It's been 50 years since we played chicken with the soviet union. I wrote a little piece awhile back that reminded me of that time...

It's Thursday evening in the barracks, early Fall 1962. The exhaustive housecleaning Marines refer to as "Field Day" is done. The scuttlebutt still smells of the Brasso used to bring its brushed metal and chrome to a shine. The deck of dark brown tile, contrasting with the white bulkheads and green lockers and racks made up with forest green…