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Memories. We all have them, don’t we? Some we thought we’d forgotten. Some we regret. Some we will probably cherish forever.

That said, please let me share the following with you. It’s not something to which one would say, “Wow! What a powerful story.” Still …

It’s May 1, 1962. As the ship, the Patch, had neared the coast of the good old USA we saw seagulls. That’s right, seagulls. Which meant, land can’t be too very far off.

The last time I had been in my own country was the day after Thanksgiving in 1959. That’s the day, you see, when we departed Fort Knox, destination der Vaterland. Germany.

My destination was Regensburg, where the 3rd Battalion was located. That city is situated beside the Donau (Danube) river. It was established in the 12th or 13th Century A.D., and is a truly beautiful place, located in Bayern (Bavaria). It was bombed during the war.

Arriving back home we docked May 1 at the Brooklyn Army Terminal, where the final aspects of official separation from active duty would be completed (most had been already done back in Germany), and then I was a civilian! A once in a lifetime feeling.

A fellow soldier with whom I had served at Fort Knox had purchased a Volkswagen and had it shipped to New York. We had renewed our friendship on board coming home (he had been in Landshut). Almost providentially, he was going to North Carolina to meet his father, who was at a furniture show in High Point, before heading home to Missouri.

So. He was kind enough to provide transportation to N.C. We spent the night in a motel in New Jersey, then were on our way south in the morning.

His name was Marvin Anderson. He dropped me off at the bus station in Wilson. We never saw each other again.

When the bus pulled into the station in Washington, around 6:00 pm or so, my father was there waiting for me. We had talked via phone the night before.

As we pulled into the yard of our house in Washington Park, I could see my mother in the kitchen window. She was looking for our arrival.

When she saw us, she left the window, and in just a moment she came out onto the back porch, opened the door, and Fella, our Boston Terrier, came down the steps and came right to me. I had not seen him since on leave in September of ’59.

“Hey, Fella,” I said, and hugged him. I was home.

Memories. As I said in the beginning, “Some we will cherish forever.

Peace.