Aces High Bulletin Board
General Forums => Aces High General Discussion => Topic started by: the Lazy ace on March 09, 2006, 09:31:06 PM
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does anyone know some REAL war stories and if they do, care to share?
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Marriage.
'nuff said.
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Sunday Nights on Fox News...War Stories with Oliver North =)
By the way olli is the man...Met him in DC 3 weeks ago, a real stand up guy:aok
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Which war? You want my Fathers stories, the reason Im into WWII fighters?
Or Nam stories form the jumgle lookin up?
He is something I do like tellin. About 5 or so years ago, Myself, another guy from AH, and a Warbirds friend. were at a P-51d charity event for our local WWII musesum.
After the thing was over we were standing around in back talking over the differences between how the Ponies flew in different sims of the time.
Then an old guy (88) came up to us on walking sticks and said:
"Boys, I dont know what you are talking about. But I was napping behind you, as I listened to your talking about dogfighting, and ACM. I almost thought I was back in England in 44, at the O' club after a mission."
"Thanks for bringing me back"
We were standing there with our jaws dropped and silent as he toddled off towards the door.
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In '85 I was in 1st US Armored Division in West Germany and my unit went up on the border to familiarize ourselves with the fighting positions we would be buried in should the bullets start flying.
During that time there close to the 'grenze' I took a whiz on Czechslovakia.
Got an Army Achievement medal for it too.
Well...the recon mission..not whizzing on the commies turf.
Next time I'll tell you the story of how I puked all the way from Savannah Georgia to Fort Stewart!!
What a night!!
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http://www.virtualpilots.fi/hist/
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One time at band camp......................... ............................. ....................
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Watched a guy get ripped by a 50cal once.... splat! :huh
Wierd seeing war up close...
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Originally posted by Blooz
In '85 I was in 1st US Armored Division in West Germany and my unit went up on the border to familiarize ourselves with the fighting positions we would be buried in should the bullets start flying.
During that time there close to the 'grenze' I took a whiz on Czechslovakia.
Got an Army Achievement medal for it too.
Well...the recon mission..not whizzing on the commies turf.
Next time I'll tell you the story of how I puked all the way from Savannah Georgia to Fort Stewart!!
What a night!!
Hey Blooz
I was also in Germany but from 83 to 85 in Maniheim, 8th ID, 5/77 Armor. Also at Ft. Stewart From 85 to 86 with the 5/32 Armor. What unit were you in at Stewart?
Boy the stories I have from Germany, hehhe wife doesn't even know about these stories. Some of the best years of my life.
:aok
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I worked the Los Angeles 92 riots, got sent to South Centeral a few hours after the poop hit the fan... that was fun.
Working the riots had advantages, I got a 'free' 2 weeks off, thanks to the Dept shrink anyway, but it gave me time to spend the overtime loaded $5000 paycheck.
If you ever see those old "Stories of the highway patrol", theres an episode where they stop a gangster on the 10 FYW in East LA 2 or 3 am and he runs into the nearby neighborhood. I found the idiot hiding under a car and was surrounded by cameras & CHP units... everyone wanted to be on TV.
I gave an interview about how I was just cruising along, got the call and found the guy, well they cut that part out and showed the dork CHP guy telling how HE, with some help from "locals", caught the guy.
fluff'n CHP = AAA with a gun
My only scene was me switching cuffs with the CHP guy.... total rip off. I must say though, you'll notice my uniform looked much cooler, you could brush your hair in the shine on my boots... they apparently used Hershey bars.
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Originally posted by Jag34
Hey Blooz
I was also in Germany but from 83 to 85 in Maniheim
:aok
On my second tour, I was stationed in Bad Kissingen. 2/11 ACR,
Yup a border rat. 74-76 Now thats pod racing!
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http://www.army.mil/cmh-pg/moh1.htm
Be prepared to squeeze some tears. Heavy, heavy, s**t
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Not a war story per se but...
Dad flew with Flying Tigers in China 42-44
Here is what a banana split is.
He'd come in to strafe sampans which carried japanese supplies. As he came in people would jump off each side and he split the sampan down the middle so it peeled open.......like a banana split ;-)
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Yes. http://www.virtualpilots.fi/en/hist/.
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How the heck could I forget?
In '86 I was on the border when Chernobyl exploded.
Things got a bit intense then too...lol.
Just a bit.
If I die of cancer at least I'll have something to blame it on.
2/9 Cav at Ft. Stewart
3/34 Armor at Erlangen
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Originally posted by Blooz
How the heck could I forget?
In '86 I was on the border when Chernobyl exploded.
Things got a bit intense then too...lol.
Just a bit.
If I die of cancer at least I'll have something to blame it on.
2/9 Cav at Ft. Stewart
3/34 Armor at Erlangen
Ouch. Hope u ok;)
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My grandfather (passed away in 1998 of Cancer) was USMC 1943-46. On Okinawa, they had just finished laundry. They had a clothes line strung up and one of his buddies hung a Wool Blanket up. Right after, a Japanese patrol started firing at the squad. My grandpa was still unsure whether, they were actually "seen", or if they were shooting at the blanket. My grandpa said that their was a light breeze and the machine they were firing at the blanket had stopped every bullet shot at it. They just fell to the ground after hitting the blanket. His squad simply flanked the Japanese and "dispatched them".
Another from Okinawa. My grandfather and a buddy were picked to blow up trees. They were instructed "to use one stick of dynamite per tree". After about 10 of em, he said "We started digging at the tap root, and I noticed this one was bigger than the previous ones, so I put three sticks in". My grandpa lit the fuze, and he said "it launched straight up out of sight." Within two minutes a General came over and started chewing them out. "Who in the hell just lit that whoopeeed tree?!" "I did Sir, the taproot was larger than the previous trees." "Well aren't you just a smarta**?!" "Sir, would you care to instruct the PFC on how to properly gauge the taproots for sticks of dynamite?" "Well..Keep up the good work."
Karaya
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February 1991, day 3 of the ground war, location southern Iraq. Weather was low clouds, cold with a heavy ground fog in the low lying areas. My unit was attached to the 1st Infantry Divsion at the time and we were instructed to set up at the edge of a bunker complex and prepare for a fire mission. (My unit was an MLRS unit A btry 1/158FA Oklahoma Army National Guard) The launchers were online and we were getting ready to set up the ammo resupply points when we hear an M-60 machine gun open up. It was from one of our M-577 FDC tracks and we could see the tracers lighting up this bunker about 1/2 mile away from us. We start getting a little return fire, AK-47's and the like and all of a sudden the Lt. starts running around in circles yelling for everyone to pull back 1000 meters. We take off like the rat patrol and pull back, make a 180 turn to face the complex and set up a defensive position. I was one of the two M-60 gunners in the ammo platoon so they had me out on the right flank of the unit and had orders to hold until relived. I switched positions with my assistant driver so I was in the passenger side of the truck, head out the roof with a loaded M-60 in my hands with 400rds of ammo in the weapon. Started to take more small arms fire and thats when a round came through the window of my truck. Missed my left knee by a couple of inches and shot out my radio. At that point things get a little blurry, but I do remember that I fired all 400 rds from my weapon. When the shooting on our side stopped it was real quite and we waited for about 20 minutes before we moved out of the area. It was about that point I realized I had pissed myself and needed to find a new uniform and MOP suit to wear:(
Only engagement we had for the whole thing, but it was enough. Getting shot at sucks so I joined the Coast Guard in 1992 and haven't looked back.
That's my War Story.
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Originally posted by the Lazy ace
does anyone know some REAL war stories and if they do, care to share?
I was watching a show about the Brit SAS, the actor playing the lead team member yelled "Stand your ground" as part of a battle re-enactment.
I had a PTSD moment remembering an incident during the 1992 riots clear as day, totally vivid & wierd... as if it happened yesterday. I swear I could even smell burning building for a split second.
In any event; my partner & I being young and unmarried were tasked to go to South Central. On the way we hooked up with a small convoy of cop cars from all over the state.
At one point while driving this old guy with a silver flat top pulled up to us, he had a Retired USMC license plate frame.. he snapped us a proper salute with a thumbs up and "V" for victory. I told my partner on 3, we go eyes right and salute him back.. I could see his eyes well up with tears, you know the heart of this old warrior was with us. It was a neat moment. He knew what we didn't, we were headed for combat... at that point it wasn't real to me, but that old warrior kew we were not all dressed up to go hand out baseball cards.
I was geared out like your typical Govt thug in a darth vader jumpsuit with velcro "POLICE" patches, riot helmit, AR15 W/40mm launcher & 30 round clips taped together. Looked like one of these (pic below)
I had a few orange 40mm trainiing rounds, a few other guns (669 .9mm 13 round clips and a 645 .45 auto 8+1 with silver tipped hollowpoints.
Not knowing where exactly to go, I followed the other units. We exited at one point and the mini convoy all turned right. But off to left I could see a burning car and what looked like a few LAPD units about 1/2 mile away.. so I peeled out left and about 10 cars followed me.
Sure enough there were 4 LAPD units with 6 officers holding back an angry mob of well over 100 who has already set a police car on fire. They were in a semi circle defensive stance with a crusty old gunny looking LAPD officer holding a shotgun in the center barking orders. He had no protective gear and took a rock to the head, he was squriting blood.. thats when I got a very bad sinking feeling that game time was over and this sht was real. One female officer was laying down in the back seat of a unit after getting the living crap kicked out of her, blood poured from her face.
The 10 or so cars that followed me all hastily parked & dismounted, about 20 cops, we all took a defensive stance.. the gunny yelped "I dont know where the hell you came from, but is this is this all you brought?"
Right about then shots rang out from...somewhere.... these were the "snap" rounds that you know are danger close... the mob consisted of some crips clad in red hankerchiefs covering thier faces and a whole bunch of hyper active others, they were looting a liquor store, burning, dancing and chanting "F tha police". I saw one guy with an AK-47 briefly, a few others were armed with bats, sticks and a hand guns.
I noticed that there was a group of hostiles forming behind us, I got nailed with a frozen burrito in the back of my helmit as all kinds of trash & ashes rained down on us. What looked like 10 year old kids were on an adjacent roof to the liquor store were tossing cans of soup, batteries, anything found in a mini market. I started to get real worried at that point...
Like a scene in a movie with things around me seeming to move in slow motion, the gunny, wearing my killer field dressing on his busted head, yells "Give me a defensive parimiter AND PREPARE TO STAND YOUR GROUND!!" he felt the female officer was too wounded to move, so were were going to stand and fight until help arrived.
I fired off a few of my 40mm training rounds low into the crowd if they started to get close, these did nothing but splat orange paint goo, but it was intimidating as hell.
After about 10 minutes of an uneasy calm, an SUV of some sort had attracted the attention of the mob 1/2 block away.. 2 white guys getting attacked, they were trying to drag these guys out. The driver got smart and floored it bouncing mofos off his bumper as he headed towards us. The mob followed, and shots rang out, lots of em peppering the SUV.
Gunny yells "prepare to give cover fire", I remember thinking is this guy nuts?, we cant do that, a cop firing is weapon is a very big deal.. I was even worried I was going to Federal prison for shooting my training rounds, and how I'd grow old doing the paperwork.. just then, literally, the window of a parked car shattered 15 feet away, then I heard the "boom".. it was one of those rounds that hits ya before you hear the shot, but it struck that car instead. That was followed by snaps, lots of em... we were taking fire.
A few of us id'd the shooter near a parked van about 30 yards away, the orange glow of something burning behind him gave away his location... that was that start of a chaotic exchange of gunfire back and forth, it seemed like it lasted 20 minutes, but im sure it was over in a minute or two. Most of the mob beat feat and ran, those who didn't were mostly armed taking pop shots from around corners or behind cars. The noise was deafining, my ears were riniging like mad and the smell of gun powder with burning car / building smoke stung my eyes and made it hard to breathe.. it felt like I swollowed a softball.
I remember looking at the van, the front tries & all windows were blown out, it was peppered with holes and spewing fluids. Someone saw the shooter limp, hop away, but 2 others I saw collapse and get dragged off / helped by thier homies.
It was intense.
An armoured car with 5 SWAT dudes and 2 LAFD paramedics arrived at some point to take the wounded female officer and the 2 guys in the SUV who had been sctrached, hit in the head with a bat / claw hammer and generally beaten to a pulp.... gunny gave the word to mount up and get the f out of there... and we left.
The mob exploded in celebration, as if they had won, we took fire leaving but nobody was hit. Almost every unit leaving had at least 1 flat.
Right before we retreated one of the SWAT guys found a blood trail near the van and threw down some playing cards that had a unit logo of a cop skull and x-bones so the crips knew who had been there... he was also asking around if anyone had any confirmed kills.
Very suureal, bizarre and odd... was this wild west shoot em BS in the middle of Los Angeles really happening?.. and I was really in the thick of it?
After I had a chance to collect my thoughts, un pucker my sphincter and think about what just happened.. I reached into my pocket for a smoke.. I was basically a non smoker back then, I used cigars / cigetettes to kill off dead body smells of any rotters.
Inside my shirt pocket were a handfull of spent brass. At some point without thinking, I policed my brass and did as I always do; put em in my pocket. They were warm and smelled of fresh gunpowder.
The next 18 hours were a blur of intensity, we rolled in force 30 cars strong 4 cops per car.. just like you might have seen on the news, proecting the fire dept, responding to the "PJ's" (housing projects like Jordan Downs, Grape street) where reports of "30 armed suspects with automatic weapons" were common.
Having shots fired went from a "once in a career" type of thing that some guys never have happen, to providing cover fire almost every mission.. in the middle of an American city.
After that it calmed down, we formed skirmish lines here and there and just watched as they destroyed thier own hood. Every now and then, we'd get the order to advance, which was fun. We'd "clack" our batons on our shields with each step forward as Flight of the Valkyries boomed from a loud speaker. 4 or 5 rows deep in platoon formation.. when the order came "prepare to charge....CHARGE!!" the 1st row of 10 would charge the crowd batons and shields swinging, any breach in the line and the following rows would pounce, arrest teams with flex cuffs deftly swooped on the ones who charged back and took em to waiting Sheriff "TST" busses.
Anyway thats it, we were just doing our jobs and trying to keep eachother alive... both of us were Marine reserves at the time too, so our communication and tactics were excellant... and were we both sharp shooters who rarely missed. I cant say either of us got a KIA, but there were enough butt-pucker moments where It wouldnt suprise me if whoever thought they could shoot at us with impunity got a lead enema.
After 3 straight days with no word on what we were supposed to do, my partner and I were bone tired. We left the CP and drove to my place in Burbank where my 3 slutty chick neighbors thew us a party that lasted a few days.
The drive home was very neat, our unit was thrashed and we were filthy from hitting the dirt. I had a butterfly band-aid on my face with a little dried blood from a meduim cut thanks to some flying glasss... un shaven we looked like we had just been to hell... and people were honking, cheering and giving us thumbs up. When we 1st got to my apt and parked, about 20 folks started clapping and patting us on the back... a welcome change to being shot at.
The Dept shrink wanted us to "spin down", so we each got 2 weeks paid vacation... to go with a huge overtime loaded paycheck.
I still have a "1992 LA Summer games, shoot, loot, run" t-shirt somewhere.
(http://www.clcweb.net/db_47k2055637836.jpg)
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My grandfather fought in the first world war with his mates from the same village. One day he went 'Over the Top' and they all charged at the German lines. While running across no-mans land they came across a muddy football and then started kicking it to each other in high spirits (must have been quite a distance I suppose).
The 'ball' was passed to my grand father who by now was close to the enemy lines and was about to kick it out of the way when he saw open eyes looking up at him. They peered up through the mud caked around the ball. In shock he tripped and fell over, crawled back over to the ball and then to his horror recognised the head as that of his best friend.
At that point the Germans opened up with heavy machine guns and cut most of his friends down as he watched. Then they came out of their trenches to 'mop up'.
Still stunned he looked up and could only watch while a German put a bayonette through his side. Fortunately for him someone took out the German before he could do anything further.
The Germans retired as a second wave of Brits came across, only to be cut down again, but grand father was picked up and returned as a casualty and, of course, survived.
They didn't gain any ground that day.
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I didn't fight in any war, nor in any armed conflict. The closest I got to modern military service was "hurry up and wait" at MEPS getting tested and such. A rather impolite kid on the bench was joking about how the one doctor had groped his coinpurse and the Sgt. that was in the hallway about-faced and got within inches of this kid's face and started telling him the issue of respect.
Unfortunately after all my tests, a while of waiting and having dreams of being a Ranger, was deemed not healthy enough presently due to asthma and heart conditions :cry
To satisfy my appetite, I do civil war re-enactments as a Private for the 154th Tennessee Company K. One of my favorite kinds of events was the tactical, where we have army supervisors travel with the units and mark 'deaths' and 'wounded'; just like army exercises. We were assigned to guard a bridge in a wooded area that led to our HQ area and resupply of troops (you were allowed to re-enter the field after 30mins if 'dead' or 'wounded'). We took up positions around and under the bridge, practically laying prone in the trees, bushes, dirt, the whole shebang. We kept our eyes and ears poised towards the east, the apparent direction of the Union troops. We hear a galloping of horses come our way and after they were determined as friendly, rode past us, with one of them stopping to say "we got them to follow us here, probably another company". With that, the cavalry rode off again.
In re-enacting, a company isn't full-sized in terms of what it was 150 years ago. At most, you'll see about 50 men in a "company". The thought of that much troops in a small forested area is enough to get anyone's heart going. Sure enough, after a few minutes we heard the steady march of troops come our way. They were pretty stupid, in column formation with no scouts or any sort of skirmish line towards a bridge that is known to be vital.
A skirmish between our companies ensue, with the before mentioned cavalry coming up behind them and flanking them. We ended capturing the whole lot, which is worse for them, since captured units are considered 'prisoners' and are held for an hour.
The whole time of these tacticals last usually from 8am to 5pm, and is a seperate event from a spectator event. A tactical is purely for the "role-playing" and "strategy" element rather than pre-scripted events.
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My father's tales, highly abridged.....
His war injury was when he tripped over an anchor chain on the deck of a destroyer while playing touch football and racked his knee.
Being called to battle stations while in the shower. Runs to his Bofors station.(naked). It's mid Feb. in the North atlantic in heavy seas....4 inches of ice everywhere
Boarding a surrendering German U-boat after VE day....finding ticket stubs to a movie house in Quebec city, bread wrappers from a brand you get only in Newfoundland,bottles of booze from Canada.etc....we were invaded...sort of.
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There I was...
Egressing Northeast in the Nellis ranges, around an hour before sunset. It was a clear and a million day over the desert, and I was number 2 of a 4-ship of F-15E's on a SAT (Surface Attack Tactics) mission flown out of Mt Home. Our jets were configured with 2 wing tanks and a simulated aim-9, and we had 2 red-air bandits plus a variety of simulated SAM threats opposing us on the way to and from our target area.
Our target ingress proceded at medium altitude, and due to good intel briefings, we avoided the SAM threat inbound. #1 and #3 dispatched the red air threat in a textbook application of our air to air gameplan, and the target attack using simulated laser guided bombs also went according to plan. Feeling confident but still fully alert, we egressed at low altitude because the defensive systems now knew we were in the area and getting out would be more difficult than getting in. Suprisingly, we managed to completely avoid the red-air threat and flew northeast between two mountain ranges, using them to mask us from the air defense radars and SAM sites. As it happened, the ridgeline on our right curved from northeast to a more northerly run, so we had to accomplish a tactical low level ridge crossing. This is a tactically risky maneuver because as you cross the ridge, you temporarily become visible to everyone in the world who wants to shoot at you. Flying lower helps, but then you're balancing running into the ground against getting shot as you cross the ridgeline.
As we approached the ridge, I was 1 - 1.5 miles line abreast of my flight lead, on his left side. This was a tactically perfect position as I could look through him to both the ridgline and the threat area. He reached the ridge first, and began his climb over the terrain. Checking my position and flight path, I noticed a small notch in the ridge and headed for it, knowing that even a 50 ft notch would give the bad guys that much less of a chance at shooting me. Approaching the notch with the mountain ridges directly lit by the setting sun, I pulled up aiming my nose where I estimated would have me cross the ridge at exactly 500', as specified by our peacetime training restrictions.
In the pullup though, as I expected, the air defenses found me. A SAM site illuminated me and my RWR (radar warning receiver) told me that I was in imminent danger. I was just reaching the crest of the ridge, so I had three things I needed to do in a hurry. First, I looked beyond the ridge into the shadowed valley beyond, and cleared my flight path. It looked clear on the far side, telling me that I could descend as soon as I cleared the ridge crest. I also needed to look in the direction of the SAM threat to see if a missile had been launched at me. If a missile was launched, I would have to transfer my priority from flying my egress heading to defeating the missile. At the same time, I had to roll my aircraft inverted, pull the nose down to descend on the backside of the ridge, and then roll upright again, flying down to just 500' above the desert floor on the far side of the ridge. This would hide me from the air defenses on the back side of the ridge and I could continue out of the threat area.
One thing to remember - at 10 degrees nose down at 500' and 500 knots, the "time to live", the time from being "ok" to being a bloody fireball spreading across the ground, is about 6 seconds. That's 6 seconds from being distracted to a chaplain meeting my parents to explain why I'm not coming home for Christmas.
As I pulled down to begin my descent, I was still assessing the SAM threat. While still inverted and less than 5 seconds from my initial pull-up, I determined that I was not in fact being shot at, transferred my attention back to clearing my flight path, and rolled back upright.
And found myself staring at a second ridgeline behind the first, shrouded in shadow, blended in perfectly with the flat desert floor 1000 ft below. I had lost my 6 seconds "time to live" and was less than 3 seconds from flying at mach .9 into a ridgeline that I had LOOKED RIGHT AT BUT HADN'T SEEN due to the visual illusion caused by the setting sun and shadows.
Since I'm writing this, you know I cleared that second ridge. What nobody knew, even my WSO, until I confessed in the debrief and showed them my HUD tape, was that even with a 6.5G pull away from the ground, I still cleared that second ridge by less than 300' measured by my radar altimeter.
It's a hard, dangerous job, and I hope HT and co. forgive me for the occasional F**K YOU on ch1 "back in the day", because there is no sensitivity or hurt feelings in my business. Sammy Small is my hero, and there is are reasons why fighter pilots drink in their squadron hootches instead of with the supply officers in the O-Club. There's a reason why every year on Oct 20, I ring the bell and buy a round for 2 friends who didn't come back one cold winter night.
One day on the Nellis range, I saw death and less than 3 seconds of my 25 year old life made the difference for me and the WSO who trusted me with not only his life, but the hopes and dreams of his parents, wife, and children.
There I was...
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847marine,
My Dad was one of those weenie CHP officers. He was called in (San Diego area), suited up, and was on his way North when they were recalled due to the majority of the fighting having already concluded. Although I disagree with your assessment of the relative value of the CHP (at least their weapons training involves letting your brass end up on the ground instead of their pockets!) your story is the kind of heroism displayed by many uniformed public servants during the riots.
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I'd tell a few, but heck i get squelched for saying "ace's & 8'S. so, i know a war story couldnt fly, here.
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These are interesting stories guys.
I've no military experience myself but both grandfathers were in WW1 and dad was in Liverpool during '41 blitz then Burma & India for rest of war - so plenty of second hand stuff.
However, no stories but something for the psychologists amongst you.
Paternal grandad volunteered in 1914, was an "old contemptible", served thro' till the end, wounded twice, fought at Arras, Mons and Passchendaele.
Maternal grandad also served from 1914-18. First with East Lancs, then as a sapper with RE - undermining German trenches, hand to hand fighting in tunnels.
Both spent much of 4 years living and fighting in conditions hard to imagine.
Neither were decorated for bravery, but they got their service medals, came home and settled into post-war civilian life.
Paternal grandad was happy to spend time recounting to me, an eager teenager, his stories of trench life & death in full bloody, gory and horrific detail.
Maternal grandad would never, ever discuss the war - it was a taboo topic.
Two normal men who'd seen and done terrible things. One would tell his stories, the other never.
Interesting eh?
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My great-grandfather fought in the boer war, wwi, and i think wwii with the british infantry. I only found out a few years ago when i had some family from australia visit. When he was on his deathbed they said he would flip out and start re-living the battles, so they must have been very tramatic. He was over 100 years old when he died and recieved a letter from the queen of england.
My grandfather was in malta during the air raids. His job was to man the spotlights for the british pilots trying to take off or land. He said there were times when pilots were trying to land, and the german pilots would shoot out the lights, or bomb the crap out of the runways and he would have to run for cover. He has the george cross at his house.
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Originally posted by eagl
There I was...
snip
Glad you're here to share that, and thanks.
culero
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Grandfather on mothers side was in the 29th Infantry Division (Blue and Grey) and landed on Omaha beach. His job was artillery spotter, but he fought as a rifleman. He has two purple hearts from the Normandy campaign, and was part of a detatchment attached to the 28th (Red Keystone) as they approached a little place called the Hurtgen Forest.
Don't know anything about my grandfather on my father's side except he was Army and in the Pacific theater 1942-1945. I don't think I have the imagination to think of where he was and what he saw since. Never met him, died before I was born.
Father was a civilian working in the pentagon for the Joint Chiefs of Staff when he was drafted. Resumed his job and discharged as a sergeant with some various little awards for being a good paper shuffler. Cool things we have from his time there are honest to god slides from the moon landings. A pack of maybe 20 that he traded some picture frames for. These are incredible to see. Also my uncle (thanks to dad) wasn't deployed to Vietnam. He was a crew chief on the UH-1 and spent his time in Germany.
I had a hand written letter from a Lt. Colonel or Full Colonel my senior year of high school inquiring as to whether or not I'd play golf at West Point. Invited me to visit and meet the right people. Proudly showed it to dad and his reply was simply "you're not going, and I will see to it." That put an end to that. Six months later September 11th happened.
With my grades I doubt I would have been accepted, but it was a neat afternoon when I got the mail.
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My both grandfathers have faced the Soviet invasion. (What a catching phrase for the next scenario!?) I'm glad they both survived (otherwise I wouldn't be here?). :)
edited for spelling.
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This is a link to a letter I posted a few months ago. It is from a crewmember of my Dads tank and is his recollections of Battle of the Bulge.
Letter from my Dads tank crewmember (http://www.hitechcreations.com/forums/showthread.php?s=&threadid=151950&highlight=bastonge)
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Originally posted by Whisky58
However, no stories but something for the psychologists amongst you. . .One would tell his stories, the other never.
I know somewhat of what you mean. My wife's grandfather was an artillaryman, served in France in '44. He apparently never told anyone, not even his wife, about any of his combat experiences.
This makes me "special" in an odd sort of way. My wife mentioned during a conversation that one of my hobbies was "all that World War Two gaming stuff." Later that evening, he pulled out a book that was a unit history for his cousin's division, if I remember correctly. He said his artillary unit was kind of a roving one, never assigned to one division for too long, but it basically followed where his cousin went.
As I paged through the book, he explained that he was proud of the fact that his unit was one of the few that could fire two rounds, one at greater than 45 degrees and the second less than 45 degrees, and be able to do it fast and accurately enough that both rounds hit the ground at the same time in the same area.
I stupidly said something to the effect that he was lucky to be in the artillary and not a footsoldier. He kind of snorted. Best I can recall, his next description was this.
"There was this one time we were trying to get the hell out of the way of some Tigers. We couldn't get one of the trucks started, and it was to my gun, so we were sitting on this road waiting for the truck to get fixed. Then we hear these squeeky wheels. We didn't know what to do, and our gun was pointed down the road, so a buddy and me load the thing thinking maybe we could scare them off if they come into sight.
"Sure enough, this Tiger comes around the bend. Well, he was so dang close my buddy starts angling the gun, and says "I think we can hit it." I'm telling him "lets get the hell out of here", and he's saying "wait a second". He fires the gun, and he hit the tank! Well, of course its a 155, and powerful and all, but no good against a Tiger. This thing is still coming down the road. My buddy says "reload", and like an idiot I help him do it. He fires again without aiming, but it's still coming straight down the road, so it hits it again. This time the Tiger moves to the side a little and drops in a ditch and stops.
"The sargent comes out of his hiding place, looks at me and my buddy, calls us a few names, and then tells us since we're so bright, we should go have a look at the Tiger and make sure the Germans won't cause us any trouble. We went up there and opened the hatch. There was nothing wrong with the tank, but the Germans were all dead. Best we could figure, the concussion from the first round probably killed them. There was blood coming out of their ears and stuff. A bunch of kids. Looked like damn 12 year olds except the one. Dead, every one of them."
I could see he was kind of upset, so I didn't ask for any more details. I kick myself now, but I only saw him once or twice after that and never asked to hear any more of his experiences. He was kind of quiet usually, and I didn't want to "bother" him with a bunch of questions. Unfortunately, he died a few months later.
That was a couple years ago, and "grandma" has been declining herself ever since. As her mind slips, she is having trouble remembering what year we are in. She once told my wife that she "found Harold under the bed again this morning". After a few puzzled questions, we found out that for a couple years after he got back from the war, almost every night he would actually climb out of bed and crawl under the bed to sleep. She took to waking him by prodding him with a yardstick because sometimes he would throw punches at her before realizing where he was. But, times were different then, she never questioned why, just accepted it. No one went to "head doctors" back then, and a lot of other people were going through similar things, so it was "no big deal" and they just lived with it.
I was told Harold wanted me to have the book he showed me. Oddly, no one can find it. "Grandma" says she knows she put it with his other "war stuff", but it is all missing.
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Originally posted by eagl
847marine,
My Dad was one of those weenie CHP officers. He was called in (San Diego area), suited up, and was on his way North when they were recalled due to the majority of the fighting having already concluded. Although I disagree with your assessment of the relative value of the CHP (at least their weapons training involves letting your brass end up on the ground instead of their pockets!) your story is the kind of heroism displayed by many uniformed public servants during the riots.
Its all good banter, the CHP guys tell us "boys wear blue, a man wears tan", we retort with "AAA with a gun infraction police"... but when the poop was hitting the fan, as far as I'm concerned, every CHP offficer is worth his weight in gold...
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It's all good :)
My Dad did think it was sort of amusing that the CHP were detailed to protect the firemen... Firemen are always the good guys and protecting the good guys is a total public relations victory.
I bet the PD was pissed about that. That's even more amusing ;)
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BBMF Lancaster dropped a dead bloke on me at Northolt once.......
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True stories - but not war ones...
I bunked off school one day - it must have been during 1974- and was walking to Old Harlow village when, to my absolute amazement, I saw a Vulcan bomber doing loops, Immelmans and lord knows what else. I watched it for about 15 minutes before it flew away. I guessed it must have flown out from Stanstead Airport. It was a tremendous sight (and sound!) - like a one man air-show.
A few years prior to that I got to watch the Battle-of-Britain while at school, well bits of it anyway, as they made the film. I saw spits and Messerscmidts dog-fighting and HE111s flying over pretty low - all being filmed by a brightly painted B25 Mitchell. Later my father took me to Debden airfield where we saw the line up of remaining (ex-Spanish I believe) HE111s on the runway.
I wish I'd had a camera.
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My grandfather was in WW2 he was a sherman tank commander, well at 1st. They were fighting the battle of the bulge and the germans were looking for fuel, once night abunch of german soldiers came into there camp to steal fuel, he woke up and a german soldier pointed a gun at his head and didn't kill him because it would have woken everyone else up, he said they just left all of a sudden, didn't find any fuel or anything apparantly but I thought that was pretty cool, the guy didn't shoot him. Also he was a commander until the Africa campaign was over, when they got to Europe there unit was in reserve and they had come across a bunch of whine and liquor, he said the bottles fit perfect down the barrel of the tank cannon, so they loaded it up with liquor and his CO came by and saw it and busted him down in rank, when there unit went back out to the front he was quickly appointed again... He always had great story's, he constantly told me what a hunk of junk the sherman was and that it was basically a tin can lol. Basically there main fight was to camoflouge there tanks and ambush the pnzr units, they would put mines that they made themselves out where they thought the pnzr's would show up and track em. He said basically that was the only way to defeat them. The man could talk about every single thing that happened during the war, but says the worst part for him was seeing all of the holocaust victims in the camps when we finally won, he can barely even speak about it
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Just finished reading EB Sledge's book With The Old Breed . I cried.
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More than one time I came back from a mission and the bar was CLOSED.
'Nuff said.
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No major stories here although I was also in Germany from 87-90 3rd Armored Division 58th AMC (changed a few times while I was there) in Hanau Germany Flieglehorst Casern. And yes many stories from Graffenware (sp) to Hoenfelds (sp) Jan-feb 88. Fricken coldest I ever been but watching the A-10's, M-1's, Bradleys and all other vehicles fire was extremely cool.
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Originally posted by Iceman24
My grandfather was in WW2 he was a sherman tank commander
but says the worst part for him was seeing all of the holocaust victims in the camps when we finally won, he can barely even speak about it
Hmm...was he in the 10th Armored Division? They were the first to come upon one of the camps.
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Before coming to the USA in 1992 I am originally from Czechoslovakia. I served in army forces during the cold war in position of sniper attached to special territorty security units. I cannot claim any great heroism but I did have an intersting story once.
About 7 years before I escaped to America I was in the 2nd Guard's Army brigade in a postion in the very werstern part of my country overlloking over the barbed wire fences which were there to keep out starving germans who wanted a better life in our socilist paradise. It was understandable, but I could not anyone pass - I was ordered to shoot and to kill. Thankfully I never did have to kill. However one day a group of capitalist soldiers came to the fence on a secret mission to spy on our advanced defences and minefields. All was routine, we knew they came often and we did not shoot at them too much. But this one man insulted us greatly. He approached the border urinated on our sacred soil. This was intollerable so I took aim, very careful aim for it was a small target and I hit just as he urinated.
The whole thing was very embarassing to the america forces and was covered up by awarding the usa soldiers heroic medals. I hope the poor man survived, but I had to do what I yhad to do in defense of my country.
Thank you,
Vladek
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not sure what unit he was in, next time I see my grandmother I'll look at 1 of his medals and get the unit