In Cuba ... however ...
Shepherds ’s dick puppet. (face=palm)
That fat asshole with the Hitler stash what was his name? You‘d think I remember … considering.
And then there was Burley.
Fuck I hated Burley back then.
Fast tracker - six foot five, blood hair - blue eyes. Mr. Straight - and narrow religious minded - or at least I thought back then. I HATED those assholes - loathed them.
Mostly soaked if not in sweat then by rain.
I had to put up with a lot.In the end however - I would never change it.
Between white and dark chocolate god knows for he was witness to what flavor I was then. All I knew was that my dark NCO was seemingly three feet shorter than I … and as tough as mahogany. My apparently next in command was team specialist Wiley - a gigantic man with the heart of Frank Oz’s cowardly lion. When our two companies Alphas and Bravo arrived to see the look on the Marine Battalion - told all of us we where all fucked.
I was a US Army Captain, recently promoted… …qualified as a army Chaplin and Infantry Combat Officer, Q-course qualified, Parachutist. I was dressed in privates uniform, on assignment from the CID, and only the lieutenant knew of this. Yet was forced to endure as a private - as an informer officially the army still feeling me out after my long absence in convalescence. Awaiting forming the platoon under my hand when I returned from Cuba - the army still fleshing things out with command back in Alaska, going in as a private my idea - knowing full well there was really nothing to inform about - as the lieutenant - under the same orders had eyes the same as I did. So what could be said except the recorded history and life as an infantryman on a humanitarian mission such as I - the pilgrim?
Now this is where shit gets nutty serious and most of the keepers get twitchy.
Not to worry - This is a story of the lighter side.
I say this because those who where there - you lurkers - and passer on’s … will know of what I speak prior. Cuba was a proving grounds - for all of us
Maybe its just us natives - but FUCK! You men are MAD!What the hell is wrong with you? All you do is curse each other and stab each other in the back for another pair of socks? What the fuck is up with that? Why do you do these thing s that you do? Why is it there is no mother … only father? Now I know you all are fucking each other in the ass. There is no warrior pretense you ignorant fools! Someone just blamed me for stealing the chicken and yet I have a mouth full of hammerhead in my mouth? Hey - You assholes, which one of you punched me in the face when first sergeant Murphy punched the Captain in the face - oh what was his name..? …the roid rage pimply chested fuck that got busted. I still can’t remember that lieutenants’ name that took charge - I know he was in mortars - that is a bombardier. This was the army of the 90’s, and I, an officer raised in the 80’s on his fourth overseas deployment - and still - as god as my witness - still in my life had I not seen sin such as this. This was Camp Berkley, Guantanamo Naval Base - Cuba. This was where the people came from the Mariel boat lift came before they went to America - can’t let the rats off the boat now can we? It was an highly infectious place - as it was a refugee camp roughly of 100,000 people when we landed - and it was our job to get rid of them - ehermmm - I mean - process them.VHS tapes where still very much in vogue back then. The movie theaters consisted of two - one basically a shanty with a screen made of white painted whatever we could find that allowed beer - and one closer in the camp infrastructure with concrete floors and stadium seating - but through a hand of fate public drunkenness and smoking was a punishable offense - thus it was empty most of the time. Our shanty theater however was packed. Most of the construction was keeping the shack tilted level that held the projector system. The screen was wood not suitable for roofs of just about every size could be found - it two was tilted as one of the large poles holding it up was sliding into the sea - directly behind it being a twenty foot drop into the bay. Men would routinely watch movies here in the full on rain until they couldn't see the screen anymore - dam the sound which couldn't be heard anyway and you wouldn't need to - we could recite the words by rote alone we seen them so many times - hell someone had put up a toilet seat - which was by high demand in any case, and fastened to the decaying and ready to fall over movie screen with four six inch deep drywall screws and THAT was in high demand that using a perfectly good toilet seat and four six inch drywall screws for a joke was an insult. What an asshole - who ever that was.
Ladder?
No. No one had seen a ladder… ...for if anyone had it probably would have been turned into several chairs and repainted. Sold and or Bartered to a man looking for a ladder.
Saw? ... your kidding right?
I hated these men.
I hated them with a passion.
I wanted to kill them.
I plotted there death every night.
No matter how hard I worked to surpass them, and I did, did any acceptance did I find in there action or there deeds in my way. They said and did horrible things to me. It was far beyond any hazing in the schools the army and put my sorry brown and white and off again sorry ass through so far. Everything went missing including my boots and nothing else one day - and there was me jogging up and down the officers beach getting all the damm sun I wished naked as I was with nothing but my combat groups. That day was fun. It was hours before someone noticed, in my command that is, that I was naked up and down the beach. Those bastards.
I would have done any evil to end it. This horrible verbal shit these monkeys threw at me on a daily basis. Everyone around me seemed insane - psychotic - murderous… Things where looking up however. I was, on daily basis it seemed, in between bought’s of drinking with the boys and dueling it out in hand to hand combat with rioting Cuban refugees that where literately dropped in our lap via what’s been called the Mariel boat lift - I know it as Joint Task Force 160 Operation Sea Signal. The symbol was a lighthouse. They even sold t-shirts.
Once on land, these peoples of the Caribbean’s they where put into camps, and guarding the camps was our jobs. Red beans and rice these people where fed and these people rioted, a lot, and when I mean riots I mean like American watts riot and Rodney king type riots with a good dosing of shit bombs and rotten food, rocks stuff. We where the font line. We where the riot quell’ers. The shield stick guys. These passionate people, they so wanted there freedom they where willing to fight for it, sail across the ocean risking there lives and the lives of their children just to be here - in my Uncle Sams land - that they risked it all. It was no surprise then, although it was to me, and shiny new recruit into the SWORD - shy to the true ways of the world. For as far as I have traveled and as many as I have fought - I have yet to meet another culture that loved to riot like this. To watch and protect, ultimately, to police them I respected there candor, and their fighting skill - but I wasn’t about to get my ass jacked up either. It seemed only with action did I gain respect with these native American born soldiers. And respect through that action I did gain.
Those bastards…I found it a distasteful sin to strike a fellow man down - and found it thus - a necessary sin. Striking a man down in practice and in life was not knew to me. I have hunted coyotes … Having to do so to gain peer acceptance was alien to me. Bringing coyotes home was a sin to the mother - not the father.
I choose benevolence instead of megaphone against these men. After all, after someone throw his own shit or his neighbors shit at you - kicking the shit out of those responsible for covering you with said shit dose have its just rewards - and the mater is settled and another day begins. We should have enlisted them all for it was assholes -elbows, shields - and swords. Blood, sweat, tears. Least we forget the asshole dubbed the "Hooded Menace" - fond of the habit of chucking riot gas nades in the NCO hutch and nailing the doors Shut.
No, ass- whopping was off the menu so …
… what to do?
I had to set an example. I knew what was coming. My damm mother.
She was always right - I could have joined a university.
Yet I forged on, I volunteered
I cried to my mother, oh please, oh plz, send me the //Star Wars remasterd additional footage addition// release edition VHS-d Tapes Part number yadda part - number this number that letter number …. .. Oh mamma please send this !!!
My damm mother, who kicked in the door of the senators office cuz’ I went to chow one to many times. Who always had the horn, that is the mic when she knew I needed to speak, damm near hand delivered, with as much Downey as could be these things:
“Whats in the box O’Toole”?
“My mother she has delivered.”
Chocolates abound, hand baked cookies, from her and my fiancée - the blood haired blue eyed farmers daughter. Letters from everyone - and god dammed mother fuckerin star wars … VHS tapes by god! The remastered edition with all the additional footage.” -“Oh wow … Apollo 13”
“What did he say?” - :What’s that?” - “No way” “Bullshit” “Fuck that Niger” “Watch your mouth” Fuck you burley” I heard that - Fuck you Burley - what? Fuck you cock sucker! You’re a cocker sucker! Twenty or so men in a small space - a wooden shack the size of a small apartment. They would tell bedtime stories to one another - grown men.
With a deep breath, and a silent prair I thanked my mother - she had delivered to this bastard what he need most, another lease on life. A ways to a means ... I had to give it to her - she was an army mom - she knew what doors to kick in where - and when. Damm you mother. She drove the spaceship - the 1977 Ford F-350 quarter ton four hundred and sixty cubic inch powered truck with full sized camper. It was - in its flint-stone flavor the first SUV that the ENTIRE FAMILY could fit in the back of. Much like a model of a medical style hummer. My family was not small. The shell was large. The machine was large. If you didn’t hold on when mom hit the accelerator to pass going uphill on the way to grandparents you would slide off the view deck above the cab and onto the floor sliding for the back door feet first - if you where lucky... Mom didn’t care, sometimes dad was hanging off the said hatch or the roof hatch shooting away with his rifle- shit- and you just had to hold on and prey. I lived and I think it was my pathway to Jesus... I Digress ... where was I?Jesus help me - my parents are insane! - oh yes ...
There was a big party there once on this farm. The man was on the moon ! My grandfather was happily aghast and for this he bought much fire water. Telescopes where abound, In his farming community he was a silent partner. A warrior, and his well fought for piece of the pie along a fiver delta. He lived within walking distance of not one but two federal He knew his business and he minded it - but when it came to the community at large - he was bigger - badder - cooler and calmer - and that farm it lie in the breast of the most archeological sought sites in all of Arizona. Life giver - ever lasting. I was such a child - he had the largest television a man could ever own - and when there was a new one from Zenith that was even bigger - he bought it - owned stock in it - talked on the phone with them - nonchalant - you see. He was after all - my grandfather - war hero. The chairman of the board on cool. He liked being the big deal just by being the big deal by proxy. All these thoughts I felt and reviewed as I held in my paws the latest big deal. I ignored the cat calls and the peeks over my shoulder. “Hysell” - I tossed the tapes, “What we got here?”
He read - “Star Wars - special addition, D format” I and set him up - I bet him him twenty dollars. I looked again - saw the saran wrap was missing and thought of it as either my father or mother and hoped it was my brother - as it was I would not blame him - and we where getting letters returned blacked out - redacted as it where. We had already had that talk with the NCO’s - no ones mother needed to hear that kind of talk - regardless of what street you grew up on. Or so the Chaplin was told to say. That dammed Chaplin - ratted me out for crying. And then had the audacity to rat me out for calling him out for ratting me out for crying - I though it was confession? I know the rules the same as you … you bastard! Those bastards.
I came to the big sarge - The Knight, though he not yet know it - a sergeant of but one singular blemish, in the manner of the Hooded Menace, and whispered in his ear. A day later - and more whispering - “yes it does take VHS” - a day later - “When do we spring it?”
A rumor was spread that a new movie was floating around. That somebody had something special, and it wasn’t something like Johnny mNmoninc which was being played almost every other night being the only movie shared outside of the “Disney Issue” - being smuggled in by one way or another - rumored by the same way of Cuban cigars and fresh white cotter shirts. The theater as it where - was in a sad way - cultural unacceptable to current psychopathic humanitarians - that is plane family fair. Anything and I mean anything out side of this horrible selection of family plane fair feature was of high value and the thought of the well built high capacity outside on the east side where the lower class and higher populated … Camp Berklly … big breath … bullshit so good that had to be repeated in two breaths gives the bullish the details - to good to be true - yet believable enough that people start to show up - along the lines of the blues brothers one night only… ...we needed to put ass's in seats as they say in show buisness
It was on day sometime after all the shit of the holidays had gone down that we sprung the theater uprising operation.Operation Poon Snatch was in full effect.
The far south theater, the shanty, ended up being the primary target as the larger inside the center of the base theater was much harder to control and it had the audacity to take "regular film". Being from Alaska - and ski masks very much needed - where in plentiful supply. Bank robbers, muggers, pirates - don’t fuck with us - was only custom and mindset I said - and this - this is star wars! It was by this logic - which was as it seemed - drunk for 48 hrs and sober and fighting like gladiators in riots the very next - the very following 48 - it was life - and in this life of perpetual drunkenness and fighting was the outside world - and we longed for it. Nothing it seemed connected more men in the platoon in which I was assigned than “Star Wars”.
“Don’t’ touch it !” cried the projectionist just before we gagged him.
So, as it where, we shanghaied the private in charge of the primary piece of equipment necessary for said nights entertainment - there we where strolling right up the wooden rampart looking like hooded thieves without a care in the world. The projector came into our control long before the sun had set. Which as it where was lend to the fact that we where able to do some tests and tease the meandering in 48 on and 48 off crew. The beast as it was called was two headed it seemed and was a big thing. It had a hatch on it big enough for a VHS tape. Of course it was painted O.D. matt green and connected via simple RCA jacks to a projector that sat in its own shipping box. Certainly it was made for the front lines being stout enough to handle a bat - more important than a bullet for infantry work as far as construction went.
In control of the devices we made several tests as and as it was theatrical trailers for movies in which where new to most men - tempers rise as the screen changed sizes and the focus went in and out for it the VCR had a index system - one I was versed in. This print on VHS had a long index which included color focus tests and the like and could be easily repeated. I was determined to have the best focus and the biggest screen - and to have the most agitated crowd before set it was, the big reveal, the knight well versed in such foolishness was willing to play along to this point - to a point - even if it included the much dammed and once removed and inexplicably returned there and forever after toilet seat theater screen bare there in all of creation and imagination plastered to the screen ... - my mother would be rewarded this theater experience - not by a stolen television and battered VCR - nay - I say - stop this scouting onto Naval base - its forbidden - and they will take them.
Rumors began of "borrowing a safe" to hide when arrived with shovels soldiers, under "orders" to dig a pit and shortly after the men started digging another man arrived with a very reluctant pig on a rope. The first sergeant knowing his part - had arrived a day earlier with part of our plan. No confusion was weaving its way into our simple plan.
Things where getting tense as the sun set. Half of those bastards where already Schlitz on whatever boose they could find - and boy where they getting pist. The rumor spread like wildfire that the of the big new movie title “The sound of music” - which in fact hand not been shown yet - and NOW the projector was going bad? Look! The MP's have arrived and they are leading the shoveler's and the pig away! Rebellion. Anarchy. Anger.
About the time the entire platoon of hooded associates was reinforcing the flimsy wooden doors as they where under assault by all manner of garden tool - for being also a sports field where even soccer and American football was played uphill was this also theater, and at the top of the hill - the shack - the banging on the roof increased as the number of beer bottles and beer cans flying on to the roof was coming as if rain. Our agent provokers where really riling them up - they had had there wild practice with rumors and beer can tossing earlier. The projector window, made of some sort of plexi glass - not being the first time in disgust some solider chucked one through the window as one would a hand grenade. Now, this window now awash, with left over swill from bounced beer cans and the occasionally breaking beer bottle was reaching the crescendo - The Knight opened the door and to the surprise of the fully outfitted in riot gear assaulting party awash in beer stumbled on in - the first sergeant beer in hand ...
First Sergeant Murphy in the lead with official looking marine MP’s rushed in stumbling - having been assaulting the door for sometime and the assaulted, the guilty party, in our ski masks standing at parade rest presenting the surprise gift to the first sergeant "- in the spirit of the first sergeant punching the now disposed and widely hated Captain in the face - if only the private O’Toole could - of course under the supervision and respect for the first sergeant - read this card if you would TOP…"The first sergeant was no fool and hoods or not these where none other than several of his well respected men. While knowing his part up to this point, previously inclined that this would happen and the reason behind it and so on a drunken dare made it so. He did not know the number or specific names of those perpetrators except that of the knight, and was surprised wasn't the ring leader for there didn't seem to be one, but many talkative young men all still hoods on making like sinners to a confessor all at once with confessions of even the most hennas of crimes...
...constant and repeated masturbation, the finding of gay German porn in the sergeants locker, and therefore stolen, the known name of the real chicken thief if the confessor be given alibi - for shame cried the rest of black hooded fellows - and yet the Knight, the sergeant whom in his black ski mask couldn't be mistaken for anyone else in the world -handed a simple index card with writing on it to the First seargent. The First Sergeant, not unknown to these sort of young men's games, made the sum of the whole and knowing what must come next shakeing his head- this happening before - read the card handed to him by Private O'Toole - smiled that "first sergeants tired of your bullshit can we get on with it already" smile...
He cleared his throut and the Private grabed the mic of the PA system and held it out to the first seargent for him to hold.
“Alright you assholes” … He spoke - blaring through the sound system.
“FUCK YOU!” - came the reply from outside the window the culprit sure to never be caught - the empty beer missiles became more determined. Agent prevoctors
“Alright god dammit - this is the first sergeant!” Apparently which one didn’t matter - the TOP let alone the SMAG - what’s on the PA - he might be warning them of the M.P’s. At this point the TOP might as well be E.F. HUTTIN - the multitudes of men from multitudes of units - where all ears. This was not the first time this had happened - on no - the theater had been assaulted many times. Somebody in charge - they would burn the place down without entertainment - spurred on by the placed rumors and frothing at the mouth like rapid hyenas for destruction or diversion. The first sergeant knowing his place, the hand dealt him, the table in which those cards where placed, looked at the literature giving to him - seeing the factory printed label - read his card handed to him by the Knight - handed to the knight by private otoole, previously handed to him by private Hysell, and Nacho, and Shepard, and Paylow, and Galloway, Huff, Specialist Harter, Willey, Helm, Specialist Burley, and all those usual unnamed Pirates.
“Al-right - fuck you to! agggghhhh! !I will find you.", the First Sergeant yelled - this being the first time anyone had dared in a long time to openly curse him. He was beginning to ab-libb - Private O'Toole had the audacity to tap the card bringing the card back to the first sergeants attention and focus. Avoiding his hateful gaze pointed to the projector window now being scrubbed by sleeve and filthy hand - eyes peering in only to be jostled away and reappear another set of eyes - he continued.
“This is the latest edition of Star wars with the extra never before seen footage” - so hoops and hollers - along with the begging’s of a drunken chant “bullshit” bullshit” ... Not easily as wining the crowd over as he thought ... in disgust the first sergeant Murphy threw down the card and the microphone clumping on the floor - private OToole doing as ordered plreaseing the play button “Play this shit before things get out of hand." -he one fingered pointed the Knight” - And with his other hand one pointed myself “Where is your NCO boy!?” He said with so much authority and harassment that all the slouch snapped out of me by that instant and at the firm ready position of parade rest - Pointed at sad faced Sergent Jackson. He was standing pale faced beside him and followed as the First Sergeant left. Death in his eyes for private O'Toole - dammed in this deal this horrible card. Sergeant Jackson - not yet able to read those said cards did not yet realize that what was afoot was a game - and that he had been dealt the joker...
...the first sergeant having been delivered a large TV and brand new VCR from agents unknown having found it installed unannounced would have his fun with the
The movement of the music started the cheers where vindication enough. As the tell tale words scrolled by the man where cheered out - so exasperated by there previous bought of high spirits few moments before where nearly silent. Its was a big slice of home - and big slice of escapism that held the American heart so dear that it would quell even the ,most vibrant and individual heart of the very best pirates. It was Star Wars - a New Hope - with even 33% more hope! Or so told the trailer for the feature.
After the first new scene trailer advertisement of luke sky walker driving his hover craft in “mos eilse” or what ever was shown and there was ewwws and ahhhs and slight discussion as some new digital creature was shownthe new footage to these hard fighting men was shown and the theater calmed itself - the deal being set to new entertainment of a very special and much rumored type. The few hundred drunk sailors, army, nay - even the marines, ready to burn these establishment s down in disgust - brought to a heal within a few moments - sated by the promise of a “new Hope” … the deal - set.
A hush of silence unknown to the shanty theater came over it as being the screen the sky was dark and fair only the stars shown out.and then from the black cube - stars ... no one dared make a sound.
Someone hit pause! - its even shown in the screen [PAUSE] stars, pause and the beloved toilet seat and all where aghast as the crowd erupted aghast - who was the fool whom dared interrupt this victory of the people?! What fool dare?! To the absolute horror of all in the projector room a full beer bottle erupted on the screen dead on the hole of the toilet seat to a rush of cheers- it was private O'Toole standing by the armored, highly prized and oddly enough unsecured VCR and projector system - operating manual in hand. Private O'Toole picked up the mic - as smug as the Cheshire cat. He flicked it on with just as much confidence and looked openly to the assembled cast for associates and would be protagonists - and he spoke:
“Alright, listen up you bitches, you heard the fist sergeant!” -groans could be heard in high volume outside as the young private with a big breath readied himself- “We got the new star wars - but listen up - there is more you got to hear” - you could hear with the hushed silence come those shut the fuck up's and shushes - and pokes and prods into ones silence jerking heads and pushing arms - for not the crowd could Private O'Toole of the assaulting men could see big the wall so flush to where the screen was in respect to the seats. The only indicator of a crowd the silent glitters of the cigaret cherries and the occasional out puff of a dimly lit haggard man ...
“we got all three!”, it came over the intercom - turned full volume by the First. A Pause from the crowd - some cheers with hopeful silence.
“Tomorrow night - the best of the star wars movies with additional footage - 'The Empire Strikes Back'!” - Crazy ass cheers - the crowd now convinced they have been mislead and teased for some great moment and now knowing what it was - having the next 48 hours off and now willing to play any game that came through in a great show of forgiveness. Private O’Toole continued despite his friends plee’s …
“Next Friday will be “Return of the Jedi” - with the beer tossing competition aimed at that dammed toilet seat that we cant keep on the screen - other wise you assholes will half to watch Jedi with that dam toilet seat water mark” - more groans of confusion that due respect at this remark yet - to the annoyance of all involved at the moment O’Toole - instead of hitting play - the one button that would absolve everyone of the situation - continued:
“Alright - listen up … if you want empire strikes back and return of the Jedi - you need to donate your beer to the front door of the second platoon of the 1-17th infantry - where the third hutch down from the far northwest corner of Berkley - that’s second platoon - one one seven.
The play button was finally served. Go full scrwwn on that link and just imagine the hell I put everyone through.
Private O’Toole, also know to those in command as Captain O’Toole, a man whom among his peers was qualified as a hunter, and a parachutist, a Chaplin, a secondary MOS as a infantry commander - brought great joy to the men through great showmanship - a touch of apprehension, and a splash of surprise. The vast majority of the men affected with this joy, never knew of any of the men so previously named or their involvement. Regardless of name - rank- position - the seven days following the premiere of the Empire sticks back - second platoon, bravo company, first of the seventieth had a surplus of beer - a disgustingly wide supply of beer - that the premier of “Return of the Jedi: was received in such holy vehemence the only reason the movie was delayed … by public rule no less until the sun had toughly set to right of the assembled crowd… was due to the beer tossing contest against the horrible toilet seat so fastened to the gigantic screen - located as far as one could climb up the telephone pole and still reach the screen the far lower right corner. It stayed where is was fastened with much fan fare nary a ladder could be found and much hoot and whistle and other drunk escapade of three men a portable generator for the joke was that not even on there shoulders could they reach with power tool and dislodge the horrible device - and thus the first empty beer can and flashlights not prevailing even the most determined human ladder- the movie started. Fuzzy little animals and everything in between as everything of note was cheered and cried about. The scuttlebutt among these movie goers was true - this wasn’t some fluke - the good times where going to roll. The word was out the that last new movie was Apollo thirteen - no way = no shit bro - Apollo thirteen just now hitting the theater screens back home - was also in VHS and ready to play on that screen.
The First Sergeant - seeing on this opportunity very professionally - threatened imposed boycott, which was a relief... ...and then the next day and to much gnashing of teeth - forfeiture of property, of said movie Apollo 13 ...if physical training scores didn’t improve - Slack Jaw Larry had spoken - it was law - which became an issue as some of the slower older slugs where threatened physical harm in the most horrid ways.
Rumors and scuttle butt aside: the word was out - being in second platoon - bravo company - first of the seventieth "Buffaloes" was definitely in. "Private" O'Toole got a letter of recommendation from the eye eyed marine in charge of the facilities - all hell, what was his name? Captain O'Toole receiving word of his appointment through whispered channels was given thorough orders - date of his said reception to Alaskan command- and thus the formation of the Reconnaissance Platoon with orders to follow ... blah ... blah ... blah ... and ending with find the actual hooded menace and kill him - which meant knock it off.
Little did these "hardcore men" - and "Bad-dass" men, as they where growing quite complacent of calling themselves know, … that we could get the in the base theater "The Big Gay Theater" with its solid one construction screen - plush seats - far better sound system - and a roof - if only we could... ...only to have another fight break out - of course -in the theater. But that - that is a story for another time. For certainly we don't have the time to hear of the "Big Gay Theater" - the one eyed Marine bastard - "the sweepers" - the workers revolt - and our surprise guest - whom no one cared about.
Who actually turned out to be a very big deal.
- Sword - AKA - The Hooded Menace … 33RD Commander in Effect …The FNG (they should have known then).











































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