For the VIET NAM vets among us: any fond memories like this photo suggests? Share, if you feel so inclined.

Hopefully, the Vietnam Veterans here won't mind the "kid" offering his own experience from a different place and time...but I think (hope) you will see the symmetry. About nine years ago, I was sitting with my team of eight advisers waiting for a plane ride into BAF. There was about two hundred mixed Army, Navy, Marine and Air Force hanging out, killing time...waiting patiently for that next plane taking the next group into Afghanistan for a twelve month tour. This kid from Texas was playing the guitar...pretty well actually. He was covering country classics, until someone indicated they didn't much care for the "Hillbilly crap". My Boss and I just gave each other "that look" that says, "...here we go again" when some scrawny kid shouted, "Bro...watch yourself"

To say it was a tense moment would be an understatement.

The Texan was annoyed, but obviously didn't want to start anything, so he said, "Ok Man... what do you want to hear?" Some jibes about not having the right "beats" went back and forth as the situation defused itself amid cheers and jeers for everything from Wu-Tang to Led Zeppelin.

Suddenly, an African American solider said, "What about this?" and started singing the Battle Hymn of the Republic. It got quiet as the guitar player, kinda taken back, began strumming the cords trying to find the music. Before long, everyone was singing...almost the entire bay, including Yours Truly. When the song finished...and I know what you're thinking...impossible, right? The Texan started playing "Dixie". My heart fell because I knew that after such a moment as I had just witnessed, I was about to be reminded that some things never change...even in a place like that.

And then, something happened that to this day, I'm not sure how to explain. Maybe it was because people just wanted to keep things from going the wrong way...maybe it was because 2006 wasn't 2015, but a group of African American soldiers gathered around him and started signing too. Then about thirty or so other guys...White, Black, Hispanic, all walked up an joined in. A Navy LT from Tennessee strode over and joined in too at, "...In Dixieland, where I was born..."

There, in the Kuwaiti sand, arms were thrown over shoulders, and the loud shouts of "Hooray!...Hooray!...in Dixieland I'll make my stand, to Live or Die in Dixie" were heard.

Now, I know that there are some folks that would come to different conclusions...and I don't think that would happen again in a million years...and right now, it probably shouldn't. Maybe it was because all of us singing ended up being Southerners...maybe it was just taking the pressure off a situation...but then again, maybe it was because when young men head off to war, some things that seem important "here" don't seem as important "there"...and everyone learns to respect what speaks to the heart of the guy next to them in line.

For my own part, I'd like to think it was because we all knew we were facing OUR enemies which only highlighted the fact that we were in that moment a family...and the family takes all of it's best when it puts it all on the line.

I remember the nightly poker games at Monkey Mountain (outside of Da Nang) that went on until morning. I really enjoyed those.

I also remember Christmas Eve on duty when at midnight a deep voice came booming out of the headsets - "This is God on Guard - Happy Birthday son" - followed by a smaller voice "Thanks Pop!".

I was smiling the rest of the night shift.

Putting smiles on kids faces while sharing goodies from home and Bob Hope putting smiles on our face on 1st Christmas away from home.