Tag Archives: boot camp

My Brief Naval Career

Fun fact about me. I was born with congenital talipes equinovarus, or club feet. I had my first cast put on my left foot (the worst one) when I was two days old. Since infants are growing at a somewhat accelerated pace, they generally have to put the casts on reasonably loose and they need to be changed frequently.

My First Cast

At some point in my early infancy I managed to kick this one off. My parents saved it and I still have it, I think in the garage. I believe the one inscription you can read from this photo says, “Don’t let this stop you, Ricky. Keep kicking,” from a couple who have disappeared into the mists of time.

I ultimately had surgery on my left foot—my right foot straightened out with casts and corrective shoes—when I was five. When I enlisted in the US Navy in the Spring of 1966, it was the scars from the surgery that caused me to fail my physical. However, I argued that marching was something they did in the Army, not the Navy, and I was inducted.

Later, I found out marching was actually a very large part of Naval boot camp (it’s one way they build unit cohesiveness) and there also was a position our company commander would put us in called five and dive that put a great deal of strain on my ankle and shortened Achilles tendon.

When I went to sick bay to see if they could help me deal with the pain I was enduring, an x-ray discovered arthritis. I was offered a discharge, which I originally refused. However, the pain made it extremely difficult to keep up with my company and, to a man, my fellow recruits and several officers convinced me to take the discharge.

Two days later I accepted the offer and within a week I was on my way home. My DD214 says I was in the Navy for 1 month and 23 days and that I was awarded the National Defense Service Medal. Although I believe I could have made a ruckus and gotten at least some veteran’s benefits, I chose not to, believing there were others who needed it far more than I did. Because I was in for so short a period of time, I hardly refer to myself a veteran. I’ve never regretted my decision, though my foot has hindered me my entire life.


Remembering My Mother

Today would have been my mother’s 99th birthday. It’s been 18 years since she died and, truth to tell, I don’t think of her all that often. Time, as they say, softens the blow of a loved one’s loss. It’s surely the case with my feelings toward my mother. I do, however, keep her birthday as an event on my calendar so I’m reminded at least once a year of her presence in my life.

My father died 21 years before her and my brother and I made sure she was taken care of until her final moments. I must admit there are moments—even to this day—when I question whether we did all we could for her, but I don’t find doing so all that useful as I am pretty sure we did out best. We weren’t wealthy or powerful; just a couple of working class guys doing our best.

I even lived with her for a while to help her stay in the house she had been living in for some time. I don’t quite remember the details of why that changed; it was probably due to my needing to get on with my life. Shortly after that we moved her into a modest one-room apartment not too far from the house where she had been living.

After she died, my brother and I (don’t remember if our sister was able to help) went to her apartment and cleaned it out. As I was going through her stuff and deciding what to do with things, I came across a birthday card I had sent her from US Navy boot camp, in June of 1966. That she had kept it all those years moved me to tears. After all, my feelings over her loss were still pretty raw.

I’m sharing these pictures of the card and what I wrote mostly as a way of preserving a bit of my history and as a testament to my mother. She was very good to me and, although I have gotten over her death (hell! I’m now contemplating mine) I am grateful for what she did for me and how much she loved and took care of me.