We were at home talking about some of my Army buddies and turned to my friend Larry Pippins. I Googled him and found he died on Dec. 2, 2017, after an 18-month battle with ALS. I hadn’t known. May he rest in peace.
Larry was born three days before me in 1951. I picked this photo from the funeral home site because the way he is standing and the shape of his hands remind me of how I knew him in Germany where we met. I could imagine standing next to him and taking a burger from the tray.
Larry was born in Pensacola, Florida, one of the few native Floridians I have known. He was a male of the South and enjoyed fishing, hunting, kayaking, drinking whisky and vodka, as well as many other activities.
He and his first wife split soon after they left Germany. I stayed in touch with them both until the 1980s. Together they lived in a German castle near Heidesheim that had been subdivided into apartments. I remember more than one overnighter sleeping on the flokati rug they had in the living room. One time, after too much drinking, they had to have it laundered. Those were the days.
We were in the infantry, although he changed his MOS (military occupational specialty) to military police soon after leaving Germany. When we were together, I said the changes we experienced were to transition the military from being prepared for jungle warfare in Vietnam to fighting a war over oil in the Middle East. As so, there we were. He was deployed to the Middle East to support Operations Desert Shield and Desert Storm. I kept a photograph of Larry with a postcard he sent from Desert Shield framed and with a yellow ribbon on it in our Indiana living room until the war was over.
When Larry was accepted to Ranger School I shipped all the fatigues I had left from my service to him to use while in training. Finishing Ranger School was a high point for him at the time. After graduation, he didn’t think Ranger School was all it was cracked up to being. Not a complete waste of time, but close.
When I was living as a writer in Iowa City in 1981, he sent me an audio cassette in which he admonished me to re-join the military. I did not. We fell out of touch after he invited me to attend a change of command ceremony down South and I couldn’t. We hadn’t had a good conversation since we last met in Chicago in the early 1980s.
We spent so much time together in the military and then after leaving our first assignments we corresponded in the days before the internet and email. Tonight I’ll say a prayer for my Army buddy. He lived a decent life full of friends and family. He made something of himself. He was something.
Journey Home 
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