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Vietnam OR Military TRUE STORIES (Serious Or Funny)

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posted on Jun, 14 2006 @ 07:25 PM
DJ Rabbit,
I was in the Quang tri province during the easter offensive and saw alot of things that were like you described. I personally can not comprehend how anyone would want to kill someone like that. I suppose terrorists can do it because they think they are sending a message. They are and it furthers the stereotyping of the fanatics. We had them in the nam as well, but even though my unit forbade any type of mutilation to the enemy, I know it went on. But like you brother my heart aches for people that lost a loved one then and it still hurts when I see or hear about a loved one lost now.
We are all brothers in ways that people who have never been in a firefight could understand. But none the less it still haunts me over many things that I knew happened and no one listened.
God bless you DJ Rabbit. It's guys like you that give us all a chance to speak and be heard even after 30+ years.

posted on Jun, 18 2006 @ 06:47 PM

It is PEOPLE like you.... that STILL make me PROUD to be an AMERICAN VIETNAM VET! One of the SILENT MAJORITY who would rather carry on in silence than let the REAL WORLD know what WE KNOW. I have MORE than a few stories from my Air Force tours...... but I KNOW they pale by comparison to some of the brave Army & Marine troops..... like my good friend Charles.... and YOU!

This forum is ALWAYS OPEN for your insightful and honest input and discussion.

Peace my Brother... Peace!


posted on Jun, 18 2006 @ 08:00 PM
OK here’s my story from the first Gulf War.

I was at the time an AD (Aviation machinist mate, E-3) attached to VAQ-132, the Scorpions. We flew EA-6B’s. We were stationed on the USS Saratoga. We broke a few records on that cruise of 8 months in the Red Sea. We made 5 crossings of the Suez Canal, and made the fastest time from the States to the Mediterranean than any other conventionally powered ship, 5 days. Made only 4 port calls, the rest of the time we were at sea.

One of our port calls around Christmas ’90 was to Haifa Israel. There was bad weather, 15 foot waves in the bay. The port was too small to accommodate a carrier, so they hired local ferries to take us into port for liberty. At the time I was doing my required 3 month mess deck duty, 18 hours 7 days a week. I had planned to meet up with my work buddies to go into town when we got off duty. I was working night shift so slept in the day. We had 48 hours liberty, but with a curfew.
Not knowing at the time, but lucky for me, I overslept and missed meeting my buddies.
So I hooked up with another buddy and got in line to catch a ferry to go on liberty.
As an E-3 I had to be back on ship by 2300. Again lucky for me I guess, my bud and I were sitting getting drunk in a bar when it was getting close to time to have to leave. But we lost track of time and didn’t start heading back to port till almost 2230, there was no way we were going to make that ferry to get back to the boat by 2300. We figured we’d catch the next one and hope we didn’t get into too much trouble.
So we get back to the dock just after the ferry we were supposed to catch had just left. A few minutes later were told they were not going to run any more ferries because the sea was too rough. So we waited with thousands of other sailors in the port parking lot.
After about 30 minutes a ship re-call was issued. This means all ship personal should return to the ship, or in this case the port. We didn’t know what was going on.
Then the rumors about a ferry sinking started to spread, but we got no details until we finally got back to the ship 36 hours later. During which time we didn’t get much sleep.
They finally got the ferries running again, even though the sea was still rough and made for a pretty scary ferry ride.
Lucky for me again, the Chief on duty at the ferry loading dock was from my squadron, so he let me go with just a verbal reprimand for not already being back on the boat.
Anyway when we finally get back to the boat I find that the buddies I was supposed to have met up with that night were on the ferry that sank. 21 died altogether including Randy, who I had worked with side by side in the scullery for the last 2 months on the mess decks. My other buddies were pulled from the water.
Apparently the ferries bilge pump had stopped working, and was already taking on water before it left the port. The ferries pilot ignored warnings from its passengers.

Not really a ‘war’ story but was I kept off that ferry for a reason, or am I just lucky?
I think I was just lucky…

DEC 21: An Israeli chartered liberty ferry shuttling crew members of USS Saratoga (CV 60) capsizes and sinks off Haifa, Israel, killing 21 Sailors.

[edit on 18/6/2006 by ANOK]

posted on Jun, 18 2006 @ 08:58 PM

GREAT STORY! This thread is NOT just about war stories..... but stories in general of Military Men and Women (Active Duty or Vets). My HOPE is that folks who always wanted answers into the fighting man or woman's brain.... will get a REAL inside look.

Okay..... since we are heading down the path already with your story or FATE or LUCK....... here is one that I have never told anyone.... anywhere....... until NOW.

If you happen to go to THIS PAGE:

You will see a Stars & Stripes publicity photo of my roommate Jim at Phan Rang when he was DJ of Radio Phan Rang during 1969-70. HE was the one who got me to be his studio engineer where I LEARNED everything I needed to know to do Radio First Termer when Pete and I got to Saigon...... but that is another story.

Okay.... here it is. As every military man or woman KNOWS..... regardless of WHERE you were IN COUNTRY.... when it came time to LEAVE and go back home to the WORLD again.... you exited through Cam Ranh Bay. Of course, there were exceptions..... but let's not NIT PICK. Since Pete had already, through personnel, gotten our Saigon assignment, I was going back home for 30 days leave before going on to Saigon. As is traditional for those that are SHORT (less than 30 days left before going home)..... Jim and I stayed up to the wee hours of the morning telling stories and, of course, drinking. About 2 a.m. or so, I laid down in my bunk to catch some zzzzzzzz's before getting up..... going down to the flight line and catching my hop to Cam Ranh Bay. My plane was scheduled for 8 a.m. from Phan Rang.... so my original idea was to wake up around 7:00 a.m. and have a Security Police friend of mine take me down. Well..... even though I had a few drinks, I was really restless that morning and just couldn't sleep. So around 5 a.m. I grabbed my duffel bag, went to the orderly room and called my SP bud to come get me early..... which he did.

We are sitting on the flight line in his jeep around 6:30 a.m. when the base comes under rocket attack from the VC on Charlie Mountain. As we have had numerous attacks during the previous 12 months..... Charlie's aim has never really been too damaging....... but occasionally he did strike barracks areas, the post office, etc. About 6:45 a.m. we are listening to the traffic on his SP radio. We find out that the Headquarters Squadron Barracks Area (which I was attached to) had been hit by several rockets. We head up to the barracks area and find numerous command personnel including medics, SP's and doctors. As we make our way around my old barracks, I thought I was going to faint. My SP friend and I approached as close as we were allowed...... a rocket had penetrated the side of my old barracks and had entered and detonated in my old room. A few minutes later (it seemed like hours), the medics were carrying out the dead and wounded. My roommate Jim, who I had shared so many memories and history with at Phan Rang, was DEAD. Although I had seen death before in Vietnam.... that is the first time I cried.

As a homage to Jim from me, David Zeiger included that shot of him (above) at the microphone in his movie, "Sir! No Sir!" It is part of the visual along with a napalm run with me talking about the official Dave Rabbit sweatshirt on the audio.

For YEARS after that I would have occasional nightmares about it. "IF" I hadn't been so restless...... "I" would have been in my bunk at 6:30 a.m. that morning. I would also be DEAD. So when you write of things about being LUCKY or about FATE.... I can definitely RELATE.

FATE or LUCK? Who knows. As I have said numerous times before..... the Road To Radio First Termer only had to have one thing change on the three year path to it's existence....... IF one thing changes..... a left instead of right..... an up instead of a down...... leaving my Phan Rang hooch at 5 a.m. rather than 7 a.m........ it's almost too scary to even think about.


[edit on 6/19/2006 by Dave Rabbit]

posted on Jun, 18 2006 @ 09:10 PM
something my grandfather told me..dont know if its true or not but here goes...WW2 and briefing ghurka`s...they give them a mission to infiltrate and assault an area by air....jump out at 500ft and..continue mission...ghurka commander says he will talk it over with his men....comes back and say`s...we can probably do the mission but the men request to jump at 200 commander says 200ft...thats well below the safety levels for opening parachutes...ghurka commander ask`s..are we getting parachutes???..we didnt think we were getting parachutes!!!....ahh the ghurkas..dont ya love em.

posted on Jun, 18 2006 @ 09:11 PM
Thanx for the reply Dave, glad you liked my story...

Yeah, really makes you think doesn't it? Why me? Thanx for taking the time, I enjoyed your story too.

I didn't metion this in my post but I'm not a strong swimmer, enough to pass the Navy swim test, but in that water I doubt very much I would have survived.

Talk about crying, there wasn't a dry eye on that boat for a week after. It was pretty weird. Normaly, with 5,000 personel, the boat is VERY noisy just from the people.
But for at least a week all you heard was mechanical noises.
My eyes still water thinking about it...

posted on Jun, 18 2006 @ 09:19 PM
Right there with you Anok..... I had to stop and take a break for a few in typing the "Jim" story. I too think of him and my other friends that NEVER came back.

Thanks again for sharing.


posted on Jun, 20 2006 @ 10:43 PM
I'll tell you guys all one last little story. One night up at our fire base we were told to saddle up for a Long range recon. There was the usual grumbling but off we went. 9 days later we got back and found out that the firebase had been hit hard. My own little bunker that I shared with about a dozen other guys had been hit with 3 mortar shells. All direct hits. I went walking over to the mess and the firebase Lt. comes up and says, "Sgt. your dead". I laughed it off till I found out 5 days later that the Army had notified my mother that I had been KIA. So I got permission to go down to Da Nang to call on the Mars station. While I was en route I found out they had found one of my boots with a dog tag in the laces. That was all they found of what they thought was me. Anyway, I called my mother and family and after almost giving my mom a heart attack and a good butt chewing from the rest of the family for not being dead I figured I couldn't win, so I hung up and went back to the fire base. Then promptly got drunk. I think it was the first time and only time in all my years of lifer status that the army ever actually moved quickly to report someone KIA.
By the way Rabbit thanks for the kind words. They mean alot from someone like you. Still brothers my friend
Lilwolf - MACV SOG 1971- 1973

posted on Jun, 20 2006 @ 11:12 PM

The ERRONEOUS REPORTING of a GI being MISSING or KILLED is one that we could probably start a SEPARATE THREAD on like I did on FRIENDLY FIRE...... but I am going to keep it in the STORY thread because it is important for "civilians" to understand things like this..... the harm they cause... the grief they cause.... because someone just TOOK SOMETHING FOR GRANTED..... rather than checking their facts.

When I was at Cam Ranh (1968-69), a friend of mine there with the Army told me that HE was reported KIA (killed in action... for those who don't know the codes). He realized it ONLY upon getting notice from his commander that they had received a letter from his family requesting details. Now... isn't that nice. A good 2 or 3 weeks of his family thinking he was dead..... simply because of some stupid clerical error.

By the way Lilwolf..... since you were a "lifer" ...... I want to set the record straight once and for all. When I first came out..... I became friends with some of the guys from the 15th Artillery. They had a page dedicated to me, etc. In the course of our early friendship, I found out that one of them was a "lifer" (someone who makes a career in the military... usually 20 to 30 years or more.... also for those that don't know our lingo)....... anyway..... anyone who has ever listened to the surviving show knows that I constantly made fun of the "lifers" and "officers" on the show. One day, he says to me that I must have had a real bad experience to have HATED "lifers" and "officers" so much. I responded to him..... and repeat it here for the ATS members...... I served with many "lifers" and "officers" that I respected, admired and had a great relationship with. The show was SATIRE. The only people I really hated (regardless of their rank or time in service) were the idiots that couldn't find their asses with both hands and caused the deaths of numerous men and women in the military BECAUSE of their STUPIDITY.

My brothers in arms, like you Lilwolf, I have the deepest and utmost RESPECT for.... and will defend YOU and THEM with my last breath. YOU and the OTHERS are the true heroes..... YOU and the OTHERS are the ones that gives ATS the freedom of speech that they enjoy..... YOU and the OTHERS are the ones that Radio First Termer WAS and ALWAYS WILL be about! Thanks for digging deep and sharing stories that I know were buried.



[edit on 6/20/2006 by Dave Rabbit]

posted on Jun, 21 2006 @ 02:10 AM
I had a simular problem after the ferry acident. The ship sent out telegrams for the people who survived to inform parents/spouses that they were still alive.
My parents live in the UK, so I specificaly asked if it was a problem, they said no it wasn't.
So I figured it was OK, only to find out a couple of weeks later that it wasn't OK, and they didn't send a telegram to my parents. Thanx for letting me know eh?

Not as bad as getting a telegram saying I was dead, but by the time I wrote and let them know they had almost a month of not knowing. Needless to say it was a very long month for them.

posted on Jun, 21 2006 @ 04:54 PM
Yeah.... sometimes saying NOTHING is WORSE than knowing one way or the other. And you can bet your boots there are PLENTY of stories like that out there too.


posted on Dec, 1 2007 @ 10:38 PM
After we invaded Iraq the second time we began flying into different airfields all over that we had captured. One particular mission we had a MEDEVAC mission and uploaded a team. The team graciously brought us the aircrew of the C-130 breakfast at o dark thirty and it was good. Everyone but the Flight engineer ate it. well here it is about 8 hours later and the flight engineer is getting hungry now decides he is going to heat up his 2 breakfast burritos in the old galley oven cuising over Iraq at 19000 Ft it warms up and he eats it. We were headed way up northern Iraq to evacuate some sick soldiers on this last leg, well the flight engineer states "man i am cramping up and need to take a serious sh*t!"
we were about 55 minutes from landing and said iam going to the back! So he runs to the back of the C-130 and is preparing to doodoo. If any of you know what a toilet looks like in a C-130 it is basically a round can with a plastic bag. well quicker then I can spin around he was already filling that bag with you know what.
So he is now relieved and gets back into his seat and we configure for landing and landed and we taxiied our Herc down the taxi way and the local third country nationals are doing labor along the taxi ways and normally we would throw them left over food in bags from our lunches from the day and other food we didnt eat. so we chucked the food and they would run and gather it under the constant bowing force of 4 fans of freedom running.
Well the Flight engineer decided to empty the toilet bag and chucked it off the ramp of the Herk and it landed in the grassy side of the taxi way and those poor people thought it was food and ripped it open and from the constant blowing of 4 engines all the doodoo just blew all over that poor guy. these people were all sorts of pissed off. I think I never laughed so hard, it was funny but not really. i think after that episode they were more cautious of what we would throw off the ramp of the plane while we taxiied by.

posted on Apr, 27 2008 @ 07:33 PM
Hey Dave myself I spent 22 months in Vietnam and I'm not sure what kind of stories you are interested in.

posted on May, 31 2008 @ 09:06 PM

Originally posted by Zaphod58
He was able to tell us that they were over Hanoi, and when they opened the bomb bay, getting ready to drop, they took a SAM hit straight to the bomb bay. He said he flew through the explosion.

I knew one of the last 52 gunners in the AF. He was a Radio Operator when I knew him.

He said that a gunner instructor told him of another gunner with the nickname "Dooky". Seems that he watch a 52 behind him take a SAM in the bombbay and he # himself. When his plane landed, he climbed out, took off his flight suit, shook out the crap, slung it over his shoulder and climbed onto the crew bus!

posted on May, 31 2008 @ 09:45 PM
An excerpt from the first draft of a book I did.

The experience, little brothers, but some of his stories about service in the military are just too good to let slide into the mists of time.


Tom’s enlistment finally came to an end. Seemed to us like it had been a long, long time.
For Tom, always impatient, even longer.

He came home on a rainy Sunday night in February, got off the bus and took a taxi straight to our house. No phone call from the bus station, none from Fort Leonard Wood and in fact, no information at all. Well, not surprising, that was pretty much Tom’s way.

Answering the door and finding Tom standing there was a shock. I was kinda numb when we shook hands, but at least I had the presence of mind to call DeeDee. When she came into the front room and saw Tom walking through the door she was thrilled to death. She hugged him, started crying and wouldn’t let him go.

After a bit Tom got that embarrassed look and DeeDee finally stepped back and took a good look at him. Tom had changed. Seemed he was taller, stood a little straighter, was well tanned and had a lot more muscle than the skinny kid we’d seen get on the bus to Ford Ord last time we saw him.

Even so, it was definitely Tom. And he still had that old twinkle in his eye. Lord knows what he had in mind. I just hoped it would be a while before he put it into motion.

It was surprising that he stopped at our house first. The obvious thing to do, at least to me, was head for home and the folks. I think the simple answer was, DeeDee was the one that Tom missed the most.

We visited for a while and DeeDee called her folks and told them the good news. It didn’t take long for them to show up at the house and the meeting with DeeDee was re-enacted with his mom. Tom’s dad was pleased too. More than a few tears to go around.

We visited for a while, at least until we realized that Tom was just plain worn out. That was enough for his mom and dad, they took him straight home.

DeeDee was still so excited that she had to call Dinah and Jill. Even though it was ten o’clock at night, neither one of the girls minded the late call. Tom had been on everybody’s mind while he’d been gone. Especially true when he was in Vietnam. Dinah and Jill were happy for DeeDee.

Next day at work, Doofus and Whiny gave me a bad time about having the “wild” brother-in-law back in the fold. Kidding for sure, they liked Tom as much as I did.

Around noon, Tom showed up at the shop driving his moms car. We figured it was just to hang around and talk for awhile. Trouble was, it was work and we had work to get done and as much as we wanted to, we just didn’t have the time to talk. Tom drifted off, but not before Whiny asked him to come to the house for dinner. The whole gang would be there and dinner was at seven.

Tom surprised us by asking if he could bring a date. A new one on us. We knew Tom dated off and on, but either he had a girl friend that no one knew about or he was one fast worker.
Knowing Tom, I wouldn’t have been surprised at the latter.

I mentioned Tom’s apparent girl friend to DeeDee when I got home. She said she wasn’t surprised. Tom had been sweet on a girl for about six months before he went in the Army.
All she knew was that the girls name was Amy and Tom had been writing her pretty steady while he was overseas.

That was one I missed by a mile. Not surprising I guess, I figured Tom had his hot rod Dodge, a few friends he ran around with, a few dates now and then and that was about it.

Dinner was interesting in more ways than one. The main attraction, at least it was for everyone except DeeDee was seeing Tom’s date, girl friend, whatever you want to call it. Dinah and Jill knew about her as well, but Doofus and Whiny were just like me. A touch in the dark. Not the first time we’d been there. Probably not the last either.

It didn’t make any difference, you could tell we were more than curious when we got to Whiny’s house a good half hour before Tom and Amy showed up. Not surprising either that Doofus and Dinah came in about the same time.

When the knock on the door finally came, the conversation came to a stop and all eyes turned toward the door. Whiny opened it to find Tom standing there with a beautiful young woman with blonde hair and green eyes. It was a proud moment for Tom when he entered the room. He introduced Amy, sat her on the couch, got a glass of wine from Jill, gave it to Amy and sat down next to her.

This was a different Tom than the one we’d known from before. Maybe not so much for DeeDee, but for the rest of us, it was quite different. Tom had manners and was polite, but there was always that wild man lurking under the surface waiting to get out.

Dinner was simple, and great like always. Jill was one heck of a cook and excelled in cooking stuff that guys liked. We’d seen her whip up fancy dishes that the girls liked, but she excelled at the simple meat and potatoes kind of meals that most guys prefer. Tonight’s dinner, her more than famous meat loaf.

In fact, when she made meat loaf, she always made sandwiches for Doof and I for lunch and sent Whiny off to work with three lunch bags.

Kind of funny sometimes, to head into the kitchen to pick up lunch and not finding any. Times like that, DeeDee would just say “Jill made meatloaf”. Good enough for me. A good start to a good day.

Tom ate his share at dinner. More than his share in fact. It was obvious that meatloaf sandwiches would not be on tomorrow’s lunch menu. It was ok though. Tom was just making up for a couple of years of missing home cooked food.

Amy was a smart and interesting girl. She was finishing up college and would get her teaching credentials soon. Teaching first or second grade was what she wanted and so far, her plans were on track.

After dinner and with things cleared off and picked up, the dishes soaking in the sink, we all adjourned to the front room with a glass of wine. All except for Tom. He preferred beer.

We were curious about Vietnam and what Tom had done over there. Like a lot of guys we’d seen come back, there were some aspects of it that he wouldn’t talk about. And other things he would.

Wars are always fought by young, strong and for the most part smart young men.

Tom wasn’t any different. Between times of intense fear and excitement, things for the most part were dirty and boring.

Dirty, because the fine dust of Vietnam blew everywhere in the dry season and when the monsoons came, mud was everywhere. Boring, well, that seems to be the Army way. They just park you somewhere until they need you.

For Tom though, there wasn’t much parking going on. Not during the times he ran the big D8 Caterpillar bulldozer.

As Tom put it, the best heavy equipment operators were the ones that ran the D8 Cats.
He said it modestly, but you could tell it was a point of pride with him.

Some of the things he told us they did with the big dozers was flat mind boggling. They’d run the dozers down very steep hills using the big blade as a brake. Something commonly done in the states, but from what Tom was able to find out, the stateside guys didn’t go down hills as steep as some of the ones that Tom and his buddies did. As one stateside cat skinner put it “You guys were crazy”.

posted on May, 31 2008 @ 09:47 PM
Part two

That and the occasional push wars they got into with the Cat’s. At least when they thought they could get away with it. And they did for the most part.

The push wars were simple. Two D8's would line up nose to nose, or better put, blade to blade.
Once the blades were touching, they’d start pushing. Tom almost always won these as his D8 had a virtually new set of tracks and it had much better traction than the other guys.

Kind of brings to mind what a fight between dinosaurs would be like. Olive drab ones in this case, but dinosaurs for sure.

Among other things, they got revenge with their D8's. Part of Tom’s engineering battalion was assigned to rebuild a bridge over the stream just outside the base. The bridge getting rebuilt during the dry season so it could handle heavier loads.

They cut through the brush about thirty feet downstream from the bridge on each side of the wide and shallow stream and cut a temporary stream crossing so trucks could cross during their supply runs to outlying bases.

One clown in particular, driving a deuce and a half - the deuce and a half being the typical three axle Army truck that hauled freight or troops, whatever the situation dictated - delighted in blasting through the foot deep water at the stream crossing throwing a giant spray of muddy water up on the guys working on the bridge.

Once was funny, but after a couple more times, that was enough. The rest of the deuce and a half drivers were not a problem, they’d cruise through the crossing at a reasonable rate of speed and go their way. Not the clown though, he was having a great time and wasn’t about to quit.

Tom noticed that he came through about every hour. The plan was a simple one. He dropped the blade on the dozer and graded the stream crossing deeper until the big D8 was about six feet deep in the water. It didn’t take long. The other D8 operator cut a new road over to a new stream crossing. As well as cut a new stream crossing, this one about a foot deep just like the last one.

A couple of guys working on the bridge came down and directed all the traffic to the new stream crossing.

Sure enough, at the end of the hour, the clown showed up in the deuce and a half, driving way too fast for the stream crossing. He figured he’d really soak the boys on the bridge this time.

Gotta give the guys on the bridge credit. They knew what was coming and didn’t bat an eye. They just stood there and watched.

The guys who’d been redirecting traffic stood off to one side and didn’t even try to wave the deuce and a half driving clown to a slower speed or to the new crossing.
It worked beyond their wildest expectations. The deuce and a half hit the water at well over 40 mph, threw out a gigantic sheet of spray that soaked the entire bridge down from one end to the other.
The guys on the bridge just stood there and took it. It darned near knocked a couple of them to their knees.
For the deuce and a half, for a few seconds there it looked like it had sunk completely out of sight. Not so though, it was sitting there in six feet of muddy brown and slimy water, engine dead and water running off it from everywhere. The very best though, was the driver. He was sitting in water up to his waist, totally stunned and for a few seconds he didn’t know what had happened.
He was soaking wet to say the least.

Once the dust had settled, although in this case it was water, the deuce and a half driving clown took a look around and saw a lot of vengeful faces glaring at him from atop the bridge.

He looked downstream where Tom and the other D8 operator were sitting in their idling dozers just watching. It was obvious he had no friends here.

He tried to start the deuce and a half, but the truth slowly dawned. This truck wasn’t going to go anywhere. At least not without help.

Glancing once again at the steely eyed guys on the bridge, he thought better of asking for help there.

Looking once again downstream, he didn’t see much help forthcoming from the two guys in the quietly idling dozers.

Gotta give him credit though, he hollered to Tom if he could give him a tow out of the water.

In answer, Tom climbed down off the dozer, picked up a rock, looked it over, looked at the now soaking wet clown, hefted the rock and threw it at him. It narrowly missed and bounced off the deuce and a half steering wheel. And maybe Tom meant to miss. He’d been one heck of a little league pitcher and could usually put the ball right where he wanted it. Rocks, pretty much the same. If Tom threw a rock your way it usually had your name on it.

That was enough for the deuce and a half driving clown, he climbed off the truck and half swam, half ran out of the stream and ran up the road out of sight.

The laughing from the guys on the bridge went on for quite a while. In their eyes, justice was served.

Tom and a volunteer from the bridge hooked up a tow chain to the deuce and a half, dragged it out of the stream to the other side and left it parked there. It was still there when they left for the day.

It wasn’t until the next morning that another deuce and a half carrying a half dozen guys, including the clown, showed up to retrieve it. They didn’t say anything and the guys on the bridge didn’t say anything.

One good thing though, as far as Tom knew, the deuce and a half driving clown ended up driving a small pickup for on base deliveries and never drove a deuce and a half again.

Toms story pretty much brought the house down. Especially so the girls. They were laughing so hard they had tears in their eyes. All the while begging for another story.


I would very much like to correspond with a Marine who trained in California and went to Vietnam as a rifleman.
Mainly for background information and to have the information correct in a book I’m rewriting.

Credit will be given and rest assured, the Marine Corps will be shown in the best light.

Edited to add a left out sentence.

[edit on 31-5-2008 by Desert Dawg]

posted on Sep, 3 2008 @ 05:41 PM
I was stationed at FT IRWIN CA. Back in the eighties, I had a TC (Track Commander) that used to love to pull lots of pranks..
Well after falling victim to several of his pranks, I decided that I would retaliate, Two things the TC had a fear of were spiders and snakes..
FT Irwin had lots of both.. I had gotten hold of a "novelty" snake rattle. So one evening when we were out in the field and bedding down for the night. My TC liked to set up his cot on the back deck of the Sherridan (a scout vehicle that looks like a small tank)
This was in feb. so he was in his mummy bag all zipped up nice and comfy.... I snuck around back and just as he was starting to snore I shook that rattle next to his head as hard as I could.......
The TC litterally jumped head first from the cot and into the turret in one motion... still all zipped up in his bag. the foot of his bag got caught on the fifty mount, so he ended up hanging upside down about a foot off the turret floor trapped in his bag....
All the while screaming like a little school girl for me to come and save him from the rattle snake....
But as soon as he saw my expression, he knew what happened, It was at this time that his tone changed dramatically, and I had to explain to him that I was just going to let him hang there untill he calmed down and gave me his word that he would refrain from dissmembering me.....

posted on Oct, 13 2008 @ 07:05 PM
The closest thing I have to a military story is when my son came home on leave after making it through boot camp. We were catching up and I asked to see his dog tags. After examining them I noticed, "A POS" was stamped on them. I turned to him and honestly said,

"I know boot camp is tough but they actually put on your tags that your A Piece Of Sh!t?"

He just shook his head in a sad way and said, "Dad, that's my blood type, A positive."

I quit jumping to conclusions after that, especially about military jargon.

posted on Oct, 13 2008 @ 07:47 PM
Good post all of them i served in the Navy as a machinist mate from 87-91 did not see much in the way of any war since i got out before the Gulf war really got going so before my little story i would like to thank all vets who served in any branch in any war. Now on to my story i was in boot at great lakes and we must have had 5 foot of snow coming down hard and i had a friend in my company and we were doing snow watch lol shoveling our butts off is more like it at 4:00 Am we were relived the next day my friend gets a call telling him to go to the base commander. well he is gone for hours and he comes back telling me he has been discharge because he is dead i sad what he said yeah they called his parents the night we were shoveling and told them he had died in a snow accident needless to say when he called his mom to tell her she fainted and his dad thought it was a sick joke that somebody was pulling after he got out he sued the navy for mental angush and won 9,000,000 he was set for life.

posted on Oct, 18 2008 @ 04:07 PM
reply to post by chimpy38

Damn, they told my folks the same thing when I got blown up.. LOL.. I should have sued also... (was in the hospital for 11 months)

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