The thoughts and ideas expressed below are exclusively those of Jack Straley and www.justplaintalkwithjack.com  We may agree, and that’s fine, or we may disagree, that’s okay too.  My sole purpose is to encourage others to think, study, and become involved. Exercise your freedom and above all, when presented the opportunity, please vote.

The political situation in our country, at this time, is in dire straits.  The socialist Democrat party is trying to take our basic rights away and move to a one party rule.  To retain our sanity once in a while we have to relax a little, sit back, and remember when times were a little less stressful and we were a happier people.  World War II was over and we were looking forward to prosperous, gay and happy days.  I will share one of my memories and hope you enjoy it.

It was 1951, the great drought was just beginning, times were hard, and everyone struggled to keep their farms going. World War II was over, the conflict in Korea was active and the cold war between the USA and the USSR was on every mind.

I was 5 years old and having a great time. In addition to farming my parents owned and operated a Texaco station, grocery store, frozen food locker, livestock feed store, and a cafe in Adamsville. All the businesses were in one big building with walls dividing the different enterprises. The cafe had just recently been added and was justified by the big happenings starting in the area. The maneuvers.

Fort Hood had taken lease on thousands of acres of land to have military maneuvers. The cold war kept the fear of actual war on all minds and the military needed to continually hone their skills and be prepared. The cafe became a place hungry soldiers would visit, eat, and then rest for a while. The troops were divided into 2 opposing forces, the red and the blue armies. Watching these armies was a dream come true for a 5-year-old boy. Periodically we would witness a group of soldiers marching another group they had captured off to a holding area. Once in a while they would stop at the station, cafe and have something cold to drink or something hot to eat.

On more than one occasion mother cooked up a bunch of hamburgers and cheeseburgers. She loaded them in the car with soft drinks she had iced down and drove to where there might be some special activity going on. I remember once there was a huge parachute drop. Hundreds of planes, or so it seemed, flew overhead and soldiers jumped out. As the parachutes opened and caught air it looked as if the sky was full of big, dark birds floating and soaring all around. People parked along the road watching this spectacle. Upon hearing of the food nearby,  they ran and bought burgers and drinks. That was momma, the entrepreneur.

We became friends with some of the guys and they actually let us crawl around their tanks, halftracks, and jeeps. We got to ride in the tanks a couple of times, and they showed us how they shaved and bathed in the tank using their helmets to hold the water. Our house had big door stops that were the brass from the big shells the tanks and mortars fired. I was awarded a few strings of spent shells that were in the belts used in the machine guns. These were great for playing soldier for years to come. I would strap these belts crisscross on my chest, and I was ready for the enemy. Boxes of K rations were buried in the pasture just below the cemetery as the maneuvers were winding down.

During this time there were 2 other things that might be considered unusual. One was our rooster. In the barnyard we had a big white rooster that was just flat out mean. Every time my sister, Wanda, went to the barnyard to gather eggs, or anything else, the rooster would spot her. Immediately he would start squawking and wings began to flutter, and the chase was on. If he could get close enough, he would peck her legs or any other body part he could reach. Screaming and crying, she would run for the safety on mother and the house.
The other oddity for most people, but not for us was my pet goat. There was a solid white goat that the mother refused to accept when it was born. We bottle fed it and took care of it all the time. That goat became confused and thought we were its parents, I guess. He would see us coming and run to us. As we did our chores, he would follow us around. He drank water at the dog dish by the house and would eat flowers momma had planted and other stuff in the front yard, including laundry that had been hung on the line or draped over the fence to dry.

We often had the chance to walk to Adamsville, about a mile south, and the little goat would accompany us, if we let him. During the time of the maneuvers, we might make this trek 2 or 3 times in one day. Our goat became friends with some of the soldiers as well as we did. Some of the soldiers would even let Wanda, me, and the goat ride with them on the tank. My friend Billy, the goat, would proudly stand at the front of the tank, never wavering, looking straight ahead, always on the lookout for the enemy. He was a good goat.

I don’t know what happened to the goat. Unlike the rooster, we probably didn’t eat him, but someone surely did.