My Job, My Hell...

Share a personal survival experience with us and explain what you learned from it. You might help someone.

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Laager
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Re: My Job, My Hell...

Post by Laager » Sun Feb 25, 2018 4:39 pm

I did get a bit of my own back on TAG and Corporal Benton once, Bent was a HQ pogue but somehow instead of being a Specialist he weaseled his way into Corporal stripes. They were both thick as thieves, and I guess the term that I have heard recently would be considered FOBBITs.

It was rare to see either of them outside the fire base or any forward operating base. Of course they had top of the line issue equipment, including the soon to be issued to the troops BDUs. While the rest of us were wearing the old OD greens and in some cases (mine) Korean War issue web gear. I still have the original issue metal canteens (two each), I had to buy two of the plastic ones to turn in.

Anyway I did manage to butt stroke Bent and got a few licks in on TAG as well....

Not sure it really did anything other than make me feel 100 and 10 percent better even though I was initially charged with Article 91 ( Insubordinate conduct toward warrant officer, noncommissioned officer, or petty officer) and Article 128 (Assault) of course as usual they threw in a slew of other charges like Article 98 (Noncompliance with procedural rules), Article 101 (Improper use of countersign), Article 103 (Captured or abandoned property), Article 108 (Military property of the United States--sale, loss, damage, destruction, or wrongful disposition), Article 109 (Property other than military property of the United States--waste, spoilage, or destruction) Article 116 (Riot or breach of peace), Article 117 (Provoking speeches or gestures), Article 124 (Maiming)....and a few more for good measure.

Sergeant Banks saved my rear end once again and most of the real charges were dismissed but then they tossed in the really stupid ones. But Banks then charged TAG and Bent with the same charges as me, so we all ended up doing 1Sgt time.

One of my favorites was Article 134-21 (Firearm, discharging--willfully, under such circumstances as to endanger human life)......hmmmmm, our ROE was pretty simple....if someone is shooting at you shoot them back and kill them. So just how in the heck could they run this one up the flag pole. Unfreaking believable....

If the higher ups liked you, well then for the most part you are golden, if not then oh boy your days are certainly numbered for sure.
“Complacency kills. Paranoia is the reason I’m still alive.” If we do happen to make contact, I expect nothing less than gratuitous violence from the lot of ya.

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Re: My Job, My Hell...

Post by Laager » Sun Feb 25, 2018 4:48 pm

Johan wrote:I was going to vote for #1, but as long as you do all of them I am fine...
:wink:

Laager, you really are an amazing storyteller.You should publish your storys, I recon it'd at least pay for that .50 you were coveting..

I told James that I was telling some of the things that happened to me and he had to see it to believe it. James knows a few, especially since he visited a few times and stayed in the barracks with me and the other guys. So they came out when we were drinking and of course he has been there for some and has seen me naked more than a few times. Most recently on our trip back east.

Lil knows most, but not all...something's just need to go to the grave or as my grandfather and Allen Ross used to say two can keep a secret if one is dead, sometimes both need to die to keep it.

My Great-grandmother told James and I, that we were both cursed and blessed by the Gods......when I asked her about it she said anyone that catches the attention of the Gods is in for one heck of an interesting life.....and I can say I have certainly had one and have been extremely lucky more so that I ever thought.

You know they always say you can pick your friends but you can't pick your family and while that rings true with blood lines, I've "picked" or made my own family.

Well time to go play in the gravel pit.....I scored some cash at one of the Casinos in Biloxi (enough to buy two RPRs), and talk smack to Susan (James' wife). Even she said I was blessed by the Gods of luck (Shichi Fukujin are the Seven Gods of Luck and Good Fortune).....cause I do well (when in need) during games of chance.

Oh well time to run, James is honking the darn horn........you would think he would at least come pick me up at the door the cheapskate.....
“Complacency kills. Paranoia is the reason I’m still alive.” If we do happen to make contact, I expect nothing less than gratuitous violence from the lot of ya.

Laager
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Re: My Job, My Hell...

Post by Laager » Thu Mar 01, 2018 5:08 pm

A really quick story. This was around 1988/89 or so.

Now the U.S. Army usually goes from a Company then the next level is Battalion then followed by a Brigade (or Squadron if you are Cavalry or a Regiment) then up to a Division.

I was stationed at Lee Barracks in Mainz Germany (the Post closed 1992 or so and is now full of muslim refugees) in a straight leg Infantry Company, assigned to the 8th Mech Infantry. So we had a mixture of Armor, Artillery, Cavalry and straight leg infantry, along with the usual POGs and/FOBBITS. Total number of soldiers was just shy of 5,000. I think it was in the area of 4,700 or so give or take a few here and there.

Now one day the entire brigade was called out on the parade field and the while the full bird colonel was standing there the Brigade Command Sergeant Major told us that someone had broken into the Colonel's office and took a crap in his favorite coffee mug.

He (the CSM) told us that the individual or individual(s) responsible should turn themselves in to avoid additional charges being pressed against them.

Sort of a Now's your chance to come clean and own up to crapping in the Colonel's coffee mug.

Well as one would suspect no one stepped forward or owned up to it. Of course rumors were flying around the entire Post (not that is was a huge Post to begin with) and names were tossed out. But like I said no one really owned up to it.

So believe it or not the Colonel then wanted 5000 soldiers to show up at the Post clinic (Hospital) to take a shit and have a DNA sample run to catch the guy. The Post Clinic commander told the Brigade Commander that they did not have the resources to do something like that.

So we were then loaded up on Deuce and a half trucks and trucked over to Lindsey Air Station's Military Hospital, at this point the Air Force Hospital commander figured out that an Army Brigade consisted of about 5000 soldiers and he told us no and so off to Lanstuhl Regional Medical Center (LRMC, which is or was the largest military hospital overseas).

I'm not real sure exactly how many soldiers actually had to crap in a sample cup before someone much higher on the food chain put a stop to the nonsense. I heard that he got almost a Battalion worth of Armor soldiers, I think it was the 4/69th Armor Battalion at the time and I think there was around 800 or so in an Armor Battalion.

Needless to say no one ever confessed or owned up to it, somewhere around a dozen names or so were thrown around as to who may have done it.

Now I will say it certainly was not me. But I was impressed that the person or person(s) involved managed to shit only in the cup, nothing on the desk or floor. Just a coffee cup full of poop. He either picked the lock on the door or window and somehow managed to not only get into the Brigade Commander's office area but the building as well and the building was secured as well. No visible signs of break in anywhere.

No toilet paper left behind either.......then again there are some nasty people that do not wipe afterwards or even bother washing their hands afterwards either.

Now we were always told we never had money to do anything, including for better meals in the mess hall, but somehow the Brigade Commander could come up with 1000 per soldier to just catch one soldier who pooped in his coffee cup.

I was glad I was on my way out of the Army, and honestly I can say that if I would have found out who had done it, I would not have turned him in.



I remember telling my sister this once and she said the cost of the DNA test was close to a grand per soldier.
“Complacency kills. Paranoia is the reason I’m still alive.” If we do happen to make contact, I expect nothing less than gratuitous violence from the lot of ya.

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Re: My Job, My Hell...

Post by raptor » Thu Mar 01, 2018 5:18 pm

Laager wrote: Now I will say it certainly was not me. But I was impressed that the person or person(s) involved managed to shit only in the cup, nothing on the desk or floor. Just a coffee cup full of poop. He either picked the lock on the door or window and somehow managed to not only get into the Brigade Commander's office area but the building as well and the building was secured as well. No visible signs of break in anywhere.

No toilet paper left behind either.......then again there are some nasty people that do not wipe afterwards or even bother washing their hands afterwards either.
They have simply picked up dog shit with the cup.

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Re: My Job, My Hell...

Post by Mad Mike » Thu Mar 01, 2018 6:50 pm

Laager wrote:A really quick story. This was around 1988/89 or so.

Now the U.S. Army usually goes from a Company then the next level is Battalion then followed by a Brigade (or Squadron if you are Cavalry or a Regiment) then up to a Division.

I was stationed at Lee Barracks in Mainz Germany (the Post closed 1992 or so and is now full of muslim refugees) in a straight leg Infantry Company, assigned to the 8th Mech Infantry. So we had a mixture of Armor, Artillery, Cavalry and straight leg infantry, along with the usual POGs and/FOBBITS. Total number of soldiers was just shy of 5,000. I think it was in the area of 4,700 or so give or take a few here and there.

Now one day the entire brigade was called out on the parade field and the while the full bird colonel was standing there the Brigade Command Sergeant Major told us that someone had broken into the Colonel's office and took a crap in his favorite coffee mug.

He (the CSM) told us that the individual or individual(s) responsible should turn themselves in to avoid additional charges being pressed against them.

Sort of a Now's your chance to come clean and own up to crapping in the Colonel's coffee mug.

Well as one would suspect no one stepped forward or owned up to it. Of course rumors were flying around the entire Post (not that is was a huge Post to begin with) and names were tossed out. But like I said no one really owned up to it.

So believe it or not the Colonel then wanted 5000 soldiers to show up at the Post clinic (Hospital) to take a shit and have a DNA sample run to catch the guy. The Post Clinic commander told the Brigade Commander that they did not have the resources to do something like that.

So we were then loaded up on Deuce and a half trucks and trucked over to Lindsey Air Station's Military Hospital, at this point the Air Force Hospital commander figured out that an Army Brigade consisted of about 5000 soldiers and he told us no and so off to Lanstuhl Regional Medical Center (LRMC, which is or was the largest military hospital overseas).

I'm not real sure exactly how many soldiers actually had to crap in a sample cup before someone much higher on the food chain put a stop to the nonsense. I heard that he got almost a Battalion worth of Armor soldiers, I think it was the 4/69th Armor Battalion at the time and I think there was around 800 or so in an Armor Battalion.

Needless to say no one ever confessed or owned up to it, somewhere around a dozen names or so were thrown around as to who may have done it.

Now I will say it certainly was not me. But I was impressed that the person or person(s) involved managed to shit only in the cup, nothing on the desk or floor. Just a coffee cup full of poop. He either picked the lock on the door or window and somehow managed to not only get into the Brigade Commander's office area but the building as well and the building was secured as well. No visible signs of break in anywhere.

No toilet paper left behind either.......then again there are some nasty people that do not wipe afterwards or even bother washing their hands afterwards either.

Now we were always told we never had money to do anything, including for better meals in the mess hall, but somehow the Brigade Commander could come up with 1000 per soldier to just catch one soldier who pooped in his coffee cup.

I was glad I was on my way out of the Army, and honestly I can say that if I would have found out who had done it, I would not have turned him in.



I remember telling my sister this once and she said the cost of the DNA test was close to a grand per soldier.
what if YOU had thought of it first??? :mrgreen:

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Re: My Job, My Hell...

Post by Laager » Fri Mar 02, 2018 5:11 am

raptor wrote:
Laager wrote: Now I will say it certainly was not me. But I was impressed that the person or person(s) involved managed to shit only in the cup, nothing on the desk or floor. Just a coffee cup full of poop. He either picked the lock on the door or window and somehow managed to not only get into the Brigade Commander's office area but the building as well and the building was secured as well. No visible signs of break in anywhere.

No toilet paper left behind either.......then again there are some nasty people that do not wipe afterwards or even bother washing their hands afterwards either.
They have simply picked up dog shit with the cup.

Hmmmmm, could be but from what I was told it looked like a cup of frozen chocolate yogurt that you get a buffet meals in Las Vegas or Chinese buffet restaurants. He would have had to bring it with him, in a bag or something since the cup was left in the Colonel's office.

No idea really...but I do get a chuckle when I see a cup full of frozen chocolate yogurt.
“Complacency kills. Paranoia is the reason I’m still alive.” If we do happen to make contact, I expect nothing less than gratuitous violence from the lot of ya.

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Re: My Job, My Hell...

Post by Laager » Fri Mar 02, 2018 5:13 am

Mad Mike wrote:
Laager wrote:A really quick story. This was around 1988/89 or so.

Now the U.S. Army usually goes from a Company then the next level is Battalion then followed by a Brigade (or Squadron if you are Cavalry or a Regiment) then up to a Division.

I was stationed at Lee Barracks in Mainz Germany (the Post closed 1992 or so and is now full of muslim refugees) in a straight leg Infantry Company, assigned to the 8th Mech Infantry. So we had a mixture of Armor, Artillery, Cavalry and straight leg infantry, along with the usual POGs and/FOBBITS. Total number of soldiers was just shy of 5,000. I think it was in the area of 4,700 or so give or take a few here and there.

Now one day the entire brigade was called out on the parade field and the while the full bird colonel was standing there the Brigade Command Sergeant Major told us that someone had broken into the Colonel's office and took a crap in his favorite coffee mug.

He (the CSM) told us that the individual or individual(s) responsible should turn themselves in to avoid additional charges being pressed against them.

Sort of a Now's your chance to come clean and own up to crapping in the Colonel's coffee mug.

Well as one would suspect no one stepped forward or owned up to it. Of course rumors were flying around the entire Post (not that is was a huge Post to begin with) and names were tossed out. But like I said no one really owned up to it.

So believe it or not the Colonel then wanted 5000 soldiers to show up at the Post clinic (Hospital) to take a shit and have a DNA sample run to catch the guy. The Post Clinic commander told the Brigade Commander that they did not have the resources to do something like that.

So we were then loaded up on Deuce and a half trucks and trucked over to Lindsey Air Station's Military Hospital, at this point the Air Force Hospital commander figured out that an Army Brigade consisted of about 5000 soldiers and he told us no and so off to Lanstuhl Regional Medical Center (LRMC, which is or was the largest military hospital overseas).

I'm not real sure exactly how many soldiers actually had to crap in a sample cup before someone much higher on the food chain put a stop to the nonsense. I heard that he got almost a Battalion worth of Armor soldiers, I think it was the 4/69th Armor Battalion at the time and I think there was around 800 or so in an Armor Battalion.

Needless to say no one ever confessed or owned up to it, somewhere around a dozen names or so were thrown around as to who may have done it.

Now I will say it certainly was not me. But I was impressed that the person or person(s) involved managed to shit only in the cup, nothing on the desk or floor. Just a coffee cup full of poop. He either picked the lock on the door or window and somehow managed to not only get into the Brigade Commander's office area but the building as well and the building was secured as well. No visible signs of break in anywhere.

No toilet paper left behind either.......then again there are some nasty people that do not wipe afterwards or even bother washing their hands afterwards either.

Now we were always told we never had money to do anything, including for better meals in the mess hall, but somehow the Brigade Commander could come up with 1000 per soldier to just catch one soldier who pooped in his coffee cup.

I was glad I was on my way out of the Army, and honestly I can say that if I would have found out who had done it, I would not have turned him in.



I remember telling my sister this once and she said the cost of the DNA test was close to a grand per soldier.
what if YOU had thought of it first??? :mrgreen:

Nah I may have had a dislike for some of the people in the Army with me, but I went where I was sent, did what I was told (for the most part, in the manner I was told to do it) and was a general pain in the rear kind of soldier. I don't think I could have pulled it off to be honest with you. Garrison life was hard on me as it was without sneaking and peeking or in this case pooping in the Brigade building.
“Complacency kills. Paranoia is the reason I’m still alive.” If we do happen to make contact, I expect nothing less than gratuitous violence from the lot of ya.

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Re: My Job, My Hell...

Post by emclean » Fri Mar 02, 2018 10:00 am

you would have thought he bird would have started with the HQ staff, followed by who eve had been on duty the night of the incident. . it would have been easy for someone who had keys, and was expected to be in the building.

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Re: My Job, My Hell...

Post by Laager » Fri Mar 02, 2018 2:28 pm

emclean wrote:you would have thought he bird would have started with the HQ staff, followed by who eve had been on duty the night of the incident. . it would have been easy for someone who had keys, and was expected to be in the building.


Everyone with a key would have been at the top of my list, of course they used the people that were in trouble (had Article 15's requiring extra duty) to clean the Company, Battalion and Brigade HQ building and offices.

I gave up decades ago wondering how they managed to be in charge with some of the stupid stuff they would push......I once had an officer say something to like we have to destroy this place to save it. How in the world does that even make sense?

So I come in, destroy you home and somehow you love the heck out of us for doing that? Nah, it would be time for me to dig up the old bolt action out of the garden and get some........

Then you run across this moron who somehow made Lieutenant General and does not know anything about M16s or AR15s. And it reminds me of why we used to say the only good officer was a dead one.....

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IYjjWPvL9j0




I'm going out to my safe to see if my AR-15 will go into full semi automatic mode.......and find out just how this semi auto rifle was ever used by the military. It has been awhile since I actually had hands on with anything from the M16 series or family, but I have used the M16, the A1 and then the A2. I think they were swapping out the A2s for the A3s and M9 (to replace the 1911) just as I was processing out.

But I never was issued an M16 that was only a semi auto and I do not remember the first Armalite rifle being a semi auto, it was a select fire rifle almost exactly like the current M4.

Also when I was AD blue stripes or tape on a weapon or mag meant that you had sometype of dummy/inert or training item. So whats is with the blue tape???

Farking officers........
“Complacency kills. Paranoia is the reason I’m still alive.” If we do happen to make contact, I expect nothing less than gratuitous violence from the lot of ya.

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Re: My Job, My Hell...

Post by tony d tiger » Thu Mar 22, 2018 5:40 am

... :crazy:
Tony D

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Re: My Job, My Hell...

Post by Asymetryczna » Thu Mar 22, 2018 7:18 am

I once had an officer say something to like we have to destroy this place to save it. How in the world does that even make sense?
In my opinion, this speaks to the very nature of what your organization was all about: people. The officer was saying that the processes and procedures [SYSTEM] needed to be changed, improved upon, started over in order to better lead, care for and train the most important asset. In the Corps, as I was taught, an officer is issued a blood stripe; thus, the first officer is the non-commissioned officer, the NCO, a Corporal (E4). Having served in multi roles, I find that it is too often an easy cliché to rely upon...the blaming of officers. An asshole is an asshole is an asshole. Given authority and power, this rule may be greatly magnified.

This is also to say that I agree with you. A Paradox. Some of the most defiant people in the world become great soldiers, police officers, etc. Their great sense of individuality, their ability to think quickly on their feet and their personal drive combine to encourage a mindset that questions authority. I have a friend that is state police who is the most defiant -belligerent- anti big government person I know yet his appearance is impeccable and he has been recognized again and again for the pride he shows in his work.

When a leader finds a turd in his coffee cup it is his own mirror that he needs to examine.

[edited to add] Please do not take this as any attempt to curtail your telling of stories. They have been so good that it has encouraged me to start putting my own down on paper. I realized in reading yours that there is so much to laugh about.
It's not what you look at that matters, it's what you see.
Henry David Thoreau

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Re: My Job, My Hell...

Post by Laager » Sun Apr 01, 2018 6:32 am

Asymetryczna wrote:
I once had an officer say something to like we have to destroy this place to save it. How in the world does that even make sense?
In my opinion, this speaks to the very nature of what your organization was all about: people. The officer was saying that the processes and procedures [SYSTEM] needed to be changed, improved upon, started over in order to better lead, care for and train the most important asset. In the Corps, as I was taught, an officer is issued a blood stripe; thus, the first officer is the non-commissioned officer, the NCO, a Corporal (E4). Having served in multi roles, I find that it is too often an easy cliché to rely upon...the blaming of officers. An asshole is an asshole is an asshole. Given authority and power, this rule may be greatly magnified.

This is also to say that I agree with you. A Paradox. Some of the most defiant people in the world become great soldiers, police officers, etc. Their great sense of individuality, their ability to think quickly on their feet and their personal drive combine to encourage a mindset that questions authority. I have a friend that is state police who is the most defiant -belligerent- anti big government person I know yet his appearance is impeccable and he has been recognized again and again for the pride he shows in his work.

When a leader finds a turd in his coffee cup it is his own mirror that he needs to examine.

[edited to add] Please do not take this as any attempt to curtail your telling of stories. They have been so good that it has encouraged me to start putting my own down on paper. I realized in reading yours that there is so much to laugh about.

Well I think it had more to do with the place he wanted us to burn to the ground. Something along the lines of deny the enemy food, shelter, support, etc.... Personally sort of like old J. Wales, you burn my place to the ground and the fight is on, even if I was not actually for or against you before. Well I certainly would be then.

We had some really fine officers and then we had some that were out there somewhere in a mind of their own. They would come in, stay for a year or so, then move on once they got their merit badge or leadership time in a certain slot.

Unfortunately after Vietnam we did not have many really good ones, heck we had soldiers that made Forrest Gump look like a super genius.

I was a field soldier, not a garrison soldier so my uniform was what you could call rag bag. Still well within the regulations but while other soldiers spit shinned their boots and ironed/creased their uniforms, mine were brushed (IAW the AR 670-1) and never touched by an iron or creased. My uniforms were all clean and serviceable and that was all I would do, since usually they issued jungle fatigues when we deployed and then we would have to turn them back in once we returned. Of course supply would whine and cry when we brought them back damaged or not at all. This resulted in our having to fill out forms and often a LOD was started (Line Of Duty) to see if they could make us pay for the lost/damaged gear.

Lets just say that I never was selected for Colonels orderly or excused from Guard duty by looking "sharp" and knowing how many farking holes were in a C Rat cracker....54 if my memory is still holding by the way. Do not ask me why that was so darn important to know. Then again once I made Staff Sergeant and pulled Sergeant of the Guard the questions were more job orientated than cracker, and I also used to make the "super soldiers" who had a set of guard mount gear including uniforms show up for guard duty wearing their gear. Some of those guys actually made Corporal without ever standing guard duty one darn time, since leaving basic or AIT. Used to tick them off something fierce. Of course according to the AR starch was not supposed to be used, since it damaged the material but it never stopped them from pushing creased and starched uniforms with spit shined boots. Yea I want my boots spit shined so they stand out in the jungle/woods.

The only "extra" gear I had was the original canvas gear they issued me and like any branch of the service gear is issued and often lost or outright stolen (gear adrift is a gift, according to the Marines), and like Sgt Banks used to say their is only one thief running loose around here, the rest of us are trying to get out gear back. He also used to tell us not to "tactically acquire" any more gear, since his locker was often over full of reacquired gear.

Well if you did not laugh a few times or more than a few times, I think it would have been a whole heck of a lot worse, then again we did laugh at some really odd things that civilians would have found morbid or outside the norm.

I often wonder just how often the senior NCOs and officers ignored us, sort of like if we don't make a big deal out of this they will go away or just let it go kind of deal. Then again we hardly ever bet on money, it was more of a dare kind of thing. We liked to mess with unit mottos like the 3rd Cav and they used to have to salute their officers and say Brave Rifles, the officer would then return the salute and say Veterans.....so we used to salute and say Rusty Rifles or when I was in the 2nd Infantry Division it was Second to None.....we would say First to run. Most of the time the officers never even blinked. Occasionally one would ask us what we just said...so then we would go back to what it was supposed to be.....or not.
“Complacency kills. Paranoia is the reason I’m still alive.” If we do happen to make contact, I expect nothing less than gratuitous violence from the lot of ya.

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Re: My Job, My Hell...

Post by Asymetryczna » Mon Apr 02, 2018 6:37 am

then again we did laugh at some really odd things that civilians would have found morbid or outside the norm.
This is so true. Some suggest it is a coping mechanism. The first 2 Bn Cmdrs I had were Medal of Honor recipients. I did one tour in a garrison environment and tours in 4 infantry battalions. About 2 days after being graduated from H.S., I found myself on the yellow footprints at Parris Island, where they do their very best to beat and shame any sense of individuality out of a person who volunteered to offer their services. The older I get the more I disagree with this method. Good for conscripts and such but America is a land of innovators not mindless automatons. We've always done it this way no longer works...
When I learned to block out the BS it grew funnier and funnier. To an 18 year old, the idea that 3 grown men would simultaneously scream at my face from about 3 inches away, with spittle flying everywhere, simply because I did not wake up at 0400, make my rack, get dressed, have my boots laced up and be on line at attention in less than 60 seconds became somewhat comical, especially in hindsight. A few weeks later, in a classroom, an instructor said that the easiest way to remember how the Corps is set up is the number 3. There are 3 men in a fireteam, and a fireteam leader. There are 3 fireteams in a squad, and a squad leader. There are 3 squads in a platoon, and a Plt HQ. There are 3 companies in a battalion: 3 rifle companies, a weapons company and a headquarters and service company. (By this time I looked around the room wondering if it was just me.) There are the 3 Marine Divisions, 1st, 2d, and 3d, along with the 4th Marine Division, our reserves. I wanted to stand on my desk and scream that 3 had no bearing at all but was afraid that I would be killed.
Another time, 2 drill instructors argued in front of the platoon until I thought they would come to blows. It was over when the private should shout his number when counting off in formation. One thought that it was while the head was turned (over the shoulder) and the other thought it was in motion (head turning to the right and back.) Two grown men standing in front of us repeating "Count off" and the number "One" as they snapped their heads back and forth over their right shoulder was too much for me. I held it in as long as I could and then let out a noise they did not like so it was off to the sandpit.
I'd have to say that I witnessed things that were so ridiculous that I eventually knew it was the right place for me. So for the next 25 years I entered the matrix. YMMV.

Edited to add: 54 is the hole count on the cracker. For us, it was kind of a joke question for guard mount meaning that if you were squared away they asked just this question. We used C-Rats at PISC and at Infantry Training School, Camp Pendleton. One day at the latter someone handed us a few of the new meals in envelopes and as they were torn into I ended up with a packet of dehydrated strawberries. It was probably 1983 before I began seeing the MREs regularly. I kept a Beans n' Frankfurters meal from 1984. I was going to open it at 25 years but decided to wait a bit longer...
It's not what you look at that matters, it's what you see.
Henry David Thoreau

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Re: My Job, My Hell...

Post by emclean » Mon Apr 02, 2018 5:29 pm

then again we did laugh at some really odd things that civilians would have found morbid or outside the norm.
talk to a nurse that has been on teh floor for a few years, or an EMT that has been on the street for a while.

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Re: My Job, My Hell...

Post by Laager » Sat Apr 07, 2018 4:34 pm

emclean wrote:
then again we did laugh at some really odd things that civilians would have found morbid or outside the norm.
talk to a nurse that has been on teh floor for a few years, or an EMT that has been on the street for a while.

I'm just about surrounded by nurses and other health care workers........and I know what you mean.

I hate getting sick or as Lil & Bec put it, ahhhhh, you have another Booboo.......then everyone of them that can puts forth a medical opinion......thankfully none of them are surgeons or they would be fighting to operate on a splinter.
“Complacency kills. Paranoia is the reason I’m still alive.” If we do happen to make contact, I expect nothing less than gratuitous violence from the lot of ya.

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Re: My Job, My Hell...

Post by Asymetryczna » Wed Apr 11, 2018 1:07 pm

Found a note to myself to post this here when I found it again, Laager. I don't remember why but I trust my note taking ability.

Image
It's not what you look at that matters, it's what you see.
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Re: My Job, My Hell...

Post by Laager » Thu Apr 12, 2018 9:55 pm

Asymetryczna wrote:Found a note to myself to post this here when I found it again, Laager. I don't remember why but I trust my note taking ability.

Image

Some of my best friends are Marines, I'd say were but as far as they are concerned (and I tend to agree) once a Marine always a Marine, unless you were kicked out/dishonorably discharged.

James' brother tells me or used to tell me about some of the Drill Sergeants at Fort Benning (Sand Hill) used to do and I still have fond memories of being a recruit. Of course now they are fond, but back then they were a huge pain in the rear end.

The Army or at least some of the Officers and senior NCOs would get fixated on something and it was like nothing else in the world mattered. Especially when we were in garrison, heck one of the Sergeants used to expect us to keep our uniforms to standards while we were out in the field. I'm not talking about up to regs but he wanted spit shinned boots while we were in the field.

I did not have room for a shoe shine kit, and if I did I would have carried something more useful like extra ammo or another pair or two of clean socks. Heck even a stripped down C rat or something that could be used in the field.

We had some good officers as well as some good NCOs, then we had some that were not worth anything. Just like we had some good soldiers and some bad ones.
“Complacency kills. Paranoia is the reason I’m still alive.” If we do happen to make contact, I expect nothing less than gratuitous violence from the lot of ya.

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Re: My Job, My Hell...

Post by Asymetryczna » Fri Apr 13, 2018 11:44 am

The shine and polish people are much fewer these days (or at least they suppress it), and the change to the boots and uniforms at the end of the 20th Century made a lot of dry cleaners see their incomes drop. Still, the institution protects itself and not always its people. I know of some NCO's that would make Thor and Odin proud but were not allowed to reenlist because of ink on their arms. I mostly enjoyed it.
It's not what you look at that matters, it's what you see.
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Re: My Job, My Hell...

Post by Laager » Sun May 06, 2018 11:04 pm

Well the time is closer to telling the story of the great turkey club fight (circa 1972) or maybe I can tell a story about Jam
“Complacency kills. Paranoia is the reason I’m still alive.” If we do happen to make contact, I expect nothing less than gratuitous violence from the lot of ya.

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Re: My Job, My Hell...

Post by Stercutus » Mon May 07, 2018 7:00 am

My eldest is in college now. I was sharing with him a story from when I was in college and worked across from the campus in Saturday nights at the 7-11. Yep, that 7-11 right across the street from the college with 10,000 students. I was too old to hang out with the kids on Saturday night when I went back to school so I took that time to make some money for my upcoming wedding life.

7-11 has a policy of total employee compliance with anyone robbing the store. Clerks will get fired if they resist in any way. I was totally on board with that plan, so long as they were just after the money or booze. It never got exciting at a store. It was way too busy 24/7 to be robbed but we had lots of shoplifters as you can imagine. It did get funny some times.

So drunk kid wanders in around 0100. He tries to get in to the beer cooler but it is locked to protect the dignity of the State from allowing booze sales on Sunday. After trying all 8 doors with booze behind them and finding them all locked he wanders over to a display and picks up a warm 6 pack and brings it to the counter. He then pull out his real ID (age too young) with his fake ID in plain view in his wallet. I put the beer behind the counter and break the bad news to him that it is Sunday and that he showed me the wrong ID. Poor kid goes pale for a second staggers over to the OTC meds isle and throws up all over the floor.

I am getting annoyed now. There are about ten people in the store and I don't have time for this.

He comes back to the counter and asks where the condoms are. I got to hand it to him. In his state I am not sure he could have actually completed his planned activity but he was giving it the old college try. I point to the display in front of where he had just puked. Undaunted he walks through the puke and grabs the biggest box we have and returns to the counter. I ring it up and it is $12.

Seems the kid only has a ten. I can see the hamsters turning on the wheel inside the brain pan. He says "ok" and he moves to put it back. On the way back he slides on the puke right in to the condom display and takes down several racks of packs of condoms with him and falls to the floor covered in puke and condoms. He looks around and sees all the boxes of prophylactics that had just rained down on him from heaven. The solution to his problem comes to him and he shoves several in to his jacket pocket. He then remembers me and looks at me.

Me: pretty neutral
Him: :) :D He is having a "hold my beer, watch this" moment.

So he stands back and launches himself in to the shelf with the OTC headache/ cold meds and they come crashing to the floor. He reaches down and shoves OTC drugs in to pockets and then seeing I am not doing anything to stop him starts going bananas. He crashes in to the candy shelves and grabs some Snickers and whatever else he seemed to like. He continues about the store doing this.

By this point I have already called the police. The dispatcher asks me if it is a shoplifter or a robber. I try to explain that he isn't exactly robbing the place but he isn't exactly shoplifting either. The police arrive within a minute. The officers walk in and I point to our condom bandit. The younger cop starts giggling as they watch him pocket items. Dude is facing the other way and is clueless.

Older cop walks up and taps him on the shoulder and he turns around.

Condom bandit: :lol: :shock: :(


As a footnote the officer arrested him and took him back to the station where they strip searched him. They found $97 in merchandise concealed in all kinds of places, which he then brought back to the store in a big bag.

College students ...hmmm
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Re: My Job, My Hell...

Post by feanor » Sun Jun 10, 2018 9:50 am

I love it when I've been away a while and come back to see this thread replenished with new amusement, but I also hate it when I've caught up on the reading again.

Laager, if you ever run out of stories don't tell us, just start making shit up. I'd bet my last dollar none of us could tell the difference at this point.
I'm sure the whole "stranger than fiction" thing was first said with you in mind. If it wasn't, it should've.

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Re: My Job, My Hell...

Post by Laager » Sun Jun 10, 2018 10:32 pm

feanor wrote:I love it when I've been away a while and come back to see this thread replenished with new amusement, but I also hate it when I've caught up on the reading again.

Laager, if you ever run out of stories don't tell us, just start making shit up. I'd bet my last dollar none of us could tell the difference at this point.
I'm sure the whole "stranger than fiction" thing was first said with you in mind. If it wasn't, it should've.

LOL.....nah I have more, but some are not for the public, the kind you take to the grave if you are smart.

I know that a lot of times I seem to have a dislike for other soldiers in my unit. People that have been in the military probably can relate to this, but it basically boils down to this..... Liking each other never matters, the shared misery, danger, adventure, joy, being together when something happened (even if it was nothing but sheer mind numbing, soul sucking boredom) creates a bond between you and them. Unlike anything most civilians will ever feel or even understand.

You eventually come to trust each other, not because you like someone but because it was a necessity. Especially in small units.

James summed it up for me once, not sure where he heard it from other than when he was in the Navy, but it boils down to (at least for me) One Ship, One Fight.

I remember once (shortly after Lil and I were married) she was in our car with me and two other Sergeants. I was taking Sergeant Peach and Sergeant Sanders to the Basic Non-Commissioned Officers course.

I don't remember what started it, but Peaches said something about an "incident" (involving booze and hookers...well multiple hookers)

Anyway it went something like this:

Peaches: Shit Juke had two hookers in the Q-hut and kept me up all night.

Me: Kiss my white butt.

Peaches: White ass? I've seen you naked and I don't remember seeing anything white.

Me: Okay then kiss my brown butt.

Sanders: Dude who else knows you are into back door action?

Me: Back door action? What do you two know about back door action? You farkers can't even find your way in through the front door, much less finesse your way in through the back door. That's a mythical quest that will never be fulfilled.

Peaches: I got your mythical quest right here. (I'm sure you can figure out exactly where he grabbed).

Sanders: F that, I've got your quest right here. (with finger action to show me I was number 11)

Me: You farkers have to at least by me diner first and even then you might not get lucky.

Lil: I did......

We forgot she was sitting in the front passenger seat.........

Note to self: It was a real good thing I told her everything, especially since she worked closely with the Bar girls down town in Olongapo City and once I started hanging out with Lil (I didn't know we were dating) I was surprisingly unlucky in scoring a hooker in Olongapo City.

I found out years later that she had actually went to the U.S. Naval Hospital in Subic Bay (I think it was also at that time the Navy Regional Medical Center, larger than the Naval Hospital at Camp Lester in Okinawa) and checked out my records as well as up to the hospital at Clark AB in Angles City. I then asked her what about her loyalty to HIPAA? She told me that HIPAA only came into effect in 1996. (Health Insurance Portability and Accountability Act was legislation that provided data privacy as well as some security provisions for safeguarding medical information).

Often you can't win, well at least I seem to have issues with winning.

Thankfully the only thing in there other than my many brushes with the reaper was one single case of Crabs. Which I caught from Studley, who I might add infected the entire Platoon and people wonder why I get testy when someone sits on my bed. The only STD I managed to get in seven years of catching hookers around the world was a case of crabs that I caught from a guy. Worse he didn't even buy me diner, just plopped his nasty butt down on my bunk and left some of his friends behind.

The medic said he never saw someone with so many crabs, he had so many you could see them moving around. Other guys in 2nd Platoon kept catching crabs and pointing out the hookers they slept with but none of the hookers had crabs and the darn things kept circulating around the platoon and then into other platoons.

I honestly think Studley was sad when his buddies were al killed off, and then no one would let him sit on their beds or next to him for a long, long time.

I didn't particularly care for Peaches or Sanders (I have an issue with people that have no honor), but they were in my platoon and therefore I had their back.

Note to self: Attention to details in the civilian world or real world is important.
“Complacency kills. Paranoia is the reason I’m still alive.” If we do happen to make contact, I expect nothing less than gratuitous violence from the lot of ya.

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Re: My Job, My Hell...

Post by emclean » Mon Jun 11, 2018 7:27 am

Often you can't win, well at least I seem to have issues with winning.
It ain't just you, it is all married men.

or look at it as you used up your winning by finding a girl who knows all your loose screws, and still loves you.

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Re: My Job, My Hell...

Post by feanor » Mon Jun 11, 2018 11:14 am

Laager wrote:

LOL.....nah I have more, but some are not for the public, the kind you take to the grave if you are smart.
But but but, I wants them all.

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