Motivational Poster Thread (warning content)

There's a stretch of road ,, hwy 218 , just a 2 lane , hilly , curvy road thru the the country between Charlotte and Wadesboro ,, there's a guy that has an old single wide mobile home ,, and he's got a ramp run up to the front door for the chickens to get in the home ,,, now that's a big ol chicken coop. But ,, this pic reminded me of that .

 

I still remember 2007 ammo prices, before the 2008 Immaculate Deception put a foreignborn illegal alien in the White House. Prices doubled, tripled, and worse.... And never recovered.

 

You sound like you are in the know. What exactly did trump do for them?

 

The Bell


My final duty assignment in the Marine Corps found me attached to a support squadron in the Second Marine Aircraft Wing. It was a shock to my sense of how the "real" Marine Corps should operate.

I forced a lot of changes in the lax "swing with the Wing" organization that was to be my new home. The S-3 (training), S-4 (logistics), Supply and Communication officers told me the things I wanted to do couldn't be done. I showed then that they could, all within regulations and without straining our tiny budget. I was briefly despised for it, but I brought two forgotten obstacle courses back into safe operation, organized forced marches with rifles and packs, and scrounged a couple million worth of abandoned parts, equipment and supplies to repair our aging vehicle fleet and let us deploy lacking nothing and with spares to trade for luxury items like aircraft engine heaters. The Comm Officer just hated me because I always asked him "What happens when the power goes off?" while waving my Field Message Book and stubby pencil at him. His honest answer was "Nothing."

Some of the unit's traditions I happily embraced. One of these was the assignment of the junior officers as the Fun and Games Officer (FAGO). This assignment included reserving space at the officer's club for meetings, organizing social gatherings and performing any other special duty that the CO assigned. Along with these responsibilities, was the sacred honor of safeguarding the squadron bell. The Bell was a large engraved brass bell mounted on a heavy hardwood floor stand that bore the squadron logo. The Bell was never to leave the FAGO's sight and had to be carried to every meeting or gathering of the staff. The Bell was traditionally rung to call each meeting to order and to signal the meetings conclusion.

My buddy 1st Lt. Flaherty had the honor of safeguarding The Bell for a considerable time and was anxious for a junior officer to arrive so he could pass off this burden...er, honor to them. He had become lax in his duties and had left The Bell unsecured and unguarded while he went home on leave.

I had plenty of time pass the word of my plan to the necessary officers and to remove and safely stash The Bell. With the aid of my tool room NCO I conducted an inventory of all the brass drifts in the general mechanics tool kits. Since it was (lazy) common practice to saw the mushroomed end off of these drifts to prevent flying debris they got shorter and shorter over time. We found more than enough that were shorter than safe useable length. It was a simple enough matter to weigh them to approximate the weight of The Bell. Through my constant scrounging for everything from drill bits to complete trucks utilizing the Defense Reutilization Management Office I was able to secure a pile of brand new brass drifts that had been collecting dust in a warehouse. My crew was happy to have new brass drifts to replace their unserviceable ones. They had no idea how much joy it brought me. This acquisition took only the Supply Officer's signature and cost the taxpayer nothing.

Now that I had the correct weight in scrap brass I visited my welding section. I explained that this pile of unserviceable brass drifts, which I called The Bell, was to be melted for safety, and that I wanted to see if they could melt them into one nice puddle with their rose bud torch tip. I was always testing these Marines with special overhead welds, or making water tight containers. (I filled these with water for testing and set them atop piles of reports on my desk causing some anxiety among less experienced welders. Not one ever leaked.) The test over, we kicked the brass blob under the scrap metal bin to cool. I told them if anybody asked about a bell to just tell them that I instructed them to melt it into a puddle for training.

Upon his return from leave it didn't take Lt. Flaherty long to go from happy to be back to intense panic as he realized the most critical piece of The Bell was missing. There was no faking this. No quick fix. The Bell was older than Lt. Flaherty and had been the treasured mascot of every meeting of officers since the foundation of the unit. (Or ever since we found the old bell and built the stand anyway) He didn't have long to suffer before things got much worse. An All Officer's meeting was called in the CO's office.

'Lieutenant, please ring the meeting to order."

"Lieutenant?"

"We are waiting."

"What do you mean you can't ring The Bell?"

The CO, to his credit was playing it with a straight face. Most of the other officers knew something was up, but not what, so they played along perfectly. I was biting my tongue and trying to look innocent when Lt. Flaherty glared at me. He had obviously had time to find the blob of brass in the welding shop.

"Were you not assigned to safeguard The Bell?"

"Did you leave The Bell in an unsecured location while on leave?"

It went on and on.

"The Gunner melted it, Sir." wasn't much of a defense without "the evidence."

While the lieutenant sprinted downstairs to the welding shop to recover "The Bell" we had time to wipe our eyes and try to regain our composure from holding back our laughter. We passed the CO the actual Bell, which he concealed behind his desk. He had the most perfect stern look on his face as the winded lieutenant returned and handed him the melted blob of brass.

"So you're telling me that this blob of brass is our beloved unit Bell?"

"Yes, Sir."

There was a gasp from everyone in the room. Standing at rigid attention and staring at a point above and behind the CO the lieutenant didn't notice that while the CO had been inspecting the blob of brass, he now had a second more shapely piece of brass in his other hand, and was comparing the weight of the two. He gave me a little grin of approval at how close the weight felt. (it was within a couple ounces, being weighed on the official Fat Body scale in the S-4.)

Lt. Flaherty only chanced a glance down when he heard a clunk on the desk followed by another clunk that had the slightest hollow sound... almost a 'ding.' He immediately turned his glare on me, and all I could do was smile! He couldn't stay mad at me long.

The meeting quickly deteriorated into hysterical laughter. We adjourned to the O' Club and Lt. Flaherty bought the first round.

The brass blob stayed in the CO's desk and I can only hope that the prank is repeated on future generations of young officers.



(LtCol Flaherty retired from the Marine Corps in 2014)

 

Near Hickory Tree Tennessee in 1981 I saw a Plymouth Road Runner Superbird in a farm yard with the doors open and chickens running in and out of it. Wonder what it'd be worth today if they'd rolled it into the barn instead?