It seems that life in the sea going service has taken on a musical flare.
When I get shore leave and go home to visit my family and old friends, they can’t hide their pride. As the background music slows to a stately march, my normally hard-as-nails dad salutes me and shakes my hand with tears in his eyes.
I’m sure glad that I didn’t join the Marines. All those guys seem to do is climb sheer mountain faces with their bare hands.
That still doesn’t explain the bell bottoms and the goat. Sgt Hook out.
Hotel Tango Fred.
Posted by Hook @ 1920 zulu | | Permalink
This post is filed under: Joint Services & La Vita Dolce
