27 May 2009

Worms & Fakes, and real Heros!


(This is a re-hash from Dec 2007 blog of mine...updated a bit.)
From the Soldier side: When asked: "Ci-Roller Dude...What is a “VET”. There are legal definitions and there are definitions that Vets themselves may give. I’ll go with my opinion, since anyone can go look up the legal version.
I’ll break it into a few “groups” because that’s the way my mind works:
1. Combat/war vet. This person has actually been in a war zone. In past wars, only a few were actually involved in true combat. In more recent wars, like Iraq, the combat seems to land almost anywhere in the form of a random mortar or rifle round. What goes up, must come down.
Sometimes they random rounds land on some camp or FOB and scare the fobbits. I have friends who were in many gun battles, I on the other hand was just a live target for some Hajji Insurgent and never got to return fire...which really pissed me off.
2. Non-war vet. This person had enlisted into the service to defend and protect his/her country but just happened to be in when there was no war going on…or, their job didn’t require them to go off to a real war. This was me for my first enlistment in the regular Army... I spent 2 years in West Berlin, German. (Great party place!)
There are some who do things that require more guts than I have, like USCG rescue units. I’d rather walk into Baghdad in my PT uniform than jump into the ocean to save someone. Those who didn't go to war may not be able to join the VFW (Veterans of Foreign Wars) but they can join the American Legion.)
3. Reserve/ Active duty? In this day and age, the fact that someone is in a reserve or national guard unit doesn’t seem to matter...Uncle Sam is calling up all hands. The MOS (job) they hold doesn’t seem to matter…anyone can go to a war zone and become a full fledged combat vet. We had cooks and others who had an MOS that was not needed, so they turned them into our security teams. We had these “non-combat” solders driving into hell daily. They were performing infantry duties, and some were even woman. All the ones I worked with, did a hell of a great job.
4. A VETERAN Whether on active duty, retired, national guard or reserve, is someone who,at one point in his life, wrote a blank check made payable to "The United States of America, " for an amount of "up to and including my life." That is honor, and there are way too many people in this country who no longer understand it.

As I've mentioned in past postings, there are also those "fake vets" out there. The ones who have never gone to war, but make some outlandish claims. There are some who have gone to war, but make up things to make themselves sound more important. Like the cook who deployed to Iraq with us... who was not even cooking, we're not sure what he did. But when he returned to his home National Guard unit, he made claims for all kinds of awards. He claimed he was in several battles, got wounded etc. He never ever left Camp Victory in Baghdad. What a puke.
Now, there’s a group I’ve mentioned before, and I’ll talk about again. This is the “worm” group. They hold an MOS where they are in desperate need in places like Iraq, Kosovo, Afganastan, etc, but they have wormed their way out of deployments. They still get promoted, but never deploy. They are not a Vet in any sense of the word and are worms in my opinion. There are many people who hold my MOS who’ve never deployed. I’ve gone twice and they may want me to go again.
Today's photo is some lads in the USMC firing a "warning shot" at some suspected insurgents. A waring shot with a mortar...I thought that was clever. I was in the "TOC" (Tactical Operation Center) when the OP (Observation Post) called in: "We have movement of vehicles and hajjis...they're out of range of our rifles."
The CO called his mortar platoon leader, showed the location on the map and asked: "can you put a warning shot a few hundred meters from these assholes?"
The mortar platoon leader said: "sure" and a short time later you heard the rounds going out.
That was a great day. Firing a warning shot with mortars...

6 comments:

coffeypot said...

One night last year I stopped off to get some to-go order at the neighborhood restaurant-bar (Bogeys.) I don’t normally drink that much anymore, but I had drank a couple of beers while waiting. Usually you can wipe a damp bar rag under my nose and I get woozy, so, after two beers, I wasn’t totally accountable for my actions.

There was this dude talking to a few guys and gals about his deployment to Iraq. He was telling them about being on patrol and crashing in a door and charging into the house – ALONE. He said he killed everyone in the place and was wounded in the arm from one of them firing back at him. He then said he ran next door to help the others clear out a house where he killed a couple of more. Then he was medavaced out. I had had enough, as I think most of the guys there did, but I was mouthy enough to question him on it.

I turned around and grabbed his hand and started shaking it saying, “Auty Fucking Murphy! It’s a pleasure to meet you. Let me see your GSW.”

He said, “My what?”

I said, “You know, your gunshot wound.”

He said, “It healed!”

I said, still shaking his hand, “A gunshot wound that didn’t leave a scar? Goddamn, you’re a cyborg, too. I’m sure glad you were there saving us for the evil jihad. When you going back?” Looking at his long hair!

He said he thought in December.

I said, “Man I’ll sure feel safer over the Christmas holidays when you go.”

There were a few chuckles from the guys and luckily my food arrived and I was getting ready to go when he said, “Are you trying to cause trouble? If so, I’m your man.”

I grabbed my food and told him, “Absolutely not! I’m just showing you my gratitude for your heroic actions.”

When I got to my truck I saw him come out of the restaurant at a fast clip, so I reached in and got my grandson’s baseball bat and waited. But he just went to his own car and left. I swore off drinking – again.

To long a comment, I know, but a couple of the guys in there that night still kid me about it. How did I ever live to be 65?

CI-Roller Dude said...

Coffey Pot dude,
See, I totally call them out. I ask thing like:
1.) What was your MOS?
2.) What rotation were you on? (I was in OIF3)
3.) What unit were you with?
4.) What camp/ FOB were you at?

And since most of the insurgent assholes used a 7.62 MM AK, I know they leave a pretty good wound...or wounds (exit wound?) And if anyone who was really doing raids went to clear a building alone? They are full of shit. If things got that bad, "Frag out!" or call in some other support.
I found it is usually the people who did the lest in Iraq (or any other war) who claim the most.
I didn't really do much, but I went to some cool places at the right time, with the right people---who were heros. I feel good that I got to rub elbows with heros...some really good ones. I was just average. Mess Kit Repair.

coffeypot said...

But your average was over and above what I did. At the time I hadn't been blogging with any current vets, so I didn't know the short questions, but I though showing him up for the b/s he was did the job.

Hope said...

I would have loved to watch the annihilation...heehee. Coffeypot with a baseball bat...roflmao! Got get 'em!

Red said...

grrr I hate fake vets... but I love the idea of firing warning shots with a mortar! classic...

coffeypot said...

Hope, I have this profound love of keeping my blood inside the veins and arteries where they belong, and all my bones intact. If I feel that there is a chance that there will be any disruption of any of their functions, then I act to stop that disruption.

And that will be to take out the sob as fast and serious as I can. If that calls for a ball bat, or a fire extinguisher, or a napkin holder or a pepper shaker (all of which I have used quiet successfully) then so be it.

Now I’m not a bad-ass. Far from it. My face and ribs have bruised a few fist in my life, but if I can get my hands on anything that can inflict a little more damage than I getting, I’m happy. And I’ve been luck. But now I’m just too old to do that stuff anymore, and no one in this world was happier to see that dude get in his car and leave than me. Besides, my food was getting cold.