February 5, 1973, Tuesday

Yesterday after landing in San Francisco it was fairly easy to find the right bus to the navy base. Mind you San Francisco is filled with naval bases just like San Diego. I needed to ask for directions. I learned quickly the difference in how people treat me now and how people treated me before. Before the navy, the people that were afraid of me were the business types, the short hairs. People that were approachable were the long hairs the hippies. Now the long hairs don’t trust me. They are reluctant to give me the time of day. They don’t have time for a baby killer. The airport is half military and retired military. The other half is hippies and long hairs. Then there are the folks that don’t give a crap. I get directions from some navy guys. After the obligatory “Where you from?” of course.

Treasure Island is not the Paradise Island in the book. It was a navy fuel and ammo distribution center during WWII. It is mostly a land filled dump, creating an island. During the Wars I and II it was the last stop for a warship. While in dock the ships were loaded with men and the supply’s to keep men alive. The ships stopped at Treasure Island, where they were loaded up with the supply’s to kill men. From there it was ocean beyond the Golden Gate Bridge. The island sits in the bay between Oakland and San Francisco. It can be reached by water (ocean) or by an exit off of the Oakland Bay Bridge. It sits in the San Francisco Bay. From the Island I can look out and up to see both famous bridges. This island has been transferred and remolded into a modern navy school. This is the west coast Fire Fighters School for Hull Technicians and Damage Control.

I found my barracks easily enough. I guess I learned something about navy ways and navy jargon from the classes that I attended. The barracks is a modern looking apartment. It’s a dormitory. It has a main lobby. It is composed of two attached but separate buildings, two separate stairs. It is nine stories high, each floor has twenty five two men rooms. Each room has a bathroom, sink, toilet and shower stall. It has a bathroom door with a lock. The hall door cannot be locked. The closets have doors also, Semi privacy, wow. No elevator, open stairs. I am on the seventh floor.

I got a great roommate Peter. He says he is half Indian, half German. He looks total German except his hair, its coal black it shines like an Indian hair. Before he was drafted he was a surfer from Santa Barbra, California. He was in company 441. Six barracks down in boot camp. He is my kind of guy. He already picked a hidden spot down by the bay we could go to and get high. Later.

It was a great spot, hidden but we could see out if somebody was coming without being detected. If Peter hadn’t found it I would have.

We were ordered to report to the building’s master-at-arms. He gave us our new orders. It is instructions about school orientation, when and where. He directed us to the mess hall. The mess hall is great I have been traveling all day, eating snacks I have a bad case of the munchies. We freely walked to mess, nobody giving us marching orders. I can stop and scratch my ass and nobody cares, freedom is good.

As we walked, we walked step for step. We both noticed this phenomenon. Try as we may we couldn’t stop walking in step. Fuck, it is what it is. I noticed that I was doing this when I was home at Christmas also. Whoever I was walking with after about ten steps I would be in step with them. It was hell when I was walking with a group.

The food selection at the Mess hall is three times larger than Boot camps. Seconds and thirds are allowed. We could eat as many steaks as we want, I could get used to this. It’s late. Taps played a long time ago. We are grownups now, we can go to bed when we want to. I can go outside if I want. I can smoke anytime mostly, in class in my room and out and about. It’s a good feeling of freedom. Our orientation is tomorrow at 0800. I wonder if first CC got his bump in pension. Later.