Select this to read [the Whole Story].By the time I arrived at Fort Sam, Steve was in Vietnam and Tom had just completed basic training. I was the last of the trio to receive the "Greetings" letter in October 1965 and Tom had filled me in on what to expect as he drove my girlfriend and I to the induction center. He happened to be on leave at that time between basic and corpsman training.
Tom had a way of describing an experience as being somewhat pleasant, no matter how horrible it really was. Of course, knowing this in advance, I took his description of basic training with the proverbial "grain of salt." He was describing an experience one would expect at Club Med. But, that was Tom. He could make the best of anything.
Tom was accepted as an instructor at the Medical Training Center at the time I was just completing corpsman training. Knowing that my civilian training was in the medical field, he talked me into applying for the same position. Subsequent to AIT, I was assigned to the Professional Sciences Branch as an instructor. At least two of the trio of friends were able to serve together.
Tom and I spent most of our free time together. If we were not at a Bah'ai function, we were working as security guards at a local mall in San Antonio. We would occasionally joke about what others might think of our close relationship but people were quite clear, we were brothers.
Late summer of 1966 saw a lot of trainees come and go from our center. Our class sizes had increased and there was a shortage of instructors. For whatever reason, Tom received his orders for Vietnam. He looked upon this as an opportunity to do something else...he was excited about the prospect.
He had some leave time and decided to spend it with his girl friend and sister in California. He bought an old sports car for about $300 and began his trip...only to have the car break down about 100 miles short of his destination. Just like Tom. I remember telling him that the junker was like the rest of the cars he owned wouldn't make it much beyond San Antonio!
Tom was stationed at Quin Nhon and began working for an eye doctor who taught him how to refract for lenses. During his off hours, he would set up entertainment for the troops. He was quite an entertainer himself and had a beautiful singing voice. His letters were the usual. The way he described everything, I had expected to receive a picture post card! I can remember hearing from people who knew Tom at Quin Nhon that he was a real morale booster for the troops.
Steve completed his tour in An Khe and returned to Fort Sam to complete his active duty as a company clerk. I was working evenings and on occasion and Steve would attend my classes just for amusement. Steve was unusually quiet one evening as we were driving to class. I asked him if there was a problem and he said there was, but he would tell me after class. Being the type of person I am, I told him that I was really bothered and to tell me now what the problem was (I figured it was bad news). He handed me a letter from his mother. the first sentence I will never forget..."Tom was killed in a plane crash."
An Army General in Saigon had heard about Tom's idea for converting a building in Quin Nhon for troop entertainment. He was so impressed that he requested Tom fly to Saigon to meet with him and discuss his idea. On the return trip, the plane made a fuel stop and crashed on takeoff. Tom lived for one day.
I taught the class that night as if nothing had happened. I don't think I taught it out of sense of duty. Frankly, I don't remember my feelings at that time. I was probably very numb. Word reached the Branch and I was called in by the Commanding Officer. He had little to say except that he knew Tom and I were close friends and that he felt a personal loss.
I remember one Master Sergeant, a mean, nasty, tough-as-nails sonofabitch calling me into his office. He talked to me of his experience knowing Tom and working with him. He broke into tears.
I still think of Tom often. He had one thing against him from birth. His father was black, his mother white, and we were in the south in the '60s. I remember the trip we took with other friends from San Antonio to Houston and the cafe we stopped at. We left because he couldn't sit with us. He could never come to my house because my parents would not accept a friend who was black.
I think of Tom often.
Select this to read [the Whole Story].
