A little background, if you will. I born in '63, at a hospital outside of Ft. Lewis, where I assumed my dad was stationed. Out of my four siblings with the same Mother, my birth was the only one my Dad was present at, I was later told.
He joined the Army at sixteen, back in '57, and served four tours in 'Nam as a Green Beret Special Forces, 5th Grp, outta Ft. Bragg, NC. My Mother passed away at the Ft. Bragg Hospital in '68. Cancer got her. She was twenty seven. I was four.
Us kids lived with our Grandparents on her side. I remember him coming back stateside in '69, I'm guessing. Shot in the left arm. Then he left again.
It was some time then, or maybe in '70, when I was in Third Grade, and announced that he was getting married, and that she had three girls of her own, and they lived down the block. I'm guessing that he felt guilty about to burden our Grandparents with us, so he met some whore in a bar, and decided to marry her to look after us.
During that time, my siblings would go down the block to get to know her kids, but I stayed where I was, until her brother shows, knocks on the door, and urges me to join the others. My Grandparents weren't too enthusiastic towards him. Probably smelled beer on him. Anyway I agreed, and got in his car. Big mistake.
He decided to drive around, and kept asking me to have a beer with him, until I did. I asked his name, and he gave me the name he went by, and then told his first name. It was a funny sounding name, and I made the mistake of laughing, probably cause I was feeling the beer. He didn't like me laughing, so he smacked me in the face, with the back of his hand.
Then he proceeded to apologize, and keep it to myself, and that he thought I was different than my siblings, and that he was looking for a helper, someone who was afraid. Then I had to keep reminding him that my Grandparents were gonna be mad at me for being gone so long, until finally getting back to their house. He reminded me to keep quiet, then he got out when I did, and told what a good Grandson they had.
When I got back inside, they were asking me questions, and I said I just wanted to go to bed. My knelt down, and smelled the beer on me, and I told them I only had a couple drinks, but I was pretty woozy. They were extremely upset, I could hear my Grandma asking what kind of man gives a six year old, beer.
I guess my face was a little red where he'd smacked me. I got asked about, forgot what excuse I gave. Then I went to bed.
And, that's it. That guy there, became my "first" Handler. That's how the Hell that became my life, began.