What's The Closest You Have Come to Buying The Farm? (2 Viewers)

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From my post on my FB page:

"Beware the Ides of March!"- The old Soothsayer, "Julius Caesar, William Shakespeare.
On March 15, 1962 Joe Pinto, a fellow GI in my Corporal Missile detachment, received a message to go to the Red Cross office in Ashaffenburg, about 25 km from our kaserne in Babenhausen. Our shop Sergeant, SSGT Roberto Garcia, assigned Joe a jeep and told me to accompany him there.
It was a cold winter and there had been few warm days so far that year. It was still early in the morning when we started out from the motor pool in the jeep, an M38A1 model, with Joe driving and me riding as a passenger. Out of the kaserne main gate we turned right on Route 26, the road toward Ashaffenburg. It was cold and the canvas top of he jeep provided little protection against the bitter wind blast as we drove on.
At a point where the road entered the forest, the pavement was in the shadow of the trees, no sunshine had yet warmed the roadway so it was a shock when the jeep suddenly spun to the left. Joe turned the steering wheel quickly but then it spun back and repeated this maneuver again. It was "black ice", a perfectly clear, invisible coating of ice. We slid sideways toward the edge of the shoulder and I could see trees fast approaching my side of the jeep. I had a vision of a fatal impact with a tree just before things totally blanked out. It's strange how a person's mind can erase a moment of panic, probably as a way of protecting ones self.
The next thing I knew, I was lying on my back, under the overturned jeep; it had hit the dirt going sideways and had literally rolled around me. I was lying between the bottom seat cushion and the flattened canvas top, squashed down on the frozen ground below.
Had it not been for the spare tire mounted on the back and a large radio above the right rear fender holding up the jeep just far enough, I would not have survived. My right foot was trapped between the flattened windshield, cowl and the ground so I could not escape and gas was starting to leak out of the fuel tank.
I looked for Joe and saw that he was in far worse shape than I was. He was lying on his back, face up with the jeep's cowl lying on his head! I thought he must be dead as he was lying perfectly still and not breathing. I struggled to free my boot without success.
Suddenly, two faces appeared under the jeep, speaking German. Another car had seen the accident and had managed to stop and came to our aid. Then two American GIs in a "Duce-and-a-Half" (a 2 1/2 ton Army truck) also stopped to help. One of the GIs grabbed a mattock from his truck and dug the frozen ground from under my boot and I scrambled out from under.
Together we all lifted the jeep up and one of the Germans dragged Joe from under the jeep. His face was crushed in and he was bleeding back down into his lungs, filling them with blood. Joe Pinto owes his life to this unknown German who knew that under these circumstances, a patient must be turned up on his side rather than lying on his back so the blood only goes into one lung instead of both. I assume this must have been something he learned during the War. It had been only twelve years after the end of WW II and here was a German who was saving the life of an American, a truly kind act on his part.
Somehow an ambulance was dispatched from Babenhausen and it slid a hundred feet to a stop on the ice. Joe was quickly taken back to the Kaserne dispensary where a doctor performed an emergency tracheotomy and he was flown by helicopter to the 97th General Hospital in Frankfurt. He was treated and pulled through although his injuries required a long recovery. I was lucky, I walked with crutches for long enough to grow to hate them but otherwise I was OK.
If a Soothsayer ever tells you "Beware the Ides of March"... believe him!
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This is a story my dad told me. He was in Germany, the 3rd Infantry Division, 8th Army in a Pioneering and Pathfinder Platoon. The Wall was going up and he said they were told to strip all the shiny black off their boots and other stuff. It was winter and snow covered the ground with more snow falling. One night in a snowstorm, he was driving a deuce and a half with a 106mm recoilless rifle and ammunition in the back under the tarp. He was somewhere in Bavaria and butt lost, the road having disappeared beneath snow and what few signs he saw were also covered in snow. Finally he saw lights and a Haufbrauhaus. Thinking a hot drink would be good and some directions, he pulled up, hopped out into shin deep snow and pulled the hood of his parka over his head and ran to the door. He heard oompah music, laughter and metallic clinking coming from inside. He pulled the door open, went inside, and before he looked up he he turned his back to the room and closed the door, turned around and stomped his feet to knock snow off while pulling the hood off. He noticed all the noise he had heard stopped, and looking up he saw why. Hanging from the back wall was giant swastika, and in front of him were sweaty muscle bound bald men with giant mustaches who had been lifting weights staring at him. He said he swallowed hard, gave a slight nod, turned and ran like hell back to the truck and fish tailed all over the snow getting out of there. Eventually he found a jeep occupied by MP's who laughed at him and gave him directions. He said getting thrown from a bull in his brief rodeo career was way less scary. Then he met my mom........
 
I'bet he never went out without ammo for that 106 again.

I saw a 105RR in a museum today. Built in great haste for Korea, it was not a successful weapon. And it weighed over 2500 lb.
 
This is a story my dad told me. He was in Germany, the 3rd Infantry Division, 8th Army in a Pioneering and Pathfinder Platoon. The Wall was going up and he said they were told to strip all the shiny black off their boots and other stuff. It was winter and snow covered the ground with more snow falling. One night in a snowstorm, he was driving a deuce and a half with a 106mm recoilless rifle and ammunition in the back under the tarp. He was somewhere in Bavaria and butt lost, the road having disappeared beneath snow and what few signs he saw were also covered in snow. Finally he saw lights and a Haufbrauhaus. Thinking a hot drink would be good and some directions, he pulled up, hopped out into shin deep snow and pulled the hood of his parka over his head and ran to the door. He heard oompah music, laughter and metallic clinking coming from inside. He pulled the door open, went inside, and before he looked up he he turned his back to the room and closed the door, turned around and stomped his feet to knock snow off while pulling the hood off. He noticed all the noise he had heard stopped, and looking up he saw why. Hanging from the back wall was giant swastika, and in front of him were sweaty muscle bound bald men with giant mustaches who had been lifting weights staring at him. He said he swallowed hard, gave a slight nod, turned and ran like hell back to the truck and fish tailed all over the snow getting out of there. Eventually he found a jeep occupied by MP's who laughed at him and gave him directions. He said getting thrown from a bull in his brief rodeo career was way less scary. Then he met my mom........
In Babenhausen, I liked to go to a non-GI bar in town called Zum Hanauer Tor, a small, quiet place. After a while I became a bit acquainted with a group of older German men who frequented the place. I came to find out that they were ex-Afrika Korps soldiers but they were very friendly and we got along fine. The war was over.

My wife and I visited there in 2013 and stopped in the Han :) auer Tor. I told the owner that I had been there 50 years ago and he insisted in buying us beers.
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In the physical sense, I fumbled a running chainsaw and dropped it on my upper thigh once, it went through my jeans and several layers of skin but stopped short of my femoral artery. But more seriously, I've had a couple of periods in life where my mental health has been at rock bottom and honestly I am lucky to have made it through, with considerable support. It's important we talk about these things, especially us chaps.
 
But more seriously, I've had a couple of periods in life where my mental health has been at rock bottom and honestly I am lucky to have made it through, with considerable support. It's important we talk about these things, especially us chaps.
That is a very real, but nearly invisable condition.

I've been having to deal with it lately and it's a monumental struggle, especially with no family or friends to drop by my place.

Beleive it or not, my escape from all that, is this forum.
 
In the physical sense, I fumbled a running chainsaw and dropped it on my upper thigh once, it went through my jeans and several layers of skin but stopped short of my femoral artery. But more seriously, I've had a couple of periods in life where my mental health has been at rock bottom and honestly I am lucky to have made it through, with considerable support. It's important we talk about these things, especially us chaps.
Hurricane Hugo hit SC in 1989. 17 people were killed. Only 1 week after the storm another 17 people had been killed by chainsaws. I learned how to operate a chainsaw during that cleanup operation; from then on I use a handsaw instead in most cases. By the way, it is very inadvisable to try to cut with the TOP of the bar.
 
That is a very real, but nearly invisable condition.

I've been having to deal with it lately and it's a monumental struggle, especially with no family or friends to drop by my place.

Beleive it or not, my escape from all that, is this forum.
I second what S special ed says, we are your family and we ARE HERE FOR YOU! Don't ever forget that brother, you know you can PM us anytime. :thumbright:
 
That is a very real, but nearly invisable condition.

I've been having to deal with it lately and it's a monumental struggle, especially with no family or friends to drop by my place.

Beleive it or not, my escape from all that, is this forum.
And it is a good thing to know we are from all over the globe. So day or night there is always someone to hang around with. Or a joke to read or share just your day. Or getting miffed about god knows what now. Its all cool.
We are connected through the most gracious machine ever invented. The airplane, in what manifestation it has. We are connected.
 
On June 9, 2021, I was heading south on Rt. 23 at around 3:30 in the afternoon. I had just come around a corner when I saw a car heading right toward me for just a split second. I was immediately rammed on my left rear quarter panel. There was no time to react. He spun me around and I hit a guard rail. Now, I was facing north on the south side of the highway. The guy who hit me was a 76-year old man who fell asleep at the wheel. Both cars were totaled. Other than the usual whiplash, I was unhurt. And lucky. Had he hit me head-on, I might not be here typing tonight. I had disturbing accident flashbacks for a good week.

People immediately stopped and helped me get out of the car. One guy said he saw the whole thing and served as a witness. The cops came and gave the old guy two tickets.

In the end, I chose not to sue, because I wasn't injured. I got six weeks of physical therapy, the book value of my car, towing and a rental on his insurance company's dime. He got off easy, I'd say. There are too many frivolous lawsuits today, and too many attorneys getting rich.
 
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