Conference quark::mennotes-v1

    
    I started a law-enforcement course but had to stop because of the
    demands of this job. 
    I do know what your talking about. I was told that if I or my partner
    were to take a shotgun blast in the gut it would be our fault.
    You have to be aware of potential danger long before it starts.
    Usually from the first day of any law-enforcement it is instilled
    in you to be aware, to be always on the gaurd. It's not paranoia,
    it's just a way to never have to show up at your partners house
    and tell his wife he won't be home...ever. Or have him have to face
    your wife with the same news.
    Because of my piercing blue eyes I was advised to donn sunglasses
    whenever possible. Partly to avoid giving people the impression
    you spoke of and partly to avoid intimidating people.
    Going through the course opened my eyes to a lot of cop-like behaviour
    that I didn't quite understand before. It also scared the sh*t out
    of my wife when she started to realize the potential danger I could
    be in.
    I don't think it'd be very easy to change these habits once aquired
    either. 
    I do know what you mean Bob.
    
    Rob Burton
    

    I don't know if I qualify, I'm not a combat vet or a cop, but I
    grew up with gang wars, small compared to big cities, 5 = gang in
    Walsenburg, Colo., but I was always watching my back side so another
    gang wouldn't come up behind me.  Now, I try to keep my back to
    a wall.  Its not as intense, but it exists.
    
    Spence

Well I do understand what you mean, at least partially. I study Karate, and
my teacher is ALWAYS stressing the development of peripheral vision. Mine
is lousy. 

As to the other, I lived in NY for awhile in a none to safe neighborhood and
I developed a very fine sense of what was dangerous. (Empty subway cars,
elevators, dark streets, poorer areas often = dangerous areas, being to 
obvious, ect.) I found that after I moved to (much) safer Mass. that I 
relaxed very quickly. However when I visit the city the reflexes come back.

-vicki

    Yes, reflexes (involuntary) borne of bad times.
    
    I slammed a car door on a guy's thumb once. I notice where
    peoples hands are in relation to the door now and I wince
    involuntarily when I see a close call. even if the folks
    concerned don't see it.
    
    Combat reflexes are an interesting subject. Ther was a guy
    in my Reserve Infantry unit that had quite a combat background.
    Airborne, Ranger and Special Forces, among other little things
    that don't get talked about much. One of tours in 'Nam was
    with a LRP team. His first marriage ended because he was away
    from home too much. On the night of his second marriage, he
    laid down on the bed while his bride went in the bathroom to
    change. When she emerged, he was asleep. She walked over to
    him to shake him awake. By the time he realized where he was
    and what was happening, he had her by the throat; up against
    the wall and had hit her three times. 
    
    I never lean over someone and touch a shoulder to wake them.
    
    Bob Mc
    

    RE .5
    
    	I learned early as a kid *never* to wake my dad by touching
    or shaking him.  When woken up he jumps to his feet with fists
    clenched.  The most common method we used was to toss pillows at
    him from a safe distance.
    	My dad was in the Strategic Air Command from '52-'56.  I Don't
    know what it did to him but he swears his wake up problem is a direct
    result.
    						=Ralph=

    My wife works with a guy who spent time in Viet Nam and now, whenever
    he smells blood, he goes totally berserk.
    
    RE waking a person
    If I can't arouse them by loud yelling, I grab a toe and shake it.
    Never stand within reach of them.  I like the pillow idea 8-).
    Luckily, I don't have waking problems.  When I start to snore, my
    wife gently pushes on me until I roll over.  Sometimes she has to
    gently shake my shoulder to wake me and I awaken slowly, like I'm
    coming out of a deep hole.  The one time that I remember hitting her
    was the result of a nightmare.  She touched me and I clouted her
    in the chin in an attempt to protect my face.  I don't even remember
    the dream.  Another time, I dreamed that my pillow was covered with
    spiders and her hair tickled my face.  I damn near tore the closet
    door down trying to get away.  I am deathly afraid of spiders. 
    I had a friend who related a story of Thailand.  One of his roomies
    had purchased a stuffed cobra, came back late that night and set
    the cobra on a table next to the bed.  Another roomie, sleeping
    on the bottom bunk, awoke during the night and spied the cobra,
    in a striking position, and broke an arm and a leg trying to get
    away from it.  He didn't know it was stuffed.
    
    My point:
    You can never tell what's in the mind of a sleeping person.  You
    have to assume the worst when waking them.  I'd rather dream of
    spiders than being attacked by Charlie.
    
    Spence

    I have a military background and am aware that I take a lot of little
    defensive steps: Like the write of the base note I like to sit with
    my back to a wall, and have a view of the door (my managers get used
    to the fact that my cube needs a redesign every time we move so I can
    achieve this :-)
    
    Like I always look out of my windows and check out my car before going
    out to it. Like I never leave to or from work at quite the same time,
    often change routes. I look the car over as I approch it, and check
    if anybody has been inside it before climbing in (its a Jeep, so the
    door doesn't lock). I also check the parking lot of my condo for suspicous
    characters several times a night (one of the joys of the place is that
    it is flood lit!)
    
    However: an anecdote.
    
    I attended DECUS at Dallas last year, and by mid-week felt in need of
    some good Country music. So I left the hotel and got the taxi to take
    me to a place I'd had recomended by the hotel. Place turned out to be
    a dump, so I decided to walk back to town - it couldn't be far I figured,
    as I could see the hotel on the sky line, and it was still about an
    hour of sunset.
    
    I was wrong folks - it was 8 miles - I got back after 8 by which time
    it was dark and raining.
    
    I told the hotel barman where I had walked from and he proceded to tell
    me I must be mad - I had walked through the roughest part of Dallas,
    where muggings were a nightly sport. Howver I "walked smart" - I was
    aware of people in the shadows, I kept clear of walls and doorways,
    I kept a constant vigilance (well I could claim I was looking for a
    taxi, but after the first 15 minutes that wasn't true), I remained ready 
    to act, and I never needed to.
    
    I saw some research material a while back that showed that muggers almost
    intuitively pick victims who will be easy: perhaps the Dallas muggers
    spotted that I wouldn't have been (I was armed with a walking cane,
    this is often a sign of weakness, but it depends how you hold it.) I'm 
    also 180 lbs and a 5th Dan at the military flavor of Tae Kwon Do.
                                               
    Also I should say somebody once did try to mug me - In London. I had
    just taken money from an ATM machine, and this unsavoury character thought
    I should donate it to his favorite charity. I broke his arm and jaw with 
    my walking cane - he was trying to put a knife between my ribs at the 
    time. But then taking money from a cash machine in a public place
    definitely is not "walking samrt"!
    
    
    /. Ian .\

    Re.  Wakeing people up
    
     An old friend, who was with the Army Special Forces (Green Bennies)
     got into a conversation about this subject. Seems that his group
     got attached to a reg unit for a wile for what ever reason. Shortly
     after they arrived ,one night, one of the regulars went into their
     tent to wake one up for a guard watch. Unfortunly no one ever told
     him about how to wake these guys and he grabbed the sleeping mans
     sholder to wake him.
    
     This pataculer person sleeped with his hand on a knife under his
     pillow. The sleeping man came up and knifed the man as soon as he
     shook him, and then became fully awake just afterwards, saw what
     happened and began to admister first aid. The mess went to a court
     marshal and the sleeping man was exhonerated on the basis that
     a person was legaly not responable for his actions for the first
     30 - 45 seconds after he is awoken.
    
    As a side note one of the first things we learned in the Navy, was
    never touch a sleeping person, if you must wake him, shake the base
    of the bed (where his feet are) one or twice and then stand back
    and call their name. This way you advoided the problem of being
    in the way of someone charging out of the bed.
    
    One other funny one was eather aseep or awake the one sound you were
    dialed into on a combat ship was the general quarters alarm (the one
    that went bong bong bong). My now ex wife when we were married went
    out and bought this new fancy alarm clock. Well she set it for the
    morning and of course the rascal goes off and sounds just like a
    GQ alarm. I came out of the bed running and grabbing for my clothes
    just like I was back on ship. Once I realised where I was I went
    back over to the clock, picked it up and tossed it out the window.
    Needless to say it upset my wife but then I told her you can get
    one that buzzes or beeps or whatever, but I was determined never
    to wake to that sound in my own house.
    
                                   Bob B 
     

    On a somewhat related topic:
    
    Are any of you bothered by the helicoptors? These days the pilots
    approach MK differently but the first few years mk was open they
    used to come in from the north, low over the trees. I happened to
    be out for a walk the first time I heard one come in right over
    me. The adrenaline level went sky high when I heard the chop sound.
    I'm a bit more adapted at this point but occaisionally it will still
    bring the adrenaline rush.
    
    Denny

RE: < Note 69.5 >
    
>    Combat reflexes are an interesting subject. Ther was a guy
>    in my Reserve Infantry unit that had quite a combat background.
>    Airborne, Ranger and Special Forces, among other little things
>    that don't get talked about much. One of tours in 'Nam was
>    with a LRP team. His first marriage ended because he was away
>    from home too much. On the night of his second marriage, he
>    laid down on the bed while his bride went in the bathroom to
>    change. When she emerged, he was asleep. She walked over to
>    him to shake him awake. By the time he realized where he was
>    and what was happening, he had her by the throat; up against
>    the wall and had hit her three times. 

    In the conference UCOUNT::VETERANS, there is a discussion about
    why it is so easy for people to believe this sort of tale, 
    especially when presented on the news as part of the background
    data on some psychotic.  What kind of a society assumes that
    it's practitioners of military arts and crafts are all like
    Rambo?  Does it seem fair to the former serious soldiers who
    are now well-adjusted non-soldiers to sling such stereotypes
    this casually? 

    Can a woman add something here?  A man who had many of these combat 
    habits stayed with us once.  His brothers got creamed more
    than once when waking him and so did his  girlfriends.
    
    He was a most gentle man when awake, very kind and generous,...
    ...unless you made him mad.  It was difficult to get him to that
    point but I saw it once.  He HAD to react.  He couldn't seem to
    help it.  He turned around and picked up the kitchen stove....I came in
    the room and saw what was happening and yelled 
    "Mike, no..it's gas..it will blow up"  ....
    and he put the stove down, walked in the other room and 
    punched out a two inch thick safety glass window.  
    
    It was the scariest thing I ever saw.  It scared the hell out of me.  
    All the time I was driving him to the emergency room I was shaking 
    and crying.  I don't even know why I'm telling you about it except 
    that,...he really couldn't help it,..I really believe that,...and the
    other thing is,...I never really stopped being afraid of him,...and I
    guess I really couldn't help that either.
                               

    RE .13
>    What kind of a society assumes that
>    it's practitioners of military arts and crafts are all like
>    Rambo?  Does it seem fair to the former serious soldiers who
>    are now well-adjusted non-soldiers to sling such stereotypes
>    this casually?          
 
    The vets who are well adjusted are not noticed.  The ones with the
    "Viet Nam Syndrome" ARE noticed.  Like the newspaper, which sells
    more papers, "Joe Blow dies in car wreck" or "Joe Blow safely drove
    to Denver"?  I don't think our society assumes that all vets are
    Rambos, that would be a pretty narrow minded society.  I don't think
    of them as stereotypes, but interesting cases.  I feel sorry for
    combat vets because of what they went through, but I don't assume
    that they are raving killers because of it.  I know of many well
    adjusted vets, but I can only think of one mild case of the "Syndrome".
    He told me that he has to stay busy or the memories will drive him
    nuts.  I can well imagine.  He's got a reputation as a chatterbox
    and can't sit still for a minute.  
    
    But, you are right, it should be pointed out that these people are
    definitely a minority.  The majority of vets are coping very well.
    I think (hope) that most people here would view this topic in interest
    and maybe learning about an experience that many of us have never
    been through.  I would hope that no one would view it as stereotypical
    of all vets.  In fact, I am a Viet Nam vet, but I have never seen
    combat.  I have never seen Viet Nam, thank God.  I am a Viet Nam
    vet simply because I served during that time period.
                                                 
    Spence
    

    There are really two separate things being talked about here:
    
    The cat like caution, always taking precautions is simply the ingrained
    trade craft of whatever service you were in - it never really goes away,
    but it really does no harm in most cases. A little caution, even if
    learned unpleasantly, can even save your life.
    
    The second is the "fight reaction" the vet that goes into total combat
    on being awakened, or pushed over the top. This is a known, recognizable,
    and treatable psychological condition. It can be dangerous if not treated
    because in extremis people suffering this way may kill someone (it does
    occasionally happen). The man in the previous note who punched through
    2" of glass could have delivered that punch against the nearest human
    being - and that much power is a lethal blow in many parts of the body.
             
    There is a well documented case from WWII of a British Commando who
    after completing advanced training went home on a 48 hour pass. On the
    first night he was resting in front of the fire, with a glass of beer
    when his 7 year old daughter sneaked up behind him, covered his eyes
    with her hands and said "guess who".
    
    He killed her in pure react mode response. (A single blow delivered
    as he turned, and before he had time to recognize his "attacker"). 
    
    Such behaviour might be desirable in war time, but after service is
    over it is anything but a survival trait. Or perhaps it merely shows
    how little man has progressed from his animal ancestors, and the miltary
    training causes a few people to regress to the state of wariness and
    fight-readiness of their ancestors.
    
    /. Ian .\                                        
    

    RE: .15  "stateside vets"
    
    I, too, served during that "era", but never got any closer than
    California.  I do NOT consider myself a "Viet Nam Vet".
    
    
    

    re .13
    
    Since I am the one that placed that account in here, you will
    just have to take my word that the individual concerned told
    me the tale as fact about himself. I DID NOT read it in a 
    newspaper! I had no reason not to believe the individual. We
    had a sufficient amount of evidence concerning his background
    to believe that his stories about his past (that he was willing
    to tell 8-)), were accurate.
    
    Bob_E8_mc
    

    RE .17                                               
>        I, too, served during that "era", but never got any closer than
>    California.  I do NOT consider myself a "Viet Nam Vet".
    
    But the government does.  According to the government I am a "Viet 
    Nam Era Veteran".  I served during that era.  The main difference 
    is basically semantics.
    
    Viet Nam Era Veteran   vs   Viet Nam Combat Veteran
    
    The government doesn't make a distinction between the two, but it
    is a difference that should be made clear.  I'd rather be a veteran
    than a Canadian defector, but I'm glad I'm not a combat veteran.
    I can, if I wanted to, get benefits from the government because
    I served during that era instead of hiding in Canada.  I wouldn't
    feel comfortable reaping those benefits knowing that the combat
    vets need it a whole lot more than I do, at least the ones with
    combat related disabilities, but, if I decide to continue college,
    you can bet that I will use the benefits.  I took my chances and
    just got lucky.  Had I waited for the lottery to pick me, I'd have
    been in infantry in the Army.  My number was 7.  They had every
    opportunity to send me to Nam, but they didn't.  At least I wasn't
    hiding someplace where they couldn't find me.
    
    BTW, my lucky number is supposed to be 7.  Ha, ha!!!
    
    Spence

>						I took my chances and
>    just got lucky.  Had I waited for the lottery to pick me, I'd have
>    been in infantry in the Army.  My number was 7.  They had every
>    opportunity to send me to Nam, but they didn't.  At least I wasn't
>    hiding someplace where they couldn't find me.
    
Spence, are you saying that they used to run a lottery to decide who was going 
to be invited to the party in Vietnam, or what? I don't understand. How did it 
all work then? Because you were a volunteer you didn't have to go, is that what 
you mean?

Actually I was watching a programme on BBC2 last night which was a
'fly-on-the-wall' documentary following the progress of some boys and girls who
had joined the navy. It was very interesting. All that shouting and screaming
and endless polishing and discipline and stuff. It brought me round to thinking
that it would impossible for the government to try and conscript us these days.
I suppose they might be able to take a very narrow age band (eg 17-19) but that
would be about it. Even then can you imagine the likes of the Stretford End in
the army? The mind boggles! Anyway, I mean we've all got mortgages and
things these days...! "I'm sorry Mrs. Thatch. I can't come to the war this
week, as I'm behind on the local rates payments...". Hmmm. 

What does anybody else think?

Tarik.

Tarik: whilst "do they hold a lottery" is perhaps a little OTT, you have
to realise that in a modern armed force (army, navy or air force) there
is a very large "logistical tail" - for every front line fighter there are
10 or more support personnel.

As for who goes and who stays -- well in most armies the volunteers are
allowed to "make a bid" for the arm of the services they prefer. There is
no guarantee that they will get it of course, and military personnel
departments have a huge reputation for perversity. Equally however relatively
few people actually request "pbi" service - most people want to be drivers,
mechanics, electricians, or indeed any trade at all. 

As for a mortgage being a valid excuse against conscription, well it wasn't
in WWI, and it wasn't in WWII, so why should it be now?

/. Ian .\

    Re: .20, .21
    
    The lottery was real.  It started in 1970, I think, and ended
    in 1973.  It was based on your birthdate - every day got a number
    from 1 to 365 (or 366) for all males who turned 17 that year.
    The lowest numbers got drafted first.  If you had a very low number,
    then you were sure to get picked when you turned 18.
    
    My number was 26, but the next year they ended the draft, so I
    "lucked out".
    
    One interesting thing was that there was a ruckus the first year
    about the uneven distribution of the numbers.  They used 
    ping-pong balls with the dates marked in a big drum, but loaded them
    in calendar sequence.  Thus there was a higher probablility of
    getting a low number if you were born later in the year.  The
    second year they fixed that problem.

    					Steve

 Steve: I am aware that "selective service" was a lottery: however Tarik's
 .20 and my .21 responded to a reference in .19 that the author "got lucky"
 by not drawing a combat billet.
 

 /. Ian .\

re: .22

i'm pretty sure the first lottery was in the fall of '69,
as i recall sitting around listening to it on the radio with Lee
(the fine fellow who was "loaning" me his couch to sleep on) and
Phil (the ex-husband of the woman who lived next door to us)

none of us drew very good numbers, but we all managed to stay
in school long enough to keep our 2S's (except for me in '72:
i went 1A for the year and didn't get called up due to the war
"winding down")

...for my part, nothing they do will ever "rehabilitate" Nixon
(but that's another story)

    Back when I was graduating from High School ('62) it was the expected
    thing that you would go into the service for four years.  My three
    older brothers had all gone and come back, 1 air force, 1 marine,
    and one national guard.  When my turn came, a buddy of mine and
    I went down to the Navy recruiter one night after work and signed
    up.  Then I went home and told my folks.           
                                                       
    After going through boot camp, my buddy and I split up. He went to
    airplane mechanics school and I went to photographers school.  As
    a Photographer's Mate assigned to an amphibious command I spent
    a lot of my time shooting landing operations and making training
    films at Camp Pendleton.  At that time the Navy was only sending
    volunteers to Vietnam.                             
    
    For a while, I considered volunteering because I was brought up
    on a diet of John Wayne and "Victory at Sea".  I wanted to take
    pictures that would live forever in history books and magazines
    and in people's minds as the images of war.  One of the other
    Photographer's Mates wanted to go, but his wife wouldn't hear of
    it, and I realized that if I went I would never come back.  There
    were times on operations where I almost got killed or injured because
    I would go out on a limb to get just the right angle.  I got reprimands
    for damaged equipment this way, but I got commendations for great
    pictures.                               

    So I never went, and I am a veteran of that "era", and I know that
    Uncle Sam considers me a "Vietnam Vet", but I would never put myself
    in the same league as those that did go, and bled real blood, and
    shed real tears.  My buddy went, and came back, but he's never been
    the same.  The pictures he brought back are in his head.
    

    [Sort of an aside]
    
    I went to see "Platoon" last week. Whilst standing in line waiting to
    get in I got talking to a couple of 'vets. One was in a wheelchair.
    
    We sat together and watched the movie. The guy in the wheelchair started
    to cry about a third of the way through.
    
    When it was over we went to a bar for a little memory suppresant.
    
    Yes the images are in the mind for many people. Not all the images are
    at all pleasant.
    
    /. The Colonel .\
    
    PS "Platoon" is a good movie.

    
    RE: .26
    
    I too saw Platoon, did bring back memories I had hoped to forget,
    guess I never will tho...
    
    As for bad habits, too many!!  Like not letting myself get close
    	to anyone (good cause for divorce). 
    
    As to the ones who went to Canada, good for them! Maybe the next
    time some politician and arms dealers figure on a war, wouldn't
    it be nice if everyone said "You want it, you do it!"? Let's see
    how many of them are willing to die.

    The thing about the base note is not that all the things I (or any
    one else for that manner) are totally bad. There is a time and a
    place for these "attributes" both in the service and in civilian life.
    As Ian pointed out they can be VERY useful to keep yourself out
    of trouble or at least be aware of its presence before it turns
    into a problem.
    
    It would appear that there are others that have picked up the same
    or others little habits one way or another. Most are good in that
    you become more aware of whats going on around you. Others are bad
    in that you could be too reactionary out of reflexes, or (as in
    the case I brought up in the base note) makes those around you
    nervous. I was just curious if those of you out there were aware
    that you had developed these habits and how they have affected
    your life.
    
                            Bob B
    

    I haven't backed out, just busy in other stuff.
    
    I will try to explain some questions posed back around .20 and .21.
    I graduated in '70 during the lottery time period.  Being a pessimist,
    I was worried that my number would come up low and I would be shipped
    to Nam to be killed.  So, I chickened out and joined the local National
    Guard unit after a lot of persuasion from my father and a friend
    of his who was in the Guard.  A week after I graduated, I was sent 
    to boot camp in the Army.  Well, my birthday is Sept. 30 and that 
    date was picked as #7 in the lottery.  Luckily, I was already enlisted
    as a field medic with a National Guard unit.  When we graduated
    from boot camp, the orders were called out like this:
    
    Private Adams, infantry, Vietnam
    Private Baker, infantry, Vietnam
    Private Cook, infantry, Vietnam
    Private Doyle, artillery, Vietnam
    Private East, infantry, Vietnam
    Private Frasher, weekend warrior, report to your unit.
    etc.
    
    Probably 80% of them went to Vietnam as infantry or artillery. 
    I feel lucky that I didn't have to go and I often wonder how many
    made it back.  After 2 years, I joined the Air Force and spent 10
    years there.  I spent 5 years at a site that monitors incoming aircraft
    approaching the U.S.  When we bumbled the attempt to save the hostages
    in Iran, I wanted to go help.  That made me madder than the whole
    Vietnam war.  But then, I was older by that time and it meant more
    to me to be able to help fight for the cause.  When I was 17, I
    didn't want to risk dying for a war that I was completely ignorant
    of.  Sometimes I feel guilty for taking the easy way out while others
    went to die in Vietnam, but I'm alive.  And, to be perfectly honest,
    I didn't have the guts to go to Canada.
    
    It wasn't a matter of drawing lots or paying for a position, but
    making the decision to slide under them before they could grab me.
    Ironically, my brother-in-law wanted desperately to go to Vietnam
    and his number was 365.  He had to enlist in order to try to serve
    and they wouldn't send him to Vietnam because of incapacitating
    allergies.  He was a cop and was murdered in his barracks in Texas.
                                           
    Spence

An interesting aside on all this is the length of time the experience of combat 
affects people for. It would appear that it is for ever. Two recent episodes on
TV brought this home to me in different ways. 

The first was last year during the 1st July memorial service for the Battle of 
the Somme (1st July 1916 was the worst day in the history of the British Army 
with over 20,000 casualties). They had wheeled out some of the old boys over to 
Belgium for the service and the TV stations interviewed them. I was shocked to 
see how bitter, emotional and unforgiving these old fellows still are, even
though it's 70 years later.

Another was Sunday's repeat of 'The World At War' on Channel 4 which chronicled 
the bombing of Germany by the British and American Air Forces in the Second 
World War. This reminded me of when I was a student and I used to work in a 
garage in the holidays cleaning and dewaxing new cars. There was a bloke there 
who used to work there for a bit of extra cash who had been a tail-gunner on a 
Lancaster during the war (apparently 3 out of 4 of them used to get killed and 
they only had a life expectancy of 5 missions). He was a complete nervous
wreck. One day we were all sitting down rather tactlessly talking about a war
film we had just seen, when he practically had a nervous breakdown there and
then and was off work for two weeks. And this was more than thirty years later.
Disturbing. What was even more disturbing was that his real day-time job was
driving these huge petrol tanker lorries around delivering petrol to service
stations!! 

Seems to me that there are no victors only victims.

Tarik.

    RE .30  Ive gone out with women as much as ten years my junior.
    Most, when they find out that Iam a vet respect the fact that 
    I would prefer to relate the good things that happened to me 
    wile I was in the Navy. There are some though, that have what
    I refer to as a "morbid curiosity" about the grimmer experiences.
    For the most part they tend to be the younger women, and they will
    push to find out what happened. The thing that always gets me is
    how horrified they get when you tell them what is was like.
    
    Most will give the excuse that they want to know because it will
    help them understand. Ive yet to meet one that after you tell them
    a few instances that dont react along the lines of "how could you
    do that !!!". Its like the line from the Huey Lewis song "walking
    a thin line" , "Your never the same once you've been under fire".
    I dont think that any language has the ability to relate the feelings
    and trauma that one experiences during and after a combat situation.
    Its just an impossibility to relate that to someone that hasent gone
    through it.
    
    RE .31  I can relate to the guy you knew in the gas station. I,
    along with many others have been restoring and flying a number
    of WW II airplanes. Wile on tour to different airshows this summer
    I met quite a few WW II vets that were aircrew on the B 17 and
    B 25 aircraft we've had at the shows. You can always tell the guy
    that went through the heavy duty stuff, because they all do the
    same thing. As they go through the aircraft they go directly to
    one of the crew stations, sit for a wile,just kind of get this stare,
    touch things, occasional cry, and then come up to talk to you.
    Every one of them has thanked me and the crew for going through
    the trouble of preserving a part of history that none of them thought
    they would ever see again.
    
    You talk about age affecting the memories of these experiences, it
    docent. Many can relate their experiences as if it happened yesterday.
    As an example, one that was a pilot on B 17s asked to sit in the
    pilots seat. Now mind you this guy hasent seen one of these aircraft
    in forty something years. He closed his eyes and went through the
    per flight check list from memory. The list is THREE PAGES LONG
    and he went through it flawlessly.
    
                                  Bob  B

    re bitterness after the Somme.
    
    I may be able to shed a tad of light on the longevity of this emotion.
    
    The Somme was the first major battle in which the "pals" battalions
    were commited. This was Kitchener's great idea: rather than have
    conscription he devised plans to encourage groups of friends to enlist,
    and promised they could serve together. Often the entire eligible
    population of a village or a factory would enlist en masse.
    
    I lived in a village of one of the Lancashire Pals Battalions. It went
    over the top in the first wave of the Somme. 92% of the men of military
    age (16 to 28) in the village died in that first hour of fighting. The
    battalion was a wreck and never served in action again, being relegated
    to training depot in England. After the war they picked up their lives
    again but the village was smashed - the mines closed because they didn't
    have manpower, and the place suffered in the Great Depression. Needless
    to say the few that are still alive (there were 12 at the last Armistice
    Day parade I attended) are bitter. And yes, they dutifully place 574
    crosses, each with a poppy and a soldiers name, in front of the war
    memorial.
    
    Remember the motto of the Armistice Ceremonies is "lest we forget".
    
    The pals battalions were a disaster, but everyone, man woman and child,
    who lived in that village during WWI and the depression can tell you
    what war means...
    
    /. Ian .\

    
    Better late than never ... I guess
    
    I was in the Corps for several years. 
    I'll still hit the ground on occasion if something even
    remindes me of a cannon (car tail-pipe)
    
    People laugh I know. I finally can too! 
    
    My older brother was in the Corps as well, and he'll try to
    catch me off guard at the most inapproproiate time ...like
    Thanksgiving day. He walked in and yelled " I N  C O M I N G "
    I thought I was going to have a heart attack.
    
    I look under the car, in the car, around the car.
    I even check out my apartment before I go in.
    And I'll NEVER, EVER pick up anything off the ground if it
    didn't belong to me. 
    
    Well, this doesn't qualify me as paranoid...far from it folks!!!
    I still put on my socks before my trousers, that can't be any more
    or less considered a Bad Habit...at least to me its not.
    
            - Christopher
    

    	RE: 69.35
    
    	I was also in the Corps a couple of years. During my
    	tour in Vietnam, we had to return to the Phillipines
    	to get equipment repaired/replaced. A bunch of us had
    	to drive some jeeps from the ship to another part
    	of the base. Unknown to us, there was a skeet range
    	across the street from where we were leaving. As we
    	drove away, some skeet shooters started shooting.
    	You wouldn't believe the number of jeeps driving off
    	the road and onto the grass, and people jumping out of
    	(and under) the jeeps.
    
    	After I returned from Vietname (July 1968), Mom would
    	come out of the bedroom at 2 or 3 AM to find me sitting
    	in a chair in the dark. I explained that I was used to
    	sleeping about 3 or 4 hours a night, and that was it.
    
    	Scott