Sunday, July 3, 2011

Day +86 “We Gotta Get Out of This Place”

So many of my Viet Nam hooch-mates sang this at the top of their lungs after downing more than a few cold ones. The Animals; who thought they would become our favorite group (oh, but there were the Doors, too).

Viet Nam was a pain… 370 days of anticipation of going home, not sweating 100% of the time, really getting clean, and especially wearing something other than GREEN! There was one bright spot, however. The Air Force Officer’s club had two tennis courts. They and the surrounding BOQ’s were built early on in the US’s involvement… all the rooms were air conditioned (as was the club) and the courts were lit! Our Battalion Commander, LTC Davis, lived there and liked to play tennis. We had a standing game EVERYDAY at noon in the HOT SUN. It was MAJ Hodge, our Exec, with Clark, my roomie, against LTC Davis and me. I was, and still am, rather weak in my tennis skills. But, LTC Davis DID NOT like to lose, so I learned quickly and we won. I think Clark and MAJ Hodge threw a few points just to keep peace. He was our boss!

But wait till I tell you the story about the tennis shorts.

Seven and a wakeup… love those single digits. Back in high school, Bobby and I (remember Bobby?) hung out at a local gas station. One of the guys who worked there, Dave C., had served in the Air Force and spent most of his time in Okinawa. Dave told a story once about guys getting “short” and what they would do. Back then, the bottle of V.O. whisky had this gold and blue striped ribbon around the neck. Evidently, somehow it came to be known as a F.I.G.M.O. ribbon. The short timers would wear the ribbon in their lapels. All the NCO’s knew what FIGMO meant… “F*&k It, Got My Orders”…  or, “Please leave me alone because before I get a chance to complete this task you are assigning  to me, I will be on a big silver airplane giving you the finger as I look out the window.”  Funny thing is, several months later, Dave decided to move on and Bobby and I presented him with his very own FIGMO ribbon to wear.

Well, I don’t even know if the ribbon is still on the bottle, and I loathe whisky (I’ll bend the rules for a good single malt scotch), so I won’t be buying any anytime soon, but I’ll make-believe I’m wearing one.

Oh, I did three laps tonight. We got rained out last night. Went for labs this morning. Everything seems to be OK, but my magnesium level is a bit low. It’s not low enough to adjust my meds, but we’re going to keep an eye on it.

To all who ever have and those serving in the military now, to those in the Peace Corps and Doctors Without Borders, public health workers and everyone else who works to keep our country free… THANK YOU. You and every one of the citizens of this great country are living the dream of Thomas Jefferson and the signers of the Declaration of Independence over 200 years ago.

2 comments:

  1. So close, Daddy! I'll see you tomorrow and then be over again next Monday to gather you, Mom, and everything to get you guys HOME!!!!! Nittany has her own little calendar that she's counting down the days until she gets to visit Grandma and Grandpa...

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  2. Well you're right about one thing ol' buddy ---- you need to go home. When you have to resort to posting about F.I.G.M.O., it's definitely time for a scenery change. What's next? A narrative on the difference between DEROS and PCOD?? LOL!!!. Happy 4th of July to you, RuthAnn & family. Love ya' kid!!

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