By Bill Mayhue, LTC (Ret.)
Military humor is unique, and few things inspire more jokes that the huge compendia of jargon that the branches of services accumulate and dispense every year. For retired Army Lieutenant Colonel Bill Mayhue, that language shaped the way he viewed one of life’s most memorable missions: getting his wife to the hospital for the birth of their daughter.
Written fifteen years ago while awaiting the arrival of baby Maggie, “Ranger Up!” transforms labor and delivery into a full-scale military operation complete with battle drills, supporting efforts, radio traffic, contingency plans, and after-action reporting. Readers who have served in the military will recognize the language, acronyms, procedures, and good-natured humor immediately. Civilians may not catch every reference, but they’ll quickly understand that Bill is affectionately poking fun at both military culture and himself.
Bill recently shared this story with the Veterans Breakfast Club after Todd DePastino visited a veterans writing group in which he participates. Presented here with only light editing, “Ranger Up!” remains very much in Bill’s original voice.
“I will shoulder more than my share of the task whatever it may be, one hundred percent and then some”
I was just taking a quick five-minute break from my combat patrols; resting on one knee, in the shade, drinking water, (ok, I was really laying on the couch) when the verbal alarm went off!
“I am ready, it is time to leave NOW!!!”, bellowed the ear piercing siren.
Of course, I was temporarily disoriented because that is not one of the published code words or phrases developed for this mission. So, after conducting the rapid-decision-making process in my head, I concluded the “Main Effort” never read the signals annex I handed her. Sometimes I don’t know why I bother to publish the TRADOC approved products for the “Main Effort”; I don’t think she actually reads them. Yep, you guessed it the “Main Effort” is none other than the government approved wife number one, Kitty.
(Mental note) The “Main Effort” really?
She is only carrying the package for nine months. I humped and rucked that little combat multiplier for forty years. Whatever. But it’s what she wants (demands) to be called during this live birth operation. Which, I guess, means I have to embrace my awesome call sign of frigging, “Supporting Effort 1”.
Anyway, I digress, back to the action.
The incorrect alarm has been sounded by the “Main Effort”, so I immediately spring into action and vault off the couch and conduct a perfect PLF, (parachute landing fall) rolling into a modified combat crouch. Scanning my sector for anything amiss in the living room. All clear. So, I hastily move to the tactical mess area (kitchen) and remove the Standard Operating Procedure manual (SOP) and battle-drill-check list off the reefer. (fridge)
The rapid deployment phase of the operation should go like clockwork, we have reviewed and practiced this action for two weeks and I feel confident about a superior performance. (Wish my Ranger Instructor could have seen those; MAJOR PLUS, material totally)
Of course, the rehearsals and rock drills were conducted by me and Supporting Effort Two (SE2). The “Main Effort”, was too busy gluing her ass to the couch to participate, umm. I mean she was rehearsing her recovery operations and developing her reconstitution and consolidation actions at the OBJ (Objective). Yea right.
Oh, I need to step back, I failed to introduce Supporting Effort 2 (SE2). The leader of this element is not sure why she has a call sign? But she is a gamer so she is playing her part. SE2 is also known as Paulina (aupair/nanny), and her assistant, three-year-old Matthew. (AKA what the hell is going on around here? I am the real baby in this house!) together they constitute SE2, (whisper…both were involuntarily drafted so I am not completely sure of their dedication and commitment). Keep an eye on them.
Back to the action…
After a quick review of the checklist and scan of my position in the tactical mess area, I infiltrate into the center of the rally point (living room). I grab my chrome plated, deluxe commando action whistle. (On sale at Ranger Joe’s for $9.95, mention this report and receive 10% off purchase) I blow hard on the whistle initiating the proper audio signal to bring the troops to the rally point (RP).
At this point the finely tuned plan unravels a bit; the dog hears the whistle and immediately freaks out and runs full blast into the sliding glass door. Bam! This initiates a rapid bowel evacuation, yep, she crapped all over the carpet.
SE2 member Matthew leaps off the couch and onto my back, ouch that hurts. SE2 Leader, Paulina rolls her eyes and pours herself a coke prior to moving to the RP. The “Main Effort” fails to react at all and yells, “Stop blowing that %^&* whistle”, and leaves the RP. Discipline has completely gone off the rails. (Note to self: prepare a written counseling statement for the “Main Effort”)
The team is in a tight tactical formation at the RP, well ok, I am on one knee with Matthew screeching and jumping on my back and pulling on my deluxe commando action whistle lanyard, choking me to death. Nanny Paulina is on the couch texting with her silly-assed girlfriends, totally not engaged. The dog is dazed and rolling around in her own feces, wondering what bad dog left this hot mess here in the front room.
Murphy and his damn law of confusion have impacted my plan, but we can recover and still make this happen. I just wish I could breathe and who is turning out lights, head feels funny, dizzy; darkness.
What happened? Where am I? Oh yea, in the RP.
Throwing, I mean gently removing Matthew from my back, recovering my Deluxe commando action whistle and placing him in his assigned position in the RP. Ok, so I chucked him onto the leader of SE2 who’s on the couch. She of course proceeds to drop her cell phone into the unauthorized glass of coke. (Everyone knows no drinks in the RP). Which then knocks over the glass and spills coke all over Matthew’s head and neck. No! He is not amused with the soiled condition of his tactical toddler uniform; he begins to cry. (Uniform comes in urbane camo and woodland camo colors, in a PX near you)
All going according to plan…kinda.
Now the leader of SE2 is pissed that her cell phone is sparking and her coke is all over her assistant and he is kicking her, showing his displeasure with the current state of affairs in the RP. Meanwhile the bad smelling dog decides to rejoin the team at the rally point and shows everyone the fine allotment of crap stuck to her fur by brushing up on the leader of SE2; sharing the wealth.
SE2 Leader goes nuclear she jumps up yelling at the dog in Polish. (Like that’s going to work, damn mutt don’t even know English) Matthew flies off her lap with a “what the f%^&” expression on his face as he sails across the room. Of course, the “Main Effort” is nowhere to be found, AWOL as usual; she is developing a trend for this type of negative behavior.
SE2 Leader aims a well-placed kick at the foul-smelling dog, yep, she missed the dog by a good eight inches and soars into the air like Charlie Brown without a football. Oh Damn! Watch out for that large pile of poop by the sliding door. Too late, SE2 lands smack dab in the middle of the fresh excrement and coordinates her top to match the pant leg the dog had decorated earlier.
Matthew finishes his aerial holding pattern and crashes to the floor utilizing his rear protective gear, (OD Green Huggies Diaper) to ensure a soft landing. Butt that kind of force exceeds the manufacturer’s recommended pressure tolerances, and he blows out the diaper which shoots a heavy stream of liquid baby crap out of the right leg of his tactical toddler shorts. I attempt to use my finely honed avoidance skills, perfected in KFOR HQ, and dive to the side but the green slime from SE2 assistant’s shorts impacts my chest and explodes in a high velocity splatter pattern. The tactical, quick breeze, wisk-away camo shirt (mention this report 10% off sale price), I am wearing provides minimal protection from such advanced munitions.
Damn, there was to be no NBC (Nuclear, Biological, Chemical) play in this operation so we are not carrying our protective masks. Without the proper protective gear, I succumb to the effects of this heinous attack and proceed to violently throw up the MRE (Meal Ready to Eat) I had for lunch, Chicken ala King. God, this stuff smells like death, oh boy here comes round two!
The combination of Matthew’s violent fecal matter and my Chicken ala king spew soaks through onto my six-pack covered stomach and I hurl with great enthusiasm onto my low rise-desert tactical-special operations boots. (See catalog page 77)
Body dry heaving, legs beginning to shake uncontrollably, vision fading; oh Lord take me now, please! Light slipping away, peace at last, Valhalla here I come!
When I jolt awake, (damn, not dead, no Valhalla) I notice that the pungent vomit smell is starting to overpower the dueling feces in the RP. The nervous, poo-stained dog decides to reengage with the team and jumps into the previously consumed MRE to play a game called “throwing the mess everywhere”. Now we have the dog shaking her body and flinging used chicken ala king and kid feces all over the room.
The leader of SE2 is crying in the corner covered in crap and throw up, still holding her dying cell phone which is starting to catch fire from the coke emersion. SE2 assistant is sobbing with a leg covered in chemical weapons grade biohazard, and a ruptured lower security device that destroyed his now unserviceable tactical toddler trousers. I am in a heavy daze, and slightly dehydrated from the rapid evacuation of everything in my stomach and am still reeling from the contaminated weapons of mass destruction explosion stuck to my chest leaking through my tactical, quick breeze, wisk-away camo shirt. What a crappy day to quit drinking Jack Daniels.
**** Radio call****
“Headquarters, this is SE1 reporting all is G to G (good to go). Team Stork continuing the mission, (god I hope), over…”
****************
I conduct a quick scan and notices we are missing some key assets.
Where the hell is the “Main Effort”?
The Supporting teams require a hasty decontamination (DECON) ASAP, Code Red! Code Red!
“Main Effort where are you?”
Finally, the “Main Effort” returns to the RP and surveys the catastrophic damage inflicted upon the team and the RP. “OH, HELL NO I AIN’T CLEANING THAT UP!!” she bellows in her best Command Sergeant Major voice and beats a hasty retreat out of the room. (Note: not really the help we were looking for)
I gather my senses, say a soulful Ranger prayer and get back into the fight. (Acknowledging the fact that a Ranger is a more elite soldier who arrives at the cutting edge of battle by land, sea, or air, I accept the fact that as a Ranger my country expects me to move further, faster, and fight harder than any other Soldier.) Hey, what is that on my cool tactical, quick breeze, wisk-away camo shirt? Is that, oh god it is, I hurl again this time on the dog. (Mental thought: nice job hero)
A quick glance at my battle drill book and I see the branch plan for hasty DECON and spring into action. (Yes, the book is waterproofed and still serviceable) I tell SE2 Leader to stop crying and throw that flaming cell phone in the toilet. Grab your assistant and proceed to your shower area and begin immediate DECON procedures; and burn those tactical toddler shorts!
I aim and kick the, poo and vomit cocktail, of a dog out the back door and verbally council (threaten) her with a non-compliant visit to the aquatic training area (pool) if I ever see her again.
Then I perform a perfect Navy SEAL dive into the aquatic training area and masterly stroke out 10 laps at Olympic pace, which effectively removes all contamination. I leap out and change into new battle gear. Clad in the Urban Commando, low light, light-fighter tactical uniform. (Available on online at most AAFEES stores) I am ready to secure the elusive “Main Effort”, give guidance to SE2, and Charlie Mike. (‘Continue Mission’ for you civilian type folks)
Quick check in the mirror, Damn, I look good, glad I freshened up my high and tight as a part of my pre-execution procedures. Get going you handsome devil!
15 Minutes later….
**** Radio Call****
“Headquarters, this is SE1, Team Stork has affected hasty DECON and is ready to proceed with evacuation operations, over….” (Yeah right, in a pig’s butt, we ain’t even close to ready, where the hell is the “Main Effort?)
******************
A quick blast on my Chrome plated, deluxe Commando action whistle again assembles the troops to the alternate rally point. (Dining Room) Throwing newspaper on top of the vomit and crap minefield did absolutely nothing for the smell, go figure? Anyway, we are all now in the alt. RP and the “Main Effort” has graced us with her presence since it is now a puke free zone.
Review of the Battle Drill:
1. Kitty, I mean, the “Main Effort”, secures her prepositioned Delta Force approved, lightweight, black mesh airborne assault bag (Phone orders accepted by Ranger Joe’s) and moves to the staged evacuation vehicle.
2. SE1 alerts the helicopter support element, code name “Lazy Buzzard”.
3. SE2 control your assistant and phone the Grandparent elements (HQ) updating them on the situation.
4. SE2 you are authorized to throw the dog into the aquatic Training… the damn pool!
5. And for god’s sake clean up the RP, smells like shit in here.
Execute…Execute…Execute
I turn to check on the progress of the “Main Effort”, she is moving at an extremely slow rate of speed toward her prepositioned Delta Force approved, lightweight, black mesh airborne assault bag. I follow-in-support to assist the “Main Effort” and freeze in my tracks as I see the condition of her bag.
What the hell happened to the laminated, water proof, packing list I gave her? I even did the diagram of where all of her girlie “Main Effort” items went. She literally has clothes falling out of the bag and I see unauthorized contraband items in place of required items.
I grab the disaster she calls a packed bag, huh, stuff the overflowing crap back into it and force the zipper home. (luckily the zipper is military grade quality) This bag is nowhere air droppable in this condition; I hope we don’t need to employ airborne insertion operations.
Now off to the evac vehicle, which of course has been properly PMCS’d (maintained) and is ready to roll. The “Main Effort” waddles (not an approved movement technique) to the vehicle dropping stuff from her Artic Tactical Mommies Purse, (page 3 in advertising flier) leaving a trail of equipment Ray Charles could follow. This is very poor fieldcraft, she really should have participated in the OPD’s (Officer Professional Development Courses) instead of watching that damn reality show.
Secured the “Main Effort” in the vehicle, recovered her bag, returned to the RP to get my 3 Day Rapid-Deployment stealth bag with Camel back addition. (Used by elite Soldiers at the Joint Forces Training Base and the 184 Infantry Battalion) Of course this bag is dress-right-dress and you could bounce a quarter off it; Hoo-aw Ranger!
With my stealth bag in hand, I turn and issue a detailed five-point contingency plan to SE2 and sign out on the duty log in the tactical admin area (breakfast nook). Just then my right leg gives out!
I almost crash and burn onto the deck. SE2 has failed to control her assistant and Matthew has applied a death-grip, full body hug to my leg. I look into his red, beady eyes and see his grim determination and know this fight will not be easily won.
Disengaging this obstacle from my leg will take cunning and skill; thank God I attended the escape and evasion classes in GITMO. Just then the Leader of SE2 earns her stripes and employs the favorite tool of my enemy; Lollipop! BOOM, one glance at the lollipop and Matthew is off and running to her. Cleared for evacuation!!
**** Radio Call****
“Headquarters, this is SE1, Main Effort crossing LD (line of departure) enroute to the medical facility, alert air team to clear route and provide early warning of traffic congestion, vehicle accidents, IED’s, etc., over…”
*******************
I pull out of the driveway, finally on the road to the hospital.
What is the that ringing in my ears?
Oh, that would be the “Main Effort” politely giving me directions on what route to take to the objective (Los Alamitos Hospital). Really? Does she have to scream at me like that, I mean I am just doing my damn job.
“Yes dear, yes dear” is the only acceptable transmission allowed from my side of the vehicle.
The “Main Effort” is quietly requesting an increase in speed, change of radio station, reduced sunshine, cooler temperatures, more AC, less traffic, a larger vehicle, less AC, a better supporting effort, my premature death, oh, and world peace. (She cares about people, duh)
As blood slowly drips out of my ears, I am kicking myself for NOT paying extra for the James Bond style passenger eject button. (It was only $500) Just kidding, not kidding, shush… I love the ol’ “Main Effort”. What a crappy day to quit smoking.
So, as the paint is slowing melting off the vehicle due to the high rate of speed I have been coerced into driving, I notice some possible traffic ahead so I call Lazy Buzzard. (Helo support)
***************************
“Lazy Buzzard I need a SITREP of the traffic conditions ahead on primary route…Hey Lazy Buzzard, you read me?… Lazy Buzzard?….Damn it, don’t make me come up there fly-boy.”
Supporting Effort 1, this is Lazy Buzzard, we read you loud and clear but we are disengaging and prosecuting an alternate target, over.”
“Lazy Bitch you better get your ass back on mission and provide needed intel!”
“Roger that Sucking Effort 1, your situation is dire; traffic sucks, your vehicle is starting to catch fire, the parking lot is maxed out, and we are leaving to go hover over the naked girls sun-bathing at your house. Do you have beer in the fridge? Buzzard OUT.”
**************************
I execute the proper hand and arm signal to the cowardly pilots (flipping them the bird) and return my attention to the mind-bending task of driving the “Main Effort” to the final objective.
As I tactically maneuver (crash) the evac vehicle onto the grass outside the emergency room at the objective (Los Alamitos Hospital) the skittish pedestrians who used to be on the sidewalk start pointing and cheering my professional driving skills. Plus, the evac vehicle is really on fire now and is turning into quite the little bonfire. (That’s why I took the “Main Effort’s” car )
Oh well, the Fire Department needs training too, please don’t thank me; no, no.
The middle finger salutes and disparaging remarks about my heritage and my mother’s purity from you unwashed civilians are more than enough praise.
Under a hail of rocks and water bottles I escort the “Main Effort” to the entrance of the final staging area, the pediatric center, baby birthing central.
Mission complete, way to go Ranger….
“Readily will I display the intestinal fortitude required to fight on to the Ranger objective and complete the mission though I be the lone survivor.
**** Welcome to the Team “Wee baby Maggie” ****
