600th Photo Sq 1967 and NCO Club

I was at Phan Rang for most of 1967: the last three months were at Da Nang. 
I remember the low when the beer barge had been sunk and the club had no beer.  Our MACV Army buddies came through with some relief.  And there was a time when the only meal to be had at the club was speghetti.  
We were lucky, our hootch was the last one on the road up to the club, right across from Nancy's Double Bubble outdoor theater.  That was the name given to the inflatable placed over the stage for Nancy Sinatra's visit.  
Two of the funniest things I ever experienced had to do with the 101st Airborne First Sgt at the time.  He, being the number one NCO for our neighbors a couple of miles distance could participate freely and without claim of fratinaziation at our our club.  We, in the photo detachment, had an old metro for transportaion and would take him home at closing time.  There was a long stretch of no man's land enroute, at which location were a bunch of soldiers one night.  At a distance it looked like a fight was going on.  The old first shirt wanted us to ease up and he got out of sight to see if he should intervene.  When we drove up, these guys had this huge boa constrictor and was trying to get a good riot control manuver on it.  When asked what they were going to do with it, they said, "put it in the first shirt's hootch.  What happened next could never have been accomplished by the Cong.
Another time, we went to the club for lunch.  Here was our top kick friend completely snockered, rocking on his stool.  When we asked the Sarge why he was drinking this time of day his response was somewhat unexpected.
He said he had told this young trooper to burn the shit out.  When he looked out of his plexiglass window, this dude was on top of the outhouse dumping a can of JP4 all over the roof.  The Sarge said, "before I asked what the hell he was doing he already did it, the building was in flames".  He went on to say, "I asked what in the hell you doing", the young man replied, "doing just what you told me to do, I am burning the shit house".   And after all of that, he said "I just had to have a drink".  
The BX had a tent that had all their beer stored.  A dust devil came across for what ever cause, the darn tent caught on fire and burned the beer.  They sold it at 1 cent per can.  We filled our foot lockers full of one cent beer.  The heat had caused weep holes in the cans and they leaked all night long.  Not only that, it tasted terrible.  
But meanwhile, we worked our butts off processing combat footage and providing it for battle damage assessment.   
The Aussies, often mentioned on this page shared our facilities and they were the greatest bunch of guys anyone would ever want to associate with.  
As you can see, I prefer to remember the happier moments.
Robert Crabtree, SMSgt Retired 1980