Where were you in Seventy-Two?
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About Me
- Greasywrench AKA rich b
- I am a sixty-five year old, green-eyed, left-handed, Cherokee, German, Irish, Conservative (Does this make me a minority?) retired heavy-line auto tech living in the South Bay area of Los Angeles Kalifornia. I don't hug trees, eat tofu, bean sprouts, or all the other cliches about Kalifornians. And... I don't drink white wine or spritzers - I drink expensive Glenlivet Scotch and cheap Hiram Walker Brandy. Hollywood doesn't represent any of my values and neither do the Democrats. I am unashamedly patriotic. I support the U.S. Troops wherever they are. I don't believe in blind faith and I question all politicians (Known liars) on both sides of the aisle.
5 comments:
Where were you in Seventy-Two?
Puckering my ass wondering if I was going to Nam.
Must have been scary for you. I guess I lucked out. When I turned eighteen and signed up for the draft my lottery number came up in the three-hundreds all three years I was eligible. I was ready to give the Army a shot but I went to work and they never called. My draft classification was 4 something. It translated into available but not needed. Something like that.
My Brother was a Marine (1970-73) but for some reason ended up in a motor-pool at a base in Yuma Az instead of Vietnam. Good Lord he was gung-ho. He tried to get me to enlist but I wouldn't do it. I figured If they get me, they get me through the draft.
My brother-in-law went in but he has very little to say about his time in Vietnam. He won't talk about it other than to tell me "they had real good drugs there" and that's it.
Sometimes I regret not having served in the Military. I wonder what kind of a difference in my life it would have made. I didn't support the war but I would have gone. Even though I was a flaming liberal in my youth I always believed in the goodness of America and its people - I still do. It's politicians I can't stand.
Shit, where was I in 1972? That would depend on the time of year in '72, but I was either kicking and thrashing in my mom's womb or kickin' and thrashin' and shittin' myself out of the womb screamin, "This place sucks! Disco?? Pastels?? Jimmy Carter?? Ahhh!! What the fuck?? Let me back in!!"
Okay, now that I got that out of my system, lemme have it. I can take it. Just be advised that most anything you're gonna call me or tell me, I've already been called or been told by someone, whether it be my uncles, or my dad, or past bosses, neighbors or old drug connections or someone at some point in my life. But like I said, I can take it, so fire away.
I was 1A and my lottery number was 4 the last year of the draft. I joined the Marines but then they called the war off. Thank God!
I was ready to go kill commies but wasn't interested in being cannon fodder. I still wonder why we were there. LBJ had screwed up the mission by micro-managing the war and Nixon was left with getting out with honor.
BFD! Our guys were still getting killed for absolutely nothing until May 1975.
I still shed tears when I visit the Wall even though I promise myself that I won't. Several of my friends have their names on it.
I still wonder what we gained by that war. My guess is nothing. It was just a proxy war between the USA and the USSR and we returned the favor in Afghanistan in the 80's. Now that we are in with both feet in Afghanistan we will suffer the same result because of the bullshit rules of engagement dictated by the amateur-in-chief.
We'll be back again, Iraq too, eventually. This time I wish we would just break their shit, kill the enemy, and leave. Screw nation building. If we raise the ante high enough then would-be thugs will think twice. That is the only language that bullies understand. The left doesn't understand that concept and the right gets suckered into that kumbya shit.
I agree, the American people are good to the bone but politicians are the scum of the earth barring a few like Allen West.
Where were you in Seventy-Two?
Still in diapers, I'm afraid.
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