I count myself lucky that don’t really know much about war. Well, not first-hand, anyway.
My dad (Roger M. Davis) was on the USS Independence, during Vietnam. He rarely would speak of the experience to me at all. At one point he ran the supply room (?), and acted a little like Radar from MASH. After the War, he had a Morse code machine that he would practice on for the Reserves. I’m not sure why, though I got to plink on it a bit as a kid.
My grandfather (100% Slovak) fought against the Germans in WWII for the US. I only really got to see my grand-dad once before he died, but I do have a couple of German daggers that are kind of interesting.
One of my friends spent a lot of time in Germany in the service, during Gulf Storm I. Another studied to be a Russian linguist/interrogator prior to this, at the tail end of the Cold War.
In 7th Grade I won 2nd place in a VFW essay contest; “What my country means to me.” I should type it up for you guys, because the Cold War propaganda was rolling off of my lips. Those evil Russians! They’ll take our porridge and women and cats!
- Daniel
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One of the best things about getting older is know I get closer and closer to an age where I can’t get called up.
I wrote a report as a Jr. in school. This was long before the internet, so I called the (See, eye, ayyy) from the front of the telephone book, since all the stuff in the library was either ancient or fiction on the topic. They periodically call me and remind me of my shoe size, natural hair color, D.O.B. and tax status…. I should have settled for a lame report and crummy grade.
Is a calculator or abacus a weapon of Math destruction?
Leave the porridge, take the cats…