I recently realized that we left behind some REAL FRIENDS when we came home. I caught a name on the Kagnew Station Homepage Roster that clicked. The stats fit for the time I was at Kagnew, at the transmitter site, everything fit. I e-mailed Bill Coleman in Washington State. I did the usual check. You know, ask a few simple questions to VERIFY IDENTIFICATION (you just never know; how's that Maddog?). If he were the right guy, we went horseback riding with a George "Somebody". I can picture George of course, but not his last name. Bill replied with "And didn't the villagers throw rocks at us?" He was the Bill Coleman that I remembered. This made me remember the horseback ride all day. These were nice memories.

We went way the fuck out in the fucking boonies. I have no idea where we were. We didn't really give a shit either. I like riding and hadn't done so for some time. I believe that Bill was on his first ride ever. George was a very good rider. He requested the horse that was kind of nuts. I don't remember the horse's name. He was the only horse that didn't want to go back to the barn. This fucking horse would run forever. As long as it was not back to the barn. Nice horse though.

Way out in the boonies we ran into a small village. Maybe five or so grass huts. As a total surprise to us the small kids came out with hands outstretched, yelling gimmie, gimmie. We all know that after more than a year of that shit that you've had enough. Well we refused to give. Then the older kids came out. How many fucking kids do these people have? This was our undoing. We quickly decided we should leave. As we turned our horses around the kids sensed what we were up to. They started to chase us. And they had rocks in their hands, but not for long. We were under a rock attack. I said to George, " Let's go." He was reluctant to get his horse running, because the damn thing wouldn't stop. Fuck you, George. My ass is on the line now. I kicked my horse and Bill did the same. George yelled, " What the fuck did you do?" "It's too late George". We were off. We couldn't get far as the flat spot we were on ended real soon. We then had to walk our horses down a steep embankment. And being good Ethiopians, throwing rocks at the Americans was the thing to do this year.

We didn't get hit, but it spooked the horses pretty good. We had a nice ride after that. I seem to remember a very small stream that eventually turned into a thin waterfall of some sort, way the fuck in the hills between Asmara and the transmitter site. Eritrea was an absolutely beautiful country. God I miss that shit. Remember just looking out from almost anywhere and seeing sights that we will never see anywhere else, ever. Smells we will never smell again. Some of those I'm glad I will never smell again.

I just took a nice pause and remembered nice times in Asmara and just a few sights and a few smells.

Bill and I had to wait quite a while for George. We all wanted to gallop at the end of our ride. Even George was waiting for this. He also knew his had no control when it came to running with this horse.

What a fucking riot to see a horse with his head turned completely one way and running in the opposite direction. Bye George. Bill and I ran our horses across a freshly plowed field to slow the horses down.

Remember how they loved to cut you off at the balls going into the stalls at full speed. Fucking George ended up walking his crazy fucking horse for the last mile home. If he got on the horse the fucking thing would take off running again. George would still be out there if the horse had anything to say about it. It was a great time and a great memory. Thanks guys.