Your Funny, Humorous or Incredible Military Stories

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Guantanamo Bay, Cuba, 1993...

During some weekend time, we headed to the PX and picked up a couple bottles of Rum and some Cokes.... Gonna hit the beach, get drunk, snorkel some, and BBQ some meat...

After we get sidetracked on the way to the beach, and much Rum consumption, we show up.... A small commotion goes on as we make our way to the little cabanas on the beach.... I run into my buddy Cooksie at one of the cabanas, wasted and wobblin all over the place... His feet are bleedin all over the place from several sea urchin spines that tagged him earlier....

At one point, I asked him how the hell he's dealin with the obvious pain in his feet, he pointed to this red gallon sized Thermos bottle with the sip spout on top.... He says "Take a couple swigs.."

So I tilt it back and start chuggin.... Several good gulps... Then take a breath and hit it again.... Gulp gulp gulp....

Then, that wonderful little reality check light comes on behind my right eye at the same time that the almost PURE 151 Bacardi Rum/Coke combination hits my gullet....

I ask Cooksie, "What the hell is this???"

He grins and says "Theres alittle Coke in there, the rest is 151..."

I knew at that very moment that I was in for an interesting evening.... Unfortunately, it also happens to be the one time in my life where I actually blacked out for a period of time... That is, being semi-functional and not remembering a thing....

We did some snorkeling on the reef, and I remember eating some cookies at the Cabana....

Reality came back around 8:30 or so, and I was on the Shuttle Bus back to the pier...

With a pair of shorts on....

And nothing else....

No ID card... No flip flops... No backpack or shirt, no wallet or hat... Just me, my nipple ring and my swim trunks....

I got off the Bus, and made my way to the beer tent and got a beer off a deck ape buddy of mine... Told the short story from above, and started scheming on how to get back on the ship without my ID....

Along come these 3 fu*kin Jarhead as*holes, drunk like everyone else, running their chaw-chewing mouths about my gay nipple ring... It didnt take long before I knocked one out, had the other in a headlock while his buddy was screaming for help....

Turns out, a Senior Chief on Shore Patrol I knew from another Cruise comes up and breaks this up... He knows me by name and gets me outta a hornets nest of drunk Marines before I get my ass stomped...

I found my way back onto the ship without my ID card.... Shore Patrol Escort....

I didnt get into any trouble, but man, the hangover I had the next 2 days more than made up for it...
 
Ok, my stories are lame but here are a couple of fast ones. While in the USAR, I was rotated into the S-1 slot. Since it was an O4 postion and I was still a O3, I was only a little pissed about it. I was assigned an O2 as an asst. , he was an Inf type. Our unit was mostly tankers so the LT was always getting h***.

He started off on the wrong foot. Our O6 would normally introduce the newbies at the end of the morning briefing. The meeting did not go well. The O6 had spend most of the meeting chewing on the O4s becasue they were not getting some basic admin functions done. He said the "this is not rocket science" line. A few minutes later he introduced the Lt and the O6 asked him what his real job was. The Lt answered rocket scientist. Of course the room broke out in laughter and the O6 was not happy. The Lt was working on his PhD in astrophyics something or another and worked at NASA.

This was a special unit, 500 members and 400 were officers most of which were 04 and above and two Generals. The company officers did the work normally done by the NCOs. The Lt always told everyone that he was my p*** boy. He was the person that had to empty the chamber pots each day. Once the notice came down from Division that we had to have a Drug testing officer, I jumped at the chance to make the Lt a real p*** boy.

DBII
 

That's friggin' classic...
 
This tale goes like this
Its about 1982 in Goose the RAF enlisted club has a 50lb pet rock named Rocky that they keep behind the bar but close enough to touch without going behind the bar . Me and my friend decide to kidnap the rock and with a little diversion I manage to grab the rock and walk out unseen. So the next day in the base mail we insert a envelope with a few pebbles in it with a note addressed to the RAF mess saying "if you want to see your rock again it'll cost you a round for the CAF on Tues at 2200hr ". Well things didn't goes as planned and we were ratted out and discovered to be the culprits . The pukes barred us for 2 months
 
Sometime during 1962, while stationed aboard USS Essex (CVS-9), we got a call from the USS Tullibee (SSN-597) stating her crypto gear was down. At this particular time she was headed to the Med and we were returning to Quonset Point, R.I.

I packed my gear, and a change of clothes. A helo took me to her, a few miles away. I didn't know it at the time, but she had a brand new skipper, having had a change of command a few weeks before she departed Norfolk.

When I got on board I was taken right to the skipper. He told me he could only remain on the surface for two hours. It was "get it fixed or go for a ride that may last 96 hours". When I got to the radio shack, I went right to work. As soon as I got the cover off of this piece of gear, I saw one end of a broken spring swinging in the breeze. I put the spring in my pocket, put a new spring in it's place and performed what we call a 1,000 letter check. The machine worked perfectly. I put the new spring back in my tool kit, and started to dissemble the machine, telling the Comm Officer he'd better let the Capt. know I was going to be there for awhile. Almost to the minute, two hours later I heard the sounds of diving... felt the downward angle of the boat, and had to swallow a couple of times to make my ears pop. The Comm Officer made me break for chow, so I joined part of the crew for supper... steaks to order. These bubble-heads know how to live !

Anyhow, couple of hours later the Comm Officer and the Master Chief Radioman (E-9), were in the radio shack talking. There was a plot afoot ! They and others on the sub were going to pull a practical joke on the new skipper. As they left the radio shack I didn't know the details of the plot, but I knew it involved the #1 torpedo tube.

I fiddled and diddled with this piece of crypto gear til midnight, when the E-9 Radioman ordered me to hit the sack. He found a bunk not being used, and I crawled in. At around 0400 a noise woke me up, so I got dressed and went to the radio shack. The noise was a cable being released with a small buoy and a low frequency antenna attached. The radioman on duty (an E-6) was copying the Fox schedules. These fox skeds, as they are called, are broadcast to all subs at certain times of the day and night. After he finished, we got to talking.

He was in on the plot, because he was going to be on duty in the control room when the plot was to be executed. He also told me I was going to remain on board until they got to Rota, Spain, that all that had been cleared with my skipper. So I started to reassemble the machine, telling the Chief I had found the problem and was just getting it all back together. He also assigned me a 2nd Class RM (E-5) to stay with me so I would not get lost or into trouble on the sub. I was placed in the Port duty section temporarily, also.

While on board I stood duty in the radio shack, and was allowed to "observe" the goings on in the control room while they had several drills. I was told the "plot" was to be executed at around 0800 the next morning. I was informed that the #1 torpedo was to be extracted from the tube for "routine servicing", and the empty tube had been charged with air. Also the Operations Officer (O-4) was to be the main part of the plot.

Right after the 0730 muster of all hands, the Ops Officer and the C.O. were in the control room just chatting about the days routine. The Ops Officer brought up the subject of "enemy submarines", steering the conversation to Russian subs in general, and about Russian torpedoes in particular. The skipper was getting agitated, I could tell, because his answers were getting louder and louder. Finally the Ops Officer asked him what he'd do if the Russians fired one.

In a very loud voice, he said, "I'd fire one".

From the corner of the control room came a voice, "Number one fired electrically, Sir", and you could feel the jolt throughout the boat of a torpedo tube being fired.

The skipper went ballistic ! "Who gave the order to fire that torpedo" ? "What were the settings" ? "Where is it going" ? "Can we destruct" ?

There were so many orders being given by so many people, most people did nothing. Then they started laughing and the skipper was let in on the joke. The only thing that came out of the number one torpedo tube was what they call a "slug", a charge of compressed air.

At first the skipper wanted to put everyone on report, but the Ops Officer and others got him calmed down. I heard this was the topic of the day in the ward room, and the general mess.

I got off in Rota, Spain with a nice "Letter of Commendation" for my "tireless efforts" in repairing their crypto gear. After reporting in at NavSta Rota, I got a flight back to Newport, R.I. and a bus ride to Quonset Point.

I often wonder how much of this went on to initiate a new skipper.

Charles
 
My Squardon Cmdr while of active duty was called "Son of Tank". His father was General Patton's goto guy and they named a tank after his old man.

The Ltc was known for going crazy if inspections did go well. Once he showed up several days early for an inspection. He chewed me out for about an hour because the arms room and billets were not ready. We had just came back from a field exercise the night before and most of the unit was in the motor pool working on their tracks.

Being a Cav unit, there were many people that do not like being screwed over and have long memories. A year later the LTC inspected the arms rooms one night after hours. He called all of the Troop Cmdrs in the middle of the night to yell at them and then called a 0500 staff meeting. He demanded that each cmdr bring in a pistol for him the inspect and they had better not bring in a clean one? (Lets see bring in a dirt weapon so I can yell at you in front of the staff about having dirty weapons. If you bring in a clean weapon then I will yell at you for not bringing a dirty weapon so I can yell at you for not doing your job.)

I wish I could have been at that staff meeting. When the HQ Troop Cmdr gave the Ltc a pistol to inspect, he went crazy. He started yelling and screaming about what a piece of s*** it was. It was covered with rust...etc. He demanded to know who the pistol belong to. The Troop Cmdr brought the Ltc's pistol in for the meeting. The Ltc clearned the room and started on the Cmdr. Later the Captain said that he was tired of being jerk around and it was worth the a** chewing that he received. We never had any more troubles with inspections.

DBII
 
Not mine but funny
We were flying Stirling bombers on special ops and had just returned from a trip. Getting out of the aircraft at dispersal we saw another Stirling taxiing into it's dispersal alongside. Suddenly as the aircraft cut its motors the rear gunner flipped out of his turret and landed on his head with a sickening thud on his head with his chute billowing over him.
Our crew ran over to see what was going on and found the tail gunner out cold. As thepilot climbed down we found out what happened.
They had been flying close to the enemy coast in range of German flak batteries and the aircraft had suffered a great deal of damage. The rear gunners oxygen and heat had been cut off in the shooting. Unsure if he could keep the Stirling flying the skipper had warned the crew to prepare to abandon ship. But after a while the pilot got things organized and was able to fly back to base. Meanwhile the gunner had passed out due to lack of oxygen.
the landing must have jarred him awake and when they rolled into dispersal he was still groggy As the engines stopped the skipper said "OK guys bail out ". Which the gunner did recieving a mild concussion and weeks of ribbing
 
Just like a cartoon:

I was at a Philippine Airforce Base to inspect some surplus J57 engines and F8 Crusaders. This occured after the euption of Mt. Pinatubo. They had dug out the base, and had some scrub brush, briars and small trees growing back. Myself and two Philippine Sgt's fought our way through some course thickets and briars to get to some J57 engine containers. The cans were still partially covered in volcanic ash. With the inspection port on the lower-bottom half, we had to dig out some ash to get to it. After removing the inspection port door, I realized that there would be no graceful way to do the inspection so I got down on my hands and knees to look. As you can imagine, my knees were up on the pile of ash, and my head was substantially below my knees, with my backside pointing to the sky. Just as I stuck my head in the inspection hole, one of the Sgt's said, "watch out for snakes." Just about that time, one of the briar thickets we pushed aside shifted and smacked me in the rear. The resulting GONG of my head hitting the engine container was heard half way across the base. I couldn't stand for a couple of minutes and only saw stars. The Sgt's couldn't stop laughing. They were in tears as I tried to stand and fell in the briar thicket. They fell over when I told them, "I meant to do that". They made up for it when they said the cure for "snake bite" was San Miguel Beer. Who was I to argue?
 

have you seen the movie "the Bedford Incident"? Great movie with a similar punchline.
 
Good stuff guys. Here is a fast one. My first assignment was with a National Guard Cmbt Engr Plt. These guys were great at being Engrs but not at being Inf. This was in the early 80's and the unit had several war Vets. My Plt Sgt was Marine Recon in Nam and was training the junior enlisted on the finer points of squad movements under fire. All the Plt Ldrs and Plt Sgts were assigned to be OPFOR. There was one kid that just could not ever find a covered postion when we attacked and of course was always being killed. The last day out, we attacked and the kid did a perfect landing and rolled into the brush. The unit went wild, yelling, screaming, and clapping. The Plt Sgt was congradulating him on getting it right. That was when I yelled bang, He had rolled into my postion.

Next one. We were asked to go to the locale Boy Scout Camp to remove dead/dying trees and to blow tree stumps. I was 21. My fellow Plt Ldr was prior enlisted ranger Nam Vet. I was going to get to use real explosives! Talk about having wood! I had to fight senior NCOs but I was going blow something up. We went through the training. The OIC walked us through the calculations and everthing was perfect. We pack the civilian dynamite under the tree stump. The fuse was lit and we jumped behind a fallen tree. The resulting explosion threw dirt over us and the stump landing in a near by lake. The hole was large enough for 20 people to stand in. The OIC saw on the case that the sticks were one pound. He thought we had 1/4 pound sticks.

DBII
 
comiso90 said:
have you seen the movie "the Bedford Incident"? Great movie with a similar punchline.
Click to expand...

The name of the movie does not ring any bells, but I can amagine the
confusion such a remark could have to the guy with his finger on "the
button", if his mind was not on his job. I'll have to google that...

Matt: Thanks... I have more (somewhere back there), I just have to
have "total recall"..

Charles
 
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