KittyVitti part 1

This time of year brings to mind stories of raw and rough dets in Kitty Vitti. Well, actually "detached duty" in Newfoundland, the barracks are in a suburb of St John's called Quidi Vidi, over behind the little lake, t'other side of the graveyard. QuidiVidi, thats Latin for "where he hell am I". Well you may ask that b'y, for once the duty fog bank rolls in, you are lucky to see your hand in front of your face. I was up there supporting the Tracker squadron which hunted drug and people smugglers with 40 year old twin engine prop job airplanes. My job was to fix and gas 'em. Thats one of mine in the pic...click on it to enlarge it.

Well, this one April day, everything was fogged in, and so we got permission to go to town. St John's has one street which is zoned for drinking establishments...we had to leave our barracks, cut through the graveyard and try and see if we could get some "action". If there is action in Newfyjohn, it is on George Street! I noticed on the way over that our well worn path was interupted by some construction work, but visions of bright lights, flowing beer taps and willing maidens made me forget all that, so me and my buddy Tim hit the Ship Inn, the Farthing, the Sailor's Rest, and a few even more disreputable spots.

Tim and I met an even dozen women that night. All good ol' newfies, lookin to hook up to a beau who could take 'em off the rock. Good drinking, smoking, swearing beer kegs with missing teeth and rubber boots. I decided after about 7 or 8 "hot spots" that there isn't enough beer in Canada to drink these girls pretty, and so I told Tim that I was going to head on home. He ignored me, and continued to swap spit with this lass who would be pretty but for the moustache. Though actually, judging by the sound of her laugh, she may have been a seal, but hey..she was a very cute seal...

So, I see the moon is out, the fog is in rags, and very close to the earth. Lots of light to see by, but there were clouds that looked kind of squall-like to me. I didn't want to get caught in a rain squall in April, so I decided to take the short way home, the short cut through the graveyard. I completely forgot about the construction (a skinfull of Red Rock Lager can do that) and then the rain squall hit. I stumbled and fell into a hole. As far as I could see, it was a grave which had been prepared for use the next day. All the fresh earth was scattered loosely about and as I tried to climb out, it turned to mud under my hands and try as I might, I was just stuck there.
Struggling is hard work and I decided to just sit down and rest a bit. (a skinfull of Red Rock Lager can do that) and was just dozing off when suddenly somebody started stepping on my legs, my feet, and so forth. It was my buddy Tim, who had struck out with the seal, and decided to head home as well, and fell into the same trap as I did! There he was, cussin a streak, and jumping up for all he was worth trying to get some purchase on the mud, and having the same luck as I did. He don't even know I am there!
So I stood up, all covered in mud, and taps him on the shoulder. "You'll never get out you know" I said.

But he did!



epilogue......Tim heard me shouting, and came back and using our belts, he managed to drag me out of there. We went back to the barracks with a helluva story.