Between Proms and Patriotism

My landlord knocked on my door to tell me I had a telephone call. I gave his number out since I couldn’t afford a phone of my own.

It was my commanding officer from Centerville. He told me there was truck from the station on its way to pick me up and we were to report to Kingsley in Klamath Falls, Oregon.

As I hung up the phone, I knew I was in a bad situation. Whatever I was being sent to Kingsley for was going to severely screw up the plans I had for that evening — and they were pretty important. I was supposed to take Linda McFadden to her Senior Prom.

As quickly as I could I grabbed my sea-bag, which was already packed as I was instructed to remain on standby at all times. I then returned to my landlord’s home and called the McFadden residence.

Without giving much of an explanation I told Linda that I couldn’t take her to the prom as I was heading up to Klamath Falls in a few minutes.  I don’t recall what she said in response, but I know I was sick to my stomach when I hung up the telephone.

Linda never spoke to me again and I can’t say as I blame her.

In fact about three years later I saw her on the campus of Humboldt State University in Arcata where she ignored me when I said hello to her. It’s always torn me in two: screwing up Linda’s Senior Prom night, a big event any young woman’s life or responding to the call to duty for my country.

Some choices are really no choice at all. I am very truly sorry for mistreating her like I did.