It is always a happy ending when someone is released from captivity, especially if your captor is a one eyed drunk Indian. Imagine the "street cred" that goes along with not only being captured but also released by a one eyed drunk Indian. I know all of you are thinking WTF?
Here is a recap to put things into context:
A short time before my arrival at my current unit we had a high performer who allegedly liked to visit "Chinese restaurants" during our last deployment. These are not your normal restaurants. At these restaurants, the waitresses wear birthday suits and there are dancers who, if in the U.S., would probably freely exercise their 1st Amendment right to express themselves. One is also likely to be able to get a back rub with a very happy ending after they are through eating. Anyway our stellar performer patronized said establishment, which our chain of command did not like too much. As a result of these visits, the higher performer and his friend both were facing trouble. His friend had a board and was eventually separated (e.g. fired) from the Army. The high performer, seeing the hand writing on the wall faced a similar fate. After he saw the hand writing he went AWOL (military speak for walking off the job). For about a year he was on the run and one day figured it was a bad idea to try to run from the Army. He called back to the unit really wanting and wishing to turn himself in but could not. He relayed to us that when he was on the run he got in with some bad people and made poor choices ( I am paraphrasing here) and ended up with a drug debt to a One Eyed Drunk Indian. Unless he ponied up cash for his debt he could not leave.
Fast forward two more years to about a couple of weeks ago. The high performer shows back up in North Carolina, wanting to turn himself. Apparently the One Eyed Indian finally released him. It is always a good day when a hostage is released, especially if the captor only has one eye.
Tuesday, April 27, 2010
Sunday, April 18, 2010
48 cases of booze on the bird
Take one down pass it around. If it were only that easy. As I have said before nothing really surprises me in my line of work and with my current unit. I got a chuckle and shook my head at yet another "surprise" here at work. Every month or so we have a resupply flight or "bird" as I call it fly in from Fort Bragg. This flight has all kinds of stuff on it from HUMVs to ammunition. This resupply bird was different. Prior to leaving 48 cases of booze were discovered in a conex (military speak for a really big box that stores stuff in it). The inspectors at Pope Air Force Base must not have have taken or passed an eye exam in a long time. Fortunately or unfortunately depending on your perspective these 48 cases did not make it into country so someone here in Afghanistan is likely going to go thirsty for the next couple of months. I would also like to think that my workload may go down slightly. That is to be seen. These 48 cases did not make it Afghanistan but the "Quality Control" as I like to call them (a group of concerned SGMs) inspected a random sample of care packages that were placed on the re-supply bird as a result of the 48 cases of other booze.
Not to be outdone, a couple of my Soldiers wanted in on the action. The Two Soldiers in my unit were sent three mini kegs of very good German Beer. These packages were wrapped in the same material and only contained these Soldier's first name and no return address. My unit commander called me into his office. Sitting on his coffee table were the three kegs of German beer. He announced that that holes would be poked into them and the beer drained. After wiping the drool off my mouth and tears off my cheeks, I said okay but made a suggestion that we did not know if this was alcohol and perhaps a human field test might be in order. Being who I am, I volunteered to be the tester. My unit commander politely yet firmly disagreed with my proposed human field test and the kegs were destroyed. When my two Soldiers (after having their rights read of course) were confronted with the information that they were sent booze, the common responses were: " I don't know who would do such a thing." and " I did not even know there was a resupply bird coming over here." In any event this place is never a dull moment and my time is getting short before I bid it a fond farewell.
Not to be outdone, a couple of my Soldiers wanted in on the action. The Two Soldiers in my unit were sent three mini kegs of very good German Beer. These packages were wrapped in the same material and only contained these Soldier's first name and no return address. My unit commander called me into his office. Sitting on his coffee table were the three kegs of German beer. He announced that that holes would be poked into them and the beer drained. After wiping the drool off my mouth and tears off my cheeks, I said okay but made a suggestion that we did not know if this was alcohol and perhaps a human field test might be in order. Being who I am, I volunteered to be the tester. My unit commander politely yet firmly disagreed with my proposed human field test and the kegs were destroyed. When my two Soldiers (after having their rights read of course) were confronted with the information that they were sent booze, the common responses were: " I don't know who would do such a thing." and " I did not even know there was a resupply bird coming over here." In any event this place is never a dull moment and my time is getting short before I bid it a fond farewell.
Monday, April 5, 2010
It is good to be the King
It has been a while since I have written. My time here continues to tick down not only in terms of riding the vine in the sky home but also when Christy, my wife and formerly known as my hot (my words) contracts weenie (her words) girlfriend arrives. A few weeks back my SGM (the head enlisted guy around here who really runs the show) told me a story about our local national workers who run the bazaar. The bazaar is a shop with all kinds of great stuff. It is the source of my rug whoring during my last rotation here. One can also buy numerous DVDS and other goods and wares.
Anyway, "word" got around to the local bazaar owners that the SGM is the king of our camp. If you were in with him, you would be set according to the "word." In trademark Afghan fashion, the local nationals wasted no time in solidifying what they thought was the "word" Their method of operation was to make "offerings to King SGM if you will. The SGM relayed to me that each time he walked by the bazaar he was showered with gifts. At first he would kindly return them. The local national shop keepers were persistent though. Not to be outdone or rebuffed, the local national workers soon started emblazoning the SGM names on the "offerings" they made. Chairs, stencilled pillow and other items soon began appearing at the SGM's hooch. Finally after about two weeks he put a stop to it. This was not before another local national interpreter also tried to help. According to our SGM the local national interpreter told him not to worry that he would accept these offerings from the shop keepers and then on the down low give them to the SGM at a later date. The SGM of course refused this idea as well.
Anyway, "word" got around to the local bazaar owners that the SGM is the king of our camp. If you were in with him, you would be set according to the "word." In trademark Afghan fashion, the local nationals wasted no time in solidifying what they thought was the "word" Their method of operation was to make "offerings to King SGM if you will. The SGM relayed to me that each time he walked by the bazaar he was showered with gifts. At first he would kindly return them. The local national shop keepers were persistent though. Not to be outdone or rebuffed, the local national workers soon started emblazoning the SGM names on the "offerings" they made. Chairs, stencilled pillow and other items soon began appearing at the SGM's hooch. Finally after about two weeks he put a stop to it. This was not before another local national interpreter also tried to help. According to our SGM the local national interpreter told him not to worry that he would accept these offerings from the shop keepers and then on the down low give them to the SGM at a later date. The SGM of course refused this idea as well.
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