Twice,

first time in Boot Camp when we were doing a 25 mile march. Halfway down the track we had to wear gasmasks. The guy behind me was constantly stepping on the back of my feet.....I warned him twice and he wouldn't listen..... I hit him with the back of my Fall rifle on the filter of his gasmask. The filtermarkings where on his face for two days.

The second time was in a bar in Sennelager Germany. We had the Saturday night off and went to the local bar with our platoon. The bar was filled with British infantry guys (though it looked more like we were in prison looking at there obscure faces X8- )

The guys where nagging us and wouldn't let us buy the beers we desperately needed after two weeks in a very hot and dusty field excercise. The 25mm gunner from my AFV got fed up with it, went to the biggest guy of all and started to push him around. The big Brit didn't like this a bit and he started yelling to his mates. Next thing I know was that the British guys picked up the tree-trunk chairs (yes chairs made from trees, because the regular chairs didn't last longer than a month in that bar) an started to throw these at us. The battle had begun Holland vs. the UK........ after 10 minutes or so the British MP's came in and started to pick us all up and throw us on the street..... That was my first flight lesson....the take off was ok, but the landing on the concrete....lousy........ I woke up on Sunday morning in the Camp prison with the rest of the bar visitor, bot Dutch and UK. At 11 o' clock they let us out. The British guys apologized for bad behaviour and we invited them for breakfast which they accepted. And Sunday afternoon......we played soccer with our last nights enemies..... and we all....lived happily ever after... pfew..

Just in college with a bunch of merchant marine midshipmen once. Needless to say, they started it and we ended it. Couple of the guys on my side were recent Ranger school grads.

Once, onboard the Enterprise. Kid bit me, then picked himself up off the deck after he woke up.

Any of you dudes ever get in a any fights in the service with others? I about 10 or so.

Quoted Text

---

Any of you dudes ever get in a any fights in the service with others? I about 10 or so.

---

......I was in the Corp, back in the early 70's.......of course I was in fights. I also did my share of 'rolling'.... Ahhhhh, the early days.

Tread.

...have I got stories.

I was in a fight once in elementary school... my friend broke his precious ruler on the top of my head. He cried because of the loss and I told everybody that I'm stronger than him... All the girls loved me cause I was the real man... Now those were the days... :-) :-)

Sorry, couldn't resist...

Mario M.

The only fights we seemed to get into was with the locals. I guess they didn't like us Military dudes, because we all had all of our teeth, and jobs.

Uncle Bob

The teacher gave her fifth grade class an assignment: get their parents to tell them a story with a moral at the end of it. The next day the kids came back and one by one began to tell their stories.

Kathy said, "My father's a farmer and we have a lot of egg-laying hens. One time we were taking our eggs to market in a basket an the front seat of the pickup when we hit a bump in the road and the eggs went flying and broke and made a mess."
"And what's the moral of the story?" asked the teacher.

"Don't put all your eggs in one basket!"

"Very good," said the teacher. "Now, Lucy?"

"Our family are farmers too. But we raise chickens for the meat market. We had a dozen eggs one time, but when they hatched we only got ten live chicks. And the moral to this story is, don't count your chickens before they're hatched."

"That's a fine story Lucy," she continued. "Johnny, do you have a story to share?"

"Yes ma'am, my daddy told me this story about my Uncle Bob. Uncle Bob was a Green Beret in Vietnam and his helicopter got hit. He had to crash land in enemy territory and all he had was a bottle of whiskey, a machine gun and a machete. He drank the whiskey on the way down so it wouldn't break and then he landed right in the middle of 100 enemy troops. He killed seventy with the machine gun until he ran out of bullets, then he killed twenty more with with the machete till the blade broke and then kill the last ten with his bare hands."

"Good heavens," said the teacher, "What kind of moral did your daddy tell you
from that horrible story?"

"Don't frick with Uncle Bob when he's been drinking."