Therefore, as we steamed back to Jacksonville in mid October, I was a “short timer” counting the days until I would be free to get back into civilian life. Shortly after docking in Mayport, however, the shit known as the Cuban Missile Crisis hit a rapidly whirring fan and the bad news hit me right between the eyes—an indefinite extension due to the rising hostilities between the US and the USSR over Soviet nuclear capable missiles being installed in Cuba. In historical retrospect this was a time of mounting paranoia and hysteria firmly anchored in Cold War mentality and foreign policy. At the time, however we thought we were staring into the face of Armageddon. The 13-day affair was an exercise in testosterone testing and posturing and eyeball-to-eyeball arm wrestling that had the distinct possibility of a disastrous nuclear exchange.
President Kennedy and Secretary of Defense McNamara during the crisis |
Jupiter IRBM |
U2 spy plane photo of Soviet missile installation in Cuba |
A US Navy plane flying over a Soviet cargo ship during the "quarantine" of Cuba |
The crisis, famously ending in 13 days, my indefinite extension was abrogated and I was released from active duty and returned to civilian life on December 17, 1962, and turned 21 a few days later on the 26th. I was free, no longer anyone to take orders from or tell me what to do and when to do it. Along with that freedom, however, came a new awareness, I was suddenly and for the first time, responsible for my own life—no more authority figures to do my thinking and make my decisions for me. Scary and sobering, but also full of exciting possibilities.
(Photos courtesy of Wikipedia)
To be continued...