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BigBen · 10-04-2005, 07:17 AM

I was driving in the training area in a 10 ton truck and was late for a task. I was to pick up a bunch of VIP’s and drive them from one static display to another. The event was planned so that all of the VIP’s could get a “taste” of army life, and that included getting bounced around in the back of a troop transport vehicle. What fun!

I was going from place to place and running around like a chicken with my fucking head cut off… so basically business as usual. I was rocking out to my radio that I had paid one of the mechanics to hotwire into the dash of the truck, and I still remember that Nirvana’s Nevermind was playing.

I was climbing a steep hill, and the gravel road I was on was a little bit skinny. I was going through the gears when I saw that a convoy of Armoured Personnel Carriers (APC’s) was coming down the hill on the same road I was on. No big deal, I just pulled over as far right as I could and slowed down. The lead APC in the convoy did the same. I noticed that the drivers were practicing “Hatches Down” combat driving drills, so they were looking out little periscope windows instead of actually seeing where they were going. The commander of the vehicle was in “Nametag Defilade” position, so that means that his upper torso was sticking out of the commander’s hatch, and he was communicating to the driver what was going on. It was a pretty standard combat training situation.

I had stopped about 200 metres from the approaching convoy and waited for them to pass. The lead APC passed by, no problem. So did the second. The convoy was about 7 or 8 carriers long, and they were kicking up a shitload of dust.

Suddenly, in the middle of the dust, I saw the third or fourth vehicle having some problems. The carrier had pulled over too far right and not slowed down enough, and when it hit the soft shoulder in front of me, it flipped over the side of the hill and out of sight. I could see the commander of the track as the vehicle flipped. He had this look of horror on his face.

“HOLY FUCK!” I screamed, and dynamited the air brakes on my truck. I jumped out of the cab, and was surprised to see that the rest of the APC convoy just KEPT GOING!! The next carrier did not see what happened because of all of the dust. I waved my arms in the air, and the last commander waved back at me like I was a kid standing on the curb of a fancy parade. “No, you idiot, STOP!” I cried, but the roar of the engines drowned out my scream.

I looked over the side of the cliff, and about 75 feet down I saw the wheels of the APC staring up at me, slowly turning. The carrier had come to rest in the middle of a copse of trees, upside down and turned 180 degrees the other way. I jumped back into the cab of my truck and got on the radio. We were having comms troubles all week, and my bowels felt uncomfortably loose when I imagined not being able to get a hold of anyone.

“Zero, this is Eight-Four November, NO DUFF, Over!”
*static*
Ben keys the handset again: “Zero this is Eight-Four November, Radio Check, NO DUFF, Over”
*static*
The NO DUFF call-sign tells everyone on the net that something very bad has happened, and it receives priority. My call-sign was 84N, and my worst fears were coming true. I was alone. No one was coming to help. Every sergeant told me to never let this happen. We always used the buddy system so that one person could go and get help. I was alone.

“Any call-sign, any call-sign, this is Eight-Four November. I have a NO DUFF accident at Purple Hill. An APC just rolled off the fucking cliff. HELP!”
*static*

I waited for 5 seconds to see if anyone responded, and then I grabbed an axe and the most pathetic tiny little brown plastic lunchbox sized first aid kit. I started down the cliff. As I approached, I could still hear the engine idling away. The vehicle was on its roof, preventing access to both the driver’s and commander’s hatch. There were three big poplar trees blocking the back hatches. The guys were trapped inside. It was pretty clear that the APC wasn’t going to slide any further down the hill. It was also pretty clear that since the APC had landed on its roof and the commander was hatches up, he was a goner.

I started to chop down the three trees that blocked the back doors. I kept calling out to the guys inside that everything was going to be okay, et cetera, but I was really trying to reassure myself. I chopped down those trees in about a minute, and I had a moment of clarity when I thought ‘Wow, I must really be on an adrenaline rush to cut those trees down that fast…’

I opened up the back hatch, and there was kit everywhere. Rucksacks, sleeping bags, stoves and lanterns, a crate of those little individual milk containers which had gone sour and broken open, lots of ammunition and pyro, and a couple of gasoline jerry cans that had ruptured and spilled over everything. It was black inside. I kept hauling out kit, hoping to see someone alive.

I finally touched a shoulder. It was the gunner, and he was unconscious. Usually with an accident like this, you would stabilize the casualty in place, because there was a very good likelihood that there were spinal cord injuries. I could smell the gasoline, and I could feel the heat. I remembered all of the ammo lying around and made the decision that I needed to get this guy out of there, as fast as possible. I pulled him out and drug him halfway up the bank of the hill, towards my truck. He was like a rag doll. I could feel a pulse and see him breathing. I ran back to the APC.

I came to the commander, who I thought would be dead. It turns out that he hit his seat lever just in time to save his life. His ear was ripped off from the radio headset, and he was pouring blood all over the place. He was moaning, so that meant he was breathing okay. He was hanging upside down by his seatbelt, and I cut it off and was trying to get him out when my buddy Gerrad called my name… “BEN, what the fuck man!? Are you okay?”
“Yeah, I’m fine; help me with this guy…”

Gerrad was travelling along the same road, and saw my truck parked along the side of the hill, and got out to investigate. Thank god. He pulled the commander out the back, and I continued to make my way towards the driver. When I found him, he was unconscious and hanging upside down. The driver’s compartment is really tight, and I couldn’t get to him. I was fumbling around in the dark, trying to find the fucking seatbelt, trying to pull this guy out, and then Gerrad was there again. “Come on out, I’ll get him. You tend to the guys up the hill.

When I got out of the APC, there was a crowd of people there waiting for me. Gerrad was also tasked to transport VIP’s, so I climbed up the hill and stood there and watched the 2 guys I pulled out regain consciousness. I fucking lost it. I thought the commander was dead for sure, and here he was, talking and looking right at me.

The Premier of Alberta, the mayors of Edmonton and Calgary, Members of Parliament all looked at me. I was soaked in blood, gasoline and sour milk. I lit a cigarette and sat down on the shoulder of the road.

The driver was fine, it turns out, and he tried to blame ME for the accident. He said that I tried to run him off the road. He was informed that I was the one who saved his life and the convoy of APC’s had all got past me just fine, and I WAS PARKED AT THE SIDE OF THE ROAD. He realized that shitting on me was only going to make things worse, so he told the truth. He didn’t slow down enough and pulled over too far right.

I didn’t get any medals for it, although I was told I was nominated for one. A letter of commendation was supposed to come from the Base Commander, but never showed up. I just wanted to forget the whole thing.

Sometimes, when I daydream, I will see the look on that guy’s face as he is falling off the cliff, halfway out of an APC.

10-04-2005, 07:17 AM	#106 (permalink)
BigBen Comedian Location: Use the search button	I was driving in the training area in a 10 ton truck and was late for a task. I was to pick up a bunch of VIP’s and drive them from one static display to another. The event was planned so that all of the VIP’s could get a “taste” of army life, and that included getting bounced around in the back of a troop transport vehicle. What fun! I was going from place to place and running around like a chicken with my fucking head cut off… so basically business as usual. I was rocking out to my radio that I had paid one of the mechanics to hotwire into the dash of the truck, and I still remember that Nirvana’s Nevermind was playing. I was climbing a steep hill, and the gravel road I was on was a little bit skinny. I was going through the gears when I saw that a convoy of Armoured Personnel Carriers (APC’s) was coming down the hill on the same road I was on. No big deal, I just pulled over as far right as I could and slowed down. The lead APC in the convoy did the same. I noticed that the drivers were practicing “Hatches Down” combat driving drills, so they were looking out little periscope windows instead of actually seeing where they were going. The commander of the vehicle was in “Nametag Defilade” position, so that means that his upper torso was sticking out of the commander’s hatch, and he was communicating to the driver what was going on. It was a pretty standard combat training situation. I had stopped about 200 metres from the approaching convoy and waited for them to pass. The lead APC passed by, no problem. So did the second. The convoy was about 7 or 8 carriers long, and they were kicking up a shitload of dust. Suddenly, in the middle of the dust, I saw the third or fourth vehicle having some problems. The carrier had pulled over too far right and not slowed down enough, and when it hit the soft shoulder in front of me, it flipped over the side of the hill and out of sight. I could see the commander of the track as the vehicle flipped. He had this look of horror on his face. “HOLY FUCK!” I screamed, and dynamited the air brakes on my truck. I jumped out of the cab, and was surprised to see that the rest of the APC convoy just KEPT GOING!! The next carrier did not see what happened because of all of the dust. I waved my arms in the air, and the last commander waved back at me like I was a kid standing on the curb of a fancy parade. “No, you idiot, STOP!” I cried, but the roar of the engines drowned out my scream. I looked over the side of the cliff, and about 75 feet down I saw the wheels of the APC staring up at me, slowly turning. The carrier had come to rest in the middle of a copse of trees, upside down and turned 180 degrees the other way. I jumped back into the cab of my truck and got on the radio. We were having comms troubles all week, and my bowels felt uncomfortably loose when I imagined not being able to get a hold of anyone. “Zero, this is Eight-Four November, NO DUFF, Over!” static Ben keys the handset again: “Zero this is Eight-Four November, Radio Check, NO DUFF, Over” static The NO DUFF call-sign tells everyone on the net that something very bad has happened, and it receives priority. My call-sign was 84N, and my worst fears were coming true. I was alone. No one was coming to help. Every sergeant told me to never let this happen. We always used the buddy system so that one person could go and get help. I was alone. “Any call-sign, any call-sign, this is Eight-Four November. I have a NO DUFF accident at Purple Hill. An APC just rolled off the fucking cliff. HELP!” static I waited for 5 seconds to see if anyone responded, and then I grabbed an axe and the most pathetic tiny little brown plastic lunchbox sized first aid kit. I started down the cliff. As I approached, I could still hear the engine idling away. The vehicle was on its roof, preventing access to both the driver’s and commander’s hatch. There were three big poplar trees blocking the back hatches. The guys were trapped inside. It was pretty clear that the APC wasn’t going to slide any further down the hill. It was also pretty clear that since the APC had landed on its roof and the commander was hatches up, he was a goner. I started to chop down the three trees that blocked the back doors. I kept calling out to the guys inside that everything was going to be okay, et cetera, but I was really trying to reassure myself. I chopped down those trees in about a minute, and I had a moment of clarity when I thought ‘Wow, I must really be on an adrenaline rush to cut those trees down that fast…’ I opened up the back hatch, and there was kit everywhere. Rucksacks, sleeping bags, stoves and lanterns, a crate of those little individual milk containers which had gone sour and broken open, lots of ammunition and pyro, and a couple of gasoline jerry cans that had ruptured and spilled over everything. It was black inside. I kept hauling out kit, hoping to see someone alive. I finally touched a shoulder. It was the gunner, and he was unconscious. Usually with an accident like this, you would stabilize the casualty in place, because there was a very good likelihood that there were spinal cord injuries. I could smell the gasoline, and I could feel the heat. I remembered all of the ammo lying around and made the decision that I needed to get this guy out of there, as fast as possible. I pulled him out and drug him halfway up the bank of the hill, towards my truck. He was like a rag doll. I could feel a pulse and see him breathing. I ran back to the APC. I came to the commander, who I thought would be dead. It turns out that he hit his seat lever just in time to save his life. His ear was ripped off from the radio headset, and he was pouring blood all over the place. He was moaning, so that meant he was breathing okay. He was hanging upside down by his seatbelt, and I cut it off and was trying to get him out when my buddy Gerrad called my name… “BEN, what the fuck man!? Are you okay?” “Yeah, I’m fine; help me with this guy…” Gerrad was travelling along the same road, and saw my truck parked along the side of the hill, and got out to investigate. Thank god. He pulled the commander out the back, and I continued to make my way towards the driver. When I found him, he was unconscious and hanging upside down. The driver’s compartment is really tight, and I couldn’t get to him. I was fumbling around in the dark, trying to find the fucking seatbelt, trying to pull this guy out, and then Gerrad was there again. “Come on out, I’ll get him. You tend to the guys up the hill. When I got out of the APC, there was a crowd of people there waiting for me. Gerrad was also tasked to transport VIP’s, so I climbed up the hill and stood there and watched the 2 guys I pulled out regain consciousness. I fucking lost it. I thought the commander was dead for sure, and here he was, talking and looking right at me. The Premier of Alberta, the mayors of Edmonton and Calgary, Members of Parliament all looked at me. I was soaked in blood, gasoline and sour milk. I lit a cigarette and sat down on the shoulder of the road. The driver was fine, it turns out, and he tried to blame ME for the accident. He said that I tried to run him off the road. He was informed that I was the one who saved his life and the convoy of APC’s had all got past me just fine, and I WAS PARKED AT THE SIDE OF THE ROAD. He realized that shitting on me was only going to make things worse, so he told the truth. He didn’t slow down enough and pulled over too far right. I didn’t get any medals for it, although I was told I was nominated for one. A letter of commendation was supposed to come from the Base Commander, but never showed up. I just wanted to forget the whole thing. Sometimes, when I daydream, I will see the look on that guy’s face as he is falling off the cliff, halfway out of an APC. __________________ 3.141592654 Hey, if you are impressed with my memorizing pi to 10 digits, you should see the size of my penis.