Forty years ago, as I said earlier, I was doing what I could to maximize my chances of staying alive. Everyone in the unit somehow knew that we were going to end up in Vietnam and for most of us the feeling was correct.

Some of the guys went out and bought pistols: .357 was a popular caliber. My brother Tony and I couldn't afford that, so we took what money we had and we each bought a knife. Tony bought an "Air Force Survival Knife," the kind with a saw on the back of the blade. I bought a Buck "General". Tony left his knife in 'Nam; mine is on the desk as I type this.

It's seen a lot of use and abuse since Spring, 1968. I've used it as a wedge to split wood, for example. And once when I was camping I was asked "Why'd you buy such a big knife?" I gave the truthful, but unbelieved, answer, "I bought it to kill people."

The sheath is the original, although a bit scuffed up (as I am) and the 7.75 inch blade is still like a razor.

Well, Bobert, you wanted to know what I was doing back forty years ago.

Now you know.