Bottled Furniture Swap – An Ode to Military Humor

I was stationed at a unit called the 5th Preventive Medicine Unit (PMU) in Seoul, South Korea.  The fifth PMU was a rather interesting unit in several different ways.  The people in the unit acted a lot like the people did on that old TV show, MASH.  But it went beyond that.  It extended all the way to the commander of the unit.  The unit commander was a full bird Colonel who called us his children, and he referred to himself as our master.  Our commander was kind of quirky.  For example, he would routinely request that my supervisor and I report to his post housing quarters on a Saturday morning with a truck.  When we would get to his quarters, he would ask us to load a sofa or an armchair into the back of the truck and haul it over to the furnishings branch because he had heard that the furnishings branch had received new furniture.  He wanted us to trade-in his old furniture for this new furniture that he heard the furnishings branch had received.  So, we would have to haul said chair or said sofa over to the furnishings branch and trade it in for a new one.  And if the guy over there asked us what was wrong with it or why we were trading it in, we would simply say Colonel Hernandez told us to.  If the guy gave us any grief, we would simply call the Colonel and say, “Sir, you have a problem.  The guy over here won’t let us trade-in your furniture.”  By the time that the Colonel was done yelling and cursing at the guy over at the furnishings branch, we pretty much got whatever we wanted.  All summer long, our commander had us exchange something in his house for something new.  He called us up one Friday afternoon and said, “Sergeant Masters, I need you and your supervisor to come over to my quarters tomorrow morning with a truck at 8 o’clock.”  I replied, “Sir, could we at least eat breakfast first?”  “Sergeant Masters, come to my house at 8 o’clock sharp.”  “Yes sir.”  The next morning, my supervisor and I showed up at 8 o’clock as instructed.  We were more or less commanded to show.  If you really want to split hairs.  Sort of like when God said to Noah, “Noah build me a boat.”  And Noah said, “A boat?  You do realize that this is the desert, right?  It hasn’t rained here in like the last, I don’t know, but at least since I’ve been alive.  A boat?”  “Noah?”  “Yes, Lord.”  “Just build the damn boat.”  Sort of like that.  Anyway, when we got there, much to our surprise, our commander’s wife had made us breakfast.  What a treat.  And that shit actually tasted pretty good.  I don’t know what in the hell it was other than the eggs, but the shit was pretty good.  I know one of the sides she mentioned was re-fried beans.  But the way she said it, it sounded like refrigerated beans.  The other side of the plate, I don’t have a clue what it was.  But it was all good.  After we ate, the Colonel told us he wanted us to haul his refrigerator over to the furnishings branch because he had heard that the furnishings branch had received new refrigerators.  The 121st Evacuation Hospital commander had told him about the new refrigerators because he had just received one on Thursday.  Since the 121st Evacuation Hospital commander had received a new refrigerator, our commander had to have one because our commander outranked the 121st Evacuation Hospital commander.  While we were loading the refrigerator onto the truck, we noticed some Ron Rico rum stacked up in cases.  There had to be at least seven or eight cases of the stuff.  I asked my supervisor, “Hey Sarge, do you think the Colonel will miss a few bottles?”  My supervisor looked at me and asked, “How many bottles are you talking about?”  “Well, how many do you want?  What do you think your labor is worth?”  “I see where you’re going with this.  Well, we could probably get away with two bottles a piece maybe three but that’s pushing it.”  “Yeah.  Six bottles is a lot.  But if we take it from the bottom case or the next to the bottom case.  By the time he drinks all that shit, it’ll be what, a month from now.  Maybe two.  By that time, he’ll have forgotten we were ever here.  Even if he does remember we were here, he won’t put the two together because facilities guys are in and out of here all the time fixing shit.  What do you think?”  “Okay, let’s do it.”  “Well, we gotta grab it now.  So, I’ll grab some and stick it in this fridge, then we will take it out when we get over to the furnishings branch.  Does that sound like a plan?”  “Okay do it.  I’ll watch down the hall to make sure nobody comes.”  So, we grabbed some rum as payment for our services.  Then, we hauled off the old refrigerator.  When we got back with the new refrigerator, the Colonel had us haul away a window air conditioner to trade it in.  So, it really was a good thing that we grabbed the rum.  Because the slave driver was really working us like dogs that Saturday.  That Ron Rico rum made what would’ve otherwise been an exercise in futility a somewhat bearable Saturday afternoon.

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