Diary of an Unbroken Child: My Autobiography Chap. III

It probably sounds like having so much freedom at such a young age was all good. No responsibility, no rules, just do what I please when I please. It was ok after I got older and had a place of my own, but it had its drawbacks early on. Urban camping is far more perilous than its country cousin and the nocturnal predators are infinitely more vicious. There was always some asshole that would just as soon stick you and take the few bucks you had as look at you. You grew up fast and hard, or you didn't grow up at all. Before I went into the used car business I had to scramble. Scramble for a place to sleep. Scramble for something to eat. More than once, just when I felt I was safe and ready to go to sleep in a stairway, some wino would come and try to beat you out of your money and your flop. I got tough and I got hard. I didn't hesitate one second to stomp their face in or stick them.

Then there were the queers. There's an old saying: don't shit where you eat. I didn't do my hustling in the North End, I had to go out- out where it wasn't safe. I don't know what it was about the queers, why they seem to like young guys so much. I used to run around looking for stuff to boost and sell and I couldn't do that where I stayed. I also couldn't sleep where I hung out in The North End, then people would know I was on my own. For my friends, it was ok, but for strangers- they might turn me in. So I always snuck off to sleep. When I was around 14 I decided to use the queer thing to my advantage. I hadn't started boosting cars yet, so I would go trolling by the bar where the queers went. They had this bar they all went to and I'd keep a bat or 2x4 in an alley near by. When one of them would try to pick me up, I'd get them in the alley and use the bat to soften them up a little. After a good whack to two across the knees, they'd give up their wallet without much fuss. And, I always looked for Willie- I never forgot my vow!

I guess I was lucky stealing cars, I never took a pinch. One time I almost did- I was out in Chestnut Hill not far from Boston College going out toward Newton I think. There was a supermarket and in the parking lot was a '57 Ford Sunliner, a hardtop/convertible. It was sweet blue with a continental kit... I could have got top dollar for it. The driver door was unlocked so I jumped in. I could have a car started in unc der 30 seconds- they were easy back then. I took off and I didn't get half a mile and here comes a cop with his lights on. I didn't know the neighborhoods out there so I was just trying to shake this guy. I went down a dead-end street so I jumped and started running through yards. I come up on a chainlink fence about 8-10 feet tall and over I went. It led into a park. I turn around to see if the cop is following and here's a German Shepherd dog coming over the top of the fence. I'm fucked so I went up a tree. The cop finally catches up and points his revolver at me and says: "Come on down out of that tree."

"Fuck you," I tell him. "Put that dog back in the car or shoot me out of the fucking tree."

The fucking idiot did it! As soon as he was past the fence and almost out of sight, I was down out of the tree and gone. It took me about an hour but I found my way to BC and cut through and took a street car back down Comm Av..

Back to Sonny and Patty: they were as close as I ever had to parents. When I wanted to play baseball, Patty signed as my mother. I don't even know my mother's first name- I never thought to ask. Uncle Arthur never talked about family much, I guess his dad was some kind of prick or something. He said once he used to get beat with a razor strop. My father I just called Mr. Fuck & Run, Uncle Arthur was the only real father I ever had. Anyway I decided one day I wanted to be a boxer. I had seen Rocky Marciano on tv a few times. He was from Brockton on the South Shore and I liked to fight so I figured maybe I could make some money at it. So Patty came with me and signed me up for the Gloden Gloves as my mother. I was actually pretty good, but I was no Rocky Marciano. I only lost one fight to some chicken farmer from New Hampshire. I was a welterweight, 147 lbs. The guy that beat me was about five feet tall and thick as an oak tree. Every time he hit me I could feel it in the soles of my feet. I lasted all three rounds but he won on points.

In the summers I used to take off and go up to Hampton Beach in New Hampshire. There were all kids my age and they used to work in the restaurants and shops and hang out at night and party. That was where I met the Butterworth brothers, Frank and Jimmy. I used to go stay up at their house in Portsmouth. I was going to their house when that creepy walk down the dirt road I described in the beginning of the Night Gods story happened. Frank taught me to SCUBA dive. Jimmy had this really fast boat he had made and we went out at night and pulled up lobster pots and brought the lobsters down to the restuarants at Hampton Beach to sell. The lobster guys shot at us sometimes, it was pretty funny actually. But I went up there mostly for the chicks, there were plenty so it was easy pickings...especially if you had plenty of money. Some things never change I guess. If I ran short of cash, I ran down to Boston, boosted a car or two and was back in the chips. It was good to be a professional man. When I was almost 17 I started to think about things like what I was going to do. I couldn't steal cars for the rest of my life.

We were hanging at Sonny's place in West Roxbury one day and me and Patty and him started talking about what I should do. After I got to be 16 or so, he let me hang out with him and his crew. He was always nice to me, looking out for me and stuff when I was younger, but I guess he didn't want a little kid with his crew. I was greatful he had turned me onto the car thing. It was Sonny that showed me how to drop an ignition and pop the tumblers. I could have gone in with Sonny and his guys, but there was a chick from New Jersey I met at Hampton Beach and I really liked her... I guess she was my first real crush so I decided to take a bus down there and see what happened. Funny, I don't even remember her name now. I got there and her folks called the cops. I got popped for being a runaway so I called Sonny. Him and Patty came and pretended to be my parents and got me out of reform school in Newark. I don't mind telling you I was scared there and I'm not scared of much of anything. There was me and one other white kid in the whole place and we had to fight every day. It was there that I learned how to play full contact bashetball. I got nothing against black kids, but these fuckers were mean. We got back to Boston and I decided to go in the Navy.

On my 17th birthday, Patty and me went down to the recruiter and I signed up. I didn't have any Social Security number, but I had the number of this guy I knew and I changed a couple numbers around. Nobody checked that shit back then. Seeing how I was only 17, I had to have my parents permission so, of course, Patty signed as my mother. She put on a great act, crying and all like she didn't want me to grow up. The Chief that was the recruiter couldn't take his eyes off her tits the whole time. She could have told him to make me an Admiral and he would probably agreed. I took the test and blew it away- I think they make it easy so anybody can join up. They said I could have any Class A school I wanted. I didn't know what that was but it sounded good and anyways I knew what I wanted to be... a frogman. I had to take a physical and that was no problem. When they asked if I ever had a felony, I told them not that I ever got caught for. The guy looked at me funny but he didn't say anything. They also asked me if I was a Communist or part of any other weird group. I think that was the longest part of the test... I didn't know that there was that many bad groups out there- I had never even heard of them.

Sonny and Patty took me to the airport and off I went to Chicago. I wasn't there more than a week and I get a letter saying Patty got pinched for the Plymouth Mail Robbery- the biggest robbery in history I think. They even sent a newspaper article. A witness or a reporter described Patty as "a large busted blonde" or a "blonde with large breasts" or something like that. She did have a hell of a set of boobs. I also got word later saying she got off. I was relieved. Those two, for all the bad shit they did, were really good to me- I'd still take a bullet for either one of them, except they're not alive anymore.

Well, I wasn't there long before I began to question the wisdom of my decision. It seemed that I wasn't exactly cut out for such a regimented life. You got to realize I'd been on my own the whole time with nobody telling me what to do. I didn't take it to well getting bossed around. I didn't mind being bossed so much, it was how they did it- they yelled all the fucking time, that's what chaffed my ass. Nobody asked you nice to do anything, they yelled. The kind of guy I am- if you ask me nice, I'll do anything for you... You act like an asshole, you're going to get it back in spades. The first time, my company commander, some Boilerman 1st Class, jumped me for something. I told him to go fuck himself. It was off to SID for me. I think I hold the record for taking the longest time to complete a 9 week program. They have this SID- Special Indoctrination Division special for fuck ups. I went there a couple of times. Then my company commander, who was a little prick that swaggered around like he owned the fucking place, kicked my rifle butt when I was at present arms. It hit me in the nuts so I whacked him in the side of the head. I had to stand Captain's Mast for that. If you've never been in the Navy, it isn't good. I stood at attention while the barracks commander, a real Commander, yelled at me and told me they could give me a dishonorable discharge and send me to the brig at Portsmouth. That didn't sound too good, I didn't join up to go to prison- hell I could have done that without leaving Boston.

The Master at Arms, the guy just below the company commander, was a pretty ok guy and he told me when I stood the mast, just stand at attention and pick a spot on the wall above the Captain's head and look at it- don't look him in the eyes. So, that's what I did. This guy came up out of his chair and I swear to God I thought he was going to have a fucking heart attack. His face was purple and I thought he was going to come across that desk and strangle the shit out of me. Then he got all fatherly. He sat down and told me: "Sit down son." I just stood there at attention, he wasn't tricking me. Then he said please sit down so I did. He told me nobody on the base could stand that motherfucker I hit. He said that, motherfucker. He said that outside of disciplinary problems I was doing good on tests and all. He said I was having problems adjusting and that the Navy probably wouldn't change to suit me so I might as well get used to the Navy way. He also said he had to punish me so he gave me 30 days in the Marine Brig. I went in in August and should have been done with boot camp by the end of October. It was the end of January when I finished.

I had two weeks off after boot before my Class A school started. I had to be back at Great Lakes for Gunners Mate School. I had to have an MOS before I could become a frogman. I had adjusted ok I guess, but I was afraid if I went back to Boston I would change my mind and not go back. I had pretty much to make the Navy a career- do the twenty and retire with a pension and I didn't want to fuck that up, so I went to Milwaukee for two weeks. If you've never been to Milwaukee in January...It sucks! My school was for Gunners Mate and was at Great Lakes, like I said, only in a different part of the base. After boot camp, I was surprised at how much better the Navy got. What I had really wanted was to be a frog man. I went diving at Hampton Beach and really liked it and I had seen them old WWII movies of frogmen blowing ships up and that was what I wanted to do. They had guaranteed me whatever schools I wanted so I told them I wanted to go to San Diego to frog man school... Plus I wanted to blow shit. up

Frogman school was a little harder than I had expected. They called it BUDs and it was a lot more than just diving. Actually, I did ok until it came to Hell Week. You had to go 100 hours with just 3-4 hours sleep. All the physical stuff I did ok, but not that. They said I could go back and do the school again- from the beginning. So, I said fuck that and became a gunner on a PBR. I manned the twin .50's on the front of a river boat. I had also qualified as a sniper on the range... like Uncle Arthur said, I could shoot the pecker off a mosquito. It was off to Vietnam for me!

Next: Vietnam