So, there we are. The good, the bad and the ugly. One weak mustache.
I must be standing in a hole. Guy in the middle disappeared. Still looking for him. Here he peers over his shoulder for border guards and German shepherds.
Found my buddy on the right after almost fifty years. Retired as a government scientist, a Ph.D. who roamed the world helping folks feed themselves.
Damn impressive career post-military. Me not so much.
Fifty meters equals 164.041995 feet. We were that close to The Iron Curtain. Military regulations – supposed to stay outside a five-kilometer zone. Achtung!
Five kilometers equals three-point-one miles. We’re lucky we didn’t get shot or bit in the ass.
Our entire cadre were rebels, demonstrated smart guys who gave the sergeants and young lieutenants fits as we tried to see what we could get away with. Not too much. Just enough. Always worth the effort.
Apparently, madras clothing was still in style – at least at the Post Exchange clothing department – so maybe this is 1967.
Turns out dodging the draft by joining the United States Air Force was a savvy move. Bulk of our service was spent in northern Bavaria. Wasn’t fun, but nobody shot at me.
Except that one drunk husband.
Pack of cigarettes cost seventeen cents. Hot dog with onions and mayo fifteen cents. Nice glass of draft bier just a quarter. Not much more for a movie. A fifth of Kentucky Belle whiskey at the Class Six store for a dollar-seventy.
The value of a dollar was four Deutsche marks. Part of the explanation for many an old soldier’s nostalgia.
Worked four on, one off, four on, one off, four on, four off. Shift work. So we learned to drink for breakfast after a graveyard shift.
Get off a swing shift, you could pick up the women Army guys had been plying with cognac and champagne all evening.
Kiss the grunts goodbye minutes before soldiers’ curfew, freshen their faces and armpits for the airmen to arrive shortly thereafter.
Four days free every fortnight or so, you could be in Scandinavia or France or Switzerland and back before anybody missed you.
Can’t tell you how many museums and churches I didn’t visit.
Don’t remember a single day in uniform that was easy.
We won the Cold War. Let’s keep it won.
Update. Heard from the Doc. No surprise his memory is better than mine. He recalls we were surprised to see the guards using Dobermans.
Also heard from the photo taker:”Taken just after the Soviet invasion of Czechoslovakia, August 1968. As you so eloquently stated in your response, the four of us were pushing our luck – trying to see what the border activity was, who was trying to get over, where the next beer would be served – that sort of important reconnaissance work.”