What the hell am I still doing here after 28 years?
Sometimes I feel like Sergeant Hulka from Stripes TM(R)(c).
We ran around in the tall pines in the middle of the night in our crappy OD greens with LBEs, 2 piece steel pots and helmet liners, canvas-covered canteens, M-16s and Jeeps.
We ate C-Rations which we opened with P-38 can openers we had suspended around our necks.
We read maps with a red-lens on our huge crappy clip-on 1942 Army flashlight.
We carried massive, painful blocky PRC-77 radios with massive squelch and we could never really talk to each other.
We fell face down in cold streams in the pitch dark. We ate food from our metal mess kits.
We washed our selves and our clothes out in the woods. We hung our wet clothes on our crappy Alice Packs so they could dry.
We fought with each other with no hard feelings and no paperwork.
On base we had beer machines where a beer cost 50 cents.
Yes, we were allowed to drink alcohol.
We got paid in cash, then we would go into town and blow it all on god knows what.
We made cocoa and coffee in our filthy canteen cups.
We were always bitter cold and soaking wet.
We dug holes in cold clay with our crappy little entrenching tools and we liked it.
We lived in crappy little pup tents, but at least it was our own space.
I sure miss the old Army right now.