A random thought on just how small the world is...

On the road trip adventure, Trey and I went to the NAVY SEALS museum at Ft. Pierce.  

In World War II what was once a sprawling camp that trained navy underwater demolition teams, the forerunner of the SEALS, is now a museum.  There were boats from my era and Iraq and others....Japanese miniature subs, too.

AND there was the lifeboat from the Alabama Mursk (pirates attempted to capture last year), complete with two shot out windows compliments of Navy SEALS.

While touring, we encountered a crusty old ex-SEAL.  We talked for a while. He impressed Trey when the retired sailor asked about joining up.

Well, when I got back home and at the Rest Haven, I told about the visit.  George Hirsberg, good friend and another storyteller, asked if I met up with this guy named "Watson?”  George described him to me (A few years under the belt to which I added a few pounds, too).  That might be him, said George.

Well, George knew the man 50 years ago, and had phoned him decades ago when the Chief's picture appeared in a Navy magazine.

Fast forwarding.  I e-mailed the museum, got it back as undeliverable.  This morning

(Tuesday) I phoned and asked the curator about him.  Sure enough, there was a man named "Watson" on the Board of Directors.  I left my number.

About an hour ago Chief Watson called me.  Now, I called him "Mr. Watson" and he quickly let me know in no uncertain terms he was no *@^# "Mister".  It was "Watson" or "Chief."  To verify it was the same one, I asked if his nickname was "Patches".

It was or is.

I related what I have just told you about George.  I asked him where he was in Vietnam.  He named off a few places and then he named one.  "Hot darn," I said, "We helped build that camp."

I told him my brother and I went back two years ago.  He told me he went back a few years ago himself.  Met up with a former NVA General who is now president of their group akin to our American Legion and told the Chief everywhere he (the chief) had been in Vietnam.  In return, the Chief related a story of an NVA MIA he confirmed as KIA.  The NVA was awarded what is equal to our Medal Of Honor.

The Chief, he told me, wrote the book "Point Man."

The chief gave me his cellphone number and said for George to call him.

I called George and hooked them up.

The story does not end there.  While at Rest Haven this morning and while talking with George, I noticed an older fella, well...same age as me, anyway, getting up to leave.  He had an Australian Army t shirt on.  "Excuse me," I said.  "Were you in the Australian army."

He replied, "No, but I worked with them in 'Nam."  Well, I jumped up, introduced myself, and we began a conversation.

He was in the Fifth Special Forces and...it was his SF Camp, my battalion enlarged for a division of regular Ninth Infantry Division soldiers.

He went out to his motorcycle to get me a handful of patches.  One was from the 173rd Light Infantry Brigade, which he said he served with.

"NO!" I exclaimed, "Were you a part of that outfit of crazies?"  He confessed he was.

When my Combat Engineer Battalion took over that Special Forces camp.  The 173rd was a part of our perimeter security.  We shared the perimeter with them.  At night, they would waive their lighters and yell out, "Shoot me, #@*^!, shoot me."

They were crazy.  We thought our only recourse was to surrender to the VC to get away from them and hope for the best.  We'd been in country less than a week and thought "we have another year of this?"

The military is certainly not for everyone.  But, the world is made smaller because of membership in it.  There is camaraderie among soldiers...friends and enemy alike.  I miss it.  God, help me, I do miss it.

Anyways, that's my story and I am sticking to it.