| General Non-Fiction posted April 5, 2021 |
  |
A recent encounter with an old friend
Small World
by bhogg
I was scheduled to pick my wife up in two hours. It seemed awkward to go back home and then circle back. The American Legion was on the way, so I decided to stop. Not something I'd ever done. I am an Army veteran, so could join, but never did. No worry, the sign outside said two things, 'Coldest Beer in Town' and 'All are Welcome'. Sounded good to me.
It was only four in the afternoon, but the place was quite full. It looked like my best bet was to sit at the bar. Putting my hand on a stool, I asked the patron sitting there, "Hi, friend. Is this seat taken?"
"Nope. I've been sitting here for half-an-hour waiting for a pretty girl to ask the same question." With a grin, he continued, "Doesn't look like it's going to happen."
I ordered a draft beer and asked the guy next to me, "I've never been here. Is this place always this busy so early in the afternoon?"
After a sip of beer, he said, "I don't know. This is the first time I've visited. My wife and I are staying at the resort down the road. The bar there is probably the stuffiest one I've ever been to in my life, and they are proud of their booze. Beer costs six bucks for a small effete glass. Here, during happy hour, it's two bucks for a mug!"
With that we clinked mugs and toasted our common frugality.
"So, if you're not from here, where is home?"
"I'm from Moultrie, GA, and you?"
"I live right here in Fairhope, Alabama, but call Georgia my real home." Clinking mugs, once again, I said, "My name is Bill."
"Hey, Bill, my name is John."
I studied his face. No, I thought, it couldn't be. "John from Moultrie, you last name isn't Norman, is it?"
He looked puzzled and said, "Yes, it is. Let me see, Bill from Georgia, it wouldn't be from LaGrange, GA, would it?"
We both smiled, because we knew that we were in that extreme zone...that one, where you both know it really is a small world."
I broke the silence. "John...basic training together at Fort Knox, Kentucky. Lord, that was almost fifty years ago." That caused another clink of mugs.
He said, "This is unbelievable. During that time, I've only come across one other of our class, Steve Phillips. He and I both went to Military Police Training at Fort Gordon. We were both happy when we saw the assignment sheet posted because it said you were headed there too."
"I saw as well, but the Army works in mysterious ways. Someone at Fort Knox, pulled my sheet and had me assigned to the Personnel Division right there on post. I never even went to any type of advanced training. Just quick and dirty, on the job training. I suppose some advantage of being drafted...No promised training."
"So," I asked. "Where did you and Steve wind up after your MP training? Lots of bad places in those days."
"We lucked up and both wound up in Mannheim, Germany."
"You've got to be kidding! I wound up less than thirty minutes south of you in Heidelberg. Close enough for a reunion if we only knew."
This was enough for another clink of mugs and a reorder. This time it was for a pitcher. It only cost five dollars.
After our refills, John asked, "Did you wind up seeing any of our other guys after Basic?"
"Believe it or not, I ran into Sunshine at a bar in San Francisco." Sunshine was our nickname for this guy from Southeast, Georgia. He worked at a large bakery and one of their primary products was Sunshine bread. Forest Gump had Bubba to tell everything about shrimp. Our guy told us more about bread than we ever cared to know. He was also living proof of the inadequacy of testing to enter the Army. He was dumb as a brick.
"What were the two of you doing in San Francisco?"
"Long story for me, but I was at the Oakland Army Terminal headed to Vietnam and wound up being diverted to Germany. Sunshine was stationed at the Presidio, right out of San Francisco. Like me, he had no advanced training at all." I asked him what he did. He said, "Ah, not much. Paint a bunch of rocks white and cut grass. Being at the barracks at the Presidio is like being in San Francisco on an expense account...Now who's the dumb one?"
"Oh, tell me he didn't say that!"
"Oh yeah, maybe he wasn't so dumb after all."
We both paused and took a few sips. John asked, "Do you remember that first big barracks inspection we had with the Colonel?"
Smiling, I said, "How could I forget?"
"That Colonel was going down the line, I guess making small talk with all us grunts. He asked me, 'what did you do before the Army?' Sir, I was a mail carrier. He then said, 'That's good, that's good.' He asked you, you said, 'Sir, I managed a clothing store.' 'Oh,that's simply fine, just fine. He then got to Tommy Lee. 'And what did you do young man? His answer, as only Tommy could pull off, 'I was a pimp in Chicago, Suh.' 'That's good, really good.'"
We both laughed. I finally said, "What I remember is the Drill Sergeant looking us both in the eye. That look said it all...Don't you dare laugh."
The laughter and bantering on old times caused us to take a few more sips. I hadn't thought about Tommy in quite a while. What a character. A big, tall, muscular black guy from Chicago. He had one of the best natural physiques I'd ever seen. You would have thought he worked out all the time. Quite the contrary. He was lazy as mud. In fact, if they gave out master's degrees on lazy, Tommy would have one.
"Hey, John, I know Tommy was on the assignment sheet for combat infantry training down at Fort Benning. Any idea what happened to him?"
"I heard he was sent to Vietnam and got killed."
"Oh no, that's terrible. Any idea how?"
"Apparently, he was on a detail to unload a C-130 at the airport. He took a break by crawling into the shade under a truck. The driver went to move the truck, ran over Tommy and killed him."
We were both silent for a long while. I finally said, "You know, Tommy was in a foreign war zone, serving his country and he died. Let's toast to Tommy."
I was scheduled to pick my wife up in two hours. It seemed awkward to go back home and then circle back. The American Legion was on the way, so I decided to stop. Not something I'd ever done. I am an Army veteran, so could join, but never did. No worry, the sign outside said two things, 'Coldest Beer in Town' and 'All are Welcome'. Sounded good to me.
It was only four in the afternoon, but the place was quite full. It looked like my best bet was to sit at the bar. Putting my hand on a stool, I asked the patron sitting there, "Hi, friend. Is this seat taken?"
"Nope. I've been sitting here for half-an-hour waiting for a pretty girl to ask the same question." With a grin, he continued, "Doesn't look like it's going to happen."
I ordered a draft beer and asked the guy next to me, "I've never been here. Is this place always this busy so early in the afternoon?"
After a sip of beer, he said, "I don't know. This is the first time I've visited. My wife and I are staying at the resort down the road. The bar there is probably the stuffiest one I've ever been to in my life, and they are proud of their booze. Beer costs six bucks for a small effete glass. Here, during happy hour, it's two bucks for a mug!"
With that we clinked mugs and toasted our common frugality.
"So, if you're not from here, where is home?"
"I'm from Moultrie, GA, and you?"
"I live right here in Fairhope, Alabama, but call Georgia my real home." Clinking mugs, once again, I said, "My name is Bill."
"Hey, Bill, my name is John."
I studied his face. No, I thought, it couldn't be. "John from Moultrie, you last name isn't Norman, is it?"
He looked puzzled and said, "Yes, it is. Let me see, Bill from Georgia, it wouldn't be from LaGrange, GA, would it?"
We both smiled, because we knew that we were in that extreme zone...that one, where you both know it really is a small world."
I broke the silence. "John...basic training together at Fort Knox, Kentucky. Lord, that was almost fifty years ago." That caused another clink of mugs.
He said, "This is unbelievable. During that time, I've only come across one other of our class, Steve Phillips. He and I both went to Military Police Training at Fort Gordon. We were both happy when we saw the assignment sheet posted because it said you were headed there too."
"I saw as well, but the Army works in mysterious ways. Someone at Fort Knox, pulled my sheet and had me assigned to the Personnel Division right there on post. I never even went to any type of advanced training. Just quick and dirty, on the job training. I suppose some advantage of being drafted...No promised training."
"So," I asked. "Where did you and Steve wind up after your MP training? Lots of bad places in those days."
"We lucked up and both wound up in Mannheim, Germany."
"You've got to be kidding! I wound up less than thirty minutes south of you in Heidelberg. Close enough for a reunion if we only knew."
This was enough for another clink of mugs and a reorder. This time it was for a pitcher. It only cost five dollars.
After our refills, John asked, "Did you wind up seeing any of our other guys after Basic?"
"Believe it or not, I ran into Sunshine at a bar in San Francisco." Sunshine was our nickname for this guy from Southeast, Georgia. He worked at a large bakery and one of their primary products was Sunshine bread. Forest Gump had Bubba to tell everything about shrimp. Our guy told us more about bread than we ever cared to know. He was also living proof of the inadequacy of testing to enter the Army. He was dumb as a brick.
"What were the two of you doing in San Francisco?"
"Long story for me, but I was at the Oakland Army Terminal headed to Vietnam and wound up being diverted to Germany. Sunshine was stationed at the Presidio, right out of San Francisco. Like me, he had no advanced training at all." I asked him what he did. He said, "Ah, not much. Paint a bunch of rocks white and cut grass. Being at the barracks at the Presidio is like being in San Francisco on an expense account...Now who's the dumb one?"
"Oh, tell me he didn't say that!"
"Oh yeah, maybe he wasn't so dumb after all."
We both paused and took a few sips. John asked, "Do you remember that first big barracks inspection we had with the Colonel?"
Smiling, I said, "How could I forget?"
"That Colonel was going down the line, I guess making small talk with all us grunts. He asked me, 'what did you do before the Army?' Sir, I was a mail carrier. He then said, 'That's good, that's good.' He asked you, you said, 'Sir, I managed a clothing store.' 'Oh,that's simply fine, just fine. He then got to Tommy Lee. 'And what did you do young man? His answer, as only Tommy could pull off, 'I was a pimp in Chicago, Suh.' 'That's good, really good.'"
We both laughed. I finally said, "What I remember is the Drill Sergeant looking us both in the eye. That look said it all...Don't you dare laugh."
The laughter and bantering on old times caused us to take a few more sips. I hadn't thought about Tommy in quite a while. What a character. A big, tall, muscular black guy from Chicago. He had one of the best natural physiques I'd ever seen. You would have thought he worked out all the time. Quite the contrary. He was lazy as mud. In fact, if they gave out master's degrees on lazy, Tommy would have one.
"Hey, John, I know Tommy was on the assignment sheet for combat infantry training down at Fort Benning. Any idea what happened to him?"
"I heard he was sent to Vietnam and got killed."
"Oh no, that's terrible. Any idea how?"
"Apparently, he was on a detail to unload a C-130 at the airport. He took a break by crawling into the shade under a truck. The driver went to move the truck, ran over Tommy and killed him."
We were both silent for a long while. I finally said, "You know, Tommy was in a foreign war zone, serving his country and he died. Let's toast to Tommy."
It was only four in the afternoon, but the place was quite full. It looked like my best bet was to sit at the bar. Putting my hand on a stool, I asked the patron sitting there, "Hi, friend. Is this seat taken?"
"Nope. I've been sitting here for half-an-hour waiting for a pretty girl to ask the same question." With a grin, he continued, "Doesn't look like it's going to happen."
I ordered a draft beer and asked the guy next to me, "I've never been here. Is this place always this busy so early in the afternoon?"
After a sip of beer, he said, "I don't know. This is the first time I've visited. My wife and I are staying at the resort down the road. The bar there is probably the stuffiest one I've ever been to in my life, and they are proud of their booze. Beer costs six bucks for a small effete glass. Here, during happy hour, it's two bucks for a mug!"
With that we clinked mugs and toasted our common frugality.
"So, if you're not from here, where is home?"
"I'm from Moultrie, GA, and you?"
"I live right here in Fairhope, Alabama, but call Georgia my real home." Clinking mugs, once again, I said, "My name is Bill."
"Hey, Bill, my name is John."
I studied his face. No, I thought, it couldn't be. "John from Moultrie, you last name isn't Norman, is it?"
He looked puzzled and said, "Yes, it is. Let me see, Bill from Georgia, it wouldn't be from LaGrange, GA, would it?"
We both smiled, because we knew that we were in that extreme zone...that one, where you both know it really is a small world."
I broke the silence. "John...basic training together at Fort Knox, Kentucky. Lord, that was almost fifty years ago." That caused another clink of mugs.
He said, "This is unbelievable. During that time, I've only come across one other of our class, Steve Phillips. He and I both went to Military Police Training at Fort Gordon. We were both happy when we saw the assignment sheet posted because it said you were headed there too."
"I saw as well, but the Army works in mysterious ways. Someone at Fort Knox, pulled my sheet and had me assigned to the Personnel Division right there on post. I never even went to any type of advanced training. Just quick and dirty, on the job training. I suppose some advantage of being drafted...No promised training."
"So," I asked. "Where did you and Steve wind up after your MP training? Lots of bad places in those days."
"We lucked up and both wound up in Mannheim, Germany."
"You've got to be kidding! I wound up less than thirty minutes south of you in Heidelberg. Close enough for a reunion if we only knew."
This was enough for another clink of mugs and a reorder. This time it was for a pitcher. It only cost five dollars.
After our refills, John asked, "Did you wind up seeing any of our other guys after Basic?"
"Believe it or not, I ran into Sunshine at a bar in San Francisco." Sunshine was our nickname for this guy from Southeast, Georgia. He worked at a large bakery and one of their primary products was Sunshine bread. Forest Gump had Bubba to tell everything about shrimp. Our guy told us more about bread than we ever cared to know. He was also living proof of the inadequacy of testing to enter the Army. He was dumb as a brick.
"What were the two of you doing in San Francisco?"
"Long story for me, but I was at the Oakland Army Terminal headed to Vietnam and wound up being diverted to Germany. Sunshine was stationed at the Presidio, right out of San Francisco. Like me, he had no advanced training at all." I asked him what he did. He said, "Ah, not much. Paint a bunch of rocks white and cut grass. Being at the barracks at the Presidio is like being in San Francisco on an expense account...Now who's the dumb one?"
"Oh, tell me he didn't say that!"
"Oh yeah, maybe he wasn't so dumb after all."
We both paused and took a few sips. John asked, "Do you remember that first big barracks inspection we had with the Colonel?"
Smiling, I said, "How could I forget?"
"That Colonel was going down the line, I guess making small talk with all us grunts. He asked me, 'what did you do before the Army?' Sir, I was a mail carrier. He then said, 'That's good, that's good.' He asked you, you said, 'Sir, I managed a clothing store.' 'Oh,that's simply fine, just fine. He then got to Tommy Lee. 'And what did you do young man? His answer, as only Tommy could pull off, 'I was a pimp in Chicago, Suh.' 'That's good, really good.'"
We both laughed. I finally said, "What I remember is the Drill Sergeant looking us both in the eye. That look said it all...Don't you dare laugh."
The laughter and bantering on old times caused us to take a few more sips. I hadn't thought about Tommy in quite a while. What a character. A big, tall, muscular black guy from Chicago. He had one of the best natural physiques I'd ever seen. You would have thought he worked out all the time. Quite the contrary. He was lazy as mud. In fact, if they gave out master's degrees on lazy, Tommy would have one.
"Hey, John, I know Tommy was on the assignment sheet for combat infantry training down at Fort Benning. Any idea what happened to him?"
"I heard he was sent to Vietnam and got killed."
"Oh no, that's terrible. Any idea how?"
"Apparently, he was on a detail to unload a C-130 at the airport. He took a break by crawling into the shade under a truck. The driver went to move the truck, ran over Tommy and killed him."
We were both silent for a long while. I finally said, "You know, Tommy was in a foreign war zone, serving his country and he died. Let's toast to Tommy."
 Recognized |
A recent encounter. Funny how happy can turn to sad on a dime.
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