I went into Basic Training at Ft. Bliss, Texas April 1966 (Bliss is not the correct name for it) and I thought I can sweat, have done so as a slave for my Dad but never did I sweat like this.

Sleep, that was a luxury, nil afforded, but running up and down sand dunes was a regimens we soon became to despise.

Soon after we knew the Hell of polishing floor and brass in our "spare" time to pass inspections along with our precisely rolled socks, underwear t-shirts and how boots should be able to send a signal to space.

I wouldn't change a thing about those memories.