During my teen years my family lived in a thinly populated part of Texas - - our nearest neighbor was 4 miles away. The area had lots of trees and shrubs. I roamed all over, even hunting at night, and never got lost.

In 1960, I joined the Army and was sent to Ft. Ord for basic training. Arriving at night, the group I was with were taken to a barracks and admonished not to forget our barracks number, and if we did forget report to the reception center HQ for assistance. It seemed that assistance would not be pleasant.

The next day, after a busy morning, I stopped at a Mess Hall for lunch. After finishing lunch, I intended to return to the barracks, but --- I couldn't remember the number. Row upon row of identical barracks (except the number) and I was lost.

I sat on a rock outside the mess hall wondering what to do. I didn't want to go to the HQ for assistance. Then a guy I recognized from my barracks walked by (we didn't have uniforms yet) so I followed him back to the barracks.

I never forgot a barracks number again.