We were rich

Mark Stinson

Growing up I felt like we were rich, dad was an E-8 when I was born. We always had a place to live. Always had food, albeit great meals at the beginning of the month and the days before payday slim pickings. Sports were always available. The Teen Clubs. The Boy Scouts with all of our equipment marked with ‘US’ and not ‘BSA’.

At Ft Bliss our scout master was a LTC and we went to his BN Supply Room to sign for our equipment. There was always a swimming pool or two on Post. While in the Babe Ruth Baseball League I was so slow with my Converse High Tops I asked my mom if I could get Baseball Cleats. She said that we couldn’t afford them. The day after payday there was a box on my bed containing cleats.

When my dad retired after 30 years, after we returned to the states, as a CSM he came to the car window and counted out $980.00 (1966 dollars). On our way back to San Antonio we splurged and stayed one night at the Holiday Inn. No, we weren’t what I call Army poor but were very rich. I mean how many kids get to live in Germany for 7 years (3 tours)?

 

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