My Job, My Hell...

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

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Laager
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Re: My Job, My Hell...

Post by Laager » Mon Jun 11, 2018 5:16 pm

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

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



Yes, I used up a whole slew of wins and luck on that one roll of the dice. I have a strong feeling that she knows everything.......well in advance (at least three or four steps ahead at the very least) of any type of shenanigans that I get involved in.

The only reason I knew something was fixing to hit the fan (when James and I left the PI early) was because Lil kicked me in the leg and gave me a nod and I was still slower than her on the jump, when he slap jacked one of his brother-in-laws and tossed him off the top of Susan and his two story building.

I figure it was a note to self moment on their part.....no matter who you think you are, or how many times you pushed you sister or laid hands on her before she was married, you were a complete numb nuts when you laid hands on her in front of James.
“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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Joined: Sun Jun 20, 2010 9:25 pm

Re: My Job, My Hell...

Post by Laager » Mon Jun 11, 2018 5:27 pm

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

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

Could be but I got a good look at it and it looked like something from a soft serve ice cream machine or yogurt machine pinched off and everything.

Then again at least for me it was not the fact that I could find something that belonged to someone else, but that I took the effort to provide them with something that came from me.
“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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Posts: 761
Joined: Sun Jun 20, 2010 9:25 pm

Re: My Job, My Hell...

Post by Laager » Tue Jun 12, 2018 12:50 am

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


No such thing as quitting the U.S. Military. Only a few ways out, finish your time and leave, end up non mission capable or combat ineffective and they discharge you, die and your out or get into trouble and they toss you out.

Now every once in awhile the First Sergeant would offer an out......usually it was if you were openly gay you could tell him and get tossed out. Or once I had a First Sergeant tell us any scum bag that wanted out of his army could come see him and he would help them get out.

The gay route was okay for awhile but they smarted up and made you bring in your "significant other" and from what I was told he made them kiss, and use tongue. I knew several people that went that route.

Oh there was a few chances if you admitted to drug use or popped positive of course popping positive cost you money and an honorable discharge. I know a retired PD guy that went the weed route, got out came home, got married and then joined the local PD.

The dirt bag route went ok, but of course they kept the ones they want and tossed the ones they did not.
“Complacency kills. Paranoia is the reason I’m still alive.” If we do happen to make contact, I expect nothing less than gratuitous violence from the lot of ya.

Laager
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Joined: Sun Jun 20, 2010 9:25 pm

Re: My Job, My Hell...

Post by Laager » Tue Jun 12, 2018 1:00 am

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

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


I found my Father's Days gifts just now. Lil called from Japan and wanted to find a color swatch......(I'm feeling lucky I even know what swatch is), but she had her swatches in her closet with my Father's Day gift. Winchester model 52 with peep sights and a nice used CZ527 in 7.62X39.

Not sure how she knew I would like the CZ or the Winchester because I usually collect Remington .22LR rifles and I have a nice Anschutz with peep sights. Still I went over both rifles and they look nice as heck. Guess I now own seven Winchester rifles now.

So you are right sometimes you never know how lucky you are till it is to late.....I'm glad that I know what I have and will never let her go.
“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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Posts: 761
Joined: Sun Jun 20, 2010 9:25 pm

Re: My Job, My Hell...

Post by Laager » Thu Jun 14, 2018 12:41 am

Back in the middle 1980's I was stationed at Lee Barracks, Mainz Gonsenheim Germany in 8th Mech Infantry. All in all I don't think it was a bad place to be stationed. Could have been worse, back to 2nd ID on the DMZ or even up in 2nd Cav pulling border patrol.

I was pulling Staff Duty NCO for the Battalion I was in one night, glad that I was not working a pay day weekend and was pulling a Thursday night so I was supposed to be off duty at 0700hrs on Friday morning and was praying to the Gods that it actually happened. Basically I was bone tired and wanted a nice three day weekend, with Lil and Junior as far away from the U.S. Army or U.S. Air Force as I could get.

I was passing a day room in the barracks building when I heard some noise. A swishing thud sound startled me and I spun back around he door frame and took a knee.

All I heard was some laughing and then a sort of thrumming sound followed by more sounds of laughter.

So I got up, hefted my personal Maglite flashlight, made sure I had my personal (used) German Police spring baton in my right hand and used the edge of my hand to flick on the overhead lights.

I found six guys in various types of clothing but all of them wearing those worthless military issue Flak vests, with two compound bows and a small box of arrows.

Then I heard that swishing thud sound again and a farking arrow appeared in the wall to my right.

Turns out that these morons were bored and decided to shoot arrows (Hey Sarge, they only have blunt tips on them, Hmmmm we will get into the Sarge part at a latter date moron) from one side of the barracks building to the other side.

Image

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As you can see the wings of the building to the left and right were the barracks the long central portion was the Post Commander/Brigade Commander's section. So these morons were shooting from the right wing to the left wing, across the road, over the top of the gate guard shack.

Sometimes you just have to wonder what is wrong with some people. I confiscated the bows and arrows (which I still have to this day) and then had the Sarge moron show up at the SDNCO desk at 0700 after he finished PT.

In the Army a Sarge is either a Bottom feeding fish or a fat cartoon character of which I was neither and I made sure he figured it out.

I gave them (even the other morons across the way) the choice of keeping the bows and arrows or at a later date come retrieve them from my duty wall locker. I also had "Sarge" come over and I explained to him (a former sailor who enlisted in the Army after four years in the Navy and he was only an E-3/PFC) what a Sarge was and meant in the Army but he wanted to argue with me, and said it was a sign of respect.

So I pointed out a soldier in a PT uniform and told the guy he was a Sergeant and could he go over there and tell him that I would like to talk to him.

So he went over and I clearly heard him say Hey Sarge.......I'm still to this day unsure of exactly what the Battalion Command Sergeant Major said but I know it started off with....."Do I look like a F...ing bottom feeding fish or a fat a..ed cartoon character to you?

I then turned over my duties to the Battalion legal clerk and went home for a nice three day weekend with Lil and Junior.

I never heard him use the word Sarge ever again.....



and this was the second time I caught soldiers shooting arrows at each other. The first time they were only shooting from one wing to the building next door.
“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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Posts: 761
Joined: Sun Jun 20, 2010 9:25 pm

Re: My Job, My Hell...

Post by Laager » Fri Jun 15, 2018 1:38 pm

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

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

Well I will admit that I "won" on my visit to Alabama, my brother knows a guy (lol.....I know a guy that knows a guy....lol) who evidently knows the upper management of Lancer magazines. He gave me two cases of Lancer Hybrid magazines. One case of 7.62X51 and one in 5.56mm.

Of course the down side or "lose side" is Lil and Bec are riding my rear end (even a couple of the Granddaughters) because I'll be replacing all of my Magpuls......they know me to well.

Junior's daughter was complaining about getting used ones......I told her that she should consider herself lucky that I'm giving her a stash of M16/AR15 magazines and not making her buy her own. I was waiting for her to say she is only 9 years old and does not have a job....but she is way smarter than I am and just smiled and kept her mouth shut.

I have not gotten any serious range time with them (other than some fast and dirty suppressed time at the guys ranch in Alabama) and so far I can say that I like them. They cost a bit more than the Magpul and standard metal mags but I do like the concept.
“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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Stercutus
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Re: My Job, My Hell...

Post by Stercutus » Mon Jun 25, 2018 7:01 pm

Oh my how the days flew by....

So there we were, Western Iraq. A shithole if I ever saw one. I am the old man now on my last hurrah. I was halfway through the deployment before I realized that some of the youngsters were too scared to even talk to me. Me, I am the nicest of nice guys.

Anyway we are getting ready to go on patrol to go somewhere and do something and I have a schedule to keep and just as we are about to roll out the gate of our tiny compound the lead vehicle stops dead. I am baffled. What the fuckity fuck is going on? We did pre-checks, inspections, convoy briefs.... I have a meeting to get to and I really can't be late.

There is a problem. It's going to be a few minutes. The back of the lead vehicle opens and out stumble two privates and an NCO. The staff sergeant is very, very animated. He is having a lively one-sided conversation with the privates. The privates are staggering like they are in the midst of a heat stroke. Yeah it is hot. Like Iraq hot. But they just sat down in the AC so what gives? Sergeant starts talking in to his little hand held base radio and I have no clue what he is saying. I open my vehicle door and start to dismount.

He sees me open my door and screams some orders to the privates who respond as though they have been set afire and take off running at a clip towards our building. He tells me that he has everything under control and we will be leaving in two minutes and sorry about the delay and all that.

I mount back up and two new privates come running out of the building about a minute later. We mount up and are gone. I get busy and forget about it for a while. When we get back my boss wants to see me. Seems our heroes had smoked a bit of that new Spice stuff right before going on patrol as driver and gunner. They were laughing and giggling over the internal headset until the NCO had realized that something was wrong and asked what was up. They were happy to tell him because Spice was not illegal at the time (or so they thought). They were told to report to their boss and then failed to do so. Instead they smoked the rest of their spice until they were found near catatonic in the courtyard. The medics thought they were having a heat stroke and took them to the little aid station.

Poor little fellas. They finished the rest of the deployment guarding shit sucking trucks and burning trash. Gotta make an example.
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