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RECOLLECTIONS

By Ray Parrish

It was about 10 years ago, around 5AM Turkish local time, that the Air Farce, via, my flight commander, determined that I was a "drug addict." It wasn't that I was busted or confessed or anything like that. I just looked the par!

The butter bar, my flight commander, was holding court in the map room, as usual, during the end of a night shift. I was in there taking my turn at the controls of a mop. I was remembering the tales I had heard from the lifer-father. One was about the fact that the Second Lieutenant's gold bars are actually stupidity generators. Then, my very own O-1/2, a former E-5, had to go and prove the theory.

He was spouting the usual BS when he came out with the incredible remark that he could always tell a dope-smoker because they part their hair in the middle. And he was serious! Standing there, mop in hand, hair parted on the side and a non-doper (at the time), I desired what any good trouble-making GI with an attitude problem would: I wanted this guy's bars in my fists.

I dropped my mop, went to the latrine, parted my hair down the middle (where it's been ever since) and strolled back to my mop. As expected, the Lieutenant took one look at me and flew into a rage. He, of course, immediately started giving me the "This is a direct order" garbage as he was ordering me to re-part my hair. I calmly asked for it in writing as the rest of the room looked on.

He has started writing when a senior NCO managed to stop him and spoil the fun. He said it would look silly to the CO and might not be entirely kosher. I commented that that was too bad since I had wanted a set of gold bars for my trophy case. I left as the NCO's tried to calm the newly enraged idiot.

Ray Parrish
VVAW Chicago