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For me it was so refreshing coming from sterile America. Often I went up to the Acropolis where the streets turned into steps with no vehicles, side-walk landings, cafes and restaurants. I would walk into the marbled past; mostly fallen and broken-now, scatter-rubble of carved significance. But one could on an Acropolis wall legs dangling on crisp blue Greek air day with a view across the city
to a distant hilltop with church on top. Greek air was crystalline.
Keys it was lots of keys after everybody went home from the bomb disposal building, if I used any room but my own, like the rec-room. I would unlock the padlock and re-lock on leaving. If pulling CQ, every room had to be checked, on starting duty, and coming back from chow, and before bed I think. Open locks - close locks; except the front door which was kept unlocked or open altogether. A log was kept and especially the safes inside the safe room, certified untouched.
The hours were better than bankers, from 7:30 am to essentially 1:30 pm, when we began finishing up, for two-o'clock volley ball. There was a cement court outside my window. We had to play everyday on Capt. Wherein's orders, everybody except Sgt Surebe and sometimes he as well. Most of the men spent every day in the back room studying bombs. I could not-go in there, if documents were open anywhere in the room for I did not have the required security clearance.
What a bunch of dead-hands. They would play volley ball with one hand in their pocket and wouldn't move if a ball coming toward them was inconvenient. My thinking was, if I have to be here, why not be here all-out, have the best time I can. It was an actual philosophy I had developed, like shaving with a straight-razor. I was doing that. I began diving for balls. They were shocked. This is rocking the boat. After awhile someone else started to play.
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