Binder2

Rocket Man
Len (Lenny or Leonard) was aged 18 years old and was doing an important exercise during his
compulsory army service, he tells the tale as follows:
We were a platoon of 30- 50 paratroopers carrying out a simulated attack on the enemy;
We were dressed to the nines, kitted out with ammunition, rockets flairs and survival gear
weighing more than 30 kilos. The mission was to creep up
on our enemy emerge out of the bushy desert, reach the
airbase and conquer the plane positioned on the tarmac.
Out of the blue and to my astonishment suddenly nature
called me with in (in simple terms, I needed to poo). In the
army they teach you to be reliable at all times, always let
someone know your position, situation or safeguard as the
military pledges to leave no soldier behind ever.
This is standard practice in the military and most
important when you are in the middle of a military
operation. I had my very own personal mission happening
with in the line of duty desperately needed to tell someone of my “position.” I asked the officer in
command something along the lines “permission to squat sir” the officer might have
misinterpreted the meaning of “squat” when he answered in the midst of things “yes of course
squat crawl or scramble do whatever
it takes to get the mission
accomplished”. Lets face it, the
success of this military operation
depended on being stealth and
incognito, already crawling,
scrambling and squatting in true
commando style like camouflaged
camellias. I scrambled my way to the
privacy of single very small
tumbleweed that had floated in from
the distance I then squatted to release and relieve myself. Suddenly and totally unexpectedly a fog
descended just as I completed my “personal mission impossible” I rose above the embarrassment
only to find myself alone in the mist, the platoon had left me behind. Still complying with protocol
I whispered out “pssst, psst, anyone there?” I mimicked some natural sounds and whistles trying
to catch somebodies attention but couldn’t see or hear anyone. Reminded by my historical
navigation scheme “when in doubt head to the Eiffel Tower” kicked in, so I took the initiative
once again, and headed towards the runway where the plan of attack was to take place.
Emerging out of nowhere I stepped quietly through the dust and mist reaching what I thought was
the tarmac, my excitement was abruptly interrupted when I heard an agitated voice say “Stop,
who’s there, what is the password?” I quickly put my hands up in the air to surrender and save
myself from being shot by a horrified soldier mistaking me for a truly dangerous well-equipped
infiltrator.
My platoon by now had long gone and was nowhere to be seen for all I knew they were up in the
air on the plane ready to jump out and continue with their commando rolls.
There I was “all revved up and no place to go” (meatloaf song) I was barely to be seen under the
amount of rockets, ammunition and equipment I had to lug about. As well as the military pledging
to leave no soldier behind, they also say you must never leave your gun or equipment alone treat it
as your wife you go to sleep with it, you wake up with it and, always have it by your side: “guard
your “wife” with your life”.
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