Today I almost didn't make it back. From the Post Office. I received over 30 lbs. of premo coffee. I should have enough caffeine to last me forever - thank you all. Old GW didn't know what he was getting when he asked for this surge.
I have seen the enemy, and he is us. Today during our BUB (Battalion Update Brief), which lasted a brief 3 1/2 hours, I found out why we have not won this war. We, the brain trust of the battalion of 1000 soldiers, spent 30 minutes trying to figure out when to switch our clocks for daylight savings time. There are conflicting posters throughout the FOB directing change tonight or tomorrow night. The official word says 0001 on 31 March, but this has been changed and re-changed at the General level. My unit finally decided on tonight. So the reason we may never win is us...
Or maybe not. Could it be that we are trying to save a desert nation that wants more waking hours of sunlight during the summer? I'll think about it as I sip.
Friday, March 30, 2007
Thursday, March 29, 2007
Finding my self jealous of the Army
The Army and Marines have something the Navy is missing: special words. Huah is the Army's all purpose word and Oorah is the Marine's. They are words that can mean anything from "I understand" to "Hey numbskull, you had better understand" to goodmorning to "I can't believe what he just told me to do" to you name it. Besides negating the need for thought or vocabulary, these words have a useful purpose when saluting. You can return a salute and acknowledge a soldier in an Army way like you would acknowledge a normal person's "How are you doing" with a completely meaningless "fine." The Navy is just supposed to reply "Good morning," which works for sailors. But junior soldiers will often salute with their unit callsign (a common one is "Hellfire, sir!") or a skill level (Ranger, sir!). Good morning doesn't meet their level of esprit de corps. Commonly they will go overboard with esprit and say "Shoot'em in the face, sir!" which, call me a judger, I think is close to inappropriate. Nonetheless, a smart Navy "Good morning" is not an appropriate response. I am even jealous of the Air Force salute exchange (Enlisted: "Hey, Ben" to which the officer responds "What's goin' on Joe"). It's not extremely motivated, but at least it's not mechanical.
I have considered a sub-related motto: "Shoot'em in the face, sir" to which I would respond "Hide with Pride." Nope, doesn't work.
A nuke response: "Shoot'em in the face, sir!" "Shoot'em in the face, aye." Bam, Bam. " I have shot them in the face." But literal nuclear compliance doesn't always work with motivation.
A calculus teacher response: "You fail."
A daddy response: "Let's try to use kind words, please."
So that's my life experience trying to respond to motivation to soldiers. Doesn't fit out here. My life doesn't fit with the Army Whose idea was it to put sailors with soldiers, again? If I ever meet them Army motivation might be the best response.
I have considered a sub-related motto: "Shoot'em in the face, sir" to which I would respond "Hide with Pride." Nope, doesn't work.
A nuke response: "Shoot'em in the face, sir!" "Shoot'em in the face, aye." Bam, Bam. " I have shot them in the face." But literal nuclear compliance doesn't always work with motivation.
A calculus teacher response: "You fail."
A daddy response: "Let's try to use kind words, please."
So that's my life experience trying to respond to motivation to soldiers. Doesn't fit out here. My life doesn't fit with the Army Whose idea was it to put sailors with soldiers, again? If I ever meet them Army motivation might be the best response.
Wednesday, March 28, 2007
A couple days late
I completely forgot that a couple days ago there was a big event that I forgot to post. I feel as I am cheating my loyal fans by not passing on every mundane detail of my life. On Saturday, I think it was, we got to go to the range on the other side of Rusty. Every so often, the Army wants to make sure that our weapons work, so we fire 10 rounds of M-16 and 5 rounds from our pistol. I asked one of the Master Sergeants who went one group ahead of me if he hit the target, and he assured me he had. After I shot, he asked me and I told him I had at least scared it. As they handed out our 15 bullets, I couldn't help but think that Barney Fife would be jealous.
Confession time: I haven't cleaned my M-16 yet. Whenever I think about that I just feel terrible, like I am letting Tim and Koichi and all the Marines in my life down. I cope, but I still feel terrible. My penance is that every night (almost) I take all of the bullets out of my magazine and let the spring stretch back into its normal shape. Tim told me to do that before I left, and I do it to make him proud. That way, if the base gets overrun I will have 15 chances to hand out 72 virgins for a total of 1080 eternally unhappy women, or I can really scare someone 15 times.
A funny story. Back when we were at the main base in Baghdad, my friend Geoff and I were walking back from the gym, and we passed these two soldiers who were barbecuing. They invited us to have a steak with them (where they got it we did not ask), and the one guy started telling us about his last day. These were two real soldiers who went off the base and got in abandoned houses and waited for people to come and try to kill them. The way his day normally goes is they get in the house a couple hours before sunrise, and after morning prayers people start coming toward the houses with AK-47's. So this sergeant is recounting his squad's gun battle and this sergeant says, " and then car drives by and the guy shoots at us with a pistol." The sergeant is clearly insulted, as if a violation of a sacred code has occurred. The squad stops their shooting at the bad guys and just stare at each other until some says, "Did he just shoot at us with a pistol?" Before anyone can respond, the car drives by for a second round, and that was too much of a foul to bear, so they disabled the car and end up taking the guy prisoner.
The really funny part of the story was the second barbecuing soldier who was clearly not leadership material. He looked like a grown up and slightly heftier version of Opie, red hair and freckles. He had on white leather I'm-not-athletic gym shoes, and during the whole conversation he had been trying to jump up and get a seat on a four foot tall wall next to us. He had failed, miserably. I really felt for the guy because he was clearly out of his element being with the real soldiers instead of the fob dwellers. Or so I thought. Once his sergeant mentioned the guy shooting at him with the pistol, Opie starts yelling "die" and cursing at the top of his lungs. Kind of turrets-esque. Not civilized. I wanted to laugh and run at the same time. Aunt Bea would not have been pleased, Andy would have tanned his hide, but deep down inside all of Mayberry would have been proud that their son had grown up into a man who knows you don't bring a pistol to a gun battle.
Maybe you had to be there to appreciate the courage these plain average guys had to go out of the wire every day, and not be scared when a guy shoots a pistol and then come back and barbecue and talk about how their ex-wife is spending the child support on manicures. Facing bad people who want to kill them is these guys' 9 to 5. I still chuckle when I think about it and hope that Abu or Mohammed doesn't get as mad as Opie if I ever have to use my pistol.
Confession time: I haven't cleaned my M-16 yet. Whenever I think about that I just feel terrible, like I am letting Tim and Koichi and all the Marines in my life down. I cope, but I still feel terrible. My penance is that every night (almost) I take all of the bullets out of my magazine and let the spring stretch back into its normal shape. Tim told me to do that before I left, and I do it to make him proud. That way, if the base gets overrun I will have 15 chances to hand out 72 virgins for a total of 1080 eternally unhappy women, or I can really scare someone 15 times.
A funny story. Back when we were at the main base in Baghdad, my friend Geoff and I were walking back from the gym, and we passed these two soldiers who were barbecuing. They invited us to have a steak with them (where they got it we did not ask), and the one guy started telling us about his last day. These were two real soldiers who went off the base and got in abandoned houses and waited for people to come and try to kill them. The way his day normally goes is they get in the house a couple hours before sunrise, and after morning prayers people start coming toward the houses with AK-47's. So this sergeant is recounting his squad's gun battle and this sergeant says, " and then car drives by and the guy shoots at us with a pistol." The sergeant is clearly insulted, as if a violation of a sacred code has occurred. The squad stops their shooting at the bad guys and just stare at each other until some says, "Did he just shoot at us with a pistol?" Before anyone can respond, the car drives by for a second round, and that was too much of a foul to bear, so they disabled the car and end up taking the guy prisoner.
The really funny part of the story was the second barbecuing soldier who was clearly not leadership material. He looked like a grown up and slightly heftier version of Opie, red hair and freckles. He had on white leather I'm-not-athletic gym shoes, and during the whole conversation he had been trying to jump up and get a seat on a four foot tall wall next to us. He had failed, miserably. I really felt for the guy because he was clearly out of his element being with the real soldiers instead of the fob dwellers. Or so I thought. Once his sergeant mentioned the guy shooting at him with the pistol, Opie starts yelling "die" and cursing at the top of his lungs. Kind of turrets-esque. Not civilized. I wanted to laugh and run at the same time. Aunt Bea would not have been pleased, Andy would have tanned his hide, but deep down inside all of Mayberry would have been proud that their son had grown up into a man who knows you don't bring a pistol to a gun battle.
Maybe you had to be there to appreciate the courage these plain average guys had to go out of the wire every day, and not be scared when a guy shoots a pistol and then come back and barbecue and talk about how their ex-wife is spending the child support on manicures. Facing bad people who want to kill them is these guys' 9 to 5. I still chuckle when I think about it and hope that Abu or Mohammed doesn't get as mad as Opie if I ever have to use my pistol.
Tuesday, March 27, 2007
I survived
Today's excitement, besides changing my sheets, was that we had to upgrade to battle dress alpha. A couple of rockets were fired somewhere outside our base in our general direction and missed our base, but better safe than sorry. Battle dress alpha includes the 11 pieces of Army body armor, your helmet, and safety glasses. My helmet and body armor were on the other side of the base since I was at the hospital, but I had my safety glasses. Anyway, if I got hit I was already at the hospital. Oddly, safety glasses are the only thing we are required to wear at all times when outdoors. I haven't figured that particular regulation out yet, but at least I have a pair that can change between tinted and non-tinted lenses. Of the 13 pieces of potential body protection we are issued, the glasses are the lightest. If I had to carry the main body armor vest around all the time I would have a backache.
Monday, March 26, 2007
A day late
Sorry I didn't get anything written last night. There was a brief I had to go to that lasted until later than normal, so I just went to bed. Speaking of bed, today I got a piece of plywood to put under my mattress which should make a big improvement. The mattresses here are way too soft for my comfort.
Yesterday I went to the traditional protestant service. I am torn between the contemporary and traditional. The chaplain at the contemporary is actually a pretty good preacher, but it is nice to sing hymns, too. The traditional preacher was very fire and brimstone. That's okay, but the contemporary preacher is more expository. The whole hymn question could be moot since they use a Presbyterian hymnal. In addition to changing "ye chosen seed of Israel's race" to "ye seed of Israel's chosen race" in All Hail the Power, in And Can It Be they changed "And bled for Adam's helpless race" to "and bled for all the chosen race." Insidious. Well, that is yesterday's crisis in the war zone. Hymnals aside, we do have much to be thankful for here because we haven't been mortared since I got here.
Yesterday I went to the traditional protestant service. I am torn between the contemporary and traditional. The chaplain at the contemporary is actually a pretty good preacher, but it is nice to sing hymns, too. The traditional preacher was very fire and brimstone. That's okay, but the contemporary preacher is more expository. The whole hymn question could be moot since they use a Presbyterian hymnal. In addition to changing "ye chosen seed of Israel's race" to "ye seed of Israel's chosen race" in All Hail the Power, in And Can It Be they changed "And bled for Adam's helpless race" to "and bled for all the chosen race." Insidious. Well, that is yesterday's crisis in the war zone. Hymnals aside, we do have much to be thankful for here because we haven't been mortared since I got here.
Saturday, March 24, 2007
Except for the dust
The weather here was June gloom, almost San Diego summer like today. Maybe it was 5 degrees warmer than SD, but that's the feeling I got. Saturdays are ever so slightly slower than weekdays even though everyone works the same amount. It's almost as if once a week people instinctively know they need a day off. Who would have thought.
Today I cleaned my room a bit. Mostly involved sweeping the carpet. It is a worn down indoor/outdoor carpet so using a broom is not quite as silly as it sounds, but I think most of the dust just went up in the air an came right back down.
So that's the highlight for today. We have been blessed with quiet at Rusty since I arrived. Maybe tomorrow will have something a little more exciting to write about, but hopefully not exciting like things can get in a war zone. While I'm here in Iraq, a chicken salad sandwich is all the excitement I need or want.
Today I cleaned my room a bit. Mostly involved sweeping the carpet. It is a worn down indoor/outdoor carpet so using a broom is not quite as silly as it sounds, but I think most of the dust just went up in the air an came right back down.
So that's the highlight for today. We have been blessed with quiet at Rusty since I arrived. Maybe tomorrow will have something a little more exciting to write about, but hopefully not exciting like things can get in a war zone. While I'm here in Iraq, a chicken salad sandwich is all the excitement I need or want.
Friday, March 23, 2007
Another day in paradise
Not Hajii paradise with the 72 raisins, mind you, but Rusty paradise. I just finished lobster and scallops, so it must be Friday. Today we had our weekly battalion update brief, and the battalion commander didn't have any unanswerable questions for me during my 3 minutes of talking, so that is a success. At the end, he said something which I don't remember, and I responded with "Aye, sir." Everyone thought that was very funny, but I didn't even notice I had said it. I'm just glad I didn't call the BC captain since that does not play as well in translation to Army speak. When everyone stopped laughing, he said I could call him skipper in a spirit of joviality. He may have meant it in jest, but he'll get used to it. I take my position as senior submariner on Rustamiyah very seriously. Very seriously.
For lunch I had a bag of Lay's French Cheese potato chips just out of curiosity. Didn't know such a thing existed, and was very excited at an exotic new flavor. Not exotic. Not new. Just cheddar cheese flavor with a special name. Slightly disappointed.
Thanks to everyone who sends mail. This is by no means WWII where mail call is the highlight of the day since I stay connected with everyone via email, but it is nice nonetheless. I think I must have the best in-laws out there. In addition to raising their daughter to be classy yet still marry down, they sent me a package today. Am I blessed or what?
For lunch I had a bag of Lay's French Cheese potato chips just out of curiosity. Didn't know such a thing existed, and was very excited at an exotic new flavor. Not exotic. Not new. Just cheddar cheese flavor with a special name. Slightly disappointed.
Thanks to everyone who sends mail. This is by no means WWII where mail call is the highlight of the day since I stay connected with everyone via email, but it is nice nonetheless. I think I must have the best in-laws out there. In addition to raising their daughter to be classy yet still marry down, they sent me a package today. Am I blessed or what?
Wednesday, March 21, 2007
Not much tonight
The internet went down yesterday, but only for my computer. I restarted a couple times, and nothing happened. I woke up this morning and it worked. Maybe my mom is on to something about computers being unpredictable and unlearnable. I'm a little behind on replying to email, so don't think I'm blowing you off.
Anyway, it is another beautiful Rustamiyah night with the golden haze of burning trash brightening the night sky, and the gentle smell of sewage floating through the air. Iraqis must have a fiber rich diet, because the sewage plant has more of a dairy farm bouqet than a feed lot aroma. It is nowhere as foul as chicken or pig. Oddly, I had a dream about being back on the Van der Woode's dairy farm in Ramona last night. Good memories. Maybe the smell is not so bad.
Anyway, it is another beautiful Rustamiyah night with the golden haze of burning trash brightening the night sky, and the gentle smell of sewage floating through the air. Iraqis must have a fiber rich diet, because the sewage plant has more of a dairy farm bouqet than a feed lot aroma. It is nowhere as foul as chicken or pig. Oddly, I had a dream about being back on the Van der Woode's dairy farm in Ramona last night. Good memories. Maybe the smell is not so bad.
Monday, March 19, 2007
I am now a war hero
Sorry I didn't write anything last night - just plain too busy. After all, it was succumb-to-army-peer-pressure day (aka get a haircut day). There is a hajii shop right down the hall from where I "work" where haircuts are $5. I asked to get skin on the side so that I could go as long as possible between haircuts and avoid paying $5 just a little longer. I guess the barber either knew my evil plan to avoid being a repeat customer or did not speak English because he just gave me a haircut. He was a very slow barber, but that worked out okay because our conversation was painfully slow. I did find out his name was David, and when he found out my name was Matthew he got very excited and got an interpreter in so that he could tell me there is a shrine to St. Matthew up north on a mountain. This led to us finally figuring out that he was Catholic, and I think I conveyed that I was Christian but protestant. Actually, I know he understood I was a protty because he asked why I didn't pray to the Madonna. I didn't answer him completely because deep theological issues are best left to a time when you have more than hand signs to communicate and when neither party is holding a straight razor. Not quite how I pictured my first encounter with an armed Iraqi. All in all, a mildly pleasant experience.
Today was a thankfully slow night at sick call, so the medics taught me some combat lifesaver skills. I got to stick a breathing tube (nasal pharyngeal airway tube) in someones nose and give someone an IV. Medics are pretty strange - they were arguing over who got to get stuck for the IV like it was fun to get stuck with needles. By a rookie, no less. I would rather have a needle than the breathing tube. When I tried on the first nostril, it wouldn't go in. In fact, the medic's eyes teared and nose started bleeding. But all the medics insisted that I had done a great job, and when the nose bleed stopped, the same medic let me stick a tube up the other nostril. They say they do it to each other for training all the time. The needle went better, but I feel that I have shed enough blood to get the Bronze Star with Combat V.
Today was a thankfully slow night at sick call, so the medics taught me some combat lifesaver skills. I got to stick a breathing tube (nasal pharyngeal airway tube) in someones nose and give someone an IV. Medics are pretty strange - they were arguing over who got to get stuck for the IV like it was fun to get stuck with needles. By a rookie, no less. I would rather have a needle than the breathing tube. When I tried on the first nostril, it wouldn't go in. In fact, the medic's eyes teared and nose started bleeding. But all the medics insisted that I had done a great job, and when the nose bleed stopped, the same medic let me stick a tube up the other nostril. They say they do it to each other for training all the time. The needle went better, but I feel that I have shed enough blood to get the Bronze Star with Combat V.
Saturday, March 17, 2007
No Tuesday for Me
Someone once said that in Iraq, every day is Tuesday. Same thing over and over. Kind of like Groundhog Day. But not today. Today was fingernail clipping day. It may be small, but you have to have something to differentiate. That is something.
My aunt Jean emailed me yesterday, and she and Tom read my blog. My mom and grandma do, too. I am really surprised by how many people say they read this thing. I sort of thought it would be an online diary so I wouldn't forget my year here (even if I want to), but it has turned into sort of a mass stream-of-consciousness email. It is touching that so many people remember me out here, and if me banging my thoughts out on a laptop for the world to see keeps people closer or helps you remember to pray for me and especially my fam, all the better. I think most people (no one reading this of course) say they'll pray and then don't. Even though it is considered rude in Christian circles, I try not to say I will, because then the next time I see the person I have to say a quick prayer so that I can truthfully tell them I've prayed for them. I know that completely betrays the intent, but I just forget. Anyway, if I say I'll pray for you, I usually am sincere but I love to have reminders. I guess that is a digression, but your prayers mean alot.
Speaking of completely forgetting, I completely forgot my Grandma's birthday yesterday. Sorry! Happy day after birthday Grandma. Before I read my mom's email telling me I had forgotten, I was was talking with a guy who said that he mail cards weeks late and then blames the mail from Iraq. Not me. I just forget. Not just here, but at home, too. That's why I got married - so that I have someone remind me of the important things. One more reason to miss my wife. Sigh!
My aunt Jean emailed me yesterday, and she and Tom read my blog. My mom and grandma do, too. I am really surprised by how many people say they read this thing. I sort of thought it would be an online diary so I wouldn't forget my year here (even if I want to), but it has turned into sort of a mass stream-of-consciousness email. It is touching that so many people remember me out here, and if me banging my thoughts out on a laptop for the world to see keeps people closer or helps you remember to pray for me and especially my fam, all the better. I think most people (no one reading this of course) say they'll pray and then don't. Even though it is considered rude in Christian circles, I try not to say I will, because then the next time I see the person I have to say a quick prayer so that I can truthfully tell them I've prayed for them. I know that completely betrays the intent, but I just forget. Anyway, if I say I'll pray for you, I usually am sincere but I love to have reminders. I guess that is a digression, but your prayers mean alot.
Speaking of completely forgetting, I completely forgot my Grandma's birthday yesterday. Sorry! Happy day after birthday Grandma. Before I read my mom's email telling me I had forgotten, I was was talking with a guy who said that he mail cards weeks late and then blames the mail from Iraq. Not me. I just forget. Not just here, but at home, too. That's why I got married - so that I have someone remind me of the important things. One more reason to miss my wife. Sigh!
Friday, March 16, 2007
I have an excuse
It is surf and turf night at Chez Roosty, so I have an excuse. I am, even as I type, chewing on a fried scallop, I just finished a lobster tail, and I have a steak yet to go. I have found the fourth KBR food group - formerly unclean sea creatures. I am not normally a huge fan of lobster (although scallops are always a win), but tonight it was delicious, or delish as my Grandma would say. I will add lobster and scallops to bacon as the second blessing of Christmas. Yes, they are farther down the list than number two, but all the other blessings of Christmas are very important, so I can say that they are a second kind of blessing. Anyway, I am in a pretty chipper mood tonight all things considered. (BTW, just had a bite of the steak - very tender and flavorful.)
Speaking of my Grandma, I just got a letter from her today, and she said she reads my blog. Hi Grandma. I also got a letter from Aunt Nancy. I will attribute some of the chipper-ness or chipper-larity to them as well.
Today I started the day by making a to do list, and I pulled the old Navy trick of writing down things that are insignificant but easily accomplishable just so that I can mark them off. I succeeded in getting my laundry and answering Brad's email. Check. Check. I moved some other things to the right, but any accomplishment makes for a fine Navy day, and that was TWO. I also stayed busy with some other menial work related tasks, which you taxpayers should really just consider a bonus.
I made some power point slides, too. The Army is fanatical about power point. Like fifth dimension fanatical. Like waiting for the spaceship and drinking the kool-aid fanatical. They will type a word document and then import it to power point. Not kidding. I saw it. I defy anyone in the Army to give me a semi-coherent explanation of that. Any takers? I didn't think so.
Well, that was my day. Two power point slides, getting my laundry, and an email to Brad. The bulk of my day anyway.
I am going to sign off with this thought. I know that both of my grandpas didn't eat food like this - and they didn't have a FOB to come home to every night. There are guys out there tonight in more remote outposts because of the new security plan (we have to call it Quad al-Farnoon instead of some cool name like OIF-XXI) who don't sleep in a bed or eat KBR. They are fighting the good (hard) fight and my hat's off to them. Every night when I walk to the DFAC (dining facility), I pass rows and rows of tanks and Bradleys and armored Hummers. Yesterday, one didn't come back. Those guys who go outside the wire earn the food I eat. I get to eat good food because they earn it. And for those people out there who say that what we're doing over here isn't good, I will say that I listen all day to how our guys are out there, sometimes beating their head against a wall of culture, sometimes getting killed, but also doing good and making bits of progress. Tonight, there are Iraqis who will be alive today because of the efforts. That is more than one final thought, I apologize, but give those guys your prayers tonight.
Speaking of my Grandma, I just got a letter from her today, and she said she reads my blog. Hi Grandma. I also got a letter from Aunt Nancy. I will attribute some of the chipper-ness or chipper-larity to them as well.
Today I started the day by making a to do list, and I pulled the old Navy trick of writing down things that are insignificant but easily accomplishable just so that I can mark them off. I succeeded in getting my laundry and answering Brad's email. Check. Check. I moved some other things to the right, but any accomplishment makes for a fine Navy day, and that was TWO. I also stayed busy with some other menial work related tasks, which you taxpayers should really just consider a bonus.
I made some power point slides, too. The Army is fanatical about power point. Like fifth dimension fanatical. Like waiting for the spaceship and drinking the kool-aid fanatical. They will type a word document and then import it to power point. Not kidding. I saw it. I defy anyone in the Army to give me a semi-coherent explanation of that. Any takers? I didn't think so.
Well, that was my day. Two power point slides, getting my laundry, and an email to Brad. The bulk of my day anyway.
I am going to sign off with this thought. I know that both of my grandpas didn't eat food like this - and they didn't have a FOB to come home to every night. There are guys out there tonight in more remote outposts because of the new security plan (we have to call it Quad al-Farnoon instead of some cool name like OIF-XXI) who don't sleep in a bed or eat KBR. They are fighting the good (hard) fight and my hat's off to them. Every night when I walk to the DFAC (dining facility), I pass rows and rows of tanks and Bradleys and armored Hummers. Yesterday, one didn't come back. Those guys who go outside the wire earn the food I eat. I get to eat good food because they earn it. And for those people out there who say that what we're doing over here isn't good, I will say that I listen all day to how our guys are out there, sometimes beating their head against a wall of culture, sometimes getting killed, but also doing good and making bits of progress. Tonight, there are Iraqis who will be alive today because of the efforts. That is more than one final thought, I apologize, but give those guys your prayers tonight.
Wednesday, March 14, 2007
The rhythm
9 days in, and I have hit a routine. Sort of, my planned day involves getting up early and working out, but I did the horizontal, low-pulse workout this morning. I do not think I will be able to keep up the frenetic posting I have so far due to chronic monotony. Is frenetic even a word? Tim?? Brandon??
A guy got most of his finger cut off today by dropping a generator on it, which would have been interesting had the sew-up not been complete 20 minutes before I arrived at the clinic. You'd think they could have put a tourniquet on it and held out just a little longer, right?
Odd Army note: when outside you have to wear ballistic eye wear at all times, that way if you get hit by a mortar they will be able to find your eyes? I made up the last part, but the first is true. The last part is the best justification I can come up with. Why not helmets? Then they could save our whole head? If anyone even reads my posts and wants to send me anything, coffee would be the best bet. We have a grinder, but the good beans are running low.
A guy got most of his finger cut off today by dropping a generator on it, which would have been interesting had the sew-up not been complete 20 minutes before I arrived at the clinic. You'd think they could have put a tourniquet on it and held out just a little longer, right?
Odd Army note: when outside you have to wear ballistic eye wear at all times, that way if you get hit by a mortar they will be able to find your eyes? I made up the last part, but the first is true. The last part is the best justification I can come up with. Why not helmets? Then they could save our whole head? If anyone even reads my posts and wants to send me anything, coffee would be the best bet. We have a grinder, but the good beans are running low.
Monday, March 12, 2007
KBR Diet
As I type this, I am finishing up my box meal that encompassed only half of the recommended KBR food groups. I had chicken caciatorre and macaroni with beef sauce, but there was nothing pork or cheese based. Actually, KBR has vegetables, too, but what kind of self-respecting soldier would admit to eating plant matter like cauliflower and collard greens? Not me, for sure.
Tonight at the clinic a guy came in with a broken thumb, so I got to see more than just handing out asprin. All the clinic had was pink casts, so I'm sure the guy will catch it tonight. Gotta love the lowest bidder.
Anyway, this was the first day with LTJG Meador, the guy I relieved, gone, and it went just fine. For being in a war-zone, 10,000 miles from my family, things could be worse.
Tonight at the clinic a guy came in with a broken thumb, so I got to see more than just handing out asprin. All the clinic had was pink casts, so I'm sure the guy will catch it tonight. Gotta love the lowest bidder.
Anyway, this was the first day with LTJG Meador, the guy I relieved, gone, and it went just fine. For being in a war-zone, 10,000 miles from my family, things could be worse.
Friday, March 9, 2007
Found by responsible adults
I just found out that the Math Dept at USNA knows about this blog, so I guess I have to watch my grammar, spelling, and sarcasm now. I am just about turned over with LTJG Michael Meador, a history major from '03. Everyone who finds out he is leaving tells me I have big shoes to fill. I was really hoping that people would be glad to see a new face because relieving someone who has done a good job raises the bar. And goodness knows I love low bars.
I just got back from the DFAC, and I have got to give a big thanks to all you taxpayers out there because you feed me well. It was surf and turf night, and even though they were out of steak I had a delicious lobster tail and shrimp. There is so much money being spent by KBR out here that I wonder how we afford bullets. It took about 30 minutes to drive from one side of the main base in Baghdad to the other side. Massive amounts of stuff. Concrete mortar guards and connex box living spaces as far as you could see. Trucks and heavy non-military equipment everywhere. And the food is great. An interesting side note: they only put the mortar guards around military billeting, so if you are the one cooking the lobster, you're on your own from the mortars. The lobster would see an ironic justice in that, I'm sure.
I also spent a couple of hours at the hospital today. I walked over and introduced myself to the doctors and told them I was applying to USUHS. They were more than glad to let me follow them around at sick call, so that might be my evening activity from now on. That means that I will be accomplishing something personally beneficial on this foray to Baghdad's finest neighborhood.
One final note. Those of us staying at Rusty are getting an insert in our medical records verifying that we lived between a garbage burning dump and a sewage treatment plant. Just in case....
I just got back from the DFAC, and I have got to give a big thanks to all you taxpayers out there because you feed me well. It was surf and turf night, and even though they were out of steak I had a delicious lobster tail and shrimp. There is so much money being spent by KBR out here that I wonder how we afford bullets. It took about 30 minutes to drive from one side of the main base in Baghdad to the other side. Massive amounts of stuff. Concrete mortar guards and connex box living spaces as far as you could see. Trucks and heavy non-military equipment everywhere. And the food is great. An interesting side note: they only put the mortar guards around military billeting, so if you are the one cooking the lobster, you're on your own from the mortars. The lobster would see an ironic justice in that, I'm sure.
I also spent a couple of hours at the hospital today. I walked over and introduced myself to the doctors and told them I was applying to USUHS. They were more than glad to let me follow them around at sick call, so that might be my evening activity from now on. That means that I will be accomplishing something personally beneficial on this foray to Baghdad's finest neighborhood.
One final note. Those of us staying at Rusty are getting an insert in our medical records verifying that we lived between a garbage burning dump and a sewage treatment plant. Just in case....
Thursday, March 8, 2007
What I bring to the fight
The day I arrived at my battalion, there was a truck that was hit by a roadside bomb. All three people inside were killed. Even though I didn't know any of them, that's hard to process. Tonight as I was walking to the DFAC for dinner, I was struck by how the Battalion Commander responded. He was calm about the whole thing. He didn't get mad. He realized it was part of his job. I am sure that he knew who these guys were, was genuinely sad, but realized this is war.
I can't help but contrast this with how my XO went out-of-control ballistic when an equipment malfunction caused about three gallons of water that potentially had oil in it to be spilled on a pier next to a dry dock that was empty. If we had spilled more and the drydock was flooded, there was a chance that a few drops of oil may have been in the water that would have gotten into the harbor if we hadn't wiped it up on the pier. During that particular witch-hunt, an obscure shipyard document that no one on my ship had seen said that there was a backup way that would have prevented this. XO ranted, raved, and called the watch officer who hadn't even been up on the pier incompetent and unprofessional.
So what do I bring to this fight. I am supposed to administer one small part of the battalions fight, a big part of which will be tracking the maintenance. I suppose that what I will bring is a hyper anal-retention that is obsessed with procedure and paperwork and easily looses sight of the big picture.
Sorry, battalion. I will do my best to let you keep doing the great job you have been.
I can't help but contrast this with how my XO went out-of-control ballistic when an equipment malfunction caused about three gallons of water that potentially had oil in it to be spilled on a pier next to a dry dock that was empty. If we had spilled more and the drydock was flooded, there was a chance that a few drops of oil may have been in the water that would have gotten into the harbor if we hadn't wiped it up on the pier. During that particular witch-hunt, an obscure shipyard document that no one on my ship had seen said that there was a backup way that would have prevented this. XO ranted, raved, and called the watch officer who hadn't even been up on the pier incompetent and unprofessional.
So what do I bring to this fight. I am supposed to administer one small part of the battalions fight, a big part of which will be tracking the maintenance. I suppose that what I will bring is a hyper anal-retention that is obsessed with procedure and paperwork and easily looses sight of the big picture.
Sorry, battalion. I will do my best to let you keep doing the great job you have been.
In Rustamiyah
Looking back at my last post is like looking back at a former life. Someone at Ft Jackson must be reading this because as soon as I said that hooking up my personal computer in the computer lab made me happy, they stopped allowing peronal computer hook-ups. That sums up alot about the IA process. Ft Jackson was one unbelievable travesty after the next. Nevertheless, to write about it would unnecessarily raise my blood pressure. The bottom line is that I have not posted for a while.
Right now I have safely made it from South Carolina to Kuwait to Baghdad to Camp Rustimiyah. This is a little Forward Operating base that has a small PX, a good dining facility, and is situated between a sewage treatment plant and a dump. More to follow...
Right now I have safely made it from South Carolina to Kuwait to Baghdad to Camp Rustimiyah. This is a little Forward Operating base that has a small PX, a good dining facility, and is situated between a sewage treatment plant and a dump. More to follow...
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)