A Shot of Whiskey for the Road

IHF NOTE: This story was related to IHF Researcher Johnathan Clayborn personally by Mr. Carroll during an in-person discussion in 2005. He has presented the story here to best of his ability and recollection. Any errors in the details below are assumed to be Mr. Clayborn's error in transcribing the story.

It was December, 1952. One of the first missions I was going out on. I forgot something from my barracks and was on my way to retrieve it. As I walked past the mess area a young man sitting a table out front waved me over. "Here," he said, handing me a shot of whiskey. Never one to look a gift horse in the mouth, I downed it and thanked him. "What mission are you coming back from?" he asked me. "Back? We haven't even left yet," I explained. "You haven't...oh shit," he said. His face went a little pale. "I'm not supposed to give you any alcohol if you're going out, its against regulation. You're only supposed to drink it when you come back." I smiled at the man. "I'll just skip my shot when we come back and you can call it even. Don't worry about it, I won't tell anyone that you gave it to me early, it'll be our secret." But I'll tell you this, it was one of the nicest missions I went on with my some warm whiskey in my belly.