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 Post subject: Re: My Job, My Hell...
PostPosted: Wed May 31, 2017 2:45 am 
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IDK if it's really one that belongs here or not; Back in the 70s (right out of high school) took a little boat trip, if I write that up it could maybe fit here. Think "The Minnow of the West Coast" sorta, it was a weird trip, sorta fun for me as a teen tho :)

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 Post subject: Re: My Job, My Hell...
PostPosted: Sun Jun 04, 2017 4:00 pm 
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Mr_Sheesh wrote:
IDK if it's really one that belongs here or not; Back in the 70s (right out of high school) took a little boat trip, if I write that up it could maybe fit here. Think "The Minnow of the West Coast" sorta, it was a weird trip, sorta fun for me as a teen tho :)


Go ahead, I would be interested!


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 Post subject: Re: My Job, My Hell...
PostPosted: Wed Jun 07, 2017 9:37 pm 
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Bear with me, this is a long one..

I am sure that I have mentioned it before, but Lil was ADAF and worked in what was known as (when she retired) Military Public Health, when she first joined she actually worked in the Vet office till she was transferred down to Subic Bay to work down there.

Anyway, part of that MOS (Military Occupational Series), I think the Air Force uses AFSC (Air Force Specialty Code) and she was a 4E0X and part of their job was to perform evaluations of food (stored and prepared food) and to check on Post facilities that served food (like the Mess Halls and food vendors), she was working in the communicable disease prevention and control program when I first met her up at Clark AB in Angles City (we met outside the Post chapel) anyway she used to tell me where I could eat and where I could not eat. She would never tell me why, but she would tell me what places to avoid. I guess she could not say why, because of some type of nondisclosure agreement, but she could say I was not to eat there.

Of course sometimes the places changed on a month to month basis, sometimes not.

One of the places she told me to avoid, actually the food as well was the AAFES chili that was served in the AAFES snack bars. Evidently back when AAFES had them (now they have almost all been replaced by off Post food chains, such as McDonald's, Burger King, Taco Bell, etc) the chili was not kept up to AF standards.

A group (a section) of us were heading to Korea on the Freedom Bird (the Freedom bird was a contractor operated flight that flew from Missouri to mainland Japan with stops off in Korea, the PI and Okinawa and flew twice a week, one heading to the USA, thus the name Freedom Bird and one flight heading Asia bound, passing somewhere in the night) and we were bumped off at Hickam AF base in Hawaii. I guess they had some people that had a higher travel order status than us.

No big deal Hickam was a huge transportation hub and had flights going out all the time, the problem was getting a seat on outgoing flights, so we ended up staying there for four days, three nights. Once we were told we had some seats but that fell through somehow.

Now I was not to worried about spending time in Hawaii, having been stationed there and lived there before, I knew a guy that had been AD Army but lost his leg below the knee in a "Training Accident" in Korea and ended up marrying a girl that was AD Navy and happened to be stationed at Pearl Harbor. So Ernie and I hit the island on two of his bikes and did some riding, eating and drinking.

Well the night we were told to show up for movement (and got bumped off the flight) Ernie and I hit Penny's on Sand Island for some take out. I grabbed an order of Chili Frank (steamed rice, Mac salad, chili with a hotdog on top) and ate it at the MAC terminal on Post while waiting for our flight.

While I was chowing down on my food some of the guys asked me where I bought it at and so I told them. An AF guy in a flight suit was walking by and told them they had a AAFES snack bar down the hallway that served Chili and if you asked the Filipina that worked there she would give you some of the rice they had in the back.

The Filipinas that worked there kept a rice cooker in the back for their meals but would share with customers if they liked them. The AF guy took them all back since he was grabbing some food for his guys and they all came back with a plate of Chili and rice. Even the guys in flight suits were eating it, with a side of Mac salad.

Well our flight fell through and so we were sent back to the TLF billet (Temporary Lodging Facility, sort of like a hotel but only for military) and were told that a flight was leaving in the morning and that we were confined to billeting so we would not miss movement.

The next morning we showed up and managed to catch a ride on a C130, so we loaded up and away we went. We thought we were lucky since the C130 was heading to Korea (Osan AB) and we were manifested as cargo so no one could bump us off.

I'm not real sure when it started (because I had my Walkman going and was racked out) but I do know it turned ugly real quick. There is only one latrine on a C130 and it is not meant to be used by more than the flight crew and well not as much as it turned out to be needed.

What started as one guy hitting the latrine soon turned into everyone using it, and not just for taking a dump either. It was coming out of both ends, sometimes at the same time.

Eventually due to the long line they gave up and just shit where they stood or sat and puked as well. Like I said sometimes at the same time.

I know I was awake by this time and the plane reeked, I figured the loadmaster was going to be going nuts, but well it seems he was the guy that took them to the snack bar and he was trying to get into the latrine as well, but from the liquid that was running out of his flight suits legs I knew he had not made it.

We had to divert to Wake Island and spent a little over seven days in their infirmary.

Well they did, I got to spend seven days on the beach as well as visiting the 98 Rock (and the memorials to the Military personnel and Civilian contractors), then I visited the Japanese fortifications from WWII. All in all it was a nice place to visit, but I do not think I would have ever wanted to be stationed there long term.

I did tell people that I was not allowed to eat the Chili from there (I usually just told them that Lil was Military Public Health and that she said I could not eat there) but hey what can I do other than tell them and then if they choose to eat there or eat a specific food, sit back and watch the show. The Chili was especially dangerous because it had to be maintained at a specific temperature and AAFES usually did not do that, so it usually went bad...well worse than chili normally is...cause man those chili farts can be hazardous to your health.

I had never seen yellow puke before then and have only seen it a couple times afterwards, usually when I was puking it up.

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Last edited by Laager on Sat Aug 05, 2017 7:11 pm, edited 1 time in total.

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 Post subject: Re: My Job, My Hell...
PostPosted: Wed Jun 07, 2017 9:44 pm 
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that wuz such a long post


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 Post subject: Re: My Job, My Hell...
PostPosted: Wed Jun 07, 2017 10:01 pm 
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Hokicake wrote:
that wuz such a long post


But definitely entertaining, if you have the attention span.

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 Post subject: Re: My Job, My Hell...
PostPosted: Wed Jun 07, 2017 10:29 pm 
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CG wrote:
Hokicake wrote:
that wuz such a long post


But definitely entertaining, if you have the attention span.


Laager has the best stories!

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 Post subject: Re: My Job, My Hell...
PostPosted: Thu Jun 08, 2017 7:24 am 
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Hiroshima_Morphine wrote:
CG wrote:
Hokicake wrote:
that wuz such a long post


But definitely entertaining, if you have the attention span.


Laager has the best stories!


Which is why I've gone back and read this entire thread.

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 Post subject: Re: My Job, My Hell...
PostPosted: Thu Jun 08, 2017 8:09 am 
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CG wrote:
Hiroshima_Morphine wrote:
CG wrote:
Hokicake wrote:
that wuz such a long post


But definitely entertaining, if you have the attention span.


Laager has the best stories!


Which is why I've gone back and read this entire thread.


:rofl: :clap:

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 Post subject: Re: My Job, My Hell...
PostPosted: Wed Jun 14, 2017 9:44 pm 
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Well, I had to write my first incident report at work the other day. Background: Parking services officer for my university. (glorified meter maid)

Issued a guy a citation for being at an expired meter. He came out juuuust as I put it on his windshield. Immediately started going off about how he was only in there a minute, I'm an asshole, why do we even do this stuff, yadda yadda. I apologized, said he could appeal the ticket if he wanted to. But that wasn't enough. He demanded to know my name, as well as who my supervisor was.

I explained that 1) I was under no legal obligation to do so, and 2) for my safety and security, as well as those of my fellow employees, I would not be giving him that information. Told him to file a complaint with the office if he wanted to, but I was going to be leaving.

I thought he was going to have a stroke. :lol: He seemed like one of those guys who got off on harassing retail workers for no reason and got thrown for a loop when someone actually told him to pound sand.

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 Post subject: Re: My Job, My Hell...
PostPosted: Fri Jun 16, 2017 10:00 pm 
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Figured I'd never post in here but I had an interesting day at work Wed so I figured I'd share. (Background) I work as a train conductor/RCO operator. RCO = Remote Control Operator :D (a.k.a. Worlds biggest remote control car). A fun job but not without its risks.

On Wed I was working RCO and backing a train into a yard with 20 empty covered hopper cars, while backing cars like that in RCO we often ride the sides of the cars to "protect the shove", which really means we hold on for dear life to ensure that we don't hit anyone or anything, run through switches, etc. At this point of the day we had been waiting for about an hour in the hot weather for a different crew to finish up, we got word finally that they were done, and that all switches were lined for us, so we headed in for our final move of the day. At this point I am the secondary, meaning I am not in immediate control, but I can control the brakes, meaning I can stop the train if needed. As we passed from the lead track, we pass over the switch leading into track 434, it is lined for our movement, and we pass over it at 8mph.
Since we were over the switch I was looking towards the end of the rail, not behind me, since I don't want anything to be in the way when we got to the end when I felt the railcar I was hanging from shudder, bounce, then start to turn sideways. When these turn sideways under their own volition and you are hanging on for dear life left me tell you, everything clenches shut. :shock:
I threw the emergency switch on my RCO box and held on as my radio started screaming into my ear. When the railcar finally stopped I got down and checked everything to make sure I was OK (I was, but the adrenaline rush left me shaking for about an hour). I got onto the radio and called the manager and an hour later 10 managers showed up, they downloaded the locomotives we were using, we were given a drug test and sent home for the day.

We heard back today that it wasn't determined to be our fault, it was the other crews that went through before us. When they lined the switch for our movement, they forgot to relock it and we shook the switch enough to cause it to open after the 1st set of wheels had passed over it. When the second set of wheels hit the now opened switch, it derailed and that's when I felt the car bounce and turn sideways on me.

All in all not a ride I ever want to have again.


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 Post subject: Re: My Job, My Hell...
PostPosted: Wed Jul 05, 2017 2:13 pm 
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Laager wrote:
Bear with me, this is a long one..

We had to divert to Wake Island and spent a little over seven days in their infirmary.



This is not MY Hell, of course, but it's someone's.

During 1995 to 2005, I spent a total of about 6 months on Wake as part of various BMD (Ballistic Missile Defense) tests. Apart from the isolation it wasn't bad, and being single I wasn't as bad off as some of the married guys. I characterized it as being like a really, really cheap tropical resort. Among other things, the Thai mess hall cooks had some difficulties accepting the paradigms of Western cooking. It had a total of 12 phone lines to the outside world, and when you've got a 100-man project team on site, with lonely guys talking to their wives and girlfriends, it can get rather hard to get phone access.

A bit after 2000, one visit had two separate problems. The first was that a shipment of gasoline had arrived contaminated with water, and the island supplies were very short with no immediate resupply in sight. Vehicle use was restricted, and everyone was working to pack people into as few vehicles as possible. Transport between the living and work areas was several miles, so we had to be careful.

The other was a bit more complicated, in the form of the project Security Officer, a rather nice-looking young woman in her late 20's named Dawn. Actually, she was not the problem - she was competent and pleasant (although there were a number of private jokes about getting up at the crack of dawn. But I digress.) The problem was that several of the team were ex-military who were what you might call old-school, in the sense that they were very, very unhappy about taking orders from a woman. Of course, most of us had no problems along that line, and in fact most of us thought the troublemakers were real a-holes apart from their beef with Dawn, but that did not stop them.

So it came time for our test item to be hauled out to the launch pad, to be sent on its merry way in a few days. The characteristics of the item were heavily classified (this was a BMD project, remember), so it was shrouded with a tarp, and various filler items were added under the tarp to break up the details of its outline. The idea was to avoid compromising the item to reconnaissance satellites while on the way to the pad. Yeah, it was that heavily classified.

C (I won't use his full name) and Dawn were in the assembly building, when he took exception to the tarp. He told Dawn that he thought it should be removed. She politely disagreed. He started getting belligerent, and she pointed out that she was the security officer, and her opinion was the one that counted. Eventually, he began threatening to take the tarp off himself, and what would she do then? She managed to get him out of the building, but the rest of us were left scratching our heads and wondering about Island Fever.

Next morning, we were called to see Dawn. Looking a bit shaky, she told us that the meeting had originally been scheduled to congratulate us on our gas conservation. However, a more pressing issue had come up. C and his best buddy had been pulled from the program, their clearances nullified (as far as project activities went), and they would be on the very next plane which stopped by the island, regardless of which direction (east or west) it was headed. Until then, no discussion of any project-related business of any kind either with them or in their hearing.

This, I have to admit, is the only time I've ever seen someone self-destruct at the Top Secret / Special Access level. I'd say that it counted as my job/my hell since he no longer had a job. And I'm pretty sure he felt hard done-by, too. The rest of us were pretty short on sympathy, though.

PS - And laager, I do hope you got one of those nice t-shirts they sold at the airport. God knows there wasn't much else to do.


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 Post subject: Re: My Job, My Hell...
PostPosted: Sat Aug 05, 2017 6:29 pm 
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SAEP wrote:
Laager wrote:
Bear with me, this is a long one..

We had to divert to Wake Island and spent a little over seven days in their infirmary.


PS - And laager, I do hope you got one of those nice t-shirts they sold at the airport. God knows there wasn't much else to do.



I have a Dive Wake Island T-shirt, that was added to my "ragged T-shirt collection", while I can say it certainly was not the "Ghost Fleet" of Truk Lagoon, Wake Island was great. Not much of a wall diver, but there were two WWII wrecks in 30 to 50 foot water.

Wake Island always reminded me of BIOT Diego Garcia...(I had a Corporal that used the three "W's" all the time), and Wake did not have one of the most important of them, then again I guess it all depended on what a person thought was important.

I forgot to point out that some of the fun really kicked off when four or five guys started trying to open the door and the ramp while in flight.....just to end it. Good thing there were more people that did not want them open, I was of the opinion that at least it would air the plane out a bit.

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 Post subject: Re: My Job, My Hell...
PostPosted: Sat Aug 05, 2017 7:43 pm 
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I just returned from wandering around the USA with Lil.....well she worked and I wandered around buying stuff....okay buying gun stuff.

I'll work on another story next week..

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 Post subject: Re: My Job, My Hell...
PostPosted: Tue Aug 08, 2017 6:58 am 
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Hey people, been gone a while but I'm back again. Not expecting anyone to have noticed, just to explain why I'm replying to an old post.

Laager, I have real trouble understanding why they called James a monster, or any negative word for that matter.
Seems to me that if you don't start anything there won't be anything and if he does cross you he takes the retaliation without complaint, unless he did get back at the witch.
Only time I have trouble with people is when they use violence or threats of violence to encroach on other people's rights.
But then again, maybe my failure to understand why they say that indicates that I'm of the same ilk as James.


Last edited by feanor on Tue Aug 08, 2017 6:48 pm, edited 1 time in total.

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 Post subject: Re: My Job, My Hell...
PostPosted: Tue Aug 08, 2017 10:46 am 
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There are those who think people can do any nasty thing they want; and, because we are all so 'civilized', nothing bad will happen to them in return.
[and feel that]* Those who cause that 'something bad' to happen are monsters.

Personally, I believe in justice.
One reason I should never have certain jobs.

*added for clarity.

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Last edited by ZombieGranny on Tue Aug 08, 2017 2:39 pm, edited 1 time in total.

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 Post subject: Re: My Job, My Hell...
PostPosted: Tue Aug 08, 2017 11:36 am 
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ZombieGranny wrote:
There are those who think people can do any nasty thing they want; and, because we are all so 'civilized', nothing bad will happen to them in return.
Those who cause that 'something bad' to happen are monsters.

Personally, I believe in justice.
One reason I should never have certain jobs.


Seems to me that the James guy Laager talks about is one of those that makes sure those who cause something bad to happen has something bad come back at them. So I don't know if you are arguing or agreeing really.


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 Post subject: Re: My Job, My Hell...
PostPosted: Tue Aug 08, 2017 2:38 pm 
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Cheering him?
But I suppose that is not a 'nice thing' to do.

I'm a great believer in folks getting what they deserve... that old reap what you sow thing.

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 Post subject: Re: My Job, My Hell...
PostPosted: Tue Aug 08, 2017 6:43 pm 
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I think I get what you mean after rereading a couple of times.
So you think they think nothing bad will or should happen and those who do retaliate are monsters.

I thought you interpreted James actions differently than I did, but now I get you.


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 Post subject: Re: My Job, My Hell...
PostPosted: Tue Aug 08, 2017 10:26 pm 
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feanor wrote:
Hey people, been gone a while but I'm back again. Not expecting anyone to have noticed, just to explain why I'm replying to an old post.

Laager, I have real trouble understanding why they called James a monster, or any negative word for that matter.
Seems to me that if you don't start anything there won't be anything and if he does cross you he takes the retaliation without complaint, unless he did get back at the witch.
Only time I have trouble with people is when they use violence or threats of violence to encroach on other people's rights.
But then again, maybe my failure to understand why they say that indicates that I'm of the same ilk as James.


See James is an easy going guy, he never looks for trouble, but when he finds it he does not back down from it, period. No matter the chances of him winning or getting his butt kicked. Once he is in, he is all in and will not call Uncle or surrender.

I on the other hand have and extremely short fuse, it does not take much to make me pop a cork. We both were checked by the best the Air Force had at two different military bases (my parents sent us to be checked) let's just say that we suffer from Antisocial Personality Disorders (ASPD)

Both of our parents were paid back for the beat downs they gave us, and well that is just not something that is normal. But we both think it is normal to want revenge on someone that has wronged you for no reason, or goes out of their way to wrong you for no reason.

Hmmmmm, how can I put it...... Antisocial Personality Disorders (ASPD). These disorders share many common behavioral traits which lead to the confusion between them. Key traits that sociopaths and psychopaths have in common, include:

•A disregard for laws and social mores
•A disregard for the rights of others
•A failure to feel remorse or guilt
•A tendency to display violent behavior

In addition to their commonalities, sociopaths and psychopaths also have their own unique behavioral characteristics, as well.

James was shall we say was treated badly by his parents Uncles, Aunties and cousins way past what was acceptable in the 50's and 60's. According to them they were unable to deal with him so every chance they had they shipped him off to other relatives (mine included). His Grandfather and my Grandfather worked together all their lives so our families are intertwined, they started off shoveling coal for steam powered locomotives and then worked their way up to Engineer. They both ran ammo trains from Memphis to the gulf coast and then took them back for more ammo. Neither were what would be currently called snowflakes, they both like to fight, drink, gamble and consort with females other than their wives and go Juking till all hours of the night. Basically they were hard men.

They all taught us how to fight as in dirty fighting to put a man or woman in ICU or under, and of coarse the ability to shoot move and communicate. Our uncles had already joined in on that part and brought back what kept them alive from WWI, WWII, Korean conflict, and Nam. So the shooting, and blowing up things using common household goods found in almost every home.

Both of our parents were and still are scared to death of us. James' parents took off all the interior doors and replaced them with exterior doors and key locks, and they had the only keys to the entire house.

His parents did a lot of mental and physical damage to him, but for the most part he has recovered, mostly. I think that after he met his wife Susan he changed a lot more towards the man Susan expects him to be.

But I can see the darkness just behind his eyes, as I am sure he can see mine as well.

He never fails to put paid to an open account, one way or the other and neither do I. I can not stand to have an open ledger account that is pass do.

Neither one of us ever takes our shirts off in public for any reason. It draws to much attention and it is not from all the tattoos either. A flail causes extensive damage to soft tissue.

My parents bought into Uncle's story, so when I finally could start to talk again I did not.......hey sent me to speech therapists and mental health care professionals but to know avail.

Oh I could talk and I listened really, really well......and I got back at them in the end....which really bent them around the post.

Never, ever, ever count on an inheritance...because someone else might swoop in and bag it right out from under your self righteous noses. I got it all, and I mean all of it, the land, the houses, the insurance money from Uncle Sammy and it was a huge chunk of cash, firearms and other odds and ends. All of it mine....and I did not share a single penny with anyone other than James, but he ended up with his Grandparents inheritance so he was set as well.

James has a total disregard for laws and social mores, a disregard for the rights of others, does not feel remorse or guilt and has an extreme tendency towards violent behavior. Basically if you mess with him, he will not look on it kindly and will repay you at least sevenfold.

Well since Susan he has tended to calm way down, but I know he has just gone a bit deeper and is bidding his time for when he will unleash some hades on earth to whomever was bothering him and if he asks I will be right there with him.

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PostPosted: Tue Aug 08, 2017 10:40 pm 
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ZombieGranny wrote:
There are those who think people can do any nasty thing they want; and, because we are all so 'civilized', nothing bad will happen to them in return.
[and feel that]* Those who cause that 'something bad' to happen are monsters.

Personally, I believe in justice.
One reason I should never have certain jobs.

*added for clarity.



That is exactly how it works, they think it is safe to poke a sleeping bear, laugh and have a boat load of fun, then when the bear wakes up and rips them a new one...oh boy that monster needs to be put down hard. But they never see that they started all the problems in the first place.

James and I liked to ride dirt bikes on his Grandfather's property in Theodore. One of our cousins boy friend did not like the fact that we could do it, but he was not allowed to do it. Well he was a dick and tore things up but would not clean up or repair any damages. Well they took some barbed wire and strung it across the trail we used and waited. I took us both off the bikes, couple of bumps and bruises on us, but our bikes took a worse landing. James was so proud of his of bike, it was a Penton and I was riding a Bull Taco. Hard to find parts for those babies in Theodore.

Their bikes were brand new Yamaha's and they both were stolen on night a few weeks later, so their Father bought them another pair......a few weeks later they disappeared again. *POOF* Gone with the wind. About a month later another set of bikes showed up, but tricky Dicky had someone watching, unfortunately he only had one, so the perps removed some boards from the back of the shed and wheeled the bikes out and someone then shit in one of the helmets and pissed enough to fill up the other helmet.

No more bikes for those two, but then did get downgraded to pedal bikes and about 18 months later were found on the side of the road beat to shit and wrapped in barbed wire.

oddly enough they would not tell anyone who did it.......but during family get to-gathers they avoided James like the Black Plague and since I was with James they stayed away from me as well.

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 Post subject: Re: My Job, My Hell...
PostPosted: Thu Aug 31, 2017 1:51 pm 
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Hmmmm, where to start.....I guess we can start with Maslow's hierarchy of needs. Now what does a theory taken from psychology (by Abraham Maslow way back in 1943) have to do with the story. Well the theory was written in a paper titled "A Theory of Human Motivation".

Well Staff Sergeant Sergii Sokolov (known as the Nazi, the SS, Gestapo or just plain Staff Sergeant) had his own hierarchy of needs or Theory of Human Motivation, probably a better name for his paper or theory would have been "A Theory of Soldier Motivation".

Where Maslow had a rather large pyramid with several layers, Sokolov's was basically the top of three blocks of the pyramid and they were known as the three "W"s. Whiskey, Women and War. War was often substituted with fighting. Mac explained it to me something like this way back in the mid 70's. When we are in the field fighting we think of women or whiskey. When we are drinking whiskey we are thinking about fighting and women and so on and so forth.

I pointed out that I often thought about better food, and getting out of there probably more than I thought about women or whiskey or even fighting.

I figured out later on that not only was it Staff Sergeant Sokolov's theory but it was the Army's as well. All the way up until around 1988 (heck they may still be using it) the Army used the "Pass" system. So many people in the Platoon received a pass, that allowed you to leave the Post and go out until midnight. One in five received an overnight pass that allowed that individual to stay out over night. Yet, for some reason it was only one man from each platoon that received an overnight pass. The rest were used as an incentive to do well on Guard Mount or other things. Some were restricted to post and had to sign the ledger telling the CQ and CQR where they were going to be, as in Post movie theatre or PX. Then they had to sign back in when they returned.

You can't have the entire company off post and drunk at the same time, what would happen if the enemy decided to attack at that exact moment. So they came up with the pass system to make sure that there was a certain number of soldiers on post at any given moment. Now just because you did not have a pass did not mean you were not able to drink. They had clubs on Post and of course you had your liquor allotment as well. So I thought it was stupid, since most of the time most of the people were drunk or nearly drunk. Except possibly the Senior Enlisted and of course the Officers.

Like everything there were tons of "Slicky" passes running loose, usually the Company Clerk made them up for a slight fee. These were real passes, but just not on the books. So if you had a slicky overnight pass you could stay downtown all night and as long as you were at first formation you were good to go. Well it involved a bit more than that but it was doable.

I think the only people that really cared about the overnight pass were the guys that had Yobos off post. Some places were different, in the PI everyone off Post was off the street by midnight until 0600hrs in the morning on Post they did not care, the Navy called it Cinderella Liberty, we started calling it a Cinderella Pass (Half Navy and Half Army).

I hear my name being called, so when I finish whatever it is that I need to do, I will get back on the story of Staff Sergeant Sokolov, sorry I got a bit side tracked.

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 Post subject: Re: My Job, My Hell...
PostPosted: Thu Aug 31, 2017 6:25 pm 
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Roach pointed out once that the three "W"s could also be the three "F"s as well.

Now one of the Staff Sergeant or E-6 (our acting Platoon Sergeant for six months, which was a slot for an E-7 or Sergeant First Class) interesting pressure points was his height and his "bald spot". He was a solid 5'6" tall and did not like anyone that was taller than him. So there were five of us that topped out over 6' and every chance we had (which was only when he did not wear some type of head gear) we would stare at the top of his head and follow it whenever we could.

He would routinely ask us what in the heck we were looking at, but well with a smile or grin to the point one of us would eventually say your bald spot. He would then find an excuse to go to the latrine to stand in the mirror to try and find the bald spot, rumor control had it he even asked the Korean barbers if they saw one.

We were sitting outside our GP large one day and saw a Large Alice pack walking up the trail, you could not see the guy that was strapped to it. Heck his M16A1 was almost as tall as he was, he was the shortest guy I have ever seen on Active Duty, he had to have been under the 5' rule, heck Roach was 5'2" barefoot and we had to measure him every time we had a change of command. Mainly because they thought he did not meet the height requirement.

Well they sent the new guy to 2nd Platoon. Pvt Eriksen was not a bad guy, carried his own weight and did not bother anyone, other than the Staff Sergeant. For some odd reason when ever he was yelling at Erikson he would squat down in front of him so he could scream directly into his face. One time we all (on a dare) squatted down one time when the Staff Sergeant was ranting at us and boy did he get mad, seems he thought we were being disrespectful. But when pushed, he just could not put pen to paper to explain exactly how we were being disrespectful to a senior NCO by bending down to his height so we could hear what he was saying to us. So he just upped his yelling and screaming at us.

I'm pretty sure we would have had the pleasure of Staff Sergeant Sergii Sokolov's fine company a few months longer but it seems that one night he slipped and fell down on the trail back from the GP large that was our beer tent (run by our Company Command Sergeant Major and First Sergeants).

Roach and Erikson were the ones that found him laying on the trail and dragged him up the hill (feet first) to the Medic tent.

No one thought anything about it until after he was gone, then Roach got drunk down in TDC while on R&R and spilled the beans. I guess he was chewing out Roach and Eriksen and then he squatted down in front of Eriksen and well Eriksen kicked him in the balls so hard he actually ruptured one of his testicles and then kneed him in the face for good measure.

I always thought that by squatting down in front of someone that you were belittling with your legs spread open, was leaving some valuable things open to a swift kick. Especially to someone that carried something he told us was a round driving hammer that weighed almost two pounds. Eriksen told us he was a Farrier and used to smack that hammer on a piece of railroad track that he picked up from somewhere. We never cared as long as he did not do it while we were asleep and honestly there was something soothing (rhythmic) about the sound of that hammer striking steel.

The guy may have been short as heck, but man he had some guns on him. They had to cut his shirtsleeves so his arms would fit and then sew in an extra piece of material.

Guess I was right.

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 Post subject: Re: My Job, My Hell...
PostPosted: Thu Sep 28, 2017 1:00 am 
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Sometime back I mentioned that Lil and I had taken off for the Island of Crete, then went over to Germany for a few days.
While I was visiting a Marine I know, he invited us to go see his office. I declined, saying if you have seen one GS-09's office you have pretty much seen everyone's office. But Lil gave me the look that said "say yes and get your rear end into the car" or else. Or words pretty close to that, may have had a cuss word or three in there. So I did and about face and said sure why not ride for two hours to look at your office.

It must be something really nice.......trust me it was not. I think I sat in the same chairs as Patton and had saw MacArthur's desk in there as well. Same old metal desks and chairs, same old metal furniture that I had see my entire life.

Anyway Lil and Reina spotted a Filipina and went in pursuit.......to gossip about whatever stuff they gossip about.

Don said the reason he wanted to bring me over to his office was so he could show me around, and show me a contract and ask my opinion on it.

So he gave me the contract and I took a quick look through it and then took a real long look making reference notes for me to check after reading it. Once I finished reading it I went back through it checking the reference notes I had written.

Finally I told him it was a very, very poorly written contract that was going to possibly put a lot of people in a nice German jail for a long time.

The darn thing was already approved and it had not been sent down to Post legal for approval before signatures.

Don asked me what I thought was going on and I said SPOOK SHIT, get rid of it and don't have anything to do with this contract. SPOOK SHIT always, always comes back and bites you in the ass and not in a friendly way.

What kind of SPOOK SHIT are we talking about, can you tell?

Lt Col Ollie North type spook shit. Some moron is buying up small arms from around the old soviet satellite states.

Don: What do you mean by that?

Me: Look at the unknown venders (the people selling the stuff), they are buying stuff from former Soviet WARSAW Pact countries. Now nothing to large at one time, but look at this, they are transshipping them from Romania and Bulgaria of course they are buying them up all around central and Eastern Europe. Those are all the former Soviet Union's Satellite States (WARSAW Pact), heck they are now asking you to transship them through here and well I am pretty sure that you need Germany's permission if you ship something like this to say Incirlik Air Base maybe even to that Air Base in Jordan (Muwaffaq Salti Air Base), .t if something stops here in Germany it has to go to a U.S. Military base. I do not see the permission slip and I do not see where it even says that this stuff will be transshipped through here. I suggest you point this out and let your management deal with it, but stay far, far away, it stinks to high heaven. There are not time limits for the contract or quantities of items to be shipped, plus they do not say what we are getting for our money. ID/IQ is also messed up.

I am telling you to avoid it like the plague.

Now you promised me a beer and a bratwurst so let's dodge the wives and head out.

Lil: Who are you planning on dodging out on?

Me: No one Yobo ko.



Here's the email (Redacted) check out the link to Stars and Stripes.



To: Murphy
Sent: Friday, September 22, 2017 3:03 AM
Subject: read this

https://www.stripes.com/news/german-pro ... cS8obCpV7g



Hey Semper Fi,

Murphy you Rat Bastard you pulled my ass out of the fire again, that's four times now. Check this shit out and let me know what you think.

Remember when I showed you that contract for a boatload of AKs and other goodies and we ended up refusing to ship because of all the stuff you pointed out?

Thanks to you I got promoted (still in the same stinky, cramped office) and I owe you a dollar. Thanks for keeping me out of trouble brother. But don't ever tell anyone that a dog face had to bail out a Jarhead or I will be the laughing stock of the Corp.

Seriously brother, thanks a million hope to see you all when we PCS out of this muslim pest hole.




Love you brother, say hi to the Lil and the kids as well. We are coming home soon.
Don.

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 Post subject: Re: My Job, My Hell...
PostPosted: Tue Oct 10, 2017 12:54 am 
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Questionable things said to your Company Commander (Captain/O-3)

CC: 1SG what is that soldier doing?

1SG: Not sure, PFC Priest the Captain would like to know what you are doing?

Me: Sir, I am waxing my knife, Sir.

CC: Hmmmm, ok well uhhhh carry on soldier.

Me: Sir, Yes Sir.


Day after a bar fight:

Battalion Commander, Company Commander, Battalion Command Sergeant Major, Company First Sergeant

CC: You are worse than a Troop of Monkeys, can any of you explain a single difference? Priest, go ahead.

Me: Sir, we can't be a Troop of Monkeys because we are not Cav, we are straight leg infantry Sir. Also well Monkeys tend to fling poo and well we usually do not do that. How about a Troop of Kangaroo's they don't fling poo? Maybe a pandemonium of parrots?

BC: Captain, let's take a walk.........

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“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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