Chapter 16
HE
BROUGHT ME…INTO A LARGE PLACE.
(My junior academic year at Auburn
University, September 1967 thru May 1968)
In
late September 1967, it’s a tremendous joy to drive my little brown
Falcon back to Auburn from Vernon, and tote my
cardboard boxed scant belongings back into my room in Mrs. Taylor’s
house after being in the professor’s basement during the summer term. The Mars’ family house and Mrs. Taylor’s house each seem like my
own home, and the peoples in these houses seem like my own family.
How
blessed I be! I start working in the cafeteria as soon as it opens at
the start of class registration for the autumn quarter. I register for my
classes, and launch seriously into my studies, keeping foremost in mind that I have to pass my courses to get a university degree. I am on this campus to study.
Back
in August when my doctor in Montgomery told me I had worn the back brace long enough;
he dismissed me from his care. He gave me a quite promising outlook of my
back’s condition. The crushed vertebra had healed well. It would always
be about 75% of its normal height. (That is the size to which it was
compressed.) Its strength and agility would be decreased
slightly. But the doctor hinted that military doctors would possibly declare me
to be fully physically qualified for all military duty. I
prayed that would be so.
Regarding
the present condition of my injured back, the Navy ROTC unit on campus
scheduled me for a thorough physical exam by Navy doctors at the
Naval Hospital at Pensacola Naval Air Station, Florida. Likely that was around
late October. I had to drive my little Falcon there with no pay from the Navy
for travel expense. I think I lodged for free in military housing on base at
Pensacola (1 or 2 nights) (missing 2 days or so of classes at Auburn), and I paid
for my meals I ate on base at Pensacola. The doctors x-rayed my back, studied
those x-rays closely, had me twist and turn at the waist; touch my toes without
bending my knees and such. Their
conclusion was that I was fully physically fit for military duty. That was a tremendous relief to hear, as this had constantly hung heavily in doubt in my mind ever
since the accident! I felt like I had returned to the Land of the
Living!!
Thank
Thee, my Lord, for healing me!
From
high school graduation day (at the end of May 1964), till classes
start at Auburn this autumn term in late September 1967 (a period of
more than 3 years and 3 months), I experienced a good measure of adversity and
delays in staying out of college 2 fall terms to earn money for college,
and then the life-threatening traffic accident that caused me to lose another
term of studies, and clouded me with the possibility of not being physically
able to become a Marine officer and pilot. It had been plenty rough, turbulent
sailing on life’s seas since high school graduation. Thank God for
sustaining me thru it all!
I know
it not at this time (September 1967), but such rough sailing is past, and
the remainder of my college days turn out to be smooth sailing (regarding such
matters I just mentioned). As I previously wrote; no
more interruptions occur in my university classes. My Lord and Guide
has held me up for the perfect length of delays necessary
to keep me off the Viet Nam Killing Fields.
Thank
Thee, Sweet Lord Jesus!
Also,
from this time on, my finances are greatly
improved. If you have never experienced periods of extreme
poverty, likely you cannot fully perceive of, and appreciate,
the severe strain that poverty brings into one’s life. I thank
God for bringing me to the plateau where I live to daily proclaim to all the
souls I can, the eternal riches that are in Christ Jesus, and to also
do everything God leads me to do to help alleviate earthly poverty and
suffering of other human souls. Deep, rich JOY of the Lord is mine
for doing so!
When classes
reconvene at Auburn U. in late September, I’m
debt free, thank God. I still have several hundred dollars remaining from
the $2,300 settlement I got from the accident. My job at the cafeteria pays a
dollar or more a day, above the bountiful 3 meals I eat each day
for working.
Also, starting
my junior year, the Navy ROTC now pays me monthly ($50 I think).
There were “Regular” midshipmen who got a full paid scholarship
(tuition and books) for all 4 years of study in the university, plus a
$50 paycheck each month they were enrolled in school for 4 years. Then
they received an officer’s “Regular” commission into the Navy or
Marines. I was not a “Regular”. I was a “Contract”
midshipman. As such, I received neither scholarship nor financial help from the
Navy during my first 2 years at Auburn. During my last 2 years, I was
paid that $50 monthly during the time school was in
session. When I graduate, I am to receive a “Reserve” officers’
commission into the Marines, and immediately go onto full
time active duty for a determined, required number of years. This
ROTC pay enhances my finances, (and increases the thickness of the rubber
between the air in my car’s tires, and the remaining air in the universe).
In happy
summary, I start this fall term debt free with some money in the bank, while also
receiving 2 (somewhat small) paychecks each month on campus. But
both paychecks each month are a tremendous financial help. It’s an immense
relief to now breathe easier financially, to be free of such thoughts
as: ‘I’m short on money again! What am I going to do? Again, I must go
to the bank to ask for a loan.’
Maintaining a thicker
layer of tire rubber between the small body of air inside my car tires and the
larger body of air (the universe) outside of those 4 tires, becomes a high
priority. I also buy car insurance. Until Mr. Mars
entrusted his 1962 Falcon to me, I did not have any insurance at all
on the 3 cars I had previously owned. In those ancient days, The State of
Alabama did not require any proof of insurance for a motor
vehicle owner to show, when the owner first registered his vehicle to
receive a license plate, nor when he then afterwards annually
paid his automobile tax.
Thank
Thee, Precious Lord Jesus, for mercifully keeping me safe on those thin tires, and
with no car insurance. Now, I
maintain safer tires and insurance. This 1962 little tan Falcon
is the finest and safest vehicle I’ve owned thus far; so easy to handle and
pleasant to drive. Also, I can reasonably expect it to last me till I graduate
from the university. I dream of buying a new car at
that time, vainly dreaming bigger and classier than a new little
Falcon.
The
campus atmosphere of the autumn term is especially pleasant to
me. Being financially “sound” now adds to my serenity of mind. I throw myself heavily into Navy ROTC activities,
because those earn merits that up my standing in my class of midshipmen.
And such will stay on my military record, and might
later make a difference in getting selected or rejected for pilot training.
I join
the Navy ROTC rifle team and the pistol team (separate teams, both rifle and
pistol, the smallest caliber, .22 caliber). We fire competition matches with
ROTC units in other state universities in the South. This fall, I play on the
Navy intramural football team. I join the Navy choir and sing (awfully) in it.
Back
in the summer, our Marine instructor (Major McMath) was transferred away from
Auburn’s Navy ROTC. He had fought in Korea in the early 1950s,
and told us exciting war stories from there. Late this summer, a younger
Major Cleveland came to Auburn to be our instructor. He had fought recently
in Viet Nam. He is a topnotch instructor, and I strive to excel under
him, listening to his combat stories from Viet Nam.
I
mentioned before how that I am to be set back 1 year in Navy ROTC. So, this
year I am regarded as a junior for the 2nd time. My 4
Marine classmates of last year are now seniors, and we juniors have class
together with those four. Now there are 8 other fellow junior
classmate Marines along with me. (These eight guys are each about a year
younger than I.)
I’ve
mentioned how that I matured later than usual. Thus, I fit in better,
and feel much more comfortable in this class with classmate
buddies a year younger than I.
I soon
make friends with them all. Among them is Mike ④, a good natured, likeable guy. A few years from now when he and I
are both stationed at Cherry Point Marine Corps Air Station, North Carolina, each
of us an A-6 Intruder pilot, tragically he will crash his A-6, killing
himself and his navigator. Careless, Pilot Error! Sad and
tragic!
Southern
Alabama autumn is sun-kissed with many warm pleasant days. I enjoy each day to
the fullest, now being much more mentally carefree because of sound
finances, and being declared physically sound by the Navy doctor. I busy myself keeping as active as possible in Navy ROTC
activities.
Until
I got the Falcon car from Mr. Mars, I usually walked to the Baptist Student Union, and then rode with another student on Friday night
missions. I didn’t want other human souls riding with me in my older and uninsured car. So, I avoided riders as much
as I could, (tho I did give a few other students rides
to and from the Vernon area, but only because they asked me for a ride).
Now, I often drive my car to the BSU, and often 2 or 3 Baptist students ride
with me to our destination for Friday night missions’ service. It’s all so bless-ed!
At the
ladies’ cafeteria where I work, as I talk with fellow workers of going out to
an isolated area beside a creek to practice rifle and pistol marksmanship
shooting on Saturday afternoons, Linda speaks up. “I want to go shooting with
you.” So, she accompanies me on a sunny warm Saturday afternoon. I knoweth not
if she had ever fired a .22 caliber rifle or pistol. But she followed my instructions, and shot quite well with the pistol that fine
Saturday afternoon. We two had a most pleasant time together (at least I know
that was most true for me).
“Good
going, Marksmanship Coach! You pick your trainees well, do you not?!”
‘Thank
you! Actually, Linda picked me, for which I was most happy!’
All thru
my 12 years of school in Vernon, I usually considered some girl my sweetheart,
and we did a few various things together at school (like smiling at each
other). I enjoyed choosing a partner for class plays, formals, and such events
that required boy and girl to pair up. There were times when I walked my
sweetheart to her bus after school, carrying her books exactly like a
chivalrous knight would do. But other than pairing up for those events and
such, I never actually dated. Poverty was one reason. I never invited a
girlfriend to come to our house. I was generally ashamed of our living
conditions (an outhouse and such). Also, likely Dad
and my stepmother would not have made a girl feel very welcome there. I was
around neighborhood girls at times, in various social settings, but constant
farm work limited that fun.
Anyway, at Auburn U. it’s now
a joy to date both formally and informally. (I
mean, like when lovely, slender, petite, long dark hair, soft-spoken Linda
asked to go target shooting with me. I mean, like how could I be so rude and
callous as to refuse her request?)
“Just
one big, kind, unselfish heart, aren’t you, College Boy?”
‘If
you say so!’
As I
make friends amongst girls at the dining hall and girls at the BSU, I just
naturally began to socialize with them and I enjoy it
much. Everyone knows that (at any age) a girl’s
mental and social maturity exceeds a guy’s mental and social maturity by a zillion
years, give or take a few trillion years. So, now drawing close to 22
years of age, I am catching up somewhat to the maturity of the 18 to
19-year-old girls on campus. That sure helps!
(New
subject) Likely it was in October when I sat in court
sessions a few days. At the time of our traffic accident, that stretch of
highway was under construction. Our lawyer brought separate lawsuits against
the highway construction company on behalf of Justus, Sharon and me. Another
lawyer brought a lawsuit against that company on behalf of the dead driver’s
“family”. (He had at least one sister. I don’t recall what other family members
that bachelor had.)
Why
(in his own hometown) was he driving on the wrong side of a highway with which
he was most familiar? The most reasonable assumption
was that the highway under construction (a 2 lane hwy being widened
into a 4 lane), was not marked well enough for him to discern in which lane he
was supposed to be driving (at twilight) on that day.
Our
lawyer got 3 or more local people ready and willing to testify to that effect.
They each told our lawyer that at times they could not discern at all where
they were supposed to be driving, as lanes in use changed as
construction progressed and such, and that signs and markings were often
insufficient to discern which lane they should drive in at that time. They each
readily agreed to testify that they considered the driving conditions there to
be dangerous at that time.
As we
came thru there the previous Friday afternoon in daylight before our
deadly collision on Sunday evening (with Justus and Sharon), I thought to myself,
‘This area under construction is confusing and dangerous’.
Our
lawyer felt quite sure he had an airtight case of negligent endangerment
by the construction company. But a couple of factors went against us and we lost in court.
Of the
4 cases, my case was tried first. I sat beside my lawyer in the courtroom. He
planned to call Justus and Sharon as witnesses; thus, they could not be in the
courtroom except when they testified. During the trial, they and
Sharon’s parents had to sit in a separate small room in the courthouse, very
bored. Justus and I were both over 21 years old, but Sharon was still a
minor. So, her parents came there, and paid for a
motel room out of their pockets for several nights.
My
trial lasted just 2 days or so. Our local lawyer living in Tallassee called
local people as witnesses (who often drove on that highway under construction, and considered it dangerous).
But
after each witness took the stand, gave their names and such basic information,
our lawyer soon asked if they considered it dangerous to drive on that highway
in its condition. The defense lawyer cunningly, instantly
objected, saying they were not professionals, and thus could not make
that judgment. I was surprised that the judge sustained that objection each
time it was made. As a driver on that highway, they had
better be able to assess any highway
condition that is dangerous to their driving. If a vehicle driver
hath not the ability to assess a dangerous road or highway condition, that
factor itself is dangerous! Each of you drivers well know that.
I also
think our lawyer did his job poorly. I think he should have
started by asking each witness to tell the jury of his or her experience
of driving on that highway while it was under construction.
“Many
times, I was greatly confused.”
“I could
not discern exactly where I was supposed to be driving, because there were
not temporary signs erected to clearly show drivers where to drive.”
“I often
wondered if I was driving in the correct lane or not.”
“I was
much afraid driving there for those reasons.”
“As I
was driving along there, I often thought to myself,
almost in a panic, ‘This is a dangerous hwy condition’.”
When
the defense lawyer objected to that last statement, possibly the judge would overrule him. He should overrule that
objection. But possibly he would not. But anyway, the shrewd defense
lawyer would find no grounds to object to those other statements from the
hearts of other drivers, speaking as a driver on that highway, not
as a “safety expert”.
Likely our lawyer asked a police officer in court if he thought there were hazardous driving conditions. But I don’t recall anything about that. I was the last witness my lawyer called.
After my lawyer finished questioning me, the defense lawyer tried to make me look like a dumb Know-Nothing, as he cross-examined me.
“Well,
College Boy Richard, surely that would have been an easy task for
him.”
‘Hush!’
After
my lawyer rested his case, the defense called the defendant (the highway
construction company’s “boss”). They asked him several questions. Among them
was the clincher: “Was that highway dangerous?” Our lawyer objected. The
judge overruled our lawyer, saying this construction boss was a professional
regarding such. Thus, he was allowed to tell the jury his opinion, a most
biased one, of course. “No sir, at no time was there any thing or any condition
dangerous about driving on that highway.” He boldly expounded such biased
opinion to the jury fairly long. I think the judge
acted improperly regarding this.
After
my case ended, the jury deliberated just a brief time before returning a “Not Guilty”
verdict. My lawyer lost my case.
Next,
a different lawyer tried the case for the dead man’s family with a different
jury. Same verdict. “Not Guilty.” So, both lawyers decided to throw in the
towel at that point. Our lawyer did not try Justus and Sharon’s cases. We 3
spent several days at that courthouse, when we should have been in school
studying.
(We
did not have to pay any fee to our lawyer for trying these cases in court. Had
he won any money for us in court, his cut was to be 40% or 50%, tho he suffered zero percent of the painful
injuries.)
Warm,
pleasant fall quarter ended about December 20. My Lord graciously gave me
numerous exceedingly joyful days this autumn term. Truly my cup runneth over!
This calendar year of 1967, I attend all of the year’s four quarters at Auburn U, tho I lost the winter quarter due to the time in the
hospital. This was my only calendar year to be at AU all 4
quarters. (I much preferred being on campus, over the several
other places I passed time during college days.)
I
drive to Daddy’s house for the joy of spending Christmas and New Years with
family and friends in the Vernon area, the third time to do so after moving out
of my father’s house.
The
first week in January 1968, I drive my little tan Falcon back to Grandmother
Taylor’s house in Auburn. This month I turn 22 years
old. During the Winter Quarter at Auburn, basketball is the
intramural sport. So, I play on the Navy ROTC team. By God’s grace, I
study hard, play hard, and work hard at the enjoyable job
in the girls’ dining hall. I’ll keep my comments on Winter Term that brief. I rejoice
to be steadily progressing, with no delays or interruptions,
toward graduating from a university.
During
warm Spring Quarter, I play on the Navy ROTC intramural softball team. Thu out
this school year, I continue to participate in all the other Navy activities I
listed in the Fall Quarter. Almost all of the
competition matches we fire on the pistol team and on the rifle team are done
“by mail”. Our coach is the Marine Gunnery Sergeant who assists Major Cleveland
in instructing us. Each time we compete by mail, Gunny closely supervises our
shooting in the indoor range in the hanger on campus at Auburn. He then mails
our scores to the team at another college, against whom we were competing. Our
competitor mails their scores to us. Sort of boring,
but it saves travel time and money.
Normally,
once or twice a year, a competing team would travel to Auburn to compete in
person here in our hanger. Likewise, our team would go to another
university once or twice a year to compete in person there. This spring
is the 1st time I travel to compete
elsewhere.
An old
Air Force transport plane flies over to the Auburn airport from Maxwell AFB
near Montgomery, Alabama. Our shooting teams load our firearms and ourselves onto it, and fly to Oxford, Mississippi to compete
with University of Mississippi (Ol’ Miss). It’s my 1st time ever
to fly in any kind of aircraft. (Quite a late start
for a redneck barefoot farm boy aspiring to become a pilot.) The next day, we fly back to Auburn in that plane. The next time I fly
in an airplane, I will jump out of it while it is flying thru the sky.
“Will
you be wearing a parachute?”
‘I
sure hope so. Let’s read on to find out!’
For
this shooting match, we fly to Oxford, Mississippi Friday afternoon on 5 April
1968, spend the night on campus, shoot our rifle and pistol matches the next
morning, and fly back to Auburn that afternoon (Saturday). I was able to
research that exact date, because on the day before we flew to
Oxford, Mr. King was shot and killed in Memphis, Tennessee, not far from
Oxford, Mississippi. The situation on Ol’ Miss campus was somewhat tense
because of his murder.
In mid
or late May, our team drives to Atlanta, Georgia on a Friday afternoon in 2 or
3 cars to compete in person with Georgia Tech’s Navy ROTC rifle and pistol
teams. I didn’t drive my little Falcon. I forgot with whom I rode to
Atlanta. I rode back with Jerry (a “Marine” midshipman now 1 year ahead
of me, but my age). We talked firearms, competition shooting and such. We had
much in common, and Jerry is a pleasant Marine to be around. He’s dating a girl
who eats in “my” dining hall on campus. I know her well. I think they
later married.
Each
year, the U.S. Navy receives a set number of “slots” for Army Airborne training
at Ft. Benning, Georgia just over 30 miles from Auburn. It is typical to ask
for more slots than the Navy expects to use (training the Navy Seals, and such
elite warriors), just to be safe. In the summer, Navy Headquarters offers a few
available slots to ROTC units. I request to risk my life jumping out of
airplanes this summer, for the vain glory in it. I’m accepted.
I participate in more ROTC events than any other midshipman
this year. At the end of this year, when our instructors evaluate
us, and rate us from first to last in class standing,
I’m ranked Number One in the entire junior class (Marines and
Navy guys) of about 40 midshipmen. I’m elated and vainly puffed up, to say the
least.
During
my freshman year, each quarter, I was the very last or next to last in class
standing. Now, it feels good to be rated at the very top of my class
this one and only time. I thank God for the victorious
feeling I have this academic year at Auburn U. Former days (of much apprehension
and doubt about making it thru college) are receding. I steadily
become more and more hopeful of actually
gaining my college degree and a commission as a 2nd
Lieutenant in the U.S. Marine Corps. I am most thankful to my All-Powerful
God for bringing me along. To God be the Glory!
The
End of Chapter 16