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Intersecting Venn Diagrams

 It's a small world, especially when your world revolves around folk who do or did what you do or did.

A (comparatively) young man has opened a militaria/antique shop in Leavenworth, which is a good thing. With all the retirees around here dying off, someone should be able to make a go of something like that. He's sponsoring a formal militaria collectors club which has a core group of greybeard fellow travelers like myself.  We're kicking around ideas about how to hook the youngsters on our particular form of crack.

All of us are veterans of some sort, most with merit badges for having been to exciting places in exciting times. Which means that when we meet, there's as much war story telling as their is any business transacted. As we have no fighter or helo pilots in the group thus far, there's a lot of TINS, but not much hand-waving, as one finds when aviators are present.

Of course, that's part of the attraction.  I already know enough hand-wavers...

So, the Vietnam guys (currently the majority) are holding forth, when one of them, who was a combat medic and is now a GS guy at the Command and General Staff College, talks about his time in an artillery battalion while in Vietnam. There's a couple of Redlegs in the group.

So, I asked, "Who were you with?

"6th of the 15th," he replied.



"When did you leave?"

"March 69."

"So you were there when Sennewald was the commander."

"Yep, I left a week before he did. Great guy."

"You left a week before my Dad took command. Sennewald got wounded, and the change of command took place by his hospital cot before he evac'd."

"No shit! Small world, eh?"

"Tell me about it - there are at least three of you in the area who served in the 6th under Sennewald and my Dad, now that I know you did.  That's unusual for a town this size - especially for a regular Army unit, vice a Guard unit.  And you guys that are here aren't all retired Colonels, either."

Yep, it's a small world. Oh golly I wish he'd left a little while later... so I could pump him for stories about the Auld Soldier. Oh well.

I'll just have to pump him for contact info for guys who were still with the unit when he left to come back to the states.


 Does Bill wave his hands when he tells war stories? I'd think it's kinda hard to type and wave your hands at the same time.
Handwaving is for the fixed-wing folks.  Hellaflopper types have grand-mal seizures.
Very cool, I just got a letter from a Marine that was in my dads unit (3/5 India CO) when he was the Platoon Sgt.

I wave my hands when on my soap box, thought it was a Irish thing :)

He tends to the more traditional:

 God bless you. God bless you all.

John. We have GOT to get together...
 Hey, HEY! What's wrong with retired Colonels?
 I don't, personally, think there's a thing wrong with retired Colonels. I know one, a retired Zoomie in Dayton who is alright.
Hellaflopper aviators don't wave their hands. Something to do with having to use both hands and both feet on the machine at all times.  If they did wave their hands, they'd be waving a clenched right fist in circles, and a clenched left fist up and down while twisting it.
Wrong, JTG.  They're handwavers too...

Dusty, around here, retired Colonels are, well, common.  Dime a dozen.  Can't hardly swing a dead cat without smacking some retired Colonel. 

That's illegal though. 

Swinging dead cats. 

It's always open season on Colonels, because the herd is waaaay too large for the region.
Colonels; Active, Retired or Post Animated, are too common, too loud, too wrong and too actively belligerent. Half Colonels are more than half as bad. It just goes down hill from there... and... I felt the same way about PO1s when I was a PO3; the Captains when I was an LT and on and on...

None of the above applies to the many (of all ranks) quiet, competent and just plain fun to be around!
I like retired Colonels. I think everyone should own three or four.

JTG, I have as yet to see anyone with Aviator Wings that could keep from waving their hands when telling a war story.
 A bit of news on Boq's last patrol of teh Moat