Paradise Lost
I know the Army was having trouble keeping people as the war wound down. Wey had a Lieutenant in the company who asked me twice if I wanted to re-enlist and offered me bonuses to stay. This was ludicrous because I was not a good soldier, and they should have known that by now. I had a terrible attitude even though in my own mind I was fairly intelligent compared to my comrades in arms.
Every draftee and many of the regular Army guys like me had a “short calendar.” My enlistment was 3 years and I had one that covered 1972, 1973 and 1974. I started mine about 6 months into the enlistment, knowing even then that the military life was not for me and I just needed to mark my time until I was discharged and could get on with my life. In looking at my calendar you could see the gradual angst that developed by how my daily hash marks were marked off in pen. It was unlucky to start counting the days until you were into your last year.
Sometime in the last 6 months of my duty I had to go take my annual M.O.S. test. This is the test to see if you understand the Uniform Code of Military Justice and can continue to be an MP. I had taken the test twice before and always scored high on it. I knew the basic premise of military law well enough to do the job, I just disregarded it. It ain’t rocket science, after all.
Since I knew I was not cut out for a career in the military I decided that I would show up for the mandatory test but I would blindly mark the multiple choice answers without reading the questions. After the first 5 minutes of a 2 hour test I was done and I turned it in, much to the surprise of the PFC who was supervising us.
When the grades came out I was called into the Company Commanders office. I had passed the test with a 72%. I thought that was pretty good, considering that I had not read a single question. He wondered why I had scored so poorly compared to my previous scores. I’m afraid I disappointed him when I told him how I had completed the test. Maybe I should have lied and told him I was drunk. There was that old apathetic attitude that Sergeant Kolb had complained about back at Benning.
In late October I found out I was getting an early out in December. I only had 6 or 7 weeks left and I thought I was in love and could start a civilian life with Doty. She had flown to San Jose’ to visit her brother. While she was there she decided to move to Pago Pago Samoa where her parents were managing a small hotel and help them.
In a phone call she asked me to come to Samoa when I got out of the Army. We continued to talk on the phone and write letters almost every day, both of us excited about the move. But three weeks before I got out her letters stopped and I couldn't reach her by phone. That should have been a subtle hint but I didn't take it and I proceeded to have all of my worldly goods shipped to Samoa in foot lockers.
I was transferred to another base for separation, for the last 4 days. Doty had no way of knowing that. I did not know it at the time, but she had sent a telegram to my former unit telling me not to come, that she had changed her mind, and she now knew we were not right for each other. The one way ticket was in my pocket so I got on the plane and flew on an overnight flight to Pago Pago, 2,300 miles southwest of Honolulu. Thinking that I was likely to have a long dry spell without drugs I smuggled in a variety for personal use.
I brought quite a variety of drugs with me, though not really a lot of any one type. There were two ounces of marijuana… one in each sock. One was average grade and the other was primo… Maui Wowie. I had two grams of cocaine, about 30 hits of speed and some acid. These drugs were in the lining of my jacket.
I arrived just after dawn. No one was there to meet me at the airport even though I had sent her the flight information in a letter. I took a cab to the hotel and everyone was still asleep. This little place, with about 20 rooms, didn’t have an all-night front desk. I finally roused someone who called Doty’s room. When she came out to see me I could tell she was shocked. Hadn't I gotten her telegram? What telegram?
We talked for a long time and she said I could stay but she wasn't sure things would be the way they had been between us. I would settle for that, for now, I said. What choice did I have? Where would I live? There were very few places to consider, and I couldn't stay with her. I couldn’t stay at the hotel either because they were booked. I would have to sleep on the patio furniture for now. If I stayed where would I work? I wouldn’t need a work visa because the island was an American territory but I probably wouldn't be able to find a job. It was obvious that Doty was being influenced by her family and had already moved on.
There was a short period of time where I thought it might work for me to stay whether I was welcome or not. In the hotel bar Doty introduced me to a few people that she knew but told me to be careful. There weren’t a lot of drugs on the island and once word got out that I had brought drugs in I would be a target for those who might want to be my “friend”. Sure enough I became popular and shared what I had somewhat freely.
One of my new friends cornered me late that night and wondered if I would make a run for him to South American to pick up a load and return. I guess he thought that if I was bold enough to smuggle drugs onto the island once I might be tempted to get into the big time. I declined… and we got high. We did a lot of drugs together over the next two days as I certainly didn’t want to piss this guy off. At one point we left the hotel bar and took a long ride in his pickup truck. When we returned Doty told me that he was the kind of guy that would take me for a ride and feed me to the sharks and no one would ever know what happened to me.
The options I had regarding my future were not clear. I had about $1,500.00 in cash. I could buy a ticket to Australia or New Zealand. Why not? I was already half way there. I always wanted to go there but I really was demoralized and decided that I should probably go back to Hawaii. When is the next flight? In four days...
On the third day I decided to do a hit of acid. Once I did it I knew it was a mistake because I started freaking out over my situation. I needed to leave the hotel area before anyone saw me in this condition so I walked out to the road and got on a old rickety bus that took me to the booming metropolis of Pago Pago, a few miles away.
Once there I just walked the streets for awhile. I was the only white guy I saw the whole time I was in town and it must have been obvious to the locals as well because I felt like I got a lot of stares. But I was on drugs so who knows. I was also certain that I was being followed by two really big Samoan locals. The streets were narrow and somewhat short so I began darting in and out of doorways and through back streets and alleys until I came to a church. I went inside and stayed for what seemed like hours but was likely a lot less. I guess I prayed. I know I cried. No one followed me in. Eventually I felt safe enough to leave so I walked out, got on a bus and returned to the hotel.
This was really strong acid though, and my trip didn’t end when I got back to the hotel. It would go on for several more hours. Not wanting to arouse any suspicion, I laid down on a couch on the porch of the hotel and pretended to sleep. But I couldn’t sleep. My mind was too active. I was too high. I was too scared. So I just laid there and burned.
Finally there was a flight back to Honolulu. When I left I took with me only a few hits of speed and a few joints. We had either consumed the rest or I had given it away to Doty and her new friends. Doty and I said goodbye and I never saw her again. I did write her a few times but never got a return response.
I spent a week in Hawaii with friends, Dane and Suzie, just drowning my sorrows. I really didn't want to go back to St. Louis. But what choice did I have given how depressed I was about the loss of what I thought was going to be my exotic new life on a tropical island.
Real life was about to begin.
