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Post your family war stories here! Anecdotes, records, stories straight from the source or passed down, they're all allowed and encouraged. This thread is primarily for things your family or people you know got up to while serving. Or come to think of it, just in wartime in general, I'm sure there are some of you with a kick-rear end civilian resistance fighter in their family tree. Time period is flexible. If you want to tell us what your dad did in Vietnam or your great great great great great uncle got up to under Charlemagne, go for it. The only rule is be respectful - no hanging poo poo on people or their relatives for being on any percieved "wrong side". You can hang poo poo on your own relatives though, if you want to. So I'll begin. Copy/Pasted from the Australian Military History thread because I couldn't be hosed typing it all out again: princecoo posted:So all that research into Papua New Guinea made me decide to look into where my grandfather (Neville) actually served. With no luck, so far, as what records I could find were hilariously incorrect: I have more, from friends and a couple more family ones too, but I'll let the thread get some movement before clogging it up with my poo poo.
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Jan 21, 2016 10:04
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I am proud to say my grandfather was a merchant marine from 1940 till the end of WW2. The story he always told was that right after Pearl Harbor he was part of a convoy on ship full of lumber headed for Hawaii. His ship was sent ahead as bait because of its supposed greater buoyancy. Then my great grandfather was a artillery man during WW1. I don't know if he ever made it to Europe. Great man the both of them.
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Jan 21, 2016 22:34
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Most of my family tree in WW2 were all airborne, thanks to the Germans. They didn't go to boot camp of course, but they definitely went to a camp and went airborne not too long after. 
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Jan 21, 2016 23:25
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OMFG PTSD LOL PBUH posted:Most of my family tree in WW2 were all airborne, thanks to the Germans. They didn't go to boot camp of course, but they definitely went to a camp and went airborne not too long after. 
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Jan 21, 2016 23:28
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My grandfather on my mother's side got drafted into the army and spent WW2 fueling aircraft in Greenland. Welcome to the wonderful world of having a German name in 1940s US. After the war, he returned to northern Minnesota, married my grandmother, had seven children and died in his 60s of mesothelioma. He was an engineer (the train kind, not the educated kind) at the taconite processing plant. Two of those seven children were boys. One of them joined the navy after a series of layoffs at the taconite plant. He did not serve during any particular conflict, as I recall, but did enjoy his time in the navy, not only for the travel but because it gave him time away from his wife, who is loving NUTS. They are still together; he loves her very much. She's actually my favorite aunt, but apparently nobody else in the family will even talk to her. My other grandfather was ineligible for service because he'd had polio when he was younger...he worked as a security guard at a railyard and kicked bums, hobos, and thieves out of trains that were stopped for the night. He went to seminary, married my grandmother, had one natural child (my father) and 3 adopted children "officially," as well as 7 or 8 "unofficially" adopted children; was a protestant minister, and died in his mid-80s after having 5 heart attacks over the previous 25 years. One of those adopted sons was drafted into the army and served in Vietnam. My father said he was "changed" when he came back from the war, but he also said that the guy was never very smart to begin with. He died recently, after spending a few years in the state pen for not disclosing that he was no longer the caretaker for his children, that had moved in with their mother, but he continued to accept state assistance money given to him as aid for the children. Apparently he had a drug habit as well, but I can't really say for sure. My father was eligible for the Vietnam draft, but did not get drafted. Thank god. He at the time was working as the athletic director of a YMCA. It just goes to show you that you never can predict the future.
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Jan 21, 2016 23:31
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Let's see. Maternal Grandpa was an Army private in WWII. I know he was in the ETO but I don't know when, where, or anything else. Grandma's first husband (an abusive drunk, apparently) was killed on Bataan at some point. After the war they met and got married, so that worked out pretty well for me. Of their slew of kids, the twins were drafted in Vietnam as air assault infantry. Both survived. One of their brothers' kids (my cousin) enlisted in the Navy in the 90s but I think he got out after 4...no idea what he did. Paternal grandfather was in the Army during Korea, but again I have no idea what he did. I'm pretty sure he was drafted, since he was a pretty successful accountant otherwise. My dad was enlisted AF, retired early during the drawdown in the 90s. That's part of why I don't know poo poo about any of my family members, we never lived closer than 1500 miles from any of these people. I commissioned into the AF and a couple of years later my brother enlisted. That lucky gently caress got Elmo as his first assignment and Peterson as the follow-on. He got out and literally sits as his previous desk as a reservist/GS.
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Jan 21, 2016 23:44
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Get a bottle of drink and a glass. Get your comfy chair. Turn off your phone and settle down for a couple of hours of an old man talking about his Korea experience. Listen to it all if you can, it's worth it. http://www.iwm.org.uk/collections/item/object/80018322 It's my father in law, Bill Westwood and we are currently waiting for him to finally stop spitting in death's eye and call it quits.
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Jan 22, 2016 00:12
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My grandpa was in WWII in the Pacific. He said when he was drafted he basically went and stood in the longest recruiting line because, being from a backwater town in the south, he didn't really know where he was supposed to go and didn't know the difference between the branches anyhow. The line he was in was the Marines. Somebody came by and asked him if he wanted to join the Naval Armed Guard, my grandpa guessed because they didn't have enough people signing up. He said yes, because, again, he didn't know any different anyway. He was posted on a 20mm AA gun on a merchant ship. He said the only time he got to shoot the gun was at practice targets. The two closest encounters he had was while docked in a port recently rested from the Japanese. A boat a few down from his own was hit by a kamikaze and they had to scramble but not much else happened. The other, he said, was off the coast of Saipan, when they passed near enough to a Japanese base that the Japanese search lights fell just beside their boat, reflected off the water and passed over their heads several times. He said he had a reloader who carried his ammo who, during this, was shaking so bad he couldn't move. Grandpa said he had to grab the guy, hold him steady and pull the ammo off of him so he could load his gun. I asked him for other stories but he didn't remember too much outside of that, and I guess that was the most he'd ever talked about it. My dad had never even heard those stories before. Kind of weird to think about how many stories were out there that have disappeared from history without being told. Fell fucked around with this message at 04:56 on Jan 22, 2016 |
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Jan 22, 2016 04:54
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My dad got nabbed boosting cars and picked the Army instead of jail, was stationed on the Czech border when Kennedy was whacked. Shat many bricks. My grandfather was in Korea from late 51 until 53 IIRC, forgot his unit but he was there for a bunch of the trench warfare and night patrols. 90% deaf from a sustained artillery barrage on his position. My uncle was 101st in Vietnam, 70-71. Pretty sure he was at or near Ripcord, also spent some time on the Cambodian and Laotian borders (across them? he says so). Got a purple heart and a bronze star when an orphan the guys semi adopted was forced to carry out a suicide attack. He doesn't talk about his time there much. My mom's uncle was a Marine in WWII who signed up at 16, then went on to fight in Korea and was one of the first guys in to Vietnam working with some of the advisors. I can go on and list a poo poo ton more, we've traced our family back to the Mayflower and a bit beyond, and I've had members of my family in just about every combat zone the US has been to. John Brown is even my great-great-great-grandfather, so we basically started the Civil War. You're welcome. Without fail all of the living vets in my family I talked to told me "don't you loving dare enlist"
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Jan 22, 2016 06:10
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In the summer of 1914, all the able bodied men in my father's family volunteered for military service with the newly raised Newfoundland Regiment. It was exciting. It was different. As well, compared to drowning in the freezing waters of the Grand Banks, it was also easier work. 251 men alone had died hunting seal on the ice flows earlier that very spring, and several fishing schooners had already disappeared with all hands. They were hard men, already inured to danger. The requirements for the British Army in 1914 and the sheer volume of volunteers that were banging down the doors to fight for King and Empire meant that the recruiting sergeants could pick the cream of the crop of Newfoundland's young men. Could you read? Could you write? Then you've already got an edge on of your competition, my son. Still have all your teeth? And your sight, you need glasses young man? No wheezing when you breathe? You'll do, my son. Come along and sign here. Now you're a man, better than the best. The Regiment's officers were the merchants and bankers of Water Street, the young graduates of Memorial University, and the ship captains who plied the seas. Their sergeants and corporals were the Island's school-masters and store clerks, and the rank and file were the whalers, sealers, and fishermen and lumberjacks that made up the bulk of Newfoundland's men. Among the first 1500 men to go were 11 young men who shared my name and were born in the same house as my father and his father before him. they all grew up on the street named after my family and became men braving the cold nor'westerly winds of the sea. By the winter of 1916, Only one of them, my great-grandfather, would still be alive and well. The first casualty was my great-great-uncle Nicholas-Thomas who lost a leg at Gallipoli in the winter of 1915. He lived to see the year 1995. All of the others died on the first of July, 1916 at the opening of the Battle of the Somme. For 2 hours, the Newfoundlanders waited in their trenches listening to Kitchener's New Army melt away before Fritz's maxims. They knew something horrible was taking place ahead of them. As part of the third wave, they should have already been moving forward to stay close to the advance. Confusion. Chaos. A signal flare is shot over the battlefield. A call for supporting fire from the Germans, or a cry for help from the Leinsters and Worcestershires? Were signal flags really spotted past the first German line? The call comes down from Brigade HQ. The Regiment will advance to support the lead battalions. Meanwhile, The Leinsters, Worcestershires, Royal Scots, and the Hampshires were already dead an hour ago. By then, two hours into the battle, the British communication trenches are flooded with the dead and dying. Movement is impossible; the Germans have already spotted the Newfoundlanders and zeroed in on them. Hurry, hurry, hurry. Division is demanding to know why you aren't supporting the Leinsters. Hurry, hurry, hurry. Situation critical. The call is made: clamber the parapets and advance across the open ground. Across the whole bloody front of the Somme the Newfoundlanders are the sole battalion advancing in the open, skylining atop a bald hill. Every gun, every rifle that can is brought to bear against them. 800 men struggle over the top and try to form their platoons. The maxims begin chopping brass as the men begin crossing the first 250 yards to their own frontline and 4 belts of British wire. The Regiment starts filing through the pathways cut in their own wire. The pathways become death-traps. Over 60 men are cut down at one crossing, alone. The men keep going, they tuck their chins into their shoulders. They reach their own frontline trench and jump down, mixing up with the shattered lead battalions. After the first 250 yards, half the battalion has made it. The Newfoundlanders try a quick re-org to carry on the attack. My Great-grandfather drops into the frontline trench. He sees his youngest brother Francis and asks him, "How's she cutting b'y?" "Like A knife." comes the reply. It would be the last time they see each other alive. The surviving officers and NCOs rally the men. They haven't traveled thousands of miles to turn back now. The cry 'For King and Empire' is raised again, and the last of the Regiment rushes forward. Now at last they reach No Man's Land where a lone tree stands marking its start, The Danger Tree. The Germans start pouring enfilading fire into them. Four Hundred men become two. Two hundred men become a hundred, and still the Newfoundlanders push on. Fifty become twenty, twenty become ten... Somewhere a few dozen yards past the Danger Tree, my great-grandfather is shot through his trench shovel and the bullet strikes him in his neck. Struck dumb by the blow, he falls on his side and watches Jim Steele, the only man in the Regiment to reach the German wire, cut down after lobbing one lone Mills bomb. A few moments later, a German barrage falls around him and others. His lungs are crushed from the pressure, and his eyesight goes. Exhausted, he crawls back to British lines and rolls down into a dugout. By 10:15 AM, the Newfoundland Regiment ceased to exist. Dozens were trapped in No Man's Land, but couldn't even crawl back because they were made to wear large silver triangles polished like glass on their backs so the generals could keep track of their progress. Can you imagine that, being forced to wear safety belts into battles? 90% casualty rate. Virtual annihilation. That number gnaws at me sometimes, when I sit at home reading news about what's happening overseas thinking about stupid poo poo. In Afghanistan, we would take 1 or 2 killed and the whole machine would come screeching to a halt. The politicians back home would already be rehearsing their tearful sermons on the National for 10:00 pm. In the immediate aftermath of the attack, my great-grandfather, despite being partially blinded by the flash of a shell detonating nearby, was helping the C.O. round up survivors for a second attack ordered by Brigade HQ. The re-org is mercifully stopped by a staff officer who witnessed the attack, "Is the Colonel pleased? Did we do well?" my great-grand-father asks, I look at his service record and compare it to mine, and I just think "Jesus Christ, I had it easy." The next day, only 68 men out of 800 would answer roll-call. 2 weeks after the Big July Drive, the surviving Newfoundlanders would already be back on the line sucking mustard gas at Auchonvillers. When the magnitude of the disaster is revealed, My great-grandfather's mother writes to good King George begging that her last son be released, "Haven't we done enough for the Empire?". For whatever reason, my great-grand-father refuses the offer to go home. He goes on to fight at Passchaendale, Arras, Langemarck, all the other major battles the Newfoundland Regiment takes part in. He comes home in 1919 and spends the rest of his life as a skipper on the Grand Banks. He died in his sleep aged 110 years in 1996, one of the last living survivors of the battle. I still have the clip-outs from the local newspapers. They had even done a short feature on NTV news about him and his brothers and cousins who fought. To this day, the old family home still acts like a mausoleum. In the small living-room, beneath the sole window's light, their pictures and medals and letters lie draped by the Union Jack inside a glass cabinet. For most of my youth, July 1st was never something to celebrate. It's only when I left Newfoundland did I see people partying it up, and every year it still strikes me as this strange, foreign holiday. Barrakketh fucked around with this message at 13:10 on Nov 11, 2016 |
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Jan 22, 2016 07:59
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Goddamn. That's part of the reason I get so bent out of shape about the rebel flag here in the States. It's heritage to the South, to me it's the flag of the men who hung my kin. Things get wonky when you have a connection to them.
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Jan 22, 2016 08:40
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There are some straight up no win scenarios in the military. First one into a house with hostiles in the corner, face rushing no mans land, 8th air in WWII etc. Like there are units out there that just don't exist anymore because they all died. edit: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Battle_of_Kiev_(1941) PookBear fucked around with this message at 09:42 on Jan 22, 2016 |
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Jan 22, 2016 09:36
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My grandfather on my mother's side was in the Suffolk Yeomanry, which was an medium artillery regiment. He then for some reason got seconded to the 56th Royal Artillery in Sussex, which was a heavy artillery regiment - the one that Spike Milligan was in. He was in the same battalion as him all the way through North Africa and Italy. Being hilariously racist and right wing he said he was a "bloody communist that was always spouting nonsense" and didn't associate with him. I *think* one of the very minor characters in Spike's war diaries was him, but I can never be sure. My great grandfather's brother was a Welsh chap who served in the Sherwood Foresters and died at Gommecourt on the first day of the Somme. My great grandfather himself survived the war but lost his left leg at Cambrai in 1917. Barrakketh posted:In the summer of 1914, all the able bodied men in my father's family volunteered for military service with the newly raised Newfoundland Regiment. I've always been drawn to the Newfies when reading about my great-grand uncle (?), as it happened so close to each other on the salient as the Hawthorn Ridge mine; even though I have no personal connection to it the story tugged at my heart strings. My (terrible) band wrote a song them. A CRAB IRL fucked around with this message at 10:16 on Jan 22, 2016 |
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Jan 22, 2016 10:09
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I'm a direct descendant of Myles Standish, military adviser to the Plymouth Colonies and also featured in the South Park episode that mocked the History Channel and there proclivity for all things Alien in a Thanksgiving episode. Quoting from Wikipedia, "A defining characteristic of Standish's military leadership was his proclivity for preemptive action which resulted in at least two attacks (or small skirmishes) on different groups of Native Americans—the Nemasket raid and the Wessagusset massacre. During these actions, Standish exhibited considerable courage and skill as a soldier, but also demonstrated a brutality that angered Native Americans and disturbed more moderate members of the Colony." He would have been a Gipper, and had he been side by side with me in Afghanistan conducting night raids he would tell me about this one time, "Reaching Nemasket, Standish planned a night attack on the wigwam in which Corbitant was believed to be sleeping. That night, Standish and Hobbamock burst into the shelter, shouting for Corbitant. As frightened Pokanokets attempted to escape, Englishmen outside the wigwam fired their muskets, wounding a Pokanoket man and woman who were later taken to Plymouth to be treated. Standish soon learned that Corbitant had already fled the village and Tisquantum was unharmed." He'd be laughing his rear end off, "poo poo don't change, son! poo poo don't fuckin' change!" Then there was a cat by the name of Nathaniel Pushee/ay that was part of Washington's "lifeguard". As a Huguenot he found his way over to colonies somehow. He got captured by the British, imprisoned in South Carolina, impressed into British service and wasn't allowed back for a long time after the Revolutionary War ended. Poor fucker was freezing his balls off in Newfoundland until they gave him his pension and let him back. He never went far though, and moved to modern day Maine (Mass at the time I think). Non-blood related is a poor dude in a TD battalion captured outside of Paris and spent the war moving from POW camp to POW camp. He found out after the war he was moved back through all ready liberated territory after his capture. He left behind a 20 page autobiographical account that is currently not in my possession. I only know about him through a series of flukes after finding a TD patch that looked badass, no words on it though: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Tank_destroyer_battalion_(United_States)#/media/File:Tank_Destroyer_Forces_(unofficial)_logo.jpg Fast forward to Viet-fuckin-Nam. Grandfather and his brother, Air Force and Army respectively. Grandfather just rocked around from 63 to 64 fixing airplanes and strutting around drinking beer while exposing himself to myriad chemical agents that invariably were responsible for his erythroleukemia and very fast demise. Awesome loving dude. When my aunt and I visited his grave some years ago, he died in 2000, I remarked at how he never saw September 11th. She tearfully said she couldn't believe he never saw the Red Sox or Patriots win a championship. He was a lifelong fan. So for all of you Boston Sports fan haters, SMDFTB. His brother, though, was a Combat Engineer with the 299th in Dak To in 1967 when poo poo hit the fan. Dak To is up in the Central Highlands where all the badass Montagnards live(d) and was pretty close to the Ho Chi Minh trail or at least a part of it. He was a Platoon Sergeant at the time when some brutal fighting went down. You can read about it here: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Battle_of_Dak_To . After he retired I only have one anecdote about the man. His niece was putting on a wedding after party or some poo poo at the local VFW. He was in charge of it, she needed the keys but didn't want to wake him too early and decided to wait until 8 AM. Knocking on his front door he immediately opened it wearing a bath robe and boxers with a Martini in one hand and a topless young lady in his other. His niece managed to stammer out that she needed the key and just then the sister of the topless girl walked out of the kitchen naked. gently caress yeah. I guess the two were some of the most gentle men but when they got together and had a few beers it wouldn't take long for an arm wrestling match to turn into a brawl. Miss those guys. Would have loved to have had a drink with them. Miloshe fucked around with this message at 04:25 on Jan 23, 2016 |
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Jan 23, 2016 04:23
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My maternal grandfather was a army engineer in the Pacific Theater during WWII. My paternal grandfather suffered from polio and built radios and electronics during WWII. My father in law was captured by the Russians at the start of WWII and was released to the British. He then took part in the Italian campaign, and fought at Monte Cassino My father was in the Illinois Guard during the '68 riots. Every year, my kids call him on Veteran's Day and thank him for beating hippies and communists.
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Jan 23, 2016 21:18
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Miloshe posted:stuff sup Mayflower descendant bro  I'm descended from Peter Browne who was Myles' next door neighbor in Plymouth lol e- I'm directly descended from his brother John, so Peter was my great whatever uncle. John was my great whatever grandfather. Somewhere in that time they lost the -e on their name, and another John Brown influenced US history over 200 years later Seizure Meat fucked around with this message at 21:47 on Jan 23, 2016 |
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Jan 23, 2016 21:40
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VikingSkull posted:sup Mayflower descendant bro What the gently caress's going on neighbor? I'm in a miserable pile of poo poo of an existence, so I need to know exactly how to keep up with the Browne's. I content myself with a lot of Warren Zevon and drunkenly practicing knife fighting in mirrors. I always win. It's a nice thing I've got going on. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NGhd53hV0Z0
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Jan 24, 2016 15:14
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All I've got is that one of my very distant relatives far up the family tree gave Paul Revere the horse that he used for his famous ride. My grandfather served as a Pharmacist's Mate in WWII and was in the Pacific theater, but never saw action or treated any casualties. However, my dad's best friend was in 5th SFG in Vietnam and saw a lot of action. He's never really told anyone his combat stories, but I know he's proud of his service. The one story he told me involved when he was walking a small perimeter patrol with a soldier from a regular infantry unit that was attached to his ODA at their small outpost. His patrol partner was smoking a joint and offered my dad's friend a hit, which he declined. Moments later, a VC sniper drew a bead on the glowing cherry of his joint, fired his .22 rifle at him, and knocked out pretty much every single one of his teeth and ripping a huge hole in his tongue, but not killing him. To me, that would have been the most effective anti-drug ad campaign ever. gently caress "Just Say No," "Charlie's Going To Blow Your Teeth Out and Nearly Sever Your Tongue if You Smoke That Commie Weed" is way gnarlier.
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Jan 24, 2016 15:31
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Miloshe posted:What the gently caress's going on neighbor? I'm in a miserable pile of poo poo of an existence, so I need to know exactly how to keep up with the Browne's. I content myself with a lot of Warren Zevon and drunkenly practicing knife fighting in mirrors. I always win. It's a nice thing I've got going on. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NGhd53hV0Z0 ah man gently caress knives we moved on to swords years ago
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Jan 24, 2016 15:32
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My best mates grandfather was Italian and conscripted to fight for the axis in WW2. He saw combat once, I'm not sure where, but soon after stole an officers cavalry sword, and went AWOL, deciding that this whole war thing wasn't for him at all. He deserted the Axis, so while desertion is frowned on I think we can give this one a pass. I have a buddy at work who told me about his Grand-Uncle (Uncle Mick) who was in an Australian Super Secret Spec Ops group called Z Force. I didn't believe him, because lol Z Force is some B Movie grade poo poo, but I googled it and holy gently caress they were real and loving badass. From wikipedia: wikipedia posted:Z (/zɛd/) Special Unit—also known as Special Operations Executive (SOE), Special Operations Australia (SOA) or the Services Reconnaissance Department (SRD)—was a joint Allied special forces unit formed during the Second World War to operate behind Japanese lines in South East Asia. Predominantly Australian, Z Special Unit was a specialist reconnaissance and sabotage unit that included British, Dutch, New Zealand, Timorese and Indonesian members, predominantly operating on Borneo and the islands of the former Netherlands East Indies.[1] The stories my friend was told were apparently pretty cool. The only one he told me was about a time Uncle Mick was part of a group sent to this island to blow some poo poo up and everything went wrong and he was one of the only survivors who had to then swim back to their boats, over several hours, then canoe away, but their canoes sank so they had to swim from small island to small island dodging japanese patrols and patrol boats until they got back far enough to a friendly island and hop back home.  EDIT: HOLY poo poo. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Operation_CopperOn the night of 11 April 1945, eight operatives were dropped off near Muschu Island with four Hoehn military folboats (collapsible canoes) by HMAS HDML 1321 patrol boat. The eight commandos were Special Lieutenant Alan Robert Gubbay, Lieutenant Thomas Joseph Barnes, Sergeant Malcolm Francis Max Weber, Lance Corporal Spencer Henry Walklate, Signaller Michael Scott Hagger, Signaller John Richard Chandler, Private Ronald Edward Eagleton, Sapper Edgar Thomas 'Mick' Dennis. Caught by unexpected currents, the four folboats were pushed south of their landing area and came ashore amid a surf break. All boats were swamped and some items of equipment were lost, but they got ashore and harboured up until morning. At daybreak they commenced their reconnaissance of the island, soon encountering Japanese who, unbeknownst to them, had found equipment that was washed ashore further along the island. Thus alerted, the island became a hunting ground, with almost 1,000 Japanese searching for the patrol. Attempts to communicate by radio with the HDML patrol boat failed, as their radios had been swamped and the batteries ruined. Aftermath Of the eight men, only one survived. Sapper Mick Dennis, an experienced commando who had previously fought the Japanese in New Guinea in several significant engagements, escaped after fighting his way through Japanese patrols. He swam the channel to Wewak (a distance of over 3 km) while being pursued by the Japanese and made his way through enemy territory to eventually meet up with an Australian patrol on 20 April. The information he returned with proved vital to keeping the guns out of action and in preventing the Japanese from using the island as a launching point for attacks against the Australian forces during the Wewak landings a month later. Same buddy from works grandfather was in the airforce, based around Singapore. Married a local and was apparently a photographer, who gave intel to the OSS (precursor to the CIA, and other allied intelligence agencies). They got word that Singapore was being evacuated, so he sent his wife off on a boat but went back to their base housing to retrieve documents and jewellery, but when he got there everything had been bombed, with nothing to recover. So he tried to evac, but there were no more boats so he hid from japanese patrols under pigs and in mud, for days, until he could make his way back to a village and get a boat that took him to another village, where he got another boat to take him to another village, where he managed to link up with friendly forces and get out. princecoo fucked around with this message at 03:02 on Jan 26, 2016 |
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Jan 26, 2016 02:36
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I have an uncle who was in nam. This story is third hand from my dad because I never met him. He was a navy corpsman assigned to a some marines. One day him and some marines were in a village and there was a lady walking towards them. The marines did not even hesitate they just blasted her. My uncle freaked out and asked why they did that. The marines responded she wasn't right. They checked the body and she had a grenade in her hair. I never met him because he had some major ptsd and blew his head off when his ex-wife wouldn't let him see his kids.
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Jan 26, 2016 07:41
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My grandpa never really talked about his time in WWII, but I was incredibly young and didn't really comprehend the whole ideology of war before he died. I don't think he talked much about it with my dad as well, but all we know is that he was a tanker who served in the african campaigns with General Patton, and I think was involved in the Battle of El Guettar. At least that's what me and my father kind of determined based on when he was there, geographic location and whatnot. My dad was with 3rd ACR leading up to the gulf war, but was ordered to attend the Commander General Staff College at Ft. Leavenworth. I guess 2 months into his classes, his unit in the 3rd ACR deployed and he missed out, so all of his buddies and cohorts ended up with a military deployment and my dad got a masters degree. He ended up getting his Lt. Col over the next few years and taught at the war college and was a professor of military science, so he went a different route than unit commanding. He got out in like 1999 and didn't get re-activated for Iraq, which I think he was kind of bummed out about that as well. My uncle was drafted in Vietnam but he shammed out and joined some non deploying national guard unit. He ended up doing funeral details for a year and didn't once deploy. Although since he was drafted he likes to tell people that he was a veteran of the Vietnam war, but he's like the biggest yuppie/dude who loves to smell his own farts it's insane.
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Jan 27, 2016 16:35
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My maternal grandfather was an officer on a USN floating drydock in the Pacific during WWII. Never saw any direct combat, spent most of his time helping patch up ships to either send them home for more extensive repairs, or back into action. I actually have a bunch of photos from his service I can post later if anyone is interested, before he passed several years ago he recorded some notes about his service, including this one: https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/USS_Lindsey
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Jan 29, 2016 11:08
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My grandpa was a Seabee who was attached to Special Forces group in Vietnam along with other Seabees helping the Green Berets by building stuff. He got an ARCOM with V device for shooting a bunch of bad guys with a machine gun. He was in both Korea and Vietnam and retired as a Senior Chief. My dad was in the Army and spent a year with the UN as a peacekeeper on the Kuwait / Iraq border during the first Gulf War. He got shot at a few times while driving his patrol vehicle.
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Jan 29, 2016 18:26
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Your grandpa is a dick for doing poo poo that helped the Bees legacy that made me think it would be anything other than what it is now, which is mad peacetime jackassery My grandpa was 3 ID in WW2 and brought back a bunch of Jerry souvenirs Real answer is your Seabee grandpa is awesome and I'm jealous
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Jan 30, 2016 00:56
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My Grandad was in the British army during World War 2, the West Surrey regiment, which ended up fighting as Chindits in Burma. Luckily he ended up being medically discharged before they left for war because A) He had flat feet B) He couldn't squint down a rifle sight properly. So he ended up as a fireman instead, mainly cleaning up after the aftermath of V1 and 2 rockets. however in the short time he was in the army, he managed to wreck a Bren Carrier and start a fight between rival NCO's. My grandad had never driven a vehicle before, one day he was loitering in the barracks and some random passing sergeant told him to park up a Bren Carrier, his protestations of not knowing how to drive fell on death ears. The Bren Carrier used a yoke instead of a steering wheel and he could not operate it properly. The yoke snapped off in his hands (British engineering) and the Carrier ended up tracing a big circle in the field before ending up in a ditch. Gramps just abandoned the vehicle where it was and as far as I know, there were no repercussions. He started a fight between different platoon sergeants when he was put on guard. The Battalion NCO's were having some sort of party and he and a friend were put on guard. They had to guard a little table piled up with cakes and sandwiches. My grandad and his mate ate all the food and when interrogated by their sergeant blamed another NCO that had passed by earlier. When his sergeant confronted the other sergeant a fistfight started between the NCO's and the Redcaps had to be called in and they made arrests. Could not have been a good party though, if my grandad and his friend were able to finish off all the food? Sad King Billy fucked around with this message at 02:55 on Jan 30, 2016 |
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Jan 30, 2016 02:36
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My grandpa was a seabee in ww2. He went to Guadalcanal after it was mostly secured and helped build the base/airfield/ect. He ended up becoming a stevedore and because he had some competence at it they kept him there unloading the ships. He hated it because he was a framer before he went in. He did get bombed a few times but said most nights the Japanese would fly a single plane over the island at night just circling to keep everyone awake for hours then would randomly drop its single bomb and generally never hit anything. He said they got some nighttime fighter cover finally and they shot the guy down. He got it into his fool head that he would go into the jungle and find it for some trophies but ended up not getting anywhere near the wreck and went back to the base. He also had a temper. Got into a lot of fights. He was the runt of his 5 other brothers at 6 foot tall and grew up always getting into trouble with them. He went into the mess one time and the cooks told him there wasn't any food so he decked the guy who told him. The MAAs came and he punched the LT leading them. He spent quite a few days in and out of the brig because he kept doing poo poo like that. He ended up getting kicked back to the states and discharged under a hardship "because of his daughter back in the states (my moms older sister) and his wife needed help" which was just really code for he didn't fit in. Pretty surprising considering how badly they needed men.
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Jan 30, 2016 02:47
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The man who I grew up understanding was my Grandfather (turns out no biological link, he was my Grandmother's like third husband or some poo poo) was a Nam Vet. He was over there during Tet with the Marines. He told me he was a truck driver, and the only real war story he told me was cutting down trees with an M-60. He drove from Baltimore to Ft. Bending with two toddlers because, "I'll be goddamned if I won't pin that cord on him." poo poo almost made me cry. When I got back from my first tour in Iraq, he pushed everyone out of the living room, grabbed two beers and handed me one. The only thing he said was, "You saw some poo poo?" I said yes, and we sat in silence watching the History channel. Fun story- he showed me a stained white t-shirt when I was kid that had two holes lined up through the front and back. He told me that is where he got shot in Nam. Years later, I got the courage to ask about his Purple Heart. He laughed this deep belly laughs so hard he had tears in his eyes, through the laughs he choked out, "I never got shot, I just like messing with kid's heads." My Dad was in the Navy, according to family mythology, he was blue water and a short time in the brown water navy during Nam, and was an Officer. He has a degree in Naval Architecture, so it's possible. He was on the ship that found that early Nuke sub that sunk, and told me of patrolling a bit in Nam. He loved the Thompson, even though "I fired a full clip outta that thing once. Started in the bushes ended up shooting at the birds before my Chief grabbed it from me." Paternal Grandfather was in the occupation of Japan. Great Grandfather was a n ambulance driver who was discharged from WW1 after getting hit in the first poison gas attack against the Americans. Fun fact- the non biological Grandfather and my Dad were in Nam at the same time.
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Jan 30, 2016 05:18
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Great-Grandad would presumably have served in WW1 & definitely ended up as a Regimental Sergeant Major, I should find out which Regiment really so I can find out more details. Unfortunately I only have sketchy information on my paternal Grandad based on what my Mum knows, I don't get on with my Dad or his side of the family & my Nanna isn't alive anymore, if any of this sounds like bullshit I'm happy to be corrected - I'm determined to research his story some time so I can fill in the blanks. He was already in the British army when WW2 started, and ended up being evacuated from Dunkirk. He joined the newly formed Parachute Regiment and was a Medic attached to a Pathfinder unit, and as such would have been unarmed. He landed at D-Day (possibly in a glider) and later parachuted into Arnhem, got hung up in a tree, wounded and ended up helping at the Hotel Hartenstein. He volunteered for a mission which involved going back through German lines, did something along the way that got him Mentioned in Despatches (and his section leader possibly won a Victoria Cross too). He ended up being captured by the SS and presumably spent the rest of the war POW. Unfortunately he ended up suffering from what we now know as PTSD and probably some other mental illness, by the time I was old enough to have memories of him he could barely look after himself and wasn't able to hold a coherent conversation anymore, he never really spoke about his war experience when he was still capable of doing so and apparently stuck his medals in a tin and forgot about them when he came home, my uncle had them restored & mounted apparently so I might get chance to see them one day.
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Jan 30, 2016 22:52
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My grandad was big in the Knights of Columbus (he served in Italy, but was a cook and never saw combat) and one of the guys that was at his lodge had a crazy war experience at Normandy. Guy's landing craft got shot to poo poo and ended up hitting the beach way far away from where it was supposed to with the main assault. Because the Germans were mostly concentrating on killing dudes coming in further up the beach, they were able to cross with relatively light casualties and take cover in some scrub and sand dunes on the other side. Guy and a couple of his friends decided to sneak further up to the heights and see if the could find some Germans to gently caress up. They managed to cross a trench line without being detected, and eventually made their way up behind a zig-zagging line of machine gun nests. They snuck up behind one of the machine gun nests and decided that shooting the gunners or stabbing them to death with knives might alert other Germans and get them killed, so they pulled their bootlaces off and garroted the gunners with them before taking over the machine gun. They spent the next while using the gun to kill unsuspecting Nazis who came running up and down the line before the Allies broke through on the beach and the Germans retreated. My dad was in the Signal Corps during Vietnam and spent his time doing radio stuff and drinking in Bangkok. He was only in Saigon once to set up some sort of communication post. They were supposed to be there for two weeks to do the job, but the first night they were in town "some little VC fucker on a Vespa" tossed a satchel charge under a two ton truck outside of his hotel and blew both it and the lobby the gently caress up. After that, my dad and his team spent every waking moment working on the communication post and managed to finish and get the gently caress back to Bangkok in four days.
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Jan 31, 2016 00:58
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Grandpa did some sort of supply/logistics thing in WW2. Got a letter from Grandma informing him that he was now a father, and also, they are twins. Towards the end, he is stuck in Germany without enough points to go home. They are all bored to death, and decide to have the locals put on a variety show. They tell the locals that two big time Hollywood talent scouts will be passing through looking for their next big act (talent scouts were grandpa and his buddy wearing civilian suits). One of the acts was a young lady named Maggie who sang a song to a piano accompaniment, while doing walking handstands exposing her red underpants under her upsidedown dress. It became a running joke in their unit. That guy had a gift for always making his own fun, and had this rad German eagle flag he snagged over there hanging in his den all his life.
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Feb 2, 2016 08:09
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Mom's dad was a ship's cook in the Mediterranean. Claimed he once saw a torpedo wake but he was probably full of it. He was proud when two of his boys served on the Saratoga in the Med during the Gulf . Dad's dad got hurt in training somehow and never deployed. Family lore says a plane crash but he died before I got around to asking. Had an uncle-through-marriage who was a Huey door gunner in Nam. He was all sorts of hosed up and was an alcoholic til the day he died young from a heart attack. Sorry, Uncle Bob.
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Feb 2, 2016 21:12
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My mother's grandfathers both served in both World Wars, her maternal grandfather in the 10th Irish then Royal Artillery and her paternal grandfather first in the Black Watch (where he got his nickname Jock, which stayed with him right up until he died) and then in the Skins, the 5th Royal Inniskilling Dragoon Guards. They both died before I was born but thankfully other family members and my grandparents were able to tell me little things about the two of them. I'd love to learn more about them in future but all I have to go on now are anecdotes and scraps of information we've been able to research ourselves. My granny told me about how a local in North Africa told her father that he'd be back on their soil when he was there during WWI, something he seriously doubted considering he was a poor young fella from rural Northern Ireland. Story went he ended up close enough to where he was originally to be spooked by it in WWII. He never went back a third time. My granny also remembers friends of his who were Shell Shocked from their time in the trenches that lived near by and looking back thinks this affected her father too. My granda's father took a bayonet in the face from a Turk while he was feeding a belt into a machine gun. I've heard from family he loved to show the scar off to young kids but with a funny story about how he got it rather than the truth. He avoided talking about much else. My granda followed his father into service joining the Royal Marines, being pensioned out after a short service. It was never even mentioned as an option to me or any of the other grandkids but the curiosity to learn more about them all is really strong.
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Feb 3, 2016 20:26
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The only relative I knew who was in a war in the last century was my great-grandpa. He served as a supply paratrooper in North Africa and Italy, as far as I'm aware--I never heard about Italy, but later on I found a motor pool pass from the area. Presumably of a friend, since it wasn't in his name. I never really knew the man, he died when I was seven and by all familial accounts he was a cantankerous bastard all through life. But it was his books on WWII that got me interested in military history, and probably the reason I've got the degree I do today instead of something else. I've still got one on my shelf, childhood doodles and all. So whether I knew him or not, he had a pretty big influence on me after all.
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Feb 4, 2016 11:29
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My grandpa earned a DSC during WWII for being a badass http://valor.militarytimes.com/recipient.php?recipientid=22612 He participated in D-Day and lost an eye during the battle. My relatives say that, later in life, he would sneeze and pretend to be horrified when his glass eye fell out to scare the children. Unfortunately, he died the year that I was born 
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Feb 4, 2016 16:04
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A good bit of my mother's family had served in the past, all Norwegian-American immigrants from rural Wisconsin. Here's some of the stories that I know: The one whose I know the best is my grandfather's. He was a B-17 bombardier who, at the start of the war, ended up being made into an instructor for the Norden bombsight at one of the airbases in San Angelo, Texas. (The family story was that he was so good that they made him an instructor but that may, in reality, be complete bunk.) He ended up suffering terrible survivor's guilt as many of his students and friends died over Europe or on training accidents, as he was bumped from two training flights that crashed and killed the aircrew, and because of his brother;s deployments. As he was preparing to deploy to the Pacific theater, the bombs on Hiroshima and Nagasaki were dropped and so his deployment never happened. He passed away from Lewy-Body syndrome, about 10 years ago, and the hallucinations he described around the time of his diagnosis showed that he was still feeling the effects of his guilt, 50 years later. One of his brothers was a Pathfinder navigator who was shocked that he survived the war. He was awarded the Distinguished Flying Cross as he was the navigator on the lead Pathfinder plane on D-Day. I never knew him well as he was always a very kind, but quiet and withdrawn individual. All of my grandmother's brothers served in the military, the youngest was a pilot in the Air Force in the 50s and early 60s, who was one of the major trainers for West German pilots. He segued into the Air National Guard finally retiring as a Brigadier General in the late 80s. He saw a lot of flight time, his obituary said 6000+ hours in total, with over 1000 in the A-10. For being a pilot-turned-general-officer, he was supposed to have been surprisingly easy to deal with, surprising to the family both due to the stereotype as well as how complicated his home life was. He didn't lack for a work ethic, as he retired at 55, got his law degree, and spent another 15 years as a lawyer until his ALS manifested severely. One of her other brothers was both a Marine and in the Air National Guard. He was an excellent trumpet player and spent 3 years playing for the "President's Own" Marine Corps Band during the Eisenhower administration. His favorite story there was having met Queen Elizabeth II before a concert at the White House. For a guy who grew up in rural poverty, he thought it was the most amazing thing to have played for the President and met a queen. He left the Marines as a sergeant and followed his brother into the Air National Guard where he retired in the late 80s as a Master Sergeant. He continued playing in bands up all the while. His non-military band often went out to Vegas to perform, playing the Stardust a few times in the 90s, and he also did a number of performances over at German air bases. My mother's oldest brother did "stuff we won't ever know about" in Vietnam as a Green Beret and then later for alphabet soup agencies. The family saw very little of him during the 60s due to his deployments and they affected him very badly. He's dealt with PTSD, drug and alcohol addiction, and religious addiction, ever since. Drugs + being a fire and brimstone Pentacostal preacher lead to a lot of very uncomfortable family gatherings. (I was into dinosaurs, like most kids, and that first "The devil put dinosaur bones in the ground to deceive us" spiel when I was 8 left me asking "What in the world is wrong with him?") Since the rest of us are low-key, live-and-let-live Lutherans... he used to bring a lot of friction but has calmed a bit with age and a few heart surgeries. A very different background was my step-father's father's service. A black man from Queens joining the Navy in the 40s had a very different experience from anyone else in my family. The very little that I know of his service is that he was at Guadalcanal and, as a black man, he was not in a unit that was there to fight. He and his unit were assigned, instead, practically the most awful job in the Pacific theater: the collection of remains, American and Japanese, from the landings and jungle warfare. After leaving the service, he got married, had three kids, and walked a postal route in Queens, and later Hempstead, until his retirement. He was the nicest, most down to earth man that you could have ever met.
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Feb 4, 2016 21:24
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Oh one of the family members I didn't talk about before is my mom's grandfather. I've had dozens of family in basically all the wars, most don't have cool stories.....but my great-grandpa might have the dumbest one. He was the definition of a wop, he was on an Italian freighter and jumped off in Kingston, NY. Spent a few years here in the States illegally before WWI broke out. The dumb fucker then left the US to fight for Italy, saw a bunch of mountain warfare against Austria-Hungary in miserable conditions and then came back to the US. Eventually got his citizenship, but what the gently caress grandpa. What the gently caress.
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Feb 4, 2016 23:51
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My great grand dad on my moms side was in the Italian Army in WW1. He was an officer in the engineers... Spent the war building bridges, watching bridges get blown up, and getting strafed, bombed, shelled, and having bricks and chains thrown at him from biplanes. Family history says on the eve of some big battle he soaked cigars in water and put them under his arms and got a severe fever precluding him from participating in the doomed action. I exist.
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Feb 5, 2016 05:07
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My step grandfather (dude was my step grandfather before I was born, so more like 3rd grandpa) was an FO in the Korean War. Later in life he became a very pious, christian man. The good kind though. Very jesus like. When I joined the army he started finally opening up about his experiences. He told me stories about having to basically bombard villages and poo poo after asking for confirmation, there obviously werent troops there and poo poo, stuff like that. He wasn't the sort to make poo poo up, that kind of crap. It was incredibly sad to know that he felt anguish over that 50 years later. He was there on the Pusan perimeter and all that poo poo. Towards the very end of his life, he had to go into surgery for something or another. He woke up afterwards and was low crawling around talking about chinese in the woodlines and poo poo, while still feeling the effects of the drugs he was on  When I was graduating OSUT, he came down. I was at Fort Knox, about a 6 hour drive from where I'm from and stuff, so not a huge deal for the guy, but not incredibly easy at the same time. He was talking to me and my friends and all at some sort of dinner thing about some of his experiences. Towards the end of it, some bird colonel came up to him and saluted him and thanked him for his service. It was a thrilling experience for him. Fred was a good man, and I hope no one has to live through the experiences he had. RIP fred, you were probably the best man I ever knew. His son however, is a total mess. I've gotten drunk with him before and he's pretty cool to talk to though! https://www.washingtonpost.com/news...d-in-meth-case/
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Feb 5, 2016 08:55
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My grandpa was a Sea-Bee in Vietnam and apparently dug a bunch of mass graves with a bulldozer. It's been a while and I can't remember the details because I was so shocked he was even talking about it at all. Anyway I can't find that famous picture of the Marine general with the ironic peace sign on his helmet, but apparently that was after a huge horrible battle and that guy was in charge because nobody else was around, and he had my grandpa start digging graves. Good stuff
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Feb 5, 2016 12:08
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