Sarge is surrounded by Indians.

Discussion in 'The Club House' started by sarge_257, Dec 11, 2010.

  1. sarge_257

    sarge_257 New Member

    When this story happened I was still in the Military Police and was doing garrison duty (means minding the fort) at Gurnsey, Wyoming National Guard Camp. We had a Artillery company from Fort Sill Oklahoma doing their Annual Training. They had brought their 105 and 155 Howitzers up on flat bed trucks so they were unable to drive personal cars. This more or less confined them to the barricks area the whole two weeks. For those that do not know, this can get very boring and some seeked diversion in a beer bottle. What made this solance so bad was the fact that the Company was made up almost entirely of American Indians. This is what happened.
    My partner this time was a WAC (female soldier) If you will remember my last partner was in rather poor shape and was on sick leave. It is known by those who are close to me that I am some what male chaviousist and this incident was another reason I am that way. We were driving our Jeep down the rows of barracks (we called them hog sheds cause they were the old Quanset Huts from WWII) and I spotted a crowd of soldiers between two hog sheds. (the reason I spotted them is because my partner was too busy putting on makeup or something to be watching for criminal activity) I stopped the Jeep, backed up quietly and sure enough there was someone on the ground in the middle of the crowd and it looked like they were being worked over very well by the mob. We called into PMO (Provost Marshall Office) (it is like the police station) and gave our location and the problem. Getting out of the jeep I found the crowd to be made up of off duty Military Police. My own unit. The guy on the ground was a Indian soldier and the story unfolded like this. The MP's in the barrack next door were the night shift. The young soldier thought it was funny to throw rocks at the metal hog sheds and wake up the MPs. He did it once to many times and the night shift sleepy and grouchy waylaid him and were in the procces of teaching him the lesson of his errent ways.
    So I broke it up and arrested the young soldier just to get him out alive. I took him back to the PMO and put him in a cell. I advised the Duty Officer of the situation and told him that my opinion the young troop had already got his punishment for being foolish and that if I was the D.O. I would let him sit for a little and then go back and read him a whole bunch of laws all of which were punishable by death. If this didn't scare him straight, then I didn't know what would. The Duty Officer agreed that should do the trick and save us all a bunch of paper work. Soon we got the call to pick him up and take him back to his unit.
    Now for the civilians, you can't just drop off a former prisoner at his tent. You have to turn him over to the CQ (Charge of Quarters) or some other NCO (non commission officer) and they sign for him. So when we got to the Artillery company headquarters I found only a PFC (private first class) duty driver. I could not turn him over to a EM (enlisted man) I sent the PFC to find the CQ or any other NCO and hurry back. When I went out to my jeep there were a bunch of the Fort Sill Artillerymen milling around. Things looked ugly. It seems they got the word that the MPs had arrested one of their boys. And they tore themselves away from their beer keg and saddled up to rescue their man. Here I was facing 30 drunk Indians and I was the only paleface in the area. I put the jeep to my back and told my partner to call for our back-up unit. While she was trying to raise the PMO a drunk young buck crawled into the jeep with her. She was on the radio and he had his arm around her and was trying to kiss her. It went something like this.
    "PMO this is Alfa Unit, we need, "cut that out" we need a back up "stop it, SLAP" we need someone to help"Mmmm missseee you smell so wonderfull " "SLAP"Stop it" Send me a back up! Now take your hands off my brea... SLAP!" The PMO had come on the net and was listening to the exchange. And laughing. Some how they got the idea that it was me trying to make out with my partner and she was calling for help. Later she told me that the dispatcher had hollered "Sarge don't need no help Ha Ha!" and hung up on her. While my partner was fighting off the passionate Indian I had my hands full out front. Realizing that a club (baton) would only be able to knock out one or two before the darn thing broke I opted for my Colt 45. There is something about the noise a 45 automatic makes when you slap the slide back and chamber a round that makes even the drunkest Indian or white man think twice. By then my partner gave up on the radio and cold cocked the romeo with a good left hook. When he fell to the ground all the crowd looked that way momentarily and I grabbed the leader of the lynch mob by the shirt and layed him back over the hood of the jeep. With my Colt 45 in his mouth he was suddenly very quiet. And we had a Mexican (Indian?) stand off. No one moved and it was very quiet. So quiet that the MP jeep driving up was heard by everyone. Our back up was driving by and had seen the guy fall out of the jeep and came over to investigate. I will have to tell you a little about our back up team. The team leader is a Adams County cop. He is called by us 'Tiny' (real name Robert Sutton) The obvious reason for the nickname was his height. 6'-10" tall. And 325 lbs. When the back up jeep stopped and the door swung open 'Tiny' got out and got out and got out and just kept on getting out! All the Indians eyes were fixed on him and they were following his shape as he unwound from the jeep Their eyes just kept getting bigger the higher up they had to look. 'Tiny' asked from his lofty precipitous height "What seems to be the problem here?" I turned around to look behind me and other than the drunk slurping my Colt 45 the place was suddenly empty. Just about then the Duty Driver arrived with the CQ in tow and I shoved the clip board at him and told him to sign for his prisoner. He did and we all got out of there before they could regroup.
    The downside of the incident was the radio operater at the PMO had told everyone that I was putting the make on my WAC partner and she had to call for a back up. Her and I were the butt of a lot of 'off the cuff jokes' for the rest of the Training Increment. I don't think I ever lived that one down.
    Sarge the innocent masher.