"I'm a soldier, a lonely soldier,
Away from home through no wish of my own.
That's why I'm lonely, I'm Mr. Lonely,
I wish that I could go back home"
Away from home through no wish of my own.
That's why I'm lonely, I'm Mr. Lonely,
I wish that I could go back home"
Mr. Lonely
Bobby Vinton
Most that have served overseas have a USO story. This is mine.
My folks took me to the airport on a dark, cold January evening in 1970. I just finished up my service school and spent two weeks home on leave for Christmas. I was in my dress blues and with pea coat in hand, I was getting ready to hop on a jet, heading for a part of the world I had never been to, barely ever heard of. Just having turned twenty, I was filled with excitement, apprehension and a small measure of terror, all at the same time.
The plane took off and we landed in San Fransisco. Like many young men at that time, most getting off planes were ushered to a bus waited to take us to Travis Air Force Base. Once I arrived at Travis, I had never seen anything like it. Hundreds, many hundreds of young men, all in the uniform of their service, were packed like sardines into the terminal waiting for a plane to take them across the Pacific. Most were going directly to Viet Nam. After waiting almost a day, sleeping on the floor at times, my name was called and I got on board a Boeing 707 long range jet.
First stop was Hawaii. We had to stop for fuel, as even though the 707 was a long range jet, Hawaii was about as far as it could go without a refuel. We spent fours there, enough time for me to walk around and entertain the idea of going AWOL, and just staying on this island paradise. After the plane was refueled, we took off and flew to Wake Island, possibly the smallest thing I have ever landed on. Wake is just an atoll, in the middle of nowhere, but big enough to refuel jets going further into the WESTPAC. It was hot - at least 90 degrees. I was in my dress blues, sweating my butt off. Again, after a few hours, we took off and headed to Okinawa.
Once we landed in Okinawa, bedlam ensued. The island, part of the Ryukian Chain , was getting ready to transition from a United States Protectorate which it had been since the war, to either independence or becoming part of Japan. In any event, the locals were not happy, riots had broken out, and the entire island was in "condition green" (which meant "lock down").
After landing at Kadena Air Force Base, I was lost. My orders were very cryptic. I was to be staying at a small Army Base called Torii Station, but was assigned to a even smaller base on the island called Hanza. I went up to someone in the military police, showed him my orders, and he directed me to a waiting bus outside the terminal. Once on the bus, I was the only sailor - everyone else was a Marine. We were told to crouch down and put our sea bags in front of the windows as the riots were getting violent in the streets. We took off and arrived at a huge base called Camp Hansen. To make a long story short, I was sent there by mistake. They thought I was a Navy medic and they were going to send me to Viet Nam the next day. In the middle of the night. they found the error, and send my back (through the riots) to Kadena. Finally, I was able to get to Torii Station where I checked in.
My first few months on Okinawa were dreadful. It was the rainy season, so it was always cloudy, rainy and cold. To make matters worse, the island remained in Condition Green more often than not. I was living in a WW II barracks, two men to a very small room. I would go to work, work either a 8 or 12 hour shift, and then go back to that very small room. There was no going off base during lock down. It was then I discovered the USO.
As bad as things were my first six months on Okinawa, they were much more tolerable by having the USO on base. I spent quite a bit of time there. I was an avid reader and they had many books of my interest. They also had a television, so I could watch delayed programing from the Armed Forces channel. I wrote almost daily letters home (using USO stationary) and played cards with other service people. In short, the USO was my home away from home.
By June, the rioting had subsided, the people of Okinawa had made their decision, and we were free to go off base during liberty. It was like being let out of jail. However, as confining as my first six months were, without the USO it would have really been rough. I will never forget what the USO did for me and how it went from just being a building on base to "my USO".
As the years have gone on, every time I see a USO or a commercial for one on television, I think back to 1970, being far from home, living on that "rock" in the East China Sea. I am grateful for not only what they did for me, but also what they continue to do for young men and women serving near and afar. For many, it continues to this day to be "a home away from home".
My folks took me to the airport on a dark, cold January evening in 1970. I just finished up my service school and spent two weeks home on leave for Christmas. I was in my dress blues and with pea coat in hand, I was getting ready to hop on a jet, heading for a part of the world I had never been to, barely ever heard of. Just having turned twenty, I was filled with excitement, apprehension and a small measure of terror, all at the same time.
The plane took off and we landed in San Fransisco. Like many young men at that time, most getting off planes were ushered to a bus waited to take us to Travis Air Force Base. Once I arrived at Travis, I had never seen anything like it. Hundreds, many hundreds of young men, all in the uniform of their service, were packed like sardines into the terminal waiting for a plane to take them across the Pacific. Most were going directly to Viet Nam. After waiting almost a day, sleeping on the floor at times, my name was called and I got on board a Boeing 707 long range jet.
First stop was Hawaii. We had to stop for fuel, as even though the 707 was a long range jet, Hawaii was about as far as it could go without a refuel. We spent fours there, enough time for me to walk around and entertain the idea of going AWOL, and just staying on this island paradise. After the plane was refueled, we took off and flew to Wake Island, possibly the smallest thing I have ever landed on. Wake is just an atoll, in the middle of nowhere, but big enough to refuel jets going further into the WESTPAC. It was hot - at least 90 degrees. I was in my dress blues, sweating my butt off. Again, after a few hours, we took off and headed to Okinawa.
Once we landed in Okinawa, bedlam ensued. The island, part of the Ryukian Chain , was getting ready to transition from a United States Protectorate which it had been since the war, to either independence or becoming part of Japan. In any event, the locals were not happy, riots had broken out, and the entire island was in "condition green" (which meant "lock down").
After landing at Kadena Air Force Base, I was lost. My orders were very cryptic. I was to be staying at a small Army Base called Torii Station, but was assigned to a even smaller base on the island called Hanza. I went up to someone in the military police, showed him my orders, and he directed me to a waiting bus outside the terminal. Once on the bus, I was the only sailor - everyone else was a Marine. We were told to crouch down and put our sea bags in front of the windows as the riots were getting violent in the streets. We took off and arrived at a huge base called Camp Hansen. To make a long story short, I was sent there by mistake. They thought I was a Navy medic and they were going to send me to Viet Nam the next day. In the middle of the night. they found the error, and send my back (through the riots) to Kadena. Finally, I was able to get to Torii Station where I checked in.
My first few months on Okinawa were dreadful. It was the rainy season, so it was always cloudy, rainy and cold. To make matters worse, the island remained in Condition Green more often than not. I was living in a WW II barracks, two men to a very small room. I would go to work, work either a 8 or 12 hour shift, and then go back to that very small room. There was no going off base during lock down. It was then I discovered the USO.
As bad as things were my first six months on Okinawa, they were much more tolerable by having the USO on base. I spent quite a bit of time there. I was an avid reader and they had many books of my interest. They also had a television, so I could watch delayed programing from the Armed Forces channel. I wrote almost daily letters home (using USO stationary) and played cards with other service people. In short, the USO was my home away from home.
By June, the rioting had subsided, the people of Okinawa had made their decision, and we were free to go off base during liberty. It was like being let out of jail. However, as confining as my first six months were, without the USO it would have really been rough. I will never forget what the USO did for me and how it went from just being a building on base to "my USO".
As the years have gone on, every time I see a USO or a commercial for one on television, I think back to 1970, being far from home, living on that "rock" in the East China Sea. I am grateful for not only what they did for me, but also what they continue to do for young men and women serving near and afar. For many, it continues to this day to be "a home away from home".
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