After recovering from Meningitis it was determined by Military Doctors that I could never fly again. That meant being placed on another troop train with a couple of hundred other men who had failed the Cadet program for some reason or another. Our destination was Wichita Falls, Texas for Army Basic Training.

During the two days on the train I had the opportunity to study in detail my short service history. The removal of any papers concerning my illness was necessary for my ever flying in Air Force Planes. All my medical records were destroyed before we got to the Reception Center. On arrival we were herded out of the cars onto a dusty field beside the Station. We were dirty, tired, hungry and most of all; at the lowest morale point in our lives.

A fat slob of a Sgt., flanked by his underling retinue, lined us up in rows. His first words were, “You guys were fancy Cadets and were gonna become Officers. But now you're here for Basic Training where you are Buck-Assed Privates. We'll damn well make you soon forget that Cadet crap.” He let those wonderful thoughts percolate into our souls for a few minutes before he asked, “How many of you are College Graduates?” About three hands went up. He asked them to step in front of the group. Next, he queried, “How many of you have two years of college?” Actually, my college was limited to just a little over one year, but it seemed I might get a little head start in this situation by stepping forth with several others who claimed sophomore college status.

The Sgt. then announced, “You educated bastards police the area. I don't want to find a single cigarette butt or wrapper within this compound when you're finished, or you'll be peelin' potatoes the rest of your Army time.” He then capped his performance with remarks to those who didn't claim the extra education by saying. “You dumb shits stand at rest and watch elbows and assholes as the smart sonsabitches clean this place up.”

The Broadway and Colfax Streets intersection was a jump off spot for fun and adventure for most of us who were stationed at the Air Force facilities on the outskirts of Denver. In the early 1940's, the Capital City of Colorado still used the electric trolleys that ran on tracks imbedded in the streets. These cars had windows that could be opened for air flow and rattan seats paired on each side of the center aisle. The fee for those of us in uniform was just a quarter per ride anywhere on the system.

I arrived at Buckley Field in May, and by the middle of August knew my way around Denver and the many places a young man could go for entertainment. There were many very good friendships formed during those training days for becoming Bombardment Armorers who could load and arm the various types of bombs dropped from aircraft on the enemy. One man, in particular, Troy Lee Hill from El Paso, Texas happened to have his schedule of duty and town passes almost exactly as my own. As a result, we paired together on many trips using the Denver Trolley System.

Troy Lee was a tall very blond man who had trained his thatch of hair in the “cockroach” style which was very much in vogue at the time. Having been raised a stone's throw from Mexico, he was totally fluent in Spanish as well as English.

Early one August afternoon, we boarded the Trolley at the end of the line and headed to downtown Denver. Troy and I were in the middle of the car and the only passengers for a few minutes, until at a stop two very attractive young women boarded. They were obviously of Mexican ancestry and, were in my mind, jabbering nonstop in Spanish as we rolled down the tracks.

Our destination, Broadway and Colfax, finally was reached. As we arose to leave, Troy Lee leaned over the girl's seats and said something, I can only describe as sounding MURMURED AND LIQUID, in their language. The girls looked up at him wide-eyed and started to scream. Then it was sliding down and under the seat ahead of theirs. As we left, I could still hear them almost squeaking in total surprise.

Naturally, my first remark was, “Troy Lee, what in hell did you say to those girls?” With a grin that was almost a leer he answered, “I told them the two Gringo Soldiers would not only be very happy, but almost ecstatic to totally comply with the many moves and positions they described in lurid detail as they rode beside us in the Trolley.”