In 1943 Uncle Sam decided he wanted me in the military service.  World War II was going on and many received the same greeting that came to me.

After a very short (less than two weeks) basic training at St. Petersburg, Florida and a battery of aptitude tests, it was decided that radio operator/gunner was where I would best fit.  Knowing nothing of either radio operating or gunnery, I went to Madison, Wisconsin where the radio Operator/gunnery School was located.  Eyesight problems precluded gunnery, so high speed Morse code had another pupil

Beginning Morse code was with a pencil-penmanship suffered because of speed printing required. Once a certain speed (I think it was 25 words per minute) was attained, pupils switched to a typewriter.  Luckily, I already knew how to type (as a civilian teletype operator), so my code speed picked up.  
My top speed of 65 words per minute was enough to earn number three in a class of 30, r so.

During radio operator's school, sometimes to break the monotony of copying code for long periods, the sender would start sending PE777 PE7 JA.  These letter and numerals have the same rhythm as the song, "The Old Grey Mare," and gave comic relief.  Sometimes on the midnight shift (the school operated 24 hours a day) students would literally fall asleep while copying code, (especially on a typewriter).  The instructor would observe the student and switch that one position to a much higher speed.  It never failed to wake the student.

Upon graduation, class members were sent to various places, some overseas, and some stateside.  I wound up at the southern tip of Iceland in a small village called Vik (Cove in English).  A radar station, weather station, and a radio station, plus aeronautical navigation equipment made up the international military force located there.  The only radio operation at Vic was a once-a-day broadcast of the local weather conditions-sent in numerals only.  So, proficiency in alphabet Morse code suffered.