Here are more military stories. I'd like to keep this going as long as I can, so, if you'd like to give your own explanation of why you joined the military or have a military story, please e-mail me with the subject "Military". Thanks.

* * * *

Colton writes about his recent signing up with the Air Force:

There are two reasons that I joined the Air Force. One is that I've always wanted to fly. So why not get paid to do it? I can't really explain why I didn't do that right away after college. Instead I moved to Arizona for a few years and worked for a printing company. Then the second reason happened. September 11th probably sounds like a clichéd reason, but it really was the event that spurred my decision. It wasn't immediate, though. A little while after the attacks I found myself at work talking with a fellow employee, and heard myself say, "I just wish that there was something I could do". It struck me as a very hypocritical thing to say. I was 25 (at the time), healthy, and not particularly enthralled with my job. I COULD help, and so I decided to do it. I bought myself a pilot's license, submitted my application, and now I'm in Navigator school here in Texas.

Scott writes about jumping (and what happens when you refuse to jump):

I've often joked with friends that the initial training I received in the Army (Basic, AIT and Jump school) was the best fun I ever had that I'd never want to repeat. It was during basic paratrooper training that one of my favorite Army Moments (tm) happened.

The third and final week of jump school is appropriately called "Jump Week." Candidates are expected to make five successful (!!) jumps over five days to earn the coveted wings of a paratrooper. Two weeks of preparation on the ground and in the training towers are meant to provide sufficient mental conditioning to override any natural resistance to throwing one's self out of a high-performance aircraft at 1500' during the final week. To accomplish this, the regimen includes a seemingly endless repetition of the steps performed aboard the aircraft prior to the actual jump. Falling is the easy part of an airborne operation; gravity does most of the work. It's getting out of the plane that takes some skill.

My stick and I (jumpers are broken down into 12-person groups called "sticks") were on the last load of the day. We'd spent more than 12 hours on the airfield enduring the heat and humidity of a Georgia summer, the whole while laden down with jump gear and with nothing to divert our minds from what we were about to do. Sweat, fatigue and nerves would take their toll on one of our number shortly.

The aircraft reached jump altitude and we were on heading to the release point. As the Jumpmasters opened the doors on either side of the aircraft, the anxiety level shot off the scales. Both Jumpmasters turned to their sticks (one on each side of the aircraft) and began issuing the final instructions:

JM: "Check equipment!"

Jumpers: *nervously touching everything associated with their chutes and harnesses to make sure nothing looked out place, and not really knowing what an out-of-place item would actually look like*

JM: "Sound off with equipment check!"

At this point, the last jumper in each stick is supposed to yell "Okay!" and smack the jumper in front of him on the helmet, ass, or arm. That jumper then shouts "Okay!" and smacks the jumper in front of him. This goes all the way to the front of the stick, with the first jumper being expected to look the Jumpmaster in the eyes, point at him and yell, "All okay, Jumpmaster!" From which point the Jumpmaster can order the first jumper to "Stand in the door!" and await the green light to "Go!"

That's what's supposed to happen.

We had made it to the equipment check, and the chorus of voices relaying the "Okay!" status got to the first jumper in my stick. He looked the Jumpmaster dead in the eye, pointed to him and shouted, "All okay, Jumpmaster! But I'm not going!"

The Jumpmaster's mouth fell open in a look of shock and disbelief. He glanced over to the Jumpaster at the other door, who had a similar look on his face. A glance back at the offending candidate, another look to the other Jumpmaster and then a look of well-controlled, angry determination settled on his face. He peeked out the open door, took a step toward the candidate, and before we could register what was happening, grabbed him by the harness and threw him out into the sky. Jumpmaster settled back into his position by the door, looked at the new number-one jumper in the stick, glared at him and issued the second to last command, "Stand in the door!"

When he ordered the command to "Go!", no one else in the stick had any trouble finding his/her way to the exit.

Exredleg has a story about children's strange affinity for MRE's:

Okay ... here is a little story for your "Our Military" section! BTW ... I was stationed with "DNice" at that Lance Missile Battalion in Germany (2-12th FA! Herzo Base!)

While out in the German countryside during a REFORGER exercise, our field site was practically overrun by little kids seeking chem-lites or our MREs (God knows why!).

One little guy was very persistent. He'd ride his bike through our site asking "MRE? MRE? MRE?" To his credit, he usually brought some REAL food from home to trade (and the occasional bottle of beer).

One day, on what must have been his ump-teenth visit to our site, he rides up again begging us for MREs ...

"MRE? MRE? MRE?" the little German kid asked.

"Yeah, I'll give you an MRE ..." said one of our smart-ass mechanics, " ... for your sister!"

We all had a good laugh as the kid sped away from out site.

Not 20 minutes later ... the little guy came back with his sister; his BABY sister ... in the front basket of his bicycle!

We gave the kid a bunch or MREs, and even some bonus chem-lites ... and let him keep his sister!

Strange but true!

• Currently 1.89/5
• 1
• 2
• 3
• 4
• 5
• 6
• 7
• 8
• 9
• 10

Rating: 1.9/5 (19 votes cast)

Our Military
Email This | Add to del.icio.us | Digg this | Stumble It!