My pops was a Chief Petty Officer in this picture. He retired a Master Chief. Born July 13, 1941, in Marthaville, La. 4 years in the Army and 23 years in the Navy. I'd say he pulled his share of duty. He was taken from me 5 years ago from pancreatic cancer. As he passed, we were holding hands and he came out of his morphine coma, looked me right in the eyes, and said "Don't take risks"... I still don't know what that means in regards to my life. Maybe one day I'll figure that out.
I think about him every day and I'm extremely thankful I had him as a mentor, father, and friend. Yeah he gave me a ton of shit about choosing the Marines, but I think he loved it that I chose something different than him. I always told him he wasn't hard enough for the Corps, and he'd just look at me and say "gimme your hand boy, I'll show you hard..." He taught me many things that carried me along as a young hard charger and many things that I cannot say in front of my sweet little mama without risk of having my name taken off the will. ;)
Rest easy Sailor, your Marine awaits our reunion in Valhalla.
First bottle of Johnnie Walker Blue Label is on me.
Salute.
born July 13, 1941, in Marthaville, La
born July 13, 1941, in Marthaville, La
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