I have always said, "I don't believe in ghosts, but I have a ghost story."
I was on the island of Tinian, in the CNMI, training my military unit. This island saw a pretty fair size battle when liberated in 1944 from the Japanese. The two atomic bombs, Fat Man and Little Boy, that were dropped on Japan were loaded on the bombers there.
Over the course of a couple nights on the island we continued to hear bolts sliding forward on rifles, safety's being switched off, whispers, snickers, things you may or may not hear around soldiers. Someone would always blame someone else about noise discipline and everyone accused would deny it was them.
One night I was scouting some routes and checking the perimeter, when I came back to the Patrol Base where people were sleeping. The whole place was in total chaos. People I trusted swore they woke up to find themselves being carried off by three or four people. One man was crying, happy to be alive, believing that he had been bayoneted after begging for mercy. Almost everyone frantic and adamant that they had been under attack by people inside 'the wire', pulled from their place of rest. None of the sentry's spotted anyone coming or going from our area, except me and my ranger buddy. A call in to the TOC (Tactical Operations Center) confirmed no one was near us.
The next morning the news got back to the hire ups at the TOC. I was there. The XO (executive officer) mentioned he got up to take a leak and didn't hear anything around that time of night. One of SEALs who was out all night teaching teams how to probe and work along the beach at night, came in to report and get a cup of coffee. He over heard the XO mention the potty break and remarked, "Yessir, good thing you had your security team with you. You were almost pissing on my gilly suit. I could have reached out and grabbed your leg. If you'd have been alone, I'd have taken you out."
The XO said, "I was alone. I don't have a security team." After a few moments of silence, I gave myself a whole body shake to get the creepys off me and everyone sort of went their own way. Over the next few days, those that were apart of the 'incident' keeping trying to talk it out. They were all convinced, absolutely, that they were under attack. People seeing other people being pulled and pushed and fighting against another person but unable to assist because they were also being pulled or pushed or fought with.
I don't believe in ghost, but I got a ghost story all right.
How about you guys? Every been around something like that?
I was on the island of Tinian, in the CNMI, training my military unit. This island saw a pretty fair size battle when liberated in 1944 from the Japanese. The two atomic bombs, Fat Man and Little Boy, that were dropped on Japan were loaded on the bombers there.
Over the course of a couple nights on the island we continued to hear bolts sliding forward on rifles, safety's being switched off, whispers, snickers, things you may or may not hear around soldiers. Someone would always blame someone else about noise discipline and everyone accused would deny it was them.
One night I was scouting some routes and checking the perimeter, when I came back to the Patrol Base where people were sleeping. The whole place was in total chaos. People I trusted swore they woke up to find themselves being carried off by three or four people. One man was crying, happy to be alive, believing that he had been bayoneted after begging for mercy. Almost everyone frantic and adamant that they had been under attack by people inside 'the wire', pulled from their place of rest. None of the sentry's spotted anyone coming or going from our area, except me and my ranger buddy. A call in to the TOC (Tactical Operations Center) confirmed no one was near us.
The next morning the news got back to the hire ups at the TOC. I was there. The XO (executive officer) mentioned he got up to take a leak and didn't hear anything around that time of night. One of SEALs who was out all night teaching teams how to probe and work along the beach at night, came in to report and get a cup of coffee. He over heard the XO mention the potty break and remarked, "Yessir, good thing you had your security team with you. You were almost pissing on my gilly suit. I could have reached out and grabbed your leg. If you'd have been alone, I'd have taken you out."
The XO said, "I was alone. I don't have a security team." After a few moments of silence, I gave myself a whole body shake to get the creepys off me and everyone sort of went their own way. Over the next few days, those that were apart of the 'incident' keeping trying to talk it out. They were all convinced, absolutely, that they were under attack. People seeing other people being pulled and pushed and fighting against another person but unable to assist because they were also being pulled or pushed or fought with.
I don't believe in ghost, but I got a ghost story all right.
How about you guys? Every been around something like that?
5 comments:
Comm,
You know the scene in Jaws where Hooper, Quint and Brody are sitting around the table in the galley of the Orca? Hooper and Quint are trading war stories and showing each other their scars of maritime adventures? Brody, the city boy from NY, having no stories (or scars) of his own that could rival the weight of testosterone in the air, finally pulls away from the table and "privately", sheepishly checks out his appendix scar? Well, next to training a military unit in the CNMI, and ghosts locked in mortal combat, my story is a little small in the Brody sense of the word, but here goes...
When I was a kid, with my best friend at the time, we used to go coon hunting in the pecan bottoms along the Sabinal river in Utopia, Texas.
My friend and I, some .22s, and our dogs...off we would go in the middle of the night. Our favorite bottom was a good 2 mile hike from our house and there was nothing else for miles around this pecan bottom. We were out in the proverbial middle of nowhere. One night, while hunting, we began to hear music; it was the sound of a ukulele. We stopped in our tracks and fell to a hush. The sound grew louder and my friend and I, after the curiosity wore off, looked at each other. The "look" was unanimous..."Screw this! let's get the hell out of here!"
We were off any kind of trail and just picked a heading and started running, with our headlamps on at first, but then we turned them out so as to not attract attention, as if all the racket we were making with the running and our dogs was completely stealthy! Anyway, the sound seemed to follow us and move out ahead of us in the direction we were heading. We would change direction and so too would the "music". The dogs were having a great time, but we were two scared ^%$tless kids! We finally found our way back to the jeep trail that led us into the bottom and back to the house.
We got away from the sound that night, but not without a strong dose of adrenaline and a story to tell. =)
In later trips, we did find our way back to this pecan bottom but never heard the ukulele again. dc
Eeeeek. Too creepy.
Great story. Chills. And I am totally a believer!
Army ghost stories! Awesome!
Hope all is well, comms - I mean....well-er!
I shared that Angel story of mine last week. That's the closest I've come.
I totally believe in some dimension in the space time continum that's beyond explainable.
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