Why was it always the smallest guy in the squad that got the pig.
Still got the scars on my left thumb from attaching the bolt to the operating rod the first time. And on the top of my right hand knuckles from learning the correct way to pull the bolt to the rear. Both only took one blood sacrifice to learn, forever.
You think the pig is cranky, try a DsHKM. Had two troops loose a FINGER to the dang feed tray cover.
I'll bet granny's rum bearing cow -- that a whole lot more blood was spilled in front of your "death dealing bitch".
Loved her, loved her..... Glad I did't have to carry or care for her...
The only weight no one ever complained about when crossing the wire --- was their backup belt for the 60..
Semper Fi
This brings back memories. When I got to my first duty station (1st Cav. at Ft. Hood), we drove our 113's into the sticks where they were administratively "killed". Facing an 18 mile march back to camp, the squad leader asked for a volunteer to carry the M-60 back. Being full of piss and vinegar, I couldn't wait to hoss that bad boy. Needless to say, 3 hrs. later my perception of the coolness of the M-60 had changed forever.
Sadistic squad leaders and a sleeping screwey looie (Ahem, I speak from LT experience). I always used my mooses for lugging the pig or our 90mm's. Last active outfit in the army to haul THEM around in the TO&E.
Still got the scars on my left thumb from attaching the bolt to the operating rod the first time. And on the top of my right hand knuckles from learning the correct way to pull the bolt to the rear....
I always got .50 knuckle from doing the head space and timing on the M2HB. DANG that was painful.