March to the beat of your own drum with these military jokes.
Attention! Choose from military jokes such as army jokes, navy jokes and marine jokes that will bring out the military humor in the most serious sergeants.
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I didn't enlist in the Army -- I was drafted. So I wasn't going to make life easy for anyone. During my physical, the doctor asked softly, "Can you read the letters on the wall?"
"What letters?" I answered slyly.
"Good," said the doctor. "You passed the hearing test."
"Private, what's going on in here?" he asked.
To the officer's horror, the private replied, "Sir, the sergeant's water broke, and I'm helping her clean up."
"A Marine? Good!" he said. "That means he can take orders."
The conversation came to a halt when he replied, "In Vietnam, right after that first bomb dropped."
"Yes, two," I said. "World War II and Korea."
The girl's follow-up question: "Which war did you like best?"
"What are you doing with all these eye patches?" he asked, lifting one up.
Taking it from him, she mumbled, "Um ... this is my thong underwear."
"Really?" he said. "For business or pleasure?"
"Don't you worry," replied the sergeant in charge. "When we attack, we'll stick you in front of the battalion. You won't miss a thing."
He replied, "You did."
"Chief," he yelled out, "I have a book on tools you can borrow."
"Get it!" shouted the chief. "It's got to be heavier than this wrench I'm using."
"No," he replied. "Apprehensive."
"What's the difference?"
"That means I'm scared, but with a university education."
"Nate's been called up by the National Guard. He's going to Haiti," she said. Then came the tears: "I didn't even know we were at war with Haiti!"
Then, standing in line for chow one day, I was served by an Army cook. His T-shirt had a skull with a crossed fork and spoon underneath and yet another warning: "Death from within!"
"Are you a hero?" Jose asked.
"Nah," said Dad.
"Did you ever shoot anyone?"
"No. All I did was aim at 'em."
Pause … "Who's Adam?"
"It's very pretty," he said shyly.
"Thank you," she replied coyly.
"Yeah," he went on. "It looks just like my mother's sofa."
"Let me put it this way, Mom," he said. "Living with you prepared me for boot camp."
"Guantánamo Bay," my daughter said.
"Oh, my God!" her friend shrieked. "What did he do?"
Yesterday I was part of a security detail for Kid Rock, Kellie Pickler, and comedian Lewis Black. This morning, I had breakfast with the Miami Dolphins Cheerleaders. War is hell.
There must have been something wrong with the connection. His mom sent him what she thought he asked for: 300 pairs of chopsticks.
I launched into a tirade, arguing that Marines should not be penalized for something so trivial.
My husband interrupted. "Honey, when I said ‘dirty magazines,’ I meant the clips from their rifles hadn’t been cleaned."
I was charged by the Coast Guard to buy a house near Station Rockland in Maine to be converted into military housing. But after many delays on our part, the owners' lawyer got antsy.
"I don't like working with the government," the man said. "I'm not sure I'd even trust one of your checks."
"I wouldn't worry," I replied. "Not only do we print our own checks, we also print the money to back them up."
All in the Family When my husband was away at basic training, my four-year-old daughter and I stayed with my sister. Since my daughter already called me Mommy, she started calling her aunt Mom—the way her six-year-old cousin did. One day, someone called. I picked up the extension and overheard the person ask my daughter if her daddy was home. She said, “No, he’s in the Army.” “Is your mom home?” he asked. “Yes, but she’s asleep with Uncle Danny. -- Tonya Aleisawi
Language Barrier As a young officer on the USS Midway, I was enjoying shore leave in Marseille. One day, I was invited to a local club to play tennis with two young Frenchwomen and a Norwegian man, who spoke only the most rudimentary English. After the doubles match, the Norwegian and I changed back into our street clothes and waited for the women to rejoin us. “You fly?” he said to me. I told him I was a ship's officer, not a naval aviator. After a pause to take in my response, he tried again. “You fly,” he said slowly, “is open.” -- Jim E. Davis
War Tags After returning home from basic training, our friend’s son told us about some of the interesting people he’d met, including one guy nicknamed Airborne. “Do the guys call him Airborne because he wants to be a paratrooper?” his mother asked. “No, that’s not it,” said her son. “He got that name because on his first night, he fell out of the bunk.” -- Judy Reid
Justice for All When I wear my Air Force uniform, strangers often come up to me to thank me for my service to the country. Once I was in the parking lot of a county jail, waiting to take custody of a military inmate. A prisoner walked by, carrying a bag of garbage to the Dumpster, escorted by a corrections officer. As he passed me, the inmate turned and—quite sincerely—said, “Thank you for my freedom!” before being taken back inside. -- Jeff Hood
Seriously Ill Some sailors have a well-deserved reputation for concocting excuses to get out of work detail. Case in point: My husband’s fellow officer got a call from a sailor saying he was sick and there was no way he could leave the barracks. “What’s wrong?” the lieutenant asked. “I’m in a coma,” he responded. -- Hannah Thornton
Just after my father, who was a career Air Force NCO, passed away, all my brothers and sisters returned home to be with Mom. As we reminisced about my dad, we found ourselves floating from sorrow to laughter as we brought up fond memories of our nomadic military lifestyle. One morning we were discussing what music should be played at the funeral and several hymns were suggested. "But, Mom," my older sister said, "since Daddy was in the Air Force, shouldn't we request the Air Force song?"
"No, dear," my mother said with a smile. "We are not playing a song with the words 'Off we go into the wild blue yonder' at your father's funeral!"
Sixteen years is a long time. That's how far the photo of my husband—looking slim and fit in his Marine Reserve uniform—goes back. Today, he's about 100 pounds heavier, so it was understandable when my friend's son asked who it was.
"That's my father," my daughter told him.
Looking at my husband, then at the photo, he asked, "Your first father?"
As he reviewed pilot crash reports, my Air Force military science professor stumbled upon this understated entry: "After catastrophic engine failure, I landed long. As I had no power, the landing gear failed to deploy and no braking was available. I bounced over the stone wall at the end of the runway, struck the trailer of a truck while crossing the perimeter road, crashed through the guardrail, grazed a large pine tree, ran over a tractor parked in the adjacent field, and hit another tree. Then I lost control."
Marine Corps pilots and aircraft maintenance technicians have a special bond. So I was unfazed when a flyboy described a vexing problem.
"The radio," he said, "worked intermittently … but only sometimes."
Officer candidate school at Fort Sill, Oklahoma, was tough. During an inspection, a fellow soldier received 30 demerits for a single penny found within his area. Ten demerits were for "valuables insecure," ten because the penny wasn't shined, and ten because Abraham Lincoln needed a shave.
Distrustful of Army chefs' culinary talents, my father quizzed the top cook at his base. How did he know when the food was ready to be served? Dad asked. "Easy," said the sergeant, glaring back.
"When it's burning, it's cooking. When it's smoking, it's done."
In a lecture to a group of Korean officers, Lieut. Gen. Bruce C. Clarke, at that time deputy commander of the Eighth Army in Korea, took two or three minutes to tell his favorite joke. His interpreter then quickly translated the joke, using only seven or eight words. Everyone immediately burst into hearty laughter. After the lecture General Clarke asked the interpreter how he had been able to retell such a relatively long joke so quickly.
"Well, sir," the Korean interpreter replied, "I didn't think everyone would get the point, so I said, 'The general has just told a joke. Everyone will please laugh.'"
During my Air Force basic training, I cracked the frames of my eyeglasses. After taping them, I applied for new frames. I didn't get them, so I applied again at each base to which I was sent. After four years, and just before my discharge, I received nine sets of frames—all marked "Rush."
"I can't tell you," the Navy man said. "That's classified."
My six-foot-three, 280-pound brother raised his hand and said, "Yes, sir, I do."
Our sergeant grabbed him by the arm and led him out in front of the group. "Men," he said, "this is my new assistant. Now, is there anyone here who thinks he can whip both of us?"
On one tour I watched almost an entire unit hit their heads one after another as they came up the stairs. Curious, I asked their commander what unit they were from.
"Military intelligence," he replied.
Suddenly his drill sergeant barked, "Comito, give me 25 push-ups. And the next time your daddy wants your picture, you smile!"
"Air Force chicken," replied the sergeant. "You want wings or landing gear?"
With a sigh of exasperation, my wife responded, "And just what time is that?"
"Lieutenant," he replied, "three-quarters of the earth is covered with water, and the Navy has been showing you that. If you wanted to see the other quarter, you should have joined the Army."
He gasped as I handed him the huge sheaf of charts, figures and explanations. "What am I supposed to do with this?" he asked.
"You have to sign it, sir."
"Thank goodness," he said, sighing with relief. "I thought I had to read it."
"Sorry, sir," security said to the soldier, "but this item is prohibited." Taking the knife away, the airport worker then handed him back the M-16.
A few days later in anticipation of Yom Kippur, the drill sergeant again asked for all Jewish personnel to ID themselves. This time, every soldier raised his hand. "Only the personnel who were Jewish last week can be Jewish this week," declared the sergeant.
The startled airman replied, "Button it, sir!"
The colonel looked him in the eye and said, "Well?"
At that, the airman nervously reached over and buttoned the colonel's shirt pocket.
During one exercise, the lead man in the formation occasionally turned around and whispered to me "Log" or "Rock," which I would pass along. Suddenly there was a crash ahead of me and, from several feet down, I heard a single whispered word—"Hole."
"Let him pass," suggested the second doctor. "I don't see any problems unless he has to surrender."