Loomis, Steven, IC3

I was a cub scout as a kid but I never joined the boy scouts. However, I did spend six years in a 4-H club, great life experiences, and by the time I was in high school I had an after school job. The fact is, I didn't really have that much going for me as far as the future was concerned and it bothered me enough that I jumped at the opportunity to join the Navy in my senior year of high school and that gave me the means to Get out of Dodge (in fact, I lived in Dodge County Wisconsin, LOL).

Six months after I entered the Navy I was up to my eyeballs in a technical school, FBM/MT-A school in Dam Neck. We had a winter break and there was a car-pool notice for anyone wanting to share the cost of driving to Milwaukee and I joined the group of five. We drove straight through, dropping off people along the way. By the time we hit Milwaukee the driver and I were all that was left, and he went a bit out of the way to drop me off in my hometown. It's a rather small town and there wasn't much going on. I kinda felt it had been a waste of time. With little to do, one thing led to another and for some reason I picked up a form at the post office for a passport. I believe it was $20 and I sent in a copy or two of my high school graduation photograph.

By now I was back in Dam Neck, in a 3pm to midnight class, when the passport arrived, my dad had forwarded it to me. I tucked it away without any real plan to use it. But, my course work was on the decline and in late January I failed a weekly exam. They set me back a week to redo the material and in late February I failed a second exam. The next day I was dropped from the program and put in X-Division. That wasn't the worse part, this school had required a six year enlistment and I was now headed for the fleet as an undesignated Seaman Apprentice. I have to admit, about then, that passport started playing on my mind.

While in X-Division, waiting my fate, I met a boatswain's mate that made side money making alterations to other people's uniforms. I had him peg my white and blue trousers to give them that bell-bottom look. We spent a lot of time shooting the bull and most of it was him talking about his time in Viet-Nam on a minesweeper. I figured I had little to lose and I put in a chit for RIVER PATROL, MINESWEEPER 113, VIET-NAM. Not more than ten days later I was heading across country to S.E.R.E training, at Coronado. I had that passport tucked away in my seabag.

At some point, someone mentioned something about it being against regulations to have a passport and a military identification, especially in Viet-Nam. This gave me some interesting food for thought. Sure, the military thrives on control, ordering you to do things, but what about a Plan B? I took my passport with me.

Tucked away, there it was, a form of defiance I suppose, but my Plan B just the same. And, you know what?! In a world where most people don't even have a Plan A, my Plan B provided a small comfort and I've made a point to have one ever since.

My original passport, the style of the passports of the 1960's, was green. They were larger, at least longer than the current ones, and I bought a leather case for it which I still have. Since the mid '70's, the smaller blue passport looks odd in it but I kept using it as it still reminds me of that first one. I've had a passport ever since. The one from my years in Saudi Arabia is one of the fullest because they required entry and exit visas, but more importantly they required a work visa. You didn't get past the first point or entry without one.