Military stories

This is my daddy’s story on his first encounter with the military medical staff. It happened in June of 1971 a bit before he went to Vietnam. It is his story, but it can apply to anyone who has been the military. My brother tells me it has not changed; it was like that when he joined.

I thought of Booth you know him being in the military and all. Enjoy



In line to receive the shoots the military has issued. Everyone is striped to his underwear (boxer shorts, military issued, no briefs) and there we are standing…………waiting, for I don’t know………than out of nowhere a person stabs you in the arm. They came out of nowhere and from behind a small cubical that they send you to (there’re placed every six feet apart)………before you have any idea what they’re doing they stab you in one arm (being distracted with that) another one stabs you in your other arm. Talk about hurry up and wait. And it is not just a syringe they stab your with, it’s an air gun with a small knife in it, that if you jerk your arm you get cut and start to bleed real bad. Come to find out they use the air guns because it shoots the medians into the vines really well, and it is fast.
While these “military doctors” (medics and orderlies) do there thing I stand in line waiting my turn to again be poked and prodded; when about two men ahead of me I see a man not to much older than me start to sway ever so slightly. This goes on I don’t know a minute or so, and I’m thinking he can’t do it; this is not enough to make anyone pass out. As I’m thinking this he takes a steep forward and locks his knees. The minute I finish my thought, he does it, he falls face first onto the floor. He did not hit the floor real hard because they caught him and then laid him on the floor. Not even a second went by when everyone of those medics and orderlies come out from behind their cubicles and stab this poor bastard in both arms while he’s lying there passed out on the floor.
When they seemed to be done with him the medics drag him to a cot over in the corner. He was out completely, out cold. He is laying there when the drill sergeant puts something (only I can think of is smelling salt) under his nose; he starts to wake up, he’s laying there looking real sick and everyone in the room can now here “ahhhhh………ahhhhahhhh………ahhhahhhhhh” coming from this private. You get so many shoots from these air guns that you can hardly move your arms when you’re done. This private did not have to wait to be poked and prodded he got it all at once. No wonder he could not move; all he could do was moan and groan all the while the drill sergeant is yelling at him to get up and get dressed. But he can’t he can’t move his arms to even put he shirt on. The drill sergeant turns and yells at someone else to come and help him with getting dressed only to find out that, that person can hardly lifted or move his own arms. It was really comical watching the whole thing, these two grown men trying to dress each other. They managed to get their shirts on, but they couldn’t figure out how to button them. The man helping the privet said “man your on your own with your pants” throwing them at him and walked out.
Everyone from that moment on made a mental note to never pass out in front of “military doctors” again. Just got some good news I have to do this again in three months, and every three months from then on. A few hours after this is all done the drill sergeant comes into the barracks; “everyone feeing alright” he says. No one answers; you just hear that one guy still moaning, “ahhhhh, ahh…ohhh”. “Ok everyone out, I want jumping jacks,” the drill sergeant announces. Come to find out if you don’t keep your arms up and moving they will stiffen up on you. Everyone was now moaning and groaning along with that privet. I don’t think anyone did a good, complete jumping jack that day.



Sorry if it was hard to read

Please R&R Thanks

If you want more let me know I have a lot of them.

What an interesting story! Makes my arms hurt just to read it. XD Good job Bri!

Thanks Shakari
Should I do more?

Yeah, I'd definitely read more of them!

I'll see if I can post some more tomorrow....I guess listening to my daddy's stories is not all that bad. LOL.

yes do more but you need to proofread. not trying to be mean. but it would help with the flow of the story..if it were edited.

but great job. will definitely read more

Thanks, B. Sure, go ahead and post more. I'd love to read them. My dad was in the service too, but never talked about any of it.

sweetie_dude wrote:yes do more but you need to proofread. not trying to be mean. but it would help with the flow of the story..if it were edited.

but great job. will definitely read more

I have an opinion about that to voice. If they're B's writing, then yeah, (I can help with that if you'd like), but if they are her father's writings then I'd leave them the way they are.

Thanks guys your sweet I'll try to post the one I have done later today. *hugs*

DBCrazy wrote:

sweetie_dude wrote:yes do more but you need to proofread. not trying to be mean. but it would help with the flow of the story..if it were edited.

but great job. will definitely read more

I have an opinion about that to voice. If they're B's writing, then yeah, (I can help with that if you'd like), but if they are her father's writings then I'd leave them the way they are.

yah totally agree with you.

This is a great idea!!!

Do you have this at FF.net?

On one of our marches we set out into a good run. Five men in a row, the whole unit was there. We had everything on, our 80-pound rucksack, a canteen, our weapons, and anything else the drill sergeant thought of. It was hot, August hot and we still had another twenty miles to go with all this shit on. I was doing ok, getting tired but otherwise keeping up and doing my part in the march.

I was in place ……… not in the middle but kind of in the back of the middle. Well my buddy Hardy, he was a few rows in front of me and I’m ……… well I’m a tall guy, 6’1”; Hardy is 5’. Built like a bad ass I’ll tell you but comes to my chest.

We were all getting tired and some of us were having a hard time keeping up. I could see Hardy, and he had his head down, moving his arms back and forth just like we all were, and I could just tell he was having a hard time.

On this path that the drill sergeant would take us on there was ……… what you would call a fork in the road. It was a pole, not too big, maybe about four feet tall (it would come to my waist). Anyway everyone knew about this pole and when it would come into view, we would split so the pole would go down the middle and we would not have to stop our march. The pole came up and everyone split ………well almost everyone. Since Hardy’s head was down he didn’t see it. He hit that pole dead on. He hit it with so much force that all his limbs and rifle wrapped around it, then he slid to the bottom with a thud.

Everyone just stopped. The drill sergeant came over to him ……… I guess to see if he was still alive, the medics were not too far behind us in a jeep for anyone who might get heat stroke. The drill sergeant grabbed the smelling salt from the medics because Hardy was out. He started to wake up and we all heard “ohhhhhhhhhh” and “ahhhhhhhhhh”. No one could believe what had just happened ……… I mean we all knew about that pole. The medics took Hardy to the jeep to check him out. “Show’s over men, let’s continue the march,” the drill sergeant announced.

About two, maybe three days later, we were in the showers and Hardy walked in. Everyone stopped showering to look at him. It is kind of hard not to look at him! Hardy had a black and blue and even purple bruise starting from his chest to all the way down to his waist. We all just started to laugh ……… I laughed and shook my head thinking “Man, it sucks to be you.” He just said “Shut up. It’s not funny ……… it really hurts.” That alone made us laugh even harder.

Come our next march the drill sergeant took roll, as he did every march.

“Jones?”
“Present.”

“James?”
“Present.”

“Hardy?”
“Present.”

Pauses for a brief second, “You feeling ok Hardy?”
“Sir, yes sir, drill sergeant sir.”

“Good."

"Booth?”
“Present.”

Pauses for a brief second, “You feeling ok Hardy?”
“Sir, yes sir, drill sergeant sir.”

“Good."

"Booth?”
“Present.”

Pauses for a brief second, “You got your rock, Booth?”
“Sir, yes sir, drill sergeant, sir.” I patted my left pocket.

I never knew I had a problem knowing my right from my left until the military. I had been forced to carry this rock in my left pocket every time we went out ……… and it couldn’t just be any rock, it had to be a huge round rock, I mean this thing is as big as my hand. And with all of the other crap we had to carry, I had to carry that too.

“Good.”

“Parker?”
“Present.”

-------------------------------

Sorry it cut me off. Please R&R and tell me what you think:)

Here is the next story I hope you like it. Please tell me what you think.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Gary was a good guy.......a little weird at times but all in all a real good guy. I remember him not just because he was in my unit or my friend, but because of what happened to him on one weekend.......

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was September, Labor Day weekend. Our unit was given a four-day leave, Friday through Monday. Most of us left base and went out of town, those who didn't just stayed on base and relaxed.

We were in Oregon training in the woods there. Lloyd's sister lived in Seattle, so I talked to her and she said she would love to my buddy and me come up for a visit. she was a great cook and I'd given anything for a home cooked meal over those 10 year old MRE's any day. Lloyd was a good friend of mine......old enough to be my father, but really kind to me and all the other neighborhood kids. He taught me a lot of things and would just take joy in playing with the neighborhood kids. I’ll tell you he and his wife were one in a million.

So there we were taking the bus to Seattle. We got there and food was already made and on the table, and smelled SO GOOD. It even tasted better. We caught up on this and that, as we shoveled the food away; she gave me an update on Lloyd’s family and other people who lived in my neighborhood along with what was going on back home. It was real nice to talk to her; it was like talking to a family member. My buddy and I felt right at home.

On our way back to base we decided to do some site seeing. She packed us a hearty lunch, said our goodbyes and headed off the see the Space Needle, with a promise to come again the next time we had leave. No problem with me, I would definitely come back. It was nice to get away and eat some real food.

The Space Needle was awesome………just WOW what can I say? You can see the whole city from up there. We got back on Sunday; we did not have to be back to work until Tuesday, so Monday I could just rest. That is when Gary showed up, late Sunday afternoon drunker than a skunk. He stumbled into the barracks and into his bed, where he slept till about noon the next day. When Gary awoke he was making his way to the latrine and not doing a good job of it either, hitting the wall with every turn and even falling to the floor a few times.

He finally made it to the latrine to the showers where he began to wash up. Some other guys and I were standing around shooting the breeze when we heard a scream, a literal scream coming from what looked like the latrine. We ran in and there was Gary, looking downward and still screaming. Then he looked up and saw all of us standing there looking at him wondering what the hell was going on? His eyes held uncertainty and fear. We could not figure out what was going on with Gary. What had gotten him so scared?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I'll post the other half in the morning and maybe another one in honor of Memorial Day. Pleases R&R

Nice job, B! But what a cliffhanger!! What happened??

Sorry about not posting, life gets in the way. I'm a full time college student with 3 jobs.
Thanks for your comments *hugs* here is the next part.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

After Gary looked at all of us he asked the one question we couldn’t answer. “What the HELL is THAT”? We were all looking at each other not knowing what to say, when finally I broke the silence.

“Gary, man, what the hell is what?” I said, being generally confused.

“THAT!” He shouted pointing downward.

I looked at where he was pointing………not really wanting to go over to where he was; I mean we were in the showers for crying out loud. But he was insistent and really did look scared. I tried to get out of it, but all of the other guys were like “don’t look at me, man I ain’t going over there”, and “you’re on your own with this one, big guy”.

So I went over there and looked at where he was pointing. I couldn’t really tell what it was at first so I had to lean over to get a closer look, and I couldn’t believe my eyes.

A FLY.

Gary, apparently while out drinking, had gotten a fly tattooed on his penis.

I simply stood up said “It………looks like a fly to me.”
His eyes were as wide as saucers. He was just looking at me as if I had something else to say, but I really didn’t. He kept opening and closing his mouth, but didn’t really ever say anything. I couldn’t really blame the guy-- if I had that on my penis I don’t think I would know what to say either.

“Where the………how the………what the………” he kept saying, finally “Where the hell did it come from”? Suddenly everyone was around him looking at it.

“What the hell man, just slap it”, Allen said as a matter of fact.

“Bro, it is a tattoo not a real fly”. Dave said, shaking his head also not believing his own eyes.

Aside from the fly, which was the size of a quarter, it was also swollen. It also had some color on it; purple, black, and even blue. “You don’t remember that you got it or even why you got it, not to mention why there and why a fly”? I asked the questions no one seemed to be able to ask. All he did was shake his head no with a lost look. I can’t help it I start to laugh; I can’t hold it in.

“Shut up man it’s not funny………it really hurts, I can’t pee”. He said getting angry. That’s it, that was the straw, now everyone was laughing.

“Are you sure you don’t remember getting that”? I asked again hoping for an answer.

“No man. I don’t remember a thing. I can’t remember what happened”. He said confirming his amnesia of the weekend.

Allen piped up, “Hey, yo man, Gary, you know…you need to see a medic………get your dick looked at or at least get some gauze. HAHAHAHA. Man only you”.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Tuesday came and we had roll call, 3:30 in the morning. We all hurried and stood in formation to be inspected………everyone but Gary. He was kind of walking slowly that morning. Well, drill instructor Price (DI) noticed that and called him on it.

“What’s the matter private? Had a little too much fun over leave? Can’t remember where your ass is”? The DI continued, “Why is it that you can’t move this morning, huh private? Too much starch in your shorts? You look like you got jock itch”.

“Sir no sir drill instructor sir”, Gary stated looking straight forward, because you don’t look them in the eye.

“Then why the slow moving today private”? The DI was up in his face, the tone in his voice was low, but could be heard and understood.

“SirIhaveaflyonmydicksir”. Gary said very low so that no other platoon would hear.

“WHAT”? Price yelled.

“SIR, I…haveaflyonmydicksir”.

“WHAT IS THAT YOU SAID PRIVATE”? DI Price was now inches from his face.

Gary finally lost it and yelled, “SIR, I HAVE A FLY ON MY DICK, SIR”. DI Price stepped back a bit.

Taking in what Gary had just said simply said; “Now I’m going to have to see that, drop your pants private”.

“Sir…”

“I SAID DROP YOUR PANTS NOW”.

Gary did what he was told and the DI was just looking at it and then did something none of us was expecting; he called all of the other DI’s and DS’s (drill sergeants) over to look at Gary’s fly.

“Man I’ve been in the military 30+ years and I thought I’d seen it all. Guess I was wrong”, DI Price said and then started to laugh along with the other DI’s and DS’s. They were all laughing and now everyone on base knew about Gary’s fly.

“Private, do you need to go to the infirmary and see a medic”? DI Price asked after catching his breath from laughing.

“SIR, NO SIR DRILL INSTRUCTER PRICE SIR”. Gary answered with his pants and underwear still around his ankles.

DI Price got right into his face and asked again; only this is said in a much lower and slower tone and more demanding. “Private do you need to go to the infirmary and see a medic”?

Gary responded the same, “SIR, NO SIR DRILL INSTRUCTER PRICE SIR”.

DI Price looked to be getting mad from what I could see; we were all facing forward not moving a muscle for fear we might die.

“I’LL ASK AGAIN PRIVATE, DO YOU NEED TO GO SEE A MEDIC”?
“SIR, NO SIR DRILL INSTRUCTER PRICE SIR”.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

We tried everything to help him, suggested ice packs to get the swelling down while he laid down. He could not even get out of bed much less walk.

Gary was forced to go to the infirmary because his penis was so swollen that he could not pee, and had to be catheterized. He was out for about a week and had to carry a big around with him.

The teasing went on after that and off and on until I left Oregon with my new orders. He never did remember that weekend.

Never again did I see Gary after I left, he was infantry and was sent overseas. I often wonder what happened to him, but I will never forget the look on his face when he saw that fly for the first time.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Please R&R and if you are wondering it this story is true.....it is. The fly was near the top of the head of his penis and the legs hugged the sides.
I often wonder what pick up line he would use with women lol.

Here is another one. Please tell me what you all think.
Thanks for reading
----------------------------------------------------------

The latrine is an interesting place. Let me try to describe it for those of you who don’t know what it is I’m talking about. It is a room, a spacious room; it has 12 sinks lined against a wall that has a long mirror that goes from head to waist so that you can make sure your buttons are all straight and all of your ribbons and stripes are all in order. It extends the length of the sinks.

The showers are next; 12 heads mounted on the wall. There are hooks on the wall near the door when you walk in to hang your towel on. They tell you to put your soap on a rope, so you have all of these guys walking around with a bar of soap around their neck. This is so you don’t drop it and then have to bend down to pick it up, because you know you don’t bend down in the showers.

Next on another wall is the urinal. It is a urinal that extends the length of the wall that it is mounted to and has water flowing in it constantly. About 15 guys could stand there and pee at the same time. They call it a urinal troth, that is how big this thing is.

Next would be the toilets. Notice I said toilets not stalls; there are no stalls, just a row of toilets. You learn real fast not to be shy. It is hard at first because you don’t want to take care of your business in front of everyone, but you have to.

I was still getting use to the idea of no privacy, trying to go to the latrine when no one was in there. I tried to be discrete, but I really had to go. So I got a newspaper. I saw someone with a paper the other day when brushing my teeth; he had it in front of him giving some privacy. So I got my paper and headed to the latrine.

There was one person in there. It looked like he was shaving again; you have to have a clean face or you have to dry shave in front of the drill sergeant and the company while standing in formation. So you often saw guys shave two maybe three times a day. It looked like he was finishing up and I thought to myself, “I can do this”, giving myself another push of confidence. I am not shy about the way I look but there is just something not right in having to take a crap in front of everyone. But I had no choice.

This guy looked like he was going to leave soon so I chose a toilet. I got situated and opened my paper. And I was smiling and thinking to myself “alright this is good, this gives me some privacy” when all of a sudden I heard, “Hey, when you’re done with that can I borrow your sports section?” I turned my head to the right and saw this guy that was shaving who I thought was leaving sitting right next to me.

Out of all of the toilets in this room HE HAD TO SIT NEXT TO ME. I threw the paper down and ran out of there with my pants and underwear still around my ankles yelling and cussing. I was NOT having a good day.
--------------------------------------------------------------------


Please R&R and tell me what you think

Here's another one have fun, and please R & R
--------------------------------------------------------------------

Private Gunner seemed to be a good guy; he was nice and fun to be around.

We were out on a mock mission and had just gotten done with some routine lectures on safety in the field during training, when it happened.

We were all standing around waiting to go on a 20-mile march to get to the field where we needed to be to start this mission. We were all outside waiting, getting our make up on (green, black, and brown). This camouflage went everywhere.

Gunner had to have been no more than two feet away from my buddies and me when I saw him put his 9 mil in his mouth and pull the trigger. Just like that.

I’ve never seen anyone die before.

His head……just……exploded, and pieces of his head flew on to me, and everyone around him.

I did not know what to do. I just stood there, I couldn’t even think.

--------------------------------------

They canceled our mock mission and sent us back to the barracks, where we were told to stay and nothing else.

Soon a bunch of doctors came into our barracks to talk to each one of us to make sure we were ok or sane as they put it. They did this by taking us one by one into another room and asking us questions about private Gunner and what exactly happened.

When they were done with one of us they sent us outside to walk it off or sent us to another person to ask us more questions. I guess I seemed ok to these doctors, because they sent me outside to walk it off.

I just walked around like in circles just not knowing what to do. And that is when I realized what I needed to do and that was to call home. I needed to talk to someone I knew, who knew me.

My brother Jared answered the phone (he’s only 16, but I swear he thinks he’s 30). Jared wanted to talk but I just couldn’t so I asked for grandpa.

“Hello”

“Hey Jar”

“Seeley! How are you doing?”

“Ok,……I guess”

“Are you sure man, I mean you don’t sound too good”

“Yeah……yeah…um…listen Jared, is grandpa there?”

“Yeah I’ll get him, just a minute. You sure everything is ok bro?”

“Yeah…I just need to talk to grandpa”

“Ok. HEY GRANDPA SEELEY IS ON THE PHONE, HE WANTS TO TALK TO YOU”. He yelled not really pulling the phone away. Wow I so miss home.

“Hello”

“Hi grandpa”

“What’s going on Seeley?”

“Oh wow I don’t know……I……I just don’t know”

“Well…did something happen today? You don’t really sound too good.”

There was a long pause and a sob escaped me. He knew something happened, but didn’t know how serious it was.

“Seeley……son what’s wrong?……………Seeley?”

“Gunner killed himself today”. I finely let it out.

“What…” is all he could say before another sob came out. Then I started to talk. He made me slow down because I was talking so fast that he could not keep up with me.

“Seeley, you need to slow down son. Take some deep breaths and then start from the beginning, ok.”

“Ok grandpa” I said taking a few deep breaths and then I started.

I told him about the mock mission and about Gunner pulling his gun out and doing what he did, about all the doctors, the questions.

“He just pulled the trigger grandpa, just like that”.

“Oh son…”

“They said it was his fathers anniversary. Today was the day that his father put a gun to his head and killed himself, the exact same way grandpa. They say Gunners mother is coming down and having to deal with it all over again.”

Grandpa just let me talk. And cry. I just wanted for him to hold me and by him just letting me take my time in getting out what I was feeling, it was as if he was hugging me. (Even though guys don't hug.)

When we said good-bye with a promise to call back later that week; I felt much better. I don’t know what it is about him but my grandfather just seems to make things better…for the moment…at least.

Gunner was a good guy, I pray for him and his family and hope he is happy.

Man my life changed that day....in more ways than I wanted it to.

-------------------------------------------------------------------

What to do you think please read and review.

B, these are great!! Somehow I'd missed the last couple. I can just imagine a guy forgetting the whole weekend he got a fly tattoed on his ... and how all the guys would give him grief about it for-ever! And the latrines - it'd be crazy to finally kind of relax a bit, then find a guy sitting right beside you. I kinda creep out in stalls when the place is empty and someone uses the next one! These two were Army story fun!

The Gunner story was so awful. I could just see young Seeley needing his Grandpa, needing him to just spill his guts to.

I know these are your father's stories, and it's awful that anyone would have to go through that. I can't imagine.

Thank you for sharing these stories.

DBCrazy thank you for your review of these stories.

That last one was actually my brothers story. I remember when he called home. It was very sad.

I'll try to post another one a more fun one later on.

Thank you again