A Marina' s Big Mistake
In the U. S. Marines, doing a mock war in the
Norwegian city of Trondheim with the Dutch,
Germans and other allies, training in urban combat.
My infantry unit was positioned in a large soccer field
next to an elementary school. Keep in mind there
was no actual combat, even simulated; it was mostly
just practicing maneuvers and tactics. But we still
looked out of place with weapons and gear, etc. It' s
February. In Norway. Cold as hell. Snow up to our
knees. Norway obviously has no snow days, so the
kids were all in school.
Anyway, so Norway has this most delicious and
amazing delicacy, I have no idea what it' s called, but
it' s basically a hot dog; we just
assumed it was called Candy of the Lord. As
Americans we were naturally and instantly addicted.
You find them at gas stations, and there just
happened to be one on the other side of the school
where we were camped. A few of my fellow Marines
and I requested permission to go to the gas station
and WE Sit out on our way.
We made it to right about where the main entrance
of the school was, and the doors opened; school was
out. There were only a few kids, probably S or '
years old. Lots of talking and laughing. Gawking at us
as we walked by, with our guns and huge ridiculous
snow suits. one precocious little guy made shooting
noises at us. We made shooting noises back.
And then someone in my group. I don' t know who.
God help me I don' t know who...
Someone threw a snowball and hit a little girl in the
And those little Norwegian children unleashed hell.
There was a shrill cry in unintelligible gibberish and
the doors to the school burst open. School children
flooded out like a hoverhanding flood of something
that never ends. Screeching, smiling, sprinting - how
the hell were they spra' nding?? - little bastards were
slinging snowballs faster than the laws of physics
should allow. it was like that movie Elf. If you can
imagine riding in a fast car in a snowstorm and
sticking your head out the window. Now Imagine the
snowflakes that are hitting your face are the size of
snowballs. We couldn' t see a damn thing. We
couldn' t run. We could barely breathe. Holy hell....
We tried to return fire and threw one, maybe two
crappy snowballs that fell apart in the
air, arms flailing like fairies. I am from
Texas. We were a unit stationed in North Carolina.
We were so outmatched and out of our element, it
only made them laugh harder. We were cut off from
our main forces. we tried to perform a flanking
maneuver but they were too fast. I think some of
them were throwing rocks!
As for my comrades. I could see them speed
waddling in their huge suits back to camp like a
messed up pair of white Teletubbies, under
withering fire, Screw tactics, screw me, screw the
Candy of the Lord, this was survival! I was the slow
one in the group. My snow boots were too big but
they were the smallest size they had at Issue
My Marines had left me behind.
I tried pulling my hood over my head and keeping my
head down. No longer content to pelt my
defenseless body with ballistic snow, the enemy
swarmed me and dragged me down, cackling like a
pack of hyenas descending on a wildebeest. i tried to
sling them off by spinning. I came out of one of my
boots and fell. I began to scream and plead for them
to stop but they neither understood nor gave a single
Nordic damn. They literally pinned me down with
about fitte kids on each limb. It was then that I
actually thought - oh sh* t. I' m really in trouble. My
were ripped off and flung into trees.
They started shoving snow down my suit. Have you
ever had anyone drop an ice cube down your shirt?
Well now imagine someone shoveling handfuls of ice
cubes down your shirt. it literally shocked the breath
out of my body.
They left me laying like a Family Guy accident victim.
Moaning and screaming in the cold. Rifle packed with
snow and dirt. Boot buried somewhere. They ran
away laughing, jabbering in their crazy language. I lay
there trying to figure out just what in the great
American hell had happened.