You know, Puddin, I don't ever remember eating at the 119th's mess hall? I remember going over and getting the "pill", I remember drinking coffee and trying to wake up for early call-outs; and I remember eating C rats in the field and steak at English and at the Holloway O Club ...

My wife, an RN, says that one's mind tends to block out all the worst things that happen to a person, and you can't really begin to heal until you begin to remember and talk about it, and start accepting all the $**t.

Maybe some day I'll be healed enough to remember the food. (Didn't they make "scrambled eggs" out of sawdust?)

Pickett
Gator 317