ScOoTeR1992
Senior Airman
yep i'm with the above to post's
Your Funny, Humorous or Incredible Military Stories
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RabidAlien
1st Lieutenant
A guy I work with was a Navy corpsman assigned to the Marines for the duration of his enlistment. Of course, they were over in Iraq, back in the early to mid 90's. He just e-mailed this story to a bunch of us guys, thought I'd share it with y'all:
One of my better days with the Jarheads was when I learned to address Officers in a group. We were out in the field, training. In the rain. Is there any other time to train? I had walked up to our Staff Sgt, Captain, and a brand new, just out of the Academy Butter-Bar when they were all clustered around a map.
'Excuse me, Sirs' I said, when they looked up.
'Doc,' the LT began, 'the plural address of Officers is 'Gentlemen' not 'Sirs.' What do you need?' Like I said, he was new, and had been doing a lot of these Manners Tutorials since his arrival.
But I was momentarily stunned. I had never heard of this before. And as I tend to do when confused, I couldn't just accept it, I had to examine it and poke it with a stick. 'No. Really? That can't be right.' I looked to SSgt Williams for help, who had put on his poker face, but his eyes were just a little bit wider than normal. I clearly remember dropping any form of honorific until I got confirmation from a source I could trust, which meant enlisted.
'Corpsman,' the LT broke in before the Staff had a chance to speak, 'exactly why can't that be right?' The LT liked using your rate just before he beat you over the head with his rank. I'm sure had I been through Marine Corps Basic Training, I would have seen this as the warning it was meant to be. But, NNNNOOOOOOOooooooo! I answered as honestly as I could.
'Sir,' because I *knew* that was right. 'The problem is the word 'Gentlemen.' In this day and age, it brings one of two things to mind; one is the courtiers in King Louis XVI court - a parasitic drain on a flawed form of government who wore wigs, make-up, and dressed like drag-queens; the other... well... Strip Clubs just out the main gate. You are neither. Our language has outgrown the terminology. You are Marines.'
The LT looked as stunned as I had a minute before, and looked to the Captain for reassurance. The man just jerked his chin at the Staff Sergent. Who responded by escorting me away from the group. 'Jimbo,' as he called me since I had helped set a femoral fracture two years earlier, 'you gotta learn not to make junior Officers look stupid in front of their bosses.' But he was smiling when he said it. 'Marines will work just fine.'
-merely_jim
One of my better days with the Jarheads was when I learned to address Officers in a group. We were out in the field, training. In the rain. Is there any other time to train? I had walked up to our Staff Sgt, Captain, and a brand new, just out of the Academy Butter-Bar when they were all clustered around a map.
'Excuse me, Sirs' I said, when they looked up.
'Doc,' the LT began, 'the plural address of Officers is 'Gentlemen' not 'Sirs.' What do you need?' Like I said, he was new, and had been doing a lot of these Manners Tutorials since his arrival.
But I was momentarily stunned. I had never heard of this before. And as I tend to do when confused, I couldn't just accept it, I had to examine it and poke it with a stick. 'No. Really? That can't be right.' I looked to SSgt Williams for help, who had put on his poker face, but his eyes were just a little bit wider than normal. I clearly remember dropping any form of honorific until I got confirmation from a source I could trust, which meant enlisted.
'Corpsman,' the LT broke in before the Staff had a chance to speak, 'exactly why can't that be right?' The LT liked using your rate just before he beat you over the head with his rank. I'm sure had I been through Marine Corps Basic Training, I would have seen this as the warning it was meant to be. But, NNNNOOOOOOOooooooo! I answered as honestly as I could.
'Sir,' because I *knew* that was right. 'The problem is the word 'Gentlemen.' In this day and age, it brings one of two things to mind; one is the courtiers in King Louis XVI court - a parasitic drain on a flawed form of government who wore wigs, make-up, and dressed like drag-queens; the other... well... Strip Clubs just out the main gate. You are neither. Our language has outgrown the terminology. You are Marines.'
The LT looked as stunned as I had a minute before, and looked to the Captain for reassurance. The man just jerked his chin at the Staff Sergent. Who responded by escorting me away from the group. 'Jimbo,' as he called me since I had helped set a femoral fracture two years earlier, 'you gotta learn not to make junior Officers look stupid in front of their bosses.' But he was smiling when he said it. 'Marines will work just fine.'
-merely_jim
A4K
Brigadier General
Thanks for sharing RA! I had a few uncomfortable moments like that myself with senior ranks at times - You know you should keep your mouth shut, but still, why should they get away with BS just because they are a higher rank...? (In saying that, I'm usually very patient, but I find it hard to maintain the 'put up and shut up' mode of thinking in the face of an arrogant a*se...)
RabidAlien
1st Lieutenant
Heh....I often had to remind myself of what a Chief once told me..."enlisted men are enlisted because they can think for themselves and aren't afraid to work. Officers are officers because they're too prissy to do either."
(paraphrased to protect sensitive officer eyes from harsh reality of crusty ole Chief vocabulary)
(paraphrased to protect sensitive officer eyes from harsh reality of crusty ole Chief vocabulary)
trackend
Chief Master Sergeant
This quote is from my late Dads book "Bills War" before being old enough to enlist in the Royal Navy he spent some time in the Home Guard this is about a newly arrived weapon they were issued with.
"We received a smooth bore Smith gun . It arrived in boxes and required assembling . After it had been assembled as per instructions a small washer was found in one of the boxes . This item was ignored and the gun was taken onto the firing range for testing . It could fire mills bombs or phosphorus bottle bombs which burst into flames on impact . Our two corporals were to have the privilege of firing the first shots . The breach was opened and a phosphorus bomb inserted followed by the propelling charge . The two gunners crouched behind the shield and the order to fire was given . There was a bang followed by a huge burst of flame which enveloped gun and gunners . From out of this confligation staggered our corporals , their eyebrows had gone and their tunics were smouldering . They had the appearance of having been on a summers holiday . It was later discovered that the bomb had gone off in the barrel by striking the foresight screw which had protruded into the bore . The washer left in the box would have prevented this. Fortunately no lasting damage had been done and we left smiling apart from our corporals"
"We received a smooth bore Smith gun . It arrived in boxes and required assembling . After it had been assembled as per instructions a small washer was found in one of the boxes . This item was ignored and the gun was taken onto the firing range for testing . It could fire mills bombs or phosphorus bottle bombs which burst into flames on impact . Our two corporals were to have the privilege of firing the first shots . The breach was opened and a phosphorus bomb inserted followed by the propelling charge . The two gunners crouched behind the shield and the order to fire was given . There was a bang followed by a huge burst of flame which enveloped gun and gunners . From out of this confligation staggered our corporals , their eyebrows had gone and their tunics were smouldering . They had the appearance of having been on a summers holiday . It was later discovered that the bomb had gone off in the barrel by striking the foresight screw which had protruded into the bore . The washer left in the box would have prevented this. Fortunately no lasting damage had been done and we left smiling apart from our corporals"
Captain Dunsel
Airman 1st Class
I enlisted in the USAF in '75 and worked my way up to Staff Sgt (E-5). Along the way, I had to deal with several lieutenants, some of whom were very nice, but not very awe-inspiring. We usually tolerated them and tried to keep them out of trouble.
Then, in 1980, I got got commissioned and became a 2Lt.
GAHHH! Any wonder I started wearing my ribbons as much as possible?
CD
Then, in 1980, I got got commissioned and became a 2Lt.
GAHHH! Any wonder I started wearing my ribbons as much as possible? CD
RabidAlien
1st Lieutenant
I enlisted in the USAF in '75 and worked my way up to Staff Sgt (E-5). Along the way, I had to deal with several lieutenants, some of whom were very nice, but not very awe-inspiring. We usually tolerated them and tried to keep them out of trouble.
Then, in 1980, I got got commissioned and became a 2Lt.
CD
Heh....reminds me of one of the deleted scenes from "We Were Soldiers" (why they took it out, I don't know): Gunny Sgt (Sam Elliot) was listening to a new 2nd Lt give some sort of training, the guy started throwing rank around and reamed Gunny out for not having any ribbons on. Being a young prick, he sent Gunny away with orders not to return until he had his highest ribbons on in the proper manner. Scene shifted, and the 2Lt was still giving his men crap...when you see Sam Elliot's hairy legs come stalking up....he's butt-naked, wearing the CMH ribbon around his neck. The 2Lt looks, wide-eyed....then salutes him and doesn't say another word. Moral? NEVER piss off a Gunny, especially if he's earned a CMH.
Rook58
Airman
A couple from boot camp:
1. On a conditioning march right after we got to Pendleton for the rifle range; we'd already been going for several miles and everyone's bladders were getting close to bursting. When one guy requested an emergency head call, the senior drill instructor halted the platoon and gave these commands:
"Face outboard!" "Sir, face outboard, aye aye sir!"
"Take out your peepees!" "Sir, take out your peepees, aye aye sir!"
"Weewee!" "Sir, weewee, aye aye sir!" (with enthusiasm)
After five seconds: "STOP!" "Sir, STOP, aye aye sir!" (in agony)
After ten more seconds: "Finish!" "SIR, FINISH, AYE AYE SIR!"
2. Same conditioning march: we were going along the beach, right where the sand got firm at the edge of the surf line. One recruit suddenly broke out of formation, ran over to the water, and splashed one boot, then ran back and jumped back in his place in formation. The senior halted the platoon, called the offending prive front and center, and roared, "WHAT THE F*** WAS THAT, YOU?" The recruit responded, "Sir, the private has never seen the ocean before, so the private wants to write his mother and tell her he put his foot in the Pacific Ocean, sir!"
The senior nodded, then roared some more: "The following commands are for Private (whatever his name was) alone. About, FACE! Forward, MARCH!" He marched the kid into the ocean until he was chin deep, then halted him and left him standing there for about ten seconds. Then he about-faced him again and marched him back to front and center, looked him up and down, and said, "Now you can tell your mama you put more than your foot in it. NOW GET YOUR STUPID F***ING A** BACK IN FORMATION BEFORE I DECIDE TO DROWN YOU!"
And one from OCS at Quantico nine years later:
We were on the grinder (parade deck) in the hottest part of the afternoon in the middle of July, going through the same drill movement for about the tenth time because one idiot couldn't remember which foot was left (and yes, he did graduate and become an officer of Marines.) We were halted in column formation getting ready to step off again. I was a squad leader, so I was at the front of the platoon. Somebody muttered a line from a Monty Python skit - they had done one where a group of guys in hospital gowns with bloody bandages on their heads did a Frankenstein's-monster stagger down a street with their arms extended, groaning loudly, "MY BRAIN HURTS!" So someone groaned, "MY BRAIN HURTS!" under his breath. Turned out the guide, all the squad leaders, and the guys right behind us were all Python fans, and the whole front end of the platoon fell apart laughing. The more the platoon sergeant screamed, and the more no one would tell him what we were laughing about, the more impossible it got to stop laughing. Needless to say we spent a LONG time on the grinder that afternoon.
1. On a conditioning march right after we got to Pendleton for the rifle range; we'd already been going for several miles and everyone's bladders were getting close to bursting. When one guy requested an emergency head call, the senior drill instructor halted the platoon and gave these commands:
"Face outboard!" "Sir, face outboard, aye aye sir!"
"Take out your peepees!" "Sir, take out your peepees, aye aye sir!"
"Weewee!" "Sir, weewee, aye aye sir!" (with enthusiasm)
After five seconds: "STOP!" "Sir, STOP, aye aye sir!" (in agony)
After ten more seconds: "Finish!" "SIR, FINISH, AYE AYE SIR!"
2. Same conditioning march: we were going along the beach, right where the sand got firm at the edge of the surf line. One recruit suddenly broke out of formation, ran over to the water, and splashed one boot, then ran back and jumped back in his place in formation. The senior halted the platoon, called the offending prive front and center, and roared, "WHAT THE F*** WAS THAT, YOU?" The recruit responded, "Sir, the private has never seen the ocean before, so the private wants to write his mother and tell her he put his foot in the Pacific Ocean, sir!"
The senior nodded, then roared some more: "The following commands are for Private (whatever his name was) alone. About, FACE! Forward, MARCH!" He marched the kid into the ocean until he was chin deep, then halted him and left him standing there for about ten seconds. Then he about-faced him again and marched him back to front and center, looked him up and down, and said, "Now you can tell your mama you put more than your foot in it. NOW GET YOUR STUPID F***ING A** BACK IN FORMATION BEFORE I DECIDE TO DROWN YOU!"
And one from OCS at Quantico nine years later:
We were on the grinder (parade deck) in the hottest part of the afternoon in the middle of July, going through the same drill movement for about the tenth time because one idiot couldn't remember which foot was left (and yes, he did graduate and become an officer of Marines.) We were halted in column formation getting ready to step off again. I was a squad leader, so I was at the front of the platoon. Somebody muttered a line from a Monty Python skit - they had done one where a group of guys in hospital gowns with bloody bandages on their heads did a Frankenstein's-monster stagger down a street with their arms extended, groaning loudly, "MY BRAIN HURTS!" So someone groaned, "MY BRAIN HURTS!" under his breath. Turned out the guide, all the squad leaders, and the guys right behind us were all Python fans, and the whole front end of the platoon fell apart laughing. The more the platoon sergeant screamed, and the more no one would tell him what we were laughing about, the more impossible it got to stop laughing. Needless to say we spent a LONG time on the grinder that afternoon.
Njaco
The Pop-Tart Whisperer
Good one, Rook! The Dinsdales: "I have a piece of brain lodged in my head!"
cougar32d
Airman 1st Class
Ok, so there is was sitting on the berm during gunnery(tt8) as an M1A1 driver, we were getting ready to shoot when we had radio problems which had been occuring all day, which sucked for the crew in the turret but for me....naw i was asleep when i hear my TC yelling "shut it off". So as if waking up to that wasn't bad enough(wait for it)... i shut the tank down, not knowing he was yelling to shut off the radios....yep right in the middle of gunnery,on the berm,ready to shoot........he then yelled "****...WTF!...damn it fire!.....so i tried to crawl out of the drivers hatch just as the main gun fired......it hurt...bad and to this day(this happened in 1997) i still get crap for it!
Rook58
Airman
Thanks - another from early in the career:
While I was with Kilo 3/4, 3rd MarDiv, a PFC in the 60mm mortar section, we were at Camp Fuji in January for cold weather training. There was exactly one day we got to actually fire our crew-served weapons (this was during the Carter administration, when we had to yell "Bang! Bang!" because there wasn't enough of a training budget to use blanks). We had guys who hadn't fired a live round since Infantry Training School.
Anyway, it was a miserable day - sleet and snow, infinite mud, windy, everyone so cold they were shaking. We got to the range; the truck bringing the ammo couldn't get closer than the hardball road a quarter mile away from the line due to the mud, so we had to schlep the cases of mortar and machine gun ammo to the line. Got there, dug two gun pits (we had two functioning mortars of the three we were supposed to have, and they were older than any of the Marines using them.) Got the guns set up, laid out ponchos, got some ammo broken out.
At this point our pinhead company commander, XO, and 1stSgt, all of whom shall remain nameless to protect the guilty, strolled up, threw the crew off one of the guns except for keeping the ammo man to break out more rounds for them, and started just playing with it.
We were angry, to understate it. This was one of probably three or four chances during an entire 12-month tour on Okinawa to get our new guys some practice, and they'd just cut that opportunity in half.
I had a flash. I was gunning on the other tube. We'd been shooting direct lay (target visible from the gun position) at stuff anywhere from 700 to 1200 meters out. I told the ammo man to get five rounds ready with charge zero - no propellant charge except for the shotgun shell-like ignition cartridge. Then I told the assistant gunner, "When I say go, you drop those rounds down the tube as quick as you can - I want the last one in the air before the first one lands."
I knew the actual lethal radius of a 60mm HE round was about 15 or 20 meters, and none of the frags would go farther than about 50 or 60 meters. So I cranked the barrel back to where it would drop the rounds between 75 and 100 meters out (peacetime danger close was supposed to be 200 meters.) When all was ready I told the A-gunner, "Go." and traversed the gun right to left to walk the five rounds across in a line in front of the other gun pit.
The rest of the company (the rifle platoons and the assault section) were just hanging out on a nearby hillside watching the mortars and machine guns shoot. The first round hit the top of its trajectory and started down and they all started yelling "Short round! Short round!"
Those five rounds went off over about a ten-second span right out in front of gun pit # 2 - the CO actually, literally, had hysterics and wet his pants, with his whole company watching the stain spread over the crotch of his uniform.
By the time he quit gibbering and got to my gun pit, the gun was set for 800 meters again and all the ammo in sight had charge 2 or charge 3 on it. I put on my best Gomer Pyle act and swore I had no idea what had happened - must have been the wet, or maybe defective ammo, as this lot was ancient? He wanted to court-martial me, but my platoon commander and platoon sergeant stuck up for me. He made sure I didn't make lance corporal for the rest of the time he had the company, but it was worth it. My nickname for the rest of that tour was Short Round.
Sequel: one of my brothers was in boot camp and the same captain was the CO of his recruit training company (small world - luckily for my brother, it had been a few years, our last name is fairly common, and he didn't make the connection). My parents were there for visitors' day the Sunday before he graduated. He and my mom were walking around and walked by the company office and she saw the sign with the captain's name on it, and there was a car in his parking place. She cracked up and headed for the door. My brother got in the way and asked her what she was doing - she said she was going to stick her head in the door and yell "Short round!" He talked her out of it. Probably just as well.
While I was with Kilo 3/4, 3rd MarDiv, a PFC in the 60mm mortar section, we were at Camp Fuji in January for cold weather training. There was exactly one day we got to actually fire our crew-served weapons (this was during the Carter administration, when we had to yell "Bang! Bang!" because there wasn't enough of a training budget to use blanks). We had guys who hadn't fired a live round since Infantry Training School.
Anyway, it was a miserable day - sleet and snow, infinite mud, windy, everyone so cold they were shaking. We got to the range; the truck bringing the ammo couldn't get closer than the hardball road a quarter mile away from the line due to the mud, so we had to schlep the cases of mortar and machine gun ammo to the line. Got there, dug two gun pits (we had two functioning mortars of the three we were supposed to have, and they were older than any of the Marines using them.) Got the guns set up, laid out ponchos, got some ammo broken out.
At this point our pinhead company commander, XO, and 1stSgt, all of whom shall remain nameless to protect the guilty, strolled up, threw the crew off one of the guns except for keeping the ammo man to break out more rounds for them, and started just playing with it.
We were angry, to understate it. This was one of probably three or four chances during an entire 12-month tour on Okinawa to get our new guys some practice, and they'd just cut that opportunity in half.
I had a flash. I was gunning on the other tube. We'd been shooting direct lay (target visible from the gun position) at stuff anywhere from 700 to 1200 meters out. I told the ammo man to get five rounds ready with charge zero - no propellant charge except for the shotgun shell-like ignition cartridge. Then I told the assistant gunner, "When I say go, you drop those rounds down the tube as quick as you can - I want the last one in the air before the first one lands."
I knew the actual lethal radius of a 60mm HE round was about 15 or 20 meters, and none of the frags would go farther than about 50 or 60 meters. So I cranked the barrel back to where it would drop the rounds between 75 and 100 meters out (peacetime danger close was supposed to be 200 meters.) When all was ready I told the A-gunner, "Go." and traversed the gun right to left to walk the five rounds across in a line in front of the other gun pit.
The rest of the company (the rifle platoons and the assault section) were just hanging out on a nearby hillside watching the mortars and machine guns shoot. The first round hit the top of its trajectory and started down and they all started yelling "Short round! Short round!"
Those five rounds went off over about a ten-second span right out in front of gun pit # 2 - the CO actually, literally, had hysterics and wet his pants, with his whole company watching the stain spread over the crotch of his uniform.
By the time he quit gibbering and got to my gun pit, the gun was set for 800 meters again and all the ammo in sight had charge 2 or charge 3 on it. I put on my best Gomer Pyle act and swore I had no idea what had happened - must have been the wet, or maybe defective ammo, as this lot was ancient? He wanted to court-martial me, but my platoon commander and platoon sergeant stuck up for me. He made sure I didn't make lance corporal for the rest of the time he had the company, but it was worth it. My nickname for the rest of that tour was Short Round.
Sequel: one of my brothers was in boot camp and the same captain was the CO of his recruit training company (small world - luckily for my brother, it had been a few years, our last name is fairly common, and he didn't make the connection). My parents were there for visitors' day the Sunday before he graduated. He and my mom were walking around and walked by the company office and she saw the sign with the captain's name on it, and there was a car in his parking place. She cracked up and headed for the door. My brother got in the way and asked her what she was doing - she said she was going to stick her head in the door and yell "Short round!" He talked her out of it. Probably just as well.
cougar32d
Airman 1st Class
Ok, because i'm a tanker and apparently by definition semi-retarded, what you were supposed to read in the last bit of my story is that i thought that my tank was on fire..........................moral of the story: don't fall asleep when you not supposed to!
Rook58
Airman
One more time.
During that same cold weather training deployment to Fuji, we usually had weekend liberty, and a bunch of us went to Yokosuka and got tattoos. The artist we went to was great - been getting comments on the two tattoos I got there for thirty years since then. Two weird tattoo events:
1. There were two guys in the platoon that just did not get along. Both in the antitank assault section, i.e. 0351s. One was a low-rider type from east L.A. and the other was a pretty bigoted farm boy from a small town in upstate New York. They were always at each other.
So one Sunday night everybody got back from liberty and, as usual, people wanted to see whatever new tattoos anyone had gotten. The bigoted guy was showing off the one he'd gotten - an eagle with a rattlesnake in its claws. The guy from L.A. saw it and started laughing and couldn't stop.
The redneck guy stuck out his chin and demanded to know what was so funny. The guy from L.A. said, "I got something I have to show you, man!" He opened his seabag and pulled out a Mexican flag... which features, at its center, an eagle clutching a rattlesnake. He held it and said "You have a Mexican flag on your arm, man!"
2. We had another guy who was the reincarnation of Gomer Pyle. He picked out a biker-style tattoo design. It had a skull with no lower jaw, cracked and yellowish, with fangs, a snake crawling out of one eye socket, and a bunch of dark red roses coming out of the mouth. From the sides of the skull two bat wings stuck out, with claws at the bottom, holding a plaque like the Harley logo.
The artist got the whole thing done except for filling in the plaque, then asked our guy what kind of motorcycle he rode. Gomer guffawed and said he'd never been on a motorcycle in his life. The artist was kind of perplexed at that point, and asked, "So what you want me to put in here?"
Gomer thought for a moment, then beamed and said, "Mom!"
During that same cold weather training deployment to Fuji, we usually had weekend liberty, and a bunch of us went to Yokosuka and got tattoos. The artist we went to was great - been getting comments on the two tattoos I got there for thirty years since then. Two weird tattoo events:
1. There were two guys in the platoon that just did not get along. Both in the antitank assault section, i.e. 0351s. One was a low-rider type from east L.A. and the other was a pretty bigoted farm boy from a small town in upstate New York. They were always at each other.
So one Sunday night everybody got back from liberty and, as usual, people wanted to see whatever new tattoos anyone had gotten. The bigoted guy was showing off the one he'd gotten - an eagle with a rattlesnake in its claws. The guy from L.A. saw it and started laughing and couldn't stop.
The redneck guy stuck out his chin and demanded to know what was so funny. The guy from L.A. said, "I got something I have to show you, man!" He opened his seabag and pulled out a Mexican flag... which features, at its center, an eagle clutching a rattlesnake. He held it and said "You have a Mexican flag on your arm, man!"
2. We had another guy who was the reincarnation of Gomer Pyle. He picked out a biker-style tattoo design. It had a skull with no lower jaw, cracked and yellowish, with fangs, a snake crawling out of one eye socket, and a bunch of dark red roses coming out of the mouth. From the sides of the skull two bat wings stuck out, with claws at the bottom, holding a plaque like the Harley logo.
The artist got the whole thing done except for filling in the plaque, then asked our guy what kind of motorcycle he rode. Gomer guffawed and said he'd never been on a motorcycle in his life. The artist was kind of perplexed at that point, and asked, "So what you want me to put in here?"
Gomer thought for a moment, then beamed and said, "Mom!"
cougar32d
Airman 1st Class
Funny stuff. 
Konigstiger205
Staff Sergeant
Funny stuff guys
Rook58
Airman
Thx - I still think there are more colorful people and ridiculous events in the military, along with the serious side and the stuff that hurts, than in anything else people do. It always kind of cracks me up when I see military people portrayed as grim and robotic in some of the media, because I didn't run into very many of those types and when I did they tended to generate unintentional comedy anyway.
A4K
Brigadier General
Great stories Matt and 'Short round' !
