Great story. A friend, and I, also on our way across “the pond,’ in November 1967, could not find the hole in the fence either. Kin Village, and all of it’s willing honeys, was too much for us to resist. We climbed the fence. While I was half way over, the MPs arrived. I leaped, and my pants caught, and loudly ripped. I almost left the best part of me up on the barbed wire! We ducked out of sight and made our way to town. Our first stop was what appeared to be a nice little hotel. What a beautiful “house” it turned out to be. The Mamasan took one look at my torn pants and said, “You give, I fix , you go upstairs. You no need pants here.” When I happily came back down stairs a short time (no play on words) later, the old gal handed me my mended pants. They were as good as new, and so was I. My friend,and I spent the evening hopping a few bars, and then finished off at another nice “house’ before climbing back in to the confines of Camp Hanson. Had we been caught, what in the hell would they have done to us. Sent us to Vietnam?! First Recon Bn. was awaiting my arrival.
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I served with delta 1st recon January 68 to February 69 glad you survived
The hole in the fence was up the hill directly in front of the Officers Club, where no one would think to look. ;o)
Only sailors and women wear pants . . . or so we learned at Parris Island (1956). Men wear trousers. If this guy tore his “pants”, does he mean his skivvies? Or did Marines wear pants at some other time and place?i
Sgt Grit, I just wanted to take my turn at Complaining about the new Newsletter format. You should really go back to the old Format. I am an old Marine Sgt Vietnam Vet, and like to Bi-ch when I get the Chance. Thanks for the Memories in the Newsletter. Semper Fi Marine.
Couldn’t agree more. I’ll give it one more week and then I’m going to unsubscribe and tell them they can quit sending the catalog.As for the new owner. They could have at least shown us the respect to introduce them selves. If they have I missed it. Grit was a Marine, I don’t know about this new guy of gal.
I agree!
Agree.
I met a buddy from boot camp who was an office pogue at Camp Hansen. He provided myself and another “poor soul” on our way to the Nam with permanent personnel Liberty Cards. We had a Great Time after taking a “Skosh Cab” down the road to, I think, Koza? Anyway, never asked for the liberty cards except upon return to Hansen. Last good time before the Nam.
What’s this talk about a “new owner” all about? Is Sgt.Grit no longer around…did he sell the business/newsletter?
I was serving as OD one night at Hansen. The Sergeant of the Guard took me down to the hole in the fence. He waited until a Marine attempted to sneak through the hole from Kin Ville after curfew. He let the bolt go home on his M16 right next to the kid’s head. As dark as it was you could see his eyes light up the size of a bowling ball. The SG chewed him out and sent him on his way. We both had a hard time keeping a straight face while the kid was being chewed out!
Well SIR, I suppose that releasing that bolt next to that young Marines head got your “rocks off”. You should have just climbed over the fence yourself, gone into the “Ville”, and found some sexual relief there. On a different note. My experience at Camp Hanson and Kin village were also memorable. I found a different way into the Ville. There was a cave about 50 yds long that went under the fence. It started out pretty easy going. After going about half way through(at that point I had no way of knowing how long it was)I was on hands and knees crawling through water. It was all worth it if for nothing more than a fun memory.
Oh what one will do, for a little bit of ‘poon’.
Back in May of 65 there was a hole under the fence in front of the motor pool. Unfortunately I found out the hard way that there was also a binjo ditch right in front of it hidden in the grass. I was caught by a guard when he heard the splash but he told me to haul ass back to the barracks before someone important caught me. I believe I visited Margie’s bar that night and didn’t quite make the midnight curfew.