My world travels began at age 15 with a run in a stolen car from Boston to Florida. I never got further than Connecticut on that jaunt, which cost me some time in a reformatory. My next trip outside Massachusetts took me from the reformatory into the Army on my eighteenth birthday, landing me in the boondocks of New Jersey. There Uncle Sam's boot camp went a long way toward making me a young man.
     From the East coast, I was off by train and bus to Missouri, though certainly not to the scenic Ozarks. Still, I managed a memorable side trip to St. Louis—an eye-opener if ever there was one for a Yankee in the South! Before that year was out, Uncle Sam had given me yet another all-expenses-paid trip, this time to Paris. And before I knew it, I was on a plane at Orly, bound for California.
     The touring became more exotic as the years flew by. My generous Uncle sent me to various military posts in the States, where I taught young soldiers how to stay alive. From there I went to Canada, to the Honduras, and finally to the Arabian Desert for unforgettable stints in Desert Shield and Desert Storm.
     As I look back on those days, I couldn't be more grateful to my Uncle Sam. The stories inspired by those travels and the folks I've met along the way culminated in my quest to publish.