Bumblebees

FOURNIER

Copyright © 2018 Tony Fournier.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, stored, or transmitted by any means—whether auditory, graphic, mechanical, or electronic—without written permission of the author, except in the case of brief excerpts used in critical articles and reviews. Unauthorized reproduction of any part of this work is illegal and is punishable by law.

ISBN: 978-1-4834-8999-5 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4834-8998-8 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2018909736

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales, is entirely coincidental.

Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Getty Images are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

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Lulu Publishing Services rev. date: 8/27/2018

Dedicated to all my brothers that I had the honor and privilege to serve with and my wife, Sharon, who was there with me through all the crazy times.

Prelude

It was the summer of 1987 and it was hot and humid in Palmerola Air Base, Honduras. It was the kind of heat where you were sweating all the time, even after taking a shower. The air was always thick with humidity and your body always had a coat of sweat and the saying was, you had to cut a breath out of the air and swallow it to keep breathing.

We were in the TOC (Tactical Operations Center) of the 224th MI and we were being briefed on an upcoming mission by the 7th Group, SF (Special Forces) that would provide us, the 224th, with vital intelligence on operations in our AO (area of operations);at least that is what the SF captain was telling us.The 224th MI provided IMINT (imagery intelligence) to the theater with its OV-1D Mohawk platform and other assets. The Mohawk is a triple empennage, twin turbo, prop-powered, ejection-seat-equipped two-man aircraft operated by a pilot and a systems operator or a TO (technical observer).The plane was often described as an ugly, bug-looking plane by our soldiers. The British in Belize described it as an ugly bird, but that is a story for another day.

We had been in country for 2–3 months up to that point, and were still getting our bearings on the threat when the SF approached us about this mission that should be a quick pickup with a good return on our investment. The TOC was a GP medium tent, with all the doors and windows closed, with fans going that kept the stink and humidity down to livable temperatures but did nothing for our attention spans. As the captain droned on about political and civilian issues, my mind wandered to the thrill of the assignment I had volunteered for.They wanted one intel guy to go along on the extraction of a HUMINT (human intelligence)asset that had information that could prove to be vital for our operations in Honduras against the Nicaraguan rebels.The Sergeants Major called it an easy mission, and even we intel pukes would love it, so I jumped at the chance to get out of the wire and hopefully see something other than the inside of a cockpit,the hooch, and our bunker.

The briefing was over, and we were going to insert five A-team members plus me into a LZ in Guatemala using a UH-60 Blackhawk.The team that was exfiling was going through our LZ to their exfil LZ and leaving the asset with us.Simple plan, with a small number of moving parts;sounds good.The A-team sergeant, Mike, gave directions and a list of things to bring, and told me to meet the team at the bus that was taking us out to the Blackhawk.

I gathered all the items and rushed to the pickup site and of course I was early, so I copped a squat and burned one while I was waiting for the team.The team consisted of the team sergeant, Mike, and four team members who did not talk with me other than to nod towards me in a way that acknowledged that I existed.They were friendly enough, just very serious and focused and, well, professional.

We climbed aboard the Blackhawk and I immediately noticed a large coiled rope, with the rope as thick as my arm, and it appeared to have some sort of coating on it.I initially thought the crew chief left it in there after the AC was towed and thought no more of it.

The flight was great.We did NOE (nap of the Earth), and the jungle flew by below us. It was exhilarating,calming, and beautiful.The country, when viewed from above, was stunning, luscious and green, and so teaming with life;of course, most of the life wanted us dead, but I did not care, for those few minutes of joy flying over this sea of green surpassed any ideas of the evil that man does.

The tranquility of the flight was rudely interrupted by incoming fire.This was not my first time experiencing those damn green balls of flame that meant certain death if they managed to find us.It was like a crisscrossing of red and green roman candles, but I knew that for every one of those flaming balls there were either three or four rounds fired, so the air was getting pretty thick with lead and we really started jerking around to keep the ground gunners guessing. That was when Mike slapped me in the chest and fingered 30 seconds, and I prepared to exit the aircraft; more mentally than anything, because I had no idea what was about to happen.

The aircraft suddenly took on a hover, and the crew chief kicked that huge pile of rope out and turned around and gave us the thumbs up. I had no fucking idea what the hell was about to happen, but I knew I was not ready for this! One by one the team members grabbed the rope, with gloves, and slid out of the helicopter. Mike pushed me to the door and shouted, Just grab it like a fire pole and slide down!I was in shock. I knew this was going to hurt because I had never done anything like it—and I had no gloves. Mike saw my hesitation and fear and said, Just grab the rope with your shirt and slide down, now!So I did as I was told and it took all of about four seconds to fall the 30 or so feet to the jungle floor. I landed like a retarded sack of potatoes, and man, it hurt!

I was still dazed and pulling myself up to get my bearings when Mike shoved me to the ground and said, You fast rope just like a fucking amateur, now get down and stay down.I was laying on the jungle floor in a prone position and trying to recover my senses and thinking, fast rope, I just fast roped . . . and that is when I heard this buzzing, you know, like bees.I was thinking, man, I did not know the jungle had all these bees. So I was trying to find them and moved up on a knee and was looking around, trying to figure out where the hell all these bees were coming from. Mike shoved me down from behind and yelled,Get the fuck down! What are you, some kind of asshole?

I was laying on my face again and turned around and asked him, Where the hell are all of these bees coming from?

Mike said, You really are some kind of asshole.Those aren’t bees, those are incoming rounds.We are being shot at.This is a hot LZ!

The Beginning

I T ALL BEGAN FOR ME, JOHNNY MARK, AFter AIT (advanced individual training) at Fort Huachuca, Arizona, and my leave back home to Alabama.I completed my basic military intelligence training at Fort Huachuca, or as it is better known, Fort We-gotcha.The orders I had for Germany were generic in nature, with no specific unit or location designated, so my anticipation level and anxiety were high.

While on leave in Anniston, Alabama, still high on adrenaline from completing my training at Fort Huachuca, I went full retard and was married. Everything before and after the marriage was a blur;all I could remember was I had orders and I was ready to go.I left my bride at home with her parents and went to find suitable housing and get my bearings.

I arrived in Frankfurt.It was raining and drab, as is usual for Germany.At the 21st replacement depot I began the long process of hurry up and wait for my unit orders.As I was sitting in the day room watching AFN, a corporal came in and told me to report to the 1SG.Not the way I wanted this to start, but off I went.

I reported to the 1SG and he had a foreign soldier in his office with him.The 1SG asked if I was Johnny Mark and I replied, Yes,1SG.

That was when the foreign soldier chimed in, Ya,das ist der man.(Yes, this is the man).I realized he was a German soldier.

The 1SG asked me if I was a US citizen and if I had sworn my loyalty to the US, and I again replied, Yes, 1SG.That was when they both started laughing and showed me my draft orders into the German Army.I was still confused, but the 1SG cleared everything up and said, We found you first, so your ass belongs to Uncle Sam.You are dismissed.They were still laughing when I walked out of there.

I was born in Nuremburg, Germany, to my German mother and US Army soldier father.I was a US citizen, and a dual German citizen because I was born in Germany.I never renounced my German citizenship and when I enlisted in the US Army, my German citizenship was not even on my radar.So the whole you are drafted into the German Army thing was not as shocking as it might have been for anybody else in my position.

I finally received my orders for some armored unit in Wurzburg.I grabbed my duffle bag and climbed into the bus going that direction.I arrived that evening, and the CQ (charge of quarters) put me in some temporary rooms, which meant basically a bed and some sheets and a pillow.He showed me where the showers and bathrooms were, and told me to be at the unit HQ at 0700 in the morning to determine where they were going to assign me.

I took a shower and grabbed some sleep and before you know it, it was 0600 and I was out of the rack and grabbing my gear.I realized I had time to grab some chow before going to the HQ.

I arrived at the unit HQ and a SFC was there and took my orders.He said, You are not needed here.He grumbled some more and left the office with me standing there confused.When the SFC returned, he told me that somebody made a mistake and that I was assigned to L troop, 3/2 Armored Cavalry Regiment, Amberg, Germany.

I of course replied, Yes,Sergeant, and he showed me the way to the van heading in that direction and left me waiting.

At approximately 1900 hours I arrived in Pond Barracks, Amberg, Germany, for my first assignment in the US Army.I stepped off the van and grabbed my duffle bag and tried to get my bearings.I wanted to turn around and ask the driver where I needed to go, or if he know where I needed to go, but he had already closed the door and was pulling out, leaving me standing there in my class As with my duffle bag. It was a cool and clear evening, and I started walking towards the nearest building when a sergeant came walking up and asked if I had been assigned to L troop.I replied,Yes,Sergeant, and to be honest, I was a little relieved to find some help because up to that point I was seriously lost.

With that being said, Sergeant Jones and I started walking towards L troop barracks and he began telling me what the lowdown on 3/2 ACR was.He told me things like, don’t walk on the huge symbol on the parade grounds because you never know if the sergeant major was watching.When I gave him that questioning look, he said, If the sergeant major catches you walking on the symbol, he has you detailed for a week re-painting it and removing any weeds around the concrete circle.This symbol was placed in a parade ground that was made entirely of crushed gravel, so it stood out and to be honest, it did look pretty good.

As we moved closer to the symbol, I could see the layers of paint;it must have been 2–3 inches thick!Oh, man, what had I gotten myself into? So we kept walking towards the barracks of L troop.Now, these barracks were the old German Army barracks of World War II, three stories high and 50–60 yards long, and were all set up surrounding the parade ground.The parade ground was approximately the same size as a football field and the buildings surrounded the parade field in a rectangle, with Headquarters troop and M company on one side and L troop and I troop on the other.The Headquarters building was at the head of the field, or as a football analogy, in the end zone.

On the opposite side of the Headquarters building was the First-Aid Station.We had walked about three-quarters of the way to L troop barracks when Sergeant Jones stopped, turned around, looked at me and asked me if I was married, to which I replied yes, and he kind of shook his head andsaid, Oh,what the hell.Then he asked me, Would you mind taking my wife to bed so I could take pictures of her cheating on me?

I replied,Seriously? and he looked at me completely calm and said yes.I couldn’t believe it; again,what had I gotten myself into?

Now, he was my sergeant, so I had to respond in a manner that didn’t put me in a bad light with him on our first meeting.So I asked him if I could think about it and he said, Nah, don’t worry about it, I was just kidding.I really don’t think he was.

We continued walking, and finally arrived at the L troop