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When I Was In The Military... Tell Me Some Cool Stories

Discussion in 'Bad Dog Cafe' started by Torren61, Nov 16, 2020.

  1. buster poser

    buster poser Friend of Leo's Platinum Supporter

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    From 90-94 I packed the yellow things pictured below; they weigh around 200lbs all packed up and the white one at the end (pilot chute) is in a canister under compound spring and can break your jaw if you stop paying attention.

    We also did the parachutes on the ejection seats, the personnel liferafts, and preservers. Good times*

    [​IMG]

    *physically the toughest job I have ever had with the possible exception of packing these (and refurb on C-5s generally), at my next duty station:

    [​IMG]
     
  2. Goldenshellback

    Goldenshellback Tele-Meister

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    We used LORAN around coastal waters and it worked ok, but in blue water steaming we used SATNAV primarily and OMEGA as a back up. I hated OMEGA due to the propagation lines you had to use to plot a fix. But the most accurate way was shooting stars, which I loved to do and sent me on an astronomy kick to this very day. The coolest thing I ever saw was the Southern Cross in route to Australia. Looked out over the port bow on the ship and there it was about 20 degrees off the horizon.
     
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  3. esseff

    esseff Tele-Afflicted

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    I used to carry out aircraft maintenance at Dunkeswell in the '80s and occasionally met American vets paying nostalgia visits. I heard some interesting tales. The airfield was/is on a high plateau near Honiton in Devon and suffered from peculiar weather including getting blanketed by thick fog. Sometimes you couldn't see the opposite end of the hangar and everything would be covered with condensation. Miserable conditions but nothing compared to the experiences of aircrew and ground staff having to live there during the war.
    Joseph Kennedy was based there at one time.
    An ex-Navy B24 pilot told me that his squadron lost three B24s on take-off there, one after the other.
    Back to the thread.
     
  4. buster poser

    buster poser Friend of Leo's Platinum Supporter

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    I guess that wasn't really a story above. I do remember an irate trainee pilot marching into our shop and demanding to speak with the person who rigged his drag chute as it didn't go off as expected. It was the first time any of us had ever even heard of that happening and we were horrified.

    I don't think we used inspection logs on those so we didn't know who to really blame. We showed him what we did and how careful we were (lots of "two eyes" at certain points of the inspection/rigging/packing). We told him it was far more likely it had been installed wrong by OMS on the flightline (not our gig), but after a brief "investigation," even that turned out to be inaccurate.

    We learned the young 2Lt was yanking on the wrong lever to release the drag, possibly the thrust/throttle for one of the engines (eight of which are adjacent to the drag release as I recall). I got the feeling his trainer knew exactly what he'd done and let him make an a** of himself as a lesson. He had to come by and apologize to us, that was fun.
     
  5. eddiewagner

    eddiewagner Poster Extraordinaire

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    I told johny cash to play guitar when he was stationed here in Germany. I could tell he got talent. Until I shared a room with young Jimi Hendrix.
    No, I did not make this up....
     
  6. Chud

    Chud Poster Extraordinaire

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    From the pages of "Sand", a work in progress from my time in the suck. Edited for language, but not for content. Lol :cool:

    ...There were only eight of us “TOW Critters” as we were called, and we were a pretty tight knit group separate from the rest of the ground pounders. Our first four weeks were spent with all of the other Marines learning even more advanced infantry tactics, and basic demolitions. We qualified on the range with most every weapon in the infantry Marine's arsenal, and practiced advanced patrolling maneuvers. The last four weeks each of our particular MOS’s branched off into separate groups to receive our weapon specific training. But it was during week four that we were all instructed of the absolute necessity of balancing trust with high explosives.

    “This period of instruction will be on trusting your detonation timers,” our demo instructor, Sergeant Wilson informed us one foggy morning.

    “You must learn to trust the timers on your explosives if you are to use them effectively in combat. In order to instill you with this trust we are going to play a little game. You like games don’t you?”

    If there is one thing that I learned during my time in the Marines it is that we love games. “Games sir, games,” we would instinctively reply when asked if that is what we wanted, and the games were never really a good thing.

    With that Sergeant Wilson sent the first five of us out into the middle of the blasting range where there was a hole dug about four feet deep and four feet around. “Corporal Jackson is handing each of you a quarter stick of dynamite, electric blasting caps, and your detonation timer. Even though you are familiar with them, do not f*&% around with any of these items until you are told to do so.”

    We had spent the previous several days training and playing with dummy charges. Wiring them up, placing the charge, pretending to detonate, and then unwiring them as if we were EOD disarming a bomb. Over and over again until we could do it blindfolded in our sleep. We knew we were training for the real thing but I don’t think any of us were ready for what was to happen this day. We were guided through the dynamite preparation process by the numbers, step-by-step until we had all correctly assembled our charges and held them over our heads for them to be inspected.

    “Now each of you, drop your a$$es around the edge of the hole with your feet inside. The timers you have just wired up were painstakingly crafted by government contractors in Taiwan who were the lowest bidder and they are each good for thirty seconds. Right here is where you will learn to trust your gear.”

    By this time we were all dangling our legs inside the blasting hole with our a$$holes puckered so tight we were s*&#ting flapjacks. Dan was sitting across from me and I from the look on his face I could tell that he was actually enjoying this. “What the f*&% are you smiling at Walker?” Sergeant Wilson demanded.

    “Just can’t wait to blow some s*&% up Sergeant!” Dan replied, eliciting a good laugh from everyone and dispelling some of our nervousness about the sheer amount of high explosives we were all preparing to use.

    “Shut your c*&%suckers s*&%heads and listen up.”


    Still laughing for a second we all responded with a hearty “YES SERGEANT!” “Now as one, on the count of three, I want all of you to set and release your timers and place the package gently into the hole beneath your feet. You will wait for my count of twenty before you move. Anyone who moves before I give the word will be in a world of s*&% with me. Do you understand?”

    “Yes Sergeant!”

    “Bulls*&%! I don’t believe you!”


    “YES SERGEANT!” we all screamed.

    “Outstanding! Alright. One. Two. Wait for it Parson. Don’t get all premature on me now son.”

    “Aye aye Sergeant. Just getting ready.”


    Dan and I exchanged a quick look like we were both getting ready to toss our grenades into an enemy bunker. This was it. We were ready. War was imminent in our minds.

    “Alright, once again. One. Two. Three. Drop NOW!”

    I remember sitting there with my feet dangling above two and a half sticks of dynamite about to go off any second when I realized that I didn’t hate the Marine Corps any more. I didn’t exactly love it either, but I realized that I was doing things that very few other people in the world could ever even fathom doing on a daily basis. When the twenty seconds was up and Sergeant Wilson told us to run, Dan and I jumped up and jogged back behind the blast wall a few paces ahead of the rest of the gaggle to get a good seat in time to look back and see just what we had done. The explosions were nearly simultaneous and exactly at thirty seconds. I now trusted my timers and I was truly excited about what would come next...
     
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  7. Torren61

    Torren61 Poster Extraordinaire Gold Supporter

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    Wow!
     
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  8. slauson slim

    slauson slim Friend of Leo's Platinum Supporter

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    My dad, who was in the USAAF, told few stories about WWII, like many vets. He was a gunner/radio man on bombers, later trained in LORAN at MIT. In 1945 he was a LORAN operator at Lingayen in the Philippines. He was severely hurt, and hospitalized, one day after VJ DAY. In October, 1945 he chose to return to the US Mainland in a medical evacuation aircraft instead of a hospital ship. The flight took a couple of days; the ship would have been at sea for a couple weeks. The last leg of the flight was from Hawaii to Hamilton Field, north of San Francisco. The plane, due to crew miscalculations, was nearly out of fuel as it neared Hamilton, and all other aircraft in the landing pattern had to yield so it could make an emergency landing. According to dad the fuel tanks were dry when he landed, and the engines stopped on the taxi way. He didn't fly again until he got a complementary ride from Boeing on a 707 when it was introduced, and never flew after that. He was in hospital until February, 1946.

    I was in the USAF from 1966-1970, stationed in the High Desert in California. Early one chill winter morning the air base sirens went off waking me up - the the pattern indicating a nuclear attack was imminent. It was not a drill. The procedure was to report to my duty station, which was an office, and await instructions. Upon leaving the barracks I saw pandemonium, with trucks and vehicles moving about and Airmen walking to their duty stations. My unit sat in our office awaiting orders scared out of our wits. The all-clear signal came after about twenty minutes, it was a false alarm. We were later told that rodents had gnawed on the siren system wiring causing a short setting off the alarm.
     
  9. glenlivet

    glenlivet Tele-Afflicted

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    29 Palms.... we had a jerk of a Corporal in charge of us for a while...made us form up at attention after noon chow and would make us stand there to inflate his little tiny ego while he blathered on about stupid stuff....well...they repaved the grinder (parking lot) one weekend and I don't think corporal jerk realized it...had us go out and form up after chow...and stand there while he did his thing. It's was well over 100 degrees that day, and we quite literally sunk into the still soft blacktop. When he tried to march us away, guys were pulling their boots out of 1/2 inch footprints that they had sunk down into..... when I left 29 Palms 6 months later, the entire platoons footprints were still in the blacktop outside the chow hall. He had us form up in a different spot after that.
     
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  10. Toto'sDad

    Toto'sDad Telefied Ad Free Member

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    I killed thousands of the enemies of America. Mostly with my bare hands and a pair of bamboo chopsticks.

    My real name is Sylvester Stallone
     
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  11. schmee

    schmee Doctor of Teleocity

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    I didn't get to serve, but a Marine family here.
    -Dad was a Paratrooper at the end of WW2. Shortly after the war, he used to 'chute into county fairs etc. They always had a tank on display etc right after the war. One day my Dad parachuted into the Santa Clara County Fair, he mis judged, had to miss an overhead wire, and slammed into the side of the tank! My uncle said his whole side was black and blue for weeks. Dad was a USMC Boxer also, winning 11 of 12 fights.
    -Uncle was in the 4th wave on Iwo Jima.
    -Nephew was an Embassy Guard in Tegucigalpa and Saudi Arabia.
     
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  12. cenz

    cenz Tele-Meister

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    At Wiesbaden AB in the early ‘70’s the Italian AF would come once a month in the same old clapped out 119, for the monthly garbage run to the BX on the base and the PX over at Mainz-Kastel.

    Almost always proceeded by 2 104’s that would come the day before as a recon mission. Like clockwork.

    As an Italian myself, you gotta appreciate the grift.
     
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  13. LutherBurger

    LutherBurger Poster Extraordinaire

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    One day when I was the executive officer of a field artillery battery, our officers and senior NCOs were ordered by higher headquarters to conduct an enhanced health and welfare inspection of our barracks, specifically a search for prohibited weapons (guns, switchblades, brass knuckles, etc.), drugs, and liquor (only beer and wine were permitted in the barracks). I was proud of the boys -- we found no drugs and no weapons in their rooms. We did confiscate many, many bottles of booze, however. I thought that was stupid, but rules are rules and lawful orders are lawful orders.

    As I was walking down the stairs with a garbage bag full of liquor bottles slung over my shoulder like the freakin' Grinch, a soldier on one of the floors asked me with a sly grin, "You're taking those home, aren't you, sir?"

    I replied, "No, I wouldn't do that to you. I..."

    Before I could finish my sentence, another soldier piped up: "Then where are you taking them? We'll meet you there!"

    :lol:
     
  14. ping-ping-clicka

    ping-ping-clicka Friend of Leo's Ad Free Member

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    I have a sense that this P.G. rated share won't be appreciated, but it's true.
    I was never in the military.
    I was a conscientious objector during the Vietnam War.
    I did alternative service contributing to the health education and welfare working at a St. Vincent de Paul Center
    I completed my service of three years and received a notice that my obligation was completed.
    I was reclassified as 4-W (the W is for worker)a classification for non-veterans. Which I consider fair.
    zcharlie brown philosopy.jpg
     
    Last edited: Nov 16, 2020
  15. buster poser

    buster poser Friend of Leo's Platinum Supporter

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    Talk to anyone who's been stationed at Hickam AFB (or Wheeler) in Hawaii and you'll know there's a mysterious Bermuda Triangle effect that plagues nearly all aircraft upon landing. They seem to be regularly missing a part that has to be flown in from the mainland before they can take off. Damndest thing.
     
  16. LutherBurger

    LutherBurger Poster Extraordinaire

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    And you're 61 years old? :confused:
     
  17. uriah1

    uriah1 Telefied Gold Supporter

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    . Wow x 1000
     
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  18. buster poser

    buster poser Friend of Leo's Platinum Supporter

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    Was gonna say, Johnny was in Germany 1951-54.
     
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  19. LutherBurger

    LutherBurger Poster Extraordinaire

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    I don't want to say that he did indeed "make this up", but my wife, Kate Middleton, says the story is "absolute bollocks."
     
  20. buster poser

    buster poser Friend of Leo's Platinum Supporter

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    And how is she? Tell her Charlize and I send our best.
     
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