by
Ranger Up Fan, Charles
It was around July, and I was escorting an IED clearance team on one of the major ASRs in Ramadi. These teams consist of engineers and EOD technicians that drive around in special vehicles which are bomb blast resistant and they go looking for IEDs, but though they are good at taking hits from IEDs, they don’t do so good against RPGs and small arms, which is why they have tanks escorting them.
The mission was progressing fast enough, and wasn’t even that bad given the hellish 140 degree heat inside the turret. We’d just reached our turnaround point when all of a sudden my turret loses all hydraulic power. I try troubleshooting it, but to no avail. My turret is fucked. I call up the mechanics, they confirm that it’s the turret distribution valve. My platoon sergeant spins up to relieve me and I haul ass back to the maintenance area. An hour later, my valve has been changed out and my tank is good to go.
Almost.
Your standard issue M1A1 main battle tank has about 17 gallons of hydraulic fluid moving through the system at any given time, or rather is supposed to. In the process of changing out my valve, my hydraulic system had 9 gallons dump out, leaving a mess and the need to refill the reservoir.
Aside: the hydraulic fluid used in a tank is called FRH: Fire resistant, Rust inhibited, Hydraulic fluid. Simply put, it is the worst shit on earth. If you have any on your hands, you have to wash the shit out of them, because if you don’t and you eat something, you will get cancer. Not might get cancer. WILL get cancer. Even prolonged skin contact will give you serious health problems, i.e. areas of skin exposed to it will rot off, and you more than likely get cancer and die a horrible death. Not a good thing to be around, and even worse if you ingest it or get any in your eyes. It’s the worst shit ever.
Back to the story:
My gunner has the funnel set up on the reservoir, while my driver and I are popping quart cans open with a hammer and screwdriver and handing them down to him. I pop one open, pull the screwdriver out, and apparently the contents of that particular can were under pressure, because the FRH comes spraying out of the can like a geyser.
And right into my face and eyes.
I immediately drop what I’m doing. “Holy shit! Get me some fucking water! Where’s the water at?!?” We usually keep a case of water bottles in the back stowage rack. I stumble back there, eyes closed, reach around near the bottles, and pull out the first one I get my hands on, opening it up and dumping it in my face.
At first I noticed that it stung my eyes a little bit. Then I noticed that something smelled funny. Then I noticed that the smell kept getting stronger.
IT WAS A F*CKING PISS BOTTLE. FULL OF HUMAN URINE. I HAD JUST DUMPED IT INTO MY EYES AND FACE.
I’d never launched into a fully psychotic rage before, but there’s a first time for everything, and that was it. I started screaming, spouting profanities, picking up random cans and objects and hurling them across the motor pool. My gunner and driver froze, mouths open, in a state of shock and fear.
“WHAT THE F*CK! A F*CKING PISS BOTTLE! ARE YOU F*CKING KIDDING ME, WHAT THE F*CK! I JUST F*CKING DUMPED PISS ON ME GODDAMNIT, AGGGGGGGGGHHHHH!” and screamed as if I was the Wicked Witch of the West and just had a bucket of water tossed on me.
I reach back into the storage rack, pull out the case of water, open up every bottle, and dump the entire case out on me. F*ck thirst. I just had a bottle of 5 month old piss poured on me. After cleansing myself, I finally came back to my senses.
I took a quick whiff. Something still smelled. I smelled my shirt. Yep, my shirt smelled like piss. I yanked it off, grabbed a lighter off of my driver, and set the fucker on fire. Then, shirtless, I threw it off the back deck of the tank and watched it burn in the sand. I’ve had some bad shit happen to me in my life, but this is the single worst event, I’d put it worse than getting blown up twice, worse than nearly getting shot into pieces in a complex ambush, and worse than finding out my Iraq tour was extended by two months. I stood and watched hatefully as my crew finished up and got the tank prepped to go back to the ready line. I needed a shower. As we began rolling to the ready line, my gunner turned towards me.
“Hey sir?”
“What?”
“I gotta take a leak. You mind?”
I hate my life.
Copyright of Charles
