Friday, April 18, 2014

THE POTATO PEELER

THE POTATO PEELER
















This story is about some of my experiences while in

the army, suffice to say I was no hero while in Vietnam

but hero’s is not what this book is about. It is however a true story of the times in which we lived, and has not been written about for reasons you will understand later in this book.

So with nothing better to do at age 60, as old men do looking back on life, I began to write about my life, not that I ever did anything important, and not that anybody really cares, after all I am just another Vietnam veteran alone with only memories of long ago. And one more thing, it would be remiss not to mention the mothers, and the pain suffered by them in ways more than the troops in Vietnam. So without further ado I will begin my story.

The time was the late 60s and early 70s, a time of war and the explosion of drugs in our culture, and UN knowingly to me and most all others at the time, extreme racism in the military between soldiers, both black and white.

Also I added a short background of my childhood and of the extreme poverty from which I came if only to explain why I made some of the bad decisions that I made, but not to excuse myself of them, wrong is wrong and I don’t forgive myself for it. But life is a funny thing as you will see.



I was born in poverty and in a violent neighborhood full of uneducated people but mostly hard working and honest; also a drug free time as far as I knew anyway.



In the summer of 1964 when at the age of 11, I had just gotten my first 40 hour a week job as a busboy cleaning tables at a place named Sutter’s B.B.Q. in my neighborhood known as Riverside in Fort Worth that paid 35 cents an hour and was glad to get it, school was out which I hated it anyway, as I never felt comfortable and always felt out of place, now I had a job, and was happy. It was at this local greasy spoon joint of the day where my drunken step grandfather worked.

He was an Irishman and a Yankee with red hair and face to match from years of drinking, he wasn’t a big man but he loved to fight, and was a ww2 veteran he also taught my brother and me how to fight with the boxing gloves he bought for us, he loved to watch me and my brother box, though I could never take my older brother, I still tried and he taught me that was the important thing, never to back down and just give it your best as that is really all we can do, and there was no shame in loosing, the only shame was being a coward or a bully as he explained to me, that every morning when you wake up you have to look in the mirror, and the mirror looks back at you and sees what you’ve done, and never to start a fight because if you do you deserve to loose and probably will, and then there will be that all seeing, truth telling mirror seeing your shame in the morning when you wake, looking back.

He was right and he was teaching us more than boxing, he was in his own way teaching us about life from his point of view.

Anyway he was the so called chef and he got me the job at the café, he rode my ass hard but was good to me and never mistreated me. I can still see him now, laughing his ass off as big brother beat me every day boxing but I would always come back for more, I enjoyed his laughter, and think that was the reason why I kept coming back for more, he would be laughing and drinking Falstaff beer from a steel can and listening to a baseball game on the radio, before it was on TV, or before we had a TV anyway, as he barked out instructions on how to fight while sitting on the dilapidated wooden back porch of the small 2 room shack in which we lived next to the railroad tracks, that was called the bottoms, it was called the bottoms because you couldn’t get any farther down in life than living there, anyway back to the café.



It was a great place to work and it opened a whole new world to me as a kid that knew nothing about life other than the abuse of home life dished out from the various men my mother seemed to attract, it was more importantly a place in which I could feel at ease instead of the fear at times, of beatings for the slightest little thing, but enough of that.

For the first time in my life I had the money to buy new clothes instead of wearing the hand me downs of my older brother that was 4 years older, that my great-grandmother had bought new for him the year before as he lived with her, even though he was older we were the same height, and by the next year when it was my turn to wear them of course I had grown taller, well you get the picture, he was also fat for those days, actually he was just healthy from always having plenty of food to eat from my great-grandmothers huge garden which wasn’t my case.

And the clothes wasn’t in the best condition or size being short baggy pants and short baggy shirts, making me embarrassed and ashamed to go to school, so quite naturally I hated school and everything about it except lunch, you see when living in poverty food is the most important thing in your world, which reminds me of a little story of adapting. One cold winter day with a couple of inches of snow on the ground, I was in the 3rd grade and had to go to school, but there wasn’t anything to eat for breakfast, so my mother had a boiled me an egg, she let it cool just a little before handing to me saying this is all we have to eat so keep this in your hands to keep them warm as I had no gloves, and when you get to school eat it for breakfast, as a little kid I thought great problem solved, two birds with one stone, not thinking about tomorrow kids never do, but I did have money for lunch and that was all I cared about.



Back to the café, it was the first time I had ever eaten in a café. It became my home of choice and I would work there until I joined the army except for a few summers working on my grandfather’s dairy farm or my uncle’s tobacco farms in Kentucky along with hauling hay, hoeing weeds in the tobacco patch and whatever.

It was a hotspot in the area that had the old carhop option of just pulling up and place your order to be brought to your car by the carhop along with beer, plus there were speakers outside that played country music from the juke box inside, with all the lights shining on the cars it was a sight to see and hear by a kid that hadn’t seen such things before, and I was lucky enough to have been there to see the muscle cars of the late 60s and they were remarkable, plus with any luck there would be a good fight or two on Saturday night.

Inside there were the slutty waitresses also a sight to see with their red lipstick and cheep perfume in those tight little uniforms, I might have been a little kid but I sure did like it; it was a good thing I wore an apron so my enthusiasm was hidden. It was great and I loved it; it was the kind of place that had the little mini juke boxes at each table that played 3 songs for a quarter, maybe 5 I don’t remember, and steel cans of beer were served with a small glass. Across the street was the biggest dancing hall around, country and western of course hell after all it was Texas, but more important it was Fort Worth which should have been the capital of Texas, anyway it closed at 9 p.m. and at the time it was against the law to dance after 9 o’clock, it was ok to get drunk and fight as it was a god given right for any Texan on Saturday night you just couldn’t dance, and back then nobody called the police and nobody went to jail as nobody pressed charges, no real Texan would do such a thing, what they would do was after it was over they would shake hands and go back to drinking, I think it was a better time in our country, don’t you ?

Anyway when it closed they would walk across the street to resume drinking, play music and eat, just no dancing, as I went about my job of clearing the tables of dirty dishes, there would seem to always be a nasty cigarette but stuck in what was left of the food, which was left on the plate seemingly for just that purpose, that I couldn’t understand as on every table was placed a clean ash tray, not to mention the fact that anybody would not eat everything on their plate especially since they had paid good money for it, but there was much I didn’t understand as a kid. And there would always be the old drunk women, probably all of 30 to 40 years of age but old to me, anyway that would call me over to their table to ask me to get them another beer, and I would have to tell them I’m sorry mam I’m not old enough, then she would say how old are you honey? When I replied my age I was usually given some change, anyway as she would take me by the hand most likely out of guilt for not being at home with her own kids, by this time I was getting enthused again but I couldn’t help it, there was just something about the smell of a drunken woman smelling of perfume, shit I lost my train of thought again.

Back In the kitchen Motown music on 45s was playing on the little record player owned by the black cooks that became my close friends, and they were the first black people I had ever talked to, at first I didn’t know what to think of them, and looking back I’m sure they were aware of the fact and quickly put me at ease, they were two brothers both tall and slim as most people of the day were slim, and about the time I was 12 they started explaining the facts of life and about girls of which I knew nothing, being shy and insecure by nature and low on self confidence, being poor plus living literally on the other side of the tracts and the embarrassing job I had at school. I hated everything about school as it wasn’t until I got a job at the café that I could afford to shed the rags handed down to me, I still felt inferior to the other kids plus the fact my mother arranged for me a job in the cafeteria to pay for my lunch. My job was to stand in the window where all the kids in school when finished eating would pass me there trays where I would remove the food from the plates and stack them, to be washed later by a nice old black woman that worked in the kitchen and then stack the trays, I still remember how nice all the old women were to me and after I finished my work and the amount food they would pile up on my plate, I guess in a way they felt sorry for me and took pity. But by now at least I had better clothes, but still no money as I had to give what I earned at the café to my mother except for clothes which was ok with me as long as I had clothes and plenty of food all was good.

Then one day some rich kids, or what I thought was rich, came through the line to hand over there trays and started laughing at me for what I was doing like they were so much better, I wanted to kick there ass right then and there, but I knew if I did I would lose my job and go without anything to eat until I got to the café later after school where I never had to pay, but that was hours away and I was hungry now, so I let it go.

After my work was done for the day an old black woman sat me down with an extra large plate of food, and told me not to worry about those spoiled rich kids someday you’ll show them all and they don’t know what hard living is like we do, yes mam I know, then she told me to finish my food so you might have time to go play. After I couldn’t eat another bite I went out to the play ground when there I saw the same 3 little rich bastards fucking with this poor retarded kid as they were referred to at the time, I could see the confusion and fear in his eyes as he looked at me for help, as they taunted him and I exploded into a rage and made the 3 of them suffer. I was big for my age and stronger than most from hard work and constantly doing pushups, and running, I took off in a dead run hitting one in the jaw knocking him to the ground then started on the other 2, the 1st one got up and run away while I worked on the other 2, a woman teacher was screaming something but I couldn’t hear her words, the next and only thing I knew was the vice principal was pulling me off and holding me from behind but I still couldn’t hear his words for a time, how long I don’t know. When I came to my senses and my hearing returned he told me to go to the office and wait for him there. It was the nurse’s office for the other 3. The only thing I was worried about was losing my job for lunch, it certainly wasn’t the paddling I knew was coming I was used to being beaten at home so I could take that well enough, but food I couldn’t go without, plus the fact that in my mind I didn’t start a fight, they did for fucking with that poor kid that wasn’t all there upstairs.

When the vice principal arrived demanding an explanation for my behavior I told him the truth, and he gave me a good paddling then sent me on my way but not before telling me to watch out for the ones that couldn’t take care for themselves against the bullies. More or less giving me the nod, or the ok to kick ass on the bullies, it was a great release for me, and I liked it, why wouldn’t I? It was fun and I didn’t have anything better to do, I sure as hell wasn’t wasting my time on books.

For now it was back to the cafe at night and working at school for my lunch. You see when any human is not sure of the very basic necessity as food, or not having enough to eat for long periods of time it becomes the most important thing in your life, but I wanted more out of life than just food, like a shiny car and a slutty woman with big tits and red lipstick sitting next to me.

Not being very gifted in school and books, or girls I figured the best place for me was the army so I could learn a skill for the future and I thought that after I did my time serving our country, the doors of opportunity would open up for me. As you can tell by now I was very naive in the thought that the army was a better place to learn than school. All I wanted out of life was a skill and to be able to work as to make my own way in life doing something other than washing other peoples dishes or even cooking for them.

About the time I was 15 or 16 I started hearing about marijuana and it scared the shit out of me as I didn’t want to go to prison but hearing rumors of my friends doing such things made me even more positive I had to get away to the army and get away from any trouble that would surely come from such a thing as marijuana that would end me in prison. Of course I just knew there would be no drugs in the army and I would find safety/security/and 3 meals a day, not the least of all a skill I could use in life to work after my 3 years of duty.

It sounded like a reasonable and logical simple plan to me, but at the time of my plan for life and joining up I was 16 and didn’t really know anything about life and nobody to advise me about what or what not to do. So I went to check out the recruiters a month before I turned 17 to get the ball rolling, after all I was in a hurry to be a man and see the world like so many other dumb ass kids growing up in my time, watching the war movies about Audie Murphy, and the great Sergeant York, Ira Hayes and John Wayne. But I would soon put such dreamy eyed thoughts out of my mind and see the harsh reality of a war that should never have been, and later understand that there were many more heroes that lived in drunken or drug induced pain and misery, as in the sad case of Ira Hayes with their only wish being that it had never happened at all, wanting only to be accepted as normal, the most unrealistic impossible dream of all. I was no hero but I would never be normal again after it was over either, with the feeling of being different from others for the rest of my life, but that’s another story. ; & ;nbs p; ;

But for now I am still washing dishes in Fort Worth and counting the days until I can go to be a man and fight for my country. Such is the thoughts of children living in poverty with lack of direction and good sense to begin with.







MY ADVENTURE BEGINS

At last my long awaited 17th birthday had come, January 6, 1970 a bitter cold day, what we Texans call a blue northern had blown in overnight, but as far as I was concerned it was Christmas Day and my present was a free ride to the Dallas induction center and freedom from what I only thought was a tough life, I was soon to find out how wrong I was.

Right on time the recruiting sergeant arrived as my mother had requested of him, to come in late afternoon so I could have a combination birthday/going away party. And he promised her I wouldn’t go to Vietnam as I was too young and would most likely be sent to Germany instead or maybe even Korea, but it was very unlikely that I would to stay in the United States.

So I said goodbye to her as she stood on the front porch, watching her crying and I got into the car with 2 other dumb asses. Then I rolled down the window and told her, don’t worry mother I’ll be back home after I am finished with the army.

The sergeant was a very pleasant man and he would be the very last nice sergeant I would encounter for a long time, that was his job to be nice and to sucker us in with smiles, jokes and of the good times to come, but the other sergeants had their job to do as well but being nice wasn’t in their job description. There job was to toughen us up and ready us for the hardships of war.

I had never been to Dallas before and was in awe with all the tall buildings with having so many people walking around downtown, then it began slowly sinking in I was on my way with no turning back now, after all how hard could it be, I had seen it all in the movies and in my mind the worst thing that could happen was that I had to peel a bunch of potatoes.

The one thing that sticks out in my remembrance of being inducted was all the questions about communist, did I know any? And was I a communist or any of my family communist? Hell I wasn’t even sure what a communist was other than a Russian and was sure there weren’t any Russians in Fort Worth that I knew about. After they were satisfied I wasn’t one and finished poking and prodding me in places I didn’t like we were given something to eat and sent to a dormitory for a night sleep.

The next day or the day after we were all sworn in and were now officially in the army. Then the rest of the day we were given a battery of tests the multiple choice kind where you filled in a little circle, and as I didn’t understand most of the questions I just started filling in the circles at random hoping to get some right, and still more questions about communist, the only thing I could figure out about communist was that the army really didn’t like them. The next day we were put on a bus for love field and the plane ride to Seattle Washington and the then brutal basic training of Fort Lewis, named after the famous Lewis of the Lewis and, Clark expedition.



I had never even seen a plane before much less a giant jetliner I was shocked and scared shitless, as we boarded I could not imagine or believe such a huge thing could actually fly, by the time it took off it was dark and I had a window seat, as the plane made a banking turn I looked down on the night lights of Dallas knowing we was going to crash, it just seemed impossible to me.



We landed in Seattle and the real fun started which was no fun at all, and I began to realize I had fucked up, but that in mind I also knew there was nothing I could do about it now but tough it out and make the best of it, after all I asked for it and that was that. My mother taught me that when you make your bed you have to lay in it.

The drill sergeants had a field day with me because I was the youngest trainee in the battalion, making me the hand to hand combat dummy to teach the rest how to kill with only the hands, I was probably the only one that really understood how to do it. On top of that I was made the company medic which meant not only was I getting beat up all the time, I had to carry an ammo can along with everything else, in those days after morning mess call we drew our m14s and fell out in full combat gear, steel pot helmet, back pack, canteen, poncho, half a pup tent, gas mask and little shovel known in the army as a entrenching tool and never but never to be referred to as a little shovel, it was one of the very few things in basic training I thought was funny ,the whole 9 yards of shit to carry, sometimes one of the drills sergeants would add a few rocks to my medic kit, which was an ammo box for good measure.

It was also a cold son of a bitch and we wasn’t allowed to wear our long johns and we couldn’t use the 2 wool blankets issued to us, and at night when we slept using only one, with the windows in our barracks was also open. Then one day I found the strength to see me through this difficult time, one day after a long run and while we were taking a smoke break I saw a guy in tears actually crying and saying if I could only get warm for just 5 minutes I would be happy. He was about 20 or 21 years old, it was then I realized I was tougher than this guy 4 to 5 years older than me besides I had more to worry about than the cold, trying in vain not to be noticed by the drill sergeants. I couldn’t figure out if they were trying to toughen me up or make go a.w.o.l. but what they didn’t know was I had already forgotten my childish dreams of being a hero, and I would never go home in disgrace as a coward or a pussy that couldn’t take it, nothing less than an honorable discharge for me thank you kindly, you mother fuckers.



About half way through our basic training hell we were all in the barracks waxing the floor by hand I might add when one of the big mean drill sergeants, by the way which was an airborne ranger with a at least 2 tours in Vietnam with so many medals I didn’t even know what they were, these were men of a different kind that I had never before or since known anyway he yelled out my name, knowing this could not be a good thing I yelled here drill sergeant, as I stood at ridged attention he said the C.O. wants you in his office, this was something new to hear as it had never happened before to anybody, and the captain was another airborne ranger with a shit load of medals from Vietnam with his fatigues looking like cardboard, he was a scary looking man the kind of man that didn’t know how to smile of laugh as the army didn’t issue it to him and the army was all he knew and all he wanted to know other than killing the enemy and I was sure he was good at his job. The captain was a fierce looking man with piercing eyes, a face that looked like a combination of stone and leather, and looking back I am sure he hated the job of being in charge of bunch worthless trainees.



When I got to his office and stood attention as ridged as I could and praying that my salute was perfect, he saluted me back and said at ease private, then he looked at these 2 men sitting behind me and said these men are here to see you private, as I turned to see them as I hadn’t noticed them before I was only thinking about my appearance to the captain. One of them said for me to relax, my first thought was what the fuck does that mean relax ,then they started asking me some crazy questions that had nothing to do with the army, I didn’t know what the fuck was going on, after all these men were in civilian suits and we hadn’t seen any civilians anywhere but here they were asking personnel questions, sexual questions I told them I didn’t know nothing about sex other than masturbation, I was very confused, then they started asking me about communist and did I know any and all the other questions that go with the subject , I wanted to say no but if you point one out to me I will be more than happy to kill him for you, of course I didn’t and after about 20 minutes of interrogation one of them said ok solider that’s all we want.



I turned to the captain gave my salute and did a sharp about face and went back to waxing the floor and never gave it much more thought except to wonder what to fuck was that all about? And why nobody else was sent for.



Graduation day finally came and what I will never forget and surly the others won’t either, much to my surprise and to the disgust of my drill sergeant which had promised me that more hell was coming my way the day after graduation in the form of advanced infantry training, what was called across the street, instead I was ordered to report to fort Monmouth New Jersey for a special and much sought after electronics school, they were amazed and mystified at my assignment even I didn’t know why or how I got something I never wanted to begin with, but for now I didn’t give a shit I was just happy to be going home for 10 days, back to fort worth in my new uniform with the shiny buttons on it before I had to report to New Jersey for electronics school.

The short time spent back home was like a dream, at last I was able to have a coke and a hamburger even a candy bar, the little things we all take for granted until you are forbidden to have them. And I got to show off my new uniform that I was very proud of with the shiny brass buttons and cool hat. And of course telling of how hard it was. Then the subject turned to girls whom I hadn’t had any luck with in the past and the present would prove no different especially as we all given a fresh burr haircut the day before we were sent home. My short time back home was gone before I knew it, but it was sweet being able to sleep in as late as 6 or 7 in the morning.

Now it was time for a new adventure as I had to fly to New York, shit I just thought Dallas was a big city. Having never owned a car and never before traveled any farther than my bicycle could take me before joining the army, I was in for a frightful shock not to mention the language barrier, I was unaware that Yankees in New York anyway didn’t speak English at least any kind id ever heard before, and I was alone and lost to say the least. On the way I asked a stewardess if she knew where my hotel was located which I had a voucher for a nights stay before taking a bus for New Jersey, she was very nice and smelled good too, wearing a nice shade of red lipstick, anyway I shared a taxi with her and 3 other beauties I guess they knew I was a lost country bumpkin and took pity on me. It was my first taxi ride and one I would never forget. I had never stayed in a hotel before either but the one thing that sticks out in my memory of it was that the television had so many channels and even porn which of course id never seen before or even knew it existed, I thought at the time it was sick and I would surely go to hell for looking at it for even a second, I couldn’t believe my eyes and quickly changed the channel and tried to forget what I had seen. The other amazing thing about New York TV was they didn’t sign off at 10<30 a="" able="" accent="" also="" and="" another="" as="" asking="" asleep="" ate="" back="" bastards.="" be="" being="" besides="" but="" cheese="" chicken="" city="" day.="" day="" didn="" dogs="" dumb="" eat="" even="" events="" fell="" following="" food="" for="" fried="" from="" have="" heard="" heck="" home.="" home="" hot="" i="" id="" in="" it="" just="" least="" like="" lost="" luck="" macaroni="" me="" mexican="" mind="" mistake="" much="" my="" need="" never="" new="" not="" of="" one="" only="" or="" ordering="" p.m.="" pasta="" people="" poor="" problem="" proof="" quickly="" rest="" sandwich="" say="" saying="" simple="" so="" something="" spinning="" steak="" strange="" street="" strong="" submarine="" such="" t="" texas="" the="" they="" thing="" things="" to="" understand="" understanding="" uneducated="" unsettling="" up="" venders="" waking="" was="" were="" what="" world="" would="" yankee="" york="">
Thank god I didn’t have to stay there to long my bus was leaving in a few hours for my new army home where there was no confusion about what or when to eat.

With the few hours waiting for the bus to leave I decided to walk around to see the sights and take a few photos with my new Kodak camera, it was amazing. Somehow I ended up down on 42nd street where all the hookers were, a couple of them tried to get me to go with them up the dim lit stares to their lair of sin, or that’s how I saw it at the time, anyway I couldn’t get the hell out of there fast enough, I didn’t like being a virgin but at the time they just scared me and I was afraid of being robbed as well.

Finally I caught the bus and was on my way to Fort Monmouth N.J... It was not what I had expected. It was there when I was checking into the post I was informed of my top secret security clearance needed just to enter Fort Monmouth, I didn’t really know what I had gotten into. I thought I was going to learn how to operate a radio when I learned the school was for 1 year and after completion given the rank of E 6 staff sergeant.

With this swimming in my head we were put on KP for 2 weeks but after that there would be no more duty of any kind other than hitting the books, we didn’t even have to make up our bunks just stuffed the bedding in the locker, and never saw an M 16, no more polishing anything. In the morning after mess we got into formation and marched to school for 8 hours a day Monday through Friday taught by civilians or whatever they were. Now I understood who the 2 men in dark suits were that came to interview me in basic training to give me a top secret clearance.

I was sitting in class all day next to high ranking sergeants and a couple of officers all of whom had reenlisted to get this elite school, most college graduates while I had to go to summer school just to get out of the 8th grade. School was never my cup of tea and I didn’t quit school for the army just to end up in another school where I felt out of place learning about things like oscilloscopes.

A device for viewing oscillations, as of electrical voltage or current, by a display on the screen of a cathode-ray tube

And ohms, amps and understanding transistors and the color codlings for them.









It didn’t take me long to fall behind and when I failed a test my teacher said he was going to give me another chance and let me take the test again, but I knew it was useless as I could never graduate and might as well get it over with now. Then he told me what would happen if I flunk out, id be given a combat school and not a good one, when I told him that was what I wanted anyway he just looked at me like the dumb ass I was and said ok.

It would be about 35 years later before I would know why I was sent there to begin with it wasn’t a mistake as id thought instead it was a favor I didn’t know about yet from a distant relative I never even knew I had in the C.I.A.

But for now I was in over my head and knew it without the educational background needed for this school.

The next day I was back on K.P. waiting for my new orders for whatever combat training I would be assigned and the sooner the better as far as I was concerned, K.P. really sucked. In the meantime I was hearing what would happen to me because I was in the signal core I’d probably be in the infantry with a radio strapped to my back while humping the bush with the antenna sticking up in the air that would make me a likely target as to take out the radio man, but I was still 17 and would most likely would be sent to Germany anyway.



My orders finally came for Fort Leonard Wood, Missouri. For combat engineer school which was basically infantry school but with a shovel and demolition training, with building bridges as well as blowing them up. These drill sergeants were different than the ones in basic training with only a couple being air borne and none rangers so it wasn’t too bad as the army goes.

After 2 months our training was over and we got our orders to go overseas, the few that were 17 were sent to Germany and the rest to Vietnam.

Now I was sent home again because I wouldn’t be back until my discharge over 2 years later, that’s what I told mother and great grandmother so they wouldn’t worry, but I had something else in mind, Vietnam. But that would have to wait until I was 18 it was the law, besides if I was to make a career in the army going there was the best way to gain rank and a higher pay grade which I needed to send money back home to my mother that was still in poverty. She was happy thinking I was going to Germany to stay and not to the war that was still going strong after the failed 1968 Tet offensive. Another 20,000 plus would be killed after 1968. A little unknown fact not talked about by people thinking it was over after 1968.

































GERMANY CHAPTER 2

I didn’t know what to expect about Germany only the usual rumors that all soldiers hear, and that was that the hardest army time was over and no more drill sergeants to have to deal with and that to me was just fine, thank you. But that was all I knew about it for now. We landed in Frankfurt Airport early in the day and my learning began right away in the airport, as soldiers will do I had budded up with another newbie as we were called on the flight over, anyway as we were stumbling around the air port I noticed some strange machines and ask him what are these fucking things, he replied I think some kind of slot machine, you know something to put your money in and got nothing in return, he said gambling was legal here and so is the whores , no shit I thought to myself I only had 1 thing I wanted to loose and it sure as hell wasn’t money it was my virginity which of course a fact I kept to myself.

There would be time for that latter but for now we had to get to our final destination which for me was Bamberg, and a long bus ride but a civilian bus the kind id never seen before, a Mercedes bus, also something I’d never heard of before I had never heard of a Mercedes car because there weren’t any in fort worth, but it was great seeing the beautiful countryside and snow capped mountains. On the way I began wondering about what I was going to do once I got there, and that was to do my best and make my way up to sergeant which meant more money and less work, such as K.P. and guard duty plus a private room or maybe with one other sergeant. Well that was the plan anyway.

By the time the bus made the 12 or so hour trip to Bamberg and to my company I had come down with a bad case of tonsillitis and was taken to the hospital with a slight fever, the doc gave me a shot and sent me back to my company with orders for 5 days of bed rest.

It was a 5 or 6 man room instead of the open bays I had experienced before, even sick I liked it. The other guys didn’t have much to say to a sick newbie and I didn’t feel like talking either, I just laid in my bunk and listened to learn whatever I could to help me know what was the day to day tasks consisted of.

The 1st day of my bed rest was the 1st time I met the man that I would never forget even to this day I hold him in fond remembrance and with the utmost respect that man’s name was, Sergeant Harris, staff sergeant Harris to be exact as he deserves so. It was our first encounter but it would not be the last as we would meet again in another time and another place as soldiers do with any luck.

I must take great care when speaking of this most honorable man and the soldier he was. He deserves nothing less.

While the other guys was off doing their assignments of the day he came into our room and when I started to get up to stand at attention he said at ease soldier don’t stand up just sit up, he was a tall black man and looked like the perfect soldier with heavily starched fatigues and a patch on his arm from Vietnam and his spit shined polished boots that few soldiers did as it was not required and took a couple of hours to get it just right, and he wore them everyday rain or shine, which meant he had to own more than 2 or 3 pair.

He began to explain basically what my duties would be which wouldn’t be like what I had done before in training and things here are pretty lax, he said if I wanted to get ahead and get promoted all I had to do was my job whatever it might be without complaining and bitching about it, you’ll have to do it anyway so why not make the best of it, which made sense to me. And keep everything ship shape like my uniform, foot locker and wall locker, and don’t make me tell you when you need a haircut, he then added I don’t want you to kiss ass as it will do you more harm than good with me. With that he added some of these jokers don’t want to do any of these things which makes problems for me and doesn’t do them any good either. He then said to stay away from the shit, I didn’t know what he was talking about, when I asked what shit was he talking about he scratched his head and said hash, then I told him I didn’t even know what it was. He then explained it was a drug that is smoked and if you get caught with any of it you’ll be court marshaled and loose whatever stripes you have, just stay away from it and the people that do it. After that I told him I hadn’t ever did anything like that and never would, with that he said ok keep it that way and lay back down get some rest then left the room.

As I laid there thinking about what he said it sounded good to me as I was determined to be the best at everything, but not to ever be accused of being a suck ass by the same token, there was one in every platoon and he had no respect, honor, or friends, and these are the things I had to have.

The next day as the other guys I shared the room with was coming back from the end of the day they came in laughing and joking about something, I noticed 3 were gathered together in a circle in the corner then they got quiet, 2 of which I didn’t know. Then I saw a pipe and was scared they might be fucking around with some sort of drug and my heart began racing with fear when I asked them what are you doing, Sparks one of the men I shared the room with, replied making a bowl man, when I asked do you mean dope? They started laughing and said what the fuck else do you think it is newbie? and went back to what they was doing, I didn’t want to get in trouble and had no other choice but to stand up and say not in my room you aint you aint getting me busted, again they all started laughing but now at me, once again I told them no way not here when Sparks said this is my room to and I’ll do whatever the fuck I want, with that I said anything but dope. Then he said what are you going to do about it go tell the C.O., hell no I aint no snitch but you guys aint going to have much fun smoking that shit and beating the shit out of me at the same time because that’s what you’re going to have to do, with that they looked at each other and just laughed, then one of them said this mother fuckers crazy and another said come on lets go to my room fuck him.

I wasn’t at all happy with what had happened and I wanted all the friends I could get but I just didn’t see any other way to handle the situation at the time. Hell I was new and didn’t want to be an outcast but at the same time remembering the words of Sergeant Harris, this was not good or what I wanted, what else could I do as a soldier trying to do right and get ahead ?

After they all left a guy sitting on his bunk across the room was looking at me in disbelief and a grin on his face then said you don’t know who you were talking to do you, hell I don’t know anybody around here why who the fuck is he ? That’s sparks man, a bad mother fucker, well I didn’t think I could take him just by looking at him but I’ve had the shit beat out of me before and was willing to have the same happen to me again to stay out of trouble.

No man you don’t understand on top of him kicking your ass if he wanted the dude is a big fucking war hero with a silver star and bronze star with the oak leaf cluster not to mention 2 purple hearts, fuck man he was shot 4 times in the back and still killed a bunch of mother fuckers that’s who Sparks is man. Well fuck me running shit I fucked up, he said don’t worry about it man I think he likes you if he didn’t he would have hurt you.

I later got to know this crazy fucker and he showed me photos from Vietnam the first id ever seen other than on TV, then he told me he wouldn’t do any dope around me anymore so take it easy kid, I was thankful and told him so. Then I asked him did you really get shot 4 times in the back, then he told me how he got the Silver Star, first off he said I was stoned out of my mind man on that dink weed, what is weed I asked he just looked at me and said where the fuck are you from man, Texas I said, he replied marijuana man, o well I don’t know nothing about that. He shook his and began telling the story about one night when he and his friends was sitting around all fucked up and all of a sudden we was under attack from charley so I snatched up my weapon and returned fire, it was real bad he said and they had lost some men and many more wounded when the dust off came to get the wounded he was carrying one of his buddies to the chopper when he took the first shot in the back, he said it didn’t really hurt much at all so he kept doing the same thing getting his buddies on the bird, how many he didn’t say but when he got as many as it could hold they grabbed him in and took off.

He never said how he got the bronze star and I didn’t ask. I was glad to know him and to also know there wouldn’t be any tension between us, we spoke but I still gave him a wide berth, later he would play an important role in my life. But for now everybody knew better than to smoke any hash around me because it would be a fight, not that I was tough or anything hell I was just 17 and weighed 137 pounds when I enlisted and not much more than that 6 months later, but for them dope smokers it just wasn’t worth the hassle to fuck with me win or lose, I was determined to stay straight, which at the time meant free of drugs. My only thoughts were of soldiering with more money and more stripes.

For now I was settling into a routine which I liked as it was without surprises. Mostly staying in my room at night spit polishing my boots or polishing brass buckles or something else, an art one of my other roommates a Puerto Rican by the name of Ortega taught me among other things such as how to polish a floor to a mirror like glaze, and teaching me other things like how many beads in the dog tag chain we all wore around our neck, or how many eyelets in a pair of combat boots or dress shoes, believe it or not these things mattered as I would find out. And if you are wondering why would we sit around at night thinking about such things and reading technical manuals on weapons of all kinds to study the maximum effective range and killing range along with speed per second for each weapon, for one we was in the army, 2 we didn’t drink, 3 no drugs, 4 nothing else to do as we didn’t have enough money to go buy a poke even if we knew where to buy it, so that is why dam it. Hahahaahah dam civilians don’t understand anything. Just joking?

Come to find out Ortega hadn’t had to pull any guard duty in over a year or more, no one could remember when he ever did because he was so perfect for inspection in every way including his M 14 that he taught me how to polish the bore with basso for a high shine

At the time the duty rosters were posted daily in the hall so the men in the company would know and prepare for either K.P. or guard duty, with advance warning one could begin preparing his uniform and gear for inspection of the guard and the 1 that was the slickest didn’t have to pull any guard duty and was sent back to the barracks to be on standby in case of an emergency but of course there never was, and he didn’t have to freeze his balls off for 8 hours standing out in the cold. This was another no brainer for me, for 1 I wasn’t thrilled about 8 hours of a cold night spent standing by some fucking gate that nobody used and still had to make early formation and work the rest of the day too.

Ortega was my roommate and friend, and since we didn’t spend our money on beer at the army club we spent most of the time in the barracks at night after our work day was over, there we had 2 options, the day room/game room/ or in our room. And I liked being a sharper soldier than I had to, and in our spare time he taught me the art of being stract, which meant looking like a professional soldier with heavily starched fatigues and spit shined boots, and everything that went along with it.

My name was less a threat than Ortega’s on the guard duty list and the others weren’t very happy because they knew it meant more preparation for the inspection if they wanted to get out of it, but most didn’t even try as it was impossible to beat Ortega so in their mind what was the point of working like hell when they couldn’t beat him anyway.

Then the unexpected happened, I guess the first sergeant was having a little joke for himself or maybe just to see what would happen so he put both Ortega and me on the same guard duty roster for the next day.

After lunch mess we were given the rest of the day off to prepare for inspection of our uniforms and M 14, plus time for a haircut if needed or not just to be on the safe side as a new haircut shows the officer of the guard your intent of trying, which counts.

I was already mostly ready with new fatigues never worn in my locker with heavy starch from the cleaners, which by the way was costly but I didn’t care. Ortega was just as ready and for the rest of the time we spent polishing the M14 especially the bore. Already knowing our general orders and serial number of our weapons and other things we studied at night such as the trick questions like how many trucks were on the post, there were many vehicles but only 3 trucks, a truck being the ball on top of a flag pole among other things.

When it came time to go we walked there together knowing one of us was going to lose. Ortega said hey Tex, as I was called being from Texas, I bet you 20 dollars that I win; you know I don’t gamble with my money I replied jokingly.

When the officer of the guard showed up we all stood at attention and gave our salute, also graded. Then he inspected our weapon and its bore. He quickly eliminated the other 8 and focused on us.

He went over us with a fine tooth comb trying to find some little something out of place anything so he could eliminate one or the other, there was nothing to find, with that he ordered me to present arm, he then took my M 14 and asked the serial number, answering him quickly he then began to ask other questions about the maximum effective killing range, feet per second and anything else he could think of but to no avail, I knew it all by heart. Then he turned to Ortega and started asking other off the wall shit such as the daily events and his entire general orders, again he failed to ask either of us anything we couldn’t answer. Time was beginning to run short for our guard duty to start, he was out of questions, and then he said at ease and motioned us off to the side and said I don’t know what else to do, we could be here all night men, he was a little embarrassed at the fact we knew more than him an officer, then he scratched his head and ask us if it would be alright if we just flip a coin? We looked at each other in disbelief and pride as we had beaten an officer and said sure, and with the flip of a coin I froze my balls off that night. I could hear Ortega laughing his little Puerto Rican ass off all the way back to the warm barracks. Hahaha shit.

That was my life, the army. Staying away from the E.M. club at night, not drinking and staying in my room reading army manuals and learning everything I could to advance in rank and to be a professional soldier as was Sergeant Harris who I looked up to with the upmost respect, I didn’t care if he was a black man.

He was not the norm as far as career sergeants went; most were called lifers, which meant just doing his time for retirement. But not sergeant Harris, he was a professional and I wanted to be the same.

Ortega also taught me to put a shine on a floor you wouldn’t believe, just like glass, and we had a big I.G. inspection coming up.

Everybody was coming to look at our floor, but nobody knew how to do it just Ortega and myself, when asked how it was done we just smiled and said wash and wax; of course it was a long process we keep secret. Anyway the C.O. heard about it and came to see for himself, when he saw it he said that is the best looking floor id ever seen damm, with that he told me to report to his office in 2 hours.

As ordered I reported standing at rigid attention as usual with a salute, after he returned my salute he said at ease and sit down, I sent for you because as you know the Inspecting General is making his annual tour of inspections and I would like him to see my office floor looking like yours. I thought for a second and didn’t know what to reply; after all I couldn’t tell him to do it himself as we told everybody else, he was the captain, as he tried to make me relaxed at this point as he had a touchy situation to talk to me about.

Being he wanted me to do his floor but couldn’t order me to do it, with that he came out and asked me if I would, this put me in an uncomfortable spot and I told him so, that if I did I would be a suck ass to the men and myself as well, but I added that if he gave me a promotion for doing it then I would have the respect of the others and of myself, otherwise I would be just another suck ass in the company that had far to many as is and I can’t do that sir, he thought for a second trying to find a way to tell me he would promote me, but he couldn’t tell me in so many words, without a guarantee of being promoted I said sorry sir but I just can’t do it, I have to have the respect of the others and that of my friends, he said I understand and didn’t seem upset, he then said you are dismissed private, and I gave him a sharp salute then returned to my room. When the others asked what he wanted me for I told them what he wanted me to do, most agreed with me but I had one older friend that told me he would have gave you another stripe but he couldn’t just come out and say it you idiot, yea I know that and everybody would still be calling me a suck ass / fuck that, he agreed.

The buildings we lived in were large about 150 ft. long and 4 stories high not counting the attic, and had to be kept clean at all times of course as only the army knows how to clean. On each floor was a large hallway and each part of the hall in the area of each room of the men was their responsibility to keep clean, which meant mostly sweeping every morning after morning mess call and before morning formation.

There was an old saying that if the men aren’t complaining something was wrong, and in 1970 half was draftees who did more than their share of bitching about everything, I never saw the point of it, we still had to do whatever it was so why not just do it and get it over with. Anyway I ended up sweeping the hall most mornings unless someone else volunteered, this didn’t go unnoticed by Sergeant Harris and he told me I was up for promotion next month and that the C.O. had agreed even if I didn’t wax his floor. He said nobody likes a suck ass anyway Tex and that is what really cinched the promotion for you, you got his respect, a lesson I wouldn’t forget.

Next month I was promoted to E 4 and no longer was a private, 1 more promotion to sergeant now was on my mind.

I later was moved to a different room and away from Sparks whom I had no problem with and I liked him as well as respected of course, and he even respected me for not being a snitch and standing up to him. But what I didn’t know but kind of expected he was a hash dealer, later I found out just how big he was. Sometimes when he and some of his pals would come in I knew they were up to no good by the way they looked at me, but Sparks said I was ok don’t worry about it. So I made myself scarce by going to the day room to play pool or a game of ping pong.

The day room is where I met the best friend I had in Germany, a Pollock ill just call KJ. He had one of those long names the drill sergeants couldn’t pronounce and gruffly yelled out alphabet.

He was an entrepreneur and later my mentor in something I’d never dreamed of in my life.

As for now I was trying harder than ever to solider and after I was moved to another room I had the company clerk wake me up 1 hour before the others to give me time it go run track and do my pull ups and pushups, I trained for boxing before the army as that was what I wanted to do, be a boxer. But I found out early on I wasn’t cut out for it and didn’t much like the nickname of canvasback, but I still liked to train as if I were a boxer.

Things were going pretty good for me at the time, and my mother wrote me to say she had gotten a good job now and I didn’t need to send her anymore money, so I started saving it and putting it in the company safe. It would come in handy later on.

When I got to Germany I found out that there were soldiers loaning money to other soldiers at 25 percent interest, then within a couple of months or so it jumped to 50 percent, I thought this was insane and couldn’t understand how someone would be so stupid, but that was there business and it didn’t concern me, I guessed they needed it for beer and drugs which again didn’t concern me as I rarely drank and sure as hell wouldn’t smoke any of that shit as sergeant Harris called it.

By now I was hanging out more and more in the company day room; it had a pool table, ping pong table and something I’d never seen before, a foosball table. And I became friends with KJ. The guy in charge of it, that’s all he had to do in the company, was take care of the company day room. He was duty exempt, no guard duty, no k.p. nothing not even formation and no inspections of his room which was in the attic. There was only 2 rooms up in the attic which was huge but empty except for the 2 duty exempt rooms, his and the company clerks room that he shared with the company mail man.

They had to work in the office and make formation but still no room inspections as they lived in the attic but KJ. Didn’t even have to get up in the morning or wear fatigues, he only wore them once a month for pay day which was held in the day room. In those days we were paid in cash.

As far as I could tell he had the sweetest deal going in the company, and all he had to do was unlock the door to the day room at 5 p.m. then lock it back at 10 p.m. he didn’t even have to stay there, but he usually did because he had a little ice box and made sandwiches on the side for a little extra money.

I also became friends with his friends, all of whom smoked hash but I didn’t know it, they kept this fact from me, not for fear of me snitching them off but because they knew I wouldn’t talk to them anymore not that was a big deal, but we were friends and we all lived together and all got along great so why rock the boat, plus the fact it was a joke on me and they was all laughing at me behind my back at being such a country bumpkin, and they knew I would fight at the drop of a hat if they smoked it in front of me, so It just wasn’t worth the bother, they was happy and I was ignorant of what was going on, but would learn later.

Then I met an Indian from an Oklahoma reservation, a full blooded Indian by the name of Cornsilk, and we became good friends.

One pay day as most soldiers did we went to the E.M. club where no sergeants or officers were allowed. So on this night of having money to drink on which I rarely did, but he invited me saying come on man you got to get out of the barracks once in a while and stop reading those fucking army manuals, my Indian friend was right and it WAS an invite so off we went to drink some beer and drink we did, maybe a little too much. He suggested we go back to the barracks as he had a bottle of whisky hidden out in the bushes of the barracks, of course by this time I said fuck it lets go man.

He finally found the bottle in the dark and we made our way to his room to drink it out of the bottle, after all we didn’t exactly have a kitchen with glasses, cold cokes with ice that was something soldiers never think about or should they, it’s better to forget than remember something’s.

As we were drinking the whiskey I noticed him doing something very confusing to me being already drunk, when I asked what he was doing with that pipe he looked at me in a slightly fearful manner as I posed no real threat, he replied making a bowl man. He knew how I felt about that shit and said look man, are we friends? Yes of course I said, and do you think I am crazy? With that I thought and said no. then he told me that KJ. Smokes it to man chill out and just try it. When I told him I didn’t know how he laughed and said just watch me, he got it fired up and took a big hit then started chocking, then handed it to me, choking and coughing said here take a hit and hold it in as long as you can. And I did.

Things began to change; now I was invited up to the attic to KJs room where the heads of the company gathered at night to get high, play spades and listen to the rock and roll of the day, all new to me but I was learning to like it. Soon after being accepted and brought into the fold of the group I heard a song I remembered from Fort Dix in New Jersey while waiting to be shipped to Germany when hearing the song by country Joe and the fish that was playing over the loud speakers that called us to formation, it was on the Woodstock album, singing be the first one your block to have your boy come home in a box, and that I asked somebody what is that? He said that’s Woodstock man, when I said what the hell is a Woodstock? Well you can guess the rest and spare me the embarrassment.

Anyway it was impossible it get busted up there as nobody ever went up there to check anyway, even if they did KJ had the door rigged so it couldn’t be busted into. And even if they did there more than enough time to toss it all out the window and they knew it so why bother trying was the mutual thought.

Back then you could have a kilo in your locker but if it wasn’t locked they couldn’t prove it belonged to you and there was nothing they could do about it other than confiscate it as anybody could have put it there, it was great and I was a fast learner especially when the money to be made was explained to me by KJ.























RACIAL TENSION IN GERMANY



This was a time in military history hidden, a time of race riots on military bases hidden to the outside world that was happening in Germany and with good reason, after all the eyes of the world was on Vietnam of course after all that was news, where the war was and nobody was thinking about Germany that was 2 wars ago and quickly forgotten by the press and not considered news worthy as should be I suppose for young and old readers of the press. After all war is war and must take precedent over all, including Germany and of its white soldier’s plight being the victims.



And the racial tension there in Germany was worse than anywhere else that I had been in the army. It was a dangerous situation not experienced in the U.S. and certainly not in Vietnam. But in Germany it was bad; intimidation was the order of the day inflicted on white soldiers by the blacks who ran in packs and stuck together, as was there nature to follow and be liked by the others of their own kind as most men do I suppose, on the other hand white people are more likely to be individualist and was not as angry at being in the army and stayed to themselves for the most part and wouldn’t stick together to protect themselves.





It was evident everywhere, whether it was going to the movie house on base or the mess hall they would cut in line everywhere there was a line for whatever, and the few blacks that really didn’t like it had no choice other than to go along with the others or be outcast from their own people, it was a fucked deal all the way around, and we the whites had to take it, the constant insults and relentless intimidation which didn’t settle well with me. There were riots and killings on other posts to in Germany but not in the states.

At night we huddled in our barrack rooms in safety, getting high and playing records on the most expensive record players of the day, there was no television in English, so we just had music, hash and cards for entertainment.

It was too dangerous to go out at night for fear of getting the shit kicked out of you unless you get a group together and even that was no guarantee the others would back you up in a fight. A white man couldn’t fight just 1 fucking nigger as they would gang up on you, and that’s right I said the word nigger, but that was exactly what they were niggers , and I know the difference of that to a black man.



You have to keep in mind this was 1970 and morale was low due to so many drafted. We took insult on top of insult and there was nothing we could do about it, the whites just wouldn’t stick together as the niggers did, and they took full advantage of it, many times a very small one would call a big white man a honky or cracker knowing there was nothing he could do but take it, with 10 niggers to back him up. I was not used to this intimidation, hell id been fighting all my life taking countless beatings from my brother but I always came back for more. Looking back its understandable the way they felt as most all were drafted, but only in a small degree as far as I was concerned; hell I had nothing to them so why was should their frustration be taken out on me? I had done nothing other than being born white; why not take it out on the army? Because they couldn’t that’s why, I guess we were the next best thing, such is the workings of a small inferior brain, not because they are black, but made inferior self induced from hatred and prejudice, it is not different in white men that share the same affliction such as the K.K.K. hatred is an sickness that I will experience later when I went to Vietnam, it sickens the heart and souls of all men and makes us all weak and at times insane as I will experience later in war first hand.

Keep in mind this was before CNN, the internet and cell phones and no civilians were allowed on the post, nobody knew of the problem. The one thing that always amused me was the fact that when called a honky or cracker by some dumb nigger it never bothered me, I found it funny because that’s all they had in their repeatwar as being a derogatory comment meant to inflict insult but to no avail, not like nigger was to them.





Once a month was steak day at the mess hall and everybody went, tough as it was it was still a steak. It was a cold day as we stood outside waiting to get in and eat and I was a little stoned but just barley , and as usual all the niggers were cutting in line daring one of us to say something, of course none did as it wasn’t possible to win. As I stood out in the cold I began remembering all the shit in my life I had to take for something to eat, like my own brother at the kitchen table when I ate or stayed at my great-grandmothers house, gobbling down his food then trying to take mine off my plate, he finally stopped after I stabbed him several times on his hands and arms. Then there was junior high school where I had to take the trays from all the other kids and hear them laughing at me, but I had to eat so I couldn’t say anything back for fear of losing my job and the free food. All my past bad memories to do with food was churning in my head to the boiling point, something had to give.

I will say not all blacks cut in line, as they had honor and the self respect that goes with being a real man.

By the time we made it in to eat the best steaks was gone, the cook serving up the steaks was a nigger and a shitty one. As I was going through the line getting vegetables first, when I reached the steak part I asked for one well done, he gave me a shitty look and gave me a rare one, when I asked him to please cook it some more, with a snarl look on his face he snatched it off my plate tossed it on the grill and flipped it over immediately then tossed it right back on my plate throwing vegetables all over my tray, that’s when my heart started pumping hard.



What I did next was a crazy, stupid and dangerous for everybody in the mess hall as it could have caused a riot and this was a battalion mess hall that fed 5 companies of men and was full on steak day, but for me as I knew I couldn’t win but I didn’t care I had to hit this mother fucker just one time anyway to release the pressure that had been building up over the last few months.

I looked at him and said thanks a lot nigger, back then even blacks didn’t use that word ever. He looked at me in disbelief and said what did you say, you heard me nigger, he said you stay right there and I yelled come on mother fucker, as I waited for him to make his way around the serving line to get to me I sat my tray down and waited, and watched the mess sergeant leave quickly afraid of what might happen, a full blown riot. I was waiting for the cook to come to me and when he did I hit him with a hard right to the cheek that left a half inch cut on his face, I was amazed at this and for a split second forgot what I was doing looking at his cheek split and bleeding, he was surprised to and came in close to grab my leg and lift it up making me to lose my balance and taking me to the floor but I had a hold of his neck, then it happened all the niggers in the place came to get in there punches and kicks as I was on the floor trying to protect my face and ribs as a boxer would do, they beat, stomped and kicked me until I let out a yell like a animal would, I screamed that’s enough mother fuckers get off me, with that they stood back for a moment but not without getting in a couple more kicks.

After they were satisfied and backed off I slowly got to my feet and looked around to see not one white man had even gotten out of their chairs, they just sat in fear. But I didn’t blame them.

There I stood looking like Marlon Brando from his beating in on the waterfront.

Food was the last thing on my mind at this point I was all fucked up and bleeding but the pain hadn’t really set in yet. I knew what I had to do now if I was ever going to eat there again, I got my tray of food with the bloody steak and went to get my desert and cup of milk, as I walked into the dining hall from the serving area I found a table that was empty and against the wall. Sitting with my back to the wall I started to eat with blood dripping on my food I sat staring at everybody in the place, and it got very quiet for some reason, but I ate every fucking bite sitting alone as my friends was afraid to sit with me but that was ok. Anyway I finished and made my way back to my room to hit the bunk.

About an hour later the biggest buck in the company came down to my room and looked at me laying there, I didn’t know what to expect out of him but he just looked at me shaking his head and laughing saying your one crazy ass white boy, as he left laughing and shaking his head I could tell by his gesture that he respected what I did, but he couldn’t come out and say it or shake my hand.

Riots have a way of spreading like a wildfire out of control, which did happen at the time in Germany at different posts and what I did could have turned into that, so word of what happened at the mess hall spread all over the post in a matter of a couple of hours.



About 30 minutes after the big buck left Sergeant Harris shows up, naturally he heard what happened, he came in and I started to get to my feet, at ease god damm lay down, what the fucks wrong with you? What happened? I told him I fell down the stairs all the way down. This was a sticky situation for everybody and even a 17 year old, I could figure that out.

He knew it better than me, it was still a problem. He stood for a minute thinking then he looked at me and said what happened to you? Again I fell down the stairs sergeant Harris. I was trying to read him and he was doing the same to me. And I think we both knew what the other was thinking without saying it. With that he said we have to report to the C.O. now he is waiting to see you.

I got to my feet and we went to see the C.O.s office as we entered his office standing at attention with salute he said at ease Tex and sit the fuck down. What the hell happened to you soldier? I fell down that long flight of stairs sir. The C.O. was west point and younger than Sergeant Harris and new to Germany.

Bull shit he said I can pick up that phone and have the M.Ps put him in jail busted so tell me what really happened. Sir I fell down the stairs. Then HE began thinking but slowly, as Sergeant Harris had nothing to say, it was out of his hands and he knew what I was doing was the only solution to defuse the situation. After some thought the C.O. said is that the story you’re sticking to? Yes sir, all knowing a lie. He then said dismissed. Hell I wasn’t being brave, but I would like to think that it was the only smart thought I had that day.

I made it back to my bunk for a sleepless night of pain waiting for the next day to come as they always do like it or not it’s always there and the morning mirror we all have to look in, it’s always there good or bad, and never lies.

By the time it was time to get up and go eat breakfast the pain had really settled in but I was still young and would get over the pain. I wasn’t very hungry on this particular morning and wasn’t getting around very good, but I knew I had to go to the mess hall for breakfast and go early. I didn’t point fingers or rat out the ones that beat me. I showed up early to eat knowing the same cook would be there and he was, with a swollen up face. He seemed surprised to see me but didn’t say anything. That morning he was doing the eggs, when I got to him for the eggs I simply said over easy. Without a please, he said nothing and turned to cook my eggs then placed them on my plate, without another word I went to the same table as the afternoon before alone with my back to the wall, still sitting alone. At this point nobody wanted to be associated with me. That was about to change very soon.

As I sat there force feeding myself and having the feeling of strength and balls, I was saying to everybody concerned you can beat me all you want and even kill me but you will never intimidate me, that’s what I was telling them without saying a word. A man not in fear of death is difficult to intimidate if not impossible.

As I was sitting alone eating when I looked up to see a giant black man standing in front of my table with food tray in his hand. My first thought as you might think, oh shit this can’t be good. Then he asked if he could sit down, I replied are you going to beat the shit out of me to?

He smiled and as he was pulling out a chair said can I sit? But he didn’t wait for my reply as he sat down, and I didn’t say no.

I could tell this was a bad mother fucker but I hadn’t ever seen him before, he wasn’t in our battalion. But he ate wherever he wanted, he was battle scared even on his face, plus the patches he had from Vietnam, he was the real deal. And an air borne ranger.

I could tell right off he was not an ordinary man; he would have made Rambo piss his pants.

After a couple of minutes we both relaxed a little, or I should say I relaxed a little, then he told me why he was there, to meet me and to see for himself the crazy ass white boy that nearly caused a riot the day before.

He was from the other side of the post but when he heard what a 17 year old kid did, and he said I wanted to see if you would make it for breakfast and if you did I wanted to have it with you. Then he said do you see those people behind me looking at us? With a quick glance I said yes why? Because they want to know what we are talking about and what is going to happen next, he was the kind of a man that thrived on danger and was a stranger to fear. As we sat and had another cup of coffee we began a friendship that later would help me to make thousands of dollars, but much later.

Then he said you’re going to the Nam aint you? Yes when I turn 18, then I asked him why did you ask that. He said I don’t know just a feeling that’s all and the fact you must hate it here in Germany with all this bull shit like you had yesterday. Then he said you have to know it aint like this in the Nam, yes I heard.

He then said you don’t have to worry about anybody fucking with you anymore, nobody fucks with my friends and I want to be your friend because I like what you did yesterday standing up to those chicken shit mothers that I see every day and cause shame on their own black people by forgetting what Martin Luther King tried to teach all men, then he added I hate what happened to you and I am sorry for it. After he said that I was at a loss for words and could only say with much relief and near lump in my throat, thank you big man.

Then he walked back with me to my barracks, I noticed the blacks looking at us with a little confusion as the big man (that I will call BIG JOHN, who kept mostly to himself and never ran in pacts like most did. He would play part in something KJ and me would put together a little later and we would become good friends, as he had the balls to do so, it was rare for the time and place and was my good luck.

With a firm hand shake he said if you ever need anything come see me, and then told where his company was on the other side of post, good luck. This was a man out of place in Germany he was the type of man made for war, there were few like him, and I considered myself honored to be his friend. Not to mention very very lucky. I was not this kind of soldier, but I wanted to be .Later I would know more such men in Vietnam on the Ho Chi Min trail when I was a demolition specialist with the Black Horse Troop, for nearly 6 straight months in the field but that would be later.

As for now my little world just got bigger and better, and now I had more friends than I knew what to do with because I had protection from the black bullies that now wouldn’t even look at me or my friends with me wherever we went.

I also had the respect of Sergeant Harris the C.O. and most all the other men in the company, but there were still some blacks that wasn’t happy at all with me but was afraid to fuck with me, but I was careful not to use my new friend for protection, I knew that if I did I would lose it as fast I had got it.

Sergeant Harris knew I was getting stoned now but I was still doing my job to the best of my ability, and he told me that the C.O. thought I should take the week off due to my recent beating, sergeant Harris laughed and said you aint worth a fuck for work anyway, so just hang around the room and take it easy. It took months for my ribs to completely heal, and after a couple of days I stopped pissing blood. Plus he said I’m going to see about getting you a waiver for you to be promoted to sergeant E 5 buck sergeant hard stripes, which meant not a specialist E 5. The same pay and duties just cooler I thought, and the fact I would be called sergeant instead of specialist Tex. And on the dress uniform looked real cool Ha-ha.

Wow I thought of all that had happened; now I had big john for protection, new friends and respect and a promotion on the way and all it took was getting the shit stomped out of me and near causing a major riot, aint life funny.

Now everything has changed as it has a way of doing in the army.

And my friend KJ the day room orderly was sick of Germany and was thinking about putting in a 1049 that was a request for Vietnam that would leave 2 open key slots and I wanted them both, his job and his huge room in the attic, I practically lived there anyway, with my own bunk, but still had to keep everything in my room for inspection and get up early for formation every morning.

About 2 months went by before KJ left, but for now we were making new friends, one of them a timed little book worm that was extremely happy to be in our attic room every night, he needed the protection we provided, and he was a clerk for the C.I.D. that’s the army’s F.B.I. and he knew all the tricks of dealing drugs without getting caught. What he did all day at his job was read the case files that the government had lost against drug dealers.

Remember Sparks? We rarely saw him anymore, before he moved off post, the C.O. told him that the battalion commander wanted to award him his medals at a command retreat for the whole battalion to see, I could hear him screaming at the top of his lungs as everybody did, as he told the C.O. to tell the colonel to shove them up his ass and refused to appear. He didn’t give a fuck. Anyway he was THE dealer of the post, him and his more important business partner that to this day I don’t repeat his name he was that big, and I was told later he had smuggled back to a big city on the east coast where he was from at least 1000 kilos via various ways explained to me later so I could do the same but only later after they were gone and had no more interest in it, they were legends. But I never reached their level of success even though Sparks gathered his connections for the introductions for future business after he was gone. He gave this gift to KJ and me without a price because we were in the same company, and I would like to think because of my past with him in the beginning when we first met. But in reality and looking back it was the dealer in him knowing KJ was soon leaving and I would be left with it alone to do the work as we called it, and it would be something he could laugh about it later, who the fuck knows why, but it was a turning point in my life as a still 17 year old kid and would shape my future, not just for the money that was great, but just as fun as making money so was getting away with it, that was a thrill in itself hard to explain. This was Germany 1970.

They both was getting out soon which left another window of opportunity open that needed to be filled. We had the connections and the approval but we needed some more cash, and now that the interest rate for borrowing money had went to 100% me and KJ got in on the action at 50% undercutting the others, in a month we scraped up enough to buy 4 kilos at 300 dollars a key, and sparks gave us his connection in Nuremburg.

We went to Nuremburg on a train and 1st class which meant we had 6 reclining plush chairs and could pull down the shades down then lock the door, and then open a window so we could fire up a bowl.

Before we went to get the keys we stopped off at a famous whore house called the walls. I couldn’t believe my virgin eyes, you see it was legal and had a set price of 11 dollars; they were all beautiful as they had to compete with each other if they wanted to sell any pussy. They were all half dressed sitting or standing in their little rooms behind the glass windows or doors. It didn’t take me long to find the one I wanted, a beautiful blond with red lipstick and big tits, after 5 minutes with her I was in love. And I told her I’d see her next month then left.

But for now we had to go make the deal. The place where we went was not what I expected, it was a bar of sorts with very loud music and crowded as hell, the kind of place where you had to wait for people to come out before you could get in it was that crowded. It was like something out of the movies. We were taken to a table and ordered a pitcher of beer. After we got our beer, I started wondering where and from whom are we going to get what we came for. KJ said wait sparks told me what to do so take it easy Tex. I then noticed 5 or 6 dudes walking around from table to table and all wearing the same hippie hats of the time, but they weren’t carrying beer, then one made his way to our table and asked what it was we wanted, KJ did the talking for us as he was the oldest and biggest of our group, he told the guy we want to buy some kilos and who sent us, with that he replied what kind, green, red, black, brown, tell me what you want and I’ll go get a sample to try right here at your table. He came back with some green Lebanese, I wanted red Lebanese but this shit was good and the price was right 250 dollars a kilo and we could sell it for 1 dollar a gram, so what we paid 25 cents a gram we sold at a dollar a gram.

The money piled up quick. And now that the interest rate on loaning money had jumped to 100 percent, but we stayed at 50 and took all the business, plus there was nothing the other lenders could do but cry, buy now they all knew about sparks and big john was together from sparks backing us with his connections and blessings to the protection of big john who had become a regular in the attic seen by everyone which was all that was needed, and I would loan him any amount of money he asked for interest free, and give him 10 grams or so from time to time free of course. But he never asked for it, just a small loan from time to time and he always paid me back, I would have been happy to have given it to him for what he did just for his presence, but to him it would have been an insult, and a sign of weakness for me.

It was such a sweet and simple thing we were doing. We made more money off the hash than our lending business, but selling hash was illegal and at the time loaning money wasn’t. When we lent say 100 dollars they had to sign an i.o.u. at 50% interest which back then was binding, to top it off because KJ was the day room orderly it was his job to stand to the right of the C.O. as he counted out the money to every soldier in the company, when each man was paid if they owed us money KJ laid the i.o.u. on the table and he had to pay then and there before leaving. Then some of them would go outside to pay others if they had any money left, some even had to borrow the same day. But at least we only charged 50%. And I learned a fast dime is better than a slow dollar in business and that money in each business of drugs and loaning money was only a tool to be used to make more money. A simple concept to understand when given any thought to the matter.

Now we had enough cash to buy 10 kilos in just one month and things couldn’t be going better, I told KJ this time I think it a good idea to take big john with us for a little more protection, he was more my friend than the others, we were a tight group and had all the people in the right places to help, we had the little book worm from the C.I.D. , he was happy just to hang out with us and asked for nothing more than he was getting, protection and some friends, then we had the company clerk and the postman that we gave smoke to when they needed, they fell under the same protection as did all our friends because of big john befriending me after my beating. The only problem as far as I could see was the lending business; it had grown as far as it could without going outside our own company where our return was guaranteed. Now I was thinking about that blond whore with the big tits and red lipstick, I forgot what I was saying.

Oh yea now I remember, money, I thought it would be a good idea to give big john some cash to loan at his end of the post, after all who’s going to try to fuck him? And since the interest was up to 100 percent I thought why not have him pay us 50% and he could keep the same for himself, but what if he fucks us KJ asked, I guaranteed him he wouldn’t and I trusted him, he was my friend. Then KJ says why not give him a couple of kilos as well, because when we get back were going to have a shitload to get rid of, hell yea I said sounds great but well have to work out how much to charge him, fuck it why not make it the same 50% we don’t want him to think we are using him and we need him happy plus we need the help, we both agreed so off to Nuremburg we did go with a new plan, but we had to make a stop first at the whore houses then a taxi to the getting place. This time being repeat customers’ we got very lucky and got the best, red Lebanese and it was killer shit, 10 kilos was 10,000 grams, but the price was higher 300 a key, KJ wanted to get him down but I said fuck it man let’s just get it and go back to Bamberg, he agreed we paid and headed for the train station.



This was a time in my life that I would never forget, it was New Years Eve and the ground was covered with snow. We had our 1st class compartment with door locked and shades pulled down; we had a cracked window and a bowl going. I had a seat by the window and we had a bottle of red wine, we rarely ever got drunk but I was still so fucking stoned from testing our product, I was looking out the window when all the beautiful fireworks began at midnight, it was so beautiful I couldn’t believe it, it was one of those seemingly magical times in life the kind we all have and could never forget or wanted to, and the train was silent as it made its way back to Bamberg. And I was still thinking about those red lips, what a perfect new years eve it was; in 5 days I would turn 18.

But things were about to change, as nothing ever stays the same especially in the army.

Slowly our group was disintegrating, in another month or so KJ would leave for Vietnam and that would leave me with the problem of how to collect my money, all mine now from the borrowers I had lent it, as KJ stopped lending now and only collected for me as he didn’t want to fuck with it anymore for fear of not being there the next month to get his share because he wasn’t sure when he was going, only that it would be soon, but our partnership had paid off for us both and now because he would be leaving and getting out of both businesses and that we had pooled our money to buy hash pretty evenly and he wanted all the money from it off the top, leaving me to sell mine after he got all his money back plus the profit, it was understandable and I agreed but with that said he still had to trust me to send him money that he wasn’t there to collect from fronting out some of the smoke, and I did.

But he wouldn’t be going back to Nuremburg with me again, and I would miss that and him to. But for now he was still here and we would party hard until he left smoking more than ever before and slipping out a back gate and going to what was called a guesthouse, it was like a bar and restaurant where we ate very good every night on schnitzel, bratwurst or any other thing we wanted, not to mention the pitchers of beer that we were drinking now more and more, and there was a juke box and pretty girls that KJ would flirt with but I never could, the only sex id ever had was paid for, then stumbling back to the barracks smoke some more and pass out, only he didn’t have to get up in the morning but I didn’t care because I knew that soon I would never see him again, the last time I ever heard from him was in a letter he mailed to me from Vietnam, he said he was on r and r, rest and relaxation for you civilians, in his letter he said he was on a beautiful beach called von tau with a little plastic bottle vile if heroin. That was the last I ever heard of him and I never knew if he made it out alive, and I never read the list on the wall of the dead to find out because I didn’t want to see his name on it if he was dead, but anyway enough of that.

But my luck was holding; the army works in mysterious ways? And it did just in time for me.

A turn of events were all coming together at the same time, 1st KJ was leaving in another month 2nd my promotion was due 3rd we were getting a new C.O. and new first sergeant at the same time, and I wanted the job of day room orderly , which was a tricky maneuver for me to pull off. After all it was up to the C.O. and first sergeant to assign who did what, and not to forget Sergeant Harris my platoon sergeant.

On the weekend of getting the replacements that would be our new bosses, all coming and going at the same time. I told KJ fuck it I’m going to move all my shit up here with you this weekend, the clerk told me what time they would be coming and going.

I said look man I want your job and this great room in the attic, with that he said I don’t give a fuck but what about sergeant Harris? I don’t know but I have to try I guess we’ll find out Monday morning.

Before each morning formation sergeant Harris made his rounds to each room for a quick inspection. Then he said where is all your shit Tex? When I told him that I had moved to the attic to take over the day room from KJ after he leaves, with that he said well he aint gone yet and who the fuck said you would be the chosen one. Now go get your shit and move back to your room. Without hesitation I did as ordered.

The next day he took me aside and said here is the deal if you want to be a sergeant next month it is yours you worked for it, but if you want to through it away to be day room orderly the choice is up to you, but I would be disappointed to see you go to waste. To me it was a no brainer I had already put in my 1049 request for Vietnam where on arrival there everybody gets a promotion as soon as you get in country, and I wouldn’t have anymore inspections in the attic along with being duty exempt, no more getting up in the morning no more nothing but taking care of the day room, plus I didn’t want to be the boss of my friends which I would have to do as sergeant. I told him on the spot what I wanted, he said ok then get your shit out of my squad’s room and get up stairs. He added that if the new first sergeant doesn’t agree with this decision you’re making against my better judgment I won’t stand in your way, but if you end back in my platoon you can forget about making sergeant. He also added that after they both get there gear in order there will be inspections; I think you know what to do.

I knew exactly what to do and without wasting any time about getting to it, it being to polish the day room like a new penny. I worked all night and paid Ortega to help me with the floor, he quit working about 2a.m. as he had to get up early, but I didn’t, not for now anyway.

I was still asleep when the clerk came knocking on my door, when I unlocked and opened it, he said that the new Top wants to see the day room and you too; shit I thought this is it. I put on my new starched fatigues and spit polished boots and made my way down the 4 flights of stairs where he was waiting in his office, as I entered and stood at attention I stated my name and rank of specialist .

He said I can’t find the keys to the day room, do you have them specialist, yes sergeant then he said well lets go see what it looks like. We made the short walk down the hall and I unlocked the padlock.

It was an impressive sight and everything was fucking perfect, but he didn’t seem impressed at all as he slowly walked around looking at it as through a fucking microscope, he had no expression that I could pick off, I didn’t know what the fuck he was thinking or what he was going to do, and he knew about the switch I was trying to pull off. The one thing I did know was how much a first sergeant and officers liked shit that shined, and how many solders didn’t like to make shit shine, and if they found somebody to make it shine without being told to do it, then that made their job easier, and I was his man.

As he slowly looked around he turned to me to say not bad specialist, then he added you got a pretty good deal here don’t you? Duty exempt and your room in the attic I heard about, no getting up in the morning or wearing a uniform like the rest of us, except on pay day of course. Yea you have a sweet deal, but there is one thing wrong with it specialist, I asked what was that first sergeant?

I don’t see any stars and stripes newspapers for the men to read. With that I didn’t dare tell him that nobody reads that army bull shit. But while I was trying to say without knowing what to say he cut me off at the pass, and said look I want you to go every day and pick up a stars and stripes for the men and without hesitation added as long as you are going there anyway you can pick me one up while you’re at it, at the same time he’s telling me this as he got a 1 dollar bill out of his bill fold and handed it to me and said when that runs out let me know, oh and one more thing have mine on my desk before 12 noon. I quickly replied ill go right now first sergeant. He was a crafty old fucker and I knew exactly what he wanted a 5 cent newspaper and more than that to let me know who the fuck was in charge, and I had enough good since not to think I could get over on him or out smart him.

He couldn’t order me to get him a paper every day, but then again he didn’t have to, I loved it, I was on top of the world, the news stand was about 4 blocks away and I was always buying comic books there in the morning anyway.

I’d get up about 8 or 9 get stoned and go buy some breakfast as it was too late for the mess hall and I had the money for better food. Then a short stroll to the news stand and back with tops paper about 10 a.m. just to be on the safe and respectful side of him. Then I had to unlock the day room at 5 p.m. to 10 p.m. and that was that, I didn’t even have to stay there if I didn’t want. I could do whatever I wanted, and if I needed someone to lock it back up at 10 id give him the key, but not very often.

Months went by and I still hadn’t received my orders for Vietnam, it took longer than I had expected I wouldn’t get them until august, but that would give me more time to make more money.

As time went by there were people asking if I was even in the army because I always wore civilian clothes and the newbie’s didn’t know who I was.

I was alone in my huge room after KJ. shipped out but only when I slept, it was still a popular place to hang out and always a party up there at night. It’s a funny thing but at the time those that drank were called juicers by the heads being us, and we were called the dopers, so we didn’t mix very much except for Cornsilk my Indian friend, but he too was about to get out and go home, another friend gone, I was now an old timer so to say.

Mysterious ways, now the clerk was knocking on my door and calling my name, he was a friend, I opened the door and he said that top wants me in his office now, when I asked why he said I’m not sure Tex, ok let’s go man. When I got there I noticed a new man id never seen before, then top says to me this is your new assistant. He knew I was dumbfounded by this, and added yes your assistant and new roommate so take him upstairs to his new home then report back to me, yes first sergeant , what else was there to say. I took my new unwanted but later needed new roommate and assistant to the attic then reported back to top as ordered.

When I got back he told me what was going on with this new arrival. Right off it was easy to see the new man had a bad attitude and I didn’t like him, and he didn’t like anybody and nothing but hate for the army, he was another miserable draftee who couldn’t figure out how to make the best of what you’re dealt. When I reported back to top he said that this new guy named Franks had just been released from the stockade and he was assigned here awaiting his undesirable discharge from the army, and then he said I don’t want to see him ever and so I give him to you to babysit and he is your job not mine, understand? Yes first sergeant, dismissed specialist, and that was that, I more or less had to keep him out of sight of any and all officers.

I never did understand these idiots, ok you hate the army I understand especially if I were drafted but getting drafted was for 2 years instead of 3 for those that join, but I must have known of 4 or 5 dumb mother fuckers after already 1 year behind them decide to just quit. It was the stupidest thing I ever seen nearly, but after they had to be court marshaled and do a little time in jail then go to another company busted down to what we called E fucking nothing and wait with no money or respect and given shitty details. By the time they got out they only had a couple of more months to go, plus they weren’t even going to Vietnam, and worst of all to go home without honor. Fuck em. Now I had this worthless shit bird to deal with, and he didn’t want to work, I didn’t need his help anyway. There was a big advantage to him living in my room though, now my chances of getting busted were practically 0 as long as I didn’t put a lock on one of my lockers, in court it couldn’t be proved it was yours as long as it was possible somebody else put it there, so they never even tried to convict. And he did have a great album collection that I bought from him, and he guarded the room for a little free smoke.

As far as the day room went I kept care of it and once a month I paid Ortega to help me polish it for the C.O. on pay day.

Once the C.O. asked me where the money for chalk for the cue sticks and the other things came from because I noticed you haven’t requested any money from the company funds to pay for these things. I told him that I buy everything myself sir, I didn’t want to bother you or the first sergeant with the little things I need to do my job with sir.

He pondered this for a moment knowing everything I did was some sort of scam; my thinking was to keep them happy and not to be thinking about it too much, or me. Then he asked where do you get all this shit anyway, downtown sir. Then he said I want to go see this place, come with me in my car to town, he had a cool Porsche car, it was strange riding in a private car with a captain driving me, and I was a little puzzled as to his true intentions.

He already knew of the money I was loaning and how much I was making because of the I.O.U, s I laid in front of him every pay day in the day room. But now I was worried if he had any idea about how much hash I was moving every month, by now about 20 keys a month at the end is what I bought alone, it was getting to big I was thinking, but no dealer can stop when he’s on a roll, the prisons are full of them, making so much money for such little risk is addicting, but I only had another few months before I would be gone and done with Germany. But back to the captain, it almost felt like he wanted to be my friend, or was trying to figure a way to get some money out of me but I wasn’t about to give up any of my hard earned money, like I said it was a strange ride. We went and I bought what I needed like ping pong balls and other various assorted shit, then he drove us back to the barracks and all he said was good luck, and good job soldier. But nothing ever happened and I never got caught.

Now that I was buying 20 keys and was considered a valued customer the price per key came down even more, then I thought why not go up on the sales price ? Hell I only went up 25 cents a gram from a dollar. But I always had the best, red Lebanese was a favorite but sometimes id get 5 keys of Afghanistan black that was cut with heroin, but that was special and seldom seen, that was 2 bucks a gram even though I paid the same 200 a key, with no complaints I might add, plus the fact that like Sparks I was the only game in town to speak of now, and like him would soon be leaving. By the time you got on the feds radar you were already gone in the army if you are smart and very lucky, lucky I was.

If you haven’t done the math yet there is 1000 grams per kilo self explanatory right.

As always with plans well made there is a fly that finds its way into the ointment. And mine was in the form of all the 20 dollar bills.

The one my best friend and mentor KJ forgot to teach me was how to get all the money back home, probably because he never thought about how much was going to roll in after he left, and Sparks never told me how.

At the time there wasn’t any 100s or 50s available to me anyway, the tourists didn’t have any because they didn’t need them and the Germans didn’t want them either, they were just too big a bill back then to break without going to a bank or emptying out there cash drawer not having enough left over to make change for other customers.

This is where my friend that roomed with the company clerk in the attic came in, he was the mail man. And things were very different back in the days before so many dogs sniffing around where they wasn’t wanted, because I had to ship my money home in boxes. I sought the help of the mail man; he said it’s simple as long as the packages aren’t too big as to attract the attention of state side inspectors. And he had a friend that was a staff sergeant at the main post office where he delivered the company’s mail, and once it was stamped by him that was it, home free and for only 20 grams for each of them, but I sent it by several boxes to cover the odds of a loss. In the 1st box I added a letter for my mother saying I had won it at a slot machine in a casino with 25 cents and that it was a rare payoff for a slot, and that the money inside was a down payment to buy a house with, her first. Hell I never even seen a casino, and that she would be getting more boxes but and they was surprise gifts for other family members and I wanted it to be a surprise so don’t say anything about it and don’t open any of them I wanted to see the surprise on their faces when I gave them their gifts.

Things were so easy back then, I also got back some hash, but I can’t say how, you probably wouldn’t believe it anyway. But the army takes care of its own, hell I remember one night in the field in Vietnam some of us was sitting around and just for a lark or lack of anything better to do I said I think I’m gonna mail my mail man buddy in Germany some pot. So I took a letter and put a bullshit return address on it and addressed it to my friend with another bull shit name that we had made up before I left so when he saw it he knew what and from who, see many of the guys there missed smoking pot and wanted me to send them some, anyway I never thought it would get through, after I addressed the envelope and being half drunk and stoned by candlelight as that was all we had, anyway jokingly and all of us laughing I reached down in a big sack we kept on hand I literally stuffed the envelope so full and after smashing it as flat as possible which wasn’t flat at all, but I was able to lick it and make it stick. The mail was flown out to us every day by the company mail man, another friend of course, made his rounds before flying back to heaven, I handed him the stuffed letter and asked what do you think? He laughed and said are you fucking crazy? He said ill see what I can do and we waited. About a month later one morning as the mail man was flown out to our little piece of heaven, he walked up to me with a big smile on his face, and said I got a letter for you man from Germany.

Inside was about 10 grams of red Lebanese and a letter saying thanks for the pot, he added I aint never smoked any shit that good man. I couldn’t believe it had made it, and it got me to thinking, oh well that’s later for now ill finish talking about Germany, if I have any readers left. Where was I? Back in Germany everything was going great I was making the first sergeant happy and that was just as important as the C.O. being happy if not more important.

One day as I was taking my morning stroll to get top his daily news paper and my comic books I saw some civilians doing construction work, with nothing better to do I walked closer to see what they were doing, as I got closer I saw they were laying bricks on a sidewalk. I had never seen bricks laid before, and it made me think of this bricklayer when I was a dishwasher and bus boy at the café. He was the kind of person in life that you sometimes meet and never forget, even if you aren’t really friends.

I remember like yesterday, I was 11 or 12 the first time I saw him walk in for lunch at the café and the place changed, the waitresses were acting different at his being there, I didn’t know why but they all gathered at his table flirting and giggling, naturally this got my curiosity aroused, I was already impressed with anybody that had the money to eat in a restaurant to begin with, then one of the waitresses told me to go outside and look at his car. It was a brand new Eldorado convertible Cadillac, powder blue, a 1964 or 65 maybe a 66 I don’t remember but I was amazed I just walked around it eyes bugged out looking in at the white upholstery. But I had to hurry back it was lunch hour and tables needed cleaning. I had to know what this guy did for a living as I didn’t know yet. I was checking him out and I was sure he wasn’t a doctor or banker or anything like that by what he wore. He wore khaki pants with dust on his boots. When I found out he was a bricklayer I knew what I wanted to do in life, he was on top of the world as far as I could see, and he had lunch their everyday, amazing with all the slutty waitresses hanging all over him and a new Cadillac, I thought what else could a man possibly want out of life other than that.

After about a week later I got the nerve to go to his table after I saw he was finished eating and having a cigarette to ask him for a job as his helper. He looked at me with a friendly smile and said your too young kid to do the work , I assured him I was strong and a hard worker , but he was right , that wouldn’t stop me from wanting to be a bricklayer, which I did later in life but that’s another story. Now I have to get that news paper for top before noon.

Since id been in Germany close to a year I was considered an old timer and had a lot of friends and some of them black as I was respected by them if nothing else. I showed respect to those that wanted it and I had some bad ass black friends, a hell of a lot tougher than me, but with mutual respect for each other.

One of my black friends that was probably the toughest mother fucker in the company asked me for a favor, I thought he wanted me to front him some smoke, as I did business with him when he wanted to sell to others. Andy was his name and what he wanted was to use the day room after closing time for a private party for him and his friends, all black of course. Then he said ill make sure we clean up after were finished and I’ll take care of everything and ill kick anybody’s ass that fucks anything up, I guarantee it. With that I said your word is all I need man just take care of it and I’ll give you the key after I lock up at 10. Ok thanks Tex we just want to have a little going away party for a dude in another company.

At about midnight as me and my friends were smoking it up in the attic I heard a knock on the door and a friend calling my name and I knew he was on duty as night clerk. We were all stoned as a mother fucker, so fucked up we couldn’t remember whose turn it was as we attempted to play spades. Well I knew this couldn’t be good so I opened the door for a rush of smoke hit my friend in the face, he said fuck man there’s a god dam 2nd lieutenant from battalion down stairs for a surprise once over, and he sent me to get you, then I remembered Andy and his buddies in the day room that is off limits or closed after 10p.m. fuck, ok tell him I’m on the way man. I tried to wipe the stoned off my face and we didn’t have eye drops back then to get the red out, when I reported to the office there was a 2nd lieutenant that I’d never seen before, all I knew was that he wasn’t an M.P., then he told me something about something about where the fuck he came from, I didn’t give a fuck who he was and wasn’t listening anyway. But I did hear him when he said, why there are people in the day room. Shit I thought right quick

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