The Beer Tent

The Time I Took my Wife to Meet the Girls at Manos

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You already know the story of my first visit to Manos, the Russian spy-restaurant in Tokyo. It was 1972. It was run by two brothers from Pittsburgh, former OSS officers during WWII, and within shouting distance of the Soviet embassy, where, at the end of every visit, I’d pause to take a leak on their gate.

A small restaurant, Manos was known Tokyo-wide not for its borscht, which was horrible, but that it was the single place in all Tokyo ...

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Putting a Tuk-Tuk Into the Wall

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It must have been 1990 or 91, my battalion was in Thailand for a training deployment.  They worked the hell out of us and made us hurt.  I learned first hand about the nasty things that live in jungles.  After 23 days in the jungle the entire crotch fell out of my trousers, it was cooler that way but still somewhat embarrassing.  I wasn’t the only one, that helped a little.  The Wolfhounds finally got me a shower and decided ...

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Wenching on the DMZ; the Owner’s Manual

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Stormy Daniels brings to mind the ancient and universal definition of “wench”, a woman of low repute one would not like to be seen with in public.

Politics aside, she’s made public a side of life few Americans, unless born on the wrong side of the tracks know very little about. Still, it seems every American soldier, as far back as the Civil War, when the term “camp follower” became synonymous with off-duty recreation for soldiers, and were a fixture outside ...

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In Search of the Beautiful Lt Chiquita, My Affair with Prostitution, continued

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To have any street cred about prostitution, I have to have had some personal experiences with those long-legged females up ahead.

I had that chance, as an unmarried man, during my college days. So, I’m not telling anything out of school here.

In the mid-60s I formed a romance with those beautiful black-eyed Mexican women embedded by Hollywood in so many Western films, and one in particular, the beautiful, busty Lieutenant Chiquita, Mexican Juarista extraordinaire. Continue Reading →

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My 60-Year Affair With The World’s Oldest Profession; Betty, Part I

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Allen’s Airborne enlistment poster (Skit Nite) is an art form I never get tired of admiring, especially leggy women. It also put me in mind of a story that’s been dancing around in my head for a long time. It actually started on a military note, World War II, well sort of, then swerved way back to Mexico, then back to the Army and Korea, then ending up in Russia and the Balkans, with short stops in a host of other countries.

And it was ...

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The Flying Prostitute, The Martin B-26 Bomber

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An introduction to a line of stories about the world’s oldest profession and its relationship with military men every where.

The Martin B-26 was a 2-engine medium bomber, serving from 1942 to 1945. It llargely supported ground operations in the Pacific and Mediterranean theaters of combat.

Because of its huge fuselage and, by comparison, smaller wings, it was affectionately referred to by ground troops in North Africa, Sicily and Italy as “the flying prostitute”.

Why? Wait for it.

No Visible Means of Support.

 

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The Sergeant Major’s Beer Tent

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My first unit was in the 25th Infantry Division (Light), 4th Bn 27th Infantry at Schofield Barracks, Hawaii.  This was the peace-time army, late eighties-early nineties.  We trained hard and we played hard, hell I was a young man.  Working hard and playing hard we’re showcased twice a year with an off-island deployment.  For our unit it was a time to shine, that meant they would work the snot out of us, we saw it as a challenge.  Like the ...

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