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Military Stories

4K views 31 replies 16 participants last post by  coyotejohn 
#1 ·
After reading clermont's thread on Iwo and then further reading 59Willys post I thought it would be fun to add some First Person stories about your military experiences. I know we have a lot of military here so lets hear the stories. I’ll start it off but hope to see many more.

Mouse in the House

Many years ago while stationed at Fort Bragg my wife and I hosted a formal dinner (Black Tie and Tails) for some of the senior officers and non-coms on the fort which included a two star general. We had cocktails prior to dinner, wine (of course) with dinner and after dinner the smoking lamp was lite and we again opened the bar. Most of the old guys left after one or two drinks. They probably didn't want the General to think that they were boozers. While a few of the Senior Sergeants and the two star stayed along with a Colonel or two. During the course of the next few hours a considerable amount of distilled liquids disappeared from a rather well stocked bar along with some rather expensive cigars. Sometime during the course of the evening our cat wanted in, Marge opened the door and the cat ran in with field mouse firmly clutched in her jaws, but just for a short while as she dropped it and it ran off. Needless to say that Marge was horrified that we would have a "mouse in the house" with all these senior people present. I told her not to worry as we seasoned warriors would see to the demise of this "mouse in the house" post haste. Loaded up the 357 with Speer rubber bullets and we all took turns shooting at the ---- "mouse in the house". After several more brandy's and maybe some bourbon someone finally killed the ---- "mouse in the house" and splattered blood all over the ---- wall. We all had a toast to the "mouse in the house" and our guests went home. The next day my wife got a BIG bouquet of flowers from the two star with a very nice Thank you note and an apology for the gore on the wall. I also got a separate note from him which stated - "Had a great time, please keep me on your guest list, most of the events I go to are rather boring and ----- nothing is ever killed. Thank you for a great evening." Major General T.B.M
 
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#3 ·
Not a first hand story' but a story related to me by a friend who is a retired USAF Colonel/fighter pilot:

In the early sixties my friend was a recently commissioned Lt. stationed in Germany. After a week or two on base, one night he was told by a couple of buddies they were taking him to a party at "Sarges" home. He figured they would show up at a sergeant's house. When they got to the destination, it was a European Mansion. "How can this "Sarge" guy afford to live here"? he asked...

Here it was the home of heir to the Sergeant's dog care empire...the guy was a Colonel who was referred to as "Sarge" because of his last name!:smile_big:
 
#9 ·
I can't believe if you served you don't have any personal stories that can't be shared. I have a few heart breakers that I kept penned up in me until my daughter started to tell me it's best to get them out in the open. Some I doubt that I will ever get out and some still bring a lump in my throat. My first deployment was with the 82nd in the Dom Rep and my last in Grenada.

Three Days Out

We had just returned from a ten day mission, tired, dirty, and ready for some down time. After we were debriefed by the S-2 (Intel) the CO came in and told us "good job" now we got enough hot water for a good long shower, steaks on the grill and cold beer - even if it was Schlitz. He then went on to say that we would have at least two weeks down time before going back out. We all looked at each other and probably had the same thought, "you can eat a lot of steak and drink a lot of beer in two weeks', not to mention chasing the young ladies in DaNang. On the fourth day of "down time" our team sergeant told us that we had a mission coming up and that we were to meet in the SCIF at 1400hrs - don't be late. The Colonel started out with "I know I told you you would have two weeks down time but we need some info ASAP". He then went on to say that the mission was just a look and report, no interaction with Charlie or the NVA -just look and report, easy enough. He also went on to say that when we got back our two weeks of down time would start all over, and he may even be able to schedule a flight to Hong Kong, official business of course. Late that night we were airlifted into a remote area, rappled into a small opening in the jungle canopy and started a march of about 5 miles to our look and report position. Things went well, we saw a lot of activity, reported a bunch of "stuff", even saw some Chinese Officers, plenty of hardware being moved north to south, along with many NVA Troops. Morning of day number three, we gather all our "stuff", compared notes, re-check the maps and head out for our extraction point. Not a bad 3 days in the field and mission is almost over, Hong Hong beware. Our Team Leader, Captain "S'' is leading the way, a good officer who will not let an enlisted troop do anything that he himself would not do. He is point man on our return journey, something normally reserved for the junior enlisted man on the team. About 3 miles into the return trip a deafening sound and ground fire is all around us. Captain "S '' is thrown into the air and the jungle erupts in chaos. Our Senior Sergeant takes command and directs the fire fight, the team medic and another team member recover our officer and the radio operator calls in a medivac ship and gunships. The sweetest sound in the world is two Cobra's coming in followed by a Huey. All twelve of us got on the Huey, one seriously wounded, two with minor injuries. The Captain survived his wounds and returned to a Special Forces unit upon his release from the hospital. He returned to VietNam for two additional tours and later retired as a Lt Col, a fine officer and a gentleman who I was proud to serve with and will always remember. We buried him not to long ago - a victim of cancer - I think he would have chosen to go out in a blaze of gunfire defending his men and the great country that he loved so much.
 
#10 ·
I have a funny one. When I was a lieutenant in Iraq, we built a new fob called fob hammer. It was way out in the desert between Baghdad and Iran. When we got there we put a Bradley on each corner of the base and started building berms and laying c wire. Anyways the majority of the brigade arrived by helo and we had all of the vehicles trucked in and put into a staging area. At this point all of the vehicles had been signed for by their respective commanders but people needed vehicles to make stuff happen so the first day or two everyone just took whatever equipment they could get their hands on. One of my first tasks for my commander was to get back the equipment he was signed for. That meant I had to walk around and look at serial numbers and other stuff to identify the vehicle. I had fun with it basically being a repo man of sorts. I found one of our LMTVs was being used by a bunch of lower enlisted soliders from another unit as a chow run vehicle and they had left all their helmets and vests inside unsecured. On one vest was an M9 pistol in a crossdraw holster. I took it and left a note that said now I have a pistol ho ho ho. -LT me. I threw it all in a pile in the dust and cut the lock on the steering wheel and drove off with it haha. The solider came and got the pistol later that night once they figured out what unit I was in. Then my most memorable one was the last piece of equipment I could not find. It was a 15k generator on a wheeled trailer. I could not find that thing for a week and it was bugging me. I was about ready to assume that another unit and taken it off to a forward outpost when I had to go on some business to the 1/15th infantry hq. They were out in a far corner of the base and while I was over there I went to visit an LT buddy of mine. When I get there I see 2 shop vans in the corner of the MP and they have a satelite dish on top of the one and the ACs were running. I thought hmmmmm you'd need a generator to have those up and running. I went and looked and sure enough in between the vans covered in a camo net hidden by boxes was the generator I had been looking for, serial number verified and everything. Score I thought. I went into the milvan and talked to the battalion motor sgt who was an E8. MSG Rodriguez, who was about 5'2" and just full of fire haha. I told him I was here to take the generator and he just started flipping out about it. I said "MSG I came in and told you as a courtesy so that you can save whatever youre working on in the SAMS box before I disconnect it. He said that I wasnt taking it and blah blah blah. I guess he though he could bully me as a 2LT but I had been enlisted for 5 years before that so not a chance. I went and grabbed my humvee, backed up to the generator and connected to it and turned it off and disconnected the pigtail as quickly as possible to high tail it out of there. As I was just getting back in my humvee here comes MSG Rodriguez just screaming, calling me all sorts of names in all sorts of spanglish at me as I leave. I waved and drove off which made him even more mad haha.

Later on in the deployment we had started to build the base into a real fob. Now in the desert all of the dirt gets ground up and turned into what we called moon dust. just a super fine powder thats brown. It gets everywhere into everything. So it was a big deal when we finally started to get gravel trucked in to keep the dust down and make everything presentable. Well my LT buddy in the 1/15 had gotten a bunch of construction equipment in that she had signed for and we were checking it out. She had all sorts of cool stuff like crane trucks, graders, dump trucks, and even 3 D9 dozers. Me being the inquisitive guy that I am I asked her if she had driven the D9 yet and she said no. I said we should totally take it for a ride. She was hesitant at first but she eventually gave in to my charms and she goes and gets the keys and we climb up in there and now I was licensed to drive an Abrams, a Bradley, and a M113 at this point but I had never driven a dozer before. I figured it was like any tracked vehicle so we turn it on and I just start pulling levers and stuff to see what happens so we can get this thing moving. So after a minute or so of that we finally figure out how to make this thing move. So we start off across the middle of the motor pool just chugging along. I was giving her alot of gas and we werent going very fast at all I mean only a couple of MPH. I figured I must have had it stuck in first gear or something. Well then all of a sudden my LT buddy blurts out "uh oh, here comes MSG Rodriguez and he looks pissed." So I look and this dude looks like he is going to blow a freaking gasket. I mean just super mad and pointing towards the back of the dozer so I figure he was mad about us driving the dozer and wants us to return so I stop and look back to check to make sure its safe to turn around and I see that when I was playing with the levers I had accidentally dropped the ripper claw things down in the back and had just ripped up this big section in the newly laid gravel in MSG Rodriguez's motor pool. No wonder he was pissed haha. I told my LT buddy that I would see her later that night and that I had to go get ready for a mission and I hopped out of the dozer and took off with MSG Rodriguez still yelling at me as I sprinted away. That guy really did not like me!!!
 
#12 ·
The Whiskey Tumbler

Shortly after the newly elected President took office a small select group of soldiers was invited to Camp David for some festivities and congratulations by the President. During the evening, we all got to talk to the President and First Lady and it was actually like talking to an old friend you haven't seen in a long while. Cocktails before dinner while mixing with the White House Staff and few of the newly appointed cabinet members was a real treat. During this mingling period, I was enjoying a cocktail out of a very nice whiskey tumbler, etched with the Great Seal of the United States. I made a comment to one of the staffers that this was a nice piece of crystal and the etching was flawless. He acknowledged what I had said and we moved on to another subject. Dinner was great and I even got to sit across from the President. We talked about a wide range of subjects, nothing earth shocking revealed just idle chit-chat. After dinner, the President had a short speech, thanked us and said good-night and, we all arose as one, saluted the new Commander-in-Chief and thanked him and the First Lady for a most enjoyable evening and one which I will always remember. A few days later a small package arrived at our quarters, the return address - The White House. Inside were two nice crystal tumblers and a beer mug, all etched with the Great Seal and a one-word handwritten note on White House stationery: "Enjoy", signed President Reagan.

A few years later I dropped and broke one of the tumblers, gave the remaining one to our oldest daughter and the beer mug to our son.
 
#14 · (Edited)
Civil Rights Movement During The '60'


We had just finished a grueling 6-week survival training course in the swamps of Georgia, one young officer, and eleven enlisted men. We had earned our Green Berets a few short months ago and this little exercise was the beginning of forming us into a team and learning how to work together as an "A" Team. We finished up on a Wednesday and didn't have to be back until the following Monday. We decided to take our time in returning and would only drive a few hours a day and enjoy the time-off after six weeks without a break living 24 hours a day in a swamp. While still in Georgia one of the guys suggested that we stop at the next motel, enjoy the pool then go for a few beers and have a good dinner. Sweet talking SOB that he was we all agreed and pulled into a motel just a few more miles up the road. After we settled in got cleaned up a bit we drove around until we found a nice, or so we thought saloon. Did I mention that one of the team members was a man of color? As we entered the saloon all eyes turned and focused on us. We moved two tables together, drug some chairs around and all twelve of us settled in for some good cold brews, some pool playing and of course some storytelling. Our waitress came over to the table to take our order, the Captain, being the senior guy at the table said: "we'll all have a beer, whatever you have on tap." She returned shortly with one beer and sat it down in front of the man of color. Then we heard from the guy behind the bar: "We now have a law that says I have to serve the "N#&*@r", but we ain't got no law that says I have to serve the white trash that came in with him." We learned more about ourselves in the next few minutes than we had in the past six weeks, and it really was a team-building experience. It cost us two nights in jail, and about $1,500 in fines and damages, a lot of money at the time, especially on a soldier’s wages, but money well spent. We made it back to our home base a day late and we all had to report to the Group Commander in the morning. We thought the worse and knew our career in the Special Forces was over, we would be returning to a regular army unit. The Group Sergeant Major had us all standing at attention when the Group Commander came in and started his tongue lashing, it must have lasted 5 to 10 minutes and he never stopped not once, screaming hollering and just plain cussing us out. Then with a smile on his face he said: "Job well done." reached over to his desk and handed our Captain an envelope. Inside was $2,500, a collection from men of the Command instigated by the Sergeant Major after the incident was reported. After we all got our share of what we paid we had about $500 left, which paid for a few kegs, and some burgers and dogs for all the men of our organization the following weekend.

Our young Captain went on to make full Colonel and was awarded the Medal of Honor, as was two of our Sergeant, unfortunately, one was awarded posthumously.
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Unless we get more participation this will probably be my last story.
 
#15 ·
Coasties ...wow my moma would be so ashamed of me. We did drink a lot.. I had duty on the cutter one night.. a Fireman FN Flood came back to the cutter drunk out of his mind... What he did was dove off of the dock into the water and never came up. We put our flood lights on the water to see if we could find his body.. Nothing.. Then we went and got the big grappling hooks to find dead bodies and pulled them along the dock .. No FN Flood to be found. All of a sudden we hear this on the other side of of the 150 yard ship channel.. Hey Coast Guard over here.. Flood water standing on the dock across from the ships channel. As we hit him with the flood light from the cutter. Flood dove off of the 60 foot dock into the channel again... Police arrived, a 40 foot cutter arrived … when the cutter would go after flood on one end of the dock he would dive into the water and come back up on the dock again.. Small boat go after Flood. He do the same thing.. They apprehend Flood... They bring him in front of the cutter in hang cuffs.. He starts yelling for his Eng office. ""MR. NORMAN MR. NORMAN MR. NORMAN!' Mr. Norman came over to him and said: "Yes Flood?" Flood said right to the Eng Off. "Mr. Norman You Suck Big _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ D I C K S!" We all started laughing of course.. He received a captains mast of course and was restricted to the ship for about 2 weeks.
 
#19 ·
It has been over sixty years since I graduated from jump school and as I am told it is a "bit" different today then it was then. We only had two Airborne Divisions the 82nd at Ft Bragg and the 101st at Ft Campbell and each division had their own jump school. We are assigned to a company of already jump qualified troopers, unlike today's centralized jump school at Ft Benning Each morning we had to be in formation no later than 0600 and one of the Jump Sergeants from the school would march us to the training area. As we marched we would have to sign the following song, I can still recite the song after all these years, we also had to sing it on the way to the plane for our initial jump.



 
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#20 ·
Not my story but 2 from my grandfather. He was a seaman on the first USS Pueblo ACR-7 in 1916-18. Entered before the war started. Ship was coal fired and all hands and jr officers were expected to load coal known as black diamonds when needed. Dirty filthy work and getting your uniform clean was a job. But when in Cuba anyone with a dollar to spare could pay the locals to do it for you. Hand a local your dollar and he would point to his wife who would then load the coal on the hoppers to be lifted with the crane into the hold. He always said Cuban women were strong and don’t be messing with them. To prank his buddies he would go into the forward head after dinner. Toilets were just seats on a pipe With partitions and no doors with seawater running thru it to the stern. He would go to the most forward seat available, wad up a huge wad of tp and light it, drop in hole , then walk down the line watching the facial expressions of the sailors getting flamed. Of course he said he always used the furthest forward seat possible for his own use. There’s another story about hooch in the laundry machines, I’m sketchy on those details. My pop is 89 and will see if he remembers the story
 
#21 ·
Just a foolish little story.
Back in very early 1991, just after the start of the air war against Iraq that began Operation Desert Storm, my scout platoon was stationed near the neutral zone between Saudi Arabia and Iraq. We certainly had adequate life support with food, water, and we even had tents and cots at the time which was a bit of a luxury. Some supply section came forward and brought us a shower box. Basically it is a 10 gallon tank on top with two shower stalls underneath. This was great.
Unfortunately, we were Soldiers, so good could always be better. We heard rumors that a few miles to our rear was the BDE HQ with a mess section and immersion heaters. If we could get back there, we could have hot showers! We borrowed a deuce and a half and four of us went in search of the immersion heater. The CPL "leading" the scrounge mission was the driver and after noting the immersion heaters set up in some metal garbage cans he told us the plan. He would drive up real fast, we would jump out, grab the immersion heater and throw it in the back and then we would all drive away real fast. In hind sight, the brilliance of this plan is lacking, and is probably why he was still a CPL and not a SGT.
Well, he drove in fast and two of us jumped out. What we didn't anticipate was that the immersion heaters were on. I grabbed the stack and my partner grabbed the heater. We both immediately threw them as far as we could to get them in the back of the truck. Then us and our burned hands jumped in and we rode away.
It was hot showers for us that night. We were heroes, until a Major showed up the next morning looking for an immersion heater that was stolen. With two sets of burned hands against us, we were not successful in our defense! We may have lost the immersion heater but we at least had one warm shower. It was to be the last shower I would have for a few months.
Truth is I didn't live that down. Some 24 years later, as I was retiring that very story was brought up by an old friend to let the boys of my BN know that the crusty, by the book CSM they thought they knew had been a 19 year old, no good thief back in the day.
 
#22 · (Edited)
The CONGO! - Part 1

I had just finished up my third tour in Viet Nam and was assigned as the Asst Operations Officer of a Missile Battalion in Irwin, PA, a very small burg just outside of Pittsburgh. I thoroughly enjoyed my time there and consider it one of my better duty stations. I think the people back in the Pentagon felt sorry for some of us that had been in the jungle for an extended period of time so they went out of their way to find some soft assignments. We spent the next two years there and had a very good tour of duty. A forty-hour or less, week and going home every night to a good hot meal can grow on you and you find yourself getting a little soft. I begin missing my old team and the rigors of the life of an operator. I had made a few calls to my assignment officer back in the puzzle palace to remind him that I was ready to again start earning my paycheck. All I ever heard from him was "Yeah Chief if anything comes along I'll keep you in mind." I was thinking that I would never get back into an operational role and was cursed to spend the rest of my career at a desk. Then the rumors started floating around that our site, along with many other missile sites, would be closed down by the end of the year. Seems that someone decided we would never get into a nuclear war with Russia and all these missile sites are no longer needed. It was confirmed a few days later that the deactivation of our site would begin immediately. I didn't want to be lost in the shuffle so once again I called my assignments officer and reminded him that I am now available for an operator's position - any **** position as long as it was boots on the ground doing something useful. A few days later I received a call from a Colonel "G" at Fort Bragg, my old stomping grounds. He advised me that my name had come up for a special assignment and wanted to know if I would be interested. Without hesitation, I replied, "Is the Pope catholic?" "****" he replied "I just lost $20" "Chuck W. told me that would be your reply, word for word." I could hear a voice in the background "Chief I'll buy ya a bourbon when ya get here." Chuck W was an LTC and he and I had spent many a day in the jungle together sharing "C's" (For you youngsters, C's are C Rations used during the Korean war and the first part of the VietNam debacle). He got on the phone and asked how soon could I get to Bragg. I told him it depended upon how fast I could get the packers in the house and wife and kids located back home with her parents. He then said that this would be an accompanied tour and she and the kids could come along, "Where are we headed?" I asked. After a short pause, he replied "The Congo". Now I have been in some strange places in my life and have been asked to do some strange and weird stuff - but the Congo, was kind of obvious, at least to me, that we were not going to blend into the local scene.....He then went on to say that we would be putting three A Teams together and after a short training requirement and some briefings we would move out into the vast jungle of deep dark Africa. I was pumped and ready to go - now how do I tell the wife and three kids that I traded one jungle for another and they were also coming along.
 
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#23 · (Edited)
Back in 1966 when I was being recruited to serve in the Army at Ft Jackson, SC, my older brother who served 4 years before me and knew the ropes so to speak and knowing I was being drafted to go to Vietnam. Knew I was a crack shot with a rifle form our years hunting and target shooting together. He told me that in Basic training, when you go to qualify at the range in Basic, make sure to miss a few and whatever you do Qualify close to the bottom of your group...And so I did...

Needless to say I got needled from the Sargent and some those who shot Expert and Sharpshooter. So we finally finished our 8 weeks of basic and at graduation we received our new orders and assignments. As I was reading my new orders I looked over at all those Expert and Sharpshooters with tears in their eyes, their orders stated that they were to report to FT Polk, La. for Advanced Infantry Training for another brutal 16 weeks of Infantry training and ya know where they were headed.

I guess the Army didn`t think I was qualified enough to be on the front lines with a rifle, so my orders stated that I was to stay at Jackson for on the job training, So I ended up going over 9 months later with the 589th Eng. Battalion Const. stationed in Ahn Khe at Camp Radcliff in the Central Highlands.



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#25 ·
The CONGO - Part 2

Telling the Wife and Kids

Now comes the hard part, how do I tell my family what I just got them into? Marge has always been a good, no not good, excellent Army wife and understands what I do and why I do it. We only lived five miles from the missile site and she would drive me to work every morning and then I would jog home every evening, trying to stay in shape. The jog home tonight took me a little longer than normal as I would stop every now and then and think about how I was going to break the "good" news to her. That little longer than normal must have been a lot longer than I realized. As I was coming into the house she was just leaving with car keys in hand, she said she had thought something happened and was coming to look for me. I told her no that I was just being lazy, she replied: "You got your orders today and it isn't good. That's why it took you so long to get home. You're not going back to Viet Nam -- are you?" I assured her that I wasn't and that our new assignment was an accompanied tour. That got a smile, then she said where are we going? When I didn't answer right away the smile diminished a bit. She said, "well it can't be that bad if the family is allowed to go." So then I smiled and said "Africa". She said "South Africa, Kenya, Johannesburg will we be near the coast?" Not exactly, we are going to the Congo. "Deep dark Africa" was her reply, better tell the kids before they hear it from the neighbors. We only had the three kids at the time so I summoned them into the living room and told them that we would be headed into a new adventure, we are going to Africa. The two oldest 8 and 4 started jumping up and down and yelling When? When? When? Can we see Elsa from Born Free, can we get a monkey, I want a Cheetah said the oldest. I was worried all day for no reason, everybody was excited and anxious to go. Later that night I told Marge that I would be going to Bragg for a few weeks for some additional training and briefings and we would probably be shipping out soon after I got back. The next morning I got another call to report to Bragg in two weeks and that I would only be there for about five or six days. I was also told not to make any arraignments for shipment of our household goods or car until I returned from Bragg. The personnel sergeant also told me that my wife should also come along for the briefings and if possible not to bring the kids but if I had to they had daycare available for them. Marge's mom & dad lived just up the road from us so they volunteered to watch the kids while we were gone. The next two weeks dragged on as we all were anxious to get this show on the road. We left the site early Sunday morning and arrived at Bragg sometime Monday afternoon, checked into the guest quarters, and then went over to Group Headquarters. It was like a school reunion, I hadn't seen some of these guys in a couple of years and everyone was excited about this new assignment. But nobody knew anything about what we would be doing and where in-country we would be nor when we would be leaving. Colonel "G" and LTC "W" then came into the conference room and everybody settled down and waited anxiously. We were told that the briefings would start tomorrow, 0900, here in the conference room and to bring your spouse along. We then were told we should enjoy ourselves this evening and that a room had been reserved at the club for dinner, cocktails at 1730, dinner at 1830 - BE THERE! We had a great time that evening getting caught up on old times. I learned during the course of the evening that some of us would be here for three days while others six, I was in the six-day group as were several others. I couldn't figure out why and none of the others could either. The next morning found ourselves all in the conference room and anxiously awaiting our briefer. At 0900 in walks our Col & LTC followed by a guy in civies, he was introduced as Mr. A. There was no mention of what government agency he worked for - so the assumption was made that he was an employee of the CIA or DIA or NSA or maybe even the Salvation Army. Stay tuned for part 3
 
#26 ·
The Saga of Lizzy - My Monkey




We deployed three operational teams in the Congo plus the Headquarters team in Kinshasa (Formerly Leopoldville). The other three were located in Lubumbashi, Bukavu, and Kisangani. I made an effort to visit each team at least once a month but it wasn't always possible. Because of the social obligations here in the HQ’s, most of us are married but we did have a few bachelors. About three or four months into the tour I realized I had not visited our headquarters enlisted team living quarters, probably because I saw them daily and knew them from previous assignments. Then the following Friday the Senior Sergeant said “Boss why don’t you and your wife come down to the team house tonight for a few brews and see how us peons have to live.” Need I say I said yes and also found out that he invited a few of the other officers and their wives. Boy was I shocked it was a mansion, each had their own private room with a full bathroom, the common area had a large kitchen, living room with TV (although we did not have electricity 24 hours a day) couch, fireplace, footstools, nice big chairs and then the outside had a swimming pool and hot tub. I looked at my wife and told her I should have come over unaccompanied. But best of all one of the Sgt’s had a BIG beautiful german shepherd named Congo who immediately fell in love with my wife and she with him. He followed her around all night and would not leave her side, when we were leaving she told the Sgt if for any reason you want rid of him we will take him. As luck would have it, both for my wife and the Sergeant we got word that he was selected for promotion to Sergeant Major and would be immediately reassigned to Fort Bragg. He had mixed emotions about leaving the Congo but has elated at being promoted to E-9. We planned a farewell/promotion party for him a few nights before he was to leave, everyone was invited to include folks from the embassy. We all had a great time and the food was some of the best I have ever had - for the Congo.. As we were leaving my wife asked him “what are you doing about Congo?” he said, “why I thought you wanted him.” “I do, I do,” she replied. So the next day I was to pick up the dog after work.

When I got to the team house all the guys had gathered outside around the picnic table with Congo. So I had a beer with them and we talked a bit then I told them I had to get home as my wife was anxiously awaiting her new “baby”. That’s when they all got this crap-eating grin on their face and Sarge said, “Elizabeth goes with Congo” who in the heck is Elizabeth I ask? I thought she has a housemaid or some other, well you know. He then pointed up into a huge avocado tree and there was Elizabeth, about a four-foot-tall, fifty-pound monkey! What could I do? I could not go home without the dog but I had no place to put the monkey. They assured me that she would be okay outside and that she never came into the team house. They had a dog collar around her waist and an extremely long rope snapped to it. She could climb into the tree and move freely around, if she got tangled she was smart enough to untangle herself. They had also built her a treehouse and attached it to the tree so that she could get in if she wanted. One of the guys said he would take it down and bring it out to our quarters the next day and help me put it in our tree. Well, Congo, Elizabeth, and I made it home without incident, although I did think about rolling down the window and throwing her out. As soon as I pulled into the driveway, my wife and two daughters made a mad dash to the car. Congo was beside himself with glee, but Elizabeth was just the opposite. She started screeching, baring her teeth, and charging the window. I didn’t know what to make of it, so I told the girls to go back into the house, as soon as they did Lizzy (as she was soon to be known by)settled back down and was as calm as could be. Got Congo out of the car and into the house and Lizzy attached to our Fig tree. Every time the girls went out Lizzy went crazy and ran after them. Our backyard friends had a chimp who loved our daughters, so I sought their thoughts about her problem. It was rather evident to them - Lizzy came from a warrior's village, females there treated as second class citizens, but she was not, she then came into a US Army camp, again all warriors, no female competition. She probably saw other females as threats to her. Try as we might we could not get her to accept my wife and daughters but they didn’t want to get rid of her. I tried to give her away but her nastiness was well known throughout the US, British, Belgian, French, Italian, Israeli communities so it looked like I was stuck with her. The girls kept a wide berth of her and my wife and I were constantly on guard whenever they played outside. Then one day I got a call from my wife at work, she never called me at work so I knew something was wrong.
As soon as she picked up the phone she said you need to come home - right now. Your dang monkey freed herself and is terrorizing the neighborhood. The wife of the Belgian family that lived next to us (never got along with them)was hosting a “tea” for the ladies of the Belgian Embassy and Lizzy had them all confined to the house and had destroyed the party area, cups, dishes, canopy, chairs all broken and thrown about. But the more serious problem was the kids are due home at any time. They ride the bus with an assortment of kids from the international community and the bus stops across the street from our house. So not only are our two daughters at risk but so are any other girls on the bus. I grabbed two of my sergeants, jumped in the car, and headed home at a very high rate of speed. We got there just as the kids started to get off the bus one of the Sgt’s jumped out of the car while it was still moving and ran over to the bus, he herded the kids back into the bus but one little girl was out of arm's reach and headed down the street. Lizzy ran after her as did my Sgt, both arrived at about the same time however Lizzy had already made a very small scratch on the little girl's leg. Sarge scooped her up and gave Lizzy a helluva of kick and she landed a few yards away. Meanwhile, my other Sgt was on the bus with the door closed explaining to the driver what was taking place. I rounded up Lizzy took her home and locked her in the garage. The three of us then took the little french girl home. I expected the worst from the family but was pleasantly surprised when they said " this is to be expected when one lives in the Congo." I told her to take her daughter to the doctor and we would pay for it. So I and my two guys head over to the house for a brew or two. When we got in the house Marge told me she got a call from the Embassy. I am to report to the embassy first thing in the morning and my Commander is to also be present. I called my boss and started to tell him what happened and he stopped me and said: "I am well aware of what happened." He then asked if I had any cold beer and a good bottle of bourbon, I said yes and he said I'll be over. He and I and the two Sgt's drank a lot of beer and killed a bottle of Maker's Mark. After we ran out of beer he said: "guess it's time to go, see ya in the morning and wear your class A uniform with all ribbons and decorations." So after everyone left I got out my Blues and Marge steamed the wrinkles out of the pants and dusted off the jacket. I got all my awards and decorations out and pinned them on, spit-polished my low quarters, and was ready to go in the morning. Spider (The Colonel) picked me up early, he had his jacket thrown in the back seat so I did likewise. When we got to the Embassy he let me off at the front door and drove around back to find a parking place, said he would meet me inside, I grabbed my jacket, put it on, and started in. When I got to the door the Marine Guard gave me a snappy salute and instead of saying “good morning sir” he said, “**** John I didn’t know you were an officer, are you in trouble?” He further went on to say “you must have bought all these fancy decorations on your chest from the five and ten cent store”. While he and I were BSing Spider came walking up he, the Marine, again came to attention and said in a loud and clear voice GOOD MORNING SIR. Spider returned the salute and continued in, the Marine looked at me and whispered “a full bird.” No one knew anyone's rank, not because it was a secret but because we arrived in civilian clothes, worked in civilian clothes, and called each other by our first name or nickname. When we got to the Ambassador's outer office the secretary told us to grab a cup of coffee and go right in. We passed on the coffee, I opened the door for Spider and we walked in, both of us stood at attention before his desk. He smiled and said this ain’t the Army, relax and have a seat. He went on to say: “I heard several versions of what happened, now I want to hear what really happened” So I started to tell my story from the very start up until the incident. So as the story progressed Spider just sat there and at times would grin and shake his head, he knew **** well what the Ambassador was going to say. So at the end of my short story, he said: “John the monkey goes, I don’t give a **** how the monkey goes BUT it will not go to anyone in the American community, nor any of the other international communities. Any questions, before I could say anything Spider said “No Sir, he understands” and with that, we stood up and left. On the way back to our headquarters he told me that the guys at the team house had tried in the past to move her back into the jungle but she would always return, battered and bruised and nobody in the local village wanted her - the only other solution, yep you guessed it, euthanization! Veterinarians are hard to come by in the jungle so we decided to gas her as that would be a painless option. We had a fairly large cardboard box as Marge had just bought a vacuum cleaner and we could not only use the box but also the hose from the cleaner. So we cut a hole in the box just large enough for the hose, taped it to ensure no leakage, and secured the other end to the car’s exhaust. I then put bits of pineapple in the box, unsnapped Lizy from the tree but still left it attached around her waist. Got her into the box and rapidly taped it shut. Spider had been sitting in the car and as soon as he saw me back off the box started it. She howled and jumped around a bit but soon there was no movement at all. We let the car run for about ten minutes, I then picked up the box and shook it, you could feel her tumbling from side to side, no movement at all, Lizzy was dead. One of the advantages of living in the Congo was that the state department furnished you with a houseboy and a guard. So as we had the car running Marge told the two of them that they had to dispose of Lizy, they both shook their heads yes they would. Spider and I went into the house, grabbed a beer, came out, drank it, and then proceeded to the box. I cut the tape, opened it, and was knocked off balance as Lizzy made a mad jump and dashed out of the box!!! Luckily I had the sense to run after her and step on her chain, she was yanked back as she reached the end of the chain and Spider was there to smack her across her head with a rather heavy board we had. We were both disgusted with such a bungled operation that we went in and had another beer, told the two workers to take care of her, and then we proceeded to have a few more beers. After a bit, Spider got up to leave and on the way out I said I was going to find out where they had buried Lizzy. He got in the car and left and I walked around back to find her grave. DANG, they had her on the grill and invited the neighboring house help over for a meal. What could I do, nothing, I told Marge but we never told the kids.

So ends the Saga of Lizzy.
 
#27 ·
So ends the Saga of Lizzy.

Have no idea how I missed this thread. Great stories.

John, you are a fine story teller and writer, would be more than pleased to hear more of your experiences around the globe, this is exciting stuff to one who has spent a lifetime mostly living and working within a few miles of his birth place, namely me, and I'm sure many others. (y)
 
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