You can tell a Fighter Pilot, but you can’t tell them much. They call their jet a Bitch, a Beast or a Hog, but if you use those words you’re gonna lose a tooth.
Up! Up! Up on the table and SING!
So there we were in Munich for Oktoberfest. We walked into the Lowenbrau tent and they were playing Glenn Miller. “In the Mood”. Quite a culture shock, not what I expected. When we finally found a table we were wedged between the “Italian Beer Drinking Team”, some Army tankers from Baumholder and of course some Germans. People would jump on the tables and shout a toast.
“Hier ist nach Deutschland!” [crowd roars]
“Ecco l’italia!”[crowd roars]
“Here’s to America!”[crowd roars]
At one point, I hoisted myself up and screamed:
“Here’s to daylight precision bombing!”[crowd roars]
I got back down and the German next to me, leaned over and said, “I heard that”. and winked. “PROST!”
I knew the songs and sang along. My fellow Puppies felt left out. We huddled. We then belted out the theme to “Gilligan’s Island”. The Germans loved it. We thought we were so cleaver. But the Army guys went into a huddle and then belted out theme song for “The Brady Bunch”. [crowd roars]
Thus began the Battle of the TV Show Songs. We went back at forth. “Addams Family”, “Batman”, “Super Chicken”. Google it. Even the Germans kicked in with a good rendition of “Hi,ho,hi,ho, it’s off to work we go”. In English no less. The Italian Beer Drinking Team was too busy drinking.
AT OKTOBEREST IT’S NOT ALL POLKAS