Day + 96 "Give Me a Kiss to Build a Dream On"

I’m still getting used to having so much room around me… Ruth Ann and I have actually “lost” each other a couple of times! A lot of walking getting done IN the house!

We have a guest writer today. Jack Giacomi and I have known each other since college days and this story is best told by Jack… I couldn’t do it justice. Here comes…

______________________________________________________

For most of your 3+ months in exile, my morning coffee(s) were made all the more enjoyable because of your almost-daily musings. Since a great many of your stories dealt with your days as a lieutenant in Vietnam, I thought it might be of interest to many of your avid “viewers” to relive one more.

As you will recall, you were one year ahead of me at UConn.  Both of us, being the patriotic souls we are, graduated from the ROTC program as 2nd Lieutenants. From there, we were both assigned to the US Army Signal Corps and subsequently received officer basic training at Ft. Gordon, GA, although one year apart.  Our paths thereafter diverged and we went our separate Army ways, so to speak.

One crisp September day in 1970, I excitedly (?) arrived at Tan Son Nhut Airbase in Saigon, having achieved my lifelong dream of being assigned to combat duty (yeah right!). As luck would have it, I received orders assigning me to the 21st Signal Brigade HQ in Nha Trang. One of my first acts after acclimating myself to my new surroundings, was to get in a jeep and drive around the compound (21st HQ was initially stationed at the airbase complete with air-conditioned rooms --- ahh, those Air Force guys knew how to live!).  I was cautioned by the unit clerk, however, that I would first have to get a military driver’s license and that the proper place for HQ’s personnel to obtain one was at the motor pool of the 459th Signal Battalion, one of our subordinate units. The 459th was headquartered down the road at bit at Camp McDermott (aptly nicknamed, Camp Swampy!). So I commandeered a young PFC and jeep and off we went into the “wild blue yonder” (OK, that was a flimsy tribute to our AF buddies) that was 459th HQ.  I located the motor pool and promptly went in to “apply” for my license. The specialist at the desk was very helpful and after I finished with the paperwork, he told me all that was left to do was get his lieutenant’s signature of approval.  He disappeared into the rear room whereupon I heard in a not-so-pleasant voice, “Approve this? ----- for some guinea (or Guido – the multitude of years betray me!) from Waterbury, CT?  Not on your life”!

The Spec4 reappeared shortly thereafter, looking somewhat stunned and sheepishly said to me, “There seems to be a slight problem with your application.  We’ll have to get it cleared up and then we’ll contact you in the next day or so”.  Having just heard the exchange with my own two ears, I told the Spec4 that I would like to have a private word with “his lieutenant” myself, whereupon I pushed past him and went into the back room with “fire in my eyes, and venom on my tongue” (boy, I can still wax poetically, can’t I Donny?). I believe I said, “Excuse me Lieutenant, but I’m the guinea from Waterbury”. His back was to me, but he turned and said, “How are you Jackie”.  That brash lieutenant was none other than our own Donny Sforza!  A sight for sore eyes to say the least.  Of course this brash young officer then asked me how long I’d been in-country, and then began bragging about how “short” he was ----- but that’s another story for another day.

___________________________________________________

I’m glad he kept the language at a “G” rating… our language overseas was, well, spicy, to say the least. Keep the prayers and good thoughts coming my way… they’re going the other way, too.