Basil Whiting

It was the early Fall of 1960. I was a freshly minted 2nd Lt in the US Army, starting out to fulfill my two-year ROTC active duty requirement at a time of intense tension in the Cold War. The possibility of a nuclear World War III with an aggressive Russia seemed very real and very high; the Berlin crisis was peaking and times were truly scary. I had been assigned to the Quartermaster Corps, but the prospect of “counting socks” as I saw it, was boring. So I requested a transfer to the then-famed CIC, or Counter-Intelligence Corps (I thought it would be more interesting), and also for additional training in German at the then also famed Army Language School (ALS) at the Presidio of Monterrey, California, with subsequent assignment to Germany, then divided by an Iron Curtain. (To invest this much training in me, the Army exacted an additional year of active duty from me, which for various reasons became an additional two more, spent mostly in Munich.) I had just spent much of the summer after graduating from college in June having a “torrid” affair (in late Victorian Era terms—“hands above the waist”) with a girl I new in my hometown of Warwick, RI, then being inducted into the QM Corps Basic Officer Training in Ft Lee, VA, and immediately transferring to CIC Basic Officer Training at Ft Holabird in Baltimore, followed by a long and lonely drive across country in my ancient 1954 Buick “Schlussamatic” to Monterrey. There I began the German course during the day and spent many nights alone in a favorite café in nearby (and beautiful) Carmel, sipping coffee and listening to this extraordinary LP record that I’d never heard of—“Duets With Spanish Guitar.” It was magical, ethereal beauty, and I fell in love with it. I had also fallen in love with my girlfriend and corresponded with her intensely through all this. Finally, one night after Thanksgiving, I filled my pocket with quarters and called her from a phone booth at the foot of the Presidio, near Fisherman’s Wharf. “Will you marry me?” “Of course I will.” We settled on December 21st, during Christmas break at the ALS. To get back east for that, I hitched rides on military flights (I didn’t know you could do that, but I somehow did). Before leaving, I bought her a combined wedding and Christmas present, this LP, and packed it in my duffel. I got there; we married and started driving her newish Volvo back across country to Monterrey—a sere, snowy, week-long winter’s drive. I remember exchanging Xmas gifts in some spare motel in Texas; mine to her was this LP album. We played it for the first time when we got to the garage-top apartment I’d rented in Carmel. And many, many times in the decades thereafter for ourselves and admiring guests. It occupied an honored place in our hearts ever since. I understand it is still available (now also on CD). Get it!