Steely Eyed Mortar Man - March 1991The past few weeks have been a blast. I have gotten up on Saturday morning, brewed a cup of coffee, cracked open the book, Lonesome Dove, enjoyed time with my kids. Running has taken a back seat, although I still completed an 8 mile trail run the past mid morning Saturday. With that, I just don't have a plethora of info in the training/racing front.
Recently, I have caught up to someone I graduated high school with via Facebook. She is freelance writer and occasionally blogs about stories and growing up in west Texas. I am stealing a page from her book and will now from time to time, write about happenings in my past. I hope you enjoy them. So let us commence to a tale of the past. It is humorous now, but at the time...not so much!
When I originally signed up to be in the U.S. Marine Corps Reserves, the limited billets open consisted of being a driver for the misguided children under Uncle Sam's direction. Therefore, after Boot Camp I attended "tactical driving school" learning how to support troops in combat environments. When I enrolled at Texas A&M, I would transfer to a Marine Reserve unit in Austin Texas. The catch; it was not a transfer to a Motor Transport unit, fitting my military occupation speciality, but an infantry unit....more specifically an Infantry Company. Suited me fine as I really didn't want to be couped up in a vehicle all day, even if it was a HUMV. The down side is that the main mode of transportation for a infantry guy is the high end black Cadillacs issued and worn on the feet of the Marine.
So here I was, assigned to second platoon, Bravo Company as a basic riflemen. Even though I had graduated high in my driving class and was meritoriously promoted to Lance Corporal, these skills would never be seen while shooting. Didn't bother me a bit....in fact I dug it....Until...some admin guy made note that I had a military licence to drive darn near anything the Corps had to offer. A couple of months later, I find my-freaking-self right back behind the wheel of a HUMV driving around either the company commander Captain Tigg, or the much less important (but not in his mind) Gunny Reyes. Gunny was the company Gunny and wound bout as tight as a banjo string. For nearly 2 years, I drove...supported the the company with water and food....survived on little sleep and learned to talk to the Officers on the officer level and the gunny on a kindergarten level....it worked out.
On January 14, 1991, I had receive a phone call from the platoon sergeant. "Saddle up Dave, President Bush has scheduled a war to start tomorrow and our unit has been activated." A week later 1st Battalion, 23rd Marines found themselves at Camp Pendleton California preparing themselves for combat situations occurring in an over sized sandbox halfway around the world.
The training exercises continued and at one point, the company was to complete a 25 mile night hump. For you civilian types a "night hump" is not a title of a porno movie but a long hike to take place under the cover of darkness. I would be supporting the troops and would be driving all night. After contemplating the schedule and the available fuel left in the tank, I deemed it necessary to refuel in the motor pool. Now is good time to clarify a few things. A week prior, the Regimental commander had issued a memo that ALL UNATTENDED VEHICLES would have chock blocks placed under the back driver side wheel. It should also be noted that the military HUMV has a hand break that is manually loosened and tightened. This hand break is the only mechanical device to keep the vehicle stationary while the HUMMER is parked.
I had documented the stop in my trip ticket, thrown the notebook over on to the console area between the driver and passenger seats and went into motor pool office to talk to the dispatcher about refueling. We joked around a bit and he was filling out paperwork while we both heard a loud bang and then a very loud "gushing sound." We all ran out of the motor pool office only to find the vehicle I was driving had rolled down the hill about 75 feet and hit the only fire hydrant within 50 miles. The hydrant was broken off and the water was literally gushing, giving the HUMV under carriage a really good cleaning.....OH CRAP....or something like that.
What had happened is that the trip ticket book at hit the parking break, loosened it....and since I had not followed a direct order of Chocking the back wheel, my little humv rolled down like it was aimed right at the bulls eye....at the peak of a Southern California drought.
Needless to say the Regimental commander, Colonel SO-and-So...(I never knew his name...probably should have learned it) wanted the case to go to Regiment. Because I had been a "squared away" Marine with meritorious promotions and accommodations, Capt. Tigg wanted it to stay at the company level. The compromise? Let Battalion handle it.
Major So-and-so....I don't remember his name either....wanted to make an example out of me. They took it as a Non Judicial Punishment case....no lawyers involved. Major So-and-so yelled at me awhile, Capt. Tigg and 1st Sgt. Calloway spoke on my behalf...then Major so-and-so took a months pay, restricted me to base for 45 days and suspended any promotions for 6 months. That was the worst part as I was 2 weeks out from being promoted to Corporal - non commissioned officer. He then ripped up the military drivers license in front of me telling me it would be a cold day in hell before I drive in his unit again. I responded that I had wanted to do that about 2 years ago. He didn't think that was funny, but Captain and 1st Sgt. did. I would run through hell in a gasoline suit for those two guys.
After all that was over, Captain Tigg said, "it's done...you're a hell of Marine....but you can't drive...and you don't want to be riflemen do you?" 1st Sgt and I had worked out that I wanted to be in the mortar section. I had taken a liken to those guys and I really wanted go there. 1st Sgt. speaks up and says, "Captain what bout mortars....I think he'll fit in there?" DONE...and for the next three years, I served as a 60 MM mortar man. They took me in with open arms and for my duration...made some of the best friends a guy could have. Oh, there are stories to tell there but that is for another day. Bravo Company Mortar team called themselves the TATANKA tribe...the Indian name for Buffalo..(another story for another time) and each member had an Indian name....given by the team....you don't have much choice...it's given.
My Name...GUSHING WATER...go figure.
Recently, I have caught up to someone I graduated high school with via Facebook. She is freelance writer and occasionally blogs about stories and growing up in west Texas. I am stealing a page from her book and will now from time to time, write about happenings in my past. I hope you enjoy them. So let us commence to a tale of the past. It is humorous now, but at the time...not so much!
When I originally signed up to be in the U.S. Marine Corps Reserves, the limited billets open consisted of being a driver for the misguided children under Uncle Sam's direction. Therefore, after Boot Camp I attended "tactical driving school" learning how to support troops in combat environments. When I enrolled at Texas A&M, I would transfer to a Marine Reserve unit in Austin Texas. The catch; it was not a transfer to a Motor Transport unit, fitting my military occupation speciality, but an infantry unit....more specifically an Infantry Company. Suited me fine as I really didn't want to be couped up in a vehicle all day, even if it was a HUMV. The down side is that the main mode of transportation for a infantry guy is the high end black Cadillacs issued and worn on the feet of the Marine.
So here I was, assigned to second platoon, Bravo Company as a basic riflemen. Even though I had graduated high in my driving class and was meritoriously promoted to Lance Corporal, these skills would never be seen while shooting. Didn't bother me a bit....in fact I dug it....Until...some admin guy made note that I had a military licence to drive darn near anything the Corps had to offer. A couple of months later, I find my-freaking-self right back behind the wheel of a HUMV driving around either the company commander Captain Tigg, or the much less important (but not in his mind) Gunny Reyes. Gunny was the company Gunny and wound bout as tight as a banjo string. For nearly 2 years, I drove...supported the the company with water and food....survived on little sleep and learned to talk to the Officers on the officer level and the gunny on a kindergarten level....it worked out.
On January 14, 1991, I had receive a phone call from the platoon sergeant. "Saddle up Dave, President Bush has scheduled a war to start tomorrow and our unit has been activated." A week later 1st Battalion, 23rd Marines found themselves at Camp Pendleton California preparing themselves for combat situations occurring in an over sized sandbox halfway around the world.
The training exercises continued and at one point, the company was to complete a 25 mile night hump. For you civilian types a "night hump" is not a title of a porno movie but a long hike to take place under the cover of darkness. I would be supporting the troops and would be driving all night. After contemplating the schedule and the available fuel left in the tank, I deemed it necessary to refuel in the motor pool. Now is good time to clarify a few things. A week prior, the Regimental commander had issued a memo that ALL UNATTENDED VEHICLES would have chock blocks placed under the back driver side wheel. It should also be noted that the military HUMV has a hand break that is manually loosened and tightened. This hand break is the only mechanical device to keep the vehicle stationary while the HUMMER is parked.
I had documented the stop in my trip ticket, thrown the notebook over on to the console area between the driver and passenger seats and went into motor pool office to talk to the dispatcher about refueling. We joked around a bit and he was filling out paperwork while we both heard a loud bang and then a very loud "gushing sound." We all ran out of the motor pool office only to find the vehicle I was driving had rolled down the hill about 75 feet and hit the only fire hydrant within 50 miles. The hydrant was broken off and the water was literally gushing, giving the HUMV under carriage a really good cleaning.....OH CRAP....or something like that.
What had happened is that the trip ticket book at hit the parking break, loosened it....and since I had not followed a direct order of Chocking the back wheel, my little humv rolled down like it was aimed right at the bulls eye....at the peak of a Southern California drought.
Needless to say the Regimental commander, Colonel SO-and-So...(I never knew his name...probably should have learned it) wanted the case to go to Regiment. Because I had been a "squared away" Marine with meritorious promotions and accommodations, Capt. Tigg wanted it to stay at the company level. The compromise? Let Battalion handle it.
Major So-and-so....I don't remember his name either....wanted to make an example out of me. They took it as a Non Judicial Punishment case....no lawyers involved. Major So-and-so yelled at me awhile, Capt. Tigg and 1st Sgt. Calloway spoke on my behalf...then Major so-and-so took a months pay, restricted me to base for 45 days and suspended any promotions for 6 months. That was the worst part as I was 2 weeks out from being promoted to Corporal - non commissioned officer. He then ripped up the military drivers license in front of me telling me it would be a cold day in hell before I drive in his unit again. I responded that I had wanted to do that about 2 years ago. He didn't think that was funny, but Captain and 1st Sgt. did. I would run through hell in a gasoline suit for those two guys.
After all that was over, Captain Tigg said, "it's done...you're a hell of Marine....but you can't drive...and you don't want to be riflemen do you?" 1st Sgt and I had worked out that I wanted to be in the mortar section. I had taken a liken to those guys and I really wanted go there. 1st Sgt. speaks up and says, "Captain what bout mortars....I think he'll fit in there?" DONE...and for the next three years, I served as a 60 MM mortar man. They took me in with open arms and for my duration...made some of the best friends a guy could have. Oh, there are stories to tell there but that is for another day. Bravo Company Mortar team called themselves the TATANKA tribe...the Indian name for Buffalo..(another story for another time) and each member had an Indian name....given by the team....you don't have much choice...it's given.
My Name...GUSHING WATER...go figure.
