Grandpa’s War – Part 34 – Recon: The Craziest SOB in the World

Getting the LT’s HUMVEE fixed was a bit of problem. The only mechnic in the bunch was Sgt. Motti. He’d come to the MPs from being a tank mechanic. While he had his tools, there were distinct differences between a tank and a HUMVEE.

So, we started hitting units in the area. There were a lot of false leads and communication breakdowns. It was from a Syrian outfit that we found an officer that spoke English. He told us of an American National Guard outfit in the area. They called themselves the Road Warriors and were mechanics. They were all about working on vehicles and picking up break downs. This group had helped them out on numerous occasions and could get us back on the road. He showed us on a map where they were, and we headed off for their camp.

We found their compound easily enough. But at first glance, the place looked deserted. There were no guards at the gate and no one came out when we pulled up. The smell of BBQ filled the air and a boom box was playing country music.

“Honk the horn,” the LT suggested when no one came out.

We did.

No one came out.

“Try again,” he suggested.

The horn was honked yet again, and with the same results.

“Lean on it,” he ordered. The horn was leaned on and pretty soon a guy came out.

The guy comes sauntering out of a tent. He had his hands in his pockets, his BDU top was unbuttoned. He had long hair and a slight beard. He reminded me more of a Taos hippie that had wandered off the commune than an American soldier.

“Quiet down,” he said. “You want to wake everyone up?’

We ceased honking the horn.

He looked at the LT and said, “What do you want?” The guy never once took his hands out of his pocket, went to attention, or anything remotely military.

Worse, there was no, “Yes, Sir.”

No, “Can I help you, Sir.”

Just an insolent, “What do you want?”

My Lieutenant was a graduate of the Citadel, a school with a rather hard core military tradition. He wasn’t about to stand for this.

He gets out and starts going off on the guy. The guy looks at him like someone would a barking dog.

He laughs and reaches around to his back pocket. He pulls out a leather wallet and flashes it open. He held it up in the LTs face.

And he says, “Sir, I’m Officer John Chalker of the New York City Police Department. And you’re under arrest because I think you’re an F……. Perv!”

“Sir,” someone said. “He’s a New York City cop. You’re not going to scare him one bit!”

The LT backed off in a hurry and explained our problem.

“Yeah,” Officer Chalker said. “We can fix you up.”

He went back into the tent and came out with a couple of guys. None of them looked like soldiers. Indeed, a couple were old enough to be my grandpa.

Someone grabbed a tool box and they loaded up in a pickup truck. We went back to town, and in short order they had us fixed up.

As they worked on the HUMVEE, Chalker hung with us and checked out our HUMVEEs for himself. And he told us stories of working New York. Before long, he had us all in stitches as he told us stories from the streets. He could have made a fortune doing standup.

“You know,” I told him after about the eighth laugh riot. “You’re the craziest SOB on the planet.”

“Thank you,” he answered with a bow.

Back at the HUMVEE, a gray-haired grandpa looking mechanic was checking things over.

“I’ve seen this a hundred times,” the old grandpa looking mechanic said. “The problem is dust. We PMCS our vehicles everyday. Well, Brake Fluid is a magic dust collector. No matter how careful you are, it gets into the system.”

He showed us what to do if we have a problem again. “All you have to is bleed the brakes,” he explained. He demonstrated what we needed to do, and in under five minutes it was fixed.

“What do you recommend?” the LT asked.

“Don’t check your brake fluid level,” he suggested, “or it will happen again. I know, the manual says you do it. Keep in mind, it’s a not a commandment from God. But a suggestion. In these conditions, it’s silly to keep doing it.”

Chalker did apologies to the LT. “I was just busting your chops. I should be able to get away with it, with a fellow cop.”

The LT laughed and told him to forget it.

We were back on the road and headed to Iraq.

Officer John Chalker held the title of the craziest SOB on the planet for years.

Then I met an old Army chopper pilot. He moved John into the number two slot.

Sorry, John. There was someone crazier than you after all.

All photographs Copyright – Richard L. Muniz

---

If you’re a Veteran in crisis or concerned about one, connect with our caring, qualified Veterans Crisis Line responders for confidential help. Many of them are Veterans themselves. This service is private, free, and available 24/7.

Need help: Here’s how you can connect with a Veterans Crisis Line responder, anytime day or night:

• Call 988 and select 1.
• Text 838255.
• Start a confidential chat.
• If you have hearing loss, call TTY: 800-799-4889.

If you’re not a veteran or wish you can also take these actions:

• Call 911.
• Go to the nearest emergency room.
• Go directly to your nearest VA medical center. It doesn’t matter what your discharge status is or if you’re enrolled in VA health care. if not a veteran, go to your nearest hospital.
  Find your nearest VA medical center

---