Travels With Cleo Gunner Is Back

Around the second of June, 1973 Gunner got back to the States. His parents picked him up at the Spokane Airport and brought him to their place out in the country. I was under strict orders (I’m still scared of Louella, Gunner’s Mom) to stay completely away until after he’d been there a few days so he could visit family. I think we made it 4 days…

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So I’m going to marry Karen in less than two weeks, and my BEST man is back in the country. We are both 21 and life is in front of us. What do you think happened? The party was on. Even my father knew I wasn’t going to be around much in June.

The only drawback to Gunner and I being together 24/7 was a certain young woman that would become and still is Mrs. Gunner. They weren’t exactly an item yet, but there was certainly interest on both parts. I think Merme was a senior in High School, and a very pretty girl. She’d grown up in the same block as my Grandparents so I knew those girls well. 3 of them, all beautiful and their Dad was just a crazy man. In a good way. He was one of the funniest guys I ever met, and my life is better for knowing him.

So, my brother pinch hit for Gunner when he wasn’t available. He graduated from High School in early June, so he was ready to drink a little beer, too. It turned out to be a pretty epic runner for me…

My only wedding responsibility was to plan the honeymoon. Which means I’d keep guessing what was going to happen until Karen said that plan would be OK. I’d have been really happy to spend the time in a tent but that wasn’t going to get it. We were headed for Canada, ultimately Victoria Island and city of Victoria. I had a ‘71 Triumph Spitfire that I had bought new late in the year ‘71. It was in terrific shape and would turn out to be part of the adventure. Karen had never driven any kind of performance car so she just loved learning to drive the stick and learning how to thrash it through the corners.

Spitfire little.jpg
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Most of that two weeks is fortunately lost to memory. Not just mine, but Randy and Gunner too. There was a river of beer flowing and some pot to get us through. One thing I do remember clearly is that Gunner told me he had reupped for Guam. His words “It’s the worst duty station in the Navy, but it’s better than any billet that floats.” He was a photo tech that flew a regular route from Guam to Vietnam (where they took intelligence pictures) and then to Korea where they were processed. 24 hours on the ground in Korea and then on to Sasabo, Japan so the brass could have them fresh. Then back to Guam and a couple of days on the beach before the process was repeated.

One thing that I can’t forget. Gunner had his dad’s Buick and we were getting it on pretty well Saturday before the wedding. We got stopped by a state trooper just as we got to Odessa. He checked Gunner’s leave papers with an eagle eye and then said to us. “I’m not having you two get shit faced in my town again today. I don’t care where you go, but this isn’t the place.” What could we do? We bought a case of beer in Odessa and headed over to visit his cousin in Lind, about 30 miles away. Later that evening we were out of beer again. There were maybe 20 people at the place and it was a rollicking good time. Gunner and I headed to the Tav to get more beer and when we got back there was a carload of girls just showing up. One of them is still married to the cousin (and damned if she wasn’t pretty) and another was a girl I had dated.

So we are parked in the driveway being cool and all, trying to convince those girls that they needed to come join the fun. Gunner went to get the beer out of the back seat passenger side where I was leaning. I’d had enough beer that leaning was the only posture I could muster. I must have moved my hand a little when the door opened under it cause when Gunner closed the door my right thumb was in it.

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Drunk as I was it still hurt. I jerked my hand but that Buick door was shut tight. I had to get Gunner to set down the beer and open the door. My thumb was pretty well mangled, and the net of it was that you don’t see my right hand in any wedding photos because it was pretty heavily bandaged. I actually made it to the doctor on Monday and he was less than thrilled with my performance.

That nail has never grown completely out. 45 years later you can still see the mark. Talk about never forget.

We’ll get to the actual wedding (and much more importantly the party that went with it) in the next installment. Spoiler Alert: It’s going to happen.

All photos in this post are properly sourced and liscensed.

All words in this post are mine. For better or worse