Would like to hear what you experienced as the best/worse DI's
or what attributes in your opinion makes the best/worst DI

Although I cannot recall most things about the Navy, since it has been a few years...I can however, remember Chief Fincher who was my Company Commander.  I hope he is well, he was a great guy.  Treated us fair.

I remember how when I used to fuck up, he used to yell at me....."satcong!!!  are you a [i]NUKE??![/i]"

DS Acosta...Peurto Rican guy, bald head about 5'7". While on duty, he was mean as the day was long, but off duty he was a great guy.
After graduation (92') he took myself and a couple other guys to the local strip club. We partied our asses off and he talked mad shit.
Long story short, we dropped him off on the steps of his house at 4AM. Rang the doorbell and hauled ass. If his wife was anywhere as mean as he was...well you get the point.
He used to make the pizza man "pay" a toll to deliver pizza in the barracks. 1 slice if it was going to his platoon, two slices if it was for another platoon.  
DS Acosta could do 140 sit ups in two mins. I could do 115, and he was 13 years older than me!

Guys, I'm gettin' all teary eyed just thinking about how much fun that time in my life was.

Rangers lead the way!
 
                     -Vortex

Drill Sargeant Lonnie Seger.  Tough, smart and fair.  He would curse us out and chew our tails off if we screwed up, smoke you in PT all the day long and all night long if we warranted it.  He never seemed to tire out, rarely seemed to sweat, and no matter what he was doing he always seemed to have a big stinkin' cup of coffee in his hand.  Great guy

Drill Sargeant Andreen.  He was about 6 foot 2 and at least 260 pounds, at least.  He was huge and looked like a fat pogue...until he hit the field, then he moved fast and quiet as a cat. And how much crap is the Army gonna give you when you still can max out your PT test?  He was the one guy in our DS team that seemed to have a real hard time playing the hard-a$$.  It really took a lot out of him.  You could tell he'd much rather be knockin brews back at a bar in Columbus.

Drill Sargeant Smith.  You knew you were in trouble when his eyes went wide.  The pulse would pop in the veins on the side of his head and you were heading for the ground and had counted out three push-ups before he even opened his mouth.   He had the duty when we returned from Parent's weekend.  When he realized that a few of us were hung over he ordered us all into PT's and smoked us until nearly all of us were puking our guts out. I didn't like his as much, he sometimes had difficulties with "fair," but I respected him.

Drill Sargeant Nauk...this guy went through a big bag of sunflower seeds ever day.  He'd shovel a handful into his mouth and crack 'em open one by one with this teeth spitting out the hulls.  When he yelled at you, you often got a facefull of sunflower seed shell.

First Sargeant Hagan..."Be a MAN!" was his favorite way to end an sentence. Another tough guy with attitude.


The bad guys of my military career:

My first Sargeant in Germany who shall remain nameless.  The guy was BARELY literate. He tried to read a commendation citation one day in formation and had to stop and turn it over to the company clerk.  He had been the FS of another company in the battallion, but had been relieved and moved to HHC after putting a squad leader in the hospital and out of the Army on a medical.  Following a road march where they failed to meet their time goal, he dropped the whole company for push ups while wearing their rucks.  The sargeant was carrying a .50 cal receiver on the march and dropped to do his push ups with the receiver across his hands.  The FS picked up the receiver and DROPPED it on his back.  The guy did his push ups, then when he couldn't get up, was hauled to the dispensary by a couple of troops.  He suffered permanent injury to his upper back and shoulders from having the 50 receiver dropped on him.  He was relived that afternoon and moved off the line.

I later learned that when he was deployed to Desert Storm he was again relieved of his position and attached to the Bn staff.  He was so badly hated by the troops that they were seriously concerned that someone might frag him. Somehow he managed to get appointed to the Sargeant Major's academy.  I hope he failed out.

I cannot remember the names of any other sargeants I served under...not a one, not in airborne school or anywhere else, but those DI's and the first sargeants make an impression.

Drill Instructor Sergeant Fields.
Big: ~6'5" tall and ~235lbs
Black: think "as the ace of spades"
Bad: the following example:

On the final Physical Fitness Test, a few days before graduation, he came running up behind me a half mile or so before the turnaround point (3 mile run) and started in on me. Now, I was down to ~165lbs by then, so I was impressed that he could dog me out so well. I would typically run at about 3/4 pace until I was a half mile or so from the finish line, then pick it up progressively until I was sprinting the last 1/4 mile. He wasn't having it

He started with, "Don't let me catch you, Smith," "I'm gonna kill you if I catch you, Smith," "Are you sandbagging my freakin' run, Smith?" et cetera. Then he passed me and turned around and ran [b]backwards[/b] just ahead of me, still dogging me out. Meanwhile, I was playing right into his game by speeding up a little more and a little more...

Basically, I ran absolutely as hard as I could for about the last mile of the run. I came across the finish line and got about ten yards, where I dropped to my knees and started puking in the grass. Drill Instructor Sergeant Fields yelled, "Eyeballs, Fifty!" (In other words, "members of platoon 3050, all of you put your eyes on me right now and pay attention, for what I am about to say is of particular interest or vital importance to you.")

When my platoon turned to look at him, he pointed to me and said,

"Do you see that? If you ain't pukin' you ain't runnin' hard enough! Lock 'em up!"

He is also the one who taught me that "Pain is just weakness leaving the body."

SSG Hicks C-3-1 Ft. Campbell, Ky Dec 1967
By 67 SSG Hicks had already had nearly three tours in VietNam. He was Ranger and Airborne Inf. He was recovering from wounds and working at Campbell as a DI but it wasnt really his cup of tea..he wanted to go back to Vietnam ASAP. He had three purple hearts was pretty scared up from frag wounds and had a couple of nasty bayonet wounds. Very quiet Tennesean kind of a lean rangy sort of a guy.
We were about to start our close combat fire and movement type drills using live ammo learining how to advance under cover fire of our team mate.
Some trainee decided that his best way out of the Army was to go nuts, so.. when he was about half way through the course and started firing his M-14 in the general direction of the company..The DI's yelled "GET DOWN!!!" We did. This guy pretty much had everyone pinned down..must have saved up a lot of ammo at the range because we were to have only three magazines loaded with three rounds each.. SSG Hicks yelled at him and got his attention. He fired at Hicks but missed..Hicks began a zig zag run at him..each time ducking as this crazy bastard fired..Hicks advanced on him from about thirty yards away closed the distance pretty fast as his opponent probably got ten or fifteen shots off each one missing its mark..When the crazed private's weapon finally went click having fired the last shot at SSG Hicks (who by now  was now only a scant five yards or less away) Hicks lunged at him, disarmed him, and beat him half to death with his own weapon.. We were all ordered to stay back and a few of the DIs went forward to calm Hicks who threw the weapon to one of the DI's who neatly caught it. SSG Hicks calmly walked back to the starting area lit up a cigarette and acted as though everything were perfectly normal.. An ambulance picked up the badly beaten soldier and we all finished the course with great seriousness..
Later at graduation I had a chance to talk with SSG Hicks about what I could expect in Vietnam...His advice.. Keep your mouth shut, your eyes open..do what the most experienced guy does and stay close to him until you learn enough to stay alive and then pass it on to the new guy when its your turn.
This guy had a chest full of citations several purple hearts and a silver star.
I guess he qualifies in the DI hall of fame ..or at least for me he does..

Jarhead22,

Could this be the same guy that was my Senior DI on Parris Island?  I thought if you were from Texas you would have gone to San Diego.

If this is the same guy I could tell you some funny stories.   He was cool.

I won't mention his name 'cause he is a SGT. Major in the Marine Corps still.

I was a white bread college kid at the Navy's Aviation Officer Candidate school.  The school was run by Marine D.I.s.  I remember being lined up in the hallway when the scariest looking Mexican I have ever seen walked in.  Spit and polish with his campaign cover, I knew we were in deep shit.  What followed was a brutal 14 weeks.

When he was pissed at us he would go get a high and tight, and grab his DOR cane (drop on request) and appear in the hallway.  When we would see the cane and the haircut, we knew we were dead.  When he was REALLY pissed, he would call an ambulance ahead of time.  When we would come out of the building for P.T. and see the ambulance, we knew we weren't stopping till someone was in it.

One time I left my locker open and he got ahold of my rifle, took it apart, and gave a piece of the rifle to every D.I. in the command.  I had to go to ten other D.I. and explain why I was so carelss.  Then each beat on me for awhile.

He once got suspended for a couple of days for choking a candidate.  When he came back he announced that from now on, we would have to choke each other.  So we stood in a single file line and choked the guy ahead of us.  Funniest thing I ever saw.  Ther's more but no time.  After I was commissioned we became good friends.  That was twenty years ago and I talked to him last week.
That's the great thing about the military, people respect you for what you are not who you are.  A poor little Mexican kid grows up to be a Sgt. Major in the Marine Corps, is this a great country or what?

Ft. Jackson 1966
1STSGT Jones.  Survivor of Corridor.  Claims to have been on the Batan Death March.  Korean War Vet.  Thought all baby boomers were spoiled pussy brats.  Hated everybody.  Had no compunction against using brute force.  If you missed more than a couple of targets on the rifle range he took the M-14 from you and stripped it down.  He threw the parts into the brush.  Said you didn't deserve to have functioning rifle.  You had to find all the parts before you could rejoin the company.  Loved to get us up at 3:00 in the morning and make us low crawl in the dirt under the barracks.

If you opened your mouth he he would hit you over the helmet liner with the buttstock of your M-14.  Once I saw him whip out his pecker and pee all over a recruit because he misquoted one of the General Orders.  Told us many times that we were all going to die in Vietnam the first day we were there because we were all morons.

Never did like him and never had much respect for his training methods.  The only thing is that I made it through a couple of tours of duty in Vietnam.  Maybe I learned something from the Son of a Bitch.

I'll never forget one morning at Edson Range in Pendleton during second phase. My platoon was awakened before revely by the "senior" DI - and to our surprise, he did not wear his black belt. In fact, he never said a word to us... We stood on line as he grabed the guides ALICE pack off his rack and dumped it's contents, then he pointed at us to do the same. We then fell out to the front of the squad bay with empty packs on.

When he walked out all he did was point in a general direction - Now we know were not supposed to be up before the loudspeakers blast so basically we were seriously F****ED.

He put us in a that infamous fine red clay sand in one of the pits and used his fingers to simulate "intense" PT. We looked like suger cookies. He then began to fill the guides ALICE pack with said sand, and motioned for us to do the same to the next nearest recrute.

Well, since we all have a wonderful pack of sand on (I swear the guy behind me used a back hoe,) we nicely mob our way back into "on line" in the squad bay. Please note that all that fine red sand cascaded out the little holes in the bottom of our packs...

The minute revely sounded He became the anti-christ. He asked if we knew "Bambi in the woods" and then basically threw the guide over the first lower rack on the starboard side and then over the second top rack...and on and on and on... (Racks that were not made...) We all got into a nice little line and repeated what the guide did, creating the biggest God Damn indoor dust cloud you have ever seen!

Never got breakfast and spent an hour of the most ballistic cleaning job ever to hit the earth.... We went down in Marine Corps Boot Camp History!  

(As far as I know, SSgt. Cheatham got his ass handed to him by the 3RD Battalion CO down in San Diego for that one...)

It was the best time of my life!   :)

Navy Boot Camp, RTC Great Lakes, IL.

February 91'  Cold as a bitch!  Muster for evening watch on the Quarter Deck, forgot 8th general order, just drew a blank, it was like 5-3 day or something, pretty far along.  Anyway Chief Zelesky looks at me and asks "Do I even have to say it?"  So he mashed me pretty hard.  Next day every CC in the division was on me asking how a section leader in his 5th week(not to mention my own) forgot a general order,  lots of pushups and 8 count body builders.  I've seen some get worse, like one guy in another company getting cycled in the snow.  I remember at the galley, you Navy guys know what I mean.  "Turnstyle, Co. ## first man through the bright-work!" Well you know the new recruits, they wear sweats and are bald, look like they got lost.  This new company comes in wearing new sweats, bald heads, soaking wet with sweat, nervous etc.  Rpock gets the whole dialog completely wrong.  Not 3 abreast, and one of them touched the torpedo at the galley entrance and got busted by the MAA.  Poor guys looked like they were ready to cry.  I guess I had that look too.

The all time best was we did state flags and we had this little Puerto Rican CC, Chief Pomales, that drilled us on the flags.  He would get all pissed and start cursing you in Spanish.  He was actually the coolest guy, tough but fair.  He had a way that made you want to be like him.  Anyway this kid with the Florida flag was fouling up bad.  He just went on him like a madmann all nearly died laughing.  Some funny stuff he came out with.  Man, memory flooding back now.  I remember the first night on base.  Couldn't piss in the cup, getting yelled at didn't help. My CC was Senior Chief Stansbury, great guy.  Tough but fair.  Was pretty understanding about personal stuff that might be bothering you.  

I don't know about you guys but looking back at how young I was I couldn't see that boot camp was actually the easiest 9 weeks of my life. Actually was thinking of going back(I'm 30).  But wife and kid make it tough a desicion.  

Here's mine...

TSG J. Clifford Terpestra, USAF.  LAFB JAN1990.

Biggest, meanest WHITE guy you ever saw.  6'5", 285#  The same kind of tough like an old rawhide.

LOVED to dick with us.  In AF BMTS, you get to pull "Barracks Watch" - kinda like "Fire Watch."  You can let flight members in on recognition, but ANYONE else has to be ID checked and list verified.  ONLY Acceptable ID was DD2A - Active Duty ID.

TSG Terpestra liked to use EVERYTHING in his wallet BUT his ID - and he had a lot.  He would even go thru every piece of currency he carried before he got to his ID, and yell at you the whole damn time.

Now, TSG Terpestra set the tone for our relationship on Day 1 - I was being myself and he told me he'd "Break me of being a smartass if it killed him."  My reply - "Shall I shoot you now and save you the trouble?"

I set a record for first day pushups - 4600.  Man, I was tired.

Anyhow, I was on Barracks Watch one fine day, and he comes up to the door.  While trying to rattle me, he finally pops out with "AIRMAN, YOU LET MY ASS IN!"

I couldn't resist - "Sir, I'll let your ass in, but not rest of you."  Ever try to do pushups while laughing?  Damn, that's hard - try a couple hundred sometime.

Of course, he gives with his ID, and I let him in.  Then I get ordered to "Leaning Rest."

While holding, I listen to him walking around me, deciding what to do.  Parade taps can sound rather ominous sometimes...

He stops by my left shoulder, thinks for a minute, and steps up on my shoulders.  Next things I hear - "ZERO!"  That's my cue.

This SOB starts telling me jokes while I'm doing pushups with him standing on my back.  About 200 more.

Due to the ministrations of TSG Terpestra, I must have picked up four inches across the shoulders and three around the upper arms while I was in BMT.  Made those koala pushups a lot easier later, too...

FFZ

Fact not legend.

Navy boot camp.

Company Commander "I need six guys that can type."

Bunches of hands go up.

CC says "Alright you six grab those swabs !"
There's always one guy and he says "But sir, I thought you wanted us to type ?"

CC  "Did I say I wanted you to type ?  I asked if you 'could' type, now start swabbing !"

(He then gave his never, never volunteer speech.)

Compared to you guys, my time in Coast Guard basic seems like Cub Scout camp.  I'll still never forget it though.  
MK1 Ronchetti, SK1 Santmeyer, and MK2 Sidoti.  MK2 Sidoti was far and away our favorite.  He was the hardest, but he was the kind of guy that also made you want to succeed.  He also did the most memorable things.  First time we got tested on close-order drill, we failed.  Big mistake.  Sidoti grabs our company guidon, hurls it like a javelin half the length of the parade field.  Then he yells "Let the beating begin!" and worked us till half of us could barely stand.  Another time, one poor bastard in our squadbay didn't make his rack to MK2's standards.  When we came back from seamanship classes, it looked like a tornado had gone through the squadbay.  EVERY rack got tossed.  Boots, shoes, ditty bags, towels, mattresses, the works.  Another time he had us swab the deck of the sqadbay by low-crawling all over, under the racks, etc.   Once he threw a pot of coffee into the head because something was amiss (he was also kind enough to pour the grounds from the filter into the decanter too).  He also had a red grease pencil that he loved to write on things with (sinks, toilets, mirrors, walls, decks, lockers...).  One of the most inspirational guys I ever met.

man i could go on for DAYS on this topic:

final PFT, rifle range PISC 1997  while walking the cool down circle one of the shitbird recruits accused me of lying about my run time. after our PT shower i was called into "the house" to explain myself. i stuck to my guns and the senior asked me if i could reproduce my run time. "SIR, THIS RECRUIT WILL RUN IT RIGHT NOW SIR"  he jumps up and say "boy you got about a heartbeat to get to my rear hatch" he ran right next to me dogging me and talking smack. he ran 3 miles in 21:40 IN FULL CHARLIES!! corframs and all...now thats a hard mofo.

I did the drill field in the early 80's and some of these stories make me laugh again. This was the worst and the best job in the corps.
When with the recruits the hardest thing to do was to scream and yell while trying not to laugh. Ever had your D.I. slide his smokey over his face in disgust while screaming at you?? He is covering his smile. Ever been out marched on the way to Eliot's beach by a D.I. in full gear and a large ALICE on?? It's full of bubble wrap. Ever seen a DI go into the shower in Charlie uniform scream and yell but comes out dry?? scotch guard is cool...lmao all the time
 Always remember that the D.I. is not some ignorant mean sob. He is trained in stress application, and a master at deceit. He doesn't hate recruits, he just wants to apply stress to see how much a recruit can take before coming unglued...pat

I can't speak for the Marines, but I know for a fact that none of my drills in the army outmarched us in large rucks full of bubble wrap. First of all, a ruck full of bubble wrap doesn't sag, and creak, and sway, like a ruck full of BDUs, etc. I just took it at face value that a drill sergeant would be able to do twice as much as any of us recruits, for twice as long, and have an easier time doing it. Second - and I may be showing some naivete here - I don't think any of them needed to resort to trickery, or would have anyway. My drill did nearly every pushup, mountain climber, dying cockroach, etc, along with us, just to show that doing hundreds of them "is not hard, it's easy. I can do it, so can you."

SSGT Brooks.
If I recall, he was about nine feet tall*, black as night, with a head like Skeletor.

He would angrilly pace back and forth, while grumbling through his clenched teeth:

"Chicken blood! chicken blood...."

Scary.


*(Years later, I looked in my grainy Parris Island yearbook and found his photo.  He really looks to be about 9 feet tall.)

Asked my father for permission to relate this story:

Basic in '65 at Ft. Dix.

His Company was in a Battalion classroom (actually a lecture hall with an elevated stage) when three DIs walked in and asked who picked up one of their cars (a VW Beetle) and put sideways between two other cars. Nobody confessed to the deed.

An hour later, the sergeants were still waiting for someone to admit to it and said they'd be there all night, all the next day, until somebody confessed to turning the car around.

After about another hour, three guys raised their hands and the DIs took them in a room behind the stage.

As soon as the door was closed all the rest of the company heard was WWIII commencing on the three volunteers. After a minute or so of screaming and things crashing about, one of the volunteers somehow got the door open and was scrambling for his life to get off the stage before one of the sergeants caught up to him and dragged him back behind the door and then closed it.

After no more than three or four minutes, all was quiet. Then the door opened and the three DIs came out and walked down the stage and out the door behind the Company.

The volunteers weren't seen again until the next day.

Nobody ever messed with a car, ANY car, after that.

1930's Perris Island Marine DI's were said "To have leather lungs, and brass tonsils".

One of my uncle's had a LARGE black DI that shaved every morning with a BOOK OF MATCHES.

He and some other DI's were sitting behind the barracks having a few beers.  The DI's wore pistol belts so they were "under Arms" and could were hats indoors.  The DI noticed a stain on his pistol belt, so he took it off, and....ripped it in half.

When we were at the rifle range, we picked up a new Drill Instructor, fresh out of DI School. When we were out at BWT, Drill Instructor Sergeant Fields told us that it was a Parris Island tradition for the platoon to gaff off (ignore) Nick the New Hat on the morning of graduation. We were not happy to be the ones to pass on this bit of folklore to Drill Instructor Sergeant Rogers. We called him "The Raisin" because he was so muscular that his face looked like one of the California Raisins from that TV commercial.

The morning of graduation our guide took the last shift of firewatch, and waited until ten minutes after four to bang on the hatch and yell, "Sir, the time on deck is 0410, Sir! I don't know why we're not outta the rack yet!"

It sounded like a riot in a trombone factory as the Raisin slammed up out of his rack and threw himself into his Blues Deltas. He came tearing out of the house yelling at us to get up. We slowly sat up in our racks and got out scratching our butts as we lackadaisically got on line, some recruits walking past the Raisin with a sleepy "Good morning, Sir" as they went by on their way to the head.

He went ballistic for a few seconds, then realized that we had either gone stark frickin' out of our minds, or that he had been had. He turned around and went in the house while we got our shiite together, got our cammies on and squared away our barracks before our last chow call on Parris Island.

The funniest was when the platoon was sitting in the "classroom" and some recruit said something insanely stupid, but very funny (can't remember what it was. One of the drill instructors just got a stone cold look on his face and just said "WHAT THE F*CK RECRUIT!!!?' There was then about 5 seconds of silence, all the drill instructors looked at eachother, and at the EXACT same time just BOLTED to the DI hut and SLAMMED the door. You could faintly hear them in the other room laughing their asses off! They came out a few minutes later and made us wish we were never born.

A few things they loved to do to us in their spare time:

-had us dump everyones footlocker into the middle of the squad bay in one pile, had us take off all the linen from our racks and throw it on there, then even take OUR RACKS completely apart and throw them on there too. Then of course, give us an insanely small amount of time to fix it all.

-Once had the platoon take all the nametapes off our locks and lock them all together in one big ball. We then had 5 minutes to find our lock (out of the pile of 70) or we'd get smoked. We never made it by the way...

-One of our DIs decided to be a smart ass and told us to pick up our left sock and put our foot locker in it. That was an interesting sight.

Pick up from receiving at MCRD Parris Island about 30 Aug 1974, early evening.  They still had those barns(wooden barracks) back then at the receiving center.  We were all online waiting for our Drill Instructors to pick us up and herd us across the parade deck to 1st Battalion.  When they arrived it was anounced that we would file out by reverse laundry number order.  I was 91, the fourth out the hatch about to run to the yellow foot prints.  As I was about to run(Leap) down the ladderway to the pavement, a 6'5" 235 lbs Staff Sergeant Hignight screams at me, "WALK DOWN MY MARINE CORPS STEPS!"  So, I did.  One step at a time.  At the bottom there stood Staff Sergeant Lawrence.  "WHAT ARE YOU WALKING FOR?  MOOOVE!"  That is just the beginning for the next 11 weeks, 12 if you count the fact that we were a forming mob.

Sempre Fidelis

Staff Sargent senior drill instructor Robinson MCRD San diego. Mid way through bootcamp after a six mile beach run in the sand we were all standing tall on our racks when SDI yell's out " we had a tough day today my little maggots so I'm going to give you a break, Who wants to watch TV ? he yells" ( I remembering rule # 1, never volunteer for anything in the corp., didn't answer), however there were five reqruits that hustled up to the front deck yelling " sir, the private would love to watch TV sir, Ok replies the SDI, assume the position of watching TV ( laying on the deck face in hands elbows and toes the only thing that can touch the deck) it was funny for them the first 20 seconds, then the fatigue starts to set in and the sweat and tears follow, myself and the other non- volunteering reqruits being to laugh just a little too loud, so the DI decides, "what the hell, everyone get up here on my quarter deck and watch TV.   " Oh S*it " we all stop laughing and assumed the TV watching position. Try it some time see how long you last LOL.  BTW this was in '82 when they still hit(punched)us
[marines]

P.S  had many a drink with Robinson after boot (great guy)

SSG Underwood at Ft. Dix.  He came out of a Ranger battalion and was the "good guy" of our two DS's for the first part of basic.  About half way through his unit went to Grenada(?) or somewhere and he was pissed as hell he missed it!!  Took it out on us for about 4 weeks.  One instance... we were disposing of some paint cans by burying them, and a smart-ass West Point cadet standing behind him said something he didn't like. Without turning around, SSG Underwood threw the entrenching tool (small shovel) and caught the West Pointer right on the knee.  Nobody said a word, West Pointer wisely walked away !!

No stories to relate of my Drill Sergeants from Fort Jackson, so I will relate a story of a SSG I served with in Korea.

Said SSG was a Drill Sergeant, and told a few of us co-workers of some of the trickery he used on basic recruits to keep 'em in line. Said he would put peanut butter under the lip of the toilet bowl in the latrines while the recruits were sleeping, then go in and lead them in to ask why they had not cleaned properly. He would then scrape some of the peanut butter off with his finger, taste it and and say "this is unacceptable" or something to that effect. Said it made the recruits think he was one crazy SOB. LOL

Wish I could remember the guys name. Served with him in 257th Signal Co in 1990-1991. Great guy.