By: Geoffrey Harp
Great story. A friend, and I, also on our way across “the pond,’ in November 1967, could not find the hole in the fence either. Kin Village, and all of it’s willing honeys, was too much for us to resist. We climbed the fence. While I was half way over, the MPs arrived. I leaped, and my pants caught, and loudly ripped. I almost left the best part of me up on the barbed wire! We ducked out of sight and made our way to town. Our first stop was what appeared to be a nice little hotel. What a beautiful “house” it turned out to be. The Mamasan took one look at my torn pants and said, “You give, I fix , you go upstairs. You no need pants here.” When I happily came back down stairs a short time (no play on words) later, the old gal handed me my mended pants. They were as good as new, and so was I. My friend,and I spent the evening hopping a few bars, and then finished off at another nice “house’ before climbing back in to the confines of Camp Hanson. Had we been caught, what in the hell would they have done to us. Sent us to Vietnam?! First Recon Bn. was awaiting my arrival.
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