Austrinken!

Juvat has a amusing post  involving  foreign objects in beverages that dredged up a memory from Army days in Germany circa 1965.

http://oldafsarge.blogspot.com/2015/03/hercules-and-rangers.html

All units have their weirdoes (anyone in them, depending on your point of view) and we were blessed with PFC Hua (Head up ass).

He had a collection of perfume samplers. Each night before sacking out he would put some perfume on his upper lip with the hopes it would induce a wet dream. When successful, he would try to share his dream with us the next morning.

His job was Operations Clerk and the E-7 who ran operations protected him or he would have had a daily ass kicking. He was a pussy. He was also a snitch. Our NCOs knew we were a bunch of hard drinking assholes but, unless something was brought to their attention officially, they didn't want to know.  PFC Hua wasn't liked by the NCOs. They didn't much care for his drunkard boss either.

His worse characteristic was latching himself to our rowdy group as we hit the strasse on pass. One of our miscreants came across a plastic dog turd. You can probably guess what happened. PFC Hua was at the bar in one of Hanau, Germany’s finer drinking establishments boring some unfortunate German civilian when the turd was slipped into his beer. After his next swig, he noticed the turd. He didn’t just spew, he projectile vomited on the unfortunate German civilian. Rad (comrade) was pissed and proceeded to kick PFC Hua’s ass. In the uproar, the plastic turd was recovered and saved for another day. After a suitable time, we pulled the Rad off PFC Hua.

That adventured cured PFC Hua of any further desire to tag along with us.

I was one of the unit’s Pathfinders. (Pathfinder was a term used in our Engineer Group. Real Pathfinders are kick ass Airborne troopers) As such, I had to work with/for PFC Hua and his drunkard E-7 boss. We were a float bridge company with around 100 vehicles. A road march was a major undertaking in that we were using civilian roads and went through small towns with narrow streets. A five ton bridge truck with a tilt bed trailer doesn't fit in a lot of places. The various routes had to be driven, mapped out, and directional signs posted. A time block had to be arranged with the civilian police. Worse, Army MP units would use our road marches as training exercises. That, along with dumb ass Lieutenants making “command decisions”, could result in enormous clusterfucks made worse by us highly trained Pathfinders mapping the wrong routes. Of course, I was never one of the Pathfinders who screwed up. It was always the fault of PFC Hua and his boss. Their circus, their monkeys.

During a road march, we Pathfinders would be stationed at critical junctions. If you were unlucky, this meant you stood in the elements in the middle of nowhere for hours waiting for vehicles from your unit to pass. If you were lucky, you posted up in a small town. Give it an hour or so and some German frau would bring you something to eat or drink. Then it became something of a local competition. We couldn’t accept alcohol but everything else was ok. I remember fondly some of the delicious treats those ladies gave me. Soups and pastries were the usual. Worth standing in the rain with the wind blowing under your poncho, they were.

I have no idea where PFC Hua went after the Army but he would have  been perfect at torturing people and coworkers at a DMV office.