It was a scary time for a young man back in 1969. VietNam was blazing and I had a low number. I decided to enlist since I found I was next up anyway and hoped by having an RA (Regular Army which indicated enlistee rather than US which was a draftee) number I would be better off dutywise. It wasn't the wrong choice as it turned out. Draftees always seemed to get the worst details.
I boarded the bus in NYC and wound up in Fort Gordon, Ga for basic training. At 2am we disembarked from the bus a few dozen times until we did it fast enough for our Drill Instructor. After a couple of hours of harassment we were allowed to find our bunks ... we were allowed to sleep in that morning - we were awakened at 5am....
That's when I met Albert Pusateri (now everyone in the service seems to get a nickname - of course his became "Pussy").
Our last names were alphabetically close so we wound up bunkmates - me upper and he got the lower.
We became close friends during basic and helped each other through some of the worst physical and mental training either of us ever had to endure. Our drill instructor had half his stomach blown up in Nam and everything he taught us revolved around killing "Charlie" in retribution.
We graduated from BCT - "Experts we, intend to be, before we leave, BCT - Bravo Bulls!!". He went off to advanced infantry training and I stayed behind with no orders, shoveling coal to keep the barracks warm for the next round of recruits. Eventually I got some orders and shipped out myself.
Over the next 3 years I never had contact with Pussy - our paths never crossed over there. Then one morning about a month before I was due to leave the service the phone at my duty desk rings and it is none other than Pussy. He is downstairs and can he come up to visit?? The man that entered vaguely looked like Pussy - same height, same swagger, and when he spoke same sense of humor but his face had been totally torn up by a grenade blast. He had endured several very painful surgeries and had several more to go to try to reconstruct a face that would never look the same as before.
I don't know why I wasn't shocked but I felt both angry and guilty that he got hurt the way he did and yet I escaped unscathed. We had a nice chat and when he left we promised that we would get together in a few months, after we both got out.
We never did...........
If you are out there ---
Thanks Pussy!!!
Support the troops bring them home NOW.....