"Humor in Uniform"

[hooah]

I went to the Reader's Digest Magazine online, rd.com, and I though these were the best jokes from Humor in Uniform.
ENJOY!

I had been in the Army for six months when I was awakened early one Sunday morning by the sound of a siren. Instinctively I jumped out of bed, ran for the exit and stood, half asleep, at attention outside the door. Then my mother switched on the hall light, and I found myself standing at attention, on a weekend pass, outside my own bedroom.

I realized just how fully a Navy friend of mine had been indoctrinated in antisubmarine warfare when I asked him whether he knew the sex of the baby his wife was expecting. "We believe it's a boy," he answered, "but that analysis is based solely on low-confidence acoustic intelligence." "He means," his wife clarified, "I had a sonogram."

My friend Jeff, an Army captain who was stationed in Saudi Arabia during Operation Desert Storm, often sent his kids candy wrappers and soda cans with Arabic script, or stones from the desert. On a whim, he mailed his wife a tiny bottle of desert sand he had gathered from the floor of his tent. That way, he explained, even though they were separated by thousands of miles, she could still worship the ground he walked on.

As a U.S. army company commander conducting armored maneuvers in Germany, I was careful to minimize the impact on our host nation's civilians. One morning as our tanks rattled over the cobblestone streets of a small village, I noticed a group of elderly Germans covering their ears from the deafening roar. I sent my radioman over to apologize for the inconvenience.
The private returned shortly, hands filled with gifts of cheese, bread and coffee. "Sir!" he shouted above the din. "They said our vehicles are very noisy, but Russian tanks would be much louder."

While I was stationed at Myrtle Beach, S.C., I spent my spare time fishing in the backwaters of the Intracoastal Waterway. Soon I became a guide of sorts for some senior noncommissioned officers. Once, a chief master sergeant hooked a 20-pound striped bass. After he reeled the fish onto the boat, he slipped the hook out of its mouth and released it back into the water.
He must have noticed the puzzled look on my face. "Rank does have its privileges. I can't keep a fish that has more stripes than I do," he explained.

One recruit in our platoon at Fort Knox, Ky., had an unusual habit. No matter what lowly detail he pulled, he would smile. On a 20-mile hike with full backpack, this guy beamed from ear to ear. Cleaning the latrine had him smiling as if he'd just heard a comedy routine. But on our long-awaited graduation day, everyone was grinning except him. "Why," I asked, "aren't you smiling today?"
"Because, now," he said, "it won't drive our drill instructor crazy!"

My husband, stationed at Fort Riley, Kan., was on the rifle range firing at targets as they came into view. Suddenly his rifle jammed, and as he was frantically trying to free the cartridge, a target popped up. My husband knew he was not going to be able to free his weapon before the timed target dis- appeared. With a quick move, he snatched up a clod of dirt and hurled it at the offending image. The clod struck the target, sending it down in a shower of dirt.
Later, the captain who was marking my husband's score sheet hesitated over a note concerning the target. "It seems you had a little trouble," he commented.
"An enemy soldier appeared at close range and my rifle jammed, sir," my husband explained. "I threw a hand grenade and eliminated him."
The captain thought over that reasoning. "Very good," he said briskly, scoring the target as a hit.

Annual inspection at our military school was a grueling affair. After my roommate Bill and I scrubbed, polished and straightened everything in sight, we stood at attention as the inspector general entered our room. He looked for dust over the window frame and inspected our lockers. As he turned to leave, he placed his hand on a laundry bag tied to the end of our bunk beds. There was a crackling sound. "What is in that laundry bag?" he demanded. "Love letters, sir," answered Bill. "What are love letters doing in your laundry bag?" the officer barked. Bill's response was loud and clear. "They're dirty, sir!"

At a shore base in England where I was stationed during World War II, reasons for reporting back late from leave ranged from the believable to the outrageous. But a prize should have gone to the sailor who, when asked why he had missed his train, stoutly protested, "I did catch the train, sir . . . but it got away," and produced the compartment-door handle as evidence.

While in an instrument flight-training class at Reese Air Force Base, Texas, I dozed off and, to my dismay, was awakened by a question posed by my instructor. My buddy whispered the correct response to me. After I gave the answer, my instructor replied, "Good, lieutenant," but his remarks were directed to my friend. "Next time, put your hand behind his neck to work his jaw, and don't let your lips move so much."

Fort Monmouth in New Jersey was expecting a visit from a prominent two-star general. My husband, Bob, was in charge of decorating the lawn in front of the building where the festivities were going to be held. He had arranged to have an old, retired tank and some fake land mines placed near the entrance. Bob was standing there, overseeing the task, when an uninformed passerby paused, looked over the scene and remarked to him, "Gee, I guess they're really serious about not wanting us to walk on the grass."

Hurrying to my plebe chemisty class at West Point, I notced a tactical officer in my regiment coming the other way, white gym bag over his shoulder. He was an Air Force captain, and gis blue uniform stood put amid our Army olive-drab and Cadet gray. I quickly saluted, then heard the officer demand and explination from the plebe behind me for his faliure to do so. "BUT, SIR," said my bewildered classmate, "I thought you were the mailman!"

We visited our son during his boot-camp training at Lackland Air Force Base in San Antonio, Texas. While we were there, he took us for a grand tour of the base. At each intersection, he would stop and look both ways before crossing the street. Impressed, I said, "The Air Force has accomplished in a few short weeks what I couldn't do in 18 years." "Mom," he replied, "they don't use the same language you did!"

My father, brother and I visited West Point to see a football game between Army and Boston college. Taking a stroll before kickoff, we met many cadets in neatly pressed uniforms. Several visiting fans asked the recruits if they would pose for photographs, "To show out son what to expect if her should attend West Point." One middle-aged couple approached a very attractive female cader and asked her to pose for a picture. They explained, "We want to show our sone what he missed by not coming to West Point."

In a holding pattern at the busy Corpus Christi, Texas, Naval Air Station, a student pilot attempted to speak to his instructor in the back seat via the aircraft's intercom. Instead, he accidentally keyed the radio. "Sorry, sir," said the student after yet another poor landing attempt. "I guess I'm just all screwed up today." Irate at this obvious lack of radio discipline, an instructor in another aircraft demanded, "Who just said that?" Knowing that identifying himself would lead to a tongue-lashing when he landed, the student kept silent. The angry instructor persisted, "Aircraft who said they were `screwed up' identify yourself!" Again there was silence. Finally, after another attempt to ferret out the culprit, an instructor in a third plane keyed the radio: "Hey, the kid said he was screwed up, not stupid."

Halfway through a party we were giving, I remembered that my husband, Brad, had Marine Reserve duty the next morning. I decided to quickly starch his cap. Stretching the cap on a metal form, I painted it with starch and put it in a preheated oven to dry. However, I forgot to turn off the oven, so the cap became scorched on top. The next morning, the cap went unnoticed as the officer in charge of inspection was much shorter than my husband. Later in the day, when Brad walked indoors, he automatically removed his cap. An officer stopped him, looked at the cap, shook his head and asked, "Hot outside, Marine?"

[sn-e3]

Thank you Danella I have always liked the humor in uniform section of the readers digest. and I still do

[revwardoc]

The story about the football game at West Point reminded me of the time I was there with my American Revolution regiment to provide some color for the halftime show of a Citadel-Army game. After the game we also did a demonstration of Rev War musket firing on the parade ground. We found out that day that a grandfather of one of our distaff (women) was a mason who carved one of the parade ground monuments (a large obelisk with several 3' diameter balls surrounding it; sounds sort of phallic, doesn't it?). I took a photo of her touching the monument and, whenever I show it to people, I always say, "This is a photo of Betsey with her hand on her grandfather's balls!"

[hooah]

I'll put up some new ones, as soon as I find them. I would have started yesterday, but we sorta had a little blackout! But all is good and I have got to tell you, it wasent all that bad. Besides the fact that nothing worked, it was inspiring to see all my neighbors outside, actually speaking to one another. It was cool. Since I live in Queens, we got our power back fast (the next morning), but all is good.
My dad on the other hand...he could be better. He walked all the way from 8th Ave. to across the Queensboro bridge. For those of you who know how far that is, you'll agree with me, it's far.

My mom...poor her! She was coming back from visiting my sister in France, and the plane was supposed to arrive at JFK at 8:15 p.m., but they sent her plane to Boston. They said they would have them on the plane back to NYC at 7:00 a.m., then 10:30, then 1:30, and finally now they are saying its gonna be 6:30, which I highly doubt! She slept in the airport and since 4:00 she's been on lines waiting to get out of there! Just imagine what she's going through!
Other than that, people were very nice and giving. No one had any problems what so ever, which is always good to hear!
It's times like this when you realize how much we all depend on electricity.

[MORTARDUDE]

We just went thru 2 weeks of hell in the Memphis area due to a massive power-outage cause by straight-line winds. When you list all the possible disasters that can happen, it is stupid not to have some sort of an emergency supply cache and a plan to use them :

Power-grid failure
terrorist attack
biological attack
chemical attack
dirty-nuclear weapon ( terrorist )
tornado
hurricane
straight-line winds
blizzard
drought
flash floods
earthquake
ice storm
race riots
riots for other reasons
river flooding
.................

Larry

[reeb]

There is a site that entiltled

militaryhumor.com

But it is still under construction after almost a year now.

There are a few on now that are good , but am waiting for the site to get going.

enough.........