Other Post military anecdotes

[needadressing]

Whilst googling which the US service revolvers were issued during the Vietnam war, I came across this short amusing story regarding the use of equipment on the AR15 forum. SO good in fact I thought it worthy enough to share here:

My Dad carried a S&W model 10 in nam as a Marine pilot. We where still given model 10's in the Navy through the 70's. The rational was that the .45 was rather heavy in the SV2. When your pulling G's all that stuff drags down making it hard to move. The other reason autos where discouraged was ejection shock. We where told during survival, besides having a tendency to rip through the holster in the vest, the .45 could also discharge from the firing pin accelerating at the 22 G's the momentary ejection shock can produce (the metal end on the pilot's knife's sheath is for just that).

....Then the survival instructors broke into a grin and explained that they really should give us water pistols for all the good they where going to be to us in the water. We where given six tracers, and it was explained that we where more likely to get the attention of the passing ships with the tracers than the pin flares we had. It was recommended to shoot at the bridge, as it would get their attention, but not really be able to hurt anything from the several hundred yards we would be shooting a .38. The flares where worthless, proved by a friend of mine floating off Gitmo after ejecting from his A4. He actually bounced the flares off the windscreen of the 46 passing overhead and they never saw him. The other odd thing, the little mini bandolier that came with the SV2 had loops for 9 rounds, go figure?

What great (equipment) anecdotes have you come across or experienced first hand?

 

[muck]

You mean to reserve this thread for equipment-related anecdotes? Or are others welcome, too?

 

[needadressing]

Please do share anything similar you may have, this was never meant to be ¨my thread¨.

 

[muck]

The following episode I didn't experience in person (unfortunately), but I've seen the polaroids corroborating the story.

At the height of the Cold War my best mate's dad, Charlie, served in the armoured infantry here in Germany.

'Twas a time when conscripts tended to be fairly young as everyone wanted to get it over with rather than put off the hour (there were ways). Charlie, on the other hand, had run away from home as a lad and long since sailed over the seven seas before they even remembered about him.

His "old age" for a conscript along with his Bavarian heritage – Bavaria was a deeply catholic, agricultural state back then – earnt him the reputation of a lowbrow hick.

Making matters worse, Charlie's battalion was stationed at an air base (not uncommon for mobilisable army units in those days). The less-than-cordial relationship between the uniformed services at that time is best described by the following bonmot:

All German soldiers smell of water. Army soldiers smell of ground water, navy soldiers smell of sea water, air force soldiers smell of eau de toilette.​

You'll see why trouble was sure to follow whenever our pal Charlie waltzed into one of their recreational facilities. The more so when I tell you there's no discernable difference between the standard German word for 'cᴜnt' and Bavarian dialect for 'slap in the face'.

Simply put, one fine day poor ol' Charlie became the air force's laughing stock by uttering what he'd believed to be a threat (but was understood to be an invitation).

However, the mess hall that'd witnessed his shame was decorated with a wooden replica of the Luftwaffe signet, a giant pair of wings. In revenge, Charlie snuck onto the premises during the night and made off with them.

The next morn' he found himself summoned to his commanding officer's to answer for his crimes. The air base commander had even sent a representative who issued an ultimatum: Surrender our property before the end of the office hours or face arrest!

Charlie enquired if the air force preferred a specific manner of handover? The deputy replied: "Do whatever you want, just give them back."

Ever a gentleman, Charlie took the man at his words.

An hour later, someone found a plastic bag in the mess hall stuffed with about a hundred neat little wooden cubes. Attached to the bag was a polaroid showing Charlie happy as a lark, tenon saw in hand.

Funnily enough, he received his promotion to OR-5 that very same week and served out his fifteen months without ever suffering the Luftwaffe's wrath. Charlie was discharged in 1980 and went on to work as a test driver for the auto industry before retiring a couple of years ago.

He's a formidable bloke with an unnatural tolerance for high voltages. Great drinker, too. Truth be told, he's more dear to me than my own father.

 

[needadressing]

Another great kit anecdote from one of the forum's own, Dustoffer:

I flew Dustoff out of Quang Tri and many of the ARVN battalions had Australian advisors--I remember Alfie Gee, and Snowy. Also remember flying out to the Melbourne (??) an Aussie ship off the coast, to deliver their mail via our rescue hoist. The deal-clincher was that when the hoist came back up, it had a couple of cases of Foster's or XXXX.

The Aussies also made a modification to the standard medical evacuation request--added a line. If line 10 (??) or the last line was "Yes" it meant they were at the pickup site of the patient, and we had to go to the club, get a beer and two cokes, put it in a plastic bag with ice, and when we landed in the LZ, the left-seat pilot just held it out the side window. All you would see would be a green streak out of the bush, grab the bag, and back into the bush. Woe be to the pilot that didn't comply--unless he could prove he received the mission while airborne and didn't have the opportunity to comply.

Another rule they invoked on me several times--"Dustoff 707, the LZ is hot and you're not coming in until we get it settled down a bit." They would tell you face-to-face that "they aren't worth it" (the ARVNS).

They also had this neat habit of carrying around a template of a "skippy" or a kangaroo--about 10" long, and a can of the yellow anti-corrosion paint we used on our birds. Those yellow skippies appeared on many if not all of our aircraft, which drove my commander nuts-o. solaf

 

[muck]

I have another anecdote to share, this time from my own experience… gotta admit, I'm not so keen on chipping away on my internet anonymity, so no names and places.

Public parades and muster ceremonies are a big deal in the German Army; for historic reasons not many are held and the only one I ever saw myself was my pledge of service ceremony which is traditionally held on the market place of a garrison city or a military unit's sponsor city (if that's the correct English term).

Our ceremony was a really big deal because it was the first to be held in that town and a two-star general and a district governor were in attendance to mark the occasion. (In these parts a district is an administrative level between county and state.)

So, they cart us with buses to an adjacent plaza and from there we march in cadence to the market place. I'm in the second file (if that's the correct English term) of the second platoon. Three steps into the march, the uniform trousers of a dude at the very back of the first platoon just give in and rip open. Everyone behimd him sees that, for whatever reason, he's decided to wear satin underpants with little weed-symbols on them.

Now picture the scene as the column is passing the pavillon with the dignitaries waiting underneath: our faces tomato-red, covered in sweat and trembling from our efforts to contain a hysteric laughter.

From the corner of my eyes I see the district governor turn to the officers and the town mayor, they exchange some words and point right at us. And I can only think to myself: It's a good thing I'm just a conscript otherwise this career would be over.

And sure enough, after the ceremony our Spieß (the ranking NCO) plants himself infront of us. We all expect we'll be hauled over the coals.

Instead, he tells us with so straight a face I can only conclude that he absolutely wasn't joking that the dignitaries loved the "stern and proud" look on our faces. Turns out no one even noticed the uniform mishap (no one that mattered anyway).

Ever since I've known that I look "stern and proud" whenever I try not to fart from the pressure of holding back my laughter.

 

[PEMM]

I think these kind of funny news stories would fit this thread...

The conscripts arrived in Kajaani drunk - in the wee hours of the morning there was quite a sight in the gun hall

"I have no memories of entering the garrison due to my drunken state," one of the conscripts told the police.

The sergeant and the gunner were returning by train from holidays to the Kainuu brigade on December 4, 2022.

Both conscripts born in 2002 had the last ten days of their service left. On the train, they had enjoyed themselves stronger than the man, and even before going to the Kajaani garrison, the young men decided to go to a bar with their friends to pick up more speed.

The two eventually ended up running amok in the basement of their unit, from where the auxiliary duty officer of the fire station battery made a report to the main guard early in the morning shortly before 5:30 a.m. about two drunk conscripts.

The conscripts had been riding a top-mounted cleaning machine in the gunnery downstairs. Judging from the tracks, the plane had also been used outside the barracks building.

When the military police patrol arrived, the heavily intoxicated conscripts were already sleeping. The conscripts were blown and found to be very drunk. The traces on the basement floor, on the other hand, indicated that the cleaning machine had taken off during the unauthorized blasting and collisions had also occurred in the property.

In connection with the preliminary investigation, both the sergeant and the gunner confessed that they had acted unlawfully while driving a cleaning machine while drunk. Both young people said that their memories were rather weak after arriving in Kajaani.

- I have no memories of arriving at the garrison due to my state of intoxication. The following memories are from the morning when I woke up. My fellow servants told me what had happened during the night. They said that we had cruised around with the cleaning machine and made a fuss, the sergeant said during police interrogations.

Both men admitted their guilt already in the preliminary investigation. The corporal born in 2002 was sentenced to a 30-day fine for the unbecoming behavior of a soldier, which with his income amounted to a fine of 720 euros.

A gunner of the same age was sentenced to a 60-day fine, which had to be paid in fines of 1,080 euros.

In addition to grinding with a cleaning machine, the gunner was also guilty about a week later of a service offense and unbecoming behavior of a soldier, when he had appeared intoxicated in the garrison area for the second time and disturbed two base units.

Varusmiehet saapuivat humalassa Kajaaniin – aamun pikkutunneilla tykkihallissa oli vastassa melkoinen näky

”Varuskuntaan saapumisesta minulla ei ole muistikuvia johtuen humalatilastani”, toinen varusmiehistä totesi poliisille.

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(Video of similar event, but not this particular one)

I'm not fixing the translation, I think it's funnier this way.