Freedom Is Not Free

*** This quote is from a Letter to the Editor in the WSJ recently: “Based on government statistics, $1 million in 2011 is the equivalent of $61,300 in 1935 when Social Security was passed. (Bruce Hatmowitz)
This caused me to think of my early finances when I got out of school and started on my first job in Sanford, NC in 1950. At the time I did not own a car, had a room with board in a nearby private home and thought I was doing fairly well considering my beginning salary with an A-0 teaching certificate. Of course
I was not married at the time and had few responsibilities except to live from check to monthly check.
Keep in mind this was some time ago and a dollar was worth far more then than today’s ‘weak’ dollar battered b y inflation and the cost of living. See cited quote. I was making a princely sum of $200 a month (20 teaching days @$10) less deductions. But the first check did not last too long because I now was for the first time responsible for room and board plus bus fare from Sanford to Fayetteville (layover) via Lumberton to Hamer for the weekend. There was not much left, but I was young and naïve and $200 was a magnificent sum to have in my very own bank account. This reminds me of today but without youth.
But this did not last too long because I had a letter from Selective Service, a draft notice ordering me take a bus trip from Dillon to Columbia for a very personal reason: a physical examination to see if I were soldier material . I was 1-A. Although I was able to get a brief deferment before induction, on a cold Thursday morning November 30, 1950, I was bused from outside the Draft Board located on the second floor of Dillon’s Anderson Bank to Columbia but not to the familiar USC campus. Fort Jackson’s Tank Hill was my home for the next few months for ‘fun and games ‘such as target practice, getting acquainted with a close friend, my M-1 rifle; living in a tent, marching, hurrying up and waiting, “policing” the company grounds, becoming familiar with barrack community life, enduring a gas mask drill, eating out of a mess kit, experiencing creamed beef on toast (SOS), pulling KP, overcoming obstacle courses,
inspections, reveille, and getting used to unwavering regimentation, sir,
I do not remember what my monthly pay was but perhaps about as much as I was making as a teacher. At least I did not have to pay room and board, and Uncle Sam provided just about everything I might need including my toothbrush.
I had new friends, about 200 in the training company and someone one to tell me what to do and when and how to do the Army way which I learned quickly is THE only acceptable way. I became a serial number and gained a new appreciation for what a free, away from Fort Jackson weekend could mean.
But in retrospect, I grew up and today am proud to be in that group called Veterans. I note on an occasional email this appreciated line: “If you enjoy your freedom, thank a veteran.”
Freedom is not free.
Bill Lee, PO Box 128,
Hamer, SC 29547

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