STUTTGART, GERMANY — A soldier assigned to Africa Command appeared extremely confused and angry after landing in Germany, which is apparently not Africa, or even in Africa, sources confirmed.
After his transport plane landed, Private First Class Eric Lynch could hardly contain his excitement after “receiving the posting of his dreams” at AFRICOM.
The newest combatant command, AFRICOM is responsible for the entire continent of Africa except Egypt.
Envisioning visits to exotic locales, Lynch dreamed of travelling from South Africa to the Sahara on myriad adventures, befriending local tribesmen, and collecting souvenirs that would be the envy of his peers the world over. “I thought maybe I might even write a book about my journeys when it was all over,” Lynch told reporters.
Unfortunately for Lynch, none of that would come to pass. The young soldier — who did absolutely no research into the command — was dismayed when the bus from the airport dropped him off at Kelley Barracks in Stuttgart, Germany, and the sergeant greeted him with, “welcome to AFRICOM!”
“It was such bullshit,” sobbed the grief stricken private. “If I wanted to go to Germany I would have asked for European Command. Who the hell put the AFRICOM headquarters in Germany? Probably the same dumbass that decided to put the 10th Mountain Division in a place with no fucking mountains.”
“We understand Private Lynch’s concerns,” said Maj. Kevin Spoelstra, the Executive Officer of AFRICOM’s 490th Civil Affairs Battalion. “They’ve been expressed by almost every soldier that arrives here to the Command, but he doesn’t have to worry. He’ll have plenty of opportunities for adventure and combat during his exciting tour.”
Spoelstra told reporters that AFRICOM strives to patrol the entire continent, “whether it’s standing on a table at Frühlingsfest, shopping for appliances at Media Markt, or having a picnic on the grass in front of Schloss Solitude.”
Back in the barracks, Lynch continued his rant, digging through his duffel bag and producing a massive Ziploc bag full of pills.
“Look at this! 10,000 doses of doxycycline. I thought maybe it was a mistake when I didn’t get issued any before the flight, and I thought to myself there’s no way in hell I’m getting Malaria when I travel all over the continent,” Lynch said. “I had to get an old drug dealer buddy of mine to hook me up. Bastard charged me two grand for all this. And I’m not even sure this is doxy. Sure the dreams are wicked, but everything’s so green. What a waste!”
The despondent Lynch slumped down on his bed as the rainy German weather continued outside, unabated. However, not all soldiers assigned to the command shared the same views.
“I absolutely love this place,” declared Specialist Antwan Jefferson, an intelligence analyst. “Have you ever actually been to Africa? Not one goddamn Doner Kebab on the whole continent.” Jefferson shook his head and took another large bite of his delicious-smelling, shaved meat sandwich.
“Besides, where else could you see something like this?,” nodding to the proprietor of the restaurant, Karim Attabul — a large Middle-Eastern man who swayed to the sounds of Turkish disco while wearing a purple and green polyester shirt buttoned halfway, exposing an enormous gold medallion nestled in a black expanse of silky chest hair.
Despite the prevalence of the ever-popular kebab snack at restaurants and street carts, Lynch remained depressed.
“I’ll be honest with you man, the real reason I requested this gig … ” Lynch said, lowering his voice and looking out into the barracks hallway to ensure no one was within earshot, “is this hot piece of ass right here.” Lynch then held up a copy of a bare-chested woman on the cover of National Geographic for reporters.
He reached under his bunk and produced another large box. “I’m not an idiot. I know there’s a huge STD problem over there. That’s why I took precautions.” He opened the container to reveal almost 200 cartons of Trojan condoms.
“Guess that’s another thousand bucks down the drain,” Lynch said, hanging his head and sighing. “I’m such a dumbass.”
Can you help us? We aren't some gigantic media corporation. Duffel Blog is literally just one guy editing a bunch of articles written by military contributors — all on a shoestring budget. If you love what we do, please donate a few bucks to keep our doors open. Even the smallest amount is a big help.