To pass the time - REAL war stories here!

[buddy]

OK, here's a real war story from me to start this off...I am on guard duty in Saudi Arabia at night - it's so cold I am wearing insulated underwear, BDU's, a MOPP suit (chemical warfare outfit) and raingear. Anyway, I've really gotta take a leak so I stop in a corner of our "compound" (defined by large dirt walls pushed up by combat engineers) near a M60 bunker and cut loose. As I was relieving myself a huge amount of dirt on the other side of the dirt wall let loose and fell down the other side for some reason - and I almost s--- myself right there! Turns out it was nothing at all (after policing up myself I investigated with M16 and red-lensed flashlight).

I actually saw a guy "draw" on his own shadow once on guard duty.

The chaplains assistant almost burned down the chaplain't tent by overheating his pot-belly stove.

Iraqi EPW's unbelievably ate every item in GI MRE's given to them at a EPW holding facility. Kinda sad to see a starving dude trying to eat coffee grounds...

American soldiers guarding a crossroads in the middle of nowhere. There was a small stone wall there with the words "Pink Floyd - The Wall" spraypainted on it.

A tape I copped from an Iraqi bunker with the artist "James Brown" written on it (turned out to be Arabic music - which I played every now and then until my tentmates told me to shove it).

[gaffertape]

Not much of a 'war' story, but nonetheless...

My dad worked as a machinist in a factory in England during the war (it was considered necessary service - he tried to enlist several times but was rejected on these grounds). In his backyard he created an ad-hock bomb shelter that he was really proud of. It had little shelves and a portable heater inside. All of his neighbours jeered at him, as the bombs hadn't started falling yet. When the air raid sirens DID start wailing, dad never got to use his shelter as his neighbours were crammed inside it.

GAFF

[Stuka]

My uncle was at school in Townsville during WW2 just after the bombing of darwin. The school would have air raid drills where the teachers would march the students to the shelters in a calm, orderly fashion, doing the roll call etc, etc.

This one day the heat was so intense it shorted the alarm system and the sirens went off without warning.

You guessed it , the first ones out the doors and in the shelters were the teachers!!! Students, what students?!!

Makes me laugh anyway.

[Bullethead]

In the Gulf, we had a guy in my platoon who was seriously over-religious. He was absolutely convinced that the Gulf War was going to be Armageddon and this depressed him bigtime. We asked him why--if he was really serious, he was sure to be on the winning team. But no matter, he stayed depressed and moping, spouting doomsday prophecies and looking for signs and portents. And when you're already miserable from living unwashed in a hole, in the cold rain, sick as a dog, on short rations, FOR MONTHS ALREADY, the last thing you need is a guy bringing you down.

So one evening just before the main attack, he gave the heavy sigh that broke the camel's back and a bunch of us dogpiled him. Meanwhile, others rigged up a big cross out of cammy net poles and then we tied him to it, saying that here was his big chance to really imitate Christ. Then we lifted him up and stuck the bottom end of the cross into the berm around our position, so that he hung there crucified within sight of the enemy. And we all danced around the cross shouting blasphemous wisecracks about the 2nd coming and such while laughing our asses off. Finally took him down after about 10 minutes.

I guess you had to be there. This was a LOT funnier at the time than it was while typing it. But it did let us blow off a lot of steam and it did make this guy lighten up, so it was a successful operation. And the really funny thing was, we took no sniper fire at all during this incident, despite a regular dose of it every day. I guess the Iraqis were too stunned.

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-Bullethead

jtweller@delphi.com

WW2 AFV Photos: people.delphi.com/jtweller/tanks/tanks.htm

[Guest Seimerst]

First-- nothing ruins a good war story more than an eye witness.

QUESTION: What is the difference between a war story and a fairy tale?

ANSWER: A fairy tale begins with, "Once upon a time....." and a war story begins with, "No sh*t, there I was, hip-deep in grenade pins when....."

Just to set the stage for most of what you will read in this thread.

Now let me tell you about the time that I was.....

<BLOCKQUOTE>quote:</font><HR>Originally posted by buddy:

OK, here's a real war story from me to start this off...I am on guard duty in Saudi Arabia at night - it's so cold I am wearing insulated underwear, BDU's, a MOPP suit (chemical warfare outfit) and raingear. Anyway, I've really gotta take a leak so I stop in a corner of our "compound" (defined by large dirt walls pushed up by combat engineers) near a M60 bunker and cut loose. As I was relieving myself a huge amount of dirt on the other side of the dirt wall let loose and fell down the other side for some reason - and I almost s--- myself right there! Turns out it was nothing at all (after policing up myself I investigated with M16 and red-lensed flashlight).

I actually saw a guy "draw" on his own shadow once on guard duty.

The chaplains assistant almost burned down the chaplain't tent by overheating his pot-belly stove.

Iraqi EPW's unbelievably ate every item in GI MRE's given to them at a EPW holding facility. Kinda sad to see a starving dude trying to eat coffee grounds...

American soldiers guarding a crossroads in the middle of nowhere. There was a small stone wall there with the words "Pink Floyd - The Wall" spraypainted on it.

A tape I copped from an Iraqi bunker with the artist "James Brown" written on it (turned out to be Arabic music - which I played every now and then until my tentmates told me to shove it).<HR></BLOCKQUOTE>

[pathfinder]

We were at Grafenwohr (sp?) doing our usual as an arty unit (well at least my unit could hit the impact area unlike some others!)...

B battery Fire direction officer gives a call after a 1 AM night move that their radios are out. So our Signal Lt and his NCO go out to check the radio.

When he gets there he takes a look and then flips the "on" switch and of course the radio works...

We had real good time at that B abttery Lt's expense with that one..

Guess ya just had to be there...

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unca pathy will show ya the path,

if only he could find it himself!

[mcgivney]

I keep hearing stories about some Arty unit which managed to blow up a Maker's Mark warehouse full of whiskey.

[buddy]

First of all, not really sure what Seimerst's post was all about - this thread is for fun so lighten up!

No sh*t, there I was, hip-deep in grenade pins when I learned that I had s---burning detail. For those of you not educated on this treat it is the sanitary disposal of military excrement and urine by mixing it (in our case) with a combo of diesel fuel and mo-gas. We rated the cans by splash factor (1-10) according to how full they were. Anyway, while pulling a can of urine (splash factor 9 or 10) out of the back of the latrine when I muffed it and the contents splashed up in my face.

Needless to say, war is hell.

[Guest Seimerst]

Buddy, sorry that you didn't see my tongue firmly against my cheek-- I was trying to be humerous -- I've been telling war stories for most my adult life and I am older than dirt. <grin> But I do think most war story tellers will understand both my points.

I see you are in Evansville, IN-- I spent my grade school years there. I wonder if Plaza Park Elementary School is still standing. I saw my first college basketball game there-- the Evansville Aces-- they were pretty good then... I suppose they still are. Again, I apologize if my rather dry and twisted sense of humor struck you wrong.

[buddy]

Not a problem! Yeah, Plaza school is still around - there is a Middle School now too. And the Evansville Aces are now the Evansville Otters! I bet there's still a lot that hasn't changed, though. I went to Holy Rosary Gradeschool and Memorial High School myself. Also attended both colleges, USI (used to be ISUE) and UE. Good to talk to someone from the sweaty valley of Etown! Alright!!

[19 Echo]

Here's one from my Guard unit. So this tank is going downrange during Tank Table VII or VIII. The driver suddenly heard some odd thumps. Then he saw the rest of the crew out in front of the tank, shouting at him to get out. He looked back into the turret, and saw electricity arcing everywhere. He didn't bother investigating further, and abandoned tank. The crew ran some distance away, and stood around congratulating themselves on their miraculous escape from certain death. Then they gradually became aware of a kind of "chunka-chunka" sound. They turned around and saw their tank happily idling its way downrange. The driver was in such a hurry to get out that he didn't even take it out of gear. An NCO (possibly the 1ST SGT, but I'm not sure) had to jump on board from a jeep (and remember, electrical arcing, live rounds) to shut it off.

-- 19 Echo

[Seanachai]

Seimerst, I got that you were being facetious, but I see buddy's already chimed in acknowledging, so no harm done.

No war stories of my own, but stories of war from others:

I worked as a laborer on a block/brick crew building a supermarket in the south suburbs Twin Cities, MN. We had a young guy on the crew, Mikey, another laborer. We were setting up bricks and filling mudboards for this older guy, and it was a slow day, and we were all chatting, and he made a comment about 'The War'. Mikey, who was about 19, asked him which war, and the guy said WWII. Then Mikey asked him, all excited, what unit he was in. He told us: xx Panzergrenadier Division, Heavy Machine Gun Company x. Mikey just stood there blinking at the guy for a moment, and the older guy smiled and said "that's right, Mikey, I was one of Adolph's brave boys." Guy emigrated to America after the war. Told us how he and his buddies spent an entire day running, running flat out, from the Russians, looking for an American or Brit unit to surrender to. When they were finally stopped and captured by an American unit, he told us he was so used to having weapons all around that he forgot he had a pistol tucked into the back of his pants, and when the American Sargeant searched him and found it, the Sarge kicked him so hard in the ass he launched him 2 foot into the air. Says he figured the Sargeant took him for some sort of SS diehard who was going to try and kill his captors, and he didn't know enough English to explain he 'just forgot'. I'll never forget the expression on that young laborer's face; it never occured to him he might meet someone from the other side. The bricklayer had an accent, but that's not that unusual with guys you work with in south Minnesota (or north, for that matter). He was a damn good bricklayer, I might add, and a pleasure to work with. Just as glad he escaped the Russians.

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After witnessing exceptional bravery from his Celtic mercenaries, Alexander the Great called them to him and asked if there was anything they feared. They told him nothing, except that the sky might fall on their heads.

[MOS was 71331]

A coworker who'd been a Marine platoon leader in the Korean War told me this one.

His company was on the line. They always had three-man listening posts in front of their positions with sound powered telephones. The posts were required to call in every hour. The LPs were supposed to have two sleeping bags to ensure that at least one man would always be awake.

After one listening post had missed two call-ins, my friend had to take a small patrol to the LP to check out the situation there. The most likely was that the men were asleep, but there were a lot of more unpleasant possibilities.

Anyway, the patrol carefully worked their way over to the LP. When they got there, sure enough, they found the three men asleep. My friend grabbed one of the sleeping bags and shook it in fury, intending to bawl out all three of the men. The man in the bag yelled out, "Halt! Who goes there?" cracking up the patrol and taking all the steam out of my friend's intended reprimand.

[Bullethead]

On most nights in the Gulf, it was absolutely, totally pitch black. There were no city lights and the rain clouds and oilwell smoke blotted out any moon and stars. And of course you never used a flashlight where the lack of bushes and hills made it visible for miles. So you literally couldn't see the end of your nose, let alone a hand in front of your face.

This made moving around at night, even inside your own perimeter, problematic. We managed it by shooting azimuths to everywhere important during daylight and following a compass at night. Yet even this wasn't perfect, especially if you'd just moved into a new pos and had the evening watch in the FDC hootch. The FDC would get set up first and other various obstacles would get set up between the FDC and your other destinations while you were inside. And there was no way to see them at all. So'd be leaving FDC in the dark to take your turn on the perimeter and you'd walk right into the sides of trucks, or fall into a deep rut or somebody's hole. And there was always about a 40 knot crosswind blowing so you'd be leaned well over into it--you'd pass by close on the lee side of an invisible truck, the wind would stop, and you'd fall flat. We considered ourselves lucky if we only busted our ass 3 times in a 200m walk.

On top of all this, we had to go out to the antenna farm every night at 0300 (2400Z) to change radio freqs, KY codes, and batteries (by feel alone). If we were currently attached to the arty regiment HQ, the ant farm could be up to 1000m outside the perimeter, which was itself 200m from the FDC hootch. So if things went as well as possible, the whole operation would take about an hour, including keeping from getting shot while crossing the perimeters of both the main pos and the ant farm.

Unfortunately, my compass was one of those cheap-ass civvy knock-offs. Same as the GI compass except the glow-in-the-dark stuff only lasted about an hour. And thereby hangs a tale.

One terribly stormy night I went out on the ant farm mission. Humping a load of batteries, I crossed the main pos obstacle course with only minor injuries and reached the ant farm on time. But then things started going wrong. Several radios and associated hardware were acting up (they didn't like the rain, even when in plastic bags) and getting them working consumed so much time that my compass no longer glowed when I was finally able to start back.

Under usual conditions, this wouldn't have been insurmountable because there were wires to follow between the ant farm and the FDC hootch. However, on this night the storm had buried them with sand. But I had to get back so I set out anyway, figuring that I couldn't miss striking some point of a 400m diameter perimeter. It would increase the risk of getting shot because only the guys between the FDC and ant farm knew I was out, but I didn't have any choice.

But I hadn't made allowance for the crosswind. As I struggled along, it blew me well off course. I reached my pace count and there was nothing there. So I kept going, and still nothing. Now I started getting concerned--the badguys and some minefields weren't THAT far away. But I didn't want to stay out in that weather all night and I had other duties, so on I staggered. And then I fell in a hole.

This hole was occupied. Naturally, my precipitous arrival caused quite a stir. The occupants immediately assaulted me and I fought back. It was a comical melee with nobody able to see ANYTHING and flailing about blindly, the occupants striking each other and everybody busting knuckles on helmets. Just as knives and pistols were coming out, however, we all realized that everybody was cussing in English and nobody smelled like an Iraqi. So we all sat down and laughed like maniacs.

Turned out I'd stumbled into our most remote LP, several hundred meters beyond the edge of the perimeter. Had I missed it, I'd have continued a few miles to the badguy area. I stayed long enough to juice up my compass with my flashlight, called in to let the main perimeter know I was coming from this side, and finally got back to the FDC hootch.

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-Bullethead

It was a common custom at that time, in the more romantic females, to see their soldier husbands and sweethearts as Greek heroes, instead of the whoremongering, drunken clowns most of them were. However, the Greek heroes were probably no better, so it was not so far off the mark.

-Flashman