This is a story about the most freightening moment I ever encounted in my 20 year military carrer. A moment of sheer terror unlike any other that I have ever experienced. I still wake up at night in a cold sweat, fighting and screaming, as this memory comes back to me. I have considered getting counseled for post traumatic stress syndrome but for the shameful actions I would have to admit to.
A small group of us Air Force types were working with a small group of the armies special forces in a country we shall call X. This was a highly classified mission, top secret. If we were caught doing what we were doing, it would be extremely embarassing to our State Department, Pentagon, and the leaders of Country X.
We were closely attached to and monitored by the American Embassy of Country X. Our MAAG house living quarters was located close by the embassy. It was strongly suggested that we do nothing to bring undue attention to ourselfs and conduct ourselfs in the proper military manner at all times.
American Embassy employee's live in a pretty small world, especially in places like Country X where activities out side the embassy compound are highly restricted. They enjoy having new faces around and they quickly adopted our little contingent of military men and invited us to participate in some of their embassy activities.
The embassy was contained in a large walled in and gated compound complete with swimming pool and even had small two bedroom houses for administrative personnel.....like secretaries. American Marines closely guarded all gate entrances.
My good buddy Jake and I gave our seal of approval to the embassy personnel officer who had hired the secretaries. We approved of his selections. Jake's theory was that the test for hiring the secretaries was to have them walk up to a wall untill their breasts just touched the wall and stop. Then if a standard office trash basket could be thrown between the wall and their stomach without hitting wall or stomach, they were hired on the spot.
The long and short of it is that I, being taller than Jake, became interested in a tall skinny blonde while Jake, being shorter than I, became interested in a short dumpy brunette. The girls, being lonesome for stateside visitors and not being too particular, were not re-buffing our clumsy attempts at courtship.
The girls invited Jake and I to a little swimming party at the embassy swimming pool. The pool had its own enclosing wall of about 6 to 7 feet in heighth. The party was going well as we were partaking of some adult beverages and we were the only ones left at the pool as the sun was setting. Actually, a little darkness fitted right in with me and Jake's plans.
Later, we were to discover that the embassy guards had locked the swimming pool gate at dark thirty and we were locked in. Jake and I suggested that we boost the girls up and over the fence but the brunete was scared of high places and said no way, someone had to go get a guard to open the gate.
Jake said he would go get a guard but I told him no, he was too short to jump over that high fence, that I, being the taller and more atheletic of the two, would leap the fence in a single bound and go for the guard.
Jake didnt take challenges or insults easily and as I made a run at the fence, he, on his little short legs, was chugging right along with me. Did I mention that we had been partaking of some adult beverages? We both made flying leaps at the fence, got our hands placed on the top of it and in one smooth, lithe and muscular motion, swung out legs up over the fence and dropped down on the other side.
We had never seen anything outside the pools walls but smooth sandy soil and thats what Jake landed on but I ended up butt first in a metal trash can. My feet just missed the lip of that trash can but the rest of me went butt first all the way to the bottom of it.
My 37 year old body was in pretty good shape at that time but still, it was not in good enough shape and was not designed to be dropped butt first in a trash can from an altitude of about 8 feet.
I knew I was hurting at various places but the real pain was claustrophobia. I was jammed in there and couldn't move and sheer terror set in. I tried screaming but my scrunched up body couldnt suck enough air for a decent scream, just some hoarse yowls intersperced with cuss words for Jake to get me out of the can.
The tall blonde had somehow managed to climb up on the fence and when she looked down at that scene, she started screaming. She was screaming in high soprano while I was chipping in with the hoarse bass notes and we were setting up quite a rackett.
The whole embassy went on shut-down status with one of those honking type sirens going honk, honk, honk, and gates being closed and marines heading for the gates to re-enforce the normal guards stationed there.
In the meantime, back at the trash can site, Jake is grabbing on to any parts of me that is sticking up out of the trash can and trying to extricate me from my predicament. Im pouring forth every cuss word that I had learned in my illustrious l8 years of military service to my country. Not bragging, but that is considerble.
About the time the guards trace down where all the screaming is coming from, Jake has kicked me and the trash can over on our side. He presses down on the can untill it bends more into an egg shape. Then he sits down, grabs hold of me, puts his feet against the trash can, and pops me out of the can. For some stupid reason, when Jake was telling this story (as he often did) he is extremely proud of how he "egg shaped" that trash can in order to get me out. A real technical genius, that Jake.
I was struggling to get up and go find me a hole I could hide in but some guard was holding me down and saying I was not allowed to move untill medics got there. Medics arrived and danged if they didnt ease me over onto one of those board type stretchers. When they started to strap me to that board, I came up fighting and cussing. I had had enough claustrophobia stuff for one night. Some military people can become blind conformist, conforming to every rule ever dreamed up. These guys really thought they were going to put those straps on me in accordance with all rules and regulations but when they ended up with more bruises than I had,they finally agreed not to strap me down if I would quit fighting them.
More humiliation in a little infirmary where I am stripped down and various scrapes are salved and bandaged. It is decided that nothing is broken, except my pride. Some of the guys there were even nice enough not to laugh at me. Some.....but not most.
My commander had been notified over at the MAAG house and came storming into the infirmary demanding explanations. Jake was kind enough to supply all details, with emphasis on that part where he saved my life by egg shaping that trash can and extracting me. My commander threatened to send me back stateside but said that, with my reputation, probably nobody back there wonted me either so he would keep me on if I thought I could complete my part of our job and not mess up embassy operations again.
A few days later we were invited to a little shindig at the embassy. We could wear our uniforms or a civilian suit. Everybody else wore Class A uniforms but I wore a civilian suit, hoping to be less conspicuous. The shinding was for some important persons that were visiting from Washington. After our little group got there, I grabbed a drink, and eased over into a corner. I was just hoping to look studious, intelligent, and diplomatic and be misstaken for a diplomat. But when some old woman walked up to my good buddies in their spiffy little uniforms and said loudly, "Oh, which one of you is the one who fell into the trash can?" You would think one of them would have stepped forward and taken the rap for me but oh no, they all turned and pointed to me, cowering over there in the corner. If that congressional delegation had stopped laughing long enough, Im sure I could have given a satisfactory explanation.
Oh well, I guess a guy has to get well known for something but if I had my druthers, I druther not be known as the guy who got stuck in the trash can.
A small group of us Air Force types were working with a small group of the armies special forces in a country we shall call X. This was a highly classified mission, top secret. If we were caught doing what we were doing, it would be extremely embarassing to our State Department, Pentagon, and the leaders of Country X.
We were closely attached to and monitored by the American Embassy of Country X. Our MAAG house living quarters was located close by the embassy. It was strongly suggested that we do nothing to bring undue attention to ourselfs and conduct ourselfs in the proper military manner at all times.
American Embassy employee's live in a pretty small world, especially in places like Country X where activities out side the embassy compound are highly restricted. They enjoy having new faces around and they quickly adopted our little contingent of military men and invited us to participate in some of their embassy activities.
The embassy was contained in a large walled in and gated compound complete with swimming pool and even had small two bedroom houses for administrative personnel.....like secretaries. American Marines closely guarded all gate entrances.
My good buddy Jake and I gave our seal of approval to the embassy personnel officer who had hired the secretaries. We approved of his selections. Jake's theory was that the test for hiring the secretaries was to have them walk up to a wall untill their breasts just touched the wall and stop. Then if a standard office trash basket could be thrown between the wall and their stomach without hitting wall or stomach, they were hired on the spot.
The long and short of it is that I, being taller than Jake, became interested in a tall skinny blonde while Jake, being shorter than I, became interested in a short dumpy brunette. The girls, being lonesome for stateside visitors and not being too particular, were not re-buffing our clumsy attempts at courtship.
The girls invited Jake and I to a little swimming party at the embassy swimming pool. The pool had its own enclosing wall of about 6 to 7 feet in heighth. The party was going well as we were partaking of some adult beverages and we were the only ones left at the pool as the sun was setting. Actually, a little darkness fitted right in with me and Jake's plans.
Later, we were to discover that the embassy guards had locked the swimming pool gate at dark thirty and we were locked in. Jake and I suggested that we boost the girls up and over the fence but the brunete was scared of high places and said no way, someone had to go get a guard to open the gate.
Jake said he would go get a guard but I told him no, he was too short to jump over that high fence, that I, being the taller and more atheletic of the two, would leap the fence in a single bound and go for the guard.
Jake didnt take challenges or insults easily and as I made a run at the fence, he, on his little short legs, was chugging right along with me. Did I mention that we had been partaking of some adult beverages? We both made flying leaps at the fence, got our hands placed on the top of it and in one smooth, lithe and muscular motion, swung out legs up over the fence and dropped down on the other side.
We had never seen anything outside the pools walls but smooth sandy soil and thats what Jake landed on but I ended up butt first in a metal trash can. My feet just missed the lip of that trash can but the rest of me went butt first all the way to the bottom of it.
My 37 year old body was in pretty good shape at that time but still, it was not in good enough shape and was not designed to be dropped butt first in a trash can from an altitude of about 8 feet.
I knew I was hurting at various places but the real pain was claustrophobia. I was jammed in there and couldn't move and sheer terror set in. I tried screaming but my scrunched up body couldnt suck enough air for a decent scream, just some hoarse yowls intersperced with cuss words for Jake to get me out of the can.
The tall blonde had somehow managed to climb up on the fence and when she looked down at that scene, she started screaming. She was screaming in high soprano while I was chipping in with the hoarse bass notes and we were setting up quite a rackett.
The whole embassy went on shut-down status with one of those honking type sirens going honk, honk, honk, and gates being closed and marines heading for the gates to re-enforce the normal guards stationed there.
In the meantime, back at the trash can site, Jake is grabbing on to any parts of me that is sticking up out of the trash can and trying to extricate me from my predicament. Im pouring forth every cuss word that I had learned in my illustrious l8 years of military service to my country. Not bragging, but that is considerble.
About the time the guards trace down where all the screaming is coming from, Jake has kicked me and the trash can over on our side. He presses down on the can untill it bends more into an egg shape. Then he sits down, grabs hold of me, puts his feet against the trash can, and pops me out of the can. For some stupid reason, when Jake was telling this story (as he often did) he is extremely proud of how he "egg shaped" that trash can in order to get me out. A real technical genius, that Jake.
I was struggling to get up and go find me a hole I could hide in but some guard was holding me down and saying I was not allowed to move untill medics got there. Medics arrived and danged if they didnt ease me over onto one of those board type stretchers. When they started to strap me to that board, I came up fighting and cussing. I had had enough claustrophobia stuff for one night. Some military people can become blind conformist, conforming to every rule ever dreamed up. These guys really thought they were going to put those straps on me in accordance with all rules and regulations but when they ended up with more bruises than I had,they finally agreed not to strap me down if I would quit fighting them.
More humiliation in a little infirmary where I am stripped down and various scrapes are salved and bandaged. It is decided that nothing is broken, except my pride. Some of the guys there were even nice enough not to laugh at me. Some.....but not most.
My commander had been notified over at the MAAG house and came storming into the infirmary demanding explanations. Jake was kind enough to supply all details, with emphasis on that part where he saved my life by egg shaping that trash can and extracting me. My commander threatened to send me back stateside but said that, with my reputation, probably nobody back there wonted me either so he would keep me on if I thought I could complete my part of our job and not mess up embassy operations again.
A few days later we were invited to a little shindig at the embassy. We could wear our uniforms or a civilian suit. Everybody else wore Class A uniforms but I wore a civilian suit, hoping to be less conspicuous. The shinding was for some important persons that were visiting from Washington. After our little group got there, I grabbed a drink, and eased over into a corner. I was just hoping to look studious, intelligent, and diplomatic and be misstaken for a diplomat. But when some old woman walked up to my good buddies in their spiffy little uniforms and said loudly, "Oh, which one of you is the one who fell into the trash can?" You would think one of them would have stepped forward and taken the rap for me but oh no, they all turned and pointed to me, cowering over there in the corner. If that congressional delegation had stopped laughing long enough, Im sure I could have given a satisfactory explanation.
Oh well, I guess a guy has to get well known for something but if I had my druthers, I druther not be known as the guy who got stuck in the trash can.
That's funny as heck Jbird.........and you might as well laugh along with the crowd. Did you ever hook up with blondie after that or were you taboo ? Great read !
