E PLURIBUS UNUM

http://www.seattlepi.com/horsey/viewbydate.asp?id=1951

This is a photo of a sign taped to the counter top, just to the left of the cash register, at the Pharmacy where I get all my prescriptions filled.
The fact that they need this sign here makes me wonder about some people and there cell phones. I think that they wake up in the morning, put the headset on like a piece of clothing, and start talking through breakfast, and on through the day. There is another group that just loves to hear their new ring tone, and they will answer it, no matter where they are. In the restroom, in a restaurant, or during a transaction at the Pharmacy, the grocery store, or any other business.
There is another group who are always texting,(mostly younger folks), while walking down the street, waiting in the doctor's office, or sitting in a restaurant eating. Last week, I even saw a young man texting with his right thumb, while standing at a urinal in a public men's room.
I know there is more to this HIPPA or HIPAA rule than just the rudeness of using your cell phone while picking up your drugs, but the fact that they can't stop talking, or texting, for the five minutes it takes to make the transaction, is the reason they have to post the sign.
Maybe some people should just have a cell phone implanted in their brain. Who knows, that just may be the next status symbol.

Here is a link that may shed some light on this HIPPA, (HIPAA) rule.
http://www.hipaacompliance101.com/hipaa-rules.htm

Viet Nam (The Final Chapter)

It was early February 1968, and my tour was almost over. I already had my orders in hand, directing me to report to the USS Tidewater AD31, out of Norfolk Virginia. She was a Destroyer Tender, almost like shore duty, (Almost). I still had to go back to Saigon to check out, and we were headed upriver, three or four days from the mouth of the river when we found that we, (two of us were leaving) could get a flight out of Vinh Long, one of the stops that we always made. It was evening by the time we finished unloading the cargo, and at dusk there was a kind of an eerie hush that seemed to hang over the whole area, so we all decided not to go into town. Our plane was leaving very early the next morning anyway, so we spent that evening getting our stuff packed, and ready to go.
It was just getting daylight the next morning when we climbed aboard the cargo plane, and buckled ourselves into two of the few seats along the two bulkheads.
To my surprise there were many Vietnamese climbing aboard, men, women, and children. When the seats were all full, the rest, mostly women and children, seated themselves on and amongst our luggage, and the other cargo bags that were strapped down just forward of the cargo ramp, (door, which was never closed until the plane was in level flight), and as the plane ascended, those seated on the bags had to hang on for dear life to keep from sliding out the back door. I was really afraid for them, but miraculously we never lost anyone.
At Saigon, we caught a bus that took us down to the Annapolis Hotel, the same place as when we first arrived, (It had not changed much in a year).
That night, as soon as it was dark the whole city, it seemed, had turned into a ghost town. The usual sounds of a thriving city were gone, and we all knew something was up, and just a few minutes later we began to hear automatic weapons, and the occasional explosion. Some of us ran over to the front windows to see what was happening. The night sky was all lit up by flares going off, and tracers flying everywhere it seemed.
I heard someone yell, “Get away from the windows, you idiots, do you want to get shot?” All of a sudden I was glad that I had a bottom bunk, ( which I crawled under) and that, there were Army MP’s guarding the building.
After about 15min I got off the deck, and got into my bunk, but I did not sleep. It hardly let up the whole night, but just before dawn, it stopped completely. When the sun came up the city went back to normal, just like nothing had happened, but from then on, everywhere we went, we had an armed escort, even to the Chow Hall.
That morning we started checking out. We went to the hospital first, and nothing seemed to be amiss as we had a quick physical, and received our Medical Records, but that afternoon we were escorted over to the personnel office where there was a hole blown in the wall, big enough to drive a jeep through, and the electricity was off, but the generators were running, and the typewriters were running pretty steady. (No computers in those days).
The next night, it was the same thing all over again, only closer this time, and more intense, and again I got little or no sleep.
In the morning we had some other places to check out of, but I don’t remember what they were. I did find out though that my original flight had been cancelled, and I was beginning to think that I might have to stay here until this thing was over. Thing being the Tet Offensive. Later known as the “1968 Tet Offensive”.
I was originally scheduled to fly out of Bien Hoa because I was being reassigned to the East Coast, while those going to the West Coast, were flying out of Ton Son Nhut. Don’t ask me why. (Military Stuff)
Due to fighting along the road to Bien Hoa, it was closed to ordinary traffic, so we stayed one more night at the Annapolis Hotel, only this time we heard the MP’s yelling, and there was lots of automatic weapons fire, including the .50 caliber mounted behind sand bags at the corner of the building. Again, no sleep.
The next morning a bus with armed guards took us up to Ton Son Nhut, where we were to fly out on the last Civilian Airlines flight out of Viet Nam.
When I took my Sea Bag and set it on the scales, the man said, “you have too much weight, you will have to get rid of something”, so I grabbed my Sea Bag, and ran outside to the nearest fence, and started throwing stuff over the fence, like two pair of brand new Tropical Combat Boots, and other things I can’t remember. I just wanted to get away from this place as quick as possible.
On the other side of the fence there were three white uniformed Viet Nam police catching the stuff I was throwing over the fence. I think maybe one piece actually hit the ground. When I got back inside, I took my Sea Bag over to check in, and the man said, “I’m sorry sir, but while you were gone, you were bumped off the flight by a man going home on emergency leave. You will have to wait for the next available military flight, which I believe will leave sometime tomorrow morning. I’m sorry you had to throw all that stuff away. Military flights don’t care how much weight you have.” I said, “Thanks, thanks a lot.”
That night I slept on the floor, with my Sea Bag as a pillow. It was the best nights sleep I had in a week.
Somewhere around 0800 the next morning I boarded a big gray Air Force C-141, a jet aircraft, at least twice the size of a civilian 707.
The seats were regular airline seats bolted on to the deck. 32 seats, all on the starboard side, and all occupied.
The cargo stacked to our left was tied down and covered with opaque plastic. As we were about to take off, the captain announced, “Today we are leaving Viet Nam with 32 live bodies, and 33 Killed In Action! May They Rest In Peace!”

Chapter 9 (Larry's Viet Nam Saga)

The very next trip, we were headed upriver toward Saigon when we had a malfunction in one of the main diesel engines. We were only a few short miles from Nha Be, a Naval Support Activity Base, about 5 to 10 miles downriver from Saigon. So we limped on up to Nha Be on one screw, and anchored there, about 75 meters off the PBR piers.
One of the sailors from the Seal Support Team, brought a small fiberglass boat out to pick up the 1st Class Engineman and take him ashore to order the parts we needed to fix the engine, but he also had orders to take the Craft Master ashore, to meet with the Commanding Officer. We all looked at each other and nobody said anything, but I was thinking, “Hmmm, that’s interesting”. I’m sure I wasn’t the only one, considering what had happened on the last trip, but that afternoon the Craft Master, and the Engineman returned. The only thing that was said, was that we could keep the small fiberglass boat as long as we were anchored there.
The next morning two crew members were called over to the base, and came back just before lunch, but no one would say anything. It was pretty quiet about the decks the rest of that day.
Later that evening, I broke out my bottle of Jack Daniels, walked out on deck, and sat down on the forward hold cover, and began to sip on that good old sour mash.
A little while later I was joined by three or four other crew members who were all drinking beer, or something else intoxicating, and began discussing what may, or may not be going on with the Craft Master, and his meeting with the Commanding Officer. By 2200 (10pm), we were all pretty well plastered. I went below, climbed into my bunk, and fell asleep almost immediately, and slept like a baby, until about 0300 when I was jolted awake by the General Quarters Alarm. Just like I was trained to do, I jerked on my pants and boots, (without tying them), and headed up the ladder. At the top of the ladder, on the bulkhead was a bracket holding my M-60 Machine Gun, which I grabbed, and ran out onto the deck. The cook who was the ammo man, was right behind me. He picked up the can of belted ammo, and we bounded up the ladder to the bow where the M-60 mount was welded to the top of the Anchor Windlass. At the same time we were well aware of mortars falling like rain (it seemed), all around the boat. I mounted the gun, and loaded it. I wanted to make sure the safety was on, but with Jack Daniels still running my brain, and with all the excitement I couldn’t remember weather up or down was the right position for safe. So I pointed the gun toward the stars and tapped the trigger. The gun fired three times, one of which was a tracer. I flipped the lever the other way, flopped face down on the deck, laced my hands together behind my head, and waited. I thought maybe I should say a prayer, but the only one I knew was the child’s prayer, “Now I lay me down to sleep, I pray the Lord my soul to keep. If I should die before I wake, I pray the Lord my soul to take. Amen.” So I said that one.
I noticed that all the PBR’s were getting underway, and I heard a couple helicopters fly over. I also noticed that the mortars had moved off toward the PBR piers and the base.
It turned out that the VC had “Walked” the mortars from the middle of the river all the way across the base, and then stopped. Miraculously, not one mortar had hit the boat.
The first thing the Craft master said was, “What were you trying to do, shoot down one of our helicopters?” But I was not punished in any way.
The next morning some of the guys went over to the base to look around, but I didn’t go.
There were some casualties, but as far as I can remember, no one was killed.
To this day, I cannot remember if that safety lever was supposed to be up or down.