Improvised Lethal Weapons

DISCLAIMER: This post is politically incorrect, racist, speaks to harsh truths, and is not for snowflakes or those easily offended. Think of it this way. You can walk around dog shit. You don’t need to step in it.

The USA  Armed Forces during the 1960’s and 1970’s were full of racial strife and barracks could be dangerous places.  Mid 60’s when I served, in Germany, most of the strife came from black soldiers. White soldiers probably knew all the people in their units and maybe a handful from other units. The blacks seemingly knew every other black soldier from all  nearby units.

There was a lot of intimidation going on. I, being a contrary asshole, wouldn’t be intimidated. When the blacks were gathered around the front entrance, the white soldiers would use a basement entrance. I didn’t.

“Chuck motherfucker, you going to get yours”, I would hear walking past a group. My response was to invite the speaker to, “Come try, cocksucker”.

Let me add here I was too selfish to get involved with any “white power” bullshit or cliques. I operated on the basis of getting along with everyone. However, fuck with me and I will fuck you up! (Come to think of it, I’m still that way).

A word here about Army bunks that will make sense a little later.* You had your sheets and two blankets. One blanket and the sheets were tucked in.  When made up, you best be able to bounce a coin on the blanket. To achieve this, all the sheets and the blanket were pulled tight under the mattress. The second blanket was the “dust cover”, folder into a rectangle and placed over the pillow with three sides tucked in (sides, top). Most soldiers slipped under the blanket and top sheet. Fine, but damn difficult to extract yourself quickly.

I slept on top of my tucked in blanket using my second blanket, the dust cover, for warmth. Not cozy, or very warm, but I wasn’t pinned. I also slept with my entrenching tool, unsheathed. Many soldiers were assaulted in their bunks and I took the threats I heard to heart.

At this point I was assigned to a small room with two other soldiers. One night both had guard duty so I was alone in the room. Around 0200, three black soldiers burst in the room and ran towards my bunk. They met my entrenching tool. My hours of bayonet drill in basic training weren’t wasted. All survived after prolong hospital stays and surgical procedures. I got a few lumps and a cut across my ribs.

The shit hit the fan. Turns out all three weren’t even from our Kaserne but one several clicks down the road. I did get a glimpse of our unit agitator as he ran away. Assumption was he was their guide.

Nothing of a legal nature came my way and I was never called to testify in any court martial. At that point I was a “Short Timer” and rotated Stateside about ten weeks later.

Nothing more happened to me and the threats died away. I still continued my sleeping arrangement.

We spent about half the year “in the field” living in tents. In the field we seldom had any friction. Garrison was a different story. Alcohol and communist agitators fueled a lot of the troubles.

Almost any tool can become an improvised weapon. The Soviets in particular consider their stout entrenching tool to be an essential weapon and train how to use it. In my situation, it was the only “weapon” we were allowed to keep. Rifles and bayonets were locked in the arms room and anything bigger than a pocket knife was verboten. That policy was rigorously enforced.

Adapt and survive.

*Making a rack. Current, but some things hardly change.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tRByQfYkV1A