FOB Orgun-e, East Paktika, Afghanistan, 2009.
We were outside of the wire, but still inside of a pretty safe area.
We had a crew-served weapons range on the west-ish side of our base, where we could run our MK-19's and .50 cal's, 240's, SAW's, and fuck around with our 203's. All with live ammunition. This was a good thing, because occasionally we had some minor rebuilds on the big guns, specifically the Mark 19, specifically my Mark 19 that kept eating its own guts, and we needed to be able to go out and test them. We didn't always have a lot of downtime, but weapons being in proper working order was one of the things that was a priority.
Trucks not running so great? Eh, if it's working, and ManTech (maintenance contractors) is willing to sign off on it, it's mission capable. Guns running funkily? Test 'em at the range.
So we were on our way back into the FOB from the range. For whatever reason I was TC'ing the LT's truck. Most trucks only had one radio in them, except for the Lieutenant's and the Platoon Sergeant's. I was the LT's gunner and the NCOIC of his vehicle. He was probably in a meeting or who knows, but the important part is that we had two radios. One set to our platoon internal net (radio channel), and one on the Command Net. The Command Net was all base radio traffic, and was manned at essentially the headquarters of our FOB, probably on a speaker rather than a handmike, and probably at a volume where anyone nearby could hear said traffic. Guaranteed the base Commander was nearby, and everybody else populating the "headshed".
Did I mention we were National Guard? We were supporting elements of the 509th Parachute Infantry Regiment, and even though we'd proved ourselves by this point in time, I knew what they thought of us. I'd been active duty Airborne once, and I remember my thoughts on the Legs in Iraq, let alone the Nasty Girls we had to deal with from time to time.
So, we were rolling back in to the FOB, approaching the rear gate, and my gunner lost a pen flare. Pen flares are what they sound like. It's a little launcher that launches tiny cute little flares. You load one in the end of your launcher, point it like an angry teacher or a wizard with a magic wand, pull the knob back and let it go, and a flare goes sailing out the front end. We used them for escalation of force. If a car was being weird you'd get all yelly at them and if the didn't slow down you'd lob a pen flare at them before firing warning shots. Usually they'd swerve around like crazy and then stop. I never had to fire any warning shots. I think the pen flares were probably pretty scary looking when they were flying at you. Much more visible than even a tracer, and totally harmless.
So, we were rolling back in to the FOB and I'm guessing I was on the Battalion net to let them know we were rolling back into the FOB. One of my dudes, solid dude, was in the turret and had his pen-fucking-flare-launcher loaded and unsecured. There's no safety on them, it's just a tube with a spring and a firing pin. It's like an old revolver, if you drop it hard enough it goes bang.
We were not expecting it. It fell into the truck and went off. Inside of an armored vehicle. There was nowhere for it to go.
POP
ZIP
ZERP
SWOOSH
FRIZZLE
FRY
SWISHHHH........
The interior of our vic was immediately filled with acrid smoke from a small rocket of a flare bouncing and skipping around inside of it, cussing, and confusion.
Over our internal comm's, an open channel inside the vehicle...
"Goddam! What the fuckin fuck?"
"Motherfucker!"
"Fuck. Sorry."
"Goddamnit, Bash! That you?"
"Yeah, sorry."
"What the fuck, dude! Everybody okay?"
And then the platoon internal radio traffic, because our lead truck had just 'popped' and smoke was coming out of the cuppola.
"RG-One, you guys good?"
And...I thumbed my push to talk, "Yeah, we're good. Fuckin' Bash Brother just lit off a goddamned pen-flare inside the vic. We're good."
Except I was on the Battalion net.
"Last Station, Chicken Seven-One, say again."
Fuck...Me....
"Chicken Seven-One, disregard all last. We're having hot-mike issues."
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