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The Viet Nam conflict was in progress while I was in High School. As I took the bus to school each day, it would pass through Harvard Square where the peace protesters gathered regularly. The nightly news was grim with casualty counts, coverage of protests, draft card burnings and draft dodgers. I had always thought of myself as a patriotic person, but with all that had been going on I just didn't know anymore. Having been an only child from a middle class family I thought that my goal of going to college would be realized upon graduation from High School. As my classmates were applying to different colleges my parents asked me why I wanted to go to college. I assumed it would be the next step to be taken in my life. "We're not paying your tuition" they informed me, with out an explanation, other than, girls get married and raise families. Well that would be real nice, but mom and dad never let me date. Here I was 18 and never dated. Did I forget to tell you that I was going to an all girls High School? Over the next few months I had endured blind dates courtesy of mom. There was one of her co-workers from the post office. I would find out later that he was arrested for attacking a woman in another town. Good work mom! Then there was her girlfriend's nephew. We went to a hockey game, Boston Bruins vs. Montreal Canadians. Don't ask me how, but somehow during the game I got hit with a hockey stick. You would think that it might have knocked some sense into me. One of the girls I had hung around with in my neiborhood was in a similar situation. She told me of how she went to a recruiter and got information on the G.I. Bill and other benefits to soldiers when they get discharged. She told me of how women don't go to combat. She wanted to become a doctor and have the U.S. Army pay for medical school. Well, this got me thinking. Should I stay home and be subjected to moms blind dates and no college or spend 3-4 years doing something interesting and then go to college? I started to do some research of my own. I use the word research loosely. I went to all the different recruiting offices in Somerville. Considering my overall goal was to go to college and get an education I made this very big decision based solely on how the uniforms looked. The U.S. Marines uniforms where navy blue with a thin red pin stripe. They looked so sharp compared to the others. Lets do it. I started to fill out reams of paperwork, took tests and filled out more paperwork. Some how I had to get my parents signature on the forms at one point. They signed without a fuss. I was surprised. Oh, did I forget to tell you that I'm blind in one eye? My parents hadn't forgot. Well I passed the written tests with flying colors. Gunnery Sergeant Shaffer picked me up early in the morning one day to take me to the old Army Base in Boston for my physical. The building was massive and musty smelling. There were sections for different tests blocked off by metal framed, cloth covered partitions. The draft was on and the numbers of men, actually boys, there were considerably high. There might have been four other girls with me that day. The lines were long. They kept us gals in a separate waiting area. When the guys had cleared an area someone would come and get my group. We were fortunate that we didn't have to strip down to our underwear like the guys. While waiting we talked about each of our own concerns about the testing, about what limitations there were for each of the different branches. It occurred to me that my eyesight might be a problem. Now I know why my parents signed without a fuss. Well, it was time for the eye test. It's my turn and I go up to the desk where this very old doctor sat. He asked a bunch of questions. "Do you have a drivers license?" I said yes, and he took a big rubber stamp and put a "passed" under eyesight. I went to the next station with a big smile and wondered what my parents would say. Gunnery Sergeant Shaffer and myself sat down with all the test results one day and decided that I would go to Air Traffic Control School with a four year contract to go to Viet Nam. We selected a date that I would leave for Paris Island for basic training. He told me about the delayed entry program how I could swear in now and leave after graduation. That sounded OK to me. I swore in to the U.S. Marines in a large room full of people. Some were leaving that day and others were like me, they would leave later.
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Block Prints - Figures
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Paintings Contact the Artist: artallenb@Comcast.net
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