This story happened when I was a Jailer working for the Douglas County S/O. My time spent working in the Jail was the summer of 1979 to the summer 1981. On one particular night I was working the Jail and heard one of our deputies go “10-95.” The phone rang and it was the Radio Operator. It was about 4 or 5 in the morning. I was just finishing up my Jail inmate list for the day shift. We jailers had to log the arrivals and those who bonded out for the oncoming shifts. Thank the Lord we at least had the electric typewriter, the latest in cutting-edge technology. White-Out here I come! Hey, Eddie you got one coming in. Just great. I heard the deputy when he stopped the car right before shift change. Radio I’m “10-38” (traffic stop). I crossed my fingers, please don’t go 10-95, please. (prisoner/suspect in custody).

After a couple of minutes I heard the deputy, “I’m 10-95 radio, send me a10-51”. (wrecker needed).  I knew I would have to start the jail list over. Nope, I couldn’t just add a name at the bottom of the list. The list of inmate names was required to be in alphabetical order. I will now have to stay late to complete my jail list before I could go home. Never leave your work for someone else to do. Hey, Them’s was tha rules.

“10-95 radio”, said the deputy. I heard him when he stopped a car to begin with. He gave his traffic stop information over the radio. Now I would have to wait and start my jail list once I get finished with the book-in process on our latest arrival. The deputy arrived with his violator in tow. He advised me of the charges that would be placed on the arrestee. I searched him closely, all but a strip search. I started with his personal information. Where did he live, what’s his date of birth, etc… His mug shot was taken with a camera that looked a lot like a submarine periscope. Then it was fingerprint time. No assigned jumpsuits, either. You went into the lock-up with what clothes that you came in with.

I went back downstairs to the jailer desk to finish up the paperwork. And yes, I had to re-do the jail list also. The offender had several traffic charges and an A.W.O.L. charge. A few days later when I got to work, I heard a loud “hoot.” The arresting deputy was giddy and held up an envelope. This is my bounty boys, 50 dollars! Evidently everybody knew about bounties except me.

AWOL arrests were rare. The military tries to keep all that in-house I guess, but they would compensate the arresting officer for the return of the offending soldier.

Several years later I was working my DUI Task Force duties. It was a slow night. The calm was broken by radio traffic, “Radio to Zone 2 deputies, an AWOL soldier wants to turn himself in. Last known location was at the Golden Gallon on 78 standing at the phone booth.” The car-to-car radio channel lit up. Everybody was giving their locations. I just happened to be in Lithia Springs at that time. Zone 2 deputies started to give each other their locations. I could hear in the background distinct sounds of 4-barrel carburetors.  The deep throaty sounds that only they can make. If you have never heard a four-barrel carburetor kick-in, then put it on your bucket list. I was across the train tracks in Lithia at the time. Just one traffic light was all they had. Well, I kept quiet on the radio. I slammed my car jumping over the train tracks downtown. I was just about half a mile away from the store. In fact, I could see the Golden Gallon sign from Lithia’s only traffic light. I slid westbound onto Hwy 78. There were no blue lights flashing, no sirens blaring. Just us kids having fun on a boring night. As I approached the store I saw a young man standing inside the phone booth. “54 radio, 10-23 at Golden Gallon.” I could almost hear the collective sighs from the other deputies. I ignored their death threats. “You the solider”? “Yes Sir.” I placed him under arrest and searched him.

“10-95, Douglas County”. As we traveled to the Jail, I asked which branch of service he was in. “Marines.” Well, tell me, what made you go AWOL? His voice got very quiet to almost a whisper. “I was homesick.” He said he and his family were from Buchanan, Georgia. Well, tell me, what unholy hell-hole did they send you to? With another low whisper he said, “Hawaii.”

I didn’t talk to him anymore. He had lost all credibility with me. But yes, I gladly received my Bounty reward for bringing him in. $50. Worth it.