My Job, My Hell...

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

Moderator: ZS Global Moderators

User avatar
CG
* * *
Posts: 772
Joined: Sun Oct 01, 2006 7:00 pm
Location: Middle of a Haboob, Texas

Re: My Job, My Hell...

Post by CG » Tue Feb 13, 2018 7:41 am

Laager wrote:Ok give me a few days to get some stuff squared away and I will start with #3 and work my way down.
Yay! :clap:
Mater tua caligas gerit!

...I'm sorry, I wasn't paying attention to what I was thinking.

Laager
* * *
Posts: 795
Joined: Sun Jun 20, 2010 9:25 pm

Re: My Job, My Hell...

Post by Laager » Wed Feb 14, 2018 1:44 am

Well we were doing time in what would one day (I believe it was sometime in the late 80's, this zone or region was created by an act of the Philippine Congress, which I believe was eventually ruled unconstitutional. I'm leaning towards 1988 or 1989) become the Autonomous Region in Muslim Mindanao or ARMM for short.

For anyone who does not know (hey I have a major in U.S. History, so I have some odd knowledge running around loose and I always studied places where I was stationed) Mindanao was always a separate part of the PI. Muslim missionaries started causing trouble in that area back in the late 1300's. Basically the Muslims (Moros believe that they have been fighting for an independent Muslim/Moro nation for the last 400 years. They consider it a national liberation movement of the Bangsmoro), they have fought against the Spanish, the Americans, the Japanese and are now fighting the Philippine Government.

So we were down there working with Philippine Marines on what was considered a training mission.

When we would head out into the jungle for "training" we usually air inserted in via the Huey or the Bell UH-1 Iroquois although there were a few times that we went in or out of a Bronco also known as the OV-10. But those only allowed six man sticks and it was always LALO.

Usually we traveled (when not training) in either the old M151 Jeeps or M35 2 1/2-ton cargo trucks, mostly when we had down time and were heading into Davao City for R&R.

There was this stretch of road with rice paddies on both sides that had a guy who would take pot shots at the trucks and jeeps when they went past his rice paddy. His nickname was Rice Paddy Ricky or just Ricky, well that is what we called him. He never hit anyone and only occasionally would hit one of the vehicles. No one was really to worried about him, so we pretty much just sped up and either ducked down or in some if not most cases we would stand up to make better targets, hooting and hollering the entire way past his AO.

What can I say other than being a soldier is often mind numbing, soul sucking boring, with the occasional period of piss/shit yourself excitement/terror/adrenaline rush. So often we did really stupid stuff.

Well we ended up getting a new Lieutenant and when he was coming to our FOB, Ricky decided to snap a few shots off at the jeep that was carrying the LT. Evidently (according to the jeep driver) the LT pissed his pants and well it probably did not help that the driver pointed it out (strong smell of urine and a wet stain) and the LT got all indignant about it. This caused the driver to start laughing at him. Which really set the LT off, he was a door knocker so he already had a chip on his shoulder so he was not a happy camper.

After he got to the FOB he ordered the duty section to go out there and take care of the threat, but they sent out six of us out to look for this guy with Corporal Banks acting as the NCOIC.

We wandered around for a few days, not really giving a hoot if we found Ricky or not, actually we were not really looking hard for him, until the Platoon Sergeant radioed us for a SITREP and then told us we could not return to the FOB until the "sniper" situation was resolved in our favor.

So we buckled down and Corporal Banks called the FOB to get the schedule for any vehicles going from the FOB on the road past Ricky's AO. So once we had that information we set up to wait to see if Ricky would show up and take a shot.

Sure enough he did, and we ended the "sniper" situation and Rice Paddy Ricky was no more. The guy looked to be about 80 years old and was using an old 7mm Spanish Mauser rifle. Corporal Banks took the rifle and ammo pouches and we called in for extraction.

The LT showed up in the Deuce and took the Mauser rifle from Corporal Banks for a trophy. I did not have much respect for the LT, but after he pulled this I lost all respect.

About a month or so later the Company Commander decided to come out and pay us a visit, and was riding down the road to our FOB when he took a 30 caliber round. He survived but was not a happy camper, he was extremely lucky that the round was a through and through to his arm. But boy was he ticked off, especially after he found out that it was not Ricky that popped him, but a new guy who was a much better shot that Ricky had moved into the area and that the LT had ordered us to eliminate the sniper that could hardly hit a barn.

Well when the Captain came back to the FOB to visit he sent out a section to find this guy and I don't know who found whom, but we had three wounded and the platoon pulled out. They lost the radio and could not call in any type of support. Not that we had any air assets or artillery assets to call on, all we had was a bunch of grunts and some Filipino Marines.

I was sitting in our GP large cleaning my shotgun when the Captain and LT came in, I just glanced up and pressed on with cleaning my weapon, no one else jumped up either. The LT wasn't happy about our lack of respect and started in on Corporal Banks....the moron still did not seem to understand the concept of never salute or give an type of indication of who was an officer, so no saluting, no jumping to attention when an officer entered our tents either.

While the Captain was talking to Corporal Banks, the LT wandered over and started giving me a hard time about having a shotgun. Hey it was marked Property of the U.S. Government. Just because it was a Winchester M97 Trench gun and I picked it up from the PNP warehouse for a bottle of Johnny Walker Red was neither here nor there as far as I was concerned. The stock had been cut down to what would now be known as a youth model, but hey Filipinos are a lot shorter than most Americans so, someone modified it a bit. It still functioned 100% of the time and worked with every type of shotgun shell I was able to lay my hands on, even some from the PNP or from the illegal Paltik gun makers in Davao.

Finally the Captain told the LT to shut up and then told him to go wait for him in the command tent. The Captain then told us to go out and find the new "sniper", who was racking up a good body count among the Filipino Marines that we were working with, not to mention hitting the Captain.

About the only thing the Captain said was who gave Priest a shotgun, then he took a hard look and said never mind and told Corporal Banks to take charge. He did look over at me and say is that a bayonet for that Trench gun? I just smiled, nodded and said yes sir. He shook his head and said carry on. So we did.

So the seven of us left the FOB and went hunting.

Three weeks went later and we were still out there and the sniper was racking up more hits. About three weeks later we happened to be in the right place at the right time and as we were laid up in an ambush position when someone carrying a rifle started making his way past my location. He did not make it any farther after we saw that this was a lone male carrying a rifle, heading towards the road that we traveled on.

Since I was the one that ended the threat, I gathered up his gear. He was carrying a Model 1891/30 Mosin-Nagant with a 4 power PEM scope and a 7.62X25mm Tokarev TT-30 pistol. So I stripped him of his weapons, gave Corporal Banks a knife with the sheath and kept the rest for myself.

Of course the LT came along with the Deuce to pick us up and tried to get his grubby hands on the Mosin and the TT-30 but my shotgun barrel was attracted to him. Let us just say that he was not a happy camper, and once I returned to the FOB I should just consider my rear end as grass and he was the lawn mower.

The Captain was waiting for us and after we off loaded the LT made a bee line for him. The rest of us sort of meandered over, well the over five did, but Corporal Banks and I headed straight to the Captain and LT. I gave the Tok to the Captain along with the holster, belt, spare mags and a cleaning kit to the Captain and I kept the Mosin.

I filled out a form DD 603-1 and I had the Commanding Officers permission to bring a "War Trophy" home with me, I also filled out a ATF Form 5330.3D Application/Permit for Temporary Importation of Firearms and Ammunition by Nonimmigrant Aliens which was also approved. Just incase the LT managed to get the Battalion Commander to change the Captain's mind.

I chased that LT all over Mindanao and parts of the Korean DMZ saluting him and not one single Filipino or North Korean took a single shot at him. I do not know what happened to that 7mm Mauser but I have a feeling the LT took it home with him so he could tell "War Stories" or he gave it to someone higher.

He was 100% weasel and I was glad to see him go.

It was only recently (well since the importation of Mosins) that I was able to get a decent quantity of 7.62X54R to shoot that rifle. That was probably back around 1989 or a bit later on. I did manage to bring a bit back here and there, but nothing in large quantities.
“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.

User avatar
CG
* * *
Posts: 772
Joined: Sun Oct 01, 2006 7:00 pm
Location: Middle of a Haboob, Texas

Re: My Job, My Hell...

Post by CG » Wed Feb 14, 2018 8:24 am

That LT needed to be smacked upside the head. And maybe sent out to look for a non-existent sniper to get him out of your hair.
Mater tua caligas gerit!

...I'm sorry, I wasn't paying attention to what I was thinking.

Laager
* * *
Posts: 795
Joined: Sun Jun 20, 2010 9:25 pm

Re: My Job, My Hell...

Post by Laager » Wed Feb 14, 2018 12:19 pm

CG wrote:That LT needed to be smacked upside the head. And maybe sent out to look for a non-existent sniper to get him out of your hair.
He hardly ever left the FOB, and never on patrol. He was a typical Ring Knocker basically an arrogant son of a diseased camel. Now the Captain was a Mustang Officer and had made it up to Sergeant/E-5 before leaving Vietnam on his first tour, which was only a year long. Well I say only, a year is a very long time when you are in an active combat zone.

The LT was very friendly with the Battalion and Brigade Commanders and XOs who were all fellow Ring Knockers. So he was protected for the most part.

Just incase they don't use that term anymore a ring knocker was a West Point graduate and they always made sure you knew it. Usually by knocking their class ring on something. Back then the some things were usually made out of wood. Of course they wore those huge (to me) gold rings everywhere they went, even into combat. Shoot anytime anything of a violent nature occurred he was nowhere to be found, until after the B40's, the mortars or whatever it was stopped coming our way. Or as I heard once, the two way shooting range was closed for now. Then the little weasel would show up, giving orders and what not like he had been running the defense/offense from the front lines the entire time.

He actually put himself in for an award for taking out two enemy snipers. I heard they made it up to division and were turned down, but it was not something important enough to stay on my radar. Sad thing was old Rice Paddy Ricky was not what we would consider a "sniper" or even what the Soviets would have considered a Designated Marksman. He was just some poor rice farmer with an old rifle that would take a shot or two at passing cars. Now the second guy, he had newer equipment and scored some hits...but nothing father than say 150 - 200 meters or so. Nothing most of the guys I know who hunt could not do with their hunting rifles. I guess it all depends on how you write it up.

I knew an Air Force Master Sergeant/E-8 that wrote his own yearly evaluation report and he let me read it. He had a bullet in their that said he was active in assisting the State of Hawaii in their non-native species eradication programs or words similar to that. I had to ask him what the heck was he talking about....he smiled and said I go hunting goats and pigs.

I got a really good laugh out of that, and his eval was approved all the way up the chain. It is all about how you word it.

If I remember my history correctly West Point was the first American School to have class rings.

We had one officer that would proudly tell everyone that he was the third generation of his family to attend and graduate from West Point. I guess it is an achievement, but it does not endow the graduate with special war fighting knowledge or make them a great leader of men.

Even the Mustang officers had issues and you would certainly think that a former enlisted soldier who went off to college/ROTC would know better than to pull the old......My name is LT Smith and now that I am in charge things are going to change around here....which usually meant morale took a huge hit and people ended up getting hurt or killed because they would not listen and learn from the senior NCOs that had been living in the zone for decades.

Oh well......fragging was very popular during the Vietnam war especially towards the end or so I have heard. I even heard stories about the VC sniper that scored a hit with a 1911 in .45ACP from 200 meters a time or two.

I still have that Trench gun (Dean found me a factory stock to replace the chopped down one), but the ones I wish I could bring home would be the ones my Father-in-Law hid after WWII.

I'm gun rich but can't import them so they stay in the PI waiting for the day they were put away for, and will be handed down to the next generation.
“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
* * *
Posts: 795
Joined: Sun Jun 20, 2010 9:25 pm

Re: My Job, My Hell...

Post by Laager » Wed Feb 14, 2018 1:05 pm

Now TAG was nothing special just another NCO that was trying to make rank. Like I said his name was Corporal Terrance A. Galloway and he was a monumental pain in whatever body part you have that hurts the worst.

He had made Corporal while in Vietnam and had sort of stalled there while other people were making rank a lot faster. In fact I made Corporal as well but had less time in service and time in rank so technically he outranked me. But he had more TIS and TIR thank Sergeant Banks who outranked him and SGT Banks even made Staff Sergeant while TAG was still a Corporal.

TAG's habit was if things went well he was responsible for it, even if he was not even around and when things went wrong or sideways (which things often due in the military) the first person he saw was tagged as it and he was not it. Even if the person was not around.

So he was stuck with the nickname TAG, as in Tag your it or not it. He thought it was because it matched his initials or so he always said but we never made it a state secret about why we disliked him or called him TAG.

Now I can not say for sure who did it and no one ever stepped up and claimed the credit or took the blame.

But we were on a patrol of the Korean DMZ and like I said things tend to go sideways when you are in the military or as I have heard no plan survives first contact with the enemy.

I do not know who started firing first but rounds started snapping both ways (the old two way shooting range was open for business) and we were trying to break contact when a round went buzzing by my ear, between my head and Rabbits cause I was dragging him along with me as the rest of us dumped our mags and the Pig (M60) opened up in thankfully controlled bursts.

TAG was laying down and I have no idea why because the rest of us were doing our best to get the heck out of the area as fast as we could. I heard him start screaming like a banshee, and figured he had caught a round or two, but I had my hands full with Rabbit (who I actually liked a whole heck of a lot better than TAG). When SGT Banks ran past us screaming for covering fire and that is when the Pig starting going all out, which would definitely cause the barrel to burn out. Five round bursts kept the Pig in action, if you pulled the trigger and held it down burning through the belts as fast as possible the barrel would over heat and burn out. If you kept at it to long the darn barrel would actually start to glow and then bend.

I heard Roach open up with Thumper as well from somewhere behind me. So we were giving it every thing 10 guys could and were no longer trying to break contact but to hold in place. It wasn't for TAG, it was for SGT Banks. I don't think anyone (other than TAG) would have left. We held for SGT Banks and SGT Banks alone...no other reason.

He made it to TAG and started dragging him back towards the rest of us and I was smacking the heck out Rabbit to get him to get on his gun and start putting rounds down range as well as trying to keep my rounds going down range as well.

SGT Banks and TAG made it back to our lines, then the Pig shut down, for good. The gunner and assistant gunner could not get the melted barrel off to put on a new one, not that it would have done us much good since it was on its last belt anyway.

Anyway by what looked like mutual agreement both sides broke contact at the same time, except for a round or two from a soldier on our side or their side.

The RTO called in for a dust off and we were told we had to move to a grid square about a klick away so off we went dragging TAG along. I managed to pick up a bullet burn on my left forearm but it wasn't bleeding, it just felt like a bad sunburn. Our medic was jabbing TAG with some morphine to help ease the pain and to shut him up.

Anyway we made it to the extraction point, loaded up and away we went.

It was after our debriefing that the lower ranking guys started talking/questioning exactly how TAG took a round to the butt cheeks. I did add in my two cents worth, about the round that went whizzing past Rabbit and my head, heading down range and well TAG was in between us and the North Koreans. In a direct line I might add. At the time he was laying down behind cover, not just concealment but a good sized rock that covered his entire body from the front.

Like I said no one every owned up to it, and as far as I know took the secret with them to their grave. Even something like 7 years later it was just a whispered story/rumor but no name was pinned to it. But it was a persistent story/rumor and even the medic said the wound channel did not match up to what they would expect from a X39 or X54R round.

Well about a year later, after I was gone back to the real world. Also known as Fort Lewis, now known as Joint Base Lewis McCord, where I managed to hang on for six months before I given a transfer that I did not ask for back to South Korea.

In all honesty I would rather be overseas than stuck in some garrison stateside.

Anyway, TAG was in physical therapy for a year as his would healed. From what I heard from Roach later on TAG was unable to take a poop without moaning in pain, even a year later. He had trouble clenching his butt cheeks and they kept him on active duty for about six or seven months and them Medical Boarded him out of the service with a disability.

From what I heard I never want to take a round to the butt cheek. I know two guys that did and from the last one it was not something that you recovered from quickly and although I did ask he would never tell me exactly how he pooped when he was in recovery. Because it was the hard ones that caused a lot of issues.

I even asked my sister (who is a RN) and a couple of her co workers that worked ER and they just looked at me like I was stupid for asking them about it.

Guess I might have to ask my brother to find out from someone at Martin Army Medical. Then again it is not like something I really need to know, it just pops into my mind sometimes late at night and I start to wonder about it.

I mean I've pretty much covered the gambit of wounds, but never been shot in the butt cheek or cheeks and well taking a round anywhere is not some simple thing. You just do not return to work next week, it takes a while for things to settle down and get back to as close as possible to the way things were before and they never ever get back to normal.

But I can honestly say getting set on fire has to be the worse...but then like I said never been shot in the butt cheeks.
“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.

User avatar
Mad Mike
* * *
Posts: 517
Joined: Fri Feb 04, 2011 4:33 pm
Favorite Zombie Movies: the walking dead & world war Z

Re: My Job, My Hell...

Post by Mad Mike » Wed Feb 14, 2018 5:13 pm

Laager wrote:Well we were doing time in what would one day (I believe it was sometime in the late 80's, this zone or region was created by an act of the Philippine Congress, which I believe was eventually ruled unconstitutional. I'm leaning towards 1988 or 1989) become the Autonomous Region in Muslim Mindanao or ARMM for short.

For anyone who does not know (hey I have a major in U.S. History, so I have some odd knowledge running around loose and I always studied places where I was stationed) Mindanao was always a separate part of the PI. Muslim missionaries started causing trouble in that area back in the late 1300's. Basically the Muslims (Moros believe that they have been fighting for an independent Muslim/Moro nation for the last 400 years. They consider it a national liberation movement of the Bangsmoro), they have fought against the Spanish, the Americans, the Japanese and are now fighting the Philippine Government.

So we were down there working with Philippine Marines on what was considered a training mission.

When we would head out into the jungle for "training" we usually air inserted in via the Huey or the Bell UH-1 Iroquois although there were a few times that we went in or out of a Bronco also known as the OV-10. But those only allowed six man sticks and it was always LALO.

Usually we traveled (when not training) in either the old M151 Jeeps or M35 2 1/2-ton cargo trucks, mostly when we had down time and were heading into Davao City for R&R.

There was this stretch of road with rice paddies on both sides that had a guy who would take pot shots at the trucks and jeeps when they went past his rice paddy. His nickname was Rice Paddy Ricky or just Ricky, well that is what we called him. He never hit anyone and only occasionally would hit one of the vehicles. No one was really to worried about him, so we pretty much just sped up and either ducked down or in some if not most cases we would stand up to make better targets, hooting and hollering the entire way past his AO.

What can I say other than being a soldier is often mind numbing, soul sucking boring, with the occasional period of piss/shit yourself excitement/terror/adrenaline rush. So often we did really stupid stuff.

Well we ended up getting a new Lieutenant and when he was coming to our FOB, Ricky decided to snap a few shots off at the jeep that was carrying the LT. Evidently (according to the jeep driver) the LT pissed his pants and well it probably did not help that the driver pointed it out (strong smell of urine and a wet stain) and the LT got all indignant about it. This caused the driver to start laughing at him. Which really set the LT off, he was a door knocker so he already had a chip on his shoulder so he was not a happy camper.

After he got to the FOB he ordered the duty section to go out there and take care of the threat, but they sent out six of us out to look for this guy with Corporal Banks acting as the NCOIC.

We wandered around for a few days, not really giving a hoot if we found Ricky or not, actually we were not really looking hard for him, until the Platoon Sergeant radioed us for a SITREP and then told us we could not return to the FOB until the "sniper" situation was resolved in our favor.

So we buckled down and Corporal Banks called the FOB to get the schedule for any vehicles going from the FOB on the road past Ricky's AO. So once we had that information we set up to wait to see if Ricky would show up and take a shot.

Sure enough he did, and we ended the "sniper" situation and Rice Paddy Ricky was no more. The guy looked to be about 80 years old and was using an old 7mm Spanish Mauser rifle. Corporal Banks took the rifle and ammo pouches and we called in for extraction.

The LT showed up in the Deuce and took the Mauser rifle from Corporal Banks for a trophy. I did not have much respect for the LT, but after he pulled this I lost all respect.

About a month or so later the Company Commander decided to come out and pay us a visit, and was riding down the road to our FOB when he took a 30 caliber round. He survived but was not a happy camper, he was extremely lucky that the round was a through and through to his arm. But boy was he ticked off, especially after he found out that it was not Ricky that popped him, but a new guy who was a much better shot that Ricky had moved into the area and that the LT had ordered us to eliminate the sniper that could hardly hit a barn.

Well when the Captain came back to the FOB to visit he sent out a section to find this guy and I don't know who found whom, but we had three wounded and the platoon pulled out. They lost the radio and could not call in any type of support. Not that we had any air assets or artillery assets to call on, all we had was a bunch of grunts and some Filipino Marines.

I was sitting in our GP large cleaning my shotgun when the Captain and LT came in, I just glanced up and pressed on with cleaning my weapon, no one else jumped up either. The LT wasn't happy about our lack of respect and started in on Corporal Banks....the moron still did not seem to understand the concept of never salute or give an type of indication of who was an officer, so no saluting, no jumping to attention when an officer entered our tents either.

While the Captain was talking to Corporal Banks, the LT wandered over and started giving me a hard time about having a shotgun. Hey it was marked Property of the U.S. Government. Just because it was a Winchester M97 Trench gun and I picked it up from the PNP warehouse for a bottle of Johnny Walker Red was neither here nor there as far as I was concerned. The stock had been cut down to what would now be known as a youth model, but hey Filipinos are a lot shorter than most Americans so, someone modified it a bit. It still functioned 100% of the time and worked with every type of shotgun shell I was able to lay my hands on, even some from the PNP or from the illegal Paltik gun makers in Davao.

Finally the Captain told the LT to shut up and then told him to go wait for him in the command tent. The Captain then told us to go out and find the new "sniper", who was racking up a good body count among the Filipino Marines that we were working with, not to mention hitting the Captain.

About the only thing the Captain said was who gave Priest a shotgun, then he took a hard look and said never mind and told Corporal Banks to take charge. He did look over at me and say is that a bayonet for that Trench gun? I just smiled, nodded and said yes sir. He shook his head and said carry on. So we did.

So the seven of us left the FOB and went hunting.

Three weeks went later and we were still out there and the sniper was racking up more hits. About three weeks later we happened to be in the right place at the right time and as we were laid up in an ambush position when someone carrying a rifle started making his way past my location. He did not make it any farther after we saw that this was a lone male carrying a rifle, heading towards the road that we traveled on.

Since I was the one that ended the threat, I gathered up his gear. He was carrying a Model 1891/30 Mosin-Nagant with a 4 power PEM scope and a 7.62X25mm Tokarev TT-30 pistol. So I stripped him of his weapons, gave Corporal Banks a knife with the sheath and kept the rest for myself.

Of course the LT came along with the Deuce to pick us up and tried to get his grubby hands on the Mosin and the TT-30 but my shotgun barrel was attracted to him. Let us just say that he was not a happy camper, and once I returned to the FOB I should just consider my rear end as grass and he was the lawn mower.

The Captain was waiting for us and after we off loaded the LT made a bee line for him. The rest of us sort of meandered over, well the over five did, but Corporal Banks and I headed straight to the Captain and LT. I gave the Tok to the Captain along with the holster, belt, spare mags and a cleaning kit to the Captain and I kept the Mosin.

I filled out a form DD 603-1 and I had the Commanding Officers permission to bring a "War Trophy" home with me, I also filled out a ATF Form 5330.3D Application/Permit for Temporary Importation of Firearms and Ammunition by Nonimmigrant Aliens which was also approved. Just incase the LT managed to get the Battalion Commander to change the Captain's mind.

I chased that LT all over Mindanao and parts of the Korean DMZ saluting him and not one single Filipino or North Korean took a single shot at him. I do not know what happened to that 7mm Mauser but I have a feeling the LT took it home with him so he could tell "War Stories" or he gave it to someone higher.

He was 100% weasel and I was glad to see him go.

It was only recently (well since the importation of Mosins) that I was able to get a decent quantity of 7.62X54R to shoot that rifle. That was probably back around 1989 or a bit later on. I did manage to bring a bit back here and there, but nothing in large quantities.
Damn, so saluting get the job done..... :mrgreen:

User avatar
Mad Mike
* * *
Posts: 517
Joined: Fri Feb 04, 2011 4:33 pm
Favorite Zombie Movies: the walking dead & world war Z

Re: My Job, My Hell...

Post by Mad Mike » Wed Feb 14, 2018 5:19 pm

Laager wrote:Now TAG was nothing special just another NCO that was trying to make rank. Like I said his name was Corporal Terrance A. Galloway and he was a monumental pain in whatever body part you have that hurts the worst.

He had made Corporal while in Vietnam and had sort of stalled there while other people were making rank a lot faster. In fact I made Corporal as well but had less time in service and time in rank so technically he outranked me. But he had more TIS and TIR thank Sergeant Banks who outranked him and SGT Banks even made Staff Sergeant while TAG was still a Corporal.

TAG's habit was if things went well he was responsible for it, even if he was not even around and when things went wrong or sideways (which things often due in the military) the first person he saw was tagged as it and he was not it. Even if the person was not around.

So he was stuck with the nickname TAG, as in Tag your it or not it. He thought it was because it matched his initials or so he always said but we never made it a state secret about why we disliked him or called him TAG.

Now I can not say for sure who did it and no one ever stepped up and claimed the credit or took the blame.

But we were on a patrol of the Korean DMZ and like I said things tend to go sideways when you are in the military or as I have heard no plan survives first contact with the enemy.

I do not know who started firing first but rounds started snapping both ways (the old two way shooting range was open for business) and we were trying to break contact when a round went buzzing by my ear, between my head and Rabbits cause I was dragging him along with me as the rest of us dumped our mags and the Pig (M60) opened up in thankfully controlled bursts.

TAG was laying down and I have no idea why because the rest of us were doing our best to get the heck out of the area as fast as we could. I heard him start screaming like a banshee, and figured he had caught a round or two, but I had my hands full with Rabbit (who I actually liked a whole heck of a lot better than TAG). When SGT Banks ran past us screaming for covering fire and that is when the Pig starting going all out, which would definitely cause the barrel to burn out. Five round bursts kept the Pig in action, if you pulled the trigger and held it down burning through the belts as fast as possible the barrel would over heat and burn out. If you kept at it to long the darn barrel would actually start to glow and then bend.

I heard Roach open up with Thumper as well from somewhere behind me. So we were giving it every thing 10 guys could and were no longer trying to break contact but to hold in place. It wasn't for TAG, it was for SGT Banks. I don't think anyone (other than TAG) would have left. We held for SGT Banks and SGT Banks alone...no other reason.

He made it to TAG and started dragging him back towards the rest of us and I was smacking the heck out Rabbit to get him to get on his gun and start putting rounds down range as well as trying to keep my rounds going down range as well.

SGT Banks and TAG made it back to our lines, then the Pig shut down, for good. The gunner and assistant gunner could not get the melted barrel off to put on a new one, not that it would have done us much good since it was on its last belt anyway.

Anyway by what looked like mutual agreement both sides broke contact at the same time, except for a round or two from a soldier on our side or their side.

The RTO called in for a dust off and we were told we had to move to a grid square about a klick away so off we went dragging TAG along. I managed to pick up a bullet burn on my left forearm but it wasn't bleeding, it just felt like a bad sunburn. Our medic was jabbing TAG with some morphine to help ease the pain and to shut him up.

Anyway we made it to the extraction point, loaded up and away we went.

It was after our debriefing that the lower ranking guys started talking/questioning exactly how TAG took a round to the butt cheeks. I did add in my two cents worth, about the round that went whizzing past Rabbit and my head, heading down range and well TAG was in between us and the North Koreans. In a direct line I might add. At the time he was laying down behind cover, not just concealment but a good sized rock that covered his entire body from the front.

Like I said no one every owned up to it, and as far as I know took the secret with them to their grave. Even something like 7 years later it was just a whispered story/rumor but no name was pinned to it. But it was a persistent story/rumor and even the medic said the wound channel did not match up to what they would expect from a X39 or X54R round.

Well about a year later, after I was gone back to the real world. Also known as Fort Lewis, now known as Joint Base Lewis McCord, where I managed to hang on for six months before I given a transfer that I did not ask for back to South Korea.

In all honesty I would rather be overseas than stuck in some garrison stateside.

Anyway, TAG was in physical therapy for a year as his would healed. From what I heard from Roach later on TAG was unable to take a poop without moaning in pain, even a year later. He had trouble clenching his butt cheeks and they kept him on active duty for about six or seven months and them Medical Boarded him out of the service with a disability.

From what I heard I never want to take a round to the butt cheek. I know two guys that did and from the last one it was not something that you recovered from quickly and although I did ask he would never tell me exactly how he pooped when he was in recovery. Because it was the hard ones that caused a lot of issues.

I even asked my sister (who is a RN) and a couple of her co workers that worked ER and they just looked at me like I was stupid for asking them about it.

Guess I might have to ask my brother to find out from someone at Martin Army Medical. Then again it is not like something I really need to know, it just pops into my mind sometimes late at night and I start to wonder about it.

I mean I've pretty much covered the gambit of wounds, but never been shot in the butt cheek or cheeks and well taking a round anywhere is not some simple thing. You just do not return to work next week, it takes a while for things to settle down and get back to as close as possible to the way things were before and they never ever get back to normal.

But I can honestly say getting set on fire has to be the worse...but then like I said never been shot in the butt cheeks.
Set on fire? Huh? :shock:

Laager
* * *
Posts: 795
Joined: Sun Jun 20, 2010 9:25 pm

Re: My Job, My Hell...

Post by Laager » Wed Feb 14, 2018 6:23 pm

Mad Mike wrote:
Laager wrote:quote]Set on fire? Huh? :shock:


Well technically it wasn't so much a set on fire (at least this time), Fitz and I were cutting through a tank battalion's motor pool. I believe it was the 2/72nd Armor stationed on Camp Casey in Korea up in what they called Dragon Valley (I would have to dig out some paperwork from the attic)on our way to the main part of Camp Casey where the PX, Commissary, Massage Parlor (known as the Steam n Cream) when we heard this crump sound then saw some smoke coming out of the loader and Tank Commander's hatches. We could hear someone screaming from inside, so we ran over to see what we could do to help.

Turns out we were the only ones at the fire at the time, so Fitz and I climb up and Fitz looks inside. He tells me there is someone inside and then he jumps down inside the loaders hatch and I climb up on the top of the tank and can hear people yelling and see them running towards us. Then Fitz starts trying to lift this burnt to Hades person out of the tank, but now both of them are on fire so I reach down inside to help pull the guy (cause back then only males were allowed in Combat Arms so it was a real good chance it was a male) out, I managed to get him out with Fitz pushing from down inside the tank.

It was an American M48A5 Patton, fully loaded to the brim with main gun rounds, belted rounds for the M240 and M60D in 7.62X51 and the of course the M2 Ma Deuce was topped off as well.

I just rolled the guy off the top of the tank down to the sponson boxes on the side, then some other guys took over from there. Putting him out, cause he was on fire, Fitz jumped down and he was on fire and the sleeves of my uniform and arms were on fire as well.

We should have left him in the tank, that is my humble opinion and it has never changed. The guy was burnt to a crisp and looked like burnt bar-b-que chicken (the reason Lil pulls grill duty) and no one could figure out who the guy was since he was melted pretty badly so we had no idea if he was a Korean soldier (KATUSA), an American soldier, Black, White, brown, yellow or something in between.

Fitz was in pretty good shape and I ended up with scars on both arms from the elbows down to the wrists, thankfully it was just the external skin layer and there was some scarring but it is mainly on the outside of my arms.

Turns out he was a KATUSA soldier assigned to the 2/72nd Armor, their Brigade Commander took both of us down to the Korean hospital to meet his family and girlfriend. They all seemed happy to meet us and we ended up getting a couple of medals out of it.

But I told Fitz if I ever got set on fire just to pop a round in my head on his way by, cause no way would I want to live like that, there was nothing but 3rd degree burns over a huge majority of his body. His fingers and toes had melted off, his nose, lips and ears were gone as well as any hair he had....and well his little head was gone as well.

The U.S. Army had him and his family shipped to the Burn Center down in San Antonio....I can't remember if it was Fort Sam or Wilford Hall. I seem to remember that the Brooke General Hospital was moved from Brooke Air Force Base to Fort Sam but anyway I thought it was a good gesture on the Army's part since there was no way I would want to be left in a Korean hospital.

Of course that was one of the things that we were always told, if we were injured no matter how bad we were to crawl pass the Korean hospital to get to any U.S. Army clinic or hospital. We were told they were death traps. Let's just say I was not impressed by their sanitary conditions.

The other, other white meat or Long Pork as it is known in some overseas countries smells sort of like pork, but once you smell it you never forget it.

The other time(s) I was set on fire were more of a stupid kid kind of thing......note to self putting a bit of gas inside a plastic milk jug does indeed make a somewhat limited flame thrower and yes it was way cool......till someone got set on fire. Then depending on who was set on fire and who the setter was it became an exercise in deception.

My parents just sent me to the bathroom to get cleaned up and then sent me to my room. Whats a few second degree burns among family and friends.....
“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.

User avatar
12_Gauge_Chimp
ZS Lifetime Member
ZS Lifetime Member
Posts: 6597
Joined: Thu Apr 09, 2009 4:21 pm
Location: Middle of nowhere, West Texas
Contact:

Re: My Job, My Hell...

Post by 12_Gauge_Chimp » Wed Feb 14, 2018 6:50 pm

All I can say about that last one is just damn.

So the Korean soldier survived, albeit very severely injured ? Poor guy. :(

I've never witnessed anything like that and I hope I never do.

User avatar
Mad Mike
* * *
Posts: 517
Joined: Fri Feb 04, 2011 4:33 pm
Favorite Zombie Movies: the walking dead & world war Z

Re: My Job, My Hell...

Post by Mad Mike » Wed Feb 14, 2018 8:08 pm

Laager wrote:
Mad Mike wrote:
Laager wrote:quote]Set on fire? Huh? :shock:


Well technically it wasn't so much a set on fire (at least this time), Fitz and I were cutting through a tank battalion's motor pool. I believe it was the 2/72nd Armor stationed on Camp Casey in Korea up in what they called Dragon Valley (I would have to dig out some paperwork from the attic)on our way to the main part of Camp Casey where the PX, Commissary, Massage Parlor (known as the Steam n Cream) when we heard this crump sound then saw some smoke coming out of the loader and Tank Commander's hatches. We could hear someone screaming from inside, so we ran over to see what we could do to help.

Turns out we were the only ones at the fire at the time, so Fitz and I climb up and Fitz looks inside. He tells me there is someone inside and then he jumps down inside the loaders hatch and I climb up on the top of the tank and can hear people yelling and see them running towards us. Then Fitz starts trying to lift this burnt to Hades person out of the tank, but now both of them are on fire so I reach down inside to help pull the guy (cause back then only males were allowed in Combat Arms so it was a real good chance it was a male) out, I managed to get him out with Fitz pushing from down inside the tank.

It was an American M48A5 Patton, fully loaded to the brim with main gun rounds, belted rounds for the M240 and M60D in 7.62X51 and the of course the M2 Ma Deuce was topped off as well.

I just rolled the guy off the top of the tank down to the sponson boxes on the side, then some other guys took over from there. Putting him out, cause he was on fire, Fitz jumped down and he was on fire and the sleeves of my uniform and arms were on fire as well.

We should have left him in the tank, that is my humble opinion and it has never changed. The guy was burnt to a crisp and looked like burnt bar-b-que chicken (the reason Lil pulls grill duty) and no one could figure out who the guy was since he was melted pretty badly so we had no idea if he was a Korean soldier (KATUSA), an American soldier, Black, White, brown, yellow or something in between.

Fitz was in pretty good shape and I ended up with scars on both arms from the elbows down to the wrists, thankfully it was just the external skin layer and there was some scarring but it is mainly on the outside of my arms.

Turns out he was a KATUSA soldier assigned to the 2/72nd Armor, their Brigade Commander took both of us down to the Korean hospital to meet his family and girlfriend. They all seemed happy to meet us and we ended up getting a couple of medals out of it.

But I told Fitz if I ever got set on fire just to pop a round in my head on his way by, cause no way would I want to live like that, there was nothing but 3rd degree burns over a huge majority of his body. His fingers and toes had melted off, his nose, lips and ears were gone as well as any hair he had....and well his little head was gone as well.

The U.S. Army had him and his family shipped to the Burn Center down in San Antonio....I can't remember if it was Fort Sam or Wilford Hall. I seem to remember that the Brooke General Hospital was moved from Brooke Air Force Base to Fort Sam but anyway I thought it was a good gesture on the Army's part since there was no way I would want to be left in a Korean hospital.

Of course that was one of the things that we were always told, if we were injured no matter how bad we were to crawl pass the Korean hospital to get to any U.S. Army clinic or hospital. We were told they were death traps. Let's just say I was not impressed by their sanitary conditions.

The other, other white meat or Long Pork as it is known in some overseas countries smells sort of like pork, but once you smell it you never forget it.

The other time(s) I was set on fire were more of a stupid kid kind of thing......note to self putting a bit of gas inside a plastic milk jug does indeed make a somewhat limited flame thrower and yes it was way cool......till someone got set on fire. Then depending on who was set on fire and who the setter was it became an exercise in deception.

My parents just sent me to the bathroom to get cleaned up and then sent me to my room. Whats a few second degree burns among family and friends.....
being burned like that is the top of my personal list of things worse than dying.... :shock:

Laager
* * *
Posts: 795
Joined: Sun Jun 20, 2010 9:25 pm

Re: My Job, My Hell...

Post by Laager » Wed Feb 14, 2018 8:56 pm

Mad Mike wrote:
Laager wrote:
Mad Mike wrote:
Laager wrote:quote]Set on fire? Huh? :shock:
being burned like that is the top of my personal list of things worse than dying.... :shock:


Mine as well..........I honestly don't remember much about it other than a nagging burning sensation because I was busy trying to get the guy out and yelling at Fitz to get the heck out of there.

Funny thing or sad depending on your view point is I think I've hit every one of the biggies except hanging, electrocution, drug induced or alcohol induced and plane crash, probably a few more in there that I have overlooked. I somehow managed to hit vehicle crash (multiple times), helicopter crash (twice), run over a few times, stabbed, shot, caught on fire, blown up, fell out of a helicopter once (that was enough) and even got pissed on and spit on a few times (and sometimes the pissers and spitters were in my unit, darn pesky drunks).

That tank cooked off for days......I remember seeing the fire department in the motor pool when we came back from the Camp Casey hospital/clinic and hearing that they just sprayed foam at the open loader's and Tank Commander's hatches
.

Eventually they hooked up an M88 recovery vehicle and dragged it off to the side away from the other tanks and let it burn it's way out. Something about all the ammo, the fuel, and assorted grease and oil all over the vehicle. Guess it was just safer to let it smolder than to risk someone trying to download it while it was still smoldering.

I never cut through there again and to the best of my knowledge neither did Fitz. I do know that we avoided every cook out that was held by our unit for that day forward.

Bar-b-que smoke still makes me choke up to this day and it has been over 45 years now.

My son asked me once why I did not have a shadow box or kept any of my awards and medals. I told him that every single medal or award represented pain and suffering either on my part or on the part of others that I inflicted it on. Best to bury that stuff or toss it out, then suck it up and move on.

Lil dug them out of the trash and stored them in her stuff.

Funny thing is I still wear my dog tags, with a P38 hooked on (the first one I ever picked up), but now there are three dog tags on it instead of two. I wear one of mine, one of Lil's and one of my son's. But other than that, there is nothing to tie me to every having done time in the military.

I like to think that I did my time and it is not the person that I am now. But sometimes late at night, I wonder if I ever really made it out of the Jungle. Especially when we go home to the PI. The jungle is right outside of our property and it smells exactly the same and it sounds exactly the same if you close your eyes and breathe deeply. Still it beats the alternative.
“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.

User avatar
CG
* * *
Posts: 772
Joined: Sun Oct 01, 2006 7:00 pm
Location: Middle of a Haboob, Texas

Re: My Job, My Hell...

Post by CG » Wed Feb 14, 2018 9:51 pm

Laager wrote:Funny thing or sad depending on your view point is I think I've hit every one of the biggies except hanging, electrocution, drug induced or alcohol induced and plane crash, probably a few more in there that I have overlooked.
This sounds like maybe one of those things that you shouldn't make a list of, just in case the universe decides to work on your list for you.
Mater tua caligas gerit!

...I'm sorry, I wasn't paying attention to what I was thinking.

Laager
* * *
Posts: 795
Joined: Sun Jun 20, 2010 9:25 pm

Re: My Job, My Hell...

Post by Laager » Wed Feb 14, 2018 11:36 pm

CG wrote:
Laager wrote:Funny thing or sad depending on your view point is I think I've hit every one of the biggies except hanging, electrocution, drug induced or alcohol induced and plane crash, probably a few more in there that I have overlooked.
This sounds like maybe one of those things that you shouldn't make a list of, just in case the universe decides to work on your list for you.

I think the universe has had my number since the day I was conceived.
“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
* * *
Posts: 795
Joined: Sun Jun 20, 2010 9:25 pm

Re: My Job, My Hell...

Post by Laager » Thu Feb 15, 2018 12:43 am

Well I was going to try to get the last story out, although it was not really a job story. But Lil just told me we are leaving for Theodore, Alabama via I-10 tomorrow.

So I am back to being a chauffeur, the good part is that it is only Lil and I and of course there are plenty of gun stores and pawn shops that sell guns along the way.

Take care, stay safe and watch your six.
“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.

User avatar
emclean
* * * * *
Posts: 1536
Joined: Fri Jun 15, 2007 1:31 pm
Favorite Zombie Movies: Fido
Zombieland
Location: NW Indiana

Re: My Job, My Hell...

Post by emclean » Thu Feb 15, 2018 10:33 am

Funny thing or sad depending on your view point is I think I've hit every one of the biggies except hanging, electrocution, drug induced or alcohol induced and plane crash, probably a few more in there that I have overlooked. I somehow managed to hit vehicle crash (multiple times), helicopter crash (twice), run over a few times, stabbed, shot, caught on fire, blown up, fell out of a helicopter once (that was enough) and even got pissed on and spit on a few times (and sometimes the pissers and spitters were in my unit, darn pesky drunks).
sounds like you have missed drowning as well.

User avatar
Mad Mike
* * *
Posts: 517
Joined: Fri Feb 04, 2011 4:33 pm
Favorite Zombie Movies: the walking dead & world war Z

Re: My Job, My Hell...

Post by Mad Mike » Thu Feb 15, 2018 12:42 pm

Mad Mike wrote:
Laager wrote:
Mad Mike wrote:
Laager wrote:quote]Set on fire? Huh? :shock:
being burned like that is the top of my personal list of things worse than dying.... :shock:


Mine as well..........I honestly don't remember much about it other than a nagging burning sensation because I was busy trying to get the guy out and yelling at Fitz to get the heck out of there.

Funny thing or sad depending on your view point is I think I've hit every one of the biggies except hanging, electrocution, drug induced or alcohol induced and plane crash, probably a few more in there that I have overlooked. I somehow managed to hit vehicle crash (multiple times), helicopter crash (twice), run over a few times, stabbed, shot, caught on fire, blown up, fell out of a helicopter once (that was enough) and even got pissed on and spit on a few times (and sometimes the pissers and spitters were in my unit, darn pesky drunks).

That tank cooked off for days......I remember seeing the fire department in the motor pool when we came back from the Camp Casey hospital/clinic and hearing that they just sprayed foam at the open loader's and Tank Commander's hatches
.

Eventually they hooked up an M88 recovery vehicle and dragged it off to the side away from the other tanks and let it burn it's way out. Something about all the ammo, the fuel, and assorted grease and oil all over the vehicle. Guess it was just safer to let it smolder than to risk someone trying to download it while it was still smoldering.

I never cut through there again and to the best of my knowledge neither did Fitz. I do know that we avoided every cook out that was held by our unit for that day forward.

Bar-b-que smoke still makes me choke up to this day and it has been over 45 years now.

My son asked me once why I did not have a shadow box or kept any of my awards and medals. I told him that every single medal or award represented pain and suffering either on my part or on the part of others that I inflicted it on. Best to bury that stuff or toss it out, then suck it up and move on.

Lil dug them out of the trash and stored them in her stuff.

Funny thing is I still wear my dog tags, with a P38 hooked on (the first one I ever picked up), but now there are three dog tags on it instead of two. I wear one of mine, one of Lil's and one of my son's. But other than that, there is nothing to tie me to every having done time in the military.

I like to think that I did my time and it is not the person that I am now. But sometimes late at night, I wonder if I ever really made it out of the Jungle. Especially when we go home to the PI. The jungle is right outside of our property and it smells exactly the same and it sounds exactly the same if you close your eyes and breathe deeply. Still it beats the alternative.[/quote]

Years ago I encountered a guy hanging himself with a lamp cord. After he stepped off the chair, he changed his mind - guess it wasn't as quick & painless as he expected.....

Laager
* * *
Posts: 795
Joined: Sun Jun 20, 2010 9:25 pm

Re: My Job, My Hell...

Post by Laager » Fri Feb 23, 2018 8:48 am

emclean wrote:
Funny thing or sad depending on your view point is I think I've hit every one of the biggies except hanging, electrocution, drug induced or alcohol induced and plane crash, probably a few more in there that I have overlooked. I somehow managed to hit vehicle crash (multiple times), helicopter crash (twice), run over a few times, stabbed, shot, caught on fire, blown up, fell out of a helicopter once (that was enough) and even got pissed on and spit on a few times (and sometimes the pissers and spitters were in my unit, darn pesky drunks).
sounds like you have missed drowning as well.


I think I came close once in Korea, vehicle crash into the river. But I am not real sure since all I remember was wrapping my arms around some canvas straps and then waking up on the river bank (down river) with another crack in my skull, a huge knot on my head along with a headache and dislocated shoulder.
“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
* * *
Posts: 795
Joined: Sun Jun 20, 2010 9:25 pm

Re: My Job, My Hell...

Post by Laager » Fri Feb 23, 2018 8:54 am

[/quote]Years ago I encountered a guy hanging himself with a lamp cord. After he stepped off the chair, he changed his mind - guess it wasn't as quick & painless as he expected.....[/quote]

Seen a guy still hanging once in Germany back in 88 just before I got out, don't understand that type of behavior especially over a female. Hung himself in the door way of base housing for his wife to find when she came home. Since I was the senior NCO of that section of housing and was home she came to the door to get me.

All I can say is what a huge dumbassery move on his part....solved nothing. Still lost his wife, not to mention his daughters and then his family and friends. Not real sure what his point was, but I bet his daughter is still suffering all these years later. Because she came home with his wife......surprise.

Daddy's hanging in the doorway, dead as a doornail.

I guess it solves one problem, but always seems to create a mess for those left behind to clean up and live with.

People do stupid stuff all the time, saw two morons in the stairwell once, one guy was jumping on the other guys knee so he could get out of the Army.
“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
* * *
Posts: 795
Joined: Sun Jun 20, 2010 9:25 pm

Re: My Job, My Hell...

Post by Laager » Fri Feb 23, 2018 9:01 am

Laager wrote:Well I was going to try to get the last story out, although it was not really a job story. But Lil just told me we are leaving for Theodore, Alabama via I-10 tomorrow.

So I am back to being a chauffeur, the good part is that it is only Lil and I and of course there are plenty of gun stores and pawn shops that sell guns along the way.

Take care, stay safe and watch your six.
Well the road trip is over and it turned out that it was a trap.....James and Susan went as well and instead of taking Lil's car we took Susan's Hyundai Veloster.

I did point out that Turbo meant turbocharger which is supposed to boost a vehicles horsepower (and maybe fuel economy). I should have taken a picture of the Yugo that passed us on I-10 around Biloxi, Mississippi, at this point I did tell them that we were passed by several classic vehicles and a Yugo and to please drive it like you stole it.

Oh well.......at least I scored a RPR in 6.5.
“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.

User avatar
12_Gauge_Chimp
ZS Lifetime Member
ZS Lifetime Member
Posts: 6597
Joined: Thu Apr 09, 2009 4:21 pm
Location: Middle of nowhere, West Texas
Contact:

Re: My Job, My Hell...

Post by 12_Gauge_Chimp » Fri Feb 23, 2018 9:58 am

Wait, someone out there still drives a Yugo ? :shock:

I always figured every one of those cars ended up in the scrapyards or as target practice for bored country boys.

Laager
* * *
Posts: 795
Joined: Sun Jun 20, 2010 9:25 pm

Re: My Job, My Hell...

Post by Laager » Fri Feb 23, 2018 12:39 pm

12_Gauge_Chimp wrote:Wait, someone out there still drives a Yugo ? :shock:

I always figured every one of those cars ended up in the scrapyards or as target practice for bored country boys.


At least two that I have personally seen, one in the larger town up the road from me, a young kid drives it as a daily driver and then the guy driving it in Mississippi.

Heck maybe they are making a come back.......sort of like the AMC Pacers.
“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.

User avatar
12_Gauge_Chimp
ZS Lifetime Member
ZS Lifetime Member
Posts: 6597
Joined: Thu Apr 09, 2009 4:21 pm
Location: Middle of nowhere, West Texas
Contact:

Re: My Job, My Hell...

Post by 12_Gauge_Chimp » Fri Feb 23, 2018 10:33 pm

Laager wrote:
12_Gauge_Chimp wrote:Wait, someone out there still drives a Yugo ? :shock:

I always figured every one of those cars ended up in the scrapyards or as target practice for bored country boys.


At least two that I have personally seen, one in the larger town up the road from me, a young kid drives it as a daily driver and then the guy driving it in Mississippi.

Heck maybe they are making a come back.......sort of like the AMC Pacers.
My sister used to drive a GEO Metro (basically GM's version of the Yugo) and it was an ok car until someone tried to steal the engine for their Fast and Furious clone.

I say "tried to" because the dipsticks forgot that engines are bolted into the car and don't come out as easy as they do in video games.

Also, who looks at a GEO Metro and thinks, "Man, this would make an awesome street racer." ?


ETA: Part of me wants one of those AMC cars like Mike Myers drove in Wayne's World. Was that a Gremlin or a Pacer ? I can't remember.

Laager
* * *
Posts: 795
Joined: Sun Jun 20, 2010 9:25 pm

Re: My Job, My Hell...

Post by Laager » Sat Feb 24, 2018 12:14 am

12_Gauge_Chimp wrote:
Laager wrote:
12_Gauge_Chimp wrote:Wait, someone out there still drives a Yugo ? :shock:

I always figured every one of those cars ended up in the scrapyards or as target practice for bored country boys.


At least two that I have personally seen, one in the larger town up the road from me, a young kid drives it as a daily driver and then the guy driving it in Mississippi.

Heck maybe they are making a come back.......sort of like the AMC Pacers.
My sister used to drive a GEO Metro (basically GM's version of the Yugo) and it was an ok car until someone tried to steal the engine for their Fast and Furious clone.

I say "tried to" because the dipsticks forgot that engines are bolted into the car and don't come out as easy as they do in video games.

Also, who looks at a GEO Metro and thinks, "Man, this would make an awesome street racer." ?


ETA: Part of me wants one of those AMC cars like Mike Myers drove in Wayne's World. Was that a Gremlin or a Pacer ? I can't remember.

Pacer, not the wagon but the two door version. I am watching a guy in the town down the road who has a really nice Maverick sitting in his yard. Well nice as in no rust that I can see from the sidewalk.

Those AMCs were something else, just not executed properly.
“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.

Johan
* *
Posts: 149
Joined: Thu Sep 18, 2008 2:48 am
Location: Sweden

Re: My Job, My Hell...

Post by Johan » Sun Feb 25, 2018 3:32 am

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..
Firepower...
-Is One Bullet that Hits!

Post Reply

Return to “Survival Experiences”