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Comrade Blyatlov
Aug 4, 2007


should have picked four fingers

McNally closed the old thread because he's a tyrant

Post stories about idiots or idiocy

Here's a classic

Mr. Bad Guy posted:

Well apparently people get all in a tizzy if you allegedly disassemble your M9 on watch because you're bored. loving students running their mouths. Wish me luck!

Old thread:
https://forums.somethingawful.com/s...hreadid=3519705

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Smiling Jack
Dec 2, 2001

I sucked a dick for bus fare and then I walked home.



just here for the Air Force Intel post. Someone must have it.

FrozenVent
May 1, 2009

The Boeing 737-200QC is the undisputed workhorse of the skies.

Schneider posted:

Duty sucks, gently caress duty.

This thread is now about funny or hosed up duty stories.

Once upon a Saturday night, I was touring my post as any squared away DNCO should do when I heard a noise, a very particular noise, coming from one of my grandboot's rooms. His door was ajar and the noise coming from within sounded suspiciously like a female getting smashed out. A FEMALE, WHO WAS NOT PROPERLY CHECKED IN WITH THE DUTY NCO, IN MY BARRACKS? gently caress. NO. Why do I even care about this, you ask? I guess I'm just a prick. I guess it pisses me off that some dumbass 18 year old PFC is bringing his little teenage tramps back to the barracks to smash them out while I'm walking around the barracks with a loving logbook under my arm yelling at idiots to pick up their cigarette butts. Additionally, I didn't like this particular Marine.. he was kind of a turd and sucked at life and whined a lot.

My mind raced, scrambling to find the most absurd and offensive insults I could muster as I prepared to kick the door open and deliver rear end-chewing to end all rear end chewings. My corfram came up and I spartan-kicked the door open, face twisted in fury, spittle flying as my mouth formed the first syllable of what was to be the magnum opus of my asschewings.

What I beheld was not PFC Fuckknuckles simply loving some skank, oh no.

On one of the racks were four of my Marines going family style on some chubby unattractive blonde girl with a tramp stamp. I'm pretty sure the balls touched.

I stopped in the doorway as my tiny TBI-ridden rifleman brain attempted to process the scene before me. They all stopped their frantic humping for a moment and stared at me. I didn't know what to loving say at this point.. I mean, what can you say to that, really. I just asked if she was of age and upon receiving a valid photo ID from the girl, muttered "very well, carry on" and continued my tour.

Proud Christian Mom
Dec 20, 2006


did you hear about the sub forum of people who volunteered for the military

pantslesswithwolves
Oct 27, 2008

Ba-dam ba-DUMMMMMM


Pillbug

Smiling Jack posted:

just here for the Air Force Intel post. Someone must have it.

I gotchu bae

https://forums.somethingawful.com/s...2#post412934769

Shim the Wise posted:

Go ask the career development folks at the MPF. Also pimp the TMO folks and ask them.

The final answer comes from one of those two sources. And in the end you have a 50/50 chance of being told the wrong thing anyway.

But you asked for thoughts, and after smoking a bowl and contemplating things, I had a thought I'd like to share with you.

Have you considered not marrying your fiancee?

I can count on one finger the number of guys that were USAF intel officers that I wouldn't line up outside the gas chambers if the fourth reich became a thing.

A few years from now, when you can't even stand to look at him without feeling a sense of extreme hatred and disappointment simultaneous to realizing that at 28 years old you spend 50% of your day thinking about becoming a divorcee, remember this advice: Run the gently caress away now.

Seriously, there is a 100% chance your fiancee is a tool and a loving nitwit. There is a 100% chance that he will be peer pressured into becoming a distilled version of fighter pilot gay bro'ness not by dudes that fly fighter jets, but other sperged out intel retard officers. He's going to start saying things like "Check, Rodge, Vector, Burner" and other associated lame as gently caress things, while also sometimes randomly wearing a flightsuit to work on Fridays despite his only flight time being the fam flight he poo poo his pants or puked his guts up during.

Also he's going to cheat on you. Oh man is he going to cheat on you. And there is a not too bad chance that it won't be with some good looking gal, but rather some dumb bitch enlisted intel girl that almost got a degree in psychology from her podunk state school before she decided she hated the taste of gargling frat sperm and dropped out and joined up to get a chance at being the hottest little twat in a windowless SCIF in Japan.

But don't worry about that breaking your heart, he'll never tell you. You'll be too busy caring for the 3-4 kids he demands you squeeze out in repayment to the base model BMW 3 series he's going to buy you when he gets to his second assignment at Tinker AFB.

When he's not deep dicking some borderline inbred dipshit Airman who's a civilian 5 and intel 12, he'll be lording over you how his job and career come first, and pray he doesn't make more money than you because that'll come up everytime you sigh audibly at the dinner table where you two will passive aggressively try to grind down each others will to live and breathe.

By this point as a captain he's going to be TDY 1-2 months a year, where he's getting half assed hand jobs from third tier strippers on excursions with the least socially inept enlisted guys in his flight-- this is probably the point where his raging alcoholism will be so clear and obvious to you that you two will start fighting every saturday before kick off when his colleges football team inevitably will take a beating. This fight won't stop until his next TDY when the sweet release of his toothless stripper infidelities and lack of home presence gives you time to bust out your big giant purple *BZZZZZ* friend whenever those walking talking pants making GBS threads machines you call children fall asleep long enough to let you deaden the nerves in your clitoris.

Soon after he'll take his third assignment, the one right before he pins on Major, and suddenly he'll be pressuring you into becoming a fundamentalist christian, and he'll delete all of his whores off of his facebook account and spend his home time posting image macros about 2nd amendment rights, and how jesus spoke english in the bible so these loving mexicans should too. At this point you two will be consigned to bi-annual loving, and only when you've drank enough cheap boxed wind to be able to stand the idea of him pounding away on you missionary style but still refusing to look you in the eyes.

This will also be the point when your oldest childs ADHD and pyromania are diagnosed, and one of your parents die. There is around a 85% chance one of you is going to be eating zoloft and klonopin out of loving pez dispensers, and waking up angry that the sweet release of death hasn't taken one of you out of this loveless hosed up marriage.

Somewhere in here the idea of swinging is going to come up casually as an almost joke when you are both in the blissful release of a nice drunken buzz, and one of you will actually be very open and interested in the idea. The other is going to wind up being an unhappy accomplice wondering why your partner wants to gently caress almost chubby guys with spray on tans, or watch the sacred hole through which your children came into this world be filled with all manner of different ethnicities of cock.

I'm late to bring this up, but sooner rather than later you're also going to screen positive for HPV, and your intel officer husband is going to take every bit of research skills he has from his job to convince you that you got it from donating blood or sitting on a toilet seat.

You didn't get it from the Red Cross or a trip to the shitter.

As it stands now though, you can walk the gently caress away and enjoy a life that I'm pretty sure would be better than the above. And you'll never have to see the inside of an officers wives meeting which is a lovecraftian hell that makes my description of your future seem like Charlie's trip through the chocolate factory.

Also, I just found this amazing thread where Deathy recorded himself doing dramatic readings of GIPís best posts

https://forums.somethingawful.com/s...hreadid=3577577

Raenir Salazar
Nov 5, 2010

ASK ME ABOUT MY LOVE OF EUGENICS AND MARIO 3


College Slice

What's wrong with disassembling your gun on watch? Aren't you just verifying your service side arm is in top working condition? Wouldn't want it to jam or misfire right?

Wild T
Dec 15, 2008

The point I'm trying to make is that the only way to come out on top is to kick the Air Force in the nuts, beart it savagely with a weight and take a dump on it's face.

My crowning idiot moment from the last thread discussing the horrors of military medicine:

I was in Heidelberg when the Army nurse called me. "Did you donate blood around XXX date?" Yeah, I think so. I always stop by the bloodmobile if I see one and have time. "Well, your blood tested positive for Hepatitis C." Uhhh.. Come again?

Over the course of a five minute conversation she eventually tells me that they did a wide-spectrum test, and it was just as likely that I had a cold that day that would give a false positive. Why she wouldn't explain that before telling someone they've got hepatitis is a testament to military bedside manner. I ended up going in to get a specific hepatitis test, which came back expectedly negative about a week later. Several weeks later I get a letter from the blood bank in Germany saying I can no longer donate blood because the Army never bothered to send the negative results back to them.

But surprise, the real idiot in the story is me. Because I was in an absolute panic the entire phone call since a few weeks prior to donating blood I'd had a regretful, unprotected drunken threesome with my wife and the fat German chick who lived next door.

Handsome Ralph
Sep 3, 2004

Johnny Pussy?


Wild T posted:

My crowning idiot moment from the last thread discussing the horrors of military medicine:

I was in Heidelberg when the Army nurse called me. "Did you donate blood around XXX date?" Yeah, I think so. I always stop by the bloodmobile if I see one and have time. "Well, your blood tested positive for Hepatitis C." Uhhh.. Come again?

Over the course of a five minute conversation she eventually tells me that they did a wide-spectrum test, and it was just as likely that I had a cold that day that would give a false positive. Why she wouldn't explain that before telling someone they've got hepatitis is a testament to military bedside manner. I ended up going in to get a specific hepatitis test, which came back expectedly negative about a week later. Several weeks later I get a letter from the blood bank in Germany saying I can no longer donate blood because the Army never bothered to send the negative results back to them.

But surprise, the real idiot in the story is me. Because I was in an absolute panic the entire phone call since a few weeks prior to donating blood I'd had a regretful, unprotected drunken threesome with my wife and the fat German chick who lived next door.

Oh hey this happened to me. That poo poo loving sucked.

Got a phone call about some routine blood work. Doc at the end of the call chips in with "Oh and you tested positive for Hep C. But the confirmation test is out of stock, so we have to wait five more days to confirm. The antibodies are low though..."

Proceeded to freak the gently caress out for a few days till I realized A) I had never did anything that would have resulted in me getting Hep C and B)looking at my blood work and seeing how low my antibodies were, realizing it was a false positive that occurs often with people that got Hep B vaccines. Oh and the follow up bloodwork came back negative. Still, not an experience I'd like to ever go through again.

Internet Wizard
Aug 9, 2009

BANDAIDS DON'T FIX BULLET HOLES


Raenir Salazar posted:

What's wrong with disassembling your gun on watch? Aren't you just verifying your service side arm is in top working condition? Wouldn't want it to jam or misfire right?

Because it canít shoot when itís disassembled, and the point of having it while on watch is in case you have to shoot it.

DrAlexanderTobacco
Jun 11, 2012

Help me find my true dharma

Raenir Salazar posted:

What's wrong with disassembling your gun on watch? Aren't you just verifying your service side arm is in top working condition? Wouldn't want it to jam or misfire right?

Is it in top working condition when it's disassembled?

e;fb

Woof Blitzer
Dec 29, 2012


Lipstick Apathy

I want the pics from the DLI bathroom.

Elmnt80
Dec 30, 2012

I got a SOCOM scout and twenty extra mags
And a couple severed heads in my bug-out bag






Nevermind, I'm the idiot and scanned over it multiple times.

Edit: Because it deserves it.


LonsomeSon posted:

Apropos of page number, someone I've known since they were five (and I was nine) enlisted in the Army as a fuel systems MOS of some kind but wound up assigned to a truck driver unit, the ones which would load up in Quatar, fly into either war and go on 1-2 week missions all along the big supply routes, then fly out for 2-6 nights of maintenance and loading time. And he's got the fueler MOS, he's one of the drivers for the convoy fuel truck. It was an up-armored cab at least but no turret, so they didn't have a gunner.

So naturally he and the hand-off driver would just spend their entire time on the road with the turret hatch open, just blazing blunts of mail-order spice, but all the other vehicle crews in the unit would be, too. People were smuggling in booze and probably driving drunk on MSR motherfucking Tampa during the year right before the DoD outlawed spice, which was if I recall the height of the Iraqi civil war.

Just, like, hunkering down and rolling through ambushes while cross-faded on research chemicals and Military Special-grade raw grain alcohol mailed in-country in a refilled mouthwash bottle, pedal to the metal with like 800 gallons of JP8. gently caress. That.

e: also this man came home a loving wreck, about 9 months after I got out, but we chilled a ton, he got me back into smoking weed, and then also one day we were talking in my parents' backyard when this big awkward (part-pitbull maybe part boxer?) mongrel puppy just runs up through the garage from the alley and starts playing with us. We fed him and gave him water and he fell asleep on the dude, which was just palpably adorable. We put up fliers for a few weeks but nobody claimed him, and they have been together since. He named the dog Tigger, because he is super excitable and bounces around when happy, and in pretty sure Tigger was more important than his family and friends in helping him cope with his PTSD and work through the alcoholic phase.

So that part was a happy ending, and also consider trying pets if feasible for your friends who are struggling when they get back.


BigDave posted:

We were somewhere around Samawah on the edge of the desert when the drugs began to take hold. I remember saying something like “I feel a bit lightheaded; maybe you should drive...” And suddenly there was a terrible roar all around us and the sky was full of what looked like huge camel spiders, all swooping and screeching and diving around the truck, which was going about a hundred miles an hour with the windows down to Balad Air Base. And a voice was screaming: “Holy Jesus! What are these goddamn animals?” Then it was quiet again. My co-driver had taken his armor off and was pouring beer on his chest, to facilitate the tanning process. “What the hell are you yelling about?” he muttered, staring up at the sun with his eyes closed and covered with wrap-around Oakley sunglasses. “Never mind,” I said. “It’s your turn to drive.” I hit the brakes and aimed the Big Green Weenie toward the shoulder of the highway. No point mentioning those camel spiders, I thought. The poor bastard will see them soon enough. 

It was almost noon, and we still had more than a hundred miles to go. They would be tough miles. Very soon, I knew, we would both be completely twisted. But there was no going back, and no time to rest. We would have to ride it out. Preflight for the fabulous Operation LARCHWOOD 4 was already underway, and we had to get there by four to claim our slot on the flightline. A fashionable fuel and supply depot in Qatar had taken care of the reservations, along with this huge green fuel truck we’d just picked up at Camp Arifjan... and I was, after all, a professional petroleum supply specialist, so I had an obligation to make the run, for good or ill. 

The folks back home had also given me $3000 in cash, most of which was already spent on extremely dangerous drugs. The cab of the truck looked like a mobile police narcotics lab. We had two bags of high-test interpreter hash, seventy-five tabs of Russian trucker pills, five sheets of high-powered blotter acid, a salt shaker half full of cocaine, and a whole galaxy of Uncle Sam’s best multi-colored uppers, downers, screamers, laughers and also a quart of Listerine, a quart of Military Special gin, a case of Budweiser, a pound of raw spice and two dozen go pills. All this had been rounded up the night before, in a frenzy of high-speed driving all over Kuwait – from Al Jahra to Salmiya, we picked up everything we could get our hands on. Not that we needed all that for the trip, but once you get locked into a serious drug-collection, the tendency is to push it as far as you can. 

The only thing that really worried me was the spice. There is nothing in the world more helpless and irresponsible and depraved than a man in the depths of a spice binge. And I knew we’d get into that rotten stuff pretty soon. Probably at the next checkpoint. We had sampled almost everything else, and now – yes, it was time for a long snort of spice. And then do the next hundred miles in a horrible, slobbering sort of spastic stupor. The only way to keep alert on ether is to do up a lot of go pills – not all at once, but steadily, just enough to maintain the focus at ninety miles an hour through Samawah.

Elmnt80 fucked around with this message at 17:25 on Jul 29, 2019

Wild T
Dec 15, 2008

The point I'm trying to make is that the only way to come out on top is to kick the Air Force in the nuts, beart it savagely with a weight and take a dump on it's face.

Idiots and guns to together like peanut butter and KY jelly.

Clearing barrel at a Bagram DFAC. Chubby Air Force Major waddles up, drops her M9's magazine without putting the muzzle in the barrel and squints at the instructions while flagging poor passers by. Locks the slide back and peers in the chamber. Satisfied, she inserts the magazine, sends the slide forward, sticks the muzzle into the clearing barrel (fortunately) and puts a round into it. She looks at her pistol like it's a disobedient puppy, repeats the steps, chambers another round and pops it in the barrel (while also dropping a live round on the ground that rolls away from her). Becoming increasingly red and looking about to cry, she manages to repeat the same process and put a third round into the barrel before a MSgt walks up and calmly takes her M9 and clears it for her.




BMT idiot story. I'd never touched a firearm prior to range day with the M16 and this thing looked like it was going to jump up and hurt someone, so I was focused on doing everything exactly they told me to. They had us practice our sight picture and trigger pull by pointing our M16 at a random part of the wall, pulling the charging handle and squeezing the trigger while focusing on the fundamentals. Charge it again to reset the hammer, get a sight picture, squeeze trigger, repeat. This went on for about five minutes or so.

Live fire comes, the range goes hot and I fire the first round of my life. Wow, that was a lot easier than I thought. Next couple rounds go even easier and I'm starting to loosen up feel really good. Then a boot nudges me in the ribs. I lay the rifle down on the sandbag and the instructor hands me a bunch of live rounds he'd picked up and calmly tells me that the M16 is not a bolt-action rifle.

Time Crisis Actor
Apr 28, 2002


I sexually identify as a fat tinder girl,

Yeah lemme just clean my pannus first.

These candles smell amazing btw


pantslesswithwolves posted:

I gotchu bae

https://forums.somethingawful.com/s...2#post412934769


Also, I just found this amazing thread where Deathy recorded himself doing dramatic readings of GIPís best posts

https://forums.somethingawful.com/s...hreadid=3577577

Tindeck is down
I still have the recordings but Iíll need to upload them elsewhere

Plastic_Gargoyle
Aug 3, 2007
Injection-Molded

Someone got the time a goon almost invaded Syria?

A Bad Poster
Sep 25, 2006
Seriously, shut the fuck up.



Plastic_Gargoyle posted:

Someone got the time a goon almost invaded Syria?

Let's not besmirch Caro's accomplishments.

(yes I know you're talking about the other guy)

Cenen
Apr 7, 2011


Probably told these before in the old thread but a couple of fire arms stories off the top of my head.

My second deployment the predeployment people were complete gently caress ups who literally forgot to tell me I was deploying costing me an entire month of prep on a short notice deployment. Anyway literally less than 24 hours before I get on a plane I donít have a gun or orders and the end of the duty day was fast approaching. I had spent my day on the range last minute qualifying (barely (thanks cool CATM guys who didnít openly bitch about staying a little later)) on a loaner from CATM when I get a text from the predeployment office that my orders and weapon were ready. The hospital has a myriad of signs around it about how it is a place of healing and not to bring weapons in but I kind of assumed that edged towards more open carry weirdos but predeployment took this super seriously and stored my weapon in the open bed of his pickup truck in the middle of the parking lot for the day. On top of this I was supposed to have an M9 and he pulls an M4 out and says it was what he was ordered to give me. When he pulls up the email it CLEARLY said M9 but he said I was enlisted so Iím getting the M4. He hands me my paper blue stamp orders and M4 both at the same time from his hands to mine. This is my first time deploying with a weapon and Iím freaking out that I just got handed the wrong one well past the end of the duty day. I call up my chain of command who are absolutely confused and dumbfounded about what is happening but eventually I get a call from the predeployment guy to meat him at the predeployment vault and they will pull an M9 for me. I show up and meet him at 2000 and he seems surprised that no one is there even though obviously no one would be there so he just shrugs and says he doesnít have a key so Iím stuck with the M4 and good on luck my deployment. Fast forward a couple weeks after completing training on the other side of the country and Iím in the military terminal of Baltimore international about to board and the luggage person looks at my orders and looks at me and says that my weapon isnít on my orders and if my boss is around. Fortunately he was at the counter next to me and somehow despite just my word this random guy was my boss and my weapon not being on his orders either he got to take my weapon. Fast forward months and months later and I get a call from the predeployment office while Iím in Africa and they have no idea what weapon they gave me and if I could send them a serial number it would be super helpful. Fast forward a couple of months after that and we had as a unit signed and hand receipted our weapons over to the local SFS unit to transfer and we go home....only for them to tell to tell me when I got back that they have no idea where my weapon is and they are going to treat it as if I lost it. Fortunately my boss handed over his weapon the same time I did and we both had hand receipts and all of a sudden the weapon wasnít lost it was just in transit. He got fired from the predeployment office and stuck in a front help desk position that was usually filled in by an 80yo Red Cross volunteer. I didnít exactly have a free pass to hit him but no one was going to stop me or push the issue if I did.

Shorter one from Iraq. Part of our team went over to check out the Iraqi aid station (grim) on the Iraqi side of the base. This involves going condition red. Coming back everyone is clearing their weapon except for one major who racks her slide and nothing happens. The person next to her correctly assumes she never actually went to condition red while over there and clears the weapon for her.

Cenen fucked around with this message at 00:02 on Jul 30, 2019

Hexyflexy
Sep 2, 2011

asymptotically approaching one


Plastic_Gargoyle posted:

Someone got the time a goon almost invaded Syria?

Found it, it's my absolute favourite story:

Vasudus posted:

Being an Engineer on the Iraq/Syria border means a lot of border construction. We had a huge, huge AO and we were responsible for building a 15 foot berm between Iraq/Syria to prevent smugglers, allegedly. Since being inside dozers and ACEs in 120 degree heat is an excuse to have heat casualties, most of the work we would do was at dusk into the night.

So we're out building a berm at a new site at like 0200 and something isn't right. The paper maps had us right were we were supposed to be. The FBCB2 had us about a mile on the wrong side of the border. My XO, believing himself to be the second coming of Patton himself, said that we were fine and to continue on mission. This was his project, after all.

About 0230 rolls around and my gunner says

'uh...SGT Vasudus, a BMP is the wheeled ruskie APC right?'
'...no, why?'
'so what's wheeled with a 50 on it?'
'...that's a BRDM...are you studying for the board or something?'
'see those lights way out to the west? like 50 of those BRDM things are coming right for us'

Welp.

I immediately hop up there and look down the nightvision scope to see what the christ he was talking about. Sure as poo poo, there was a huge fuckoff wheeled and light track force heading for us at high speed. At least two whole company+ sized elements.

I tell my XO that we're on the wrong side of the border and the Syrians aren't very happy about it. He says they're wrong and we'll be fine, and he's gonna call in some air support to scare them off. He relays his coordinates and my TOC informs him that the FBCB2 is correct.

XO comes screaming over the radio 'PACK YOUR poo poo! PACK YOUR poo poo! WE'RE ON THE WRONG SIDE OF THE BORDER'

So we quickly left this half finished berm project and immediately left the area back to Iraq.

CherryCola
Apr 15, 2002

'ahtaj alshifa


So my brother is combat meteorologist in the air national guard. Heís in an active duty reserve position and his position and rank means that he generally is NOT deployable. (I donít know all the specifics) Unless, that is, one particular person becomes unable to deploy.

That specific person broke their shoulder being and idiot on a dirt bike...two months before their deployment.

Whoopsadoodle

A White Guy
Dec 19, 2012

Never fear!
Japan is here!


One day, I'm out with my crew. We're dropping exclusively dead ponderosa pine. My crew is having fun. Dropping dead trees is fun. We're in a stand that got hit pretty hard, not quite within spitting distance of a school, but not right next to the school. Dead trees are also surprisingly easily to move in the right direction - unlike with live trees, you can wedge them over quite a bit more easily and turn them all kinds of interesting ways other than their natural lean.

So, of course, I see a 150+ ft tall living ponderosa pine begin to fall. Oh, and it's falling toward the school's greenhouse. The following happened in about twenty seconds:

Me:"Hey [my boss], is [dipshit] dropping that tree?"
My boss:"What the gently caress? That's alive."
*tree starts to fall*
Me:"Shiiiit."
*150+ tall ponderosa pine, easily weighing upward of a ton, falls through this loving greenhouse, sending sheet metal, tables, bits of pipe, and plastic wrapping flying through the air*
Dipshit, from 100 yards away: "Fuuuuuuuuck!"

Thankfully, the school hadn't used this greenhouse for years and was looking to replace it anyway. Dipshit lost his job, and now works for an arbor company

20 Blunts
Jan 21, 2017



A White Guy posted:


Thankfully, the school hadn't used this greenhouse for years and was looking to replace it anyway. Dipshit lost his job, and now works for an arbor company

we'll take care of him on the private side; it'll either be a lawyers greenhouse or a frank lloyd wright next time

SpaceSDoorGunner
May 4, 2018



But the old thread title

SpaceSDoorGunner posted:

But the old thread title

Yay

SpaceSDoorGunner fucked around with this message at 07:44 on Jul 30, 2019

piL
Sep 20, 2007
(__|\\\\)

Taco Defender

A White Guy posted:

One day, I'm out with my crew. We're dropping exclusively dead ponderosa pine. My crew is having fun.

Wasn't convinced these weren't drug euphamisms until halfway through this post. I still have some doubts.

aphid_licker
Jan 7, 2009

kiss kiss


Pillbug

piL posted:

Wasn't convinced these weren't drug euphamisms until halfway through this post. I still have some doubts.

Jaguars!
Jul 31, 2012




Young Urchin

A shameful OP with not nearly enough stories from the old thread, some greatest hits and some I found by looking at random pages

Frosted Flake posted:

I've heard about some pretty scary ammo screw-ups due to clerical error. Two of them off the top of my head:

Back when the Reserves still had Cougars (armoured vehicles with the low velocity 76mm gun of the Alvis Scorpion) a unit got a pallet of ammunition for the Sherman 76 that was apparently still in the system.

A unit doing practice with the M203 was given a crate of 40mm Bofors instead of grenades. Apparently some private almost manage to jam a shell into the launcher before someone freaked out and bootfucked him.

Vasudus posted:

I've told this story a bunch of times before, but it's a classic. We had a Regimental Birthday Officer in Iraq. What had happened was a brand-gently caress-new 2LT that arrived about six days before main body deployment to one of the scout platoons. Lost his nods before we left Kuwait. Not misplaced, not had taken, lost. We weren't in country for more than a week and he lost his weapon. His brand new M4 with ACOG and PEQ2. Lost, as in lost for good.

So naturally he gets yanked immediately and thrown deep into BDE staff. He fucks up in RS2, then RS3, then RS4 and gets placed as the RBO, Regimental Birthday Officer. Turns out that this dude was a fine arts major and had a real talent for painting, drawing and other related things. So he would send these beautiful, hand made birthday cards to people. Due to the fact we had 6000 people in our brigade, not everyone got one. We thought it was all a big loving joke until we saw the cards ourselves. I don't think I have mine anymore


Cenen's Med trainee weekend of hell:
pt 1

pt 2

Bird Cooch - Ballad of Dirty Joe
pt 1

pt 2



Lt Mike, some war criminals and a body cast (Lead Out In Cuffs)


The Slithery D's tragic but so incredibly stupid it's kind of funny anyway story of the Kiowa Pilot's pistol


Don't worry, I've taken care of it (N4I)

Vincent Van Goatse
Nov 8, 2006

Don't be so gloomy. After all it's not that awful. Like the fella says, in Italy for thirty years under the Borgias they had warfare, terror, murder, and bloodshed, but they produced Michelangelo, Leonardo da Vinci, and the Renaissance.




Smellrose

From one of the later pages

TapTheForwardAssist posted:

I've gotten to the part of the thread about losing serialized gear, and crashing two helicopters trying to find one missing M9 in Iraq, and I got a good one.


Digging a deeper hole via international arms dealing

So after OIF-2, our battalion has a real mess of records, trying to reconcile the different accounts and figure out our combat losses, regular losses, extra poo poo we somehow acquired, etc. My recollection is that part of the complication was guys getting medevac'ed with all their gear and the hospital confiscating their weapons and us trying to eventually get them back.

Midway through this reconciling process, L Battery's armorers realize they have two M16A4s in their cage that aren't on their books. So of course the immediate reaction is "hey, free rifles!" One guy took one home to keep at his on-base housing as a souvenir, the other gave one to his dad as a gift. A couple weeks go by and more records get cross-checked, and the armorers are given an updated sheet which now has them two A4s short.

Now at this point, there are a couple smart ways to go. The absolute best would be to immediately gather the rifles together, smuggle them back in, and come out saying "oh hey we looked under a pile of barrel-bags and found them or they fell behind a shelf or something" and the issue would be resolved with at the most an rear end-chewing for not looking hard enough. The next-smartest would be to fully disassemble the rifle, take a hacksaw and cut the serial number area off the lower and throw the lower all duct-taped up in junk and chuck it in a dumpster far from home, and then take the unserialized parts and sell them on AR15.com

Nope. At this point "tripling" or even "quintupling" seems too light of a word. They decided to X-down to the whatevereth power. So one guy calls this girl he knows who allegedly has some underworld connections, and she agrees she can make the rifles disappear forever and cut them in on the profits. So they drive the rifles to her apartment IN TIJUANA. Yup, hid them in their car and smuggled stolen federal automatic weapons into Mexico.

After a few days of missing rifles, eventually NCIS gets involved. They apply Occam's Razor and figure that armorer theft is the single simplest solution, so they separate the two guys and interrogate them and both immediately narc each other out. They provide NCIS the girl's phone number, and they call her and say "Listen carefully, you have one hour to wrap the rifles up in a blanket and take them to the front office at the San Diego border crossing, ask for Inspector Smith, hand him the bundle and just walk away. If you don't meet him within one hour, we're giving all your information to the Federales and telling them you're smuggling automatic weapons for the narcos." Girl ain't dumb, so thirty minutes later she's handing over both A4s to a NCIS agent and the issue is resolved.

Each guy got nailed with I think three years of hard time, and both were married and I can guess that a first-termer marriage isn't going to fare well with three years of separation. So yeah, a truly impressive display of taking a handful of poo poo and turning it into a world of poo poo.

Wild T
Dec 15, 2008

The point I'm trying to make is that the only way to come out on top is to kick the Air Force in the nuts, beart it savagely with a weight and take a dump on it's face.


Butters reminds me of Hall, another West Virginia-spawned waterheaded retard I was deployed with. During predeployment training we all quickly realized that Hall was several donuts short of a dozen. For one thing, the guy walked like an enormous toddler - knees tucked in, hands held akimbo with no armswing, just sort of waddling along. He also didn't know how to shower. When we started to observe his shower habits because of the perpetual miasma of mildew and BO around him we discovered his normal process was:

1. Remove clothes, put them on bench. Walk into shower stall with empty hands.
2. Turn on water, kinda splash around.
3. Exit shower stall, shake off like a dog, and put your dirty clothes back on your still-wet, unwashed body
4. Wander off and be loving Hall.

We had to break down step-by-step the process of applying soap to a scrubbing device, as well as why this and using a towel and putting on fresh clothes are important to becoming clean, the loving point of taking a goddamn shower, Hall. At one point I came out of the shower to find Hall attempting to take my dirty clothes and put them on. I showed him his PT gear and had to coach him through every item. No, Hall, that's my socks. These are yours. No, Hall, the underwear on top of them is mine, too. No, Hall, that's my shirt, this one is yours. He decides to question this and ask how I knew which shirt was which, to which I finally gave up and yelled "because this one loving stinks, Hall", threw his shirt in his face and took my clothes before he could soil them.

It wasn't just hygiene, however. I'm 99% convinced that Hall was high-functioning autistic. He had two Bachelor's Degrees in IT fields, but was functionally incapable of anything that didn't involve zeroes and ones (literally - I walked into a TOC one time to find him trying to read things in binary. loving weirdo). Every training item we had to accomplish inevitable ended with Hall failing repeatedly, crying, and the frustrated OCs just handing him back to us and pencil-whipping his scores. When we qualified on our M4s, Hall started his morning bragging about how he was going to get top scores, he shot his daddy's guns all the time back home in West Virginia. He finished his day crying quietly in the turret while an OC finally knocked his targets down from the next lane after 140 people had to stand for an hour and a half in the cold watching him miss.

So I proceed to KAF and get stuck on a three-man shift working in a TOC. Basically sitting at a radio and a BFT acting as the one-stop-shop for anything our mentor teams in Southern Afghanistan needed. Pallets of water, approval to move, all the way to QRF, medevac or CAS, we'd relay it to the other guys in the TOC and keep the chain in the loop. As a SSgt I was the ranking guy so I got day shift (as it was the busiest), I had a sharp SrA who we put on swings, and we stuck Hall on nights with the rationale that it was the least likely time for Hall to gently caress up and get someone killed. Until he almost got our O-6 killed.

Turns out the O-6'd gone out with one of our teams on a ridealong and gotten into a TIC almost immediately. They radio Hall, nothing. They send multiple BFT messages, nothing. Eventually they call our boss, an Army SFC, on a loving cell phone, who sprints a half mile from his shack to the TOC half-dressed. There's Hall, obliviously browsing Wikipedia on the NIPR computer with the radio turned all the way down because the noise bothered him. Fortunately nobody was hurt, and our boss somehow he provided the world's greatest top cover on that one, because I never heard a peep or felt a ripple even though Hall's stupid rear end almost got the commander waxed.

I have eight months of similar stories about Hall, some hilarious, some that made us try to get him sent home before we murdered him (like the time we found out he was a loving kiddy diddler).

Eugene V. Dubstep
Oct 4, 2013



Wild T posted:

he was a loving kiddy diddler).

kinda burying the lede here

evil_bunnY
Apr 2, 2003



How do people like hall not get marched to every suspected IED until nature takes its course, or just sent the gently caress back home roped up like a salami with a paper tag requesting he be physically removed from whatever facility he lands at.

CainFortea
Oct 15, 2004



evil_bunnY posted:

How do people like hall not get marched to every suspected IED until nature takes its course, or just sent the gently caress back home roped up like a salami with a paper tag requesting he be physically removed from whatever facility he lands at.

Having a fuckup proven to be a huge fuckup makes leadership look bad. So obvious solution is just sweep it under the table.

CommieGIR
Aug 22, 2006

If Godzilla can do it, you know I can deliver!

Pillbug

How do people like Hall get through basic

UP THE BUM NO BABY
Sep 1, 2011

Man-oh-man, Cowboy looks like a bag of leftovers from a V.F.W. barbecue. Of
course, I've got nothing against dead people. Why, some of my best friends are dead

CommieGIR posted:

How do people like Hall get through basic

By passing the PT test.

Wild T
Dec 15, 2008

The point I'm trying to make is that the only way to come out on top is to kick the Air Force in the nuts, beart it savagely with a weight and take a dump on it's face.

Eugene V. Dubstep posted:

kinda burying the lede here

So at some point, a bunch of folks start talking about their family life. Hall had gone to college before enlisting (see the afformentioned BS degrees) and worked at a gas station while he went to school. He mentioned how he met his wife while working at the gas station and they used to 'hang out', then after a few years began dating, then married her after he graduated Basic.

Later on, he mentioned her age, and she was 19. This immediately set off red flags, because Hall was close to the end of his enlistment and was separating shortly after he got back. We start crunching the numbers based off of his various stories, and realized that Hall was grooming a loving twelve year old while he was a college student, who he later ended up marrying.

For a less disgusting and more humorous Hall story, he got the job of changing the crypto on the radios because it was easiest to do on night shift when nothing was happening. We showed him several times how to load the crypto until we were confident that even he couldn't gently caress it up (he still managed to almost every time, leaving him with no radio comms and I'd end up doing it at the start of my shift). When we were showing him how to connect the cable to the radio, he could never get it to properly seat with his baby-like arms. So we showed him the technique of getting a little spit on your finger and rubbing it around the socket at the end of the cable, providing enough lubricant for it to go on easier.

Hall forgot to change crypto spent all night dicking around on Wikipedia instead one shift, so was scrambling to do it when I arrived for my shift. There I got to see the sight of a 30 year old babyman pick a cable off of the vermin-infested, dirty floor of an Afghan TOC from the spot where the Romanian LO had been stepping on it all day, raise it to his face, and slowly tongue-gently caress it before sticking it in the radio. Here's hoping whatever communicable diseases were on that cable managed to sterilize Hall before he can knock up his child bride.

The Rat
Aug 29, 2004

You will find no one to help you here. Beth DuClare has been dissected and placed in cryonic storage.


LMAO I remember being told you gotta lick it before you stick it when it comes to the radio connectors, but that was just lick your finger and rub it around on the pieces. Not tongue loving it.

UP THE BUM NO BABY
Sep 1, 2011

Man-oh-man, Cowboy looks like a bag of leftovers from a V.F.W. barbecue. Of
course, I've got nothing against dead people. Why, some of my best friends are dead

The Rat posted:

LMAO I remember being told you gotta lick it before you stick it when it comes to the radio connectors, but that was just lick your finger and rub it around on the pieces. Not tongue loving it.

I liked to switch things up with my radio connectors and not let things get stale iykwim, so I would do all kinds of freaky poo poo to get that solid connection.

bulletsponge13
Apr 28, 2010


Same way we push through kids at schools-
"I'm done with this poo poo, he can be someone else's problem now."

A Bad Poster
Sep 25, 2006
Seriously, shut the fuck up.



Dude has a completely full West Virginian bingo sheet.

Icon Of Sin
Dec 26, 2008




The Rat posted:

LMAO I remember being told you gotta lick it before you stick it when it comes to the radio connectors, but that was just lick your finger and rub it around on the pieces. Not tongue loving it.

If not Hall, then someone else definitely actually hosed a radio based on that advice. Burst transmission, anyone?

Vincent Van Goatse
Nov 8, 2006

Don't be so gloomy. After all it's not that awful. Like the fella says, in Italy for thirty years under the Borgias they had warfare, terror, murder, and bloodshed, but they produced Michelangelo, Leonardo da Vinci, and the Renaissance.




Smellrose

$700k worth of idiocy from the old thread

nullscan posted:

I showed up to my first assignment at Luke back in 2002 all full of excitement and vigor and pride in the Air Force, ready to do my awesome job of network switching and crypto routing systems or whatever the hell we were called. Then I found out I was working on MCE/TAOMs which are forward air-control vans and very much on the Atari/Apple IIe end of the network/computing spectrum.

Whatever, the shop was cool and there were plenty of cool guys to work with, including DBZFAN1. This guy was huge, barely ever in regs, failing PT tests back when they were still bike-tests and who's only civie clothes included multiple button-down DBZ shirts. But as a young, dumb, Airman he was a Mentor and in charge of a lot of the new guys' (Four of us from the same class/time) upgrade training.

Over time we witnessed a few of his troubleshooting skill classics such as 'Main computer's not working, power down whole van at the Power Unit then back on like a light switch' or 'Serial cables that connect externally to van won't seat correctly, use a hammer' but nothing will top the Great Swap of 2002.

There are four operator positions inside the TAOM, and (back in the day) they all were powered by 10k, 30k, $100k+ huge fuckoff circuit cards located in each position. One day position #1 starts having problems with it's (Three color!) CRT, not drawing tracks right, looking all kinds of hosed up. This is the 'Live van', the one van we needed up to run 'Sorties' as the other vans were used for training and could deal with a down position once and awhile. So it was kind of urgent we get it back up. Everybody else was either busy or off somewhere being invisible so DBZ and by buddy from Tech School get picked to go TS.

Two hours of troubleshooting pass, just DBZ and Buddy locked in the van. Finally one of our SSgts starts to get curious and heads out to the pad to check up on them. Five minutes pass and he's suddenly back in the shop, ashen faced as he heads to our back office where the NCOs sit and closes the door. A little bit after the two Airmen come back in looking sheepish and sit at our meeting table not saying a word as the back office erupts in shouting between the NCOS.

They suddenly all run out and head to the van and as they leave SSgt Curious grabs DBZ out with him. Buddy then starts to tell us the tale of Troubleshooting. Apparently with all power applied, DBZ had him pull the card bay out of position #1 out (This is ok, they slide out and have idiot lights on the side to help T/S), then the card bay on position #2 (Ok, sure, he wanted to compare cards?).

DBZ then has Buddy start pulling lit cards from P#1 and hot-swapping them with P#2. "Odd," DBZ says, "The fault followed to P#2 but yet it's still broke on P#1!"

Anyone with EE/Computer experience can tell you that if it's not explicitly hot-swappable, you're supposed to shut down power before doing any of this swapping (not to mention the safety risks as we were dealing with HV), so he basically just fried the previously good card from #2.

"Well, uh, we'll try the next card." And so on, until he had fried 25 cards in 3 operating positions ("Because maybe it was just P#2 not working right, let's try the cards in P#3!") totaling nearly 700k in damages.

Luckily four of us from tech school who had just arrived, Buddy included, had to go to formal MCE training the next month so we missed all the fallout, but DBZ didn't lose rank or have to pay for anything. Apparently it was decided that the ACs (ECUs) that keep the vans cool had tripped and a critical overheat situation burned 25 cards in 3 positions but not the 4th, as DBZ wasn't fully qualified to be leading the T/Sing and our NCOs were terrified of it coming back on them.

Fake edit: gently caress that's a lot of words.

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Proud Christian Mom
Dec 20, 2006


there's far more Halls in this world than you want to believe

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