Dr. Creepen's Dungeon - S1 Ep46: Episode 46: More US Marine Horror Stories

Episode Date: September 8, 2021

Tonight's show is proudly sponsored by Manscaped: get 20% Off and Free Shipping with the code CREEP at https://www.manscaped.com/ Today’s four phenomenal military stories are ‘I pray your war has ended’, ‘What is Killing All these Soldiers?’, ‘A Prayer before Dying’, and ‘Bambi and Thumper vs the Big Bad Wolf’, all original works by Taxi Dancer, kindly shared with me via my sub-reddit for the express purpose of having me exclusively narrate it here for you all.  https://www.reddit.com/user/Taxi_Dancer/

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We might just see the truth in that in tonight's four stories, all by the wonderful author Taxi Dancer. Now, as ever before we begin, a word of caution. Tonight's stories may contain strong language, as well as descriptions of violence and horrific imagery. If that sounds like your kind of thing, then let's begin I pray your war

has ended every time I return from a deployment I don't stay home for very long I stay home just long enough to drop off my gear say my hellos to friends and family and then I have to leave again for about a month

usually I'll fly to Germany Hanover in particular to blow off steam and decompress anyone who says that they've returned from serving in Iraq or Afghanistan and claims they don't need to blow off steam and decompress has never served in Iraq or Afghanistan. After my last tour of duty in Iraq, however, I decided to change things up a bit. Instead of flying to Hanover, I decided to take a trip to my family's native country of the Philippines.

I don't know why. I guess it was just something different to do. My mother's family comes from a place in the northern Philippine island of Luzon called Baguio City. Those who have never been there, Baguio is a remarkable place. It's a city built high in the mountains, and only four rows lead to and from the sprawling city, although during typhoon season, only two roads lead to and from it, as the other two roads usually get washed out. Starting from sea level, it usually takes between 40 minutes to an hour to drive the narrow roads, that oftentimes double back on themselves, as each snakes around, steep gorges,

lush green rice terraces in order to reach the city in the mountains. Amazingly, entire communities and villages are built into the size of the mountain, with houses, shops and farms literally constructed on top of each other. There's almost no flat place in Baguio City. A tourist will find that they're either walking up a crowded street or they're walking down a crowded street. The giant SM mall located in the bustling shopping district is also unique in that,

can walk in it at the ground floor go up three stories and step off on the ground floor as the mall is built into the side of a mountain narrow streets jam-packed with buses taxis jeepneys and scooters go every which way in the city leading up and down and around the various schools restaurants parks and markets ah being so high in the mountains the city of baguillo always enjoys relatively pleasant temperatures all year round and when the rest of the philippines is baking in the tropical heat of the summer, the moderate temperatures in Baguio has earned it the unofficial title of the Philippine summer capital. But it also has its drawbacks as well, as almost every day during the afternoon between 2pm and 6pm, a visitor can expect

it to rain. During typhoon season, the rains could last for days and days on end, leaving everything from the hardwood floors to the towels in your closet feeling cold and moist. My mother's family owns a rather tall house atop the tallest hill which overlooks the city. Her three-story nine-bedroom home is built literally on the side of a cliff, with a narrow road running down the small driveway. Again, in this community, homes were built so close together that your next or neighbor to your left could be in a house situated on ground 10 feet above your house, or your neighbor to the right could be situated on ground 20 feet below you.

On the top floor of my mother's home is a balcony, which keeps keeping. gives one a breathtaking view of the entire city and surrounding countryside as well as the home of our neighbours who live on a narrow cross street at least a hundred feet below us. I don't stand out on the balcony for long periods of time because I'm scared of heights and tend to get a touch of vertico if I look out at the panorama for too long. And so it was at my mother's home on top of this hill,

on top of this mountain, where I found myself after my last tour of Iraq and boy did I need to decompress. Being trapped and surrounded by 12,000 screaming ISIS fighters and constantly being rocketed every day was no picnic. I had been napping in one of the upstairs bedrooms for most of the afternoon. It started raining at around 3pm and didn't start to peter off until around 7. I was feeling restless and closed in since there wasn't any reliable internet

and there wasn't much in the way of channels to watch on television, as if I could understand what they were saying anyway. I was all alone in this big house with nothing to do. I threw on a pair of jeans and a black t-shirt that I bought from the PX at Camp Arjefan in Kuwait and stepped outside. To get to the street, you had to walk down a narrow flight of stone steps, then get on the second landing, and walk down another flight of narrow stone steps,

which wound its way down to the driveway. There was a bright red metal gate which enclosed the driveway and opened directly into the narrow street in front of the house. Once outside the gate, I turned left to where the road literally drops another 50 feet to another road below. The angle of the road is so steep that vehicles don't so much drive down this road as fall to the street below. Like I said earlier, the houses, shops and little stalls on this hill were built very close to one another, and as it had turned out to be a clear and pleasant evening, I'd expected to see more people running about. But aside from a few stray cats and dogs

and the occasional crowing of a family rooster, I appeared to be alone on the well-lit cobblestone streets. At the base of the hill was another crowded and bustling streets. During the daytime, it was filled with automotive shops, marketplaces, restaurants, and places to purchase farming tools and equipment. However, at night, as if by magic, this is all replaced by lounges, karaoke bars, gentlemen's clubs, and places where people can dance and mingle. Feeling in the mood for a nice bourbon and live music, I decided to walk the mile and some change down the hill to one of the nicer lounges at the base. As I said, the streets were rather narrow, and the sidewalks, where there were sidewalks, were only about two feet wide.

It was unusually quiet and the air was still as I began walking down one of the narrow streets which led down to the main road leading down the hill. I was enjoying the peace and tranquility of it all, and the fact that I didn't have to worry about incoming rocket attacks. I looked around and marveled at how everything here seemed to look like it was frozen in time, and that everything looked exactly like it did when it was first built back before World War II. With the constant rains, lichen, moss, flowers and vines, growled at the stone retaining walls which lie in the streets,

as if there were a lost city somewhere deep in the Amazon rainforest. I was lost in thought and didn't even recognise that I was now at a portion of the road where the streetlights were getting dim. It soon began to get misty, the results of the moist night air mixing with the warmer temperatures, and soon I couldn't see where I was stepping. I eventually came to a point where the winding road intersected with another main road. Well, I wasn't lost, but I also didn't quite know exactly where I was.

I knew, however, that if I kept taking the road that went down, I was going in the right direction. I chose the road going to the right, which seemed to lead down off the hill, so I followed it for a few minutes. Soon a couple of taxi cabs appeared out of the mist and passed me going up the hill, so I knew that I was on the right track. I soon passed a beauty salon which was on the ground floor of a tall hotel called the Mountainside Inn. I seemed to recall that the lounge that I wanted to visit was behind this establishment, but further down the base of the hill. A very narrow side street led off the mountain road towards the direction of the lounge, but it was shrouded in darkness.

Well, I could either continue on the main road, which would eventually lead to the street at the base of the hill, and then turn right and walk towards the lounge, or I could see if this dark, narrow street was actually a shortcut. I decided to go down the dark and narrow street to see where it led because I was an American soldier fresh from war, vacationing in a foreign land where I barely recognized any landmarks. So, yeah, no common sense.

I walked in the middle of the street because the mist and fog were now all around me. I didn't want to step into a ditch or open drain, which I knew lined the streets. The road wound down between the Mountainside Inn on the right and a low-starved wall to my left and led downward, so I knew I was still going in the right direction. Instead of turning left towards the main road at the base of the hill like I'd expected, the road went right, doubling back on itself and winding back up the hill. The houses next to me were pitch black and there were no working streetlights here, as the mist seemed to swallow me in its embrace. Well, I thought about doubling back and walking to the main road, but I wasn't in a hurry,

really. Plus, this walk was kind of cool. In fact, it was getting cooler by the second. It was downright chilly. Just as I had the feeling that I wasn't alone on this dark stretch of road, an icy chill ran up my spine, and I could just barely see my shadow in front of me from a faint and glow to my back. thinking that a car was approaching behind me I turned around to see a young lady in a white dress standing about ten feet from me at first I thought that the reason I could see her was because of the light from the moon

but I soon realised that she was the one who was actually glowing hmm I thought that's cool I stared at her for a second the air around her seemed to shimmer ever so slightly, so I couldn't see her in any exact detail. However, from the expression on her face, I could tell that this young lady was not happy to see me. With my knowledge of the traditional Filipino language somewhere between none and zero,

I did the only thing that I could do. Hi, I said in English. The glowing young lady with the angry expression said nothing, but in my head I could hear. Japanese. I, what? I said. How did you do that? You are a soldier. You are Japanese. Came the angry voice in my head in an accusing tone. You are a Japanese soldier. I, well, yeah, but I'm only about a quarter Japanese. I'm mostly Filipino, and a little Spanish and Chinese, if my mom is to be believed. Well, Grandma got around a lot, I guess.

You are a Japanese soldier, she screamed in my head. You do not belong here. This is our land. Somewhere in her rage, I could also hear desperation and sadness. During the Japanese invasion of the Philippines in World War II, the Japanese had done some unspeakably cruel and violent things to the Filipino people. The Filipinos were subhuman in the eyes of the war II. the Japanese and the Japanese soldiers often took pleasure in tossing Filipino babies into the air so they could try to impale them with their bayonets. In fact, the reason why in part Japanese

was because a Japanese soldier had gotten my grandmother pregnant. My mother had told me stories of a young lady in a white dress that was savagely raped and brutally murdered by the Japanese. Her ghost was said to haunt these hills, guiding innocent travelers who may. have gotten lost and a frightening evil man who had wicked intentions. I'm not afraid of you, miss. I'm not an evil man and I have no wicked intentions. Japanese soldier, she hissed. Yes, I admitted. I am part Japanese and yes, I am a soldier, but I'm an American soldier. I paused, wondering if she'd say anything. While she just stared at me as if waiting.

We fought side by side with you. We suffered with you. We bled and we died with you. And together we were defeated by the Japanese with you. But, well, a promise was fulfilled. We returned again and we threw out the Japanese soldiers. This land belongs to the Filipino people. I'm sorry for what happened to you, but I am not your enemy. I am an American soldier.

The young lady regarded me for a second, and then slowly turned away, seeming to take the mist with her. The air grew warmer and the streetlights flickered on as she slowly vanished. Go with God, I said as she finally faded from view. In my head I heard one last word. Salamat. Later on I was relaxing and enjoying a nice bourbon on the rocks at the crowded Miles Club. I asked a friendly bartender what the word Salamat means.

"'Wait,' he laughed, "'you're Filipino, and you don't know what Salamat means.' "'Hum me,' I said. "'Salemot,' said the bartender, "'is Filipino for thank you.' "'Well, my dear friends, autumn is in the air. "'The pumpkins are in the patch, "'and our good friends at Manscape are here to make sure

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Make your balls a priority this fall. Choose Manscape. Your balls will thank you. That code once again for 20% off from free shipping. CREEP at Manscape.com. What is killing all these soldiers? Every American military unit that deploys to serve overseas has its fair share of good NCO leadership.

That's a non-commissioned officer, a sergeant. And almost every unit has that one NCO who stands out to be the very best. This NCO is the person who's extremely competent, and confident, a generous mentor to the people that he leads, the loyal supporter to his NCO peers and the invaluable advisor to the officer in charge.

This one particular outstanding NCO was the go-to person when other NCOs needed information or advice, and in our particular case, the outstanding NCO in our unit was my friend, the Sergeant First Class named Tommy. Tommy and I were sitting on a long,

comfortable wooden bench in front of the and relaxing after a particularly long day of patrolling. We were back on a long elevated wooden deck which ran down the entire length of the barracks and we rested our feet up on the wooden railing which bordered the deck. The setting sun cast a sky in brilliant and fiery shades of reds and oranges and purples as it sank behind the mighty mountain peak known to us Americans simply as Big Duke. We were serving as NATO peacekeepers and were stationed at the main American operating base called Camp Bondsteel in Kosovo.

The summer was coming to an end, and with it our year-long deployment was also coming to a close. The weather was pleasant, and the colours in the sky, mixed with the high clouds, painted a breathtaking picture from our vantage point on the hilltop. Tommy pulled the pipe from his lips.

Oh, I'm really going to miss that view, he said, leaning back on the bench and exhaling. I nodded in agreement. We have to come back to Kosovo someday, but not as peacekeepers but as visitors. We did so much good here. I want to see if it lasts. We stared at Big Old Mount Duke for a while and I said,

Okay. Explain to me the difference between a 2-2-3 ball ammunition round and a 556 ball ammunition round again. Aren't they the same? Well, I knew that Tommy liked talking about everything guns, weapons and ammunition. In fact, he was once an army sniper. I needed to get him talking about something so that I could ask him the question that I really wanted to ask him.

Tommy smiled as he took another puff from his pipe. Ah, the 223 and the 556 round are visually similar. The difference is in the grain used to propel the rounds. The 223 is optimized for the civilian market, while the 556 is strictly used for the military. Our M4 and M16 rifles can fire both kinds of ammunition, but in the civilian version of our rifles, you should only fire the two, two, three round.

Hmm, I nodded. You learn something new every day. Well, at least I got him to start talking. Now, I have a question for you, said Tommy. Why do the Russians have 61mm and 82mm motors? Because the Russians are sneaky bastards, I said. Americans have 60mm motors and 81mm. if we capture Russian mortar rounds

we can't use them because they're exactly one millimeter bigger than our mortar tubes but if Russians capture ours they can use them against us I've trained you well my young Jedi said Tommy and we both had a good laugh great now maybe I can get to talk about what I really wanted him to talk about

hey Tom I said is everything okay I mean are you going to be okay okay so there it was what said it as was a very close-knit unit and bad news traveled fast a few weeks ago sergeant first-class tommy received a letter from his wife back home she'd been cheating on him while he was away and had cleared out their bank account she also threatened to divorce him and take away his two daughters in his house as well as half of his retirement pay Tommy for the past year served his country his battalion and his friends with courage and honour would be going home completely broke.

Tommy took a long path of his pipe and exiled slowly, watching the smoke dissipate. He smiled. Ah, brother, he said, an hour ago all of my earthly problems went away. Huh? I said. I turned to Tommy wondering what he meant. I was about to ask him what he was talking about when Tommy interrupted me.

let me ask you this brother said tommy are you going to be okay getting a video call on sky from your new wife telling you that she's been cheating on you has to be tough believe me i know what what did tommy know an hour ago after i'd submitted my daily patrol report to my team commander i went back to my living quarters to talk to my wife on sky at 23 years old she was ten years younger than me We were only married two weeks before I left for Kosovo, so we really didn't have time for a proper honeymoon. I saved enough money during my deployment for us to have an awesome honeymoon in Europe, which would culminate in a trip to Ohio to visit her lifelong friend who she'd grown up with. She was usually happy to talk with me, but today she looked depressed and near tears. What's wrong, baby? I'd asked. Are you okay, sweetheart? "'Yes,' she cried,

"'but you won't be.' "'As it turns out, almost since the day I left, "'she'd been cheating on me with her lifelong friend "'and was now planning to move in with him "'and eventually marry him. "'They just needed money, "'money which I unknowingly provided to them "'every time I sent my paycheck home to my wife.

"'I stood up and stepped towards the railing. "'How did Tommy find out so fast? "'Well, I knew bad news, really traveled quick in our unit but this was ridiculous i looked off into the distance admiring the view damn i was going to miss that beautiful side of the sun setting behind big duke i'll be fine brother i said you sure said tommy from behind me i don't want you to do anything well you know yep i knew suicide takes more American soldiers' lives than enemy bullets. Trust me, I said.

I love my wife, but I love my life as well. She isn't worth me hurting myself. I'm so glad to hear that, brother, said Tommy. I just needed to make sure before I go. I turned around. What did you mean by that? An empty bench stared back at me. All of a sudden, I heard the wailing of sirens coming from the

barracks row behind me emergency vehicles and medic humvees were turning the corner as soldiers ran from their barracks rooms i jumped the rail and ran around my barracks towards the sound of the sirens they gathered in front of sergeant first-class tommy's barracks room and about twenty soldiers were crowded outside a squad of MPs were pushing us back keeping us from the door what's going on I yelled. A young female specialist from Tommy's team, tears in her eyes and crying inconsolably said, It's Sergeant Tommy.

He shut himself with his own sidearm. They found divorce papers next to his body. What? I said. But I was just... No, damn it. Damn it. Damn it!

Well, even after he died, Tommy was concerned about his friends. Even in death, he wanted to make sure that his friends would make it home safely. Later on, at least three other soldiers claimed to see Sergeant First Class Tommy. He was checking on them, giving them advice, and encouraging them to continue to be great leaders of our young soldiers. If you're sitting there safe and sound and sleeping around with everyone and their brother

while your soldier is overseas serving his nation, then you are the one who's killing us. Every time a soldier leaves the wire to go on patrol, he risks his life. he needs to focus on the mission in order to survive if he has to worry about what's going on back home he loses focus and he may die it's worse when he's back in the rear and he has time to think about

how he's thousands of miles away while you're destroying your relationship I tell you the truth the biggest killers of the deployed American soldier are your damn dear John letters Tommy was the best of us and we miss you, brother. Hey Ontario, come on down to BetMGM Casino

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A few years ago, I was a staff sergeant serving as the battle captain on an isolated base in the western province of Heratts in Afghanistan. As a battle captain, I was in charge of the base security and defenses, and as such I had several assets with which to conduct base security operations. We usually had two American up-armored Humvees, armed with M-240 B machine guns, and one M-A-T-V-M-A-R-P, mounting a 50-Cal heavy machine gun patrolling the four-mile perimeter of the base at any given time. I volunteered to take the night shift from 1800 hours in the evening to 0,700 in the morning, as the evening hours were when the excitement usually happened. We also had 25 guard towers surrounding the perimeter of the base,

which we also had to keep an eye on. They were manned by Afghan soldiers, and the Afghan National Army wasn't particularly attentive. or competent or even friendly at times. They sometimes seem more of a danger to themselves and the enemy, as they often accidentally fired their weapons inside their guard towers, injuring themselves or their fellow soldiers. Other times they would shine signal lights into the villages a mile or two outside of the base to be answered by signal lights shining back towards the base,

a tell-tale sign that we had enemy insurgents wearing ANA uniforms. Oftentimes I'd take a hum-vue with lights shut off and position myself to observe portions of the perimeter to see if I could catch insurgent signal communications from the base. We also had aerial surveillance assets in the form of predator drones from the nearby special forces camp. We operated out of a small one-story building called the Joint Defense Operation Center, or J-Doc,

which was located in the Afghan National Army part of the base. A brief description of the base may be in order. The base used to be one of the largest airfields, built by the Soviets during their invasion of Afghanistan decades earlier. The majority of the base was occupied by the Afghan army and was used as basic training centre for new recruit soldiers. A motorised battalion of Italian soldiers also shared the base with us, the Italians using the Hesco barriers to build a virtual castle around their portion of the base.

The Italian perimeter had HESCO barriers rising as high as 15 to 20 feet, complete with built-in fighting positions. We Americans held an inner portion of the base, surrounded by HESCO barriers which stood 8 to 10 feet tall. We controlled the air field and conducted all air operations. Like I said, the base was very isolated. In fact, we were closer to Iran than we were to the nearest friendly operational base in Afghanistan. The main instrument we used for nighttime surveillance was called a raid camera, or the eye in the sky. It was a highly sensitive camera which could see miles and miles around the base,

through most weather conditions, including through a sandstorm. The camera was secured on a rotating turret and mounted on a pole that stood two stories above the ground. The system was in place behind the J-Doc and monitored 24-7 by American civilian contractors. Enemy forces who believed that the night kept them hidden never realized that we could see them as if it was full daylight. Well, it was midnight on a chilly November evening where the skies clear and bright with stars. It was a strangely peaceful and beautiful nights. The Taliban hadn't lobbed at us in days. On nights like this, I love going outside of the J-Doc

and climb the low amount of dirt surrounding the building and just look up at the stars. There was absolutely no light pollution here, and the galaxy seemed to open up like a universe-side stage of innumerable stars and galaxies. I stood there for only a short while, when the door to the J-Doc opened and light poured out. Sergeant, I think you need to see this.

It was my friend, the tall, skinny civilian contracts were monitoring a raid camera. I followed him back inside and walked to the raid camera monitor. What you got, Roy? I asked the young man. Take a look at this, he said. I was scanning the village about two clicks to the north. The Italians are conducting recon in the area, and I caught this. On the screen, a clean-shaven young man dressed in white robe. was kneeling next to a low stone wall.

He was rocking back and forth, as if he were praying. Late-night prayers, I asked. Maybe, answered Roy, but he's not facing the right way. Also, I caught him on the thermal site. If I go to IR sites, there's nothing there. Roy switched to the various other night-vision options available on the camera, but the strange apparition only appeared on thermal sites. "'That could be a malfunction,' I asked.

"'Bossibly,' answered Roy. "'But I did a diagnostic test earlier this evening. "'Everything checks out. "'All of a sudden, a force, some unseen force, "'came force, came down on the young man's neck and severed his head. "'The head bounced off the low wall "'and rolled a short distance from the body, "'which had slumped to the ground.

"'Roy cursed and panned back for a wider angle, "'but there was no one around the now-dead young man. I got on the radio and called the American Tactical Operations Centre, or Tollk, to see if we had anything in the air over the village like an Apache or a predator. Unfortunately, we didn't have anything up that night. However, the Toll informed me that an Italian dismounted patrol is not very far away. Roy picked up the Italians on the raid camera, about half a kilometre from the wall, and I directed them into a skirmish line which would allow them to catch anyone who committed the murder.

The Italian platoon manoeuvred professionally and with great skill as they approached the low wall surrounding the village and fanned out to catch any insurgents trying to escape. But they encountered no one either entering or leaving the village. And soon they were at the exact spot where the body lay. Negative contact, said the Italian lieutenant. Your people are right there, I answered. Do you see the body? Negative, came the reply from.

the Italian platoon leader, there is no body here. You're less than ten feet from the body, I said. Your radio operator is practically standing over it. I am sorry, answered the lieutenant, but we see no one here. Sergeant, said Roy, take a look at this. Roy pointed back towards the monitor. The body of the murdered young man had disappeared. While they did not see a body, the lieutenant and his radio

man admitted to feeling a numbing cold in the area where the young man was apparently murdered. I called off the search and the Italian platoon returned to base shortly afterwards. But later in the morning, when the sun crept over the mountains, the Italian lieutenant brought his platoon back to the village and met with the village elder. The lieutenant came to the J-dot later in the day and told me what had transpired. When the lieutenant met the village leader, the elderly Afghan man said that the young man we'd seen being murdered was his son. Before we came and drove off the Taliban,

the Taliban had come to the village and executed the village leader's son as a warning. I apologise to the Italian lieutenant for sending his platoon on a wild goose chase, but the lieutenant just laughed it off. This valley is full of ghosts, my friend, he said. Believe me, I know. Oftentimes on clear evenings between midnight and O200, we could see that young man on the rag camp. we're getting executed over and over again.

After a while, Roy just stopped scanning that sector, and I was okay with that. Bamby and Thumbar versus the big bad wall. Does anyone remember watching one of the final scenes of the Lord of the Rings trilogy, where Frodo and his fellow hobbits, Samways, Matthew and Perry, I'm not sure about those last two, well, they're just sitting at a table in the middle of the festivities.

All of the other hobbits were celebrating the near-improlety. possible victory over the forces of evil, while Frodo and his buddies were just sitting there, stunned and shocked that they were still alive. This short scene that only lasts a few seconds is my favourite scene of the whole trilogy, because that one scene shows exactly what happens when soldiers return from a year of war. We would oftentimes meet at a drinking establishment and sit in stunned silence, amazed that we were still alive after all of the horrors we'd experienced. This was the case not too long ago when I was with a few buddies. We were sitting in an unman gentleman's club out in the middle of the El Paso Desert.

Weird as it may sound, after coming home from a year of serving in the Middle East, we felt comfortable in that lonely out of the way drinking establishment out in the South Texas Desert. This is not my story, but the story of my buddy, Eduardo. My name is Eduardo Acosta Bambino, and I was born in Costa Rica. When I was ten my family immigrated to the United States, legally of course, and moved to northern New York State where my father worked one full-time job and two part-time jobs to support the family. My mother was going to school to become a nurse, so that's why my father was working so hard. He didn't want my mother to have to get a part-time job so that she could concentrate on becoming a nurse. Well, I helped out as well, getting my six-year-old sister ready for school in the morning and picking her up in the evenings once I was done with the school day.

We were renting a modest three-bedroom, two-story house within walking distance at the hospital where my mother was working as an intern. My father drove to and from his many jobs in an old red and rust-colored Dodge pickup truck. Looking back at the time, we were by no means wealthy, but we were happy and we never lacked for food, family support, and love. One thing about our family was that we all felt immensely privileged and blessed to be Americans and living in the greatest country in the world. my father always said that we would not take one dime of government assistance or support as receiving supposedly free things from the government actually enslaved you to the government we'd seen it all too often in south america what the government gives the government will take away leaving you no choice but to think act and vote the way that the government wants we saw that

mentality here in america as well but like i said my father was determined that our family would be a success without any government handouts. America was the land of opportunity, but success wasn't an entitlement. Success was there for those willing to put hard work in and apply their God-giving gifts and talents, and that's exactly what my family did for many years. Now, flashed forward eight years,

and my family was able to move to the suburbs and was even able to purchase a bigger house. My mother was a now full-fledged nurse at the hospital where she worked caring for newborn babies and infants. My father was able to purchase the grocery store which she'd worked at so many years from the kindly old gentleman who owned it as he was ready to retire.

After only two years, we were ready to expand to two stores. My parents' persistence and determination had paid off, and although we weren't what most folks would call filthy rich, we weren't exactly hurting for money either. My mother's salary paid for the mortgage on our house and the profits from our family business paid for all the bills and upkeep of my father's new Dodge Truck and my mother's Honda SUV.

Everything else went into savings and the college fund for me and my sister. When I turned 18, it was a very proud day for my family and I. Dad always said, from now on it will be a tradition in our family that we serve this great country which has blessed us so much.

Before our kids leave for college, they must serve a few years in the armed forces of the United States. There you will meet other people of other nationalities and customs. You will serve together and become a team together. You will adapt and overcome many challenges together, and when you leave the military, you'll see how America is such a great melting pot of people, cultures and ideas. When you take that experience to college,

you'll be all the more better experienced and mature than your peers. Well, I was proud of still the day that I graduated from the U.S. Marine Corps boot camp but Paris Island, South Carolina. The training was tough, but the training had to be tough if you wanted to earn the right to be one of the few and the proud. I'm only five foot five, but I was also a fast runner, and I could navigate any obstacle course with ease, so the drill sergeants gave me the nickname Bambi.

I'd lost about 15 pounds during my time there, but it was replaced with rock-hard muscle and the confidence to know that I was the deadliest weapon on the battlefield. field. Standing there, sharp and lean in my dress blues with my fellow platoon of Marines, I still remember the look of immense pride in the faces of my father, and my mother and my little sister. Those looks turned to complete horror on that terrible and tragic morning. My father said that he was looking for locations to open a third store in New York City when he saw the smoke rising from the island as the buildings collapsed. The United States, my country.

The one which had taken care of my family and protected us with freedoms that are not enjoyed by so many others had been attacked. We were at war. I was attending the Mountain Warfare Training Centre in Bridgeport, California, when I got word that my unit back at 29 Palms was going to war to hit back at the bastards who killed thousands of innocent people. To tell you the truth, I think at the time we all wanted to go to war. We were Marines, damn it. if you attack our country will blow yours to hell

on my last phone call home before leaving for Afghanistan my mother was sobbing telling me to be safe and come home when it was over my sister was also crying but I told her to be brave and assured her that what I was doing was to keep her safe but what really

broke my heart was my father's voice he'd always been so confident and strong he always knew exactly what to say to give me confidence however in a shape fake your voice, you could only say, I love you, son. Cannot be underestimated the horrors and atrocities that the enemy had afflicted upon the people of Afghanistan. Men, women, children, babies, whole families and even entire villages were wiped out by the Taliban.

So I had absolutely no sympathy for them when we called in tactical airstrikes, and our H-1-vipar attack helicopters rained brimstone and hellfire on them. in combat the Taliban were complete cowards hiding behind the very same women and little girls that they've been brutalizing now i'm not a politically partisan man so i don't care what anyone thinks about the merits of going to war to fight global terrorism but i will say this even if the terrorist attacks of nine eleven had never occurred we still needed to be in afghanistan to wipe out this Taliban cancer which was torturing and killing these young girls I would not let that kind of sick depravity of Sharia law come to America and hurt my mother and little sister. I was part of a reconnaissance squad in my battalion's reconnaissance platoon. A squad usually operated in six-man teams under command of a sergeant, and all four of the teams were there under the command of a lieutenant. We were operating in heavy mountainous terrain, just east of Bagram Air Base in Parwan Province,

patrolling the steep rises, the jagged hilltops and valleys, and the numerous cave systems, relentlessly looking for the elusive enemy. At least two or three Taliban mortar positions have been shelling Bagram air base at night, so we were just being sent out to find them. My six-man recon team consisted of our team leader, staffed Sergeant Perez, a short stocky, by the book marine with a permanent buzzcut who was originally from Mexico City, Mexico, completely fearless and a natural leader. Sergeant Perez was a former drill sergeant

who'd volunteered to deploy it to Afghanistan. Our radio operator was a young Filipino private first class named Lampas who was originally from Davao in the Philippines. Because he was the newest member of the team, Lampas had to hump the radio. The team's M249 squad automatic weapon gunner was Big Lance Corporal Deline,

a young black marine from Brooklyn, Illinois. We had what is called a LAV-25 attached to our squad. A lav or light-armoured vehicle is an eight-wheeled armoured reconnaissance vehicle that mounted a 25-millimeter chain gun and two smaller machine guns mounted on a turret. The lav's commander was Sergeant Big MacKastin, the only Marine in the squad who was shorter than I was. But the white Marine from Claucer, Michigan, was built like a brick wall. He'd been preparing to become a wrestler on our US Olympic team, but put that aside to come to Afghanistan to fight the Taliban terrorists.

Corporal Pinkerton was the only other white marine in the squad. He was from the small town of Weig, California, and yes, he was a stoner before he joined the Corps, and found that he had a knack to fix just about anything that had gears and wheels. And I was the squad's grenadier. My M-4 rifle had what was called an M-203 grenade launcher slung under the barrel of the rifle, which could launch a variety of 40mm grenades at the enemy. Over my vests, which carried my rifle ammunition, I also wore a second vest which had small compartments for my grenades.

I had H.E., high-explosive grenade rounds, incendiary rounds, smoke rounds, and even CS-tier-gas grenades. I was like the squad's mini-artillery. The M-203 was breech-loaded, meaning that you had to break the M-203 and half, load a single grenade into the rear of the launcher, then close the launcher again. When firing the M203, it gave up a soft but satisfying thump noise. As such, the M203 was affectionately known as the Thumper, and because I still retain my nickname from basic training, my weapon and I were known collectively as Bambi and Thumper.

Our Recons Squad could lay down a tremendous amount of firepower, and we confidently piled into our L.A.V.25 and left Baguhran, come just before midnight, headed into enemy territory, which we called Indian country. Guided by the moonlight and his night vision devices, Corporal Pinkerton drove us over the rocky terrain as we rumbled roughly due west towards the jagged stone mountains about four miles distant. We had another recon team which was operating north of us, while several other teams were airlifted and dropped on the ridge line, so we weren't alone on this operation. But at this time, the US was still in the process.

of bringing in more marines and army grunts into the theatre, so we were pretty spread thin. Our objective was to observe a trail that our drones had discovered, which wound up on the narrow trails into the mountains, which ended at the mouth of a large cave hidden under a rocky overhang. The cave was located about 300 feet above the valley floor, and Pinkerton was able to get us up a narrow goat trail for about 200 feet before we had to pull off the trail. The goat trail was too narrow for the lave to go any further. Sergeant McCosting guarded the lave back into the crevice about a hundred feet, and facing back down the trail, we'd just gone up.

Inside that little rocky crevice, our giant lave was swallowed up in darkness. Even if the Taliban had night vision devices, they would have been hard-pressed to see our armored transport. Staff Sergeant Perez had Lampas, Deline, and me quietly dismount from the back ramp of the lave, as we would have to climb the rest of the way to our objective. He told Sergeant McCostin and Corporal Pinkerton to stay with the lab and keep the gun turret pointed down the trail. Since the radio on the lav had a greater range than our man portable radio,

the lab would also act as a communication relay between our squad and bug ramp. Using our night vision devices, Perez led us slowly and cautiously up the rocky trail, carefully looking for signs of booby traps and cautioning us whenever the trail became so narrow that a wrong step would send us tumbling over the edge. Staff Sergeant Perez moved stealthily, as if he'd owned the entire mountain, spoke with a confidence that made us all believe that we were the masters of this valley of death.

We moved slowly, less than an arm's length from the Marine in front of us. Private Lampas was behind Perez with the radio, and a lion was behind Lampas with a squad automatic weapon, while me and my trusty thumpur brought up the rear. We finally got to a somewhat level plateau on the ridge And wisely Perez decided to move us off the trail Which leads to the mouth of the cave He had us form a tight perimeter as we scanned our objective

The cave was about 75 feet from us It was actually at the end of a cul-de-sac Where the goat trail ended at a steep drop The cave was surrounded on two sides by the sheer rock walls And where the steep drop off directly to the left of the cave mouth This meant that there was only one route in and one route out of the cave. A rocky overhang extended about eight feet beyond the ceiling of the mouth of the cave, meaning that it would have been very difficult to spot the cave entrance from the air.

We need to go to a position above the cave on the rocks opposite where we can observe. Sergeant Perez whispered, I'll go, Sergeant, I said, having just gone to the mountain warfare course. Okay, Bambi, said Perez. hand me your weapon so it won't hinder you and be careful. I handed my weapon off to Deline and backtracked about ten feet down the trail where I remember seeing a path which led up the side of the trail. This side path was even narrower than the one we were on

and the footing was even more precarious as the loose gravel and stone threatened to twist feet and ankles. Finally, however, I came to a rock ledge about five feet high and hauled myself up and over, hugging the ground once I'd gotten up. I discovered that I was on a relatively flat surface, roughly ten feet long by four feet wide, and surrounded on three sides by rock outcroppings that were between three to four feet high. About fifteen feet below me, and about a hundred feet away, was the mouth of the cave. This couldn't have been a more perfect spot to observe what Captain Taliban and his band of merry lunatics were up to. I climbed back to the spot, and carefully made my way back down to the squad where I reported.

to Sergeant Perez what I'd found. Ah, good work, Bambi, Perez said. Stay close behind me, let's go check it out. I guided Perez up the same narrow path that I'd taken with Lampas and Delang following close behind until we finally made it up to the rock ledge.

Perez hauled himself up and, staying low, pulled all of us up on the ledge. This will do just fine, he whispered. Pambi, you hunker down on the left. and scan everything forward and to our left. DeLine, get in the middle and train your SAW at the mouth of the cave. Lampas, I need you to keep an eye on the trailer, make sure nobody can get him behind us.

Here, let me have the radio. They're taking us almost an hour to get into position, and staffed Sergeant Perez called Sergeant McCostin back at the LAV, telling him he was set. McCostin reported that one of our recon squads to the north of us had spotted suspected enemy movement in a shallow ravine between two low hills. Good copy, said Perez,

keep us informed of any movement coming up the trail, out. We hunkered down on the hard rocky plateau, trying to get as comfortable as we could while making as little noise as possible. It was a cold night on that ridge, and winds would periodically whip up, making the night air even colder. At first I thought they were crazy

to issue us Generation 3 cold weather gear for the desert. but now I knew why. But even with the thermal underclothes, fleece jackets, a wool balaclava, and our uniforms, it was still rather chilly. We were all lying prone on the cold ground, peering over the rocks and looking down at nothing but an empty cave mouth at the end of a lonely trail,

while our brothers in another squad were in contact with possible enemy forces. It was about two in the morning, and my eyes were getting crossed, looking through my NVGs into the dark. I could feel myself dozing off when, suddenly, behind us, about two miles from our location, a bright light followed by white smoke seemed to loom out of the ground and ascend into the air headed towards Bagra. The Taliban fired a Chinese one-two-two-millimeter surface-to-service rocket at the base, whispered Perez.

We watched helplessly as the unguided rocket looped and descended towards our base. Seconds later, four bright orange flares blossomed in the sky above the Taliban launch site as the Americans marked the enemy position. In the clear nights, we could see flash its weapon fire in the distance, the noise of a firefight going on. All this was soon drowned out as red lights, resembling laser-like fingers of death, reached out of the sky and struck the Taliban positions. The noise like a bus saw ripped the air,

and we could even feel slight vibration on the ground as thousands of flying. rounds of hot lead rained down on the Taliban. Looks like Spector is up tonight, said Perez, grinning. Spector is the codename for one of our AC130 transport planes modified to carry an astonishing array of weaponry and firepower, which the US Air Force rains down on the bad guys. Soon, however, the brief light show was over, and just as quickly as it had started, the valley was now deathly quiet again. Sergeant McCostin called staff Sergeant Perez from the lab, saying that the Taliban had gotten off one of these three missiles

that they'd intended to fire at the base, and that some of Captain Taliban's merry lunatics were headed eastwards in our general direction. Perez said that was a good copy and instructed Sergeant McCostin to keep us updated before turning to us and saying, Heads up, Maurice, we may have hostiles approaching soon. All of a sudden, all our thoughts of getting a few minutes of sleep went right out the window. Our weapons were all locked and loaded and my thumpur had a 40mm

H.E. High Explosive grenade already loaded into the breach. I thought for a moment and decided to silently eject that H.E. round from my grenade launcher and placed it back into one of my pouches. I reached into another pouch and pulled out an incendiary round and loaded it into my thumpur. If the Taliban were hiding one to two millimeter rockets in that cave, an incendiary round would ignite the propellant, causing the rocket to explode. We lay there motionless for another three hours, as no further action had taken place anywhere in the area. It's just after five in the morning,

and the darkness around was as ever so slowly, lightening into a dark purple sky. We got movement to our direct front, whispered Sergeant McCostin from the lav. I count five, six, a seven, or at least a dozen personnel moving up the trail towards your position, They seem to be armed with AKs. Looks like they've been wounded.

Roger, whispered Perez into the radio hand mic. We later had Guadders that we have and maintain observation. Perez handed the mic back to Lump us and said, Stay alert, Marines. We have movement coming up the trail. It was still too dark to see without our NVGs and the suspected Taliban approach in the cave entrance were lighting their way using cheap flashlights.

Sure enough, there are about a dozen men armed with AK-47's approaching the cave, two of them lying on makeshift stretches. And the men were carrying anything larger than AK-47. They had no mortars or rockets. Now the rules of engagement at the time were pretty sketchy since it was legal to own AK-47s. We couldn't just assume that these were Taliban. We actually had to see them commit a criminal act before we could do anything.

For all we knew, these could have just been local farmers who got caught up in the fighting, were just trying to get away. Maybe this cave was where they hid from the Taliban. Despite everything that was going on, despite the fact that thousands of innocents had died in the 9-11 attacks on America, we still insisted on giving everyone the benefit of the doubt here in Afghanistan. Everyone was considered innocent

until they overtly show that they intend to commit a hostile act. The armed men seemed to show no concern about being tactically silent and weren't worried at all that they may have been under observation by US Marines. The heavily bearded young man who seemed to be the leader of the group tried to usher the men carrying the two stretches into the cave. Strangely, however, some of the men seemed reluctant to enter the cave and had in fact dropped the two wounded men on the ground.

The leader loudly chambered around into his AK-47, yelling in Pashtun and pointing towards the cave entrance. The yelling went on for several seconds before the men who refused to go into the cave finally relented and they all disappeared into the entrance what do you make of that sergeant whispered deline different families different factions different tribes said Perez all these people know is conflict and strife do you think they're Taliban said Lampas maybe said Perez or maybe not if they are friendly we're obligated to help their wounded, stay calm for now. Another five minutes passed when a loud barking roar,

something like a dog's bark combined with a bear's ground, boomed from the cave. Several men screamed and we could hear the frantic, undisciplined sounds of AK-47 rifle fire coming from inside, followed by the flashes of muzzle fire. The earlier argument had seemingly reached a boiling point and the two factions of the same group turned violent against each other. but instead of hearing voices of rage

he seemed like all of the men shooting inside the cave were filled with voices of fear this lasted for several seconds as the sounds of men fighting and apparently dying abruptly ceased along with the rifle fire then there was silence as something big but unseen

seemed to be stirring inside the cave sergeant Perez are you in contact it was Sergeant McCosting calling from the lave. Negative, replied Perez. We're fine. Apparently there was some kind of altercation inside the cave and a lot of shooting. Call this in to Bagram.

Roger, said Sergeant McCostin. Wait one. Several minutes passed as McCostian reported the incident back to base. Meanwhile, we kept our eyes laser-focused on the cave. Whatever was moving around in there, perhaps a wounded man. but stopped. Equoters wants us to maintain observation and secure the position, radio of McCostin from the laugh.

Company commander is sending up a relief platoon later in the morning once it gets lighter. Seems like they're still clearing the area from last night's attack. We sat for an indeterminate amount of time as the sky slowly went from a dark purple to a dark blue with hints of red as the sun began clawing its way into the sky. Still, everything was silent inside the cave. "'We need to go in there and see what's going on,' said Perez. "'They may be injured people that need assistance. Bambi, take point.' "'I'm moving, Sergeant,' they said,

"'happy to be able to get up and stretch my aching back and leg muscles. "'Deline,' said Perez, "'take slack.' "'Movein, Sergeant, as he hefted to his SAW and followed me. "'Soon we were all down from our elevated perch "'and moving back down the narrow path towards the main trail. It was lighter now, so the going was smoother and faster, though, no less precarious. We no longer needed our envigies to see the path ahead of us. Sergeant Perez stopped us at the point where we stepped onto the trail.

Delian, said Perez, take up a secure firing position here and watch our backs. We may be coming out of here in a hurry. I'm on it, Sergeant, said Deline, as he scooted a few feet back up the path to where he was in some cover and could watch the cave. "'Let's move,' instructed Sergeant Perez, "'and all three of us combat rushed across the trail "'and stacked on the right side of the cave entrance. "'Even standing outside we could smell the scent of blood and carnage "'wafting from inside the cave like a slaughterhouse of raw flesh.

"'I was in front, with Staff Sergeant Perez directly behind me "'and Lampas behind him. "'Perez said nothing, simply holding up three fingers. "'Two fingers?' One. Go. Just had we trained, I went in first, swiftly covering everything to my front and to the left with my weapon. Simultaneously, Perez came in behind me and swept right while Lampas immediately followed and swept front to rear. All of a sudden, behind me I heard Lampas retching as he stepped back.

Oh my God, he whispered, horrified that he just stepped into a pile of human entrails. My eyes began adjusting to the darkness inside the cave, and I heaved as I saw bodies and pieces of bodies stacked up like cordwood next to a wall deeper inside the cave, while all around us piles of innards and guts had been strewed across the floor and walls. There was blood and streaks of blood everywhere. Without realizing it, I had lowered my weapon and was walking deeper into the cave. Hold your positions, hissed Perez. Take a knee and scan your sect. Something seemed to fall from the heights of the cave ceiling, something big and hairy that smelled of wet and mouldy fur.

It landed directly behind me, and I felt something slam into my back and ribs like a baseball bat. I went flying into the side of the cave wall and slumped down with my ears ringing and the wind knocked out of me. I turned around and propped my back against the wall, my head spinning. Whatever this thing was, had its back towards me now. It was covered in short fur and easily stood above eight feet tall. From behind I could see that it had canine like ears and legs like a dog or a wolf, and arms that were hideously long and muscular. The thing was facing Perez, who tried to raise his M4 to fire,

but the thing backhanded staffed Sergeant Perez so hard that he was sent tumbling out of the cave. I watched in horror as Perez's body tumbled over the ravine and fall from view. Lampas was to the creature's left, and he opened up with his M4. At this close range, Lampas couldn't miss as he put at least five to six rounds sent a mass of the creature. However, the creature only looked annoyed as he swiped at Lampas. Lampas jumped back and slipped on the same pile of entrails he stepped in earlier. With the Lampas now on his back, the creature stalked towards him.

I reached from my weapon and found that I didn't have it anymore. Looking around, I saw that I dropped it right where the creature had hit me. My thumpur was laying at the creature's feet, or pause, or whatever those massive things were. Still groggy from the blow I'd taken, I drunkenly ran forwards, towards the creature and died from my weapon, and fell far short. The creature closed in on Lampas, as Lampas struggled to pull his K-bar from its sheath. Suddenly, the entrance to the cave darkened as another. the figure entered. Son of her, yelled Deline as he lifted his SAW and put an eight-round burst directly into the

creature's guts, then another, then another. The creature led out a pained howl and jumped nearly 15 feet towards Deline, knocking the SAW out of Deline's hands and slamming her into the ground. Deline's distraction gave me the seconds I needed to get up and grab my thumper, charging out the creature from behind and to its left. I screamed a battle cry of as I rammed him as hard as I could with the entire right side of my body

to my surprise the creature went off balance but so did I I was now lying about eight feet in front of the creature with Delin and Lampas standing behind me near the mouth of the cave I was again on my back lying in a pile of human gore as I leveled my weapon up at the creature

I could now get a good look at its face It definitely had canine features with a short snout, wide jaws and horrifically sharp and blood-stained teeth. Get down, get down! I yelled at Lampas and Deline. What are you? said Deline. Oh shit! Yote Lampas. The creature opened its more wide in an angry growl, just as my weapon went, thumb. It was late in the afternoon when we were all finally piled into the back of the L.A.V.

Corporal Pinkerton driving us all back to Bagram after his long patrol. A platoon of Marines and some army EOD guys had arrived later on in the morning, and together we estimated that there were the bodies of at least 10 to 12 Taliban fighters inside that cave. We knew they were Taliban because the EOD guys also found fragments of at least two Chinese 1-2mm rockets and three Russian 82-millimeter mortars as well as some destroyed RPGs. They also found the rear hindquarters of what had to be a huge dog, which they assumed the Taliban were using as a watchdog to guard their stash of high explosives.

When it fired my 40mm incendiary grenade at the Taliban fighters who were shooting at us, it set off their munitions and pretty much blew them all to hell. At least that's what stuff Sergeant Perez told the intel guys when they questioned us about the engagement, and the rest of us backed up Perez's story. I really don't know how long I was unconscious after I force-fed that creature with an incendiary grenade. I only remember waking up and being dragged across the grand

and out into the sunlight by Lampas and Deline. Deline came running when he saw Perez was being tossed out of the cave like a ragdoll and over the side of the ravine. Fortunately, Perez fell on a lead just six feet below the ravine and was groggy and woozy when we finally pulled him back up the trail. Since it was likely that the Taliban would use this cave again after we'd left. Staff Sergeant Perez suggested that our EOD guys blow the living crap out of it, and the guys were more than happy to oblige. They wired C-4 all over the unexploded Taliban

ordinance inside the cave, and wired the overhang of the entrance, and detonated the charges in a booming explosion that knocked my lungs into my skull. It was beautiful. When the smoke cleared, it was just a pile of rocks where a cave used to be. The four of us, were sitting in the back of the lav as we rumbled towards the base. Staff Sergeant Perez's arm was in a sling from his fall, and I had a nice big bandage on my head from where I was hit. Deline was scooping spaghetti and meatballs from an MRE into his mouth, and Lampas nearly threw up again.

Oh man, how can you eat that? Lampas said. Deline shrugged. I'm hungry. Mama Deline always told me that fighting werewolves is hard work, so eat as much as you can when you can. I shook my head and leaned back, closing my eyes and letting the rumble of the lav's engines rock me to sleep. I think that the song coming up weakened that creature, said Lampas. That's why we were able to hurt it.

What do you think it was, Sergeant? asked a line. Stav Sergeant Perez, as pragmatic as he was stoic, simply shrugged. I don't know. I don't care if you're some mythical, bulletproof, where, whatever the hell you are. if a Marine thumps an incendiary grenade down your throat, you're a rug, baby. I've since been promoted to the rank of staff, Sergeant, and because of that, I'm required to surrender my beloved thumper

for a regular M4 rifle. I haven't, though. No, I've kept my same thumpur through one combat tour of Afghanistan and three to Iraq. So sleep well, because Bambi and thumpur got your back. And so once again, we reach the end. of tonight's podcast. My thanks as always to the authors of those wonderful stories and to you

for taking the time to listen. Now, I'd ask one small favor of you. Wherever you get your podcast from, please write a few nice words and leave a five-star review as it really helps the podcast. That's it for this week, but I'll be back again same time, same place, and I do so hope you'll join me once more. Until next time, sweet dreams and bye-bye.