There is a lot of talk about the United Nations creating a combined strike force with troops from several nations included in it.
Could it work? Let's take a look at one operation. A combined force beach landing on a tropical island. When the troops hit the beach...
'Twas the night before Christmas,
He lived all alone,
In a one bedroom house made of
Plaster and stone.
I had come down the chimney
With presents to give,
And to see just who
In this home did live.
I looked all about,
A strange sight I did see,
No tinsel, no presents,
Not even a tree.
No stocking by mantle,
Just boots filled with sand,
On the wall hung pictures
Of far off distand lands.
With medals and badges,
Awards of all kins,
A sober thought
Came through my mind.
For this house was different,
It was dark and dreary,
I found the home of a soldier,
Once I could see clearly.
The soldier lay sleeping,
Curled up on the floor
In this one bedroom home.
The face was so gentle,
The room in such disorder,
Not how I pictured
A United States Soldier.
Was this the hero
Of whom I'd just read?
Curled up on a poncho,
The floor for a bed?
I realized the families
That I saw this night,
Owed their lives to these soldiers
Who were willing to fight.
Soon round the world,
The children would play,
And grownups would celebrate
A bright Christmas Day.
They all enjoyed freedom
Each month of the year,
Because of the soldiers,
Like the one lying here.
I couldn't help wonder
How many lay alone,
On a cold Christmas Eve
In a land far from home.
The very thought
Brought a tear to my eye,
I dropped to my knees
And started to cry.
The soldier awakened
And I heard a rough voice,
"Santa don't cry,
This life is my choice;
I fight for freedom,
I don't ask for more,
My life is my God,
My country, my Corps."
The soldier rolled over
And drifted to sleeps,
I couldn't control it,
I continued to weep.
I kept watch for hours,
So silent and still
And we both shivered
From the cold night's chill.
I didn't want to leave
On that cold, dark, night,
This guardian of honor
So willing to fight.
Then the soldier rolled over,
With a voice soft and pure,
Whispered, "Carry on Santa,
It's Christmas Day, all is secure."
One look at my watch,
and I knew he was right.
"Merry Christmas my friend,
And to all a good night."
Here are some (supposedly) actual maintenance complaints submitted by US Air Force pilots and the replies from the maintenance crews:
Three generals, one from the Army, one from the Air Force, and the third from the Marine Corps, were having a debate about whose soldiers were the bravest.
To prove his point, the Air Force general calls over an airman: "Airman! Climb that flagpole, and once you are at the top, sing 'Wild Blue Yonder', and then jump off!"
"YES SIR!" replies the airman. He takes off for the flagpole like a shot, scales up it, sings the anthem, salutes and jumps off, hitting the ground at attention.
The general dismisses him. "Now that's bravery!" exclaims the general.
"Bravery, nothing," snorts the Army general. "Get over here, private!"
"YES SIR!!" replies the private.
"Put on full combat gear, load your rucksack with these rocks, scale that flagpole, come to attention, present arms, and sing the National Anthem, salute each of us, and then climb back down, head first."
"YES SIR!!" replies the private, and completes the task.
"Now that is a brave man! Beat that!!"
They look to the Marine. "Private," the Marine Corps General commands.
"Put on full combat gear. Put these two dogs in your pack. Using only one hand, climb that flagpole. At the top, sing 'The Halls of Montezuma', put your knife in your teeth, and dive off, headfirst."
The private snaps to attention, looks at the general and says, "TO HELL WITH YOU SIR!!"
The general turns to the others and says, "Now THAT'S bravery!"
Actual radio conversation released by the Chief of Naval Operations, 10-10-95.
Station #1: Please divert your course 15 degrees to the North to avoid a collision.
Station #2: Recommend you divert YOUR course 15 degrees to South to avoid a collision.
Station #1: This is the Captain of a US Navy ship. I say again, divert YOUR course.
Station #2: No. I say again, you divert YOUR course.
Station #1. THIS IS THE AIRCRAFT CARRIER ENTERPRISE, WE ARE A LARGE WARSHIP OF THE US NAVY. DIVERT YOUR COURSE NOW!
The Pentagon recently found it had too many generals and offered an early retirement bonus.
They promised any general who retired right away, his full annual benefits plus $10,000 for every inch measured in a straight line along the retiring general's body between any two points he chose.
The first general accepted. He asked the pension man to measure from the top of his head to the tip of his toes. Six feet. He walked out with a check for $720,000.
The second general asked them to measure from the tip of his outstretched hands to his toes. 8 feet. He walked away with a check $960,000.
Meantime, the first general had tipped off the third as to the additional bonus check.
When the third general was asked where to measure, he told the pension man, "from the tip of my penis, to the bottom of my testicles."
The pension man said that would be fine, but he'd better get the Medical Officer to do the measuring.
The Medical Officer attended and asked the general to drop his pants...he did.... The Medical Officer placed the tape on the tip of the general's penis and began to work back.
"My God!" he said, "where are your testicles?!"
The general replied, "Back in Nam!"
Falcon Codes - a numerical code used to indicate ones displeasure or to pass a rude comment over the radio or messages.
|801||You've got to be shitting me.|
|802||Get off my f---ing back.|
|803||Beats the shit out of me.|
|804||What the f---.|
|805||I hate this f---ing place.|
|806||It's so f---ing bad, I can't believe it.|
|807||This place sucks.|
|808||F--- you very much.|
|809||Lovely, simply f---ing lovely.|
|810||That damn club.|
|811||Beautiful, just f---ing beautiful.|
|812||F---, shit, piss.|
|813||Hair pie, fur burgers.|
|814||I just got screwed.|
|815||Big f---ing deal.|
|816||Hang it in your ear.|
|818||DILLIGAS (Do I Look Like I Give A Shit?).|
|819||I don't give a shit.|
|820||Merry F---ing Christmas.|
|821||F--- it, just f--- it.|
|824||Tell someone who gives a shit.|
|825||Don't get f---ing wise.|
|826||I don't give a f---.|
|827||Pardon me, sir, you obviously mistook me for someone who gives a shit.|
|828||I didn't design the f---ing thing. I just bought the f---ing thing.|
|829||Your ass sucks wind.|
|830||It won't f---ing work.|
|831||Go pound sand up your ass.|
|833||Who called this f---ing meeting.|
|834||FUBAR (F---ed Up Beyond All Repair).|
|836||Adios mother f---er.|
|839||No f---ing shit.|
|840||Go to hell.|
|841||Ho, f---ing, ho.|
|902||I'm free this weekend.|
|903||Take your time. I don't want to be stuck with this ass for lunch.|
|904||Help me dump this mother.|
|905||Let's ball at lunch.|
|906||I'm free tonight.|
|907||Tied up with wife/husband tonight.|
|908||Call me at home to come back to work.|
|909||Call back later. My wife/husband is listening.|
|910||Let's take off sick together.|
|911||Meet you at the motel.|
|912||Let's snag them for tonight.|
|913||Can't do better for now. At least they'll be a fill in.|
|914||Let's trade balling partners.|
|915||Is he/she available?|
|916||Muddy field. Couldn't play.|
|917||SNEAK (Situation Normal All Fucked Up).|
|919||This frigging thing.|
|920||Tall boy day.|
|926||If you can't take a joke, f--- ya.|
LAST U.S. ARMY
APO 001. U.S. ARMY
AG 4110.99 (DEBCA)20 September 1944
SUBJECT: Indoctrination for Return to U.S.
TO: All Units.
Careless Code Recycling Causes Killer Kangas:
Mutant Marsupials Take Up Arms Against Australian Air Force
The reuse of some object-oriented code has caused tactical headaches for Australia's armed forces. As virtual reality simulators assume larger roles in helicopter combat training, programmers have gone to great lengths to increase the realism of their scenarios, including detailed landscapes and - in the case of the Northern Territory's Operation Phoenix- herds of kangaroos (since disturbed animals might well give away a helicopter's position).
The head of the Defense Science & Technology Organization's Land Operations/Simulation division reportedly instructed developers to model the local marsupials' movements and reactions to helicopters. Being efficient programmers, they just re-appropriated some code originally used to model infantry detachment reactions under the same stimuli, changed the mapped icon from a soldier to a kangaroo, and increased the figures' speed of movement.
Eager to demonstrate their flying skills for some visiting American pilots, the hotshot Aussies "buzzed" the virtual kangaroos in low flight during a simulation. The kangaroos scattered, as predicted, and the visiting Americans nodded appreciatively... then did a double-take as the kangaroos reappeared from behind a hill and launched a barrage of Stinger missiles at the hapless helicopter. (Apparently the programmers had forgotten to remove that part of the infantry coding.)
Objects are defined with certain attributes, and any new object defined in terms of an old one inherits all the attributes. The embarrassed programmers had learned to be careful when reusing object-oriented code, and the Yanks left with a newfound respect for Australian wildlife.
Simulator supervisors report that pilots from that point onward have strictly avoided kangaroos, just as they were meant to.
-- From June 15, 1999 Defense Science and Technology Organization
A young private sought permission from his Commanding Officer to leave camp the following weekend. "You see," he explained, "my wife's expecting." "Oh," said the Officer, "I understand. Go ahead and tell your wife that I wish her luck."
The following week the same soldier was back again with the same explanation, "My wife's expecting." The Officer looked surprised. "Still expecting?" he said, "Well, well, my boy, you must be pretty bothered. Of course you can have the weekend off."
When the same soldier appeared again the third week, however, the Officer lost his temper. "Don't tell me your wife is still expecting!" he bellowed.
"Yes, sir!" said the soldier resolutely, "She's still expecting."
"What in heaven is she expecting?" cried the Officer.
"Me," said the soldier simply.
I, Zoomie, swear to sign away 4 years of my useless life to the United States Air Force because I'm too smart for the Army and because the Marines frighten me. I swear to sit behind a desk and take credit for the work done by others more dedicated than me who take their job seriously. I also swear not to do any form of real exercise, but promise to defend our bike riding test as a valid form of exercise. I swear to uphold and defend the Constitution of the United States, even though I believe myself to be above that. I promise to walk around calling everyone by their first name because I know I'm not really in the military and I find it amusing to annoy the other services. I will have a better quality of life than all those around me and will at all times besure to make them aware of that fact. After completion of my snicker "Basic Training," I will be a lean, mean, donut-eating, lazy-boy sitting, civilian-wearing-blue-clothes, chairborne Ranger. I will believe I am superior to all others and will make an effort to clean the knife before stabbing the next person in the back with it. I will do no work unless someone is watching me (and it makes me look good), will annoy those around me, and will go home early every day. I consent to never getting promoted (EVER) and understand that all those whom I made fun of yesterday will probably outrank me tomorrow. So help me God.
I, Rambo, swear to sign away 4 years of my mediocre life to the United States Army because I couldn't score high enough on the ASVAB to get into the Air Force, because I'm not tough enough for the Marines, and the Navy won't take me because I can't swim. I will wear camouflage every day and tuck my trousers in my boots because I can't figure out how to use blousing straps. I promise to wear my uniform 24 hours a day even when I have a date. I will continue to tell myself that I am a fierce killing machine because my Drill Sergeant told me I am, despite the fact that the only action I will ever see is a court-martial for sexual harassment. I acknowledge the fact that I will make E-8 in my first year of service, and vow to maintain that it is because I scored perfect on my PT test. After completion of my sexual...er...I mean Boot Camp, I will attend a different Army school once every other month and return knowing less than I did when I left. On my first trip home after Boot Camp, I will walk around like I am cool and propose to my 9th grade sweetheart. I will make my wife stay home because if I let her out she might leave me for a smarter Air Force guy or a better looking Marine. Should she leave me twelve times, I will continue to take her back. While at work, I will maintain a look of knowledge while getting absolutely nothing accomplished. I will arrive at work every day at 1000 hrs because of morning PT and leave every day at 1300 to report back to the "company." I understand that I will undergo no training whatsoever that will help me get a job upon separation, and will end up working in construction with my friends from high school. I will brag to everyone about the Army giving me $30,000 for college, but will be unable to use it because I can't pass a placement exam. So help me God.
I, Top Gun, in lieu of going to prison, swear to sign away 4 years of my life to the United States Navy because I want to hang out with Marines without actually having to BE one of them, because I thought the Air Force was too "corporate," and because I thought, "hey, I like to swim...why not?" I promise to wear clothing that went out of style in 1976 and to have my name stenciled on the butt of every pair of pants I own. I understand that I will be mistaken for the Good Humor man during the summer, and for Waffen SS during the winter. I will strive to use a different language than the rest of the English-speaking world. using words like "deck, bulkhead, cover, and head" instead of "floor, wall, hat, and toilet." I will take great pride in the fact that all Navy acronyms, rank and ensignia, and everything else for that matter, are completely different from the other services and make absolutely no sense whatsoever. I will muster (whatever that is) at 0700 hrs every morning unless I am buddy-buddy with the Chief, in which case I will show up around 0930 hours. I vow to hone my coffee cup handling skills to the point that I can stand up in a kayak being tossed around in a typhoon, and still not spill a drop. I consent to being promoted and subsequently busted at least twice per fiscal year. I realize that, once selected for Chief, I am required to submit myself to the sick, and quite possibly illegal, whims of my new-found "colleagues." So help me Neptune.
I, state your name, swear... uuhhhh... high-and-tight... (grunt) cammies... uhh... ugh... Air Force women... OORAH! So help me Corps.
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These are actual lines out of OER (Officer Efficiency Report) performance appraisal for the military.
An Army grunt stands in the rain with a 35 lb pack on his back, 15lb weapon in hand, after marching 12 miles, and says "God, this is SHIT."
An Army Airborne grunt stands in the rain with a 45lb pack on his back weapon in hand, after jumping from an airplane and marching 18 miles, and says with a smile "God, this is THE shit."
An Army Airborne Ranger lies in the mud, 55lb pack on his back, weapon in hand, after jumping from a plane into the swamp and marching 25 miles at night past the enemy, and says with a grin,"God, I LOVE this shit!"
An Army Green Beret, Airborne/Ranger/Pathfinder qualified, kneels up to his nose in the stinking, infested mud of a swamp with a 65lb pack on his back and a weapon in both hands after jumping from an airplane into the ocean, swimming 10 miles to the swamp and killing an alligator, then crawling 30 miles through the brush to assault the enemy camp. He says with a passionate snarl, "God, gimmee Some MORE of this shit!"
An Air Farce cadet sits in an easy chair in his air-conditioned, carpeted room and says,"The cable's out? What kind of shit is that?!?"
Twenty-eight years ago, Herman James, a Tennessee mountain man, was drafted by the Army.
On his first day in boot camp, the Army issued him a comb. That afternoon, an Army barber sheared his head.
On his second day, the Army issued him a tooth brush. That afternoon, an Army dentist yanked several of his teeth.
On his third day, he was issued a jock strap...
The Army is still looking for him.
While practicing auto-rotations during a military night training exercise a Huey Cobra screwed up the landing and landed on the tail rotor. The landing was so hard that it broke off the tail boom. However, the chopper fortunately remained upright on its skids, sliding down the runway doing 360s.
As the Cobra slid past the tower, trailing a brilliant shower of sparks, this was the radio exchange that took place...
Tower: "Sir, do you need any assistance?"
Cobra: "I don't know, tower, we ain't done crashin' yet."
The young Ensign approached the crusty old Chief and asked him about the origin of the commissioned office insignias.
"Well, Ensign, it's history and tradition. First, we give you a gold bar representing that you're valuable BUT malleable. The silver bar of a Lieutenant Junior Grade represents value, but less malleable. When you make Lieutenant, you're twice as valuable so we give you two silver bars.
"As a Captain, you soar over military masses, hence the eagle. As an Admiral, you're obviously a star. That answer your question?"
"Yeah, but what about Commanders and Lieutenant Commanders?"
"Now that goes waaaaaay back in history. Back to the Garden of Eden even. You see, we've always covered our pricks with leaves... "
On some air bases the military is on one side of the field and civilian aircraft use the other side of the field, with the control tower in the middle.
One day the tower received a call from an aircraft asking, "What time is it?"
The tower responded, "Who is calling?"
The aircraft replied, "What difference does it make?"
The tower replied, "It makes a lot of difference.
If you're a United Airlines Flight, it's 3 o'clock.
If you're an Air Force flight, it's 1500.
If you're a Navy flight, it's 6 bells.
If you're an Army flight, the big hand is on the 12 and the little hand is on the 3.
If you're a Marine Corps flight, it's Thursday afternoon."