Sunday Humor: The Colonel & The Sergeant Major Make A Wager, But The Private Wins The Bet

Sunday Humor: The Colonel & The Sergeant Major Make A Wager, But The Private Wins The Bet
The Warlord of Gharma Railhead, IZ-April 2003

Good Morning! Happy Sunday to everyone reading Red State! Many of us have gotten so involved in the fight for America that we sometimes forget how to laugh. Since Election Day, this has been especially true. This morning’s offering is an attempt to lighten up the mood just a little. Hopefully, a little chuckle will energize your souls for bit and help you reset for the coming week. To that end, here is my modest submission.

Before you read this, you must understand the difference between a fairy tail and a War Story. A fairy tail begins, “Once upon a time…,” while a War Story begins, “Really man this is No S**t!”

So here is my War Story for this Sunday Morning—for your reading pleasure and amusement…and “Really man, this is no…!” (Well….mostly).

Back in ’03, I was in command of a crappy little logistics base, just East of Falluja, IZ. Early one morning, my Command Sergeant Major & I were drinking some coffee, I was smoking my death sticks & we were both kinda enjoying the relatively cool morning air (hadn’t quite reached 100 yet) along with the fact that the “neighbors” down the street weren’t at that particular moment, chucking mortar rounds into our compound.

At that same time, one of my stalwart Soldiers, a young private, is filling up sandbags to reinforce our position…due to the folks down the street who I may have mentioned, liked to chuck mortar rounds into the compound, thus disturbing my much needed beauty rest. While we were standing there watching this young stud, the CSM and I got into an argument.

We got into an argument about sex. I opined (at that time, I was at the august rank of Lieutenant Colonel and in command, thus I got to ”opine,” rather than just “say sh…er…stuff.”) that sex was 80 percent pleasure and maybe 20 percent work. My CSM, being the wise, old TACTFUL noncommissioned officer that he was, replied, “Sir, You’re full of ***t! Sex is at most 20 percent pleasure and at least 80 percent work!”

We went back and forth on this for a while until finally, the young private had had enough. He threw down his e-tool (small folding shovel) stood up, climbed out of the hole he was digging, put his hands on his hips and said in a voice eloquently dripping with sarcasm, “With all due respect to both you august personages, you are both full of ***t. Sex is 100 percent pleasure!

We asked him how he had come to that conclusion and he artfully replied, “Because if it had anything to do with work, you two old farts would have me doing it.”

Happy Sunday!

This bit of levity is a reprint from an earlier post.

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