Military missteps(The chicken has arrived)

I'm an Army brat.  I guess it was destiny that I would end up in the Army too!  I joined right out of high school and for all of the seriousness of the military, there are some major funny moments too!  You'll understand what I mean as I share one of the better moments.

My job field was Combat Medic.  Yes they do train females to be front line medics.  Technically we won't be in combat because we won't be on the front lines.  We will however be assigned to forward support positions.  This led to my assignment to Ft Lewis, in Tacoma Washington.  I was a member of the 3rd Forward Support Battalion, 2nd Brigade of the 9th Infantry Division.

This was a peacetime assignment which consisted of a month of make work on post followed by 30 - 45 days in the field in a never ending cycle.  It was field duty that spawned the majority of comic moments.

We spent so much time in the field that a local farmer took pity on us having to eat those C-Rations and boxed food for days at a time.  He offered to supply us with fresh chicken for dinner one evening and the brass took him up on his offer.  The farmer made good on his promise of fresh chicken.  A bit too fresh since it was still clucking, but that was a minor technicality.  What followed the arrival of this fowl was a three ring circus!

First of all most of my fellow soldiers had never seen a real live chicken before and were at a loss as to how this feathered creature could be the same thing in Col Sanders Bucket.  Our fearless leaders immediately began looking for anyone who had experience with killing chickens.  After going through almost 200 soldiers they had a grand total of six of us who had in some way been involved in turning a live yard bird into Sunday dinner.  (I grew up in the country, Saturdays were chicken plucking days for me)

In preparation of the mass chicken slaughter about to begin, 3 people grabbed axes, myself and another medic from Macon GA started firing up the immersion heaters to get water going for the "pluck fest" to follow the slaughter.  One good old boy from Tennessee began to brag loudly on how his grandmother would wring a chicken"s neck.  Grandma did not pass the trick on to him.  Let's just say, never swing a chicken around by the neck in a large circle.  All it accomplishes is to scare the crap out of the poor chicken.  And never ever ever do it with your Sgt Major standing in front of you.