An anniversary of sorts.

31 years ago today-on a bright sunny morning after which I had not had much sleep- I walked across the parade ground for the purpose of being commissioned an officer in the Navy of the United States of America.

The evening before had been quite interesting as we had held our graduation party-our last night as cadets in the South Carolina Corps of Cadets-on the hangar deck of the USS Yorktown (CVS-10). The ship is moored as a memorial/museum at Patriots Point in Charleston . Before you ask-yes we drank a fair amount and we probably should not have gotten in our cars. After 31 years-I think the statute of limitations has expired.

The morning of May 12th dawned nice and sunny. The college in its wisdom required cadets to spend that last night on campus as I recall-or at least I think it worked that way. For the last two weeks prior to that Friday night I had been in a most nostalgic mode and had roamed the campus and the barracks, late at night, fully conscious and aware that my well ordered and finally understood ( if not always appreciated) world was to be ripped apart. I was a lucky one-as a senior-I was able to exempt all my finals but two, one at the begining of finals and one at the end. ( The college had a provision that if you had an “A” going into the final-you got to skip the final).  As I recall I spent more than a couple of good days over at the beach.  On that final night-upon returning from the dance, getting girlfriends etc pushed off, a very dear friend of mine to this day-well,  we pulled out a bottle of scotch from a carefully disguised hiding place and climbed the stairs to the top of the tower on Padgett Thomas barracks. ( In those days there was no lock-I’m told now the door is locked with a most strong padlock. I hope that is not true). Amazingly enough-we were by ourselves at the top of the tower. With two cheap glasses,  we came to the front of the tower and poured each other a salutary drink. Hope mixed with sadness and Scotch-colored our conversation.

He was going into the Marine Corps and I was going into the Navy. We both had dreams and plans. Oh how glorious the future seemed on that evening! It was all going to work!. I was going to fly A-7’s, he was going to be a platoon leader and we both fully expected to be more than a little successful at whatever we attempted. Do 29 years on active duty however? Not a chance. We toasted ourselves and poured another-slowly musing on what the future held in store. ( And yes it was illegal to have booze in the barracks-but there are rules and then there are RULES.) The view across the campus and up into the night sky was remarkable. The swirl of emotions was large that night as I stared up to the moon and engaged in a quiet conversation-the kind that happens between men who truly care what happens to the other-but because of convention would never state it.

Of course-as many of you know-it did not work out exactly the way I planned it. A-7’s? Something I saw on the flight deck and on radar. My drinking buddy ended up in infantry-but over time became something of a plankowner in the Marine Corps fledgling UAV fleet. He still plays with those toys today in civilian life. Me? Well I did not become a pilot-and there is some sadness about that, but not too much. I discovered over a long time of thinking about it-you really do like what you get. So long as you honorably earn that gold device on your left chest-the rest of the deal seems miraculously to take care of itself. That’s a lesson they don’t teach you in class by the way. In the hindsight of 31 years, I realize how truly lucky I was. Very few people get to have the kind of career I had-and still leave wearing eagles at the other end. I was damn lucky and I know it now. And grateful for it.

In those days the college did commissionings in the Chapel. I’m told that now, because of parental pressure and other things, they do it in the field house with much pomp and circumstance and picture taking. Not so for the Class of 1979.  I still feel the Chapel was a very appropriate place to be commissioned-with the state flags hanging from the sides, the admonition above the door (Remember now,  thy Creator, in the days of thy youth), and the cross above the altar. The words: Pride, Duty, Honor, Country-scattered around you.

It was a simple ceremony. A General spoke-to this day I don’t remember who and then the heads of the various ROTC’s on campus came to the pulpit. Army first ( but of course!) rose-all  89+ of them to take the oath, then the Navy, then the Marines-and finally, as it should be, the Air Force. We were not wearing Navy uniforms-but our Cadet Full Dress still-for Graduation was still an hour away once this obligation was completed. In turn we each took the oath of office.

You are not aware of it at the time-but about 48% of my classmates were not in the chapel that morning-for not all Citadel Cadets go into the service-and a number of folks entered later-via alternative routes of flight.

How far away all that seems! Being in your 50’s seemed only an abstract idea at the time-even moreso when you consider that within five years of that day a few of us were already dead. The years since then have taken even more of a toll-but by the grace of God, a fair amount of us are still here. How different that thing called life is-from what I imagined it.

But even today- I can still recall the feeling of looking around and breathing in air that day and the night before. All the way from that illicit drink -to the moment of throwing my hat into the air. And how I thought there was no better feeling in the world to know that I had a title-Ensign, United States Navy.

Of course Monday morning came soon enough-and the feeling had long gone. It was time to go to work doing whatever they told me was the nation’s business. But that Friday night and Saturday, the world seemed all mine. Time fixed that notion-but the memory is still sweet.