I fell into the ‘Twilight Zone’
Published 1:40 pm Monday, October 7, 2024
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By Bonnie Bartel Latino
Columnist
Sometimes I felt as if I had fallen into the “Twilight Zone” as I juggled being myself plus Tom’s soulmate and a good Air Force wife. It soon became a full-time job.
I first experienced the bizarre contradictions of the military lifestyle at March Air Force Base in California. I quickly made a mental note to dress as I were going to church for Officers Wives Club (OWC) luncheons. Hats and gloves often graced the heads and handbags of the savvy women and most of the Southern wives.
[Cue “Twilight Zone” music.] However! On most Friday and/or Saturday nights, downstairs in the O’Club Casual Bar, topless Go-Go Dancers entertained the officers and, dare I say it, the gentlemen. As America’s bombing ramped up in Vietnam, air crews from March and Andersen AFB in Guam deployed to Southeast Asia on three-month rotations to augment military crews already stationed in Guam and bases in Thailand on 13-month tours of duty. Tension had to have been higher than it had been in Tom’s pilot training class as student-pilots wondered if they’d be sent to Vietnam after graduation and further flight training, as necessary.
Casual Bars around the Air Force were where officers let off steam. Wives rarely visited that area, but I’ve been told it was not a dive bar, but rather an average civilian bar eager to sell drinks and make money. Nothing touchy-feely went on with the dancers. The mostly pilot and navigator customers went there to relax and try to push aside all thoughts of Vietnam.
Still, it was a challenge to wrap my head around the rigid contradiction between married officers, who had regular access to entertainment that wasn’t exactly fit for the hat and glove bunch. Everyone just seemed to accept that as the norm. Hello!? Dorothy, we’re not in Alabama anymore.
After I volunteered to write the communications’ group monthly column for the OWC magazine, the March Lady, Liz, the editor, and co-editor, Caroline, asked if I’d studied journalism. I explained that I had I double-majored in journalism and public speaking in college. “Before that, I wrote a weekly teen column for five years for my hometown newspaper, the Atmore Advance. I also edited my high school’s monthly newspaper.”
I enjoyed writing for the March Lady as much as I had in high school. The people made it fun. Although I was the youngest wife on staff, because of my background, Liz assigned me to interview the base commander’s wife, whose face graced the cover of the following month’s magazine. I had the pleasure of introducing the lady to our readers. Through this fun volunteer job, I became acquainted with wives of all ages who I might never have met.
Fellow staff-writer, Cessie Sanchez, who had the height, glowing skin, and thick black hair of a model. Despite her columns always being funnier than mine, Cessie soon became my favorite staffer. She and her husband, Lt Col. Joe Sanchez, a handsome pilot with a broad, warm smile were also new to March.
Tom and I had first met Joe and Cessie at a cocktail party at the off-base home of another pilot and his wife. About ten couples shared cocktails and canapes on their large patio. Strategically placed lights danced on the pool water as blue as the Gulf of Mexico. The scent of oranges wafted on air from blooming trees planted in terra cotta pots around the area.
Our hostess held a seat on the OWC Advisory Board. She served as the OWC’s liaison to the local chapter of Freedoms Foundation at Valley Forge. After the party, Cessie and I were invited to join the patriotic organization. It fit right in with my primary passion — the Release and Relief of POW and MIA in SE Asia.
Between being active in OWC, speaking at elementary and secondary schools for Freedoms Foundation, and writing for the March Lady, I felt as if I had started to fit into this diverse crew of attractive, smart, funny women, who could have been successful civilian businesswomen in any state.
“Tom!” I grabbed my husband around the neck and planted a soft kiss in the cleft in his chin as he came in from work. Before he could reply, I almost yelled, “Impromptu neighborhood party at seven tonight!” The people around the corner were hosting. We had met Janet and Rick at the O’club recently at dinner and had hit it off.
Tom only had time to shower and change into casual civilian clothing, the inevitable light blue, long sleeve shirt with button-down collar, beneath a navy blazer, khakis, and boat shoes. I wore a soft lavender linen sheath that Tom particularly liked. I grabbed my purple sweater off the sofa on the way out.
Soon we were walking around the corner to Janet and Rick’s house. Although Rick was a major, their quarters looked exactly like ours.
Tom rang the doorbell once, then turned to me with a smile in his voice. “I really love you in that dress.” I smiled back at him. “So, you’ve said, Captain Latino.”
We had no idea what we were about to step into. Let’s just say if Rod Serling himself had answered the door, it would have been appropriate.
Editor’s note: To be continued next week.