Bigfoot vs the invisible (wo)man

One of the Battalion's favorite places to camp was at the southern base of Mt Rainier.  I know
 it makes no sense to put a desert unit in the middle of the forest, but there is no explaining military "intelligence".  If you are familiar with geography, we're talking the Pacific Northwest.  And what else comes to mind with the Pacific Northwest?  That's right, Bigfoot.  So what do we come up with for dinner conversation over our MRE's?  You got it.  Bigfoot.

Now one of our standing rules was blanks only in the field.  Some of the officers got real live bullets but not us enlisted folk,  We got blanks.  Even the machine gun was loaded with blanks.  I should know since I was the Machine gunner for my platoon.  Lucky me I got to carry a 30lb plus gun instead of the nice little rifle.  When we got to the field those of us who were the standing gunners of the company had one guard point to worry about.  The one with the machine gun.  That would have been nice but.  It was always the farthest point from camp, and one of our gunners stood 6 foot 5 inches.  He always dug the foxhole to armpit depth for him which meant just a little over eye level for me.

Well this particular trip out to the field our foxhole was situated at a crossroads.   Right on the corner.  As usual I was in a foxhole unable to see more than a few feet in front of me and I'm on midnight guard.   Now as tall as my foxhole partner was our 1st Sgt was even taller.  Six foot nine inches.  And he had a habit of wearing a hooded field jacket in the winter.  You know the kind with the fur trim.

Well it's pitch black, the middle of winter and I can't see a damn thing except the sides of the big hole in the ground.  It was then that I heard stealthy footsteps approaching my position from the front.  I called out the usual "Halt, who goes" and got no response.  When I didn't get a response on the second challenge I began to worry.  I was over 200 yards from the outskirts of the camp, in the middle of Bigfoot country and had no bullets.  I did however have blanks, which made just as much noise as bullets.  I realized that fact just as this big furry head came into view over the top of the foxhole.

Well my momma didn't raise no fool.  I pulled the trigger.  Rambo would have been proud of the way I cooked off those 200 rounds.  When the gun finally ran out of bullets this big furry head came back into view over the top of the foxhole.  I was eye to eye with my 1st Sgt.  Seems we had a mutual Fright fest.  He though the foxhole was empty and was checking it out so when the gun started firing he figured he was under attack by the invisible man. 

It worked out though.  I got to cut my guard duty short while 1st Sgt ordered a milk crate from post.  My foxhole buddy got to live in the hole until the crate arrived.  And 1st Sgt got rid of the hood.  Seemed he decided it wasn't safe to be mistaken for Bigfoot while I was assigned to the company.