TALES OF FIREFIGHTING
I joined the Coast Guard in 1982. Once out of boot camp I left the beautiful East Coast never to return (except to see family). Yay!!!
My first job in the Coast Guard was as a firefighter. I was 19 years old and had never been away from home. Never really had much responsibility, but then, Bam!!! I was driving firetrucks. Not just firetrucks, but big ones. The kind that they use on airports to put out airplane fires.
I worked my way up slowly. First just riding in them and putting out fires, and then driving them, and then becoming the crew chief on them. I was in charge of the truck and the team inside. Holy crap for crap!!! By the time I was 20 I was in charge of a 20 ton fire truck. A "Crash Truck". I'm talking turrets for blasting water at planes (or snowy owls that got too close) and speeds up to 65 mph. I never had to put out plane fires, but we practiced enough to know that we could.
Now, everytime you get inside your truck you have to be properly dressed out. In the crash truck, that meant wearing the silver suit. As the driver, I usually only wore the pants. Plus, I sat right in the middle of the cabin. There were 2 others in there with me, one on each side.
One day, I had horrendous gas. I'm talking stuff that would gag a maggot. It was a warm day and one of the other crewmen was a real jerk. Always thought he knew better than anyone else. So, I fire up the heater, after eating a meal of Mexican food the night before, and having a really full breakfast of bacon, eggs and raisin bran. My belly was gurgling and making all sorts of not so human noises.
So we have to practice approaching planes, in case of emergencies, and I am going slow just to let things build up. Every now and then I would let rip with an SBD (you know "Silent But Deadly") and just let it stew in my pants. This guy had to follow me out of the truck, so once we stop, I let loose with a "nuke". I thought I had crapped myself, it was that bad. Then I start fanning my pants. Letting all of the pent up "atmosphere" escape from my trow (trousers that is). all of a sudden, the guy starts gagging. And trying to push me out faster. By the time he finally gets out, he is hunched over the side of the truck, just yakking!!! He is green and spit, and the remainder of his breakfast, is flying from his mouth faster should be possible.
Needless to say, he never opened his mouth around me again, and never road shotgun as well. Ahhh, life was good!!!
My first job in the Coast Guard was as a firefighter. I was 19 years old and had never been away from home. Never really had much responsibility, but then, Bam!!! I was driving firetrucks. Not just firetrucks, but big ones. The kind that they use on airports to put out airplane fires.
I worked my way up slowly. First just riding in them and putting out fires, and then driving them, and then becoming the crew chief on them. I was in charge of the truck and the team inside. Holy crap for crap!!! By the time I was 20 I was in charge of a 20 ton fire truck. A "Crash Truck". I'm talking turrets for blasting water at planes (or snowy owls that got too close) and speeds up to 65 mph. I never had to put out plane fires, but we practiced enough to know that we could.
Now, everytime you get inside your truck you have to be properly dressed out. In the crash truck, that meant wearing the silver suit. As the driver, I usually only wore the pants. Plus, I sat right in the middle of the cabin. There were 2 others in there with me, one on each side.
One day, I had horrendous gas. I'm talking stuff that would gag a maggot. It was a warm day and one of the other crewmen was a real jerk. Always thought he knew better than anyone else. So, I fire up the heater, after eating a meal of Mexican food the night before, and having a really full breakfast of bacon, eggs and raisin bran. My belly was gurgling and making all sorts of not so human noises.
So we have to practice approaching planes, in case of emergencies, and I am going slow just to let things build up. Every now and then I would let rip with an SBD (you know "Silent But Deadly") and just let it stew in my pants. This guy had to follow me out of the truck, so once we stop, I let loose with a "nuke". I thought I had crapped myself, it was that bad. Then I start fanning my pants. Letting all of the pent up "atmosphere" escape from my trow (trousers that is). all of a sudden, the guy starts gagging. And trying to push me out faster. By the time he finally gets out, he is hunched over the side of the truck, just yakking!!! He is green and spit, and the remainder of his breakfast, is flying from his mouth faster should be possible.
Needless to say, he never opened his mouth around me again, and never road shotgun as well. Ahhh, life was good!!!
posted by Slab at
1:29 PM
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