Snake in General

Strangest thing about memories. In 1997 I was working in the Electronic Warfare Coordination Cell (EWCC) at the Combined Air Operations Center (CAOC) at Dal Molin, Vicenza Italy during the Bosnia conflict. One of the augmentees was a guy, callsign “Snake” from Snake Plissken.

He was a snake eater, former pararescue (PJ) before switching to the Navy.

Small, wiry, incredibly strong man.
I was living in a converted carriage house on the side of an extinct volcano in northern Italy. How many people can say that? It was part of a Villa owned by a very elderly Contessa. There were still bomb craters from WWII. I lived about a mile from the Scallette in Vicenza. That took some hits during WWII as well.

To get into the compound you had to get through a huge wrought iron gate then wend your way to the carriage house. When I was driving I had a fob, I’d press the button and the gates would open.

I shit you not. Once in a lifetime experience. Snake my way to the carriage house and park the Mercedes rental.

One night I was watching a re-run of “Friends” on the only English language channel. At the gate there was a security camera, and the monitor was in my kitchen. I heard the buzz about three times.

Finally I got up and looked. Snake. Staring at the camera. “Open the fucking gate asshole!”
I did. A few minutes later he stormed into the house, roared into the kitchen and grabbed a beer.

Seemed to calm down a little bit, and then told me a story.

He had screwed up his back while lifting that morning. Went to a pub. Met an Italian girl. Somehow charmed his way into her bed. Left. And found his car had been towed.

He caught a taxi to my gate, because his apartment was on the opposite side of Vicenza. He slept in the spare room. He was gone before I woke up.

That guy could spin a yarn.

His son found me on facebook.

Funny how the world works.

Last updated June 29, 2019