scout26
Member
Let's see... there also 50ft of Ground Guide and my personal favorite Squelch Grease.
While pulling maintence in the motor pool, I sent a new troop one time to get squelch grease, he takes off at the double time from the motor pool to the commo shop. Upon hearing that the LT needs sqeulch grease for the 442, Commo Sergeant pulls out a tube of the army issue white chapstick and smears a glob on the end of the newbie's outstretched index finger. Newbie double times back to motor and proudly reports that he has obtained said sqeulch grease for his platoon leader. Platoon Leader (yours truly) scrunches up face into that "Close, but no cigar" expression. My Platoon Sergeant (and a former Drill Instructor), just goes off. "(Vulgar expressions), can't you see that the LT needs the aerosol not the solid. (Many more vulgar expressions, mostly detailing the newbie's lack of genetic makeup, his single digit IQ, his parents total failure to teach/raise him properly, etc.) "You tell that no good (more vulgar expressions, without any repeats) Commo sergeant that the LT needs the aerosol NOW !!!! "
Newbie takes off for commo shed like he'd been shot out of a cannon. Still dutifully holding outstretched finger with "Squelch Grease."
Platoon Sergeant bows deeply from the waist, as he receives a "Golf Clap" standing ovation from the remainder of the platoon, once newbie is out of sight/earshot of motor pool.
Newbie comes back to report that we are out of aerosol squelch grease and it's backordered on the "1D10T" form, that the LT signed off on a couple days ago. (Squelch grease is still on outstretched index finger). Other members of the platoon are dutifully checking on the straps holding the camo nets on the tailgates of the HMMWV's while desperately trying not to laugh.
PL and PSG quickly confer and determine that we can use the field expedient method and "try" the solid squelch grease, but newibie is informed by PSG, that he has contaminated it by PUTTING IT ON YOUR FINGER !!!! While PSG explores/details said newbie's entire family history/geneology with great gusto and aplomb and it's effects upon said newbie's brain chemistry and makeup. Other platoon members are actively seeking places to hide and/or pinching themselves not to laugh out loud.
Newbie takes off like he has a rocket up his butt. (and still has "contaminated" squelch grease on his index finger).
Now mind you, he's also getting an earful from the commo sergeant about how "dumb" the PL/PSG are when it comes to radios and maintaining them.
Newbie comes running back. He has the look of death on his face, he is Custer at the Little Big Horn, it's a no-win situation and he's got the short straw. Stick a fork in him, he's done.
"Sergeant Haste says this is the last of the Squelch Grease." As he looks at us with "Bambi eyes" he extends his index finger toward us in the hope and prayer that either A) God will strike him dead right then and there thus ending his misery and avoiding another indepth exploration of "EVERYTHING THAT IS WRONG WITH YOU" by his PSG, or B) his humble offering will be found to be worthy and workable and he will be forgiven his sins of ignorance.
I totally lost it at that point and then so did everyone else. He looked so pitiful and helpless, it would have been like kicking the family dog. My PSG was in tears, he was laughing so hard. Newbie took in stride once he was let "in" on the joke. He turned out to be one of my better troops.
Scout26- "Former Space Shuttle Door Gunner Instructor" (NOT)
While pulling maintence in the motor pool, I sent a new troop one time to get squelch grease, he takes off at the double time from the motor pool to the commo shop. Upon hearing that the LT needs sqeulch grease for the 442, Commo Sergeant pulls out a tube of the army issue white chapstick and smears a glob on the end of the newbie's outstretched index finger. Newbie double times back to motor and proudly reports that he has obtained said sqeulch grease for his platoon leader. Platoon Leader (yours truly) scrunches up face into that "Close, but no cigar" expression. My Platoon Sergeant (and a former Drill Instructor), just goes off. "(Vulgar expressions), can't you see that the LT needs the aerosol not the solid. (Many more vulgar expressions, mostly detailing the newbie's lack of genetic makeup, his single digit IQ, his parents total failure to teach/raise him properly, etc.) "You tell that no good (more vulgar expressions, without any repeats) Commo sergeant that the LT needs the aerosol NOW !!!! "
Newbie takes off for commo shed like he'd been shot out of a cannon. Still dutifully holding outstretched finger with "Squelch Grease."
Platoon Sergeant bows deeply from the waist, as he receives a "Golf Clap" standing ovation from the remainder of the platoon, once newbie is out of sight/earshot of motor pool.
Newbie comes back to report that we are out of aerosol squelch grease and it's backordered on the "1D10T" form, that the LT signed off on a couple days ago. (Squelch grease is still on outstretched index finger). Other members of the platoon are dutifully checking on the straps holding the camo nets on the tailgates of the HMMWV's while desperately trying not to laugh.
PL and PSG quickly confer and determine that we can use the field expedient method and "try" the solid squelch grease, but newibie is informed by PSG, that he has contaminated it by PUTTING IT ON YOUR FINGER !!!! While PSG explores/details said newbie's entire family history/geneology with great gusto and aplomb and it's effects upon said newbie's brain chemistry and makeup. Other platoon members are actively seeking places to hide and/or pinching themselves not to laugh out loud.
Newbie takes off like he has a rocket up his butt. (and still has "contaminated" squelch grease on his index finger).
Now mind you, he's also getting an earful from the commo sergeant about how "dumb" the PL/PSG are when it comes to radios and maintaining them.
Newbie comes running back. He has the look of death on his face, he is Custer at the Little Big Horn, it's a no-win situation and he's got the short straw. Stick a fork in him, he's done.
"Sergeant Haste says this is the last of the Squelch Grease." As he looks at us with "Bambi eyes" he extends his index finger toward us in the hope and prayer that either A) God will strike him dead right then and there thus ending his misery and avoiding another indepth exploration of "EVERYTHING THAT IS WRONG WITH YOU" by his PSG, or B) his humble offering will be found to be worthy and workable and he will be forgiven his sins of ignorance.
I totally lost it at that point and then so did everyone else. He looked so pitiful and helpless, it would have been like kicking the family dog. My PSG was in tears, he was laughing so hard. Newbie took in stride once he was let "in" on the joke. He turned out to be one of my better troops.
Scout26- "Former Space Shuttle Door Gunner Instructor" (NOT)
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