My life as an Air Force brat
(From Donna M. in Waco, Texas)
My life as an Air Force brat began the year before I was born. My dad was a flyboy in the navy-a gunner-he went into navy in 1941 and got out in 1945 returning to his home in cedar bayou, Texas-suburb of what is now Baytown- on the coast. he went to work as a pipe fitter at the humble plant-now Exxon-in 1947 he met my sweet southern belle mom and they married. one day he went to work as usual and later called her from San Antonio to announce that he joined the air force as a bombardier on the b-57. She was not too pleased because they had been married only a short time and she had never ventured further than Houston from her home in Pelly--another suburb of Baytown.
He was transferred to Panama City, Fla. to a SAC base. So on October 5, 1948 I was brought into this world as an air force brat.
Because my mother had a congenital heart problem she was never able to get a medical clearance to travel overseas which limited our contact with my dad because he was stationed in Germany, Spain, the Azore Islands, France, and Alaska. Remember this was during the time of the cold war. so each time he was transferred overseas mom & i moved back to Baytown. Most of his assignments were from 1 to 2&1/2 years. i really don't recall my dad until i was about 6 years old.
Dad was a Sgt. though and though and ran his household as such. i was an only child so the brunt of his discipline fell on me. I realize now dad suffered from pts from his time in the navy, but back then all Sgt's kids were pretty much treated the same by their dads so i didn't think too much of each.
We never stayed anywhere more than 2 & 1/2 years and I ended up going to 12 schools. not bad because i knew no other life. For the most time we lived on base and in elementary school some schools were on base, but as i got older we were transported by the big blue AF buses to school.
I really didn't understand segregation of the south except for what I saw on TV because our segregation was by rank, not race. As a NCO, we always lived in the cramped little duplexes or converted barracks while the Officers quarters were across the base in really nice places. We not allowed to fraternize, or weren't supposed to fraternize, with the officers' kids. Very not accepted. I had one friend who was an officer's kid, but her parents liked me because i was so shy and she was pretty wild so they thought i would be a good influence, but of course her dad, full bird, had to call my dad and set the rules.
Because my dad was the Sgt every morning he held inspection of my room and if the bed didn't have the squared corners or anything out of order it was taken apart and i had to redo it. (no wonder I'm so friggin' ocd). I had strict rules to live by.....no dating until 17, no make-up, no washing my hair after 8:00 pm, no driving off base (except i did once-was supposed to be at mass-went with a friend to drive-in off base-we only had one vehicle-and hit a pole) there was hell to pay for that one.
Until I was 16 I had that old green and gray military furniture. Every time we moved the movers used those big round barrels and if we were over the allotted limit, my books were the first to go.
When we transferred my dad would drive straight through. we had one of those metal coca-cola cooler and we would stop at some roadside park and eat sandwiches of potted meat, cold pork&beans, Vienna sausages and that creepy sandwich spread made out of pickles, some kind of pink dressing and it was icky especially on olive loaf.
I loved going to the base movie house for .10 cents and the roller skate rink for .25 cents. No matter where you were on base at 5:00pm everybody stopped for the lowering of the flag and if you didn't your dad got called into his co's office.
Our house was always immaculate because we would have those pop inspections where the guys would come in with white gloves and inspect. Always being on a sac base the security was tight. Even when we rode the bus to school we'd have to show our ids. The Cuban Missile Crisis was such a blast!!!! We were restricted to hour house and had to always have an emergency evacuation kit. By this time dad was a boomer on a kc-147 and we really didn't see him much. So again it was just me and mom. He would be out 3 months and home 3 months. He would have to go into what they called the "mole hole". An underground shelter in case of an attack. The only time we were allowed there was on a holiday and i swear it seemed like he was on call every holiday.
The military was different back then. My mom would wash his fatigues and kakis in the bath tub, we couldn't afford a washer, hang them out, dip them in this heavy blue starch, sprinkle them down with water, roll 'em up and put 'em in the refrigerator and spend hours ironing 'em with a metal iron-no teflon- there were no sewn creases on the back and she would have to measure to make sure the creases were so many inches apart. I remember those clothes would be so stiff he could hardly get them on.
The only time we ever went out to eat was on payday and we'd go to the NCO club. Never off base. We shopped on base, went to the movies on base and rarely ventured off.
We brats didn't associate with the townies and they didn't associate with us. Some sort of unspoken rule.
My dad retired the summer between my junior and senior years of high school and we moved from Cheyenne Wyoming to Marshal, Texas. Now remember this was 1966 and things weren't too good in the south race wise and Marshall was not yet integrated. My mom and I cried for almost a year and my dad until the day he died missed the service. He was very patriotic and when i went to college during the summer of love---1967--- things were not really good between us because of the war.
I missed being an air force brat because from birth to the age of 17. That was all I knew and how difficult it was to live in a place with civilians only since we weren't ever around them much except when we would go home on leave to see relatives. my senior year of high school was less than happy. I looked different, talked different, and acted different. I missed my NCO friends and really had nothing to talk to the kids at school about since most had been together since 1st grade. When I went back for my 10 year reunion I was still the new kid in school.
There is still a soft spot in my heart for any one in a military uniform. guess it won't ever go away. Those were my wonder years. Thanks for letting me ramble on so.
I forgot one of the most important lessons...everynight I had to polish my shoes. My dad would not allow shoes that weren't shiny. I wore these saddle shoes and then these tie up oxfords because he thought they were better for my feet. I hated those shoes. To this day, I STILL polish my shoes every night and now all I buy are black and brown tie up oxfords because they are good for my feet. Thanks, Dad......
