Ft Bragg in 1978. Me on the left. I can't remember the guy on the right. We lived in these WWII barracks just next to Pope AFB. I would stand on the top of the fire escape ladder and read Richard III aloud to the guys below drinking beer. "What glorious summer this son of York..."
The latrine had six toilets without any partitions. Something that took a while to get over. A Staff Sergeant, who I would never think about twice as a Brat, was God. He could make my life a misery. Same with the mail clerk and mess hall sergeant. These were people you didn't screw around with.
I felt like I had fallen from some sort of grace as a college freshman to these circumstances. I do not recommend it to any Brat. However, I'm damned glad I did it.
2 comments:
Got here via my avoid work moment; writing a blog post on cell phone broadcasting live.
Left Ft. Bragg in 1975. No reup, 82nd ABN said, "Bye don't let door hit you in the ass." I had too much fun. Great photo.
-fairuse
fairuse- Thanks for goofing off here. We called it 'ghosting' or 'skating' back at Bragg.
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