I should warn you. This story has no moral. None at all. If you find one, you are mistaken.
Almost 40 years ago, in March of 1984, Uncle Sam sent me overseas. I didn’t mind this a bit. As a matter of fact, I volunteered to go. But, I’m getting ahead of myself. Let me back up just a bit.
I enlisted in the USAF in the fall of 1982. I was fresh out of high school. The economy was in tough shape. Stagflation ruled the day. It may be hard to believe, but there was actually a waiting list of applicants to get into the Air Force. After completing my basic and technical school training at Lackland AFB (San Antonio), I received my first assignment - Altus AFB in Oklahoma.
I spent just a year in the Sooner State. During this time, I made the decision that a four-year enlistment was enough for me. (I would not be a lifer.) I also decided that I might as well use Uncle Sam’s dime to see the world, and so I filled out a dream sheet, requesting an overseas post. I was given my third choice and received orders to RAF Greenham Common & Welford, two NATO air bases located an hour or so west of London.
I was a law enforcement specialist; a MP, in other words. A short time after I arrived in England, I was assigned to C Flight. We were a tight-knit group. I mention this because what happened that December caught me by surprise. When Christmas arrived, my third one in uniform, I was as lonely as I’ve ever been in my life.
I can still see myself walking around the base on Christmas Eve. It was a cool, damp night. I was homesick as could be. It’s probably a good thing I had to work.
Married now for more than three decades, with two adult children, I’d like to say that the loneliness has gone away. It hasn’t. It lurks in the shadows.
All I can add is that, like Frost, I am one acquainted with the night
Indeed, indeed. What we really long for we cannot have on this earth.