Sunday, November 30, 2008

Love American VS Korean Style#13


In the beginning...
In Part 1- I met the girl I would marry. Her name is Kim. Love at 1st sight (for me, anyway).
In Part 2- I spent what money I had to set up a birthday party that would put me with Kim.
In Part 3- Kim gets puked on by drunk Birthday Boy. Kim leaves. I am miserable.
In Part 4- Korean Grandmothers (Shaman) take pity on me. We Kamikaze in a taxi to Kim's.
In Part 5- I survive the taxi ride. The Grandmothers tell me they will fix all. I must return to base. I can't beat the midnight curfew but I damn sure try.
In Part 6- Suicide ride on a bus bumper. Crash. Injuries and more. Concussion too! Police chase. Escape & Evade.
In Part 7- Climb a telephone pole. Steal a bike with one wheel. Make my Great Escape.
In Part 8- Ride bike into a Banjo-Ditch (sewage). Another concussion. I crawl out and am captured by the ROK Army, then returned to base.
In Part 9- Medical treatment at 0130 hours. AM meeting with Military Police 1SG Black Thunder Johnson. Made an Ambassador to South Korea. Run to Motor Pool.
In Part 10- Bicycle recovered. I fall into the banjo ditch. 1SG YOON/1SG Johnson/Me and the Korean Grandfather have a Pow-wow. Intercultural relations rebuilt. Valuable lessons learned.
In Part 11- The First Sergeants have a meeting. I am cleaned up at a ROK Army wash point. We go to Kim's. I am Elvis, to the Korean Grandmothers. I SEE KIM! We are returning to base.
In Part 12- I return to Camp with the First Sergeant's, jeep, and bicycle. My squad members, the house boys, and I.... all ponder my fate. We break for chow (lunch). I opt for a nap and am awoken by my Squad leader SSG OLY. Intro to Staff Sergeant Oly (The Big "O") and the infamous Three Beeps. Time has come...I head for the orderly room.

THE ORDERLY ROOM
With a fresh crisp uniform on and newly shined boots I walk into my M.P. company orderly room. I feel like shit but my uniform looks good. My forehead has three stitches but at least the bumps on my head have gone down. My ankle only throbs a little compared to my head. I think of the girl I've gone through all this for and do a re-evaluation of my actions. I am 20 years old and Kim is the prettiest girl I've ever seen...just as I'd thought...SHE WAS WORTH ALL OF THIS! I was told to take a seat and wait for the First Sergeant to see me. All eyes of the orderly room clerks were on me. They typed, worked quietly, and watched me closely. I would catch them looking at me and they would quickly snap their heads away from my eyes. I was a dead man. I knew it. No one smiled at me or talked to me, though we all knew each other rather well. Then the C.O. entered the building and someone yelled "ATTENTION"! I rose quickly and assumed the position of attention. I still looked sharp and greatly respected my company commander, CPT Royce "Nash" Rambler. He was a West Point grad, an Airborne qualified Infantry Platoon Leader who served in Vietnam, and he was a fine man. Like First Sergeant B. T. (Black Thunder) Johnson, he was a professional soldier who cared about his troops. A man's man. If he wasn't a natural born leader then there was none. Inside, I felt a bit ashamed that I had let him down. It's like letting down your Dad, if ya know what I mean. That's how it was with my C.O. and my First Sergeant. You didn't want to let them down. Cpt Rambler called "at ease" and life went on back to normal in the orderly room. Then Cpt Rambler approached me, looked me dead in the eye and said, "Jihad, was she worth it"? I answered she was. He smiled slightly and said to me, "I can tell you believe that. That's good." He turned and walked away. Someone called my name. I was told by a clerk in the office that the First Sergeant had just called and would see me with my Squad Leader, Staff Sergeant Oly, at 1400hrs (2 PM) , tomorrow. That was two hours before I was to work my shift (swing shift 1600-2400) with my squad, lead by SSG Oly as M.P. Patrol Supervisor. In the meantime I was told to see to the unit Supply Sergeant about the bicycle.

THE SUPPLY SERGEANT
I entered the supply room and there is Sgt Wheeler going over supply documents. Sgt Wheeler is Amerasian and known as "Wheeler-Dealer". He is as sharp as any operating room scalpel and he looks Korean, except for a pair of handsome blue eyes that I wish I would of had. Sgt Wheeler worked with the Army CID up north in Seoul making many a drug bust and was now laying down low, here in Pusan, for the time being. The guy spoke fluent Korean (like his Mom) and when he spoke English, he did it with a Brooklyn accent (like his Dad). It was something truly to behold. The guy had his shit together and was on the fast track to making Staff Sergeant. He was a natural at anything he did. I think in Korea he worked harder than anyone I had ever seen...you see, the Korean people were not nice to Amerasians. They were made fun of and scorned, because they looked different. When they were babies they were cute, but as they developed and their western features became more apparent, they were ridiculed and shamed the families they came from. Many ended up in orphanages or on the street. It sucks. It may not be so bad now, but it was that way then, back in March 1975. I think it's because of guys like Sgt James Wheeler that the tide has turned in Korea and Amerasians are no longer looked down upon. Sporting a pair of dark sunglasses, Sgt Wheeler could look and act like a Korean's Korean but once you talked with him you knew he was as much of an American as any New York Mets or Yankees fan. He was a class act who could, and would, do whatever it took to get the job done. Like my 1SG and Captain, Sgt Wheeler was a role model. We talked. I helped dust shelves and moved inventory. Sgt Wheeler laughed with me at my story and about the bicycle. He seemed truly concerned for my well-being as I was favoring my ribs and sprained ankle. He was a good listener and not one to mock others. Call it his beside manner, I'll just call him a wonderful human being. The Doctor Phil's of this world could learn much from James Wheeler, Brooklyn accent and all. Sgt Wheeler asked if I was going to marry the girl I had gone thru Hell for? I said, "Hell, I can't even get a date with her." Jimmy asked me if I knew why I was sent here to the supply room. I said, "Well, the bike's here...so I guess it must be about the bicycle, huh"? Jimmy told me it was not all about the bicycle but also about being a good citizen. A good Ambasador. "Oh shit, Sergeant! You've been talking Top.", I said. Jimmy smiled and shook his head yes. It was about the bicycle and more. Seems we were taking a little jeep ride with the battered bicycle. Our destination... a South Korean orphanage. (To Be Continued)

Friday, November 28, 2008

It's Friday! Let's Dance!

It's Black Friday folks! So let those fools rush into Wal Marts across the USA! Let's dance!!!

Wednesday, November 26, 2008

KIM Jong IL on Turkeys


KIMMYNEWZ- (Norf Korea)
The starving and glorious People's Army Dietician Corps have once again made an amazing discovery! Dr. Mee Hung Gree, has found that American grown Tom turkeys are loaded in caloric brain power. It is rumored that turkey is even more revered by the Great Reader than Chihuahua on a stick or the infamous Korean Kimchee soup. Great Reader KIM Jong IL stated "If that's true... then as of tomorrow afternoon I'll be a Foo-king wocket scientologist! Just make sure doze birds are frums the states and not China. Lousy Chinese blastards!

Ruv You Looong Time!!! JG

Monday, November 24, 2008

KIM Jong IL's Thanksgiving Message to the Masses


ATTENTION! The guy who this brogg (blog) is all about, is jealous, and has not been heard from lately. It is therefore necessary to hear the following message from the GREAT READER, his own self, and have JihadGene step away from the keyboard for this special holiday message:

Deer Massive Amounts of Readers,
As you know I am one busy "Wild & Crazy Guy" here in the Pyongyang Convalescent Hospital and NORKO Uranium Enrichment Plant #7, but I too must paws in my busy schedule and give honor to the "Great One" for the blessings bestowed upon me, GREAT READER, KIM Jong IL. Though it has been a rough year for me, what with the strokes, then being taken off Georgie DoubleWoo Bushies Axes of Evil List and all... still I'm takes heart in the fact that soon I'ms will be dealing with the US Secretary of State Hillree Clintone! So I'm must give thanks on this most auspicious of American holidays, that you call "Thanksgiving", to all the millions of you, my very own Axes of Evil members and readers of my brog, GREAT READER. I'm can't tanks you enuff!

In the words of the great statesman from Tupilo, Mississippi ( ELVIS ).....
Thank you. Thank you very much!

Great Reader, KIM Jong IL

Friday, November 21, 2008

It's Friday! Let's Dance!

Great Reader, KIM Jong IL wants to party with these guys LOOONG time! Ladies and Gent's I give you (drum roll please)......... Sam the Sham and his wonderful Pharaohs!
It's Friday...let's dance!!!!

Thursday, November 20, 2008

Thanksgiving is Daily


JihadGene here. See the title? It's true. It's true even on days when you are not feeling so hot-to-trot. I'm even thankful for this nutty-assed blog, so I can get some things off my chest, or rant, or rave, or do my keyboard imitation of Great Reader KIM Jong IL. It helps. Yes, I pray. Some of you don't. If you can wish a person well..... burn sage....or if you're a Wickin, Don't be a Chicken...and think good thoughts for these folks and their families. They need our support, our thanks, and our love. JG

PFC Hunter Levine
Cpt Rob Yllescas
LTC Ty Edwards

Tuesday, November 18, 2008

Love American VS Korean Style #12


In the beginning...
In Part 1- I met the girl I would marry. Her name is Kim. Love at 1st sight (for me, anyway).
In Part 2- I spent what money I had to set up a birthday party that would put me with Kim.
In Part 3- Kim gets puked on by drunk Birthday Boy. Kim leaves. I am miserable.
In Part 4- Korean Grandmothers (Shaman) take pity on me. We Kamikaze in a taxi to Kim's.
In Part 5- I survive the taxi ride. The Grandmothers tell me they will fix all. I must return to base. I can't beat the midnight curfew but I damn sure try.
In Part 6- Suicide ride on a bus bumper. Crash. Injuries and more. Concussion too! Police chase. Escape & Evade.
In Part 7- Climb a telephone pole. Steal a bike with one wheel. Make my Great Escape.
In Part 8- Ride bike into a Banjo-Ditch (sewage). Another concussion. I crawl out and am captured by the ROK Army, then returned to base.
In Part 9- Medical treatment at 0130 hours. AM meeting with Military Police 1SG Black Thunder Johnson. Made an Ambassador to South Korea. Run to Motor Pool.
In Part 10- Bicycle recovered. I fall into the banjo ditch. 1SG YOON/1SG Johnson/Me and the Korean Grandfather have a Pow-wow. Intercultural relations rebuilt. Valuable lessons learned.
In Part 11- The First Sergeants have a meeting. I am cleaned up at a ROK Army wash point. We go to Kim's. I am Elvis, to the Korean Grandmothers. I SEE KIM! We are returning to base.

BACK AT CAMP
So....It's in mid March of 1975. It's kinda cold and I am a wet 20 year old male soldier who has fallen in love with the pretty Korean girl named KIM. I am wet because I slipped and fell into a Korean banjo-ditch and had to be hosed off/cleaned up. I'm driving an M151A1 (Jeep) with 1SG B.T. (Black Thunder) Johnson in the front passengers seat and 1SG Yoon, K.Y. (Kill You) is in the back. The infamous one wheeled bicycle is in the trailer we are towing. We drive on in Gate#1 (main gate) of Camp Hialeah, located in the southern port city of Pusan, S. Korea. My fellow MP's at the gate wave us in while searching my face for a clue as to what would be my fate. I had no idea. 1SG Johnson told me to drop him, the bicycle, and 1SG Yoon off at the Orderly Room, turn in the jeep, change into dry fatigues, and report back to him after chow (lunch). "Roger that", I said... while wondering what he was going to do with me and the bicycle. Everyone in the company orderly room came out to see the bicycle. I drove off, headed for the motor pool. All heads and eyes followed me as I departed the company area. Was I gonna get an Article 15? Oh shit, I hoped not. Was I gonna get some kind'a fine and maybe reduction in rank? Was I gonna get to spend the rest of my Army days cleaning out the grease traps in the mess hall or worse...were they gonna change my MOS (job skill) to a damned cook in the mess hall? At that time most cooks in the mess hall were the guys too stupid to qualify to be truck drivers (no offense to truck drivers). Ooooh crap. All these thoughts were going through my battered brain and the gang back at the orderly room were all asking these same questions themselves. The First Sergeants went in to see my Company Commander. The bike was left in the supply room. My fate to be decided after lunch.

HOUSE BOYs, KATUSA's and THE MOD SQUAD
I turned in the jeep and trailer. The Motor Pool Sergeant said nothing...but he did keep looking at me like I was some kind of a circus side-show act. The sergeant held his fire, so to speak. I returned to the barracks. My fellow squad members (Katusa'a and G.I.'s) known as the Mod Squad and the house boys saw the bicycle and all agreed that it was not worth salvaging. Bent frame and handlebars. Rear rim badly damaged and many missing spokes. The one tire on it was really shot-out too. But why would the First Sergeant's bring the bike back to the Company area? Did they not know what a wasted mess it was? Maybe Black Thunder, since he was American, didn't know so much of bicycles...but surely the Katusa First Sergeant Yoon knew the difference between something worth saving and a piece of trash?! Now everyone was surrounding me asking me these things, these questions of which I had no answer for. The house boys, my fellow squad members, and I... all shook our heads in puzzlement. Screw chow (lunch)...I took a nap.

RISE AND SHINE or MEET MY SQUAD LEADER
I would have woken up feeling refreshed however my Squad Leader, Staff Sergeant OLY, from the great state of Maine was shaking me awake after about 10 minutes of snooze time and saying in a loud and panicked voice, "What in the name of Satan have you done, Spc4 (Specialist 4th Class) Jihad"?! Now SSG Oly or "The Big O", as we called him, was only the 2nd person I had ever met from the state of Maine and just like the first guy I'd met from the state of Maine he was no exception...he was a complete asshole. SSG OLY was a big man in size...taller than me by one inch...he was 6'4", and outweighed me (then) by 40 lbs at 250. Those mother's in Maine must feed their mutated vaginal discharges (babies) yellow snow or moose milk, or something...whatever. So OLY is panicked, like always. Scared for his own ass in some way, shape, or form. Perhaps he is a US Senator now , or lives in the woods. Anyways, he says he heard about my curfew violation while at the PX with his Korean wife (the poor thing) and he demanded to know what happened. I told him an abbreviated version as to how I was late returning to base and broke curfew. He told me I was really doomed and deserved to be placed in Fort Leavenworth for such a horrendous crime and that HE would take absolutely no heat over this! I reassured him that he had nothing to do with this and that it was all my fault. OLY and our squad were on days off when I broke curfew. I told Oly the First Sergeant probably didn't want to bug him until he returned to duty/work tomorrow. It was now time for me to go see the First Sergeant and I told SSG Oly this. Like a scared rabbit, he split. I remembered six months previously when I was brand new to Korea and on MP patrol duties with him...

ON PATROL WITH SSG OLY
I was assigned to SSG Oly's squad and new in Korea. Pusan is a big city of 2 million people. It's a major port city. Many ships, sailors, and Marines drop by often to partake of al-key-hall (alcohol) and hookers. As an MP it is heaven on earth! We get to patrol the Red Light Districts! Bar fights and all kinds of shit! Great place for a young man to figure out how things work (I'll leave it at that). It is September 1974 and I am on patrol with SSG Oly. We are on the graveyard shift (midnight-8AM). MP's usually patrol/do a drive-by of these bar& red-light districts right after curfew (midnight). There are two "comfort" areas we check on a regular basis...Texas Street and Green Street. Big O tells me to go to Green Street and gives me directions there as we drive. He seems pleased that I don't know where it is. I was new in country and I'm still scared from all those VD briefings they gave us. It was basically gross slide-shows of guys peckers or possibly broccoli or cauliflower, that's covered with katsup. It wasn't pretty and for a new guy it would usually last for about 2-4 weeks until the PTSD (Post Traumatic Stress Disorder) wore off. For guys from Tennessee or North Carolina their new-found celibacy would last about 2 to 4 hours, if sober and it's a Sunday. Where was I? Oh...well we go to the red light district of Green Street. I pull up to a place that Big O tells me to go to, and he tells me to honk the horn three times. I give three quick beeps on the horn and out the door comes a plain looking Korean girl of maybe 20-25 years old. That means she could'a been 35 easily. Big O asks if she's busy and she shakes her head no. I have just seen THREE BEEPS! Big O thinks I don't know who she is. Big O is an idiot. 3 BEEPS...or BEEPS...is the most infamous BJ queen of the Orient! Even a newbee like me had already heard of her. She never used her hands...Bill Clinton should have been in the Army...she was... and in my mind, is still a legend. Some say she was a technical advisor for the movie Deepthroat. SSG OLY must think I live in Fresno or something...he tells me, "Jihad, I'm going in to take a SOFA (Status of Forces Agreement) complaint. So stay in the jeep and if you need me just honk". I say, "OK Sarge" like a good soldier. So I'm sitting in the M151 (jeep) waiting, like I don't know what the hell my Staff Sergeant is up to, when along comes a cutie. A Korean hooker. We talk but I really don't know much Korean and her English isn't so hot. I am sitting in the jeep behind the wheel. She cocks her ass sideways, sits on my lap, puts her arms around me, and sticks her tongue in my ear. I admitt it...I'm excited...but I'm scared. She wants me to kiss her but all I can think of is what BEEPS does for a living and what my tongue would look like if I made out with her. She immediately pegs me...."You cherry boy!" Well of course I say no. I lie and say I am married. She kind of respects that while grinding her butt in my crotch. She then begins pointing at the instrument panel on the jeep and says things like gas...speed...and battery. While I'm all into this English lesson/crotch grinding she suddenly begins to honk the horn. Beep! Beeeeep! At first I just smile and then I quickly grab her hand away from the horn and say no. It's too late. Out the door comes SSG Oly with pants and pistol belt down around his ankles, boxer shorts half way on and trying to get to the jeep asking where the problem is. The girl is still on my lap laughing and saying beep-beep! Big O tells me to get rid of the girl and not to touch the fu*king horn. He goes back inside. 5 minutes later he comes back out apparently unsatisfied and pissed off. Seems I had broken his train of thought while conducting the investigation. I chuckled inside. Asshole.

NOW...BACK TO THE STORY
After the BEEPS flashback... I began putting on my jump boots and tried to imagine what it was I had possibly waiting for me in the First Sergeant's office. It wasn't good, but what was it? I was sort of uptight so to speak but I had been 100 per cent honest with Black Thunder. He seemed to understand. He showed some humor in it all. Took interest in my story, so much so that he even went out to investigate the incident for himself. My First Sergeant wanted me to be a good Ambassador and I did just that. I just didn't want to end up as a good Samurai falling on his sword. I had already thrown myself at the mercy of the court, so to speak. My gut rumbled...I had to take a crap. I took care of business then headed to the orderly room wondering if I would be given a blindfold and last cigarette? (To Be Continued)