Permit me to ask you, my readership, to welcome another LRRP (pronounced Lurp) who joined the asknod Win or Die Club this week. Say Hi to Eric. The entry fee was his IHD from too much AO for breakfast. To give you an idea of what timber Eric’s cut from, let me share his redacted 214-215 below. He’s buddies with Ed the LRRP I wrote about earlier this Fall. Seems I’m a little bit like them. I didn’t get any of my medals when I separated either.
I was peeved I was shown the exit prior to my parade and medal presentation. It took me 43 years to extract them from the cold, deadly hands of the USAF. Ed the LRRP had buddies he served with and his commanding officer who put him in for a Silver Star back in 2014. He was my neighbor for a few years and just moved down to the south Portland Willamette River exurbs. We did lunch together at Fall NOVA this year. Ed’s the one who sends me lots of the funny stuff I put on here. Unfortunately, Ed’s filter is broken so I have to vet his submittals. When you actually survive a war with a few dings and holes, your perspective changes. A good car becomes one which can do 140. You become bulletproof right up until the time when you discover you aren’t. You think humor is how you look at it. I agree. I sat down one day for lunch in LS 15 Ban Nam on a stack of body bags because it was softer than sitting on the ground. What the hey? The folks were dead. They made damn good furniture. If I’d had more time, I could have fashioned a crudely shaped recliner. Rigor mortis hadn’t set in yet. Necessitas est ingenii mater.
Back in our day, in Vietnam (in the Army), the Commander got a Silver Star for hunkering down in the TOC during the firefight with two flak vests on-with one fashioned like a diaper. The platoon commander (Slats) would get the Bronze Star and the Grunt usually got an Army Commendation Medal-with the Squad Leader maybe getting a V for valor on it. Murphy was entirely correct in positing that Shit rolls downhill- mostly to your disadvantage. Call it Military Politics. Nowadays, every Dick and Jane with an O-2 or higher rating seems to garner a Bronze Star just for a 30- minute layover to refuel in Balad. Shoot. Look at Senator Lyndsey Graham ( no relationship to me). He was a lawyer over there for a month and has a Bronze Star. They all have Berets to make them feel “inclusive” and elite. They still have “I was there” medals to pump up morale, too. Shoot, I forgot to mention Combat Action Badges saying you were within 90 miles of the front line and could actually hear the artillery. No, I’m just kidding. War is Hell. Vietnam was just a speshull kind of hell with 15 year old food.
Of course, now that I did the right thing for Eric, he belatedly decided to mention the right hand he took the AK round through is getting funky. It’s hard to use a fork and he sometimes looses the spoon to the peripheral neuropathy. His PTSD is getting worse because.. well, hell watch the news is why. Everybody wants to sell their digs in California before they burn or the ice creme melts and move up to… Idaho. There goes Eric’s neighborhood. After all this, I’m guessing he’s a candidate for TDIU so we’re going to cut some young bamboo and dig us a VA Punji pit. I love VA poker.
I’d like to wish you all a very happy Thanksgiving. Cupcake and I had some ups and downs with the cancer (her) and the kidneys(me). The wheel in the sky will keep on turning and I’m pretty sure we all will too. I’d give my left nut to get fifty more years of torturing the Department of Veterans Appeals. I never thought it would be the left kidney. Considering I never thought I’d get out of Southeast Asia alive, this added time to my life is all gravy.