PART I
Jerry Simms was a rather shy and bashful young man of 24 years of age in 1968 when he entered the Navy to fulfill his military obligation for the Viet Nam War. Jerry was also six feet two inches in height and weighed 175 pounds. Jerry had come from a family of people who had always answered the call to duty to serve in the military in times of war. The difference, Jerry had broke tradition with the rest to serve in a naval service. All the rest had always served in the Army. Jerry wasn't one to keep traditions well, although his ideal was to be as his great--grandfather who had served in the Civil War on the side of the Confederacy as an officer.
He was originally supposed to go to the Great Lakes Training Naval Training Center in the Chicago area, however, due to the increased demand for fresh trainees fortunately he was sparred the bitter cold weather of the Great Lakes Region and sent to San Diego California instead. Needless to say the military was a cultural shock to a country boy who had been born and raised in the Ouchita Mountians of Arkansas in the 1950's. California was a metropolitan and cosmopolitan region with masses of people of all ethnic backgrounds and persuasions.
Upon completion of Navy Boot Camp (complete with a culture shock of it's own) again things went "strange." Jerry had the dubious distinction of being selected to Hospital Corpsman class A School. Not that the nature of the selection had at that time had occurred to him, not at least the nature of what it was that corpsmen did or went for assignments after completion of the school. All selected for the various schools were usually sent to a holding barracks to be used in such grand tasks as painting, mess duty in the local naval kitchens called in the Navy as "Galley's," cleaning up general messes on base, mowing the grass, and other glorious assignments. Such was not the case here. Jerry was assigned temporarily to one of the Navy's Fast Frigates, which was in port for refitting and replenishment.
In 1968 enlisted men in the Navy did not have the privilege that officers had to keep their civilian clothes in the barracks and on ships. Most kept their civilian clothing in locker clubs in San Diego. It was dictated by Navy Regulations that all enlisted men must go on liberty in dress uniform that lead to the necessity of the locker club industry in naval cities such as Norfolk, San Diego, San Francisco and the like. It was also this requirement that caused Jerry to be in the Navy Exchange on that Saturday morning in early May. In fact Jerry's hair style was still in the bur style because he had been out of boot camp only one week and had weekend liberty. No watches for two whole days, and no having to check in with the Officer of the Deck on the ship he'd been assigned to. In addition, he had just been paid all of the back pay he had not received in boot camp for two months. He had a whopping sum of $130. to last him for two weeks until the next pay and for his E-3 pay to catch up with him. Jerry decided to visit the men's department for some slacks and shirts to dress in while on liberty.
Having just purchased three pairs of slacks and three matching shirts (something his mother had always insisted he do) Jerry was in a rush to get to the locker club to change into his new clothing and see the sites of Sunny California. There was a whole new world for which a young man—still a boy in heart—to see. Not to mention scenic Broadway in San Diego with all of it's "attractions." He rushes out of the men's department and makes a sudden right turn into a wall of boxes to crash into something for which he had no idea whom it was. Now boxes are all over the floor and in the isle, the men's department on both sides of the isle. In addition to that standing in front of him is a petite young blonde Woman Marine of approximately five feet five inches in height, dressed in uniform, in Charilies (a green skirt, kakhi blouse, hat, shoes and stockings). You know the type, blonde hair, pale blue eyes, pale skin and crimson from her ankles to her head. Livid with anger from just completed her Christmas shopping in early May of various and sundry items from ceramics to clothing only to have some inconsiderate twit sailor come crashing into her. As angry as she was, Jerry was just as embarrassed and speechless, not just from the blunder he had just made but from the beauty of the young W.M. whom he had just crashed into. It took approximately one minute before he could regain his speech, and for the shapely W.M. to regain her composure.
"I hope you know that you've probably just broke all of my Christmas presents I've spent all morning shopping for." She shouted at him with a distinctly northern accent. By now he feels that a shallow crack in the floor would be appropriate for him to crawl into as he now feels less than one inch in height. " I…I…I'm sorry ma'am!" He stutters with a thick southern drawl, hands shaking and knees quivering for some reason, which he can't explain. He has caused such accidents in the past but now his insides are as jelly shaking. His hands and forehead are perspiring and he feels his heart in his throat thumping a jungle rhythm which he's never heard before. "Don't call me ma'am. I'm not an officer; I'm a Corporal!" She exclaims hotly. "Y..Y..Yes ma'am!" He stumbles out again. "What's the use?" She asked as she throws up her hands in exasperation still ruberant in complexion. "Just help me pick up this mess you've caused and get the hell out of my way." She says as she realizes that he really didn't mean to be so clumsy yet still trying to retain her anger for effect.
Jerry now nervously in on his knees gathering boxes from the isle and stacking all the smaller ones on the larger one. When finished, the height of the boxes are close to three feet tall and all are heavy. He looks up at her starting at the ankles involuntarily and raising his vision from there to her no longer livid complexion. "She's got the shapeliest pair of legs I've ever seen." He thinks to himself. "Could I carry these for you?"
"After all they are heavy, and we could go over to the Gedunk and I'll get you a hamburger and a coke." He exclaims. "That will give you time to check out your boxes and see if anything is broken. If it is, then I'll pay for it." He tells her.
Not knowing whether to accept or not and not knowing how to remain angry which she can't explain why, she takes him up on his offer. "I guess it couldn't hurt, after all it is close to lunch time and I am hungry, but don't get any ideas. I saw you starring at my legs." She says, voice full of retort trying to maintain the effect, as she takes him up on his offer. "After all, he is trying to make amends." She thinks. With that he picks up the packages, which are heavy even for an Arkansas farm boy, and carries them to the exchange dining room. A corner booth is empty and to her looks rather romantic so she chooses the corner booth. As they are sitting there with food and drink, she commences to look through the boxes nervously as her hands tremor—he notices. Her hands are now trembling and fumbling through the inner packing paper as she searches for any broken ceramic figurines.
As the two sit, he is silent and eats nervously, most of the time his mouth is dry and he couldn't "spit if the building were on fire." He thinks to himself. His food is tasteless and the cola drink has no flavor to him. She continues to search through the same boxes over and over again, rustling paper and not really looking at the contents of the boxes as she says, "Oh, I forgot to check this one." As she briefly looks the contents of the box and then looks at him while she rambles on, dropping little hints to him for which he doesn't pick up on. "You'll have to excuse me maam, I really don't know how to talk with women that good." Jerry says in the thick hills drawl where he was raised. "I never was taught how to talk much especially to women. Just mostly how to work. I growed up on the farm in Arkansas." He drawled. "I noticed that." She declared crisply in her distinct Pennsylvania accent.
