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Date Posted: Fri, January 14 2005, 15:31:05
Author: Larry Lusk
Author Host/IP: 66.214.61.174
Subject: Re: Welcome Home, Soldier
In reply to: Nate 's message, "Welcome Home, Soldier" on Fri, January 14 2005, 4:55:04

Hi Nate and Joe,

I had a similar experience returning to the “real world”. My flight home for ETS from the Army stopped first at Honolulu International Airport in Hawaii. I was a Sgt. E5 then and I was traveling with a Sp5 medic from Okinawa. I had spent the last ten months of my enlistment as an Armed Forces Policeman on Okinawa. We had both been in Vietnam, he had been a combat medic and I an infantryman. We went through Customs there and since there was a short lay-over while the plane was refueled we decided to have our first drink to celebrate our home-coming. We sat down in the Airport main bar and a young good looking waitress came up to our table. Before we could open our mouths to order a beer the waitress said, “Boy’s, I need to see some ID”. Now I knew the legal drinking age in Hawaii was the same as California because when I enlisted my family was living in Hawaii but had returned to California while I was in the service. I guess what struck me so hard and hurt was that here we were, two NCO’s (at least I was), combat ribbons on our uniforms, a CIB and Purple Heart (with cluster) on mine and CMB and Silver Star on his. I knew that Hawaii was more military savvy than most parts of the U.S. and if we had wanted to (but miss our flight) we could have got in a cab and gone to Ft. Derusey on Waikiki Beach and had a beer (3.2 but still a beer). I knew because I had several days after I enlisted before my flight to California and Ft. Ord and I had gone down to the beach bar at the Fort and although I was only eighteen after showing my orders for basic training I was served a beer without a question.

After a stunned few seconds of silence we both pulled out our ID’s to prove we were over twenty-one. She took our order but after she left the table I said I didn’t want the drink anymore and wanted to leave. It wasn’t the ID check so much as being called a “boy” in the tone she had used. What ever had been left of my boyhood had been taken away from me more than a year and a half before then. My friend put his hand on my shoulder and said, “hey, this is for us, they (he gestured toward the bar and the rest of the room) can’t even imagine what we’ve seen and done”. I calmed down and when our beers arrived we gave a toast to “absent friends” and didn’t leave a tip for the waitress.

Joe, I don’t know about Europe but in Panama and South East Asia and Japan I never had a problem getting served a drink in a local bar. In fact, while working as Armed Forces Policeman I sometimes thought it was far too easy for some of the younger members of our Armed Forces to get a drink. Some of them ruined the rest of their lives as a result.

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