Oddball had been promoted to Staff Sergeant.
He found himself back at Lackland Air Force Base, San Antonio, Texas—this time on the training staff for aircraft mechanics. He still kept his hand in with vehicle repair. There was no shortage of staff cars and motorcycles needing evening attention.
“Give that clunker to Oddball,” the workshop sergeant would say. “It’ll purr like a kitten once he’s done.”
Oddball enjoyed his time at Lackland. It was steady work, a decent crowd, and no one minded if he fixed a Harley in the corner during lunch.
After 18 months, he was promoted again—Technical Sergeant.
And with that came a posting to Clark Air Force Base in the Philippines.
He was granted two weeks’ leave before shipping out.
Then he made a big mistake.
He went on a drinking binge.
The next thing he knew, he woke up in a hotel room in Las Vegas—with a wife.
He couldn’t remember a single detail of the wedding. Not the chapel. Not the vows. Not even her middle name.
“Lust and alcohol,” he muttered, staring at the ceiling fan. “Classic cocktail.”
Oddball flew out to the Philippines alone. His new bride would follow once the necessary arrangements were made.
Until then, he stayed in single sergeants’ accommodation.
Two months later, she arrived. They moved into married quarters.
She had been there one week when it all blew up.
Late one afternoon, Oddball was elbow-deep in a C-130 engine, covered in oil, half-listening to the radio, when a jeep pulled up outside the hangar.
Two Military Policemen got out and walked toward him.
The other mechanics looked on, wary.
“What do those guys want?” someone muttered.
One MP stepped forward.
“Are you Technical Sergeant Matthews?”
“Yes, Sergeant.”
“ID card.”
Oddball handed it over. The MP checked it, then gave it back.
“Come with us.”
“Where are we going, Sergeant?”
“To the Adjutant’s office.”
Oddball looked down at himself—oily fatigues, hands black with grease.
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“Can I get cleaned up first, Sergeant?”
“The order was ‘immediately.’”
Well, that sounded ominous.
He got into the back of the jeep, wondering what the hell was going on. You didn’t argue with the MPs unless you wanted your life made much worse.
They pulled up outside the administration block. Oddball was marched in, straight through to the outer office of the Adjutant.
“Technical Sergeant Matthews to see the Adjutant, as ordered,” said the senior MP.
The clerk phoned through.
“Go in.”
The MPs followed him inside and closed the door behind them.
The Adjutant was not in a good mood.
“Earlier this afternoon,” he began coldly, “an officer’s wife came home unexpectedly… and found her husband in bed with your wife.”
Oddball stood motionless, the words bouncing off his skull like hailstones.
“She’s not very happy,” the Adjutant continued, unnecessarily.
“You will be escorted to the guardroom and remain there until further notice. Your wife will be returned to the States. The Padre will visit you this evening.”
“The officer involved is being posted elsewhere, and his wife is also being repatriated. Once all three have left the Philippines, you will be released.”
The Adjutant leaned forward.
“This is for your own protection. I will not have any trouble. Do you understand?”
Oddball’s voice was steady.
“Yes, sir. There will be no trouble, sir.”
“Dismissed.”
He saluted, turned, and marched out.
The MPs took him straight to the guardroom.
Covered in grease, confusion, and disbelief, he sat in the jeep, thinking:
“Well… that escalated quickly.”
When they reached the guardroom, Oddball recognized the Guard Commander on duty—Master Sergeant Bell, better known around the base as Dinger.
“Bloody hell, Oddball,” Dinger said, shaking his head. “News is all over the base. How are you feeling?”
“Bit shell-shocked, Dinger. But not totally surprised.”
“Alright. Pick yourself an empty cell, get a shower, clean up. The Padre will be by later to see you.”
He paused and gave an apologetic shrug.
“Sorry, but I’ve got to take your belt and bootlaces.”
Oddball didn’t argue. Pointless to fight procedure—especially when it came from someone like Dinger. He handed them over, picked an empty cell, and sat on the bed. The cell door was left open. He wasn’t under arrest, just being “contained” for his own protection.
A little while later, one of the guards brought him food and coffee. He ate in silence, trying not to think too much.
Not long after he finished, the Padre arrived.
He sat on the bed beside Oddball with an easy familiarity, like a man who’d done this more times than he could count.
After a few pleasantries, they got down to it.
“How long were you married?” the Padre asked.
“Not quite three months.”
“I see. Any plans, or is it too early?”
“She can go to hell. I’m staying in the Air Force.”
The Padre gave a slow nod.
“Understandable. Are you thinking divorce?”
“Definitely.”
“Then speak to the Chief Clerk when you’re released. I’ll tell him to expect you. The Air Force has procedures for this kind of situation.”
“Any idea when I’ll be let out?”
“That depends on a few things, but possibly tomorrow. I’ll confirm when I can.”
With that, the Padre gave his shoulder a firm pat and left.
Oddball lay back on the bed and stared at the ceiling.
Around 8 p.m., Dinger showed up again, holding a paper bag.
“Thought you could use these.”
He produced two bottles of beer, a packet of cigarettes, and a lighter.
“Cheers, Dinger.”
“You’re being released sometime tomorrow. You can smoke in the exercise yard—but don’t go over the wall, or it’ll be my stripes and your butt.”
“Don’t worry,” Oddball said, raising a bottle. “To hell with all that shit.”
He drank his beer, lit a cigarette, and went to bed. There wasn’t much else to do.
At 0600, breakfast arrived.
Later that morning, the message came:
“The other individuals have left the Philippines. You’re free to go.”
By 10 a.m., Oddball was out.
He collected his belt and bootlaces, then went to see the Chief Clerk, who had been briefed by the Padre.
Just as promised, there was a formal Air Force procedure for divorce, and the paperwork began.
Oddball moved back into the single sergeants’ quarters.
When the divorce came through, Oddball decided to celebrate his freedom. He bought an old 125cc Honda motorcycle. It was cheap, simple, and parts were everywhere.
Whenever he had time off, he’d ride up the coast road.
There were plenty of beachfront resorts—basic rooms with fans and mosquito nets, cold beer, warm ocean.
He’d go swimming and fishing, drink in the salty air, and watch the sunset over the sea with a beer in hand.
The following year, Mount Pinatubo erupted.
Clark Air Force Base was evacuated.
Oddball ended up in Guam.
