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First, you should know that by putting on the uniform of our country, you could get your butt shot off. That's what armies are for: killing the other guy. Of course, the same could happen in an auto accident, while walking down a dark street or your heart could give out while in bed (alone or otherwise). So, once you've reconciled yourself with that reality, go ahead with making your decision.

Let me tell you what happened to me about the US Army. Go back to the ancient history of World War II. It was 1943. I was 17, patriotism was running high and all my pals were going into the Army. So, my best friend, Jack, and I marched down to the recruiting office and signed up. The recruiting sergeant told us to go home and expect to be called in a couple of weeks.

We waited and waited. Jack got his call and went off to basic training. Nothing for me for two months. Meanwhile, my 18th birthday came and went. At the time, the draft was going hot and heavy, and 18-year-olds were being drafted. I was angry at being ignored by the Army, so went back to the recruiting office, which had representatives from all branches of the Armed Forces at various desks, and enlisted in the Navy.

After the physical, I got dressed and went back to the office. An Army sergeant said, "OK, you're in the Army. Sign here."

"The hell I am. I just joined the Navy"

"Sorry, kid. The Navy's list for today is all filled up. We need to meet the Army quota. You're in the Army. Sign here."

I ranted and raved that if I had wanted to join the (expletive) Army, I would've stayed home and waited to be drafted. I had just volunteered for the Navy. Hell, I didn't want to spend the war in the mud. The sergeant just looked at me with an unpleasant grin. "Sign here, kid, or you're in deep trouble." Only he didn't use the word trouble.

I grabbed the papers and was about to make confetti and assure my trip to jail, when a Marine sergeant just a few feet away came over. He was a grizzled old guy, probably a retread who had served in World War I. I thought he was part of the committee who'd haul me off for the hoosegow, but he just took the papers from me and l looked at them. His voice was kindly. "What's the trouble, kid?"

I squawked out the whole story as he read the papers. Again kindly, "You're name's Sherman." I nodded. "Are you related to Doc Sherman, who runs the pharmacy over on Lombard Street."

"Yeah, he's my Uncle Eric." The Marine sergeant smiled and patted me on the back.

"Ya know, back in the 30s, when my family didn't have much money, Doc Sherman gave us prescriptions for free. He's a really great guy."

I nodded and smiled nervously, still angry and confused about either going into the Army or to jail.

Then the Marine said quietly, "You're in the Navy, kid"

A week later I was on my way to Navy boot camp. As luck would have it, I was eventually assigned to a Navy transport. We carried Army troops to the Pacific, and I spent many weeks with them at sea, playing poker and making some great friends. As the war was winding down, I was assigned to a small Navy communications unit on the island of Leyte in the Philippines. We were billeted with an Army unit, and because there were still enemy forces on the island, I did patrol and guard duty. Yes, I spent the rest of the war in the mud.

A too brief note if you're thinking of joining the Army. Before you sign anything, consider joining the Navy.

Learn more about this author, Ted Sherman.
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