I'da thunk...

That military intelligence would be smart enough to come up with their own expressions?

Gather round, children, to hear tell a story that begins in the not so distant past...
A father must leave, and decides to pass on his most cherished wisdoms to his eldest child...so that this child might carry on his most important work...
It is a worthy goal...or would be, if it didn't have to do with raw meat.
Let me fill in some specifics. The father mentioned above? My dad. The "eldest child" would be me. And the wisdoms and the work...are the fine art of barbecue.
Yes, my father optimistically tried to teach me how to use his huge, fire-spitting, monster from hell (also known as a grill) before he left. I listened, nodded, watched...then me and my hair skedaddled out of there.
I love fire...I have to say that. I like to watch it, throw stuff in it, and poke it with a stick. When you take this fire and bring it up to hair level, however, I have problems. I can just see klutzy me catching my hair aflame...and so the beast and I have an agreement - I let it sleep while Dad is away, and it doesn't eat my head.
However, a year without barbecue is a long time when hot dogs are one of your favorite foods. Boiled doesn't cut it, nor does microwaved. You hafta have that blackened, sooty taste for the real sensation.
Or something close to it, anyway.
So we started "grilling" hotdogs for family barbecues. Inside. On the stove. Where no wind will send flames licking hungrily at my head.
Since it wasn't "real" grilling, I came up with a name for our cheater's meal. The "faux"becue.
Here we have a picture of one such event done recently. Note that even loose, my hair never comes near to danger.


And yet we still get the beautiful grill marks sought after by chefs everywhere.

With the backstory done, I return to the subject that inspired this post...
My dad is currently stationed at a forward operating base (FOB) in Iraq (the name escapes me so early in the morning), and they recently had a barbecue of their own.
Though they used *shiver* a real grill to do their cooking, my dad decided to be a copycat...and call it a "FOB"ecue.
[I'd put a picture, but I cannot find one at this moment. Apologies.]