th1b.taylor
Member
What is your favorite
Christmas memory?
You are about to know for certain that I should be certified something by one of the VAs Head Shrinkers. Of all the insane days and I spent nine hundred and fifteen days in South Vietnam but the most memorable Christmas I recall was at Camp Evans, I Corps on Christmas of nineteen sixty-eight.
I was sick to death from having been stationed, after my first year long tour at Ft. Mead, just outside DC. I was P.Oed. at the general population from the day I took a taxi from Receiving out to the San Francisco Airport.
In a 'Frisco Bar I and a few other men ikn uniform were refused service and when we asked why, the Bar Back extended his hand up to the, penned, sign reading No Service for Sailors, Marines, Dog Faces nor to any other Baby Killers.
This was happening in June of 1967 and when I arrived home, only my closest two friends would e seen with me in public. On the Braniff flight home a very sick man in a suit with a Brief Case he was working out of was seated next to me and after take-off he asks me, "How many Gooks did you kill?" Him I told to go join the (blank) Army and to volunteer for Vietnam Service and the he could slaughter all the damned Gooks he wanted to and I took my cover off my lap, pulled over my face and sat back as far as I could.
Paul had been killed November of sixty-six, along with others and I was still wrestling with why did I survive?
And then they send me to DC where all the roits and demonstrations were on going. But there I was, December the twenty-forth, drinking hot Black Label Beer and chasing it down with shots of one hundred and ninety proof Rum. I wanted to die so the torment would stop and as bad as I was, my dad was having issues with sobriety because he knew I had volunteered to return so the NVA or Victor Charles could kill me. I was a little depressed!
Then, as I sat on my webbed Lawn Chair, outside my tent I, faitly, heard Silent night playing some place far off. (I still cry at this memory, every Christmas.) I looked and it Bappear there was a Helicopter, invisible except for his Search Light the idiot had turned on. He was, I discovered later, flying over Camps Betty and Sharon, just south of the Marine Base Camp at Khe Sahn and about thirty clicks (30km) north of us. It was at that moment I recalled God speaking to me after cleaning Paul up from inside the tent where he died.
I no longer wanted to die but I had no idea what God wanted with me but a new life is one awesome gift and God's ways cannot be beaten.
Merry Christmas poeoples!
Christmas memory?
You are about to know for certain that I should be certified something by one of the VAs Head Shrinkers. Of all the insane days and I spent nine hundred and fifteen days in South Vietnam but the most memorable Christmas I recall was at Camp Evans, I Corps on Christmas of nineteen sixty-eight.
I was sick to death from having been stationed, after my first year long tour at Ft. Mead, just outside DC. I was P.Oed. at the general population from the day I took a taxi from Receiving out to the San Francisco Airport.
In a 'Frisco Bar I and a few other men ikn uniform were refused service and when we asked why, the Bar Back extended his hand up to the, penned, sign reading No Service for Sailors, Marines, Dog Faces nor to any other Baby Killers.
This was happening in June of 1967 and when I arrived home, only my closest two friends would e seen with me in public. On the Braniff flight home a very sick man in a suit with a Brief Case he was working out of was seated next to me and after take-off he asks me, "How many Gooks did you kill?" Him I told to go join the (blank) Army and to volunteer for Vietnam Service and the he could slaughter all the damned Gooks he wanted to and I took my cover off my lap, pulled over my face and sat back as far as I could.
Paul had been killed November of sixty-six, along with others and I was still wrestling with why did I survive?
And then they send me to DC where all the roits and demonstrations were on going. But there I was, December the twenty-forth, drinking hot Black Label Beer and chasing it down with shots of one hundred and ninety proof Rum. I wanted to die so the torment would stop and as bad as I was, my dad was having issues with sobriety because he knew I had volunteered to return so the NVA or Victor Charles could kill me. I was a little depressed!
Then, as I sat on my webbed Lawn Chair, outside my tent I, faitly, heard Silent night playing some place far off. (I still cry at this memory, every Christmas.) I looked and it Bappear there was a Helicopter, invisible except for his Search Light the idiot had turned on. He was, I discovered later, flying over Camps Betty and Sharon, just south of the Marine Base Camp at Khe Sahn and about thirty clicks (30km) north of us. It was at that moment I recalled God speaking to me after cleaning Paul up from inside the tent where he died.
I no longer wanted to die but I had no idea what God wanted with me but a new life is one awesome gift and God's ways cannot be beaten.
Merry Christmas poeoples!
