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Old 6 April 2016, 10:29
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Ranger Anecdotes - Stories and maybe a few Lies

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Originally Posted by B 2/75
In an effort to inject some new material into the forum, I'm posting a series of anecdotes shared by multiple Rangers on a Ranger ListServer that was in operation in the mid to late '90s. They've been sanitized to protect both the innocent and the guilty.
We've all had a brush with infamy at one point or another... this story tells of one particularly infamous Ranger who just wouldn't go away...

"What's that smell?" is exactly what I was thinking when I first met Stinky. He was a young PV-2. I can't even remember his real name. He was called Stinky or Pigpen because of this perpetual foul odor that constantly lingered around his body. Oftentimes in PT formation you'd hear someone say, "Who shit?" or "What the fuck died?" Well, that was Stinky. He'd just kinda smile. One day one of his room mates said something like, "Living with you is like living inside a wet fart." Stinky loved it. Most guys can stomach a fart or two, but with Stinky, not only did he have constant BO, but just one of his SBD's would clear a room----pronto. Let me try and describe the smell. Did you ever walk into a guy's room in the morning where the night before he had been drinking Tequila, and it's had time to ooze through the pores? Remember that sickening smell? That was Stinky on a good day.

The way I looked at it is that Stinky had a hard time growing up. I think he was harassed a lot about his smell, and I think he was rather poor. The Army was his big break. He got three square meals a day, and around the guys, he was somewhat of celebrity, because everyone knew Stinky and his famed smell.

One day, his room mate suggested he see a doctor and have his arm pits checked out. He read somewhere that some people have uncontrollable pit odor, and he thought that was Stinky's problem. Stinky did what he always did and smiled, taking it as a joke. The roomy wasn't joking anymore. The smell was really getting to him. About a month later, the company medic stopped by and talked to Stinky, very informally, and asked him to go in for some tests. Poor Stinky felt betrayed. He never thought his own friends would actually take his BO and make it such a personal issue. Things just weren't the same with Stinky, and although many tried, through jokes and off the cuff remarks, Stinky was intent on leaving the unit. The day finally came and he received his PCS orders.

Stinky was getting his gear together to turn in to CIF, and, as is often the case when someone is making a trip to that esteemed place (written with a bit of sarcasm), the roomy asked if he could trade Stinky a worn out canteen cover, and (I don't know what the guy was thinking) his sleeping bag. The roomy's bag had a small hole in it, and Stinky's didn't. For me, I can't even remember using a sleeping bag except for Alaska or when I went to NWTC and slept on the side of that damn glacier. Most of us used our 'cho liner, or at most, we would take the sleeping bag cover to the field and use that with a liner. But, nevertheless, some would use sleeping bags on rare occasions.

Stinky had been gone for about two months when we were in the field during a nontactical mission and in the process of linking up with another platoon, Stinky's old platoon. We were in the right area, it was dusk, still some daylight coming through the trees, when someone muttered, "Son of a bitch, who the fuck died?" And then someone else piped in with, "It's Stinky. He's back." Well, some of the guys that really knew Stinky started talking about how they'd give him a hard time for ever leaving, etc., etc. We moved into the base camp, set up our gear, and got ready to bed down. About an hour later, one of the guys made his way around the base camp, literally following his nose, until he found Stinky. There he was, all wrapped up in his fartsack, a perfectly good place for him, sound asleep. His friend shook him awake, berating him for crashing out so early. The zipper came down, and a very upset soldier popped his head out and swore. Right away, the friend knew it wasn't Stinky.

Only then did it dawn on any of us what had happened. (You smart guys have hopefully already figured it out). It was Stinky's former room mate, in Stinky's former mummy bag. The smell lived on. But now, we had a new Stinky, Stinky II.

Ranger T D
2/75
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Old 6 April 2016, 15:41
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Damn you, the wife and cat think I've lost it. Sitting here laughing so hard that tears are running down my face. Great story!
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Old 6 April 2016, 20:03
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1st Batt, 87 or 88. Battalion PT. CSM Dalton was infamous for calling 6 Rangers at random to the PT stand, face the Battalion and recite their designated stanza of the Ranger Creed. He would do this by saying " I want the Grenadier, from the 1st Squad, from the 2nd Platoon of B Company. POST. " After several seconds of silence while everyone looked around to see who the Ranger was, including said Ranger. The Ranger who sound off with a loud "Hooah Sergeant Major", and take his place on the PT stand. When the CSM got his 6, those Rangers recited their designated stanza. About halfway into this... one Ranger yelled " ZONK " The Battalion halled ass with the CSM & some BN Staff attempting to restore order. Unsuccessfully of course. Don't know who that Ranger was... But I'm certain some scunion was brought upon him.
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Old 6 April 2016, 22:28
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A pre-ranger class at Lewis had been in the field for about 3 or 4 days. We went to Madigan or somewhere on the fort---it was old with terrazzo floors, I remember-- for physicals straight out of the woods. We were, of course,
pretty ripe in general and I remember in particular that my asshole was completely crusted over because I kept getting the one c-rat--crs--with the mystery meat in it. Well, as you know, pre-ranger ripe is pretty ripe.

I can't remember why we were getting these physicals--must have been for Ranger school? Well, anyway, the doc has about a squad's worth of us face the wall and asks us to drop trou. Well, we're all hawaiian, of course, cause we've been at batt long enough to know you don't wear shorts in the field, right. Well, Doc says, (and this wasn't a young Cpn, either)he says, "Bend over and spread 'em." I'm thinking to myself that I cannot fuckin' believe this guy is going to poke each of us in the ass with his finger without letting us clean up. Well, we all bend over and spread 'em.

The next thing I hear is an audible gasp (you can tell it was audible 'cause I heard it) and then: "Jesus Fuckin' Christ!" Then, a brief pause folowed by, "You men are good to go!" Needless to say there were some relieved Rangers that day.

Joe M.
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Old 6 April 2016, 22:30
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When I went through RIP in '83 there was this dog, pure ugly, pure lean running machine (just like a Ranger should be). This dog would go out running with each class each PT session (morning and evening). We would
run 5 miles or so and be returning and another class would be heading out, Buddy would turn around and run with them, and return in time to catch the class on road march. He was a corporal if I remember right.

One day around mile 3 or 4 one of the studs in our class fell out and Buddy being Buddy came up to lick his face, well stud doesn't dig that and kicks the dog. The instructor running with us (big red-head that won the tough
man Savannah contest two years running, CRS his name) sees the act of subordination against a corporal by the stud.

What came down was the smoking of the lifetime for stud (who quit two days later) and the rest of us just because we were in his class. The Sgt. then made stud sit in the worm-pit, (rumors were that the RIP tacs would
put Buddy's shit in the pit to ripen it up a bit) up to his shoulders while Cpl. Buddy licked his face. He was hell of a good dog, I have no idea what happened to him after RIP moved to Regt.

W. H.
C 1/75 '83 - '86
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Old 6 April 2016, 22:43
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For those of you Ranger's who never experienced SSG Bob D, I will supply a little background. His MOS was Combat Engineer, for the first few years of the 2D Bat's existence he trained all us FNG's in Hand to Hand as well as Demolitions, Whenever he would take us out to the Demo range to blow the shit out of every thing in sight he would harp on how we just could not go wrong using the "P" formula. "Ranger Bell, I'm an Engineer and I've never Built a thing in my life, P stands for PLENTY."

2D Bat. was tasked with an EDRE in 1978 calling for a re-enforced platoon raid. The scenario was that an OPFOR nation had made a Quantum leap in Physics and developed either some kind of ground based Laser or Particle Beam and were blinding our satellites in orbit. The Bad guys having experienced no complementary leap of Common sense decided to base this wonder weapon in a ramshackle compound, miles from any form of support. Now whoever put this EDRE together assured us that this would be no cakewalk, for the Platoon tasked for this mission would be facing no lesser unit than A Scout platoon from the Superlative Seventh Division.

It was decided that 3D Plt. B Co. had drunk enough beer for that weekend, so with attachments we were on our way to Hunter-Ligget. Working on the premise that you can never have enough support we stripped B Co of all its crew served weapons teams, a shitload of its 203 Gunners and SSG D with a select Demo team. Only the premise that 3D Plt could never have enough adult supervision could explain the size of the Diverse Headquarters elements that we scattered along the line of march.

Upon our arrival at the ORP we found the aforementioned ramshackle compound. Not much to see actually, some long shacks, looking like chicken coops on steroids, surrounded by triple strand concertina with a guard post at the break in the wire. If memory serves, the Scouts from the somnulent Seventh were operating that night on the premise that less is more. With the exception of the young stalwart manning the guard shack the only other sign of life was the guard roving the "inside" perimiter.

With the exception of token security teams, the disposition of Bco forces were as follows, 9+ (that is NINE or MORE) M60 Machine guns and a plethora (that is a shitload) of M203 and 90mm RRs were in the support
element with as much 7.62 blanks and 203 simulators that we'd been able to hump in. The rest of us, loaded down with as many x-tra magazines and all the arty and grenade simulators we could ever hope for, were the assault element. The primary signal to set off the raid was to be when a small team took out the guard shack, the support element was to open fire at once to act as a diversion and the FNGs were to fling themselves onto the wire so that the rest of us could (after using their bodies as boarwalks) sweep across the objective and secure the far side. In that way we would avoid the choke point at the gate and as we swept across we would drop off teams to clear the buildings.

Hooahs, it was a thing of beauty. The poor sap at the gate had the shock of his young life when he found himself bunkmates with an overabundance of arty simulators rapidly cooking off. Shouting the scout motto of ohhfockk he exited the shack only seconds before it virtually disintegrated behind him. As our support element opened up we moved across, with the thought formost in mind being that whatever munitions we expend now we won't have to hump back later. It was spectacular. An orgy of pyrotechnics that seemed like it would go on forever. It was all our L.T. could do to get us to stop before we melted our barrels down.

The buiding clearing teams had their hands full, they were to gather up all the opposition, search em and then line em up for pictures. One team, seeing how motivational sputtering pyro had proven itself to be, rolled a few arty sims in the front door and simply gathered in the legs as they bailed from every exit. Once again the cry of ohhfockk echoed across the compound. The next thing our bold scouts knew they were on their knees with blank adapters socketed into their ears staring into flashlights so they wouldn't be able to figure out what was going on around them. Can you say,"deer in the high beams"? It was actually kind of pitiful to see these guys with whipped mutt expressions and the dawning realization that they were fockked for real. They sat there with all this activity around them and then suddenly a couple of arms would reach in from out of the darkness, yank one of them out of the lineup for pictures and then throw em back in. Some of these guys were actually whimpering.

While this is going on SSG D had another camera crew take pictures of the Laser and then he and his boys go to work. The final part of our OpOrder called for our Demo team to use PLENTY of C-4 and to LEVEL the compound. All in a days work for SSG D. He and his boys begin to liberally apply charges to basically everything without a pulse. At this point we are horrified to learn that nobody had briefed these legs and they are unaware that soon their home of the past several days is going to be nothing more than a smoke ring.

These guys were being "Tactical" so they probably had brought no more than 20 pounds of unnecessary crap apiece. We tell them to haul ass with what they can't live without and sign a statement of charges for the rest, but whatever they do put as much distance between themselves and the impending carnage as possible. By now it was BMNT so at least they'd have light to get their shit into some kind of shotgroup buy. As we beat feet up the hill to put a terrain feature between ourselves and SGT. D's handywork you could see the gallant scouts in full retreat dragging footlockers, matresses, duffles ect. ect., with their cries of ohhfockk, ohhfock slowly swallowed by the distance.

As soon as we got over the hilltop we settle in to wait for the bang, we are still in adrenal overload so this wait seems to take forever, honestly it had to take a while to let the legs get clear. After what seems forever I hear this voice next to me counting down; 20, 19, 18.... Its SGT D counting down like this is an Apollo launch or something. Now I'm thinking that he's using time fuse, but come on, nobody is that accurate with time fuse...3, 2, 1 and my hand to God KABOOM!!

All that remained to do was to return to the compound and shoot some more pictures for damage assessment. As we topped the hill we saw the site and there was not even a strand of concertina left. OHHFOCK, I sez to myself, nice job SGT D, I sez outloud. We start running down the hill and SGT D begins to lag behind so I hang back and ask if hes Okay, and with this shit eatin grin he says, "IT AINT EASY RUNNIN WITH A STIFF DICK, RANGER"!

Harry B.
3/B/2-75 75-79 Class 3-78
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Old 6 April 2016, 23:04
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Quote:
Originally Posted by B 2/75 View Post
For those of you Ranger's who never experienced SSG Bob D, I will supply a little background. His MOS was Combat Engineer, for the first few years of the 2D Bat's existence he trained all us FNG's in Hand to Hand as well as Demolitions, Whenever he would take us out to the Demo range to blow the shit out of every thing in sight he would harp on how we just could not go wrong using the "P" formula. "Ranger Bell, I'm an Engineer and I've never Built a thing in my life, P stands for PLENTY."

2D Bat. was tasked with an EDRE in 1978 calling for a re-enforced platoon raid. The scenario was that an OPFOR nation had made a Quantum leap in Physics and developed either some kind of ground based Laser or Particle Beam and were blinding our satellites in orbit. The Bad guys having experienced no complementary leap of Common sense decided to base this wonder weapon in a ramshackle compound, miles from any form of support. Now whoever put this EDRE together assured us that this would be no cakewalk, for the Platoon tasked for this mission would be facing no lesser unit than A Scout platoon from the Superlative Seventh Division.

It was decided that 3D Plt. B Co. had drunk enough beer for that weekend, so with attachments we were on our way to Hunter-Ligget. Working on the premise that you can never have enough support we stripped B Co of all its crew served weapons teams, a shitload of its 203 Gunners and SSG D with a select Demo team. Only the premise that 3D Plt could never have enough adult supervision could explain the size of the Diverse Headquarters elements that we scattered along the line of march.

Upon our arrival at the ORP we found the aforementioned ramshackle compound. Not much to see actually, some long shacks, looking like chicken coops on steroids, surrounded by triple strand concertina with a guard post at the break in the wire. If memory serves, the Scouts from the somnulent Seventh were operating that night on the premise that less is more. With the exception of the young stalwart manning the guard shack the only other sign of life was the guard roving the "inside" perimiter.

With the exception of token security teams, the disposition of Bco forces were as follows, 9+ (that is NINE or MORE) M60 Machine guns and a plethora (that is a shitload) of M203 and 90mm RRs were in the support
element with as much 7.62 blanks and 203 simulators that we'd been able to hump in. The rest of us, loaded down with as many x-tra magazines and all the arty and grenade simulators we could ever hope for, were the assault element. The primary signal to set off the raid was to be when a small team took out the guard shack, the support element was to open fire at once to act as a diversion and the FNGs were to fling themselves onto the wire so that the rest of us could (after using their bodies as boarwalks) sweep across the objective and secure the far side. In that way we would avoid the choke point at the gate and as we swept across we would drop off teams to clear the buildings.

Hooahs, it was a thing of beauty. The poor sap at the gate had the shock of his young life when he found himself bunkmates with an overabundance of arty simulators rapidly cooking off. Shouting the scout motto of ohhfockk he exited the shack only seconds before it virtually disintegrated behind him. As our support element opened up we moved across, with the thought formost in mind being that whatever munitions we expend now we won't have to hump back later. It was spectacular. An orgy of pyrotechnics that seemed like it would go on forever. It was all our L.T. could do to get us to stop before we melted our barrels down.

The buiding clearing teams had their hands full, they were to gather up all the opposition, search em and then line em up for pictures. One team, seeing how motivational sputtering pyro had proven itself to be, rolled a few arty sims in the front door and simply gathered in the legs as they bailed from every exit. Once again the cry of ohhfockk echoed across the compound. The next thing our bold scouts knew they were on their knees with blank adapters socketed into their ears staring into flashlights so they wouldn't be able to figure out what was going on around them. Can you say,"deer in the high beams"? It was actually kind of pitiful to see these guys with whipped mutt expressions and the dawning realization that they were fockked for real. They sat there with all this activity around them and then suddenly a couple of arms would reach in from out of the darkness, yank one of them out of the lineup for pictures and then throw em back in. Some of these guys were actually whimpering.

While this is going on SSG D had another camera crew take pictures of the Laser and then he and his boys go to work. The final part of our OpOrder called for our Demo team to use PLENTY of C-4 and to LEVEL the compound. All in a days work for SSG D. He and his boys begin to liberally apply charges to basically everything without a pulse. At this point we are horrified to learn that nobody had briefed these legs and they are unaware that soon their home of the past several days is going to be nothing more than a smoke ring.

These guys were being "Tactical" so they probably had brought no more than 20 pounds of unnecessary crap apiece. We tell them to haul ass with what they can't live without and sign a statement of charges for the rest, but whatever they do put as much distance between themselves and the impending carnage as possible. By now it was BMNT so at least they'd have light to get their shit into some kind of shotgroup buy. As we beat feet up the hill to put a terrain feature between ourselves and SGT. D's handywork you could see the gallant scouts in full retreat dragging footlockers, matresses, duffles ect. ect., with their cries of ohhfockk, ohhfock slowly swallowed by the distance.

As soon as we got over the hilltop we settle in to wait for the bang, we are still in adrenal overload so this wait seems to take forever, honestly it had to take a while to let the legs get clear. After what seems forever I hear this voice next to me counting down; 20, 19, 18.... Its SGT D counting down like this is an Apollo launch or something. Now I'm thinking that he's using time fuse, but come on, nobody is that accurate with time fuse...3, 2, 1 and my hand to God KABOOM!!

All that remained to do was to return to the compound and shoot some more pictures for damage assessment. As we topped the hill we saw the site and there was not even a strand of concertina left. OHHFOCK, I sez to myself, nice job SGT D, I sez outloud. We start running down the hill and SGT D begins to lag behind so I hang back and ask if hes Okay, and with this shit eatin grin he says, "IT AINT EASY RUNNIN WITH A STIFF DICK, RANGER"!

Harry B.
3/B/2-75 75-79 Class 3-78
"IT AINT EASY RUNNIN WITH A STIFF DICK, RANGER"!

That's funny!

Harry B.
3/B/2-75 75-79 Class 3-78
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"To the last I grapple with thee; from hell's heart I stab at thee, for hate's sake I spit my last breath at thee" - Melville / Captain Ahab


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Old 6 April 2016, 23:35
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^^^^^ Great story. Hooah.
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Old 7 April 2016, 08:21
Fu King Lawyer Fu King Lawyer is offline
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I arrived in the 75th in '88 and we were still under the administrative control of 1st SOCOM at Ft Bragg. The previous Colonel of the Regiment was a BG - Joe Stringham. In his infinite wisdom, he decided he needed to develop his administrative HQs staff by having them plan and execute a tactical mission. For the life of me, I don't know why higher allowed it, but a Ranger Company + SOF Avn was made available for their exercise. 1st SOCOM staffers set the whole thing up at an auxiliary airfield near Eglin AFB. It was a good nite - no Wx and 02 ilum. Eglin Security Police were tasked to provide admin roadblocks so that POVs wouldn't get near the hit. The airfield seizure was executed perfectly. Only problem, 1st SOCOM staff didn't account for the fact that Eglin is in Central time zone - not eastern. The SPs released the roadblock early while the blocking positions were still in place and as the SP vehicle, followed by 8 POVs (including a Harley), approached the approach end of the field, the Ranger blocking position was still there with instructions to take out anything that approached. They hit the clackers with 9 vehicles in the kill zone. Fortunately with the hogs spewing dummy rounds, the SPs hit the floor board and tried to make themselves very small, rather than engage the Ranger Force with live ammo and fight thru the near ambush. All of the vehicles were damaged by flying hard ball rocks, and debris. The Harley driver laid down the bike doing quite a bit of damage. There were 3 pretty funny parts of it all. Everybody was interviewed by the Security Police doing traffic accident reports. The Harley driver was a RI, and other than saying his bike was damaged, he did a great AAR on the blocking team with statements like "great ambush" and "damn, they were fast". The SP vehicle driver was trying to get everybody in trouble and spoke of the AH6 flying lights out, and being a hazard to navigation. My favorite part, there was a pregnant passenger in one of the cars who gave successful child birth during the ambush. I made sure the SITREP said the SP vehicle plus 8 POVs entered the area containing 11 people. All vehicles sustained moderate damage. All 12 people left the area uninjured. 1st SOCOM spent the next two weeks explaining to admin and operational channels how more people walked away than entered. They hated us for letting everybody know they effed up.
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Old 7 April 2016, 11:55
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^^^^ that's totally believable based on the command at the time.. Hence, why we use ZULU time.
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Old 7 April 2016, 12:06
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Originally Posted by Fu King Lawyer View Post
I arrived in the 75th in '88 and we were still under the administrative control of 1st SOCOM at Ft Bragg. The previous Colonel of the Regiment was a BG - Joe Stringham. In his infinite wisdom, he decided he needed to develop his administrative HQs staff by having them plan and execute a tactical mission. For the life of me, I don't know why higher allowed it, but a Ranger Company + SOF Avn was made available for their exercise. 1st SOCOM staffers set the whole thing up at an auxiliary airfield near Eglin AFB. It was a good nite - no Wx and 02 ilum. Eglin Security Police were tasked to provide admin roadblocks so that POVs wouldn't get near the hit. The airfield seizure was executed perfectly. Only problem, 1st SOCOM staff didn't account for the fact that Eglin is in Central time zone - not eastern. The SPs released the roadblock early while the blocking positions were still in place and as the SP vehicle, followed by 8 POVs (including a Harley), approached the approach end of the field, the Ranger blocking position was still there with instructions to take out anything that approached. They hit the clackers with 9 vehicles in the kill zone. Fortunately with the hogs spewing dummy rounds, the SPs hit the floor board and tried to make themselves very small, rather than engage the Ranger Force with live ammo and fight thru the near ambush. All of the vehicles were damaged by flying hard ball rocks, and debris. The Harley driver laid down the bike doing quite a bit of damage. There were 3 pretty funny parts of it all. Everybody was interviewed by the Security Police doing traffic accident reports. The Harley driver was a RI, and other than saying his bike was damaged, he did a great AAR on the blocking team with statements like "great ambush" and "damn, they were fast". The SP vehicle driver was trying to get everybody in trouble and spoke of the AH6 flying lights out, and being a hazard to navigation. My favorite part, there was a pregnant passenger in one of the cars who gave successful child birth during the ambush. I made sure the SITREP said the SP vehicle plus 8 POVs entered the area containing 11 people. All vehicles sustained moderate damage. All 12 people left the area uninjured. 1st SOCOM spent the next two weeks explaining to admin and operational channels how more people walked away than entered. They hated us for letting everybody know they effed up.
DAMN!

These stories are awesome.

I am still laughing over that one.

My wife doesn't understand the humor involved.
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Old 7 April 2016, 12:21
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Still thinking about this. Wonder what she named the baby?

Claymore

Ranger

HOO-AH

Holy F*** What Was That? Etc, etc.
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Old 7 April 2016, 12:29
UGA_11B UGA_11B is offline
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This may be my new favorite thread. Awesome storiea guys. Thanks for sharing.
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Old 7 April 2016, 16:26
Fu King Lawyer Fu King Lawyer is offline
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Quote:
Originally Posted by abnrgr1sg View Post
^^^^ that's totally believable based on the command at the time.. Hence, why we use ZULU time.
abn1SG:
At the time, LTC Keneally (RIP) was in command at Fla Ranger Camp and as such he was in the USAICS chain-of-command. Several of his folks were involved with damaged vehicles - he had a field day ripping 1st SOCOM until they processed payment for damages.
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fkl
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Old 7 April 2016, 17:00
bobmueller bobmueller is offline
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I'm rolling here. Can totally picture the commotion and the panic from the SPs. Had to explain that one to my son since I was laughing so hard.
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Old 7 April 2016, 17:04
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1RiserSlip 1RiserSlip is offline
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Quote:
Originally Posted by Fu King Lawyer
abn1SG:
At the time, LTC Keneally (RIP) was in command at Fla Ranger Camp and as such he was in the USAICS chain-of-command. Several of his folks were involved with damaged vehicles - he had a field day ripping 1st SOCOM until they processed payment for damages.
v/r
fkl
Roger that. Was referring mainly to the Regt Cmdr.. Was in A 1/75 then too. Made me jump with a girl during the Regt COC. I haven't liked bugles since. A story in itself.
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Old 7 April 2016, 20:24
Fu King Lawyer Fu King Lawyer is offline
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Quote:
Originally Posted by abnrgr1sg View Post
Roger that. Was referring mainly to the Regt Cmdr.. Was in A 1/75 then too. Made me jump with a girl during the Regt COC. I haven't liked bugles since. A story in itself.
CoC.....His daughter who was then with CA/PSYOPS at Ft Bragg? As I remember it, she was the first female to ever jump with the Regiment. There is a video of the jump, too. Weak exit IIRC.
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Old 8 April 2016, 00:11
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B 2/75 B 2/75 is offline
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Nearly all of the stories that I've got for posting are old, as in Old Scroll days, back when the Ranger Battalions were an asset of FORSCOM, and the coolest toy in the BN was either an M-21 with a Sionics suppressore and a PVS-2, or maybe a Thompson, or how about a AN/PRC-74.

The lessons, stories, and lies of the current generation of Rangers, those who've spent nearly a full career in active combat, baptizing their Tan Berets with blood, have yet to be really shared with the community yet. Hopefully one day they'll start to come to the surface.
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Old 8 April 2016, 00:17
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Here is my story about my first experience at the place you Georgia boys yearned to be.. I met my cousin who went to basic, jump school, RIP and all at the SeaTac airport. We got to Seattle a few days early to check it out and party before we went to the replacement center. That we did. Only problem was, after discovering an Irish bar named "Kells" our young Gaelic asses were soon down to only four dollars between us for the bus ride to Ft. Lewis.

"Not to worry"says I, "I saw a recruiting station up the block. All we gotta do is go change into our class As, and ask them for a ride to Ft. Lewis. Those fuckers lied to us, so we'll lie to them . We'll tell them we got
pickpocketed and we need a ride to Ft. lewis. They gotta give us a ride. were in the army now".

So we go to the recruiting station and we tell some E-8 our sad tale. "Well fellas, er...I'll see what I can do" says the E-8. He then proceeds to pick up the phone and calls the CQ desk of FUCKING ALPHA CO.2/75!!!! I look over to my cousin and see his eyes are as wide as mine probably are. All we heard in RIP was "don't go to Alpha company, they're crazy". This is great, we're not even at the replacement center yet and some mutant lunatic from Alpha Co. no less, is coming to get us.

A while later we had calmed down and there was a terrific noise as this MONSTER literally kicks open the front door and screams "WHERE'S THOSE NEWTS WHO GOT ROBBED BY A WHORE"??!! "robbed by a whore"?

Did something get lost in the translation? We look over and standing by the door in fluff and buff is this HUGE black guy by the name of SSG W. I'm not exaggerating Rangers, this guy played pro football before becoming a Ranger.This is no lie. He drops us in the office and is screaming obscenities for a while until the Master Sergeant came forward and said, "Hey SGT, I'm an E-8 and I'm telling you to leave these privates alone. this is a U.S Army recruiting station". SSG W whirls around and says "I don't give a fuck who you are or where I am, leg, sit down and shut the fuck up"! The E-8 promptly sits down.

We were then loaded into the back of one of those shitty army pickup trucks and driven to Ft. Lewis in shitty rainy October weather. Upon arrival at the replacement center, we were warmed up with low crawling (yes in our class As, you think I was going to tell this giant psychopath it was against army regs to do that?) with our d-bags for some time along with a MYRIAD of other fun excercises until "he got tired". We all met again at the rdf when once again SSG W yells "HEY THERE GOES THOSE TWO NEWTS WHO GOT ROBBED BY WHORES!!! HAR HAR HAR!!

I looked at my cousin and said "hey there goes the gorilla that gave us a ride for free". "WHAT DID YOU SAY"? Thank God he really didn't hear what I said . Still, it was enough for some more PT outside of the rdf.

Ranger C
B Co 2/75 '85-'88
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Old 8 April 2016, 00:29
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I had a platoon sergeant named SFC N. The guy was hardcore with a capital H. He had tattoos up and down both arms, yelled at everybody all the time (he never spoke normally - everything was screamed), and looked like he was always pissed off at the world for being born. When he was really, really, pissed, his eyes bulged out of his head and he looked like ET (the "phone home" alien from the movie) on steroids. His command of the profane side of the English language was staggering: "Do you think it will work?" is translated into SFC N-ese: "FUCK! HOW THE FUCK CAN A FUCKING FUCKHEAD LIKE YOU FUCK WITH THAT FUCKING THING AND EXPECT IT TO FUCKING WORK?????!!!!!!!!!!!" Just listening to him was an experience - he said the funniest things sometimes....

Anyhoo, our company (A co 1/75) was standing in Class A's in formation at "open ranks" as a three-man inspection team made their way through the ranks. Each inspector asked each Ranger one question pertaining
to his job. There was this tabbed E-4 (we went through CL 13-87 together) named SPC D in third squad. now D was from Philadelphia and was an orphan. He grew up as a fighter, and had had one of his front teeth knocked out in a brawl. The replacement artificial tooth he had installed was slightly discolored from age.

We have all been through these inspections. The inspection team all execute a right face, take one step forward, execute a left face, and ask their questions in unison of the three Rangers they are in front of. Thus,
each Ranger is barraged with a shot group of three well-placed questions in a row.

First up to D was our CO CPT C (now LTC C of 2/75 CDR fame).
CPT C: "Specialist D!"
SP4 D: "Yes sir!"
CPT C: "What are the three parts of a M-67 fragmentary grenade?"
SP4 D: "Sir, the three parts....etc etc etc." (he gets it right)
(group executes the aforementioned D&C movements and 1SG H is now there)
1SG H: "Specialist D!"
SP4 D: "Yes, First Sergeant?"
1SG H: "What are the five primary colors of a topographical map, and what do each represent?"
SP4 D: "First Sergeant, the five primary colors....etc. etc. etc." (he gets it right)
(group executes the aforementioned D&C movements and now it is SFC N, the PSG)

SFC N wheels on SPC D, inspecting him up and down. N had the look of a guy that knew D was gong to be hard to stump; he was very strac. Besides, SFC N was pissed (nobody knows why) and his neck veins
were standing out, making D grin ever so slightly. Everyone in the platoon was waiting to hear N's question, as he had a reputation for coming up with some pretty tough ones. Not one Ranger was expecting
what came out, though.

SFC N: "RANGER D!"
SP4 D: "Yes, Sergeant?"
SFC N: "WHEN ARE YOU GOING TO GET SOME FUCKING WHITE-OUT ON THAT FUCKING TOOTH?????!!!!"

Even the CO was laughing............

Ranger L. S.
SGT Co A 1/75 86-89; 13-87
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