Jai waang (ใจกว้าง – wide heart)

Generous or broad minded.

Chapter Nine

Ben – The Renovation

The top movies we experienced on base were 2001, A Space Odyssey, Planet of the Apes and Romeo and Juliet. My favorite songs were Hey Jude by the Beatles. Honey by Bobby Goldsboro and Sitin' On the Dock of the Bay by Otis Redding. Protesters of the Viet Nam War were increasing. My feelings were scattered. The things that were important to me were evaporating. My family is the greatest gift that an orphan boy can have.

My experience in Thailand had prepared me for flight school. General Olander's training prepared me in initial flight instruction. His personal plane was the Cessna 320E the Executive Skyknight which sported twin turboprop engines. It was the best plane for me to learn to fly. The Air Force equivalent was the U-3CX. That version saw limited service in Southeast Asia. It permitted me to log in one hundred twenty daytime hours. However, my night and instrument flying were limited. General Bobby Olander was the father I never had. Energy surged throughout me.

Forced stalls of the aircraft use to send chills up and down my spine and trembling in my limbs. They became natural and relaxed in flight school. I was breathless with rapture.

A good part of being on a rescue team was that it gave me hours of experience as a passenger and observer in C-130. Although I was not a pilot or copilot at the time, it gave me opportunities to watch the basics of operation. Upon the conclusion of primary pilot school, I was permitted to select the advanced instruction with which I could participate. A comfortable sensation surrounded me as I was selected for C-130JX training.

I was transferred to a detachment at Kelly Air Field for the guidance in advancing to C-130 pilot certification. There was not a better placement from which to choose. The Crossman family will not have to move. Lilly had made friends with several kids in the neighborhood who attend chapel. John had discovered a group of retirees with which he can share World War II stories. They solved all the political problems which arose.

Beverly gravitated to a senior citizens homemakers circle made up of mostly retired officers wives. They exchange recipes and work on quilts. Twice a year they arrange fund raisers for cancer research. Their spring gala includes a dinner that uses new dishes they published and some good oldies made into a cookbook. The culinary delights attract several hundred officers and their wives, The book sale makes three thousand dollars a year. At the end of the meal they auction twelve bedcovers that were made during the previous year. The auction nets six thousand for a total of nine thousand dollars. I was excited as a wet sock.

The other attraction is an open challenge elimination fight sanctioned by MDCC International. A twenty-five-thousand-dollar prize goes to the overall winner and five-thousand-dollar award goes to each of the next five. The sponsors were a collaboration of TV networks and the local Chamber of Commerce. The San Antonio business area usually realized a half million dollar increase in sales the week of the tournament. Adrenaline pumped my movements while my arms and legs trembled.

The MDCC instructors at Lackland pooled their money to pay the two-hundred-dollar entrance fee for me. They possessed confidence in my ability, even though fighting on the professional level was not part of my resumé. Yes, I ranked fifth, but that had never been tested. A heaviness of mind and body took control. Images of defeat restricted my view. Angie encouraged me. My friends bestowed substantial support. Exhilaration swept over me causing me to endure the challenge. My thoughts drifted in several directions.

Thursday, two-hundred-twenty-five contestants were reduced to seven. Friday the seven were reduced to Mike, my friend from Thailand and me. He was married to Malsa. She commutes to the Philippines on the weekends to be with him. He made a trip along with stops at Don Muang and Chiang Mai Thailand. Devoting the afternoon and night to his wife, he made the trip two times a week. Thus, they were happy with the arrangement.

Malsa and General Olander were with him. Angie and I invited them to have dinner with us at the Officers Club. Angie's parents and Lilly came with us. It was noticed that darts flew from Angie's and Malsa's eyes. Otherwise, it was a pleasant dinner. Mike was best buddies with me by the time dinner was over we had a promised to stay in contact with each other.

Angie lit into me when we got home. "You did not tell me she was beautiful." With a big grin emitting on my face, "I only date attractive young women."

"Maybe her looks are lovelier than mine?"

"No!"

"Do her kisses bring on finer sets of feelings?"

"No, but she is just as obstinate and stubborn as you. You could be sisters."

My wife looked at me like I had stabbed her. Clomping down the hall, slamming and locking our bedroom door, and shouting with all her power, "If you are going to act like that, get out of here and don't ever come around me again." It seemed like my mouth collapsed down to my knees.

Her mother shouted, "You just kicked out the best thing that you had in your life. He will probably lose his fight tomorrow, and it will be your fault. Lilly was crying, and screamed. "Please, don't make my Daddy leave." I stumbled out the door and left. Angie was not playing. She was sobbing with anger.

Granny was wrong. Evidently, I was not the best thing in her life. She dumped me quicker than a blink. Maybe, my destiny was to be alone. My head kept peering downward and was thumping. I was a two-time loser. Sleeping in the car was not comfortable. No hotels had a vacancy because of the fights. Showering at the gym was humiliating. Buying a pair of fighting shorts at the commissary made me experience my loneliness.

Angie was walking toward me in front of the snack shack. Hopefully she wanted to make up. When she realized my presence was in her way, she turned and ran. That was the final signal of rejection. I ran after her. The anger was still fuming from her. I said, "I'm sorry to bother you, but you can have anything you want in the divorce. I will not fight you." It appeared as if she was going to speak. However, no words came out. Whatever caused her to be angry would not permit the words to be spoken.

I wanted to hug her, but that would create a scene in public. After all, she told me to get out and not come back. A rush of heat swelled all the way through my body. The problem constrained my mind, even though I had no clue what brought on the dilemma. Reverting to my previous state triggered within me a desire to run away.

I bolted to my commander's house, and scribbled a note resigning my commission. He said he was sorry to see me go. The expression on my face projected the urgency that produced my wish to leave. My temples were pounding. A rigidness invaded my muscles.

I went to the Marine recruiter. Within two days the recruiting station had me on a plane flying to San Diego. There was a Marine Corps bus loading new Marines to travel to Camp Pendleton. I enlisted as a Sergeant (E-5.) My transfer from the Air Force placed me in a special platoon for prior service, not former Marines.

Master Gunnery Sergeant Franklin Martin was the sergeant from the pits below. His demonic appearance was frightful. He was taller and wider than me. His muscles rippled through his camouflage pants and green t-shirt. Standing next to him put me in the runt category. His introductory speech claimed more than half our platoon would beg to get out of the Marines.

He walked up to me, and commented, "Form'r Air Force of'cers ar' pansies." Responding loudly, "No sergeant, I can kick any Marine's butt to hell and back." Most of the platoon laughed. He pulled his arm back to deliver a power punch to my face. Knowing that contact from him with my cheek would mean me collapsing to the ground, my head flexed back two inches, making his blow hit air. Grabbing his arm, and flipping him over my shoulder stunned him. Then a kick to his head rendered him glassy eyed while falling to the ground.

Grasping his arm and helping him to his feet was an easy task Along with a broad grin, he spilled, "Boy, cha didn't lie. You warned me. Cha' gotta kno' MDCC."

"Yes sergeant, I am a Grand Master." He offered a bottomless belly bright chuckle.

"Cha' mite' make a gud Marine."

"Thanks Sergeant Martin."

"Many Air Force guys and gals are learning MDCC. My ex-wife is one."

"Wa'cha' doin' hea'?"

"I want to go where the war is." I did not tell him I want to die. War may do the job that has scared me.

"Cha will, soon. Wa' dey ca' cha?"

"Crazy Ben! I go crazy when I fight."