OT: Humorous Military Stories

I'll start this off with one...

At the NTC we were members of the OPFOR which meant we had to do things similiar to how a Soviet Motorized Rifle Regiment would perform them. I was a member of the Scout Platoon at NTC. Our mission was to provide reconnaissance for the main force. Most of the time this meant starting our mission in the dead of night when the illumination was at it's lowest point.

In an MRR (Motorized Rifle Regiment) there were usually a couple of Chemical/NBC vehicles included with the recon elements. To simulate this, members of a support unit were "attached" to our units. These guys (and girls) sometimes thought fairly highly of themselves being out there with the rest of us. However they were usually the first to get lost, compromised and/or destroyed. When things went bad for the recon elements, the source of the problem could usually be traced back to the chemical crews.

Anyways...

One particular night, it was overcast and the illum was extremely low. We weren't scheduled to start our mission until after 11pm that night. A buddy of mine worked in supply so we happened to have a huge supply of chemlights. That night while everyone was sleeping and our leaders were working out last minute details, a bunch of us grabbed a dozen chemlights and a huge length of 550 cord. One of us tied the cord to the back of the chem truck, the rest of us strung chemlights to the cord at varying intervals. We broke the chemlights and quickly buried them in the sand.

Later that night it was time to leave the TOC and begin our mission. As the chem guys drove off, one by one the chemlights popped out of the sand and followed in behind the chem truck. Of course we had used the bright flourescent lights and through the night vision goggles they shone brightly. The funny thing is the chem guys never looked behind them!! They continued to drive away, chemlights in tow. Luckily we were parked a good distance from the rest of the TOC so nobody could hear our howls of laughter.

It was only a couple of minutes before the commander came on the radio and chewed them out. If I remember correctly they were recalled back to the TOC. By then we were on our way into the desert night, laughing and chuckling to each other on the vehicle's comm system.

I've got two of them, both involving young Airmen. Both were Acft Maint, asst crew chiefs.

First, Mtn Home AFB, Idaho. The young troop came to work at 2300 hrs (11 PM). It was in the winter and it was very cold. His supervisor told him it was our sections turn to pull bear watch on the trim pad. He took the young airman to the pad and told him to call Maint. Control each half hour and report in. He was to say, "Bear watch reporting in. Trim pad all secure and no bears sighted". If a bear was sighted he was to blow a whistle, run to the phone and call Maint Control and say, "Bear watch reporting in. Bear sighted and alarm has been sounded". The Security Police went to the trim pad around 3 or 4 to let the airman warm up and have something hot to drink. He stayed on the trim pad untill daylight. No bears were sighted.

Second. Kadina AB Okinawa. A F-4D came back from flight with AB (afterburner) hard to light. The young airman was told by his supervisor to help out the engine people. After the engine troops got to the acft the airman asked what was the cause of the problem. They told him it was the AB flint and to go to the engine shop and get a new one. The following took a lot of phone calls and close communication between the shops involved. The engine shop tells him they had just given their last one to another section so he would have to go to SERF (Supply equipment repair facility) and get one from them. He walks the mile from the engine shop to SERF. They give him a three inch metal rod and sends him to the welding shop to get it spark tested. The welder tells him it fails spark test and to take it back to SERF. Back he goes and they tell him that is their last one, but he can take it to the engine shop and get it re energized. He walks back to the engine shop and they tell him they can't re energize it without the paperwork from SERF. He walks back to SERF and they tell him they can't complete the paperwork without a certificate of non spark from the welding shop. They send him to the welding shop again to get the required paperwork, and then back to SERF where they give him the paperwork for the engine shop. He walks back to the engine shop where they "re energize" the flint. Then back to the welding shop to get it spark tested and then back to the engine shop. The engine shop then asks the airman for the requestion number so the flint can be charged to the proper organization. They send him back to the flight line to get with the engine troops and get the number. As he arrives at the acft it is being pulled back into its parking spot after having been repaired and checked on the trim pad. He tells the engine people what all he had to go through to get the flint and all he needs now is a number. When everyone starts laughing he finally catches on.

We all have stories involving "chow lines", "bulkhead remover", and my personal favorite to get a "BT Punch" (a BT being a Boiler Tech), that one usually hurt.

One night I was on Shore Patrol in Hurada, Egypt (right after Desert Storm). One of the Gunner's Mates decided that his wine had gotten the best of him and the local woman who was "belly dancing" in the club of a local hotel was the Devil incarnate. He attacked her. Greatfully some of his buddies grabbed him first. He fought like a man possessed. It took all of us (SP's on duty) to get him into a van and take him down to Fleet Landing. He was still fighting when we got to the Liberty Boat to take him back to the ship (we were anchored in the bay).

We were afraid to try to put him on the boat for fear of him jumping into the water and drowning. We ran out of options to control him so, me being of large size (6' 5" and 270 lbs at that time), I decided to sit on his back. Everytime I started to get up he would try to escape. So I sat there for over 5 hours. Most everybody seen him lying there. The CO, XO, Dept Head, Division Officer, you name it. Finally about 0330 he calmed down enough that we could get him back to the ship without him getting hurt.

Needless to say the running joke was how if you couldn't behave that I could sit on you. And he went to Captain's Mast (NJP).

One memorable day back at Fort Bragg in the 70's my battallion was just coming off duty at Pope AFB as the alert battallion. We were tasked with a jump for a dog and pony show for some brass hats and a civilian crowd. It was a demonstration of "The Airborne infantry company in the attack". The first C-130 dropped the pathfinder platoon, which deployed directly in front of the crowd. The next pass dropped off a line company of troopers. Next was the Artillery, with a field piece, crew and support vehicles dropped without mishap. Next, the young Public Affairs captain at the mike announced 'The 82nd Airborne has armor, too." Overhead, a lone C-130 roared overhead and disgorged a Sheridan, that aluminum-hulled vehicle that the All-Americans were using for armored support. Normally, three large cargo chutes would deploy from the pallet and the tank would drop to earth. Today was a little different. Two chutes opened, the third Roman Candled. One at a time, the other two collapsed , and the Sheridan fell like a ton of bricks, directly in front of the crowd. Unfortunately, for the young captain, he forgot to check the mike switch. His play by play commentary was heard by all. "Holy @$#%! Someone's $&* will be in a crack for that. Wonder which stupid @#%*#@ was responsible for that cluster#@$%" Picture the look on his face when the battalion XO himself pointed out that the mike had been open continuously, that the brass in the stands were all looking at him without laughing, and that the civilians were all falling over from laughter in the bleachers. The Sheridan? I have a picture somewhere of what used to be a tank. The vehicle made a three and a half foot deep impact crater. The turret slammed THROUGH the hull, and needless to say the suspension was broken. The armor guys were contemplating just covering the whole mess up instead of digging it out. Never did find out what they did with the wreck. The captain? Who knows, but I bet his career took an unexpected turn. :) - Ed

I'm not sure of the accuracy of this story, as it comes from my grandfather. During WW2, he was stationed as part of an armored division in Afirca. On several of the Shermans they had mounted large spotlights, to blind enemy troops when friendlies were crossing rivers or open plains. His company was taken off the front lines for a brief respite. The CO of the company decided that they were going to have a party, but since there was no other lighting, they decided to use the spotlights on the Shermans. The crews pointed the spotlights at the house, and turned them on to full power. Now this was a clay brick house so these bricks started to bake and shrink. Pretty soon, an ominous creaking was heard, and seconds later, the house colapsed, burrying the men. I'm sure that that story was the subject of much reminiscing at reunions.

LOL, you guys crack me up!!

Not sure how true this is but i was told about a USAF F111 that was tasked with doing a flying display at an airport at Manchester in the UK . Nothing wrong with that i hear you say but Manchester has two airports. one is a small place called Barton(where the display was to take place ). The other happens to be a major international airport. I dont think i need explain anymore suffice to say i think the passengers in the teminal enjoyed the display....Greg

A friend of mine was on a particularly boring midwatch in Reactor Maneuvering. Most of the time was spent checking gauges, writing them down, and then re-checking them, all for 8 hours straight, and all the while sitting in a small room that you can't leave. After about 5 hours of this tedium, a voice came over the sound powered phone, simply saying, "Tower, this is Ghost Rider, request fly-by." After a few looks of puzzlement from the watch, my friend replied, "Negative, Ghost Rider, the pattern is full." Much to the amazement of the watch, a young man dressed only in a camo belt, TLD, cape, and mask came stereaking around the corner. He proceeded to jump up and down quite comically, making strange airplane sounds, before running off between the machinery. When I relieved the watch a few hours later, they were all still laughing hysterically. We never found out who it was...

demono69

My neighbor was a gunner in an AA halftrack in the Pacific and him and the rest of the crew was geting tired of rations. Their soluton was to back up to a coconut tree and fire a few rounds, the recoil would drop the coconuts from the tree into the halftrack.

Some shipmates and I, when at Great Lakes, would send raisin heads on snipe hunts. We would give them sacks and sticks and send them into the brush to beat around and catch a "Snipe" (Navy slang for anyone in engineering).
Imagine our surprise when one said that they (Snipes) were a real bird and didn't live in the area

In the RAF, station guard was done by whoever was on the s**tlist of the various sections. Night guard was particularly boring, just waiting for Soviet paratroopers to land (If you believed the RAF regiment guys) or the IRA. With a whole airfield to cover, the Land Rover was the usual vehicle used. Boredom set 's in around 2.00am, what else is there to do but chase rabbits?
Hence the message received on the guardroom radio;
'Er, we've rolled the Rover over, Over'
Another favourite I read in Readers Digest years ago;
A National Serviceman in the RAF (this would be in the 50's) was given the task of repainting the white lines along the middle of the perimeter track around the airfield. All was going well, until he knocked over the can of paint. What to do?
Airfields are full of strange signs, so he quickly made the spilt paint into a neat square, and nothing was ever said. Years later, as a civvy, when he revisited the airfield, he spotted another serviceman, carefully repainting that square for an inspection of the Base!
And, did anyone on the other side of the pond hear of the Vulcan pilot who called up a USN carrier & requested permission for a flyby? He didn't say what he was flying though & received permission for a lowlevel pass along the deck!
I got that one from a crewchief onboard the Vulcan.
Keep 'em coming guy's!

OK, I'm in...

A young Marine and his wife had been trying to have children for some time, but after trying and trying, they decided to come to the hospital for a fertility workup. The young lady was checked out by the doctor, and found to be OK. The Marine stopped by the laboratory to give us a sperm sample. The chief in charge of the lab handed the marine a cup, an adult magazine, and pointed out the location of the head ("bathroom"). After a few hours, the chief noticed the lab request form still sitting on the desk, but with no sample to process. That's when he looked toward the bathroom and noticed the light still shining and the door closed. He hurried over to the bathroom and knocked. A feeble "Yeesss?" was his reply. Quickly, he opened the door, and found the young Marine sitting on the toilet, things firmly in hand, with a face as red as a tomato, and sweat pouring from everywhere. Hurriedly, he asked the young man if he was OK, and had he produced a sample. The Marine held up the cup and replied, "I thought you wanted me to fill it up."

Gip Winecoff (Hospital Corpsman, USN, 1972-78)

Just one more...

Had a marine report to sick call complaining of blisters on both feet. Examination revealed severe blistering of both feet as a result of a 20 mile forced march the previous day. Our new physician's assistant (PA) saw him, went to the pharmacy and got several large tablets (like Epsom salts) for him to dissolve in water so he could soak his feet. He returned, handed them to the Marine and said, "Go take these and soak your feet." The marine departed sick call. A little later the PA said he needed to go to the head. When he walked in, he heard someone in the adjacent stall retching violently. The PA peered into the stall, and saw the young Marine he had treated earlier for blisters. When asked if he was OK, the young Marine replied, "Hey, Doc, those tablets you gave me were awful big, but I managed to get 'em down."

Gip Winecoff (Hospital Corpsman, USN, 1972-78)

We had our share of running newbies over the squadron area looking for flight line or prop wash.

One morning as I was leaving the barracks on liberty, I went down the hall past the room of some junior troops from my shop. They were discussing the cleaning value of different laundry detergents. As I passed by, they stopped me for my opinion. as we were talking, the door to the next room flew open and the occupant jumped into the doorway. Dressed only in his white skivies, he had his arm bent, with a box of laundry detergent on his bicep. In his best announcer's voice, he said "For cleaner hwites, I use*****. Will never forget it.


And on a final note, I will never forget saturday mornings when the trained killers, the guardians fo democracy used to race each other for the last chair in the tv room to watch Bugs Bunny or George of the Jungle.

Love to never forget.

The Purple Bullet Legend
by L.J. "Jack" Stevenson, LCDR USN (ret) AKA Speedo

This isn’t so much a tale of high-risk aviation, as it is an anecdote on how to get the result needed from a training situation that isn’t going quite right. (I’ve omitted the names to protect the various nefarious reputations.)

At VQ-I in the early 1970s, before each deployment to Danang, as pilot and aircraft commander, I always required a successful crew bailout drill utilizing the plane we were deploying. We ran the drill while parked in the hangar, exiting onto mattresses placed under the lower escape door/chute.

As luck would have it, we were deploying this particular time without our normal crew. Although this was to be the usual Tonkin Gulf and other places patrol assignment, the crew included a fresh new 0-1 ensign. He had been included in order to prepare him, via real-time operations, to become an evaluator and eventually supervise his own back-end crew. This run was to be sort of a graduation-type thing prior to him getting out on his own.

After two full-dress attempts, the time between the bailout order and getting all seven crew members out of the bird was entirely too slow. The one person who could not move fast enough was the new ensign. He just seemed to get all tied up in an “assholes and elbows” situation whenever he tried to slide out of the bird.

I called a halt, went over to my flight gear, and retrieved my shoulder-holstered, empty .38 revolver with a bandoleer full of purple-tipped tracers. I held up the bandoleer and asked the ensign if he knew the significance of having purple-tipped bullets. He opined that he did not. I then described the bullets, informing him they had been especially made for me and that the tips contained a combination of krait and cobra venom. The reason for this, I added, was so the bullets guaranteed a quick kill of the intended target.

I asked if he knew why I was showing him all of this stuff. He didn’t know. I then told him that since I would be the last person to leave the aircraft, this was my guarantee that no one would prevent or slow down my egress. He still didn’t get it.

I pointedly told him it was my intent to shoot anyone who got in my way. He became very indignant, expressing his belief this was not the proper way to do things. I said this was the way it was done in the real world and the power of an aircraft commander was right up there with the commanding officer of a unit. I also very firmly informed him of how much I valued a quick, successful bailout drill.

We returned to the plane, tried again, and got two run-throughs that successfully passed my minimum requirements for the drill. We then deployed without further incident.

VQ-1 operated with around a thousand people at that time. Apparently the ensign began to ask around, and although none of the crew or officers he spoke with was aware of the drill incident, they backed up the story. Not a single Black Bat compromised the scam. Actually, everyone knew we had been using the purple rounds since the NVA and VC had begun trying to suck in rescue helos by using our survival gear (which had previously included red tracers) and pretending to be downed airmen.

The tale doesn’t quite end here—in 1971, we’d returned from a particularly bad run over Laos—bad because on a “black” track where there was to be no triple A, we’d encountered a whole gaggle of stuff trying to get us. (It was during the days when we wondered why so many of our tracks seemed to be known in advance by the bad guys.) Anyway, I found myself vastly in need of some self-prescribed appropriate libation. (Unfortunately, no flight surgeon had been forthcoming with any free booze.)

My NAV, EVAL, and I had made our way to the Bat Nest and were just getting started with our liquid refreshment, when we happened to overhear a couple of A4 drivers discussing something about a “crazy” guy who eliminated non-performing crew members by shooting them with poisonous purple-tipped bullets. The NAV was about to get with it with these two gents, but I held up a hand and we continued to listen.

It seems our drill story had made the rounds to the point that I was now “certifiably insane” and not to be messed with, especially on a dark night.

At this point, I ambled over to the pair and asked if they were being taken care of satisfactorily at our club. It was a tradition there that if a plane was diverted to Danang, we provided the crew a first round on the house. (The Bat Nest was a work in progress that every deployed C-121, P-3, and/or A-3 crew tried to contribute to with some kind of repair and/or improvement. Like the time we found that C-4 could start charcoal better than av gas. You know, lifestyle improvements . . . .)

The visitors reported everything was fine and thanked me for the generosity. I then asked them if they had ever met this crazy guy we’d overheard them discussing. Neither had.

I next revealed that I was that person. Both just stared at me with disbelief.

I offered, “If you don’t believe me, ask those two men over there.” My guys confirmed my claim, and the two were dumbfounded. As I turned to go, one managed to ask how many crewmen I’d offed.

With a shrug, I nonchalantly responded, “I’ve lost count.”

Fond memories of a bad war attended by many great fellow warriors. It was the only one we had, so I think we made the best of it.—L.J. “Jack” Stevenson, LCDR USN (ret) AKA Speedo

Don't forget sending recruits to look for the box of grid squares.

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Sometimes between our missions we would spend an afternoon doing maintenance and getting some rest near the TOC (Tactical Operations Center). We were well known for our nighttime raids of the chow that was brought to the TOC. Many times they had the supply sergeant maintain a guard when we were around. Hot chow and hungry scouts -- well you get the picture.

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One time we were allowed to make a quick stop to the Commissary. I remember picking up a loaf of bread, the kind that was split-top with the butter down the center. We loaded up the bag of groceries, headed back to the field and got our briefing. We didn't have much time to stow anything away. We ended up driving for a good six hours that night and by the time we got into position we were exhausted. We secured the position, radioed in and started watch. That morning my sergeant grabbed the loaf of bread and that's when we found out that a critter had gotten to our bread. It had eaten through the plastic and right along the split where it's buttered. The rest of the bread was untouched.

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We also had two man DRT (deep reconnaissance teams) who were dropped off for 2-3 days at a time to monitor enemy units. It was fairly cold that time of the year so we had extreme cold weather sleeping bags with us. My buddy had went to sleep inside of his bag with a bag of peanuts in his pocket. The next morning when he woke up, he had a hole chewed through his sleeping bag, his BDU pocket and the peanuts were gone.

Many times people in our platoon tried to outdo each other in regards to what food we brought out. We were known for packing hibachi's, bratwurst, sausages and even steaks. The two man dismount teams were limited to what could be brought out. One time I thought I was going to be slick and packed this thing of Bisquick pancake mix (just add water to the bottle, shake and pour). I was so looking forward to "fresh" pancakes that morning. Great idea, however silly me brought a aluminum pie plate (to save weight). It smelled great at first, but quickly burnt. My buddy laughed his butt off at my predicament.

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The custom of saluting the vehicles of general officers when marked with official plates/flags produced some funny situations. I remember one time when our HQ Company (200+) was dismissed. The place we held formations was just down the road from the Post HQ. This particular time, as we headed towards the road, the General's Hummvee with the red flags (identifying the vehicle as a general officer's official vehicle) was traveling down the road in our direction. As if time itself slowed down, both the mass of soldiers and the Hummvee slowed down as they approached each other. The Hummvee was close to stopping when one of the Sergeants yelled "Someone better salute that damn vehicle!!" A bunch of people towards the front quickly saluted and the Hummvee sped off.

Messing with the new guys...

One day I walked into the barracks and overheard a couple of the guys talking about getting us new guys. I quickly walked towards my barracks room and shut the door. A couple minutes behind me was another recruit. He walked in and was quickly subdued by a bunch of guys. They taped him down to the chair where he was stuck for over an hour.

Thinking back to this incident, it's kind of funny because a couple of months later the same guy was "invited" to a party with members of the Mortar Plt. (we had a good rivalry between Scouts and Mortars). Later that night he was found with nothing but his skivvies taped to a chair set outside in the parking lot.

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Another one for messing with the new guys...

How do you check track tension? By getting new recruits to jump up and down on the front of the tank.

How do you check the rubber on a roadwheel? By holding a screwdriver against the roadwheel and hitting it with a hammer. It was funny until one guy hit the screwdriver and the hammer bounced back and hit him head. Then it was hilarious.

While working on the M551, it was a special occasion when a new guy was on hand to release the track tension. We would fill the adjuster with a little more grease than needed and then ask the new guy to release the tension. Usually they didn't know any better and stood right in front of the grease fitting.

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Universal directions to any US Military Installation.

"It's right down the road past the four car dealerships, six pawnshops, four liquor stores and the three gentleman clubs."

Here's another one:

Christmas 1981 I was stuck on board an LPH without any leave time. In port Norfolk, VA. I was a Postal Clerk at the time. I was good friends with several of the OS's (radar operators). We use to spend weekend nights in the Combat Information Center (CIC) playing Dungeons & Dragons.

On Christmas eve night we were playing D&D as usual when at Midnight the PA (1MC) announced 4 bells, then "Santa Claus arriving, Flight Deck Spot 4" Then the customary single "Stinger" ring. As this was happening we heard a mass of "hoof beats" above our heads.

Now CIC on a carrier (LPH, LHA, LHD, CV, CVN, etc) was sandwiched between the Hanger Deck, and the Flight Deck. Then about 15 minutes later the same thing happened again, with this time being announced "Santa Claus departing, Flight Deck, Spot 4" Again with hoof beats above our heads.

We figured someone was playing a prank on us, but no one would own up to it. And to get them to use the 1MC AFTER taps without getting in trouble took pull somewhere.

Around twenty years ago I was driving a minibus full of other techies from RAF Odiham to our detachment base at RAF Upavon, it had been a good weekend and a few of the guys were under the weather, to say the least. One bloke at the back announced he was going to be sick , opened the window and did just that, at 70 MPH, just as a Volvo was overtaking. I'll never forget the sight of the Volvo's wiper's trying to clear the windscreen!
The standard RAF ground power unit at that time was the Houchin. A Ford straight six coupled to a 28volt generator. All enclosed and on four wheels. It wasn't me, but someone convinced some visiting grunt's that their chopper couldn't be started because the battery on the Houchin was flat. Would they care to assist by trying to push start it? Apparently they got it up to quite a speed, matey then pushed the button & it whirred into life. The Army guys couldn't understand why he was laughing so hard though!
We also had Helistart Land Rovers, a short wheelbase stripped down pararover with a 28volt electrical system. One day at the base shop, a guy with a Chrysler (Talbot Horizon, yuck!) asked me if I would jumpstart his car using the Rover. I tried to warn him,but, he attached the leads and turned his key. I'd never heard a four cylinder engine get up to turbine speed before.
It used to be squadron practice for everyone going on a detachment to take squadron stickers with them. These would then be applied all over the visited base, the more obscure the position the better, the C.O.'s car for instance.
When 9 Squadron (squadron badge, a Bat) visited 15 squadron, ( Roman XV) at Laarbruch in Germany in about 1985 they took the game a bit further. On the morning aircraft prep a Bat was discovered painted on a 15 sqn Tornado. Lots of shouting etc, and it was removed. Next morning, an enormous Bat was found painted on the belly of a 15 sqn Tornado, cue shouting etc.
The troops had had enough by now. Next morning, every 9 sqn Tornado there had an XV on it's tail. It must have taken hours to do, & all in locked hardened shelters. Trouble was, whoever did it used white car spray paint, the Squadron Warrant Officer for both squadrons went ballistic!
There are more, I just have to try to remember them!

The Navy has a tradition of only calling troops to attention if an officer O-5 or higher enters the room. Try explaining that to guys just out of boot-camp...

While in charge of the barracks in my training command, we got a new bunch of booters in on a Saturday afternoon. As it happens, the OOD for the day was a buck Ensign. He, in his infinite wisdom, decided to walk around the barracks for a bit of an inspection. When he got up to our floor, one of the new guys yells at the top of his lungs, "Attention on deck!" and everybody popped to attention, including the ensign. He must have thought the the base CO was behind him, because everybody just stood there for a full 5 minutes, waiting for something to happen. By the time the ensign realized what had happened, we were all rolling on the floor with laughter. He walked out without another word.