GRam Journy Home Part 5

My Journey Back to the World

Part Five of Five

“And He’s Buying” (Read Part 1) (Read Part 2) (Read Part 3) (Read Part 4)

I stood outside the Oakland Army Terminal, a civilian, in an Army Class A Uniform. I had spent a little over 23 months on active duty in the United States Army since my induction in Oklahoma City. Although I was separated, I was not yet discharged. That would not come until the year 1974 when my entire military obligation was completed. I had been placed on inactive reserve status and was not required to attend any meetings.

I prepared myself for the next portion of my journey. I would now proceed to San Francisco International Airport in order to get a flight to Oklahoma City. I could either take the shuttle or a cab to the airport. Three other recently separated civilians were standing with me. I asked them if they wanted to share a taxicab to the airport. They all nodded, so we all piled into a cab and away we went.

When we arrived at the terminal, although the time was after midnight, all the ticket counters for the major airlines were open. I paid my share of the ride to the cab driver and went to the one which read, “American Airlines”. This airline, according to the schedule which my parents had previously sent me, had the earliest flight leaving for Oklahoma City.

I walked over to the counter and told the agent where I wanted to go and that I wanted to purchase a ticket. He said that a flight would be leaving at 9:35 a.m. He asked me if I wished to fly either standby or military reservation. I said no, that I wanted to pay full fare. He again tried to convince me to fly one of the former fares as the flight was never totally booked. Again, I said no, that I wanted to pay full fare. I just did not want to take the chance of being bumped for any reason. He relented at last and I paid for my ticket and checked my suitcase with the airline.

The time was now about 1:30 a.m., and I had about an eight hour wait until my flight time. I had been told at the Oakland Army Terminal that the USO had a section at the airport with some cots in it and that you could sleep on one while you waited for your flight.

I found the USO and checked with the desk. All the available cots had been taken for the night. In other words, there was no room at the inn. I decided to get me a magazine or two at a newsstand, find me a chair in a quiet section and read for awhile.

I found a newsstand, walked in and browsed for a magazine. I saw the latest issue of PLAYBOY and bought it. I then found me a comfortable chair and began to read the magazine. I had just turned to the Playmate of the Month Section when suddenly I was surrounded by people. I wondered what the Hell was happening. I looked at a clock and the time was 7:30 a.m. I had gone to sleep and slept all night with the magazine in my hand turned to the Playmate of the Month. I am sure the people passing thought that I was either a pervert, a typical G.I. or perhaps both.

I ate breakfast and then called my parents to tell them when my flight would be arriving in Oklahoma City. The flight left the gate right on time and I was definitely one of the passengers. This next-to-last leg of my journey was to have a duration of only two and one half hours which was a short hop compared to what I had been through in the previous two days. I thought to myself this should be a piece of cake, which it definitely was.

As the aircraft flew, the Flight Attendants began to push the drink cart through the aisle. I bought one drink to calm my nerves and then bought another. I tried to buy a third, then I was told by the Attendant that passengers on the flight were limited to two alcoholic drinks. The soldier across the aisle, who was also a VN returnee, informed the Attendant of our situation and thought that we, of all people, should be entitled to more than two drinks. The Attendant said she would ask the Aircraft Captain to see if we could have more than our designated allotment. In a short while the Attendant returned; leaned over and said, “The Captain says to give you all the drinks you want and that he’s buying.” OKAY!! I had a couple more drinks, but I was so excited none of them even fazed me.

I felt the airliner loose altitude and begin its decent into Oklahoma City. As it banked to the left on its approach to the airport runway, I noticed some white material piled against a fence and then a road. IT WAS SNOW. The season was definitely winter time in Oklahoma. I did not know if I was going to be ready for this.

The aircraft pulled up to an airport gate and the jet way swung into position. The door to the main cabin was opened. I got out of my seat and gathered my things and walked up the jet way to the gate. I noticed that my heart had again started pounding.

As I walked through the gate, they were standing there; my mother, my father and my brother. After some hugs and kisses and a few tears, we went to fetch my suitcase at the baggage claim. Once we had the suitcase my dad insisted on carrying it. I told him that I had been carrying the suitcase for four days and that it was not heavy. He said that he wanted to do carry it; I was shocked because this was an absolute first for my dad.

When we got to where the family car was parked, my dad asked if I wanted to drive the car home. I said that I really did not care to drive and gave some lame excuse about being tired or something similar. The actual truth was that I had not driven a wheeled vehicle in almost a year and I was not yet ready to tackle the traffic in Oklahoma City. So, my Dad drove the car and I was glad.

The trip to my hometown took about an hour. During the ride we talked about many things, but Vietnam was never mentioned. That would come at a later time. At the present, the conversation concerned nothing but happiness.

We turned a corner and pulled into the driveway. I got out of the car and walked through the door of the house. I was home at last. I noted the time: 4:55 p.m., Monday, January 12, 1970. I had come to the end of MY JOURNEY BACK TO THE WORLD.

Gary Graham
Norman, Oklahoma

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