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David Mitchell
Been saving this "Scarlet and Grey" memory for today - January 1st.
I'm recalling a January 1st a few years back - 1969 to be exact. A memorable day in the life of an avid young Buckeye fan. It has high drama and a somewhat "explosive" climax, but ends well (if you're a Buckeye fan that is).
Once upon a time there was a young Army Warrant Officer who had just arrived at his new duty station in a place called Vinh Long, an Army Airfield named for the small City it sat next to, along the banks of one of the northern splits of the Mekong River. Readers of this forum may have heard of the place by now.
This young Warrant Officer had arrived just a week earlier to be assigned as a pilot in Comanche Troop of the Blackhawk Squadron, and was of course expecting to single-handedly save the world from the threat of Communism in Southeast Asia. But first there were a few other items to attend to. All new personel (including Watterson Wonder boys) were required to begin taking a weekly anit-malaria pill, which served an obvious need, but often led to another condition known locally as "Ho Chi Minh's Revenge" (a condition known under several other names in different cultures). The "Revenge" had set in with our young pilot and he (like many others) was therefore required to take an anti-diarrhrea pill, which took a few days to "kick in".
So it came to pass that he simply sat around he Company area for a week (as with most new pilots) without being placed on "flight status" until the condition resolved itself. And as luck would have it, the condition - which came with much discomfort and many rushed trips to a place way in back of the barracks area known as "Motel 6" - reached it's peak on New Years Day of 1969.
Our young flyboy happened to be a loyal fan of the this Scarlet and Grey team and they were playing in a game that day where an old festival of the Roses took place every year in a sunny little berg back home in Southern California. As he was approximatly on the other side of the world, he would have to wait until the middle of the night to hear the game, on a borrowed portable radio from a fellow pilot.
As luck would have it, our young pilot was yet to be assigned a permanent bed in his new "Scout" pilot's hooch, so he slept temporarily on a cot alone, in an as yet unfinished hooch a few doors away. This allowed him two comforts that night; One, his ability to play the radio at an audible volume; and Two, to make frequent runs to the "Motel 6" during any hour of the night - both without disturbing other pilots trying to get a night's sleep.
Somehwere around 3:00 a.m. local time, he began listening with great anticipation, but with considerable abdominal stress. He was extemely worried as one particular contestant, a certain Orenthal James (he of the opponents "Men of Troy" ) swept past all of the Buckeye defenders for an 80 yard touchdown run, putting his team ahead with a 10 to 0 lead. Darn!
But the abdominal condition persisted and on one particlar 4:30 am dash to "Motel 6", the young pilot was in a hurry to get there but was confronted with a frightful challenge. On the path to the destination was large trash pile. This pile always existed in this location and would grow to major size (about 10 or 15 feet high, by 30 to 40 feet diameter) over several weeks, before those nice men from the "Corps of Engineers" would bring in a big front loader and haul away the pile - mostly lumber, cardboard boxes, junk, etc., but also some human garbage. The human garbage tended to draw a popular following among the local rat population. And as our young wonder-boy passed by the pile in the dark, guided only by one single distand bare bulb, a rat that appeared to be roughly the size of a sea monster, scurried from the pile, causing the young pilot to stub his toe badly on one of the little raised cement walkways across the sandy area. As he jumped with fear and rushed his step, he kicked the edge of the walkway (nearly breaking his toe), cursing in fear and pain, fell to the ground, and yes, lost his entire "payload" before his final destination. I believe this is one of the more genuine incidences of "having the shit scared out of one's self".
But all was resolved to a positive conclusion - the Compnay showers were also close by. (Yes, the unheated shower was quite chilly that early norning). And everyone lived happily ever after. Those "11 Scarlet Warriors" prevailed 27-16, and one tall "Grey" (white uniforms) warrior by the name of Nielson, wearing no. 77, was a name I heard called out many times as he wreaked havoc with those "men of Troy".
Happy New Year to all.
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