The Great Mistake

D. E. Larsen, DVM

Growing up on a dairy farm, I have always worked. At least from age four, when we moved onto the farm at Broadbent. I learned early that the cows and other animals at the barn were taken care of before we went to dinner.

Those were every day events. Life revolved around the barn and the kitchen. And for the most part, animals came first. Vacations were mostly non-existent, and a family trip for a pot luck lunch at the beach happened only on rare occasions.

Women always complained that if there was extra money it went into the barn before the house. But extra money didn’t happen often. We were probably poor most of my early years, but we didn’t know it. There were always others who were worse off. I learned early that the nickels and dimes I carried in my pocket from picking up bottles on the way to town, were easily shared with others for penny candy from the store as we waited for the school bus.

We peeled chitum for money to spend at the fair. I was twelve when I started getting paid for work hauling hay and filling silo. If I could put fifty dollars in the bank for a summers work, I considered myself rich beyond my dreams.

When I was seventeen, I started working at the cheese factory in Myrtle Point. I made the best wage in town available for someone my age. But the week was a forty-eight hour week with plenty of overtime. My social life suffered but I could buy a car and put money in the bank for college.

I continued to work at the cheese factory, part time while school was in session and full time in the summers. I could pay for a year of college with no problem.

When I dropped out of school to work full time in the spring of 1965, it only took a couple of weeks for the Selective Service People to send me my greetings letter.

The Army happened. It was a good thing for me. I enlisted to try to maintain some control over my fate. My test scores were high and I qualified for the Army Security Agency.

I made the decision when I entered the Army that I might not be the biggest, the smartest, or the fastest of everyone, but nobody was going to work harder than me. That philosophy served me well.

There was basic training at Fort Ord. Then nearly a year a Fort Devens Massachusetts. When I finished schooling, I was sent to South Korea for a year. Far better than Vietnam.

The work load in Korea was rigorous. I often worked twelve hour days and a five day week was unheard of. There was at least one episode of a forty-eight hour shift.

When I left Korea, I was assigned to West Germany. I had been in the Army for a little over two years. The Army gave a person thirty days leave for every year of service. I had used two weeks after basic training. My mistake was taking the full forty=five days between Korea and Germany.

My thought was, forty-five days with nothing but free time. As it turned out, the folks had sold most of their cows, so there wasn’t much work to do around the place. I spent a couple of days helping Dad finish building a garage. Then I slipped into a pattern of sleeping till noon, eating Mom’s cooking, and then going to town to drink beer and trying to stay out of trouble. 

It was sort of like fattening a steer for market. I didn’t notice much, until it was time to go back to the Army.

When I was scheduled to return to duty, I had to wear my uniform. In those years, servicemen and women could fly standby for half price. But you had to wear your uniform.

When I had left Korea, I was probably in the best shape of my life. Well muscled and weighing 175 pounds. I hadn’t noticed any change in myself during my time at home, but then I had to put on my uniform.

The first problem was sucking my gut in enough so I could button the top button of my pants. Then it was impossible to button the top button of my shirt. I could hide that with my tie. Then I put on my jacket. Again, I struggled to get it buttoned.

I couldn’t breathe. The jacket stretched across my belly and looked like it was going to pop each button. I undid the button and I was comfortable, but how as I going to travel to Europe looking like a slob without getting called to the carpet by some second lieutenant along the way.

Of course, I had no choice. I released the top button on my pants and decided to go in a relaxed mode. 

As it turned out, I had no problem. I was most worried in the Chicago airport where I had to change planes and had quite a walk through the airport. Once I got to Fort Dix, I was able to change into my fatigues. Then were too small also, but it was not as obvious as my dress greens.

I was lucky when I got Germany. Having come from Korea, I was able to change out my entire uniform at no cost. I also found a scale. I weighed 195 pounds. As things go, my 175 frame was lost forever.

Those forty-days were the only time in my life that I had more than ten day without any work to do. The twenty extra pounds are still with me. The timing of my arrival in Germany proved very advantageous, but that is another story. But the weight gain was a great mistake.