Fred the Squirrel (USAF, Ret.)

I realize that today (October 31st) is

Halloween, but I am not doing a

Halloween entry.

My dogs are not very big on Halloween.

Candy is not good for dogs, especially
chocolate, so trick-or-treating isn't as
much fun.

Last year they dressed up and knocked
on my door, and after I gave them each
a (dog) treat, they walked around the
house and knocked again.

They were bored with this quickly.

But if you want a Halloween story,
click here and read the one I posted
last year which tells how Macky Rae
whacked a real zombie.

I went to the VA clinic last week and got my flu shot.

One of the benefits of having served in the military is that I get a free Flu shot every year courtesy of the VA.

They set up in the back parking lot, and (I love this) the had a drive thru! Veterans with vehicles could just drive up, stick there arms out the car window and get the shot, and then drive off.

Myself, I rode in on the bus. I walked up to the pavilion, bared my arm and let a nurse give me the shot.

At least I think she was a nurse.

She didn't have a badge, nor did I ask for identification. I just walked up, bared my arm as requested, and accepted the shot without question - the result of military training, no doubt. For all I knew, these innocent looking females could have been terrorists, and I may have been injected with Anthrax.

I'm not dead, so I guess they were nurses.

 

October was vaccination month in the Dances with Dogs household. My trio of dogs got there shots updated a few weeks ago, so the are protected against whatever diseases dogs might get. They were very good about it. They were not pleased, but they were good about it.

Their anger lasted about as long as it took me to open the bag of beef jerky I brought for a snack.

I was thinking about not getting my flu shot this year, but the dogs were not going to allow that.

SARAH: That's @#$%!!

MACKY: Yeah!

FREEDOM: We had to get our shots!

MACKY: Yeah!

SARAH: Hypocrite!

MACKY: Yeah!

Before I knew it, I was being shoved out the front door by my dogs. I heard the sound of the door being locked behind me, and a voice from behind the door telling me:

SARAH: And don't come back until you get your flu shot.

MACKY: Yeah!

I wouldn't of minded it so much, except the VA wasn't giving the shots until the next day.

And it was starting to sprinkle.

From inside, I heard :

FREEDOM: You guys want to eat the leftovers in the fridge?

MACKY: Yeah!

I dislike shots.

Let me tell you a story: Some years ago, I developed a tooth ache. Of course, I didn't take care of it right away (I dislike dentists more than I dislikes vaccinations) and of course it got worse. It became serious on an evening when I was hanging out with my friend Keith, drinking and eating pizza while watching something on cable. Suddenly, a sharp, stabbing pain jolted through my jaw. It had upgraded from a simple tooth ache. The pain on my face was obvious as after a few minutes Keith suggested that I let him take me to the ER. I told him I'd be OK in a moment, to which he said "I don't know. You just turned a shade of white I ain't never seen on a white boy." So we went to the ER. It must have been a slow night (definitely not a full moon) because after filling out some forms and answering a few questions from the triage nurse... Q: What have you taken so far for the pain? A: Four Ibuprofen and a triple shot of Jack Daniels. (The triage nurse didn't even blink. She had either heard that before, or was a redneck herself.) ...we were taken back to an examination room to be examined by the examining doctor. We only waited a few minutes (which is hours when there is a sharp, stabbing pain jolting through your jaw) before the examining Doctor came in, asked a few more questions, then looked in my mouth and declared the tooth to be infected. And it needed to come out first thing the next day. In the meantime, if I wanted something for the pain (yes, please!) he would send a nurse in and give me a shot. The problem is that this type of shot is always injected into the fleshy region of the lower anatomy that is know as the gluteus maximus. I refer to da butt! The nurse came in with a vial of something I assumed to be "something for the pain" and a hypodermic needle, and requested that I roll over on my stomach and lower my pants. I hate this part. It's not that I'm shy or nothing. I have no problem undressing for a nurse... I have no problem undressing for anybody of the female persuasion ... but this is going to hurt, because I have no butt. Those of you who know me know what I am saying. I have what is referred to by the medical community as a gluteus minimus. And I had this professionally confirmed by the nurse who (after a visual inspection of my left buttock) informed me that I didn't have much padding down there... (to this day Keith, who heard all this from the other side of the curtain, still brings this up and laughs) ...so this was going to hurt more than normal. Is it worse than the sharp, stabbing pain jolting through my jaw? After I was injects, the nurse informed me that I should not to drive, or anything else along those lines while under the influence of the pain medication. The nurse informed Keith that he could take me home as soon as the pain medication took effect. I lay on the examination table for a few minutes, then a thought occurred to me: "Keith" I said. "That nurse was cute. Did you notice if she was wearing a wedding ring?" Keith decided it was OK to take me home at this point, as I was returning to my normal, sexist self. And can someone (medic or other) tell me this: Why does the pain meds numb the sharp, stabbing pain that was jolting through my jaw, but doesn't work on the spot where you got the injection? Ever ridden in a pick-up truck, sitting on one butt cheek the whole way?

But this blog entry is not about nurses, vaccinations, my dogs, Halloween, or my tushie. Next month (the eleventh) is Veterans day, and I would like to pay tribute to a humble and little know veteran of the United States Armed Forces: Fred the Squirrel (USAF, Ret.)

Keesler AFB, Mississippi
 

After basic training, I was loaded on a bus with several other GIs and transported to Keesler AFB, MS.

For those of you who have seen Neil Simon's play and/or movie Biloxi Blues, this was the same base. The play is a semi-autobiographical account of Neil Simon's time in the Army (it was an Army base in the 1940s).

Neil Simon was not there when I was there - they had discharged him years (and years) before I got there.

One of the first things they briefed us on upon arriving at the base was not to feed the squirrels.

We did anyhow.

There were a plethora of squirrels on the base, as well as the Biloxi/South Mississippi area. And they were all weird. I mean weird, even for squirrels. If you are familiar with Ray Steven's Mississippi Squirrel Revival song, you may remember a crazed squirrel that got loose in a church in a "sleepy little town of Pascagoula."

Pascagoula was 26 miles from Keesler.

Mississippi Loblolly Pines
 

Squirrel Jedi Training

Let me give you an example:
Me and my buddy were sitting at a picnic table in the park-area across the street from our squadron compound, working on a six-pack and watching two young squirrels playing the squirrel version of grab-ass tag, with one squirrel chasing the other up and down the pine tree, then switching off.

Now, I should point out that these loblolly pine trees grew fairly tall. The ones on base were easily 75 feet tall.

Occasionally, during the rough housing that occurs when they are up in the branches, they shake a pine cone loose and we hear it thump as it hits the ground.

Or they could have been aiming for us.

As we were drinking the beer, we heard a THUMP. Not a thump, but a THUMP that sounded heavier than just a loblolly pine cone. We looked over, and saw one of the young squirrels on the ground in a daze - like a Looney Tunes character after a stick of dynamite had just gone of in his hand. He (the young squirrel) apparently either fell out of the tree, or was pushed by his buddy.

Either was a possibility. We think the latter.

The young squirrel shook it off quickly (like in the Looney Tunes) then, with that "you're going to pay" look in his eyes, raced back up the tree.

A moment latter, there was a loud squirrel chatter (squirrel profanity?) and then anoth THUMP. We looked (we had to) and there, on the ground, dazed, was the other young squirrel.

I was assigned to the 3383rd Student Squadron, and it was there that I first met Fred.

 

Fred the Squirrel was the semi-official mascot of the squadron. Unlike the rest of us who lived in the dormitory, Fred lived in an old oak tree in the courtyard of the squadron compound - much like a Keebler™ elf except (to the best of my knowledge) he didn't bake cookies.

There were rumors that he had a microwave, and some claimed to have seen a glow coming from the tree at night that indicated that he may have had a TV.

Fred was old. How old I do not know, but if I found out that Fred was there the same time Neil Simon was there for basic training I would not have been surprised. Like many seniors, Fred had aging issues, one of the was his tooth.

Like many elderly southerners, Fred

the Squirrel only had the one tooth.

Like most squirrels, Fred was a rodent. You may remember from middle school biology that a rodents teeth continue to grow and that they need to gnaw on stuff in order to keep their teeth ground down. Otherwise, they grow long, which is what happened to Fred's tooth. He wasn't gnawing as much as he should because his tooth had grown fairly long and had curled around and was stabbing his cheek.

Fred was well loved and it was decided that we would all chip in and take Fred to the veterinarian (as the base dental clinic did not have anyone qualified to work on a squirrel.). The money was raised quickly, and Fred was caught and made comfortable in a cardboard box.

The problem was that the veterinarian was 9 to 5 Monday thru Friday, which was (for us) during duty hours. Students were not permitted leave the base during duty hours without permission (and the Captain was not likely to authorize going off base because of a squirrel). So the duty to save Fred fell on the First Sergeant.

A First Sergeant in the Air Force (in case you are wondering) is the senior NCO of a unit, serving as both guidance counselor and disciplinarian, sort of a cross between your uncle and your high school principle.

Senior Master Sergeant Mesnières (our First Sergeant), a thirty-four year veteran of the Air Force with tours of duty in Vietnam and Korea, humbled himself and agreed to escort Fred to the veterinarian.

God bless Sergeant Mesnières.

Fred's other aging issue was his eyes, and it was obvious from observation that Fred didn't see as well as he did when he was a younger squirrel. I can feel his pain. Some years ago, I noticed the local paper had began to use small (and fuzzier) print-type. Finally, I had to admit my aging issue, and go get a pair of reading glasses.

But Fred's hearing was still 20/20, and he could hear a peanut 500 feet away. He just couldn't see it to good. And he also had a basic understanding of the English language. Once, when me and my roommate were on our way to chow, I told him to hold up because I wanted to get some peanuts for Fred.

There was a covered walkway between the CQ and the Training Office, which had a vending machine with a candy, gum, chips, cookies, and peanuts.

I put my money in the slot, pushed b-9, and watched as a bag of peanuts dropped from the slot. I turned around, and there was Fred. He had followed me into the walkway, watching me get his peanuts.

Military security was covered in a

previous blog entry.

As you might imagine, security is very important in the military. It is one of the first things you learn in basic training.

So what does that have to do with squirrels?

While in training, we had to do what was know as dorm guard duty. This was a two hour shift in which you monitored one of the two entry points of the squadron dormitory, and made sure everyone who was going in had a military ID and a squadron ID card, or had a pass from the CQ. It's not that hard, really. It's low level, as security goes, and a chair is provided and you are permitted to sit. You can also do your class work, read a book or magazine, listen to music (the Sony Walkman had just come out, and many GIs on dorm guard jammed out on music), smoke, drink (soda, not beer), eat lunch - or any of the mentioned activities, as long as you checked everyone coming in for proper documentation.

Usually, dorm guard duty was done by members of the same squadron, but not always, and one afternoon dorm guard duty for our squadron was being performed by members of the 3411th - the women's squadron. On that particular day, I was coming out of the CQ and saw the young lady who was guarding the west door. She was sitting in the chair, drinking a diet Pepsi while reading a copy of Cosmopolitan (very popular with GIs of the female persuasion). She had also brought along a snack, a bag of M&M'S® which she decided to open at the same time I was exiting the CQ.

The sound of a bag of M&M'S® being opened sounds the same as a bag of peanuts. Fred, who could hear a peanut 500 feet away heard what he thought was a bag of peanuts being opened. As I watched, Fred came racing down from the oak tree, and went racing down the sidewalk towards the young lady with the M&M'S®.

It was at this moment she looked up.

Not being assigned to our squadron, the girl was unaware who Fred was (or for that matter that his name was even Fred) What she saw was (what she believed to be) one of the lunatic squirrels charging full speed towards her.

She screamed, dropped her magazine, M&M'S®, and ran inside the men's dormitory, and refused to come out for about a half hour.

My roommate, who was one of the men whom she burst in on, told me later that she kept insisting that there was a squirrel trying to kill her.

Fred, however, was disappointed. The M&M'S® that had been scattered in the young ladies hysterical retreat were plain, not peanut.

And Fred didn't read Cosmo.

I felt sorry for him, so I bought him some peanuts from the vending machine.

One more story before I go:
I was heading back from the base exchange (yeah, probably to get another six-pack) and I just happened to be looking when a power transformer blew. There was a loud BANG and a big puff of grey smoke, and I also saw a squirrel falling from the pole.

Thanks to the squirrel, the power was out for several hours.

The squirrel was laying on the ground as I walked past, 'cept he wasn't dead. Just dazed. After a moment, he got up and ran off.

Honest, I am not making this up.