My Job, My Hell...

Share a survival experience with us and explain what you learned from it. You might help someone.

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Laager
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Re: My Job, My Hell...

Post by Laager » Sun Dec 13, 2015 6:19 pm

While stationed in Korea I used to go downtown with a guy from my Platoon. We were encouraged to never go downtown by ourselves, since there was a group of soldiers mugging people (stealing their wallets and cash, then tossing them in "Sh*t river).

While I felt pretty safe (since it was my platoon doing it), it was always a good idea to go with someone or the First Sergeant would make you escort someone.

Now I believe I have mentioned Guillermo "Bill" Padilla before, but this guy would eat just about anything. His normal response was "I was born and raised in Juarez, I can eat anything" and he would try just about anything. Even stuff that was to say the least "questionable". I questioned his thought process more than once, especially since he would partake of the Field Whor*s services when we were up at Rodriguez Range.

Two days before we left the range he bought some food from a food vendor and asked me if I wanted some. It was bad enough that he borrowed the money from me to buy it, but then he wanted me to use my money (not the cash I loaned him) to buy more, I'm pretty sure he planned on mooching some of the food I bought off of me.

I declined and just up and bought him another helping.

The morning we left to return to Camp Casey he was telling me that he felt a bit off.

By the time we were released he was looking a bit off......and was sweating. I told him that he might want to go see the Medic, but he wanted to go downtown to visit the doumi' girls (also known as bar girls, juicy girls, by me drink girls). They even had them working at the Clubs on Post as well. However the doumi girls on Post were paid to hang out with men in karaoke bars and encourage them to drink. It was a common practice in the Far East or at least it was back in the 70's and 80's. I believe currently it is called Human trafficking and is frowned upon.

Anyway, we went up and picked up our day pass and took off for downtown TDC. We stopped at a food place and grabbed some deep fried stuff and pressed on.

Right about midway through his first beer he told me he had to hit the latrine. I nodded my head and watched him head out.

I am not a real drinker, I have a two beer limit. Actually it is a two drink limit period and I usually drink them fairly slowly. So when I finished my first beer and the doumi girl he had left at the table started asking me to buy her another drink, I started getting worried.

I was going to order another beer, but decided that I better check on him. So I bought the doumi another drink (usually watered down) and told her to hold the table and went looking for the latrine.

I found the latrine.....and well Korean latrines (or stalls) do not have toilets. You basically squat over a slit in the floor or over a porcelain trough to do your number two. The better places have running water to "flush" with, the bars back then did not. The honey truck would come and clean out the septic tanks on a regular basis and then they used the collected stuff to fertilize their fields. On a side note we were told not to eat downtown especially anything that came out of the ground, drink the water or let them put ice cubes in our drinks.

I did not see him in the latrine, so I went back out and did not see him, so I went back into the latrine and started looking under the door.

I found him.

Unfortunately I found him face down in the slit.

Think about it for a moment......a rectangle cut into the floor for drunks to pee into and take a dump into........I do not like to use public latrines......and I never liked to even go near a Korean public latrine.

There is stuff all over the place.......on the positive side you do not have to worry about your husband or male friends lifting the seat....on the negative side there is fluids and stuff all around the slit.

I managed to get him up and was trying to get him to wash up a bit, but he wanted to go back out and finish his beer and visit with the doumi for a bit. Doumi's provided a service and if you wanted to use that particular service it could be for a short time or long time. I do not know what the short time (length of time) was, but the long time was all night and cost a bit more than the short time.

I tried to tell him that he needed to head back to the Post, but he was adamant that he was fine. So back to the table we go.

Well to cut to the chase the doumi was not happy and ended up leaving. I ended up dragging him back to the Post, had to get the MP's to call for an ambulance to take him to the Post hospital. Then I had to write up a statement and then missed the last bus up the hill and had to run back.

I'm not real sure why the doumi left, but I do believe it had something to do with the two brown streaks that ran down the length of Bill's face. It also could have been the fact that he threw up all over himself and at some point shit himself.

But hey, what do I really know about women.........pretty much nothing. Since I still am amazed that Lil asked me to marry her.

It turns out that if you are sick enough that you actually loose all control over your "muscle" control while puking........and I can tell you it certainly isn't fun. Although when it happened to me I was "lucky" to be on an airplane somewhere between San Francisco and Korea. What I can say is that given enough incentive I will use a public latrine, even one on an airplane and that the toilet seat and sink are very conveniently located.
“Complacency kills. Paranoia is the reason I’m still alive.” If we do happen to make contact, I expect nothing less than gratuitous violence from the lot of ya.

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Re: My Job, My Hell...

Post by feanor » Mon Dec 14, 2015 1:38 am

Laager wrote:
I tried to tell him that he needed to head back to the Post, but he was adamant that he was fine. So back to the table we go.
That kind of single minded horny I can never even begin to understand.

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Re: My Job, My Hell...

Post by Laager » Tue Dec 15, 2015 4:39 pm

feanor wrote:
Laager wrote:
I tried to tell him that he needed to head back to the Post, but he was adamant that he was fine. So back to the table we go.
That kind of single minded horny I can never even begin to understand.


I never understood it either and still can't to this day. Besides there was not a single girl n that bar that was willing to take the money and the Ajumma would not make them take it either. While it hurt his feelings, it was good to know that at least the Ajumma had some standards and was at least looking out for the girls somewhat.

I'm not real sure what made them leave or not come over to the table......the way he smelled or the fact that he had two lines of poop running down his face. Then again it could have been the fact that it was on his hands and he also had puke all over.

The Ajumma was nice enough to give me a couple of rags to use to cover my hands, I asked her if she wanted them back and she said no.

Then again I've seen worse.....I once followed Fitz for seven hours on a search for a girl, which ended in him being picked up by two Bakla just before the midnight curfew(I would like to point out that the later it got the less attractive the women were, but he kept pressing on. The smart soldiers, sailors and marines would get the good looking girls out early, then go back and get drunk.). It did not end well.......
“Complacency kills. Paranoia is the reason I’m still alive.” If we do happen to make contact, I expect nothing less than gratuitous violence from the lot of ya.

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Re: My Job, My Hell...

Post by feanor » Wed Dec 16, 2015 1:18 am

Laager wrote:

I'm not real sure what made them leave or not come over to the table......the way he smelled or the fact that he had two lines of poop running down his face. Then again it could have been the fact that it was on his hands and he also had puke all over.

The Ajumma was nice enough to give me a couple of rags to use to cover my hands, I asked her if she wanted them back and she said no.

Then again I've seen worse.....I once followed Fitz for seven hours on a search for a girl, which ended in him being picked up by two Bakla just before the midnight curfew(I would like to point out that the later it got the less attractive the women were, but he kept pressing on. The smart soldiers, sailors and marines would get the good looking girls out early, then go back and get drunk.). It did not end well.......
He must've been a sight to see, and smell.

How can you hunt for a hooker for seven hours and still come up dry?

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Re: My Job, My Hell...

Post by Laager » Wed Dec 16, 2015 8:19 am

feanor wrote:
Laager wrote:

I'm not real sure what made them leave or not come over to the table......the way he smelled or the fact that he had two lines of poop running down his face. Then again it could have been the fact that it was on his hands and he also had puke all over.

The Ajumma was nice enough to give me a couple of rags to use to cover my hands, I asked her if she wanted them back and she said no.

Then again I've seen worse.....I once followed Fitz for seven hours on a search for a girl, which ended in him being picked up by two Bakla just before the midnight curfew(I would like to point out that the later it got the less attractive the women were, but he kept pressing on. The smart soldiers, sailors and marines would get the good looking girls out early, then go back and get drunk.). It did not end well.......
He must've been a sight to see, and smell.

How can you hunt for a hooker for seven hours and still come up dry?

Being picky..........All the way up Magsaysay Drive starting on the left side as you come out the gate, up to the Iron Butterfly, then back down the right side, onto Gordon street, then back out again until you hit the unisex barber shop. It was a long night.

At 2330 hours I told him I was done and we needed to get to the gate. You had to be inside the gate by midnight or off the streets until early in the morning. Then two "girls" stopped us in the street.

He said he was looking for the perfect one.........well he found the perfect guys dressed up as girls.


I even asked him why he could not be like the other guys and have a steady Honeyko in three or four bars, so that if one was taken, they would fall back on the next one and so on.
“Complacency kills. Paranoia is the reason I’m still alive.” If we do happen to make contact, I expect nothing less than gratuitous violence from the lot of ya.

Laager
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Re: My Job, My Hell...

Post by Laager » Wed Dec 16, 2015 4:30 pm

It must just be me....my cousin James came over and was talking about some range time and said he slapped the bolt on his Mosin like a Russian Mail Order Bride and no one even blinked.

What the heck?


Although my granddaughter did glance my way..........
“Complacency kills. Paranoia is the reason I’m still alive.” If we do happen to make contact, I expect nothing less than gratuitous violence from the lot of ya.

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Re: My Job, My Hell...

Post by LyraJean » Wed Dec 16, 2015 11:06 pm

Today I had a customer who wanted to buy abreva to treat her genital herpes. Then when the pharmacist said he could not recommend that she claimed she knew more than him and he didn't know what he was talking about. But at least she didn't buy the abreva.
My blog: Beyond Tourism: Florida's Yesteryear A blog about Florida History

Laager
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Re: My Job, My Hell...

Post by Laager » Wed Dec 16, 2015 11:52 pm

LyraJean wrote:Today I had a customer who wanted to buy abreva to treat her genital herpes. Then when the pharmacist said he could not recommend that she claimed she knew more than him and he didn't know what he was talking about. But at least she didn't buy the abreva.



I wonder if the reason she knew more than him was because she already tried it before? Hmmmmm, I wonder what is says on the box?



Well I decided to do a web search and this popped up as the first choice:


http://pinktent.com/abreva-cream-the-in ... An3_8P8HAQ


Abreva Cream- The Ins and Outs
By Contributing author Stephanie


Abreva cream is a topical ointment used to treat cold sores; at least that is how it is marketed. Customer reviews on numerous websites show success for the medicine. People who have used Abreva report that the time it takes for the cold sores to heal decreases, the severity of the sore or sores decreases, and there are even reports that it can be used to prevent a sore from ever actually showing up. Overall, people seem to have great success with Abreva. After diving into the use of it a bit more I found that it targets sores caused by HSV-1 (as opposed to HSV-2), which we know can also appear genitally.


I searched to see if the cream could be used for genital lesions as well, and after finding out that it certainly can be (as long as those legions are caused by HSV-1) I began to deconstruct why the company might market the product in the way that it does. The stigma associated with oral herpes is very different than that associated with genital herpes, and unfortunately a company is smart to steer clear from the later. In one of my earlier blogs, “The Social Construction of Genital Herpes,” I touch on why the stigma of genital herpes is the way it is. Because oral herpes is not as closely associated with sex, the stigma is not the same. There is also something to be said about the inability to conceal our herpes when it appears orally.



So I guess it would pay to know if you are HSV1 or HSV2.
“Complacency kills. Paranoia is the reason I’m still alive.” If we do happen to make contact, I expect nothing less than gratuitous violence from the lot of ya.

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Stercutus
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Re: My Job, My Hell...

Post by Stercutus » Thu Dec 17, 2015 1:25 am

So your Korea Story reminded of a Germany story.

During the Cold War they held an annual exercise called Reforger. This was a huge event calling for the deployment of forces from the US and other countries to fight the Red Hordes Streaming through the Fulda Gap. Anyhow we were all packed up and ready to roll out at 0430 the next morning and our squad decides to go down town to Frankfurt-Sachsenhausen and blow off some steam before heading to the field for 40 days. Our platoon sergeant is a Vietnam Vet E6 with 19 years in tells us to make sure we get back in time. If anyone misses movement it is all of our asses. We agreed that we would all take the last train back which would leave at 0020. The first train in the morning is not until 0500 too late to get back.

So we head down there and everyone gets at least moderately drunk on some fine German beer, except for SGT Serbe who really likes Whiskey and another of the guys named Green who is about 270 lbs and he gets falling down drunk.

Serbe tended to get a bit nasty when he was drunk and liked to start fights with people who were at least a head taller and 50 pounds heavier than him. True to form about 1130 PM I see him rip a trophy off the wall of the bar and proceed to beat a soldier from a different unit about the head and shoulders with it. We all go rushing in and there is a general melee in the bar. This goes on for a couple of minutes until the barkeep starts yelling that the polizei are on their way.

Nobody sticks around for the polizei and their rubber spring loaded billy clubs. We all scatter out into the alleys. Typically if they caught you misbehaving they would beat your ass with the billy clubs, then turn you over to the MPs who would take you back to our unit where you would get charged. We meet up and notice that Green is missing. We don't want to go back to the club but we can't leave our team mate either.

So we fly a missing man formation and find that the bar is closed. We figure he has either been captured or is on his way back so we hot foot it to the bahnhoff. We get there just before the train and we find Green passed out on a bench. After several minutes of not being able to revive him the train arrives so I pick his dead weight up and hoist him on to the train. I am a big guy but Green is at least 70 pounds more than me. Everyone else is either too drunk or too small to carry him.

We keep trying to wake him to no avail and we have to change trains at the main train station, which involves walking up two large flights of stairs. Using incredibly good judgment I decide to drag him off the train to the steps a distance of about 100 meters then I carry him up the first flight. I start to get winded when this large Amazonian German lady appears. When I say large she is about 6'4" and 250 lbs. She speaks great English and tells me she is fire fighter and wants to know what is wrong with our friend.

I explain he had a little too much to drink and she takes a look at him. She agrees he is passed out drunk and I notice she is a little tipsy too. I tell her we have got to go because the train is coming and she volunteers to carry him up the second flight of stairs! I can't say no to that.

She picks Green up and hoists him on her shoulders like he is a 10lb sack of potatoes and turns around. When she turns around she smacks Green's head into the wall accidentally, raising a nice goose egg over his right eye. He doesn't stir. Off we go and we get on the train and head back to the barracks. From the last train stop it is still a half mile walk to the barracks. German Fire Fighter lady volunteers to carry him back to the barracks and we let her go for it. She has been really cool about the whole thing and quite entertaining.

It is almost 0200 when we get back to the barracks and Germany lady realizes that there are no more trains. We come up with the brilliant plan to sneak her into the barracks. The guard is half asleep in the shack and we just wave our ID's at him. Green is starting to come out of it about now and German Amazon sets him down then takes him to his room and starts having her with him in his mostly passed out state?!? Well, she did do all the heavy lifting and we are thinking he probably won't complain.

Thinking the night is over and things are quieted down I head to my room for a couple of hours of sleep. About a minute after I lay down I hear a tapping at my window. I look outside there and it is the platoon sergeant dressed in a light coat of oil and nothing else. For some reason he thinks I am SGT Serbe (room next door to me) and he is telling me that he is having PTSD flashbacks about Vietnam and he doesn't think he will be able to go to the field with us.

I tended to agree and my roommate runs and grabs the CQ to tell him to bring some guys and come get him. The next thing I know he is running all over the quad plex screaming a mish mash of English and Vietnamese waving his dick at people and tries (unsuccessfully) to scale the wall. They end up calling the MP's who then snatch him up but the commotion raises a ruckus that wakes up half the compound. I head back to my room hoping to get at least an hour of sleep.

The next thing I hear is Green yelling from Green's room; "Don't touch me, get off off of me!".

He comes running out of his room, also naked, screaming that there is a man trying to rape him. As it turns out he was proven half wrong as German Amazon woman then appeared (also naked) in hot pursuit of her prize. She was clearly a woman but I could understand the argument. She is trying to get Green calmed down and back into the room when the CQ sees them and starts calling for the MP's. The last thing Green says he remembers is being in the fight in the bar.

Ah, discretion. I run back in my room and lock the door hoping the night will end.

But no.

The First Sergeant shows up and boy is he hot. He wants to know "why the fuck we got naked people running around all over the place" and "why the fuck can't we fucks get even one thing right, ever". Everyone gets drug out into the hallway and he looks in all the rooms finding, of course yet more women who are not supposed to be in the barracks in various states of undress. He fires the CQ on the spot and tells me to take over. I am still a little tipsy but; what the hell I wasn't going to get any sleep any way.

We still rolled out on time but the fallout goes on for a couple of days. I go a good 72 hours without sleep and turn into one of the walking dead briefly. Eventually Green sort of finds out what happened to him and thanks me for looking out. A couple of the guys told him that I carried him the whole way home and that the big German girl is a big mystery. I let him roll with it for while until I figured he was calm enough to know the truth.

The good old days.
These days of dust
Which we've known
Will blow away with this new Son

But I'll kneel down wait for now
And I'll kneel down
Know my ground

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Re: My Job, My Hell...

Post by LyraJean » Thu Dec 17, 2015 8:19 am

Laager wrote:
LyraJean wrote:Today I had a customer who wanted to buy abreva to treat her genital herpes. Then when the pharmacist said he could not recommend that she claimed she knew more than him and he didn't know what he was talking about. But at least she didn't buy the abreva.



I wonder if the reason she knew more than him was because she already tried it before? Hmmmmm, I wonder what is says on the box?



Well I decided to do a web search and this popped up as the first choice:


http://pinktent.com/abreva-cream-the-in ... An3_8P8HAQ


Abreva Cream- The Ins and Outs
By Contributing author Stephanie


Abreva cream is a topical ointment used to treat cold sores; at least that is how it is marketed. Customer reviews on numerous websites show success for the medicine. People who have used Abreva report that the time it takes for the cold sores to heal decreases, the severity of the sore or sores decreases, and there are even reports that it can be used to prevent a sore from ever actually showing up. Overall, people seem to have great success with Abreva. After diving into the use of it a bit more I found that it targets sores caused by HSV-1 (as opposed to HSV-2), which we know can also appear genitally.


I searched to see if the cream could be used for genital lesions as well, and after finding out that it certainly can be (as long as those legions are caused by HSV-1) I began to deconstruct why the company might market the product in the way that it does. The stigma associated with oral herpes is very different than that associated with genital herpes, and unfortunately a company is smart to steer clear from the later. In one of my earlier blogs, “The Social Construction of Genital Herpes,” I touch on why the stigma of genital herpes is the way it is. Because oral herpes is not as closely associated with sex, the stigma is not the same. There is also something to be said about the inability to conceal our herpes when it appears orally.



So I guess it would pay to know if you are HSV1 or HSV2.
She mentioned that and claimed that the medication would work on both because the medication wouldn't know the difference. She is one of our crazier customers (other customers better be at least 20 feet away or she thinks they can read her credit card and steal her identity). She has claimed to have brain cancer and any other number of ailments but she is always saying something different so you don't know what is true and what is not. Her doctor doesn't even want to deal with her on the times we've had to call him to fix CII medications.

She claims she knows more because she took some pre-med and a pharmacology course back in the day but she has to write everything down because her memory is shot to hell. Which is the only thing we know for sure and certain is wrong with her. (Not saying she is lying about everything else but it changes every month) like she'll come in saying she has a brain tumor next month no brain tumor but glaucoma. This month it was herpes. She think the government is out to get her too. Tried to show me how to disable my location thing on my phone so the government can't find me.
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Re: My Job, My Hell...

Post by emclean » Thu Dec 17, 2015 8:53 am

Tried to show me how to disable my location thing on my phone so the government can't find me.
just whisper to her that you don't want your big brother having any trouble finding you. bet she will leave you alone after that.

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Re: My Job, My Hell...

Post by Laager » Thu Dec 17, 2015 1:18 pm

Stercutus wrote:So your Korea Story reminded of a Germany story.

During the Cold War they held an annual exercise called Reforger. This was a huge event calling for the deployment of forces from the US and other countries to fight the Red Hordes Streaming through the Fulda Gap. Anyhow we were all packed up and ready to roll out at 0430 the next morning and our squad decides to go down town to Frankfurt-Sachsenhausen and blow off some steam before heading to the field for 40 days. Our platoon sergeant is a Vietnam Vet E6 with 19 years in tells us to make sure we get back in time. If anyone misses movement it is all of our asses. We agreed that we would all take the last train back which would leave at 0020. The first train in the morning is not until 0500 too late to get back.

So we head down there and everyone gets at least moderately drunk on some fine German beer, except for SGT Serbe who really likes Whiskey and another of the guys named Green who is about 270 lbs and he gets falling down drunk.

Serbe tended to get a bit nasty when he was drunk and liked to start fights with people who were at least a head taller and 50 pounds heavier than him. True to form about 1130 PM I see him rip a trophy off the wall of the bar and proceed to beat a soldier from a different unit about the head and shoulders with it. We all go rushing in and there is a general melee in the bar. This goes on for a couple of minutes until the barkeep starts yelling that the polizei are on their way.

Nobody sticks around for the polizei and their rubber spring loaded billy clubs. We all scatter out into the alleys. Typically if they caught you misbehaving they would beat your ass with the billy clubs, then turn you over to the MPs who would take you back to our unit where you would get charged. We meet up and notice that Green is missing. We don't want to go back to the club but we can't leave our team mate either.

So we fly a missing man formation and find that the bar is closed. We figure he has either been captured or is on his way back so we hot foot it to the bahnhoff. We get there just before the train and we find Green passed out on a bench. After several minutes of not being able to revive him the train arrives so I pick his dead weight up and hoist him on to the train. I am a big guy but Green is at least 70 pounds more than me. Everyone else is either too drunk or too small to carry him.

We keep trying to wake him to no avail and we have to change trains at the main train station, which involves walking up two large flights of stairs. Using incredibly good judgment I decide to drag him off the train to the steps a distance of about 100 meters then I carry him up the first flight. I start to get winded when this large Amazonian German lady appears. When I say large she is about 6'4" and 250 lbs. She speaks great English and tells me she is fire fighter and wants to know what is wrong with our friend.

I explain he had a little too much to drink and she takes a look at him. She agrees he is passed out drunk and I notice she is a little tipsy too. I tell her we have got to go because the train is coming and she volunteers to carry him up the second flight of stairs! I can't say no to that.

She picks Green up and hoists him on her shoulders like he is a 10lb sack of potatoes and turns around. When she turns around she smacks Green's head into the wall accidentally, raising a nice goose egg over his right eye. He doesn't stir. Off we go and we get on the train and head back to the barracks. From the last train stop it is still a half mile walk to the barracks. German Fire Fighter lady volunteers to carry him back to the barracks and we let her go for it. She has been really cool about the whole thing and quite entertaining.

It is almost 0200 when we get back to the barracks and Germany lady realizes that there are no more trains. We come up with the brilliant plan to sneak her into the barracks. The guard is half asleep in the shack and we just wave our ID's at him. Green is starting to come out of it about now and German Amazon sets him down then takes him to his room and starts having her with him in his mostly passed out state?!? Well, she did do all the heavy lifting and we are thinking he probably won't complain.

Thinking the night is over and things are quieted down I head to my room for a couple of hours of sleep. About a minute after I lay down I hear a tapping at my window. I look outside there and it is the platoon sergeant dressed in a light coat of oil and nothing else. For some reason he thinks I am SGT Serbe (room next door to me) and he is telling me that he is having PTSD flashbacks about Vietnam and he doesn't think he will be able to go to the field with us.

I tended to agree and my roommate runs and grabs the CQ to tell him to bring some guys and come get him. The next thing I know he is running all over the quad plex screaming a mish mash of English and Vietnamese waving his dick at people and tries (unsuccessfully) to scale the wall. They end up calling the MP's who then snatch him up but the commotion raises a ruckus that wakes up half the compound. I head back to my room hoping to get at least an hour of sleep.

The next thing I hear is Green yelling from Green's room; "Don't touch me, get off off of me!".

He comes running out of his room, also naked, screaming that there is a man trying to rape him. As it turns out he was proven half wrong as German Amazon woman then appeared (also naked) in hot pursuit of her prize. She was clearly a woman but I could understand the argument. She is trying to get Green calmed down and back into the room when the CQ sees them and starts calling for the MP's. The last thing Green says he remembers is being in the fight in the bar.

Ah, discretion. I run back in my room and lock the door hoping the night will end.

But no.

The First Sergeant shows up and boy is he hot. He wants to know "why the fuck we got naked people running around all over the place" and "why the fuck can't we fucks get even one thing right, ever". Everyone gets drug out into the hallway and he looks in all the rooms finding, of course yet more women who are not supposed to be in the barracks in various states of undress. He fires the CQ on the spot and tells me to take over. I am still a little tipsy but; what the hell I wasn't going to get any sleep any way.

We still rolled out on time but the fallout goes on for a couple of days. I go a good 72 hours without sleep and turn into one of the walking dead briefly. Eventually Green sort of finds out what happened to him and thanks me for looking out. A couple of the guys told him that I carried him the whole way home and that the big German girl is a big mystery. I let him roll with it for while until I figured he was calm enough to know the truth.

The good old days.



Reforger.....what a huge waste of time.......the beer was good, but they never fed us. 40 days of running around in the woods and we never even saw the OPFOR. But we ended up with "injured" soldiers anyway and even ended up being non combat effective a few times.

My last tour I managed to get stationed at Lee Barracks.......far away from the Border Cav and we never left Garrison other than a trip up to "The Rock" or Baumholder.

We had some of the same issues, I spent many a night in the cage at U.S. Army Garrison Yongsan. Not because I drank, but because I would not leave them behind. The cage was the "overflow" for the drunk tank, funny how all the soldiers from up North ended up in the cage.

The CSM and my First Sergeant and Platoon Sergeant told me I was only numbnuts they knew that had spent some much time in the drunk tank without being drunk.

I almost received an article 15 not from all the times in the cage, but for disrespecting my Company Commander........he was a PT wackjob........as it was when we were in garrison we ran five miles (plus grass drills) three times a week before he got there, then he changed it to five times a week and anyone that fell out did not get a pass for a week. Which meant they were not allowed to leave the Post (unless like most squared away crooks and thieves they had a slickie pass).

This moron would not check the weather reports before assigning the PT uniform of the day....and the NCO's just sucked it up and pressed on. Unfortunately it was always shorts, t-shirts and running shoes (this was in the 80's when the army decided that running in combat boots and OD Greens was counter productive or something. More likely some PT running officer was working for an OPR bullet or something). Worked fine in the summer and even in the rain, but come winter time it was horrendously brutal.

I was hanging back with one of the guys that was having trouble when he ran back from the front of the Company formation to ask us what our malfunction was........

I told him that I thought I might have pulled a muscle or something and coughed a little bit......

His response was to tell me that I need to stretch it out........I told him I would if I could, but my balls were tickling my tonsils and the reason I was coughing was my penis was trying to choke me to death and there was not farking way they were going to be stretched out of my throat.....


Fun times.......for the most part........


I still get to Korea every once in awhile, it certainly has changed a lot. For the best imho, Soju still farking harsh as heck and awful but the grandkids get a kick out of the way I drink it. Korean style..........I spent way to much time in the Far East. Drinking it in Korea is part ritual and I drank a lot with some of the Korean ROK soldiers (not the KATUSAs). Those ROK soldiers were nuts.........guess I fit right end.

I got the snot slapped out of me at ROK Ranger school by their CSM for not drinking it correctly. I briefly thought about being told that the ROK instructors would not treat us like the ROK recruits.......but decided it was for the best to just shut up, suck it up and drive on smartly.
“Complacency kills. Paranoia is the reason I’m still alive.” If we do happen to make contact, I expect nothing less than gratuitous violence from the lot of ya.

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Re: My Job, My Hell...

Post by Barnabus » Mon Dec 21, 2015 4:55 pm

Laager wrote:The honey truck would come and clean out the septic tanks on a regular basis and then they used the collected stuff to fertilize their fields..
I thought human shit wasn't supposed to ever be used for fertilizer ?
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Re: My Job, My Hell...

Post by Mad Mike » Mon Dec 21, 2015 10:05 pm

Barnabus wrote:
Laager wrote:The honey truck would come and clean out the septic tanks on a regular basis and then they used the collected stuff to fertilize their fields..
I thought human shit wasn't supposed to ever be used for fertilizer ?
Not true in the rest of the world, so take your chances with local produce......

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Re: My Job, My Hell...

Post by Laager » Tue Dec 22, 2015 12:53 pm

Barnabus wrote:
Laager wrote:The honey truck would come and clean out the septic tanks on a regular basis and then they used the collected stuff to fertilize their fields..
I thought human shit wasn't supposed to ever be used for fertilizer ?


Only in the more "modern" nations.........they used to have "shit pits" out in the fields where you did not want to walk into the pit.......daylight ops were fine, but the night patrols were rough. Those first gen NVGs did not work at all with depth perception......one minute the point man would be there, then the next he was gone and if you were down wind.....a really bad smell would come wafting on the wind.

I believe the term was "Night Soil"...........

Rumor had it that "Jeju pigs" or black pigs from the Jeju island were fed human waste. Heuk dweji, or black pig (the meat is not black, the pigs hair is black, and usually a piece of skin with hair was included with the order to prove you were getting real Jeju pig).

It was also called ddong dweji (shit pig), because these pigs were kept in a pen just below the outdoor latrine and that is what they ate.
“Complacency kills. Paranoia is the reason I’m still alive.” If we do happen to make contact, I expect nothing less than gratuitous violence from the lot of ya.

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Re: My Job, My Hell...

Post by ZombieGranny » Tue Dec 22, 2015 1:51 pm

In my day, we didn't have virtual reality.
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Re: My Job, My Hell...

Post by LyraJean » Tue Dec 22, 2015 10:10 pm

I always have customers come into my pharmacy and ask me where the lice shampoo is while simultaneously trying to get their head as close as they can to mine. I'm like hey I believe you please stand back. Or well that's what I want to say as I slowly back away from their infected scalp.
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Re: My Job, My Hell...

Post by shrapnel » Wed Dec 23, 2015 1:29 pm

Awkward: Trying to draw blood on a formerly super sweet, grandfatherly guy who had a Medical Event while already in the hospital a few days ago, and discovering that he was newly willing to grab my boobs and crotch. Apparently he is not doing so well.

Extra awkward: he was calling me his wife's name while he did it

Infinite awkward: I know it was his wife's name because she was in the room with us, trying to tell him that I wasn't her.

She apologized profusely, called the lab to apologize more, and also offered to bring us cookies. I'm not one to turn down cookies, but the whole thing is in the top five saddest things I've ever seen.
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Re: My Job, My Hell...

Post by LyraJean » Wed Dec 23, 2015 11:09 pm

shrapnel wrote:Awkward: Trying to draw blood on a formerly super sweet, grandfatherly guy who had a Medical Event while already in the hospital a few days ago, and discovering that he was newly willing to grab my boobs and crotch. Apparently he is not doing so well.

Extra awkward: he was calling me his wife's name while he did it

Infinite awkward: I know it was his wife's name because she was in the room with us, trying to tell him that I wasn't her.

She apologized profusely, called the lab to apologize more, and also offered to bring us cookies. I'm not one to turn down cookies, but the whole thing is in the top five saddest things I've ever seen.
Perhaps he has Alzheimer's and you look like his wife when they were younger or maybe just the same hair color. Yes, sad and really awkward.
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Re: My Job, My Hell...

Post by Stercutus » Thu Dec 24, 2015 4:31 pm

shrapnel wrote:Awkward: Trying to draw blood on a formerly super sweet, grandfatherly guy who had a Medical Event while already in the hospital a few days ago, and discovering that he was newly willing to grab my boobs and crotch. Apparently he is not doing so well.

Extra awkward: he was calling me his wife's name while he did it

Infinite awkward: I know it was his wife's name because she was in the room with us, trying to tell him that I wasn't her.

She apologized profusely, called the lab to apologize more, and also offered to bring us cookies. I'm not one to turn down cookies, but the whole thing is in the top five saddest things I've ever seen.
At least you got cookies. Normally it works the other way around.
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Re: My Job, My Hell...

Post by shrapnel » Fri Dec 25, 2015 2:11 am

LyraJean wrote:
shrapnel wrote:Awkward: Trying to draw blood on a formerly super sweet, grandfatherly guy who had a Medical Event while already in the hospital a few days ago, and discovering that he was newly willing to grab my boobs and crotch. Apparently he is not doing so well.

Extra awkward: he was calling me his wife's name while he did it

Infinite awkward: I know it was his wife's name because she was in the room with us, trying to tell him that I wasn't her.

She apologized profusely, called the lab to apologize more, and also offered to bring us cookies. I'm not one to turn down cookies, but the whole thing is in the top five saddest things I've ever seen.
Perhaps he has Alzheimer's and you look like his wife when they were younger or maybe just the same hair color. Yes, sad and really awkward.
He started out pleasantly confused (but was able to remember who I was, so not so bad), but whatever happened to his brain during his code made things much worse. :(
OTTB wrote:"What's that you're wearing?"
"This? Oh, just my rabies hat."
shrapnel wrote:Darling, I would never fondle your sphenoid.
Dr. Cox wrote: People aren't chocolates. Do you know what they are mostly? Bastards. Bastard-coated bastards with bastard fillings.
JamesCannon wrote:Shrapnel, if you were a superhero, you'd be Captain Buzzkill Peener Pain.

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Re: My Job, My Hell...

Post by shrapnel » Sat Jan 02, 2016 10:13 am

Here's one. My favorite coworker, let's call her Jen, went into a woman's room to draw blood. This lady is about a million years old and can't weigh more than 80 lbs. Jen started the draw, and the woman was getting more agitated but Jen was almost done and, you know, a tiny old lady isn't gonna do much.

WRONG.

The woman started screaming for Mary, I assume mother of God but maybe someone else named Mary, punching, and managed to whack Jen across the face with a rosary so hard she has a bruise.

The moral of this story is that you should never trust a patient, especially one with religious paraphernalia close at hand.
OTTB wrote:"What's that you're wearing?"
"This? Oh, just my rabies hat."
shrapnel wrote:Darling, I would never fondle your sphenoid.
Dr. Cox wrote: People aren't chocolates. Do you know what they are mostly? Bastards. Bastard-coated bastards with bastard fillings.
JamesCannon wrote:Shrapnel, if you were a superhero, you'd be Captain Buzzkill Peener Pain.

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Re: My Job, My Hell...

Post by LowKey » Sat Jan 02, 2016 10:41 am

Stercutus wrote:So your Korea Story reminded of a Germany story.

During the Cold War they held an annual exercise called Reforger. This was a huge event calling for the deployment of forces from the US and other countries to fight the Red Hordes Streaming through the Fulda Gap. Anyhow we were all packed up and ready to roll out at 0430 the next morning and our squad decides to go down town to Frankfurt-Sachsenhausen and blow off some steam before heading to the field for 40 days. Our platoon sergeant is a Vietnam Vet E6 with 19 years in tells us to make sure we get back in time. If anyone misses movement it is all of our asses. We agreed that we would all take the last train back which would leave at 0020. The first train in the morning is not until 0500 too late to get back.

So we head down there and everyone gets at least moderately drunk on some fine German beer, except for SGT Serbe who really likes Whiskey and another of the guys named Green who is about 270 lbs and he gets falling down drunk.

Serbe tended to get a bit nasty when he was drunk and liked to start fights with people who were at least a head taller and 50 pounds heavier than him. True to form about 1130 PM I see him rip a trophy off the wall of the bar and proceed to beat a soldier from a different unit about the head and shoulders with it. We all go rushing in and there is a general melee in the bar. This goes on for a couple of minutes until the barkeep starts yelling that the polizei are on their way.

Nobody sticks around for the polizei and their rubber spring loaded billy clubs. We all scatter out into the alleys. Typically if they caught you misbehaving they would beat your ass with the billy clubs, then turn you over to the MPs who would take you back to our unit where you would get charged. We meet up and notice that Green is missing. We don't want to go back to the club but we can't leave our team mate either.

So we fly a missing man formation and find that the bar is closed. We figure he has either been captured or is on his way back so we hot foot it to the bahnhoff. We get there just before the train and we find Green passed out on a bench. After several minutes of not being able to revive him the train arrives so I pick his dead weight up and hoist him on to the train. I am a big guy but Green is at least 70 pounds more than me. Everyone else is either too drunk or too small to carry him.

We keep trying to wake him to no avail and we have to change trains at the main train station, which involves walking up two large flights of stairs. Using incredibly good judgment I decide to drag him off the train to the steps a distance of about 100 meters then I carry him up the first flight. I start to get winded when this large Amazonian German lady appears. When I say large she is about 6'4" and 250 lbs. She speaks great English and tells me she is fire fighter and wants to know what is wrong with our friend.

I explain he had a little too much to drink and she takes a look at him. She agrees he is passed out drunk and I notice she is a little tipsy too. I tell her we have got to go because the train is coming and she volunteers to carry him up the second flight of stairs! I can't say no to that.

She picks Green up and hoists him on her shoulders like he is a 10lb sack of potatoes and turns around. When she turns around she smacks Green's head into the wall accidentally, raising a nice goose egg over his right eye. He doesn't stir. Off we go and we get on the train and head back to the barracks. From the last train stop it is still a half mile walk to the barracks. German Fire Fighter lady volunteers to carry him back to the barracks and we let her go for it. She has been really cool about the whole thing and quite entertaining.

It is almost 0200 when we get back to the barracks and Germany lady realizes that there are no more trains. We come up with the brilliant plan to sneak her into the barracks. The guard is half asleep in the shack and we just wave our ID's at him. Green is starting to come out of it about now and German Amazon sets him down then takes him to his room and starts having her with him in his mostly passed out state?!? Well, she did do all the heavy lifting and we are thinking he probably won't complain.

Thinking the night is over and things are quieted down I head to my room for a couple of hours of sleep. About a minute after I lay down I hear a tapping at my window. I look outside there and it is the platoon sergeant dressed in a light coat of oil and nothing else. For some reason he thinks I am SGT Serbe (room next door to me) and he is telling me that he is having PTSD flashbacks about Vietnam and he doesn't think he will be able to go to the field with us.

I tended to agree and my roommate runs and grabs the CQ to tell him to bring some guys and come get him. The next thing I know he is running all over the quad plex screaming a mish mash of English and Vietnamese waving his dick at people and tries (unsuccessfully) to scale the wall. They end up calling the MP's who then snatch him up but the commotion raises a ruckus that wakes up half the compound. I head back to my room hoping to get at least an hour of sleep.

The next thing I hear is Green yelling from Green's room; "Don't touch me, get off off of me!".

He comes running out of his room, also naked, screaming that there is a man trying to rape him. As it turns out he was proven half wrong as German Amazon woman then appeared (also naked) in hot pursuit of her prize. She was clearly a woman but I could understand the argument. She is trying to get Green calmed down and back into the room when the CQ sees them and starts calling for the MP's. The last thing Green says he remembers is being in the fight in the bar.

Ah, discretion. I run back in my room and lock the door hoping the night will end.

But no.

The First Sergeant shows up and boy is he hot. He wants to know "why the fuck we got naked people running around all over the place" and "why the fuck can't we fucks get even one thing right, ever". Everyone gets drug out into the hallway and he looks in all the rooms finding, of course yet more women who are not supposed to be in the barracks in various states of undress. He fires the CQ on the spot and tells me to take over. I am still a little tipsy but; what the hell I wasn't going to get any sleep any way.

We still rolled out on time but the fallout goes on for a couple of days. I go a good 72 hours without sleep and turn into one of the walking dead briefly. Eventually Green sort of finds out what happened to him and thanks me for looking out. A couple of the guys told him that I carried him the whole way home and that the big German girl is a big mystery. I let him roll with it for while until I figured he was calm enough to know the truth.

The good old days.
Lest anyone doubt this tale, this is exactly the sort of shenanigans that occurred in my unit in Germany back in the day as well. It was a wilder time back then....
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Re: My Job, My Hell...

Post by LyraJean » Wed Jan 06, 2016 8:29 am

Not my story but one of my mom's:

She used to be a CNA at a nursing home. She wears her hair extremely short and is built like a teenage boy. She also lives in South Carolina where most of her co-workers pronounced her name Johnny instead of Joni.

She has a male patient and he needs helps taking a shower/bath. I guess so he doesn't slip and fall or whatnot. One day he says to her. "I'm so glad you work here Johnny. I wouldn't want any of them girls seeing me naked. So from then on everyone made sure to act like my mom was a guy around this patient so he would keep taking showers without a struggle.
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