<html><head><meta http-equiv="content-type" content="text/html; charset=utf-8"></head><body dir="auto"><div dir="ltr"><span></span></div><div dir="ltr"><meta http-equiv="content-type" content="text/html; charset=utf-8"><div dir="ltr"><span></span></div><div dir="ltr"><meta http-equiv="content-type" content="text/html; charset=utf-8"><div dir="ltr"><span></span></div><div dir="ltr"><span>While munching breakfast rolls and sipping on a cup of coffee this morning, I began reminiscing about my Army days. I thought I might share some of these memories with you.</span><br><span></span><br><span>Back in 1971/2, while assigned to the 504th Maintenance Company, Muna Kaserne (Bamberg, Germany) . . .</span><br><span></span><br><span>I became friends with several of the guys. Johnny Parcelle and I became running buddies.</span><br><span></span><br><span>There are a couple things I can share (decades after the statute of limitations had expired).</span><br><span></span><br><span>- Back then, troops were allowed to smoke in the mess hall. There were ashtrays on every table. More often than not, there was a bowl of tea bags next to these ashtrays. One afternoon, right after finishing our lunch, Johnny and I decided to mess with the mess hall. So we extracted the ground tea from a few of the tea bags into the ashtray, lit it, and walked off. (FYI: Smoldering tea leaves smell exactly like marijuana). Within an hour, the mess hall was crawling with MPI asking all kinds of stupid questions. Nothing ever came of it, though.</span><br><span></span><br><span>- A few months (maybe a year) later Johnny and I broke into the TO&E shed (behind the barracks) and appropriated (OK, we stole) several cases of C-rations. We took them to a small lake/pond a mile or two behind Muna and buried them, where (unless some wildlife dug them up) they remain to this day. By the next morning, the CO was greeted by a couple CID guys. The CID stuck around for about a week or so, asking questions. Johnny, held a piece of paper by its edges, approached one of the CID agents and told the agent that he (Johnny) had found the paper outside the TO&E shed and that maybe there are some fingerprints on it. Like the teabag caper, nothing came of this either.</span><br><span></span><br><span>I seriously believe that being assigned to the gate at Muna was some form of punishment imposed against the MPs. As Muna was a single-unit outpost, we had fun messing with the gate guard.</span><br><span></span><br><span>There was a group of us that got together most days after work in one of the barracks rooms and partied so regularly that it became second nature, almost like morning formation. Parties that started on Friday, on some occasions, wouldn’t end until Sunday afternoon.</span><br><span></span><br><span>Those were the days.</span></div><div dir="ltr"><span><br></span></div><div dir="ltr"><span>Some day I’ll hafta share my memories of what Rodna and I did/witnessed while I was assigned to the 802nd Engineer Battalion, Camp Humphreys (Anjong-Ri, Korea).</span></div><div dir="ltr"><span><br></span></div><div dir="ltr"><span>Till then . . .</span></div><div dir="ltr"><br></div><div dir="ltr"><div><span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">Seeya 'round town, Moscow, because . . .</span></div><div><span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><br></span></div><div><span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">"Moscow Cares" (the most fun you can have with your pants on)</span></div><div><a href="http://www.moscowcares.com/" style="caret-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><font color="#000000">http://www.MoscowCares.com</font></a></div><div><span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"> </span></div><div><div><span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">Tom Hansen</span></div><div><span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">Moscow, Idaho</span></div></div><span></span><br><span></span><br><span></span><br></div></div></div></body></html>