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Aug. 12th, 2013 10:09 pm (UTC)
Fall 1971, my longest and best friend started talking with the local Army recruiter. All of his life he wanted to join the Army. His father was a Captain during WWII and often when they would go out bird watching his father would ask him how he would defend or attack certain pieces of land. While I was reading Mad Magazine, my friend studied military history with his dad…it was a love they shared. From junior high on my friend dreamed of being in the Cavalry …he wanted to drive tanks. The recruiters did a great job of convincing him he was made of the “Right Stuff.” That was up until a week before he went to basic training in Fort Drum…the recruiter told him his hearing wasn’t good enough for Tank Corps, but don’t worry you’re going into Armored…only it was infantry. Like the “Good Soldier Dad had forged he went to do his duty. Fort Drum led to Artillery School in Fort Sill, Oklahoma and then to Fort Hood in Texas. At Fort Hood he was a Company Clerk and it was there out of sheer boredom and his own interest he started a project to catalog every armored vehicle in every army that existed at the time…everything there was to know about any armored vehicle was in this Manuel. It became a labor of love…and to succeed and receive the commendation he did, my friend needed security clearance. Over the two to three years he was gone, I was the only one to write him letters. Every time I wrote I would sarcastically write about the war in Viet Nam and how our government screwed up. I would start every letter with Hawroo Yankee! and write in pidgin English about the Imperialist Americans and their plans to usurp our country. My friend thought it was hilarious and responded in kind. It was always tongue in cheek and evident it was two guys riffing on the issues of the war. One summer afternoon in 1974 as I was walking up my street my dad was sitting on the front porch talking to a man in a grey suit and a very plain sedan with government plates in the driveway. My father introduced me to Special Agent Davis of the FBI. Agent Davis addressed me by saying, ”Hawroo Yankee!” I’m here to do a background check on your friend. Wow! How did he know this? My friend got his clearance. I was way ahead of curve…a subversive at the ripe old age of 20… right up there with Abbie Hoffman and the Chicago Seven…I wonder if they have been keeping track of me all this time….If I ever disappear…well keep looking for Jimmy Hoffa…I’ll probably be nearby. Holiday
Aug. 13th, 2013 01:04 am (UTC)
You'd better believe they're still watching.
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