USMC

Platoon 349 USMCRD
San Diego, CA
1958

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4 - From Vern Smith

LEAVE IT TO THE MARINES

The pentagon recently found it had too many generals and offered an early retirement bonus. They promised any general who retired immediately his full annual benefits plus $10,000 for every inch measured in a straight line between any two points on the general's body, with the general getting to select any pair of points he wished.

The first man, an Air Force general, accepted. He asked the pension man to measure from the top of his head to the tip of his toes. Six feet. He walked out with a check of $720,000.

The second man, an Army general, asked them to measure from the tip of his up-stretched hands to his toes. Eight feet. He walked out with a check for $960,000.

When the third general, a grizzled old Marine General, was asked where to measure, he told the pension man: "From the tip of my penis to my
testicles."

The pension man suggested that perhaps the Marine general might like to reconsider, pointing out the nice checks the previous two generals had received. The Marine general insisted and the pension expert said that would be fine, but that he'd better get the medical officer to do the measuring. The medical officer attended and asked the general to drop 'em. He did.

The medical officer placed the tape on the tip of the general's penis and began to work back. "My God!" he said, "where are your testicles?"
"Vietnam," the general replied.

A Good Seat

The train was quite crowded, so the U. S. Marine walked its entire length looking for a seat, but the only seat left was taken by a well-dressed middle-aged French woman's poodle.

The war-weary Marine asked, "Ma'am, may I have that seat?"

The French woman just sniffed and said to no one in particular, "Americans are so rude. My little Fifi is using that seat."

The Marine walked the entire train again, but the only seat left was under that dog.

"Please, ma'am. May I sit down? I'm very tired."

She snorted, "Not only are you Americans rude, you are also arrogant!"

This time the Marine didn't say a word, he just picked up the little dog, tossed it out the train window, and sat down.

The woman shrieked, "Someone must defend my honor! Put this American in his place!"

An English gentleman sitting nearby spoke up. "Sir, you Americans often seem to have a penchant for doing the wrong thing. You hold the fork in the wrong hand, you drive your autos on the wrong side of the road, and now, sir, you've thrown the wrong bitch out the window!"

Four Navy Chiefs

Four retired Navy Chiefs are walking down the street window shopping. They turn a corner and see a sign that says "Veterans Bar" over the doorway of an entry into an establishment that doesn't look all that well kept up. They look at each other then go in. On the inside, they realize they could judge this 'book by its cover'.

The old bartender says in a voice that carries across the room, "Come on in and let me pour one for you! What'll it be, gentlemen?"

There seems to be a fully stocked bar so the Chiefs all ask for a martini. In short time the bartender serves up 4 iced martinis shaken not stirred and says, "That'll be 40 cents, please."

The four Chiefs stare at the bartender for a moment then look at each other -they can't believe their good luck. They pay the 40 cents, finish their martinis and order another round. Again, four excellent martinis are produced with the bartender again saying, "That's 40 more cents, please."

They pay the 40 cents but their curiosity is more than they can stand. They've each had two martinis and so far they've spent less than a dollar. Finally one of the Chiefs says, "How can you afford to serve martinis as good as these for a dime a piece?"

The bartender replies, "No doubt you've noticed the decor in here. And the outside ain't nothin' to write home about. I don't waste money on that stuff. But, here's my story.

I'm a retired Master Chief Boatswain's Mate and I always wanted to own a bar. Last year I hit the lottery and decided to open this place for real veterans. Every drink costs a dime -- wine, liquor, beer, all the same."

"Wow. That's quite a story." says one of the Chiefs. The four of them sipped at their martinis and couldn't help but notice three other guys at the end of the bar who didn't have a drink in front of them and hadn't ordered anything the whole time the Chiefs were there. One Chief finished his martini and, gesturing towards the three at the end of the bar without drinks asks the bartender, "What's with them?"

The bartender says, "Oh, those are retired Marines. They're waiting for happy hour."


A little Naval lore for you. . .

In olden times . . .
every sailing ship had to have a cannon for protection. A cannon of those times required round iron cannonballs. The master wanted to store the cannonballs such that they could be of instant use when needed, yet not roll around the gun deck.

The solution was to stack them up in a square-based pyramid next to the cannon. The top level of the stack had one ball, the next level down had four, the next had nine, and the bottom had sixteen. Four levels would provide a stack of 30 cannonballs.

The real problem was how to keep the bottom level from sliding out from under the weight of the higher levels. To do this, they devised a small brass plate called a "monkey" with one rounded indentation for each cannon ball in the bottom layer.

Brass was used because the iron cannon balls wouldn't rust to the "brass monkey," but would rust to one made of iron.

When the temperature falls, brass contracts in size faster than iron. As it got cold on the gun decks, the indentations in the brass monkey would get smaller than the iron cannon balls they were holding.

If the temperature got cold enough, the bottom layer would pop out of the indentations spilling the entire pyramid over the deck. Thus it was, quite literally:

"cold enough to freeze the balls off a brass monkey."