Tracks of the StoneBear Odyssey ROF = Ring of Fire: My old unit

Tracks of the StoneBear Copyright MCMLXIII Uncle Hargus ALL Rights reserved

ROF= Ring of fire Odyssey  MEF-H = Marine Expeditionary Force- Hargus 

April 15, 2015

My Old Marine Unit

This is for all the Veterans, especially jarhead Marines, that were put on tasks like this pic.

Amos, Pictured below here is my old Marine Corps unit; 2nd Platoon, 2nd Bridge Co, 8th engineer Battalion, 2nd Marine division; on a Search & Destroy patrol, doing some recon work up shit creek. Our battle cry was "Often Wrong, but Never in Doubt"... or sometimes it was "Semper FUBAR". Due to the drought it was tough going here but you can always count on the Marines to complete the mission & get the job done.
Semper Fi, 'til I Die!! Unc Hargus
Ps; later on we closed w/ the enemy. Turned out to be some millitant Nuns & lost the paddles in the ensuing firefight. Those Bastards!!

Pictured--
Starboard side-R side- front to back; "4 eyes" Brunguard, "Phantom fucker" Merson, "The LAZ", PltSgt Whit/"Deuce" AKA "Grit City"
Center- Gunny Gandolf, "Mouse"
Port side -L side- front to back ; "Jumpin' Jack" Holifield, "Left turn" Livingston, "Bankin" Hank, "Upstate" Diantonio

& You wonder why I'm the way I am??? What's my secret? Lesson 1 from the old Marine: Well, first of all, don't underestimate what getting shot at does to your killer instinct. But mainly, my secret is simple: the only good enemy soldier is one stumbling around, searching for his lower jaw. Uuuuuuhhhhh - Rrrraaaaaahhhhhhh!

Personally, in combat, I think of Jesus. Then I remove mercy, love, and all of his teachings like that turn the other cheek & Golden Rule BS. And then I pretend I'm the Son of God; And that makes dispensing poetic justice a whole lot easier. Also, I don't know if you ever played with fireworks as a kid, but a rifle is like a giant firework. Ka-boom! Fun! Only when you make the ka-boom, some dumb foreigner cries for his mommy in a wet poof of meat flakes and smoke doin' the kickin' chickin', and damn... it's a feeling I can't describe. Sure, being shot at is part of the game. A good part. Cuz every time you dodge a bullet, you score extra Rage Points. And then when you get your kill, you get to cash in those Rage Points while you're standing over the enemy corpse. Now whether that means frisking its frontal lobe with your bayonet, or unloading a whole M-16 clip up its shitbox, that's up to you. They're your points. You earned 'em. Ooorahhh!

& you ask? What do i do back here at home? Well..... this warrior does what any red-blooded, non-faggy American man does. You know, the usual. I drink beer. Oceans of fucking beer.

That's right, when I'm stateside, in between important secret missions, I wake up at 5AM sharp, crack open a brew-ha-ha, then sit in my kitchen nook and stare. Around noon, I have a buzz on and maybe I nuke up a Hungy Man or a couple of Hot pockets . Afterwards, I play "Power Hour", & crank it up & hit it hard, w/ some real manly drinks(not some sisssyfied frozen daquri stuff or wine coolers), where I take a shot of straight Black Jack every minute,... until I feel like dancing. Maybe I put on some Willie Nelson, or Dwight Yokam, or Charlie Daniels(none of that Kenny G crap), and hell – I fucking dance like a Phillipine hooker. Once, when I was working with Delta in the jungle outside Panama City in 1989, I stumbled on a group of Noriega's dipwoods who'd got chewed up by a mortar round I lobbed at them. One of the sons of bitches was half pancake batter, and by the time we found him in the bush, he was too weak to fight off a boar who'd done started munching on his neck. And that fucker deserved it!

So I danced! And I still love to dance! & they're REAL dances too. Real Manly dances, like the Monkey, the Swim, the Boogaloo, & my favorite; the Peppermint Twist. None of that ballet stuff with guys wearing tights! Then some West Coast Swing, East Coast Swing, maybe some Lindy Hop, been known to Bop 'til I drop, & the ladies absolutely love doing the Uncle Hargus shuffle w/ the old Marine, some Jitterbug & Cajun/Zydeco Mammou. Hell, one night I danced so hard it started fucking raining,... buckets. & another time I danced so hard that indians showed up at my house & wanted me to go hunt Buffalo, then go War with the Sioux. & If it's a special occasion like July 4th; i'll forego horseshoes & toss the practice grenade some.

Anyway, by nightfall I'm ready to get busy, so I start oiling my personal basement arsenal, and maybe, if it's a special occasion, I'll take a cheese grater and give my nipples a good hard thwack. Of course, by then, I'm tired & forego some more gratuitous nighttime shooting, so I whistle Taps into a bullhorn for the neighborhood until I drift off to sleepy-poo in my Elvis jammies.

Too rough for you? you got a problem with that? Well put me on latrine duty for week; I could use the R&R. Uuuuuhhhhh Rrraaaaaaahhhhhh! & give my reguards to the rat race. Those Bastards!

Originally sent this postcard to Amos, some borrowed from Fred but so much tweaked that it's a total re-write.

You never drink twice from the same stream. 

Wednesday, April 15, 2015

My old unit