Bus to Sacramento... Kid Going to Vietnam - Cover

Bus to Sacramento... Kid Going to Vietnam

Copyright© 2018 by Lance Lovejoy

Chapter 1

There comes a time to leave the nest: Mom couldn’t afford to have us around after high school, plus she had a new husband. A genuine WW2 hero, our new stepdad tolerated us kids, but try as we all did, there was no love lost. He could be a hot-head— kept losing his stripes in WW2 and Korea and was starting a new marriage without steady work. He quit driving bus and eventually moved up to big rigs and double trailers. But right now no one wanted to hire this veteran and honest good worker—who had been kicked out of the military and had done minor time for not paying child support and punching folks, those foolish enough to argue.

So in 1964 after my 17th birthday, I signed with the recruiter. A couple months passed, and it was down the aisle to receive my HS diploma (no one came). And off to basic training. My boot camp class might have been the last to use M1s (M14 and M16 quals had to come later). Soon I celebrated my 18th birthday, and I was legal for combat duty: Uncle wasted no time cutting me orders to a unit in Vietnam.

The bus to Sacramento: Part of a small deployment of unit replacements, I was assigned a MATS flight out of Travis and issued a bus ticket to Sacramento. This milk-run trip guaranteed me 3 nights on the road and some quiet time before joining a combat unit. The second day the bus was pretty full, and a 20 year old gal with a baby took the seat next to me. So much for the quiet time! Don’t get me wrong, this lovely young mother hauling her baby across country was more than welcome.

Patricia and me: After introductions, my seat mate told me she liked to be called Pat and she was starting a new life on the coast. Her fiancé was killed in Vietnam, but thankfully he left part of himself, their new baby Helen. Pat began to trust me holding the baby. Christ, do you know what it’s like for a lonely kid on the way to Vietnam to have a baby to hold. Thank you, Lord.

But things got much better between Pat and me. Her home life was not so perfect, and she had taken in this young soldier she knew from her home town. He was killed on his first deployment leaving her with no wedding ring and a baby on the way. Now she was looking for a job and new friends.

Well, that sobered me up. My family had been poor and made tough decisions about us kids. But this young gal and her baby needed support.

Things get better: Now an old man with my career behind me, I begin to know what’s important in life. BUT AT 18, I wanted pussy. I had never gone all the way with a lady, and I really didn’t target my new seat mate, Patricia. I had too much respect for Pat, and we just became friends as the miles piled up. Pat pried me about my girlfriends, and I had to tell her the truth. There were a couple mandatory dances when I could double date. But my experience was limited to some slow dances and a goodnight peck on the cheek. I was painfully shy, and remember my family was always broke—no car, no phone, no newspaper, no school photos-- really. We became isolated. Pat had her own problems, but listening to this lonely, horny young stud (me) as the bus zoomed through the night, she wanted to help. Hell, she wanted me. As we talked, Pat to took my hand (the hand not holding her baby), and I felt wonderful. You guys who are in a hurry to get to first base, second base, and so forth, take heed. A walk in the park and holding hands will get you everything you ever wanted. She was lonely too and needed a kiss and some tender fondling by a good man. We leaned into a kiss and it was heavenly. Then a better kiss and another and another. I knew then there was a god. Pat sensed my inexperience and helped me along. With privacy in the back of the dark bus, she showed me what to do. Her kisses targeted my neck, my ears, and my lips. Then it was my turn to do her. Her sweet skin tasted so good.

Next her fingers explored my arms, my chest, and finally below the waist. She was so good at finding my nipples, tweaking them while her tongue explored my mouth. I was too excited. I needed to get a room with her or at least a cold shower. I was saved by a fussy baby followed by a bus stop.

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