There was a certain Army supply sergeant in DaNang, a First Sergeant Dalba from Boston, Massachusetts that loved to call home -- anyone in the DaNang area in 1969 might have run some calls for him too -- and he loved to cumshaw because he had access to all the best stuff.  He called up to Sierra one day about mid afternoon trying to get on that nights schedule to call home.  We told him we were already pretty full up for the night, but if he would give a number where he could be reached sometime around 0200 - 0400 the next morning we would try to work him in at the end of the schedule if the band stayed open long enough.  Ok, he said, followed by, "By the way, what do you guys like to drink?"  Hmmm.....  Well, we are both scotch drinkers, I say, Ric likes Chevas, and I am kind of partial to Johnny Walker Red.  Well, about two hours later, the door to the station opens and in walk three Army dudes, a First Sergeant accompanied by two Privates and each Private is carrying a case of Scotch -- one case of quarts of Chevis Regal and one case of quarts of Johnny Walker Red, and this First Sergeant says, "I am Sergeant Dalba, where you want this stuff?"  To which, I am ashamed to admit, I replied, "You know what, Sergeant, I think you are number one on the list tonight."  And that, as they said in the movie, was the start of a beautiful affair.  

The second story is about a night down at Juliet at Marble Mountain, when a certain Sgt.  Bogue and I got really deep into some TTY repairs while trying to get an old Model 28 up and running and consuming large quantities of Johnny Walker Red.  Believe it or not, I think we got Juliet up on TTY that night.  But, by the time I was ready to leave to drive back to Sierra I was so SF'd that I got in the jeep and took off and drove right across the flight line at 1st MAW and it is only by luck and the grace of God that I did not collide with one or more choppers.  By the time the MP's got me stopped and under control and drug into see the Officer of the Day, who they had to wake up from a deep, deep sleep, I was a Radioman Second Class (E-5) heading for the brig and a Seaman Apprentice (E-2) rate -- if I was lucky.  So here I stood surrounded by some of the meanest looking Marine MP's you ever saw, when out walked this Marine Captain Helicopter Pilot zipping up the front of his flight suit and obviously pissed because some drunk Squid has just caused him to be awaken from his much needed sleep.

Today, I cannot recall his name, but I can still see his face, but for now, I'll just call him Capt.  Smith.  However, that night what I saw immediately was his name in those gold letters on that leather patch on his flight suit -- a name I immediately recalled as one of our very regular customers.  What do they say about when you are going down the toilet anyway, you might as well go for broke?  "Captain Smith -- it is so good to finally get to meet you.  Man, I feel terrible about having to meet you under these circumstances and I am so sorry they had to wake you up.  You don't know who I am, but I am from the MARS Station up on Monkey Mountain and I am the guy that runs the calls for you to call home.  Man, I feel bad about this, because if I wind up in the brig, I won't be able to make your calls home for you."  And then I went on to tell him his wife's name and where he lived and other important information, when he just jumped in and told me to SHUT UP and turned to the MP's and told them to "take this drunk SOB up to that damn mountain" and looked and me and said something about if he ever caught me back at 1st MAW or even near Marble Mountain my ass was grass...and well, you know the rest of that story.  And to this day, I never went back to Juliet.  So, it was only because of a few MARS calls to a Marine chopper pilot's wife at Cherry Point, North Carolina that I too don't have documentation in my U.S.  Government personnel file declaring that I am an expert regarding that stuff.  

Several years later, I gave up Scotch.