To Sgt. Charles (Chuck) Brewer, 1967-1973 regarding your story of meeting people from 12,000 miles away.
I was originally sent to Okiniwa ('71) for dispatch either north or south. The dispatching sergeant took one look at my MOS (6242 – aviation electrician), his list, and sent me to Iwakuni, Japan. All newbies in Iwakuni were TDY'd to quonsot huts and even stayed after being assigned a squadron. I was waiting assignment (I was eventually assigned to H&MS-17. Your sister squadron in Iwakuni) and had rented a bicycle to get around this base with 7,000 other Marines. The bike's number was A-53. Amazing what we can remember over 41 years ago! I locked my bike up and one night someone decided that he wanted it more than me. It was gone in the morning. I looked around (borrowed a buddy's bike) and couldn't find the bike, Then I went to the rental place and told my story. I was informed that I need to produce the bike by week's end or $100.00. Damn! That was a lot of money for a Lance Corporal that was sending all but $20.00 to his wife. Two days later I was walking back to my hut from lunch at the chow hall. They were serving watery chili that day and it decidied to go through me pretty quick. I saw four bikes riding towards me and check them out as I was tryong to get to the shi&&%$ before by butt exploded. One bike read A-53! I looked back before entering my hut and saw the riders turning left towards the chow hall. I was doing my duty and screaming for anyone to come. Three Marines came into the opened stall bathroom and immediately grabbed their noses and started to turn around and go out. I yelled for them and they heard my story. "What do you want us to do" One asked. I wanted them to keep the other three Marines busy and off my back as I was discussing the return of my bike to it's rightful owner. They asked one question. "Is he a brother?" They were black Marines. I said no and they said yes they would help. We rode to the chow hall on their bikes. I was on the handlebars of one. As we got their the four mentioned Marines were just settling in to the bike stand. My Marine was at the end closest to the big "L" shaped line and the chow hall. I wnet over tp him and my bike. re-checked the number, put my left hand on his suprised shoulder, and with my right hand proceeded to help him dismount from my bike. I continued "discussing" the negative merits of having my bike and mentioned that "A Marine never steals from another Marine and definitelty doesn't get caught." He failed the second part. This asshole was screaming that it wasn't his bike as I was raining "love taps" on and around his head, shoulders, and stomach. A few kicks were added for good measure), and he had borrowed it from a friend. He wouldn't give up the friends name. So I suggested we bother one of the MP's in line who I'm sure wouldn't mind missing their chow for a thief. He demurred and I told him as I was walking away that he should have a chat with his friend for the asskicking he just received. BTY. The three Marines with me were true to their word. No one bothered me the whole time. Not even the MP's in line after they were told what was going on.
OK. That was the setup. Now here is the meat. That night I was with buddies in the 'vill at a bar. I was drinking with my left hand while a big bowl of ice was easing the pain in my right hand. This guy comes up to me and asks "are you the crazy guy that was outside the chow hall today?" I thought that I was just getting my bike back. But, he said the entire chow hall stopped and watched as I bent down to hit and pick up the Marine to hit, and throw him back down to hit and kick while screaming my own message to him. I guess I was a little out of control. I was immediately on guard and said slowly yesss. He said "I know you.' Okayyyy from where? He had been the announcer at our Gloucester High School / Cloucester Catholic High School 1965 football game. I was quarterback for Gloucester Catholic High. And he remembered my face from the pages they gave him for announcing. Now remember, this is 1971. This is six years later. He went to the other high school – Gloucester High School. We had never met. And he recognized me from inside the chow hall (over fifty feet away) as I was bobbing up and down. We drank and laughed the evening away and parted. We never saw each other again and I do not remember his name. That's truly a "one in a million" coincidence. WOW is all I can write!
Mike Lane, Cpl. USMC, '69-'73.
Iwakuni, Marine Air Base, 1971-1972