While living in the Logan Street House, I had joined the military and had become a pilot. I had learned to fly a one-man jet plane but had never actually been in combat. I received a call one day and was told to prepare to fly my plane into battle. I thought about it for a while; I was concerned about being killed, but was more concerned about killing someone else. I finally decided I wasn't going to be able to go because I didn't want to kill anybody.
I called the person who had given me my orders and I told him my decision. He asked me why and I told him I simply couldn't kill anybody. He asked, "So you're refusing the order?"
I replied, "Yes, I'm refusing to go."
He told me that would be very serious. I told him I realized that and I hung up. Afterwards the mission was canceled and no one had to fly.
I was in the front room of the House, which was empty except for a table and some chairs. I realized that three military officers were in the room discussing me, although it also seemed as if they were discussing me far away in another place. The man with whom I had first talked was sitting directly across from me. The other two officers were sitting on the other sides of the room, talking about what I had done. The two officers with whom I hadn't talked didn't seem to realize I was the person in question (they didn't even realize I was present in the room) and they were trying to decide what to do about me since I had refused an order.
It was a very serious offense and it appeared I might be sent to prison. They mentioned that they might take away my "wings." That somewhat bothered me but not immensely. They mentioned that much money had been spent in training me to fly and they suggested that in the future I might be able to do some low level missions but not actually go into combat. Perhaps I would merely fly transport missions. I was unsure I even wanted to do that, or even be a part of the military in any way.
The man with whom I had talked on the phone said he was going to have to prepare a report. I thought I needed to type up my own statement, send it to them, and explain why I had refused.
I had to admit that part of the reason was that I myself had been somewhat afraid of dying. There would have been a definite danger if I had actually gone into battle. I was inexperienced and I had only been flying a short time. I didn't yet know all the maneuvers, whereas most enemy soldiers would. There was a very good chance I would have been shot down if I had actually gone into battle, but that definitely hadn't been my main reason for having refused to fly.
A woman walked into the room and said she had a statement to make about me. She said that one time I had tried to stab her dog. I remembered the incident she was talking about, but someone else and not I had tried to stab her dog. I said, "Mamn, I never tried to stab your dog."
The other two officers in the room suddenly looked up at me. Up until that point they hadn't realized I was the person whom they were discussing.
The woman began writing on a piece of paper. The officer who had been talking with me said, "Well, that's the second time we've had a report of violence in his nature. So we've got to check this out."
They really hadn't checked thoroughly into my history. I figured they could probably find all sorts of things in my past that would reflect poorly on me. The woman finally left.
My brother-in-law James and my sister walked into the room. James had some hash in a pipe and he lit it up. He passed the pipe to my sister and she took a hit. My mother was also in the room. My sister offered the pipe to my mother, but I didn't notice whether my mother smoked any. The pipe was passed to someone and the hash smoke quickly filled the room. Finally the pipe was offered to me and I said, "No, I don't smoke."
I could clearly smell the hash. A large cloud formed over my head and I stuck my head in it. I began thinking I would probably get stoned just by sitting there, but I didn't feel anything and I finally concluded I wasn't going to get stoned. That suited me because I didn't want to be stoned anyway.
James and my sister began arguing. James spoke in a loud shrill voice and I commented to someone about his voice. I had never realized before that it was so shrill. Finally the smoke cleared, James left and my sister walked into the neighboring bedroom. Someone knocked at the door and I said, "Come in."
A boy about 16 years old walked in. He was dressed like a clown. I asked, "Can I help you?"
He walked right past me toward the bedroom into which my sister had gone. I followed the boy and grabbed him. I asked my sister, who was standing there, "What does this clown want?
Apparently he and my sister were dating and the boy had come to pick her up. The boy said his name was "Decasa." He was quite handsome, was slender and had black hair. I thought I had either known him or his brother somewhere before. He would probably be a good person for my sister to date. I let him go and he and my sister left.
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