For the most part, memories get better than they were when they happened. Sad memories are lessened and good memories get better than they perhaps were.
When I was just about 9 years old, my father berated me endlessly. He had a wicked mother that took him out of school so he could work selling sausages on the streets to support her. He had to grow up fast and get tough to survive. Now I wonder if his harsh treatment of me was to toughen me up for what I might have to face in my life. The beratement went on endlessly until I was 18 and enlisted in the navy (much to his disdain). He had been drafted into the army in WW-2 and did not like it at all, but he did his duty in the artillery branch of Patton’s third army. Once I was gone from home he never had a bad word to say to me for the rest of his life. We were on good terms and he missed me being gone on my naval excursions. He always wanted me to come home to visit as often as I could.
My navy time seems much better in my mind these days, 49 years later. I know there were some bad times, but they don’t seem so bad anymore. Today the bad memories are like a mistake I made and overcame. After I had been in an aircrew as a radar operator flying out of Guam, I was transferred to North Island in Coronado, California. I was offered the opportunity to fly on an aircrew being deployed on the USS Kitty Hawk. I turned it down because I wanted to repair aircraft and build my knowledge of electronic repair for when I eventually left the navy. Was it the best choice, turning down the excitement and an extra $50 a month? (That was a lot of money 43 years ago, especially on navy pay). I believe it was the correct thing to do, looking ahead to being able to make a good living to support Joyce and Annie, but not as fun as being in an aircrew. Besides, there was not any call for a navy radar operator in civilian life, but the electronics industry was booming when I left the navy and any electronics tech was in demand. I gave up fun for practicality and a future for my family. I enjoyed working on avionics in airplanes. I barely remember hauling heavy equipment up and down ladders to the repair shops and back up to the planes, my back still reminds me of the strain of that every day of my life. I only think back on working parties aboard ship occasionally these days. I remember losing my grip on a bomb fin that crunched my big toe on my left foot. That was painful. I do remember being down in the bowels of the ship moving 500 pound bombs into a storage locker 5 or 6 decks below the waterline. The ship lost a generator and several of us were trapped down there in pitch black darkness for a long time, how long I don’t remember, but it seemed like forever. It was a darkness like never before. There is no way to imagine it unless you experience it. If you are in a room at home and the lights go out, night vision starts to help you see enough to move around. In that bomb locker I could not see my hand in front of my face an hour after being there. We sat on that deck in a crowded space and did not know what was going on around the rest of the ship,was the ship on fire? We didn't know. It was a scary time. Today it is just another memory, one I classify as an adventure.
There are a lot more memories, but this post has gone on long enough.
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