You Can’t Draft Me, I Join

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As we waded across, her legs wrapped around my waist, her arms tight around my neck, I gushed at the smell of her hair, and her cheek against my neck. I was overcome by the moment and wished the river was a mile wide.

I actually felt a pain around my heart, and the realization there was nothing I could do. I was a prisoner locked away in the heat and humidity of the Missouri Ozarks because my Uncle Sam got himself in a jam.

Our pot dealer was a long haired, bearded, American hippy who worked as a custodian at the local Catholic Church. He kept his stash in the Church’s basement… we called him Jesus.

The interesting thing about Dachsbau was that it provided a unique perspective of world events. It was fascinating to realize the stories you read in the paper, or heard on the radio, or saw on television, were in fact old news to you.

One x-critic resulted from the seizing of the American spy ship, USS Pueblo, by North Korea. Years later, I was privileged to meet a survivor and hear the gut wrenching account of his capture and his wounds being treated without anesthesia, including castration.