Day 5

Day 5: Kansas City: Betty Smith, Independence Missouri, Morticians, Pay Processing Center, Underground WC: 1847

I left Pendleton to go to Kansas City, assigned to process payroll and personnel data at the underground facility there. There were long concrete passageways deep underground, and electric vehicles like golf carts used to drive about the place. The concrete walls were so thick it created the complete feel of an underground bunker, which in actuality it was. The computer room was ample, with the large machines then the latest in computing technology. Punch cards and tape were still used to instruct the machines in what manner to process the data. The printer was as huge as the other machines. I was a corporal by now, and worked in a group of eight women spending every day recording and updating pay and personnel records. We had our fingers on who was stationed where, who was being transferred, promoted, and how much each person was being paid. We knew the total number of personnel at each military base and facility, and the number of forces in Vietnam and other places engaged in combat or conflict duties. The potential for wrong doing, for harmful use of this information was clear and apparent, so I and some of the others held secret clearance ratings.
The Vietnam war was in its zenith, and there were some male soldiers who had already been to Vietnam several times. Many of them eagerly wanted to return, for the drug availability and use as well as prostitution was wide open in Vietnam. Furthermore, there was money to be made in dealing with blackmarket goods to say nothing of the pleasures of killing or maiming anyone they wanted to. Some of the women marines serving here on the American continent got sick of it, tired of the stigma of being marines; the public protesters of the war jeered at them as well. Some of them got pregnant just to get an early discharge. I remember thinking that to avoid the hot pan, they jumped into the flames.. i.e., to avoid the military commitment they had made, they took on at least eighteen years of childcare. That is a pretty questionable exchange, and a poor reason to give birth.
In Kansas City, I lived in an upstairs apartment in a fourplex just outside of town. In the apartment below me was a young married couple. They had met while attending the same college and fallen in love. They both pursued the same career: they were both morticians. I can still mentally recall the diplomas on their wall.. they took care of the dead, putting makeup on the dead faces, dressing them, arranging open coffin viewals and dealing with the grieving of the family. It seemed so theatrical to me. They were unusual; they dealt with the dead everyday. I wondered how their life together would be affected by that. What would they dream about at night? Would they open their own funeral home later? It must have been quite profound dealing with the families of the dead, trying to help them in their grief.
Kansas City was a lovely place, a city that had been born of the cattle drive days. It had many fine steak houses, a testiment to its cattle business origins. The town, at the time I was there in about 1968, was a thriving and growing metropolis, with many shopping centers and cultural events. The Hallmark Center with its Hallmark building was the focal point of one popular place to dine and shop. On the outskirts of town, there were satellite communities.. I lived in one of them, Independence, Missouri. Part of Kansas City was considered in Kansas, and part was in Missouri. When I first arrived for duty in Kansas, I was taken in by two women marine sargeants, who had a home together.. They were a lesbian couple. One was thin, the other a bit stout. Very nice people, with a very nice life together. The house was a classic midwestern white frame, with a peaked roof, wood floors, nice rugs, a fireplace. It was a house that I would be proud of as well. I stayed with them for a few weeks until I found an apartment; it was in the fourplex in Independence where the morticians lived.
For some reason, I slept very deeply during the time spent in Kansas City.. I would not wake up even when the alarm clock sounded. So I bought two alarms, and a friend picked me up each morning in her car to drive us to work. I told her that if I did not come out when she blew her horn, I was probably still sleeping and to please call me or knock on the door. I met Bernice Moore, and a girl named Sharon there. We became good friends. Bernice was from San Francisco. A male sargeant fell deeply in love with her; she was a very pretty girl with chocolate brown eyes, a lovely smile and a gracious manner. He was like a lovesick puppy around her. She ultimately spurned him and he was very disappointed. I believe he was going to marry her.. he showed me a ring he bought for her.. she turned him down when he proposed. There is not much I recall about Sharon. That Christmas in Kansas, we gathered at Bernice and Sharon's apartment and celebrated. We had drinks and got pretty silly. None of us had enough money to buy gifts, so we wrapped empty boxes with holiday paper and big bows and put them under the decorated tree. Sharon got so drunk she lay on the bed and kind of flowed off it onto the flow.. like syrup pouring off a table. It was a funny thing to watch. On New Years Eve we all went in Bernice's Volkswagon Beetle to a party miles away.. and there we all danced in the Conga line, doing the Bunny Hop too. It was fun, there was misteltoe hung all over the place and people kissed and kissed again. On the way home, at past two in the morning, the snow banks had built up with the steady snow that evening. It was cold, but very dry. The flakes few like sand, in flurries. The road was slippery and Bernice had trouble controlling the car. She took a curve a bit too fast and the car tipped over an embankment, lying on its side in the piles of snow. We got out, laughing. The car was not hurt, and none of us were hurt either. We called a tow truck to pull us out and went home to sleep until noon. The New Years Day was spent at home, warm and cozy, with hot soup and hot drinks.
One weekend we went horseback riding at a local stable. There were about six of us. Horses were chosen for us, and I got one that did not want to follow the usual trail riding routine. As we got mounted, my horse turned his head, and headed his steps back into the barn all the way into his own stall. I was on his back, heading into the wide low barn door, and had to duck to avoid getting hit on the head by the top of the door frame. I felt really silly as the others followed to help me and saw me sitting on his back inside his stall, as he munched lazily on some straw from the floor. We finally got him out again and we followed the trail at an easy gait. Then, on a turn in the path, beside a grassy meadow ringed by a white fence, my horse decided to take off for a run. He galloped so fast I had a hard time staying on him, holding tight to the reins. He jumped a fence and kept going. I lifted my bottom off the saddle, riding over air, and played like a race jockey. It was marvelous and exhilarating. I felt like racing the wind. Finally, he slowed and met the others as he crossed the field back to the trail path and we made the long winding dirt trail back to the stable. All in all, the ride was fun and a great adventure for a Saturday outing.
Later I moved to share a house with Betty Smith, another woman marine. She had a nice little house in a quiet neighborhood. There were shade trees and the house was cozy inside. Her boyfriend visited quite often, and the two of them were quite nice. As yet, I had not become seriously involved with any man. Betty had a decent car and we went shopping together. It was at this house that my brother Larry visited for a week or so, and in that visit he made the decision to join the Navy. He announced it to my mother when he went back home. She always thought that I had encouraged him to make that decision, when in fact I was as surprised by it as she was. My brother Larry had made the move to begin his life and grow as an adult. I was pleased for him.
A tornado came close to the house one day in May..there was first a strange total silence in the air..not a single bird sang nor insect whirred. The air was completely still. Then the sky grew darker, though it was midday. It was an errie darkness, as if a veil had been drawn across the sky. Next a sudden frightening roar began, a roar that was like a train coming right at you, and the house shook. I was terrified and dropped to the floor and crawled under the bed. In what was just a few minutes but seemed much longer, the noise stopped and it was over. Later that day I heard on the news that there had been six tornados in the area, some that destroyed homes and property.
The work of processing personnel and pay records was long and a bit boring. It was data entry, primarily. We were working for some time for 14 hour days, and I was tired. Laundry was not getting done, shopping time for even food was lost, and when the weekend came, I was too tired to take part in diversion at all. Weeks of this kind of work led me to the idea of getting a transfer. When I asked about the possibility of this, I was told there was no transfer possible. Okay, I needed a different strategy. Then it occurred to me that if I applied to Officer Candidate School, they would automatically transfer me upon acceptance into the program. Once admitted, then I could decide if I really wanted to complete the school and become a Lieutenant and enter the officer ranks. I got the application forms, sent them off and was accepted fairly quickly. The transfer was to be to Fort Benjamin Harrison, Indianapolis, Indiana. So my plan worked.