I was just finishing jump school soon to be sent to a quaint little valley called the A Shau to serve with D Company 1/502d Infantry (Airmobile). It was a beautiful place on top of a hill with a scenic overview, they called that place FSB Bastogne. 
Posted on 08/23/2009 1:16:35 PM PDT by pabianice
I was just finishing jump school soon to be sent to a quaint little valley called the A Shau to serve with D Company 1/502d Infantry (Airmobile). It was a beautiful place on top of a hill with a scenic overview, they called that place FSB Bastogne.
I flew bird # 22, was 26 yours?
Lets see, I was about 10. At home I imagine.
Working my summer job.
I was in a bunker in Viet Nam.
I was waiting tables to work my way through college. It burns me up that many young people think all of us acted like the morons they see on the various Woodstock presentations.
Thank you for your service.
What’s a “Woodstock”? Should it mean anything to me?
August’69? We were on vacation on Lake Champlain in Vermont. We and the 4 kids were swimming, fishing, boating, water-skiing. No TV, no telephone.
Did we miss something?
You might say I was more that lucky, my down day was on the last flight she made. Who was your friend?
I was somewhere on the road between Qui Nhon and Pleiku, same as every other day that summer.
There were two but one wasn’t on that flight. His name was Pete, who went to DLI the same time I did. The other CT’s name was Gary.
Wow. 41 years ago.
Drafted away from my wife and baby daughter.
Attending US Army training, at Ft. Benjamin Harrison, Indianapolis, IN.
Remainder of my two years in Germany, contributing to victory in the Cold War.
“He’s a good teacher, he really seems to care. About what, I have no idea.”
I was in Air Force Sea Survival School at Homestead AFB, Florida, preparing for service in Vietnam. I don’t remember hearing about the Woodstock orgy, but I do remember Hurricane Camille which happened at the same time.
I was in NYC at a retreat in a Yoga ashram.
I was preparing to marry the love of my life, who had just returned from Viet Nam.
1969 was the summer I almost cut my left foot in half on a broken cider jug. Eighteen stitches and a couple of tetanis shots. Spent most of the summer on crutches to stay off the foot. I was ten. I had landed square on that damn jug jumping across the creek in our backyard.
Ahh, memories.
Cool thread.
I was 14. Discovering girls. Playing baseball. Working my summer jobs cutting grass and delivering papers. Watching Walter Cronkite nightly with my parents, wondering if I would one day be one of the casualties.
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