If a tree falls in the forest..
Some of my favourite stories are too x-rated for publication, but here is one that might be suitable:
I was posted to CFB Baden, 1984-88, employed in the Communication Centre as a Teletype Operator, located in the Base Operations Centre. We worked closely with Air Defence Technicians (AD Techs) and I hung with Barry LaFave who was in that trade. On one weekend, we decided to attend a beer tent about 10 kms from the base. We left our cars at home, thinking that a cab fare to the base was a good investment. One of the first things we saw, entering the tent, was a booth selling "alt beers" or old beers. These were strong ales with alcohol content ranging from 13.5% to 16.5%. We understood enough German to realize the sign read "Drink all 6 beers and the rest are free!" The beers were in giant mugs about twice the size of a Canadian beer. We both looked at each other with evil grins. Seldom did anyone ever see German locals drink to excess, but to Canadians, this was like waiving a red flag to a bull. We parked our butts on the stools and commenced Operation Shitfaced.
Well, we did it. We were a shambles, an absolute disgrace, but we did it. We managed a couple of free beers, much to the chagrin of the vendor, and stumbled our way towards a payphone. The trouble was, in our condition, the civilian taxis in Baden were not inclined to drive so far out to pick us up, being suspicious that we would simply leave before they got there. Not to worry, says Barry, I know a shortcut to the PMQs.
Barry had just moved into the brand new, squeaky clean PMQ not long before that. So off we went, trudging our way through this muddy field heading towards Hugelsheim. Only a few seconds after passing under the limb of a large tree, down it came, crashing only a few feet behind us. If there is a patron saint of drunken sods, he was looking after us that night. The branch was certainly heavy enough to have killed us. We both looked back and laughed hysterically, both of us trying to calculate the odds of such an occurrence.
We made it back to his "Q" and by then it was light out. Light enough for his wife to view two drunken sods, absolutely covered in mud from head to foot. We had a couple of unfortunate falls in the mud on the way home. I still remember Barry's smiling at his wife and saying: "Hi honey, we're kind of hungry. Could you make us something to eat?" I'm not sure that I could describe the expression on her face. It was something between contempt and murderous rage.
Still, I got my shower, I was fed, and with little fanfare, I was sent on my way. Be gone, drunken fool. How dare you lead my innocent husband astray!
Bill Steedman
Peterborough, ON