Uncle Jimbo's got another great story about Special Forces training Marines and narrowly avoiding death at the
hands fangs of a communist snake. Be sure to check it out.
Jimbo starts out talking about a Chief Warrant Officer. SF Chiefs are mostly all the same rare breed.
A few were different, though. Crazy, tactless, and meeeaaann. I just ran into one of my former Chiefs last year (was SF qualified and moved into the intel section).
Whenever I'm at our place in Florida, I run into someone I know from the service. Last year, it was Chief Wheeley.
Me, looking for children's suntan lotion in Eckerd's Pharmacy, "Now where the hell is the Bullfrog?! They have to have bullfrog."
I hear behind me, "Oh Christ! There goes the @#$%ing neighborhood!"
I turn around, not sure who is talking, and I see Chief W. He's wearing the loudest, ugliest Hawaiian shirt I've ever seen (is that supposed to be a parrot?), khaki slacks with cuffs, and shower shoes - there's a big difference between what you would call "flip-flops" and what he was wearing (do they issue shower shoes?). And he's got his $2 sunglasses on - red horn-rimmed and U.G.L.Y. But they did kind of match his shirt...
An unassuming guy, in his mid forties, he could beat the heck out of anyone I knew. That was the thing. To anyone else, he was just some schmuck tourist who forgot to take his meds.
My wife edges towards our son in the stroller (she has had very little experience with the Army). I sternly look at the Chief.
"Hey, nice @#$%ing shirt, Chief!" And we hug.
"Like it? Really?", I shake my head, laughing, "Captain, who the @#$% is cutting your hair? Fabio?" He didn't know I was out of the Army.
We tell "Where the @#$% have you been?" stories. After about forty-five minutes of memory-lane, we shake hands and depart.
His last parting shot was at my wife, "You'll never tame that (casts aspersion about my parentage)!"
He's not typical of the chiefs I knew...some are worse...a lot worse.