Once we were done talking, Gwen and Mike pulled me upstairs. It would be the last time the three of us would spend a night together for some time. To say it was memorable would be an understatement. I can’t bring myself to describe the night. I’m not capable of finding words adequate to describe the range of emotions and sensations the three of us experienced that night.
We spent all day Tuesday with the twins. I wanted every minute with them while I could get it. Tuesday night with Gwen and Mike was spent much the same as Monday night. Wednesday morning, I was exhausted but spent it playing with the twins. I kissed them goodbye after lunch when Gwen and I had to leave for our appointments in Boston. It was all I could do not to cry as I held them.
Gwen and I took care of our business in Boston, found a quiet restaurant and had what might be our last romantic dinner. But of course, neither of us mentioned that. We just held each other that night. Gwen woke me at two. We made love one last time before having an early breakfast together. Gwen kissed me goodbye at the induction center and drove away with tears in her eyes. I felt like shit. I thought back to that first day Gwen and I met up with Mike in Paris. They were horribly upset as they grieved the death of Gwen’s brother together, over three years earlier. Gwen and Mike were terrified that I might suffer they the same fate. And there wasn’t a damn thing I could do about it.
I knew about the military tradition of hurry-up and wait. I found it humorous. Until I lived through it at the induction center. We were given black coffee and peanut butter sandwiches for lunch. They fed us a decent meal for dinner though it eating it was an exercise in misery. Everyone had sore arms from the shots we received that day. I was put in a seedy hotel room with three other draftees. Lights out was nine PM. We were up at three for a meal of room temperature, over-cooked eggs, stale donuts and more black coffee before we were loaded onto buses for the ride to Fort Dix.
The next eight weeks passed in a blur. We were up long before light for calisthenics, followed by breakfast and then a full day of activities that ended at eight PM. We were given an hour of personal time between eight and nine, unless the drill instructor decided we hadn’t met his expectations that day. I tried to write to Gwen and Mike every day, and mostly succeeded. But there were some nights I was so exhausted I couldn’t stay awake long enough to put words to paper. And there were nights when the DI was unhappy with us. But I always stayed awake long enough to read when I got something from home.
After graduation, I was detailed to Advanced Combat Training. I knew what that meant and wanted badly to avoid it but no one in my unit received a different assignment. I’ve tried to forget that eight-week nightmare but is still manages to pop into my head even now, more than fifty years later.
Once Advanced Combat Training was completed, my orders put me on a train with hundreds of other newly minted privates to the San Diego Naval Yard. I expected to board a troop ship for Korea. I admit I was terrified of what the future held for me. But I was more worried about Gwen and Mike.