Posted on 02/07/2003 8:04:07 AM PST by RicocheT
With U.S. military forces ready for war with Iraq, troops around the nation are preparing to ship out for the Middle East. The Marines have taken a lighter look at some rules of ground combat, and we obtained a copy of them.
Among the 24 rules are such gems as, No. 1: "Bring a gun. Preferably, bring at least two guns. Bring all of your friends who have guns," and, No. 2, "Anything worth shooting is worth shooting twice. Ammo is cheap. Life is expensive."
Rule No. 7 is: "In 10 years nobody will remember the details of caliber, stance, or tactics. They will only remember who lived." And No. 8: "If you are not shooting, you should be communicating, reloading and running."
Rule No. 10 addresses a worst-case scenario: "Someday someone may kill you with your own gun, but they should have to beat you to death with it because it is empty." And No. 11: "Always cheat; always win. The only unfair fight is the one you lose."
As for prisoners, the rule is: Be careful. No 18: "Watch their hands. Hands kill. (In God we trust. Everyone else, keep your hands where I can see them)."
And advice for warriors in combat, Nos. 21 and 22: "Be polite. Be professional. But have a plan to kill everyone you meet. Be courteous to everyone, friendly to no one."
In a dig at other services, the Marines offer this: "U.S. Navy rules: 1. Adopt an aggressive offshore posture. 2. Send the Marines. 3. Drink Coffee."
Army rules: "Show up after fight to provide security and help hand out food to all of the displaced civilians."
Air Force rules: "Watch this all on cable in a BOQ [Bachelor Officers´ Quarters] while drinking a beer."
(Excerpt) Read more at washtimes.com ...
The US Marines have simply no idea of exactly how hard it is to find decent, reasonable dry cleaners, co-ed gyms, good restaurants, and quaint bars near our overseas bases. When I was stationed in Germany, very often the best vintages at the weinstube were sold out, and once a German girl said a very mean thing to me.
It once took me 4 days to get my tennis racquet restrung in Thailand. 4 whole days! What do the Marines know of war? War is Hell in the USAF. Sometimes, they even made us fly in aeroplanes, a couple of times while people on the ground actually shot at us. I couldn't see who they were. Probably Marines.
It once took me 4 days to get my tennis racquet restrung in Thailand. 4 whole days! What do the Marines know of war? War is Hell in the USAF. Sometimes, they even made us fly in aeroplanes, a couple of times while people on the ground actually shot at us. I couldn't see who they were. Probably Marines.
Yes well try telling someone you were a dog handler in Air Force in the '60s, they laugh for a while until you tell them you used to get dropped at dusk about 1000 meters from camp and were expected to patrol the jungle all night so the jarheads could get some sleep.
One of the big news items of the past year concerned the fact that China, which we called "Red China," exploded a nuclear bomb, which we called a device. Then Indonesia announced that it was going to have one soon, and proliferation became the word of the day. Here's a song about that:
First we got the bomb, and that was good,
'Cause we love peace and motherhood.
Then Russia got the bomb, but that's okay,
'Cause the balance of power's maintained that way.
Who's next?
France got the bomb, but don't you grieve,
'Cause they're on our side (I believe).
China got the bomb, but have no fears,
They can't wipe us out for at least five years.
Who's next?
Then Indonesia claimed that they
Were gonna get one any day.
South Africa wants two, that's right:
One for the black and one for the white.
Who's next?
Egypt's gonna get one too,
Just to use on you know who.
So Israel's getting tense.
Wants one in self defense.
"The Lord's our shepherd," says the psalm,
But just in case, we better get a bomb.
Who's next?
Luxembourg is next to go,
And (who knows?) maybe Monaco.
We'll try to stay serene and calm
When Alabama gets the bomb.
Who's next?
Who's next?
Who's next?
Who's next?
It Makes A Fellow Proud To Be A Soldier
I have only comparatively recently emerged from the United States army so that I am now of course in the radio-active reserve and, the usual jokes about the army aside, one of the many fine things one has to admit is the way that the army has carried the American democratic ideal to its logical conclusion in the sense that not only do they prohibit discrimination on the grounds of race, creed, and color, but also on the grounds of ability. Be that as it may some of you may recall the publicity a few years ago about the army's search for an official army song to be the counterpart of the navy's Anchors Away and the airforce's Up In The Air Junior Birdman songs. I was in basic training at the time and I recall our platoon sergeant, who was an unfrocked marine.
Actually, the change of service had come as quite a blow to him because it meant that he had to memorize a new serial number which took up most of his time. At any rate I recall this sergeant's informing me and my "room-mates" of this rather deplorable fact the army didn't have any official, excuse me, didn't have no official song and suggested that we work on this in our copious free time. Well, I submitted the following song which is called It Makes A Fellow Proud To Be A Soldier which, I think, demonstrates the proper spirit you'll agree. However, the fact that it did not win the contest, I can ascribe only to blatant favoratism on the part of the judges.
The heart of every man in our platoon must swell with pride,
For the nation's youth, the cream of which is marching at his side.
For the fascinating rules and regulations that we share,
And the quaint and curious costumes that we're called upon to wear.
Now Al joined up to do his part defending you and me.
He wants to fight and bleed and kill and die for liberty.
With the hell of war he's come to grips,
Policing up the filter tips,
It makes a fella proud to be a soldier!
When Pete was only in the seventh grade, he stabbed a cop.
He's real R.A. material and he was glad to swap
His switchblade and his old zip gun
For a bayonet and a new M-1.
It makes a fella proud to be a soldier!
After Johnny got through basic training, he
Was a soldier through and through when he was done.
It's effects were so well rooted,
That the next day he saluted
A Good Humor man, an usher, and a nun.
Now Fred's an intellectual, brings a book to every meal.
He likes the deep philosophers, like Norman Vincent Peale.
He thinks the army's just the thing,
Because he finds it broadening.
It makes a fella proud to be a soldier!
Now Ed flunked out of second grade, and never finished school.
He doesn't know a shelter half from an entrenching tool.
But he's going to be a big success.
He heads his class at OCS.
It makes a fella proud to be a soldier!
Our old mess sergeant's taste buds had been shot off in the war.
But his savory collations add to our esprit de corps.
To think of all the marvelous ways
They're using plastics nowadays.
It makes a fella proud to be a soldier!
Our lieutenant is the up-and-coming type.
Played with soldiers as a boy you just can bet.
It is written in the stars
He will get his captain's bars,
But he hasn't got enough box tops yet.
Our captain has a handicap to cope with, sad to tell.
He's from Georgia, and he doesn't speak the language very well.
He used to be, so rumor has, the Dean of Men at Alcatraz.
It makes a fella proud to be,
When as a kid I vowed to be,
One ought to be allowed to be
A soldier. (At ease!)
Take for instance the night the driver assigned to our section decided to spend his lunch hour smoking a little weed down by the river. This was about the time there was a major battle going on in the neighborhood and he said he wanted to watch.
It must have been an enthralling sight to the young L/Cpl from MT because as he told the story, 'suddenly the 6 by was shook hard and it scared hell out of me. I didn't know what the *@%! happened.'
He was still confused when the truck was rocked again but then a voice called out of the darkness, 'alright, your loaded... get out of here.'
There's nothing like the voice of Authority, especially coming out of the Darkness, to bring a L/Cpl to his senses. He jammed that truck into gear and di-di'd back to the area. It was there that he discovered his new found, albeit short lived, good fortune. Two pallets of c-rations.
Now, I know you know the negativities about c-rations but the fact of the matter is if you knew the right people, c-rations in bulk was a valuable commodity. And our L/Cpl thought he just landed a seat on the Exchange.
The only problem he had was finding a temporary stash. His lunch hour was up and he didn't have time to take it back to his area. So he put them all in an empty conex box. Which was a mistake.
Not that he had any good alternatives but you just can't get away with something like that in a small Marine Corps headquarters organization with an Old Corps Gunnery Sargent watching the shop. And we had two of them. It didn't take the #1 Gunny long to sniff out the contraband. Rumor had it, he rose from his rack went right to the box and declared the c-rations a war trophy.
He split the loot with the other Gunny and the Gunner who was the OIC.
Here's where the Air Force comes in.
The Gunny was known to complain about the walk to the vill when he wanted his ashes hauled. So it was natural that the first thing he thought of was transportation for himself. I don't know what the other two ended up doing with their share but it couldn't have been as audacious as Gunny #1.
You have to agree that after a number years in the military a person develops a sense of expediency and I'm convinced the Marine Corps' history of going the furthest with the leastest hones the Marine Corps E-7's, 8's and 9's to an edge of expediency very few members of the Army, Navy, or Air Force senior enlisted ranks ever achieve. It wasn't long before Gunny #1 was heading down the road towards the Air Force area. Maybe half an hour.
The full story didn't play out for a couple of days, in fact, the c-ration story was all but forgotten when this tumultous brouhaha erupted from what was previously an empty field tent. There was screaming and hollaring going on that most of us hadn't heard since PI. And it was the Gunner that was sounding off.
After the noise abated somewhat and we saw the Gunner leave the tent, a couple of us headed over there to see what set off the commotion.
And there it was. An Army jeep. It was in the middle of being transformed into a Marine Corps jeep by a PFC with a can of yellow paint under the watchful guidance of Gunny #1 when they were busted.
As the Gunny was cursing his Fate, the story came out. He went to a couple of Air Force guys he knew who were always on the lookout for a hustle. They could do a lot with the c-rats so they agreed they would get the Gunny a jeep. Two days later the jeep was flown up from Danang, they got their c-rations, the Gunny got his jeep and an hour later the Gunny got busted. Not seriously busted. He was ordered to get rid of the jeep so it was assumed he returned it to the Air Force. And the Air Force did keep the c-rats.
Say, you don't think those Air Force guys tipped off the Warrant Officer, do you?
The Army engineer demolition specialist's corollary to that excellent generalization is similar and adds but one additional word: Almost every human relations problem can be solved by the proper application of enough high explosives.
I'm sufficiently confident that a UDT team member would use enough powder as to not be concerned about the difference. There are variations in tactics and timing worth considering, but the physics and general principles remain similar for the most part.
-archy-/-
How's things in the Hahvahd math department these days?
You did, but only very slightly, and I offer the correction only for those who might find it worthwhile to do a websearch for his lyrics [ his Poisoning Pigeons in the Park is a particular fave of mine...] or MP3/ RealAudio versions of his old tunes, many of which appeared on the early 1960s TV shoe That was the Week That Was.
It's Tom Lehrer. He was a teacher at Harvard, last I'd heard, offering Math, I believe. But his musical categorization of the elements was a must-know for physics and chemistry majors.
-archy-/-
As a young troop on my first enlisted hitch, I was generally quite enthusiastic about getting out of the aircraft provided for our parachute jumps, since that meant I wouldn't have to be making a landing in the beasts, which was when most of the mishaps with them occurred. Later, while recovering from a few scratches and a couple of tropical visitors in my bloodstream, I was assigned light duty as an armourer, and got to see firsthand how the Air Force maintained the weapons with which they guarded their perimeter and flight line. THAT scared me, if it was any indication of how they also took care of the aircraft.
But you are correct about there being a particularly warm place in the Hell of warfare for the USAF, though most generally, as at altitude, it is a bitterly cold hell rather than the traditionally warmer clime usually associated with Gehenna. But there too they suffer the ignomy of being mistaken for charter bus drivers.
-archy-/-
Just so. We looked upon fudge factors as multiplication figures, not percentages, unless logistical difficulties arose. For us dirt soldiers, that was resolved simply enough by getting a bigger truck, or a couple more of 'em, or something similar. The solution for those of you working in damper conditions was not always so simple.
-archy-/-
I personally was never mistaken for a Greyhound driver, but to this bloody day I have letters that little old ladies gave me to post. I just hope none of them were tax returns.
BTW, I have volunteered to rejoin the Air Force for the upcoming show. By allowing me to be of service, it would free a woman to fly.
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