Racconti di Guerra

Private Shenanigans…

Un altro racconto di guerra; questa volta l’utente lonelylogistics scrive:

So one fine week on the lovely Sand Hill, Fort Benning, we are doing the final weapons cleaning to turn them in. Its week 21 out of 22, and one private, a recycle from an 11B (Infantryman) OSUT (One Station Unit Training, basically Basic and AIT all in the same place) now in this 11C (Indirect Fire Infantryman, just a fancy term for grunt who has a little more intelligence and carry a bigger grenade launcher[mortar]) OSUT, had been taught how to almost fully disassemble the M240B and M249. So, seeing carbon buildup under the shit in the feed tray cover assembly (the thingy that pulls the next round in the link in and holds it in place for the bolt to ram it into the chamber) for a M240B, he decides to utilize his training and take it apart. After cleaning it, before putting it back together, the call goes out for the last PX run of the cycle. Now this private, needing supplies, foolishly leaves the feed tray cover assembly lying in pieces and heads to the PX. After getting the supplies he needs, the private heads back to the company where he is told to report to the Senior Drill Sergeant. Upon arrival the the DS office the private sees the Senior Drill Sergeant, the Platoon Leader, and the Company Armorer Drill Sergeant trying to put the feed tray cover assembly back together. When they notice that their requested personnel has arrived, they inform him that if they can't get it back together, they would be charging the private for a new feed tray cover assembly. About an hour later, the private is called to the duty office and is handed an assembled feed tray cover assembly and told that it took witchcraft to get it back together with the help of another Drill.

Lessons learned: never trust battle buddies to put something back together. Also, apparently, those assemblies aren't supposed to be disassembled.

Edit: this went bigger than I expected. Give me some time and I'll regale you all with the story of the private who was pronounced dead not once, not twice, but thrice by Drill Sergeants.