Stories!

When I was stationed in Germany my very first duty assignment was 1/7 Cav. I was going to be trained as an air scout because of my high proficiency in AFVID. As I climbed off the bus a SGT met me and helped with my bags and asked if I was the new scout. I told him yes. We proceeded to the mess hall and I ate breakfast. Lts and Capts would walk by and pat me on the back, "glad your with us" they would say. I finished and headed to my briefing. I walked into the briefing room and had a seat. While I was waiting the SGT that helped me gave me an in-brief and started, "Welcome to 1/7 Cav...Garryowen"...I looked up and at the same time the CO was walking through the door I opened my mouth and spoke these words..."Custer's 1/7? You mean Little Big Horn 1/7? Oh My God, I'm gonna get scalped...(and I smiled)..." The CO turned on his heel, called the SGT, and I was escorted to the bus stop and reassigned enroute to C Co 1/15th Inf...
 
During basic training, whenever we started a lesson, ended a lesson, lined up outside the lunchroom or any other reason there was more than one soldier waiting for a sergeant or officer, we had to line up in formation and give attention. This was done in the following manner: The entire squad would line up in rows of three, rifles at parade rest, with one soldier also at parade rest but at 90 degrees to the rest and front-right of the formation. (_ _ _ _ _ _ |). As soon as the sergeant/officer was present, the soldier at 90 degrees would yell "To accept the sergeant/officer, Company/Platoon/whatever will come to attention. 2,3" and the entire formation would yell "ATTENTION!"

When we finished the first half of basic training and the company split up into gunners, loaders and drivers, whenever one specialty group was at formation, we had to come up with our own two part ending instead of the whole "2,3" "ATTENTION!" bit. The problem was that apparently every single combo we came up with, the sergeants had a problem with. It wasn't original, it wasn't acceptable, change it.

We sidestep for a bit. Whenever we were in the tank before we started shooting live ammo, learning about the FCS and all that, whenever we pressed the trigger the TC would go "Pshhhhh" on the ICS. Apparently that's what they thought a live round being fired from the cannon sounded like.

After having the first dozen of our custom bits to receive the sergeants turned down, we decided a new one. We were greeting three sergeants and on cue, the guy at 90 degrees yelled out the first half of the formula. When it came time for the custom ending, he yelled out "How does a tank cannon sound?!" and the entire formation yelled "PSHHHHH!"

All three sergeants burst out laughing, and apparently it's a mortal sin to see a sergeant laughing during basic. It's eternal damnation in the deepest level of hell to make a sergeant laugh. Once the sergeants got their poker faces back on, we spent a good 30 minutes doing pushups, sit-ups, running between gunnery towers and other tricks the sergeants use to torture soldiers in basic. Worth every bloody second, if you ask me...
 
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Alright, it's been a while since we've had any new stories. I'll try another one.

"The day we pi$$ed on France"

Scenario - late 1980's, REFORGER in full swing. We are based at CAFB Lahr, near the border of France, and our task was (of course) to defend NATO assets in the event of a Soviet invasion. Our base was positioned about as far from the predicted fighting as was possible... which was smart. Any attackers would have to overfly all of West Germany, dodging AD assets the whole way.

Our deployment was a LOT of fun, to say the least.

We were given authorization to take a four-ship cross-country to Zaragoza, Spain. We thought the flight planning would be a piece of cake... get authorization, overfly France, land in Spain. Not having the fuel to get there any other way, we were forced to deal with the French. It took 2 days of negotiation, and hours of haggling over the telephone, dozens of numbers dialed, "We'll get back to you" comments, and the like. For a while, it looked like they'd deny overflight of our evil NATO warplanes. Ultimately, we got permission, but we were all extremely miffed. "They're supposed to be our allies, right?"

We launch as "Hoser" flight, and climb to the mid 40's. With a formation, it is nice to get a block altitude, and the controller gave us 46,000' on up, meaning we could be anywhere at or above 46,000'. Settling down to cruise, it became very quiet, as we were on little-used UHF frequencies. Then, we get a call from ATC.

Hozerrr, vuld ew lak flrech faghters tew intersept yeww?

:confused: We talk on the #2 radio. "What is she saying?" We finally got it. Hoser, would you like French fighters to intercept you?

Send 'em up!

Lead gives the rest of us a hand signal, "Push it up", meaning increase speed. We also begin to climb, topping at 49,000' +. The ROE of this setup dictates no maneuvering. We were to stay on our flight-planned routing. It was up to the French to find us and solve for a valid intercept. We power up our AI radars, and begin a standard 4-ship search.

I looked at my HUD, and I remember seeing 0.9999 mach or thereabouts. Supersonic was NOT authorized, and would have gotten us into hot water. Still, without going into a lot of technical stuff, a mach 1 target at 50,000' is a very challenging intercept. Everything has to be executed perfectly for success. The "high/fast flyer" scenario came about from the threat of Soviet Foxbats at 60,000' and mach 2+, attempting to kill our AWACs and other HV assets. Exceptionally tricky back then, not so bad now with Patriot and AIM-120.

We watched our radars. Within 10 minutes, we saw one of their alert barns launch, desperately climb, only to fall off the scope to one side. Attempt one failed. Much laughter and mocking on the #2 radio.

30 minutes later, we see another alert barn launch, a pair of Mirage jets clawing for altitude and speed. We could tell from the geometry of their climb that they too would choke, and they did.

With the border approaching, one final attempt was made, and once again, the Mirage alert aircraft fluttered helplessly off profile 20,000' below us, ending up in a hopeless tailchase. :biggrin: All three launch attempts failed miserably, and it would have been even uglier if we had been allowed supersonic.

Our flight overflew the entire nation of France completely unchallenged, at least as far as intercepts. We hit Zaragoza hard, running the "tubes", which is a series of dive bars in a particular area, where they serve weird seafood and Tinto wine, which is supposedly the dregs of a red wine cask, very powerful stuff.

My memory of Zaragoza is a bit hazy to this day... ;)
 
Hello Minskaya - your "lesson learned" made me chuckle. My oldest daughter is a 1Lt in the U.S. Army, and especially when she deployed, I was worried about how she would be treated in a male-dominated environment, and I was especially concerned about the possibility of an attack of a sexual nature. Later, she told me, "You needn't have worried about it. The psychology of a unit is such that 'I am theirs' meaning anyone messes with me, my guys would kill them. Literally." She was treated with respect and any "hitting" was more banter than serious.

Has this been your experience as well? The Israeli armed forces have been more fully integrated than just about any other nation for decades.
 
My first impression was that sports-bra was enabling her to do things easier.

So... we got the morale, but where is the story :tongue:
 
Has this been your experience as well? The Israeli armed forces have been more fully integrated than just about any other nation for decades.
In the field, my radioman and I were a team. We always traveled together and we always looked out for each other. We would never allow anything untoward to happen to the other. Speaking of which, one fine afternoon in southern Lebanon I killed a Hezbollah sniper who had injured him. Maybe someday I'll tell you about it.
 
Captain, I will pour you a 16 yr old GLENLIVET to salute your service but if you want to share my bottle of my bottle of 18 year old GLENMORANGIE, you tell us about your sports bra.
 
In the field, my radioman and I were a team. We always traveled together and we always looked out for each other. We would never allow anything untoward to happen to the other. Speaking of which, one fine afternoon in southern Lebanon I killed a Hezbollah sniper who had injured him. Maybe someday I'll tell you about it.

Howabout tell us today ! ;)
 
Captain, I will pour you a 16 yr old GLENLIVET to salute your service but if you want to share my bottle of my bottle of 18 year old GLENMORANGIE, you tell us about your sports bra.
My basic rules Colonel: Don't skimp on cost. Expect to spend $40-60 USD. Get a 1-piece with no zippers, clasps, or snaps. Make sure it is flexible and the fabric can breathe. Get wide straps, as the narrow ones tend to dig into the shoulders. Make sure the girls have independent support cups or you'll wind up with a "uni-boob". And finally sir, rotate daily if possible and replace every 3 months max ;)
 
Differential Theory of US Armed Forces (Snake Model) upon encountering a snake in the Area of Operations (AO):

1. Infantry: Snake smells them, leaves area.

2. Airborne: Lands on and kills the snake.

3. Armor: Runs over snake, laughs, and looks for more snakes.

4. Aviation: Has Global Positioning Satellite coordinates to snake. Can't find snake. Returns to base for refuel, crew rest and manicure.

5. Ranger: Plays with snake, then eats it.

6. Field Artillery: Kills snake with massive Time On Target barrage with three Forward Artillery Brigades in support. Kills several hundred civilians as unavoidable collateral damage. Mission is considered a success and all participants (i.e., cooks, mechanics and clerks) are awarded Silver Stars.

7. Special Forces: Makes contact with snake, ignores all State Department directives and Theater Commander Rules of Engagement by building rapport with snake and winning its heart and mind. Trains it to kill other snakes. Files enormous travel settlement upon return.

8. Combat Engineer: Studies snake. Prepares in-depth doctrinal thesis in obscure 5 series Field Manual about how to defeat snake using countermobility assets. Complains that maneuver forces don't understand how to properly conduct doctrinal counter-snake ops.

9. Navy SEAL: Expends all ammunition and calls for naval gunfire support in failed attempt to kill snake. Snake bites SEAL and retreats to safety. Hollywood makes fantasy film in which SEALS kill Muslim extremist snakes.

10. Navy: Fires off 50 cruise missiles from various types of ships, kills snake and makes presentation to Senate Appropriations Committee on how Naval forces are the most cost-effective means of anti-snake force projection.

11. Marine: Kills snake by accident while looking for souvenirs. Local civilians demand removal of all US forces from Area of Operations.

12. Marine Recon: Follows snake, gets lost.

13. Combat Controllers: Guides snake elsewhere.

14. Para-Rescue Jumper: Wounds snake in initial encounter, then works feverishly to save snake's life.

15. Supply: (NOTICE: Your anti-snake equipment is on backorder.)

16. Transport pilot: Receives call for anti-snake equipment, and delivers two weeks after due date.

17. F-15 pilot: Mis-identifies snake as enemy Mil-24 Hind helicopter and engages with missiles. Crew chief paints snake kill on aircraft.

18. F-16 pilot: Finds snake, drops two CBU-87 cluster bombs, and misses snake target, but get direct hit on Embassy 100 KM East of snake due to weather (Too Hot also Too Cold, Was Clear but too overcast, Too dry with Rain, Unlimited ceiling with low cloud cover etc.) Claims that purchasing multi-million dollar, high-tech snake-killing device will enable it in the future to kill all snakes and achieve a revolution in military affairs.

19. AH-64 Apache pilot: Unable to locate snake, snakes don't show well on infra-red. Infrared only operable in desert AO's without power lines or SAM's.

20. UH-60 Blackhawk pilot: Finds snake on fourth pass after snake builds bonfire, pops smoke, lays out VS 17 to mark Landing Zone. Rotor wash blows snake into fire.

21. B-52 pilot: Pulls ARCLIGHT mission on snake, kills snake and every other living thing within two miles of target.

22. Missile crew: Lays in target coordinates to snake in 20 seconds, but can't receive authorization from National Command Authority to use nuclear weapons.

23. Intelligence officer: Snake? What snake? Only four of 35 indicators of snake activity are currently active. We assess the potential for snake activity as LOW.

24. Judge Advocate General (JAG): Snake declines to bite, citing grounds of professional courtesy.
 
A few more to add to the Brigadier's

25. Chemical Corps. Conduct a radiological and chemical analysis of snake...latches it to tow pine on Fox Recon vevlhicle and drags snake through slurry pit.

26. Military Police. Links up with snake and provides security escort to clear snake from the area.

27. Food Service. Tells the snake to grab a tray and move the line and get the hell out of his mess hall!

28. Finance Corps. Loses the snake's travel voucher....3 times. Snake's company commander busts snake 1 grade for non-payment of bills. Finance checks his stock portfolio online.
 
29. NZSAS - Captures and holds snake until arrival of special package.

30. Canadian Military Engineers - Negotiating with NZSAS to deliver their supply of Worcester sauce.
 
31. Army National Guard- Locates snake, offers beer and BBQ. Gets in fight with snake and loses. Buys snake another round.
 
1 RTR - Tankie flashed the snake. Charges of crimes against humanity would have been brought but snake ain't human.
 
GLOC and the 1-Ton Club

The story I related in another thread about the female ROTC cadet who gunned me reminded me about another incident which I will relate momentarily. But first... "The 1-Ton Club"? What is THAT? :biggrin: It is when your body weight under extreme "G" exceeds one ton. Obviously, it helps to be a big guy to make it, and at 220 lb + gear, 9 G took me there many times.

People think flying a fighter is a video game. Nothing could be further from the truth. It is a brutal environment that places great strain on the body, and usually you are wiped out physically, drenched with sweat, after a mission. Mostly due to high G.

Youtube is full of centrifuge videos, and they are both interesting and entertaining, especially when the subject GLOC's, G-induced loss of consciousness. The blood leaves the brain, the subject passes out, and what is particularly interesting is that there is total amnesia. No blood apparently equals no memory formation.


For several seconds after regaining consciousness, the subject is helpless, often spastic. The results can be fatal in aviation. In one episode in particular, I am very, very lucky to be alive. Pitching out in the overhead pattern, I was fatigued and simply lost it at 6G. The pitch-out turn is level, but the vector varies slightly up or down through the turn. When I lost it, I had a slight upward vector, and I woke up beaming out over the base in a slight climb. If my vector had been down at all, I'd have been a smoking hole.

Anyway, back to the female ROTC cadet. This story is a bit lengthy, but I'll try to keep it tight.

I arrived at the brief and found I had a female dink in the back seat of a D model. She was excited as hell, upbeat, cheerful, and cute, so I figured "OK, let's make the best of this" because (as mentioned) riders often become violently ill and the mission is ruined. But this mission was a LOWAT (Low Altitude) ride, which means the G-available is enormous, and the ride itself can be violent... not a good sign.

We blast off, and I'll be damned, she's doing good. Sometimes, people are blowing chunks on departure under 1 G, just from the claustrophobia and anxiety.

We arrive in the working area, and do some simple tactical turns, 4 to 5 G. Again, she's doing fine. Remarkable. Best fam rider I've ever had. Every time I look over my shoulder, she gives me a thumbs up. We split off and practice some low-altitude maneuvering. The G is ratcheting up, both in onset and quantity. 6G. 7G. Over and over. I keep looking back at her, and getting a thumb's up.

After about an hour, we are light enough for more G. 8G... 9G... more than once. She's still giving me a thumb's up! I am more than amazed by this point. I am now suspicious. No one is this sort of a G-monster without a couple of years in the cockpit. So I do one last hard turn, except this time, I'm watching her over my shoulder. At about 7G, she's out! I ease up, watch her do the funky chicken dance for 5 seconds, and then she gives me yet another thumb's up! I had probably knocked her out a dozen times, but she had no memory of it, so from her perspective, all was well!

We RTB uneventfully, and I told her in front of her mates, "You were the best cadet I've ever flown, bar none." Hopefully she became a pilot, because she genuinely did have the potential for it.

The following clip contains a bunch of GLOCs recorded by the centrifuge folk. The very first subject looks just like my girl, including her nice funky chicken dance! And read her lips after she's functioning again... "That was AWESOME!" Also note that NO ONE looks good at 9G. ;)

 
Reposting some stories from another thread:

The good old days with all the acronyms. NTPIs, NWAIs, SAS NSO NWSOs, PAL,PRP.

Did a 3 yr tour as a member of one of the Corps Nuclear Ord Platoons. Plus close to 6 yrs as a artillery Nuc projectileman (Additional duty)

Like the rest of you I was really glad all that crap went away.


The quote burned in the few brain cells I have. "I can neither confirm, nor deny, the presence, or absence, of nuclear weapons aboard any military installation."

As a young Sgt at NOP I remember fondly the day I was the "Duty Tec" for the access control point when the Base Fire marshal "found" our compound. And having no fire escape/building diagrams decided he wanted to have a look.

Aside from really pissing off the most senior civilian (GS rating) aboard the base. It was a lot of fun, for this young Sgt that may have had a bit of a cocky attitude

"I am the base fire marshal, I can go anywhere on this base I want" that was met with "Your name is not on my access roster. You will have to leave". Followed by "You cannot keep me out of here" met with
"Yes i can,>>>>> Nuclear Security Act 1947>>>> I'll shoot your ass"

After I called the MarForLant Commander (A Sgt with a direct line to a 3 Star Gen) The Fire Marshal settled down. That look was classic. He pulled the "I'll tell the General on you threat" and I said "Well if it will make you happy I'll give him a call"


After the Gen told him he did not have authority nor access to our site he insisted on asking me the same question over and over "Are there Nucs stored in that building?
And I'd pop The Quote. Then he would ask again, and I'd repeat "The Quote". We did this for about 15 min before he got bored and left.

And the easiest way to pass a Navy Nuc inspection was to decide to do a Field Nuc ASP in the swampiest part of the base in Aug. For some reason the Navy guys never wanted to see a complete cycle. Maybe it had to do with the helmet and flak jackets. Or the Carolina ground oozing up over their low quarter shoes. Maybe it was the mosquitoes the size of small birds. Or the 95 deg temp with 100% humidity.

Personally I think it was the doughnuts we had put out. Back at our air conditioned building. Khakis and doughnuts never fails. Like hunting over a baited field.



Born and raised in Nasty City (my father was a Warrant Boatswain); never visited the Trophy Lounge although I knew its location from my earliest memories. In my day, we would do liquid lunch at the Hitching Post . . . then the culture changed and drinking was verbotten. The last 15 years of my career were ever so much more boring than the first 10.:frown:

My brother-in-law, an RA-5C Vigilante driver was an instructor at NWTGP, and often had interesting stories about students that had no business being around those things.

I have a slightly different story about a MARDET SSgt aboard Constellation and his zeal for protecting the weapons with which he was charged. We were underway doing a Bluebells evolution (that's moving a "silver bullet" folks) and I, being the Repair Two Locker Leader owned the area of the ship where that particular magazine was located. So we were charged with dealing with the Broken Arrow should one occur, while the Marines of course were there to keep the riffraff out of the area. So here comes this Airedale LCDR who announces that he's going up the escalator to his ready room, despite the fact that the escalator and the immediate area around it was secured for the movement of the weapon, as the weapons elevator for that magazine is right there. The SSgt. says, "No Sir, the area is secured for Bluebells, you must go aft and up." I'm a JG at this point and I've got a good relationship with the Marines because we respect each others duties for this kind of thing, but this LCDR is like pointing out his gold oak leaves, and the SSgt. is just politely telling him no . . . until the dipshit Airedale decides he's pushing past him and going up the escalator, at which point the SSgt. put the butt of his riot gun across the guy's jaw, and they placed him under restraint and took him to the brig. Then, when the movement was over, we all went to Captain's Mast, and I was a witness. I just told what I saw, and the LCDR was referred to court martial. At that point in my career I had my fill of aviator bullshit double-standard crap, so I was secretly joyful at what had transpired. I honestly don't know what was decided at court martial because both the offender and the trial were taken off ship and we weren't allowed to know the outcome, but regardless, the message was delivered to the other 5000 souls aboard.:)
 
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