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7 years 9 months ago #171357 by busman
Replied by busman on topic War Stories
Ok I will jot something down and air it here, if not suited can always take it down, have told the story to a few, including my son and his lady recently (first time for both) and it is only time I have seen my son shut his yap for half an hour in years.

84 Austral Tourmaster with 6V92 and now 7 speed Eaton-Fuller, converted to motorhome "Vanishing Point" after a favourite American movie.
3 Kw solar 800 Ah Lithium house battery pack, all engine cooling done by the sun. Water injection for hot days and hill climbs.

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7 years 9 months ago #171392 by Dave_64
Replied by Dave_64 on topic War Stories
Re that scrapping of the cargo planes in Kabul, 6 cents a POUND for scrap value? How in the world can someone NOT be called to book for this?. I realise it is not a first, the amount of equipment written off after even WW2, Korea and Vietnam was astronomical. A wartime economy is always questionable at the best of times, maybe it has something to do with the military/industrial complex. Aside from the now scaled back space race, the armament/rearmament was and has been the bulwark of the US economy for so many years that it has become the accepted norm. It has never been any great secret that the advent of the second world war was the economic saviour of the U.S. Appalling as the thought is, it is simply a fact of life.
There are probably some who can say that the recovery of these planes was simply not an economic viability. To this reader it smacks of SOMEONE copping a massive backhander, as cynical as that may sound! I'd like to be proved wrong.
My two bobs worth.
Dave_64

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7 years 9 months ago #171398 by Tacho
Replied by Tacho on topic War Stories
A bit hard to believe what goes on sometimes, but I am cynical of bureaucratic stupidity.

A while ago I read somewhere that the US military gobbles up 38% of their budget. I find that hard to believe, but they sure spend a lot.

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7 years 9 months ago #171401 by busman
Replied by busman on topic War Stories
Condensed a bit but here's the grist of what got me on that Herc flight back home.

The story starts at school, got into a fight with a real big bugger, took a swing at me while I was standing in front of a locker, I ducked and he slammed his fist into the locker door. I straightened up smiling, forgetting he had another meat hook on the other arm ! And this one had lots of anger behind it. So got a huge fist in the mouth breaking the middle 6 teeth on the top row. False teeth by 16, who would have thought ?
Fast forward to Byron Bay a few years later for a medical where a local female GP said “ how do you feel about this, I can get you out of it if you want” Best proposition I have had in my life from a woman, did I have the brains to accept ? No. Vietnam ? Where’s that ? Army ? Adventure ? Naw, just do whatever. At least get free medical.
Next part was a train down to Sydney, met a few other guys on the same trip which was pretty uneventful until we got into Central and started getting shouted out by these Army “types” red faced hard drinking fookers that loved to yell at you. Off to Marrickville barracks for a medical and dental. The Army dentist stuck his mirror in my mouth and said “ gee your gums are swollen” Deadpan I brought my hand up and pulled out the plastic denture, naw don’t look too bad to me. Pretty red faced dentist. Sheesh, is this the free medical, a dentist that can’t tell the difference between skin and plastic! I decided I didn’t belong in this army after all and grabbed my bag and started walking towards the gate, “where the %$&* do you think you are going soldier !!!!!!!!!!!!!” Decided not to stay Sir ! The red face turned crimson and I swear he could not speak for a full five seconds, then I got the riot act, the brig threats and so on, when I decided it may be safer to go to Singleton and try and escape from there. Funny how one dentist was able to start my alarm bells ringing. Hang in there, that denture becomes a major player down the track.
Basic training was completed in Singleton, corps training (Armour) at Puckapunyel, then posted to Holsworthy in Sydney to wait for posting as an Armoured Personnel Carrier driver. All stories in themselves.
Next part is in SVN, after a few dramas I was posted to a small section of 3 carriers that worked fairly independently of the main squadron, I think the main idea was that we drove around a lot, to make it look that there were of us than there actually was.
The incident that saw my dustoff occurred in the CamMy rubber plantation, north of NuiDat. On the afternoon before the incident, driving down one of the roads on the way to help out someone in a shit fight we spotted a blind 155mm howitzer shell beside the road. (Blinds are one that have failed to explode) Normal procedure would be to stop and blow it but we were already committed so left it there. When we returned later that afternoon it was gone. Hmmmm, noggies around here, so we hoochied up in a grove about a kilometre away. Hoochieing up for the gentlemen of the cavalry meant climbing into our silk hammocks, purchased for a carton of Salem ciggies, horrible things those Salems, sort of mint flavour the noggies loved. And of course we had ample water, showers and cold beer ! Would not want to be a grunt sleeping on the ground.
Next morning a few hundred metres after we had started out I was absolutely tracking the 2 carriers in front of me, which I did not usually do as they were pigs to drive, the yanks built them with a different number of track pads on each side, so they wanted to do a circle all the time. Then there was a huge boom, lots of mud was flying up past my face and a giant swung one almighty punch up my arse. Everything slowed down to frame by frame speed and I can clearly remember thinking “Oh God, I hope I keep my legs” Must have passed out at that point, the mine had gone off under the drivers seat and where it used to be was just a hole in the floor, through which my legs dropped (they tell me) and were broken in quite a few places.
I came to lying on a stretcher with people bending over me. Unknown to me, as it was clearly command detonated (manually, someone up a tree or in a hole) we could be in big trouble so the Sargent in charge had radioed for any assistance available, which turned out to be a helicopter of yank brass which dropped down, let them off, and took off again, they were given weapons and told to get on their guts and keep their eyes open. All except one lootenant who wandered over with his camera to take pictures of me. The Sargent took one look at him and quietly said “Sir, if you take pictures of my wounded soldiers, I will have to shoot you myself, Sir” The prick put his camera away pretty quick !
By this stage I was becoming more aware of what was happening, I did not know it but I had been given morphine (as a mostly independent section we were allowed to carry it) and most of what should have been unbearable pain was simply not felt. What was felt though was massive pain in the roof of my mouth, I eventually worked out that the denture had been hammered into the top of my mouth as I hit the rim around the drivers hatch on my way down. (Probably had my mouth open screaming) I was cut on both sides of the neck for about 3 inches, with a ¾ inch flap in the middle, by the rim, they could see my jugular vein they tell me. By now there was some difficulty in breathing, my nose was blocked with mud from the floor of the carrier and blood was running down my throat from the denture wounds. For some reason I got it into my head that if I got the denture out there would be less pain so with great difficulty I got my tongue under the thing and flicked. What I did not realise was that it was no longer a complete denture, it was in 2 halves. Spat out one half ok, the other slipped past my tongue and lodged In my throat where the blood started congealing on it, slowly closing my airway. They could see what was happening and all types of contrivances were shoved down my throat to try and snag this half denture, long nosed pliers, pieces of wire, all to no avail. I knew I was going to die from a blocked airway so took a huge gulp and swallowed the bloody thing, all of a sudden I could breathe again. Life was sweeter all of a sudden.
Dustoff chopper arrives, huge Dutch medic aboard, took one look at me and went “Oh shit” and in went the morphine needle, before anyone could say “we have already done that !”
Threw the stretcher on the chopper the other 2 guys on the carrier got on and we took off, only I did not need the chopper to fly, I was good by myself thanks. Medic had 3 blood drips going, one in each arm, one in the groin, but the patient thought it was so funny he was pulling them out whenever he was not watching. The concave floor of the Huey was slick with blood and I thought it was so funny that the other 2 guys were bleeding to death. Neither was actually bleeding, all was mine. The engineer who was sitting on the drivers hatch was blown off and had bruised knees, the crew commander had one of the 1” torsion bars that was full size at one end, needle sharp at the other. His ankle was in the middle of it, went straight through.
I started worrying that if the helicopter crashed from the 600 feet or so we were flying at we would all be killed so while the medic was looking after the others I removed all the drips, rolled over on the stretcher and started getting out, was halfway there when they noticed and pulled me back and sat on me the rest of the trip to the hospital in Vung Tau. Good thing too as I had a crushed vertebrae.
When they pulled the stretcher out of the chopper and started cutting the greens and boots off with razor blades I kept flinching away as I was scared they were going to cut me ! Not too rational at that stage. Then while they were doing their assessment I am trying to tell them about this denture in my stomach. Imagine if you will, this guy who has just had a major trauma, had his mouth smashed (14 teeth gone including the 6 on the denture), off his face on morphine pointing to his stomach and trying to say “my teeth are in my stomach” only it didn’t quite come out like that. They were looking at each other thinking this guy is off his face , especially when the medic told them about the morphine. Eventually someone got it and they must have x rayed me because I have a zip up the front where they took them out. I remember trying to tell them just became the most important thing in my life at that moment, bugger all the rest of bits of flesh that were hanging off.
Woke up 2 days later and was in that hospital for over 2 weeks, operations, hallucinations and trying to get a grip on reality, but that is another story altogether. Strange things can happen to your mind after such a trauma. Might tell that one someday as well.

84 Austral Tourmaster with 6V92 and now 7 speed Eaton-Fuller, converted to motorhome "Vanishing Point" after a favourite American movie.
3 Kw solar 800 Ah Lithium house battery pack, all engine cooling done by the sun. Water injection for hot days and hill climbs.
The following user(s) said Thank You: Lang

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7 years 9 months ago - 7 years 9 months ago #171402 by Thunder Down Under
Replied by Thunder Down Under on topic War Stories
Jees, Busman. That got me thinking. :(

TDU
Last edit: 7 years 9 months ago by Thunder Down Under.

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7 years 9 months ago #171409 by Mrsmackpaul
Replied by Mrsmackpaul on topic War Stories
Its a funny old world we live on and its strange how one event can lead onto so many others which you could never see coming at the time

Paul

Your better to die trying than live on your knees begging

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7 years 9 months ago #171415 by hayseed
Replied by hayseed on topic War Stories
Thanks for sharing that Busman...I don't doubt that typing that up brought back a lot of mixed emotions..

"Be who you are and say what you feel...
Because those that matter...
don't mind...
And those that mind....
don't matter." -

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7 years 9 months ago #171417 by scratcha
Replied by scratcha on topic War Stories
Jeezuz Busman! I worked with a fella on Mt Buller who was a wounded ex vet, the stories he told me where almost unbelievable....you couldn't make them up.

Mate, you're a goer that's for sure!

Its , umm, interesting to see the common reasons for serving, was generally for the adventure of the war.
I always thought it a bit "romantic"? (im trying to best describe my thoughts here) to fight an enemy , all the firearms, tanks and things, until stories where retold from my workmate and yourself

1418 Benz now really impressing the bride :-)

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7 years 9 months ago #171427 by busman
Replied by busman on topic War Stories
Thanks for the remarks, yes it did bring back a few things long forgotten, or at least in a shallow grave.
We had been pushing for more armor under the alloy carriers, they had the steel plates ready to go but would not fit them because of weight, I hit the mine on a Thursday, the plates went on the next Monday. Bugger. A mate came to see me in hospital, he had hit one same size in the same place under the carrier in an up armored carrier, got a broken jaw and 10 stitches from pieces of the alloy floor breaking away as the steel bent, that was all. 690 less than me.
As for the "romanticism" of war, pretty quick changes happen on the battlefield.
I will say one thing though, the veneer of civilisation is pretty thin. If you are trying to kill someone that is trying to kill you, and you come out on top, you want to stand over the body and beat your chest with your fists like an ape, It's that primal.. Then a few hours later on a plane and you are in Pitt St in Sydney going WTF ! No wonder some of these guys have trouble adjusting back to civvie life.

84 Austral Tourmaster with 6V92 and now 7 speed Eaton-Fuller, converted to motorhome "Vanishing Point" after a favourite American movie.
3 Kw solar 800 Ah Lithium house battery pack, all engine cooling done by the sun. Water injection for hot days and hill climbs.
The following user(s) said Thank You: IHScout, scratcha

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7 years 8 months ago #171736 by tim
Replied by tim on topic War Stories
To Lang, Busman & to all the other Returned Veterans, a Very big "Thank You" for your service. Many seem to find themselves unable to talk about their experiences upon their return unless it is with other people who have shared the same or similar times.
I count myself extremely lucky to have gone through life without seeing military conflict of any kind.
I was still an apprentice when the 90 day Nasho's finished. I was so peeved over that that I joined the CMF and was in RAEME for several years, making some of the best friendships in my lifetime. Some are still mates today.
Cheers Tim ;)

1989 FORD F350 Lariat Crewcab Dually

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