Dad was right

Lackland Air Force Base, Texas, summer 1962. Disregarding my father’s advice to never volunteer (he, a WWII Army Air Corps vet), I volunteered to give blood with the reward being that after donating, I would be excused from duty. We volunteers were taken to the obstacle course to wait for our ride to the hospital. While waiting, another recruit and I were put in a canoe and told to cut the cattails out of the lake. The rest is rather obvious. Our ride showed up at 1800, we gave blood around 1900, got back to the barracks around 2100, and were cheerfully told that we were off duty for the rest of the day.
Father does indeed know best.

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