Can't rightly recall if it was the
first hangover, but it was certainly one of the earliest - and worst.
My first major exercise as an Infantryman was in Wainwright Alberta in '87. We were on down-time (off duty) in bivouac for a couple of days so we decided to raise the nonexistant roof. We got into town (don't ask how...heh heh) and purchased some...supplies... for the upcoming five month deployment.
It lasted one night.
Whoa, that was a bender and a half. I don't remember doing ATC (Advance to Contact) drills from the top of a tank, but that's what they said I was doing and the damage to my face and forearms seemed to bear that out. I
know four of us didn't try to steal a jeep and drive down the road to beat up the visiting Royal Marines, no matter what our Sergeant yelled at us the next day. And I have NO idea who hurled into the back of said jeep, but it wasn't me...really!
The next morning...imagine Keith Richards dragged through a landfill by his ankles. Well; that's what I felt like.
The WORST part though was next morning we learned the schedule had been changed again. We were on the range. The live-fire range.
Doing
Carl Gustav qualifications.
Any idea how many soldiers just wanted to get up and stick their face into the backblast of that thing and just get it over with?