Don't get him started!!! :D

Johnco shone brightly in the "I did something really stupid" thread a few years back as I recall.

Scared.........
 

Snorkeling in the lagoon at Diego Garcia in the Indian Ocean with some SeaBee buds. We were about 100 yds from shore when we saw a HUGE barracuda (5-6 ft long!) watching us from about 50 ft away! We all saw it at about the same time, heads popped up with everyone saying "did you see that?" at the same time! A quick turn around and a "tactical withdrawal" got everyone safely back to shore.

When learning to rappel, the first time hanging my butt over a cliff knowing that I had about 300 feet of nothing beneath me! Later on, doing the same thing in a cave, not knowing how deep the hole was as we could not see the bottom! The rope was about 300 feet long with a large knot tied in the end to stand on if it did not reach the bottom!

Flying in an ancient Air Force hand me down airplane (assigned to the Navy at that point), flying from Hawaii to Guam and learning that the plane had developed a major oil leak! We made it to Guam, but just barely!

I had to go back to find that. Classic! I am amazed the dude is still alive.SmileWavy

Got caught banging a bikers girlfriend. Jumped out a window and ran like hell...probably broke Jessi Owens record....

Naked?

When I was 15 I asked Karen Brown out on a date. Phew, I was quite relived she said no. She was scary good looking.

The first tornado I was young, single and indestructible. The car was pretty fast and nimble too . We were running 120 passing other cars on the shoulder when we had to and the kid in the front seat was yelling to slow down because the window was bowed out so far he thought it would break. It didn't break and I didn't brake. Most of the other traffic was going flat out so our closing rate wasn't that fast but we still had to thread through. It was weird seeing CryCo minivans running close to 100mph.

no but damn close..

15 years ago I fell 300 feet off of a technical climb in the Cascades. I went by my buddy who was still on the mountain. As we passed within 5 feet of each other and caught eyes, the look on his face told me I had just killed myself. I was very disappointed at that moment.

I woke up in a sleeping bag in the dark, very surprised and quite happy even though I was pretty hurt. I knew then I would make it if I didn't pass out, so I didn't. I spent 30 hours waiting on a helo and caught the second one to show up. The first was too small and had no hoist. Found out later that the Sheriff was only planning to do a body retrieval, witnesses had told them I didn't survive.

My climbing partner wrote a pretty good article on the whole event, I have it here somewhere...

Reading the "Best Cycling Gun?" thread.

or not.
1965 movie The Naked Prey (1965) - IMDb

It was my first day in the Fleet Marine Force: I’d been in the Corps for about 6 months and was checking into my first permanent duty station following boot camp and advanced infantry training. The company clerk of 2/3 sent me to check in with the Staff Sergeant over at Weapons Platoon who was in charge of incoming “Boots”. His office – if you could call it that – was a tiny, windowless concrete closet in the deepest, hottest corner of a concrete building. In the office was an old steel desk, one chair (his), a steel shiit-can and some tall steel military-grade shelves, on top of which was an old government issue, heavier-than-you’d-believe-if-you’ve-never-lifted-one portable steel fan.

The fan was plugged into the only receptacle in the room, located on the wall facing the desk of the most dangerous looking Marine I’d ever seen (as it turned out he didn’t just look that way). He was not totally unpleasant, if more than a bit intimidating to the Boots sent his way, this one included. I stood at Parade Rest as he went through the little bit of paperwork not kept by the company clerk. “You’re in my air”, he said without looking up. “Staff Sergeant?” I replied, not certain of what he meant. This time he looked up: “You’re in my air” he repeated. “Staff Sergeant?” I said again. “It’s hotter than Hades in here, Marine, and you’re blocking the air from my fan, so move.”

As he hunched back over his desk I glanced up at the fan, which was sitting on the very edge of the top shelf, a book or training manual of some kind placed under the rear portion of the base, in order that the air streaming from it would hit the wall, against which I was standing, at the just the right angle so as to direct its cooling breeze onto this beast of a human being. So, remaining at Parade Rest, I immediately took a sharp, highly precise step to my left, because that’s how Boots on their first day in the FMF move: immediately, sharply, with precision and, unfortunately in this case, without looking.

My left calf caught the fan’s electrical cord which, because it was barely long enough to reach the receptacle, was already quite taut, suspended a foot or so above the deck. By the time I dislodged the fan from its precarious perch atop the shelf the Staff Sergeant had already bent back over my paperwork, so he never saw it coming. After a free-fall of some three feet it impacted the back of his skull, base first, with a terrible thud. So hard did it hit that it slammed his face into the desk, as if just getting drilled in the head by the steel base of a thirty pound (est.) fan wasn’t enough.

Although I don’t recall for certain, I think he began to stand. I do know that I caught a glimpse of his face – he was already beginning to bleed from a split lip, the result of his face impacting the desk – and he wasn’t looking particularly happy. He slumped into his chair, placed his hands on the back of his head, Popeye-like forearms covering his temples, and through clenched teeth quietly repeated the word “fuch” (or something similar) over and over. One-Mississippi, “fuch”, two-Mississippi, “fuch”, three-Mississippi, “fuch”, and so on for thirty seconds or so until I found the courage to speak. “Do you want me to find a Corpsman, Staff Sergeant?”

“Fuch”, thirty-one Mississippi, “fuch” … I ran to find the Corpsman.

I had no idea where the Battalion Aid Station was so I asked the first person I came across, a Corporal who wanted to know why. “Fuch” was his simple response after being briefed. He sent me back to the Staff Sergeant while he sprinted to the BAS to round up the Corpsman. When the sailor, who obviously knew the Staff Sergeant well, arrived he went straight into his Doc routine and started attending to the victim. The Corpsman looked up at me and asked what had happened (although I was fairly certain the Corporal had already told him). “Fuch”, continued the cadence from the Staff. After hearing from me how I’d injured this senior NCO he said to me “You’re fuched Lance Corporal. You’d better get out of here."

And that is (at least close to) the most frightened I’ve ever been.

Back in the 80's, I got caught in a rip tide off of Molokini in Hawaii, and was swept about 1/4 mile from our snorkeling group. I was out of energy from fighting the current, and was in a panic, when I looked in the water with my mask on and was greeted by 2 5' long barracuda looking at me from about 12" away. Holy hell that scared me!

When I said "I do"

OK, you win the funniest story of extreme fright!

http://forums.pelicanparts.com/uploa...1429035293.jpg

I came across this out looking for more random pics. Hat off to you and your fellow servicemen. I just can't imagine doing that. Thank you for your service.

In 68 years I have been scared more than a few times. One that sticks out happened back in the late 70s. I was a private pilot working on my instrument rating. A friend and I had set off from south of Rochester NY to buy a Cherokee 300-6 in Groton CT. The deal didn't work out and we took off for home over NY State's Catskill Mts. Well, an early April front was coming through but since we had just come though west to east in the clear a few hours earlier I ignored the Flight Service Station briefing and made a go decision. It got really dicey by Binghamton NY but we pressed on. When flying in snow you sometimes can see down, but not ahead so we were navigating ok and wings level and all that. As I didn't want to get in trouble for scud-running I kept radio silent and low but well above terrain. Then my buddy said shouldn't we get the Elmira altimeter setting as we are going into a low pressure system. The old saying is "high to low, look out below!" So the altimeter was reading a higher altitude than we actually were. All this background is for this: We were dead center on the Victor air route across Elmira west. Right in the centerline was a 2500' tall TV antenna. I had assumed we were well above it. Kevin got the reading from Elmira Radio and reset the Kollsman window on the altimeter. We were just below 2500"! I went to full power and pulled up. Just then the blinking obstruction light passed below the plane! We landed at home base scared silly. Like Flying Magazine's series of articles on aviation screw-ups, never again! I could have killed my friend and myself and also deprived Elmira NY of I Love Lucy reruns!

Once had a truck up on the lift and was inspecting the driveshaft. Got my sleeve caught and got whipped around a few times until other guys helped out. Not much compared to some of the stuff here.