It was 1943. I worked at Packards in Detroit. The plant was a manufacturing plant, newly tooled to make parts for war airplanes. I was a floor man, which meant I inspected everything that came off the line.

I worked the night shift from 11 at night to 7 in the morning. That was okay with me. Mama always said I was born with a light on my forehead.

Like everybody, I wanted to defend my country. Those Japs weren’t gonna take over while I had a breath in me. I marched down to the navy’s office and signed up. I had to wait a couple weeks before I found out I was going to boot camp in Idaho.

Idaho! What a place for a navy man. Anyway, after boot camp they sent me to Seattle where I waited to ship out. I was scared and knew I’d miss my girl, but I was ready. I couldn’t wait to go.

I was assigned to my ship. She set a course to the South Pacific, and I ended up in the Solomon Islands. It was hotter than hell. Mosquitoes were the size of birds. We enlisted guys lived in tents and sweat like bastards. But those damn officers–that was a different story. They lived like kings. To this day I don’t want to be around no military officer.

Mostly we ate rice and beans and sometimes spoilt meat. One morning I grabbed a coconut. It already had a hole, so I thought it would be good eatin’. I wanted the milk real bad. When I bit into that thing there was a human finger right in the middle. I puked my guts out. To this day I can’t stomach coconut. No way.