Sometimes I regret not joining the services when I was young. As a civilian I respect and honor those who have served in my stead. Would the vets on this blog please tell us civilians a story from your service to help us commemorate?
Tuesday, November 11, 2008
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3 Comments:
Hmm.. army stories... well, there was this one time in bootcamp ... no wait... not that one.
My military service shaped me in many ways. My love of country was increased. My naivete was decreased. I gained a confidence in myself and my abilities that would have taken me many more years to attain otherwise. I was lucky enough to never see war, other than far rear support (sending supplies from Ft. Lewis during Desert Storm) but got to be involved in domestic aid efforts when Hurricane Iniki struck Hawaii. That event probably changed me the most. Surprisingly perhaps to some of you, my military service also shaped my political beliefs.
I'm proud of my service, proud of my country, thankful for those who serve now and those who served before me. Go Vets!
Tomorrow is our first scheduled Veterans Court at KC Municipal. While I'm sure it's going to need some tweaking yet, it's been very exciting to be involved in this project.
Lemme see. Stories of service experience. War stories?? Funny stories?? Drunken liberty stories?? Human interest stories?? Meaningful experiences?? Done it all - can't tell some while I'm alive - don't want to remember some - etc. etc. etc.....
Maybe a short story that fits all: True story:
While in Vietnam the first time ('66/'67) I was missing my kids beyond what I thought I could stand. I had not even seen my baby daughter yet (she was 11 months old when I met her).
I befriended an orphan and homeless shoe-shine boy about 8 years old and would give him food, change, polish, etc. One day he was arrested and jailed for unspecified reasons and my vietnamese couterpart told me about it. He took me to the compound jail (reminded me of a chicken run) and I bailed him out - later being informed by my c.p. that in the eyes of the Vietnamese, I had adopted the boy. I turned him over to my c.p. and paid him $10.00 per month for care (a lot of money to them - my c.p. made $30.00 per month salary).
-sorry if this is getting long -
One day my c.p. invited me to his home to meet his family and see the boy. After a few (or more) local beers, I agreed to go with him on his Honda 50cc motor bike (like the one grannie and gramps had) not knowing he lived in the boonies in a village far outside of where I was supposed to be.
While riding down the dirt road - him driving and me riding on the buddy seat behind him, we saw a group of people on the side of the road. C.P. informed me that it was Vietcong tax collectors. It was too late to turn around. At that moment I thought I was a dead man. C.P. told me not to worry - just crouch down. Easy for him to say... As we approached the V.C., he gunned it and down the road we went zig-zagging as we sped away. We were gone before they could respond with their weapons. By the time we had to go back to Saigon, they were gone and I was safe. Could very well have died that day. Laid off the local beer for a while after that I never saw the boy again. Wonder what ever happened to him? Not good things, I would expect. He was multi-racial (chinese/vietnamese/french).
drunken liberty Stories ....lol....I have a few of them as well. But the story I'd like to relay happened in January of 80. Probably the scariest time in my entire life, even scarier that getting lost.
We were half way between Camp LeJeune North Carolina and Rota Spain, In the middle of the Atlantic ocean. At exactly dinner time we had a major fire in #2 engine room. (Imagine your basement furnace room burning and you can't leave the house.) #2 engine room had 2 main engines and the clutch assemblies for both propeller shafts. We spent 4 hours fighting the fire, and the next 72 hours, non-stop, repairing the damage. There were more than a few unauthorized late night parts drops on our flight deck, and a few illegal repairs to leased equipment to boot. Who'd have thought the clutch assemblies on a Navy ship would be leased from GE and we weren't allowed to work on them without a GE tech present. Someone had to do some fast talking when the GE tech met us in Rota.
The Battle group had gone ahead and left us dead in the water with nothing but a destroyer to keep us company. The plan was for them to send some sea going tugs to get us. 5 days after the fire we received a radio transmission from the flag ship asking us to slow down as we were coming up on the battle group too fast and were making them nervous.
The rest of the tour was filled with hard work and drunken liberty stories.
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