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BigBen · 03-14-2005, 01:51 PM

Ammo: The cruellest bitch of all

I was tasked as an ammo driver for the artillery, and I really didn’t like it much. As an ammo driver, you are kind of like an outcast: No one wants you around, in case you blow up and take them with you. Everybody needs you around, so you can give them more ammo. This catch-22 is handled by everyone making sure they spend as little time as possible around you, and when they are there, they are working fast and it is all business. I am a people person, and all of my stories and jokes fell on deaf ears. Yeah, BigBen, you told me that one before… can you just shut the fuck up and give me my rounds?
I didn’t take it personally, until the lightning storm hit.
I had 10 tonnes of ammo on my truck, and was following everyone else out to the field for exercise. We set up and got into position when the word came down: BIG STORM COMING, GET BACK TO BASE. Everyone pulled out and high-tailed it back to the Base gate, where Range Control was waiting for us. Everyone was driving through when the NCO flagged me down.
“You can’t come on base, you have Ammo on your truck.”
“Well, no shit Sherlock. I’ll just go to the Ammo Compound and park the bitch there then.” I replied, faced with a master-of-the-obvious.
“Ammo Compound is closed. Lightning Storms are dangerous around ammo.”
“Okay, what should I do then?” I was getting more frustrated as the storm approached.
“You’ll have to park the truck in the Training Area. No Ammo allowed on Base.” This guy knew the rules, and was not about to be talked out of them.
“Okay, where about do you want this pig parked?” I did not see a parking lot or a sign that said AMMO PARKING HERE. The army is usually pretty blunt when a situation arises like this.
“At least 500 metres from any building or person.” Was he reading this straight out of a manual from somewhere? I read something like that before, but couldn’t remember.
“Can you give me a ride back to Base?” I was not enjoying the thought of walking 500 metres in the rain when this storm hit…
“NO. An ammo truck needs to be occupied when loaded unless it is in a secure compound.”
Ah, I remember that regulation. That’s so some nutjob doesn’t steal my ammo. All he would need then is a 105 howitzer and the knowledge on how to use the damn thing (no, it is not that easy, despite what you might have thought) and then he could shoot something.
“SO WHAT AM I SUPPOSED TO DO, STAY IN THIS TRUCK IN A FUCKING LIGHTNING STORM?!?!” I had a few close calls before, and I knew that the odds of being hit by lightning were slim, but then why were the regulations set up like this? To protect people if something DID happen.
“Yep.” And with that, he turned and walked away. Yes, I stayed with that truck. Every time the lightning hit (often) I would flinch, and my asshole would pucker. By the end of the night, I was a ball of nerves, and I was ready to shit a diamond. Boy, am I glad I was chosen to be an ammo driver! Look at how I am serving my country! My parents would be soooo proud!

When the storm was over, it turned hot. Horrible weather. I can still remember it. Not one lick of wind, the sun baking everything. Even the Ammo. The order came down that the company had to find a location where the ammo truck was parked in the shade, because you-never-know. I sat in the cab of the truck, in the shade, while everyone else was being cooked like an egg. Hey, Look how I am serving my country! Fucking assholes running back to base and leaving me there to blow up. Served them right.

Part of Ammo is salvage. The boxes the tubes come in, the tubes that the rounds come in, the brass casings that hold the powder, basically everything that doesn’t fly through the air or make the bang sound has to be returned. I was doing a salvage run when the order came that the exercise was over.
When that happens, there is an old tradition that the first Gun detachment that is packed up and ready to go gets free beer bought by the Gun detachment that is ready to go last. Thus, to get free beer and to avoid buying for others, everything happens fucking fast. People start screaming, throwing things into their trucks, trucks start racing, just utter confusion if you did not know what was happening.
Part of being ready to go is returning all of your salvage to the salvage truck (me). I was at the middle of the Gun line (6 Guns in a Det) when people started running towards me with their arms full of salvage. Wooden crates, cardboard tubes, brass shells, all came at me at once. I was working as fast as I could (alone, those fucking pricks wouldn’t give me a helper. ‘It’s only Salvage’) when someone had the brilliant idea:

If handing Ben the salvage was fast, then wouldn’t throwing it at him be faster?

I didn’t see it coming, but a 5 pound brass shell casing came flying at my head. I was lying on the back deck of the truck, everything was spinning.
“Oh sure, kill the fucking ammo driver, that will speed things up.” I remember someone saying that, but couldn’t quite place the voice.
I had a serious concussion, but I shook it off and finished the job. I thought my jaw was broken, and I parked the truck at the salvage depot. I mumbled “I’m going to the Base Hospital, if someone needs to know…” and the salvage guy just said ‘okay’.

03-14-2005, 01:51 PM	#49 (permalink)
BigBen Comedian Location: Use the search button	Ammo: The cruellest bitch of all I was tasked as an ammo driver for the artillery, and I really didn’t like it much. As an ammo driver, you are kind of like an outcast: No one wants you around, in case you blow up and take them with you. Everybody needs you around, so you can give them more ammo. This catch-22 is handled by everyone making sure they spend as little time as possible around you, and when they are there, they are working fast and it is all business. I am a people person, and all of my stories and jokes fell on deaf ears. Yeah, BigBen, you told me that one before… can you just shut the fuck up and give me my rounds? I didn’t take it personally, until the lightning storm hit. I had 10 tonnes of ammo on my truck, and was following everyone else out to the field for exercise. We set up and got into position when the word came down: BIG STORM COMING, GET BACK TO BASE. Everyone pulled out and high-tailed it back to the Base gate, where Range Control was waiting for us. Everyone was driving through when the NCO flagged me down. “You can’t come on base, you have Ammo on your truck.” “Well, no shit Sherlock. I’ll just go to the Ammo Compound and park the bitch there then.” I replied, faced with a master-of-the-obvious. “Ammo Compound is closed. Lightning Storms are dangerous around ammo.” “Okay, what should I do then?” I was getting more frustrated as the storm approached. “You’ll have to park the truck in the Training Area. No Ammo allowed on Base.” This guy knew the rules, and was not about to be talked out of them. “Okay, where about do you want this pig parked?” I did not see a parking lot or a sign that said AMMO PARKING HERE. The army is usually pretty blunt when a situation arises like this. “At least 500 metres from any building or person.” Was he reading this straight out of a manual from somewhere? I read something like that before, but couldn’t remember. “Can you give me a ride back to Base?” I was not enjoying the thought of walking 500 metres in the rain when this storm hit… “NO. An ammo truck needs to be occupied when loaded unless it is in a secure compound.” Ah, I remember that regulation. That’s so some nutjob doesn’t steal my ammo. All he would need then is a 105 howitzer and the knowledge on how to use the damn thing (no, it is not that easy, despite what you might have thought) and then he could shoot something. “SO WHAT AM I SUPPOSED TO DO, STAY IN THIS TRUCK IN A FUCKING LIGHTNING STORM?!?!” I had a few close calls before, and I knew that the odds of being hit by lightning were slim, but then why were the regulations set up like this? To protect people if something DID happen. “Yep.” And with that, he turned and walked away. Yes, I stayed with that truck. Every time the lightning hit (often) I would flinch, and my asshole would pucker. By the end of the night, I was a ball of nerves, and I was ready to shit a diamond. Boy, am I glad I was chosen to be an ammo driver! Look at how I am serving my country! My parents would be soooo proud! When the storm was over, it turned hot. Horrible weather. I can still remember it. Not one lick of wind, the sun baking everything. Even the Ammo. The order came down that the company had to find a location where the ammo truck was parked in the shade, because you-never-know. I sat in the cab of the truck, in the shade, while everyone else was being cooked like an egg. Hey, Look how I am serving my country! Fucking assholes running back to base and leaving me there to blow up. Served them right. Part of Ammo is salvage. The boxes the tubes come in, the tubes that the rounds come in, the brass casings that hold the powder, basically everything that doesn’t fly through the air or make the bang sound has to be returned. I was doing a salvage run when the order came that the exercise was over. When that happens, there is an old tradition that the first Gun detachment that is packed up and ready to go gets free beer bought by the Gun detachment that is ready to go last. Thus, to get free beer and to avoid buying for others, everything happens fucking fast. People start screaming, throwing things into their trucks, trucks start racing, just utter confusion if you did not know what was happening. Part of being ready to go is returning all of your salvage to the salvage truck (me). I was at the middle of the Gun line (6 Guns in a Det) when people started running towards me with their arms full of salvage. Wooden crates, cardboard tubes, brass shells, all came at me at once. I was working as fast as I could (alone, those fucking pricks wouldn’t give me a helper. ‘It’s only Salvage’) when someone had the brilliant idea: If handing Ben the salvage was fast, then wouldn’t throwing it at him be faster? I didn’t see it coming, but a 5 pound brass shell casing came flying at my head. I was lying on the back deck of the truck, everything was spinning. “Oh sure, kill the fucking ammo driver, that will speed things up.” I remember someone saying that, but couldn’t quite place the voice. I had a serious concussion, but I shook it off and finished the job. I thought my jaw was broken, and I parked the truck at the salvage depot. I mumbled “I’m going to the Base Hospital, if someone needs to know…” and the salvage guy just said ‘okay’. __________________ 3.141592654 Hey, if you are impressed with my memorizing pi to 10 digits, you should see the size of my penis.