Of course, buccaneers and skull-and-crossbone flags are not uncommon sights here on the Oregon Coast, proud home to Pirate’s Plunder, The Lucky Pirate Chophouse, Pirate Coffee Company, etc., etc. Somehow, my Uncle Harry got involved in the fake leg fandango. One Christmas, it must’ve been in 1967, when I was seven, Uncle Harry came home on leave, wearing his Class A uniform — and a fresh, jagged scar on his throat. At some point, it was just Uncle Harry and me, in the kitchen, as I remember, and he caught me staring at his wound. The EndFor my Uncle Harry, who was a flight engineer and helicopter door gunner during the Vietnam War.