401 that went south of the Fort, and mad our
way west on 74 towards Charlotte. I wanted to gas up the Honda every 100
miles or so, and I made sure to do it in a convenient place as well. In
a couple hours we were near Charlotte, so we gassed up and took a break
to have sodas and a snack.
On the other side of Charlotte we picked up Interstate 85 and we headed
southwest towards Atlanta. We were not far from Interstate 40 but,
because of the time of year, we decided to head south to Atlanta and
pick up Interstate 20 there. We would then follow I-20 west until it
ended at its junction with the I-10 in Texas. We would then take the
I-10 to Phoenix, and eventually into LA itself.
Shortly, we passed our first state line; we were now in South Carolina.
South Carolina had a segregationist reputation, but there were pockets
of that everywhere in the South, and some people were still fighting the
civil war. I thought back to my first drive to Fort Bragg from
Connecticut a year and a half ago. There, on the main highway in
Virginia, was a giant billboard with the picture of a Klansman on a
rearing horse. The billboard said “Fight the enemies of America, Fight
integration and Jewry”. After the total integration of the Army, I was
surprised to see this hateful image and message on the main north-south
route between New York and Miami. Later, when I finally got to
Fayetteville, there was a colored motel. I knew then that we weren’t in
Kansas anymore, Toto.
We pulled over for gas near Greenville, South Carolina. Although we had
been on the road only half a day we were all tired. We all had a bit of
a hang-over from last night’s party, and yesterday had been a big day.
Also, we had eaten only snacks for the day, and drank coffee and soda.
My stomach was restless. After fueling up we decided to find our first
motel, locate a good place for dinner and chow down. Then we could watch
TV in the motel room and make it an early night.
We found a decent motel and got a room with two beds, and they rolled in
a small collapsible bed. This would be our routine; we would take turns
sleeping on the collapsible. After dinner, I drew the short straw and
got the small roll-away bed. We watched TV and had a drink and a beer
from our traveling stash; I was soon asleep.