During one of the last sessions, I was asked what I wanted to do. I could no longer be a Radioman, but I could return to the fleet as something. Or, I could be discharged with or without further treatments. I told them I definetly wanted out, but I wanted out, fixed. He told me I’d be transfered to the Philadelphia Naval Hospital where I’d be counciled more and then discharged.
The day of the big event started out as a bunch of us nutjobs stood along the curb waiting for the bus in our pj’s. There were 20 or so of us going, with some on stretchers. The ones on the stretchers were loaded up with some “Good fuckin’ times”, which I later learned was Thorazene. The boys on those stretchers were so far gone, they couldn’t handle being concious. The rest of us pretty much had our shit together and we were playing it to the hilt. Picking invisible insects off each other, smelling other peoples armpits, and smiling nice to the civilians.One guy could drool on command and droop one eye. There were corpsmen everywhere with us and they enjoyed fucking with the civies as much as the rest of us.We were eventually transported using a Navy bus, so unless we were dragging our tongues across the windows, we rode in quiet.
We were all loaded on a MAC flight, (Military Airlift Command) with those on stretchers first, and then the rest of us in seats facing aft. It was one of those fancy passenger jets with the engine in the back. We even had some nice looking Wave corpsman too, which helped a lot. One might think that a few women among a shitload of horndogs would raise all kinds of hell, but the effect is the opposite. We all went out of our way to keep it civil and weren’t any more trouble than the poor dudes on the stretchers. We were rewarded by having a pilot that got busted for something that took him out of fighters. While we were taxiing across the tarmac, he said “as long as most of his riders were unconcious, and the rest crazy, he might as well have a fun ride”. The Corpsmen gave it away when they ran to their seats and straped themselves in. Once the front tires came off the runway, this dude nailed it and pointed it straight up. When we came to about 30,000′, he rolled it over and came to level flight. From there he flew around as many thunderheads as he could bank around and landed at Valley Forge in Pennsylvania. There, they offloaded a couple stretchers and the drooler. From there we flew to Kennedy International and I got to see what humanity can do to good clean air. It was a deep blue sky until we got near New York, and as we flew closer we could see the yellow get deeper and I had no problem at all not getting off. From there we flew to an airport in Maine where I got to see something that wasn’t there. As we taxied down towards the terminal, where we’d eat lunch, we rolled by a U2 in it’s hanger. The Captain came on the PA and said that plane wasn’t there, and you didn’t see it. No one would have believed us anyway, we were all crazy. Lunch came in a box and tasted like it and we were soon on our way to Fort Dix, New Jersey.
Near as I can tell, Dix is sevearal square miles of concrete with a few buildings in the middle of it.The plane almost pulled up to the door of the hospital we spent the night at. Ft Dix I think is/was the military’s primary airport for international flights because we spent the night with some seriously fucked up people, and they weren’t sailors. We were told we’d be spending the night there and bused to Philadelphia the next day. The chow hall was open 24 hours and the food was terrific. Other than us sailors, the rest were coming back from Korea, and a some of them were shell shocked. I asked one of the more normal ones how that could come about and he said anyone who believes the shooting war in Korea is over, is a fool.
On the ride from Dix to Phily, I watched a trailer tire decentagrate and I noted that there wasn’t any open land between Fort Dix and Phily. It was constant houses for what seemed like a long ride and most of the riding around here is country. The lot of us were admitted into the hospital, and shown to our ward, where me met some of the staff. The corpsman were numbered at a lower ratio of 1 for 2 patients, but we were all well along the way of being humans again. We were getting to the point where we were making up stories to keep the shrinks happy because the living was so good.
If we didn’t make the doctors happy, we could end up in the rubber room. Our’s wasn’t rubber per se, but totally mattress lined, including the ceiling. Any type of civil misbehavoir could land you in there, but those that were, deserved it. There were several there that had fits of agression and we’d listen to them yell and scream all night long. Eventually they’d settle down, or pass out and we’d all go to sleep. There were a couple guys there who’d spend a week being concious enough to get a shot of something and then sleep until the next one. I never asked what they’re problem was, I had my own.
We had a Nurse, a Ltjg, who appreared to be dipping into the pillbox because we’d watch her beautiful ass dip back and forth as she’d bounce off one wall, and then the other, all the way down the hall. She had a glazed happy smile on her face all the time and she was as sweet as maple syrup. She never did anyone harm, but everytime she walked by we’d smile and say Thorazene.
We didn’t have to stay in the ward to get fed; we were given wristbands that acted as a meal ticket and you could get free drinks in the local bars. If we weren’t scheduled for a therapy, we were free to roam the hospital and it’s grounds, and a week later, we could go on liberty.
One afternoon as I was walking down a hallway, I could hear laughing going on with a lot of “Hoooah!” along with it. I went down the other hallway and watched as a bunch of amputee’s racing down the hallways on their wheelchairs, and giving each other all kinds of shit. Semper Fi.
Not long after I was given libery rights, I went with a buddy to a neighborhood bar somewhere in Phily. The entire neighborhood was residentual with a bar or two on the corner. I wish I could remember the bar name..damn…. Anyway, word had it, if you wore your uniform and the wrist band, a Phily steak sandwich and a beer were on the house. This guy was good for his word and everyone who frequented the place was just as nice to us as any I’ve ever met. If we played three Frank Sinatra songs in a row on the juke box, he’d give us an extra beer. I got to talk to all the people there about the war, fishing, kids, being a kid, not being a kid anymore, all kinds of shit, and it did me a world of good.
From there I was transfered to the Naval Base proper and 10 days later was issued my DD-214 and thrown into the unmilitary world of civilianship. I was awarded at 30% disability status and drew a check for three years. On the day of it’s arrival I’d act especially crazy, but now I do it for free.
