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I
used to be a big hunter but I don't even own a gun now, I have got deer
and rabbits running all over my property and I can't even shoot one,
because I was in a war. I was in the
Vietnam War. I don't own a gun. I saw so much
killing. I got a 5 gallon
bucket of rocks I throw at rabbit and deer because I can't shoot
anything. I can't do it. No war movies. I can't
watch any war movies or any movies where people get killed. I just
can't do it. When I was young I watched all those vampire movies
and everything but after the war, I can't do it.
Now
about half the guys over there, you know, I remember all their faces,
but not their names. All the guys had nicknames and mine was
"Crazy L" (L was for Ellison).
A
good friend of mine that was over there I haven't got a hold of since
then. His grandmother was still on the reservation I think, Okalahoma.
She was full-bloodied Cherokee, and his nickname was "Fast
Eddie". Damn, all
those memories.
See,
my parents died when I was young and I walked to grade school.
It was back in those days when there was no buses for grade
schools kids. I walked 3
miles one way to school. It
was a 2 room school and the last half of my 8th grade, I was the only
one in the 8th grade. "Talkin
small." Yeah, I
was the only 8th grade student. The other family moved away.
There was 2 of us at the beginning of the year and they moved
down south, so that left me the only one in the 8th grade.
My
Dad, a car ran over my Dad. Three years later my Mom died of cancer.
I may have been 10 at that time.
I lived with my one grandmother on and off for awhile.
There were 7 of us kids. My
one aunt, mom's sister up in Ohio, took the 3 youngest, my oldest sister
and my oldest brother were on their own, the other
aunt took my other brother just out on Cranberry Road in
Craigsville. My grandmother
took me. I had to cut the
grass, work in the garden. They
didn't like for me to go anywhere and she was raising another child who
had living parents. Grandma
Bessie was getting some kind of check for me but I never did see any of
it. I worked in the hay
field for Wade Bailey and Paul Cooper for 50 cents per hour.
Then finally, things just kept getting worse where I was staying
with my grandmother, I just took off.
My senior year in high school, do you know where Curtin Bridge is,
between Craigsville and Richwood? I lived down there, I gathered up an
old blanket and a pillow from somewhere and I slept out in the middle of
a river on a flat rock. I
ate a lot of fish. I fished
every evening and every night. I
was a senior in high school. See,
that is why I didn't graduate, things just got to the point where I
couldn't buy my cap and gown and stuff, the last 2 or 3 weeks I didn't
go. Half the kids didn't go, we weren't doing anything and I
already had my report card but they wouldn't let me graduate. They said I dropped out which was a crock, I just didn't go
the last 2 or 3 weeks and when I went up there for graduation they
wouldn't let me in.
Shortly
after that, I was, I think about 19, see I already had 2 older brothers
in the Service and I was tired of not having anything, Hell, I thought I
will just join the Army. I
couldn't pass the physical because of the rheumatic fever when I was 5
and 6 years old. I was in
the 1st grade that is why I had to pull two years of the 1st grade, I
didn't go to school enough.
Anyway,
I went up to Ohio, I had aunts and uncles and relatives, I figured Hell,
I will just go up there and get a job and I did.
That would have been in '62 or '63.
I worked up there a couple of years, then I figured well, Hell, I
will just to join the Army, I failed again, the same thing.
So then I went to Southern California, Pasadena, my oldest sister
was out there. I went to
work out there and I lived with them awhile and I got me enough money
gathered up to rent my own place. Well, it was out in
the Sierra Madre Canyon, a beautiful area, at that time after I lived
there awhile I had 5 or 6 vehicles I had license on every one of them
and the last day of December in '65 I bought a brand new motorcycle, I
always loved motorcycles. It was an English Bike, 750 Norton and I
just had a good time and I got in a little bit of trouble with the law
something they call "hit and run"
but the guy hit me. He was on a 125 Honda.
I still remember his name and where he was from.
His name was Abraham A.... and he was from Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania
and he was 41 and weighed 220 lbs.
He looked like a monkey on a football.
A big guy on a little cycle like that.
He went clear over my car, he hit my front fender.
I had a 51 Ford convertible and he went over my car slid down the
street so I jumped out and ran down there, traffic trying to miss him,
he knocked one of shoes off and I am trying to get him up and out of the
road and he took off up the street running screaming he couldn't walk,
he couldn't walk. I could
get a hold of him but he wouldn't stop I couldn't hold him back.
I chased him about 5 blocks and I walked back down the street,
the law was there, the ambulance. They
wanted to know where the guy was. They
didn't arrest me but they put me in the car and we drove down the street.
So we went door to door looking for this guy, somebody got him stopped
had him stretched out on the bed in there.
He was screaming, crying, he was in bad shape.
The cops said if I would sign papers covering his motorcycle and
ambulance bill to take him to the hospital they would not press charges.
I paid for the motorcycle, the ambulance bill and hospital bill
and I was suppose to give him a $100.00 per week.
They said he would only be off work a week, so at the end of the
week I went down to where he was staying. He was still on the bed.
Said he would have to be off another week that went on 5 weeks.
I went down there to pay him at the end of the 5th week and the
neighbors came out and said, "Man, don't you know what is going on?"
I said, "What are you talking about?"
They said that guy is a con artist, he had a 66 Cadillac convertible.
His wife had a 66 Buick convertible and the 3 weeks I had been paying he
was off on vacation from the post office. He delivered mail on
foot. So, I quit paying him. I just quit paying
him. Two or 3 weeks went by and the law came up to where I worked
about the middle of the week. They told me they would give me till
Friday to come up with the rest of the guy's money.
Friday was payday and I realized I had been taken all that time for my
money, so I said, "You know I am not going to pay that".
I sold my 51 Ford convertible to my oldest brother who lived out
there and I sold my 33 Ford pickup truck and my other vehicles I just
left the key in the switch, the registration up over the sun visor and
left them in the parking lot and I jumped on a motorcycle and headed for
West Virginia. That was July 22, 1966.
That
was a fun trip. So I came
to Craigsville where I born and raised. I fooled around there for
awhile. I
remember I got there on Sunday. I left California on Friday evening and I was in Craigsville on
Sunday 2650 miles. Wednesday
I figured I will just go to Florida. I had an older 1st cousin that lived down there so I went
down. I got there about 10 am she was starting to fix dinner so I
stayed and had dinner and I drank some coffee with Junior and jumped on
my bike and headed for New York.
I had been up there before.
I had worked up there. I
spent the night up there and I started back to California and I got to
some little one horse- town in Texas and changed my mind and came back
to West Virginia.
I was in West Virginia for awhile
then I wound up in Ohio. Beautiful country, a wide stop in
the road. That was where I
was working when I got drafted.
I
stopped at a little post office evening every to get my mail.
I got a long white envelope (about the last part of June, 1968)
that said "Greetings" " Uncle Sam Wants You!"
I had two weeks or so.
I had to go to Cleveland about 100 miles to take the examination
and in those days that took all day.
At the end of the day, I realized I had done passed that physical
and I just asked him. I said, "Man, you know what is going on?"
He said , "You call me sir" and I said, " I am not
in the Army yet", and he said, "You will be."
So, I asked him how could that be I took two of these examination before
and failed both of them so he looked in my records and found my name and
he said, " I see you tried to enlist."
"
You have passed this one, we are making exceptions.
You have been drafted."
So, Ft. Knox, KY, that is where I went for Basic Training.
That is 8 weeks. Graduation was on Friday and Monday am report for AIT
(Advanced Individual Training) at Ft. Polk. Louisiana. That was 9 weeks.
I have a picture of me standing in front of a sign which reads: Ft.
Polk. Louisiana, Birthplace of Combat Infantrymen for Vietnam. I
guess I lost the picture in the fire. It took everything I had,
all my clothes, my woodworking shop, nearly everything I owned that is
how I lost 1/2 of my ear.
And he asked me, "Did you notice 1/2 right ear is
gone?" He showed me his ear.
I
had 2 weeks time from graduation at Ft. Polk to be at the Seattle, Tacoma
Airport in Washington State. Going to Vietnam.
I went over there. We touched down at Cameron Bay,
South Vietnam. I was there
3 days they had what they called 3 day training on the ways and customs
of the people. Then they
decide where everybody is going to go I got orders to go up north about
300 miles.
The plane came down to pick us up. It was a C130, a cargo
plane about 150 of us got on there. He had lost an engine coming down , the pilot did. Flavie
asked me, " Do you know anything about a C130?" It had 4
engines. He lost one coming down but all the Army had was junk.
The pilot told us, " I think we can take off."
and we did.
We got up there about 1/2 way and I could notice a change
in the sound of the airplane. The co pilot came back and said "Boys, that is what you are, if you
get out of this you might be men."
We lost another engine on
the same wing. It won't stay up with two engines.
We are 10 or 12 miles inland and we were going to try to make it
to the South China Beach. I will never forget what he said, now
mind you, we are heading north, he said, "We are going south
and that means down."
Viet Cong all around. We
didn't have any weapons. My
God, the pilot was good. We just barely cleared that mountain range, he
dipped it real hard to the left and put it down on the South China
Beach. We hit the beach and it kinda skipped. We hit the
beach again, hard, and it skipped and we hit it again and it tore the
right wing off and water was coming in.
That was the 3rd day in the country, that was the day my oldest
son, Scott was born, December 12, 1968. Do you know my boy?
Eight or ten years ago I started to write a book and I
finally just gave up on it because I figured on one will believe it
anyway. Four or five years
ago, I sorted through everything from the fire I wrote a song, when we
crashed on that C130 on the 3rd day, the song says, "The next 9 on
the run, my year in Nam had just begun."
The
pilot had got hold of back up forces by radio and they sent some helicopter
to pick up some of us. They brought weapons and sea rations.
I was just in the wrong place at the wrong time, I got
volunteered. Someone was going to have to stay there and guard
that C130, so they picked 5 of us and then we hid out up in the woods,
in the jungle on the side of the mountain. We hid out in for 9
days. They finally come
down and carried that crashed C130 off with those big monsters they call
a flying crane 2 of them hovered down over and picked it up.
Then I wound up going up country about another 150 miles where I
had started in the first place.
The Army didn't make any sense in those days because I was infantry and
got assigned to an aviation battalion 14th Aviation Battalion. Now this
was all 14th Aviation Battalion and I was across the swamp with the 14th
Security Platoon but I was assigned to 170th Aviation.
Hell, I am infantry what did I know about airplanes, well, I
found out not too long after that.
Mercy, mercy, in the beginning we just had the
regular bunkers in the ground, my old 1st sergeant, good old guy, he
reminded me of my dad he took care of me , he took care of me, that old
boy did. He saw it somewhere
got some papers on it or something, prefabs, prefab bunkers about 20
feet off the ground and the walls and the floor and the roof were a foot
and 1/2 thick filled up with sand. The idea being up above
the ground you can see better. Up there looking down. So, I worked
with him, me and some of the other guys and we built twelve and by that
time I am already making some rank, I think I am Spec 4 by then. I
was the oldest guy there (25) except for the Sergeant and the
lifers and I am from West Virginia. Everybody knew I was from West
Virginia, he put he in charge of the bunkers.
All the city boys knew I was from West Virginia. That is what
got me in a lot of jams I got in over there. They they just
assumed if you lived in West Virginia, you lived under a rock cliff.
I lived on a rock but Hell, not everybody did. A lot of times they
would send me to places they would not send a city boy because they just
figured I could do it. They knew I
was coming back.
They came to me one day and said that they were going to
make me Acting E5, meaning I had temporary stripes and all the responsibilities
and duties of an E5 but not getting paid for it.
After about a month I told them, "If I am going in to
these damn hell holes and you are expecting me to come out I am going to
start having to get paid for E5."
They said, "You can't
quit."
Orders
came down from the battalion and I made Permanent Party , E5 Sgt. E5
gets you about $25.00 or $30.00 extra a month ( went over as E1 and
within 24 hrs if you are in combat zone, you go automatic E Deuce).
That
was about after nine months. You see if I am not on them bunkers I had another job there
too. I done 8 hours a day RTO (Radio, Telephone Operator). It was
in the Command Bunker underground.
I pulled 12 hours a night on the Bunker Line, then 8 hrs a day in
that Command Bunker, RTO. That is 20 hours a day, that only leaves
4. Plus all the same time I
am having to fly with these yo-yos across the swamp to 176th.
My
God, if I told you everything it would take all day.
I am going to tell you about this.
We went way up the country somewhere, me and those guys
from 176th and Hell, rather than the co-pilot on a helicopter,
they called him a Peter Pilot. I am the oldest guy
rather than the pilot and peter pilot and I was given the responsibility
of being Crew Chief and Door Gunner.
That was with a M60 machine gun and a 50 caliber machine gun and
we went up with a full rocket load, (we were carrying all the rockets we
could carry) I think 78 and aired off all those rockets on a village, a
known Cong village. We are on our way back.
Everybody drank beer and we never did drink going in,
coming out is we would drag our beer out, pilot and peter pilot are in
the cockpit, me and the other guys are in the back. Hell, we are
jut drinking our beer and proud of ourselves for getting out of there
and swapping stories about our girlfriend or wife back in the world (that
is what we called back home, "the World")
Here comes the hard part sometimes I can get through this , sometimes I
can't.
Anyway, we thought we was in the clear but we weren't.
We took a rocket in the nose, right in the front belly, and
it killed the pilot; drove him right out of his seat, a mess, blew him
to pieces. The peter pilot was sitting to the pilot's right.
It blew his left arm off (he showed me on his arm and it was even
with the shoulder) and he jump up with no arm and came to the back
yelling, everybody else was crying, I was the oldest, these guys are
crying, it is starting to fill up with smoke and mind you I am infantry,
but these other guys are crying and squalling. I knew they couldn't do
it so I went to the cockpit and moved what I could of the dead pilot he
was blown all to pieces and the peter pilot, his name was
Jeff, I don't remember his last name, anyway, he started telling me
which lever does what, which petal does what, what gauges to keep an eye
on, what switch to flick if this happened or that happened, first time I
had every been in a cockpit in my life in a helicopter.
In a situation like that you had to fly at treetop level.
Now, he said enough
to me, he taught me how to go up or down, left or right, then he passed
out, I thought he died. I
am trying to fly this damn thing and trying to take care of him, he
passed out. I thought he died. We
are running just about 120 miles per hour.
I don't know how many miles per hour by air. It was
100 miles from back to where we were headed south, back down to
the 176th and these guys in the
back are still crying. I think the peter pilot is dead, he wasn't but I
didn't know that. I think it was about 120miles per hour we
were flying which is something less than one hour to get down there so I
start getting closer and I am starting to recognize the country.
Then, I realize I don't know how to slow the thing down, hydraulic oil
spraying everywhere, smoke everywhere, I am getting closer and closer
and I know where I have to put down. I started working levers,
pulling switches and kicking petals. I got it slowed down to 70 or 80
miles per hour. I knew
where I was going to have put it down because if I missed we would wind
up in that swamp and there was alligators in the swamp.
So, I hit the ground at 70 or 80 miles per hour and it just went
to flopping, it finally stopped and I realized I wasn't dead and the
guys in the back, they ain't dead, they went off squalling, cussing and
running off in the woods.
I got the peter pilot out and what body parts I could find of the pilot
got them and we may have been as far as that garage over there
(showing me how far by pointing to a garage across the street) and it
blew up.
About
a week later I was in military court because I was not suppose to be
flying that Huey, I was infantry.
It is just like a civilian court except it is all military.
The guy was the Judge he was Sergeant Major, something like that. They was going to court martial me because I crashed
that thing and it burned up, they was
going to charge me $250,000. that is about less than half of what it
cost new, but it was junk in the first place.
They was going to make me sign papers to the effect they was
going to take all my check except of 20 percent. They was going to
take 80 percent of my check and make me sign papers to the effect that I
would stay in the Army until that thing was paid for or I died,
whichever one came first.
I told him, "Hey man, your Honor, I haven't had time to get Counsel
yet, you know a lawyer?"
He said, " I will give you two weeks."
In two weeks I hadn't found anybody. I didn't have time to
go too far so I went back down there by myself and they were going to
make me do all that stuff, like they said, so about that minute this
peter pilot, his name was Jeff, he found out about it someway, he showed
up, the one who lost his arm.
He told them, he said, "No, you are not going to do anything like
that."
He was talking to a superior officer and he didn't
know my name, he just knew "Crazy L", my nickname that
is all.
He told them, " I just want this whole thing thrown out,
forgotten about. If it had not been for "Crazy L" we
would all be dead, it was junk anyway.
They turned me loose, I was tickled to death.
I
went back up and right on the Bunker Line and right back in the Command
Bunker doing all the other too.
This part here is kinda funny and I want to tell you about
it, I didn't think it was funny then.
We had been out somewhere with this 176th again only this time we
are on what is called a fixed wing, 123 we get hit with a rocket a
mortar or something and the co pilot flew the door open out of the
cockpit and started throwing parachutes at everybody, only 5 of us in
there. I had never seen a parachute, you know.
I said, "Man, how does this thing work?" Mind
you, this airplane is coming down and that pilot grabbed his and he said,
"Watch me you have one chance". He said, "We are leaving
this."
I was the last one out
because I just couldn't get that thing on.
I was the last one out. While
I was still in high school I had jumped off the top of Curtin Bridge (a
very high structure) 19 times one summer and hit wrong 17 times in
the river and it is way high too. You
know where I am talking about, don't you? So when I jumped
out of that airplane in the parachute and I pulled that ripcord I was
ticked to death when it opened. Then
I got to thinking about jumping off Curtin Bridge and hitting wrong all
those time and I was thinking I hope I don't hit wrong this time.
Well, I hit wrong because I saw I was going to come down in the
trees and I came down right in the top of a big tree and skinned myself
all up. It is funny now but it wasn't funny then.
If I had known what I was doing you can steer those
parachutes, I didn't know
it then. Luck is what I am
talking about.
Another time over we got into some trouble and had to jump
out of a helicopter and there are no parachutes on a helicopter but were
lucky we were over a rice paddy. We was probably up a 100 feet and
jumped, cause it was on fire, and I am thinking the same thing, I hit
just right, straight up and down, just right. There was one guy, who
didn't hit right, he was tipped forward and he was out of commission for
about 3 weeks because of his eyes. All
that stuff hit him in his eyes.
When I came home, back to
the USA, I had a little old cheap camera. I took pictures out the
airplane window, the clouds and all and happy to be alive and I met 3
guys on the plane that I didn't know when I was over there but this was
leaving there and coming back here back to what we referred to as back
to "The World", "The Freedom Flight".
I met these 3 guys on the plane and we was going to land at the
Seattle Tacoma Airport, same place I took off from and me and these
other guys had our mind made up that when got off the plane, off the
black top in the dirt, we were going kneel down and kiss "Mother
Earth", bend over and throw dirt in our face and scream and
holler and have a big time, a celebration.
Well, when we started doing that a whole mob of people men and
women together, started throwing rocks at us and called us baby killers
and hit one guy in the head and hurt him.
Boy, that made me mad I had a notion just to fly into them.
That was our homecoming. Back to our homeland.
Then I was going to have 6 months
left in the Army yet, at Ft. Ord in northern California and while I was
in Vietnam they offered me a chance after I got to Ft. Ord, I was Sgt.
E5 they offered to waive my time and grade as E5 if I would extend my
tour of duty 30 days If I had of done that I would have qualified
early out, 5 month drop, if you had 5 months or less left. After I
got to Ft. Ord, I wish I had because they put me in to training men to
go to Vietnam. I taught 3 two hour classes every day on how
kill and how to survive in the jungles of Nam.
When I got out of Vietnam, Hell I was happy, when I got
out of the Army I celebrated.
Then
I moved back to Ohio and then I
came back to West Virginia in 1975.
I
asked Flavie, "What about the Vietnam War?"
I
don't know, you really didn't know what to think.
It has had a lasting effect on me, on my life.
I still have flashbacks and nerve problems. I learned to speak
their language. My second wife said that the reason she left me, I was
beating her up at night and speaking in Vietnamese and calling her Nam
names. I didn't know I was doing that. I have three
appointments at the VA Center in the next couple of months all related
to the war.
I
asked Flavie, "Who were the victims?"
Supposedly,
it was just like our Civil War in one respect, the North was Communist,
the South was not. Down
where I was some of those villages supposedly friendly villages, because
they were North Vietnam Army (NVA),
Viet Cong (VC) didn't uniforms but they were worse that the
NVA.
I have 2 appointments this
month at the VA hospital.
I
have had to counseling because of the war.
He has got me on some
nerve pills.
I
was up there at the Recruitment Center and talked to Newt McCutcheon,
"Do you know Newt?" He wrote down some stuff about what
happened. I brought it for you to look over and read.
And
when I asked if this could be included in his oral history, he said,
"Yes".
Description
of a life-threatening episode that caused nervous condition - details as
to the nature and severity of the episode and when it occurred
(Post Traumatic Stress)
"While
stationed with the 14th Security Platoon, Cho, Lai, Republic of South
Vietnam while on duty in the guard tower over watching the parameters of
our compound I was scanning my section which was my responsibility while
using my "Starlight Scope" (ANPUS-4) I suddenly noticed that
there was a clump of something moving outside the parameter.
I quickly called the Tower to my immediate left and right to see if they
could confirm the same thing. They saw movement as
well.
I then called back to the CP and reached the ISG. I explained to
him what I had seen and told him that towers confirmed the same
thing.
ISG said, "You know that you are in a "No-Fire"
zone."
Suddenly the Company Commander walked in the CP and asked the ISG what
was going on, the ISG turned the phone over to him and I explained what
was going and that the "clump" was getting closer and
closer. The Company Commander also told me that we were in a
"No-Fire" zone as well.
I asked him what to do and he replied, "I know what I would do if
it were me."
I acknowledged and said, "Roger Out!"
I then phoned and told them to get ready, "We are going to give
whatever is out there all we got!"
I was the squad leader at the time and I was in Tower #9 (Lucky
#9). I always took #9 because I felt that it was the most crucial
due to the fact that we could be hit by sea or land. The guys in
Towers 8 and 10 asked me who authorized me to engage the
"Clump", and I said, "Nobody move", I am taking
responsibility of this my own damn self. I then said that we are
going to open up at the count of "3" and we did. I
initiated fire with my M-60 machine gun, Tower #8 cut loose with the M79
grenade launcher and Tower#10 with a M-14 crap began to blow up
everywhere. The engagement lasted approximately 10-20 seconds and
then silence.
I then looked through my "Starlight Scope" and saw
nothing.
I was on end the rest of the night. When daylight
finally arrived we checked the perimeter and found pieces of bodies
everywhere. The best I could tell there was about 5 of them and
the body parts were painted the same color as the sand. There was
a lot of blood too. I was relieved from my watch. I went
directly to the CP and worked there for 8 hours and then caught some
sleep.
I was scared and nervous and really couldn't sleep because of what had
taken place. This is how I earned my Combat Infantryman's Badge!
Flavie
said, "I brought you a letter from a close friend of mine, I want
you to read it and tell me what you think, when you have a minute here.
It is pretty personal. " He handed me the
letter.
I read the letter and I asked if he would like to have it made a part of
his oral history and he said, "Most definitely"
(2
pages)
3/Jan 2002
Craigsville, WV
To
Whom It May Concern;
I was asked to write down what I thought were changes in Flavie
Ellison's personality after the Vietnam War.
He went into Service a nice young man and came out a person without
purpose. He attended church practically every Sunday. Now he
drinks - lives to drink, has a mouth full of 'swamp' talk that can
embarrass and hurt and he doesn't understand why. He brought back
something in his mind that won't let him leave that place.
Over
the last 2 years he has been through 2 marriages, several jobs, lots of
alcohol and living alone in a very isolated place. His isolation
is self-inflicted. He doesn't want company. He has become
anti-social, can't hold a job, can't hang on to relationships and says
that just gets in the way of the past.
He
was in a motorcycle accident several years ago and when he woke up after
being unconscious, he had reverted back to Vietnam - didn't know his
wife at that time. But he knew his ex wife's name and spoke
Vietnamese as his training had taught him to do. His doctor, who
was a Veteran, recognized the language and could communicate with
him. Yet, today I'll bet he couldn't consciously speak any other
language but American English.
This,
this horror of that war has touched every aspect of his life and it
still does to this day. I personally feel that it will keep
affecting him the rest of his life.
He
was a "country" boy who was given a rifle, trained, and told
to KILL! And being a patriotic young man, did just that. It
went against his passive nature, but he had been trained, so he
now lives with what he saw and did. Somewhere in all the blood and
death and warm beer, he put himself away to brought back at a later
time. But he could never do it. So Sad.
His
Friend,
Shirley
Farley
Flavie
then showed me pictures of his garden as featured in our local paper,
"County man boasts outstanding garden" The article
stated Flavie had grown sweet corn over 10 feet tall and tomato plants
over 6 feet high and a cabbage head weighing 43 lbs. The article
stated his cabbage is Flat Dutch and O.S. Cross. His potato plants
are Red, Kennebec, Main and Minnesota.
I
asked Flavie his secret and besides all the time and effort, he thinks
Miracle Grow helps and I went on to ask him about flowers, would that
work, he just said, he suppose so, he didn't grow any flowers because
you could not eat them.
The
interview ended. He said that he would be back to see me and I promised to get his application for high school
graduation processed for the June 2, 2002 graduation.
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