Part two of the origninal "Tag you're it..."
GI Joe
Published
10/15/2010
For those of you who want to read part one:
http://www.ebaumsworld.com/user/blog//view=81130887/
....That's when I heard that old familiar sound: an approaching helicopter was coming in fast and low, I looked around for it but couldn't see it because it was below the ridgeline, but I could make out the distinct sound of that particular engine: chitty chitty bang bang chitty chitty bang bang... Right then I knew who it was: the craziest helicopter crew I had ever encountered, with the craziest crew chief in the entire US Army helicopter fleet: Sparks158.
Sparks158 was not his real name, it was his nickname, which he earned after the incident with the electric fence and the 158 days he spent in the hospital (but that's another story for another blog).
The helicopter appeared over a hilltop, and as it approached, a line was lowered beneath it, and Sparks began climbing down. They were headed right for me, and I knew I had to act fast. Shoving bikini clad girls out of my way, I headed straight to the naked squad leader and grabbed her around the waist, I figured she needed to come with us, you know, for questioning and stuff. She wrapped her arms around my neck and immediately began applying a Swedish torture technique: Her tongue, my ear. Wow. I had no idea how long I could endure it. Looking quickly over my shoulder, I saw Sparks was almost upon us. He was hanging upside down, with the rope wrapped around his legs and two belts of M-60 ammo criss-crossing his chest.
With his bayonet in his teeth and a claymore mine strapped to his forehead, he swooped in low, yelling like Tarzan. Too low, in fact, and grabbed me by the only thing I had left to grab.. I held tight to the squad leader, whose tongue had worked its way to my eardrum and was now helping me to ignore the pain down below.
Twenty minutes later we were back on base. The squad leader was being questioned, I was in traction, and Sparks was enjoying a refreshing glass of napalm.
To make a long story short, I married the Swedish Bikini Team squad leader. As promised in my last blog, here's a picture of her modeling her camouflaged bikini:
http://www.ebaumsworld.com/pictures/view/81139733/
She and I travel to her home country from time to time to visit with former members of her squad. The last time we were there, I dumped a box of cherry jello into the swimming pool, and we all re-enacted the events of that famous day, but with a different ending (but again, that's another story for another blog).
http://www.ebaumsworld.com/user/blog//view=81130887/
....That's when I heard that old familiar sound: an approaching helicopter was coming in fast and low, I looked around for it but couldn't see it because it was below the ridgeline, but I could make out the distinct sound of that particular engine: chitty chitty bang bang chitty chitty bang bang... Right then I knew who it was: the craziest helicopter crew I had ever encountered, with the craziest crew chief in the entire US Army helicopter fleet: Sparks158.
Sparks158 was not his real name, it was his nickname, which he earned after the incident with the electric fence and the 158 days he spent in the hospital (but that's another story for another blog).
The helicopter appeared over a hilltop, and as it approached, a line was lowered beneath it, and Sparks began climbing down. They were headed right for me, and I knew I had to act fast. Shoving bikini clad girls out of my way, I headed straight to the naked squad leader and grabbed her around the waist, I figured she needed to come with us, you know, for questioning and stuff. She wrapped her arms around my neck and immediately began applying a Swedish torture technique: Her tongue, my ear. Wow. I had no idea how long I could endure it. Looking quickly over my shoulder, I saw Sparks was almost upon us. He was hanging upside down, with the rope wrapped around his legs and two belts of M-60 ammo criss-crossing his chest.
With his bayonet in his teeth and a claymore mine strapped to his forehead, he swooped in low, yelling like Tarzan. Too low, in fact, and grabbed me by the only thing I had left to grab.. I held tight to the squad leader, whose tongue had worked its way to my eardrum and was now helping me to ignore the pain down below.
Twenty minutes later we were back on base. The squad leader was being questioned, I was in traction, and Sparks was enjoying a refreshing glass of napalm.
To make a long story short, I married the Swedish Bikini Team squad leader. As promised in my last blog, here's a picture of her modeling her camouflaged bikini:
http://www.ebaumsworld.com/pictures/view/81139733/
She and I travel to her home country from time to time to visit with former members of her squad. The last time we were there, I dumped a box of cherry jello into the swimming pool, and we all re-enacted the events of that famous day, but with a different ending (but again, that's another story for another blog).
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