Upon return from BN HQ, my LT Glitz was already gone. I immediately took the reins of XO and--over the next two weeks--did a lot of work with RESET. In simple terms, RESET is the way the Army labels the slow turn-in of equipment.
Millions of dollars of equipment was turned in over the past month, and there is much to come in the next week when we ramp up for a new month. It doesn't involve a simple, "Here you go." Cleaning, inventories, paperwork, and monotony all characterize RESET as a drawn-out system.
Very glad to be done with the biggest of our turn-ins.
27 March 2011
23 March 2011
Stuck for Protests
Unbelievable. I simply cannot believe it's been so long since my last post. So busy!
Not really much has happened at all though, so no big deal. I mean there was moving to BN HQ and getting stuck there for a week for the Iraqi Day of Rage travel halt. There was returning to take the XO position at the cusp of turning in the good bulk of millions of dollars of comm equipment. There was the Egyptian revolution.
The very plates of the earth seem to be shifting underneath us: Oh wait, they actual are... Well the nuclear meltdown should help distract us from that!
And now I guess there's some sort of small irrelevant thing going on in Libya (can you smell the sarcasm yet?)
Anyway, I've spent time putting together detailed recaps of events before--and now may the most appropriate of times--but for my own sanity I will shoot a few posts from the hip highlight style. I'm so gangsta.
-Finalized those inventories at COB Far Away. The odd experience of IDF was behind me. The nightmare of getting home followed.
-Stuck in transit for weather/protest travel halt with the BN for a week... Even after the Iraq-wide travel halt ended, there were still three frustrating days of haze keeping me off the bird. Lucky I even got to BN HQ from COB Far Away, because I got get into a more comfortable groove with the gym, sleep, and time.
This stint at BN HQ I worked on my own time, as I learned it was unnecessary to mirror LT Bro's day. It made for a bit of a break that, in retrospect, was a lifesaver. With that said, I was ready to get the hell out of there. Can't stand being idle. Especially in Iraq.
-Fun side note. In the last month, I've finished all of 'Dexter', most of it during that stint at BN and finished out at night when I had no business being up so late. Very engaging and dark series. Yet another TV show that I will continue to follow once I get home.
Not really much has happened at all though, so no big deal. I mean there was moving to BN HQ and getting stuck there for a week for the Iraqi Day of Rage travel halt. There was returning to take the XO position at the cusp of turning in the good bulk of millions of dollars of comm equipment. There was the Egyptian revolution.
The very plates of the earth seem to be shifting underneath us: Oh wait, they actual are... Well the nuclear meltdown should help distract us from that!
And now I guess there's some sort of small irrelevant thing going on in Libya (can you smell the sarcasm yet?)
Anyway, I've spent time putting together detailed recaps of events before--and now may the most appropriate of times--but for my own sanity I will shoot a few posts from the hip highlight style. I'm so gangsta.
-Finalized those inventories at COB Far Away. The odd experience of IDF was behind me. The nightmare of getting home followed.
-Stuck in transit for weather/protest travel halt with the BN for a week... Even after the Iraq-wide travel halt ended, there were still three frustrating days of haze keeping me off the bird. Lucky I even got to BN HQ from COB Far Away, because I got get into a more comfortable groove with the gym, sleep, and time.
This stint at BN HQ I worked on my own time, as I learned it was unnecessary to mirror LT Bro's day. It made for a bit of a break that, in retrospect, was a lifesaver. With that said, I was ready to get the hell out of there. Can't stand being idle. Especially in Iraq.
-Fun side note. In the last month, I've finished all of 'Dexter', most of it during that stint at BN and finished out at night when I had no business being up so late. Very engaging and dark series. Yet another TV show that I will continue to follow once I get home.
20 February 2011
COB Far Away. Boom.
I woke from my three-hour nap in a cubby hole at Camp Connection groggy and fatigued. My travel alarm is a real pain in the ass.
With my flak vest as a pillow, and all of my belongings packed to my sides, I had fashioned a room for myself—safe from the bright fluorescent lights of the terminal. Scooping out my gear, I stood up as the many other transients shuffled to the end of the cabinet row to hear the roll call. We geared up and moved outside to the twilight.
An aside: It still amazes me how much the civilians can outnumber the military population out here.
Standing on the flight line, I was surprised to hear the whirling of Chinooks. There is another attitude to those machines. Their mammoth size and innards make them fit for heavy cargo and a higher passenger capacity than Blackhawks.
As we left on our early morning flight towards COB Far Away, the Chinook feature I enjoyed most was the view allowed by the aircraft’s back hatch. With the city lights illuminating the hazy landscape below, we could have been flying over any city in the states. That illusion felt good.
The two soldiers stationed at the back of the craft, after checking the fortitude of their lifelines multiple times, lowered the back hatch and moved far enough to the edge to dangle their feet below. They sat in contentment—scanning around with their night-vision goggles.
Their silhouettes played audience to the lights that grew in size and blur from the haze and distance. The tranquility of the view printed in my sleep-deprived mind a snap shot that I will never forget.
Eventually, the lights became less frequent. One could see the city cluster become an afterthought. Then the lights grew sparse, and save for the moonlight, darkness was plenty. I knew we were getting closer.
We descended on the COB. The cement barrier welcomed all, as is customary.
SSG Finder met me with one of the other-company soldiers at the hangar. As we quietly made our way in the team’s only civilian truck, SSG Finder welcomed me to COB Far Away with sarcastic excitement.
“It’s beautiful,” I responded with matching attitude, “like nothing I have ever seen.”
A few moments later, full of stale seriousness, SSG Finder said, “Oh yeah, just so you know, sir, we get IDF here.” IDF stands for indirect fire, i.e. mortar rounds.
Answering my follow-up before I could ask it, he went answered, “Just had one yesterday. It hit by the mayor cell.”
I had heard of indirect fire (IDF) happening around Iraq while I was at the BN HQ (a few hit some of the neighboring bases in our AO), but the reality of such a close attack on such a recent date was intimidating. I resisted asking a thousand questions about it, but found that no one had been hurt recently though attacks can be as often as weekly.
I tried not to think much of it; most of us use this method.
That was until, after getting about an hour into my much-needed rest before restarting the day for inventories, I was interrupted by a knock on the door. It was SSG Finder.
“Just getting accountability, sir,” he blurted as I stared at him like a zombie, “There was an IDF round a few minutes ago. It didn’t detonate.”
Oh. I see. Alright then. Not knowing how to react, and too tired to care, I resumed zombification.
Another hour later, I was interrupted again. This time it was the post loudspeaker.
“Incoming, incoming, incoming. Incoming, incoming, incoming.”
The pre-recorded announcement later continued with something to the effect of, “All clear. Emergency terminated. Resume operations or complete recovery. And don’t run around like Chicken Little doing the Macarena.”
Roger, Mr. Announcer Guy. The sky is falling, but I will chill out. I can just use my reflector belt as a force field. No worries.
Suddenly, COB Home did not seem so bad. Reflecting on it though, even COB Home used to see its share of IDF from what my soldiers tell me. The lower frequency of attacks is a luxury, not a certainty.
The mini, harmless barrage was a tough reminder that there are still people here who just plain want us dead.
But again, I slept. I had work to do later.
Chicken Little, out.
** ** **
The next afternoon.
A short time after writing the preceding words and getting through a few chapters of The Count of Monte Cristo, a book I began reading about a week ago, I finally tried to get to bed. I wanted to write more about SSG Finder and the inventories I conducted after waking up from those brief mortar naps, but was again too tired. The experiences with IDF seemed sufficient for a day’s writing anyway.
Shortly thereafter was a loud thud. It sounded like a one of the neighbors had slammed the door, but the accompanying rumble was out of the norm for such a thing.
“Incoming, incoming, incoming. Incoming, incoming, incoming.”
For a third time, the shells fell.
After a few minutes I checked outside, and then just sat there on the bed. The warm weather and the full moon’s light must be enough to encourage the attackers. That or I just have excellent luck.
I had felt the shake from this one, and it shook me a bit inside. In a moment of grave pessimism, I took out my Moleskine out and wrote, “I love my family.” I got back to sleep.
Today has been a lazy Sunday—a weekly treat I am glad to keep even in travel. With the inventories finished, getting into too much here would just be overstepping the other-company chain of command.
SSG Finder came by and we went by some of the local national shops (better known by the politically correct moniker: ‘Haji shops’). The selection of DVDs, electronics, and other trinkets still impress me. I still have not been able to find something good enough to warrant a trip to get cash for though.
I delighted in watching SSG Finder look for movies and shows his wife might like. It is always refreshing to see soldiers do things for their family, or to hear fond words for them. Even with the forced stoicism that our profession often dictates, one can often see the devotion that goes beyond the few glimpses of home that an individual may allow publicly.
Sitting here in my temporary dwelling, ready to continue traveling to finish these inventories, I think of my family with a smile.
With my flak vest as a pillow, and all of my belongings packed to my sides, I had fashioned a room for myself—safe from the bright fluorescent lights of the terminal. Scooping out my gear, I stood up as the many other transients shuffled to the end of the cabinet row to hear the roll call. We geared up and moved outside to the twilight.
An aside: It still amazes me how much the civilians can outnumber the military population out here.
Standing on the flight line, I was surprised to hear the whirling of Chinooks. There is another attitude to those machines. Their mammoth size and innards make them fit for heavy cargo and a higher passenger capacity than Blackhawks.
As we left on our early morning flight towards COB Far Away, the Chinook feature I enjoyed most was the view allowed by the aircraft’s back hatch. With the city lights illuminating the hazy landscape below, we could have been flying over any city in the states. That illusion felt good.
The two soldiers stationed at the back of the craft, after checking the fortitude of their lifelines multiple times, lowered the back hatch and moved far enough to the edge to dangle their feet below. They sat in contentment—scanning around with their night-vision goggles.
Their silhouettes played audience to the lights that grew in size and blur from the haze and distance. The tranquility of the view printed in my sleep-deprived mind a snap shot that I will never forget.
Eventually, the lights became less frequent. One could see the city cluster become an afterthought. Then the lights grew sparse, and save for the moonlight, darkness was plenty. I knew we were getting closer.
We descended on the COB. The cement barrier welcomed all, as is customary.
SSG Finder met me with one of the other-company soldiers at the hangar. As we quietly made our way in the team’s only civilian truck, SSG Finder welcomed me to COB Far Away with sarcastic excitement.
“It’s beautiful,” I responded with matching attitude, “like nothing I have ever seen.”
A few moments later, full of stale seriousness, SSG Finder said, “Oh yeah, just so you know, sir, we get IDF here.” IDF stands for indirect fire, i.e. mortar rounds.
Answering my follow-up before I could ask it, he went answered, “Just had one yesterday. It hit by the mayor cell.”
I had heard of indirect fire (IDF) happening around Iraq while I was at the BN HQ (a few hit some of the neighboring bases in our AO), but the reality of such a close attack on such a recent date was intimidating. I resisted asking a thousand questions about it, but found that no one had been hurt recently though attacks can be as often as weekly.
I tried not to think much of it; most of us use this method.
That was until, after getting about an hour into my much-needed rest before restarting the day for inventories, I was interrupted by a knock on the door. It was SSG Finder.
“Just getting accountability, sir,” he blurted as I stared at him like a zombie, “There was an IDF round a few minutes ago. It didn’t detonate.”
Oh. I see. Alright then. Not knowing how to react, and too tired to care, I resumed zombification.
Another hour later, I was interrupted again. This time it was the post loudspeaker.
“Incoming, incoming, incoming. Incoming, incoming, incoming.”
The pre-recorded announcement later continued with something to the effect of, “All clear. Emergency terminated. Resume operations or complete recovery. And don’t run around like Chicken Little doing the Macarena.”
Roger, Mr. Announcer Guy. The sky is falling, but I will chill out. I can just use my reflector belt as a force field. No worries.
Suddenly, COB Home did not seem so bad. Reflecting on it though, even COB Home used to see its share of IDF from what my soldiers tell me. The lower frequency of attacks is a luxury, not a certainty.
The mini, harmless barrage was a tough reminder that there are still people here who just plain want us dead.
But again, I slept. I had work to do later.
Chicken Little, out.
** ** **
The next afternoon.
A short time after writing the preceding words and getting through a few chapters of The Count of Monte Cristo, a book I began reading about a week ago, I finally tried to get to bed. I wanted to write more about SSG Finder and the inventories I conducted after waking up from those brief mortar naps, but was again too tired. The experiences with IDF seemed sufficient for a day’s writing anyway.
Shortly thereafter was a loud thud. It sounded like a one of the neighbors had slammed the door, but the accompanying rumble was out of the norm for such a thing.
“Incoming, incoming, incoming. Incoming, incoming, incoming.”
For a third time, the shells fell.
After a few minutes I checked outside, and then just sat there on the bed. The warm weather and the full moon’s light must be enough to encourage the attackers. That or I just have excellent luck.
I had felt the shake from this one, and it shook me a bit inside. In a moment of grave pessimism, I took out my Moleskine out and wrote, “I love my family.” I got back to sleep.
Today has been a lazy Sunday—a weekly treat I am glad to keep even in travel. With the inventories finished, getting into too much here would just be overstepping the other-company chain of command.
SSG Finder came by and we went by some of the local national shops (better known by the politically correct moniker: ‘Haji shops’). The selection of DVDs, electronics, and other trinkets still impress me. I still have not been able to find something good enough to warrant a trip to get cash for though.
I delighted in watching SSG Finder look for movies and shows his wife might like. It is always refreshing to see soldiers do things for their family, or to hear fond words for them. Even with the forced stoicism that our profession often dictates, one can often see the devotion that goes beyond the few glimpses of home that an individual may allow publicly.
Sitting here in my temporary dwelling, ready to continue traveling to finish these inventories, I think of my family with a smile.
Camp Connection
After a few long days of learning the true meaning of the placards reading “All flights are subject to change without notice”, I finally made it out of FOB Home to head to COB Far Away—the location of the only bit of my equipment not in my Company AO. Inventory travel has begun.
On the way here I was accompanied for most of the legs by SSG Phoenix and two other soldiers from my company HQ. Their presence was a great improvement from the past few days of lonely waiting. They were on the way to the battalion HQ, and I was lucky enough to catch the hop here about ten minutes after we landed; even got a nice seat up front with the two aircrew members.
The full-faced covers and humorous patches added to their helmets make them seem to be from a different Army. In many ways they are. I still do nothing but wish I could have been an aviator or scheme up ways to become one every time I fly. The signal side has a lot of positives, but you cannot fly around all hooah on an antenna dish. I digress in my jealousy.
Iraq from above.
The scenes and movement below is active, varied, and eye-opening. The countryside paints a deeper picture than ones own knee-jerk reaction to the word Iraq. There is color to it.
Yes, there are decrepit shantytowns, smoke, trash, and nothingness, but there are also children playing soccer, farmers tending the crops, countrymen herding sheep, and villagers getting followed by their dogs as they bike down their own familiar driveways.
Between the cities, crop circles mark and polka dot the sparse desert flatland. It seems that even with nothing, man makes something. The rivers are the only source of fertility anywhere, but the long-handed irrigation machines fill in green within their own own circular reach.
I now sit here in the Camp Connection PAX terminal after a good hearty lunch, a lone game of pool, and a shoulder workout. Other than the flying, it has been a ‘normal’ day so far. This base is smaller than COB Home, but with the smaller size, comes more convenient foot travel to the facilities. With all the time in the world to wait for my early morning connection, I have a moment for a healthy pause.
Thankfully, I stocked up on a few movies from one of my soldier’s share drives before I left. One must find distraction or sleep, because military terminals feel even more like purgatory than an airport terminal back home. At least at ATL, IAD, wherever, one can people watch as others move in between the heavens. Here is a sterile room, a TV, some rows of chairs, and the others service members waiting around with you. And it’s not a trip to see granny in Florida or attend a conference in Vegas. It’s a trip to Somewhere, Iraq.
____
On the way here I was accompanied for most of the legs by SSG Phoenix and two other soldiers from my company HQ. Their presence was a great improvement from the past few days of lonely waiting. They were on the way to the battalion HQ, and I was lucky enough to catch the hop here about ten minutes after we landed; even got a nice seat up front with the two aircrew members.
The full-faced covers and humorous patches added to their helmets make them seem to be from a different Army. In many ways they are. I still do nothing but wish I could have been an aviator or scheme up ways to become one every time I fly. The signal side has a lot of positives, but you cannot fly around all hooah on an antenna dish. I digress in my jealousy.
Iraq from above.
The scenes and movement below is active, varied, and eye-opening. The countryside paints a deeper picture than ones own knee-jerk reaction to the word Iraq. There is color to it.
Yes, there are decrepit shantytowns, smoke, trash, and nothingness, but there are also children playing soccer, farmers tending the crops, countrymen herding sheep, and villagers getting followed by their dogs as they bike down their own familiar driveways.
Between the cities, crop circles mark and polka dot the sparse desert flatland. It seems that even with nothing, man makes something. The rivers are the only source of fertility anywhere, but the long-handed irrigation machines fill in green within their own own circular reach.
I now sit here in the Camp Connection PAX terminal after a good hearty lunch, a lone game of pool, and a shoulder workout. Other than the flying, it has been a ‘normal’ day so far. This base is smaller than COB Home, but with the smaller size, comes more convenient foot travel to the facilities. With all the time in the world to wait for my early morning connection, I have a moment for a healthy pause.
Thankfully, I stocked up on a few movies from one of my soldier’s share drives before I left. One must find distraction or sleep, because military terminals feel even more like purgatory than an airport terminal back home. At least at ATL, IAD, wherever, one can people watch as others move in between the heavens. Here is a sterile room, a TV, some rows of chairs, and the others service members waiting around with you. And it’s not a trip to see granny in Florida or attend a conference in Vegas. It’s a trip to Somewhere, Iraq.
____
13 February 2011
Sunday Sports Break
With the soldiers running, passing, and catching the football like middle school kids--I get a few passes and start joining in.
"LT's got an arm! I want him on my team!" SPC Short said.
When they gather the teams, I hear some talk of "LT is one of the team captains."
Knowing I would just be following the will of the first person I pick anyway--I jokingly say, "One of you go, I don't want to be a captain, I'll be a Captain in two years anyway."
No need to be in charge all the time.
With every down, marching towards each glorious end zone marked by rocks and engineering tape, we play with effort and schoolyard frustration. Even with helicopters flying overhead and a myriad of mismatched PT gear that is only typical of unorganized events, we are somehow away from here.
Set. Hike.
The dust fills the lungs with the feeling of a tough swim. The deep inhale brings the endorphins out and the dry cake of sand layers the skin with toughness.
Run, get open, and make the catch.
Drop back, cover your man, rush the QB. Make jokes about each other. Congratulate a good throw, a good catch, a funny mistake.
“SFC Grump. All-American Class of 1865,” SGT Bucks shouts as my PSG gets set to drop back as QB on the opposing team. We collectively laugh even as the play begins. SFC Grump completes the pass and shouts back an insult at SGT Bucks.
My team gets a few points down. I make a few catches, a few touchdowns, and --feeling a flash of confidence--I ask to take QB from SGT Bucks. Down the dust field, he's open and I launch it right to Bucks. Touchdown.
An interception, a pass completion, a touchdown catch, a nice play by a teammate. The feeling of victory from these small triumphs far surpass the monotonous task completions of a SITREP, a Power Point presentation, or an inventory.
Taken together, the victories make a true break from the grind with my company’s soldiers. These are the moments a man stays in the Army for.
The sun sets on another Sunday in Iraq.
"LT's got an arm! I want him on my team!" SPC Short said.
When they gather the teams, I hear some talk of "LT is one of the team captains."
Knowing I would just be following the will of the first person I pick anyway--I jokingly say, "One of you go, I don't want to be a captain, I'll be a Captain in two years anyway."
No need to be in charge all the time.
With every down, marching towards each glorious end zone marked by rocks and engineering tape, we play with effort and schoolyard frustration. Even with helicopters flying overhead and a myriad of mismatched PT gear that is only typical of unorganized events, we are somehow away from here.
Set. Hike.
The dust fills the lungs with the feeling of a tough swim. The deep inhale brings the endorphins out and the dry cake of sand layers the skin with toughness.
Run, get open, and make the catch.
Drop back, cover your man, rush the QB. Make jokes about each other. Congratulate a good throw, a good catch, a funny mistake.
“SFC Grump. All-American Class of 1865,” SGT Bucks shouts as my PSG gets set to drop back as QB on the opposing team. We collectively laugh even as the play begins. SFC Grump completes the pass and shouts back an insult at SGT Bucks.
My team gets a few points down. I make a few catches, a few touchdowns, and --feeling a flash of confidence--I ask to take QB from SGT Bucks. Down the dust field, he's open and I launch it right to Bucks. Touchdown.
An interception, a pass completion, a touchdown catch, a nice play by a teammate. The feeling of victory from these small triumphs far surpass the monotonous task completions of a SITREP, a Power Point presentation, or an inventory.
Taken together, the victories make a true break from the grind with my company’s soldiers. These are the moments a man stays in the Army for.
The sun sets on another Sunday in Iraq.
12 February 2011
Music Talk at the DFAC
There was music in the chow hall tonight. The military band spread some tones of home our way. They had a full band up there... guitar, bass, drums, keyboards, and a horns section. The music selection was nice and varied too. Included Santana, Cake, and all kinds of variety that I wouldn't normally expect from a cover band in a good way.
CPT DD, SFC Grump, and SGT Levelhead and I went up there and had a nice relaxing dinner--one of the five or so times I've actually spent at the DFAC since I got here. We talked music, movies, and normalcy for long after we had finished our food. My makeshift "Chipotle" bowl went just fine with it.
Turns out CPT DD is really into music and used to play tuba in college. I kept telling him we'd start a Company band when we get home. He even has a banjo... hope he knows how well tuba, banjo, and acoustic go together (no joke). In talking about various instruments I got a little peeved to think that I didn't bring my harmonicas along. Will have to get them sent to me and possibly a guitar too if i can't find one here.
I found out from SGT Levelhead, an obviously level-headed and amiable soldier from the motor pool, that some of the soldiers have guitars they don't use and some of the Air Force members in our LSA are due to leave soon. Hope I can knab a guitar to pass my off time! He also has a guitar here and I offered to give him some lessons.
CPT DD, SFC Grump, and SGT Levelhead and I went up there and had a nice relaxing dinner--one of the five or so times I've actually spent at the DFAC since I got here. We talked music, movies, and normalcy for long after we had finished our food. My makeshift "Chipotle" bowl went just fine with it.
Turns out CPT DD is really into music and used to play tuba in college. I kept telling him we'd start a Company band when we get home. He even has a banjo... hope he knows how well tuba, banjo, and acoustic go together (no joke). In talking about various instruments I got a little peeved to think that I didn't bring my harmonicas along. Will have to get them sent to me and possibly a guitar too if i can't find one here.
I found out from SGT Levelhead, an obviously level-headed and amiable soldier from the motor pool, that some of the soldiers have guitars they don't use and some of the Air Force members in our LSA are due to leave soon. Hope I can knab a guitar to pass my off time! He also has a guitar here and I offered to give him some lessons.
11 February 2011
First Sand Storm and Steps Forward
Today brought us the first sand storm since I arrived. Pretty wild stuff. One minute I was in my office, thinking it looked like it might rain, it was like a cinnamon fog.
My PSG was saying "This isn't the half of it! Last deployment you couldn't see your hand stretched out in front of you!"
After a DBPP (Death By Power Point) range safety class, I had to head down to inventory my SSS Shelter (a big truckback full of shiny computer things for you normal humans). Thankfully, I actually had a well written component listing so it went by in a short time.
More training slides, and standing in for XO duties kept me occupied the rest of the day. I thought to myself at one point, "God, this is better than not knowing what's going on."
At least by being busy time goes by faster in this strange setting.
Just now I was talking to my brother and told him how I can't wait to come home and be normal again.
"You become accustomed to it," I said, "so it's not really bad anymore. But it's not normal."
The tasks I knew I had to get done when I first got here are now on there way though, and the coming months should fly on by. Guess that means a step towards progress.
My PSG was saying "This isn't the half of it! Last deployment you couldn't see your hand stretched out in front of you!"
After a DBPP (Death By Power Point) range safety class, I had to head down to inventory my SSS Shelter (a big truckback full of shiny computer things for you normal humans). Thankfully, I actually had a well written component listing so it went by in a short time.
More training slides, and standing in for XO duties kept me occupied the rest of the day. I thought to myself at one point, "God, this is better than not knowing what's going on."
At least by being busy time goes by faster in this strange setting.
Just now I was talking to my brother and told him how I can't wait to come home and be normal again.
"You become accustomed to it," I said, "so it's not really bad anymore. But it's not normal."
The tasks I knew I had to get done when I first got here are now on there way though, and the coming months should fly on by. Guess that means a step towards progress.
08 February 2011
One Month Down
One month since my Kuwait stomp date.
The past month has dragged on in some ways, but a month in Iraq is behind me. Being away at war is an experience I can say I’ve felt in the past tense now. I still have a lot of time left, but future tense is going home now. This, my friends, is good news.
Much of this morning was spent with SFC Grump preparing some training and getting things done. In spending more time with him, I have a better impression. We actually seem to mesh well together. I believe it helps that I am eager to hear his point of view and talk out the issues. I even had him draw me certain explanations of our company on the marker board.
Tomorrow he and I will be doing an initial counseling meeting after our BUB (Battle Update Brief). It will be a helpful start for both of us, and I hope that it goes beyond just being an Army formality. After that we’ll be off to start my first inventories.
-
At lunch I started a new bench press routine that I read about in The 4-Hour Body. It is a program tailored to increasing the bench press max of an individual in four months—which should work well with the timing of my deployment. For the first module of it, I will be benching once a week with three grips—power, wide, and narrow—with two sets of each but power. Each week increases in percentage of related to overall body weight. Should be fun!
I’ll track fitness stuff here soon along with some results in my change in overall body weight (since the 193 I started at when landing in Kuwait and haven’t weighed myself since), body mass, body fat, etc. It’s easy to spend time getting in good shape out here! Feel free to ignore those posts, but I’ve read that by making your goals public, you make them harder to break.
-
Towards the end of the day today, CPT DD asked if I wanted to go to the DRMO yard (I still don’t know the acronym’s meaning. Google it for me, as I’m writing this post during a usual civilian internet outage). Basically this place is a dump with the value in the hundreds of thousands.
Instead of paying for shipment and repair, the units bring what equipment they can gladly remove from their property books and conscience. What is left is a ton of equipment that the Army no longer cares about, since it’s not being officially tracked. The equipment is officially wasted. Without logistical support, the junk is made junk.
I could not believe that yard. So much stuff! Included in the DRMO yard were piles of cable, refrigerators, monitors, military instruments, musical equipment, and even a fooseball table. CPT DD and I were equally appalled—and acted essentially like the guys on American Pickers for about thirty minutes. It was a cool moment, and a nice break from the norm. Hopefully we can salvage some cool stuff for our company eventually (especially the fooseball table).
The past month has dragged on in some ways, but a month in Iraq is behind me. Being away at war is an experience I can say I’ve felt in the past tense now. I still have a lot of time left, but future tense is going home now. This, my friends, is good news.
Much of this morning was spent with SFC Grump preparing some training and getting things done. In spending more time with him, I have a better impression. We actually seem to mesh well together. I believe it helps that I am eager to hear his point of view and talk out the issues. I even had him draw me certain explanations of our company on the marker board.
Tomorrow he and I will be doing an initial counseling meeting after our BUB (Battle Update Brief). It will be a helpful start for both of us, and I hope that it goes beyond just being an Army formality. After that we’ll be off to start my first inventories.
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At lunch I started a new bench press routine that I read about in The 4-Hour Body. It is a program tailored to increasing the bench press max of an individual in four months—which should work well with the timing of my deployment. For the first module of it, I will be benching once a week with three grips—power, wide, and narrow—with two sets of each but power. Each week increases in percentage of related to overall body weight. Should be fun!
I’ll track fitness stuff here soon along with some results in my change in overall body weight (since the 193 I started at when landing in Kuwait and haven’t weighed myself since), body mass, body fat, etc. It’s easy to spend time getting in good shape out here! Feel free to ignore those posts, but I’ve read that by making your goals public, you make them harder to break.
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Towards the end of the day today, CPT DD asked if I wanted to go to the DRMO yard (I still don’t know the acronym’s meaning. Google it for me, as I’m writing this post during a usual civilian internet outage). Basically this place is a dump with the value in the hundreds of thousands.
Instead of paying for shipment and repair, the units bring what equipment they can gladly remove from their property books and conscience. What is left is a ton of equipment that the Army no longer cares about, since it’s not being officially tracked. The equipment is officially wasted. Without logistical support, the junk is made junk.
I could not believe that yard. So much stuff! Included in the DRMO yard were piles of cable, refrigerators, monitors, military instruments, musical equipment, and even a fooseball table. CPT DD and I were equally appalled—and acted essentially like the guys on American Pickers for about thirty minutes. It was a cool moment, and a nice break from the norm. Hopefully we can salvage some cool stuff for our company eventually (especially the fooseball table).
06 February 2011
Super Bowl and Festivities from Iraqisthan
Up far too late watching the Super Bowl, I thought I’d write a post. I have time during the commercial breaks because I can’t enjoy the American commercials like everyone back home. Right now, in fact, I’m learning about “Comprehensive Soldier Fitness” via an always-corny AFN commercial. Apparently an airmen sling-shooting himself in the air and landing on the windshield of a jet has some relevancy to something? I digress.
So right now, it’s about halfway through the first quarter and I still cannot stop thinking about that National Anthem performance by Christina Aguilera. I feel embarrassed over it for some reason. I mean seriously!? I thought some rap artist was going to break in with the turntables scratching, yelling, “REMIX!” Maybe if she wasn’t spending so much time trying to sing it all different and original she’d remember that it’s the words that count!
So now for blog stuff. After getting into the battle rhythm a bit and getting an understanding of how I will spend the rest of the deployment, I can now breathe a bit easier throughout the day. All of the routines of work, gym, downtime, etc. are beginning to feel less forced and more natural. The rain finally ending helps.
Being more “part of the group” has helps too. On Friday, SSG Phoenix and 1LT Glitz shared their coincidental birthday and we celebrated by grilling some hamburgers and drinking some near-beers. It was nice to pretend to feel normal… We kept shouting, “Birthday Bash Oh-Leven” like some truly stoked college kids. We even wore some very masculine and in-no-way-goofy looking birthday hats while we sat around and watched some TV. We have a self-deprecating but happy attitude about letting loose in small ways when we can.
The same went for tonight when we were able to go up to the DFAC for a few ACTUAL beers. Stories of home flowed just like the beer from those two little cans. It was a privilege as much as it was a tease of normality. It reminds me of the scene from “The Shawshank Redemption” when the main character is able to get a few beers for his fellow inmates in exchange for doing some tax work. Except it’s not prison, it’s Iraq.
All the better though, it was fun. Some of our soldiers also played some football earlier today to unwind for the game. It’s great to see soldiers try to be normal Americans over here in the desert. We were going to watch the game over at SSG Phoenix’s but they tired out and I’m sure I will soon too—especially if Green Bay runs away from their 14-3 lead. Well, I suppose I have to watch the halftime show at least. (Update. Halftime show was a trainwreck and yippee the game is close at 21-17 packers. No sleep for me tonight.)
I got a package from home today. Highlights include a few Nintendo DS games (awesome) and a 4-pack of my beloved Sugar Free Rockstar. Just in case you are reading this and don’t understand, Sugar Free Rockstar is like crack to me. If you are reading this and have any means to send me some Sugar Free Rockstar, please do so. Smiley face. But in all seriousness, getting a package is a true boost to morale. It could’ve had toilet paper, pencil shavings, anything, and I would’ve loved it.
As for events coming up, I will be doing an inventory of my equipment here and at my platoon’s several out-sites. It should be a good start to working with my PSG, SFC Grump, who arrived on Thursday. We haven’t gotten to work together much yet, but I can tell he knows his stuff. He is a bit jaded, but I think we will work well as a team. My bright-eyed, idealistic notions of the Army are contrasted by his salty discontent with some of its ways. I think he can give me an idea of the realities of certain methods while I hope to wake him up to the realization that he’s not retired yet and should try not to be such a grump all the time! His humor reminds me of one my uncle’s and in that way I am able to relate to him (he’s married and has kids so there really isn’t too much to start with!) Apparently he’s a fan of my alma mater though. Good in my book! More on SFC Grump later.
For now stay tuned for a couple pictures of my settings here at COB Home.
Happy Super Day.
So right now, it’s about halfway through the first quarter and I still cannot stop thinking about that National Anthem performance by Christina Aguilera. I feel embarrassed over it for some reason. I mean seriously!? I thought some rap artist was going to break in with the turntables scratching, yelling, “REMIX!” Maybe if she wasn’t spending so much time trying to sing it all different and original she’d remember that it’s the words that count!
So now for blog stuff. After getting into the battle rhythm a bit and getting an understanding of how I will spend the rest of the deployment, I can now breathe a bit easier throughout the day. All of the routines of work, gym, downtime, etc. are beginning to feel less forced and more natural. The rain finally ending helps.
Being more “part of the group” has helps too. On Friday, SSG Phoenix and 1LT Glitz shared their coincidental birthday and we celebrated by grilling some hamburgers and drinking some near-beers. It was nice to pretend to feel normal… We kept shouting, “Birthday Bash Oh-Leven” like some truly stoked college kids. We even wore some very masculine and in-no-way-goofy looking birthday hats while we sat around and watched some TV. We have a self-deprecating but happy attitude about letting loose in small ways when we can.
The same went for tonight when we were able to go up to the DFAC for a few ACTUAL beers. Stories of home flowed just like the beer from those two little cans. It was a privilege as much as it was a tease of normality. It reminds me of the scene from “The Shawshank Redemption” when the main character is able to get a few beers for his fellow inmates in exchange for doing some tax work. Except it’s not prison, it’s Iraq.
All the better though, it was fun. Some of our soldiers also played some football earlier today to unwind for the game. It’s great to see soldiers try to be normal Americans over here in the desert. We were going to watch the game over at SSG Phoenix’s but they tired out and I’m sure I will soon too—especially if Green Bay runs away from their 14-3 lead. Well, I suppose I have to watch the halftime show at least. (Update. Halftime show was a trainwreck and yippee the game is close at 21-17 packers. No sleep for me tonight.)
I got a package from home today. Highlights include a few Nintendo DS games (awesome) and a 4-pack of my beloved Sugar Free Rockstar. Just in case you are reading this and don’t understand, Sugar Free Rockstar is like crack to me. If you are reading this and have any means to send me some Sugar Free Rockstar, please do so. Smiley face. But in all seriousness, getting a package is a true boost to morale. It could’ve had toilet paper, pencil shavings, anything, and I would’ve loved it.
As for events coming up, I will be doing an inventory of my equipment here and at my platoon’s several out-sites. It should be a good start to working with my PSG, SFC Grump, who arrived on Thursday. We haven’t gotten to work together much yet, but I can tell he knows his stuff. He is a bit jaded, but I think we will work well as a team. My bright-eyed, idealistic notions of the Army are contrasted by his salty discontent with some of its ways. I think he can give me an idea of the realities of certain methods while I hope to wake him up to the realization that he’s not retired yet and should try not to be such a grump all the time! His humor reminds me of one my uncle’s and in that way I am able to relate to him (he’s married and has kids so there really isn’t too much to start with!) Apparently he’s a fan of my alma mater though. Good in my book! More on SFC Grump later.
For now stay tuned for a couple pictures of my settings here at COB Home.
Happy Super Day.
01 February 2011
Settling in at COB Home
As I showed already in my last post, I was pretty reluctant to recap everything about getting here. Guess it will only get worse with time, so I'll lay out the basics. Rather than just recapping, soon I hope to do more anecdotal posts--telling a story, not a summary.
-Transit. To use some fanciful language, I will say the chopper flight here was freakin’ awesome. Despite the fact that we were packed in like sardines, it was a humbling experience flying over this country. The landscape was sand and dust. Grids and crop circles. As we touched down to drop off passengers and refuel, I was able to see another small part of our footprint here.
There was a moment that I will never know for sure was my imagination or not when there was a “tink-tink” on the back of the helicopter that I could’ve sworn were rounds. There was a reaction by the gunner, but he did not return fire. The civilian gentleman across from me looked as bug-eyed as I probably did at this sound, but in the shuffle of movement I never spoke to anyone about it before getting picked up to be taken to my new home.
-Settling in. Upon arrival, I was taken to our company HQ and my new room by LT Glitz and SSG Phoenix. After seeing the trailer-like CHU’s when I was down at HQ with LT Bro, it was definitely different seeing these wooden structures with plywood insides. Along with the long porches in the front and the desolate desert surroundings, it looks a lot like the old west.
Don’t get me wrong, I am not complaining. I have my own room and after some scrounging, was able to put together a nice set up. A plywood desk, two closet-cabinets, a side table, a fridge, a TV, a bed, and of course my alma mater’s flag up on the wall is the near the entirety of my new home. The real plus is I can get on the internet right from my room and can Skype no problem with family and friends back home.
I arrived on the weekend and Sundays are very low op-tempo, so much of that first day was spent unraveling and unpacking all the crap the Army deemed worthy of lugging here.
-Grasping Company AO and PLT property and personnel. This will continue through my deployment I cannot divulge much detailed information here but let’s just say that my signal company is widespread. Command and control, even at the platoon level, is spread over hundreds of miles. It is a challenge to keep updates up remotely and lead remotely. All in the name of keeping our separate sites around Iraq connected. My location here at COB Home is just a small piece of my platoons AO (Area of Operation).
The real difficulty to come soon will be moving all the very expensive equipment back to be reset back to the states… that’s only after heading out to EVERY out-site in my company to inventory and sign for the equipment. Yippee.
The members of my PLT here are very efficient and I am glad to have fallen in on them. After some weariness at first, I am starting to settle in with the confidence to speak to individuals by name and like to think I’m beginning to get some respect for my willingness to learn. No need to reinvent the wheel yet with my platoon’s functions, so I’ll be continuing to evaluate for the next few weeks or so. I should be interesting when my PSG gets back from R&R too. By reputation, I already know that he will have a much different in demeanor than SSG Phoenix.
-Working out; running. PT with the unit has largely consisted of running and sprints and a lot of adherence to the new Army PT Program, “PRT”. Over lunch, I’ve been doing a lot of lifting with my XO and stand-in PSG . Today we even did an extra run over at the track. Scatterloot: the track arena, soccer field, and gym area here is awesomely dilapidated and dates back to Saddam’s rule. I hope to bring home a few pieces of the ruins for the ole’ bar wall..
-Briefs. The one thing I am glad to say I have been able to jump into without much problem is briefing. On our Adobe Breeze meetings (conducted online within our company and with battalion) I have had little trouble confidently briefing my PLT’s situation. Did I know what the hell I was talking about the first one I did last week? Hell no. But I trusted my soldiers to get me up to speed beforehand. After working out the locations and missions of my PLTs equipment and ops, I have been able to grasp the material and answer questions from the XO with no problem.
- Off time (outside of going to get food or working out). Since initial settling, when it comes to my own little personal hut, I have been watching a large amount of movies and television from one of my soldier’s shared hard drive—especially “Breaking Bad”. No joke, I already watched the entirety of the show’s three seasons. The show is very edgy, has great acting, and is just plain addictive! I couldn’t just watch one episode at a time.
Other time-eaters include “Black Swan”, “Easy A”, “True Grit”, and for some unknown reason “A Bug’s Life” (lolz). I haven’t gotten into a groove of being productive in my off time yet, but I hope to replace some mindlessness with some GRE prep, master’s classes, and some certifications. Or maybe I'll take up knitting.
-Transit. To use some fanciful language, I will say the chopper flight here was freakin’ awesome. Despite the fact that we were packed in like sardines, it was a humbling experience flying over this country. The landscape was sand and dust. Grids and crop circles. As we touched down to drop off passengers and refuel, I was able to see another small part of our footprint here.
There was a moment that I will never know for sure was my imagination or not when there was a “tink-tink” on the back of the helicopter that I could’ve sworn were rounds. There was a reaction by the gunner, but he did not return fire. The civilian gentleman across from me looked as bug-eyed as I probably did at this sound, but in the shuffle of movement I never spoke to anyone about it before getting picked up to be taken to my new home.
-Settling in. Upon arrival, I was taken to our company HQ and my new room by LT Glitz and SSG Phoenix. After seeing the trailer-like CHU’s when I was down at HQ with LT Bro, it was definitely different seeing these wooden structures with plywood insides. Along with the long porches in the front and the desolate desert surroundings, it looks a lot like the old west.
Don’t get me wrong, I am not complaining. I have my own room and after some scrounging, was able to put together a nice set up. A plywood desk, two closet-cabinets, a side table, a fridge, a TV, a bed, and of course my alma mater’s flag up on the wall is the near the entirety of my new home. The real plus is I can get on the internet right from my room and can Skype no problem with family and friends back home.
I arrived on the weekend and Sundays are very low op-tempo, so much of that first day was spent unraveling and unpacking all the crap the Army deemed worthy of lugging here.
-Grasping Company AO and PLT property and personnel. This will continue through my deployment I cannot divulge much detailed information here but let’s just say that my signal company is widespread. Command and control, even at the platoon level, is spread over hundreds of miles. It is a challenge to keep updates up remotely and lead remotely. All in the name of keeping our separate sites around Iraq connected. My location here at COB Home is just a small piece of my platoons AO (Area of Operation).
The real difficulty to come soon will be moving all the very expensive equipment back to be reset back to the states… that’s only after heading out to EVERY out-site in my company to inventory and sign for the equipment. Yippee.
The members of my PLT here are very efficient and I am glad to have fallen in on them. After some weariness at first, I am starting to settle in with the confidence to speak to individuals by name and like to think I’m beginning to get some respect for my willingness to learn. No need to reinvent the wheel yet with my platoon’s functions, so I’ll be continuing to evaluate for the next few weeks or so. I should be interesting when my PSG gets back from R&R too. By reputation, I already know that he will have a much different in demeanor than SSG Phoenix.
-Working out; running. PT with the unit has largely consisted of running and sprints and a lot of adherence to the new Army PT Program, “PRT”. Over lunch, I’ve been doing a lot of lifting with my XO and stand-in PSG . Today we even did an extra run over at the track. Scatterloot: the track arena, soccer field, and gym area here is awesomely dilapidated and dates back to Saddam’s rule. I hope to bring home a few pieces of the ruins for the ole’ bar wall..
-Briefs. The one thing I am glad to say I have been able to jump into without much problem is briefing. On our Adobe Breeze meetings (conducted online within our company and with battalion) I have had little trouble confidently briefing my PLT’s situation. Did I know what the hell I was talking about the first one I did last week? Hell no. But I trusted my soldiers to get me up to speed beforehand. After working out the locations and missions of my PLTs equipment and ops, I have been able to grasp the material and answer questions from the XO with no problem.
- Off time (outside of going to get food or working out). Since initial settling, when it comes to my own little personal hut, I have been watching a large amount of movies and television from one of my soldier’s shared hard drive—especially “Breaking Bad”. No joke, I already watched the entirety of the show’s three seasons. The show is very edgy, has great acting, and is just plain addictive! I couldn’t just watch one episode at a time.
Other time-eaters include “Black Swan”, “Easy A”, “True Grit”, and for some unknown reason “A Bug’s Life” (lolz). I haven’t gotten into a groove of being productive in my off time yet, but I hope to replace some mindlessness with some GRE prep, master’s classes, and some certifications. Or maybe I'll take up knitting.
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