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Old 17 June 2017, 20:30
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Join Date: Jan 2003
Location: Clarksville, Tennessee
Posts: 1,519
Tar paper in 1975, with plywood on the bed frames.

And we were happy to get it, because that meant we had arrived.

I don't remember too many hot meals, everything was C-Rations with
an occasion LRRP thrown in for variety. And sometimes fresh fruit from the local Sand Hill markets.

We had been selected to be "Green Berets" if we could make it to the finish line, and they would never tell us where the finish line was.

Hell, we would have slept on the asphalt drive or in the sawdust hand to hand pits (or in the tunnels of what would later become the "Nasty Nick").

There are times I wish I had thought ahead to scratch my name on those tar paper shacks so I could go back later as an A Team commander and say "Here I was." Others could have done the same.

But there are many more than me, and better men than me, whose name would have been erased when those tar paper shacks came down.

"Time it was, and what a time is was, ..."
Paul Simon
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