Forks on the road.           

I shall be telling tis with a sigh

Somewhere ages and ages hence:

Two roads diverged in a wood, and I -

I took the one less traveled by,

And that has made all the difference.

My life has been a series of forks in the road. Each one was unexpected and each one of them changed my life. The road less taken had many potholes.

I was a young 19-year-old when I took my first trip to Paris. For three days I roamed the streets of Paris enjoying myself, awed by seeing something beside the cotton fields of West Texas. Paris is a beautiful city with many historical landmarks. The landmark that I admired the most was the Eiffel Tower. I returned several more times and each time I found Paris just as enchanting as the first time, plus I got to see other attractions. It was the visit to the Moulin Rouge that stayed with me. Having seen numerous cowboy movies, I learned that it was at the Moulin Rouge where the Can-Can dance was born.  Paris is still very much a part of my heart. This was not the life the little brown boy was supposed to live.

As a young boy growing up in Orange Grove Texas. there was not much to do. We grew up in a world without dreams, expectations and hope. For young Tejano children life was a bore. We young ones would gather somewhere during the day and play marbles or tops. Marbles was a winner take all. You kept all the marbles that you won. The objective of the top was to split the opponent's top down the middle. There were no playgrounds in Orange Grove. The  elementary school was over a half a mile away. There was nothing to do, on either side of the railroad tracks.

The railroad tracks divided Orange Grove into two ethnicities: The east side where the Tejanos or Mexican Americans lived and the west side where German Americans lived. There was no interaction between the two groups except at school. In school there was virtually no interaction either. There were no police officers, and you never saw any kind of law enforcement officer. Crime must have been very low or nonexistent. I started first grade in Orange Grove. I spoke Spanish. There was nobody for me to speak English with. Everybody around me spoke Spanish.  All the kids that I hung around with spoke Spanish.

When I went to school I could not understand anybody. My English was not there. I had control of English by second grade. There was nobody around that I could practice English with. Up until the 5th grade I attended school sporadically I went to school only when we had a break in picking cotton. In the cotton field I was the only, lonely child.                                           

Something happened one year because train cars were parked and they were just filled with food apples oranges bananas and they also had powdered milk powdered eggs cheese.  All you had to do was stand in line and get what you wanted. You didn't have to pay.

The bored life came to a halt quickly. One morning the truck was loaded with personal stuff. We were going somewhere because the house was almost empty. My father told us to get in the truck. We took off going in one direction and that was north. That's all that I knew. My father never told us where we were going. We were going north to pick cotton. My younger brother and I  did as we were told, we got in. the back of the truck.

Along the way we would visit family at Port Lavaca, LaVernia, Stafford, Marlin and San Antonio.  We even took time out to visit the Houston Zoo.

Lubbock had a  place called las baracas (the barracks) we would stop there to rest on the way north. Empty rooms were available all you had to do was take it over. In the morning you packed up and you went your way.  There was no charge whatsoever.  The rooms were not comfortable, but they were free. No reservations required.

When we reached the cotton field both sides of the narrow road were lined with cars, bumper to bumper. Everyone was here picking cotton.

Our nightly entertainment was listening to Mexican radio station XEW.  It was Novelas and mariachi music. On the weekends it was a typical tub bath. Then we would go downtown. While the parents shopped, we would go to the movies. The movies always had an introduction Roy Rogers, Gene Autry, Hopalong Cassidy, somebody like that and then we saw a Mexican movie. Pedro Infante, Jorge Negrete, all Mexican movie stars.

The Texas State Legislature legitimized the use of child labor during

cotton picking season. Picking cotton had a higher priority than going to

school. Many children like me were enslaved to cottonfields with no way

out.

Consequently, I received at best a very sporadic education between grades 1

and 5. Other children were not as fortunate. They were enslaved to cotton

fields until they were adults. We were all denied an education.

In North Texas, I went to school with mostly White kids. I did not make friends with the White kids, but I did not experience any discrimination either. For lunch I always ate tacos. It was a novelty to White kids. They were always inquisitive as to what I was eating. They were eager to trade their sandwiches for my tacos. Neely Ward was a one room schoolhouse out in the cotton fields near the New Mexico border. It was a one room schoolhouse with one teacher. I recall the lady taught more than one grade. There was no principal, counselor, or any type of administrative support.

One year we did what we always did, pack the truck. This year was different; When we got to our destination there was no cotton to pick. The cotton-picking machine had picked up all the cotton. The machine picked up the cotton we normally picked. We were allowed to pick up the discarded cotton; what the machine left behind.  There was a 50/50 arrangement. We kept  50% of whatever a bale of cotton sold for. That was the end of our cotton-picking days. For hundreds of thousands of us cotton pickers our way of sustenance was gone. We did not return.

The cotton-picking machine changed our lifestyle. We were no longer cotton pickers. We had been replaced by technology. It was a radical change. Our lifestyle would no longer be rural. We became urban dwellers. San Antonio was our new home. Orange Grove, our winter homeland was a distant memory. With the road most taken blocked, my father took the road less traveled. That road led us to San Antonio. We had been victimized by change.

When there was no more cotton to pick my father had to decide where to resettle. His decision was to resettle in San Antonio. Without a source of income, we were in dire straits. We no longer had the extra income from child labor.

Urban dwelling was a lifestyle that was new, unknown, and mysterious. I knew that we no longer had the income from cotton picking. What I did was to walk around San Antonio and look for dumps where I could find copper, bronze and lead that to sell as scrap metal.  I found all the dumps.  longer had the income from cotton picking. To earn money for the family I became a scavenger. I picked the dumps dry. Whatever money I made went to my mother for food. When you are fighting for survival, you do not have time to be frightened.

The track My high school transcript has a notation that I attended 24 public schools prior to enrolling at Edgewood ISD. Neely Ward was gone like the wind, like Orange Grove just a distant memory.  I was in a new education environment.

I was not so young that I did not know that we no going from dump to dump looking for copper, bronze, and lead that I could sell. Whatever money I made went to my mother for food. When you are fighting for survival, you do not have time to be frightened.

I adapted to urban life. This time I went to the same school all year. No more checking in and out of school between cotton fields. School in San Antonio was different. I did not fit well with the other students. I did not speak local pachuco (slang) language and I had a very thick Mexican accent. I was not used to the urban lifestyle. I was an outcast.

In San Antonio I went to school 6th grade at Burleson Elementary, 7 and 8 Roosevelt Junior High and 9:10 11-12 Edgewood High School. I did well in school. although I was handicapped because it was hard to make friends. I was a country boy in the middle of city folk.

San Antonio was a new world. The Spanish here was different. It was a slang called pachuco.  There were gangs.  The Ghost Town and the Blackjacks.  Occasionally there were rumors of rumbles and students would run towards them.

I had a friend, Jacinto who was bigger than anybody else and we got along so I knew if I was with him, I was safe. 

Going to school full time was a new experience for me.  I started the 6th grade with Mr. Torres, my history teacher.  Mr. Torres took a personal interest in my education.  He wanted me to go to Keystone, a private school. I had no idea what he was talking about.

Coach Shelton, at Roosevelt JH saw me as a champion athlete. He took me to a Texas Relays in Austin so I could see all the athletes there. Of course, it's something I did not know about. None of this existed in the cotton field. Mr. Torres and Coach Shelton spoke of topics that I knew nothing about.

In the 7th grade I was one of several Guinea pigs who was passed from the 7th to the 8th grade and given algebra to see if we could cope with algebra in the eighth grade.

At Edgewood HS I tried out for the track team.  On my very first try I went around once came back and I asked the coach how I had done.  He looked at me and just said: “I didn't bring my calendar with me.”

I earned money by becoming a street vendor of fruits and vegetables I also helped a friend distribute the newspaper.  We would start rolling the paper at midnight.  We had to deliver the people by 6:00 in the morning. That caused me to miss school, occasionally. I volunteered to work the serving line at the cafeteria so I could eat free.

I was a Senior at Edgewood High School, getting ready to graduate.  Mr. Campesi the band superintendent had promised me a musical scholarship to St. Mary’s or Trinity University.  In high school in the band, I played trombone. My playing was good enough for the district music superintendent to assure me that I had a music scholarship to Trinity or St. Mary’s University.

From the first grade I loved going to school.  It was a surreal world.  I loved playing in the band.  I loved hearing the A Cappella Choir.  The highlight as a musician was playing a trombone solo to God of Our Fathers at the Edgewood Music Festival.  That was bigger than playing Hail to the Chief for Harry Truman when he came to dedicate Roosevelt Jr High.     

I joined the Naval Reserve while in high school. On Saturday’s I was in front of the TV watching Roger Staubach play for the Naval Academy. I loved the Navy.  In the summer I took my first airplane ride.  It was an American Airlines DC6  from San Antonio to San Diego, CA for Navy basic training.  It was rough but it was a lot of fun. I had never seen a burlesque show before, but they were everywhere. And they were not off limits. I enjoyed the San Diego Zoo.

In the Navy you must know how to swim. I did not. When signaled to jump, you must jump, voluntarily. If you don't, you get thrown in and you will get thrown in until you learn how to jump in the pool on your own.

I got thrown into the water many times because I had a hard time learning to swim.  Learn to float was the best I did.  I did well in the Naval Reserve.  Got promoted from Seaman Recruit to Seaman Apprentice on the first try.  It appeared like I had a great career in the Navy. 

All was going well with my education. I was getting ready to graduate. I would be the first one in my family to graduate from high school. I was called into the Dean’s office one day early in my senior year.

The Dean notified me that I was being suspended from school for playing hooky. I did not even know what the word hooky meant. I learned fast. I was skipping school. Never was I asked for a reason for not attending school. There was no attempt to call my parents. I had never gotten into any trouble all the time I went to school. I was livid. The dean had made up his mind; all he wanted me to do was sign the paperwork. How could anybody want to suspend me from school because the only days I missed was when I overslept because we were delivering the newspaper.  Somehow things did not make sense.  When I was picking cotton, it was okay for me to miss school.  Missing school to help support the family was no longer permitted. 

The Naval Reserve got involved because they wanted me to finish high school.  If I did not return to school, I would be shipped to San Diego for ninety days as a punitive measure.  That did not go over well with me. Since Edgewood only had one high school, I had to take the suspension, take a trip to San Diego, or walk. I walked out. I did  not like the choices.

In a few days I was visited by the Army recruiter.  He assured me that if I joined the Army, he could get me discharged from the Naval Reserve.  I told him he had 24 hours to get me into the Army or forget about me.  Twenty-four hours later I was in a Viscount jet on my way to Fort Carson, CO.  My dream of a college education and a Navy career ended that night.  It was my last day as an 18-year-old.  I turned 19 on my way to Army basic training. My only reason for joining the Army was to get out of the predicament that I was in. Specifically, I was not going to take the suspension.

Next morning, he came for me. We went to Edgewood to get my education file. On the way out The Dean commented “He will never make it. He will be back in two weeks.” I went to the recruiting station. I took all the battery of tests I took the physical exam. I was sworn in and that evening I was on my way to Fort Carson Co. for basic training. I never looked back. I was looking at a very uncertain future.

The transition from civilian to military life started immediately when we got to Fort Carson. The most notable change was the haircut. How to march, how to fire a rifle, those things that make you a soldier, Monday through Friday we trained and rested Saturday and Sunday.

The first two weeks were dedicated to learning how to be a soldier. How to march, how to fire a rifle, those things that make you a soldier, Monday through Friday we trained and rested Saturday and Sunday. There was a local cantina where on Saturday and Sunday we would gather and go drink beer and eat pizza.

This life was totally strange. I made acquaintances but I did not make friends. In the beginning I was drinking coke when everybody else was drinking beer. It did not take long for that to change.

The Army was swift. It was the same routine every day. Have  breakfast, get ready for inspection, and train on how to be an infantryman.  Learn how to point the rifle the right way.

One of the briefings was from a military lawyer: There are consequences for going AWOL (Absent Without Leave). In this corner of the fort there's a fence that has a hole in it. If you go through that hole,  you will never get caught. Remember in the history of the Army no one has ever gotten punished for doing something wrong.  Yes, no one has ever been punished for doing something wrong.  They only get punished for getting caught.

On the third week we were allowed to go downtown Colorado Springs. Someone rented a room at a hotel and a whole bunch of us stayed in that one little room, it was something new for me, a whole new experience, we went roller skating. It did not take me long to learn how to roller skate. Then we went to eat Italian food. I enjoyed walking and sightseeing.

On Sunday I went back to Fort Carson. When I was crossing the street my wallet fell out of my trousers and my papers went flying everywhere.  I thought I had picked up all my papers, but I  did not pick up my pass. I was asked for my pass at the main gate, and I did not have one. I was  declared AWOL. My first Sergeant was called  to come get me at the gate.  His reply was unprintable: Let the S“******”stay the night.”   That is the only night that I have ever spent behind bars.

I made it through Army basic training. Next would be AIT (advanced individual training) or what the army had assigned me to administrative school.

My life was totally changed. I made acquaintances but I did not make friends. In the beginning I was drinking coke when everybody else was drinking beer. It did not take long for that to change. The Army was swift. It was the same routine every day. Have breakfast, get ready for inspection, and train on how to be an infantryman.  Learn how to point the rifle the right way.

The Army had a system of using trainees to do clean pots and pans. Especially at night we had to clean up all the pots and pans before we were  released.  I had to do it one day. (It was called KP “kitchen police”). I was up late doing pots and pans so when I got off I lie down in my bed and I fell asleep woke up in the morning by somebody who wanted me to go to the order the room and talk to the first Sergeant I did and the first Sergeant wanted to know how come I had been AWOL the night before when I was supposed to be doing makeup training. I was asleep in bed. That was not a good excuse. I had to get my punishment, and my punishment was to sign in every hour on the hour 24 hours a day for two weeks. I had to sign in, in person.

I was not so lucky the second time.  Privates had to pull what was called Kitchen Police (KP).  KP was nothing more than washing pots and pans all day and into the night until the mess hall was clean.  When you left you were tired after putting in more than a sixteen-hour day.  I did not check the bulletin board that night.  I had makeup training that night starting at six.  I did not get off until eight but that did not matter, I did not show up.  The punishment this time was two weeks of signing in every hour on the hour. 

Looking back, flogging would have been a more humane punishment.  Imagine having to get up every night every hour on the hour to go sign in at the orderly room.  The day I graduated from AIT and the period of agony was coming to an end.  ******

The punishment was so harsh that trainees were taking bets that I would not last for two weeks . I survived the punishment and made it through school as a clerk typist one of about 3 or 4 that made clerk typist. I was one of them. We were all notified that we were going overseas for our next assignment.  Overseas meaning Germany. The day came that we were supposed to get in a train to take us to Fort Dix NJ.  We lined up outside and we must look at in the bus to go catch a train well I was in line and I was ready to catch the bus when I heard my name called.  First Sergeant called me.  He wanted to tell me that I had to go sign in one more time before I left because it was not 8:00am yet and I had to sign in. I signed in ran back and got in the bus and I was ready to go.

It was a sweet goodbye.

We were all boarding a train to take us to Fort Dix NJ and on to Germany.  The Army had ships so the nightmare stories of people getting seasick for two weeks roamed freely.  I was surprised to be taken out of the boarding line to go sign in one last time.  The company had been taking bets on me.  Those that bet that I would survive and those that thought I would go AWOL. 

I remember one thing about the train ride to Fort Dix we stopped at a small town close to a liquor store and many people got out and went to the liquor store to buy liquor.  The owner said “no” I cannot sale to you because you're all underage. Somebody explained to him that we were all going overseas. The owner said go ahead and buy.  Enough to get everybody drunk for two or three days.  I don't know how long the train ride was. That is the only thing I remember.

For the next three days we ate and slept on the train.  Along the way the conductor would stop in small towns. We had a chance to get off the train and stretch our legs.  Of course, there were always liquor stores close to the train.  There was a dash to buy booze. 

We made it to Fort Dix, NJ.  We were told to go to the bulletin board and check to see when we were scheduled to depart.  Sure enough.  There were hundreds of names on the board. For whatever reason my name was not on the manifest.  Everybody except me boarded the USS Patton going to  Bremerhaven Germany.

I hung around the barracks for about a week with nothing to do.  Finally, my name was called off for some detail.  We had to go to the Chaplain’s Office.  He had requested a detail.  When we got there, he just told us to enjoy the day he just wanted to get us off the dirty details.  Finally, my name was called. I had to go to Personnel.  When I got there, I had to fill out a bunch of paperwork.  Which did not take long.  I had only lived in Orange Grove and San Antonio.  The times that I moved around picking cotton did not count. 

Went back to the barracks for the afternoon formation.  The sergeant running the show told us to listen because some of had gotten shipment orders.  I got out of formation and got in a running position.  Someone said for me to get back into place I said my name was going to be the first called.  It was.  That night I got on board a military jet and we took off to Frankfurt, Germany.  I also had my assignment, Hq VII Corps in Stuttgart/Moehringen.

The next leg of the trip took me to Stuttgart.  The Army had its own train passenger cars.  It also had tags to wear around your neck that had your destination in German.  I was picked up at the train station and taken to Kelly Barracks. 

It was night when I finally opened the doors to the room in the barracks that was going to be my new home.  What greeted me was a loud, resounding “Hey, we got us a “N******” here”.  I stood there motionless.  Finally, I grabbed my bag saw an empty bunk and asked if it was taken.  It was mine for the night. 

Prior to joining the Army I had not experienced any type of discrimination, prejudice or racism in Texas. Faced with insults like this would get angry and fight that was the worst thing that you could do. You were going to get beat up. In the morning you would have to face the music and usually that was being pushed out of the Army for being a troublemaker.

I reported to my duty assignment to find out that the reason I was detained at Fort Dix was that I was being processed for a security clearance. I got a temporary Secret clearance; The position required a Top-Secret clearance.  More paperwork that is all. I picked cotton with skunks, snakes and armadillos. They had nothing bad to say about me. I would be typing many Top-Secret plans.

Next day, I went to Personnel. The Army classified me as a clerk typist. Personnel had scheduled interviews for me.  Apparently, several offices needed clerk-typists.  But the highest priority was G3 (Operations, Plans, and Training).  Rumors had it that clerks did not last long there.  The folks at G3 Plans had their eyes on me.  They prepared war plans and you had to be good to survive the punishment of typing all day at maximum speed. 

But a young captain had a different idea.  He worked G3 Operations and the office had several vacancies.  The office had to be manned 24/7 because that was the office that was going to send everyone to war.  He was by himself.  Could not even go to the bathroom.  He won the argument and I went to work for him.  He taught me how to do his job, and we got along well together.  We made a good team.  Of course, the Plans people agreed to give me up on one condition.  They had access to my services on demand. 

Typing War Plans was exciting because I got to check the script as I was typing making minor corrects of spelling and even grammar.  Bigger mistakes were more sensitive because all these college graduates did not want their boss to look at them as some inept nincompoop.

I was notified almost immediately that I had temporary access to Secret material.  Once the Secret was approved, I had temporary access to Top Secret material.  Once Top Secret was approved I had access to more compartmentalized material.  It was having a clean record and being good at typing that got me the job.  What was challenging was that here I was a Private in the US Army.  Not too far removed from the cotton fields of Texas and working with all officers and all college graduates. 

In Germany I was introduced to a new life United States of America. A world I had never lived before. I learned where the expression “see the big picture” comes from. We had a map on the wall and that map everybody referred to when they were writing their plans. Captains and Majors wrote the plans and I typed them. The General got briefed on the plans and he was the one who said “I buy” it or “I not buy it.” If he did not buy it, it was back to writing it again and typing it again. 

It was hard work, but it was enjoyable hard work. It was not an 8-hour day. One day I asked my boss for a pass so I could go to Paris.  First word out of his mouth was “no.” We talked back and forth back finally I just looked at him put the paper in front of him and said: “sign the damn thing.” He did. The little brown boy was on his way to Paris.

I had my share of harassment given my Mexican accent.  Most had a lot of fun with it like; 'how are you going to get to Paris you don't know English you don't know German and you don't know French” that was nonstop. Finally, one time I looked at them all and I told them. “This is how I'm going to get to Paris, when I get in in the car I'm going to look to my left. Looking out the window is this beautiful girl.  She is going to know German English and French.  That's how I want to get to Paris.” dream on dream on that's all that I heard.  The day I went to Paris and looked to the left and just as I had predicted there she was. That was my trip to Paris.

One night my Yankee friends told me to not make any plans for the following night, they were going to teach me English. I completely dismissed the comment.  Next night when I came in and was getting ready to go out, they closed the door and put a guard at the door. There was a chair in the middle of the room. I had to sit down. The lessons began. I had to repeat every word that they said.

It was my social life that blossomed. I even met a girl friend. This would be the start of my new life. I would mature and expand my world. In my room there were Yankees and there were Rebels.  The Rebels didn't really like me that much, but I was more acceptable to the Yankees, and they started inviting me to go out with them. I still had this problem with English.  I would go to the mess hall to eat. Since I did not know the name of any of the food or even recognized it, I had to point to what I wanted to eat, and I would listen to the person behind me and the person in front me to see what they wanted so I could learn the terminology.

I was still not very excited by some of the crowd there because I would be in line to eat and somebody would come behind me and whisper in my ear and whisper:  “N(.…….) go to the back of the line.)  I just kept quiet.

The chief of staff was a Brigadier General from San Antonio. Almost every time that he was in his office he would pass by my office, sneak in and say “Good morning Private Alvarado.  How are you today?” He would visit me regularly at the office to chat. Made all the officers mad because they had to stand at attention when he was in the room.  During a field exercise he had to catch a helicopter to go watch a football game in Paris.  As he walked out, he said “Private Alvarado, I am going to Paris to watch a football game.  I am leaving you in charge”. 

One morning the general staff and he asked me one question “Private Alvarado why haven't you been promoted yet?” I did not have a chance to answer that question.

It was in the Army that I would mature.

PAUSE