War Is Long Over, but Friendships Endure

It was the first night of boot camp for teenage best friends Erik Lundquist and Stanley Lintner. Both were nervous about this first venture away from home, and the uncertainty of their futures.

“Good night, Stanley,” said Lundquist after the lights were out.

“Good night, Erik,” came Lintner’s reply.

“Then came the boom,” Roy Readman says in retelling this story with the greatest of relish. “It was latrine duty with a toothbrush for those guys. You do not talk in boot camp after the lights are out.”

The “Good night, Stanley” story has been told probably hundreds of times over the past 52 years. It’s likely to be retold perhaps four times a year for as long as these men are still around. They are warmheartedly referred to by the staff at Seacliff Country Club in Huntington Beach, where they gather, as “The U.S.S. Gang of 12.”

They are 12 Navy men who shared boot camp in San Diego during World War II and vowed not to let time and distance keep them apart. The heart of the group were graduates of San Pedro High School, class of ’44.

“We graduated from high school on a Friday and the next Monday we were in the military,” Readman said.

Most remained close friends after wartime. But about 15 years ago--there is no collective memory on exactly when--they decided to formalize their friendship, gathering as a group every quarter. Seacliff Country Club, where Lundquist is a member, has become their meeting place.

“I suppose we are a unique group,” Lundquist said.

Lundquist, Lintner and the others have done what so many from America’s wars--myself, a Vietnam veteran, included--vowed to do, but didn’t: help the bonds of their friendship, forged in wartime, grow even stronger by staying together over the years.

Most of them graduated from USC on the GI Bill. Some went into business. One became a nuclear physicist, another a leading educator in Los Angeles County. One became a certified public accountant.

Four times a year, sans spouses, they travel from around Southern California to gather for story-swapping and to enjoy each other’s companionship. And someone will bring up “Good night, Stanley,” which still brings uproarious laughter today.

This band of 12, which grows to 14 on occasion, allowed me to join them for their December gathering at Seacliff. It took about five seconds for me to feel at home with these fellows. That’s about how long before Readman blurted out: “Be sure to point out I was a hero.”

“You? Get out of here! You were a mail room clerk!” Lundquist bellowed.

Lundquist brought along a treasured picture of most of them together in boot camp. They all delight in seeing themselves with that youthful vigor.

“We were so young, and so scared,” said Ed Smith, one of three Torrance High School graduates in the group. “We didn’t have any idea where we’d be going.”

Where most of them were going, being Navy, was the war in the Pacific. Several were on troop transports that dropped off Marines for the bloody battles of Okinawa.

All of them remember with remarkable clarity two important events in their lives: Where they were when they learned Pearl Harbor had been attacked in 1941, and where they were when they learned that World War II had ended with the enemy’s surrender in the Pacific. Many were scheduled to be part of the planned invasion of Japan.

With news of the war’s end, said Bob Leach, another Torrance High grad, “we got so drunk, the bottles were rolling from side to side on the ship. Most of us would have been killed in that invasion, because the enemy was ready for us.”

These 12 are at home with each other. A tale or two are a little bawdy, and some suffer from a stretch of the truth--outright lies, Lundquist jokes. But like a fine wine, the story improves with age.

“We’re all in our 70s now, and we don’t know how many more of these events we’ll be able to have,” said Lundquist, the CPA who lives in Huntington Beach. “So we’re going to enjoy them.”

Others Who Remember: I’d just returned from the Gang of 12 luncheon to find a note from the Dana West Yacht Club. On Monday, it will host a dinner for 50 Marines from Camp Pendleton who won’t be able to make it home for Christmas.

Dorothy Salley, one of the workers, told me that a lot of the members have volunteered to prepare the meal, and each Marine will receive a gift as well as a 30-minute phone card for calling home on Christmas. Don Ulias from the club wrote: “During long periods of peace, it’s easy to forget the vital role the military plays in ensuring the American lifestyle. This is a way to say ‘Thank you and no, we didn’t forget.’ ”

Gift of Love: Here’s a fine Christmas gift, something a woman might not think of buying for herself: Fountain Valley Regional Hospital and Medical Center is selling gift certificates for mammogram screenings for $45. They’re available through Dec. 31 and good for up to one year. The gift comes from its Center for Breast Care, which recommends an annual exam for women 50 and over, and one every two years for women from 40 to 49.

Wrap-Up: At the Gang of 12 luncheon, Lundquist joked that a teacher once said, “Roy [Readman] was so skinny in those days he could tread water in a test tube.” No one laughed harder than Readman.

I was a little envious. I, too, had made great friends in my two years in the Army. But we were from all parts of the country, and we’ve not kept in touch. Class of ‘44’s Bob Obele, who grows avocados, lemons and oranges at his Fallbrook farm, says the times had much to do with it.

“None of us had cars back then, so we pretty much stayed close together.”

Today, people have so much more to take up their time. But in that era, you concentrated on your friendships. As I soaked up the feelings of love around that room, I knew these men wouldn’t have had it any other way.

Jerry Hicks’ column appears Tuesday, Thursday and Saturday. Readers may reach Hicks by call-ing The Times Orange County Edition at (714) 966-7823 or by fax to (714) 966-7711, or e-mail to jerry.hicks@latimes.com