Page 31 - Gary's Book - Final Copy 7.9.2017_Active

After graduation, I was not prepared to do anything, and I did not know what I
wanted to do. At seventeen years old, I was financially broke, but my fears were
gone. Dad was dead, Mom was gone from my life, I was now free from Alma and
the farm, and Grace was a thing of the past. My fears were over! I had no fears! I

thought about joining the army, and someone said, “Have you heard of Pearl
Harbor?” Pearl Harbor to me could have been a girl. [Chuckle, chuckle!] In the
army I could get fed, clothed, paid. I wouldn’t get beatings. My problems would be
solved. I could sleep at nights. So, in July of 1957, I joined the U.S. Army where I
was on active duty until January 1958. They had a special program at that time
where I spent six months on active duty and then seven and a half years on inactive
duty. I was at Ft. Leonardwood, Missouri, and then Ft. Sill, Oklahoma, during

these six months. I was a radio operator and colonel driver after boot camp. My
eight-year obligation was to spend the next three and a half years in the active
reserves, which meant I attended monthly evening meetings and two weeks at
Camp McCoy in Wisconsin each summer. This was to be followed by four years in
the inactive reserves (called standby). I received an honorable discharge in 1965.

After six months on active duty in the military, I knew I was not suited for such a

structured lifestyle. I knew education would open doors for me, so I decided to go
to college. Unfortunately, it was January, and I could not register for classes until
September.

I began working in construction and worked for eight months for Brud Todd. He
was a realtor and builder who was about 35 years old, single, had money and
enjoyed life. He had two Cadillac convertibles and a Beechcraft Staggerwing

airplane. Brud lived in Chesterfield, Missouri, and was building homes in Ocala,
Florida. Boy, did I ever luck out! He paid me well, let me use a Caddi and allowed
me to fly his plane once we were up in the air or down on the ground. I was still
only seventeen. I spent a lot of time flying to Florida and back at 5,000 feet. His
plane was bright orange with black stripes and had a fabric body. We would clean

and wax it quite often in the hangar. One time we counted seventeen coats of wax
on it. When he had the plane serviced, he would never depart until the mechanic
flew up with him first. On a trip from Florida to St. Louis, we had an oil leak
coming from the single engine onto the windshield, and we could barely see ahead,
so we spent the night in Macon, Georgia. The oil seal O-ring on the propeller had
failed.

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