This afternoon I had a grilled ham-and-cheese sandwich prepared a different way, a way I learned in Germany. Substitute Rye bread with seeds and swiss for the cheese. Super Yummmm. It is the only way I eat caraway seeds. I learned this variation from a fellow soldier at Patch Barracks many moons ago.

The Headquarters building at EUCOM contains several offices: the Deputy Commander in Chief (DCINC), an Air Force four-star general, the Chief of Staff (CofS), an Army three-star, the Secretary of the Joint Staff (SJS), an Army Colonel, and many other high-ranking officers and civilians. On the ground floor, behind the conference room, is a small, informal lunch room called the Commander-in-Chief's (CINC's) Mess. Two or three Army Senior NCOs run the mess, cooking lunch for whoever shows up (the "whoever" being any of the 25-30 senior officers who work on Patch Barracks). The sergeants published a lunch menu every day with some special or other, and they ran a short-order grill, too. There were a few of the enlisted folks who worked in the building who were "unofficially" allowed access to the mess, as well. Of course, we had to pay as we went...the big shots ran a tab and paid monthly.

Ron was one of the sergeants who cooked in the CINC's Mess. Ron was the one who turned me on to a grilled ham-and-cheese on rye with Black Forest Ham and Emmentaler cheese. Ron was an outgoing, pudgy, smiley guy who always talked big about everything. One of the things he bragged about was the fact that he had an "in" with a supplier in Spain who fixed him up with genuine Flokati rugs for a less-than-dirt price. At the time, these thick, fluffy, white rugs from Greece were very popular. Ron traveled all over Germany to attend bazaars at different military posts, setting up his stand and selling his rugs for a huge profit. It was only after we had known each other for a few years that he told me that he drove to Spain to pick up the rugs and brought them back to Germany in his van. He had to cross the borders at just the right check-points; his father-in-law gave him strict instructions and had arranged everything. He claimed that his father-in-law was a big deal in the Spanish Mafia and had set all this up so his little girl would have spending cash, and his son-in-law could break into the family business, once he was done fooling around with the Army. Of course, daddy kept a percentage...he was the "Papa", after all. I didn't believe a word of it. It was just Ronnie trying to give me rectal cancer.

Told you all that so I could tell you this: There came a time in the early '80s when counterfeit $100.00 bills started showing up around Germany. They were good ones, too. We didn't see bills that big very often...the Army traditionally paid in twenties...when it paid cash at all. The gunslingers who protected the DCINC used to hang out in my basement office sometimes and they would fill me in on the latest in the search for the counterfeiter. It was better than watching Hill Street Blues; they were circling, getting closer to the source. And then I had to leave. Just for a while. I had to go to Virginia to an advanced NCO course. I was gone almost three months. When I got back, some things had changed. Ronnie was gone. I didn't notice right away. Not until I went to the CINC' Mess to get a grilled ham-and-cheese one lunch time. I went in the back door of the kitchen and when I didn't see Ronnie, I asked one of the other guys where he was. For the next few days I kept getting conflicting stories from almost everyone. Combining and filtering the best I can, here's what transpired. Ronnie was AWOL. He had skipped town with the proceeds of the Flokati sales and whatever he could grab elsewhere, even borrowing from friends. The Criminal Investigation Division (CID) narrowed the search for the counterfeiters to the weekend bazaars and further to the Flokati rug man. So at the first questioning session, Ronnie played innocent, vowed to cooperate and help find out where the bogus bills were coming from and as soon as he got loose from the MPs, he took off.

I thought, "Well, he must be in Spain living it up with "Papa" and the crew". I shared that thought with my Navy Chief buddy from downstairs and he thought not. Seems that Ronnie was in hot water with Papa...Ronnie's wife left him...Papa was looking for him. The small matter of thousands and thousands of dollars worth of bogus 100s that didn't get passed..or returned, the percentage from the rug sales that didn't get turned in, and oh yeah...the beating he put on Papa's little girl one evening in the height of the stress and frustration of it all...Papa wanted a word.

Chief Tender told me that Ronnie had approached him and offered him a job paying 20 bucks for every 100 he passed. Ronnie said he had a footlocker full of them. I asked Tender if he had shared that with CID and he just looked at me. He hadn't taken the job and he was doing the three-monkey thing about it.

I left Germany in May of 1983; about that same time I started hearing that Ronnie was back in Stuttgart. One rumor said that he turned himself in...another said he was caught by the German Polizei. Whatever the truth was, I remember thinking that he was probably felt that being in US custody was safer than roaming around Europe with Papa still curious about his whereabouts.

While I was eating my sandwich this afternoon, I thought that Ronnie has probably gotten out of slam by now. I imagine he was safe enough in Kansas. Boy wasn't the brightest bulb in the pack but he sure could grill up a samich.