9 September 2015
Today I hitchhiked from Salmon, Idaho to Hamilton, Montana. It seemed like it took a long time to get out of Idaho. Some days are slow, some days are fast.
I got a ride from Salmon north on U.S. 93 to Tower Creek. From there I walked for a while and then got a ride to North Fork (north fork of the Salmon River).
At North Fork, I got a hamburger at the local cafe and then started walking again. I must have walked three or so miles when this guy in a tractor-trailer pulled over to give me a ride. His name was Marvin and he came up from Texas a couple of days ago.
Marvin and I had a good chat. He told me that his dad was a veteran of World War II and Korea. After coming home from Korea, his dad and his family lived in the woods until 1974 when the U.S. Forest Service burned them out. Marvin's dad liked being alone---that is why he spent so much time in the woods. I told Marvin that I have met a number of veterans who suffered from PTSD and the common denominator with these guys is that they like to be alone and away from society.
Marvin told me that he was a Navy SEAL from the mid 1980s till the mid 1990s. He was involved in an operation in Panama in 1989 where his helicopter was shot down. He was wounded a few times and some of the SEALs were killed---the enemy knew they were coming. They were pinned down on this beach for three days. No help was coming, so they had to swim back to the ship.
Marvin was later sent to Lebanon. He got out of the Navy and started hitchhiking.
Marvin was hitchhiking in Alaska when he saw this guy trying to fix his broke-down car. Marvin walked up to him and asked him if he needed any help. The other guy said, yeah.
So Marvin fixed his car and he got a ride to somewhere in Alaska. The guy with the broke-down car was Karl Malone. Malone was a power forward for the Utah Jazz; he was a two-time MVP in the NBA in 1997 and 1999. For the next six years, Karl and Marvin would go on hunting trips in Montana. Karl also owned two commercial fishing boats in Alaska and he took Marvin on a fishing trip.
You never know who you are going to meet on the road.
Marvin dropped me off in Hamilton and told me that he was heading into Idaho on U.S. 12. I walked to the library and read some inspiring words by John Milton and Gerard Manley Hopkins.
At a Cafe in Merriman, Nebraska
I believe it was back in September of 1999, when I was walking north on U.S. 95 somewhere near Beatty, Nevada when this older guy picked me up. He looked like he was in his 70s. He was coming from Mexico and going back to Northern California where he made his home. He told me that he was a Navy Frogman in World War II.
As a Navy Frogman, he would go onto an enemy beach at night and prepare it for a Marine amphibious assault. They would cut barbed wire, take out mines, get rid of enemy infrastructure and so on. One time he and his fellow Frogmen were trying to defuse a mine in the ocean and the mine exploded. I guess several Frogmen were killed; he and another guy survived.
He said that after the war, he did a job as a mercenary somewhere in Central America. He got caught by the local government or warlord and was thrown in prison. He heard a man screaming because he was probably being tortured--and, he thought, being killed.
I don't remember how long he spent in that prison, but he told me that he thought he was a goner. Then one evening something profound happened. He had an intense spiritual experience: he saw a vision of Jesus and this overwhelming sense of peace came over him. A few days later, he was released from prison and he did no more mercenary work after that.
He spent twenty or thirty years in the merchant marine as a cook. He had been retired for some time. His intestines were shot, so that is why he wore a bag on his side. He was married and divorced from an exotic dancer. His son was thrown in prison for robbing convenience stores. He seemed pretty wore out from living on the planet.
He told me something interesting. He said that whenever you go to a bar at a naval base where Marines and Navy personnel hang out, if you see a guy sitting at the bar drinking by himself, it is usually a Navy SEAL. So I asked him why. He said that you go through hell to become a Navy SEAL and so it separates you from the rest of the crowd. Also, he said that SEALs go on top-secret missions that nobody can know about, so they can't talk to anyone about their work. So who can they talk with?
It is lonely at the top.
I was hitchhiking in Iowa back in 1986 and I was talking with this guy about the Marines (I enjoy reading military history). Then he told me about the SEALs that they are the best-trained warriors in the world. He told about these four Marines that were sitting at a table in a bar and they were drunk and obnoxious and trying to pick a fight with somebody. Then this guy walked in and sat down at the bar and drank a beer quietly by himself. The Marines began making fun of him--they were trying to provoke something. The bartender walked over to the table of Marines and told them that the guy at the bar was a SEAL. The Marines quickly left the bar and never looked back.
"At the rebuke of His presence they fled." "A quiet word breaketh a bone." "The idols of Egypt are removed at his presence."
I guess you can say that that Navy SEAL's reputation preceded him.
[Originally published by Digihitch.com]
Freedom to Bear Arms
Carrying the Gun
 |
| U.S. Navy SEALs |
Yesterday I hitchhiked from Valentine to Merriman. I phoned Steve and he drove to town and took me and his son, Will, to a local cafe for dinner. Steve and his wife Carol have a cattle ranch thirteen miles from Merriman. Their son, Brock, and their daughter, Tiffany, also work on the ranch. Steve had picked me up hitchhiking back in 2006, so I thought I would stop by and say hello.
Steve, Will and myself sat down at a table and ordered something to eat. A few minutes later, this other guy walked in and sat down with us. He looked like he was in his late 50s. His name was Chuck.
We talked about various things: ranching, hitchhiking, politics. Chuck then started talking about his experience in the Vietnam War. He was a Navy SEAL that had graduated from BUD/S (Basic Underwater Demolition/SEAL) Training in 1972. Chuck talked at length about some of his firefights in the jungles of Southeast Asia. He said that the average life expectancy of a lieutenant in Vietnam was eleven minutes. Chuck was once shot out of a tree by an RPG (rocket-propelled grenade); he was providing covering fire for his team when the explosion of the grenade knocked him out of the tree. He had intense, penetrating eyes; it looked like he had been to hell and back.
I asked Chuck if he had seen the film We Were Soldiers and if it was a realistic account of combat in Vietnam. He said that he had seen the film and that it was very realistic. Chuck said that he had met Hal Moore (the author of the book We Were Soldiers) and thought that he was the best officer in Vietnam. I believe Moore had retired as a general in the U.S. Army.
Chuck had a son who fought recently in Afghanistan. He was an Airborne Ranger. Chuck talked a little about his son's combat experiences on the border of Pakistan and Afghanistan.
Some people think that the Navy SEALs are the best elite warriors in the world and some people think that the British SAS are the best. I asked Chuck if he had ever met any British SAS; he said that he had met a few. I could tell that Chuck knew where I was going with this: are the SAS the best warriors in the world? Chuck told me that the Israeli Special Forces were "deadly"; he had absolute respect for them and for Mossad (Israeli Intelligence). He said that the Israeli Special Forces were the best elite soldiers on the planet.
We finished our dinner and I shook Chuck's hand. It was a great honor to talk with a U.S. Navy SEAL.
I remember watching a documentary on President Harry Truman. Since a child, Truman had to wear glasses--he was pretty much blind without them. In a World War I photo of Captain Harry Truman, he had his glasses off. The commentator of the documentary said that Harry Truman had eyes of steel. Chuck, the Vietnam Veteran, had eyes of steel.
I stayed overnight at Steve and Carol's ranch. Steve, Carol, Tiffany and myself had excellent fellowship at the supper table. Tiffany was hoping to get into a Christian college in North Carolina. I told them a number of my stories of hitchhiking around the United States. They have a beautiful ranch in the Sandhills of Nebraska. I was grateful to have met Steve's family. I also met Steve's dad and step-mom. Steve's dad writes for three newspapers in Nebraska and one in South Dakota. Steve's dad gave me a copy of a booklet that he had published; these were newspaper articles that were published during the previous year.
Right now I am in Chadron. I may be heading south to Alliance tomorrow.
A Conversation with a World War II U.S. Navy Frogman
Freedom to Bear Arms
Alvin C. York
When Gibson Stays on Script
It's a Small World
Hitchhiking Stories from Digihitch
Where Have all the Warriors Gone?
