The Leather Jacket

David E, Larsen, DVM

The flight to Boston was delayed. This was turning into a late-night affair. I looked around the waiting area and wondered if they were hoping for additional people. There were three of us GIs and one businessman. 

When final boarding was called, only the four of us boarded. Our arrival time in Boston was now scheduled for midnight. The only good thing was I had most of the plane to myself.
I settled into a seat near the front of economy class. I hope to get some sleep on this four-hour flight. We had one stop in Providence and then just a hop to Boston. 

Once we were in the air, I loosened my tie and jacket. We could fly at half price as long as we were in uniform. That was fine, but the dress greens were not designed for comfort.

I was close to a deep sleep when I felt a slight shake on my shoulder. I looked up into the pretty face of one of the flight attendants.

“Oh, I’m sorry to wake you up,” she said. “Since we only have you three soldiers on board, we are going to play cards in the back of the plane. Do you want to join us?”

How could I refuse such an offer?

“Cards,” I said. “What kind of cards are we playing? Strip poker or regular poker.”

“Arn’t you a funny one,” She said. “I think we are going to play hearts. It’s an easy game to learn if you haven’t played it before.”

“Sure, I’m game,” I said. “Maybe it will make the time go faster.”

I got up and started to retrieve my overnight bag from the rack above the seats.

“Don’t bother with that,” the attendant said. “We have a stop in Providence, but no new passengers are expected. My name is Sharon, by the way.”

So I followed Sharon to the rear. Sharon was beautiful. Short and petite, with nice curves and a suggestive walk.

We all squeezed in around a small bench, and Judy started dealing out the cards. I was careful to sit next to Sharon, even though I knew it would be to no avail.

“Are any of you guys headed to Vietnam?” Charlotte asked.
I waited for the other two guys to respond. Their sleeves were blank. I assumed they were privates heading to a training assignment.

“We are flying east,” I said. “Vietnam is the other direction. But talk to us next year, and it might be a different story.”

We played hearts. I didn’t follow the game and was more interested in Sharon. But the time flew. Every twenty or thirty minutes, one of the girls would check on the businessman sitting in the front of the plane.

The conversation was just chit-chat. Something I was not very good at. Judy put up the cards as we approached Providence, and everyone returned to our seats. The fantasies were over, and Boston loomed shortly.

At Boston, we taxied up to an open gate. Exiting the plane into the open air of the Northeast in December was a shock. It was cold, very cold. My lungs hurt when I took a deep breath. My nose and ears were instantly stinging from the cold. I hurried and almost ran to the terminal door. Any thoughts of Sharon were gone.

I retrieved my duffle bag from the baggage carousel and headed for a taxi. Finally, when I settled into the cab’s back seat, I started to warm up. The driver had his heater going full blast.

At the bus station, the ticket clerk chuckled at my question about when the next bus was leaving for Fort Devens.

“I can sell you a ticket tonight, but the next bus isn’t until ten in the morning,” the clerk said. “You can get a cheap room at the hotel next door. They save some rooms for you GIs. They also serve a pretty good breakfast.”

I took the clerk’s advice and made the short walk to the hotel as fast as possible. After checking in, I had the hotel give me a wake-up call at eight in the morning. I wished I had slept on the plane rather than getting excited about a card game with the girls.

Once I arrived at Fort Devens, I took stock of my clothes. My uniform was okay. My civilian clothes fit the Oregon climate fine, but I was not prepared for this cold weather in Massachusetts.

I had one hundred seven dollars left from my travel pay. On my first chance, I caught a base bus to downtown Ayer, which was not much larger than Myrtle Point.

I found the leather jacket in the only Men’s Store in town. Its price tag read one hundred twelve dollars. I tried it on, and it fit perfectly.

The clerk was anxious to sell it.

“The only problem is I only have a hundred and seven dollars,” I said.

“That’s close enough,” the clerk said. “We like doing business with you boys.”

I handed him the money.

“Do you want me to put it in a box for you?” the clerk asked.

“You have to be kidding,” I said. “I need to wear this jacket.”

So, in December of 1965, I owned the leather jacket. This jacket served me well for the remainder of the Massachusetts winter. When I went to Korea, we couldn’t take civilian clothes, so the jacket stayed home. It did go to Germany with me and again served me well.

I wore this jacket for many years after my time in the Army. It fit me well until time caught up with my belly. For the last decade or two, it has hung in the closet.

Stephanie, my son’s wife, looked at it the other day. We were downsizing.

“I bought that jacket in 1965,” I said. 

“Really, it looks almost new,” Stephanie said. “I think Anya would love it.”
“I’m not sure it will fit her, but she can have it,” I said. “It has followed me halfway around the world. Not to Korea, but to Germany.”

So, after sixty years, the jacket has a new life. It will last another sixty years with little problem. 

A good hundred-dollar investment.