Pt. 1 - The Spring of 1968

In the spring of 1968, I experienced what was the only man-to-man talk I ever had with my father, John. I was seventeen-years-old and would be graduating from Seattle's Lincoln High School in June. I was an indifferent student at the time and was barely maintaining a passing average, thanks to my girlfriend's mother who also happened to be my Art teacher and didn't mind giving me A's.

Two things precipitated the talk with my father: the Vietnam War and the draft.  Since a college deferment from the draft wasn't in my immediate future, nor a deferment for being married with kids, Dad pointed out that chances were good that I might be lugging a light machine gun through the jungles of Vietnam soon if I didn't come up with some other plan. The Tet Offensive had started in Vietnam at the end of January 1968 and really had the American public stirred up about the war, but there was no end in sight.  At the time, I was a pretty good car mechanic and had developed an interest in boats, so off we went to the Army recruiter to see if they had any non-combatant jobs that might be aligned with these interests of mine.

Why the Army? Well, my father was an Army NCO combat engineer whose unit had been rushed to South Korea from occupation duty in Japan after the North Korean invasion of the peninsula in 1950. He was severely wounded in the legs during a North Korean mortar attack while fighting on the Pusan Perimeter and was convalescing in a hospital in Japan when I was born that September. Dad wasn't an Army lifer, but his father was - He was an officer that fought in WWII (including participation in the Battle of the Bulge) and managed military academies later in his life.  So, the Army it was.  Looking back, the Navy might have been a better choice.

My father, John Lynch, Jr. in 1947. Probably Ft. Eustis, VA.

It turned out that the Army had a Brown Water Navy, operated by the Transportation Corps in cooperation with the Navy in Vietnam at the time. I decided to sign up to be a marine diesel mechanic working on the Army's LARC-V, LARC-XV, and BARC amphibious vehicles. The US headquarters for these vehicles was located in Ft. Story, VA.  The recruiter told us that my chances of being assigned to work on these vehicles in Vietnam were low because they were basically operated only out of the base at Cam Rahn Bay.  I would probably be assigned to an outfit somewhere in Europe or elsewhere in Asia. All of the recruiter's assumptions proved to be incorrect. I signed up for a three-year enlistment in the Army with Dad by my side (because I was still underage).  Three weeks to the day after my graduation from high school I was inducted into the Army.

Next up:  My politics.