Alone In The World

While enlisted in the U S Navy during the late 1950s I knew a man that was unusually quiet and reserved in demeanor.  After having served four years in the Navy, my acquaintance (For ease of interpretation I’m going to call this man Joe.) had made the trying decision to reenlist for another four years.  However there was a slight problem.  He insisted that he wanted to take 90 days leave (vacation) at the time of his re-signing for the following four years.  At the time Navy regulations stated no one could ever take more than thirty days leave at one time.

A senior officer, with the authority to do so, offered to give him three consecutive 30 day leave periods, but this would have required that he report in twice during the 90 day period.  Joe insisted he wanted to take a 90 day unobstructed leave period.  If he could not do it then he was not going to reenlist.  Messages flew back and forth between our aviation squadron and the Bureau of Naval Personnel in Washington, D C, and after due process the 90 day leave was authorized by someone who had good sense.

There came a time when Joe was scheduled to sign his name, swear his allegiance, take his leave period, and return to the remainder of his four year reenlistment period.  I happened to be in the position of holding on to the special set of leave authorization papers.  Soon all of the reenlistment papers were signed, the proper swearing in ceremony was over, the smiling handshakes had been given and received, the photographers packed up their gear and left, and all that remained was for Joe to pick up his leave papers and go on his wonderful 90 day leave to whatever exotic location he had in mind.

I remained with his papers for a couple of hours, but Joe never came to get them.  I wondered what happened, so with heavy heart I phoned the barracks where Joe lived.  When he came on the line I asked if he didn’t know I held his papers that he could pick up any time he wanted to.  He told me he would be along shortly if I would only hold on to them.

Within a few minutes Joe appeared at my work space.  I handed over his special leave papers, and he tore them up in small pieces.  My lower jaw must have dropped a foot.  I said to Joe, “What are you doing?  That was your leave papers.”

Joe said, “Oh, I never wanted to take leave.  I only wanted to see if the Navy would honor my request for something special.  If they wouldn’t then I didn’t think I belonged here, but now I feel I do belong.  This is My Navy now.”

I said, “But Joe, won’t someone wonder why you’re not coming to visit?”

He said, “There is no one to wonder.  I have no family of any kind.  I never knew who my father was.  My mother is dead, and I have no siblings.  I have no cousins or other known kin of any sort.  I have no place to go.  I’ve never taken any leave since I joined the Navy four years ago, and I don’t want any now.”

I shook his hand and said, “Joe, I consider you my friend if you’re ever alone and need someone to talk to.”

Joe said, “The entire Navy is my family so I’m never alone, but thank you for caring.”