Three years, eleven months, twenty-three days, eighteen hours and thirty-two minutes. You are welcome for my service.
The old man had flunked out of college in just two semesters.
All F’s and a D. Had hated school since the Fifth grade.
He had been in a rush, once again headed nowhere good in a hurry.
The old man’s old man threatened to kill him if he didn’t get out of his sight.
Wanted to be a Marine and slaughter gooks, but luckily the Jarhead recruiter was out to lunch.
Joined USAF to avoid Vietnam and the draft.
Spent eighteen months in school.
Learned Czechoslovakian at the Defense Language Institute in Monterrey.
Served the next few years in Bavaria, monitoring behind the Iron Curtain.
And a whole bunch of other stories.
The first television I watched after three years in Europe was The Galloping Gourmet with Graham Kerr.