Memoirs of a Soldier

Skysoldier

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Got any interesting stories about serving in the Military?

I have a ton of them, so I will start of with this story.....hope you enjoy it![smile]

Showing up for OBC at Fort Benning.


Back in November of 1970 I finally got orders to go back to Vietnam. I volunteered, because I was stationed at Fort Riley, Kansas. (If you ever served in that hell hole called Fort Riley, you will understand why!)

I got a thirty day leave and decided to hitchike to Fort Bragg and see my older brother John.

When I got to Fort Bragg, they told me he wasn't there. He was traveling to Fort Benning to attend the Officer Basic Course!

Now, for those of you who haven't read about my brother here, let me explain.

John joined in 1964, he did a tour in Germany and then went to Vietnam in 1966.

He did two and a half tours in Vietnam, made it to E-6 and then was given a combat commission to 2LT back in 1969.

He went back to Vietnam in 1970, as a 2LT, where he earned the Distinguished Service Cross.

He came back to the states and was stationed at Fort Bragg when they informed him that he could not be promoted to 1LT until he attended the Officer Basic Course. (He never even graduated from High School when he enlisted.)

So I hitchiked to Fort Benning the next day.

When I found him, he was standing in line and inproccessing at the OBC.

He was the only guy there wearing a Class A uniform with butter bars!

He was also a bit pissed about having to go through this shit, so he showed up wearing only his DSC ribbon.......nothing else! No CIB, No Arcom's, no Bronze Stars, no Vietnam Service Medals,...not even a f***ing NDSM! Just his DSC!

I hadn't seen him in four years. We hugged each other like only brothers do.

Everybody looked at us wondering why this 2LT and this PFC could act like this. (Yeah,I was just a PFC again, I got busted that year!)

The next thing I know, this young punk E-5 cadre comes up to us. He has jump wings and and a f***ing EIB! He has never even been in Vietnam!

He looks at my brother and says..............







wait for it...

"Take those f***ing butter bars off your uniform Troop, and get rid of that pussy ROTC Ribbon! You are in the real Army now!

My brother exploded!

He grabbed that little E-5 by the throat and dragged him across the yard and into the Orderly Room!

"WHO THE f*** IS IN CHARGE HERE!" he screamed.

A young Captain came out of his office...."I am in charge, and what the f*** is the problem?"

My brother literally threw the E-5 on the floor and said, "Your better teach this Motherf***er how to recognize Awards and Decorations, before I beat his ass!"

My brother was not a guy to f*** with.....I knew it when I was 12 years old!

But that day a lot of people at the Fort Benning Officer Basic Course learned it too!
 
A Thanksgiving story!

\
I was stationed at Fort Campbell with the soon to be disbanded 173rd Airborne Brigade. It was the day before Thanksgiving, 1971.


My family lived in South Bend, Indiana. I didn't have money for a bus ticket, so I decided to hitchhike home. Back then, you could hitchhike anywhere in uniform and never worry about getting a ride. It was actually quicker than taking a bus.

By the next morning (Thanksgiving day) I was standing on the side of Highway 31 in Kokomo, Indiana, about an hour from home. It was cold and starting to rain as I stuck out my thumb...

An old rusted pickup truck pulled over, driven by an old farmer.

"Get in here Soldier, before you get your uniform wet! Boy, am I glad to see you today! Where you headed to?"

So I told him I was heading to South Bend.

We started talking, and I quickly learned that appearances were deceiving. He was a farmer, but he was also a retired Air Force Colonel with some good stories about flying bombers in WWII. He reminded me a lot of my Dad who served in WWII.

He kept insisting that we go to his place and have a few beers and get something to eat.

He was very friendly, and I was beginning to think he was getting a little "too friendly", if you know what I mean. Something didn’t feel right!

So I hemmed and hawed....

"Well, I appreciate the offer” I said, “but I really want to get to South Bend today for Thanksgiving. Just drop me off when you turn off the highway, and I will get another ride."

He started getting sad, and kept insisting I take a little time and go home with him.

"I want you to come meet my wife and daughter.” He said, “ They would love to meet you. You can just stay a little while, and I will take you all the way to South Bend later if you want. What kind of Paratrooper would refuse a good meal and a cold beer or two?”

So, I got to thinking……Farmers daughter?….. Cold Beer? What the hell, let’s give it a try!


He immediately turned off into a gas station.

"Don't go anywhere”, he said, “I just have to make a quick call and let them know we’re coming!"

He comes back, throws a six pack of beer in my lap and winks at me, “The wife don’t like me drinking at home, but we can drink these on the way, and I got a bottle of moonshine out in the barn for later!”

We take off down the gravel highway, drinking beer and telling each other war stories. I was starting to feel more comfortable…(I hadn’t had breakfast, and the three beers on an empty stomach were giving me a good buzz!)

We pulled into the driveway of the quintessential Indiana farm with the big barn out back, three story Victorian style home in front, a bunch of milk cows in the corrals, and acres and acres of surrounding corn fields. I was so buzzed I though I was in a movie scene…

We pull up behind the house, and his wife and daughter were already outside waiting for us. I got out of the truck and they both came up and hugged me like I was their long lost son. I couldn’t believe how happy they were to see me, because I was just a stranger to them!

(Side note for those who are wondering. The farmer’s daughter was about 15 years old with pigtails and braces! So much for the farmer’s daughter fantasy!)

But the beer buzz was working………..and I couldn’t wait to try the moonshine!

The whole scene was getting surreal!

We walked into the kitchen and I smelled the roast turkey in the oven, and the apple pie…. all the other smells that mean Thanksgiving dinner!

I was so hungry I couldn’t say no. So I told them I would stay for dinner.

It was one of the best Thanksgiving dinners I ever had!

He and I made several trips to the barn that afternoon, checking out the moonshine!

To make a long story short, I got so drunk that I passed out and woke up on their living room couch early the next morning.

When I woke up the next morning, first thing I noticed was a folded flag on the mantle of the fireplace, and then I noticed all the pictures on the mantle.

They had all these pictures of a young soldier, the basic training picture, the jump school picture…..and the pictures from Vietnam……

And then I noticed the Gold Star Flag in the front window of the living room.

They had a framed citation for the Silver Star….awarded posthumously to their son for operations in Vietnam in 1969.

And then I knew why they wanted me to stay for Thanksgiving dinner!

I knew why they welcomed me into their home! And I think spending Thanksgiving with them was more important than me being home with my own family that year.

I never did make it to South Bend that weekend.

We became best friends through the years, and Charlie always called me his adopted son, and he was my adopted Dad!
 
That's quite a tale. ETA: The second one makes me feel ... [sad2]

This is from a letter I received from my son in November:

"... and a few days ago we faced the gas chamber. Now that one REALLY sucked huge balls.

We had to line up outside of this cabin in the woods that we had to ruck march 5 miles just to reach and put on our gas masks. Our masks were only checked once by an instructor and even then he wasn't very thorough. And of course we're the second platoon to go inside so we get to see the first guys come out puking and dropping snot everywhere. That was fun.

<snip>

On the way out, once they had opened the door that is, everyone tried to leave at the same time. This must have been funny to see, 60 soldiers all run out, blind, incoherent and desperate for some fresh air.

I came up against something big and soft at the exit and figured that one of my platoon mates was being a dick and blocking the exit, so I pushed. The ass pushed back so I shoved the bastard with everything I had so I could get out. Turns out I had just pushed a drill sergeant over a fence and onto the ground.

But it was OK, they said I was "disoriented". Yeah. That's what it was."
 
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Another story about my brother John.

************************************************** **
It was August of 1968, and I was a patient at the hospital at Fort Campbell,
having been wounded in January of that year. I was an ambulatory patient, and
allowed off hospital premises during the day. We wore hospital blues, and were
allowed to wear them to the PX, service club, etc. You were not required to
salute while wearing hospital blue pajamas, and you didn't have to wear a damn
hat either.

My older brother just finished his third tour in Vietnam, and asked for duty at
Ft Campbell to be near me. He had just received a direct commission from E6 to 2LT,
and was the CO of a Basic Training Company.

It was a beautiful Friday, with a slight wind to keep things cool, and his company
was between cycles. He and the drill sergeants decided to take the day to change
out the engine of his Volkswagon bug in the parking lot, a task that of course
required several cases of beer.

We were having a great time, with empty beer cans and car parts spread all over
the parking lot, when a UPS truck drove up and the driver hauled out a rather large box.

"It's here", screamed by brother, as he ran to the UPS truck. It was his first
sport parachute, and he had been waiting weeks for it.

The next thing I know, they all headed to the roof of the 3 story barracks. I
was detailed to stay in the parking lot and guard the beer, as I was not physically
able to climb the ladder to the roof anyway.

Well, I could hear a lot of screaming and yelling up there, and the next thing
I see is a fully inflated parachute almost pulling my brother of the roof.

It was about this time that my brother decided to take of his greasy coveralls,
because he didn't want to get grease on his brand new red white and blue parachute.

As I stoodthere drunk and swaying in the parking lot, a cab comes up and drops off
two very young 2nd LT's, obviously ROTC from all the funny ribbons on their chest.

"Soldier, what the hell are you doing? Don't you know how to salute?"

"Yeah" I said rather drunkenly, "But I am a hospital patient and a Vietnam Veteran! And I don't have to salute any puke f***ing ROTC officers!

"What's you name soldier? And clean up this mess!"

"Who is your company commander?", the other puke said, as he took out his pen and pad.

Well, that is when my brother decided to take off from the roof. Drifting out
over the parade field, screaming like a banshee, wearing nothing but a jock strap and
his boots!

"Jeezus", says one of the ROTC's, "The company commander is going to have that guy's ass!"

So I stood at a drunken attention, and saluted......

"SIR, THAT IS THE COMPANY COMMANDER SIR! AIRBORNE!"
 
And one more.......just because I appreciated the oppurtunity of sharing these stories....


The voices of Angel Fire

My best friend in Albuquerque is also a Vietnam Veteran. He and I are the same age, and often take roads trips to get away from work and family.

We decided to take a short road trip yesterday to Angel Fire, and visit the Vietnam Veterans National Memorial.

The Memorial was built by the father of a Vietnam Veteran. Dr. David Westphal lost his son in Vietnam in 1968. He built the original memorial with his own hands as a personal tribute tribute to his lost son.

Little did Dr. Westphal know what he started. Or, maybe he did.

The Memorial sits atop a hill overlooking one of the the most spectacular views in New Mexico. A vast valley surrounded by beautiful mountain peaks in every direction. We were blessed with a lot of snow this past winter and spring. The blue green of the prairie grasses carpeted the valley, accentuated by the wildflowers blooming in every color of the rainbow.

The mountains all around were a darker green, and the whole scene was reminiscent of sitting on a fire base in Vietnam.

But the most striking part, is the intense quiet. The only sounds were a gentle wind bowing out of Taos Canyon. And if you listen carefully, you can hear the voices in the wind.

As you sit on the side of the hill, you begin to hear voices from the past, ......carried by the winds.

The tears come, but they are not the tears of the Wall. They are different tears. They are the tears you have when you finally find a long lost friend....and have a chance to catch up on life.

The beauty of the scene reminds you of the beauty of life.

So you talk to the voices, and let them know how much you owe them. You let them know that you are all right, and thank them for giving you the beauty of this moment. You let them know you finally went to college, or got married. You let them know about your wonderful children, and that it wouldn't have happened without their sacrifice.

The most fitting place for a memorial I have ever seen.

Vietnam Veteran or not, if you ever get to New Mexico, you must visit this beautiful place. You may get tears in your eyes, but you will leave with a smile on your face that only God and those guy's can give you.

And you will know why Dr. Westphal chose that spot.

And you will hear the voices on the wind.....the voices of Angel Fire.
 
Great stories! Thanks for posting them and keep them up! As a parent of a solider, the second one made my eyes leak a little.
Thank you for serving.

Thanks!......I got many more.......and it's nice to have a good audience!

But I am now drunk tonight.....ask Depicts, he knows me![rofl][rofl]

Will share more tomorrow guy's!
 
I had finished my basic training at Ft.Dix just before Christmas. Graduated basic and headed to FT Lee. Well I decided to not go home for the holiday break and stayed there. There were a few of us sitting around the day room and one of our Sgt's came through and asked if any of us wanted to have a holiday meal with a family.
I figured what the heck, had nothing better to do so I did. I had a great meal with this family and long story short they basically adopted me for the whole time I was in AIT.
Every weekend I had off I spent with them and they would come and pick me up and return when I had to show back up on Sunday night.[laugh]
We lost contact but I had stayed in contact with them when I was stationed in Berlin.
I have never forgotten it and when hubby and I were married we made it a point to always have some of our servicemembers that were stationed with us and living in the barracks over for holiday meals.
We worked shift work so it was when ever we had the next day off since we all usually worked the holidays so the married guys could have it off with their families.[laugh]
 
One of the other ones I did and could have gotten into alot of trouble if Ihad been caught, was I landed in berlin with my clearance in hand,I was a supply clerk working in Field Station. Now keep in mind technically when you get there you do all your in processing and then they so nicely send you to S.O.S (School of Standards) This is so yo ucan find out the ins and outs of Berlin, got to the East, etc.
Well they were really shorthanded so they sped me through my in processing, decided I didn't need to go to S.O.S, which is fine with me, except that me being me knew I had a once in a life time opportunity being stationed there and was taking advantage of it.
I worked mostly swing shift so I decide that one morning I am going to see what the city had to offer before I had to go to work later that day. No problem I took the bus and U bahn to where I wanted to go, did some sight seeing and some shopping.
Well now it is time for me to head back to the barracks to get ready for work.
I should also explain I am in civilian clothes and only have my military ID with me.
So I look at the U-bahn maps and see okay I want this train and it will get me to where I need to be. Now also keep in mind I had not been to the school of standards so had no idea I could not ride certain buses or U-bahns. Seeing how they went into the east.[laugh]
I am sure you can see where this is going. I get on the U-bahn sit down, the first couple of stops were fine, didn't see anything different , next stop comes up, well I look out and there is an East German guard with a weapon standing on the platform,
didn't really sink in until the second stop, and then I am like OH CRAP!!! This is not right.
So the rest of the way until my stop I am holding my breath and praying they do not board the train, cause then I am screwed.
I got to my stop and thankfully the train wasn't boarded, I went to work told a few what I had done and then was told about the trains and buses I couldn't ride.[laugh]
It was an interesting experience and I thank my lucky stars that I had not been caught riding into the East when I shouldn't have been.
Not like the East Germans didn't know who we were also. Since we had to travel in a group of 10 with at least an E-7 and our uniforms with no names, rank, etc.[thinking]
[laugh]
I have fond memories of Berlin and have no regrets what so ever. Yeah sometimes working alot of double shifts, holidays sucked, but I wasn't a barracks rat and anytime hubby and I had off we were out and about.
It was an interesting time and I never thought I would see the wall come down in my lifetime.
 
I will share one of many, many stories as well. Another gas chamber incident!
I was in my regular unit, the 9th ID, out of Ft. Lewis, WA. We were in a "green" cycle-training for 3 months. One of our trainups was NBC training. So, we were scheduled for all the training out in that part of the fort; MOPP gear, decon, detection, markings, the whole 9 yards. It all culminated in us all going through the gas chamber. Most of us were fairly fresh out of Basic-within a year, at the most, if I remember correctly. There was our SL, and E-5, who was acting all tough, saying that the gas doesnt affect him in the least-he said it never had. Well, at the end, he went into the chamber before us, to prepare it (I am not sure exaclty how the spread the CS, but I believe it is lit. It was all coming out of a metal bucket in the middle of the room, anyway). So, he goes in a few minutes before we do. We dont all of our MOPP gear, to include our promasks, and do the proper clear & seal. Then, we all go in (a squad at a time). We get in there, and he is there, sitting in the middle of the room, eating! He is munching on KFC, right there! So, we go through the whole clearing procedure for masks, and, when we are done, we can volunteer to take off the masks, or simply leave-of course, most of us took the masks off & got a big ole lungful of CS. We ran out of there, standard stuff after being exposed to that. The SGT came out after, bragging about how it doesnt affect him-just like he said. We get our gear, get on the trucks, and head back to the barracks. This was a friday night.
Come Monday morning, he is absent at formation. Come to find out, he isnt immune-he had ingested so much of it, eating greasy chicken, it affected his GI track. He was on sick call for over a week.
 
Great memories MrsWildweazel.......I enjoyed reading them.[smile]

Oldsoldier29.....that story reminded me of a dumbass MP at Fort Meade back in 1972.

He pulled over some GI's who were obviously under the influence.

Upon searching one of the soldiers, he came across a bag of white powder. He looked at his buddy, licked his finger and stuck it into the white powder and then tasted it! "Yep, this tastes like drugs!" he said

An hour later he was in the hospital. The powder was pure LSD, and he probaly got about 100 doses.

We never saw him again. Last we heard he went to Valley Forge and got a medical discharge

What a dumb ass![rofl][rofl]
 
Here is another...I am glad you guy's haven't complained about the language.....but it is what is!


"Squeakey" the 2nd Lieutenant.

When we were "grunts" in Vietnam we never had nametags on our fatigues. (Unless you were a REMF!)

We shared the same fatigues that came back from the laundry trucks...and didn't bother with name tags.

It was better that way.....we didn't want to know each others real names. If you lost someone you knew, it hurt more if you lost them.

I can picture a lot of guy's by their nicknames.....I can see a face in my memory for each one....even though I never knew their real names.

I remember them as if it was yesterday.....

"Sugar Bear"
"Happy Jack"
"Surfer Joe"
"Sky Pilot"
"Dingleberry"

(They called me "Chicken Boy", because I had served with the 101st Airborne on a previous tour)

It was the spring of 1971 when we met "Squeaky"

I was in Charlie company, 3/503rd PIR, 173rd Airborne Brigade. We were in a f***ing mudhole called LZ Uplift.

Rumors were that the war was ending.....and young Lieutenants were showing up every three months to get their f***ing ticket punched!

We went through dumbassed LT's like we went through a bottle of Jack Daniels.

It seemed like every mission we had a different Platoon Leader. Most were dumbasses that couldn't even read a map! (We didn't have GPS back then)

But this one Lieutenant showed up that was outstanding.... we nicknamed him "Squeaky"....and I will never forget him.

Squeaky was only about 5 1/2 foot tall. He had a head of blonde hair that looked like a baby's hair, and a complexion that looked like a twelve year old.

He had a high pitched voice that would comparably make Wayne Newton sound like John Wayne.

We made fun of him, and called him "Squeaky"

After weeks in the jungle, we realized that he may have had a "glandular" problem......but he was the finest LT we ever served with!

I will always remember the day when we came back from three weeks in the bush.

We were covered with mud,..... hadn't had a shower in three weeks.

The 1SGT always had cold beer and Ribeye steaks waiting for us.

So we started partying....

Squeaky was sitting there eating his steak with us.....he had nothing on his uniform indicating that he was a officer.

A couple of REMF black dudes heard him talking in his high pitched voice and started making fun of him.

They started getting louder and louder.

One of them said, "Man, you hear that dude? He sounds like a girl!"

[rolleyes][rolleyes]


"Squeaky" jumped up and turned nto a mad man[smile]

He walked up to this dude (who was at least a foot taller!)

He grabbed the guy by the shirt, pulled his knife and put it to the guy's neck

He looked him in the eyes and said "You talking about me Motherf***er!"

The REMF motherf***er pissed his pants![rofl][rofl][rofl][rofl]





I miss "Squeaky"......been looking for him for years......

End of story
 
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We always had fun when the Germans decided to protest us being there. Now mind you our bus drivers were german nationals, it also meant we had to work 12 hour shifts, and alot of the time the drivers would just go through the Grunewald forest back to our barracks. Sometimes not.
When they didn't we would have German protesters throwing themselves under our buses, etc. We never could get the bus drivers to just run them over.[laugh] God knows we tried.[laugh]
 
Great stories Skysoldier, MrsWildWeasel, and OS29!

When I came back from Vietnam in Jul '68, I was assigned to the Army's Primary Helicopter Training base at Fort Wolters, Texas. It's since been closed and everything moved to Fort Rucker, Alabama. But back then it was one bustling place. Matter of fact, located in Mineral Wells, Texas, which isn't much more than a bunch of pastures, was Ed Lee Chevrolet. For several years straight, Ed Lee Chevrolet had the distinction of being the #1 Corvette dealer in the U.S. That's what all the young student officers bought while attending flight school on LT's pay PLUS a whopping $25 dollars a day per diem. Doesn't sound like much but back then $25 (66-71 timeframe) was a lot of dough.

Back to the story. I was a just promoted Chief Warrant Officer (W2), off leave arriving at Wolters to attend methods of instruction to become an instructor pilot. Along with the wife and our 2 1/2 year old son, we settled into post housing and I began my training which lasted about 8 weeks as I remember. I can remember feeling absolutely on top of the world having made it through the year in Vietnam and being free back in the world. The training was tough and the toughest part was getting down to business and being serious about it. Upon completion, and I did settle down and became serious, I was assigned to a "flight" as an IP (instructor pilot). My first class and all classes thereafter were all student officers, 2LT and above. None of whom by the way, made less money than me and to my anger, made almost twice the flight pay that I did. And some of these duffusses were frickin idiots as 2LT's can be. The kicker was that after a few classes with American students, I was given foreign students which presented a problem of its own. Some nationalities were ok to deal with. German students could speak decent English. Arab students and Israeli students spoke decent English, but the Vietnamese spoke ZERO English even though they had attended the language school at Monterey, CA. Teaching Vietnamese students was next to impossible.

Regressing a bit, as an IP I would be assigned usually 3 students, sometimes 2 and occasionally 4 dependent upon the class. What's interesting is that the Arabs and the Jews did not see eye to eye and although were sometimes in the same class, they never mixed with IP's. So, I always had either all Jews or all Arabs in a given class. What a cluster that was. They were, Saudi's, Iranians, Jordanians, Iraqiis, Germans, Israeliis, very good students, very willing and wanting to learn while the Vietnamese were just plain f***ing the duck as we used to say, in no hurry to head back to the war zone that awaited them. Plus, they were getting American pay which probably equalled a thousand times the pay they'd get upon returning home. Can't blame their lack of motivation I guess. After about a year and a half of teaching foreign students, I was invited to teach Methods of Instruction, teaching returning pilots to be instructor pilots. It was a welcome relief. I did so until January of '70 when a position opened with the Massachusetts Army National Guard for an instructor pilot. I liked the idea since it meant stabilization, knowing I was slotted to go back to Vietnam at any time. I retired from Otis AFB after 24 years of service.

One thing I didn't mention is that amongst the "foreign" students we had several classes of United States Marines. Now that is a story unto itself. Here I was a Warrant Officer dealing with Marine 2nd and 1st LT's and Captains. It was a tough situation because of the Marine psychology that seems to be so invasive. It was quickly solved however at an early stage since learning to fly a helicopter is a somewhat difficult task leaving one quite vulnerable without proper correction. The Marines did realize that the Army training was the best and would prepare them better for a combat environment than what they'd receive from the Navy.

A good memory is one in which I had a class of activated National Guard pilots from Nebraska. All these guys had been flying fixed wing aircraft for the Guard and most were airline pilots. These guys came to the Army Primary Helicopter School kicking and screaming knowing their unit was being activated for Vietnam and that THEY were going to fly helicopters and leave their cushy airline jobs behind..........another story.
 
OK.....here's one more, but then I have to sign off......gotta work tomorrow.

Burning down the barracks!

I guess the statute of limitations has run out by now....so I can tell this story.

It was July 4th, 1970, at Fort Carson.

We lived in those old wooden barracks. You know....the ones they called tinder boxes!

Down the street was a barracks filled with Leg, National Guard MP's that were there for summer training, and they had been throwing firecrackers at us all night. The next day they started shooting bottle rockets and we returned fire as best we could in the heated battle. They soon advanced to a position across the street in one of the empty barracks and we came under intense enemy fire.

Well, we started running perilously low on ammunition, and sent a few guy's out for resupply. They returned an hour or so later with a case of M115 Ground Burst Artillery simulators that they had mysteriously "appropriated".

For those of you that have never seen an M115, it is a white cardboard tube about 10 inches long and an inch and a half in diameter. It makes an M80 sound like a cap gun!

We sent out two flanking elements on either side of the enemy position, each armed with two M115's.

Now, we knew they were dangerous....they can throw gravel like schrapnel! So the plan was to throw them under the barracks and not inside.

To make a long story short, the insulation batts were all hanging down under the barracks, along with some very flammable tar paper.

When the M115's exploded under the barracks the whole underside of the building was on fire immediately. The Legs made a hasty retreat, and the barracks was completely engulfed in flames by the time the fire trucks showed up.

We then found ourselves surrounded by a superior force of MP's, and immediately taken prisoner. "Remember...Name, Rank and Serial Number only!"

We lied...we denied....we blamed it on the legs! We were eventually released when they realized that their interrogations would get no information from us.

And the best part was the Provost Martial muttering under his breath....."God Damn Paratroopers!"

But we did win the battle.[rofl][rofl][rofl]
 
Thanks!......I got many more.......and it's nice to have a good audience!

But I am now drunk tonight.....ask Depicts, he knows me![rofl][rofl]

Will share more tomorrow guy's!


... sometimes there is no statute of limitations. Be careful what stories you tell in here Skysoldier. You might have to go back and paint that barracks!![wink]

And Sky, when you tell people that I know you.... that doesn't mean I condone you burning down barracks or that thing that happened at Three Mile Island. That crap could have happened to anyone in your position.

But please make it clear I had no pre-knowledge of any of the events or stories you are telling, and I wasn't there. I have enough trouble remembering my own lies, er..... war stories. I can't even swear to anything "I" say.... never mind your whoppers!!!! [rofl][rofl][rofl]
Especially the ones that are true![shocked]
 
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A story from Basic Training

Here is a funny story for you guy's....

It was the first day of Basic Training. We are standing in formation and out comes the Drill Sergeant. He was a tall, skinny African American dude, and mean as hell.

He has a clipboard and starts calling out names, and each of us responds with a hearty "Here, Drill Sergeant!"

Then he stops for a moment, staring at the clipboard.........and then he lost it!

The DI started laughing his ass off, and couldn't put on a straight face
now matter how hard he tried. :shock:

The Corporal goes up to the Sergeant who shows him the clipboard, and then he starts laughing. They finally regain some sense of composure,
and the DI gets a semi straight face........

"DILDO", he shouts........no Answer.

"DILDO?" he shouts again.

And this little Puerto Rican guy in the back pipes up, "Thats 'DEEDO!' Drill Sergeant"

The poor guy's last name was actually spelled D-I-L-D-O. And needless to say, he was the but of a lot of jokes for the next eight weeks.

Other DI's would show up for weeks, just to see if there really was a guy named Dildo. :shock:

But the story did have a happy ending.......during graduation week the DI took him to the post legal office, and they changed his last
name before he graduated.

The DI told us, "I just can't send a motherf***er out into this mans Army with a last name of Dildo." :shock:
 
My Draft Notice
First of all, I grew up in foster homes and detention centers. I was not a criminal, just a kid from a broken home with no respect for authority and a family that didn't want me.

The laws at that time required that I be released at the age of 18 because I was not sentenced for any specific crime. When I turned 18 all they did was give me the papers to register for the draft and assigned this hippie college kid bitch from Ann Arbor as my "release counselor". She was a piece of shit, giving me this crap about how she needed time to find me a job and a place to live, etc. I finally couldn't take it any more, and broke out the window and hitchiked into Detroit one day and showed up at the Army recruiter's office at 7:30 in the morning.
I told the recruiter the whole story of my life, and was sworn in that day.

Now,.... Father would have said that it was the best thing for me,and that I needed straightening out.

But my take is this:

The Army was the first time I had a chance to be like all the normal people. I wasn't pre-judged, and had a the first chance in my life to excell and be like everyone else.

I have always said that going in he Army was the smartest thing I ever did in my life. (And getting out seven years later and going to college was the second smartest thing I ever did!)

But I am digressing, this story is about my getting drafted.

I went to Basic, Infantry AIT, and then Jump School.

I arrived at Ft Campbell in May of 1967, and went to Vietnam in December of that same year.

I was wounded on the 38th day in Vietnam, and eventually ended up back at Ft Campbell in the hospital.

That summer, (in the hospital with a Purple Heart) I got a draft notice in the mail. I laughed at first, but then I got realy pissed.

The draft notice was from a town in Michigan that I had never even heard of.

(It was years later that I learned that the people at WJ Maxey Boy's Training School were selling our names to f***ers all over Michigan so they could draft us instead of their own kids!)

I went to the nurses station and got a majic marker and wrote f*** YOU a**h***S! on the draft notice, and mailed it back to the f***ers from Grand Rapids f***ing Michigan. It made me feel so good.

Now here is where the story gets real good.

We had this mean old battelaxe Major Nurse on our ward. We were combat vets, but we were all scared to death of her.

She shows up at my bed one morning, pissed as hell.

"God Damn you Rowland, you just got my ass chewed out by the hospital commander. You are in big trouble. There is a "Congressional Investigation" on his desk because of that letter you sent to your draft board!"

She started hollering shit about court martials, etc., and how I had to go see the hospital commander in an hour. She stormed out and I was shaking like a leaf.

Well, an hour later she wheeled a chair to my bed. I started to get out of the bed.

"Not yet" she said. "Roll over!"

"Wait a minute Major" I said. "I don't have any meds coming"

"Just do what I say soldier,... that's an order, now roll over!"

So I rolled over and she stuck me in the ass right thru my pajamas. God, it hurt. and I knew I was in big trouble.

"I'll be back in a few minutes to take you to the hospital commanders office, don't move and don't think about getting out of this f***in bed!"

Twenty seconds later, and I couldn't even get out of bed. Man was I wasted! She must have hit me with morphine!

Well, she comes back a bit later, and they poured me into the wheelchair.

She didn't say a word while she wheeled my down those long halls and ramps to the hospital headquarters. I was so buzzed from the shot I didn't care about anything anymore.

Well, I can't tell you in detail what else happend that afternoon, because I was so f***ed up on the morphine that my memory is blurred.

But I do remember this.

Just before she wheeled me in to the commanders office, she whispered in my ear.........

"Just remember this Rowland. You are under the effects of extreme pain killing medication because of your wounds from Vietnam. This hospital commander is an ROTC puke college kid who has never seen combat. You can say anything you want to this pussy f***er, and they can't court martial you because of the medication. Tell him to go f*** himself. You earned that right!"

I have alway wanted to find that nurse after all these years. I had a lot of fun that day. If I could find her I would hug and kiss her and call her Mom.

That day, I fell in love with Major Worley, US Army Medical Corps!
 
Busting my Cherry

Living in Massachussetts this past few years is quite a flashback for me. The last time I was in Boston was 1969,
and I have some cherished memories of that time. I had both good and bad times, but all those memories are
cherished, nonetheless.

But first a bit of history...............

I was wounded in January 1968, the beginning of the Tet Offensive. I spent the rest of the year in the hospital
at Fort Campbell, Kentucky. I got down to 85 lbs in the hospital bed, and it took a long time and six surgeries
to recover.

In January of 1969, I got out of the hospital and was assigned to Fort Devans, Massachusetts. I was twenty years
old, and had never seen a big city in my life. My first weekend there, I got on the bus and went into Boston, and
Boston changed my life.


You see, I was a 20 year old virgin. When I laid in the jungles of Vietnam waiting to die, my only regret was that I
had never known the company of a woman. I was on a mission to change that!

The first thing I learned in Boston was to stay away from Cambridge and Harvard. They didn't like soldiers there, so
my chance of meeting a cute college girl was out. I was told by the guy's at Fort Devans not to wear my uniform,
and soon found out why.

The next thing I learned was to stay away from the "Combat Zone". The bars were all filled with Sailors and Marines,
just looking for a fight. And the women there were not to my liking either.

So I went back to my hotel room, and changed back into my Class A Uniform. And then I found out where I was welcome.

I found out that if I went in to the bar at the Ritz Carlton, or the better hotels, I was treated like a hero. I couldn't buy a
drink. I think a lot of the rich people bought me drinks out of guilt, but I didn't care. I was having a blast.

And then it happened. I was in a bar at the top of the Prudential Center, and I saw this striking redheaded Irish girl named
Irene. And she smiled at me, and invited me to join her.

I lied to her, and told her I was twenty five. I was getting hungry, and we decided to go out to dinner. I told her that I had
never eaten lobster before, and that I wanted to get the best Lobster in town.

She took me to a place called Anthony's Pier Four. It was a very fancy restaraunt, and I was wondering if my meager Army pay
was going to be enough to pay the bill.

As we stood in line with couples dressed up in tuxedos and evening gowns, the Maitr'e D noticed me in my uniform at the back
of the line. He walked straight to us and said, "Your table is waiting Sir" and led us into the restaurant in front of everyone.

I took one look at the menu and was in shock. My paycheck was all going to go for that dinner.

Oh well, I thought, you only live once.

It was obvious to everyone in the restaurant that I had just gotten home from Vietnam, and everyone was staring at me and
this gorgeous redhead.

The waiter asked us about a wine choice, and I had no idea what to say because I had seen the prices on the wine list and
knew I could not possibly afford a bottle of wine with the dinner. As I hesitated, he said the wine was on the house.

I had the greatest dinner of my life that night. And when I asked for the check the waiter said it was already taken care of.

"By who" I asked.

"Sir, seven tables here tonight have said they want to pay for you and the ladies dinner!"

Needless to say, I could have cried.

And Irene took me home to her tiny apartment in Brookline -that night. And the rest is something a gentlemen doesn't talk about.

To make a long story short......I was supposed to be back at Fort Devans on Sunday night. I didn't get back until Wednesday morning.

I was in big trouble, but I didn't care.

"Sergeant Rowland, where the hell have you been!" the CO yelled. "Do you realize you have been AWOL for three days and
I could Court Martial you?"

"Yes Sir" I said, standing there at attention.

He demanded an explanation of where I had been.

And I told him the whole story.

I told him about losing my cherry.

And I told him that I was doing something that was more important to me than being in the Army.

And I think I saw a tear in his eye as he dismissed me.

And he never brought the subject up again.

And years later......Irene told me she knew I really wasn't twenty five, and she knew I was a Virgin.

[rofl][rofl][rofl][rofl]
 
And I leave you with one more memory of Boston.

The Ugly, Drunk, Hippie Chick

When you read this story you will find it hard to believe....but I assure you it happened to me.

I had to wait for the next payday to go back to Boston......and this time I decided to go to Cambridge and wear my uniform
and if it made the hippies uncomfortable........... well, that was there f***ing problem!

I got a room at the Holiday Inn on Mass Avenue. I wore my uniform proudly, and the stares I got there were not like the stares
at the Ritz Carlton or the Top of the Hub. But I didn't care. I knew my presence made them uncomfortable, and I enjoyed it.

One thing I noticed......the girls looked at me like I was a baby killer. They had hatred in their eyes for me.

But the guy's looked at me, and I could see the guilt in there eyes. Because I answered the call of my country, and they were
all cowards and knew it.

Saturday morning.....I go down to breakfast in my uniform. Walking tall and proud.

The hotel that weekend was filled with hippies. Seems there was a big concert, and the band that was playing was also staying
at the Holiday Inn.

I got in the elevator to go back up to my room, and these five or so hippies get in the elevator with me.

They were all loaded, and this one ugly, pimply faced chick has a bottle of booze in her hand. They are all obviously drunk
at nine in the morning.

So the ugly chick looks at me in my uniform through glazed eyes, and she screams at me. "You f***ing Fascist Pig!"

She tried to spit at me, but the spittle barely comes out of her mouth and dribbles down the front of her shirt.

Sunday afternoon.......the day after the concert. I am in the piano bar that afternoon having a scotch and soda.

In comes the same ugly hippie chick with her friends.

She sits at the piano, and plays pretty good.

I ask the bartender who she is. He told me she was the lead singer for the band that did the concert at Harvard the
night before.

"What's the name of the band?" I asked.

"Big Brother, and the Holding Company" he says.

"Weird name for band" I thought.

Now here comes the shocker,

I am back in Vietnam in 1971.

We are sitting around getting stoned on a firebase, listening to a reel to reel tape playing rock and roll.

And I pick up the album, and there is the same ugly, pimply-faced chicked I remember from Cambridge.

And that day I found out her name was Janis Joplin!

Janis Joplin, and Big Brother and the Holding Company!

I was in an elevator with Janis Joplin, probably the most famous person I was ever in contact with.

I grew to love her singing in years later.....but my god, she sure was an ugly, drunk chick!
 
Funny Flashback ....


I was at the hospital the other day, being wheeled on a gurney to have some tests. Part of the hospital had a long ramp, to get from one floor to another, and I was laying there and had a flashback to another hospital so very long ago.

It is a very funny story......allow me to tell it.

It was 1968, and the hospital was at Fort Campbell, Kentucky.

You old Nam vets will remember those hospitals. They had a loooong main corridor, with wards off each side that went on for blocks. The wards were all two stories high, and there were no elevators. All they had were these long ramps. You went up one ramp, did a switchback and up again to the upper floor.

Well, I had been a patient for almost 8 months, and was ready for discharge and reassignment. But they were shorthanded, what with that being one of the busiest years in Vietnam, and kept me around for another month. They put me in Hospital whites, and I worked as a transport orderly.

My job was to wheel patients from the emergency room to various wards, labs, x-ray, etc.

It was a fun job. I got to witness emergency room procedures, and sometimes the Doctors would show us how to do stitches and draw blood.

One Saturday night, they brought in a big (300lbs) SFC. He was a cook, and was brought in DOA. It seems he was drunk, and his wife allegedly shot him when he was coming in the door of his quarters late at night.

This guy was fat, and he laid there in the emergency room with this tiny 22 cal. bullet hole right thru his heart. "One shot, one Kill" :D

Needles to say, it was a busy night. The Provost Martial was there, along with a lot of MP's and CID investigators.

Well, along about two in the morning, all the investigating was done, and I was detailed to take the body to the morgue. My other buddy was out in the parking lot smooching with a nurse, so I decided to just take him myself. Big Mistake!

They morgue was way at the other end of the f***ing hospital. Due to some construction, I had to wheel him down one long corridor, take him up the ramps to the second floor, then go across to the other end of the hospital and down the ramp again.

Now I never was a big guy, today I weigh the same 165lbs I did when I joined the army in 1966. Half way through the hospital, I was beat. This guy was one heavy motherf***er.

So, I am using all my might, wheeling him up the ramp, turning and stopping for a rest to catch my breath. I start up the next ramp, and I am giving it all I got. I get near the top, and slipped on some spilled coke.

At the point, the gurney runs me over, and starts shooting down the ramp.

I swear, that gurney was going forty miles an hour when it crashed into the bannister at the bottom.......and the dude went flying through the air like superman.

It took me and three ward orderlies to get him back on the gurney. Man, that dude was big!

So we finally wheel him into the morgue, and that was that. Or so we thought.

The next afternoon, I get woken up and ordered to the hospital commanders office, IMMEDIATELY!

When I get there, there was a lot of people and news media everywhere, and obviously a bunch of pissed off officers.

It seems when they did the autopsy, the victim had two broken legs, a broken collar bone, a head cuncussion and other abrasions that weren't there the night before when the investigation started.

I got my ass reamed, but not too bad. I think they were really relieved to find out what really happened.

But the look I got from the Provost Martial was pure evil!!!!! :twisted:

And all I could do was LMAO.
 
We always had fun when the Germans decided to protest us being there. Now mind you our bus drivers were german nationals, it also meant we had to work 12 hour shifts, and alot of the time the drivers would just go through the Grunewald forest back to our barracks. Sometimes not.
When they didn't we would have German protesters throwing themselves under our buses, etc. We never could get the bus drivers to just run them over.[laugh] God knows we tried.[laugh]

Sounds like Okinawa. They protest you being there, then they cry about the lost cash flow when you're gone. Some people are just never happy.
 
Sounds like Okinawa. They protest you being there, then they cry about the lost cash flow when you're gone. Some people are just never happy.
Yeah, even without the cash flow part and the current ally that at least partially relies on you for some defense. It's laughable when you consider how harmless the whole ordeal has been considering how the losing aggressors of wars have been treated in some parts of history. That being said thank you for bumping this because it was a good read on something I would not have found otherwise. Thanks for sharing, Skysoldier.
 
Sky.

You should really combine all these stories in a book. I have no doubt it would sell extremely well. I love reading your post. I personally would buy at least a dozen books, one for my son and daughter, a bunch for my nieces and nephews and a couple for my friends.

Thanks for contributing so much to this forum and your service.

Joe
 
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