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I seldom reply in a fashion that night be considered a personal attack, but this time I hear my own split-tails under attack. What urks me is that it comes from somebody who is almost a homefry. I used to live right next to Braddock's Landing at the end of Victoria Boulevard.

I did twenty years with the Army, most of it in Korea. If it's north of Seoul, I don't need a frigging map. I only had two females during that time, out of dozens, that weren't as nasty as us males. Both were chaptered out.

If I told Marcie and Maria to change the inside dualies on a twice-and-a-half, I didn't have to check back later. If I was on the DMZ and told Yvette and Sandi to cover me, I knew I had two mean perpetual PMS'ing wenches watching my six. Lori sat exposed under a ROK 155mm artillery shoot where they hosed the coordinates completely talking the rest of us out of the new & totally unexpected impact area.

You talk about pregnancies shipboard or in REMF assignments. Yeah, it might be a problem to those who deal in admistrivia. "Damn, we be short a typist!" You do not see that in the line units. Even if the wench is chasing everyone who doesn't squat to pee.

Let's see now -- 6'5" and 220 pounds. Yvette would have tied you in a knot like a stale pretzel, stuffed you in her duffel bag, and probably have forgotten your existence.

That's very interesting.

Your experience is quite different than my father in law who served in combat in WWII, Korea, and Vietnam (2 tours). He says there were no women in combat that he saw in any of those conflicts. Career NCO and tough as nails. He like nearly every other American ground combat vet I know disagree completely with your relatively unique experience.

I have no idea where Braddocks Landing or Victoria Blvd. are but the sentiment is heartwarming.