It reached the point that I would normally just volunteer when they asked for personnel to do the variety of crappy post duties that came up on a nearly daily basis. I decided, like Syciphus, I should just accept my fate and just daily push my boulder uphill.
One time, though, I volunteered for a duty that lead to some of the most fun I had while in the service. It was an "aggressor detail."
Now, I wouldn't claim I knew exactly what I was getting into, but if I had've, I would've jumped at the chance even more quickly. It was initially, more or less, one of those things I just sort of fell into.
There were about a dozen to twenty of us on the detail. They gathered us together and issued us tan uniforms, (which I wore over my old ones,) explaining that they were intended to simulate Russian uniforms. It was then that we were turned over to a lieutenant I didn't know. He informed us that it was to be our job, over the next two or three days, to go to the field and harass some infantry and artillery units already out on bivouac. We were supposed to make them feel as if they were being attacked by a foreign force.
You know, Army games.
Well, this sounded like a ton of fun to me!
Better still, they issued us laser tag style type equipment for us to wear. It was like LBE (load bearing equipment) and had large, ruby red, jewel looking, I don't know what to call them, crystals on the suspenders and on the helmet strap. They were about a third the size of a cupcake and basically the same shape. Sort of. Also, we were issued laser devices for our weapons that sent a signal every time we fired them. Of course, we were issued a lot of blank rounds. The whole idea was, these would beep if we were shot by someone with similar equipment and would sustain the beep if we were, well, killed. Someone would have to come along with a key to turn of the beeping and only, as I recall, our lieutenant had a key.
So, they took us out in a truck that morning and dropped us off somewhere in the vicinity of the "enemy." Our LT then gave us some vague orders concerning our mission and we advanced on the opposition encampment. We did this same basic thing four or five times over the course of our detail.
True to form for the Army, we did a lot of hurry-up-and-wait. On, I believe the third day, some of the less mature members of our group, becoming bored while waiting and upset that lunch was very late, began firing their weapons on full auto into the air. A lot! They seemed to be enjoying it very much. I thought it was silly and wasteful and figured they'd get into trouble, but, best I recall, no one did.
There were a couple of more instances that stand out particularly in my mind during this, for me, once in a life-time joy ride.
Once, we were told to attack an artillery encampment in hopes of taking out some of the guys in machine gun nests surrounding and, presumably, protecting them. If possible, we were told, it would be better still to push the attack to the artillery men at their Howitzers. We tried to be stealthful, but the rat-a-tat-tat from a gun nest ahead of us resulted in a lot of sustained beeps around me and the knowledge that we had definitely lost the element of surprise.
For some reason, maybe the guys operating the M60 were distracted, but I was able to come upon them unnoticed. I quickly proceeded to fill them with lead. Yeah! Okay, imaginary lead.
Remembering what the LT said about taking the ammo of any captured or destroyed troops, I grabbed their ammo can and ran for it. I could hear their confused protests behind me. They, being dead, were not quite sure if I was out of line or was allowed to do such a forward thing.
At this point, I think I had one other troop with me. So, we worked our way further into the camp. Alas, my partner soon caught one and I was left alone. Seeing no means of escape and sensing the chance for triumph, I decided to rush the cannon about fifteen yards to my front.
AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!
I ran as fast as I could, trying to keep a low profile, firing my weapon the entire time, hoping to go out in a blaze of glory and take all of those bastards I could with me! Well, I covered about two thirds of the distance when I heard much rapid fire on my right flank and loud, sustained beeping on my person. I fell dead. (And very dramatically, I might add.) They got me!
Okay, that was the end of that little fiasco. Actually, not quite.
As I lay there in my own blood, imaginary, of course, gasping for my last breath, I heard someone's voice inquiring about the soldier who had daringly charged those machine-guns. He seemed quite pleased about it and went on for about a half a minute about how soldierly it was. I turned my head to see who was so glad that I had rushed to certain death and saw a fatigued man with an eagle on his collar standing amidst a small group of similar men of lesser rank.
I was so proud, I was resurrected!
Yeah, that was fun!
It was possibly the next day and we were back out in the field again. We were dropped by the side of a road and, while our LT was explaining our mission, we were suddenly attacked. I remember hearing bang, bang from across the road and, perhaps, seeing soldiers in the tree line. (It was almost like they were waiting for us.) I heard myself beep and heard long sustained beeps of my fellow troops who were, uh, KIA. I ducked my head and ran! It was all I could think to do.
I ran, yes, but I didn't forget the mission. The LT had time, before the "firefight," to, more or less give us our orders. We were, if possible, to find a way to infiltrate the enemy camp and, if possible, turn off their generators. I don't know, looking back, just how serious he was, but I took the man at his word.
Somehow, I don't know how, but I had a vague idea where the enemy was. So, I began to try to work myself around through the woods to their campsite. I knew I was getting warm when I heard the rat-a-tat-tat from a guard post. I heard myself beep, but kept moving. They didn't pursue me, so, before I knew it, I was actually inside their perimeter. Now, generators, especially big ones designed to provide a lot of power, are noisy. This makes them fairly easy to find. Especially, when they are unguarded. (As these were.) So, being as sneaky as I could, I spied them, trotted over, found the switches, and turned them off.
Mission accomplished!
I can only guess that the brass somewhere in the compound were, uh, praising the Lord for their sudden and, to them, I'm sure, inexplicable loss of power.
I don't even know how I got back to my squad. I wasn't killed or captured. I just remember being back with them. I must've told what I did, but don't recall anybody bragging or complaining about my great victory.
On our last day, it was a similar situation. I snuck around a lot. I charged machine gun nests. I shot people. I stole a lot of ammo. I don't recall a lot of my people being with me. Frankly, I think they lacked my enthusiasm.
I did have very valuable lesson reinforced in the midst of this adventure. We were taught in Basic Training that, while it is a great weapon, the m16 requires a lot of maintenance and cleaning. It doesn't like dirt!
After three days of running through the woods, lying in dirt and firing my weapon a lot, I mean a lot, it finally jammed! There was nothing to be done. It would fire no more. The US Army hadn't bothered to issue me a cleaning kit. (There were plenty back in the armory.) In my job, I suppose they never thought I'd need one and I, being a lowly private, didn't really foresee such a problem. In my defense, I really had no idea I'd be on this job for so long.
So, I found myself sitting in a depression in the ground and being depressed that I was now, frankly, useless. I looked up when I suddenly heard voices and saw a couple of opposition force soldiers standing over me.
I was captured! Yes, I was now a P.O.W. Sadly, I spent a very short stint as their prisoner.
They were as surprised and perplexed as I was at my discovery. They even asked me what they should do with me. For some reason, I said something to the effect of, "Just shoot me, I guess."
They did. I heard the sustained beep that told me that I was, finally, dead.
(This was my first experience with war crimes.)
Yes, I had a blast those three days. I never got to do such a thing again, but would've in a heartbeat. The rest of my group, not so much so, I think.
I've always said it was as close as I ever got to being a "real soldier."
Frankly, now that I have the wisdom that age brings, I realize I'm glad that is as close as I ever got.
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