Twists and Turns

Things happen. They just happen. And taken collectively, they lead you through the twists and turns of your life to wherever it is you're going. You can dream. You can plan. But the things keep happening. And you get pushed and pulled, nudged and swept along, until - there you are!

I joined the Army in March of 1955. I did it to get away from a boy-girl-boy situation that wasn't resolving itself the way I wanted it resolved. I was losing. I also did it because I wasn't doing well at Michigan State University and probably recognized that I needed to grow-up a little bit.

When I announced my intention of quitting, John Winburne, Dean of the Basic College, called me in and gave me hell. He said, "We live in a world with a crying need for intelligence. You have that intelligence and you waste it instead of making a contribution." When I got out of the Army in 1958 and went back to Michigan State, one of the first things I did was go see Dean Winburne and tell him that he was right.

Anyway, I had to go through the suburban-Detroit intersection of Grand River and Telegraph on the way from East Lansing to Wyandotte. There was an Army recruiting station on an island in the intersection. I stopped there one weekend in February or March and enlisted. I signed-up for a two year hitch with the 8th Infantry Division. They were scheduled to go to Europe and I wanted to get as far away from Mary as possible.

Mom and Dad were upset. Dad said that the Army wouldn't take me because of my asthma. But the army was hard-up for recruits, I was breathing, and I passed the physical after the technician had me lie down for about 15 minutes to slow my heart rate.

I was inducted on March 29, 1955 at Fort Wayne in Detroit. We spent several days there taking various placement tests. We were sitting in a room waiting for processing of some kind or other and the solider at the front desk called my name.

"Private Sparrow. Front and center."

A "Sergeant Fortune" wanted to see me. I was led down a narrow hallway and into a small room. Sergeant Fortune was seated at a desk. He was wearing his olive drab uniform with an Eisenhower jacket. Underneath his Combat Infantryman's Badge were four rows of ribbons. He had hashmarks from his wrist to his elbow - indicating almost thirty years of service. He "ordered" me to sit down.

"I see here that you've enlisted for the 8th Infantry Divison."

"That right," I said.

"Why in hell'd you do that?"

"The 8th Infantry Division is scheduled to rotate to Europe and I'd like to go."

He leaned back in his chair and sighed. "Sparrow," he said, "life in the infantry is hard. You ever spent six months out of a year in the field?"

"What do you mean 'in the field'?"

"You know - livin' in tents, eatin' out of your mess kit, cold showers, diggin' latrines. That kind of thing."

"Well, no. I haven't done that."

"Ain't much fun. Tough way to live. I might be able to give you a chance to see Europe in a little more comfort."

"Oh?"

"You got really good scores on your placement tests, Sparrow. Two years of college. Parents are both educators. You look like a pretty bright person -just the kind of solider we need in the ASA," he smiled.

"What's the ASA?"

"The Army Security Agency - our branch of communications intelligence. Can't tell you much about the work because most of it is 'top secret,' but I know from personal experience that it's fascinatin'. And it sure as hell beats bein' in the infantry."

Sergeant Fortune was persuasive. He described the radio work, the code schools at Fort Devens, the language schools in California. And he described the ASA's "fixed" field stations with their bowling alleys, EM clubs, golf courses, and comfortable living quarters. And all that stuff about 'top secret' was particularly intriguing. Even though I had to enlist for another year, I was sold. I signed Sergeant Fortune's enlistment extension. That's how I wound up in the ASA.

The twists and turns.