Hey, Swabbie, have a drink of my whiskey

Early the next day, I walked to Camp Pendleton to see my Boulder buddies, Fred and Buddy. Little did I realize what entertainment was in store! I signed in when I got to the entrance and was directed to where I could find Fred and Buddy. I walked into a tent area, found them and we walked around a little; then we went back to their tent. Both were anxious to have me meet one of their tent partners, a slightly older man than we were (18-19). He was about 24 or so; hadn't shaved, and he had a bottle of whiskey in one hand. Fred had told me, laughing, that he was a little crazy wild; he had already seen some action, and he hated the enemy with a passion; that he had a friend that was captured by the "Japs" at night and was tortured so that he was sometimes screaming; this was going on so the Marines would try to rescue him but then they would be ambushed and probably more captured. The image of this was what had sent him over the edge. So, as I shook hands with him I found he was trying to pressure my hand and I responded by shaking "firmly" also. I had a very strong grip and usually won gripping contests. He looked me carefully in the eyes and said, "I like you, Swabbie--have a drink!; and with that he offered me his bottle! I was kind of taken aback because I had never drunk hard liquor. I liked dandelion wine my little paternal German Grandmother, Sofia Bay/BeyDon made, and her German beer, which she "steeped" by the chimney in the upstairs of our house at 2028 Spruce St. in Boulder, CO. So I started to say no thanks when he practically yelled, "Have a drink, Swabbie!" I looked over at Fred and Buddy and they smiled, so I deceptively took the bottle up, put my tongue against the opening, pretended I took a drink and handed the bottle back, while "swallowing." He liked this. I asked him how he got whiskey. Then he started telling me an astonishing story. Fred and Buddy started laughing. (Cont'd)