Vietnam Era Marine Reporting for duty!!

Thanks for the add. I look forward to learning from the many members. Merry Christmas!!

 

Howdy.

 

Welcome aboard...

 

Welcome!

 

Welcome to the Forums, RonUSMC. We've got a few USMC veterans here who you may bump into at some point. Good to have you aboard.

 

Welcome to the forums!

 

Glad to have you on board

 

Welcome aboard. You'll like it here, lots of knowledgeable folks willing to share.

As to your comment about one of my pictures: "RonUSMC One mistake I never made. We did have the SB looking like the last photo once. Usually, the DI would take 2 or 3 shaving cream cans and FILL the law breakers box up!"

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As bad as it is when they find an unsecured footlocker, there are two things worse, an unsecured rifle, and a phantom shitter.

For the uninitiated, in boot camp you'd fasten your rifles to the end of your bunks with your sling and secure it to the bunk with a rifle lock. Because they never give you enough time to perform whatever function they order, recruits look for ways to save time. So some recruits go to elaborate and inventive lengths to shave a second or two off their time. With the rifles they'd dummy lock them, or dial in the entire combination so all you'd have to do is tug on the lock to get it to come open. The Drill Instructors were always on the lookout for an unsecured rifle. Usually, they'd find it when the platoon was out somewhere, chow, classes, PT, etc. When the herd returned and came running back into the squadbay to get online, they'd fall in at attention, in front of their racks, one line down each side, facing one another. Then the Drill Instructor comes strolling out of his house, onto the quarterdeck holding a rifle, in one hand, at port arms. "Aw, right ladies. You know what I have in my hand?" "An unsecured rifle. Now which one of you little communistic pieces of sh*t decided he didn't need to secure his weapon?" You're looking directly across the squadbay, checking each rack within your field of vision, hoping one of them would be missing a rifle. You're limited to what you can see without moving your head or eyeballs, you know Drill Instructors can actually hear your eyeballs move, and when they hear them they'll descend upon you like the Harpies from Greek mythology. "Please God, don't let it be my rifle." "I know I locked it, or did I? Yes, I did, I even tugged on the lock to make sure it was secure; Jesus what if I didn't and just think I did?"
"You worms know, if there's one thing we will not tolerate it's an unsecured rifle. Well privates, one of you has really screwed the pooch this time. Your next stop will be Portsmouth Naval Prison. You're going to jail son!" Portsmouth Naval Prison, located in Maine, had a terrifying reputation. Stories of sadistic Marine Guards, torture and such, never mind it had closed in 1974, we were recruits, we didn't know. The threat, induced a feeling of dread and hopelessness.
"Please God, Oh please, don't let it be my rifle!"
The Drill instructor was now walking down the center of the squadbay, preaching, and displaying the weapon. He kept coming closer. "No God, please No! He's coming my way." Now in Dante's "Inferno" he describes nine levels of Hell; there are actually ten and the tenth, and worst, is for recruits that leave their rifles unsecured. The drill instructor passes me, "Thank you God, Thank you God!." The Drill instructor finally arrives in front of the guilty party's rack and pounces on the private, you feel sorry for him, but at the same time are almost giddy with relief that it wasn't you.

The next worse thing is a phantom shitter. That's someone that tries to sneak out of the rack at night and take a UA sh*t. There's always a firewatch so you either have to be really stealthy or enlist the firewatch as a co-conspirator. Well, mister UA shitter goes into the head and takes an unauthorized dump. At that point he has three options; 1.) leave it floating and hope that he can get to the head and flush it at lights on, before the DI finds it. 2.) Hide it, or 3.) flush it and try to get back to your rack and pretend to be asleep before the DI can come rushing out of his hut and catch you.
We had one private go with option #2, pulled the discharge hose from the washer out of the drain pipe, inserted the turd and put the discharge hose back in. Didn't turn out well, it stopped up the pipe and when another private went to wash some cleaning rags or something it flooded the head. Phantom shitters can be ingenious.
The worse one I can remember is one morning at revile the duty DI flipped on the lights and we all sprang out of the racks online. Now, like Pavlov's dogs, by several weeks in your body and mind have been conditioned to react to stimuli. When the Drill Instructor flips on the lights in the squadbay, before he can scream, before he can beat on the garbage can and throw things down the squadbay, you jump out of the rack, onto line, at attention and then you wake up. You're exhausted and disoriented, still groggy, but you're where you're supposed to be without thinking. Next they get a count on deck to make sure no recruits have tried to escape during the night. Well one morning just as we finished the whole, "SIR, THE COUNT ON DECK IS...76, HIGHLY MOTIVATED, HIGHLY DEDICATED, LITTLE GREEN AMPIBIOUS, UNITED STATES MARINE CORS RECRUITS, SIR!", the heavy hat comes storming out of the head holding a turd up in his hand. "If there's one thing I can't stand it's a UA shitter, who did it? Who the f**k did it!" "NOBODY! WELL I GUESS WE GOT OURSELVES A PHANTOM SHITTER!" He's striding up and down the squadbay, brandishing the turd. "Now, I want the disloyal little f**k who decided to take a UA shit to step forward. NOBODY." "Well if the slimy little c**ks****r, that left this don't speak up and speak up now, you will all pay!" "First we will pass this around the squadbay and see if we can identify the owner by smell, and if that don't work we'll see if you can't identify by taste." Halfway down the squadbay you hear a scream, a private drops to his knees and sobs, "SIR, this recruit did it sir." The drill instructor grabs the private by the stacking swivel and drags him into the head. You're relieved, you really didn't want to eat any of that turd.

Again, welcome aboard RonUSMC, it's nice to have another that understands exactly what I'm talking about. Hopefully, Formerjughead will stop by and welcome you as well, but I haven't seen him around lately.

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Welcome Ron, from a pre-Vietnam Army guy.

 

Welcome to the forum. Rich A. in Pa.

 

Welcome to the forums, and thank you for your service!!

 

Greetings from Arizona, and Merry Christmas.