So today was fun. I burned the shit out of my hand because I was stupid.
And here is the story of just how stupid I am.
So there is this weapon called a S.A.W. or Squad automatic weapon. Basically, all it is, is a souped up M16 that fires a lot of bullets really, really fast. Now anyone with an IQ above 65 knows that when a weapon is fired at a high cyclic rate through a metal barrel, said barrel tends to get warm. Some would go so far as to characterize the temperature of the barrel as hot.
Now we had a mission today where we had to respond to some bags of douche attacking the front door of our little FOB here. So when we went out there I didn't have my wonderful Army issued gloves on due to the hasty manner in which I got my ass in the truck and moved out. So I was in the process of firing my SAW at about 200 rounds per 30 seconds or so, and lo and behold I ran out of ammunition. Thats the only problem with these machine guns. Lots of fun to fire. They make a lot of noise. I mean the thing is nothing more than a 17 pound, 5.56 mm extension of my penis. But this isn't the movies, when you spit that many rounds out of this thing you run out of ammunition quickly. Not fun.
So I yelled down to my driver for more ammunition and of course we didn't have any. Lovely. So I say the hell with it and reach down into the truck for the even BIGGER machine gun. My M240B which is the not even the biggest one that I've got, but it is my favorite. Fires a 7.62 mm round which is about the size of my ring finger (Note: I am a BIG boy) This is every little kids dream. You know when God sat down and said to himself, "I want a really big gun that holds a lot of bullets" This is the gun he came up with.
Well given the fact that only one big gun will fit on top of the trucks at a time I had to grab the M240 and bring it up to the roof, all the while being bent over at like hobbit height and trying to deal with these weapons which aren't at all light. Anyways, I get the 240 up to the roof and now I need to pull the SAW down. Now bear in mind the time between running out of ammo and grabbing the SAW is about 15 seconds. Not enough time for the barrel cool off.
So I grab the butt of the weapon, and I grab the carrying handle. No burns. Lovely. But then as I am trying to get this damn thing down into the truck and out of my way I banged the butt stock into something. God only knows what because I would have to destroy whatever it was. And the weapon comes free of my grip. Now in my frantic grabbing to get control of this weapon I manage to place my nice, coco butter soft palm right around the barrel of this thing.
I can only imagine the hilarity of the look on my face as my nerves and brain processed the searing pain that was overtaking me at the time. Probably a cross between the elephant man, and the kid in that Cher movie "Mask" But whatever.
Next came the stream of profanity that flowed from my lips like a river through a blown dam. I mean if I didn't know better I would have to say that some of the shit I said was actually in Hebrew.
Then I couldn't help but notice, as I watched the smoke wafting off of my hand and the blisters beginning to form, that it smelled like burnt popcorn. Nice, I am the fat guy that smells like food when he burns himself. Wonderful, I'll never hear the end of this shit.
Now all of this is over. We've driven off the enemy and are coming back and I am growling like a constipated grizzly bear. I make it to the medic station and the first thing they say is, "Why the hell did you grab the barrel?" Like I did it on purpose. Yes, Mr. Medic, I thought to myself this morning, "You know what would be fun, spending my afternoon in agonizing pain, I think I'll burn the skin off my hand today."
Well all is well. The burn wasn't as bad as I thought, and after a little first aid and burn cream and a rather large gauze bandage that makes my hand look like the head of q-tip I am good as new.
So couple that with the bloody stumps that I like to call feet, and the back spasms that have developed because of the massive amount of shit the Army seems to enjoy piling on my back. (Sometimes I wonder if a better word would be "pack mule" as opposed to "soldier") Not to mention the millions of cuts, scraps, bruises, blisters, zits, and miscellaneous other ailments that have befallen me, and all I can really think is..."Holy shit, I am actually getting old." Which makes me try all the harder just to prove I can hang with these 18 year old shitbags. Which makes me laugh, but I can't let them beat me, you know how it is.
Well enough of that. I had a pretty good day other than that. Mobilization is rapidly coming to a close and I will be making my just across the pond. Oh Joy!
So I hope everyone is enjoying their drinking and debauchery while I am off doing this shit, defending this nation. Yeah I mean you Paulie, you should be ashamed of yourself.
Mom, I love you...