There may have also been some of the DOD cops involved with that. Several of them from when I was at NAVSTA San Diego were like that.
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Shoutout a vet
- Thread starter alexj-12
- Start date
Assholes for fucking up someone's life for what they did. I was kinda surprised that they didn't get any charges for " borrowing" the bicycle.
Shout out to @abn31c.
He once wore a pink tutu during a jump at Bragg. I have zero evidence to support this claim, but in theory it could have happened.
He once wore a pink tutu during a jump at Bragg. I have zero evidence to support this claim, but in theory it could have happened.
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Going on 36 hours and not a single taker (from the usual posters) to share an honest story. How about that?
I'll be the 1st then- circa 2007 we were establishing a new FOB in the wastelands of Iraq about 30 miles east of Baghdad. This was for the most part open desert at the time but years ago (around the time of Desert Storm, it was a pretty large Republican Army base something like 25 years earlier).
Now you have to imagine, there were no real "roads" just compacted 'moon dust' and OMG, the trash , it was just everywhere and hard for anyone that hasn't seen it to understand the scene but there was debris everywhere you'd look (fortunately it was mostly trash there and not human waste like elsewhere not too far away).
Anywho, we'd probably arrived at that location something like 72 hours previously and were tasked with getting the newly established FOB set up and hadn't slept in as much time either. We were picking up vehicles that were recently delivered on the one end of the "FOB" and to this day- I remember not being able to think straight but this particular moment was rather vivid.
We were going towards the one side of the base to offload some BFV's that recently came up from Kuwait, again we hadn't slept in something like 3 days since we arrived. As we were moving down towards that area, south if I remember correctly, we saw where the compacted 'moon dust' made a right angle turn to the left, went on for 200 yards or so and then made another right angle turn to the right for say.. 300 yards to get to the area we were trying to get to. At the end of this was an AF RED HORSE LSA, this will become important to the story later.
Well to this day, I can still remember who was our TC- an NCO who started their military career as a Marine and moved into the Army for promotion opportunities and if you remember the movie "American Pie" and the phrase 'one time at band camp' well he had hours of stories that started with "one time in Okinawa" from his time in the USMC.
Whelp he was our TC, I was the driver in a HMMWV, and we got to this intersection I described. He saw the two right hand turns and said 'F that, we'll go straight through the desert & trash' because we were all incredibly tired and didn't have much tolerance for shenanigans at this point.
So we're now saying 'f it to the compacted moon dust and driving through the open area littered with trash' and we're probably 200 yards into a 400 yards stretch of desert and all of a sudden these RED HORSE folks are coming out of their tents giving us something like the YMCA dance which we took as excitement that we were showing up to help build this FOB. We closed the other 200 yards or so of distance and pushed our HMMWV's window to the side to talk to our new friends and while expecting good tidings, we were met with enough profanities that would make a sailor blush. Apparently- that section of desert we cut through, well it was a minefield and used to be marked off by engineer tape (something like a 3" wide piece of white cotton fabric) that had blown over and they were trying to wave us off.
Fate smiled upon us and we made it through that field completely unscathed but, and I struggle to remember the exact number of mines that eventually were removed from that section, but I can confidently say it was well over 100 and we just... made it through. That's one of my better stories, apologies that it doesn't involve drunken shenanigans.
-LD
I'll be the 1st then- circa 2007 we were establishing a new FOB in the wastelands of Iraq about 30 miles east of Baghdad. This was for the most part open desert at the time but years ago (around the time of Desert Storm, it was a pretty large Republican Army base something like 25 years earlier).
Now you have to imagine, there were no real "roads" just compacted 'moon dust' and OMG, the trash , it was just everywhere and hard for anyone that hasn't seen it to understand the scene but there was debris everywhere you'd look (fortunately it was mostly trash there and not human waste like elsewhere not too far away).
Anywho, we'd probably arrived at that location something like 72 hours previously and were tasked with getting the newly established FOB set up and hadn't slept in as much time either. We were picking up vehicles that were recently delivered on the one end of the "FOB" and to this day- I remember not being able to think straight but this particular moment was rather vivid.
We were going towards the one side of the base to offload some BFV's that recently came up from Kuwait, again we hadn't slept in something like 3 days since we arrived. As we were moving down towards that area, south if I remember correctly, we saw where the compacted 'moon dust' made a right angle turn to the left, went on for 200 yards or so and then made another right angle turn to the right for say.. 300 yards to get to the area we were trying to get to. At the end of this was an AF RED HORSE LSA, this will become important to the story later.
Well to this day, I can still remember who was our TC- an NCO who started their military career as a Marine and moved into the Army for promotion opportunities and if you remember the movie "American Pie" and the phrase 'one time at band camp' well he had hours of stories that started with "one time in Okinawa" from his time in the USMC.
Whelp he was our TC, I was the driver in a HMMWV, and we got to this intersection I described. He saw the two right hand turns and said 'F that, we'll go straight through the desert & trash' because we were all incredibly tired and didn't have much tolerance for shenanigans at this point.
So we're now saying 'f it to the compacted moon dust and driving through the open area littered with trash' and we're probably 200 yards into a 400 yards stretch of desert and all of a sudden these RED HORSE folks are coming out of their tents giving us something like the YMCA dance which we took as excitement that we were showing up to help build this FOB. We closed the other 200 yards or so of distance and pushed our HMMWV's window to the side to talk to our new friends and while expecting good tidings, we were met with enough profanities that would make a sailor blush. Apparently- that section of desert we cut through, well it was a minefield and used to be marked off by engineer tape (something like a 3" wide piece of white cotton fabric) that had blown over and they were trying to wave us off.
Fate smiled upon us and we made it through that field completely unscathed but, and I struggle to remember the exact number of mines that eventually were removed from that section, but I can confidently say it was well over 100 and we just... made it through. That's one of my better stories, apologies that it doesn't involve drunken shenanigans.
-LD
Seems like you have taken first prize with admitting to get a BJ from a tranny.
It didn't have that plumbing anymore. Good looking fake tits and body from hormone therapy. I only got a blow job so it's all good
The question is. Were you army or USMC?
Another one from Ft. Gordon.
We were having a post cleanup, and I got sent to the E-Club with 6 or 7 other guys to cut the grass, trim bushes... The club manager had us scalp the bushes, and told us to get everything done before lunch. He made a bunch of pizzas for us, then started giving us pitchers of beer and quarters for the pool tables. By the time he took us back at 1700, we were HAMMERED!!! Our platoon sergeant and CO were none too happy.
We were having a post cleanup, and I got sent to the E-Club with 6 or 7 other guys to cut the grass, trim bushes... The club manager had us scalp the bushes, and told us to get everything done before lunch. He made a bunch of pizzas for us, then started giving us pitchers of beer and quarters for the pool tables. By the time he took us back at 1700, we were HAMMERED!!! Our platoon sergeant and CO were none too happy.
Another not so exciting story- I almost lost a few stripes going against a newly commissioned 2LT that wanted to mandate placing AT-4's at similar towers positioned at the ECP's for VBID protection and point out the ignorance of that decision in favor of crew served MK-19's or 240-B's.
IYKYK
-LD
<sigh>, you offer bar stories and glory days in this thread from the 80's while I share one simple story where someone you don't care for signed up to face actual "Hun's" and the best response you have is to contribute is to continue playing the role of the forum's "jackass". And I bet you're feeling superior for having doing so. This speaks more about your lack of character than it does for me.
I thought we were past this schoolyard crap but so far in this thread- my resume carries slightly more weight than your bar stories. Strive to do better- really. It really must kill your ego that someone "like me" has actually been there when the proverbial 'ballon went up' and can speak with first hand experience about what modern warfare/combat really is an not what your "academic" understanding must be. I have a number of insults I could use, but I'll just stick with my previous comment, strive to do better. Not for me but moreso for you, as it'll make you a better (and hopefully less angry) person holistically.
Try to do better (as a person).
-LD
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Terrible. A few dudes in my first squad were caught by the local police riding their bicycles naked with shoes and socks on (safety first for the feet). They got arrested, Article 31, one of them wasn't getting paid for E6 and got busted to E4. Crazy man.
So basically what you've said is that you still wear diapers and are looking forward to being weaned sometime in the next year or so.
Et tu, Brute?
You don't have one single story, one single moment in your life to share that positively contributes to this discussion, so you resort to slinging mud to the only person that has a worthwhile story to contribute and the courage to share it on a forum sympathetic to veterans? And in your mind this makes you feel better and I'm supposed to feel diminished by your comment?
You can take your middle finger and insert up your anus as far as I'm concerned (whether or not you use KY or Astroglide is up to your preference, I reckon that you have some experience there). Your comment is a personal insult to every veteran that is a member here and whether you like me or not, I hope you do some soul searching on that comment.
-LD
I think the funniest thing about the recent exchange is I think Yankee forgot to delete you from a response and the insults were really directed at me. However, I like your response so much I'm just gonna leave it at that!
I suspect Yankee and his cohorts here have shown their true colors and it's going to piss off a lot of the quiet majority here of our veterans that lurk rather than post and frankly they deserve everything they have coming to them.I think the funniest thing about the recent exchange is I think Yankee forgot to delete you from a response and the insults were really directed at me. However, I like your response so much I'm just gonna leave it at that!
-LD
You gotta realize,SPs have the most boring job in the world.
Myself and three buds were arrested by town patrol for mooning the Bonanza club in Kwang Ju during a Team Spirit exercise. You would have thought we had shot up the place.
So I lied. One more story:
Back in 1998 Pres Clinton called around the world to speak to deployed service members. One of our guys was selected for the call to speak to the POTUS. We scurried into other rooms and listened in on the phone call. While this Marine and the POTUS were talking, we goblined the fuck out of the call with all kinds of trash talk on Billy C. As we were clowning, a Marine bust into our room and told us to hang up the fucking phone. We were like, "Why" he replied, "Because we all can here what your fuckers are saying"! Apparently me just placing a hand over the talk part/mic of an "old school corded phone" didn't drown out a daggum word we said. We were on pins & needles for weeks waiting for the repercussions of our antics...
Back in 1998 Pres Clinton called around the world to speak to deployed service members. One of our guys was selected for the call to speak to the POTUS. We scurried into other rooms and listened in on the phone call. While this Marine and the POTUS were talking, we goblined the fuck out of the call with all kinds of trash talk on Billy C. As we were clowning, a Marine bust into our room and told us to hang up the fucking phone. We were like, "Why" he replied, "Because we all can here what your fuckers are saying"! Apparently me just placing a hand over the talk part/mic of an "old school corded phone" didn't drown out a daggum word we said. We were on pins & needles for weeks waiting for the repercussions of our antics...
Another story with these type of guard towers,
Despite popular opinion, it can get rather cold in the Middle East. Truth be told- while I was deployed just outside of Baghdad, it was something like the first time in 90 years it actually snowed there. The sand- it's quite literally like moon dust, and any precipitation turns it into the consistency of walking through peanut butter (true story).
Anyway back to the tower- it got cold and we placed kerosene heaters at the top floor (where the gunners would stand post), well privates being privates, they put the wrong fuel in the heater (it may have been JP-8 but my foggy memory seems to recall it being gasoline).
So the heater couldn't process the fuel the privates put into it, and the entire top floor burst into flames (for real). Of course we had to do our checks and now we have privates in a guard tower completely encompassed in flames and we've got a 240-B with... if I'd estimate 1,000 rounds of 7.62 ammunition and it's starting to 'cook off'.
We got the privates out of that tower, while the rounds were cooking off, we grabbed the ammo boxes & the 240-B and let the kerosene heater burn out.
-Stories you won't typically hear of.
-LD
It is a universal truth that those vets that talk the most, did the least.
Ohh look. A cunt that can't help but smash the report button and the glowie are partnering up to share a rack.
Don't forget to use condoms.
Don't forget to use condoms.
I've never reported you, frankly didn't I reach out and offer you an olive branch? I've never put anyone here on ignore but a lot of folks did that to me and frankly that only improved my experience here. My comment stands, I've got legitimate war stories, you have bar stories from 40 years ago, it kills you doesn't it?
I've got bar stories too but this isn't the thread for those either.
-LD
" Hey everyone, for the 4th we wanted to start a chain shouting out vets to hear your stories! Anything you’ve got to share whether it’s funny, words of wisdom, etc. We’d love to hear it! "
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Yer muh hero.
Edit: ZERO.
The national inflation can't hold a candle to level of bloat in your self worth.
They couldn’t get the actual owner to say so I’m sure. The DOD guys didn’t care if they wrecked someone’s career. The midwatch team was the worst about it.
I didn't mean to turn it into a shit show.
I'll bow out and let the resident Audie Murphy regile the troops.
I gave one.
Not my fault you're too young and dumb to understand it.
BTW, you do have a lot of that going on for you.
…guess he never heard of Beruit….besides it’s probably easier to remember things in detail when you’ve only been in one conflict….
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Any one that wrote a check for blood/sweat/tears & up to their life, to the American people could have it cashed at anytime during their service. I've seen guys who never thought their mos would place them in danger, buy the farm, while guys who ran into bullets all the time never get a scratch. To berate one branch over another, or one mos over another is bullshit, as it takes everyone pulling on the same end of the rope to win against any enemy, true or made up.
We lost the best Cook & S-4 Sergent we ever had to an ambush. They were on their way just trying to make life easier for us, and paid the price of inking that check.
Over the years on here, I've seen it over and over, its past time for it to stop.
We lost the best Cook & S-4 Sergent we ever had to an ambush. They were on their way just trying to make life easier for us, and paid the price of inking that check.
Over the years on here, I've seen it over and over, its past time for it to stop.
By all means , continue to regail us with your stories of demonstrative incompetency, ineptness and general lack of commen sense…..it’s always interesting to hear how the other half lives.
Sorry to keep you waiting- had to grab some ice for that sick burn of yours.
Also partner... you seemed to have bitten off a few more of those "college level" words than you can chew.
I still fail to understand why sharing what we did overseas in uniform is important to complete strangers (extra points for plastering it over internet forums). Inevitably, dicks start getting measured, bullshit is told, people start pointing fingers, callouts are made, and we crash and burn as a community (in that order). This was supposed to be a funny story or sharing of wisdom thread.
Everybody who is still anybody when it comes to stacking bodies...isn't on this site anyways. We're all Former Action Guys (FAGs) at best, and some are fucking imposters at worst, with most being in the middle somewhere, or maybe just are red-blooded Americans that love shooting too.
I don't care about that time you turned a living, breathing, human being into a lifeless pile of blood and shit. Or the number of "combat" patrols you made, or the amount of supplies you looked after. It isn't something to measure dicks on. What I do care about is hearing a great story on how you drank a fifth of Jaeger and mistakenly pissed in your roommate's wall locker *allegedly*. Or maybe how you and a group of the boys used to place bets on seeing who could take a shit closest to the 1stSgt's tent without getting caught at night when you were bivouacked...again *allegedly*. Or how every field day (Thursday evening) you turned the front lawn of the barracks into 'the octagon' and went at it, and the company staff could never figure out why the grass was always torn up.
Those are the times I want to remember. Not trying to calm down a kid who just got half his face blown off, or trying to apply first aid to a civilian kid - that is the same age as one of yours back home - as they bled out. F that. Keep your self-sucking-dick war stories to yourself...or maybe toast and say a prayer for a brother that you still miss every time you think about him.
I lost a great friend last month. He was one of the guys who sent me many of the meme's that I share in the MPT. We went to recruit training together in '97, and retired (him in '17, me in '18). He was the second close friend of mine to die of natural causes before the age of 50 in just the last 3 months.
^^^ In his honor, I'll share one of his recruit training stories as we were bunked directly across from each other in the squad bay: We used to have these skinny green towels that barely covered our bodies. Frequently, you stood a hygiene inspection after a shower during your first phase or two of recruit training wearing these towels and nothing else besides shower shoes. Old Chris would tie his towel off in front, leaving the gap in front of his dick which would be hanging out. That bastard made me start to chuckle every time...which would eventually lead me to getting caught and getting my ass smoked by the drill instructors at the next opportunity. Finally, one evening I blue falconed him and pointed out why I was laughing. He got the nickname "green wienie" from there on, and had to report to the quarter deck every time they called for the green wienie. Revenge is sweet when you're sweating together on that damn quarterdeck.
I'll raise a glass to him tonight.
Everybody who is still anybody when it comes to stacking bodies...isn't on this site anyways. We're all Former Action Guys (FAGs) at best, and some are fucking imposters at worst, with most being in the middle somewhere, or maybe just are red-blooded Americans that love shooting too.
I don't care about that time you turned a living, breathing, human being into a lifeless pile of blood and shit. Or the number of "combat" patrols you made, or the amount of supplies you looked after. It isn't something to measure dicks on. What I do care about is hearing a great story on how you drank a fifth of Jaeger and mistakenly pissed in your roommate's wall locker *allegedly*. Or maybe how you and a group of the boys used to place bets on seeing who could take a shit closest to the 1stSgt's tent without getting caught at night when you were bivouacked...again *allegedly*. Or how every field day (Thursday evening) you turned the front lawn of the barracks into 'the octagon' and went at it, and the company staff could never figure out why the grass was always torn up.
Those are the times I want to remember. Not trying to calm down a kid who just got half his face blown off, or trying to apply first aid to a civilian kid - that is the same age as one of yours back home - as they bled out. F that. Keep your self-sucking-dick war stories to yourself...or maybe toast and say a prayer for a brother that you still miss every time you think about him.
I lost a great friend last month. He was one of the guys who sent me many of the meme's that I share in the MPT. We went to recruit training together in '97, and retired (him in '17, me in '18). He was the second close friend of mine to die of natural causes before the age of 50 in just the last 3 months.
^^^ In his honor, I'll share one of his recruit training stories as we were bunked directly across from each other in the squad bay: We used to have these skinny green towels that barely covered our bodies. Frequently, you stood a hygiene inspection after a shower during your first phase or two of recruit training wearing these towels and nothing else besides shower shoes. Old Chris would tie his towel off in front, leaving the gap in front of his dick which would be hanging out. That bastard made me start to chuckle every time...which would eventually lead me to getting caught and getting my ass smoked by the drill instructors at the next opportunity. Finally, one evening I blue falconed him and pointed out why I was laughing. He got the nickname "green wienie" from there on, and had to report to the quarter deck every time they called for the green wienie. Revenge is sweet when you're sweating together on that damn quarterdeck.
I'll raise a glass to him tonight.
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