Happy Birthday to the late Richard Dawson! He would have been 80 years old today.

Newkirk was the only one in the barracks. (Or so he thought.) The day before, he'd gone to town to town to pick up some information from their contact at the Hofbrau. There, Newkirk met a beautiful girl he'd meant to write all about. So the following day as the other men played volleyball, Newkirk found his opportunity. He reached into his foot locker and pulled out his journal. He sat down at the common table and pen in hand he began writing.

Blimey! She was the prettiest bird I've seen yet! She was 36;32;34. And she had this beautiful long, brown hair that just flowed over her shoulders. Her eyes were this deep blue and she had two gorgeous dimples on her slightly rosy cheeks. After I bought her a drink, I took her out for a moonlight stroll. Then when we stopped and leaned against a tree she looked at me and I looked at her and then we just 'you know what'…

"What does 'you know what' mean?" came Carter's voice from behind Newkirk's shoulder. Newkirk jumped. He got up and turned to face Carter.

"Ow long 'ave you been there!?" he shouted angrily.

"Just a few minutes." Carter said innocently.

"Just a few minutes!? Why were you reading over my shoulder?!" Newkirk hollered.

"Well I came in here and saw you writing so I was just curious…"

"Oh and that gives you the right to read me personal notes?"

"Sorry."

"Sorry? Why I otta!" Newkirk raised his fist and Carter cringed, ready for the blow. Suddenly Newkirk felt guilty. "I'm sorry Andrew. I wouldn't really hit you ya know. I just lost me temper, that's all." Newkirk apologized.

"It's okay!" Carter brightened. "It was all my fault anyway."

"You're right, it was." Newkirk stated.

"It was?" Carter asked with a frown.

"Well yeah, you said…oh never mind. Sit down!" Newkirk pushed Carter into the seat next to him. Carter glanced at Newkirk's journal once more.

"What does 'you know what' mean?" Carter questioned again.

"I'll tell you when you're older." Newkirk replied while snapping the journal shut in Carter's face crossly.

"What is it with everybody? First they kick me out of the volleyball game because they thought it was "getting too rough" for me and now you here tell that I'm too young to know what 'you now what' means." Carter moaned sorrowfully.

It was then the Newkirk noticed that Carter was covered from head to toe with dirt. "I think they were right about the game being to rough for you." Newkirk concluded.

"Hmpf! I'm only two years younger then you ya know." Carter defended himself.

"Three." Newkirk declared matter-of-factly. "Starting Tuesday."

"Really?" Carter speculated. "I always wondered when your birthday was. How come you never told me before?"

"Because you never asked". Newkirk acknowledged.

"Oh. I guess that's a good reason. I mean I would have asked before but I didn't think it was necessary because I thought you'd tell me and..."

"Andrew." Newkirk interrupted.

"Yeah…" Carter smirked, knowing what was coming.

"Shut up."

The days passed and in no time at all it was Newkirk's birthday. The boys threw him a jubilant party that lasted for hours with games and champagne. But like all good parties it had to come to an end. That night while lying in their bunks, Carter popped up next to Newkirk.

"Hi!" he said cheerfully. "Go to bed Andrew." Newkirk grunted. His eyes remained closed.

"I've got a present for you," Carter whispered.

"Let me guess," Newkirk pleaded opening his eyes."A bottle of wine and a pretty girl."

Carter laughed. "No. No even close!" he confessed.

"Well if it's not even close I don't want it," Newkirk indicated.

"Are you sure?" Carter said disappointedly.

Newkirk held out his hand. "'And it over," He instructed.

Carter smiled and gave it to Newkirk's waiting hand. Newkirk looked at it and flashed a grin. It was a picture of the two, arms around each others shoulders, amused looks on their faces.

"Blimey! That's the picture we took while coming back from that mission a month ago, isn't it?" Newkirk exclaimed.

Carter nodded. "The Colonel let me process it," he announced.

"Andrew this is the best present you can ever give a bloke. I'll keep it always. After the war and beyond!" Newkirk gave his friend a hug and patted him on the back.

"Thanks," he proclaimed.

And with that they both went to bed. Newkirk pulled the blankets tight around him and drifted off to sleep, and for once his last thought was not about girls nor was it about his friends. It was about none other than: when and what in the world he would do, when he got his first letter from AARP.

I know AARP was founded until 1958 but I thought I'd be funny to add it in.