I’ve been to more than one Army Ball in my day, but I never thought I’d be attending them after retirement. I certainly never thought I’d finally be going to the cool kids Army Ball with Metallica jamming on the speakers during dinner. And yet, in my dotage, I’m finding myself doing exactly this.
Bodies have a much shorter lifespan in the military. Not just lives, those also tend to be shorter, but the body itself. The military puts on extra miles, and then some. Military retirement for most is at 20 years. Some stay in longer, Dave stayed in for 32 years. While 32 seems long, we was only 50 at retirement. That’s not old. Not by a long shot.
Dave got another job. Not only was he only 50, but we still had three kids at home (now only two, Cole is a soldier himself). He got another job supporting the Army. He got a job supporting the 1/10 SFG (Special Forces Group). I absolutely adore his job! Have I mentioned I’m in my dotage? That means I’m old & I drool. And, people, I’m drooling.
SF guys are droolworthy. I love, love, love his work events! Those guys are delicious. I wish I could plaster this post full of NSFW images of their hot little tushies, beefcake arms and cool guy poses. They are not shy. But. Sadly. I have to keep all this dreamy goodness to myself. The nature of their job is such that my eyecandy is just for me. Poor me.
The Ball featured all my favorite eyecandy, dressed up in their Army blues. I cannot resist a man in uniform. It was a marvelous evening. Part of an Army Ball always includes pomp & circumstance. This night was no exception. There were the usual speeches, thank you’s, praises and remembering of the fallen. But. This is the 1/10. There was also the making of the grog.
a mixture of rum and water, often flavored with lemon, sugar, and spices and sometimes served hot. Any strong alcoholic drink.
The grog is made in an old WWII Bombshell. One soldier at a time. A narrator tells the tale of the 1/10. From their activation in 1952, through today. For each decade a soldier, dressed for the times, appears carting a bottle, or two, or even a jerrycan, full of booze. Whatever was available in that decade. In that place. Be it wine, beer, the hard stuff or blood.
I’m going to assume it wasn’t real blood. It looked really real. But I’m going to assume it wasn’t real. It was a lot. Despite the fun & festivities, the blood representing the wounded and fallen, made for a sobering moment. My beautiful boys do not have an easy job. They do a very hard job. They work very hard. They play very hard. They deserve to play very hard.
Once the grog was made, and declared fit for consumption, the boys all lined up to load up. I mean, as Dave said, it was free booze! While I had a sip, it was surprisingly sweet & tasty, I stuck to my wine. Dave whooped it up & drank grog all night. Guess who felt better the next day?