Archive for the ‘Army’ Category

Lt. Dan Choi is being fired from the military for refusing to lie about who he loves

Help him keep fighting by signing this letter to Speaker Pelosi asking her to repeal “Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell”

http://www.couragecampaign.org/page/s/RepealDADT

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To say that I have a talent for languages would be like saying that the Hindenburg was fireproof.

Yes this get’s to Pop Rocks and Coke. It just takes a little bit, please bear with me.

Being raised Jewish, I attended Hebrew School from Kindergarten to the Seventh grade. That whole time I was given classes in how to speak Hebrew. I managed to get to the point where I could memorize the sounds enough to get through my Bar-Mitzvah. In Middle School, and again in High School I attended French language classes. I managed to learn to conjugate verbs, but that was about it. When I briefly attended college before joining the military, I took French classes. I managed to pass the first level, but couldn’t advance any farther than that, despite multiple attempts.

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Many years ago, I got to spend about six months living in tents in the Kosovo region.  Now, there are many many reasons why living in a large communal tent for six months isn’t much fun.  And one of the more annoying reasons is vermin.

See, our camp was located in what used to be a great big field.  And in the great big field there lived a great many mice.  Resourceful mice, with a taste for MRE’s, and a rather impressive set of rappelling gear, based on the places that they were able to get into.

At one point we had some candy stuck an large decorative tin can, on top of a television, on top of a plastic storage bin.  So this is a good four feet off of the ground, with every surface made of smooth plastic or metal.  And mice still got in.  I figure they were lowering themselves down from the roof, with some elaborate pulley system, like Tom Cruise in Mission Impossible.

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More years ago than I like to admit I was stationed in Sarajevo, Bosnia. While I was there we lived in what had originally been some sort of office building, but had now been converted into a barracks.
Overall as housing during a deployment goes we had it pretty good. There was a cafeteria built into the building, which meant that we got hot food served to us three times a day. We had heat and AC. There was a television room with a VCR, pool tables, and it even had a bar.  It sure beat the hell out of living in a tent.

Of course, this place did have the occasional water problems, which have been discussed earlier.  One of the other problems was that there was generally enough hot water for maybe three people to take a shower in the morning.  Which meant that you got to take a lot of cold showers.

Now at this time people who haven’t been in the military are probably going “No hot water?  That sucks!”.  People who have been in the military, especially those who have been deployed to the Middle East over the past several years are probably going: “You had a bar and you are complaining about the water?  You can just fuck right off Skippy.”

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One day, while I was stationed in Bosnia, one of the female soldiers told our team lead that she needed to go to sick call.

When asked why she needed to go, she responded “Female Trouble”.

Being a typical American male, and a fairly sensible one at that, he decided that he didn’t need or want to know any further details, and sent her on her merry way.

The next day another female soldier in our unit needed to go to sick call, and cited the same reason.  The day after that two more needed to go.

Our team lead was starting to get suspicious, and asked for more details.

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As any person who has participated in a military deployment can tell you, boredom can be one of your worst enemies.

Now granted  the foreign guys with guns and bombs who want to kill you are probably a little more of a concern.  But boredom can usually get second place.

Maybe third if your home base has a crazy bitch trying to get her church group put in charge of your recreation.

Or a distant fourth if you’re stationed in a place with camel spiders  Because once you have camel spiders all of your problems pretty much become secondary to the “A giant spider is going to have it’s way with my skull and fill my brain with it’s demonic spawn” issue.

But whatever the case boredom tends to feature pretty high on the “things that suck” list.

So while I was in Bosnia I worked in an office, designing propaganda products to try to convince the locals that maybe they should stop trying to basically kill everybody that has ever had an ancestor in that part of the world.  Because nothing says “time to end centuries of sectarian violence and attempted genocide” like a really awesome poster or leaflet.

Since I worked in an office in one of the nicer installations in the region, we got some perks, such as electricity, running water, and satellite TV.  But unfortunately for me and my team mates, we were forbidden to set the TV to any channel except for CNN.  And so we got to watch world news on a loop all day while we worked.

At one point the news informed us of a lawsuit that seemed a tad out of the ordinary.  Some European dance-pop band had angered Mattel by making a song that seemed to portray Barbie in a less than flattering and chaste fashion. (And on a side note, if a chick has no job, a closet full of designer clothes, and a custom pink corvette she’s sleeping with someone.  Or she’s Paris Hilton, which is probably worse)

So we knew about the Barbie Girl song.  But CNN only played a tiny 3 second snippet of the song during their story.  The song may have been all over the airwaves back in the states, but we hadn’t heard it yet. And somehow, over the course of several days, the entire Product Development Detachment became obsessed with it.

You know how you can sometimes get a part of a song stuck in your head, and the only way to get rid of it is to hear or sing the whole song?  That was us.  Except that nobody had any way to get a copy of the song out to Sarejevo all that quickly.

After a few weeks of hell, one of our teammates was flown out to Germany for a medical procedure.  And while she was there, she managed to buy a copy of the Aqua CD at the PX.

Upon her return the CD was played loudly and repeatedly.  And we danced in triumph.

Now, before, many people over the years have asked for a description of the Infamous Barbie Girl Dance.  I will just go on record as saying that I was a twenty-three year old, painfully white nerd, dancing with victorious purpose to a bad European pop song.

I’ll let you do the math on how that one looked.

But like many of the things I did while deployed, my co-workers found it funny.  Eventually word spread, and soldiers from other sections would stop by, and request to see the dance.

Again for people wondering why, bear in mind when your entertainment options are watch CNN for another hour or watch PFC Skippy do the funky white boy, you might see why the Barbie Girl dance became popular.

On a related note, while we were deployed to Bosnia there where rules about drinking.  We were allowed to have beer or wine, but no more than two 12 ounce glasses in one day.  As you can probably imagine, those rules where treated as suggestions.  And not particularly strongly worded suggestions at that.

And so one day, shortly after my duty shift ended, I was approached by a female reservist.  She was a SSG, and sloppily drunk.  It should also be noted that when it came to her appearance, she fell somewhere between “Not particularly attractive” and “Kill it! Kill it with fire!”, leaning just a teensy bit towards the later.

“Are you the guy that does the Barbie dance?”

Thinking quickly, I tried to determine whether or not it would be in my best interest to admit that I was.  So I came up with a clever answer to stall until I could figure it out.

“Maybe?”

“Naw you are so that dancin’ guy.  I wanna see the dance.”

“I don’t want to dance Sergeant.”

“Well I wanna see you dance.  I like men who kin dance.”  She that look that drunk people give that they would describe as “smoldering” but everyone else would describe as a “bad-touch party clown leer”.

“Umm, no thanks?” And I tried to step around her.

“Dance for me Private!”  She moved to block me in, and clapped her hands like a sultan giving orders to a harem.  We were beginning to draw a crowd.

“Sergeant I don’t think–”

“I SAID DANCE BOY!  DANCE FOR ME NOW!”  She then pushed me into the corner, grabbed me by the shoulders and began to shake me like an angry British nanny.

“Schwarz!” Bellowed my team lead stepping into the vicinity. “What do you think you are doing?”

“He’s gonna DANCE!” Countered the scary reservist.

“I’m sorry Sergeant Scary Behemoth Lady, but my Private is just about to go on duty, and he’s not allowed to perform his famous Barbie Girl dance while on duty.  Isn’t that right Schwarz?”

“Yes Sergeant!”

“Then get the hell out of here soldier.”

“But I wanted to see him dance.” She sulked, like the worlds saddest Hutt.

“Yes Sergeant!  Thank you Sergeant.”

And with that, I ran away as fast as my legs could carry me.

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After a brief hiatus we’ve got more military items again.

(Submitted by Andrew)

• I am not “God and King” over the base networks Electrocons and will not wage war on the Protocons
• The computers are not spying on the junior enlisted
• The computers are not spying on the senior enlisted
• The computers are not spying on the officers
• Computers of and in themselves are not capable of spying at all
• Will not use Photoshop to enlarge a SNCO’s head
• Will not email above picture to all lower enlisted on base with the subject “Real photo of <name omitted>’s Ego”
• Will not rename the SIPR as SIPpy so the officers will feel “More at home”
• Will not use official government computers, spare parts, tools and parking lots to build a battle robot
• *Will not use above battle robot to “enforce parking regulations” on other branches of the service
• *Will not attach a fully loaded M16A2 to above battle robot to “make it more imposing”
• Will not use forklifts to “re-park” unauthorized vehicles
• Will not use government assets to build a “beer trebuchet” even if it is really cool to fling a can of beer over 200 yards
• Will not feed the badgers left over meat from the barbeques
• Will not post fake warning signs on government devices
• Will not use above beer trebuchet to fling bottled sodas
• Will not play “CD Frisbee” between the 3rd floors of separate buildings
• Will not write my ex-wife’s name on weapons qualification targets
• Will not bring my own “M16A2” for weapons qualification
• Will not use government assets to build a “fully functioning scale model of a WWI gatling gun”
• Will not test the “armor capabilities” of occupied vehicles with scale model WWI gatling gun.
• Will not test the “armor capabilities” of unoccupied vehicles with scale model WWI gatling gun.
• Will not use the Howitzer as a drum, ever if it has “great acoustics”
• Will always check direction of fire from T-Shirt cannon to ensure it does not fire a baseball through the Base CO’s closed window.
• Will not smile and shakes everyone’s hand thanking them profusely for demoting me a rank after scale model of WWI gatling gun incident
• Will not tell the psyc evaluator “I’m loony as Canadian money”
• Will not build my own bunker with flood sand bags and declare all land in it as ceded from the union and shall now be called Blargistan
• Will not use Calvin from Calvin and Hobbes as my name on official forms

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Vaden’s post yesterday reminded me of this particular story.

A long long time ago, back when I was an E-2 at Ft. Bragg, I was in a detachment with a young woman who I will refer to as Specialist Awesome.

Specialist Awesome was pretty much the definition of fearless. It didn’t matter who or what confronted her, she didn’t get flustered, or embarrassed, and she certainly never backed down from a challenge.

So one day my unit had a room inspection. Now this was before the nice new barracks that we received right before the inflatable sheep story.

The barracks that we lived in at the time looked like somebody had purchased a crack house, attacked it with a sledgehammer, and then let things go downhill from there.

One feature of these barracks was random nails sticking out of nearly every wall. I’m guessing at some point a soldier needed to hang something up, and the nails had just never come down. I hung a curtain from a few of these, to make some privacy. Some soldiers used them for hanging pictures, or speakers. Many used them for storage, by stringing shaving kits, or various pieces of equipment off of them.

Well Specialist Awesome, being like many other soldiers, hung stuff on the nails in her room too.

So during the room inspection the Commander and the SGT Major were both in her room, and everything seemed to check out. Just as they were wrapping up, however, the Commander noticed something that Specialist Awesome had hung up on a nail: an economy-sized package of Trojan brand condoms.

A strip of them was hanging out of the side, like some sort of amorous ammo belt.

The Commander got an impish look on his face, and turned to Specialist Awesome.

“So Specialist,” he began with that tone that officers use when they are screwing with an enlisted trooper, “Would you care to explain to the SGT Major and me what those are?” he finished, pointing at the rubbers.

Without a twitch, no trace of a blush, and looking him right in the eye while at the position of attention, Specialist Awesome answered him.

“Sir! Those are condoms. They are a form of barrier contraception. They are so I do not get pregnant when I fuck, SIR!”

Then she cocked one eyebrow at him, as if to say “Is that all you got?”

The Commander, decided that that was indeed all he had, turned bright red, mumbled something about her room passing inspection, and quickly exited the room.

The SGT Major followed him out, giving the distinct appearance of a man trying desperately not to choke to death on his own mustache.

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No shit there I was, Ramadi, Iraq. We got the call for additional support from one of our OPs (observation posts). My outfit was on the hook to lead EOD to outpost in case of need.

Just south of our outpost was a section of palm trees and reeds (along the banks of the Euphrates river). We had taken small arms, mortar, and RPG fire from that area in the past. We had taken to posting signs in that area that stated locals were not allowed there and could be shot on sight.

On this particular afternoon there was an Iraqi Military Aged Male (MAM) walking through the reeds of “no-mans land”. The OP tried to get the MAM to come to the OP through their loudspeaker, but the MAM wouldn’t come closer and he wouldn’t leave. So the SFC on site raised his M4 and shot the MAM in the side. The MAM then laid down just on the outskirts of reeds.

With EOD now on site, and our outfit also having robots, we sent our robots out to inspect the MAM, to insure that he was not strapped with explosives. When the robots got to the MAM he got up and started kicking them. We brought our robots back to keep them from getting damaged.

The next thing that we did was take EOD’s IED clearing/blast-proof vehicle: The Buffalo (they had one in the film Transformers) and we proceeded to put a large stick in the Buffalo’s retractable arm, so as to lift up the MAM’s man-skirt and see if he was packing explosives. When the Buffalo got to the man and started to lift his skirt the MAM got up, took the stick off of the Buffalo and started beating the Buffalo with the stick.

My First sergeant, who you may or may not remember from the Backscratcher story, suggested that we set up a Pop and Drop (A block of C-4 primed with a remote detonated electronic blasting cap) and have the robot lay it down by the MAM. As the SFC on site started to set up the Pop and Drop, our gunner Young Specialist Janelle started yelling, “I don’t think that’s legal, I don’t think that’s legal”, and therefore Top dropped that idea.

That is when the young E-5 EOD tech said, “this guy ain’t packing, I’m gonna drag his ass back here before he bleeds out.” Before any one could stop him he ran at the MAM, the MAM got up and started to run, The EOD tech tackled him, and subdued him.

Upon closer inspection it turned out that the MAM was Corky from Life Goes On retarded.

The SIGACT the following day read “The ___ Engineers shot a MAM around OP ___. The ___ EN and ___ EOD sent robots to check on the MAM’s status, the MAM fought off the robots. The ___ EOD sent their buffalo to check the MAM’s status, the MAM beat the Buffalo with a stick. The ___ EOD tackled and subdued the MAM. The MAM was questioned, treated, and released.”

This poor retarded bastard was just walking through the reeds and gets yelled at, shot, attacked with robots, poked with a stick from a Buffalo, almost blown to bits, and then tackled.

You just can’t make this shit up.

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This story was related to me by one of my NCO’s, and as such I felt obliged to share it with you all. As told to me by SGT S.

No shit there I was, Fort Benning, Georgia 1990-something. My buddies and I were reading through our various sources of adult entertainment when we came along the topic of Penis Pumps. As it turned out, none of us had ever tried one, and after reading about how well they worked to increase the size of our man-parts, my squad made a pact to buy one for each of us.

Later that month 12 pumps arrived, and the only sounds one could hear late at night was akin to 12 bicycle tires being pumped manually.

Only one week later our brand new First Sergeant joined our outfit, and of course he was set to inspect the barracks. I was first to be inspected, and upon finding my manhood enhancer he got hot. “I know what this is, we had these in Nam! You are in some serious trouble! Though this one is kinda strange? Where do you inhale out of?”

That is when my LT stepped in, “Um, Top. That’s not a bong? That’s SGT S’s Penis pump?” Top got a disgusted look on his face and threw my pump across the room. Upon inspecting the rest of my squad mates and finding another, and yet another, Top put his hands on his hips and announced that “I must have the most well hung squad on this post, you buncha sick bastards.”

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