Looking back at my last few articles, I've noticed that I have been a whiney complaining bitch.
Now for those of you that know me, I know what your thinking. "And this is different how?" Well its just par for the course, but I think its time to be a little bit funny (I can't seem to manage much more than just a little bit). With that in mind I decided to tell my poop story.
I'm not positive, but I think that everyone that has been to a tactical unit in the Army has a poop story. These are funny things that have happened to people while they were trying to, for lack of a better description, shit in the woods. My poop story is, in fact, a series of poop stories that happened to me while I was at Fort Campbell, KY.
Ft. Campbell was different from my other tactical assignement with the 2nd Infantry Division in Korea. In Korea, we were not allowed to dig cat holes (I'll explain this later if you don't know what it is) because people have been digging holes to poop in for 50 years, along with buring trash, so it is viewed as a health hazard. When we went to the field in Korea, we always had a porta-potty nearby.
Anyway, at Ft. Campbell, I was always part of a small team that moved about every 6 hours, so we never had porta-potties about. We had to practice actual field sanitation. Most of the field sanitation was pretty no-brainer. Dont poop near where you sleep or eat, or where food or water is stored. When you have to poop, you go off 100 feet (meters? its been a while and I can't remember) and do your 'bid'ness' and then come back. When you go out to do said bid'ness, you dig whats called a cat hole. Its supposed to be 12 inches deep and 6 inches in diameter. You do your "duty" and then cover it up.
So when I got to Ft. Campbell, I had been in the army almost 3 years and had not been to the field yet (not my fault, 2 months basic, 1 year language school, 4 months AIT, 1 month add-on school, 12 months in Korea at a tactical assignment). I didn't want to look like a complete pogue, so I tried to pretent I knew what I was doing. I surprised myself by how well I was able to fake most of the stuff, and what I was not able to fake, I was lucky enough to be alone with my humiliation. Which brings us to the story at hand (about freakin time huh?).
It was my frist field problem, I was working in a small shelter we had on the back of a HMMWV (Hummer) and I was really interested in learning my job in a tactical setting. I felt the first 'hint' that I needed to 'go,' but ignored it because I was really interested in learning, what I considered to be some really cool shit (no pun intended). When I finally excused myself, the feeling had gone from a 'hint' to a 'oh-my-god-hurry-up-man' sorta feeling, so I collected a shovel, some TP and headed off into the woods. For those of you that don't know, walking about is the 2nd worst thing you can do if you REALLY need to go. The absolute worst thing to do if you really need to go, is to bend over. Like if you had to dig a hole. Do you have any idea how difficult it is to dig a hole with an army entrenching tool standing straight up, trying not too poop yourself? Its difficult, let me tell you that. Let me also tell you that my first ever cat hole was about 2 inches deep when I finished digging, and had a 6 inch mound on top of it as I walked away.
Well a few days later, after learning from the 1st poop debacle, at the first 'hint' of needing to go, I went. I found myself a nice shady little clearing. Dug my hole. Dropped trau, and was conducing my bid'ness when I hear something behind me. I looked over my shoulded and I see the world's largest racoon. I realize now, years later, that in the heat of the moment, I my mind may have exagerated things just a touch, but at the time, I swore that the raccoon was about the size of a great dane, and as I'm squatting there, literal ass hanging in the literal wind, me looking at him. Him looking at me. The little (and when I say little I mean enormous) bastard licks his lips. It was at this point in time that I could just image the letter my mom would get from the army.
Dear Mrs. evilPidge
We're sorry to inform you that your son was mauled to death by a giant raccoon while taking a dump in the woods...
Luckily for me he must have lost interest and left (or perhaps it was the un-holy stench. Gotta thank the MREs for saving my life.
A few months later I went out on another field exercise and was working in the back of our Hummer and needed to go. Being smart I pick up my stuff and went to go. Unfortunatly I lost track of time and it as 10:30 at night, and pitch black outside. I grabbed the shovel and TP and headed out get things done. I found a spot quickly and started digging, but unfortunately I was too close to a tree and kept hitting roots, so I moved a bit farther away, and started digging again, and found more roots. By this time, I was nearing the point of urgency I was on the first poop story, so I ran out in the middle of this field and dug my hole, and took care of bid'ness. It was at this point in time that I realized I had not brought the TP with me from my first location. It was also at this time that I realized I couldnt really remember where my first location was. It wouldn't have been much of a problem to whip out my night vision goggles (NVGs) and look around to find the TP (the white paper would stand out) except fot the fact that I left my NVGs with my TP at the first locaiton. Along with my M-16, my helmet, and my load bearing equipment (LBE). After about a 20 mintue search, I found my stuff, and finally made it to bed.
A few days later, and after several moves (as I said earlier, we moved about every 6 hours) we happened to end up at the same location mentioned above. After we had set up the site, and and the mission was underway, I decided to take a pre-emptive poop. I knew I could go to my big clearing and do what needed to be done. I get out there, right in the middle of this clearing out in the middle of the woods, and I'm sitting there in the warm fall sun, not really paying attention to anything, when I notice a strange, but familiar noise...
Let me take a moment to explain something. Ft. Campbell, when I was there, have 9 battalions of AH-60 Apaches and tons of UH-60 Blackhawks, and even some UH-1 Iroquois. Needless to say, there are ALWAYS helecopters flying about and after a while, you forget to pay attention to the sounds they make. Now back to the story.
... but familiar noise. I look up and shockingly close by is a UH-60 moving slowly towards my clearing. There is no way they could miss me out in that field, and I was rather, 'busy' at that point in time. The helecopter hovered directly above me (which made it rather hard to squat with the rotor wash), and the crew chief stuck his head out over the side and waved. It was at this point in time that I realized that the crew chief as a female. So I did what anyone in my situation would do. I waved back.
The following January I was sent to JRTC (Joint Rediness Training Center) at Fort Polk, LA. We set up our truck on a small wooded hilltop. We actually stayed at this site for almost a week straight, it was unbelievable. One afternoon I took a walk down the hill to do a little recycling. I got to the edge of this really swampy area (in Lousianna, go figure). I dropped my gear (which included my M-16, my NVGs, my LBE, my gas mask, my helmet, the shovel, the TP, and the MILES gear (the laser tag stuff that we use on these big excersises). I'm squattin there enjoying the peacefullness of the situation (I was far enough away from the running Hummer that I couldnt really hear it). When I hear a noise behind me.I look over my shoulder and see the world's largest alagator. Now a raccoon is one thing, but a FUCKIN alagator?! I think I broke a new land speed record for pinchin it off, picking up all my shit (again, no pun intended) and running with my pants around my ankles.
At this point I must thank Greywar. After living with him for a year in Korea a guy gets used to being able to run away as fast as possible anytime his pants are around his ankles. You may have saved my life man.
And there you have it. That is what I collectively call my poop story. I hope that my self deprecation has brought a smile to your face.
