It was October, 1971. I was nine months into a 12 month cycle in Vietnam when an early-out program from the Army became available to non-career soldiers like me. I was a draftee, having been selected in the lottery draft of January 1970.
At the time I was very much wanting to complete my military service and make it home –alive. Now a surprise early-out program gave me an option to get home from Vietnam and out of the Army months sooner than scheduled.
A long distance phone call through the USO connected me back home to Eastern Montana College to get an application for admission for winter quarter in January, 1972. Two weeks later the paperwork arrived. I mailed back my completed application the same day. I waited as days and days went by and finally, on Thanksgiving Day, my acceptance came in the daily mail call.
I’d already pre-prepared my “Out Processing” paperwork for the Army. With my acceptance from school I could now route it all through the channels, which usually required a few more weeks.
I had been trying to get home for Christmas but now the timing seemed too tight for that. I arranged one more phone call through the USO to reach Connie, my girlfriend back home, and tell her of my news. I predicted to her that I’d make it home sometime in early January. I wasn’t going to be home for the holidays, but sooner than we expected.
Connie and I had planned on being married when I was drafted into the military. She said she’d wait for me and so far she had. Now our two years apart were coming to an end. Connie’s support to me in the service was everything any soldier could want. Her letters were abundant and only someone who’s stood in a mail call could understand the heartfelt impact when the name called is your own.
Then on the second day after my paperwork went into the system, two sergeants in our office approached my desk. They were my superiors. With happy faces they handed me my paperwork and gave me permission to personally hand carry my out processing to each station required. They knew what this would mean to me. I could now get done in three days what normally took three weeks.
Home for the holidays? I stammered my appreciation to my sergeants, their faces beaming with happiness for me. They said I could begin at once. I stood up from my desk and double-timed my way out the door.
By mid-December I was airborne. My out processing went quickly and I was back on track for Christmas back home. I had not informed Connie or my parents of my schedule change. They still thought I’d be coming home in early January.
But it was December 17 and after a restless night trying to sieep on the f!oor in i.ht: USO 100111 <Ji. San Francisco International Airport, I was now in an airport restaurant having breakfast before my 9 a.m. departure. All my out processing was done. I was out of the Army.
I lingered over my meal -eggs, bacon, toast, hash brown potatoes, a slice of orange -while reading the San Francisco Chronicle. In the quiet of my solitude, savoring the taste of the meal and enjoying the paper, my heart swelled with peace joy. I vowed to myself that I would never take anything for granted again.
By mid afternoon my home town came into view as my plane banked for its final approach and landing. I quietly made my way to baggage pick-up. I had two duffle bags. I called a taxi and headed home to surprise my Mom and Dad. Connie was at work and I was pondering about how to surprise her later when she was off for the day.
My Mom had a premonition about my unexpected surprise. “Didn’t I tell you he was coming home today, Heidi?” I heard her say to our family dog. Earlier in the day my sister had given birth to her second child. My parents had a new grandchild and their son home from Vietnam on the same day.
And as for Connie, my surprise was simply a phone call.
“Hi, honey,” she said in hearing my voice, “what’s going on?”
“What do you mean what’s going on?” I played dumb.
“Well…the connection. It’s so clear. And there’s no delay in speaking and hearing like last time. Where are you at?” she said.
I dragged it out a bit more. “Well,” I answered, “I guess I could say, do you have any plans for…tonight?”
Ten minutes later I was on my way to Connie’s home. It began to snow. I hadn’t seen snow in a long time. I hadn’t driven in a long time either. I carefully made my way, finally pulling up along the curb in front of Connie’s house.
She came out on her covered porch to meet me where we embraced and kissed. We held each other tight and laughed and cried. Our two years of separation were over. We were back together again.
As the snow continued to fall, the bells of nearby St. Patrick’s church began to play “Joy to the World.” We laughed and cried and kissed again. Without a doubt, for both of us, in 1971 Christmas Day came on December 17.
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