I miss my old military days, the memories were great. In Okinawa I used to visit “h***** hill” every Wednesday night, despite the midnight curfew; hey they had good bars back there go figure. Anyway I was walking back there with a friend one night (it gets pitch black back there the deeper in the alley ways you go) and the base town patrol was back there in full force plus volunteers from the nearby military bases ( special forces guys would volunteer to do this on weekends) anyway we walked right into a sting, I never was so scared in my life, I took off running before any of them could get a word out. I must’ve ran for 10 mins at full sprint aimlessly running into dead end after dead end in the dark bumping my head on objects hanging from buildings back there all while stomping boots and blaring walkie radios sounded off behind me. It was the worst night of my life, I realized my friend wasn’t behind me through all of it, was certain he was caught, the penalty for breaking curfew is steep and still stands on that accursed island. Anyway after hopping wall after wall and running through 2 open brothels I lost em. Came out on the backside of the area but there were no cabbies in sight, then it started to storm out of nowhere as only Okinawa can, I hoofed it 6 miles in torrential rain back to my friends place down town. The b****** was already back at his apartment playing PlayStation and acted like nothing happened while I stood there soaked and wild eyed. Boy that experience taught me a valuable lesson. Only go to h***** hill on Wednesday, im proud of myself in that I was able to best those spec ops guys athletically, I put the wheels on and burnt out of there but I knew if they caught me I was done. Fortune smiled on me that day, I ended up going to Korea after my assignment finished in Okinawa. They have a curfew there and I ended up having a similar experience however the group of people I was with were a just a group of young marines on shore duty, I neither knew them well or cared about them, town patrol busted in a bar and I dipped out the back exit in the knick of time, they all were caught I sat and watched from a hiding place across the street while they were loaded into an Army paddy wagon in handcuffs. I should have felt like a scumbag for not giving them the tip off, but I didn’t. Someone had to get caught, I had to many women to see that night and some clubs to hit. Atleast now, I don’t have to run anymore, I enjoyed my time under Uncle Sam but I’d never do it again. I’m only thankful that I was able to remain overseas when I got out. Join at your own risk.

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