Tag Archives: Germany

Chance Meeting

β€œWhat was your MOS?” I asked.

β€œ02 Delta, French horn player,” he said.

And that started a great conversation that only military and ex-military can have.

I noticed this older gentleman getting a haircut today, and he had on an Army Veteran cap.

I caught up to him on the sidewalk, and I had to ask.

He said he was β€œinvited” to join the Army in β€˜69.

During the Vietnam war era, this gent asked for an audition in the Army band, and he got it. Pretty cool. Pretty choice.

Did his hitch playing the French horn.

He’s 73 and doesn’t look a day over 55.

He was also stationed at Monteith Barracks, which was a stone’s throw from where I was stationed in Germany. We talked about where we were stationed and the surrounding area for I’ll bet thirty minutes.

And while we talked, his eyes just lit up. And I could feel a smile as genuine as his spreading across my face.

You see, we are brothersβ€”no matter when or where we served.

We have a connectionβ€”almost a blood link in our makeup. That’s something no one can ever take away.

It was just a chance meeting. But it’s one of the best things that has happened to me this weekβ€”kind of like a reward. And I love that.

That’s it. That’s the post.


Two Moms

One of best meals I ever had was when I was a kid and my mother took me and my younger sister on a shopping spree and we went to every Hamericks in two states. We were starving by the time she finally let us eat.

It was just McDonalds, but it was probably the first time in my life that I ever thought I was going to starve to death.

The Other Place

The other is when I was in Germany and the closest thing I had to home was a little Gasthaus above a club I used to frequent.

We just called it The Other Place.

We had been in the field for at least a month and the steak that Irene, the lady that ran the place, served me was probably the best thing I ever tasted. I wonder if that’s why I don’t have a taste for steak anymore?

Nothing else stacks up.

Irene was great.

She took care of us like a mother. When we came upstairs from the club and had too much to drink it was coffee and cookies to sober us up before she’d let us back on the street.

And we never let anything happen in her place. It was our home. She was our mom.

And that’s what we called her.

That’s it. That’s the post.