The Fart Sack
My national guard unit, 139th ROC, North Carolina NG, was sent to Slavonski Brod, Croatia to staff the Task Force Pershing HQ for SFOR in Bosnia. We were a glorified truck stop for the units moving between Germany and Bosnia.
As an E-5 – Buck Sergeant for the civilians – I ended up being the ranking enlisted man in the Intel section. One of my guys was Aaron. Aaron never stopped whining. “It’s too hot,” “It’s too cold,” “It always rains.” Waah, waah, waah. And he worked in an office that heat and AC, plus, being the Intel section for a brigade we had a TV in our room with cable so that we could “monitor the news.” Cough, cough, ESPN, cough, cough.
I was counseled by my captain for calling Aaron “my bitch” and “Jennifer” because he whined like he had PMS all of the time. I also couldn’t mention PMS in any context.
I worked a night shift. I slept during the day – duh. My cot was near the entrance of our GP medium tent – about the size of the hospital tent in MASH. We were able to spread out since only six of us slept in it, and since the tent was draped over a wooden frame, we had a door to keep out the weather.
My cot was by the door. The door had a spring on it so that it would stay shut, but this meant that it would slam shut when opened. One day Aaron woke me up with his slamming and banging as he switched out his sleeping bag for a freshly cleaned one. A few minutes later, after he had gone back to work, the door began slamming and banging at a furious rate.
I sat up ready to tear some ass, only to see a line of Specialists and Sergeants formed up and taking turns sitting on Aaron’s fart sack. Each guy would sit down and then rip a nasty, wet sounding fart, courtesy of nutritious Army chow, then make room for the next guy.
Before I could say, “What the hell?” One of my specialists, as he was sitting down said, “We do this every time he turns in his fart sack.” To emphasize his statement, he reached into his butt crack and pulled out some butt fuzz, which he stuffed deep down into the fart sack.
I then got an earful of how Aaron had become a dick after he made Sergeant. I commiserated with the guys, because it was all true. I then went back to sleep, but first I took my turn in line.
A few days later as Aaron was hitting the sack and I was getting ready to go to work, Aaron said, “I don’t get it, I just turned in my old sleeping bag and this one already smells like ass.”
I bet it did. About 20 asses.
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October 22nd, 2008 at 5:01 am
Heh… We’d just use their bags to hold em down while we let those wet nasties rip right in their face. Much more satisfactory.
Captcha: Hospital hospital – Speaking of M.A.S.H.
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Speed reply on October 23rd, 2008 5:02 am:
What kept us from doing anything like that was our major. I think Aaron was his love child. We also had a “tent commander,” a staff sergeant and little brother of a major that liked to ‘narc’ on everyone. I’d strike a blow for freedom when I could, but ya gotta watch your six.
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October 22nd, 2008 at 9:25 am
just goes to show the nc national guard knows how to have fun
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October 22nd, 2008 at 11:10 am
He should have put the butt fuzz on Jennifers face when he was sleeping. Nothing like warm fuzz to wake up to when it’s in your nose.
-SpaZzy-
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October 24th, 2008 at 4:45 pm
Duct tape, commo wire, field phone and a rag in the mouth, could have been a fun party!
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February 16th, 2009 at 3:15 am
Those fartsacks were the warmest thing I’ve ever slept in, especially while on winter maneuvers during the 60’s in Germany. I did not want to get out of it in the morning.
We had a “brown noser” in our outfit who got a “blanket party” by being beaten while asleep in his, while fully zipped up.
His attitude was remarkably improved!
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David B reply on February 28th, 2014 10:43 pm:
I have a surplus one of those. During the winter, I haul it out and use it as a comforter. I could stay in that thing all day.
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February 28th, 2014 at 10:41 pm
Hell, when I was in Boy Scouts, one of our favorite Dutch Oven recipes was “Dangerous Beans”. It had refried beans, pinto beans, navy beans, baked beans, and a few others, plus some BBQ sauce and choice spices. One of our Scoutmasters was an ex-Marine, and he wouldn’t touch the stuff! After eating that, we would all file into the troop asshole’s tent and do the same. We would also put crumbs under his tent, so he would be awakened in the middle of the night by mice crawling around under the tent floor!
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