The Bandido
History and a troubled youth (Chapter 1 final)
As I post this week’s segment, for brevity, I am only posting part of a story written by one of Chico’s friends. The entirety will be in the book, but a teaser is always nice. And the “T” was a Model T. Anyway, let’s pick up where we left off:
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Chico had three friends: Carl, Lane, and Harold. Carl remembered one adventure:
We then rode around the capitol a few times, admiring it, and started for Baltimore. About fifteen miles out of Washington at 10:00 P.M., the “T” broke down, and we were so tired and disgusted we pushed the “T” off of the road and went to sleep. Trying to find a place for his feet, Roland busted out a window, and this didn’t add to the warmth any. That was the worst sleeping conditions that I ever witnessed. Wednesday morning and three days of school gone and still not home, what would Harold’s mother say? With exactly 9 cents, here we were 10 miles out of Washington, broke[n] down. Lane and Harold went up to a garage that was about a mile up the road and tried to coax a fellow to fix it for us. The fellow said he was too busy. Then I went and tried coaxing him. I guess he thought he had better come or he’d be pestered all morning. Meanwhile, Lane, the most mechanical minded of the four of us, tried to fix it. He was working on the coils when Roland turned on the key. Wow!! The shock knocked him off the fender and onto the ground. That was enough to make anyone swear, and it did. Lane wouldn’t talk to Roland for a few hours after.
After towing the “T” to the garage, the man removed the head and said it had a broken valve. I asked him if he could fix it, just then three pairs of hands grabbed me and reminded me that we had only 9 cents. I told them I knew and they said, “It’s your car, do what you want, but we’re not cleaning windows to pay the bill.” After two hours, the car was fixed. I asked the man what the bill was. “$4.25,” he exclaimed. Then I dragged out my trusty little Brownie camera and Lane’s four cell flashlight and asked him if he’d take them in place of the money until we could send him the money. I didn’t know whether he was going to laugh or hit me over the head. His expression changed, and he said, “Well, I don’t know.” Before he said anymore, I told him of some of our tough luck and how we would send him 50 cents more than the bill called for. Laughing at our troubles, he said, “I guess I’ll have to.” Boy, I’m sure glad he was big-hearted. All four of us thought it was a miracle we weren’t in jail. Nearing Baltimore, we had a blow-out and two flats. We were really experienced at changing tires by this time. Meanwhile, it was raining, and the roof leaked like a sieve. This was because of the tires that had been tied on top had rubbed holes through.
As time passed, Chico, fed up with Newtown life and almost seventeen, asked again to join the Marines. This time, Pedro relented. So, he dropped out of school, quit work, and enlisted April 29, 1946. Being the oldest, Pedro wanted him to graduate. He knew the importance of education and wanted a better life for his kids. Chico set a low bar.
The day he swore in, the recruiter invited the duo (father/son) for coffee. Enjoying the moment, other recruits arrived, then everyone raised their right hands. After swearing in, the enlistees were given a food allowance and marched thirty-plus blocks to the rail station for boot camp. Entrained, they had to de-board at every stop, do push-ups, then re-board before departure. Chico arrived at boot camp to find what it took to be a Jarhead. The tear one down and build them up in thirteen weeks of living hell, making certain each had the heart of a Marine. Chico went through training at Parris Island Marine Corps Recruit Depot, Beaufort, South Carolina.
Once boot camp wrapped, Chico received orders for his dream job: Marine Corps aviation. Without a high school diploma, lacking two years of college, Chico thought he was becoming a fighter pilot. His first duty assignment: Cherry Point, North Carolina. Only seventeen, and looking to impress, he thought he’d be crew chief or airplane mechanic. Nope! His first job … pumping gas, checking oil, and filling tires at the base service station!
He worked and made friends with another Marine: James Asbury. Their birthdays were one day apart, being the nineteenth and twentieth of April. And both had a common interest. The desire to become pilots. Plus, Morehead City, North Carolina, had a civilian airport with rentals. Their first flights were in a Piper-like plane called an Aeronca “Air Knocker” on September 28, 1946. The instructor was T.W. Newsome. Hooked, Chico flew twice more that day, each lasting thirty minutes. And to continue flying, he creatively came up with ideas to offset costs. He washed airplanes at the airport and scrubbed and pressed his own uniforms, saving a cleaner’s bill. If he needed to be somewhere, he either walked or hitchhiked.
But work life was a grease monkey. He hated it. So, when an opportunity presented to run an obstacle course in hopes of transferring to Camp Pendleton in California for enhanced training, he jumped. He finished, being one of three standing, but the Corps wanted infantry, not aviation. Back to pumping gas. In time, Chico earned his pilot’s license, Jim his student’s.
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During the depression, the New Deal supposedly brought prosperity back. It didn’t. But Roosevelt knew there was something better: World War II, creating a juggernaut of military complexes. So, after the war, America was one of two superpowers. The desire; increase the size of the military complex. The push for money in the Pentagon ensued.
Chiefs of staff desired toys while the Army pushed dissolution of the Marine Corps. With the branch eliminated, its inventory, including personnel, could be absorbed elsewhere, increasing money allotments. The Army though, had a surprise coming. But in the chess piece posturing, on June 19, 1947, tired of pumping gas, Chico jumped at an opportunity to be honorably discharged, and so did Jim. They were both civilians again, going in separate directions.
Will make a great book!
You left me wanting more about your father's adventures.