My Job, My Hell...

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

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Laager
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Re: My Job, My Hell...

Post by Laager » Thu Aug 09, 2018 12:12 am

emclean wrote:
Sun Aug 05, 2018 8:11 am
Laager wrote:
Sat Aug 04, 2018 5:47 pm
emclean

Dang it......Lil's going to kill me she is off working in Europe for the next two weeks....the last thing she said well almost the last thing other than be safe and she loves me was not to make any major purchases........500.00 isn't major and she never did say what a major purchase was......
just something i do to all my friends, find guns they didn't know they wanted, and point them out

https://www.cdnnsports.com/hk-p30-40s-w ... 2b3PdJKiUk
Chickened out and spent way more money than I had in my allowance fund. I ordered the HK P30 in .40S&W, set up the meeting with the FFL guy and then decided to stop by the gun store. Right there is where I went wrong, I started talking to him about this and that, so I asked him if anything "interesting" had come in lately. He said something to the effect of, you like those German guns don't you...and I had immediate thoughts of a nice Walter P-38 coming out of the gun vault and then he ruined it by telling me that someone had just traded an HK VP9 in 9mm in FDE for a Black Glock G19 Gen 5.

I'd say I was dumbfounded but I guess it is just a case of to each their own or something like that. So for $500.00 out the door I put it on lay a way. I would prefer the 9mm over the .40S&W for her, since she is still pretty young and more than likely she will eventually get either the HK USP or the HK P30 or all three.

It is not like I can really take them all with me, and so far she seems to be what I would consider a good kid. Stays out of trouble, pretty much, studies hard, works hard, practices good firearms handling and more importantly cleans her own firearms after a day at the range or whenever I tell her she needs too. Which is usually before we go shooting and after we go shooting.

I still have dreams of my M16 and how temperatmental the darn thing was.....probably why I like the heavy caliber Battle Rifles. Still I do have some ARs and while I have not had any real issues with them, I do admit to "waiting" for them to have issues and cleaning them every chance I can.
“Complacency kills. Paranoia is the reason I’m still alive.” If we do happen to make contact, I expect nothing less than gratuitous violence from the lot of ya.

Laager
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Re: My Job, My Hell...

Post by Laager » Sun Aug 12, 2018 5:04 am

Man I love the Bean Sprout (one of my Granddaughters, in fact the one that has been trying to out maneuver me or maneuver me out of my HK USP), we were sitting over at Junior's place having a burger grill and all the grandchildren and nephews/neices and assorted hanger on's were all hitting the pool and drinking all the cola they could and stuffing chips down their throats.

Anyway a few of us were sitting around one of the patio tables when Lil's mom came over and plopped down at the same table as me. All of a sudden I got that feeling that Will Robinson was in danger and his robot sidekick was going to start screaming "Danger, Will Robinson!"

[YouTube]https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OWwOJlOI1nU[/YouTube]

Then the surprises just kept coming she actually started to talk to me, and the Robot started waving his arms and repeating the warning as I thought to myself this does not compute. She wants something.

Sure enough after asking me a few general purpose questions, she got down to the point. Flooding in the PI. Oh how sad.

So since Lil was not around, and I looked for Junior, Bec or Sam or any female that had the authority to reign me in and found none to be in the near vicinity I basically told her no. Well maybe not like that, but I said no. Whatever it is you are trying to do, for whatever reason you are trying to do it the answer is now and always no.

She then pointed out that I had just spent an unreasonable amount of money on guns. Now I really can not do her justice as it came out sort of like it was some disgusting vice. You, you, you just spent X,XXX.00 of guuuuuns. People will be suffering from flood damage, someone will have to go to your house and clean it up. Yet here you sit without a care in the world. You should donate some money...

and right there I said not only no but Hades no! I wouldn't give you my last thin dime and then I was fixing to step off into it (cause Lil does not like it when I go off on her Mom, she says just let her ramble on, but well I hate someone who mooches off of me, eats food I pay for, sleeps in a house that I helped pay for, and then she craps all over me and worse Lil, Bec and Sam) when I heard a small female voice tell her.

Lola, he spent his allowance on firearms, Lola Lil says he can spend it on whatever he wants, so he did. Why are you giving him a hard time? Is it because Lola Lil sin't here? What do you think Lola Lil will say when she finds out? So please tell me what is the problem in that?

I looked over to see the Bean Sprout just returned from the pool.

I looked back at Lil's Mom and said...yea Looooowla or should I say impo or lola sa tuhod where's the problem in that? At least I didn't spend my allowance on something useless like makeup. Makeup to try and look younger, it is like putting makeup on a hog, no matter how much you spend or put on, it will always be a hog. Then the Bean Sprout had to go and poke the grizzly bear or in this case the wicked witch of the PI, by ignoring her and giving Mano to me followed up with a Mano Po to the others at the table. Everyone except the old bat.

Then I told the Bean Sprout lets go sneak some Key Lime Pie out of Junior's fridge and we left.

Bec told me I should not have called her a hog....I did not, well okay not like outright to her face as in you are a hog. Although I have called her an old bat in the past, but it is strange that while she was outraged, I say I'm outraged and beyond mad that your husband called me an old bat. I should leave and never come back. To which I yelled please do and I''ll pay your fare. Lil was not amused.

Funny how the old bat seems to spend a lot of her time her at this daughters house, instead of the other two daughter's homes. It could not possibly be that Lil, Bec and Sam all wait on her hand and foot, that she has her own room and a a bathroom she has to share, someone to drive her everywhere, clean up after her, cook her special food dishes and the list goes on.

Man if I could find a run down, disreputable Senior Living Facility someone in the bowels of central or south America I'd pay double. Although I am sure she would hang on just to spite me.

I told the Bean Sprout I'd take the hit for her, but she just laughed and said no, she did the crime, she would do the time. I talked to Bec, Sam and called Lil and talked to her and told them all it was all my fault and if anyone said or did anything to the Bean Sprout it would really, really get ugly at the next family dinner and not in a nice way at all.

Anyway I have a few more stories to tell but right not I have to kick some grandchildren's rear end....it's a sleep over night without the sleep. It's bad enough I had to hide all the permanent magic markers, never be the first one to fall asleep around here.

No one is safe.
“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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Mad Mike
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Re: My Job, My Hell...

Post by Mad Mike » Sun Aug 12, 2018 10:53 am

so how old is Bean Sprout? She sounds mature (and wise) beyond her years.... :lol:

Laager
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Re: My Job, My Hell...

Post by Laager » Mon Aug 13, 2018 7:15 pm

Mad Mike wrote:
Sun Aug 12, 2018 10:53 am
so how old is Bean Sprout? She sounds mature (and wise) beyond her years.... :lol:
She is 10 years old and so far so good. I will admit that she is a hand full when she gets started, but I can't fault her for that. She seems to be a good kid going in what I consider the correct direction. Does well in school, listens to her parents and grandparents, does not spend multiple hours with her face and head stuck in a so called smart phone. So like I said seems to be going in what I would consider the correct direction.

I told her I would take the hit and I did. Both my parents as well as Lil do not like anyone talking back to adults. Even if the adult you are talking back to is incorrect or out of line. But I figure it is a good thing to call out stupid people who are obviously out of line or control no matter what age you are.

She is the one that has been begging for an upgrade from .22LR up to 9mm or better. She already has a Rock River AR or MSR and has been snopping around my gun vaults and found an HK that I have had for decades and rarely shoot. But I do not want to get rid of it or give it to her. I would rather move her up to a 9mm it is not as "snappy" as the .40S&W or the 10mm short.

I took the rear end chewing from Lil when she called home, and will continue to take it as long as it pops up.

She is a good kid and oe of the ones I actually do not mind coming over as she is normally very respectfully and helpful both out in my garage/man shed/man cave and in the house with Lil (which I did point out to Lik) but Lil does not like the grandchildren to call BS when they smell it or hear it. Especially since they get it from me and I am not disrepectful to either my parents or Lil's Mother until they start spouting BS. Then figure the gloves are off, so to speak.
“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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Mad Mike
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Re: My Job, My Hell...

Post by Mad Mike » Tue Aug 14, 2018 7:00 pm

Laager wrote:
Mon Aug 13, 2018 7:15 pm
Mad Mike wrote:
Sun Aug 12, 2018 10:53 am
so how old is Bean Sprout? She sounds mature (and wise) beyond her years.... :lol:
She is 10 years old and so far so good. I will admit that she is a hand full when she gets started, but I can't fault her for that. She seems to be a good kid going in what I consider the correct direction. Does well in school, listens to her parents and grandparents, does not spend multiple hours with her face and head stuck in a so called smart phone. So like I said seems to be going in what I would consider the correct direction.

I told her I would take the hit and I did. Both my parents as well as Lil do not like anyone talking back to adults. Even if the adult you are talking back to is incorrect or out of line. But I figure it is a good thing to call out stupid people who are obviously out of line or control no matter what age you are.

She is the one that has been begging for an upgrade from .22LR up to 9mm or better. She already has a Rock River AR or MSR and has been snopping around my gun vaults and found an HK that I have had for decades and rarely shoot. But I do not want to get rid of it or give it to her. I would rather move her up to a 9mm it is not as "snappy" as the .40S&W or the 10mm short.

I took the rear end chewing from Lil when she called home, and will continue to take it as long as it pops up.

She is a good kid and oe of the ones I actually do not mind coming over as she is normally very respectfully and helpful both out in my garage/man shed/man cave and in the house with Lil (which I did point out to Lik) but Lil does not like the grandchildren to call BS when they smell it or hear it. Especially since they get it from me and I am not disrepectful to either my parents or Lil's Mother until they start spouting BS. Then figure the gloves are off, so to speak.

thanks for the reply. I sure hope you 9and others) can keep her on the straight and narrow. :clap:

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Re: My Job, My Hell...

Post by Laager » Tue Aug 14, 2018 7:53 pm

Mad Mike wrote:
Tue Aug 14, 2018 7:00 pm
Laager wrote:
Mon Aug 13, 2018 7:15 pm
Mad Mike wrote:
Sun Aug 12, 2018 10:53 am
so how old is Bean Sprout? She sounds mature (and wise) beyond her years.... :lol:
She is 10 years old and so far so good. I will admit that she is a hand full when she gets started, but I can't fault her for that. She seems to be a good kid going in what I consider the correct direction. Does well in school, listens to her parents and grandparents, does not spend multiple hours with her face and head stuck in a so called smart phone. So like I said seems to be going in what I would consider the correct direction.

I told her I would take the hit and I did. Both my parents as well as Lil do not like anyone talking back to adults. Even if the adult you are talking back to is incorrect or out of line. But I figure it is a good thing to call out stupid people who are obviously out of line or control no matter what age you are.

She is the one that has been begging for an upgrade from .22LR up to 9mm or better. She already has a Rock River AR or MSR and has been snopping around my gun vaults and found an HK that I have had for decades and rarely shoot. But I do not want to get rid of it or give it to her. I would rather move her up to a 9mm it is not as "snappy" as the .40S&W or the 10mm short.

I took the rear end chewing from Lil when she called home, and will continue to take it as long as it pops up.

She is a good kid and oe of the ones I actually do not mind coming over as she is normally very respectfully and helpful both out in my garage/man shed/man cave and in the house with Lil (which I did point out to Lik) but Lil does not like the grandchildren to call BS when they smell it or hear it. Especially since they get it from me and I am not disrepectful to either my parents or Lil's Mother until they start spouting BS. Then figure the gloves are off, so to speak.

thanks for the reply. I sure hope you 9and others) can keep her on the straight and narrow. :clap:
She is a keeper for sure, I was in my "office" when she knocked on the door and came in to ask me if I would mind picking her up from school, one of the other grandchildren came with her and asked me what "that" was, to which the Bean Sprout said that is a 1908 Colt Model 1903 Pocket Pistol in .32ACP and was bought by my Great-great=great grandfather in 1908. The pocket watch was also bought by him in 1908 and has been handed down to Pops.

I was actually surprised that she had paid attention to things I've told her or let her handle/shoot. I did ask her, "what aren't you going to ask me to give it to you?" to which she added no Lola will kill you when she finds out that you have been eating at Five Guys and getting the double cheeseburger with large fries, so it will be handed down to me next.

To which I replied I can eat what and where I want if Lola isn't around and she told me that was absolutely true just that Five Guys is not authorized. I did point out that her Uncle and her mother were next in line, to which she said neither one is interested in a pocket watch and a .32ACP pistol. I'm guessing that she is interested.

Dang got me again.......first off I would like to know how she or they found out about me hitting Five Guys, I was careful. I paid cash, ate there, parked out of view, did not bring anything back, such as a drink cup or fry cup. I'm check the truck for lowjack or something. It is either that or someone had to have been in Las Cruces and seen me parked there and no one I know of has said anything about going to Cruces.
“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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w3rdtoyamama
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Re: My Job, My Hell...

Post by w3rdtoyamama » Thu Aug 16, 2018 12:19 pm

Laager wrote:
Tue Aug 14, 2018 7:53 pm
Mad Mike wrote:
Tue Aug 14, 2018 7:00 pm
Laager wrote:
Mon Aug 13, 2018 7:15 pm
Mad Mike wrote:
Sun Aug 12, 2018 10:53 am
so how old is Bean Sprout? She sounds mature (and wise) beyond her years.... :lol:
She is 10 years old and so far so good. I will admit that she is a hand full when she gets started, but I can't fault her for that. She seems to be a good kid going in what I consider the correct direction. Does well in school, listens to her parents and grandparents, does not spend multiple hours with her face and head stuck in a so called smart phone. So like I said seems to be going in what I would consider the correct direction.

I told her I would take the hit and I did. Both my parents as well as Lil do not like anyone talking back to adults. Even if the adult you are talking back to is incorrect or out of line. But I figure it is a good thing to call out stupid people who are obviously out of line or control no matter what age you are.

She is the one that has been begging for an upgrade from .22LR up to 9mm or better. She already has a Rock River AR or MSR and has been snopping around my gun vaults and found an HK that I have had for decades and rarely shoot. But I do not want to get rid of it or give it to her. I would rather move her up to a 9mm it is not as "snappy" as the .40S&W or the 10mm short.

I took the rear end chewing from Lil when she called home, and will continue to take it as long as it pops up.

She is a good kid and oe of the ones I actually do not mind coming over as she is normally very respectfully and helpful both out in my garage/man shed/man cave and in the house with Lil (which I did point out to Lik) but Lil does not like the grandchildren to call BS when they smell it or hear it. Especially since they get it from me and I am not disrepectful to either my parents or Lil's Mother until they start spouting BS. Then figure the gloves are off, so to speak.

thanks for the reply. I sure hope you 9and others) can keep her on the straight and narrow. :clap:
She is a keeper for sure, I was in my "office" when she knocked on the door and came in to ask me if I would mind picking her up from school, one of the other grandchildren came with her and asked me what "that" was, to which the Bean Sprout said that is a 1908 Colt Model 1903 Pocket Pistol in .32ACP and was bought by my Great-great=great grandfather in 1908. The pocket watch was also bought by him in 1908 and has been handed down to Pops.

I was actually surprised that she had paid attention to things I've told her or let her handle/shoot. I did ask her, "what aren't you going to ask me to give it to you?" to which she added no Lola will kill you when she finds out that you have been eating at Five Guys and getting the double cheeseburger with large fries, so it will be handed down to me next.

To which I replied I can eat what and where I want if Lola isn't around and she told me that was absolutely true just that Five Guys is not authorized. I did point out that her Uncle and her mother were next in line, to which she said neither one is interested in a pocket watch and a .32ACP pistol. I'm guessing that she is interested.

Dang got me again.......first off I would like to know how she or they found out about me hitting Five Guys, I was careful. I paid cash, ate there, parked out of view, did not bring anything back, such as a drink cup or fry cup. I'm check the truck for lowjack or something. It is either that or someone had to have been in Las Cruces and seen me parked there and no one I know of has said anything about going to Cruces.
Hahaha thats good. She will be going places in her adult life, thats for sure. Perhaps detective work?
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Re: My Job, My Hell...

Post by Laager » Thu Aug 16, 2018 4:02 pm

w3rdtoyamama wrote:
Thu Aug 16, 2018 12:19 pm
Laager wrote:
Tue Aug 14, 2018 7:53 pm
Mad Mike wrote:
Tue Aug 14, 2018 7:00 pm
Laager wrote:
Mon Aug 13, 2018 7:15 pm


Hahaha thats good. She will be going places in her adult life, thats for sure. Perhaps detective work?


I'm not sure what she plans on doing, but if her Great Grandmother, Grandmother and Mother have anything to do with it she will be pushed towards being an nurse. Now that is just what the world needs, another Filipina nurse. I think every Filipina mother wants their daughter to grow up and be a nurse.

Honestly I do not care what she grows up to be, well as long as it isn't something shady or against the law. She did mention going to college, graduating, joining the military as an officer and then coming over to make me salute her. I started laughing, and told her I doubt I'll be around for that, since as she pointed out Lola Lil was going to kill me.

I did tell her that her Silver Dollar salute should rightfully go to the enlisted man/Black Hat (which is or was an Army Instructor and that as far as I knew the Silver Dollar Salute was a Naval tradition. But who knows maybe it has been absorbed into all branches of the U.S. Military. I did point out that if she was planning on doing that, then she should give it some thought as to whom she wants to give her Silver Dollar and to pick out a year that has a special meaning for her or perhaps for the Enlisted Instructor who impressed her the most and give it to him or her.

She then told me she wanted something special to go with the gift I was going to give her for graduation. Like a moron I asked her what gift and when did this gift discussion take place. She told me it was signed, sealed and done by Lola Lil. The gift is a 1908 pocket watch, chain and fob with a 1903 Colt Pocket Hamerless Pistol in .32ACP both the watch and the pistol were bought new in 1908.

I told her if she graduated in the top 10% of her class, that it was a deal, however that included High School, College and whatever Military Branch's Academy she chose to join. What I did not tell her and she will not find out until she opens the box is that it also will include the pocket change my Great Grandfather had in his pocket in 1907 when my grandfather was born and he had some nice coins in his pocket, since he had just gotten paid for two months at one time. Seems the railroad had shipped him up north to Canton and Memphis and his paycheck never caught up to him. But when it did it was already payday again, so he drew two months salary.
“Complacency kills. Paranoia is the reason I’m still alive.” If we do happen to make contact, I expect nothing less than gratuitous violence from the lot of ya.

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Re: My Job, My Hell...

Post by Laager » Sat Aug 18, 2018 6:01 am

Things that just pop into my mind at zero dark thirty:

We ended up having to go on a long range patrol, usually these were also not just long range, but long in time as well. No easy in easy out or as the Platoon Sergeant used to say just after a comment that was designed to down play what is now known as "the suck". Easy Peasy Lemon squeezey or if he was called on it, when life gives you lemons, make lemonade. I used to like (and still do for that matter) to poke the bear.

So I'd say something along the lines of if you enjoy the fragrance of a rose, you must accept the thorns which it bears, fragrance is another way of saying smell Sergeant. To which I was usually told to shut up and listen to the briefing. I'd then sometimes point out he was the one interrupting the briefing. Of course he would always look at me and smile when he was really fixing to stick it to us.

It would usually go something like this.....you lucky bast***s have been selected to perform a long range patrol or if we were being briefed by someone from Battalion or even Brigade they left off the cuss words and tossed in a big word like reconnaissance like it would impress us or make us feel special.

You know like you won a prize or something.

We have solid intel on possible enemy troop movements to the north, Humint tells us that there may be a significant threat to the north so we need your squad to go out and find that threat......yada....yada...yada...

Usually boilded down to the guy who cleaned the dishes at the Fire Base Mess Hall told someone he saw someone and boom..away we went.

Anyway I poked the bear once and he looked me in the eye as he smiled and added: "one more thing, you get to take the Second Lieutenant with you as the OIC. Farked again and not in a good way.

Usually a good Second Lieutenant knows that even though he is (usually) a Platoon Leader (Not sure now since it has been awhile but on the books, because we always seemed to be under manned and never at what the TO&E called for, was supposed to be 16 to 40 soldiers plus a platoon sergeant. The platoon sergeant according to the TO&E was supposed to be an E-7 or Sergeant First Class at the time we had a newly minted E-6 or Staff Sergeant. A good Second Lieutenant knew when to keep his mouth shut and when to exert his (slight) authority. The NCO's were the ones who were supposed to step up and train the 2LT in the ways of the world and the how to keep his men alive or not. It all depended on if the 2LT listened and learned. Of course the more senior officers were also supposed to help train him up, but that was all officer country stuff and it depended a lot on if the senior officers liked him or not. Or if he was a ring knocker, if he had a family history of service, etc. To me it was a farking nightmare, and when offered a chance to become an officer I actually threw up at the thought and respectfully declined the offer. Which was from one of the few officers that I really respected. Lieutenant Colonel Jeffery White.

I should also point out that the Platoon Sergeant also acts as the second lieutenant's assistant as needed.

So you can see or possibly see the problem.

One squad in the bush with a 2LT in charge as the OIC. A newly minted one at that, with no senior NCOs to reign him in or act as his Platoon Daddy and raise him right. To make matter worse he was a ring knocker.

Senior NCO or NCOIC was a lowly Corporal. That Corporal was me, trust me when I say I did not get paid enough for that poo and the poo bomb the Sergeant dropped on us that day. Then again sometimes you get the bear and sometimes the bear gets you. In this case clearly the bear won.

Although once when I was called on the carpet by said Bear I did point out that according to what I had learned earlier in Russia being called a Bear or even referred to as a Bear is a good thing. Mainly because they are very strong and dangerous animals, they are big, heavy and are powerful predators. Seeing one especially in the wild will cause you to take a step back and definitely reassess your situation.

I did at one time later on tell him to his face that in fact a Bear is usually a hairy, rude or ill tempered person, who smells bad and that it is also homosexual slang for a hairy male.

He did take his shirt off (not necessary since we all showered together in a group shower. Another words no secrets there for sure) and show us just how hairy he was, and he was hairy. I think he had two coats or two layers of fur, like a Husky.

He was very proud of his Bear like physique to say the least.
“Complacency kills. Paranoia is the reason I’m still alive.” If we do happen to make contact, I expect nothing less than gratuitous violence from the lot of ya.

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Re: My Job, My Hell...

Post by Laager » Wed Sep 05, 2018 7:44 pm

Give me a few days and I'll tell you a little bit about one of our Medics. Nicknames in the military are just about mandatory, and usually if you kick up a ruckus you usually end up with that nickname.

Something else, just because you are a medic does not mean that you will be called "Doc", basically being called "Doc" is an earned nickname or at least it used to be.

Of course I have not been AD since 1988 so I am sure somethings have changed and some have not.

Anyway, like I said give me a few days and I'll tell you about Doc Hiccup
“Complacency kills. Paranoia is the reason I’m still alive.” If we do happen to make contact, I expect nothing less than gratuitous violence from the lot of ya.

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Re: My Job, My Hell...

Post by RickOShea » Wed Sep 05, 2018 8:38 pm

We have a "Doc" on the linecrew, along with a Sparky, Squeaky, Dude, Heavy G, Van, Whiskey, Blister, Dusty, Head, Hunka-Hunka, Lil Bit, Chef, Shade, Polly, Purple, Windy, Razor, Gravy, Boogie, Paco, Rabbit, Fearless, Legend, Deuce, Scuba Steve, Skinny Steve, Yankee Steve, and Stevel Knievel.
whisk.e.rebellion wrote: It's not what you say anymore. It's how you say it.

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Re: My Job, My Hell...

Post by Mad Mike » Wed Sep 05, 2018 8:58 pm

RickOShea wrote:
Wed Sep 05, 2018 8:38 pm
We have a "Doc" on the linecrew, along with a Sparky, Squeaky, Dude, Heavy G, Van, Whiskey, Blister, Dusty, Head, Hunka-Hunka, Lil Bit, Chef, Shade, Polly, Purple, Windy, Razor, Gravy, Boogie, Paco, Rabbit, Fearless, Legend, Deuce, Scuba Steve, Skinny Steve, Yankee Steve, and Stevel Knievel.

Guess mine wasn't all that inventive - it was "Morri-san" from Morrison hanging out in Japan. :lol:

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Re: My Job, My Hell...

Post by Brekar » Fri Sep 07, 2018 12:32 pm

So I spent the first hour of my shift yesterday on lockdown at the railyard due to a reported man with a gun. Nothing like hearing a coworker come over the radio with "yardmaster we have a man with a rifle walking into the west end of the yard".
It ended up being nothing, just a local idiot who thought it would be fun to park next to the tracks in his van and get out to shoot pigeons with a pellet rifle. But it was amazing how fast police responded, both KC police and railroad police. Thats how we found out we have railroad police posing as hobo's wandering the yards... :clap:

Laager
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Re: My Job, My Hell...

Post by Laager » Tue Sep 11, 2018 8:33 pm

Mad Mike wrote:
Wed Sep 05, 2018 8:58 pm
RickOShea wrote:
Wed Sep 05, 2018 8:38 pm
We have a "Doc" on the linecrew, along with a Sparky, Squeaky, Dude, Heavy G, Van, Whiskey, Blister, Dusty, Head, Hunka-Hunka, Lil Bit, Chef, Shade, Polly, Purple, Windy, Razor, Gravy, Boogie, Paco, Rabbit, Fearless, Legend, Deuce, Scuba Steve, Skinny Steve, Yankee Steve, and Stevel Knievel.

Guess mine wasn't all that inventive - it was "Morri-san" from Morrison hanging out in Japan. :lol:
I received mine because of James, he showed up for "Family Day" and the NCo's loved him, and then I had my nickname and it pretty much followed me everywhere. Actually it was my parents fault and James just told everyone for a laugh.

But it always could have been worse.....

Like everything the Army has or rather did have a rank structure and even nicknames fell under acceptable usage or rules of use. The accepted usage of nicknames when I was on active duty in my time was that senior ranks could call junior ranks by their nicknames but junior ranks would call seniors by their rank and title. Unless the nickname was a sign of disrespect. Then and only then would we use it against someone of higher rank. Not that it really did anything other than get them to bust our chops, but it showed them how the men actually felt about them.

Lil's son (otherwise known as our son) told me that by not having a "nickname" is considered a form of Bullying, or at the very least a form of social isolation or being an outcast. ALso you can't seem to win, if you have a nickname it can be a form of bullying and if you don't it can be a form of bullying.

We had a few odd ones, Hitter, Stoner, Smokey, Dink, Gasser, Slim, Pounder, Pisser, Jerrycan, Wank, Hero, Tank, Spanky, Checkers, Cards, Orangutan, Dick A and Dick O., BabyFace, (We had a Pvt Warren for awhile, he earned the nickname Bunny and once we had a Leatherman, the LT thought it was because he was as tough as one, but in reality one of the privates came up with it because he was a tool.), Bowser, Ruck, B.C. shortened from Birth Control. Dee-Dee, medium length for Donkey Dick. Moonbeam he did not last long, he kept running around at night with his flashlight on. Swab, Adrift, Cheese (we dropped the "dick" portion and left it at Cheese. Mainly because he couldn't even cheesedick his way through, he barely cheesed it at all. Shitbird, Hound, TIki.

Now I should tell you that way back in the old days there indeed were such things as Buy Me Drink girls or Juicy Girls, underage drinking, underage sex both male and female, smoking of all sorts, drinking of all sorts, hookers of all sorts, massage parlors on post that could include a "happy ending" whisper Alley in Okinawa was a real place. But now with the passage of time, those places and things are fading into memory.
The cry now is no more than two drinks allowed and Human Trafficking.

My son was shocked to hear of some of the stuff that was allowed or the Company Commander and First Sergeants as well as Platoon Leaders and Platoon Sergeants looked the other way as long as you showed up for first formation (PT formation) and did not fall out.
“Complacency kills. Paranoia is the reason I’m still alive.” If we do happen to make contact, I expect nothing less than gratuitous violence from the lot of ya.

Laager
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Re: My Job, My Hell...

Post by Laager » Thu Sep 20, 2018 10:23 pm

Okay this one is a short one, anytime we were overseas or someone took leave to visit any place in Asia shortly after your return you ended up having to go have your junk checked out.

It did not matter if you said you did not do anything with a female or even a male (some of the women in some of the Asian bars were not men, so you had better check their junk and pay attention to what kind of bar you stumbled into.

So we were getting ready to redeploy back to the real world also known as the Conus or Continental United States. So they sent all of us (except for the Officers) down to the medic station to have our gun tubes checked out. Now I don't know if the Officers and Senior NCOs were gun tubed check, but I darn sure know that a few of them caught something or as a Korean Bar Girl (a Hooker) told me when I first made Corporal and had to escort one of my men down to identify the woman he sleep with "I never gave you anything, you bought and paid for it" or words to that effect.

While we were there we were introduced to our new Medic, he seemed like a good guy but well we never really had very many normal guys. I guess he was working with a PA and they were working on one of the guys foot.

Nothing really interesting was happening and then it when to poo ville. I heard some yelling and thought I should open the door to see what was going on, but I remembered the last time I did I saw Ski beating the heck out of our medic and well his pants were down around his knees and his junk was hanging out with a bore tube sticking out of it. Trust me when I say you did not want to see that.

So I said what the heck, and opened the door. There was the PA, laughing the medic was sitting there on his stool and Pvt Messner was yelling and pointing at his foot. What I gathered was the medic said Pvt Messner would just feel a small stick, yet for some reason the needle was sticking out of his big toe.

What I mean is that they numbed up his big toe, then they were injecting the joint with Steroids and for some reason the medic shoved it all the way through his big toe. So there he sat yelling and pointing at his toe, actually screaming and you could see the syringe on top of his big toe and the needle was sticking out the bottom of his big toe.

So the medic became known as Doc Stick. Because all you are going to feel is a small stick.

No actual harm was done, he did not feel anything but a small pinch and when he looked down and saw what happened and that is when he got mad. He still ended up getting the shot of steroids and thanks to all the numbing shots Pvt Messner did not feel anything. Although he did get a PT profile for a week and no marching so I guess it was a win for him.
“Complacency kills. Paranoia is the reason I’m still alive.” If we do happen to make contact, I expect nothing less than gratuitous violence from the lot of ya.

Laager
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Re: My Job, My Hell...

Post by Laager » Fri Oct 26, 2018 8:43 pm

Sorry been gone awhile, here there and everywhere. Did a trip to England, darn protesters ruined that okay so they didn't I must admit to enjoying people watching and nothing but sheer unhinged lunacy took place in and around good Old London Town... .although it did cramp the tours a bit with rerouting and whatnot.

Went over to or down to Florida visiting some of Lil's friends and then I was shipped off to my brother's place up at Fort Benning, so we went out and watched the jump school class moving with purpose. Then off to the Army Marksmanship Training Unit to visit with one of my brother's friends.

Okay now I will never, ever, never be on that level and well even though he bought lunch at a BBQ place in Phoenix City, I'm sorry if you placed 18 out of 18 at the Olympic games, I'd kiss Lil's Mom's bare butt in public (broad daylight on a Sunday when church let out) to even have the skill set to work that magic.

Now I can play the Designated Marksman role, but one shot one kill at over 1200 meters...nope don't even want to know about it. I did get coached down range with a .50BMG some years back and scored a first round kill on steel at 1200m. But that was all the spotter, he did over 20 in the AMU and knows his stuff for sure.

Went down to see Padilla in Juarez, pretty sure I stole a Mexican Police Dog, I now have two dogs. Neither of which listens to me, yet are supposedly smarter than me. Lil and I were leaving so we filled up the tanks on the truck (diesel is dirt cheap down there) and made our way back over the bridge, when we pulled up to the border patrol agents I always like to roll down the windows on my side.

Dang German Shepard leaped up and went to barking like mad from the back seat of my truck. Probably a good thing I just borrow while down there, since I was trying to figure out where any of my guns were cause there is one angry as heck dog going nuts in the back seat. I'm pretty sure I was going to shoot him a few times, but then again he was mad at the Mexican Border agents, so maybe thats a good thing.

Tried to get the guards to keep him, but Lil gave me the look so away we went towards El Paso. Took him to the vet, no chip. Seems like a well trained dog. I know he gets a bit testicular when I'm in the shop and say Time to Work.......and he doesn't like Mexicans. So now I have a racist dog and most of my family is Mexican.

Best part is he seems to have a serious hard on for Lil's Mom.......I told her it's because she used to eat dog, so now they want to bite her before she bites them.

Well so far this one at least seems to like to be out and about (working) but how funny to have to give German commands with a Spanish accent.
Heading out to the woods for opening season next week with James. Lil says Ihave to take the new dog since she will be in Italy teaching and doesnt want something to happen to the dog. He may be smalled sized for a German Sheppard but I'd put money on him being able to bite the stuffing out of her Mom.

Maybe when I get back I'll tell you about Friendly Fire......well honestly imho there isn't anything friendly about being under fire either from the other side or your own side.
“Complacency kills. Paranoia is the reason I’m still alive.” If we do happen to make contact, I expect nothing less than gratuitous violence from the lot of ya.

Laager
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Re: My Job, My Hell...

Post by Laager » Mon Oct 29, 2018 6:37 pm

Man I love this dog!! Granted I'm in trouble, but hey imho it was well worth the "trouble" and Lil's Mother, in fact may have had a slight bladder leak.

I do not "like" any of them, but hey one is Lil's Mom and the other are just neighbors who are pains in the rear end who because of Lil (darn thos.e Asian cultural norms and mores to the depths of Hades) are invited over for family events and holidays.

Anyway, the subject of Friendly Fire or Blue on Blue came up the other night. I'm fairly sure that it was because our son (also known as Lil's son when or mine on occasion) is heading back to the sandbox for six months. Although he tends to get "named selected" and sent off into the far reaches of Fobdom, last time the Army refused to release him back to the Air Force so he did eight months instead of six.

I told him that no matter how well dug in you're bunker/fighting position/foxhole or whatever is, never die for a fighting position. Always be prepared to leave the AO in a direct and violent manner should the need arise. I'm pretty sure the AF knows exactly squat about defensive fortifications, but then I could find the ladder on an F-15 either.

Now way back in the 70's the Army would send us out of patrols. Patrol this, patrol that, search for this or that, take notes, kill that, dig a hole here, then move and dig one four feet away in a less desirable location, then move off to some other place and start all over again.

Our Arms Room was pretty much open for business, 24/7/365. If they had it and you had qualified on it (even if it was at the Marksmanship level you could draw it out and go to town. Of course subject to someone saying no to it. They also liked to modify stuff, take a Thumper and chop off a huge chunk of barrel, pistol grip the butt-stock or maybe leave a bit more and see what you ended up with. We were always turning in weapons we had policed up off the field, sometimes they went off to where ever they ended up, sometimes they went home with a soldier or worse a politician or some senior officer, then of course sometimes they lived in the armory.

I was never a huge fan of the Pig or M60, just seemed that there were better options in the same caliber to be had. Sometimes those better options were Soviet PKs or RPDs. Now one of the major reasons I liked the PKs was because they were belt fed and the belts were non disentigrating, so if you had a can of 7.62X54R you could reload the empty belts and be back in business.

I do not know how started it, but some Armorer somewhere with to much time on his hands (no females in a combat unit back then) decided to chop off the foot or so of "excess barrel", relocate the front site, thread and crown the barrel and reattach the old flash/muzzle brake. Now the PKs had an occasional feed issue (so someone figured out that you needed a piece of something cardboard from a K or C rat or even a portion of one of the food tins from the meal and that pretty much solved the issue.

We knew that in our AO someone was using some of the jungle trails to move men (and women) and equipment around. So we were tasked to put a stop to it. I'm not talking about the occasional dozen or so people, but at least up to a company and a half at times.

Now you just can't let people wander off on patrol, so usually we would head out, and loose three men here, then wander over there and loose three more, then move on and loose three more. Of course you had to add men in or else it was easy to figure out that 30 people went out but only 15 came back. Which means bad stuff is happening somewhere out there and even without cell phones word would get out that the U.S. and RP soldiers were up to something.

We found a really good place to catch them in a close ambush, and those can get really, really nasty, really really quick. Sergeant Banks told me that no plan survives first contact except for ambushes, then even those can fall apart really fast.

I dug in and dug in deep, since we had hours to go before we expected anyone to come bee bopping down the trail (and following roads, rivers, trails or goat paths are a good way to die, even if you handrail them.

Standard at the time Foxhole for one, I even laid out all of my party favors so they would be easy to get at and opened up my BAR belt mag pouches and then was told to move, so I packed up all my stuff and moved over to another place and started digging in again. This time I was not feeling the love so I just dug it as fast and half way as possible.

Which bit me right in the rear when along came the people we had been waiting for, text book by the numbers straight out of the FM. They were certainly surprised, evidently the RP guys never cared enough to pay them a visit out there. Well we did, since we were there to train the RP guys to take the fight to them.

Ambush went off, things were going good when to my amazement someone decided to stop in to say hi on their way out of the ambush. Only two ways out of a close contact ambush, well maybe three...but usually you die where you stand, fight you way out and live or die along the way. Survivors or wounded were not usually an issue, since we did not have the advanced body armor of today.

I don'd know if he knew I was there, jumped into my one man foxhole on purpose or was trying to fight his way out and fell in, but it was a serious fight from the moment he was in there with me. I was unable to bring my M16A1 to bear and he could not bring his Ak into the fight either. Yet neither of us could reach for a knife or rock or anything else to use to bash the other guy into submission.

I had an issue Stevens Model 77 (I think it was an "E" model or 77E) and I could not get to it because he was between me and the shotgun which I had left leaning up against the front of the foxhole.

I do not know how I managed to do it, but I let go of my M16A1, and got my hands on the shotgun and pulled that guy into a bear hug, then I managed to pull the trigger on the shotgun.

One time, and the fight was over......and I had managed to shoot myself with my own firearm in the process. It was a poo sandwich situation, he was not going to call a time out, I wasn't calling a time out, no one was coming over to help him, no one was coming over to help me, so it was do what you have to do and worse come to worse, neither one of us would be getting out of the hole.

I was actually surprised that the round did not expand as much as I thought it would, but I ended up with single pellet that decided not to travel in a generally upwards direction and crossed through him and then hit my left lower rib and decided to skip up, pass on the outside of the clavicle missing my subclavicale artery and going about it's merry way. The wad and remaining 8 pellets pretty much stayed together, the only reason I can think of is the close contact and the fact that back then we only had waxed papered shotgun hulls. In the jungle everything gets wet, everything gets mold and everything gets mildew, in some form or fashion. They did not call it jungle rot for nothing.

It certainly wasn't friendly because my aim was to kill that guy and if I had to go with him, then so be it.
“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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Mad Mike
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Re: My Job, My Hell...

Post by Mad Mike » Mon Oct 29, 2018 6:50 pm

yeah, I never considered incoming fire to be friendly, no matter the source.....

Laager
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Re: My Job, My Hell...

Post by Laager » Sat Nov 03, 2018 3:24 pm

When the Corporals told us about Blue on Blue (sounded more like a Blue Falcon attack to me) I thought they were kidding that it was friendly.

I can honestly say I was not in a friendly mood anytime I was sending something down range or the few times it was at nut cutting range and the people on the receiving side were not friendly either.

Well Lil says keep the dog, I keep the dog. Dog (whom I am growing very fond of by the way) does not like my Father, Mother or Lil's Mom and will not let them in my work shop/shed/garage.

I was messing around and told him, time to go to work and he ran over and stationed himself on my left, then for laughs I said Guard and then Watch. He walked around the place then sat his happy rear end in the open roll up door. I though wow, now that's cool. Then while I was reloading I heard him start to do a low growl.

It was them, coming over to do whatever it is they do, other than bothering me.

Now Lil was just going to go from Japan to Portsmouth since she is visiting family in that area and working there next week. Now she told me to come pick her up at the Airport.

She flies in late Saturday night and then flies back out around noon on Sunday.

Of course she has been gone for three weeks but it makes me wonder who ratted me out and for what. She also told me I was now going to Korea with her, she is teaching at three U.S. Military bases in Korea, then we slip over to the PI for a week or so and then off to Japan for one more week of work followed by a week or so in Hawaii and then back home we go. Can't say I'm not a bit happy I do enjoy the food in most of those places, but I would rather just go to Portsmouth and stay at the Renaissance they have some cold beer and really great She-Crab soup.

Oh well....and there is an excellent gun store just down the road from NAS Oceana that is fun to visit.
“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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CG
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Re: My Job, My Hell...

Post by CG » Sun Nov 04, 2018 8:32 am

Laager wrote:
Sat Nov 03, 2018 3:24 pm
Well Lil says keep the dog, I keep the dog. Dog (whom I am growing very fond of by the way) does not like my Father, Mother or Lil's Mom and will not let them in my work shop/shed/garage.
Depending on the people...that could be a very good thing!
Mater tua caligas gerit!

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

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Re: My Job, My Hell...

Post by SAEP » Mon Nov 05, 2018 2:37 pm

Ah yes, friendly fire. As with so many things in war zones, it's better to give than receive.

It was Tet of '71, and I was part of a light fire team of UH-1C gunships on 5-minute standby in Quang Ngai. There was supposed to be a cease-fire, but after the way the party went in '68, nobody had much faith in it. We had a sleeping area assigned to us, and had all sacked out by about 10 PM.

About 1 AM, the field phone rang. The senior AC picked up, listened for moment, and yelled, "Scramble!". While he took down the pertinent information, the rest of us shagged ass out to the flight line and fired up the birds. A minute later he appeared, got in his seat, and off we went into the night.

An ARVN firebase nearby was under heavy attack, and by the time we arrived there was no communication. We flew around and looked, but couldn't see anything, and were told to stand off while the situation was cleared up. So we took off over the town of Quang Ngai. It was a moonless night, and the entire town was blacked out and looked dead. The only light was from a flare ship which had take station over the town. We were flying with our lights out at an altitude of a hundred feet or so.

I was gunner in the lead ship, and we were flying around minding our own business when... Well, I lied. We were out looking for trouble. I've noticed two things about looking for trouble - first, you often find it (or it finds you), and second, it always comes as a real surprise when that happens.

Trouble found us when a small building a few hundred yards ahead of us sent a stream of tracers our way which barely missed us, passing just outside the left door. We emitted screams of manly terror, and the aircraft jinked violently to the right. Another stream of tracer followed us, but still managed to miss us. Right. So the AC (aircraft commander) dropped the nose and fired a couple of pairs of rockets at the building, and then we went into a climbing left turn while the trail ship had its turn.

Now, the AC in trail was CW2 Wilfley, known as Wiffles. And if there was one thing Wiffles loved to do it was fire rockets. So, given both opportunity and motive, he unloaded about 6 pairs into the building. We were carrying 2.75 inch folding-fin aerial rockets with 17 pound warheads, each about the equivalent of a 105 mm howitzer shell. We didn't get any more fire from the building. Well, there wasn't much building left to get fire from.

We were then called back to work over the fire base, as the ARVNs had been pushed out, and we spent several hours doing that. We went through 3 reload cycles, and I used up about 5,000 rounds in my M60. I also got to see the most perfectly Hollywood moment of my experience, when a rocket hit an abandoned jeep and set off the gas tank. This in front of the command center, where an NVA flag had been hoisted. I'm not sure I'd have believed it if I saw it in a movie. Come the dawn, we were released to fly back to our base in Chu Lai. On the way, we made a point of visiting the scene of our excitement. What had been a 2-room, 15 x 30 foot cinderblock building now stood about 3 feet high at the corners.

On arriving back at base, after we pulled maintenance and cleaned weapons we headed back to the company area to get some much-needed sleep, but were met by a team from Division. We were separated and each of us required to fill out a report on what had happened.

It turns out that the tracers were fired by an ARVN lieutenant who had been pushed off the firebase. He and several of his men had (obviously) not survived our response. Our reports were consistent, and it was accepted as a "fog of war" friendly fire incident. We never heard any more about it.

We did wonder, however, just what the hell had happened. Why in God's name would someone from our side shoot at us? We came up with about three possibilities. Perhaps he saw us flying directly at him, was afraid we'd mistake him for bad guys, and tried to mark his position with tracers. He fired close to us to get our attention, but made sure not to hit us. That would explain things, all right, but it wasn't what you'd call well-thought-out. Tracers passing just outside your door does not scream, "Hi! I'm friendly! Don't shoot!". Then again, he'd been under a lot of stress and may not have been thinking clearly. Perhaps he was just really pissed off at losing people, saw us coming and thought, "Where the Hell were you when we needed you?" and actually tried to hit us. Again, not well-thought-out. Finally, perhaps he actually was a bad guy, a VC sympathizer who had gotten away because he was on the attacking side and had been permitted to get out. Seeing us coming, he thought he'd been spotted and figured to go out a hero.

Well, the details are of academic interest. Under the circumstances we weren't going to do anything other than what we did.

So, yeah, friendly fire isn't.
Last edited by SAEP on Tue Nov 06, 2018 7:33 am, edited 2 times in total.

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Re: My Job, My Hell...

Post by Mad Mike » Mon Nov 05, 2018 2:49 pm

yep - manly screams of terror are the preferred form of communications.... :shock:

SAEP
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Re: My Job, My Hell...

Post by SAEP » Tue Nov 06, 2018 7:37 am

Oh, we weren't communicating. The AC knew perfectly well what to do and was doing it just as hard as he could.

We were just screaming.

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Re: My Job, My Hell...

Post by Laager » Tue Nov 06, 2018 3:43 pm

Shoot, Move, Communicate......it was more like Shoot, Move and listen to the screaming/yelling then wonder why your throat was so sore afterwards or even realize some of those manly screams (even those that were surprisingly high pitched) came from you.

I loved those old Bell UH-1 Iroquois followed by the CH-47 Chinook (while we did not often use them, I still liked the multiple MG points on them), after going down twice in a Sikorsky UH-60 Black Hawk and missing one that fell out of the sky in Panama I tried like heck to avoid getting on one.

But my all time favorite was the Mil Mi-24, we took some small arms fire wile riding in one and that darn thing just shrugged it off like it was nothing more than a regular walk in the park. We the U.S. handing out Stingers like candy (to everyone but its own troops) even the Hind had some issues. I've always wondered how the very first Hind crew in Afghanistan felt when they went from being a feared predator to prey in the blink of an eye.

Surprise!! Boom!!

We used to sit on our steel pots when flying in helicopters, people love to take pot shots at them when they fly by and in some of the countries I did time in it seemed like every darn farmer and their water buffalo had some type of Mosin, SKS or other rifle and were willing to pop a round or two off at a lone helicopter.

Well folks, heading out tomorrow for the reunion/deer hunt/fish hunt/watch people that should know better get drunk and do stupid stuff. Dog #2 is going with me as for some reason he is persona non grata ( I did point out to Lil that Persona non grata is translates to an unacceptable or unwelcome person). Should have kept my mouth shut while I was ahead.

Dobie called, evidently his daughter is now engaged to Jeff's son. So Wedding in April 2019, now I know I'm pretty dense when it comes to the life form known as human female(s), but this boy was positively denser than Osmium. She has stalked him for over 18 months, probably longer since that was when I noticed it and finally I guess he either woke up or she proposed (like Lil did).

Not sure when I'll be back, but eventually I will be back and see if I can find something to talk about.

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.

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