Dear Kathy Beckett,

Just to set the record straight, it was not I who began what degenerated into a complete "Fiasco" at my topic, "Gettin' A Kick Out Of Truth".

The thread was going along quite well and decorum prevailed up until Bernie Laverick's post #26.

Upon finding out that Mike Williams had recently completed service in the Marine Corps, I had ended my post #23 with:

"Thanks' to you for those twenty three of service to this fine Nation as a Marine. During some of the most difficult times in our history. Glad that you completed your tour of duty and got back "Safe & Sound". Welcome Home..."

Mike responded in post #24 with:

Mike,

Sincerely I thank you for your sentiment, and thank you for your service as well. As for the safe and sound part, well I don't ever recall being "sound", but I am, after about 7 months of physical therapy "safe". I was fortunate, in that I had a warm welcome home, unlike the men of your time. I would like to take the opportunity to offer you a very warm WELCOME HOME, Brother. I offer the same sentiment to all you vets and offer you these words.

"Freedom has a flavor, the protected will never know."

Salute,
Mike

I realize this was a distraction to the thread, but wont apologize for that. Some things just need sayin'

Here, Kathy, is when things began to get out of hand. Bernie Laverick made a single statement in his post #26 with:

"Freedom has a flavor, the protected will never know."

Does it taste of Napalm?

...Some things just need sayin'

Bernie Laverick was the absolute "Catalyst" with regard to the whole "Fiasco"... Having completed my military service 40 years ago as an infantry squad leader with the 3rd Marines along Vietnam's DMZ in '68, I had been subject to such "Slurs" and, frankly, had long ago learned to both ignore and dismiss the Derogatory remarks but felt bad for Mike... I ended my post #29 with:

PS "Thanks" for the warm "Welcome Home"... And a nice, and appropriate, response to that Laverick "Clown"...

In the end, however, Bernie Laverick won... The thread ended, of course, when you "Justifiably" locked it. But not before Bernie got in his last "Dig" by insinuating, strongly, that my motive in the research was racist. This to a fellow who's roots lie within a small Long Island town, Oyster Bay, where the racial mix was as even as it could get. 50% African American and 50% White. Even during the worst of the Nation's racial turmoil, everyone, and I do mean everyone, got along quite fine. My mother even had childhood memories that Santa Claus was an African American. Her mom, Bridget McCourt, a mid-wife, would attend to poorer African American women who were pregnant right up to the moment of birth and never accept a dime. An African American fellow, though, would dress up as Santa Claus on Christmas Eve and present gifts to my grandparent's children...

And for Bernie Laverick to suggest racial motives to a guy who lost but a single Marine during his duty as a squad leader and had spent year upon year racked in survivors guilt over an incident that took place outside a small Village named Cam Lo near the DMZ, is nothing less than ludicrous. I had assigned this Marine to defend a position after we were ambushed. And defend it he did, but lost his life in the process. To date, I wish I could go back in time and take on that particular position myself. The Marine's name is Jimmy Armstead, an African American kid from Queens, New York and nary a day goes by that I don't remember him in my prayers. And the others who were lost from the platoon. And offer the same prayers to their families who, no doubt, suffered from the same "Slurs" from mis-guided people such as Bernie Laverick...

And if my research had led me to believe that a Benedictine Monk had assassinated President John Fitzgerald Kennedy, I would have followed though. Out of respect for both Jimmy Armstead and the small Community of Oyster Bay, I even spent as much time attempting to dis-prove my theory on the murder as I did pursuing what ultimately led me to what I feel is the truth.. And of which is the subject of the thread in question.

To make a long story a bit longer, and with regard to the "Fiasco", in between Bernie Laverick's two posts were Greg Parker and Bill Kelly. Decorum had again taken over until Greg Parker ended his post #34 with:

"Thank you for that Nathan Jessop moment. I was beginning to think you'd never get around to it."

Nathan Jessop is a viscious, demented fictitious character in a film, "A Few Good Men" played by Jack Nicholson and Bill Kelly, who had shown me an early moment of support, jumped in with support of Greg's derogatory remark and things, simply put, got out of hand...

Which comes to the reason as to why I titled this e-mail & thread, "My Sincerest Of Apology". I reacted in a manner I am not proud of and offer my "My Sincerest Of Apology" for the part I played in the whole sorry affair, not only to yourself and John Simkin, but to the readers who were also subject to my own derogatory and inflamatory remarks which only added fuel to the fire.

I fully understand why you had to lock the thread, "Gettin' A Kick Out Of Truth", but if you decide to un-lock it, you have my absolute word that I will refrain from any use of obsenity and not respond to the other three fellows involved, or to future "Slurs" or derogatory displays designed to aggitate a thread.

If, however, the decision is not to un-lock the thread, I will also understand but only ask that you might include this e-mail as it's final post...

Would also like to "Thank" three great guys, Mike Williams. Tom Purvis and Lee Forman. The first two fellows, experts in the area of fire-arms, and the third fellow, Lee Forman, quite the expert on his analysis of photographic evidence with regard to the assassination. I do not presume that Mike, Tom or Lee agree with my conclusion, but they have assisted me toward filling in a few of the gaps that have re-enforced, in my own mind, my humble feelings and thoughts as to what went down in Dealey Plaza on that awful day... "Thank You, Guys", very much, for your in-put... I remain grateful that you shared your combined expertise.

Sincerest of regards,
Mike

PS For whatever this is worth, I have a new e-mail address, Made the appropriate change in my profile area a few moments ago

I don't know about this guy Greg.

Do you think he's sincere?

"....You, Greg and the rest of your crowd would actually have to "Get A Life"... And that scares the the heck out of you. You might have to learn how to play golf, or a musical instument, or get yourself into a bit of jogging, or, Holy Cow...!, actually have to begin to relate with family and friends..."

He brings my golf game into it. How does he know I can't play golf?

Now that's really hitting below the belt, and reason alone to lock the thread.

I don't have any problem with Kathy unlocking Mike's thread if he promises not to bring up my golf game again.

BK

You made me laugh out aloud with these comments. I think humour and tolerance is the best way to deal with characters like Mike. Actually, I considered members acted with great restraint on the closed thread. Thank you for that.

MIKE REGAN And for Bernie Laverick to suggest racial motives to a guy who lost but a single Marine during his duty as a squad leader and has spent year upon year racked in survivors guilt over an incident that took place outside a small Village named Cam Lo near the DMZ, is nothing less than ludicrous. I had assigned this Marine to defend a position after we were ambushed. And defend it he did, but lost his life in the process. To date, I wish I could go back in time and take on that particular position myself. The Marine's name is Jimmy Armstead, an African American kid from Queens, New York and nary a day goes by that I don't remember him in my prayers. And the others who were lost from the platoon.


Mike that tragic incident has jumped out of every post you've made so far. So I apologise wholeheartedly for the napalm jibe; it was poor taste and in light of the above, downright cruel. But isn't it precisely that pain, a ripple from a disastrous foreign adventure, further reason someone like yourself would be more questioning of our military. How many of those incidents are taking place right now Mike? Would you wish how you feel on another young American just doing what he's been told to do? How much more should be asked of you before you ask, "how much more should we be prepared to give?"

You are obviously very proud of the American Marines: believe it or not but so am I. My Mum spent years of the 2nd WW huddled in a bomb shelter terrified, almost traumatised with the thought of invading Nazis, praying that it would all be over soon. Britain could NEVER have won that war without the American marines, so I thank you from saving my country from German Fascism.

That said I still have the right to criticise when I think that both our governments engage in illegal wars that result in death and destruction without the consent of the people. I still have the right to criticise those who promote such actions when they make postings on a public forum extolling their virtues. These are not slurs but legitimate concerns for the future well being of both services personel (YOU!) and of course for the people they are then ultimately unleashed on.

As for the racism, just read it all again Mike. I don't believe my accusation was ungrounded. However, I really don't want to stir this up any more than it has been. The above quote is more than enough for me to back off.

John-

Does this forum have an Ignore function?

Thanks.

Chris

Chris, click My controls, go to options, click manage ignored users...It is done my friend. Steve.

Bernie,

Since your napalm crack was directed at me, I felt I should respond. Apology accepted *hearty handshake*. I am a bit thick skinned, so no worries there. I would like to take the opportunity to also thank you for using your freedom of speech. It is a wonderful gift, and purchased at a heavy price. Not everyone agrees with every political decision, and not everyone agrees with every military action, but it is a fine thing to live in a country were we are free to express out thoughts and concerns publicly, without worrying about a midnight visit. My best wishes for you Bernie, and Blessings to MUM.



Salute,
Mike

Thanks for the tip, Steve.

Mike - just finished reading 'Thirteen Cent Killers.' I have to say, it wasn't well written - but it did afford a very good view and perspective, as well as a historical personal review - a good book for what it has to say - wanted to say thanks. I think you have a long row to how - but you're sincere - and a good person. Don't be distracted by noise - ever. FWIW.

Feel free to contact me - maybe I have a few books I could loan which may be of benefit or chat a bit.

- lee
lforman23@comcast.net

Well, Bill has shown the humor and Bernie has delivered the tolerance. They're both class acts.

But in the end, this isn't - at least shouldn't be - about Bernie, Bill, me or Mike. It's about the JFK case, and what can be contributed to it.

Mike seems to want the other thread unlocked, and fwiw, since everyone has calmed down, I think it should be. Maybe Mike does have more to put on the table, and maybe he'll also now be prepared to tackle issues raised by playing the ball and not the man.

If it is unlocked, and I decide to post further to it, I'll make a commitment to follow the examples set here.

And Bill, golf may be the one thing that proves the existence of Satan.

To Greg:

Appreciated your humour about golf but kidding aside the existence of Satan is demonstrated by:

1) the assassination of JFK, RFK and Martin Luther King, Jr.

2) the Holocaust

3) spouses who kill their wives

and of course the list of evils can go on and on.

The thread has been unlocked.

4) my yard!

God created grass. Satan came along and created lawns and gardens to keep mortals working and spending their income on such irrelevant necessities.



spouses who kill their wives


Knew Dr. Jeffrey MacDonald personally. Was in his home on the Friday (13th) prior to the murders, as well as being a "paulbearer" for Colette MacDonald.


??????????????????That one still has me confused!

UH oh......FORE!!




-Bill

Hey all,

With thanks to you all for allowing me to be part of this fine "Education Forum", this will be my last post. My research spanned well over two decades with most of my notes, 3x5 card stuff, discarded soon after words were converted onto an old Underwood typewriter. At least right up until the inclusion of Jarman's DPD affidavit. After that a computer came into play. And responding to each reply means spending much time surfing the net to find the source material of so many years ago which had supported my work and, frankly, I'm tired as hell of the whole Dealey Plaza "Thing"...

Anyway, I've begun to feel like Captain Ahab with his quest for the White Whale. Unlike Ahab, though, I'm not going to bring my whole "Crew" (Family) down with me. No doubt, my research led to failure of a good marriage, but with the recent addition of a grand-child, my ex-wife and I have begun, not only to re-relate, but to date again. The family is coming back together again... Something I do not want to again jeopardize... Hope, of course, that President Kennedy and his fine family one day soon receive their well deserved and long over-do justice, but time has arrived for this guy to hang up the 'ole spikes... I've got some major living to catch up on...

But not before posting the following story. That un-mentionable word, "Vietnam", somehow managed to creep it's way into my last thread and, for the most part, and with regard to those of us who served there, in not so favorable a light. So thougt I'd fill you in on just a bit of one Vietnam veteran's experience.

It should be noted that this is a simple part of my story as a Vietnam War veteran. Represented in an e-mail sent to a home town buddy who I hadn't seen since the sixties and who served in the Air Force... Their are thousands of stories like it from other vets. My hope is that others, someday... Will search out additional stories. To prove that we are not the monsters that the media, especially Hollywood, has spent decades trying' to prove otherwise. With a smear campaign that infected, not only the guys and gals (Lest we forget the nurses, Red Cross and USO ladies) who came home, but the entire Nation. And I hold no grudge. If I had spent those years on the home front I believe that I, too, may very well have jumped upon the media's band wagon of BS and ostracized those arriving home from a difficult war. In any case, my confidence is that those "Others" will one day find that the vast, vast, vast majority of us performed honorably.

That William Calley and the rest of those a-holes who were involved in what went down at My Lai represent, again, to that vast, vast, vast majority of those of us who fought honorably, some kind of surreal freak show that is almost impossible for us to comprehend. But that we do comprehend the tragedy, that our hearts, love and prayers go out to the spirits of the 500 plus victims, innocent men, women, children and the elderly and that our hopes and prayers are for the demise, hopefully violent, of those soldiers involved in the massacre. I know this because I know many Vietnam war veterans and because most of those who served together in a Platoon of the Marine Corps 3rd Division still keep in touch and we all share the same sentiment.

Anyway, hope you will all pardon the length of the enclosed and, hopefully, enjoy. Especially the humor and, yes, the mischief...

And hope you will remember those of us who fought with honor...

"Best Of Luck To Everyone"

Semper Fi'
&
"God Bless",
Mike Regan

____________________________________________________________________________


Hey John,

Guess I'll start it off... Despite a few marriage difficulties, Suzy and I have begun to form a positive relationship. Part of the difficulties (There were others) were that, somewhere along the line, we both became a reminder to each other of a painful era (Vietnam). She had lost a brother, Gregg. And I had also lost her brother, a friend, along with close to a dozen other friends. Funny, though, but the birth of Tim & Merry's (Tim's awesome wife) baby, Alexandra, has helped to mend fences a bit. The little girl is about the happiest kid you'd ever want to meet and has actually succeeded in filling a void left by the loss of family members. And Greg's recent marriage to another awesome lady, Stephanie, and the recent DVD of their wedding have only added to the good times Suzy and I are sharing.

Not sure if you've got any buddies who served in the infantry, but a rather extreme form of survivors guilt becomes a fact of life upon return from whatever the conflict (I came to truly understand & respect my dad's experience in the Pacific). Suzy's brother, Gregg, was a friend lost. In addition to others. pals that I had spent month upon month within those mountains along Vietnam's DMZ. Sharing pup-tents about half the size of the bathroom back on good 'ole Marvin Ave. and, of course, sharing in all the fighting. Among the really, really good friends lost from the platoon were Poncho, Jerry Baldwin, Jimmy Krysal, Gary Wilkins and Warren Bibbs,. And Mike LaCoste and others that I had trained with at Paris Island.

Perhaps the most painful experience of all was the loss of a rookie of which I, as squad leader, was responsible for. It was I who had assigned him a position to defend during a late afternoon fire-fight that developed outside a Village named Cam Lo. And defend it he did... But died in the process. His name is Jimmy Armstead, a black kid from Queens, New York. He was also a friend, and the incident pretty much bowled me over. I had made a kinda' silent vow to myself that, somehow, someway, I would get all my guys home safe & sound and, for the months to come, I pretty much walked around in a zombie state. It wasn't until last month, while talking to a friend from the platoon (Sgt. "Bro" Brambough), that I found out that another member of my squad, Poncho, died on a Re-Con mission he volunteered for a month after I had gone back to the states. Sounds a bit funny, but nobody ever knew his full name. He was just the Mexican kid with the incredible sense of humor that we all called "Poncho". He also spoke fluent Spanish and the platoon CO would use him at times to communicate troop movements to another Spanish fellow at Regimental HQ so as to confuse the NVA. Who we all knew were capable of listening in on our radio transmissions.

Anyway, I was once again back into that zombie state for a couple of weeks after the talk with Sgt. "Bro". But at this stage in my life, good 'ole "Faith" kicks in more often then not and I'm back to remembering the great times (Especially the humor) shared with all the guys.

Anyway, and now that I've dumped on you a bit (Thanks...), thought I'd fill in some of the gaps that exist since we parted company when you left for the Air Force. Was that one heckava party... !!! Or What...!

Guess I'll start my story during the infamous trip to, Disneyland, The Hickey's and the awesome 90 MPH car flip down the south-bound lane along California's Route 101. I think this all went down at about the same time you had sunk Tom Bowdry's car in Long Island Sound and Pat found herself stranded during a snow storm up no north somewhere.

Not sure if you know this, but Gregg Lavery and I rented an El Camino while stationed at Camp Pendleton, San Diego just prior to heading off to Okinawa and then, Vietnam. We headed north in mid-afternoon to Disneyland with hope of scoring with a couple of babes. Failed in the babe area but had a good time, though. I had earlier called ahead from the Camp, spoke with PJ, so we drove up to LA for a Hi-Dee-Ho with the Hickey's. We couldn't stay long because of the midnight curfew on the pass, so we headed south toward Pendleton. Gregg said he was bushed and asked that I drive. After about 25 miles, I got a bit paranoid that I might get pulled over without a license and Gregg took over the driving.

Somewhere around San Diego, while I was asleep on the passenger side, Gregg also went to sleep. Unfortunately, he was driving at the time. Two eye-witnesses, cruising in the north-bound lane of Rt. 101 and who would do a loop at the next exit and come to our aid, would tell the police that the El Camino was doing well over 90 MPH before it flipped more times then they could count. To date, I have no Idea how Gregg got out in one piece, but I must have been thrown out the passenger door after the second or third flip. Though the momentum threw me out faster then the flipping car, all I remember was waking up and counting the pebbles of the highway as I flew past. No kiddin’..! The whole thing was in slow motion. When I stopped, the car was doing its final flip pretty close by and I jumped down a steep embankment, which added to the injuries. When I crawled back up, I saw Gregg, with nary a scratch, wandering around in a kinda' shock. He seemed O.K., though, so I sat on the road, watched the flames from the over-turned car and wondered how the hell we had gotten out of that crash alive.

A few moments later, a couple (The eye-witnesses) in a brand new Cadillac stopped, guided me onto their backseat and I laid there feeling like crap because I was getting blood all over the white upholstery. Soon after, it looked like every police car in San Diego was at the scene. They questioned everyone and finally placed me into an ambulance. Before they left, Gregg stopped by. We stared at each other for a moment and then, spontaneously, started laughing our heads off, The cops, attendants and eye-witnesses thought we had flipped (Pardon the pun).

Hope you will appreciate some humor that came out of the incident but, for starters, and this one might sound screwy, but I was still worried about the curfew and asked the driver to take me to the Navy’s Hospital at Pendleton. Which they did... Along with a concussion, every thing that bends (Elbows, knees and, yes, part of my thick skull) was scraped to the bone but those wonderful Navy doctors & nurses stitched, patched and pretty much set me up for another life. Healing was the thing, though, so my orders were changed from going to the Nam to spending four to six weeks at the Navy Hospital at Pendleton.

Back to the humor... Buddies, most from the Paris Island crowd, stopped by once in awhile and, together, we hatched a scheme. The 13 month over-seas tour of duty basically started when you left the Continental USA, so with everyone (Except me) scheduled to leave on January 12Th, '68, a few of us thought it would be a gas if I was sneaked aboard the plane. They packed all my gear, had it on the parade ground shortly before take-off, Gregg had swiped a jeep to drive me from the hospital to the grounds and, shortly (After trying to get up that darned plane ramp...!), we were all flying west toward Okinawa and laughing our heads off. When landing at Okinawa, there was a jeep waiting as we de-planed. Leaning on it was a pair of M.P.'s. No offense to them, but I guess the doctors & nurses got wise and radio transmissions are a lot faster then a plane. My cap hadn’t succeeded in covering the head bandages, either, so the M.P.'s knew who to head for. It also took me about a week to get back down that darned plane ramp, which didn’t help my case.

For the next few hours, I sat in an office with the M.P.'s while everyone there debated on whether to charge me AWOL right there on the spot and put me in a brig or to ship me back to San Diego & let them read me the riot act. Some guy, joking, asked me what my punishment should be... Everyone waited and, without a blink, I said, "Why not send me to the Nam...?". Humor (And I thank God that my parents instilled it into all of us) again won the day and they all cracked up. I was shipped off to another Navy Hospital on Okinawa, no charges filed, and spent the next three weeks there until heading off to that lovely Asian paradise we've all come to know as the Nam. But not before a Sergeant introduced me to the red-light district outside the gate. And introduce me to the most beautiful Japanese girl I’d ever seen. And the silkiest black hair that ever existed...? Well, anyway, she was absolutely stunning and I spent an entire blissful evening with her. In each and every picture of me taken while in the Nam, there's a big grin that goes from ear to ear. The whole Okinawa thing, by the way, took a whole month off my tour so I spent twelve months in the Nam, as opposed to the Marines mandatory 13 months.

And the humor doesn’t end there... About 10 months later, a supply chopper flew into our position, dropped off all the bullets, beans, mail and stuff and the co-pilot said that he was to take "Some guy named Mike Regan back to Quang Tri...". I hopped on board, flew back with them, and reported to Hotel Company's Gunnie. He sent me off to talk with some legal officer who asked me if I had been involved in an automobile accident back in January. This is great because it turns out that, here we all were, perhaps in the most dangerous spot on planet earth at the time (The N/W sector of South Vietnam, near both the DMZ & Laos) and some some poor fellow who owns a private ambulance service in San Diego is threatening to garnish (No kiddin’...!) my salary. The Marines never paid the guy the $225 for the trip to the Navy Hospital. I confirmed the accident, signed some papers and headed back to the platoon on the next morning's supply chopper.

If you don't think that people in the most dire of situations can't enjoy a great belly laugh you should have heard us all after the guys got the gist of what the little chopper trip back to Quang Tri was all about. Even Poncho, our favorite Mexican of all, had trouble getting his breath back together. We laughed at the Marines, the Ambulance company and, of course. those in the rear. Just a brief story about them, but they could, at "Rare" times, screw things up... Like sending a pallet of Coors into a hot zone when the platoon is in dire need of water. Nightfall was on its way in so re-supply was out of the question. The Louie couldn't refuse our thirst, though, so told us to take it easy.

Yea... Right...! We got wrecked...! And they couldn't move us anywhere for two days. If only the NVA, who were only a few hundred yards off, really knew...! They could've over-run us in mere moments. Or, who knows...? Might have joined in on the bash. Just kidding... They were a bunch of schmucks and would have proven to be lousy company. God knows, though... There was enough beer to open up a stinkin' pub. Anyway, many of us decided to direct some wrath toward all those dips, from every side of that dufus oval table at the Paris Peace Talks. Including that head clown, Hank Kissinger... Who would later lie to the North Vietnamese about reparations he promised if the North would sign an accord and release our POW's. They signed, released the prisoners and the good 'ole U.S. of A. pulled out in January of '73. And, of course, the NVA never received Kissinger's reparations (Which didn’t even amount to much), waited until April, '75 for their toys and, finally, over-ran what we all knew of as South Vietnam. And all the blood, sweat & tears went to waste.

I sometimes think of those wonderful South Vietnamese people we left behind, especially those we ran into and, on many occasions, broke bread with... And do say an occasional prayer with hope that things turned out O.K. for them. Tops on the list was a fine lady, way aged before her time, that we nick-named "Mama Yokum". My squad was assigned to her & her husband's home & rice paddy in a little Village named Quat Sah during harvest time to protect it and them from both the NVA/Viet Cong. Who were quite known to enter a Village by the hundreds toward the end of harvesting, lop off the head of the Village Chief, the School Master, anyone else who got in their way and walk off with the entire rice crop. A brutality that nobody ever read or heard about from the main-stream media. Not from Cronkite, Rather, Brokaw, Newsday, The Times nor from any of those other media clowns who ran around during those days. Not heard or read about then, and not heard or read about now....

Anyway, before dusk would fall, "Mama Yokum" would come out to insist that we all come in and share dinner with her family. She and her husband had two children. She would get all worked up when we couldn't send everyone into her home at once. She could have brought food out to us, but simply wanted to share her home with us. After a day or two, we worked out a shift deal and great food was had by all. Not a word of English could be spoken with her and her family, but everyone understood everything. We stayed till the end of harvesting, about ten days, and said our good-bys. But those of us who pulled that particular assignment will never, ever forget "Mama Yokum". She was quite the lady. And if you think that everyone in the Nam were Buddhist, think again. Mama Yokum and her family were very much Christian.

Whooops...! Not sure if Kissinger or the rear guys got to me, but didn’t mean to get a bit political and melancholy there. Hopefully, some of the humor will take the sting out of any dumping. Anyway, the beer thing really happened, but ya' gotta' love those in the rear echelon. They always meant well and any screw-ups were extremely rare. We, too, had our share...

Well, that about covers it. Got home in February, '69 and, surprise, surprise, Nixon was offering an early out to anyone with less then six months to go and, like a lot of the guys, jumped all over that one like white on rice. My orders were to be an explosives instructor at the Officer Candidate School at Cherry Point. Hope they missed me, because I was out of the Marines like a rocket out of hell. The Marines even called a week later to say I had been awarded the Navy Achievement Medal and asked me to report to Fort Hamilton for a ceremony set up for about a dozen guys. I told the Sergeant thanks anyway and told him to mail it to me. Too many fellow Marines, better then I, had died without such an acknowledgment, and I felt all wrong about it. In retrospect, though, not only do I very much respect and miss the Marine Corps, but wish that I had gone to Fort Hamilton. I think my parents would have gotten a kick out of it. Many years later, I would finally come to appreciate both the gesture and the Secretary Of The Navy, John Chafee's signature. Still feel, though, that it was'nt deserved

To make a long story a bit longer, though I was still a bit of a zombie, got back into Hicksville Hess (With a brief stop-over (Thanks to Gene Clark) to work on Barbara Streisand's, "On A Clear Day You Can See Forever", as a grip for the Electrical Local 3. It filmed in Manhattan and director, Vincente Minelli, and Streisand argued day in and day out and it was no surprise when the film flopped. Actually shared a few words with Streisand (Who I had never heard of) and thought she was O.K. Has a great voice, too.

Actually, those months after returning from the "Nam" were, despite many of the horror stories we've heard from other returnin Vets, awesome. Early on, I was sitting with a group of buddies at the local pub, 'Shady Maples', met some babes and within the hour this gorgeous Jewish brunette asked me to her senior prom (Bearing in mind that I was but a year older). And it was all up-hill from there... 'What a friggin' night...!'. And it was great to get back into a tuxedo again. Hope nobody ever accuses me of being an anti-Semite, because that wonderful girl, not only understood what I had been through in the "Nam", but showed me one heckava evening... A "Lady", in every true sense of the word...

Again, things continued up-hill... Four of us (Two Marines, one Army guy and a Fly-Boy (No offense) rented a bachelor pad (Split level) on Long Island's North Shore, worked our asses off all week and when the weekend arrived, 'Holy Shite...', booze, broads, music, you name it... What with all the booze and munchies, money was tight, so, with no phone, any forms of communication were organized in the apartment below the split.

This is great... The apartment below was occupied by a senior member of the SDS. Remember them...? The radical 'Students For a Democratic Society'... What an a-hole...! We'd pick his lock with a butter knife, help ourselves to his fridge and start gettin' the calls out for our latest bash. One guy would stand by a window and give us the high-sign when his Volkswagen appeared and we'd all hightail it back up-stairs.

One afternoon we had a toilet back-up, checked the driveway to ensure that he (OR any of his pals) weren't around and broke in. We found the pipe, which was right above his bed, and opened it. Shoved a broom handle in and about three gallons of water & shite poured out... Of course, we had a major Budweiser buzz going, and laughed our asses off... He asked, even accused, us about it later and we all played 'Dumb' while expressing our hope that all turned out O.K. What's really funny is that even with a raided fridge, phone bills that must have been through the roof and walking into a bedroom soaked in shite, the dip-shite never had a clue. To warn his SDS pals, who would at times show up, he had spray painted on the wall, 'BEWARE THE PIGS UPSTAIRS'... Is life cool, or what...!

Anyway, had a great time with a lot of the 'ole town crowd, including yourself, who were coming out of the service and, especially, enjoyed those two bachelor pads that John Nichols, good 'ole Billy Healey, George Schaeffer, Jimmy O'Connell and myself got involved with. And all those babes...!!! By the way, hope you weren’t offended when that stereo gag was pulled on you when we were all singing to a Beatles tune. You had the ear-phones on and some drunk turned off the exterior speakers and you found yourself singing a solo for us all. Not a bad voice..! And hope you didn’t mind the initiation. Fact is, we were always pulling stunts like that on each other. They got George Schaeffer one night at a crowded bash when he dozed off (In a drunken stupor) on a couch. After filling both his hands with shaving cream, one of his fellow drunks kept tickling his nose with a feather and I guess you know how that ended up. A good laugh was had by all and we waited for the next "victim"...

The real bummer is that you hadn’t gotten home in time for the great week-end ski trips to Hunter Mountain. I think they were during the '70/'71 Winter Season. Suffice to say, what with all the girls, actual skiing was at a minimum (Though some of us did hit the slopes all day Saturday) and we ended it all on Sunday night by pouring the excess booze into a huge punch bowl, singing songs till the wee hours and closing with a huge hand-held circle and chorus of "Hey Jude". Cost for the weekend rental of this hugh house we used was well over $300 and I can't recall ever spending more then about $15 for my share, so you can imagine what one heckava great mad-house it became.

I guess, John, it's time for me to finally shut up. I know, because of your high security clearance and status at the time, you feel tied to the life-time non-disclosure document (And honorably so) you signed with the Air Force but I'm sure there are at least a few anecdotes or funny stories you might share. That wouldn’t undermine the obvious loyalty, again quite honorable, you feel toward the Air Force...

Thanks for writing and hope to see ya' soon...

Mike

Mike - don't give up - never give up.

- lee

Hey Lee,

No way could I leave this fine "Forum" without expressing a "Special Thanks" to you. Have enjoyed your posts and threads (especially, "Dillard Photographs Versus Re-Enactment") over these last few years and really appreciate your objectivity, sincerity and the obviously "Well Researched" material that you always presented to the "Forum"... It was of great help to me... Thanks, pal.

Hope nobody minds that I conclude any further involvement here at the "Forum" with a response to a fellow member over at my previous thread, "Gettin' A Kick Out Of Truth"... He had asked, "Are you saying that Jarman killing JFK amounts to a "coup d'etat" by African-Americans culminating in Obama's run for office?"... Seems appropriate to re-state my response (Below) because I believe the thread got a bit muddled up, what with all the "Hoopla" that erupted, for whatever the reason...

Again, Lee, Thanks for everything. And Thank you all..."Best Of Luck"

Semper Fi'
&
"God Bless",
Mike
_____________________________________________________________

Do I believe your quote, "Are you saying that Jarman killing JFK amounts to a "coup d'etat" by African-Americans culminating in Obama's run for office?"

You can bet that I do believe just that. By a "Minority" of the African American community. The "Majority" of that community, I feel, simply want to fit in and go about raising families and enjoying the fruits of their labors. Though I remain confused as to why they put up with so many of these self-proclaimed black leaders, some of the names of which I posted earlier, with their Rolex watches, Limos, hugh expense accounts that they've bilked from their own people and other millions they've bilked out of intimidated Corporations who would rather anti-up on huge settlements then drag their Companies through long, drawn our trials to answer to "Trumped Up Discrimination Charges" by the likes of Jesse Jackson and other "Black Leaders"... For the life of me, I do not understand why this "Silent Majority" of the African American community does'nt stand up to these bullies. I've no doubt that if I were to drive over to Massachusetts, stand atop a soap box at "Boston Commons", and then rant and rave for an hour or two on whatever injustices befell the Irish during their history, I would last just that... About two hours before I'd be tarred, feathered and run out of town on a rail. And those carrying that rail would bear such names as , O'Malley, McCourt, Plimpton and Reardon... And I'm sure most, if not all, other ethic groups in this awesome US of A would act in similar fashion if one of their member's also took to a soap box....

You live in Australia, and have little or no knowledge or experience as to what it has been like to live here in the good 'ole United States for over four decades. Do you want more "Residual" results of the assassination...? You've not seen two of America's most honorable and cherished Presidents, George Washington and Abraham Lincoln stripped of their well deserved National Holidays and replaced by a less than honorable man, Martin King (Do a "Google" on, "Martin Luther King, Communist"). You've not raised children who have gone to both High Schools & Colleges that have included (And, in many cases, forced upon the kids) "African History Study" into their carriculums. You've not owned a business and had every nook & cranny of your records examind for six months by the IRS because you refused to hire a minority (And a felon) who could enjoy an early release from prison if you would just, "Hire the poor fella'...". And to satisfy the Feds and their "Early Release Program". You've not watched a son and his girl friend, now his wife, stuggle as they "Worked" (Grocery Markets, Furniture Stores, Starbucks, etc. ) their way into Associates Degrees, Bachelor Degrees and, finally, Masters Degrees. And another fine son's great wife, who also paid her own way through college. No "Affirmative Action" for these fine kids, and millions like them who remain saddled in debt because their skin was'nt quite dark enough. You've not witnessed the annual expendature of billions upon billions of your hard earned tax dollars guided into an abused and corrupt "Welfare System"... And you remain unaware, as do many, as to the fact that the media does'nt allow a glimpse into some of the true violence going on here. Do another "Google" on, "Black On White Crime". and be surprised...

Again, I've no doubt that the majority of African Americans simply want to fit in and, I've no further doubt, remain aware of sacrifices made by so many White Americans on their behalf. Lest we forget Abraham Lincoln. Lest we forget 364,511 Union Soldiers who sacrificed their lives in our Civil War. Lest we forget the 281,881 Union Soldiers who were wounded (Most severely). Lest we forget one of this Nations finest President's, John Fitzgerald Kennedy, who held out an olive branch in the form of a Civil Rights Bill and was rewarded for his efforts by having the back of his head blown out... In front of his wife.

Mike