Your blow up dolls in action at 2.30 mate, you should be very proud, they were inflated to a very high standard.
You know what's funny? It's on THAT set location that I performed my act of movie valour worthy of medallic movie recognition.
There we were, on a remote film site offset from the Range 15 "film FOB" and we heard the "man down" call.
We all knew right away what happened, another blowup doll took one for the team.
Damn...not again. We've lost so many.
While Jack applied buddy aid and one team worked the T3C problem I overheard a rather attractive female wardrobe and prop professional mention "there's more dolls back at the prop and wardrobe trailer, but the vehicles are blocked".
And that's when my Reserve Light Infantry command training and cat like reflexes kicked in and I cooly said "Hey S, my rental car is right at the back of this parking shit show, you want a lift?"
I knew it was important to stay calm, cool, and collected amidst the chaos to keep everyone from panicking, because I'm pretty sure that's what commanders are supposed to do.
Everyone was looking to my leadership...or at least my rental car blocking the parking lot.
"S" eyed me up as to whether I was a man of action or possibly a less honourable man who might ask her to smell my chloroform flavoured handkerchief.
"S" said "Yeah sure, whatever."
We then made the dash to the car for the combat casualty replacements, but not before providing command guidance on the feasibility of putting some more duct tact on the blow up doll(#9 I believe, but with the fog of movie war, who knows, we were taking a lot of casualties in those dark days).
There would be no "golden hour" for that doll, as it was torn from nuts to guts and had lost over 90% of air volume. I reassured the combat lifesavers they did everything they could and to handover the remains of #9 for backloading to blowup doll mortuary services.
On the rush back for the combat casualty replacement I made sure to reassure "S" with comments like "How YOU doin'?", "It's pretty hot today isn't it?", and "Are you an actress as well? I bet you'd be an awesome actress" as she was clearly suffering from stress and shock from the contact with comments like "Can you turn the air conditioning on?" and "You kinda talk a lot don't you?"
Once back at the film FOB "S" said "Can you keep the car running with the air conditioning on?" and that's when I knew my efforts to get her out of the blow up doll kill zone had paid off as she had regained her situational awareness.
I followed her to the wardrobe/prop trailer as her PSD in case the area was not secure.
And that's when I fixed "S" with my thousand yard stare and said "TWO is ONE, and ONE is NONE."
"S" was awestruck by my tactical problem solving training and clearly as a result of my command mentorship responded with "Yeeeeah, we're going to bring back 3, so here, start blowing big guy."
At that point it was critical that I display appropriate leadership from the front and prepare the combat casualty replacements for operations as fast as possible.
In my effort to impress "S" with my Reserve Light Infantry lung capacity I utilised my GI Joe Kung Fu grip and powered thru the 1st one as "S" coolly sat in the air conditioned trailer using the electric air compressor on the 3rd combat replacement.
Like many high stress contacts, sometimes perceptions blur, especially after your heart rate hits 180 and you lose all cognitive capability and basic boldly functions. I can attest to this as I got kinda dizzy "manually manipulating" #2, thinking to myself "Everyone is depending on you, take one for the team, no check that, take TWO for the team."
I can't recall if I covered off the safety and evacuation plan with "S" in case of fire, earthquake, or meteor strike but I know I took the calculated risk of using my command authority to commence Operation Blow Job Storm Thunder without glow belts.
Being in America, I know I hit a bullseye with the operation name, but still fear possible prosecution for failing to have glow belts worn at all times by those under my command.
The next thing I remember once oxygen began to return to my slowly dying brain stem is the splatter of blood being liberally applied to me and the dolls.
As I made my carbon dioxide infused stagger to the still running vehicle, "S" asked if there was a problem with putting bloody blowup dolls in the backseat of the car.
I tried to come up with a cool line like "I ain't got time to bleed", but what came out was "It's just a rental, and I got the extra insurance" as I gave "S" my best Blue Steel stare as countless optic nerve cells exploded and died like little fireworks in my eyes.
"S" then said "Are you sure you're OK to drive? You don't look so good." and I responded with my best bicycle helmet wearing, ice cream eating, President Obama saying "I GOT THIS."
"S" said, "Ummmmm, OK."
But we both knew what just happened. Something awesome. Some things are best left unsaid.
I parked up and "S" very quickly exited the vehicle with a blazing fast "debus right" drill. It was good to see my command mentorship having such a positive impact on the young people around me, plus it was for the best for things to remain professional between us, especially for "S". Especially for "S".
And good commanders needs to know when to turn down the awesome from a 12 to an 8 sometimes.
Before I had a chance to bask in my glory and reflect on how incredibly lonely command can be the set manager said 'Hey K, can you move the car? And can you park it somewhere else this time? Otherwise you'll be blocking everyone in again."
The mission to continue making Range 15 HAD to take priority, my personal glory would have to wait for another day.
But on that day, I single-handedly saved Range 15.
Some people shoot bad guys in the face, I'm a blow up doll tactical combat casualty replacement fluffer.
And it's like 87% true. The only things intentionally missing from this story are 2 CMOHs, a whole bunch of service wounded Veterans, a UFC champion, Danny Trejo, and about another 100 people who were there that day.
But they can make up their own fucking stories if they want to be in them.
We're all heroes. And this is my hero story. :)
), and a bunch of wounded veterans are in it from memory.
