Military stories from past to present, both wars.

The Turtle and the Hair

January 21st, 2006 Posted in The SandGram v1.0

Dear Gang,

Another day in paradise but with the news of the young journalist gal that is kidnapped over here, it makes me think “Why?” Who in their right mind would allow their daughter to be over here wandering around? I mean if your daughter has to be Iraq, and she is a Marine, that’s one thing, but to come over on your own… might as well sign your insurance policy over to me and say goodbye. These guys are thugs, terrorist and have no regard for life as we know it. If your neighbors’ kid decides he or she wants to visit Iraq and write about it, at least give them a chance and send them to boot camp so they can carry an M-16 A2.

Well, I know we’re getting to the end of our tour when I start noticing the small stuff. We have a little PX on base and the other day the Colonel wanted to stop by to pick up something that they didn’t have. Walking around the isles I spy a couple of things that made me say “Huh?”
There right in front of me was a doggie bed. You know one of those little round padded doggie beds for Fido that looks like it belongs next to the fire place in New England with “Savannah” the lab curled up inside. Now, I’m puzzled because the last time I looked at the base order of rules, having a pet of ANY kind was illegal. Plus, having seen the wild dogs around here (packs of them) and what they eat (everything including humans) it’s a wonder the Iraqi’s don’t like them. I wouldn’t touch one let alone let this flea bitten desert dog in my hooch to invest it. Heck, you might end up having this thing gnawing on your leg for a midnight snack. That was something I wish I had my camera for, great shot of what we need here.

Then the Armor All, you know for tires? Haven’t figured that one out since when it rains, this place is just giant mud hole. The water doesn’t have anywhere to drain so it just sits on top of the ground and turns the moon dust into muck. At night, it looks like left over mixture of brown snow and slush after a big storm on the salted highways in the Midwest. It’s everywhere and all the vehicles look like my cousin just finished mudding them as he does in the hills of Tennessee. Don’t think Armor All is something we need here.

Gift certificates to Outback steakhouse… that’s something else you can’t use here either. Leghounds Grandmother sent him a gift certificate and said go enjoy a nice dinner on her. When he read that to us, it caused a big chuckle in the office to think that he could just cruise out in town and pick up a blooming onion. I know she meant well, but I think it expired the end of Dec 05. That was pretty funny.

Haircuts. The temperature has dropped here lately and it’s in the 30’s by the middle of the night. We all have what we call a high and tight, which exposes your head enough to the elements. Well the other night, the gang decided to shave their heads. I come upstairs to see the bald, shaved heads. “Hey Sir, you wanna join the club?” asked Leghound, as I walked into the office. I just stop and looked at his bootcamp shaved head, glance over to the Ssgt and Cpl S. Some people shouldn’t have shaved heads unless they are losing all their hair. These guys don’t look good sans hair, as a matter of fact they look like turtles. I can remember having a shaved head in boot camp and the sound your bristles of hair make as they rub on the pillow case. It sounds like sandpaper scratching the cloth. I have to reply to the guys, “What club is that? The idiot I shaved my hair off in winter time club?”, “no, I think I’ll pass”. Shaved heads out here might be good to locate the lice from the illegal dog you have in your room but I’ll take a rain check.

I’m heading over (if the transpo works) to smoke some Cigars with Captain B. who is located on a base not far from here. Talk about pull, he is hooking me up with the VIP can which is nice, he won’t have to hear me snore!! I’ll send out some photos when I get back.
Well guys, have a great day and I’ll check in with you later.

Semper Fi,