It sometimes amazes me that we never ended up in the Post Stockade, an Ethiopia Jail or even worse, dead. Some of things that we did and the stunts that we pulled put us in Harms Way more often than not. The scary thing is that we never gave it a second thought. When someone suggested something that was out of the ordinary, no matter how risky it was, we would all jump up and say "Let's go for it!" We were young, brash and carefree and just wanted to have fun no matter what the consequence.

Maddog has reminded me that we did have a Guardian Angel. This Angel took form as a fellow A Trick member named Don Joye, call sign DJ. DJ was a unique individual. He'd come to the Oasis Club with us, Bar Hop downtown with us, make it to all the Trick Parties and attend most of the after hours orgies that the gross guys were prone to attend. The one difference was that he remained sober and celibate (as far as I know).

The Bar Whores called him Gushi-Gushi (Gushy-Gushy). I believe that this was the Eritrean word for Priest or Holy Man. To us he was a Saint! DJ had the uncanny ability to always be there in time to get us out of a jam. He'd appear out of nowhere, pack us into a waiting vehicle (usually Popko's Grossmobile) and magically transport us safely back to A Company.

Bill Hunt arrived from Sinop in early 1968 and was assigned to NMSD on A Trick. He fell right in with the rest of us and immediately became a Gross Guy. He and DJ became fast friends (they were both from North Carolina). Bill bought a Jeep and DJ would drive it when we were not up to the task. DJ would drop us (Bill, myself and a Menehunie that we called Handsome Howard) off at the Lancia Bar for a night of Bar Hopping and then he'd disappear. No matter where we ended up, DJ would be there at closing time to take us back to Post. Bill would sing " Gushie-Gushi is a good old boy" over and over again on the way home. Don truly was our Guardian Angel!

Most of the "A" Trick Gross Guys PCS'ed prior to July 1968, leaving just a handful of us to keep up the tradition. I was now a short timer and without my partners in crime to provoke me into doing misdeeds, I started spending time with a lovely young lady named Rosa. As heir apparent leader of the Gross Guys, I guess I dropped the ball. Or maybe I just grew up into adulthood!

 (Webmasters note: Six months after leaving Asmara I received a letter from Bill Hunt. Just click on the "letter bar" to view it!)