Love's Mirror

It was a comfortable Saturday night in Kansas that June 24th in 1950. But comfortable or not, the soldier who walked toward a run down bar and dance hall believed that this particular evening in Junction City, not far from Fort Riley, was probably the worst place to be. Except, that is, for any other night in Junction City in 1950. At that moment it was already Sunday, June 25th in Korea, some 13 hours ahead of eastern daylight saving time in Washington, D.C. A fateful time for the soldier. He just didn't know it then.

Fort Riley, where the soldier was assigned, was the post where the late George Armstrong Custer's horse had lived out its life; the only survivor of Custer's egregious last stand. This Custer was not the General Custer, as myth would have us believe. But rather the arrogant, Lieutenant Colonel George Armstrong Custer, who died foolishly seeking glory at Little Big Horn. His horse lived well at Fort Riley for many years after that infamous battle.

As legendary as Fort Riley was, that lovely old Army fort left much to be desired. Starting with women. Of which there were far too few. And which dearth of this most important specie was exacerbated by the presence of many dogface soldiers. Of which there were too damn many.

Under the circumstances who would expect a 19 year old basic trainee from the 10th Infantry Division - the fine old 10th Mountain Division - to be thrown together with a lovely lady, also nineteen years young, in a seedy dance hall crowded with about 500 soldiers and maybe a dozen girls, if that many.

The green soldier, then in his twelfth week of basic, had no expectations except to con a few beers out of consistently lax bartenders whose motto was, "If they are in uniform and have a pulse, never check I.D."

The soldier's intended beer consumption was coupled with the idea that it might at least be fun to watch some of the young women who hung around the dump from time to time being rushed to exhaustion by a queue of soldiers who cut in not much after the guy ahead of them got a couple of moments of dancing before having to surrender his prize. But watching got old quickly for the soldier, and he soon discovered that watching wasn't really his game. And the urge to hold a young, soft girl in his arms compelled him to join the procession of hopeful Army neophytes. He grudgingly got in line and finally was able to cut in and embrace the loveliest woman in the world. Well, at least the loveliest in Junction City, at that moment. “I’ve been in this Army town a dozen times, and it’s always the same. Too many guys, not enough girls, but my luck just might change,” he said to himself.

Never one to stand on ceremony, the soldier, after a few dance steps while delighting in the feel of the lovely lady’s warm, and oh so lush and nicely proportioned body, looked her squarely in the eyes and said, "This is nuts, unless you like being mauled by horny dog soldiers. So why don't you and I get out of here, and go somewhere quiet where we can talk and get to know each other without a zillion other guys grabbing at you, with all kinds of bad intentions. I have no phony designs. So we'll go someplace where you can feel safe and you can tell me to bug off anytime you suspect I am getting out of line. I’m really serious about this.