By Peter Ciferri, BucksLocalNews.com

Ernie Pitts didn't spend too many years in the service, but the time he spent in the Army and later in the Reserves taught him the lessons of public service and commitment to family that would last a lifetime.

The youngest member of his family, Ernie saw his five brothers enter the service during World War II. And when three more guys from his neighborhood joined, he started to get a little jealous. Still in his early teens, he was deemed too young even for a military that made a lot of exceptions.

But in June 1946, he got his chance. The 17-year-old boy from Brooklyn, N.Y. was accepted into the service - with permission from his mother, of course.

"I think she wanted that star to put in her window," he joked, reflecting on a mother who saw all her sons join the military.

Signing up for three years, Pitts was put on a boat to Korea on occupational duty.

"It took a whole month to get over there on a troop ship, and I think I was sick every day," he remembered. "There's this stench of oil that comes from the bowels of the ship; it's always there."

Remembering he was so sick that he couldn't eat most days, Pitts said it was a good thing they didn't let him into the Navy (his first choice).

While there were a few minor skirmishes here and there, Ernie said the signs of the Korean War that lay just four years ahead were virtually non-existent.

Rather, as a supply sergeant, most of his time was spent in a giant warehouse full of ammo, Jeeps and uniforms, keeping all the other soldiers' supplies up to par.

Because Pitts's commitment to the Army was only three years, he was already in the Reserves by the time the Korean War started.

"That was the lucky part," he explained. "They didn't call me [to active duty] maybe because I had already done three years in the Army."

After leaving the Reserves in 1952, Pitts joked that he must have worked a dozen jobs before finding his place. "I worked in an ice factory and a bakery," he explained. "But the problem with that is I worked in the ice factory in the winter and the bakery in the summer."

But in 1955, the boy from Brooklyn put on his blue uniform - not Dodger blue, but the shirt and hat of a New York Police Department officer.

Ernie said he was kept fresh by changing precincts often as an officer, later working in the clerical office, and then going back on the street toward the end of his run. He even spent some time working with emergency services at New York Harbor, where he still thinks fondly of the times he rode in a patrol boat on the Hudson, cruised the streets on horseback or "buzzed" his house - wife Marilyn inside - while flying in a helicopter.

"It was very interesting, that was the best part of my duty there," he explained. "Some men stay in one precinct their entire time, I needed a change."

New York City, too, changed a lot during Pitts' 22 years on the force. In the late 1960s, he recalled being trapped in the 112 precinct on Queens Boulevard, preparing to respond to threats that members of the Black Panthers movement were planning an attack on the station.

"That was close to a major disruption," he explained. "We were on the verge of riots all the time."

And as New York continued to change, Ernie knew it was time for him to change, too. In 1977, he retired from the police force and began dedicating the rest of his life to his family.

He took up a job at the St. Johns University bookstore so his two sons could get free tuition to the school. It paid off, one has a doctorate and works as a chemist for Bristol Myers Squibb and the other is a pilot for UPS.

In the late 1980s, he and Marilyn - grade school sweethearts now married for 56 years - were looking to get away from New York. So, they packed up and moved to a 13-acre plot of land in rural West Virginia.

"I think that was the best idea we ever had," he said, explaining that mowing the land kept him in shape and vibrant landscapes and wildlife kept him and his wife in a good disposition.

In 1998, Pitts moved to Newtown and a few years later "accidentally found" Morrell Smith Post No. 440 in Newtown.

Today, he splits his time between sharing stories with "a great bunch of guys" at the Legion and staying active at the gym with his best friend and wife - not bad for a neighborhood kid from Brooklyn.