A Life Wasted

Coast Guard

Back then hitch hiking wasn't too dangerous or difficult so I hitched east to Cocoa Beach, then north. I had enough money for food and motels, but didn't really know where I was going. The only plan I had was to get out of Florida, which meant going north. My strongest memory was a late night meal in a dinner near Jacksonville. The song "Brandy" played on the jukebox. I'm not sure why that song touched me so deeply, but it did. To this day when I hear the song I'm back in that dinner, back to the night I struck out on my own. A child, not yet ready to be a man.

Karl Waagner, the man whose last name I carry and who I had believed my biological father until I was twelve, lived in Savannah. I'd grown up in Savannah until about that age so I'd always considered it home. When asked where I grew up I still say "Savannah". Savannah is more memory of home than my actual home, but that's how I've always seen it. So that's where I ended up. Don't remember how, but I ended up at another step-dad's home. Karl Waagner has always been a fine man. Solid. At the time he was still a bachelor so I stayed with him for a few days. My plan was to keep going north, but Karl did all that he could to prevent me from striking out on my own shy of trying to tell me I couldn't. I don't believe he wanted me to live with him or even to stay in Savannah, but he was concerned about my direction and worked hard to redirect me. He had two bowling lanes and knew everyone worth knowing in Savannah, so he had ample options to offer me, but I couldn't accept. I couldn't leave one parental home for another.

The war in Vietnam and the draft was the 800 pound guerilla in the room. As a high-school drop out and the oldest of three sons I'd be drafted when I turned eighteen, no doubt about it with those stats. Whether I wanted it or not my future would be the Army and Vietnam. Understanding this, Karl talked me into joining the Coast Guard.
Because Vietnam was such a horrible place, Coast Guard enlistment was at historical highs. Which allowed them to be selective. The Army and Marine Corps would take anyone. They needed warm bodies to hump a rifle through the jungle. It didn't matter if you had an education or a criminal record. The Coast Guard required a clean record, a High School Diploma, and a high score on the entry exam. But Karl knew people and got around the requirements. All I had to do was pass their entry exam, which I did with no difficulty. Before I knew what was going on I'd taken the test, a physical, sworn in and on a Delta flight to Philadelphia. From there a bus ride to Cape May New Jersey. Boot Camp.

It was October 1973. I wore diapers the only other time I'd been north of the Mason/Dixon Line. Odd as it may sound, being in Yankee Territory woke me up to the fact that my life had changed. Being in Philadelphia, even briefly sharpened my senses. Bob Schrader became a warrior here out of necessity. It was a place that could eat me alive. On the bus ride to Cape May I reviewed all Bob had taught me and committed to keeping my guard up at all times. This was a rather pivotal moment for me. I was too young and stupid to be scared of anything, but my experience in South Carolina had taught me there are people who would hurt me for reason I couldn't understand or anticipate. To survive I had to attack first. I'd yet to hear the term "proactive", but that's what Bob taught me. To be proactive in every facet of life. Florida was so soft that I'd dropped my guard. I had stopped being proactive. It's what put me on a bus in Yankee Territory.

At that point I made a conscious decision not to repeat my mistake. I would begin right then by taking control of my life. My decision was to get off the bus at the first stop, hitch a ride back to Philadelphia, then buy a bus ticket to Canada. Canada had taken a position against forced military service and were protecting guys avoiding the draft and those who went AWOL, which is what I'd be doing. Canada was my solution, I just hadn't seen it before now. Content with my decision I relaxed and took a nap.

When the bus stopped next it was in Cape May, where my new choice was taken from me. Coast Guard sailors waited at the bottom of the buses steps. I tried to slip away by saying I had to use the restroom, but they were hard-ass drill instructors. I would get to pee when ordered to do so and not before.
I hated boot camp and I hated the military. I couldn't do someone else's discipline and order. It took two days to find a way to get off the base without being caught. Since it was winter and the base was surrounded by water on three sides, it was more difficult than you'd think. I wasn't ready to leave yet, but could do so when the time was right.