Trying to come up with one story out of many is one that is ridiculously hard to do.

I have many, but one that sticks out usually is on my first tour in Germany. I suppose it sticks out because there aren’t too many stories from my first tour that I remember. I think I was drunk most of my first tour. What do you expect from a 17 year old loose in Germany? I was still under 21 when I came back to the USA.

OK, here’s the deal. My roommate and I are out on the town after a long day at the railhead preparing to go to Grafenwoehr. We had the rest of the day and night to “prepare” to go to Graf. This usually meant packing the rest of your crap for the field, but since we already took care of that, we decided to prepare ourselves properly.

We spent the night into the wee hours of the morning drinking Mannheim dry. We stumbled our drunk asses back to the barracks, just in time to grab our gear and get on the train.

There was one small problem. My roommate couldn’t walk without assistance from me. As we approached the barracks, I had to let go of him in order to open the door and go grab our gear. When I let go of him, I propped him up against the vehicle stopping post, there’s usually two at each door. As I let go he spun around the post like a cork screw until he hit the ground. Almost cartoon like.

So our drunk asses had to make it from the barracks to the train with all our gear. Plus I had to carry his ass on top of it.

We made to the train in time, barely. Luckily for us, the military trains in Germany have the last priority, so it takes around 12 to 15 hours to make the trip. The cars we had were the sleeper cars, where the seats come out and three can sleep comfortably on the pulled together seats. Plus there were bunks that came out above that.

My roommate decided that the best place for him was under the main bunk on the floor. For the whole trip to Graf, whenever we lit up a smoke, all we would see is a hand come up between the seats with fingers spread for a smoke. Someone would light a smoke , stick it in his hand and we wouldn’t see it again for hours until we had another smoke.

The long trip to Graf gave us time to sober up and a hell of a kick start to a long field problem.

20 years in the Army and I still remember that particular drunk fest and follow on movement to Graf. I guess the biggest thing that sticks out is my roommate sticking his hand up through the seats for a smoke.

That’s my story and I’m sticking to it!