$20 for my life

On July 20th, 1969, I had almost reached the end of my training to kill people. I was unsure of myself, and had almost dropped out, despite the great price I would have paid. I had been promised quitting would mean the end of my life. Still I wanted to sneak away, not because I hated the thought of taking another life, though I did. It was because I was much less mature than the average 19 year old, and the rigors of the training were getting to me. The gunfire and poison gas and constant hand-to-hand combat was taking a toll. Why had I joined this band of killers? If I remember correctly, I had been assigned duty out in the forest that night, watching for infiltrators who, I had been taught, would try to kill me. I preferred to live. And then there was the TV as well. That night was a special night, and a big show was on the tube. So I managed to pay some other would-be killer to take my place among the trees, allowing me to a) live, and b) stand in a clearing to watch a B&W TV. I gave him $20, and I never heard from him again, though I guess he survived. On the TV that sweltering South Carolina night, I joined some 600 Million others to watch man set foot on the Moon for the first time. Basic Training at Ft. Jackson was almost over, and I was to head to "Advanced" training as a U.S. Army reporter/photographer/broadcaster. But tonight was the Moon. And Neil Armstrong. And the rest of the universe. And all it cost me was a stinking $20 bill. Best money I ever spent. [NOTE: I wrote this commentary last Monday night as I watched the webcast of the launch of a private rocket carrying a satellite to space. I watched it on a four year old PC that has more computing power than the entire moon landing craft. What a world.] [UPDATE: The story of the $20 for guard duty to watch the moon landing-- and the pic of me-- made it into the NY Times today !]