FIRST ACCIDENT IN KITCHEN: 

It was at Ft. Monmouth New Jersey, that I was burned the first time; I was playing in the kitchen and pulled a pan over on myself while my mother was cooking, I do not remember anything about this. I do remember that one day my mother took me by the hand and took me to her bedroom; she opened the closet and said, “See your daddy’s uniform, your daddy is in Korea fighting a war.” I don’t know why I remember this but I do, just as I wrote it here. 

My father returned home from Korea on emergency leave September 19 1951 when my little sister Deborah was born, he didn’t return to Korea because he had enough combat points. That was a horrible war, only second to Vietnam. My father went to signal School at Ft. Monmouth and worked in Electronic Warfare with the AN/MLQ-3, his office was at Evans Lab. During the year 1954 my father was transferred to Ft. Bliss Texas to take part in the development of the Corporal Missile System. I don’t know why I remember this but when I went home for Christmas from Egypt during the Holiday season of 2010 my sister Cathy tells me that our father never had a green station wagon but yet for some reason I remember that on the trip to El Paso TX from New Jersey my father had a green Nash Rambler station wagon, I remember riding in the back watching the traffic. I remember one day during the trip that it was raining real heavy, my father pulled into a gas station that was brightly lit and the gas pumps were covered with a roof. I remember that the station attendant was washing the windshield with a water hose and I was thinking “why was he washing the windshield when it was raining???” Is it possible that this is a false memory and if so why do I have this memory, a mystery isn’t it?

Second Accident in the Kitchen: November 1955; I was 5 years old.

It was in El Paso Texas when I was five years old that I was burned the second time, I remember this like it happened yesterday. I was playing in the kitchen while my mother and little sister were watching Soap Operas on TV. That was during the fall, October or November of 1955; I have pictures of me in the hospital dated November 1955.

I was playing with some small plastic cowboy figurines; I remember I was going to hang one of the cowboys and so I wrapped the electric cord around his neck and pulled on it without realizing that it was the cord to the electric cooker. The cooker was on a shelf unit that resembled a small book shelf, the cooker was on the top shelf and a radio was on the bottom shelf, so when I pulled on the cord the cooker full of boiling hot water and pinto beans came down on me burning my back, left arm, a small spot on my right arm and parts of my scalp. I screamed and my little sister came running to the kitchen and when she got to the door, she saw me sitting on the floor with steam coming off my body she also screamed.

My mother come running and picked me up off the floor and took me to the bathroom, she set me down on the sink and rubbed something on my body then she took me to her bedroom and put me on the bed and wrapped me up in the bedspread, she took the car keys out of her purse tossed them to my little sister and told her “Go to Tony’s house give him these keys, tell him what happened to Dewey and ask him to start the car, I’m going to call your daddy and bring Dewey out to the car. You stay at Tony’s house.” It was strange the pain only lasted a second, maybe I went into shock and my brain shut down the pain center, but now I was scared, I didn’t know what was going to happen to me. Tony came running over to the house and stood on the front porch at the bedroom door and my mother said “Julius had an accident in the Kitchen, we need to get him to the hospital right away, I’m calling Beryl now, go start the car.”

After calling my father, my mother picked me up out of the bed and ran outside with me, Tony had the car started and was waiting for my mother and I. When we got into the car my mother said “Beryl said to take him to the William Beaumont Army Hospital emergency room, GO!” Tony floored the accelerator throwing us into the seat and I screamed in pain, my arm hit the cold metal of the door handle of the car door causing extreme pain. Every time Tony would take a sharp turn my arm would hit the door handle causing pain, I would scream “Tony slow down, Tony slow down!”

William Beaumont Army Hospital

I remember seeing the sign “William Beaumont Army Hospital” as we passed by it. When we got to the hospital my mother rushed me into the emergency room and set me down onto the emergency room operating table, the last thing I remember was the doctor talking on the phone; it was a wall phone next to the door. I don’t know if I passed out or if they put me to sleep. The emergency room was in a wooden building somewhat like an old wooden army barracks. The rest of my memories are fragmented but clear, if that makes sense. Treating third degree burns was always evolving and constantly changing, my case was very serious because of my age and the area of my body that was burned, so they put me in a private room. Not sure if the Army assigned my father to the hospital so as to help the hospital staff with my care, or if he took leave of absence so that one of my parents could always be with me until after the second skin graft surgery.

I remember that the first time I went in for skin graft surgery I was very excited, they came for me with a hospital transfer bed and they stopped just before the operating theater and checked my temperature, blood pressure, and reflexes. I was very confused and I remember that I asked, “Is this it” and they laughed and said “We haven’t started yet”.

Then they wheeled me into the operating room and placed a mask over my face and dropped something on it with an eye dropper, they then asked me to count backwards from ten, I said “I don’t know how to count and they said do your best. 

The next thing I knew, I was waking up sick, very sick in the recovery room and vomiting, a nurse ran to my side with a suction tube and started to suction the vomit out of my mouth to prevent me from drowning in the vomit. I discovered it wasn’t fun, no fun at all. 

Because treating third degree burns was evolving and changing not all staff members were trained with the latest techniques. My bandages were kept moist and changed on a regular basis so as to remove dead skin and scar tissue. One night one of my parents observed a nurse changing my bandages putting the dead skin and scar tissue back on my arm wrapping it with a fresh bandage, they intervened and informed the nurse that the dead skin could promote infection, luckily for me infection never set in which is very common for burn cases in the 1950’s. Visitors from outside the hospital except my parents were not allowed, and everyone who entered my room had to wear a surgical mask.

My youngest sister Deborah was so worried and missed me that she couldn’t sleep, so my parents arranged for her to see me, but we were only allowed to see each other in the hallway several yards apart. I did have a friend from an adjoining room who was confined to a wheelchair we were very close and I enjoyed his company, he was the only one who was allowed to visit me, I cannot remember his name. I later learned that he was suffering from a kidney disease.

Surgery: 

Because of getting sick after my first surgery, I didn’t want to go through it again, I remember it like it happened yesterday; I nearly died from Anesthetic Shock; anesthesia in those days was very risky. I was scared, very scared and crying as they brought me into the operating room, they put the mask over my face and told me to count backwards from ten, I just cried. The next thing I knew I was still crying and floating near the ceiling looking down onto myself and the doctors, one of the doctors pulled off his mask and said he’s gone, I shouted out “No I’m here, can’t you see me. I’m here.” And then the next thing I knew I was floating in space and still crying,

I saw galaxies and stars, and I heard voices that sounded like a choir. The voices were saying “Dewey, we’re coming for you.” Over and over, (My nick name is Dewey) I was scared so very scared. Then I saw a light far in the distance, and there was a man in the light, the strange thing is I couldn’t see the bottom half of the man, it was like seeing a news caster on TV. The voices were getting louder and louder and the light got closer, but I still couldn’t see the bottom half of the man. Just as I started to step into the light, I woke up in the recovery room vomiting and again a nurse came running to my side with a suction tube and started to suction the vomit out of my mouth to prevent me from drowning in the vomit.

I never spoke of this until I was 14 years old. My mother told me that I nearly died during surgery, and then I told my mother this story. Maybe Hashem has a mission for me.

My father started buying a single-story house next to the fence of Ft. Sill Army base. My father bought a brand new Edsel, he said he wanted a car that would keep up with Aunt Claudine.

On weekends my father would take us for outings on the base, sometimes we would go to the base to gather pecans and sometimes just to explore.

WHEN I DISCOVERED THAT I’M JEWISH: 

I was raised in a secular home, we celebrated Christmas but we never went to church, I didn’t even know that there were other religions. One day when I was 8 years old while on the school playground during recess a gang of boys surrounded me and started pushing me and hitting me, they called me Jew boy and that the Jews killed G-d and that Jews didn’t believe in G-d. I didn’t know what they were talking about, I never knew that I was Jewish, and I was confused, how could anyone kill G-d? G-d created life; he is all knowing and powerful. They tied me to a tree and beat me; I remember seeing a girl standing by the class rooms watching the boys as they beat me. Then the bell rang and the boys ran off to their class leaving me tied to the tree, then I saw the girl again with the teacher and she was pointing at me, the teacher untied me and took me to the principal’s office and the principal called my father. I had no idea that I had Jewish roots and so I was very confused and couldn’t understand what the boys were saying, I asked my parents why the boys were calling me “Jew boy” and why they were beating me, and why they hated me. 

Jews don't believe in G-d, I didn't know what they were talking about, so if Jews didn't believe in G-d, and I was a Jew, then I would wear the badge as they pined it onto me, so I rejected G-d. Don't remember how long I rejected G-d. 

My parents tried to explain and answer my questions; they gave me Bible stories for children that had a lot of pictures in it. 

I was raised in a Secular home; My father rebelled against his Jewish roots because his mother was very strict and mean, using Jewish law and mitzvahs from the Torah as guidelines to raise her son. My father came from a broken home, he and his sister would sometimes live with their grandmother, and at times live with their mother. When my father was 17 years old he saw his chance to escape his mother, he lied about his age and joined the Civilian Military Training Corps (CMTC) wanting to be a soldier. He joined one day before the national guard was federalized due to the outbreak of World War Two.

As can be seen, he was happy in the Army, he retired from the Army with 22 years in service. He fought in WWII and Korea. 

Getting back to my story

I read the Bible stories, and studied the Bible as I got older, I read the Bible three times, the last time I not only read the Bible, I studied it, using other books to answer questions about the Bible.

Going to Germany

Military airlift command Lakehurst  New Jersey

These photos were taken in the backyard

My sisters and I were troublemakers, we lived within walking distance of Fliegerhorst Kaserne. and my sisters were always going to the base and disrupting base operations by sashaying around the base, and you know how guys are. One time they had three GI's following them calling at them. Several times the MP's came to our apartment asking my father to keep them off the base. My father took their ID cards, but that didn't stop them, they found ways to sneak in. Now for me, I was the worse trouble maker, We rode the school bus to school, it really was a troop carrier bus, two rows of seats were removed from the back of the bus near the emergency door for the duffle bags of the GI's that were being transported. I was ALWAYS getting into fights on the bus, and the back of the bus is where we fought. And I was also getting into trouble at school. The school officials thought I had Attention Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder, as an effect of the burns I received when I was 5 years old. In reality I was spoiled rotten by my mother, being the only son that she nearly lost. The Army assigned my father to Frankfurt Germany so that I could go to a special Ed class in school, and so that he could be home more often, he was always in the field in his previous unit. I attended Special Ed classes until my father got out of the Army in 1964.

We lived on the third floor in Military housing in Frankfurt. The school I attended was a short walk from where we lived. My parents also started taking me to a child psychologist, I had regular appointments with a child psychologist up until my father got out of the Army in 1964. They did a lot of testing, my mother told me when I was 14 years old that I had a very high IQ. But yet I did poorly in school, again I was always getting into fights and general mischief. 

School photo Hanau Germany

My father got orders to Ft Bliss Texas and we left Germany Aug 1962. We went back to the US on the USS Buckner, the same ship that my father went to North Africa during WWII. 

My father bought a new house in a new community in El Paso called Sun Valley at 5701 Kensington Cir. Our back yard was desert. 

After a windstorm the city would send out a crew to clear the tumbleweeds. I assume that they didn't want the homeowner doing it due to fears that if the homeowner did it could result in a wildfire in the desert.

One time some friends and I dug a ditch in the sand behind the wall and lined tumbleweeds along the perimeter of the ditch, and we put up a flag, that was our fort. One day while I was at school, the city attacked and destroyed our fort! LOL

My father bought a jeep and we would go on regular family outings to interesting places in southwest Texas and New Mexico. 

My father's Jeep in Arkansas

My father was first assigned to a field Artillery unit with the Corporal missile system, the radar and Santa riding the big missile. 

Then later on went to the HAWK instructor's school and taught the HAWK missile system to foreign students. 

Going to Arkansas: 

In 1964 my father was transferred to Korea, his last tour of duty before retiring from the US Army. My father started buying the farm in Arkansas in 1953 and we moved to the farm as he finished his Army career in Korea.

My father took a 30 day leave of absence before he had to report for duty in Korea, he used this time to build two rooms onto the side of the house, and he installed a pitcher pump to the Kitchen sink!

He also built a back porch to the house. He put a shower head to the drain hose of an old wringer washing machine, and that is how we took showers on the back porch during the summer months. During winter months we took bathes in a big metal tub in the house.

The biggest part of my father's business was raising horses 

I would train them to ride and my father would sell them. I kept the first horse that I raised and trained. He was a pinto, gelding horse. He was just a colt when my father bought him and I was a city slicker and knew next to nothing about horses. We became very good friends. I wanted to name him spot, but my mother named him Junior. Of course my mother was the boss, and he was Junior.

My sister, Deberah loved horses and she had a book about how Native Americans trained their horses, she gave me the book and that is how I trained Junior. The Native Americans trained their horses the gentle way, takes more time, but you get a better trained horse. I started out by petting him all over his body while talking to him and giving him apples. Then I would start leaning on him while talking to him, this was so he would get use to me. 

Then I made a halter out of hay string. I put the halter on him and would lead him around, this was so he would learn how to be lead. I then I slowly climbed onto his back and just sit there. He was real nervous, but he didn't buck. I didn't try to ride him, I just sat there talking to him so he would get use to having someone on his back. Then I had someone lead him around while I was on his back so he would get use to that. It took months of training. finally I was able to ride him with a halter, no bridle, no bit in his mouth, I mostly talked to him and he learned which way I wanted to go by feeling the reins. And to stop was when I pulled back on the reins with equal pressure and say Whoa Junior. I was the last on the right in the picture, no saddle, no bridle, just a hay string halter.

Junior my horse did throw me off seven times in a row, everybody thought it was so funny, but I was so angry. But now that I think about it; it was funny the way it happened. The first time that I put a saddle and bridle on him, I brought him up to a full run, he had several gates. Every time we past the drive way to the house he would put out both front legs and come to a sudden stop, the saddle would flip up launching me over his head. Being stubborn as I was, I wasn't going to let him get away with that, so I'd climb back on him and try it again, and again he did the same thing. The thing that made it funny is that I'd be sitting on the road just burning up with anger, Junior would come up to me, and as I tried to get up, he would knock me back down onto the road with his nose, then hold his nose up in the air like he was laughing at me. Wish I had pictures of that. I decided to give up and think about how to prevent him from doing that again.

I talked to my father about that and he said that he had an old cavalry saddle that had a V type girth instead of the front girth that western saddles had. Take a look at the picture and you'll see that there is a D ring that holds both the front and the back of the saddle to the horse that prevents the back of the saddle from flipping up. So I fixed up that old saddle and when Junior discovered that he couldn't launch me over his head he stopped doing that.

We had all kinds of animals on my father's farm, Chickens, ducks, geese, and my father bought a male calf. My mother also had a big garden. I made my spending money from selling fresh eggs to the local store.

I remember that one day while my sister was going to the out house she started screaming, We ran outside to see what she was screaming about. She and that little bull were staring at each other and we asked her what she was screaming about. She said that that little bull was looking at her like it was going to charge at her. LOL That little bull was afraid of her screaming as much as she was afraid of it.

My mother bought me my first gun when I was 14 years old while my father was in Korea. She said that I was the man of the house while he was gone and that I should take on the responsibility of gun ownership, it was a Savage 22 caliber bolt action single shot. The man that she bought the gun from, Mr. Mooney taught me how to shoot it, gun safety, and how to care for it. My father bought me a Savage 16 gauge single shot shotgun when he came home from Korea. He taught us kids, my sisters and I how to shoot, care for our guns, and gun safety. He had some very strict rules about guns, never But NEVER point our gun at anything unless we mean to shoot it, never but never bring a loaded gun into the house, and never keep the ammunition in the same place where we kept our guns. The ammunition was kept in a drawer of the gun case. Many times if he knew that we were outside with our guns he would stand at the door of the house and check our guns to make sure that it was unloaded.

We all had our chores at home, I took care of everything outside the house while my father was in Korea. Feeding the animals, taking care of the pastures, such as bush hugging, A bush hug is like a big lawn mower that attaches to the back the tractor, it can cut down large saplings and brush that would take over a pasture if we didn't keep it cut down. At about 4 in the morning my mother would turn on my bedroom light and walk away. If I was still in bed when she came back, she would pull on the sheets and I would find myself on the floor. She would say get your butt outside and feed the animals. I had my breakfast after they did, but only after I took a shower. Then we would go outside and wait for the school bus, and for me that is when the bullying would start. Then after we came home from school my chores would start before I even walked into the house. I would put my school books on the steps of the house and go straight for the barn to feed the animals. sometimes I would cut firewood after that. We heated our home with a wood burning heater.

Whenever I fed the horses I always fed them in their stalls and the chickens would try to steal their grain and the horses were always kicking at the chickens. One time after giving Junior he's grain I walked behind him and slapped him on his hip. The next thing I knew I was flying the wall of the stall with the boards of the wall flying out. I came to rest on the fence of my mother's garden. After catching my breath I chased Junior up the hill. I had a bruise in the shape of a hoof print on my chest. It was my fault because he didn't know that I was behind him. The next day Junior came down the from the hill and he stood there for two days, he wouldn't eat or drink, he just stood there holding his head down. On the third day after I came home from school my mother looked out the window at Junior, she said to me Dewey you should go out there and make up with Junior, he has a broken heart and if you don't make up with him he may die. I knew it was my fault, and that she was right. I went out with an apple, His ears perked up and he looked at me, it seemed like he didn't know what to expect, was I going to chase him up the hill again? I showed him the apple and I walked up to him saying "Junior I'm sorry, I should have my hand on your body so that you would know that I was behind you. He ate the apple and then he nudged me with his nose like he was saying, "I know, and I'm happy that we're still friends."

We had all kinds of fruit growing on our farm, pears, apples, Raspberries, blueberries, blackberries, and muscadines. We would pick the fruit and keep them in bushel baskets in a shed during the winter. It was the cold weather of the winter that kept the fruit from going bad. The skin of the apples would wrinkle, but it was still good to eat. So we always had apples to give the horses.

In 1966 I joined the Arkansas Civil Air Patrol, I wanted to be an astronaut and I thought that by joining the Civil Air Patrol would help me in joining the Airforce, and become a test pilot, as most astronauts were test pilots. But I wore glasses, and that would prevent me from becoming a test pilot. 

Once a year all Arkansas chapters of the Civil Air Patrol would fly into an airport and we would check out in each other's aircraft, it was called a FlyIn. That is how I learned to fly small aircraft .

I went to High School at Lamar High School in 1964 through 1968. I was supposed to graduate in 1968 but flunked out of literature class, the teacher and I didn’t get along, she wanted to teach the Theory of Evolution, not that I have anything against that theory, I just didn’t think literature class was the place to teach it. Things got so bad between she and I my father suggested that I keep copies of all my grades. Except for that class, I was nearly a straight A student, in fact all the kids called me the four eyed professor. 

I was really into Electronics, and my father helped me run electricity into the old Smokehouse that was behind the house, and that was my workshop. Yes, the farm was that old that it had a smokehouse. 

I was always telling my Science Teacher about my electronics project, he asked me to bring one to class, and explain to the class what it was, and how it worked. I built a low power FM radio transmitter and brought it to class and demonstrated it to the class explaining how it worked. The Teacher took a desk in front of the class taking notes. That is how I got the name Four Eyed Professor. I was severely bullied and got into lots of fights. 

I was always short, skinny, and looking like a nerd, so I was always bullied. I never backed down from a fight, and I always got my butt kicked. All the kids thought I was crazy, because the next day after getting my butt kicked I came back the next day wanting revenge and I would pick a fight with the kid that whooped my butt, it went on and on like that until one day the bully said, "I like you, you're either a brave punk, or you're just damn crazy, either way I like your spunk" So we became friends, but he still picked on me, but not the same way he did when he bullied me.

My father traded the Edsel for a new 1968 Mercury Montego, a few months later I saw the Edsel in a used car lot. I told Dad about it, and we went to look at it, and he bought it for me. I took it to school and painted in shop class as a school project.

it was when I was 16 years old that I decided to adopt Judaism as my personal religion, and make Israel my home. To my surprise my mother urged me to explore my Jewish roots, she gave the address of my grandfather and uncle, and helped me write letters telling of my desire to learn about Judaism. They sent me books on Judaism and Hebrew, my uncle Sam, my father’s older brother told me about a program where Jewish children can go to a Kibbutz in Israel for a summer vacation. I talked to my parents and they thought it would be a good idea, I wrote to the Kibbutz and they sent me a pamphlet and an application form. I studied the pamphlet and it said that Jewish children could go for free, I was so excited. My mother helped me get my passport and to complete the application form.

After a few weeks the Kibbutz accepted my application, but I had to pay for airline tickets, something I didn’t know is that the Synagogue or Temple the children attends pays for the airline tickets, I didn’t attend either a Synagogue or Temple because I lived in the country and the nearest Synagogue or Temple was 110 miles away, I was heartbroken, I wanted to go so bad.

Repeating another year in High School wasn’t a thing I wanted to do, so I dropped out, not long after I dropped out, I got a draft notice. From what my father told me, as being his only son I could be drafted, but I was exempt from war time duty in Vietnam, even though I did get involved in that war. I'll get to that latter. My father went on telling me that if I enlisted before my reporting date, and with my grades, I could select my MOS (Military Occupational specialty) He went on making suggestions as to which MOS to select.

I passed the Armed Forces Vocational Aptitude Battery and (ASVAB) Armed Forces Qualification Test (AFQT). When I selected the MOS the recruiter scheduled me for the next class at Fort Bliss Texas, and I went in on the Delayed entry program.

I attended Basic Training at Fort Polk Louisiana from 1 September 1969 to 24 October 1969. 

After Basic Training I was transferred to Fort Bliss Texas for training in the repair of Fire Control Radars and Control Center of the HAWK Missile System MOS 24F20. From October 1969 to 22 July 1970 at Fort Bliss TX.  

There were 7 Koreans, 7 Americans, 2 Danish, and 2 Greek students in our class. The top three students were the two Danish Sergeants, and myself.  

Before I graduated, I saw a notice on the bulletin board requesting volunteers for a special Operation; I can't say much about it. Being young and dumb, and wanting to be a real man, I volunteered. Now I must explain. When I was in high school, I saw on the nightly news, American soldiers fighting and dying in Vietnam and I was brainwashed by the speeches by Robert McNamara. As a proud American I wanted to fight the commies over there so we wouldn't have to fight them over here. as it turned out that was all propaganda. I couldn't enlist for Vietnam, because I’m an only son, but I did get involved in that war. I was never in Vietnam, but I was close.

At first, I was assigned to the Officer Student Battalion (OSB) for training on some electronic equipment (rembass-450 and system).

After completing that course of instruction, I then was assigned to the 591st Military Police Company for training in hand-to-hand combat, 16 gauge pump action shotgun, 45 caliber pistol, how to choose and set up defensive positions, and so on.  

A few weeks before I was to finish my training 

A friend and his pregnant wife took me to a well-known bar in Juarez Mexico. A few minutes after we were seated a pretty Mexican lady asked me to buy her a drink, I shook my head and said no, my friend and his wife said, oh Julius be nice and buy the lady a drink, she sat down next to me and I bought her a drink. The Mexican lady looked at my friend’s wife seeing that she was pregnant, pointed at her belly and asked if she was with child, and when my friend’s wife said yes, the Mexican lady started to cry and said that she wanted to marry and have children of her own. My friend’s wife said, “Julius you should marry that pretty lady,” and my friend said the same thing. I was intrigued by the idea of having a wife, a reason to come home, so I asked her to give me her address and directions to her house. My friend and his wife volunteered to take me to her house the next day. After visiting with her and her family the next day, I proposed to her and we started making plans to marry. I spent the next week with her, she took me to meet her father and the rest of her family, and then we got married. After two weeks I had to leave for my duty assignment in Laos, she couldn’t understand why I was leaving her, and when I told her that I was going to Laos to support the war in Vietnam she cried. I told her that I would come back to her in about six months, by then I would be eligible for R&R (Rest and relaxation) R&R is vacation for soldiers that are in a combat zone.

I flew out of Biggs Army Air Field to Travis Air Force Base November 1970 where I met up with a squad of Marines and about 4 Navy Seals, we then flew to Bangkok Thailand and then caught another MAC flight to Nakhon Phanom. At Nakhon Phanom we met the mountain yard men, some people called them The Mountain People. They were real good at navigating through the jungle and avoiding the NVA. They acted as our guides into Laos, and once we got to our base camp, of which the Mountain yard Men had already built for us, they brought in our supplies once a week.

Most of my stay at the base camp in Laos was boring as hell, and the damn monkeys would steal anything they could get their hands on. When we would chase them away, they would scream bloody murder and get the whole jungle in a noisy panic, we were so worried that the noise would attract the attention of the NVA. We really looked forward to going on patrol even though it was dangerous, just to have something to do.

During our second patrol we were coming back to our base camp after placing sensors on the Ho Chi Minh Trail, our base camp was set up on a mountain top on the Muia Gia Pass.

We discovered that one of our guys was missing. We took up a defensive position and radioed the base camp informing them of our missing guy. During this whole time, I had the terrible feeling that we were being setup. 

My antique Comm Center, I no longer have these antique phones or radios. The company I worked for lost their contract with the government and was laid off for two years and fell upon hard times, so I sold most of my antiques including these radios so to pay bills. The pictures of me holding the radios was used on ebay.

Back to my story

We were told to look for him and try to rescue him if he was captured and still alive. After about 3 hours of looking for him, we did find him. He was tied to a tree with his penis in his mouth. They had cut it off after torturing him and after he bled to death, they stuck it into his mouth. We cut him loose from the tree and we started back to the base camp. As we were going back to the base camp, I got the feeling that we were being followed, we again took up a defensive position and radioed base camp for instructions. Our mission was compromised. We were instructed to proceed to the base camp and they were going to set up an ambush for the NVA that was following us. The NVA was highly trained, highly motivated, and very brave. They were damn good soldiers. They knew that we would try to ambush them. Just as we started up the mountain all hell broke out, they were throwing everything they had at us, small arms fire, mortars, rockets, and heavy artillery. We did make it back to the base camp. We got orders from higher command to destroy what couldn't be carried with us. It was starting to get dark, so they couldn't evacuate us until morning. So, we fought all night, but we did have air support. I don't think we could have come home alive if not for the air support.

They sent in Puff The Magic Dragon (ac-130 aircraft with all kinds of guns in it, such as a minigun).

The next morning, they sent in helicopters to get us off that mountain before we were overrun by the NVA. Something exploded right behind me as I was running for one of the helicopters throwing me into the air, I guess I landed with all my weight on my right leg that shoved the ball of my right hip through the socket. I was laying on the ground with the wind knocked out of my lungs, I was gasping for breath, and I had extreme pain in the small of my back. A couple of guys picked me up and put me into the helicopter. The helicopter took small arms fire and the transmission sounded like it was going to come out of the helicopter. The nearest place we could go was Nakhon Phanom Thailand. There was a US Army base there with a field hospital. The US Navy flew in a surgeon from an aircraft carrier that was stationed off the gulf of Tokin, he put a stainless-steel screw into my right hip. As I was being processed out of the hospital, they gave me a box that had my name on it, it contained a rembass-450 sensor, and the prc-90 radio I used. I was told they were in my pockets when I was brought into the hospital. Those jungle fatigues had big baggy pockets. 

After a short recovery I was then transferred to Germany

It was here in Germany that I saw the problems the politicians made for the army as for race relations. There were several race riots in the barracks while I was in Germany. It must be remembered why? I didn't see it, because I was never in Vietnam, but I saw it on TV, seems like that war was fought in our living room, as shown during the nightly news. Then when I got to Germany I was told about it from the people who experienced it.

African American, Native American, Asian American, Hispanic, Puerto Rican, and White Americans who come from poor families fought and died in that war. These were the people who couldn’t get a college deferment like many Politicians did. This made for very bad feelings.

It seemed like the Army sent most people who served their time in combat, were sent to Germany before going home to the States. 

From an article in the The New York Times

G.I.'s in Germany: Black Is Bitter

By Thomas A. Johnson; Special to The New York Times

• Nov. 23, 1970

SCHWEINFURT, West Germany — “They keep asking, What's the problem, what's the problem?’ “ Sgt. James Anthony, a 20‐year‐old black, exclaimed bitterly at the mention of a Pentagon team investigating racial disorders among American soldiers in West Germany.

“Hell,” he said, referring to the white man in general, “he knows the problem! He is the problem!”

The sergeant, a native of East St. Louis, Ill., is a squad leader. He wears granny glasses perched on his nose and an Afro hairstyle — “packed down during the day and combed out at night.” He went on, his anger rising:

“The black man's got no business being in the Army if this mess keeps up. They keep killing our people back home and we're still being sent out to the Nam! We fight there and then we're shipped to Germany and we fill the jails here.”

I'll be referring to this article again.

I remember a white Staff Sergeant that reported into the unit had a chest full of medals, we were told that he was a war hero. The story went that as they were boarding a helicopter in a hot zone the platoon leader was hit by small arms fire, the Staff Sergeant jumped out to aid the platoon leader. The Staff Sergeant was a short skinny young man, he told everybody that he wanted to be called the “Kid.”

The Kid was a fighter, he was always picking fights, didn’t matter who. He was always getting into trouble, and always getting busted, losing stripes. Wasn’t long after reporting into the unit as a Staff Sergeant, he got busted down to buck private, and eventually had his medals taken away from him and kicked out of the army. This made me wonder if that was the reason the Army sent veterans to Germany before sending them home, time for them to work out their hostility. 

Must be remembered the Army inherited this problem and that awful war from the politicians.

Returning to the article in the New York Times

A black sergeant first class with 18 years' service said his infantry outfit “no longer functions like an Army platoon but like two street gangs.” And a white junior officer complained: “Racial problems take all my time—now and then I get around to running a company.” 

I was assigned to the PA/BCC section within the unit. My section Chief was Staff Sergeant Lemon Woodson. He hated his first name Lemon, and told us Never, but never call him Lemon!

Staff Sergeant Holt Massey (An African American) was my assistant section chief. The PA/BCC section only consisted four people, Sgt Woodson, Sgt Massey, myself and one other, I forget his name. I remember when I reported to Sgt Woodson, I was bragging about all that I had learned at School. Sgt Woodson said, well the PAR (Pulse Acquisition Radar) needed a weekly check performed. So, I got the manual for it, and an operator to help me. We were both new to the unit, and had no experience on the equipment. Due to miscommunication between us, we made a serious mistake that resulted in downing the radar (Radar did not work anymore) and it was serious. I came off radar hill, and reported the problem to Sgt Woodson. This was serious, and meant the Battery was off line and the Battery Commander pulling down time. (NOT GOOD)! This also reflected badly on Sgt Woodson. I could see it in his face, Sgt Woodson was angry, VERY ANGRY, I could see it, he wanted so much to severely chew me out from one end to the other. But he didn’t! He never told me; but I think he saw in me, an eagerness to learn, and do a good job. I think that what was going thru his mind, that if he chewed me out like he wanted to, would scare me to the point that I would shy away from working on the equipment. The fact that Sgt Woodson held back, earned my deepest respect for him.

Sgt Woodson calmly and mildly told me that he was going to take me under his wing, and that I would be his shadow, and that everywhere he went, I would go, he also said that if he went to the bathroom, I had better be there holding his hand; of course, that part was a joke. He continued saying that I was not to work on the equipment without him being present, he gave me a green memo book and told me that he was going to teach me everything he knew about the equipment, and that he had better see me write it all down in that memo book. He also said that I was not to do manning (24-hour duty on the tactical site) until he feels I am ready. In a way, that was a blessing, Sgt Woodson was fun to be with, always joking and laughing, and I did learn from him. I took great pride in working for him.

I don’t know what it was about me, but I got along with the Blacks and other minorities in the Battery. Could be Sgt Woodson and Sgt Massey had something to do with that. As I mentioned before, there were several race riots in the Barracks, but each time, either Sgt Woodson, or Sgt Massey would tell me that I had better spend the night at the tac site; the tac site had a barracks, and mess hall.       

The Tac Site

I would hear about the riot the next morning.

New York Times

Military spokesmen are quick to contend that, in the main, black and white soldiers get along without fighting—that they keep the military machine functioning with a good deal more integration and equal opportunity than most American civilian institutions.

That is true, in large, for across West Germany black and white soldiers can be observed working together, playing in organized athletics and pushing truck convoys along the autobahns.

During Oktoberfest this year, blacks and whites were seen in several German cities eating bratwurst and drinking and singing along with the Germans. In some instances blacks and whites could be seen drinking in the same bars.

For the most part, this is what I saw, but their were those occasions where a riot would break out in the barracks. Somehow SGT Woodson, and SGT Massey would learn about potential trouble breaking out in the Barracks and they would come to me saying, "word is that there will be trouble in the barracks tonight, you should spend the night at the Tac Site". I wondered how they knew about it, but never asked.

New York Times

Nonetheless, blacks and whites have clashed here with increasing frequency, with some loss of life and with numerous injuries. Blacks and whites tend to go their separate ways when they relax and, for the most part, activist organizations formed in recent months have been racially exclusive.

From my observation Drug Abuse was rampant, you can walk down the hall during evenings and weekends and get high from the smoke from hashish. I even got mixed up in that, never dare a Hillbilly!

I was assigned to a four man room, during the first night in the room, the guys asked me if would mind if they were to light one up! I didn't know what they were talking about. They said dope man, dope, they were looking at me like I was a dumbass. I was curious as to what it would do to them, so I said, LIGHT IT UP! I would sit there watching them. One night they said "want to try it" I said, nah don't need it, they said I dare you! That's all it took. Thing was, I didn't even smoke cigarettes', I was puffing on it, and they said, inhale man, INHALE! So I tried, and after coughing my head off, I got higher than a kite, AND I LIKED IT! 

It seemed like pot was the peace pipe, didn't seem like it mattered weather it was Black, white, Hispanic, or whatever you wanted to call yourself, smoking pot was like the peace pipe, and we were all brothers.

This sentence from The New York Time "for the most part, activist organizations formed in recent months have been racially exclusive." Must be true!

I was buying and smoking pot up till the late 80's. I was working at the China Lake Naval Air Warfare center, and the Navy announced that they were going to start drug testing, I loved my job more than the pot, so I quit.

From the New York Times

Among the younger black soldiers—blacks make up some 13 per cent of the Army in West Germany — there has been a fairly recent turnabout in attitudes.

Three years ago black troops in Vietnam, where they have suffered 16 per cent of the combat fatalities and have won 20 percent of the Medals of Honor, told newsmen, “We're proving ourselves.”

“And still not a damn thing has changed for black people,” said S. Sgt. Wesley Smith, a 21‐ year‐old combat‐engineer supervisor in Bad Hersfeld, giving voice to the current attitude.

Like many of the younger black soldiers, the sergeant, a native of Atlanta, is no longer content with the visible and highly publicized racial success stories, both at home and in the military. Rather, he sees a growing list of racial failures.

Specialist 4 William Holland, who is chairman of the Unsatisfied Black Soldier, explained that he and other leaders felt that it was “much better to try to change the system from within the system.”

Rallies, like one that attracted some 700 black, white, Mexican and Puerto Rican soldiers, in Kaiserslautern in October have been replete with bitter condemnations of American racism and have warned of possible wide‐scale violence.

‘What Can They Do?’

“What can they do?” a speaker asked. “Call out the National Guard? How can they call out the National Guard on the Army?”

The ((Kitzingen)) soldier activists made their recommendations—despite the rhetorical flourishes—concerned improvements in conditions in the service and the elimination of racism at home. Many of them are system‐oriented now, but many observers here wonder how long that will be the case.

“If America is really serious about selling democracy around the world,” said Specialist Holland, “just have white America end racism. We put a man on the moon, we can do anything we are committed to doing. The real question in Germany today is whether America would rather get rid of Unsatisfied Black Soldiers or end racism.”

After renting the small house in Kitzingen Germany 

Performing Communications checks while on SOG (Sergeant of the Guard) duty  

LOL This was a busy day for me. 

One time while on duty as SOG I got a call from the TCO (Tactical Control Officer), he told me to get my report pad and meet him at the generator section. What had happened is that one of our guys took his VW bus with his wife in it to the generator section and stealing gas, the TCO caught him while he was making his security rounds. While I was writing up the report, I got another call from the TCO and he told that shots had been reported coming from the front gate. I couldn't hear the shots due to the noise coming for the generators.

Front Gate can be seen behind me

I ran to the front gate and the TCO was already there, he arrested the gate guard (who was drunk) and replaced him with another guard. The TCO told me that the guy who was stealing gas, gave the gate guard a bottle of Jim Beam to let him into the Tac Site. The TCO counted the rounds in the magazine, it was discovered that the top round was okay, but all the ones below it were spent rounds. The gate guards are issued a magazine of 18 rounds of live ammunition.

About this time the gate guard that had been arrested jumped in a truck and was on his way to the gate, he crashed through the gate and headed towards the barracks, where the MPs arrested him.

Now we had to find out what the shooting was all about, the gate guard was taking pot shots at the trucks in the motor pool.

Legend of the Falterturm

The Falterturm is Kitzingen’s landmark and was built between 1469 and 1496 as part of the outer fortifications. It was then called Falltor-Turm (Trapdoor tower). It is 52 meters high, and its foundations reach 18 meters into the ground because there used to be a ditch that was filled in 1864. The tower itself does not slant, only the top does. Two versions of the story passed down over the years give a possible reason: a) The year the roof was built was a very dry year, water was scarce, but there was ample wine. Instead of using water for the mortar, the masons used wine, and the tower got drunk. b) The carpenters drank too much wine instead of water to quench their thirst, they couldn’t read the yardsticks right anymore and cut the beams wrong. The truth is that throughout the centuries the beams gradually sank down on one side. The Leaning Tower hosts Germany’s only Carnival Museum (founded in 1967) on seven floors. The collections, comprising all kinds of costumes, masks, instruments, documents and pictures are intended to give a survey of the historical development of carnival (Fasching, Fasenacht, fastnacht, Karneval) in Germany as well as to preserve valuable relics from being scattered all over the country or getting lost forever. A local legend is that the golden ball atop the crooked tower contains the heart of Vlad Dracula of Romania. If you follow the path of the crooked tower, the golden ball leans directly toward a grave in the Kitzingen Old Cemetery located across the street from the tower that is called the Grave of Dracula. Another local U.S. army legend is the upside down crosses that make up the small windows on the tower, appear right side up when light casts towards the grave yard to ward off vampires. The crosses alternate such that every other one is upside down. Some, however, believe that the grave that is called "Dracula's Grave" is not actually where Vlad Dracula is buried, but rather a heavily decorated grave of a very rich family that resided in Kitzingen  

After renting a small house in Kitzingen Germany my Battery commander gave me leave of absence so that I could bring my wife to Germany. I had it all set up, my Battery Commander gave me papers so that I could get her past German customs as the dependant of American soldier. I booked a return flight to Germany via Mexico City so we wouldn’t have to hassle with American Immigration. I had it all planned. On the night before we were to board the plane we rented a hotel room close to the airport, she told me that she was going downstairs to get a drink, She didn’t come back. I had no choice but to go back to Germany, or I would be AWOL.

When I got back to Germany I wrote her a letter asking why she did that. She said that she was pregnant with my oldest son and didn’t want him to be born in Germany. I told her that I would keep the little house I rented and when he was old enough to travel I’ll make another trip to Mexico and I’ll bring them to Germany, That would be about Christmas time. I was broke because that first trip to Mexico cost me a lot of money, and I didn’t have any more leave time. I was always talking to my Battery commander and telling him what was going on with my wife. He reminded me that I didn’t have any more leave time, but I could re-enlist, borrow some leave time and that I would get a $10,000 bonus because of all the special training I had. So I reenlisted and went back to Mexico during Christmas.

She moved and left no clue as to where she went. I was learning to speak Spanish and I asked all the neighbors where she lived if they knew where she went. They all said No. Another wasted trip! So, when I went back to my unit in Germany, I let go of the little house I had rented, and wrote to her asking why she was acting like this. She wrote back to me saying that she doesn’t want me or my money, that all she wanted was my baby. So I quit writing to her and thought of myself as being single again.

An oh shit 

During morning ORE. The missile umbilical is unplugged and a missile simulator box is plugged into the launcher. This simulator box allows the fire section to get a missile ready light and fire light on the fire control console. The crew will go through the whole fire routine which test all fire circuits and good for crew training. When the fire button is depressed the launcher will go into super elevation and lead angle. That puts a lot of G force on the millisle and either one or both missile latches failed, or the missile wasn't latched to the missile boom.

The G forces threw the missile off the launcher and fell to the ground breaking in two pieces.

After I finished my tour in Germany 30 April 1973, I was transferred back to Ft. Bliss Texas Btry A, 2nd AD Tng Bn. I worked there for a couple of weeks, then 2nd AD Tng Bn merged with School Brigade. 

I worked in maintenance for the PA/BCC branch for several months, then I went to instructor's school and taught the HAWK battery Control Center, and system simulator. 

The first thing I did when I went home was go back to Juarez Mexico and try to patch things up with my wife. Instead of talking to neighbors I went to the la oficina de registros públicos and got all the information on her, my son, her mother, and her father. Took me about two days, but I did find her and saw for the first time my oldest son. I told her that I wanted to make our marriage work. She agreed, but after about 3 weeks she took off again. But unknown to me for 30 years is that was when my youngest son was conceived. I never saw him until 30 years later.

I use to be a CB nut, I loved talking to people on the CB radio. I was talking to a guy for several months and he invited me to his home; and that is when I met my second wife. Her father was a retired US Army soldier and her mother was full blood German; my second wife was born in a German hospital, and went to German schools. So her father had to go through American immigration because she was not born in a US Army hospital so making her a German citizen.

When Sylvia Cox was born on January 15, 1949, her father, Linfield, was 21, and her mother, Elfriede, was 24. 

Her mother pushed us together and her father was an asshole I watched him how he treated his wife, and how he treated Sylvia, and how he treated her brothers. He was an abusive man. He was beating her brothers in front of me and I silently prayed to G-d that he would stop, because if he didn’t I would have to stop him. I was spanked as a boy, but I was never beaten like he was beating those boys. He did stop and I thanked G-d. Later after we married, Sylvia told me that her father would sleep with her.

After dating for a while, we married on March 20, 1974, in Anthony, New Mexico. I was 23 years old and Sylvia was 25 years old.

I built and flew model airplanes to have something to do. This was an experimental model, I called the X70. As always everyone has to get involved. 

I did build and fly Kombat Cats. The object of flying Kombat Cats is to cut off a streamer from your opponent's plane using the propeller of your plane. 

Another thing I use to do to occupy my time is play pinball in the EM Club. I got so good on the pinball machine I could play all night with just one quarter. 

Parts of the village of Pobwon-ni, South Korea 

Air mobility exercise 

All Vehicles staging in the admin area getting ready to go out to the field

On the road during our Field Maneuvers 

Going up the mountain to our field position for our Tac Site in the field

HAWK Set up in the field

September 1975 I was selected for the Annual ASP firing at Sea Range

One day I saw a truck pull into the Tac Site pulling a PAR (Pulse Acquisition Radar) and emplace it near the Ready Building and they ran a power cable to it, and they left. I asked my Section Chief why they brought to the site. He told me check it out if I wanted to. So I took an operator with me (We are never to work on a radar by ourselves.) and I found out what was wrong with it. My Section Chief and Maintenance Warrant Officer told me that they brought it to the Tac Site for me to fix it, so I did.

15 October 1976 I was placed on the Promotion List for Staff Sergeant E6 plus received 

orders for Germany 

The school career counselor was also helping me, his office helped me to write a resume, and I was looking in the Army Times for job openings. I got two job offers, one was with Kentron International at Hill Air Force Base, he did an interview over the phone and offered me a job, in support of the Cruise Missile Runoff between Boeing and General Dynamics. He also offered me time to complete the Semester, I would have enough credits to get my electrical engineering decree.

Boeing at the Houston Space Flight Center in Houston Texas offered to interview me in Houston. I went to Houston for the interview, but the job was what I called flying a desk, I wanted to get my hands dirty working on the equipment, so I went to Hill Air Force Base working for Kentron International.

Started working at Hill Air Force Base from May 1979 to December 1979

I started working on a radar at hill AFB that the Air Force had for 2 years prior and no one could get it to work. It was an entirely new design with a minicomputer as the heart of the radar. No one in the Air Force had any experience with that kind of radar.  

I had it working in 3 months; most of the time was repairing what the air Force had done to it. After I got it working the air Force put it on line and I started working in the instrumentation branch. I worked there for a few of months and then got a promotion and assigned to Dugway proving grounds in support of the Cruise Missile testing.

Turned out that I did more moving around chasing the Cruise Missile than I did the whole time I was married to Sylvia while in the Army.

Telemetry site at Granite Peak

Dugway Proving Grounds

                     December 79 to October 1980                                                   

I was working for Kentron International at the time, The company had a contract with the US Air Force in support of Cruise Missile testing. 

I was working for Kentron International at the time, The company had a contract with the US Air Force in support of Cruise Missile testing.  

Besides working with the Telemetry Station, when the test schedule was lax, I would act as a troubleshooter going where a problem was with a piece of Equipment which meant sometimes I had to be flown out to remote mountain top sites.  

Moved to Ridgecrest Ca. October 1980

Lived in a mobile home at Dellway Mobile home Park at 836 Jacks Ranch Road Ridgecrest Ca. The Mobile Home Park no longer exist.

Communications Technician; Laurel Mountain (CA) with Kentron Int.

1981

Maintained and repaired the following equipment:  Collins Radar Microwave Link Systems, RML-4 Units with voice multiplex 24 channels, 18 GRT-22 UHF ground-to-air transmitters, 18 AN/GRR-24 UHF receivers, 2 GRC-171 UHF multichannel receiver - transmitters, 2 GRC-175 VHF multichannel receiver-transmitters.

Started buying my first home in 1982 at 1541 south Porter St. Ridgecrest Ca.

Electronic Warfare Department, EWTES Division

Radar Maintenance & Operation Branch

3-82 to 6-83

Assisted in the maintenance, repair, and operation of the AN/TPQ-XNO2 Radar

Cubic corporation vintage 1960 MIDAS passive tracking system (Missile Intercept Data Acquisition System)

6-83

Responsible for the maintenance, repair, modification and updating of MIDAS (Missile Intercept Data Acquisition System), passive tracking system, tracks up to two UHF beacons on board missiles or aircraft. Consisted of four sites at different locations. No pictures. 

AN/FPS-20 Heavy Ground Search Radar

10-84 to 1-86

I worked with everything on the mountain. The radar which was an AN/FPS-20 Heavy Ground Search Radar. The microwave communications, Air to ground radios, and even the chemical toilet which broke down often.

Environmental Test Section Code 62122 Naval Air Weapons Station China Lake January 18, 1986 to September 1991

Instrumentation Engineer;  Test Instrumentation such as Endevco Charge Amps, strain gauges, thermocouples, computer-embedded process controllers, and Ling and Unholtz Dickey Shaker systems. Designed and built the SSPA test set, this test set is used to test and repair the Ling Electronics Solid State Power Amplifier (SSPA) modules used in the Ling model SSPA 48 and SSPA 96 High Power Amplifiers used to drive the Ling Shakers that are used for Vibration testing, some people call it "Shake and Bake"

1984 Sylvia left me

Came home from work and Sylvia was sitting on the sofa with another lady, and I saw that she had some suitcases packed in front of the Sofa. I sat in an easy chair in front of the sofa and Sylvia said that she was going to live with the lady and wanted to try the gay life. I told Sylvia if that was what she wanted to do, I would let her try it for 3 months, if she discovered that wasn't the life for her, I would let her come back to me as my wife, as if nothing happened.

Three weeks later she called and told me to go ahead with a divorce. I asked her if that was what she really wanted, she said yes.

1985 Meeting Barbara Lee

Got lonely after Sylvia left me and subscribed to a lonely hearts newspaper from Bakersfield. Saw an add by Bambara and gave her a call, she told me she is Chinese, I responded "you are a lady?" She said "of course!"  I said Good.

We started seeing each other at Patriot Park in Bakersfield and fell in love.

It is possible for a man to love more than one woman as I'm sure that it is possible for a woman to love more than one man. 

I placed an ad with a singles newspaper and that is how I met Barbara. She was no bathing beauty but she had a heart of Gold, she was a petite Chinese lady.  Our first meeting was at a restaurant in Bakersfield, I took some photo albums and showed her pictures of my family, and also of my Balloon room, telling her of my love for Balloons. Barbara told me that it was my love for Balloons that attracted her to me, she told me that she was intrigued and wanted to learn more about me and my love for Balloons, and then she was hooked. Barbara has a Bachelor's In Psychology, that may be why she was intrigued.   

Her family was from the old country, and Barbara was first generation Chinese American.  Her family didn’t like me, I was divorced, white, and her family was rich and in their eyes I was a poor white boy.  Barbara being first generation and old fashioned Chinese her family had a lot of influence on her.  I knew she loved me because we went out together for 2 years, against her family’s will.  

Finally because of all the pressure from her family she married a Chinese man. When she told me that he proposed to her, I asked her what she said to him, she told me that she told him that she had to think about it, I dropped to one knee, took her hand and asked her to marry me, she started to cry, and said "Julius please don't do this, and she was pulling on my hand. I immediately stood up, and changed the subject. Now she knows that I want to marry her, now she has to decided. I knew that ig I begged her, she would say, but then her family would disown her, that is why I didn't beg, I wanted it to be her decision without any pressure from me. I love her that much.      

I knew that she didn’t love this man because one week before she was to marry we went out on our last date at her insistence.  And what really tore me up happened 9 months later, on my way home from work I decided to go to the store instead of going straight home like I usually do.  When I got home I noticed that I had three calls on my answering machine, two were from a friend and one was from Barbara.  Barbara said “Julius this is Barbara, I just wanted to tell you that I just had a baby, his name is Emanuel, the doctors say that he could be Mongoloid, please Julius pray to God that he is not.  Julius I ah, Julius I ah, Julius I, good bye.”  I know what she wanted to say, but being an old fashion married lady she couldn’t say it.  I knew she wanted to talk to me because the first call was from a friend of mine, and he gave the date and time of his call, the second call was from Barbara, and the third call was from the same friend.  I should have been home; Barbara knew my schedule because I always called her when I came home from work.  This call broke my heart, I knew she still loved me, and I still loved her, but because of my love for her there was nothing I could do about it, because if I tried to make contact with her I stood a very good chance that I could ruin any chance for her to have a happy life, sometimes a person has to let go.

I still love her.