In the Army Now - The joy of the Armed Forces
I've never been a soldier. I was an air cadet once, but that mostly involved sitting in a mouldy hut learning about aeroplane engines with the hint that one day we might go flying.
Yet, anyone who has spent time defending their nation, or at least drinking bromide-laced-tea for their nation, must have stories to tell. Tell them now.
( , Thu 23 Mar 2006, 18:26)
I've never been a soldier. I was an air cadet once, but that mostly involved sitting in a mouldy hut learning about aeroplane engines with the hint that one day we might go flying.
Yet, anyone who has spent time defending their nation, or at least drinking bromide-laced-tea for their nation, must have stories to tell. Tell them now.
( , Thu 23 Mar 2006, 18:26)
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Hazing
A few years ago, there was much ado about hazing in the Marine Corps. The story was about 'Blood Wings' where, when a Marine graduated from Airborne School, his wings were attached to his uniform blouse without the backings and then he was repeatedely hit in the wings causing hundreds of puncture wounds.
What I would have given to just have had small punctures on my chest.
My First Sergeant in college 'singled me out' as he thought I was a good Knob (freshman) and that I deserved 'special attention'. Whilst in the forward leaning rest (push-up position) he had me guessing the artists responsible for some strange, hippy-esque music. I was wrong. And he illustrated his disappointment by kicking me square in the ribcage.
The Fourth impact of his combat boot to my ribs I felt something snap. The Sixth such impact, I felt a sharp stabbing pain in my chest (the lung being punctured apparently).
I began coughing up blood.
I was ushered from his room and he stayed there to study.
After continuing to cough up blood and beginning to think I was dying, I walked back up to his room (it was two floors higher than mine) and I stormed into his room and caught him still sitting...I broke his nose with one shot and blood was everywhere.
Only one problem: his roomate was there...and he was another Sergeant and he was like 6'5" and built like a Strongest Man contestant.
He picked me up and removed me from the room and I thought "This is where I die." because, he WAS the guys roomate...right? Wrong. When we got outside the room, it was then that I realized the roomate was laughing so much that he was almost incapable of making sound.
From that point on, the remainder of my Freshman year, I was KING OF THE MOUNTAIN and the First Sergeant that broke my ribs? He wouldnt even look me in the eye.
My how we laughed...
I miss it still.
PS(After Freshman year, I became the meanest bastard in Bravo Company...though I never kicked any of my Knobs. :D)
( , Mon 27 Mar 2006, 21:02, Reply)
A few years ago, there was much ado about hazing in the Marine Corps. The story was about 'Blood Wings' where, when a Marine graduated from Airborne School, his wings were attached to his uniform blouse without the backings and then he was repeatedely hit in the wings causing hundreds of puncture wounds.
What I would have given to just have had small punctures on my chest.
My First Sergeant in college 'singled me out' as he thought I was a good Knob (freshman) and that I deserved 'special attention'. Whilst in the forward leaning rest (push-up position) he had me guessing the artists responsible for some strange, hippy-esque music. I was wrong. And he illustrated his disappointment by kicking me square in the ribcage.
The Fourth impact of his combat boot to my ribs I felt something snap. The Sixth such impact, I felt a sharp stabbing pain in my chest (the lung being punctured apparently).
I began coughing up blood.
I was ushered from his room and he stayed there to study.
After continuing to cough up blood and beginning to think I was dying, I walked back up to his room (it was two floors higher than mine) and I stormed into his room and caught him still sitting...I broke his nose with one shot and blood was everywhere.
Only one problem: his roomate was there...and he was another Sergeant and he was like 6'5" and built like a Strongest Man contestant.
He picked me up and removed me from the room and I thought "This is where I die." because, he WAS the guys roomate...right? Wrong. When we got outside the room, it was then that I realized the roomate was laughing so much that he was almost incapable of making sound.
From that point on, the remainder of my Freshman year, I was KING OF THE MOUNTAIN and the First Sergeant that broke my ribs? He wouldnt even look me in the eye.
My how we laughed...
I miss it still.
PS(After Freshman year, I became the meanest bastard in Bravo Company...though I never kicked any of my Knobs. :D)
( , Mon 27 Mar 2006, 21:02, Reply)
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