Other Assigned Duties” & getting “Coined”

From the Soldier side: I’m going to ramble on a little about my final “AT” (National Guard Annual Training) as I am retiring. Being a Soldier and being a civilian copper have many things in common. Both get paid to shoot firearms and in both jobs,each day will usually bring something you may have never seen before. I laugh whenever I hear some old copper or soldier claim they’ve “seen it all.” If that is true, it’s time to wake up and start really looking.
Yeah the work might be repeated, but it’s the people who get thrown into the puzzle each day that you really have to watch and enjoy…or not.

One of my “Other Assigned Duties” in both professions was to get people to laugh when they were stressing out. I was the “Combat Comedian.”  (this is a duty that you'll never see in the books.)  In so many cases, some of my best humor was wasted on people who simply lacked the intelligence to fully comprehend the fact that we were often surrounded by some of the funniest shit anybody could ever imagine. Paid comedians couldn’t possibly make up shit this funny.

Of the dozen or so times I was on some little camp of FOB in Iraq and we came under mortar fire, I always tried to get people to calm down by getting them to laugh. In civilian police work, there’s almost nothing that could be as totally –cked up as having people you didn’t even know trying to blow you up….so I find almost no stress in police work these days.

At my last “AT” a few weeks ago…the “General Order #1” was put out: “NO DRINKING” until the end when we would have a EOATP (End of AT Party).

What the National Guard used to be all about!

So one of the things I did each afternoon when our company commander (a truly great person) was in the orderly room…I’d walk over to the company refrigerator and open it and say: “hey, can I have one of these beers?”  There was never actually any beer in there...

He would always look with an expression of great concern. I have a great deal of respect for this man, so I enjoyed getting him to laugh.
The last day of AT, they loaded the fridge' up with lots of beer.... then my joke wasn't funny any more....so I had to change it to: "Sir, you need to get to rehab." 

In the Army there are many old traditions. Sometimes I say: "The US Army, 200 years of tradition unchanged by progress."   One very old tradition is when a brand new officer gets his or her first salute from an Enlisted or NCO soldier, that officer is supposed to give that soldier a silver dollar coin. This is a great honor for both the new officer and the Soldier. In all my years in the Army, I have never had this honor…until this last AT. And it was not just me saluting a new LT, but I was the first to salute a brand new Warrant Officer. This is even more special because all of our Warrant Officers (we call them “Chief”) were former NCOs.

The “Chiefs” went through more crap to become a Chief than any brand new LT.

Not only did this Chief give me a Silver Dollar, but it was a real silver dollar from 1901! This tradition met so much to this Warrant Officer, that he went out of his way to find a real silver dollar. This is one of the most special things I will remember from the Army.

Custom coin, silver dollar, custom coin

I was also “Coined” by our new Battalion Commander, who I had worked with in Bosnia, then later went to Iraq, but didn’t work with her there. A soldier is given a Coin for doing something cool etc.

Honor, Respect and Duty. More on these thoughts to follow at a later date.

Citizen’s rights to do…

From the Soldier side: As my retirement from the National Guard gets closer, I’ve been going through some old papers and crap I had in a foot locker in my garage. If you know any old vet, I’m sure he or she will have some silly shit that they’ve kept over the years. Little things sometimes…that if you’re not careful, they’ll end up in the trash can.

One of the little scraps I found was from Bosnia. While I was deployed there, one of my sons e-mailed me and told me of an incident that took place at one of the high schools in my home town.

This incident went like this in summary: Little Jonny went to school with an America flag on his jacket…the American flag was attached upside down. A few other bully type male juveniles decided that little Jonny was not a good American, so they kicked little Jonny’s ass. This is what I wrote as a letter to the Editor of the local news paper:

“Editor: I am a California Army National Guard Soldier who has been called up and been deployed to Bosnia. My son just e-mailed me the story about the ---- student who was assaulted by other students because he wore an American Flag upside down.

Well, as a citizen soldier who has many years in the regular Army and the National Guard, I would like to say that even though I wear the American Flag on my shoulder everyday (right side up) I will support everyone’s right to freedom of speech, including wearing the flag anyway they want.

If the people who assaulted this boy want to fight someone, please have them join the military as soon as they grow up. We do not want soldiers who cannot control their emotions. I think to use the flag as an excuse to annoy and assault another is not the American Way.

I might also add that the kid who wore the Flag upside down, seems to lack the survival skills required to be a good soldier.”



This was my way of saying all these kids were useless oxygen bandits.

Run to the sound of fire.

From the Soldier side: Now that I am about to retire from the California Army National Guard, I can relax a little. Maybe I can take some of those weekends I had to go to drill and get my book written. Maybe I’ll get a medical marijuana card and smoke weed and forget the last 30 something years….nah. I like the folks I met too much to ever forget them.
I originally joined the US Army right as the Viet Nam war was ending. 1974.  It was “safe” to join in those days because the worst thing that could happen to a soldier was getting too drunk and being run over by a bus. I think that’s why I got out after only a few years. I thought we’d never go to war again…and I was bored to death. You can only “train for war” so many times and then do nothing. I was a very well trained killer.  When I got out, I figured a former grunt could become a hit man for the Mafia or become a cop.  The cops have a better medical plan. 
Last weekend, as I was pondering my last bus ride back to our home unit…I looked around me. I was sitting with some really good folks. Think about this for a minute. If you knew that you were joining or staying in an organization where you had a very good chance of getting deployed to war…would you have joined or stayed in?  (All of these men and woman either joined after Nine Eleven or re-enlisted!) 

In many cases the answer was not only “no” but “HELL NO!”

After NINE ELEVEN, anybody who joined or remained in the armed services of the United States of America had to know that sooner or later they’d have to go to war. Yeah, I know there are a few jobs that might keep some in the states…but most are in a job (MOS) that will require them to deploy..or they have deployed and will deploy again.

Why? I just saw some fuckinghippie protesters on some video. They were protesting the war (not sure which one, good they have choices now days). Good for them. Just don’t fuck with the troops. Some of them fuckinghippies claim to have been in the military. Some were, and some are fullofshit.

The troops I know and worked with in many cases, felt bad because they have not yet deployed. They often looked at those of us who had deployed and applied our trade in a hostile place with envy or admiration. They asked me so many times: “how did you do this in Bosnia or Iraq?” They want to do a good job…some of them have volunteered to go just so they could know what we did I guess.  They are heroes!

I am proud to have worked with all of them. They are brave, they are good, they will save the world. The fuckinghippies will still do stupid shit and be annoying and there will be those that sleep well at night knowing that there are those who will fight on their behalf.

If you are a cop or in the military, or just have a chance to watch…the next time there is gun fire, a car crashing, a building on fire or some other mess, watch and see who runs towards it and who runs away. Those running towards it are the ones I want on my team.



“When the Humvee comes to a stop, we’re taking the door on the right, follow me.”

My last mission...

From the Soldier side: My Last AT. This was the Last “AT” (National Guard 2 week Annual Training) I will attend. It was both very good and very sad. Good because they put on some really good training- which I didn’t even have to help plan this time…and sad because I’m really going to miss it.


"Miss it?" You might ask. Why would anybody miss working/ training for 16 hours on some days. Getting up early in the morning in a room with 19 other soldiers (half of which snore like a chain saw with a bad spark plug). Having to wait in line for a shower and sink to shave in.

Standing in line for breakfast chow. Going to classes and training that in many cases will do nothing to benefit you for your civilian life. Going to meetings and briefings when you should be resting or going to bed. Trying to go to sleep when 19 other soldiers wanna' talk all night long.

Getting into a training exercise that starts at 0800 hours and makes you stay up until midnight. Having to explain how we are supposed to do the job to those who outrank you but have never been deployed and have no clue as how to actually do the technical parts of the job and try to re-write everything instead of adding on to what has been done in the past that works.

…and getting woken up early for random urine drug test.



Oh, after thinking it over, maybe I won’t miss it. But I’ll miss the good soldiers I worked with. In my company.  Any of these folks would drag you from a fire, and do anything they could to help each other.  A bond that many will never know or fully understand. 
I’m one of the last “multi deployers” who went to both Bosnia and Iraq. We were some of the first to deploy on the “Global War on Terror” and now over half of those left have never deployed at all. But I know they’ll do well. As a matter of fact, the last “field team” they assigned me for training was actually better than some of the soldiers I deployed with to Bosnia or Iraq. They will do well!

From my CO and last 1st Sergeant

Search and????

From the Soldier side: Today I’d like to talk some more about the Useless Deployment Training we had before going to Bosnia. It may sound like I’m just bitchin’, which is every soldiers right, (but doesn’t mean the leaders listen), but some of that training was so off the wall and stupid, that it was totally amazing.

Even with a sign, you can't fix stupid!

Now, keep in mind at the time I was going through this training in 2003, I’d been a civilian cop for over 20 years. There are overlaps in some military and police training, and some things that are done totally different. Basic things like how to shoot a firearm are the same…and I even use the same training in both jobs when I’m training others.

I think the reason I bitched so much about some of this UDT, was because I’ve taught others for so long, that I hate to see crap that’s not only useless, but would get a soldier killed if they actually did things the way they were trained. Wrong!

The first day in Bosnia

Most cops in the US are well trained on searching persons and stuff. The general concept is when you search a bad guy for weapons and such, you have control over the person. We do this in such a way that they can’t pull a weapon on you or run away. Bad tactics, methods or lazy, gets cops hurt or killed.  The same applies to Soldiers!

The way they were training the troops going to Bosnia to search people was so stupid and bad, that I had to laugh when they demonstrated how they wanted us to do it. The only thing I could guess at was, some pogue officer in some office sat down with his/ her pogue staff, and never even looked at any Field Manuals (FMs).   Then they just made up this stupid shit. 

When I search a real live honest to God bad guy, I am not going to get hurt. I take control, I have a cover officer and I am going to find any weapons the bad guy has. The method we were shown for Bosnia, we had no physical control over the person searched, we did not secure any weapons found, but used a silly “code” word and had to totally depend on other soldiers to cover us if things went bad. ...keep in mind that that soldier covering you might have been a cook or office pogue with no real experience. 

When I went through the exercise, I did it the way a cop would do it. The sergeant grading me said: “You’re doing it all wrong!” I looked at her and asked: “Have you ever in your life actually searched a bad guy with a weapon?”

Of course not. I told her that the crap they were training us to do would get soldiers killed (or laughed at if they were lucky) and I would do it the correct way. If she didn’t approve, fine. Fail me and I won’t get to go to Bosnia I guess.”

Who watched the police in Bosnia

I passed all the training. But I suppose it’s my honest, no bullshit attitude that prevented me from getting promoted a lot faster in my career. I’m sorry, I don’t kiss anybody’s ass.

This next week I’m going to my last 2 week National Guard Annul Training (Summer Camp) before I retire. I promise to behave myself. (not really.)

==Some of you may have this blog going straight to your e-mail, crackberry, Iphone, Kindle, etc, but when I don't see folks coming to the blog, I don't know how many readers I actually have.  If I think few are reading my crap, I don't write as often.  Just something to keep in mind.

Driving tips, your public service for the day

From the Cop side:  Many good citizens ask what they can do to be a better driver.  There are a few things anybody can do that are simple.  Watch this short video and see the main reason for most motor vehicle crashes is: DHUA. 

Check this out for some really good driving skills:




http://www.youtube.com/watch_popup?v=QESfEd180rQ

(DHUA= Driving with Head Up Ass.)

UDT (Useless Deployment Training)

From the Soldier side: Back in Jan 2003 a bunch of us from the National Guard unit I was in were called up. We were told that we were being attached to another unit for Pre-mobilization Training for possible deployment to Iraq. So off we went for a few weeks of fun and paper work.
Then we went home and waited. The wait was not long when our own unit told us “you’re not going with that other unit because our unit has now been tasked with going to Bosnia.”

Oh cool! So I would get out of the job of going to Iraq. Great…I thought that meant that whatever happened in Iraq would all be over with and I’d never have to go. (I did go the next year, but this is not about that.)

This posting is about the Bosnia Deployment. The strangest thing I can say about going to Bosnia is I actually loved it. The job I got to do there was the absolute best damn job I ever got to work on in my entire life!!! I loved the folks there, I loved the country (despite the half a million land mines still scattered about) and I loved what I got to do. Someday I’ll actually be able to write about what I did there... (My main goal there was to not be an Ugly American).

One of the things I didn’t like about the Bosnia Deployment was the useless, poorly planned, off the wall, stupid ass, made up training we had to do before we went there. We were on active duty orders for a total of 9 months, but we actually were called in for over 60 days of training before we were even on orders. Most of the time, we’d get a call on a Wednesday or Thursday telling us to show up on Saturday. Many of these extra weekends were training conducted by other soldiers who’d never actually been to Bosnia or, apparently, even studied the country. The stuff that they were training us, was stuff these instructors made up. Crap.

This was really odd, since the US Army had been deployed in Bosnia for several years by that point in history, there was no logical reason that they couldn’t actually find soldiers who’d been there to come and train us. I suspect that these soldiers were trying to do the best that they could on short notice.

Even later, when we were on active duty orders and going through even more pre-mob training with the Minnesota 34th Division- The Red Bulls, we were subjected to even more really poor training.

Some of this training, that later proved to be wrong, was on the culture of Bosnia. You see, until just a few years before, there was no country of Bosnia. It was all part of the former country known as Yugoslavia. So, trying to train on the culture of Bosnia was difficult…made even more difficult by people who had poor information and seemed to just make shit up.

Once I was in Bosnia, I quickly learned that almost all the training we had been given was crap. Total crap. Even worse than crap. For, if I had not gone through this useless training, I would have no embarrassed myself when talking to some of the folks in Bosnia.

There were two basic religions in Bosnia. Orthodox Christians and Muslims. I could never tell the difference by just looking at them. One clue I did figure out was whether or not a village had a church or a mosque. (in police work we called that a clue.) If you knew me, you’d know I’d never “normally” say something to piss off somebody I didn’t even know. But a few times our retarded training did just that. After a while, I got smarter and started to ask my “terps” culture questions before I pissed somebody off.

One day I was walking in one of the mostly Muslim villages. The folks there really loved the Americans because our intervention into the war there prevented them from all getting slaughtered. They loved President Clinton and when we visited they always told us. (I never got around to explaining that if Clinton had not been such a pussy, we might have gotten there sooner and prevent more bloodshed.) This day I was in this village, I saw a man, Mohammad, walking with his wife a few meters in front of him. I was confused.
I stopped Mohammad and said: “I thought your customs required your wife to walk a few paces behind you.”

He looked at me with a toothless smile and said: “Yes, when they wrote the Koran, they didn’t have land mines all over the damn place.”



More culture training to come.
(Note: the dude who did our culture training for Iraq the next year, had never actually been to Iraq, but had lived in a country near Iraq 25 years before.  This would be like me giving a culture class about Germany to a bunch of folks from China-- Crap.) 

We went to war with e-mail~

From the Soldier side:  As some of my readers may know, sometimes I can't think of nothin' to write about...then at other times I have several thoughts of random stuff.  I was going through one of my old e-mail accounts and found some stuff I e-mailed from when I was in Iraq in 2005.  Some of this info may still be useful today for those who are getting ready to deploy.  So, in the interest of trying to help a brother or sister going off to war, here you go:

1.) For the rain season...(yes it does rain in Iraq) mix lots of oatmeal, Elmer's glue, rocks, and something that smells like shit with lots of water. Spread this everywhere you go and make sure it's at least a foot or two deep where you have to walk.  Only walk where this goo is.  Track it into your home, bedroom, work space, and your car. Make sure you put some in your ears, navel, nose and anywhere else. Make sure your feet and clothes are wet all the time and make sure the heater at home is broken so you can't dry out.

CI Roller Dude at Camp Fallujah, Iraq in spring 2005

2.) Make a vest out of bulky material that sticks out 5 inches and weighs 35 pounds. Put on a 5 pound hat, and carry a 7.5 pound stick with several pounds of stuff in pouches on your vest. Wear this everywhere you go including when you eat.

3.) Move into the garage and sleep on a cot with a broken leg. Have somebody open and close the garage door and turn on the light as soon as you fall asleep...then open it again and yell out: "Hey Joe, are you in here?" 

4..) Keep a lawn mower running outside all the time for the proper generator sound. 

5.) Carry a gun with you all the time, to eat, to shower, to the store, church etc.

6.) Have a neighbor throw fire crackers in your yard when you are in the middle of doing something, like eating...then run to a bunker---

7.) Build a bunker in your back yard for all the times you have to run into it...only make it 4 feet high and make the entrance 4 inches more narrow than your you and your body armor.

8.) Take a shower in the front yard with a garden hose--- only use cold water, and make sure it runs out before you fully rinse off. Once a week have your neighbor throw firecrackers and run to your bunker--totally naked. (with your weapon of course.)

9. ) have the electrical power shut off at random times.  Make sure during the day it's when the sun is the hottest and at night when it's the coldest so you never are totally comfortable.

8.) Only watch CNN on TV, 24 hours a day.... but as soon as they do a story on your camp, have the neighbor cut the feed (acting like a dumbass sergeant major).

10.) Have 6 main courses prepared for dinner each night, with potatoes, rice, noodles, etc, roast, chicken, pork, then eat a hamburger.

11.) Only drink Kool aid, but make it very watered down...only serve warm coke or soda.  When you actaully find Starbucks Coffee, it's only decaf. 

12.) Build a bathroom outside, and never leave any toilet paper by the toilet... have a hajji use it and get shit all over the seat. 

13.) Make up acronyms for everything you have and do, and make sure you tell nobody what they mean.  Then only use those acronyms for all conversations.  Like: "Please wear your IBA, FTF, APCO, thank you."


Update:  ACIRWS (All CI Roller Wire Service) Iraq------------In a surprise visit, OSHA inspectors swept through Iraq this week and declared that the Islamic extremists, various rent-a-martyrs, and other malcontents are creating an extremely unsafe workplace environment.




OSHA was also investigating complaints that Colt, Bushmaster, Beretta, AM General, Boeing, Sikorsy, McDonnell/ Douglas, General Dynamics and other aircraft manufacturers were making their products are entirely too noisy.

Silent. Nothing.

Silent. That’s the sound a person makes when they are no longer alive. Nothing. Nor more thoughts, no more words. No more laughing. No more crying. No more nothin’.



This is also the sound our news media has for our troops who die in war everyday. Silent. No words of the losses our troops suffer everyday.   Maybe a few numbers.  If you look on page 8, you might find some names.  But, pretty much, Silent. 

America’s First Sergeant, http://castrapraetoria1.blogspot.com/ reported the loss of another US Marine in Afghanistan. He died in what I consider a heroic manner. He’s still dead, but he died trying to save another human, and that is a friggen’ hero in my book.

Still, the press was silent. No headlines. No mention on any TV news. Nothing. Silent like the hero Marine.

Maybe a few weeks from now, or a few months from now, the media will catch up. But, if there is some famous movie star having marriage problems, that may bump the story off the media’s daily event. Maybe someday when the news is slow they’ll tell this story:

The Department of Defense announced the death of a Marine who was supporting

Operation Enduring Freedom. Cpl. Joe L. Wrightsman, 23, of Jonesboro, La., died July 18 while supporting combat operations in Helmand province, Afghanistan. He was assigned to the 3rd Battalion, 3rd Marine Regiment, 3rd Marine Division, III Marine Expeditionary Force, Kaneohe Bay, Hawaii.

It doesn’t matter that it was a river that killed this lad. He’s just as silent as if a bullet or bomb had done it’s deed. It was his actions and as “Top” said:

“Upon hearing what happened on July 18 nearly every one of us that knew him immediately thought: "But Wrightsman can't swim!" Fortunately, America still breeds men with a bias for action who don't dwell on what they can't do. I imagine Cpl Wrightsman thought to himself: "I can't let this guy down!" Then he heedlessly went after a man who wasn't a fellow Marine or even an American.”

Many good citizens don’t get it. Why would anybody risk their life to help somebody else. Soldiers, Saliors, Airmen and Marines do it everyday. Cops and Firefighters do it everyday.

Why?

Because we’re supposed to. WE CAN’T DWELL ON CAN’T!!!

Semper Fi Joe.  I never knew you, but I'd be glad to have you on my team anyday! 

Yeah "Top" is tough.  A bunch of us are tough.  But when we loose a friend of ours... it hurts.  Most will never admit it.  But it hurts.

Flying Cars....

From the Cop side: Many years ago when I was a rookie cop first learning how to do police work, I was assigned to work with a traffic officer. I’ll call him “Jim.” I had the privilege of spending a whole 2 weeks with Jim and learned a lot about crash investigations. (There are very few “accidents” but lots of car crashes.) Most citizens call them accidents, but when a trained investigator looks at the mess, he or she can usually figure out in a short time which driver or drivers were at fault. The usual reasons for the “crash” are because one or more drivers violated some traffic law, or law of physics.
When you take away that "one factor" that if it had not happened, you wouldn't have had a crash---that is then your Primary Collision Factor PCF. 


One method I was taught at got pretty good at was estimating the speed a vehicle had been traveling at just prior to the crash. There were a few ways to figure this out, but one good bit of evidence often found was the skid marks left on the pavement.

Friction and"The Stopping Force"

A skidding vehicle is decelerated at a rate which is related to the frictional force generated between the skidding tires and the roadway. The friction is dependant on the weight of the "coefficient of friction".

(This may look like Bosnian writing, but it’s not) µ = V2 / 255 S

The following steps are used to find the coefficient of friction:

Now keep in mind, in my early days of police work, we didn’t have the really good pocket calculators that are around now. Some of this we had to do on paper.

Then I found a book with a chart that had all kinds of skid factors, so you could just look on the chart and be close enough.

I got pretty dang good at this shit…then something happened…in the 1990’s they came out with anti lock brakes. So much for all that skill and training…now the dang car would try to actually help a driver stop without skidding. Crap, no more skid marks.

But what do you do when the car you are looking at during an investigation violated the laws of gravity? Many of these flying cars are still unforgettable over 20 years later.

1980: I was on patrol in the nice friendly city where I started out working. I was dispatched to a motor vehicle accident with possible injuries. I responded from a few miles away with my emergency lights and siren on (Code -3). Upon arrival, I found a 1970’s something GM product on its roof with several yards (meters) of debris scattered along the road. The speed limit on that road was 35 MPH, so at first I had a difficult time comprehending how a car could end up like that.

I parked my marked patrol unit in a manner to protect the crashed vehicle and myself while I checked for injured persons. When I got up to the crash, all I could see were a pair of female legs sticking out the passenger side window. That was the only part of her body I could check for a pulse---but I lacked the Human Anatomy background at that time to know where to find a pulse besides the carotid and radial pulse (neck and wrist).

So, I did the next best thing and yelled: “Hey lady, are you OK?”

She moaned and moved, so I figured she was still alive. Then she started to swear…and that was when I could smell the “strong odor of an alcoholic beverage upon her breath and person.”  She was alive. 

No need for me to say that she was a very intoxicated driver. She went to the hospital and was booked in abstention due to her injuries. She fully recovered from the crash by the next day.

But, what a mess. I had to do the “T.C” (Traffic Collision) report. I blocked off a lane of traffic and got out my “roll-a-meter” and walked from where the car had landed, back to where it had first impacted the curb, brush, fire hydrant, street signs etc. It left only 50 feet of locked 4 wheel skid marks before it impacted the curb.
Then it lost control, went sideways, and landed on its roof….and slid for about 100 yards.

I had no way to figure the speed of a metal roof slide….maybe at least 85 MPH?


More flying car stories to come.

Model 57, Soccer Ball & Шљивовица

From the Soldier side: As most of my readers know, I am a very careful person and I follow the rules. I have rules about handling weapons and things that can hurt people (like cars.) One of those big rules is to not drink and drive and not drink and handle guns. Mixing alcoholic beverages with either can lead to bad things happening.


This story also has something to do with soccer balls. Can anybody tell me why in the US we call soccer, soccer and the rest of the world calls it “football?”

Anyway, this story goes:

This one time in Bosnia (sung to the tune of “this one time in band camp” from the movie “American Pie”). In the late part of 2003 while I was on deployment with SFOR 14, I had just taken on a new team member. His name was “B” (for this story the names were changed to protect the innocent.) “B” had just been re-assigned to my team after his team got moved around and split up. Don’t ask me why his team was split up, as that is a long, boring story.

.....as I was starting to say, “B” was a good soldier and got along well with everybody. He also liked to trade things and had accumulated a good collection of military items since he’d been deployed. These were all items that were legal for us to bring home and some of them were pretty dang cool!

As soon as “B” was put on our camp, he started talking to some of the locals who worked on the camp. Within a few days, he knew a guy who had a buddy, who knew a dude, who had a brother …or some such shit who knew this former Bosnian Army commander that had some military items from the Bosnia war that we could purchase or trade for.

“B” came to me and asked if on our next mission we could stop by this guys shop and see what he had. I always liked to explore and meet new people, so I said: “sure, why not.”

This dude had all kinds of “stuff” (the polite word for shit) at his shop. After we did some trading and talking, he invited us to his home for a drink of Шљивовица šljivovic (Slivovitz).

This was also called Rokia, or if it had been made in America, we’d called in Moonshine.

It was home made from plums, and was estimated to be around 150 proof! Hot stuff.

The first time I tasted it, I thought it tasted like rubbing alcohol and lighter fluid. But after a few months, I actually got to where I liked it.

The "rule" for some of us in Bosnia was, if anybody offered you a drink of Slivoitz, it was ok to take a sip, but never drink more than one shot. It was mighty powerful stuff that would kick your ass.

We went to the guy’s house. It turned out he had been an Army commander during the war in Bosnia. He was a hero and actually committed no war crimes! He explained to me what a hero was: “A hero is somebody who does something that has to be done when nobody else can or will do it.”

Simple.

Then, “B” sat down and had a shot of Slivovitz. I just sipped mine. I didn’t notice, but “B” drank his shot down…then the former Army commander poured him another, then another, then another. In short time, “B” had several shots.

Then we started talking about guns. “B” started telling the former Army commander what a great shot I was with a pistol.

So, the former Army commander brought out his old Army pistol.

(I had my M9 hidden under my shirt.) He handed me his old Model 57, 7.62X 25MM pistol and pointed to a flat soccer ball on the hill behind his house and said: “can you hit that foot ball?”

I looked around and saw that there were only trees beyond the soccer/ football, but I had to ask what the neighbors would think. He said: “Oh, they won’t think anything of it. Go ahead.”

I took the old Model 57 pistol in one hand, lined up the funky sights and pulled the trigger. The soccer/ football was about 40 yards away. I missed it by about 6 inches. I checked the pistol and saw it was empty. I asked if he had any more ammo. “Nope, that was it.”

Dang it. One shot and I missed… and I only had one drink.

“B” was useless to drive us back to camp, so I had to drive. I really wanted to keep that Model 57 pistol. It was kind of cool.


(So, what…are you disappointed I didn’t get into some kind of gun fight or something?)

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