On a long,snakey,hilly strecth of county road in north Georgia,not far from Atlanta, a young man of 16 was joy riding in a model "A".The year was 1934.They had been drinking the family recipe all day and were passing the jug around as the driver was pushing the pedal to the medal as his friends shouted,"see how fast it'll go,Peter Rabbit!" That's the last thing the young man remembered about the incident.He and the driver of the car he collided head on with were the only survivors.The young man's friends had died,as had the other driver's wife and daughter.Yet the man took pity on the youth and did not press charges.The state of Georgia,however,was not so forgiving.He faced vehicular manslaughter charges,yet at that time,a youthful offender could have a chance at redemption by enlsiting in the military.His father signed him into the US Army and he ended up in the Panama Canal Zone for most of his Army hitch.He made good at his shot at absolution,earning his high school equivalency diploma as well as the equivalent of a business degree and at the same time climbing in rank.He served on the color guard when President Roosevelt vistied the Canal Zone.
When his hitch was up,he and his best friend found themselves back at Fort Benning,amazed at the display of the then experimental 101st Airborne practice jumps.Military life had been good to the young man,and he wanted to re enlist.The recruiter talked the 101st up really big,extolling the advantages of flight pay and hazard pay,and after all,it was still peace time.The year was 1940.He and his buddy were told to be back at 8 AM to re enlist.That night,however,the two young men got rip roaring drunk and decided to party with a couple of hookers into the daylight hours.They forgot all about the 101st.Instead,the young man took his military career into another direction and served the entire time during WW2 in the US Coast Guard on the Destroyer Escort USS Savage.In 1942,shortly after the war broke out,he met and fell in love with a beautiful young woman,who was singing at the VFW club in Jacksonville,Florida.After the war,they got married and one of the kids they had was me.
Wartime duty for anyone in the service is not fun and it can be extremely dangerous.Had my dad and his friend not gotten sidetracked in 1940 and had gone into the 101st,chances are they would've parachuted into Normandy on D Day where over 60% of them didn't survive.
So while drinking alcohol to excess and cavorting with hookers is considered a vice,I think I can say with some assurance based on laws of probability that mine and my sister's existence can be owed to indulgence in two of life's vices.Namely massive amounts of alcohol and two hookers who came along at the right place and time.
