@1958 or so |
Once a year we had to re-qualify at the rifle range which was strange because all we had back at Bushy Park were 45s and Tommy Guns (and every time I cleaned one of them I felt like Dillinger). This meant a jaunt to some English army base where I could hear the instructors giving the grunts the same wild commands that we had received in basic except these guys were louder and scarier. I constantly was amazed at how as a draftee that I had fallen into such a strange and cushy 'sleep-in-a-bed' and spend nights at the Pub kind of job in the army - and no 'white-walls' required, mustache optional.
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