During the cold war we left Fort Bragg, N.C. in January for Fort drum, N.Y. close to the Canadian border. I suppose some happy warrior figured we might have to fight in cold Russia someday. I, a Mississippian, had to walk with snowshoes which caused a slew-footed duck-like walk. It wasn’t easy, but I learn to use walk on the snow using them instead of through the 3 foot snow. Learning to ski was difficult. The hardest lesson for me was turning. I just keep going straight while the Yankee boys that knew how laughed and laughed. They thought it funny, but not I. So I thought it would be fun to make them swallow their laughter. I eventually learn to shift my weight, bend the knee(s) and do something similar to what’s called skiing, but not like a few of the northern boys who could ski dance . They still laughed, and I wore my shame with an unconcern mask Some paratroopers are not normal, although they appeared to be. I, myself jumped because I had no fear of heights, felt invincible, and also was paid $50.00 more per month ( which in today’s money would be $750.00) plus I had a turn for adventure. Like the Marines, paratroopers felt like a different breed of cat, which is why they usually fought whenever drinking in the same bar. Troopers knew what would happen in what we called Fatalville (which was called Fayetteville N.C. ,the closest town to Fort Bragg) ---A side note, In Fayetteville some guy suggested we go to the caboose, a large caboose modeled into a restaurant, to eat a pizza pie ( what I heard was “ a piece of pie”.) “I would rather eat a burger and afterward a piece of pie”, said I . They laughed, even two southerners who didn’t know what pizza pie was either (now, in this day and time “pizza pie’ has been shorten to “pizza”a word that stands alone—in and of itself.) Trust us they said, you will like it. I did. The first pizza time in Mississippi was in Jackson in 1972 when dear daughter Tina, a mere child eat 8 slices, and her younger brother Mark 6. The first weekend in Watertown, N.Y. for paratroopers was like boys entering college, who being away from home---drink and release the inhibitions of their youth. So it was in this new town that the combination of a new place, cold weather, and hard drink released the inhibitions of the rowdy soldiers early on. That night the Military and civilian authorities called all off duty M. P.s and police to help with the drunken human traffic flow. I heard tell of citizens going into action as they toted passed out paratroopers from the street out of harm’s way, and of M.P.s and policemen chucking lifeless drunken bodies into army trucks like cordwood. They were hauled to a hastily improvised stockade where they awoke the next morning with whiskey imps knocking their head from here to yonder. Chewed out and threaten they were, and then haul to their outfit where most slept throughout that Sunday into Monday morning. After that wild weekend there came calmer times. Some it is who have peculiar cures for a cold or flu. Such a one was Sgt. Miller. He, who had a room by himself at the end of those old timey wooden barracks had snuck a bottle of Jack Daniels in to drown his flu.--- a side note –its news that over 2,900 in Africa have died of ebola; however during the Spanish flu outbreak in 1918, 30% of the world population caught it , and 50 million died, out of 2 billion in 1920 and headed for 8 billion.---Sgt. Miller crawled into a well-insulated sleeping bag, and started drinking straight whiskey rapidly before passing out. Never had I seen anyone sweat so much. He passed out before emptying the bottle; however his flu was gone the next day. We made one jump. I tell the tale of Cpl. Manco, an Italian from N.Y. who we suspected of mafia connections, he never said, but acted like. Always acting macho and tough this day he had an unlit big cigar clenched between his teeth. We jumped, after my chute open and my check off I looked down and saw that the wind was dragging men in their parachutes. Afer hitting the ground I saw that my chute was dragging me toward a road. So I relaxed to let the wind blow me where need be. After collapsing the chute I saw Manco getting out of his chute. I saw that though he still had the cigar between his teeth the front end of it looked flat as a pancake, at least at 2.5-3 inches In diameter. I, along with others laugh. He gave us a dark threatening look. We laughed louder. Mango never again jumped a cigar. Utica, N.Y. a city of 60,000 where I went with others and all by myself winded up going to a movie with a northern girl. She , aloof at first but more relaxed as time went by. Afterward, we had a bite and she wanted to go dutch. I, not wanting to appear stupid, ignorantly, went alone with her. I put money down enough to pay all, and she put her money down. The waitress took our monies, and when she gave so much back to me I knew what ‘going dutch’ meant. My friend Janice smiled. Later, after getting better acquainted, we laughed about it. We caught the bus to her house. We watched Sgt. Joe Friday on dragnet, with her parents. Later we walked out on a snowy porch where we lingered and cuddle for a while, as our warmth of us shielded us from the cold evening, before I told her a reluctant goodbye. > so it is in those young and forever days of yore when the flowers forever bloom and all walk free and easy in that long ago now time----long past. But the memories still hold steadfast---
Posted on: Mon, 25 Aug 2014 02:39:31 +0000
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