Bits, Bytes and Life
Copyright© 2026 by Asa Strong
Chapter 1: Decisions and Actions
It was strange; traveling at 60 MPH with the fog swirling outside the window, as the train sped east. Hearing the metronomic clack of the train wheels upon the track added to the general sense of monotony I was feeling. Having never traveled on a train before, all of this was new to me.
I peered out the window without really seeing. My mind was elsewhere. A lot had happened during the past several months. I had graduated high school in Yampa, Colorado, a small backwater town in the western part of the state. Not much there for an eighteen-year-old boy; especially since I was bright and inquisitive. My family fully realized there was not much future in me working on a ranch as a cowhand, or picking lettuce from our small 45-acre farm.
I did not have many avenues to wander down in pursuit of a better life in Yampa. Although my grades were excellent, college was out of the question, due to the cost. My parents had emigrated from Italy fifteen years ago, and had all they could do to keep themselves clothed and fed. My choices were somewhat limited, and after much thought, decided my best option was to enlist in the military.
As I sat in the train, the wheels grinding their own melody, my mind drifted back to how I managed to be here, heading east towards Washington, D.C.
On March 11, 1962, about 8:20 AM, I had climbed on the Greyhound bus to Denver with $45 in my pocket that I had managed to save working for neighbors.
The bus departed Yampa with a belch of blue smoke down State Road 131 towards Denver, through Toponas, then picking up Route 134 over Gore Pass, with the first stop being in Kremmling. After a short pit stop, the bus was again headed east on U.S. Route 40. The bus passed through Parshall, stopped briefly in Grand Lake, Fraser, and Winter Park, then slowly climbed over Berthoud Pass. After the pass, the bus followed Clear Creek with the only stop in Idaho Springs. The bus traveled through the canyon and arrived at my destination about 2:30 in the afternoon.
As I traveled towards Denver, I wasn’t sure which branch of the service to enlist in; my knowledge base really didn’t extend into military careers. I just figured I would talk to all of the recruiters and hope to pick the best option for myself.
When the bus arrived at Union Station in Denver, I had no idea where the enlistment station was located. I walked out of the station and asked a porter where I could find out about enlisting in the armed services. The man pointed down the street and told me the recruiting station was in the federal building, about four blocks down on 15th Street.
The weather was overcast and damp so I hurried down the street trying to keep warm in the worn jacket I had on.
After several blocks, I noticed the federal court building, with an enlistment sign for the Armed Services out front. Stopping in front of the sign, I decided to go in and see what they had to offer. I hadn’t come all this way to back out now.
I entered the building and asked the person at the reception desk where the military recruiting office was located. When informed that it was on the 2nd floor, I took the next available elevator and selected the proper stop.
Upon exiting the elevator, there was a clear glass window in front of me, with a sign that identified the office as the “U.S. Armed Forces Recruiting Center.” Not much chance of missing it, I thought.
When I entered the office, there was a sign on a pedestal pointing to the left if you were directed here via draft board notification, or to the right if not. To the left was a large room with numerous chairs, most of them filled with young men that looked to be about my age. I turned to the right and entered a small reception area that was manned by a young man in uniform.
The man identified himself as Corporal Young and asked if he could help me.
I told him that I wanted to enlist in the military, but didn’t know which of the services I was interested in. I then asked if I could speak to all of the different service recruiters.
He informed me that the only recruiter in the office at the moment was from the Navy, and was sure he would be interested in speaking to me.
He then ushered me into an office with a sign that said “Navy Recruiter” and introduced me to a man in a crisp, blue uniform with some kind of gold insignia on his left, upper arm, and several gold stripes on his left sleeve. The man introduced himself, but all I can remember was that it was “Chief.” To this day, I can’t remember his name.
The Chief asked me what he could help me with. I replied that I wanted to enlist in the armed services but did not know which one was best for me.
He asked me to take a seat, and then asked a series of questions which I tried to answer honestly. He also asked for my high school transcript. I had anticipated that this would be needed, and quickly found it in my small suitcase.
The Chief closely read the transcript and informed me that he was sure that the Navy would be my best decision. When I asked why, he responded that because of my excellent grades in school, I would be eligible for just about any school I requested. The Chief also tried to explain what the other services had to offer. It became apparent that the Marines and Army were not an option, as I was really not interested in being an infantry soldier, and that appears where I would be assigned, regardless of my academic ability. In either service, I would be tested in boot camp for a specific job.
The Air Force was a consideration, but I felt that it was entirely too structured and the technical areas I was interested in were too narrow.