I'll share some stories. Didn't see the thread.
I'll start it off with good old poopy pants/being sick. For the record, if anyone is reading this and is in the service, stay away from exotic foods from the DFAC or things like Bell Peppers.
My first tour, I landed in Kuwait en route to Iraq and going to FOB Warhorse, we got stuck there for a few days if not longer, cant quite recall, but I ate something at the DFAC that didn't agree with me at all. Needless to say, the following day, I had the runs like nobodies business, and to make matters worse, we had to board a Chinook to take us over to the FOB. God knows this felt like an eternity, but I was holding in this nuclear blast of a shit in a cramped space with a bunch of other dudes. I was pale, sweating, miserable, and everyone near me were doing what they could to get the hell away from me in the event that I blow up. I don't know how I did it, but I managed to hold it in until we landed at the FOB, but my wonderful team leader at that time decided to gut punch me. I pretty much ruined a good pair of pants and underwear. Wonderful.
My second tour in Afghanistan wasn't much better in terms of food. I get back from R&R and I had, you guessed it, the bell peppers. Luckily, it didn't hit me until I got back to the COP, but it didn't make it any less miserable. Soon as I get back on base, I started puking and shitting everywhere, and being with an all gun-ho company, it became a "Suck it up buttercup, go pull tower guard for the next 12 hours". About every 5 minutes I'm running down the tower steps just to have an anal evacuation. The following morning wasn't much better, because good old drill ceremony was prevalent with the officers of then (And today). I was butt hurt enough we're doing a stupid ceremony in a middle of a warzone, but while I'm peeing out of my butthole? REALLY?! Anyways, I was one of the recipients to earn my CIB that day, and I had to attend no matter what, at least according to my platoon sergeant. We show up, do the spiel, and I'm placed last in the line to receive my award, which is fine and dandy for what comes next. Soon as it's my turn, my squad leader runs up all chirpy and cheery because he knew I had the runs, and as he pins me, gut punches me, and I shit all over myself, fucking again. Well, this time, I went to the porta shitter, took off my clothes, threw them away, walked back to the tent butt naked for all to see. I hope they enjoyed the view.
Another short story I like to share is that I sat on an IED and my stupid ass is still alive.
This is my 2nd tour, and I want to say it was midway of it being done. Normally, our patrols were conducted in a file, with the lead man operating a Minehound (Metal Detector/Depth Sensor). Normally, I would be the operating the Minehound, but they switched me out so I could be a SAW gunner instead, and I'm perfectly okay with that. Anyways, we land about 1,000 meters outside of a place called (probably butchered the spelling) Haji-Roof, and we were there to look for labs. Well, the guy that was operating the Minehound turned out to be an idiot, and didn't bother turning on the thing because quote "it doesn't work". He clears this alleyway out, and I take a position there to cover the rear as the rest of my platoon goes to clear a nearby Mosque. About a half hour to an hour goes by, and my platoon sergeant comes up to me and says "What's that under you, Russell?" "Uhhhhhhhhhh...Oh...Wires...Shit". Thankfully, we had an EOD attachment with us, they came up, dug out a 3 gallon jug and a pressure plate wrapped in ceramic, thin wood and a f*ck ton of ball bearings. The damn thing was live, but I had no idea why it didn't go off, nor did I really feel the need to ask. My only regret is that I didn't take that thing with me as a souvenir. A turn for the morbid for this story, because this happens about a couple hours later, but we clear out another compound, and secure it. Our Minehound guy (same dude) turned on this stupid thing and actually cleared the area this time. He marked this random doorway just off the road with a red chem light, indicating a possible IED placement. This ANA guy (Afghani National Army) decided to test his luck by spitting on the chem light, and then jumping on it. Well, the IED so happen to be close enough to the small mud hut that a majority of us were in, myself included, and all of us got our heads rocked by the explosion. I feel no sympathy for this ass hat whatsoever, but when we got to him, he was torn in half, and a good portion of him looked like he went through a waffle maker. He kicked the bucket after we got him evaced out, but again, that's his own damn fault.
A shorty but a goody. Different platoon, same company, but I know the guy. They were out in a place called Cornerbrook and it was raining non-stop, everywhere there was mud, and it was hard to just stay dry, especially on Cornerbrook which only was just recently built, so the only cover you get was a poncho liner, a sleeping bag, or if you're lucky, an MRAP or Stryker. Anyways, my buddy decided this would be a great time to go skinny dipping in the middle of the day, because at the center of Cornerbrook was this massive mud hole. This guy gets butt naked, jumps in there, and just starts lathering mud all over himself. Makes matters worse, is that we have an overhead sky cam attached to this massive balloon. Our company commander saw it and it was just bad news bears for him afterwards. Still, it was pretty funny hearing about some fat kid bathing in mud overseas.
This has to do with Cornerbrooks conception. Maybe about a month into my tour, battalion good idea fairies decided it'd be smart to have another COP in between the FOB they were stationed at, and our own COP which turned out to be not too far away to begin with, so defeated it's purpose. But the idea was that we had to picket pound C-Wire and Razor Wire for x-amount of miles on this road that would interconnect where Cornerbrook would soon be. So aside from this being the stupidest fucking mission an infantryman has ever done, we were under fire for the majority of trying to get these stupid pickets in. It took us a little over a week. How do I know it was stupid to begin with? Because sand storms exist and it picks up, you guessed it, sand. In only a fucking day was all of our work literally blown over. Another part was a buddy of mine during this mission went to go take a shit, and as soon as he climbed on top of the truck carrying all of this waste, he starts getting shot at. For whatever reason, the great idea of sticking his hand above the armored plate to get a purple heart crossed his mine, and so he did it, waving his stupid ass hand for a few minutes before giving up. Genius. Lol.
Last one. This was a little bit after my shitting escapade. We get a mission briefing that our battalion was tasked to clear this village out in the middle of nowhere. The CIA themselves reported that, and I quote, the number of Taliban present would be between one to one hundred. Great intel. Course hearing this news, and I can't blame command for this course of action, we pack up for World War 3. All of our ruck sacks were filled to the brim with ammo, with little food, no sleeping bags, no hygiene kits, nothing. Just ammo, food and water. We needed to take more though, so we came up with this idea to fill this skedko with a few AT-4's, a f*ck ton more ammo, a Gustav, and whatever else we thought we needed. The damn thing ended up being so heavy, that it took 3 of us just to pull the dumb fucking thing. So mission day comes, we all board the Chinook and set out to make America great again. Soon as we land...No contact, no fire...Nothing. We dragged our sorry carcasses through this village for the majority of the day with nothing happening, and we finally get holed up in this massive type castle that was on this hill looking over the village. It would have been pretty cool staying there, had it not been for the lack of sleeping bags or even a poncho liner in the middle of fucking winter. Battalion wasn't satisfied however, surely the CIA couldn't have fucked up the intel with 1-100 Taliban, so we ended up staying there for 3 more days. To make matters worse, and to know your tax dollars are working hard, our command sergeant major saw that a lot of us had beards and flipped his shit. So he ordered a supply drop of nothing but razors and shaving cream so we could shave and look pretty. So no Taliban, no sleeping gear, a supply drop for razors and cream, and humping around an ungodly amount of weight and ammo, and one good shot will blow us to smithereens. Just...
Anyways, I got more stories, but those are the ones that come to me more vividly.