4 Para's

Bootneck

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Four Paratroopers were hopelessly lost on patrol. It was getting dark and had just started raining so morale was low. Blundering through the woods, they came across a deep, fast-flowing river. The first Para said "here goes" and jumped into the water, hoping to be able to swim across to the other side. However, he had forgotten he was wearing full kit which included three ponchos (all with hoods) a pair of black plimsolls (highly polished) a little tin with some coloured string and some little plastic monopoly houses, the Charlie G, (84mm), four concrete-filled practise rounds, six back issues of Pegasus magazine, and a curious hat made of metal.

He sank like a stone never to be seen again. "Oooer...." said the remaining three.

Just at that moment, a Genie appeared. "Can I be of help?" the Genie enquired.

The first, although somewhat surprised at seeing such an apparition, blurted out, "Yes please! Can you make me into a gunnery officer?"

At which point he was transformed into a subaltern from 94 Heavy Air Locating Regiment. He immediately pulled out some waterproof paper (available from Survival Aids) and choosing a lumicolour pen from the vast multi-coloured array in his breast pocket, just above his nametag, he set about working out some calculations. Punching numbers into his calculator and taking bearings with his prismatic compass, he worked out that the bend in an over-hanging branch would give him enough lift to project him across the water to the other side. Using the two remaining Paras for labour, he had the branch bent down, sat on it and was flung far across the river. Of course, as usual, he dropped short and therefore drowned!

The second Para thought to himself, "Thick pratt....should have asked to be an engineer officer", a request he duly put into the Genie.

He was instantly transformed into a Captain from 34 Heavy Engineer Bridging and Barb Wiring (Surrey) Squadron. Immediately after his transformation, he pulled out a palm top computer and began calculating the tensile strength of a hanging vine. With the help of
his extra light field binos (swapped with a US "Special Forces" officer he met on his Arctic Survival course at Thetford), he calculated that the vine would be just long enough and strong enough to get him to the other side. Using the last Para to push him, he swung out into the middle of the river. Of course, he had forgotten to convert his mils into degrees and the vine wasn't strong enough anyway. It snapped and he plunged into the dark water, never to be seen again!

The final Para alarmed at the demise of his three colleagues, asked the Genie what he should request.

"Try being a Royal Marine" replied the 'Little One'.

"OK, make me a Bootneck"

"Well" said the Genie "You can't really be 'made' into a Royal Marine, you have to have the breeding, but I will give you the brains of a Royal Marine"

Whereupon the Para was transformed into a Royal Marine. So whistling 'Life on the Ocean Wave' quietly to himself, he crossed the river by the bridge!!!!!!

Per Mare Per Terram
 
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Bootneck

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Three mates are walking to the pub, 1 Royal Marine and 2 Matelots. When crossing the road to get to the pub a speeding car runs over and kills the Royal. The Police turn up and ask the jacks the name of the deceased, they say 'I don't know', the cop asks them if they knew where he lived, they say 'I don't know. The copper is getting fed up and says, 'Do you know anything about this bloke' and one jack says 'Well he's got two arseholes', the cop says, 'How do you know that?' and the matelot says, 'Well every time we go into the pub the barman always says, here's that bootneck with the two arseholes.'
 

Colin

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Watch it gravel belly! I'll be bringing some of my red beret mates along if you're not careful.
 
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Bootneck

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Watch it gravel belly! I'll be bringing some of my red beret mates along if you're not careful.

:lol: What’s the similarity between a computer and a Para?

You’ve got to punch information into both of them!
 
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Bootneck

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Fuck you. Paratroopers don't get lost. :lol:

:lol: Forty Paras at heaven's gates. St Peter said "We've only got room for twelve so decide amongst yourselves who's coming in"
Five minutes later St Peter says to God, "They've gone."
God says "What, all 40?"
St Peter says "No, the fucking gates."
 
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A Paratrooper and a Royal Marine are enjoying a few beers together after a joint training exercise. Of course, nature calls and they both step into the bathroom to take a piss.
When they are finished, the Royal marine washes his hands and the Paratrooper doesn't.
As they belly up to the bar for their next beer, the Royal Marine says "In the Royal Marines they teach us to wash our hands after using the toilet".
The Paratrooper looks at him and says, "You can't become a Paratrooper if you can't take a leak without pissing on your hands".

:D

I have Colin's back on this one. Silver Wings or Blue Wings, a trooper is a trooper. ;)
 
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Oh goodie. A pissing contest between Paras and Corps. I love watching the Marines kick ass.

*Looks around for popcorn and beer*.
 
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Bootneck

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Actions On - A Plan


Infantry.
Can't read plan but takes it very seriously nevertheless. Fablons plan and issues it on orange card to every man, with Sgts carrying spare plans just in case. Mortar Pl make their own plan, which is heavier, and issue 2 to everyone else in Bn.

Parachute Regiment.
Plans are for Hats. Deploys first on any operation that appears, while everyone else is still writing plans. Jumps, lands in wrong place, taking 50% casualties in ankle injuries and leaving ammunition behind in Colchester.
:eusa_whistle:

Cavalry.
Looks at plan but sees arrows and realises plan involves degree of navigation that could be considered constraining to manoeuvre. Opts to drive off at speed until track sheds and then have impromptu Pimms party. Ad hoc plan ruined by lack of Pimms filters. Applies to join AAC as Apache pilot.

Royal Marines Commando.
Pretends to be very laid back about plan and talks about drinking and being naked instead but secretly gets very competitive about plan, using senior Navy men to say plan can only work with Commandos because it requires poise, reach and hoofing wets.


Combat Engineer.
Likes plans. Takes plan and adds whole new bits, with diagrams no-one else understands or cares about. Still adding new bits when plan changes at which point previous work becomes irrelevant. Has a huff and blames Chieftain chassis for not allowing Engrs to keep up with pace of everyone else's thinking.

Artillery.
Also likes plans. Makes very detailed plans, with numbers, timings and smoke. Talks a lot about HE, smoke and last safe moments. Everyone recognises last safe moment was passed as soon as Gunners allowed anywhere near plan. Despite plan all guns just keep firing until ammo runs out. Commanders lucky enough not to have Artillery support feel safe enough to get on with battle and win. Remainder hide under map table until firing ceases then call for ambulances. After firing Gunner officers check all guns are still pointing roughly in the direction of the enemy. Random shots rearward are put down as encouragement to log chain to bring up more ammo.

Special Forces.
Writes plan in pencil on back of "Max Factor Make-up for Boys Compac". Checks for tan-lines and makes sure no-one else has a scooby doo what plan is. Ensures plan is different from one everyone else working to and checks that it will make suitable story for follow on novel on exit from service. Places tape over eyes, can't see plan anymore and gets captured by locals - ideal Chapter for novel only if captors can be encouraged to participate in sexual humiliation.

REME.
Happy to see plan but disturbed by lack of attention to Health and Safety issues. Places yellow warning sign in front of plan (which everyone trips over) and issues COSHH instructions on actions to take if you get plan in your eye. Reviews plan in light of Investors in People requirements ensuring that all aspects of the plan meet each individual’s medium and long term career development needs in relation to operational objectives. Forwards to RAC / AA Breakdown service for action.

RLC.
On encountering plan immediately looks for Annex on sustainability. If one is present immediately guffaws at lack of detail and doubles all timelines. If not present, stays silent to avoid having to write one. Says that plan depends on key enablers (chefs, posties, small round blokes with clipboards and Penfold glasses) and demands doubling of logistic staff to carry out plan. Goes off for double lunch.

AGC.
Receives plan in envelope, opens it and sticks it at bottom of huge pile of paperwork which includes MMA and Missed Meals claims.

Royal Signals.
Uses plan to bolster rather poor profile by incorporating term J6 everywhere. J6 becomes hugely important without anyone knowing why. J6 reps with J6 plan appear everywhere but stay strangely silent during any meaningful discussion. If questioned J6 rep sucks teeth and says 'Bandwidth' before sinking back into silence. Non-J6 types begin to wonder whether weedkiller can halt J6 spread, but J6 mutates into J6/DBM and grows faster. Plan stays silent and prevents close scrutiny by exuding streams of 1s and 0s to deter investigation.

Army Medical Services.
Doesn't like plans because they always involve cuts. Gets confused because cuts mean more business. Has crisis of contradiction and has to get TA doctors in from NHS to sort problem out.

Intelligence Corps.
Looks closely at plan and assesses its relevance to resurgent Russia. While studying, plane flies into Old War Office. Survivors spend huge staff effort working out how to predict when planes will be flown into buildings. Libyan ship with all Irish crew crawls slowly up Thames unnoticed.

TA.
TA declare parlous state of Army means they are more important to plan than ever. Army agrees, cuts them by 30%, spends money on operational welfare package telephones and then cannibalises their kit to get ready for operations.

RAF.
Copies plan onto leg, gets in to aircraft, takes off and then finds leg can't be seen because of joystick. Decides to use initiative and at 20,000 feet starts looking for enemy tanks. Succeeds in finding tank looking remarkably like Chinese Embassy and misses it. Relieved as pilot in aircraft behind, who can see leg, gets Embassy while aiming for nearby Air Defence site. Both fly back and complain about noisy air conditioning in hotel room and lack of streaky bacon on breakfast menu.

Royal Navy.
Only Captain grown-up enough to plan. Everyone else sits at brightly coloured screen pretending to know what plan is. Captain goes to bed early and other officer, not knowing plan is 'not to sail on rocks', sails on rocks. New plan devised called how to sell ship with no bottom to Third World Country whilst fitting in a run ashore in Gibralter and visit by Nell McAndrew .

Joint Helicopter Command.
Draw up plan to get 360 helicopters into air with 400 flying hours. Each time plan close to approval another helicopter crashes. Come up with plan to prevent helicopters crashing but plan and author lost in helicopter crash. Decision taken to undertake urgent review of design of flying suits (pockets / zips / velcro / badges etc.) in light of alarming increase in helicopter crashes based on low pilot morale / "pilot error."

Defence Logistic Organisation.
Looks at potential for plan to offer 3% efficiency measures. Finds none but cuts by 3% anyway. Concludes that most sensible plan involves not buying anything, listing this course of action as 'bearing risk', and then investing in risk management courses. War declared and funds rapidly diverted into courses on Red Face Management.

Whitehall Warrior.
Only interested in plan if it is 'strategic'. Declares strategic plan is most important but can't be bothered to get off bum and write one. Everyone else starts to plan while waiting and by time strategic plan eventually gets written everyone has decided what they are going to do already. Whitehall Warrior then stresses need for strategic plan in next DOC audit and goes for coffee in Starbucks.
 

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A little boy was standing in front of a mirror in the restroom at John F. Kennedy Airport, when in walked a Marine staff sergeant, dressed in his dress blues. The little boy turned to the Marine and said, "Wow! Are you a Marine?"

The Marine replied, "Why, yes I am, young man. Would you like to wear my hat?"

"Boy, would I!," said the little boy. He took the hat and placed it on his head and turned to admire himself in the mirror.

As he was looking in the mirror, he heard the door open and through a ray of bright light, a man entered the room. But, this was not just a man -- he was more than a man. He was a Paratrooper.

The little boy turned and went over to the soldier. As he approached him, he could see the reflection in his boots. His eyes widened as he stared up at the soldier's chest full of medals and combat ribbons. He tried to speak, but he couldn't. Finally, he took a deep breath, and managed to say, "Excuse me, Sir. Are you a Paratrooper?"

The Trooper replied with a thunderous voice, "Why yes, I am!! Would you like to shine my boots?"

The little boy smiled, and said, "Oh, no sir!! I'm not a Marine. I'm just wearing his hat!"

:D
 

CrimsonWhite

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How do you get rid of a bunch of Marines?






Tell them CNN is two blocks over. :D
 
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A little boy was standing in front of a mirror in the restroom at John F. Kennedy Airport, when in walked a Marine staff sergeant, dressed in his dress blues. The little boy turned to the Marine and said, "Wow! Are you a Marine?"

The Marine replied, "Why, yes I am, young man. Would you like to wear my hat?"

"Boy, would I!," said the little boy. He took the hat and placed it on his head and turned to admire himself in the mirror.

As he was looking in the mirror, he heard the door open and through a ray of bright light, a man entered the room. But, this was not just a man -- he was more than a man. He was a Paratrooper.

The little boy turned and went over to the soldier. As he approached him, he could see the reflection in his boots. His eyes widened as he stared up at the soldier's chest full of medals and combat ribbons. He tried to speak, but he couldn't. Finally, he took a deep breath, and managed to say, "Excuse me, Sir. Are you a Paratrooper?"

The Trooper replied with a thunderous voice, "Why yes, I am!! Would you like to shine my boots?"

The little boy smiled, and said, "Oh, no sir!! I'm not a Marine. I'm just wearing his hat!"

:D

Which is why the Para's are just not good enough. They can't even shine their own shoes. No wonder they're not hard enough to cope with the dirty jobs... their too scared to get dirty.
 

CrimsonWhite

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A little boy was standing in front of a mirror in the restroom at John F. Kennedy Airport, when in walked a Marine staff sergeant, dressed in his dress blues. The little boy turned to the Marine and said, "Wow! Are you a Marine?"

The Marine replied, "Why, yes I am, young man. Would you like to wear my hat?"

"Boy, would I!," said the little boy. He took the hat and placed it on his head and turned to admire himself in the mirror.

As he was looking in the mirror, he heard the door open and through a ray of bright light, a man entered the room. But, this was not just a man -- he was more than a man. He was a Paratrooper.

The little boy turned and went over to the soldier. As he approached him, he could see the reflection in his boots. His eyes widened as he stared up at the soldier's chest full of medals and combat ribbons. He tried to speak, but he couldn't. Finally, he took a deep breath, and managed to say, "Excuse me, Sir. Are you a Paratrooper?"

The Trooper replied with a thunderous voice, "Why yes, I am!! Would you like to shine my boots?"

The little boy smiled, and said, "Oh, no sir!! I'm not a Marine. I'm just wearing his hat!"

:D

Which is why the Para's are just not good enough. They can't even shine their own shoes. No wonder they're not hard enough to cope with the dirty jobs... their too scared to get dirty.

Go to Fort Bragg and talk that mess.

BTW, a Royal Marine can rb me all he wants, but nobody else is going piss on my Silver Wings. ;)
 
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Bootneck

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Lol! Nice one CW, but...

Three units are in the same camp on training, the Paras, the Royal Marines and the RAF Regiment. At the end of the training day, all three units gather in the NAAFI. After eyeing each other with wary professionalism, the three RSM's tip some of their sprogs off chairs and sit down together for a beer. After trading shop-talk and discussing their various stints at Brecon, Sandhurst and Lympstone, they eventually relax and undo the top buttons of their shirts.

Three hours later, they're all rat-arsed. The RAF guy sits forward and slurs:
'Guys, I know, let's work out which of our units is the hardesht. PERKINS!'
A sprog on the other side of the room springs to his feet and wobbles over. 'SAH!'
'Perkins, be a good lad and double away to your block. Come back with full CEMO and two jerry cans of water. Then I want you to run up that hill and back in less than an hour'. The Airforce RSM points out of the window at Snowdonia, which looms in the distance, rain-lashed and forbidding.
'SAH!' Perkins sprints away. The three RSMs watch through binoculars as the sprog shoots up the mountain and back again. He wobbles past the guardhouse and collapses in the NAAFI entrance, shaking with fatigue.
'53 minutes, SAH!' he shouts, before passing out and being dragged to the medical block by his plastered oppos.

'Thatsh nothing,' says the Para RSM, struggling to focus on the other two, ' JONES!'
A tom springs to his feet and races over, then snaps to attention. 'SAH!'
'Jones, I want you to beat that cabbage head. Get to your block, get full CEMO, two jerry cans of water, a GMPG, a LAW and three hundred rounds of link. Then do it in less than forty five.'
The tom sprints off, and again the RSMs watch as a little maroon beret zips up the mountain and back down again, before collapsing at the NAAFI bar.
'42 minutes, SAH!' he shouts, before shrugging his kit off, taking a sip of his pint and falling off his barstool. He too is dragged away to the medical block.

The Royal Marine RSM smirks, and says 'Lads, that's fucking nothing. My boys are the hardest in here, and I'll prove it.'
'We'd like to see you try!' say the other two in drunken unison.
'WILSON' screams the Marine at the top of his lungs. A sprog on the other side of the room gets slowly to his feet, saunters across the room and comes to attention in front of the RSM. 'Yes sir?' he says.
'Wilson, I want you to beat those two previous efforts, to prove how hard we are. To the top and back, full CEMO, three jerry cans of water, two GMPGs, two LAWs, five hundred rounds of link, and I want you to drag one of the log-run telegraph poles behind you.'
Wilson looks at the mountain, looks at the mounds of sweaty kit dumped by the previous two efforts, then looks at his RSM.
'Fuck off sir.' he says.
The Royal Marine RSM turns back to the other two with a smug grin.
'Now THAT's fucking hard'.
 

CrimsonWhite

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Lol! Nice one CW, but...

Three units are in the same camp on training, the Paras, the Royal Marines and the RAF Regiment. At the end of the training day, all three units gather in the NAAFI. After eyeing each other with wary professionalism, the three RSM's tip some of their sprogs off chairs and sit down together for a beer. After trading shop-talk and discussing their various stints at Brecon, Sandhurst and Lympstone, they eventually relax and undo the top buttons of their shirts.

Three hours later, they're all rat-arsed. The RAF guy sits forward and slurs:
'Guys, I know, let's work out which of our units is the hardesht. PERKINS!'
A sprog on the other side of the room springs to his feet and wobbles over. 'SAH!'
'Perkins, be a good lad and double away to your block. Come back with full CEMO and two jerry cans of water. Then I want you to run up that hill and back in less than an hour'. The Airforce RSM points out of the window at Snowdonia, which looms in the distance, rain-lashed and forbidding.
'SAH!' Perkins sprints away. The three RSMs watch through binoculars as the sprog shoots up the mountain and back again. He wobbles past the guardhouse and collapses in the NAAFI entrance, shaking with fatigue.
'53 minutes, SAH!' he shouts, before passing out and being dragged to the medical block by his plastered oppos.

'Thatsh nothing,' says the Para RSM, struggling to focus on the other two, ' JONES!'
A tom springs to his feet and races over, then snaps to attention. 'SAH!'
'Jones, I want you to beat that cabbage head. Get to your block, get full CEMO, two jerry cans of water, a GMPG, a LAW and three hundred rounds of link. Then do it in less than forty five.'
The tom sprints off, and again the RSMs watch as a little maroon beret zips up the mountain and back down again, before collapsing at the NAAFI bar.
'42 minutes, SAH!' he shouts, before shrugging his kit off, taking a sip of his pint and falling off his barstool. He too is dragged away to the medical block.

The Royal Marine RSM smirks, and says 'Lads, that's fucking nothing. My boys are the hardest in here, and I'll prove it.'
'We'd like to see you try!' say the other two in drunken unison.
'WILSON' screams the Marine at the top of his lungs. A sprog on the other side of the room gets slowly to his feet, saunters across the room and comes to attention in front of the RSM. 'Yes sir?' he says.
'Wilson, I want you to beat those two previous efforts, to prove how hard we are. To the top and back, full CEMO, three jerry cans of water, two GMPGs, two LAWs, five hundred rounds of link, and I want you to drag one of the log-run telegraph poles behind you.'
Wilson looks at the mountain, looks at the mounds of sweaty kit dumped by the previous two efforts, then looks at his RSM.
'Fuck off sir.' he says.
The Royal Marine RSM turns back to the other two with a smug grin.
'Now THAT's fucking hard'.

I like that one.

:clap2::clap2::clap2:
 

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A Paratrooper and a Royal Marine are enjoying a few beers together after a joint training exercise. Of course, nature calls and they both step into the bathroom to take a piss.
When they are finished, the Royal marine washes his hands and the Paratrooper doesn't.
As they belly up to the bar for their next beer, the Royal Marine says "In the Royal Marines they teach us to wash our hands after using the toilet".
The Paratrooper looks at him and says, "You can't become a Paratrooper if you can't take a leak without pissing on your hands".

:D

I have Colin's back on this one. Silver Wings or Blue Wings, a trooper is a trooper. ;)

"Utrinque Paratus"!

I'm with you Crimson! While Paul is in the shower, I have control of his computer, so let battle commence!

airborne ethos

A company of Marines are marching back to camp after a weekend exercise when the commander sees a lone Para stood to attention next to a bush on top of a hill. Keen to know what’s going on, the commander sends 2 of his men up the hill to investigate. Just before the 2 Marines reach the top, the Para disappears behind the bush. The Marines follow and a second later all hell breaks loose, there's dust, screams and shouting before the Para reappears and stands to attention next to the bush with no sign of the Marines.

Annoyed, the commander sends up a platoon, they shoot up the hill and again, before reaching the top, the Para disappears behind the bush. the platoon follow and again, the air is filled with shouting, screaming and bodies flying everywhere before the Para reappears, brushes himself down and again, stands to attention next to the bush.

The commander is now livid at the loss of his men and orders the remainder of the company up the hill. Again, as the company reach the top, the Para disappears behind the bush, followed by the company. For five minutes, the commander stands open mouthed, watching bodies flying in the air, hearing shouts and screams before noticing one of his men crawl around the bush and slide down the hill. the lone Marine struggles to his feet, wipes his eyes and says, "SIR, ITS A TRAP, THERE'S TWO OF THEM"!!!!!!!!

:lol:
 
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Bootneck

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Now come on you two! You can shoot better than that!

You're obviously in need of a history lesson! So, here we go.

In the beginning was a word, the word was God. In the beginning was God, and all else was darkness, and void, and without form. So God created the heavens and the earth. He created the sun, and the moon, and the stars, so that the light might pierce the darkness. And the earth God divided between the lands and the sea, and these he filled with many assorted creatures..

And the dark, salty, slimy creatures that inhabited the murky depths of the oceans, God called sailors, and he dressed them accordingly.

And the flighty creatures of the air he called airmen. And these he clothed in uniforms which where ruffled and fowl.

The lower creatures of the land, God called soldiers. And with a twinkle in his eye, and a sense of humour God gave them trousers too short, and jackets to large, and pockets to warm their hands. And to adorn their uniforms, God gave them cords, and he gave them ribbons... and patches... and stars... and bells. He gave them emblems... and crests... and all sorts of shiny things that glittered... and devices that dangled... When your God you tend to get carried away.

And on the 7th day, as you know, God rested. And on the 8th day at 0730 hrs God looked down upon the earth and was not happy.. God was not happy.

So he thought about his labours, and in infinite wisdom, God created a divine creature and this he called Royal Marine. And these Royal Marines whom God created in his own image, were to be of the air, and the land, and the sea. And these he gave many wonderful uniforms.

He gave them practical fighting uniforms, so that they could wage war against the forces of Satan and evil.

He gave them service uniforms for their daily work and training, that they might be sharp and ready..

And he gave them evening and dress uniforms. Sharp, stylish, handsome things, so they might profile with the ladies on a Saturday night, and impress the hell out of everybody.

And on the, 8th day God looked down upon the earth, and saw that it was good.

But was God happy?. No God was still not happy, because in the course of his labours, he had forgotten one thing.. He did not have a Royal Marine uniform. But he thought about it, and he thought about it, and finally satisfied himself in the knowing, that, well not everybody can be a Royal Marine..

Per Mare
Per Terram
 
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A young man joined the army and signed up with the paratroopers.
He went through the standard training, completed the practice jumps from higher and higher structures, and finally went to take his first jump from an airplane.
The next day, he called home to tell his father the news.
"So, did you jump?" asked the father.
"Well, let me tell you what happened," the son said. "We got
up in the plane, and the sergeant opened up the door and asked for volunteers.
About a dozen men got up and just walked out of the plane.
"Is that when you jumped?" asked his father.
"Uh, no. The sergeant started to grab the other men one at a time and throw them out the door."
"Did you jump then?" asked his father.
"I'm getting to that. Everyone else had jumped, and I was the last man left on the plane. I told the sergeant that I was too scared to jump. He told me to get off the plane or he'd kick my butt."
"So, did you jump?"
"No. He tried to push me out of the plane, but I grabbed onto the door and refused to go. Finally he called over the Jump Master.
The Jump Master is this great big guy, about six-foot five, and 250 pounds.
He said to me, 'Are you gonna jump or not?'"
"I said, 'No sir, I'm too scared." So the Jump Master pulled down his zipper and took out his you-know-what. I swear, dad, it was about ten inches long and big and as round as a baseball bat!
He said, 'either you jump out that door, or I'm sticking this little baby up your arse.'"
"So, did you jump?" asked his father.
"Well, a little, at first"...
 
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A little boy was standing in front of a mirror in the restroom at John F. Kennedy Airport, when in walked a Marine staff sergeant, dressed in his dress blues. The little boy turned to the Marine and said, "Wow! Are you a Marine?"

The Marine replied, "Why, yes I am, young man. Would you like to wear my hat?"

"Boy, would I!," said the little boy. He took the hat and placed it on his head and turned to admire himself in the mirror.

As he was looking in the mirror, he heard the door open and through a ray of bright light, a man entered the room. But, this was not just a man -- he was more than a man. He was a Paratrooper.

The little boy turned and went over to the soldier. As he approached him, he could see the reflection in his boots. His eyes widened as he stared up at the soldier's chest full of medals and combat ribbons. He tried to speak, but he couldn't. Finally, he took a deep breath, and managed to say, "Excuse me, Sir. Are you a Paratrooper?"

The Trooper replied with a thunderous voice, "Why yes, I am!! Would you like to shine my boots?"

The little boy smiled, and said, "Oh, no sir!! I'm not a Marine. I'm just wearing his hat!"

:D

Which is why the Para's are just not good enough. They can't even shine their own shoes. No wonder they're not hard enough to cope with the dirty jobs... their too scared to get dirty.

Go to Fort Bragg and talk that mess.

BTW, a Royal Marine can rb me all he wants, but nobody else is going piss on my Silver Wings. ;)

OK, I'll do that.... I'll take some USMC with me to hide behind.
 

CrimsonWhite

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Which is why the Para's are just not good enough. They can't even shine their own shoes. No wonder they're not hard enough to cope with the dirty jobs... their too scared to get dirty.

Go to Fort Bragg and talk that mess.

BTW, a Royal Marine can rb me all he wants, but nobody else is going piss on my Silver Wings. ;)

OK, I'll do that.... I'll take some USMC with me to hide behind.

You couldn't hide behind a battalion of Marines talking that shit at Bragg. :cool:
 

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