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45 years ago, what were you doing.

Re: 45 years ago, what were you doing.

<div class="ubbcode-block"><div class="ubbcode-header">Originally Posted By: Shooter McGavin</div><div class="ubbcode-body">At the time no one was even thinking about me. Hadn't been conceived yet. </div></div>

Ditto, you guys are old!

I honestly dont think I own anything that old besides a single shot 22 and 1 guitar.
 
Re: 45 years ago, what were you doing.

<div class="ubbcode-block"><div class="ubbcode-header">Originally Posted By: Foul Mike</div><div class="ubbcode-body">Trying to get the red dirt and smell of burning shit off?
Both were well ingrained as well as other foul smells you came across out in the boonies. Regards, FM </div></div> Even to this day some smells, sights or sounds still remind me. For years afterward when I seen a Vapor trail I was looking for a hole.
In the last few years I find laughing at myself is much easier.
 
Re: 45 years ago, what were you doing.

I still had a year to go in high school and was chasing my high school sweetheart. I don't know if I caught her or she caught me. Hahaha But outside of a few bumps, we have stayed together. Some of the bumps were a lot bigger than others. But it never became anything legally tasking or separating.
 
Re: 45 years ago, what were you doing.

Running down the street butt ass nekkid' Funny story but that is how I met my wife.
smile.gif
 
Re: 45 years ago, what were you doing.

i was in the middle of the 2nd grade, living in saigon, vietnam.

i had almost a frontrow seat for the upcoming fireworks show.
 
Re: 45 years ago, what were you doing.

<div class="ubbcode-block"><div class="ubbcode-header">Originally Posted By: dontknowdip</div><div class="ubbcode-body">Shitting yellow </div></div>

This...
 
Re: 45 years ago, what were you doing.

swimming around in my dads nutsack
 
Re: 45 years ago, what were you doing.

Right in the middle of flunking out of college. I used to say, flunk out now & avoid the June rush.

Maxwell
 
Re: 45 years ago, what were you doing.

Learning how to ride a bike at Torrejon AFB, Spain, while dad was driving F100s air to mud over the Fish Hook in SEA. I remember a bunch of my 1st grade classmates who's fathers were USAF POWs in North Vietnam. We all wore those metal POW bracelets with a name on them. Remember those? That shit was in airplanes, but it was no joke. 50% mortality/shoot down rate. Dad did four tours, 940 total sorties, 4 DFCs, 3 bronze stars, 2 PUCs and 28 Air Medals. A fucking stud ground attack pilot. I wondered if he would come back. I still miss my dad. I hope some of you were helped by the shit he dropped. He got it as close as he could.
 
Rebuilding the wire just outside a place called Kontum city.
 
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hmmmmmm...45 years ago...
sitting in a hospital, strapped down to a papoose board getting a broken collar bone fixed because Mom and Pop had a nasty fight and Pop wasn't around to take his heat round(smart fucker hauled ass and left me and younger bro holding the bag). Yeah Age 3 sucked
 
Standing by on the hot ramp at Torrejon AFB, when the 307th TFS (48th TFW) got back after a year of air to mud out of Bien Hoa. Welcome back, pop.
 
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Sitting at MCAS Miramar trying to figure out who this new guy living in my house was. He seemed to like me just fine, but I'd never met him before and he walked with a limp.

Welcome home Dad! Sorry for puking on your Dress Blues and on General Krulak's shoes.

Cheers,

Doc
 
Half way through college in Pre Med with draft #310. Took yearly test (with finger printing) for Government to allow me to stay in college for another year. The Vietnam War ended the year I graduated from medical school (1974), so never drafted (all doctors were drafted prior to the wars end).
 
Well don't really remember much it was the 60's, sex, drugs, rock & roll the whole nine yards.

Had a lot of stress starting Kindergarten that year. Somehow I avoided the draft after Elementary school.
 
Was 8 years old and wondering why the Navy didn't send the USS Missouri to North Vietnam and shoot the shit out of them with the Big Guns.

No shit I remember sitting with an older friend and discussing this.
 
Sitting in a classroom at 29 Palms being retrained on tactical data systems. I had my camping trip (16 months worth) in 65 and 66 in and around Ky Ha.
 
7 years old and finding out that a great guy by the name of Eddie (who worked with my dad) was coming home from being in the Marine Corps.
Dad said he had been cut in half by machine gun fire. That day has haunted me my whole life, and while I couldn't fully understand then, I do now.

For those who gave all, my full measure of gratitude and respect is given, to the survivors, the same is extended.

And from a seven year old boy in 1968... WELCOME HOME!
 
FNG here ... Used to be a gun writer.

45 years ago my bride and I had been married for four years; we stuck with it and will celebrate our 49th in a few days. At that time, I was working my butt off in a gun store that I managed, taking my last few classes at Portland State University and apprenticing both goldsmithing and watchmaking at the same time.

I didn't sleep much during those years.

In 1969, I went to New York and finished a degree in retail marketing a NYU.

Became a gold and platinumsmith and a Certified Master Watchmaker (AWI), ran my own store stocked with the gold things I made.

I wrote for the gunfunnies from 1983 until 2007. About a million words in print; got to hunt big game in Zimbabwe, South Africa, all over Canada and most of the US.

My life is close to over now ... and it's been a darned good one. Hell of a ride, actually.

Blessings,

Steve
 
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i was seven years old and already had my BB gun, watching johnny quest and living in Charleston SC. Ask what I remember about the war? Charleston was a huge military town back then. Every Sunday in church they would read off the names of those who lost their lives.

Thanks for your service.
 
Just home from 'Nam, 21 y/o, working for a NASA contractor getting Apollo Command Module windows made to spec. Driving a new Volvo 142, starting to notice the new German girl down the block (married her two years later). I kept the Volvo for 14 years, and that girl is still my treasured Wife, Celia. Took me another 20 years to take an interest in firearms.

The sound of a Huey fly-by still stops me in my tracks, and I'm really pissed that nobody makes Charlie Rats anymore. Best bush chow ever, beats them Meals Rejected by Ethiopia by a country mile.

Greg
 
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I'm really pissed that nobody makes Charlie Rats anymore. Best bush chow ever, beats them Meals Rejected by Ethiopia by a country mile.
Click to expand...

Got that right.
 
kraigWY said:
Got that right.
Click to expand...
I agree with Kraig. Bad as it was, the food in the 1980s - which was probably left-over from the 1950's - was arguably better.

Don't eat the strawberry pack that's in the new MREs after it's been boiling in 115 degree temps... All I'm sayin'.
 
Eighth grade. Had just turned 14 and getting to know my first real girl friend. She even waited around for me to get back from the military a few years later. Divorced now but there were some good times. Bad times too. Less than a month later the first guy that I knew that got to Vietnam would be KIA in Hue.
 
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Was II A M... in the draft...and cursing the M F 'ng Hippies with whom I attended school for spitting on my friends from HS who proudly wore the uniform of their service branches...
 
Reception center at Ft. Jackson, SC. seven months later....RVN. Foul Mike..I know exactly what you mean. Sometimes I still smell that stuff. All traces of the red dirt were gone after a year.
 
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Was an orphan somewhere; talking to the girl down the street, looking at the toy tractor in the store with the Children's Home Society Lady, getting bit by a German Shepherd, seeing the skeletal army on TV (Jason & the Argonauts), & a kid get hit by a car. Anthony
 
Dropping out of college halfway through the 3rd year, trying to figure out what life was really about. Realized that most of the teachers at school did not have a clue. Making love to my GF three times a day...Also dodging bullets, found out someone had put a price on my head, a relative no less. I was not in VN, but still had to watch my back 24/7 for a long time. Sort of like having my own private cold war.
 
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M16 taken from NVA sniper Feb. 3rd 1968.

 
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