Dance in the Rain

By S. R. Smith

The author's collection of short stories encompasses a time period of three years (Sept. 1968 - Sept. 1971). During that time, a young man travels ground from being a high school student to a veteran of the Battlefield. Warp drive speed marks the journey coupled with life altering experiences. Parental lessons, physical and emotional toughness,

• Language: English
• Publisher: Palmetto Publishing
• Release date: Feb 4, 2022
• ISBN: 9781685157876

S. R. Smith

S. R. Smith, "Steve" has spent his life as a Soldier and a Lawman. A veteran of Vietnam, Desert Storm, and the War on Terror, Steve is a retired N.C.I.S. Special Agent and lives in South Carolina. He currently splits time between training his beloved Labrador Retrievers, and writing stories about his life's experiences.

Book preview

USS INDEPENDENCE

I

t was early summer 1968. The past school year had been spent playing football for Princess Anne High School, Virginia Beach, Virginia. The previous December, Princess Anne had beaten Hampton High in a contest that decided the Virginia State High School championship. Christmas had brought me a new Dewey Weber surfboard. When summer emerged, most waking moments were spent riding whatever waves were available.

Being an eighteen-year-old, I was flying with a much-enhanced self-image. After all, as a defensive back, I had played for a school that was now the reigning State Football Champions. Coupling that with my surfing partner owning a ‘67, navy blue, GTO, my perceived 18-year-old Wizard status, was pretty much off the grid.

Within the past year, my Mother had more than her share of drama trying to assert a degree of control over me. By early summer she had pretty much given up and would only counter my antics with an occasional, Your father will be home soon. My Dad, LCDR Robert Smith, had been deployed for the past year aboard the USS Independence (CV- 62). He had joined the US Navy at age 17, immediately after high school. He was now moving towards a thirty-year retirement. Twenty-seven years of active duty had resulted in two years of service on Guadalcanal during World War II, followed by twenty-five years of shore duty and service aboard five different aircraft carriers (Wasp, Intrepid, Saratoga, Essex, and the Independence).

LDCR ROBERT SMITH

True to my Mother's warning, my Dad returned home to Virginia Beach in late June of 1968. He had received transfer orders assigning him to shore duty at NAS Whiting Field, Milton, Florida. Between packing out efforts and my Father spending more time than usual discussing my future plans, what remained of the summer evaporated. Due to my Dad's reporting date, it was decided that he and I would proceed to Whiting Field and my Mom would join us after the household items were packed and shipped.

On our way out of town, my Father stopped at the Independence, which was anchored in Norfolk. He told me he needed to pick up some items and asked me to accompany him aboard. After being shown most of the ship (berthing area, hanger bay, wardroom, enlisted mess, flight deck, etc.), I started to understand that this was not about picking up anything. What it had evolved into was a less than thinly veiled enlistment discussion and inducement.

On the way off the ship, my Father told me that he could promise that the Navy would provide a place to sleep and three good meals a day. I immediately countered with, I’ve been thinking about being an Army Paratrooper. My Dad paused and then responded by saying he was unsure as to what the Army could promise, but that if I did join, he felt sure that being cold, wet, and hungry was in my future. He followed by telling me that, since I had missed my high school senior trip, the Army would most probably accommodate me with a trip to Southeast Asia.

Fortunately, the subject of our talk changed and discussions of previous assignments to the Pensacola, Florida, area prevailed. I had missed my Father terribly during his deployment on the Indy, and we were now trying to reunite and catch up. It took us two and a half days to arrive in Pensacola. Most of our talks centered on my Father's recent Med Cruise and the highlights of my senior year at Princess Anne.

After about three days in Pensacola, I looked up an old friend. Steve Weott and I had been best friends in junior high and high school. We had been teammates on Escambia High's track team, fished most of Pensacola Beach, and had arguably hunted most of the unposted land in Escambia County. Once I found his house, I saw Army fatigues drying on the clothesline. When he answered the door, I started laughing, for I could see the skin on the sides of his head and one or two short sprigs of hair on top. A brief time passed before my friend explained that he was on home leave, and that he was in route to Vietnam. From that point, our reunion was tempered to a more somber tone.

Not to be outdone, the following day I visited the Army recruiter. Upon entering his office, I saw a large poster of a Paratrooper preparing to land. When he asked me if I was interested in the Army, I answered by saying, I am interested in doing that, pointing my finger at the larger-than-life poster. My comment was met with a grin, and within a short time, I had signed papers enlisting in the Army for three years. As I left the recruiting office, I had to remind myself that three years in the Army was a good thing for I now had a guarantee for Airborne Training. My Father's reaction, after being told of the day's events, was priceless. Without uttering a word, he deflated my belief that I had truly become a Wizard in his absence.

The next year zinged by at an incredible speed. Basic Training, Advanced Infantry Training, NCO School, Ranger Training, and Jump School had blended to paint me into the Paratrooper poster that was hanging in my recruiter's office. At 20 years of age, I was now a US Army Paratrooper with papers in my possession ordering me to Vietnam. Having received leave in route, I traveled by Greyhound from Fort Benning, Georgia, to my parents’ home in Milton, Florida. After burning my days of leave, my Father drove me from Milton to Jacksonville, Florida, so I could catch a plane to Tacoma, Washington.