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In Squadron 9 (Hellcat)

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My boss was in Squadron 9 class of '86.

My frick year, our CO was a very hairy sort. When time came to cover down on him for the annual kidnapping, we stripped him and duct taped his entire body. We then moved him out to a pick up for transport that night. After drinking an absolute ton...we drove about for a couple of hours. We then pulled him through a corral full of BS, then we chunked him in a barn completely bound and threw in a closed pocket knife. Told him good luck.

As we drove back to CS, I was gettin kind of worried because I wasn't too sure anyone knew exactly where we had left him. I started to think the poor ******* was going to die out there...oh well.

Much to our amazement, HE BEAT US BACK TO THE QUAD. His 1st Officer followed us the entire time and released him as soon as we left. GAAWD was he pissed!!! The shiit list lasted awhile until we decided to cover down on him again!

When I was a zip, one of my fish (in my outfit and in the bass section) was the younger brother of my ASL from my fish year. I had become pretty good friends with his older brother, so I kept an eye on him and razzed him a lot. If I saw him in the hallway, I would call him over, then give him a shove into the wall or something like that. He would always respond in kind, and a full-blown wrestling match would be on. I probably had about 100 pounds on this kid, it usually wasn't very fair (although he was pretty quick). All the comotion in the hallway would draw his fish buddies out of their holes, and once 10 - 15 of them were involved, I always got hauled off to the showers (I never started this while I was in boots!).

Now, to me, the funniest part of the story is that after I would get doused, I would put the wet clothes in my hamper, and leave them there until I got a chance to take them to my fiance's apartment a few days later. She usually did laundry for me, but I always got a "talking to" when she would open my laundry bag and be suffocated by a green cloud of funk from wet BDUs or PT gear that had been in there for a week or so...

Still can't believe she married me.

Greutzmachers -- Goin' commando!

Don't read this while eating!

As a Frog I had to help clean up a room which was fairly gagproof by the time i was drafted to help.

Turns out that somebody didn't like this Junior.
They put a shoebox full of human "stuff" in the middle of his room. Then they put a large firecracker in the box and exploded it . The room was covered with "stuff"!

Enjoy!

As a member of C-2, we would run the pumpkin during halloween (don't know if they still do this or not). Anyway, the fish would buy the biggest pumpkin they could find about a week before, and do "whatever you wanted to" with it/in it.

God, to clean that thing out, my surge buddy puked twice......

I guess ol army truly is dead;
The closest we got was during hell week our freshman year. Stole all the CO's stuff; including pipes from the sink and lights, and filed the whole room with newspaper. We came back Mon morning for PT and our rooms had been destroyed. We started by loosing our foot lockers to the CO and him making a throne out of them and smoking us from said throne, then we lost our mattreses and had to sleep on the wire frames and we also lost our chairs; then we got down to all 25 or so of us sleeping in 2 holes. This continued till the comidant's office caught wind of our hell week and shut it down. Hasn't been done in my outfit since

oh yeah when I was a pisshead one of the fish put a dead possum in the air vent of one of his buddies rooms; dorm smelled like **** for about 4 days

what's a crap out?

Judd:

What was the first letter of the last name of this fish you speak of?

yall are a weird bunch!

69Huslin1 surprised to hear that a Gator was allowed to lead the Hustlers...

Gator 2 existed then, they must have been real jealous...

I met Butch Baldridge. My mother worked as the Bossier High School librarian while we were living in Shreveport, and she knew Butch very well. He came over to the house a couple of times to see her.

When I went to the Vietnam memorial in '98 I did a tracing for her of his name.....

My fish year "Mr. O'Lantern" was quickly disposed of by our pissheads. We really didn't take his safety seriously. Taking the lead from our pissheads, we decided to kidnap Hustlin' One's. We were able to get our hands on it, but were quickly surrounded by our Hustler buddies. My buddy, who had a hold of Jack, did what he could but had to drop him to the floor of the hallway. The Hustlers picked up Jack w/ only slight bruises and returned him to the middle of the hallway.

The next day, we had reconed the pass key from our CO. We had a flag football game that evening and had taken early chow. During formation we took Jack from one of the Hustler's holes and filled him w/ shaving cream.

After recall was sounded Jack was sent flying from the 4th floor of Dorm 8. He landed between the Hustlers and Gators in foamy glory.

One I'll never forget...

Thanks Hustlers for being such good sports.

What's a crap out? I will take it that you are not in the Corps or not at A&M. Otherwise, that is the saddest question I have ever seen posted here. That is when an upperclassman physically trains their fish or whoever until they are crapped out and cannot go any further. A total workout for good bull.

Squadron Seven also had a wierd thing called purple marauders in which an upper classman would send about eight naked fish to jump into bed with an unsuspecting classmate. Waking up at 6 a.m. was hard enough but doing it with a hairy arce in your face was a wake up call from hell.

One of the reasons we got away with so much good bull was that the Class of 74 was the very last all male Corps Class. The girls started the next year and the scaling back of such activities began.

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what's a crap out?

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It's when an upperclassman makes a freshman do push-ups, running, and a bunch of other exercises until he's exhausted. No fish liked to be "crapped out" but it sure kept you in good physical shape.

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What was the first letter of the last name of this fish you speak of?

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Mike:

The first letter is "O". He was class of '04, and is now a USAF missile officer in North Dakota. I am actually a groomsman at his wedding in March.

Greutzmachers -- Goin' commando!

i remember we did to our heads... we knew we were going to get craped out thanks to a zip...so about four in the morning we got a couple of hundred feet of rope and tied all of the doors together so that no heads could get in the hall...suprise longest run of my life in the corps, easterwood and back after chow

dumbest thing my buddies did (thank god I was in class) was after dinner of popcorn shrimp my buddies brought four plates back from duncan and proceeded to fill one of the butts holes. they put them everywhere, unforutantly including his boots...i got back from class and caught the end of the second worst crap out of the year...

Correction there fish buddy. It was crawfish, not shrimp, because said butt had a serious phobia of crawfish. Well worth it.

yeah i think that is right...e2?

Towards the end of my fish year it was announced a BQ would be the Corps Commander for the next year. After it was announced he moved from the band dorms to the Corps Staff dorm. I happened to know this BQ from high school. I didn’t think it was right for someone in Corps Staff to wear a Band liar (sp?) on their collar or Band Shields on their shoulders. So I snuck into his room where his bravos were sitting all set up. I stole the band liar and Band Shields and replaced them with Brigade Shields and Corps Brass. A few days later I did it again . . . then a few days later again.

During this time I had them proudly displayed on the bulletin board in my fish hole. Every now and then an upperclassman would walk in and demand to know why I was displaying band insignia. After I explained they would always smile and say “GOOD BULL!” and walk out.

After the third time he figured out who it was. I was in my hole between classes and the door flies open. “I KNOW IT WAS YOU! I AM RUNNING OUT OF BRASS YOU PUNK!” I ended up in front of Duncan during lunch that day wearing shorts, a used Band PT shirt and a suck strap. I had to play his trombone and then shout “I love BQ’s!” I did that for 2.5 hours straight, the entire time Duncan was open for lunch that day.

Take it to the Corps Board

Anything A&M is the Corps Board, sorry to break it to you.

That being said, I've suggested to staff that we need a traditions / memories / Aggie Urban Legend / Good Bull board.

Our outfit has a custom that on outfit picture day, the Butts have a “pull out” picture directed at the zips, doing something behind their backs during the photo. As heads, we knew when that shot would be. So, when the photographer counted down, “3-2-1…” the butts moved into position for their “pull out." As they did, we, the entire head class gave them all the finger behind their backs, thus forever ruining their chance at glory.

Nothing was ever said until the day the photos came back from the photographer. When the photos came in, I knew it. Unfortunately, I was in my hole when I heard a tremendous “WHAT!?! HEADS GET OUT HERE!” resounding down the hall.

I don’t remember the full extent of the punishment other than we had to wear our geek suits with jeep drivers the whole next week(charlies, sleeves rolled down, headgear was the baseball cap, not a campaign cover) thus we all looked like Radar O’Reily cruising down the quad.

Maybe there was a steam shower crap out afterwards, too.

Oh, there was also the night we got into a fight on the steps of the Capitol Builiding after Yell Practice in 1990.

That was good bull.

Im not saying sheet on here for fear that my IP would trace the cops right to me.

Every once in a while, some Corps Turd fish would challenge the BQ fish to a water fight at evening chow. Those water fights were epic. Upper classmen filling all manner of water vessels for the fish...mass chaos on the quad...there was always one Upper Classman in "B"s on the Quad getting doused because he wasn't at chow and didn't know what was happening. Invariably, the watter fight would end at the edge of the Band Drill Field, with Corps Turds threatening to run on the field and BQs defending it. There were always a few individuals who would try it, and get creamed. The Corps Turds never seemed to figure out that if they rushed in mass it would be a free-for-all.

Good Bull.

The Air Force outfit drill competition is now named after Butch Baldridge. He must have been a badass.

These stories are awesome.

My dad's Squadron (I think it was 4) had some sort of feud with the drum major. One night they loaded up on fertilizer and headed out to the practice field to fertilize their squadron number into it... unfortunately the fertilizer burned the grass and the number lasted a bit longer than intended.

Got a little story for you - and this cannot be topped.

Over Christmas my Fish year, I killed a buck on the family ranch. I decided to keep the buck's balls for a special someone.

My old lady and I kept the nut sack in a jar with milk and eggs for about a month.

We were in Dorm 2, 4th floor. That year (1982-3), Dorm 1 was non-reg. We had a running feud with them all year (water balloons, eggs, etc...).

One night, my old lady and I took the jar, snuck into Dorm 1. We taped over the drain on the first floor water fountain, dumped the contents onto the fountain head. I them took the nut sack and jammed it over the fountain head.

The smell was so bad, I puked – on the fountain.

We ran.

Asbury Ag: I was there at the Capitol in '90 ... good, clean fun.

Aggie Infantry: That's some sick stuff. Also, good bull.

One of my old ladies once decided it would be a good idea to yank the shoulder cord of one of our buddies who was in FDT. Bad idea.

I woke up in the middle of the night to the sounds of my roommate cussing and yelling ... He had just returned to the dorm, only to find me sound asleep and everything on his side of the room covered in flour ... nothing was spared.

Evidently some FDT operatives snuck in while I was asleep and completely d*uched his side of the room without even waking me up.

He, of course, blamed me. I just laughed and helped him clean up his stuff, while saying, "that's what you get for yanking his cord ... "

I took the BQ field on a weekly basis. Those fat slobs could never catch me.

ABattJudd said:

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When I was a zip, one of my fish (in my outfit and in the bass section) was the younger brother of my ASL from my fish year. I had become pretty good friends with his older brother, so I kept an eye on him and razzed him a lot. If I saw him in the hallway, I would call him over, then give him a shove into the wall or something like that. He would always respond in kind, and a full-blown wrestling match would be on. I probably had about 100 pounds on this kid, it usually wasn't very fair (although he was pretty quick). All the comotion in the hallway would draw his fish buddies out of their holes, and once 10 - 15 of them were involved, I always got hauled off to the showers (I never started this while I was in boots!).

Now, to me, the funniest part of the story is that after I would get doused, I would put the wet clothes in my hamper, and leave them there until I got a chance to take them to my fiance's apartment a few days later. She usually did laundry for me, but I always got a "talking to" when she would open my laundry bag and be suffocated by a green cloud of funk from wet BDUs or PT gear that had been in there for a week or so...

Still can't believe she married me.

Greutzmachers -- Goin' commando!

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Thread revival!

I'm only 18 YEARS late reading this story... confirmed 100% true!!!

Referencing the Greutzmacher above, I can attest as one of his buddies he was a tough son-of-a-gun and despite several sneak attacks, I never managed to take him down.

Who else has some Good Bull stories to share now that the statute of limitations has run out?

BQZip01 said:

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ABattJudd said:

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When I was a zip, one of my fish (in my outfit and in the bass section) was the younger brother of my ASL from my fish year. I had become pretty good friends with his older brother, so I kept an eye on him and razzed him a lot. If I saw him in the hallway, I would call him over, then give him a shove into the wall or something like that. He would always respond in kind, and a full-blown wrestling match would be on. I probably had about 100 pounds on this kid, it usually wasn't very fair (although he was pretty quick). All the comotion in the hallway would draw his fish buddies out of their holes, and once 10 - 15 of them were involved, I always got hauled off to the showers (I never started this while I was in boots!).

Now, to me, the funniest part of the story is that after I would get doused, I would put the wet clothes in my hamper, and leave them there until I got a chance to take them to my fiance's apartment a few days later. She usually did laundry for me, but I always got a "talking to" when she would open my laundry bag and be suffocated by a green cloud of funk from wet BDUs or PT gear that had been in there for a week or so...

Still can't believe she married me.

Greutzmachers -- Goin' commando!

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Thread revival!

I'm only 18 YEARS late reading this story... confirmed 100% true!!!

Referencing the Greutzmacher above, I can attest as one of his buddies he was a tough son-of-a-gun and despite several sneak attacks, I never managed to take him down.

Who else has some Good Bull stories to share now that the statute of limitations has run out?

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This might be the nicest thing anyone has ever said about me.