Chapter 1

Chuck Sneyd had never understood just how precarious his existence was.

Not wealthy, not poor; compared with other residents of Lubbock, the family was unremarkably middle class. The furnished apartment was small, but not excessively so, and both parents lived at home. His mother Pam worked in an office; his father Silvester was a mechanic for a large ranch north of the city, where he took care of the farm machinery and helped out during haying season. And then, one Sunday afternoon during his senior year of high school, a drunk going the wrong way on Interstate 27 drove head-on into his mother’s Toyota. Silvester had been driving, Pam was in the passenger seat. The bodies had been identifiable, barely, from driver’s license photos.

His family had not been ‘loving’ in the traditional sense. Chuck was not close to either parent. Even so, losing them was a shock. It was the first of many.

The court-appointed probate attorney handled the details. There was insurance, enough to pay off their credit cards and almost enough to cover the loan on his father’s three-year-old Chevrolet 1500. The credit union had accepted the attorney’s settlement offer, rather than repossess the truck.

The apartment manager had pointed out that the rent had not yet been paid, so Chuck agreed to vacate as soon as he could dispose of the family’s few possessions. Their clothes he donated to charity, a few personal things he simply dumped. In the aftermath, Chuck faced an uncertain future. He was essentially without family; there was an aunt and uncle, supposedly. His father had mentioned the names, but no more than that. Chuck had no idea where they could be found, or even if they were still alive. His maternal grandparents had divorced. His grandmother had remarried, but had not kept in touch with Pam. His maternal grandfather had died soon after of pancreatic cancer.

He considered going to live with his paternal grandfather, but rejected the idea almost immediately. The old ranch where Chuck had spent his summers was a happy place no longer. His grandmother Mary Ellen had died late during the previous summer. Her death had shaken Chuck, but Grandfather Morty Sneyd had been devastated. His depression was such that he could barely talk to Chuck.

An uncertain future indeed; he would have to leave school and find a job. But then, just when things looked bleakest, a friend’s parents offered to take him in for the final three months of school. Chuck graduated with the rest of his class, but the experience taught him a lesson. He would pay his own way, or do without.

Chuck had expected to attend college. If not at a university, he could always live at home while he took vocational courses at the community college, but that was no longer possible. Maybe college was in his future, maybe not; in the meantime, he needed a job.

Chuck didn’t anticipate a problem finding work. This was West Texas, after all, and while work in the oil patch was hard, it paid well. But there was no work. Drill rigs were being idled, experienced hands laid off; no one was hiring. One of the periodic downturns in the oil business had, for all practical purposes, shut down the oil exploration business. Disappointed and depressed, Chuck walked along the sidewalk after the latest job interview, which had resulted in another refusal. By chance, he passed an Armed Forces Recruiting Station.

He looked at the men inside, all uniformed, all purposeful. Not for them the challenge of finding a job fresh out of high school! They had jobs, work that would keep them employed for years to come. Chuck walked inside, hesitant, but curious. Perhaps they had written material he could look at before he decided? The first man he saw when he went inside was a marine, a Staff Sergeant. He explained that yes, they did have handouts, but since his job was explaining what was in the pamphlets, why not have a doughnut and a cup of coffee?

And listen as he explained what the Marines were really all about.

Boot Camp had not been the challenge the recruiter promised.