People familiar with me know my penchant for finding trouble almost everywhere I’ve been over the years. A 1-car accident DUI in Denver back in 1984 led to a long intermission before they tried to retire me early from the Air Force for doing my white-hat hacking job at the Peterson AFB HQ. Then there was the whole Schriever thing. Bosnia was scary on many levels, but I came real close to pushing my luck a bit too far with the bosses at Butmir one day…
Me and the Major were returning from Tuzla late one afternoon with a couple hours of daylight left, so he decided it might be a good idea to take a detour and check on the whereabouts of a car bomber he’d recently become interested in. One hour and one cup of coffee too many into the drive at this point, I turn off down into the valley on this rocky, dirt road in the middle of nowhere, and start looking for someplace to pull off and take a wizz, which I proceed to do after about 5 minutes.
“Whooooooaaa!!” the Major yells, “what the fuck are you doing Shaffer?!! I don’t remember when the last time this road was cleared, keep it moving!” By cleared, meaning cleared of landmines. BTW, the entirety of Bosnia has by this time become the world’s most densely concentrated landmine hazard. Still not sure how seeing somebody on it earlier that morning made it safe to drive on this road now. He could remember where somebody half of NATO was looking for might be, but not if the road he was driving on was safe. Major in the MIB – Military Intelligence Battalion. Assuming this fuckwit actually knew what he was doing, I was taking a piss, but not in my pants.
So I buttoned up and climbed back into the Land Rover, at which point my passenger launches into a 10-minute-long tirade, starting with “If you EVER try ANYTHING like that ever again Seargent I WILL rip the stripes off your arm right where you sit!!” …and on and on. I responded every minute or so with an appropriately firm “yes sir,” or “no sir.” It’s lucky there was nobody with us that day. If he’d had somebody to go whine to the Commander with he’d probably have gotten at least one.
Of course the Lieutenant calls me over first thing next morning and says: “Major Anderson told me what you did on the way back from Tuzla yesterday.” To which I replied, “I hope you can understand there were extenuating circumstances, but do you know if he happened to mention it to anybody else, ma’am?” She said, “No. but don’t let it happen again.” I assured her it would not, and went on to ask about that flight schedule issue. “Sounds like a job for Major Anderson,” I quipped. Almost ducked, as she spun around and stormed out the door and up the stairs. I bet that young lady makes General someday. That was one of the last times we drove trucks between the COYs while I was there.
