Lived through the revolutionary war in Nicaragua in 1979, when the Sandinistas were trying to overthrow the Somoza dictatorship. I have to say I don't remember too many things about that time as I was only 6 years old, but there are things taht do come to mind:

-Going through 4 different military roadbloack in order to get to school every morning (when there were classes)

- Young kids coming to school with bullet shells they had picked up from their neighborhoods and exchanging them for other kids' bullet shells - kinda like trading baseball cards, pokemon or whatever else they do these days...


Again, these are just a few things that I remember. I guess being that young, I didn't really know that my reality was so far from what a normal childhood was really like. I do remember my parents being constantly worried and scared during that time period. Fortunately for us, we were able to survive through that period and move on to a better life... ...in another country.

Things in Nicaragua are much better, by the way. Maybe I'll return someday.

 

I flew the F4C Phantom in the Air Force. Six of us were fraternity brothers, same major, graduated together, lived in the same apartment building, and had girl friends that knew each other. We all signed up and went to flight school together. We were all assigned to the same squadron of Phantoms and were about to ship out to Southeast Asia. Saturday before, we were playing sandlot baseball at Brooks AFB in San Antonio. I was catcher, standing too close to the plate, and caught a baseball bat in the eye. There went my flight contract. I was transferred to a reserve unit at March AFB, in Riverside, CA, a military airlift wing. My five buddies shipped out and, within a year, three of the five were shot down and killed in North Vietnam.

One month after joining the reserve unit, I had two week summer camp. March had the largest wing of B52s in the Strategic Air Command, 60. All 60 were cycled over to Udorn Air Base in Thailand for one year's duty in Nam. 60 others were cycled back to March. I flew in a B52 with the pilot, a reserve general who was my dad's partner in the LAPD, to Udorn. Two weeks later we flew back from Thailand to Elmendorf AFB in Alaska to refuel and on to March. The B52 landed, kept the eight turbines firing, I and another deadheader got out, the B52 took off again (something about training) and crashed and burned in Sunnymead, three miles to the east. They couldn't even identify the remains.

The Big Giy was looking out for me!

 

Damn Raptor, that's pretty crazy. You've had your life saved twice already by unmitigating circumstances.

 

[QUOTE]Originally posted by AnDy_PaNdY
[B]Far too many sadly

 

I lived in Colombia for a long time. The way of life down there is incredibly different. We had armed guards at fast food joints. Every building you can drive a car into has guards checking for bombs underneath the cars and dogs sniffing around. I lived in two different places while I was there. The first place was a house out in the country. It was located in a gated community with armed guards at the gate and walking the walls. My dad hired a personal guard that walked around our house at night. I remember playing with all his guns. He had shotguns, handguns, and some type of automatic weapon I was too young to remember which. I also lived in an Apartment building with only a few apartments in it. It too was guarded by an armed guard. I saw one car bomb explode from a distance that leveled a mini-mall and a bank. The force of the explosion took out all of the windows facing the explosion for miles. My dad ran a crew out in the jungle doing oil exploration and he had numerous members kidnapped. He had to take a helicopter into the jungle to negotiate with the guerrillas to get his people back. Some didn't come back. Luckily my dad always did. I was very lucky to be able to afford good protection in Colombia, but the majority of the population couldn't. It was their lives that were spent in the name of some guerrilla revolution that still goes on today.

I am an American. My mother was born in the US, my father is a Chilean/American citizen. I myself was born in Venezuela, but I did not opt to maintain dual citizenship. I love this country. I love the security of living without fear. I joined the nation's Air Force and now serve as an officer in that Air Force. Our mission is to regain the sense of security that was taken from us recently and I will not rest, or quit until we're done. I know what living in a war torn country is like. It sucks, plain and simple. As long as I'm around I'll do everything I can to keep this one from going down that road. I don't need any thanks or praise so don't send any. Just promise your support for the home team. Cause we're gonna need it in this long war ahead.

That's the armed conflict I'm living through.

 

My parents' store in Los Angeles was completely totalled during the L.A. Riots ... total damages upwards of $500,000. It took about 3 months to rebuild and start their business all over again, from scratch. I was only about 11 years old at the time and it was a traumatic family experience for me.


Also, when I was 9, my family was robbed at gunpoint by 2 men in our own home. They just kicked down the front door and made us lie down on our stomachs on the stairs as they completely raided our home and ran off with a few thousands dollars. It could have turned into a hostage situation, but luckily they were in and out in a matter of minutes (which felt like an eternity). I guess this can be called an "armed" conflict right?

what doesn't kill you only makes you stronger.

 

I've lived through some armed conflicts at home. It's freakin' scary

 

i was held at the business end of a shutgun after a friend did something very stupid and pissed off a drunk redneck.

 

1. Desert Shield
2. Desrt Storm
3. Operation Restore Hope

 

On the island of Jolo, southern Phillipines where people recently have been taken hostage.

In the 80's I was with others doing volunteer work at a hospital there. A firefight broke out outside the hospital between the government occupation soldiers there to protect us and local militia or guerillas. At least 2 soldiers died; we were able to save 1 or 2, as I recall. For awhile, we thought we would be taken hostage or captured.