Thanks To The Red Coats
Started the morning off right with a rocket attack at about 1am local. Gym shorts, flip flops and my fold out chair (sittin OUTSIDE the bunker)...shootin the shit and pissed cause I gotta be up in a couple hours for a mission. But drinking Dr Peppers, just makes life's little annoyances so much better. And lemme tell ya nothing is more annoying then air-raid sirens.
Stealing about 5 hours sleep, at best, I drag my ass down to the airfield to go do some fucked up mission. Meanwhile the rest of our unit is celebrating the 4th with a day off, a cook out and memorial service for a pilot we lost the night before, from the previous rocket attack.
I had diarreaha from the chow hall the night before. Tuna will fuck you up. 7am Local, 100 degrees.
Some British Infantry types needed a hop over to one of their FOB's (Forward Operating Bases) out in BFE Afghanistan, because the Royal Air Force refused to fly the mission. They said it was TOO DANGEROUS (????). And being that Americans aren't pussies we pickedup the mission, ON OUR HOLIDAY never-the-less. 10am local, 110 degrees
One of these British infantry guys had a video camera. he was yappin in some British slang shit... and he turned the camera on me, tryin to get me to talk. I don't consider myself to be an improv comedian, so I just tried to be witty...
"Hello Chap, my name is Chris, if it wasn't for defeating you british, we'd never have the 4th of July to Celebrate, thanks for retreating. No worries Mate."
He wasn't happy.
Of course it wouldn't be 4th of July without some fireworks. I made sure to fire off about 200 rounds from my 240 machine gun off the ramp, during flight. Then flung my M-4 carbine rifle and dropped a 30 round mag in 3-round burst..only to be followed up by a Red-smoke grenade to signify the blood that shall be spilt today. Noon, 120 degrees
After that escapade we hit this really fucked up landing zone and this crowd of people came running up on the aircraft. You never know if one of those shit-eaters is hiding an Ak up his ass, so I jumped off the ramp, ran around the side, with my trusty m-4, raised the barrel up on them, screaming JUMP THE FUCK BACK. Unfortunately, I did not have a translator with me, but I'm pretty sure the "F" word and my assault rifle got the point across. As the little kids started running for their mommies, we dropped our loads and got the fuck outta dodge.
Passing over the Red Desert, 140 degree's. Worst case of swamp ass, my body armour rubbed a head rash under my arm pits, and sweat keeps rolling down the small of my back and I can't get to it, so it goes on down my buttcrack. really annoying.
I gotta listen to one of my sergeants tell me the best way to masterbate is fill up your bath tub with warm water, get an erection, catch a fly, tear its wings off and then set it on the tip of that erection for maximum pleasure. No response.
Right Guard Deoderant 24 hour protection? My ass.
We dump off a pallet of food and water to some infantry unit. The mother fucker comes flying outta the aircraft and I don't have time to get outta the way. I do some Special Olymipics half-gainer over the top, nearly break my fuckin ankle. After my 9th Round Boxing match on an innocent box of water bottles, we take off.
I was approached by a journalist on our leg back to Kandahar. He asked me how it felt to be working thru the holidays in afghanistan. My response "What day is it?"
I'm on my 23rd liter of water. Masifi is the best, that Nestle Pure Life shit is for the birds. We've exceeded our duty day, going on our 13th hour. My bed is sounding pretty nice at this point.
6 Flight Hours later, we returned safely back to Kandahar Airfield, called it a day and headed straight for the chow hall. Feasted on PORK ribs, beef steak, and spicey sausage. Take note, no veggies, salad type bullshit or fruity side dishes, all meats baby. When I got done, looked like a fuckin cow exploded on my tray. Finished my dessert with a big bowl of Parlines and Cream Ice Cream, as well as three Dr. Peppers.
God Bless America
Stealing about 5 hours sleep, at best, I drag my ass down to the airfield to go do some fucked up mission. Meanwhile the rest of our unit is celebrating the 4th with a day off, a cook out and memorial service for a pilot we lost the night before, from the previous rocket attack.
I had diarreaha from the chow hall the night before. Tuna will fuck you up. 7am Local, 100 degrees.
Some British Infantry types needed a hop over to one of their FOB's (Forward Operating Bases) out in BFE Afghanistan, because the Royal Air Force refused to fly the mission. They said it was TOO DANGEROUS (????). And being that Americans aren't pussies we pickedup the mission, ON OUR HOLIDAY never-the-less. 10am local, 110 degrees
One of these British infantry guys had a video camera. he was yappin in some British slang shit... and he turned the camera on me, tryin to get me to talk. I don't consider myself to be an improv comedian, so I just tried to be witty...
"Hello Chap, my name is Chris, if it wasn't for defeating you british, we'd never have the 4th of July to Celebrate, thanks for retreating. No worries Mate."
He wasn't happy.
Of course it wouldn't be 4th of July without some fireworks. I made sure to fire off about 200 rounds from my 240 machine gun off the ramp, during flight. Then flung my M-4 carbine rifle and dropped a 30 round mag in 3-round burst..only to be followed up by a Red-smoke grenade to signify the blood that shall be spilt today. Noon, 120 degrees
After that escapade we hit this really fucked up landing zone and this crowd of people came running up on the aircraft. You never know if one of those shit-eaters is hiding an Ak up his ass, so I jumped off the ramp, ran around the side, with my trusty m-4, raised the barrel up on them, screaming JUMP THE FUCK BACK. Unfortunately, I did not have a translator with me, but I'm pretty sure the "F" word and my assault rifle got the point across. As the little kids started running for their mommies, we dropped our loads and got the fuck outta dodge.
Passing over the Red Desert, 140 degree's. Worst case of swamp ass, my body armour rubbed a head rash under my arm pits, and sweat keeps rolling down the small of my back and I can't get to it, so it goes on down my buttcrack. really annoying.
I gotta listen to one of my sergeants tell me the best way to masterbate is fill up your bath tub with warm water, get an erection, catch a fly, tear its wings off and then set it on the tip of that erection for maximum pleasure. No response.
Right Guard Deoderant 24 hour protection? My ass.
We dump off a pallet of food and water to some infantry unit. The mother fucker comes flying outta the aircraft and I don't have time to get outta the way. I do some Special Olymipics half-gainer over the top, nearly break my fuckin ankle. After my 9th Round Boxing match on an innocent box of water bottles, we take off.
I was approached by a journalist on our leg back to Kandahar. He asked me how it felt to be working thru the holidays in afghanistan. My response "What day is it?"
I'm on my 23rd liter of water. Masifi is the best, that Nestle Pure Life shit is for the birds. We've exceeded our duty day, going on our 13th hour. My bed is sounding pretty nice at this point.
6 Flight Hours later, we returned safely back to Kandahar Airfield, called it a day and headed straight for the chow hall. Feasted on PORK ribs, beef steak, and spicey sausage. Take note, no veggies, salad type bullshit or fruity side dishes, all meats baby. When I got done, looked like a fuckin cow exploded on my tray. Finished my dessert with a big bowl of Parlines and Cream Ice Cream, as well as three Dr. Peppers.
God Bless America