Pat: The Magazine for Guys

My military journey began at 0200 (2:00 am) in a waffle-house some where in Georgia. The year was 1994, I was 18 years old with a shaved head and a Chicago accent, so you could say I stuck out like a sore thumb. I was one of two people in the waffle-house not including the 300 lb waitress who doubled as a cook and a chin. The other patron was an old man who looked about 80 and kept staring at me while I ate my ham and cheese omelet. The following is the transcript of the conversation:

Old Man: Hey boy, you in the army?
Me: Yep (trying to not make eye contact)
Old Man: I was in the army for thirty years. (I look up and notice he has only one tooth)
Me: Cool.
Old Man: I was in WWII and Korea
Me: Great. (300 lb waitress pours me a cup of coffee)
Old Man: Boy, do you know what the three Bs are?
Me: No, I don’t think I do.
Old Man: If you want to survive in the army you need to know the three Bs
Me: Ok, what are the three Bs?
Old Man: Bullets, Booze, and Broads. Shoot the right people, stay away from the broads, and if you drink too much you'll get fucked by both.
Me: Thanks for the advice.

Leather Skirt Tandem

I've been a patron of many military bars around the country, and one constant is the white trash mother/daughter pick-up team. What happens here is the mom and daughter will wear matching outfits like a black leather skirt and a dark blouse. The daughters will don a mini-skirt while the moms will wear a longer knee-length skirt to cover up the mileage on their legs. The first objective for Team Whore is to scout out the bar for the highest ranking soldiers; the higher the rank, the more money you make. Most of the time, it’s obvious who's who in a military bar because the guys will leave their military IDs on the bar so the whores will know their rank. Objective #2: The mother will approach a group that looks like they have rank and start sweet-talking them to find out who the dumbasses are. After about five minutes, the daughter will walk up and bring her mother a drink. The mother will then introduce her daughter to the group and wait to see who takes the bait. Team Whore does not have to be good-looking because army guys who have just come in from the field haven't seen a woman in weeks. If Team Whore has a good night, the daughter will take her prey home, get pregnant, and ride the army gravy train the rest of her life. What happens most of the time though, is the daughter takes the guy home, gives him herpes, and never sees him again.

Glow-Stick Love

This is a conversation that happened @ 0400 in the morning in our army barracks as someone shakes me awake...

Me: What the fuck, asshole?
Sgt. Sanchez: Sir, do you have any glow-sticks?
Me: No, dumbass. What the fuck do you need glow-sticks for at 0400?
Sgt. Sanchez: Well, I don't have any candles.
Me: What the fuck do you need candles for, dumbass?
Sgt Sanchez: Sir, I met a girl at a bar and she said she won't fuck me unless I do something romantic for her, so I wanted to light candles in my room, but I don't have any, so I thought I'd use glow-sticks instead.
Me: Go away, dumbass.
Sgt Sanchez: Sorry sir, I'll ask someone else.

Sgt Sanchez reported at breakfast the next morning that the glow sticks worked like a charm.

Sonia the Flashlight Bitch

Once again, it's about 0400 in the morning and the whole unit hasn't slept in five days. We're performing a training exercise where each platoon member takes on a different leadership position for every mission. This is the last mission of the last day, and it's cold, raining, pitch black, and nobody really gives a fuck anymore. For this mission a chick named Sonia was chosen as platoon leader. Sonia had a history of being one of the laziest people I've ever met. She complained about everything in this whiny voice that sounded like a combination of Mike Tyson and a cat. When she is chosen as platoon leader she has no clue what our position is because she's been sleeping instead of working and starts yelling at people to help her. She pulls out her map and tries to read it in the dark for ten minutes, then I hear her swearing under her breath that she can't find her flashlight. The rest of the platoon are in their fighting positions on the perimeter of the base while Sonia begins her meltdown. We can't see our own hands in front of our face so all we hear is Sonia the wonder-bitch looking for her flashlight. She then begins stumbling around the perimeter asking everyone for theirs, but everyone lies and says that they either lost theirs or the batteries ran out. Then someone on the opposite side yells to Sonia that she can use their flashlight, but she has no clue who said it because it’s so fucking dark. Sonia stumbles towards the sound of the voice and asks, "Who said I could use their flashlight?" Nobody answers, and then from the other side of the base someone says she can use their flashlight, so she clumsily walks another fifty meters in the dark to the other side of the base and once again can't find her phantom flashlight. She says, almost in tears, "Come on guys, you need to help me!" Suddenly, as if it were planned, people started turning on their flashlights and chanting, "Flaaaaashlight, flaaaaashlight, flaaaaashlight..." Sonia has a complete breakdown and starts screaming, "You’re all a bunch of fucking assholes!" and runs off into the woods crying. I was laughing so hard that I think a broke a blood vessel in my eye. I know this story seems kind of cruel, but try not sleeping for five days in the freezing rain and read it again, then it's fucking funny.

Vin Diesel 's Woman

This is a conversation over breakfast at Ft. Eustis, Virginia

Me: Sgt. Herd, you look like shit.
Sgt. Herd: Fuck you very much asshole, I've got a hangover.
Me: You sure smell like it, take a shower before you come to eat next time.
Sgt. Herd: Man, me and the guys rented a hotel room last night and had a party.
Me: So it was you and the guys in a motel 8... sounds fun.
Sgt. Herd: No, we picked up a girl at the bar.
Me: Do you mean that you picked up a girl or all five of you picked up one girl.
Sgt. Herd: Yeah, this chick kept calling me Vin Diesel and said that she would fuck all of us.
Me: Sick.
Sgt. Herd: Yeah, she wasn't that good looking and she was kind of old.
Me: Sick... how old?
Sgt. Herd: Mid-fifties (Sgt. Herd and the guys are all 25).
Me: I think I'm going to puke.
Sgt. Herd: We had to leave her at the hotel because she kept throwing up all over.
Me: Who paid for the hotel?
Sgt. Herd: I did, hopefully she doesn’t fuck the room up too much. It was so cool, she kept calling me Vin Diesel, man.
Me: Sick.

3 days later, all five of these guys came down with some sort of VD and a bad case of crabs.

Jan and Jeanne

Sgt. Johnson was married but he also had a girlfriend. He was very open about the whole thing (to everyone except his wife) and every year he would bring his girlfriend to all the unit functions, like the Christmas party and Family Day. His girlfriend's name was Jan and his wife's name was Jeanne. They were both blondes with similar height, weight, and facial features. One year, Sgt. Johnson decides to bring his wife to the Christmas party instead of his girlfriend. This wouldn't be a problem but most people had only met his girlfriend and not his wife. We had all been drinking, and when the couple walked into the party everyone said hello but addressed Jeanne as Jan (his girlfriend's name). The first couple times she thought this was weird, but it kept happening and she soon caught on. They left the party 30 minutes later and were divorced by New Year's.

I'm Stuck in a Bear Trap, Over

I'm in another bar on another Army base. What makes this bar different is that it's in Ft. Greeley, Alaska, which is near the middle of Buttfuck, Egypt. There's a square-shaped bar area that only has red lights, and behind that are three sheets of plywood that act as the dance floor with a disco ball hanging in one corner. Half the bar is a trailer that serves as the Kitchen. The bartender is a huge older man who looks like he's in the Hell's Angels. At this time, it’s only me and about ten other people in the bar. After an hour of bullshitting with the bartender, thirty army rangers walk in ready to party. If you've never been in this environment, just picture the most testosterone-filled group of guys you've ever seen and multiply it by twenty. These guys had been in the field for a month without beer or women and were ready for fun. When the rangers walk in, the bartender yells into the kitchen, "Carol, get out here and entertain the boys." Carol walks out of the kitchen and is just as big as the bartender, who weighs about 250. Think of a NFL running back with long hair. She takes off her apron (which looks like it has layers of dried blood on it), and as she walks by me I notice in horror that the her face has three huge Freddy Krueger-style slash mark scars going from her forehead to her jaw. She walks up to the group of rangers and asks, "Who wants to dance with me?" I'm thinking that nobody is going to take this big bitch up on that offer. I'm wrong. Ten guys almost knock each other down to be the first to dance with Carol. I sit in amazement as the rangers line up to wait their chance to dance. I ask the bartender, "What happened to her face?" He says when she was fifteen she was attacked by a bear, which ripped half of it off. When I'm done watching the freak show and ready to leave, Carol walks up to the bartender and says, "Hey dad, do you want me to keep dancing with the guys or help mom in the kitchen?" The bartender replies, "Keep dancing."

The moral of the story is that even if you’re a really ugly chick, you too can find love in Alaska.