It Fits!

It looks like everything will fit in my assault pack, brief-case, and weapons case.

My pack will look roughly like the jalopy heading west in The Grapes of Wrath, with random little bags hanging off the side.

I have my whole little cargo bay sleeping kit strapped to the top. I've got my inflatable thermarest, camping pillow, and woobie (little camo blanket, among the best pieces of kit we get issued) in a large compression sack. My hammock is in it's pack bag hanging off the side.

So floor or hammock, I'm ready for either.

It helps that we aren't packing our armor since we have to keep it accesible during the flight.

I had to cut out some of the foam in the weapons case to make room for my headset, headphones that both reduce loud noises while amplifying ambient sound and can be hooked into our radios.

I should have cut out more of the foam to create custom spaces for all the M4 magazines, cleaning kit stuff, and random slings, sights, lights, etc. I guess I was reluctant to do so earlier, but the case does belong to my unit and is assigned to me for the rifle that is assigned to me. And I'm pretty much at the end of this rotation and don't care as much about what the weapons storage gnomes back home might say.

My rifle is very clean. I took the time to scrape off every little carbon deposit on the firing pin and the bolt. I then lubed it back up, reassembled it and made sure the sight, light, and laser were all off. Just add ammo and flick a few switches and I'm ready to rock again.

When it goes back into storage I'll need to take the batteries out of everything. Everything but the sight. That belongs to me and is going right back on my rifle at home.

Once we get to Bragg I'll need to rearrange this mess one last time. The armor will need to be packed for real. I'll probably just take my jalopy ruck and toss it in the extra duffel along with some other random junk and just check it as my fourth piece of checked bags.

My briefcase will be my only real carry-on for the commercial flights home.

The bag drag to the lodging at Bragg, lodging to my ride, the curb to the terminal, and then from the baggage claim to my ride at my home unit will be rough. Four giant bags with only the weapons case being within weight limits.

Maybe that's the real reason we PT.


And before I forget, I got a copy of an ancient (late 60's) SOWT recruiting film. It starts with this incredible footage of an old-school HALO jump (High Altitude/Low Opening). Classic.

But He-Man knuckle draggers that we are, I found 13 Going on 30 on in the team room here.

They said it was the only thing on.

The Waiting Game

All that's left is to pack.

And clean my rifle. I had a few full magazines left that I didn't get to fire off last night, but I just traded them for empties. Once everything is cleaned and lubed, I'll turn my weapons case in to where we are consolidating them.

I guess there are still a couple last loose ends to tie up too.

I need to turn in my acces badges, which I've been saving for the last minute. Then I'll turn in the keys to my hooch, which is now my replacement's hooch, and then get a key to the temporary room where the other guys are staying.

Everything is scheduled with set show times for the last days.

They made reservations for my flight back my home unit from Bragg, but I'm going to try to re-book the flight. I want the first available flight, not a leisurely slow day. I just need to double check the I can, in fact, take the earliest flight back the morning after we arrive in the North Carolina. I'm working under the assumption that they just booked later flights so people could sleep in, but they may have padded the schedule to ensure everything was taken off the aircraft and accessible to us.

I'll find out.

Meanwhile, back at home, my wife is trying to manage the cats and the dog. We're scheduling training classes for the dog and introducing her to all our neighbors.

I have verified all the dates for my post-deployment leave and even drafted the paperwork. All goes well I'll just sign it when I get back and be done.

Almost an entire month of paid leave with full benefits and a fixed pension plan.

Try finding that in this economy.

Decision Point

I was told that we were authorized to wear ACUs, the Army uniform, instead of ABUs, the Air Force uniform, for the trip home.

I hope that's true because all my ABUs are now packed on the cargo container. I won't be able to get to them until we get back. For me anyway, good or bad, the decision has been made.

Oh well. I'm not particularly worried.

If that is the only hiccup, then we're doing pretty good.

I did manage to cram all my stuff in to two large bags, have a spare duffel bag in case the airlines say that either of my bags is too heavy. My orders authorize excess baggage, and I have plenty of excess baggage.

I have to say that while it can be frustrating travelling on someone else's schedule, as a whole, going to and from the theater as part of one big happy AF ground SOF team has its perks. It is allowing me to draw on support resources that the smaller unit I'm augmenting does not have.

My redeployment is scheduled for me. They just tell me when to show up and when our updated meetings are. Upon arrival back in the states, my room at our stops and on base is already reserved for me. They book my flight to my home unit from Bragg. They even drive me to the airport.

Really, that is how it should be in many ways. But my specialty is small and the Active Duty side is the busiest career field in the Air Force. On any given day there may not be anyone at our small detachments to pick up a guy coming home or drive him to the airport. And as a smaller unit, we don't have the support resources of some of larger teams.

My next challenges for redeployment are to double check that my car is in fact ready and waiting for me at my home unit when I get back and that someone is there to pick me up at the airport.

Someone will be. It just takes planning, since we have only one guy in the office full time. And I don't have an actual flight reserved just yet.

I do have plenty of free time to figure it out though. All I really have left to do is pack my carry-on bag and kill off the rest of my ammo.

I've already drafted my return travel voucher to save time when I get back. Receipts from earlier are scanned in already and saved in my email.

I will probably double check how the recovery time built in to my orders works so that I can also file my leave paperwork right away. I should be on orders but completely free through the end of October between the 10-15 days of automatic recovery time and the rest of the leave I've earned during this trip.

That time isn't all accounted for just yet, but much of it will be spent training our new dog while making sure our cats do not feel neglected.

I also need to get everything back in order to start up again at school. I need to start finding a summer job in a delightful market for legal interns. And I need to register for the Patent Bar exam and get serious about studying again.

Oh, and bang out everything on my wife's to-do list.

Though given the state of the legal job market... it is incredibly tempting to fill my next summer with a few more training courses and exercises. Getting paid to skydive and possible scuba dive (as painful and horrible as military dive training is while it weans you off that ugly Oxygen habit)--getting fairly well paid and earning points towards an actual real pension--is very very tempting.

Now that I've sufficiently scared my Mother and maybe have my wife's eyeballs rolled so far back into her head that she actually nees our dog to get around town... I know my second summer of law school is an investment in a future career.

And it's gone...

My mustache. It's gone.

I don't recognize myself in the mirror.

The team I flew in with here was taking an official picture and they told me my mustache had to be within regs. I was planning to shave it anyway, but I wanted it logged in our official picture for posterity.

No joy.

Technically they were in the right by enforcing uniform regs. But most of the time we aren't really sticklers for it. But I guess we need to be all gussied up to go home.

Like I said, it had to go anyway. It was getting annoying.

And my wife told me it had to go.

So it went.

Of course, one of the other guys in the JOC with a mustache thinks I'm a failure now. He decided early on that he was committing to his mustache. It's not going until he gets back home. He may trim it back in to regulation if someone bothers him about it, but that's about it.

In the JOC, no one cared.

Silly Air Force.

Day Off

Today was my first day off. I've been looking forward to it for a while now, ever since I realized that it was probably going to work out.

Yom Kippur, the Jewish day of atonement, isn't usually something one gets excited about and looks forward to. Being forced to take stock of things and acknowledge our sins is very much a good thing. It's just not fun. Neither is fasting for 25 hours.

However, it was the first holiday I'd really be able to observe in anything close to a proper manner without having to worry about work. That was really nice on many levels.

As a whole though, regular days off here would drive me nuts. If a unit is regularly giving people a day off, then they need to send people home.

Since I am pretty much turned over and awaiting my own trip back, I have some time on my hands. It will involve PT, hitting the range, and putting the last touches on my After Action Report.

I do kind of flame the Guard Bureau and AFSOC for our equipment issues. I also talked to some other people who compile such things about this problem. And I included it in my response to some draft policies AFSOC is finalizing.

I'm shotgunning it out there. There is a problem. I want it fixed. I don't care who gets embarrassed about it. I'm right and being nice hasn't worked.

It is nice to see some draft policies to standardize training needs and goals across our community. It is pretty agressive with a very long list of tasks we need to be able to perform and maintain proficiency on.

My key response was that we can do it. But to get there they need to stop screwing around and get us slots to the necessary courses, give us the necessary equipment... they need to fund it. Otherwise it is meaningless paper.

Maintaining a special operations unit is expensive.

I guess the positive is that it is looking more and more likely that I'll get to go to HALO school in the future. That should be fun, though it will be one more thing to stay current on.

Apparently some of us may have to go to dive school too. That one is a real kick in the pants but if any of my guys will have to go then I should too. The real benefit, aside from a new infiltration skill, is that often military dive trips are real boondoggles.

It is mission essential to go to (insert major tropical paradise location) to ensure good conditions for the currency dive...

...but I have doubts that slots and money will follow anytime soon.

I can't really be bothered by it though. I'm making arrangements for return travel. All is well.

Terrible Horrible No Good Very Bad Day

It was actually a few days ago.

First, my truck died. It's not really mine, but I control the keys and have regular access to it. It was working just fine, I parked it for a minute to pick up some papers, and then it was dead.

Fine. So I got it jump started in the morning. It happens. I drove back to pick up a bunch of equipment to put in our cargo container and left the engine running so that the battery could keep charging while I loaded the vehicle. Once it was loaded I turned around and it stalled as I shifted it from Reverse to Drive.

Awesome.

Not quite the middle of the road, but close to it. And very very stuck. No lights turning on. Nothing.

Awesome.

I crammed all the equipment from the bed of the truck into the cab and locked the doors. I walked over the the vehicle maintenance shed and they gave me the paper work to submit a work order. It sat on my desk while other fires came up and had to be put out.

The truck continued to sit in the middle of the road, near the hooches. I actually walked by and heard a young female NCO tell a senior NCO that the truck was making her paranoid that someone was stalking them, they way it just sat there by her hooch.

I had to tell her the backstory, which made her full much better. I also offered to write "Free Candy" in messy handwriting on the otherwise dusty white truck so as to complete the effect.

I didn't.

Anyway, just after the truck broke I found out that an all too common and oft repeated screw up was happening again. It was something I'd actually taken great pains to warn about. Now it looked like it would end up causing a lot of trouble for two of our Airmen... not cool.

Thus began a crazy scramble of emails, internet chat, and international phone calls to track down the issue and resolve it.

The good news was that while I may have never gotten any response to my warnings, and while they were most likely lost in cyberspace or ignored, the problems I'd warned about were not the actual cause of the problem.

It was a stupid database management problem. Another issue that often comes up and is known about, but yet to be fixed.

Fortunately my final After Actions Report has not been submitted yet. I'll be updating it for these last little hiccups.

There were a bunch of other little things that day, but it's all a bit of a haze now.

The Airmen are taken care of.

The truck is being fixed. A more complicated process than it should be, but it's being fixed.

Our flight home is in the final planning stages.

My car will be running with good tires and working brakes when I get back.

All is well.

...provided Michigan doesn't choke. They're down in the fourth quarter right now. I'm getting along pretty well with the OSU guy that sits next to me right now. I'd hate to have to shoot him this close to the end of his rotation.

Goodbye/Hello

The air conditioning briefly went out in the JOC when the main generator went down. It happens.

A senior NCO pointed out that it was just like in Jurrasic Park when the had to reset the system to turn various components back on.

He then proceeded to give his best impersonation of a velociraptor. It sounded like an angry goat.

Maybe they did sound like angry goats. No one called him out on it.

It is possible he hunted them when he was younger...

--------

But the real event of the day was my formal farewell at a briefing for the boss... followed almost immediately by me giving my normal briefing as if nothing happened. It's a little odd.

The whole farewell process is kind of funny. The boss doesn't know many of us. He's busy in the rarified air of command. However, he wants to personally and publicly recognize us before we all leave.

In order to do this there is a standardized form with some basic questions like our name, home unit, family info, hobbies, etc. I filled it out.

So according to my official bio:

I'm married to an almost-doctor.

I live in city X, but my unit is in city Y and I'm a fan of football team Z--this is key because all three cities are big football towns. X and Y are rivals, by Z is a neutral party and it always confuses people that I'm not a fan of teams X or Y.

My hobbies are fixing the garage door, sharpening hte kitchen knives, and anything else on my wife's to-do list for me.

My job was to tell him when it would be hot, dusty or hot and dusty. The joke is always that we have the easiest job since it will always be hot and dusty. But how hot? How dusty?... whatever.

I got a chance to say a few words afterwards. I thought about pretending to have a long speech since everyone is sitting there waiting.

I didn't though. I just said that it's been an honor and I'll probably see many of them again there, Afghanistan, or the next one.

It's a small community and an odd world.

In then end the boss shook my hand and gave me a coin. Everyone gets a coin.

It's not quite as un-special as when I got one of Gen Petraus's coins from someone at the Pentagon that had a drawer full of them, but close. It will go in my little coin collection in the closet in the back room.

And just like how I had to give my normal briefing after this little farewell ceremony, tomorrow I go back to work a normal day.

To finish it off, I got my flu shot.

Mark Twain Wins Again

Someone stopped me while I was walking and share these words of wisdom from Mark Twain: "Everybody talks about the weather but no one does anything about it."

I usually have a good response, but I had nothing for that. I like to think that I do something about the weather, but it's more mitigation or planning than it is actually affecting the weather. It isn't affecting the weather. A whole conversation like that went through my head as I passed this guy in the street.

I just smiled and nodded.

Back in the JOC, I noticed a buddy of mine had a new screensaver on his computer. It declared that "I love (insert term for a part of the male anatomy)."

You can trash talk about anything you want, but need to make sure your computer is locked when you're away if you do.

I've been careful ever since college football season started... but the OSU fan is all talk.

I am currently the undisputed Snood champion in the JOC. I have the top score on the "Evil" difficulty setting. I came back from an errand to an ominous sticky note on my desk with a SEAL's top score. He said his was the real top score since my claims were unsubstantiated.

I showed him the record on my computer. He went back to his desk in defeat.

He then spent the rest of the day trying to break my record.

I pointed out helpfully that his top score didn't even make the Top 10 on my computer.

Meanwhile, I overheard two older senior NCOs discuss their diets over a snack of coffee and prunes. Yes... coffee AND prunes. They are actively trying to make the rest of us suffer.

We regularly tease one of them because he's been around forever. His truck is older than some of us and he got the truck when finished SEAL training.

There are senior officers here that he instructed as one of the supervising instructors at the SEAL course.

And he loves sharing the results of his prunes.

Me, I'm sharing lots of M&Ms. My aunt and uncle were kind enough to send a cake and over 5 lbs of M&Ms.

The cake is amazing. It is always miraculous how some baked goods survive the trip. I immediately tore off a few chunks after dinner. I offerd to share the cake too but so far there were no takers.

One guy had a dip in, so he couldn't eat One guy said he was cutting back, which may be true. I assured them that the ragged edges were from me tearing off pieces and not from me taking bites right out of the cake.

The M&Ms are in the communal snack pit. It was way too likely that I'd eat them all myself if I didn't put them there right away.

Incidentally, the senior SEAL NCO I mentioned above is expecting a shipment of M&Ms too.

And I'm a little closer to closing out all of my projects. It is exciting in a geeky way. It is satisfying to be able to point to somethings and say that I made them happen. More importantly, it is satisfying to be able to hand over a neat and tidy position to the next guy.

...and a neat and tidy hooch for the next guy. I need to start packing up my stuff.

A little taste of home...

I received a package from home Just before the holiday began. It had magazines and challah and cookies and cupcake versions of the cakes my mom makes every year for the Jewish holidays.

The cupcakes are gone now. I didn't share. I haven't been sharing the challah either. Those are mine. Those are special for the holiday.

The other cookies I'm sharing. Once again the chocolate/white chocolate chip cookies seem to crumble spontaneously. There were whole cookies in the bag when I put it on the share counter. No one went at the bag with a hammer... and for all the weird things we see regularly, that would have stuck out.

So we don't know how the cookie crumbles... only that it does.

That was a terrible attempt at profound humor.

It was a little weird straddling two worlds. In my hooch it was Rosh Hoshannah. Outside my hooch, it was another day at war.

On this particular day we paid our respects to another fallen brother. We lost a Special Forces soldier during a mission a few weeks ago. Today was the memorial service.

The weather cooperated. A series of storms hit us last night. It rained. It actually rained. But the skies cleared in time for our formation.

On a much lighter note, there is something magical about the first rain of the season. At first, it was just wind. It kicked up all the dust in the area. It smelled horrible.

Then came the thunder. And lightning. So much lightning.

Finally a first furtive rain drop. Then another. And then it began raining mud as the dust in the air met the water droplets.

And then... rain. Good old fashioned rain.

Like a good weather man I tied down a bunch of equipment before the storm hit.

I was also able to watch the Michigan game. It happened to be on in the MWR so I caught the second half after my shift. The first half had me a little concerned but it worked out OK in the end.

And I finally got called out on my mustache. It had to happen. It is not a regulation mustache. It is a cheesy and unkempt mustache that looks absolutely ridiculous.

I was told that it has to be back in regs by the time I get off the plane back at Bragg/Pope AFB. It doesn't bother me. That is the right answer. It was only a matter of time until someone pointed it out.

It is nice to work in a place where nobody cares about such things though. If you perform, you get leeway. If you are bad at your job, you will get nailed for every little thing.

So I guess I'm doing OK.

Anyway, I'll just shave this thing on the way home. I only grew it because I was bored and it seemed like something amusing to do. Trimming it and keeping it within regulations is way too much effort.

They say that the military can suck the fun out of everything. You can skydive, but you have to do it with 100lbs of gear strapped to your body... at night. And show up a few hours early, get rigged up, and then wait...

... and now they are taking the fun out of the mustache. Oh well.

My wife told me it needs to be go anyway.

So no mustache and I'm letting my hair grow out some for her. I spoil her.

New Year

Just have time for a quick note...

I would like to wish a Shannah Tovah to all my friends, family, and other Jewish readers.

I guess I can wish a Shannah Tovah to my non-Jewish friends, family, and other uncategorized and hapless folks who have stumbed on my blog too.

It will be an odd holiday here. They are all odd holidays here.

But things are on the verge of a new start. Coming home.

I'm ready.

Finish Strong

Today was a good day.

One of my projects finally got the go-ahead after months of coordination. Sweet. I'm still not sure if I'll be able to do the final implementation myself now, but it will be completely primed and ready to go when the next guy gets here.

Another issue that seemed to crop up periodically has come to its periodic peaceful conclusion. It is far from solved, but at least it won't be bothering the next crew for a while.

I finished my outprocessing. Well, there is one last step, but that isn't until I'm really about to get on the plane out of here. It is one less thing hanging over my head.

One of the few things left on my to-do list are to finish my After-Action Report on this trip. It will cover everything from the good/bad of the training process to lessons learned on this trip. My partner and I will work together on it.

I suspect he'll just read over what I write, make a few recommendations, and we'll call it a day.

I also need to pack up. I can fly home in my ACUs, the Army uniform I've been wearing. I think the only time I wore my AF uniforms was on the flight here.

AF leadership, if you are reading this... the uniform design is an absurd insult to all Airmen. Just so you know.

I'm not a fan.

And I just found out that my car is running again and the bees that had moved in are now gone. Still needs new tires though, and possible some brake work.

It will be fixed by the time I get back. I'm not walking all the way home.

That Was Easy...

So I'm pretty much outprocessed.

I have a list of offices that needed to sign my outprocessing sheet. I went to them. People signed it.

Only a few people asked any questions or looked anything up or processed anything to outprocess me. Only one person kept a record of who he outprocessed.

But I needed all of those signatures in order to get the boss's signature. With his signature I can go the personnel office and have them give me my walking papers.

Presumably the personnel office does some actual "processing."

All I know is I walked all over collecting autographs.

Of course, I'm way ahead of the game. But this way my paperwork will all be in order by the time the replacements show up. I'll be able all set to go and therefore able to focus on them and getting them set.

Of course I know them and they are all experienced guys. They won't need much more than a high-five.

And so it begins to end...

I've started outprocessing. I've got plenty of time but why wait?
When my replacement gets here I want to be able to focus completely on getting him spun up and settled in.

I'd like to say that all of my projects are finished. They aren't. They should all be either done or in some clean state waiting for the next guy. I guess we can't win the war in one rotation.

Unfortunately there is one issue that has been a festering wound of sorts. Not a major issue, but it seems to erupt everytime we get ready to switch out. It's really someone else's issue, but it can impact our workload and day-to-day ops.

It hit the guy I replaced the day before I showed up. It's hitting me again now. It's like they know...

Oh well. I'll fix it. Or get guidance and at least leave it to the next guy in some sort of steady state of wrongness.

Snood

I was determined to finish strong. It is easy to mail it in during the last few weeks of a deployment on a staff. You know your job. You know the routine. You know all the tricks.

But you are there to support the teams in the field. This whole elaborate staff and high-tech JOC all exist to support thow combined US and Iraqi teams that are out there catching bad guys.

They deserve our best effort. I need to stay motivated for them.

But... but... we found Snood on the network drive! Snood is a silly game that I first found in high school. Someone put it on a bunch of our school computers.

In a fit of boredom, I loaded it on to my computer at NASA during a very slow summer internship. I competed against a friend of mine who was also having a slow summer... though not as slow as mine. Of course.

And now Snood has found me here, at my most vulnerable. I must fight it, but I can't resist.

I'm sure once I beat it, I'll be done and able to function again.

8 Years.

I had a whole post about the 9/11 anniversary that I had drafted. It doesn't matter where I was when it happened. Looking around the JOC at some of my co-workers I realized that what matters is where they were a few weeks later.

Many of the senior NCOs and some of the officers I've gotten to work with this rotation were among the first in to Afghanistan in 2001. They were doing the job while I was still a cadet watching it on the news.

At dinner on Friday, while AFN News had MSNBC replaying their coverage from that day, we did talk a little about where we were when we heard. Silly me, 8 years ago, I was worried the war would be over without me.

When I said that we looked around the room, counted rotations, thought of friends in Afghanistan, thought of our future rotations in Afghanistan, future rotations in other garden spots (war being how Americans learn geography), and just laughed.

I spent Friday much as I'd spent most of the week... shamming.

Not really shamming. I was doing legitimate training. It just felt like shamming because I wasn't in the JOC, though I did get all my work done too.

After the training on the new grenade launcher and the combat marksmanship course, I got to attend an AMOUT course--Advanced Military Operations in Urban Terrain. We reviewed how to fight building-to-building and room-to-room.

Fighting within a room has been referred to as an armed ballet. Everyone has assigned maneuvers and everything has to flow smoothly in order to be successful. One thing emphasized in combat marksmanship is to never move backwards. That is key going through a building.

You are an unstoppable wave overwhelming all resistance.

One of the instructors pointed out that he has never had to fire his weapon in combat in his multiple tours here with Special Forces teams. The combination of surprise, speed, and violence of action overcame any thought the enemy had of resisting.

It doesn't always work that way. But it vividly illustrates the point of how aggressively you move.

The final drill was very similar to many of the drills we rehearsed during our train-up for this deployment. We had to react to an ambush, bail out of "disabled" vehicles, move from cover to cover in a coordinated manner, clear a building and make a defensible position.

For the scenario I got to play gunner--as in the guy running the big turret gun. As the ranking officer I would usually be playing the commander. But I asked the instructor what he wanted to do and he wanted to let one of the junior guys get some leadership experience.

It was fine by me. I never get to just play. It was also interesting to view it from that perspective.

A few times I barked some instructions. I couldn't help myself. Not so much to take over but to tell my little fire team how to better use the available cover. I'm by no means the tactical expert that I should be, but this was something drummed in to us in past courses.

If you do it right, then the only thing the enemy can see is the barrel of your gun. If that. Then the enemy should be too dead to continue shooting at you or your buddies.

If you do it wrong then you will be too dead to help anyone.

A good time was had by all. Well, maybe not all. It isn't for everyone. Some people were there to take an opportunity to learn something new. Running around in their armor, charging through doors, owning a room... some people lack the necessary agression or passion for it. They let themselves get tired when their bodies could keep going.

At work, at my real job in the JOC, I'm prepping for my departure. I've started drafting my after action report. I've taken some notes throughout, dating back to the training period. I'm also trying to leave my various projects in some state of conclusion so things are tidy for my replacement.

I also managed to crush my finger while doing some Renegade Rows with our JOC kettlebells. Oops. It's mostly healed now. I was pretty good about icing it right away.

Of course there was a loud crash and everyone stopped to look. And of course, I was "fine." I always hold frozen water bottles for ten on, ten off... why do you ask?

Won't Happen Again

I forgot to mention that in the middle of the refresher course on the range, I had to run off to a meeting.

My ID card was still in the JOC. My access badge was in my hooch. The key to my hooch was in an admin pouch on my armor carrier.

Those three thoughts crossed my mind as I got to the entry control point for my meeting.

I explained it the to the guard. It was way too convoluted a story for all but the most creative of evil infiltrators. Of course, at that moment it was a guard I didn't recognize.

Fortunately a senior NCO that did recognize me happened to be walking by. He asked why I needed a visitor's badge. He then asked if I had any ID whatsoever.

I pointed sheepishly to the nametape on the sleeve of my sweaty combat shirt.

He told the guard that he would vouch for me. I told the NCO that is was a learning experience, it wouldn't happen again.

He just shook his head and said he hoped so.

I Smell Terrible

Today was a crazy but productive and enjoyable day.

I took a combat marksmanship class that focused on the M4, our service rifle. It is sad to say but after two tours in Iraq, this is the first time I've actually run around in full kit during the daytime heat.

It's hot. Even wearing a combat shirt, a thinner uniform with thinner t-shirt material under where your armor is, I still sweat like, um, something that sweats a lot. Unfortanately, after this much time working with the Army, I am unable to think of metaphors that can be posted on a family blog.

So now my combat shirt looks like it was dunked in a pond. A smelly smelly pond.

I drank many bottles of water and chugged a bottle of Gatorade but have peed only once. Knowing my luck, I'll have to wake up multiple times during the night as my body catches up with all the water. Oh well.

In order to fit the course in to my schedule I came in early and had to take a few breaks from the class to get my work done. It's annoying when the actual war intrudes on my training time, but such is the nature of the beast.

The other folks in the JOC were both encouraging me to hit the course and jealous that I was able to escape and have some fun. I guess it is an advantage of being a forecaster... I should know when I'll be able to step out.

The course itself focused mostly on some intermediate-level drills. It wasn't really new material, but it was presented in new ways and with a few new methods.

They say that amateurs practice until they get it right and that professionals practice until they can't get it wrong. That as evident in how the course was taught. The drills are pretty universal. But the more highly trained units run through them more often.

I always learn something new during this type of training, which is great. Even more importantly, I think, is the opportunity to refresh and sustain these skills. As an officer, especially an officer in the Guard, these opportunities are too rare. Muscle memory is frighteningly perishable.

I realize now that I'll just need to block time both here and at home to do dry fire practice in order to build and maintain the all important muscle memory. It isn't a perfect solution, but will go a long way towards maintaining my skills.

The other nice piece is that I may get the chance to help coach if they do this course again while I'm here. I'm not really ready to teach yet, but I'm confident that with some assistance I can run many of these drills for my guys back home.

The final advantage of having gone to this course was the ability to test out my equipment set up. It is always a work in progress as you learn new tricks, exchange ideas, and better mousetraps become available. In this case, it was my first chance to really beat up my sight from my rifle back home. I also get to test my new sling, which is really just a adjustable length piece of webbing attached to the shoulder of my armor.

So, all in all, a good day.

Except for rolling over my glasses. But I bent them back in to shape.

Myself Again

I came in this morning and was still a little mesmerized by the weather. I told my NCO about it.

He said that he was worried about me and that it was time for me to leave. I think he's right.

But I can't leave just yet, so I signed up for some therapy instead.

A few hours of playing with a Mark-14 Grenade Launcher, a few explosions, and all is well with the world.

It even improved my posture. My knuckles are dragging again.

OK, so nothing actually exploded. We just used training rounds that marked the the target with some colored paint/dust. It was still fun. Something new and different.

Really, I like having my mind blown by nature. It's a nice reminder.

I also like playing with our various toys. All goes well I'll get some more trigger time on various weapons my unit doesn't have back home. Hopefully some other little training/refresher sessions too.

It's a little ironic, but it's easy to forget things or for skills to atrophy while deployed. You often end up working really hard on a relatively narrow sub-set of your job.

If it works out, then it will be great to reengage on some of tactical skills so I'm more on the ball when I get back. It is especially important for me because I don't know when my next real training opportunities will be once I go back to a more traditional Guard schedule. I need to take what I can get now.

Everything would be wonderful except apparently my car back home has a flat tire, dead battery, the hood latch is rusted stuck, the trunk is full of water, and there are bees living in a passenger door. So I'm told.

I'm a little curious how bees can move in and the battery can die if the car is being started regularly. I can only laugh from here. And call my insurance company.

Geeking Out

I'm not a classic weather geek. I kind of stumbled in to the field as means of being involved in operations and a pathway into Special Tactics when the Air Force was trying to force me to be an Engineer. Not an engineer that made things, but a guy with an engineering degree who oversaw purchase programs from people who did make things.

Operations has always been the appeal. The science is interesting, don't get me wrong, but it is mostly a means to an end for me. I don't have a rain gauge at home and (unlike more than a few fellow weather troops, even SOWT guys) I've never spent a summer chasing tornados. Or even thought about. Though I admit that, while nothing like the movie Twister, it's a respectable way to let the inner geek out.

Me... my inner geek came out watching satellite imagery of a outflow from thunderstorms over the desert and then watching the interaction of the dust from different sources as they converged on each other.

An outflow is the flow of wind from a collapsing cloud. It is one of nature's great examples of what went up coming back down. Especially over the desert, when a storm either exhausts itself or the different atmospheric conditions that support its growth are no longer all present, this incredible force of nature becomes quite fragile. It behaves much like an imploding skyscraper.

And if you've ever seen footage of an imploding building, you see all the air compressed by the falling mass suddenly pushed outward in all directions. When this happens over a dry desert, and the falling building is actually tens of thousands of feet of cloud airbursting overhead... well, it kicks up a lot of dust.

It just so happens that there was a low pressure center at the surface and some of the dust got caught up in the great counterclock wise circulation of the air. As ti the low moved to the northeast, the dust circulation was warped into a classic comma shape. It was like a wind tunnel experiement using Iraqi dust instead of colored smoke to demonstrate how the atmosphere works.

Where dust from and outflow came crashing into the dust around the low in a grand head-on collision, it was all forced upward like mountains forming where tectonic plates make contact.

The whole thing was so chaotic and so ordered at the same time.

Courtesy of modern technology, I got to watch it in a false color animation that took hours of imagery and played it over the course of seconds. The unnatural hues were strangely beautiful.

Of course, the whole thing is also an incredible pain. There may be an underlying order to these storms, but their predictability is painfully limited.

So it goes.

I was both humbled and awed by the weather today. I guess that's something.

Fight! Fight! Fight!

There is one SEAL officer here who may have bitten off more than he can chew. Or was rumored to have bitten off more than he could chew. Or is being set up.

Somehow it appears that he challenged a young female NCO to a fight. Or someone challenged her on his behalf.

I don't really know hot it got started.

Neither does he.

All I know is that every time one of the guys involved sees her, they tell trash talk on his behalf.

She gives it right back. One time she saw him, got his attention, and just punched her fist into her other hand and twisted it. Then she nodded at him and walked away.

Rumors began circulating that she was training privately with the combatives instructor. He denies it.

He, as a Green Beret, would love to brag that he trained the girl who beat up a Navy SEAL. So I believe him when he says no.

To put it all in persepective, the SEAL in question is about my size, but I've got 10-15 pounds on him.

The female in question is about average height. She clearly works out, so she's fit but not huge by any means. But she talks a good game.

I don't think the SEAL is intimidated, but he is a little bewildered by the whole thing.

It's fun to watch. Especially because she can say pretty much whatever she wants, but a SEAL officer can't really threaten to pummel a young female NCO and then say "she started it."

Some of the guys, led by one of his fellow SEAL officers, are playing another prank on this same guy.

They are leaving cartoonish drawings of a certain part of the male anatomy hidden on his desk, in his papers, etc.

I think it dates back to a prank war of sorts from back home. Or they are bored and need to channel their creative energy in a healthy direction.

Not really sure.

Supportive Cast

So earlier in the tour I was offered a great deal on a rifle. Now we also have guys shopping for kayaks. Another guy is offering tips on shopping for climbing equipment.

I've been good. I haven't actually bought any of these toys.

Besides, a lot of my climbing equipment was free... to me. My wife already has a harness.

Really all we need is our own rope and some quickdraws, as someone here reminded me and any rock would become our playground.

We already want kayaks.

Either it's a great place to work because we all have the same interests, or it is a dangerous place to work because we encourage each other's habits.

I guess it's good. Not only do we serve our great nation, but I'm pretty sure that a bunch of meat eaters stuck in JOCs with internet connections will single-handedly revive consumer spending.

Our tax-free combat pay at work.

I also found NCIS on our entertainment drive. This is yet another good and bad development.

It's an absurdly cheesy show that has nothing to do with how the real NCIS, or any actual Federal Special Agents, operates. But it's very entertaining.

While talking about it on the way back from chow, I realized that I attack TV series the same way I attack books. So I'll probably charge through this pretty quick.

Just like I killed yet another Grisham book last night. Now on the The World According to Garp and then a Tom Wolfe book I found lying around.

I'm also borrowing a book on the Secret Service that someone here just read. It is terrible. But since our Stars and Stripes delivery is inconsistent, it serves it's purpose.

We also took delivery of the JOC's new pull-up bar.

And apparently whoever, um, lent us some of the kettlebells for the JOC decided that they didn't want to "lend" them out. So some have been returned. Discreetly.

It's too bad, I got to give a brief this morning in the middle of a windmill set. Not only does this war take me far away from home, repeatedly, for months on end. But now it intrudes on my mid-shift PT.

It's just not fair.

We also do operational stuff. I promise.

Refresh

Congratulations to my sister who has officially found gainful employment. To find a position in a non-profit in this environment is really very impressive.

That's awesome.

I got to take a quick radio class this morning. It was mosty to review, but also to gain exposure to another radio system that I've never gotten to play with.

It's nice that our basic inter-team radio, today's high speed answer to the walkie-talkie of days of yore, is pretty straightforward.

I don't get to play with it as often as I should. LIke anything else, the skills are perishable. I keep quick reference guides and checklists handy, but nothing relaces just sitting with it and hitting all the buttons, cycling through all the menus, etc.

As for the new radio, it was really a basic familiarization. We don't use it very often, but we also can find ourselves working with a variety of different units that use a variety of different types of radio.

Maybe it's from spending too much time with the Army, maybe it is a general SOF attitude, but my approach is that if everyone else is dead, I need to be able to work their kit. Not necessarily as an expert, but well enough to save my team and myself.

The radio guys gave me a few more checklists and some powerpoints I can review and use to teach my guys back home.

They also gave me an extra antenna that one of them made. The nice thing about it is that is a long, plastic coated wire that can be weaved throught the attachment loops on my vest. That way it is both fully extended but out of the way.

So now my personal kit includes a custom antenna and a communications headset. My unit back home still doesn't have our own radios or the cables to connect my headset to the radio. However, there are radios and cables I can borrow here and that I've been able to borrow for exercises.

Babysteps, I guess.

Meanwhile, back in the real world, apparently having Laura Ingraham debate a founder of Code Pink qualifies as news.

The only way to settle it is for the two of them to fight. Not because I condone violence, but because I hope it would shut them up for a while.

The world would be a better place if Fox News took the batteries out of all of their angry stepford anchors and Code Pink types went back to their hydroponic indoor communes and stopped stealing my oxygen.

It would be a good start.

A New Front

It is almost football season.

Pre-season games are on AFN Sports. Tom Brady may be hurt again. College rankings have been released.

I got suckered in to a fantasy football league. A fellow AF officer pestered me in to it. I never care enough to follow through with these things. My teams just kind of sit there. All my players could be on bye weeks or injured or incarcerated and they'll still be starting for me.

But it made the guy happy that I joined. I'm glad to help.

More importantly... the first game of the college season is coming up.

One of the guys here is an Ohio State grad. It just goes to show that we are shorthanded and will take what we can get. Somehow they even gave him a security clearance.

Anyway, his mom sent him a care package with an OSU t-shirt, an OSU flag, an OSU coffee mug and a little stuffed OSU football that says "Go Buckeyes" when you catch it.

His flag is now hidden.

His coffee cup is full of paper shreddings, taped shut, and has "Go Blue" written on the duct tape.

The background to his computer is a Michigan emblem.

There is a Michigan emblem very very well attached to his desk and then covered over in layers of clear tape as a laminate of sorts.

I didn't permanently damage any of his stuff because his mom also sent us cookies and he shared them.

Fortunately for me, my desk is manned 24/7. I told my NCO to guard our desk. Unlike the OSU guy, my NCO has actually killed before.

We don't screw around in the Big-10.

Surgery

I got a blister from the heavier kettlebell I've started using. It was right at the base of my middle finger on my left hand, sort of under my callus there.

So I honed my knife a little more. I cleaned it and washed my hands. The I slowly and carefully sliced into the callus until I reached blister.

It was really very satisfying when the knife pierced the little blister sack and a mix of blood and clear fluid came out. I had paper towels ready to absorb it all. I squeezed and pressed until nothing else came out.

Then I poured hand sanitizer over it. It seeped right into the open wound. That was less satisfying. In fact it actually stung quite a bit.

However, the pressure is relieved and the wound is clean.

I'd like to think my wife is proud.

I also stumbled into an argument between two people over whether Red Vines or Twizzlers came out first. I was curious so I waited to see what the answer was.

Then the trash talk began. If one guy he is right, he owes 100 push ups. If he's wrong, he's owed 100 packs of Red Vine.

Backwards, I know.

Somehow I'm on the hook for 50 push-ups either way. I'm not sure how that happened.

Increasing Productivity

We are turning the JOC into a garage gym.

I like the think that I inspired it, in part. When I go to the bathroom, I hit the pull-up/dip tower for a few sets. It's on the way. No matter what happens to my morning or evening PT time, I get at least those sets in.

One of the guys saw me doing it and decided it was a good idea. But having to walk outside was inconvenient.

So he is working with our engineers to have pull-up/dip tower put in on the JOC floor. He also found a stash of kettlebells that appeared to be collecting dust. Another guy found some extra gym mat material lying around too.

It's all government property so it is not stealing. We are simply reallocating resources in order to be more efficient with what the tax payers have so graciously given us.

It could of course end in disaster.

Army, Navy, and Air Force guys... public forum... PT... competitive nature... it will be fun to watch.

I, of course, won't be sucked into any immature contests. Not me. Not as one of the token Air Force guys and representative of the Special Tactics community. Nope.

It's a healthy outlet.

And it is not all meatheaded games in the JOC. One of the SEALs is watching a Discovery Channel documentary series about the Earth. He's actually taking extensive notes and making a test on it.

He may actually give us the test.

At first he was being made fun of... but now everyone is watching over his shoulder.

Baby grizzlies are cute. And Snow Leopards are awesome. Apparently that footage from Pakistan was the first time they were ever filmed in the wild.

Watch Out Coach

Michigan Football is not in the top 25 going in to this season.

Last season their record was worse than it has ever been before.

The season hasn't even started and their are apparently reports that last season's success and this season's expectations were built on a practice and workout regime that exceeded NCAA maximums.

There is a very experienced SEAL here who is even less amused about this than I am.

He points the finger straight at the head coach for changing everything before even trying to figure out what worked. Now the coach has quite possibly killed recruiting for the next few years on top of the current damage done to the program.

I don't know. A lot of players and staff jumped ship before giving Rodriguez a chance.

At least that is our ill-informed understanding of events.

But all is not lost here in Iraq.

One guy has been taking a lot of heat for his silly mustache. In fact, he inspired me to grow a silly mustache.

To strike back at his tormentors he drew a mustache on one of their ID cards. Now the mustachioed vigilante's ID card has been stolen and hidden.

The cycle of violence continues... will we ever learn?

I will say that he was right about the mustache. Even the must mudane social interactions are funnier.

Green is Unbecoming...

I admit it. I'm jealous of my counterpart in Afghanistan. He'll complain about being stuck working in a Operations Center too.

But he isn't.

Most of the time he's working a desk. But he also gets to go out and play somewhat regularly. His complaints about staff work ring hollow when he is just coming back from a mission.

One of the enlisted guys was teasing me about it, saying that I'm an officer and that I should embrace it.

I told him that he's right, but that my narrow window in my career to gain real field experience is closing. He knows, and said that I'll join the ranks of many other officers who don't really know how things are supposed to be and that my NCOs will quietly clean up any messes I make in my ignorance before anything really bad happens.

He made me feel much better.

I do like the big picture officer stuff. I like being responsible for the training and readiness of my team. I like putting it all together.

But one of my goals as a leader is to be ready, willing, and able to go whereever I may have to send my guys or my team mates. Unfortunately the actual opporunity to physically lead from the front seems to be eluding me.

So it goes.

It's also a funny time here. Some of the new guys aren't so new anymore and so they are hitting the initial wall. Now they are very comfortable with their jobs and are realizing that they will be doing that same thing every day over and over and over and over.... it's no longer new and exciting and so their morale is taking a slight hit.

It's a pretty normal pattern. One guy was comparing the daily routine to prison. There are big fences. Guards. Set work hours and details.

I told him that prisons have indoor plumbing, you can get alcohol (ok, so it was brewed in a toilet-still...), and your family can visit.

Me and the NCO that was boosting my morale, we are flying home on the same bird out of here. So soon, yet so far away. Now that we can see the light at the end of the tunnel, time seems to be stopping some.

Also pretty normal, I think.

Must have just been one of those days for everyone.

Every now and then I guess the repetive nature of things here gets to be a little much. But we have warm food, running (if not necessarily potable) water, hot showers, beds, roofs, and there really aren't that many people trying to kill us at the moment. It's really not that bad.

It's just a bunch of sheepdogs stuck in a cage I guess. And we don't like it. But it's our job and we'll do it to the best of our abilities like any other mission.

My Iraqistache

One of the guys here has a mustache. He grew it just for this trip. He was smart and did the embarrassing act of growing it while at home and in-transit.

Now he just has to deal with the embarrassing part of, well, having a mustache.

I think since Teddy Roosevelt we've had a shortage of officers who can pull off a mustache.

I am not one of them.

But I'm gonna do it anyway.

Why not? I have no one to impress here and it seems like something fun to do. The guy with the mustache says it will improve my morale. Everytime I look in the mirror I'll laugh. Everytime someone looks at me, they'll laugh (more so).

Win/win.

It also seems like a nifty way to celebrate my last few weeks here.

I announced it in the JOC. I got my wife's blessing. I'm posting it here.

Guess I have to follow through now.

What horse are you?

One of the guys got a haircut today. This made it apparent to all that there weren't that many hairs to be cut.

In defense of balding warriors everywhere, he felt the need to recite a list of bald characters that no one would mess with.

Bruce Willis is bald. He even played a bald SEAL.

Sean Connery, who may have played a former member of the British Special Boat Service (roughly speaking, a British SEAL) in The Rock, is bald or at least has played balding characters.

Ed Harris, though he played a Marine in that movie, made his list.

And Vin Diesel also played a SEAL in The Pacifier.

It was quickly pointed out that those were all fictional characters. One of the larger Special Forces guys pointed out that our real balding SEAL is too long and lean to be legendary.

The Special Forces guy said that if the SEAL would start lifting more, the SF guy would do more aerobic. They'd meet in the middle.

The SEAL took umbrage. He said he was strong enough to do whatever he needed to do and didn't want to sacrifice endurance.

Eager to be helpful, I egged each guy on.

First the SEAL claimed to be a racehorse. Then he was told he was more of a greyhound.

Somehow I went from being a little Clydesdale to a Shetland Pony.

According to wikipedia, "Shetland ponies have heavy coats, short legs and are considered quite intelligent. They are a very strong breed of pony, used for riding, driving, and pack purposes."

So I guess it's mostly a complement, or at least in keeping with the small Clydesdale metaphor, unless he was calling me hairy.

Other major developments of the day include the revelation that there is only one type of fresh water seal (the aquatic mammal, not the Frogman variety). It apparently lives in a lake in Russia. The largest lake in the world.

It was also decided, while the freshwater seal was being researched on the World Wildlife Federation web page, that Pandas aren't cool. They are helpless when born, even by human standards, have a crappy diet, and won't reproduce to save themselves.

Koalas, however, are cool cause they nature's stoners getting high of eucalyptus while they chill in the trees.

Paperwork

Today's grand accomplishments involved paperwork.

I resubmitted supply paperwork with the proper signatures. Now it can be passed around, signed by more people, and then hopefully passed to the guy with the purchasing authority.

I foolishly thought I'd have the equipment in hand by now when I was told it would be no problem a few weeks ago. Now I'll be lucky if we have it before I leave.

This led to a bunch of us complaining about the silly supply and budget bureaucracies in the military. You can use this ammo, but not that ammo because that ammo was purchased from a different type of funds. You can buy this more expensive jacket with these funds, but not the cheaper just as effective one because it's part of a different program that needs different funds.

It's a dark art.

I'm still waiting for the paperwork to get bounced back to me again because something isn't right. Which would be mildly amusing because I've had two different supply guys look over my shoulder while I filled it out, and the guy who would be bouncing it back this time is one of those two.

I also re-learned that valuable lesson of always going to the man who is actually in charge and not the man formally in charge. In most military organizations, that is the operations senior NCO. He will tell you who to go to and tell the boss if it is something that must be done.

One of my projects got stalled waiting in the operations officer's inbox. I forwarded it to the NCO.

Then magic happpened.

I am pretty confident that the NCOs get more crap dumped on them and more junk filling their inboxes than the officers they shelter. But they seem to get through it all a lot faster.

Generally speaking, any positive adjective used to describe an officer is really a description of the NCOs working damn hard to make that officer look good.

Not that there aren't some true winners in the NCO corps. Just like there are some complete morons earning officer pay... the jury still being out on this one.

But as a whole, if an officer can provide the necessary top cover, command direction, and then get out of the way... the NCOs will get the job done, and do it well.

Which I guess brings me back around to the supply NCOs I've been working with. Most of my problems are probably the result of not being as smart as I should be on their voodoo. Yes, a weatherman just called someone else's job voodoo. They definitely know their stuff, manage multiple systems, and none of them have been arrested to the best of my knowledge.

Still, I want my stuff.

And in my world, an easy purchase involved going to a store or website, throwing something in my cart, and checking out. It doesn't involve a staffing sheet that needs the commanders of multiple sections to sign it. It doesn't involve writing a justification memo for yet another person to sign. And it definitely doesn't involve doing that all twice.

And so I complained about supply.

But all is forgiven because they manange to maintain an endless supply of cookies 'n cream.

Homestretch

I realized that we're entering the homestretch here. The shift is subtle as we start making contact with our replacements, we start getting their arrival dates, and our discussions are more about transition planning than our own current work.

I know my replacement. It'll be an pretty easy hand-off since he's been here before.

I always talk about how small this community is but every now and then I still get surprised. The titles seem to change but the names really don't.

Right now on one of my projects I am coordinating with two people back home. One of them I worked with pretty often in his last job and even went to a training course with him. The other guy I've also worked with before pretty extensively in his last job and am now doing some planning work for him again.

It's a mixed blessing, but I think I've got a good working relationship with both of them. If not, it's real easy to ruin your reputation because everyone knows everyone. One stupid mistake and it will unfortunately follow you forever.

Deadly serious adult games governed by middle school playground politics.

Lest you think I'm joking, last night in the JOC one of the Air Force ground warfare guys hid an Air Force pilot's stash of Diet Pepsis. The pilot, a fighter guy who has mostly worked air to air combat in the past, does not have a lot of experience working with us ground guys. He dared the Air Force NCO to throw out the hidden Pepsis.

He actually double dog dared him.

Really. Those exact words.

So the NCO threw out the Pepsis. I'd have done the same thing.

The only reason I found out about it was that the pilot was impressed and wanted to buy the NCO a beer. But we are in Iraq and while we are trusted to limitless ammunition we are not trusted with even limited amounts of alcohol.

So the pilot, showing the resourcefulness and outside-the-box thinking we demand of our leaders, burried the NCO's desk in cans of near-beer.

Most of us on the day shift had no idea why there were so many Coors Cutters on this particular NCO's desk. The cryptic note left by the pilot was our only assurance that the NCO wasn't planning on drinking 30 near beers in the hope that he'd get buzzed by the cumulative effect of the .03% alcohol content.

I have no doubt some Private has almost blown out his bladder trying that.

Also, on the way back from dinner an experienced Army Special Forces Senior NCO and a Navy SEAL officer essentially reenacted the scene from Forty Year Old Virgin where two of the characters went on riff explaining how the knew the other, um, preferred the company of men.

Sleep well knowing that we are safeguarding your freedom.

I have a problem

I can't put a good book down. Or even a mediocre book with an interesting story.

Last night I figured I'd read a quick chapter of The Shadow of the Wind, the book my cousins sent me, after work before I went running. 250 pages later I finished the book, but it was a bit late to run.

Back home I read a lot of non-fiction, news, and history. Over here I tend to blow through more fiction.

I guess I like really good historical fiction. Sometimes it does a better job of capturing an era than anything else. Unfortunately, I'm not as well read into the horrors of the Spanish Civil War and Franco's Spain as maybe I should be. So this book was an intriguing story but I can't vouch for its historical accuracy.

I heard that my cousin looked beautiful at her wedding and that it was a great time for all.

They had cocktail weinies. That's how you know it's a real party.

I had a great time at my wedding, the food was incredible, but I am still a little bitter that we didn't have cocktail weinies.

There, I said it.

I'm not sure whether to be proud or depressed that some staff paperwork I predicted would get bounced back did, in fact, get bounced back to me.

Our awards packages have been resubmitted. One day I hope to be the guy I described in my award package. He sounds like a beast.

I hate writing my own award.

After a while words like lead, developed, exceptional, unparalleled, groundbreaking, streamline, spearhead, irreplaceable, and the like tend to lose their meaning. But if this thing goes through, which it looks like it will, then I will be officially awarded for applying the currently fashionable power terms to other actions, events, and impacts in the proper manner.

That, my friends, is how wars are won.

Even though he specifically told me to, I still don't like that I submitted my NCO for a lower award than what I submitted for myself.

In the original package I sent up for both of us, I even used the same citation as a template because my summary of our jobs is that overnight he cleans up every mess that I make during the day.

He wants it this way, everyone here is cool with it, so there it is.

Round and Round

It's been an interesting few days. One of my projects suddenly gained momentum and and may be ready to execute early this week. Another one is gaining steam.

I am getting more involved in the planning processes here which will both spread the load and be a great learning experience for me. My technical specialty may be environmental impacts, but I'm enjoying the broadening opportunity. As I progress forward I can either pigeon-hole myself or become more of general expert on operations.

I also was told that they pulled our awards packages so that they could be resubmitted for the higher level award per my request. I was told I need to re-write the packages to make them stronger. It shouldn't be too hard because when I first wrote them we had pretty much just gotten here and hadn't accomplished much. I chose to write fluff rather than make stuff up and risk being awarded a medal we deserved but with a citation full of things that didn't happen.

I'm really not that big into awards. It's not like you get a free toaster and are submitted into a raffle for a cruise upon getting your fifth Joint Commendation medal. But I wanted my NCO to get an award commensurate with his work...

...and this morning, after fighting to have the packages pulled, he told me he actually preferred the lower level award. The award itself isn't that big of a deal. He doesn't need the promotion points. He's never gotten the Joint Achievement medal and figures that a longer list of medals and one more ribbon on the ribbon rack will look better on the wall when he retires shortly.

Now comes the question of what to do about my award package. I dont' like the idea of submitting myself for a higher level award than my NCO. But I do think I've earned the higher level award, especially when compared to other guys who've gotten it.

I'm also reluctant to set a precedent because then the next guy's award will default to the lower award and he'll have to work harder to justify the commendation medal.

We'll see. I'll check with some people I trust here for guidance.

I touched base with my replacement. This means that my replacement exists and is coming. This is a very positive development.

Fittingly, for whatever reason, chow hall chatter yesterday was about burn out and missing family events.

We were counting missed birthdays, missed anniversaries, missed holidays, and other missed events.

This trip, on top of the missed birthdays, missed anniversary (I've only been home for one and we were moving between assignments at the time), and missed holidays, I seem to be missing weddings.

In a few hours, my cousin will be getting married. I got to chat with her briefly on-line a few days ago and found out that the family craziness was pretty much as expected.

She is the first girl cousin on this side of the family to get married. She is the only person in the family to have asked my advice about joining the Marines... she didn't, but I could actually have pictured her--the Natural Resources and Environment Student--doing it.

They have a great Civil Affairs program. I have no doubt she do an incredible job teaching some Pashtun farmer about more efficient use of the Helmand River's limited resources. But then she'd probably shoot him for not letting his girls go to school and beating his wife. This would probably undermine her plans to revitalize the region, or it would gain grudging compliance.

And the reliance on millions of plastic water bottles here would drive her nuts.

So maybe it's better that she didn't join. And the uniform in XS-Short would be too big.

Besides, her efforts and expertise are needed just as badly here, in Israel, and anywhere else they choose to go.

Unfortunately, I haven't yet had the pleasure of meeting her soon to be husband. I hear that he is an engineer. An unreformed and unrepentant engineer who hasn't run away from it at a full sprint like I did. I guess we need people like that. Otherwise budding patent attorneys would have no one to leech off of and exploit. Or assist.

He was apparently also smart enough to do his time in the Navy and then get out. That's not an inter-service joke. I have lots of Navy jokes. I can't share most of them here. I find that a military career can sometimes be like an abusive relationship between the service and the service member. It can take real strength and courage to say I've served and I'm done.

I do have a friend who went to BUD/S (SEAL training) because hours of surf torture in 55 degree Pacific waters and sleepless trips around the world in a small boat were preferable to another night as the watch officer in the Surface Navy. Rumor has that there is a SEAL there and probably some other current/former Navy guys, so hopefully someone gets the reference and can explain it.

My friend's experience did give me a whole new respect and appreciation for my Navy peers out on ships, not boats, ships. I don't want to be the guy that has to tell the skipper that due to rough seas, we were able to refuel but we were unable to replenish our dwindling ice cream stocks.

I'd make a nuke joke, but all I know about subs I learned from movies. Actual nuke guys are quiet, a little weird, and glow in the dark. And apparently they speak Russian with a Scottish accent.

So maybe I can't help myself. I'm a small and petty person with the geekiest job in all of SOF ops.

I wish I could be there, as hollow as that may sound given that technically I volunteered for this rotation. I miss everyone and wish them the best.

To my cousin and her new husband, I know that you are both smart enough to realize that the wedding is just one silly and crazy day.

You are probably getting more than enough useless advice based on people projecting their relationship dynamics on to yours.

Do take the time to eat something. The food is very expensive and probably very good. My wife is still mad at me for eating when I should have been socializing, but she missed out.

The Great American Hero

I saw someone special in the chow hall today.

It was a civilian, though he may have been prior military. I'm still not sure whether to be in awe of him, jealous of him, or even disgusted.

On his plate, one of the three-sectioned plastic picnic plates, were buttered noodles, rice (which here is over-salted and probably over-buttered), and fries covered in cheese/cheez (I think this delicacy is with a "z").

Lest you worry, he also had a bowl of salad. In that bowl were a lot of olives, cheddar cheese, and some crispy chow mein noodles.

I didn't stay to check on his desert.

I have to assume that this is a unique meal, even for this guy. Either that or he is training for an Ironman Triathlon. He was fat, but not the fattest.

Of course, a few more meals like that and he could quickly make up the frightening couple hundred pounds he needs to be the fattest civilian on Balad.

I know that some people have no access to healthy foods do the a lack of supermarkets in their area and the cheapness of unhealthy alternatives. Exercise takes time and some people are too busy working multiple sedentary jobs, fueled on Value Meals, to make time for it. Many aren't taught better.

Fine.

This dude likely knows better. At the very least, he's bombarded by AFN commercials telling him how to live a healthier life.

He has gym access.

I really hope it was some kind of one-time thing and not his regular meal.

The alternative just makes me mad.

I'm off now to pick up my laundry, verify that my forecast of hot weather is true, and then maybe play on a mini-bike or ATV because I can.

It's, um, sustainment training.

So close...

We hit 119F (48C) today. I've been waiting for 120. Everyone tells me about 120. Oh, Iraq is so hot it hits 130 in the shade...

No. It doesn't.

119 is plenty hot. Don't get me wrong. But I want 120. It's an admittedly arbitrary threshold, but it's a threshold all the same. I just want to say that we hit it.

It's like fast-roping from a CV-22 (a tilt-rotor aircraft, takes off and can hover like a helicopter, flies like an airplane). I just want to do it once. I know it will be uncomfortable and scary because the rotor wash pushes the rope to an odd angle. But I still want to experience it.

Once.

Aside from failing to hit 120 yet again, the day was a mixed bag. Some days it feels like a bad treasure hunt where every clue on a certain project just leads to another clue.

Who is the right person to ask? Never the person I'm asking, and probably not the person that they then direct me to, but maybe the next troop I get referred to... or maybe not. One search actually brought me full circle.

Though when completely that particular personnel loop, I was able to give the confused person at the beginning/end of the search a phone number for someone that he is now supposed to call.

Tag. He's it.

One of my other projects is having better luck. Someone emailed me not only the information I needed, but they sent it as part of an entire filled out packet that I thought I'd have to remake myself. Sweet.

I refuse to be frustrated. There are lots of ways to still have fun here.

I'm not on the list next time we have dedicated range time to qualify on the Mk-19, a machine gun that fires grenades.

I now have access to mini-dirt bikes that I can cruise around on if I so choose. And some ATVs.

Why not?

May as well make the most of it.

Out of Touch

I was able to check in with one of my officers at my home unit today. It was a good opportunity to see how everyone is doing in general, what's new in our planning cycle, etc.

Between being deployed and being in a Guard unit with everyone dispersed around the world, it is surprisingly difficult to stay on top of everything. Deployment plans change. People who were talking about volunteering for a trip a few months ago have changed their minds. People get married. People, sadly, get divorced. People get new jobs or have trouble at work.

Plus, they have their military duties. Technically, that's the only part in which we have an official role to play. But between the fact that the unit is a family of sorts and the fact that everything can and does impact a troop's readiness, we find ourselves as leaders being guidance counselors, educational advisors, financial planners, and anything else in addition to our official roles.

It's an odd dynamic. You are never really off duty.

I think it's worth it. My unit has a proud legacy and it is a really great feeling when one of the guys we worked to train truly excels downrange. And, without fail, my guys have done great work.

Unfortunately, I've been relegated to staff purgatory on this trip, though most of my team, or at least the team I'm augmenting, is out kicking butt.

I am smarter in the ways of staff work and pushing paper. It's not fun, but like budgeting and logistics planning, is key to getting the mission accomplished.

I'm pretty convinced that the higher pay for officers is like the higher pay some data entry positions earn. After all of our fun running and gunning training, officers--even in SOF--end up doing mostly staff work and admin stuff as once they become mid-ranking Captains (or the Lieutenants for the Navy). I guess the pay is supposed to compensate for that.

Sure, there is the whole command responsibility thing too.

High Culture

Being able to read a foreign language has enabled me to learn that the death of Michael Jackson was front page news in Israel.

I got an amazing package in the mail yesterday from a bunch of my cousins. It was truly incredible in the way that every part represented a lot of thought and effort in to what I would enjoy and it was also very clear who gave each piece.

There were newspapers, some high-brow readings, excellent candies, cookies, and a CD documenting a family event (one of way too many this trip) that I missed.

It is rare that anything beats out cookies, especially cookies that involve white chocolate chips, but the CD was really special.

Don't get me wrong, a non-pop novel, issues of Foreign Affairs, Harper's Weekly, and an Economist are very much appreciated. Very very much. I guess I'm old fashioned but nothing beats actual pages in the hand.

But between all the of the major events in the lives of my friends and family that I've missed these past few months, and will be missing over the next few, the CD helped fill a little void.

Thank you.

Back in the war, we've entered a particularly slow period in the season for me. It's not quite the rainy season, but the dust season is coming to an end. It does give me time for other pursuits.

My biggest project right now is at a phase where I am trying to avoid reinventing the wheel. I know parts of it have all been done before, but the institutional knowledge has been lost. It's like a treasure hunt right now.

Otherwise, it's the usual routine. Nothing too exciting to share.

Keeping the Faith

Over the past few years I've begun wondering if this creaping disillusionment was what members of the Roman Legions felt as their complacent people and utterly out of touch leadership watched their world crumble.

I don't really subscribe to the whole sky is falling, American is collapsing, alarmism that is out there. I think they overestimate the strenghts of other countries, underestimate their weaknesses, and overplay our own issues because of an intimate familiarity with them.

I'm sure I suffer from all of those issues too.

Be that as it may, I've still been incredibly disappointed in our leaders, our media, and us as a nation because we get the government we deserve in a democracy and we get the media we deserve as consumers.

In short, it's been very easy for me to conclude that we have chosen to be fat, dumb, and lazy as a society. In both the intellectual and physical sense.

Even college jeopardy is being dumbed down these days.

So my lunch with one of our interpreters came at a perfect time.

He told us all about growing up here. When he was a young teenager he would negotiate deals on random goods like soccer balls and then re-sell them in the street. He actually made a good amount of money doing it, but spent it all on movie tickets or gave it away to friends.

He distinctly remembers going to see some Jackie Chan movie eight times in Baghdad near the end of the Iran-Iraq War.

At 18, after Desert Storm, he and some friends stole a few rifles from Ba'ath Party offices in the Southern part of the country and joined the Shia Revolt. He did not wear any kind of mask and so Saddam's forces were able to identify him. His mother, fearing for his life, forced him to flee the country.

He spent a few years stuck in various refugee camps before being one of the lucky few allowed to to go to the US. He told the interviewer that he didn't want to go to Texas because he was afraid of Cowboys.

All he knew of the US was what he'd been told and what he'd seen in movies. Even so, he knew that his best future would be in America.

He described New York City as another planet after growing up mostly in rural Iraq. Not knowing the language or what any of the traffic signs meant, he almost got hit by more than a few cabs and buses.

But he's not a shy individual. He listened. He would ask any passer-by what a work meant or for directions. And people helped him.

One time in DC, he was asking someone for directions and got into a friendly conversation with some guy. The guy asked him where he was from. The interpreter told him he was from Iraq. So the guy asked what he was doing in DC.

The interpreter said, "I'm a terrorist."

The guy said, "No, no you're not."

The interpeter said "No, no. Really. I'm a terrorist."

The guy explained the difference between tourist and terrorist. This was in the late 90's when people could still admit to having a sense of humor about such things.

The interpreter agreed that he was, in fact, a tourist.

Incidentally, despite his fears of being caught up in the Indian Wars raging in Texas, the interpreter did end up witness a drug dealer getting murdered while in DC. Yeah. He said that he'd seen war, he'd fought the Iraqi Army, be he'd never seen something like that before. Not a good story, not something we are proud of in our nation's capital... but I love the irony and had to include it.

When the we invaded Iraq this time around, the interpreter was eager to help. He loathed Saddam with a passion. He has spent a few years, on and off, working with SOF as an interpreter. He's been wounded and he's come back.

This interpreter, an immigrant and new citizen, has done more to serve our country than most Americans can possibly realize.

Most importantly, it was incredible to see the opportunity that America can represent through his eyes.

Where else can an Iraqi refugee meet and marry a Guatemalan wife and from nothing earn a middle-class living for their new family?

As we walked back to the JOC, the SEAL I was eating with and I were pretty much speechless.

We had nothing. We've led easy and sheltered lives.

------------

Back at the JOC, I'm excited by the progress in my various projects. The only downside is that I think I'll leave everything primed for when my replacements get here. Then they'll get to do the fun final steps of implementation.

I'm also looking into getting certified to operate a fork lift. Why not?

I've Lost My Mojo

I need to get my mojo back.

I was somewhat aware of the passage of time until I ran in to one of the troops responsible for planning our return trip. She told me a number. A number that was slowly getting smaller. A number that I refused to think about.

The days we have left.

Now it's out there, hovering over my work. Daily annoyances are a little less annoying yet that trivialness makes them that much more frustrating at the same time.

An excellent example would be our near-futile quest to get a program un-installed and re-installed on our computer. For some reason, after many years, this program stopped working. It's not vital, but it is very helpful.

I call our computer people since they control what goes on the network. They tell me that the program is not approved.

I ask to talk to the guy in charge. He's not in. When does he get in... they tell me and promise he'll call in the evening. This is after my night guy was told he didn't get in until the morning.

So I call back in the evening. Oh, he's at dinner. He's the only guy authorized to determine that a program that has been on the network for years, that is on pretty much every weather guy's computer here, that was developed by and for the Air Force, is not authorized.

It's brilliant really. I'm not going to yell at his underlings. It's not their fault.

I can't yell at him. He is apparently a ghost.

I can create a paper trail and find his boss, but that is so unsatisfying and impersonal.

I want to yell at him. I'm very nice to be people who do their jobs. I'm even nice to people who are clearly making an effort here.

This will be fixed by the end of my shift tomorrow.

So I'm looking to my little projects, outside of my little vendettas, to re-motivate me. Some have made small but good progress. Others are stalled. Sadly none will really be done by the time I leave, but at least they will be primed for my replacement.

I'm also breaking in my new running shoes. That's always fun. A short 2 miles this evening because my legs were still sore from my first night back at one-legged squats. I'll probably be back into a really good routine just in time to leave.

This time I need to really bring it home with me. I have all the tools I need at the house.

Party Plans

One of my friends is getting ready to leave. We are trying to figure out the best way to celebrate.

Over dinner, it hit us....

Near-Beer Float.

One can of Coors Cutter (or the better German fake beer) plus one scoop of vanilla ice cream.

It was a flash of brilliance. I can't wait to try it.

Expect a full report.

On a not completely unrelated to work, I must share my disappointment in the criticism of the nutjob in New Hampshire that showed up outside the President's town hall meeting with a gun and a sign paraphrasing Jefferson.

Everyone has jumped on the complete lack of sense involved showing up at a Presidential appearance armed and apparently threatening violence.

Sadly, no one seems to be critiquing the ridiculous set up he was rocking. A thigh holster has it's place. The idea is generally to lower the holster below the belt line when wearing armor so that the armor does not interfere with the drawing motion. The idea is to have the pistol has high as possible while still allowing for a smooth draw.

This idiot had his pistol mounted somewhere near his knee. That would be a horrible inefficient drawing motion. It also wastes extra energy while walking around with the weight mounted lower on the leg.

It was not only a poorly conceived demonstration, but it was also poorly executed.

Oh well. At least he can keep the healthcare he has until the government gets its grubby hands on his Medicare. Or something.

I guess the good news is that no matter how badly I botch a forecast, I can simply watch the news from home and feel smart again.

Stay Classy, America.

Car Chase

Maybe work has made us a little warped.

I think we just a bunch of dudes watching TV.

There was yet another California car chase on the news. In the middle of everything else going on, we all stopped to watch.

We cheered on the cops. We critiqued their performance. We laughed when the guy pulled out of his car, which was not in park, and as the car slowly rolled back into an empty cop car...

It was particularly funny to me because I forgot to put our vehicle in park during a training exercise a while back. We were doing a react to contact drill. To simulate our vehicle being disabled by an IED there was a loud boom created by an instructor and then I, as the drive, was supposed to stop and put the vehicle in park.

Well, I swerved as I stopped to create better cover for our retreat from the vehicle. We dismounted, returned fire, and... the car kept rolling.

Fortunately it rolled into another vehicle, which stoppped it. Just like the criminal's vehicle rolling pretty harmlessly into a nearby cop car.

It ended better for me than the criminal on the news. He got arrested. I just owed a round of beer that night.

With the chase over, we went back to work.

My other great accomplishment for the day was filling out my application for the New GI Bill. After reviewing everything, I think I'm eligible for at least 60% of the full time benefit, but maybe up to 100% depending on how they count my first years of active duty service.

It they count those years as pay back for my ROTC scholarship, then I should still get the 60% for my various Active Duty periods as a Guardsman. If they simply count that time as cumulative Active Duty time, then I should get 60%.

Either way, it's a great deal and a major jump up in my VA benefits for school.

Thank you Senator Webb.

New Shoes!!!

Today my new running shoes came in the mail. They are everything I hoped for. Very light, but supportive where they need to be and fit with a Superfeet insert.

They'll need a little breaking in and then it will be like running in slippers. My preference in a running shoe is for it to be firm. I don't want to run on pillows. These trail runners are right in the sweet spot where I can feel the road but excess shock is absorbed.

Unfortunately there is a lot of shiny neon yellow on the shoe. Soon it will be brown. Everything here turns brown.

Other people were excited when I got my shoes too. Shoes and boots are a major topic of discussion.

My sister also made a variety of cookies and sent them to us. We love cookies. We really love peanut butter cookies.

We may take some of the peanut butter cookies to the chow hall, zap them, and top them with vanilla ice cream.

I really do mean "we" in the plural too.

The other news is that my beautiful and brilliant world-saving wife is now back in the US. Now I can more easily bother her while she is at work via G-mail chat.

This is an outstanding development.

She won't really get a chance to unwind and re-adjust because she has two weddings to attend in the next two weeks. Those will be the second and third weddings I've missed on this trip.

Not cool. I am really sorry and do wish I could be there.

I can also call the nearest base and have them connect me to her phone. Oddly, due to her cell phone number not being a local call from our house, I have to call the base nearest where she grew up to have them connect us.

On the work front, well, processes are evolving for the better. It's actually fun to be a part of it. It reminds us that the enemy is actually a very bad human and not, say, Microsoft Office 2007.

We get confused sometimes.

Oh, and if any of you read GEN McPeak's Op-Ed about the F-22 in the Wall Street Journal, I apologize. He was one of the leaders of the great Fighter Mafia, the man who decided chest hair needed to be visible in our blues uniforms, and brought the world Total Quality Management (only Scott Adams benefited from this because it fueled an infinite number of Dilbert strips).

F-22's are really cool. Really really really cool. They have incredible capabilities and can truly dominate the air war. But once we've used our stealth assets to destroy the enemy air defenses, or degrade them sufficiently, in the beginning of a conventional war... why can't we then use lots of cheaper and less stealthy aircraft for many of the lower-threat follow on missions?

We have only one Ranger Regiment that in part exists to kick in the door so the rest of the force can come in behind. No one in the Army is arguing that every unit needs to be the Ranger Regiment.

It's an imperfect metaphor, but close enough to make the point.

Enough

One of the civilians I've met is a retired Special Forces Medic. He served over thirty years in uniform and continues to serve today.

He is a very soft-spoken guy, but can be very talkative. He'll stop by my desk and we'll chat about running shoes, random war stories, getting old, dirt medicine tips, etc.

He's going home. One of his family member's is sick. He called the company he works for and told them he has to quit the contract early. For so many years, he put the mission and country ahead of everything.

It is his family's turn.

Fortunately, many of the people he works for are retired military guys who know exactly how he feels. They are willing to hold his space for a few months in case he can come back later.

I also found out that The Spin Doctors are playing Balad. Well, not the Spin Doctors, but their lead singer and his new band.

I was never a Spin Doctors fan in the early 90's. But it's free, I've never been to a USO show, and there's something novel about seeing some band that was big when I was in middle school.

It was fun. They played in the movie theater. It had a small club feeling similar to some of the shows one of my friends took me to back home.

The band gave out CDs and signed autographs for anyone who wanted one after the show. We got our picture taken with the band cause why not?

It was great of them to come out here. Even though most of the audience was barely walking when the band, or at least the lead singer, first hit it big, every one was appreciative and got in to it.

And yes, when I did the math and realized that most of the audience was still in diapers when the Spin Doctors hit MTV (back when MTV played music, I know, wow), I felt old.

The Size of the Fight in the Dog

So she may be small. She may only weight 110 lbs. But when she rolls over and all of her weight is on the knee that pinches your tricep against the ground... it hurts.

Now the marks on my left arm match my right.

For the final evaluation in the Level I Comabtives course, each of us played grappling dummy for the other students. We all passed.

We also found out that two of us had been practicing one of the escape from a choke drills wrong. Good to know.

Part of the final eval was demonstrating a clinch--charging into someone who is punching you, closing the distance, and essentially putting them into a bear hug of sorts. The instructor had on boxing gloves and we wore head gear.

One of the goals of the drill is make sure everyone knows what it is to be punched in the head. I've been punched in head a few times. I didn't like it. But it's a necessary evil for the drill.

In real life, your opponent won't help you lock him up and beat him either. In real life, you'll probably have to take a few hits. But if you are agressive and don't fear getting a hit a couple times then you will get the clinch in faster and take fewer hits. If you are not agressive then you keep getting hit.

Getting hit is bad. It hurts.

Of course, my head doesn't hurt, but I did tweak my kneck in the first round of clinch drills. Technically, I didn't do it. The instructor did by whacking the side of my head. Or maybe it was forcing my head into his hip to push him off balance. I dunno.

I do know that many Motrins later, I have partial mobility again.

I'm going to go to bed early tonight. My partner even came in a little early so I could get out and get to bed sooner. That was really nice of him.

The class was great, but didn't mesh too well with my usual sleep cycle. I had to hit the chow hall for coffee, which led to the discovery that our chow hall now has iced coffee. It's way too syrupy, but does the job.

Two of my projects are making slow progress. It's annoying because a lot of the moving pieces are out of my control so it takes much longer than I would like.

I know it is better to do it right the first time. I know that people rushing it is why some of these things have been stalled and gotten nowhere in the past.

Still, it's frustrating.

At least the other guys here all have similar attitudes. We can complain about annoying staff stuff. And we can work on making it better.

It's nice to be around people who always want to make it work better.