My father served during world war II in the Army Air Corps. On one occasion, his unit was denied their weekend pass much to the chagrin of everyone involved. Dad decided that enough was enough and, after lights out he waited in his bunk for the first headcount, in full uniform with the covers up tight around his neck. After the bed-check, all being present and accounted for, he snuck out of the barracks. Adjacent to his barracks, was a tennis court, presumably for officers. He climbed the tall fence, ran across the tennis court, jumped the net, just for kicks, climbed the opposite fence, came down the telephone pole which put him in the alley next to the camp.
He avoided detection,and went into town. As I recall, he had a few drinks with a lovely young girl, said his goodbyes, and proceeded in the predawn hours to make his way back through town to the alley, climbed the phone pole, went up and over the fence onto the tennis court. Once again he jumped the net, just for kicks, and scaled the fence adjacent to his barracks, where upon he heard a stern voice shouting from behind, "HALT! WHO GOES THERE"... He froze for a moment, and replied,' I'm Clark Gable You Son Of A Bitch"...And ran around the rear of his barracks, snuck back inside and got into his bunk, still in uniform, and pulled the covers up to his neck.
Moments later the doors flew open, the lights came on, and two M.P.s burst into the barracks and commanded, "NO ONE MOVE AN INCH".
No one did. And after a brief head count, all being present and accounted for, left in a huff, and all was quiet again.
Now, every time I see Clarke Gable, I can't help but chuckle to myself picturing Dad and that story.
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