Tour of Duty: London

"London?" I asked over phone. I had called my navy detailer to beg him to send me to the same duty station my boyfriend was going to. The detailer couldn't do it. And since we were not married, it was harder for him send me to the same duty station as my boyfriend, just for the sake of love.

"I am really sorry, Petty Officer Medina, but that's the best I can do," he replied in a sympathetic voice. Today I wonder if he wasn't just testing my love by offering me such a highly requested tour of duty. He probably hung up the phone laughing to himself after hearing my squeals of delight on the other end of the line. So much for love.

"I AM GOING TO LONDON!" My shout surprised my fellow workmates at the Naval Message Center in the Canal Zone, Panama. I was going to be stationed in London, England for 3 years! The news was overwhelming. It was like being one of those contest winners you see on television. I was dancing around the Message Center telling everyone about my next duty station. My poor boyfriend looked shattered when he found out.

"London? But.. but... what about us?" He looked stunned.

"Well," I tried hard to soothe him, "you can come and visit, Hon!"

Military life meant lots of traveling and lots of surprises. This was one of the best. It was my dream. Nothing and no one was going to stop me now. I was young, single, in the military and a die-hard Anglophile.

When I finally arrived at the Naval Communications Station London, I was a bundle of nerves. The station was a normal-looking 5 story building located close to the American Embassy. The first thing I noticed inside was the lack of uniforms. Another surprise. Everyone was dressed in civilian clothes. It was explained to us later that due to the nature of our work there it was best to keep a low profile in and around the city. We were all assigned "Big Sisters and Big Brothers" to take us around and help us get situated. Instead of living in a barracks, I stayed at a hotel until I was able to find a flat (apartment) or bedsitter (studio apartment) to live in. The program of having a big sister was a good one but my "big sister" was military also and was not always available. When she was at work, I had to fend for myself and that meant getting out on my own to discover this marvelous city.

It wasn't long before I found a wonderful bedsitter in Queens Park which I rented alone. This was going to be my very first apartment of any kind. The 4 room bedsitter was very comfortable. The living room and bedroom were one large room. The apartment was, more or less, "Americanized" which meant it came with a separate private full bathroom, kitchen and my own telephone. I was delighted that I did not have to share the toilet or bath with the other tenants in the building. The kitchen was tiny but it had room for a small table for two people. The refrigerator was what we call "bar size" and as time passed, I learned that that was all I really needed. It was very easy to pick fresh groceries on the way home from work each day. I also had a small gas stove and a sink for washing dishes.

Queens Park was located only about 20 minutes from downtown London and my work place. It was a good neighborhood and just a ten minute walk took me to the business section of town where all the necessary businesses, Underground railway station and groceries stores were located. All this meant I did not have to buy a car in the 4 years I ended up living there.

Days turned to weeks, however, and I found myself growing lonely. Something was missing. Something was wrong. How could this be? I was in London! With so many people and so much to do and see, how could I feel lonely? Something was very wrong and I didn't know what to do about it.

Part of the trouble was the Americans I worked with. Many did not share the same feelings I did about being stationed in Europe. The Americans I worked with only wanted to get home to their families or go out drinking. Drinking and dancing was extremely popular. I saw that a lot of that when I was stationed in Panama also. I wanted to see the local sites like Prince Albert Hall, The British Museum and The Tower, but all my friends wanted to do was disco dance, see movies and go drinking. I spent a lot of time alone roaming the busy streets of London, trying to enjoy myself. I visited galleries, tourist traps and shopping areas.

I looked lonely and I felt it. This wouldn't do. Here I was in a marvelous city. I had a nice home, plenty to eat, nice clothes and a good job. I was young, pretty and ready to enjoy my tour of duty here, but I was alone. I started to feel homesick and miserable. I began to feel depressed as I ventured into crowded discos and bars looking to make friends. My depression grew and I found myself praying at the local churches for God to send me a friend. As time went by, I started to realize that even London, with its glamor, history, and sites, could not make me happy if I had no one to share it with.