Coming Home

Here's a memory from the waning hours of my time in the Army.

After about 19 hours aboard the Freedom Bird, via Guam, I landed in California around sunrise on 20DEC1971. Because Travis Air Force Base was fogged in, we were diverted to Oakland International Airport. They held us onboard the plane for two hours while waiting for buses to transport us to Travis for processing. At the AFB, we learned that Nixon's program to downsize the military would allow us to ETS if we didn't want to finish our 2 year draft obligation. So, while some guys got their next duty assignment and headed home, I joined the line to exit the Army.

A long afternoon was filled with sessions explaining our rights under the GI Bill, information on re-entering civilian life, calculating our final pay taking into account unused leave time, etc. All the while, the clerk/typists were literally hammering out the stack of paperwork required for each man on their manual typewriters. Due to our late start because of the delay getting to Travis AFB and the large numbers of people electing to "early out" the process dragged on into the wee hours of the next morning. The only sound in a room of almost comatose, seriously jet-lagged, soldiers was the typewriter beating out our final ETS paperwork. Then, from the back, came a questioning voice. I don't know if the guy was serious, joking, or just trying to break the monotony, but he blurted out, "Hey, it's 3 am, shouldn't we be getting another day's pay?" The clerk, not missing a beat on his keys, said, "Sure, you can go to the beginning of the line and start over." Not a soul in the room moved.