The M-1965 Field Jacket (or, more popularly, the M65) entered service with the US Army in 1965 to replace the aging M-1951 and M-1943 field coats then in use. The jacket was a major improvement over these previous designs and was not "replaced" until 1985, with a jacket that is, for the most part, just colored differently, and lacking the shoulder epaulets.
The jackets are made of a wind resistant and water repellent treated cotton, and includes a removable quilted liner for cold weather (but, man, it has to get wicked cold, else you readily overheat).
Why do I bring this up? Well, today there is a Nor'easter blowing into New England. Despite this fact, the Health Center has decided to stay open for the day, so I needed to make my way into work. My jacket of choice is one my father said that "no one should be without." Granted, he was in the Navy, but he has an M65 of his own and, well, quite frankly, I'm of the same opinion about the jacket.
You see, despite the horrible conditions outside, the only part of my body I really had to worry about was my head, given that I couldn't find my hat this morning. Why? Because I've stood in downpours with that M65 and my shirt, save for the collar, stays quite dry. Plus, even without the quilted lining, on a day like today, it's still toasty warm. And, looking at it now, hanging on the back of a chair, it's already dry.
But wait! I hear you say. What about your legs!?
Well, that all goes out to Sam. A few years back she bought me a pair of fleece-lined jeans. I, the man who sweats in shorts when it's 50 degrees fahrenheit, believed them to be of no practical use to me, what-so-ever. A pair of regular pants, says I, is fine for winter.
Well, just to be on the safe side, I decided to wear them today. I will admit, I sweat my ass off in the house before leaving, but once outside, I was really glad I had them on. Particularly while trudging through 18+ inch snow drifts for a block.
So, now I get to decide what the hell I'm going to do for lunch, and hoping that this is all cleared up by noon.
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