The biggest problem with observing a fast day here is the way it disrupts my routine.
I didn't PT last night. I didn't have my Shock Coffee & Health Shake for breakfast. No lunch or dinner breaks.
It just makes the day last longer.
It does, I guess, give me time to work on various projects.
I don't feel particularly hungry or thirsty. Just bored.
Maybe we should invade another nearby country. But only if it would get me out of the JOC.
Well, I was bored until I let someone borrow my truck (I have my own truck, on loan from the another AF guy, since he has two... I don't know how he got them and it doesn't matter). The guy who borrowed the truck tossed the keys to me. But it was a bad toss, the bounced off some of my equipment, slid across the desk, and went down a hole in the floor along the wall.
So, using my little LED light on my keychain, I found the keys. I then had to take apart a floor board, which justified once again always having a Gerber or Leatherman tool.
Keys recovered. Mission success.
I also did decide to take a dinner break. I didn't eat anything, but it broke up the day some. Went with some other guys to the chow hall and got some take out to eat after the fast.
In the end, I grabbed a cookie from the communal cookie jar to break the fast. I didn't even eat all of my take out meal.
And if I'm lucky... the promised Shock coffees will be restocked.
Thursday, July 30, 2009
Wednesday, July 29, 2009
The Smartest People Here
The smartest guys here are the third-country nationals (TCN) that work for the contractor responsible for cleaning our bathroom trailers.
They wear masks when it is dusty out. We don't. I always comment on it. I never get a mask or a bandana or something.
It's not like major dust events surprise me. I'm the weather guy. I've been expecting this for days and told everyone else to expect it.
I was issued a bunch of bandana-like things that were called desert scarfs. I even brought one with me.
But it's still sealed in it's bag and sitting in my bag.
Maybe next time.
This can't be healthy.
Another threat to my health that I've signed up for is a Comabtives class that will be taught by one of the guys here. He's a certified instructor and will actually be able to award ratings. His one warning was that it would not be a gentlemen's class so we should prepare to be bruised and battered.
Good times.
I like our little bubble here. The conventional side of Balad has fast-food trailers and a movie theater. We have our gyms, range, and combatives room (and now an instructor able to make time to teach).
Besides, until our entertainment drive crashed, we could watch movies at work.
If they don't get that fixed soon, the network people may find themselves the objective of a unilateral American operation.
I'm also noticing that some of our troops are really really young.
One of the senior NCOs noticed a particularly baby-faced private and called him over. He asked this confused kid if his momma knew where he was.
The private smiled sheepishly and mumbled "Yes, sar'nt."
- - - - - - - - - - - - -
Most importantly though, today is my sister's birthday. I'm on the phone with her now.
Hi.
They wear masks when it is dusty out. We don't. I always comment on it. I never get a mask or a bandana or something.
It's not like major dust events surprise me. I'm the weather guy. I've been expecting this for days and told everyone else to expect it.
I was issued a bunch of bandana-like things that were called desert scarfs. I even brought one with me.
But it's still sealed in it's bag and sitting in my bag.
Maybe next time.
This can't be healthy.
Another threat to my health that I've signed up for is a Comabtives class that will be taught by one of the guys here. He's a certified instructor and will actually be able to award ratings. His one warning was that it would not be a gentlemen's class so we should prepare to be bruised and battered.
Good times.
I like our little bubble here. The conventional side of Balad has fast-food trailers and a movie theater. We have our gyms, range, and combatives room (and now an instructor able to make time to teach).
Besides, until our entertainment drive crashed, we could watch movies at work.
If they don't get that fixed soon, the network people may find themselves the objective of a unilateral American operation.
I'm also noticing that some of our troops are really really young.
One of the senior NCOs noticed a particularly baby-faced private and called him over. He asked this confused kid if his momma knew where he was.
The private smiled sheepishly and mumbled "Yes, sar'nt."
- - - - - - - - - - - - -
Most importantly though, today is my sister's birthday. I'm on the phone with her now.
Hi.
Tuesday, July 28, 2009
Terminators are Real
There I was, observing as one of the younger soldiers adjusted the various remote sighting systems for the guns, staring down the barrel of the .50 cal with it's various electronic eyes all staring at me.
Terminators are real. They are just not quite invented yet. But we're getting frighteningly close.
Right now I am now certified to operate this system, it obeys my commands, and will only kill when I tell it to.
But, if someone claiming to be from the future tells you to come with them if you want to live, I'm a little closer to recommending that you listen.
My wife mentioned to me that I may gotten too technical while describing the course in my last post...
Just in case, a VBIED is modern military-speak for a car bomb. A vehicle-borne improvised explosive device.
They are bad.
I think most of the other technical terms were the names of different guns.
The M-2 is a .50 cal (as in the diameter of the bullet is a 1/2 inch) heavy machine gun. It was designed by John Moses Browning and entered service in 1919. Even our future robot overlords will not be able to significantly improve on it.
The M240B is a 7.62mm general purpose machine gun. Smaller than the M-2, it is meant to be carried or mounted on vehicles. Whatever the situation dictates.
If I remember right, it is pretty much just a Mag 58, which is pretty much just a German MG42 from WWII. It still works just fine.
The Mk46 and Mk48 are smaller machine guns in 5.56mm (the same caliber as our M-4 carbines, the ubiquitous shorter versions of the M-16) and 7.62mm calibers that are easier to carry. There are trade-offs to the smaller size, but they seem to work just fine.
Ounces are pounds and pounds are pain... so smaller can be much better for the guy that has to carry the equipment around. Smaller can often mean a shorter barrel, which will generally translate into slower bullet velocity out of the barrel and inferior terminal ballistics as well.
Weapons are tools. When you have options, pick the one best suited to the task at hand.
As an Air Force guy though, my favorite weapon is still a radio. If the first rule of a gunfight is to bring all of your friends with guns... it's always better to bring all of your friends with guns and bombs and an overhead view of all that is happening.
On the topic of friends, I realized when someone was going home that we never say good bye here. It's not because of sentiment, but because odds are we'll see each other again on some future deployment, exercise, or boondoggle of a trip.
The military with its millions of people is really a very small place. The SOF community is even smaller.
Within every SOF specialty there is a saying that if you ain't cheatin', you ain't trying. If you get caught, you ain't (insert name of specialty that thinks it coined this cliche here).
True to form, the hoarding of Gatorade Health Shakes from the chow hall has begun anew. Karl Marx may have preached about giving according to your abilities and taking only according to your needs, but the distribution of desired goodies from the chow hall is based more on a Social Darwinism.
He who can take the most, the fastest, has the most soonest. Sometimes that is fodder for trading.
Me? I just think a Gatorade Health Shake and a Shock Coffee make a great breakfast.
I do, however, need to take inventory of my kit and evaluate what I am willing to use as for trading and what I'm either accountable for or truly want/need.
There may be some good opportunities for new or new-to-me toys.
My partner was kind enough to donate a pair of flame-resistant ACUs to me. He forgot his ACU name tapes at home, and doesn't plan on paying to have new ones made here since he doesn't really care for the ACUs anyway. He also has a bunch of ACUs back at home already so the new ones he got issued here are of no use to him.
Unfortunately, one thing I can't trade for is a new pair of running shoes. I believe I mentioned earlier that I found a good deal on a the pair I've been looking for and ordered them. Well, the company emailed me back to say they were kidding.
They don't have my size.
Apparenlty finding running shoes sized like snow shoes will be more difficult than I thought. Oh well.
Terminators are real. They are just not quite invented yet. But we're getting frighteningly close.
Right now I am now certified to operate this system, it obeys my commands, and will only kill when I tell it to.
But, if someone claiming to be from the future tells you to come with them if you want to live, I'm a little closer to recommending that you listen.
My wife mentioned to me that I may gotten too technical while describing the course in my last post...
Just in case, a VBIED is modern military-speak for a car bomb. A vehicle-borne improvised explosive device.
They are bad.
I think most of the other technical terms were the names of different guns.
The M-2 is a .50 cal (as in the diameter of the bullet is a 1/2 inch) heavy machine gun. It was designed by John Moses Browning and entered service in 1919. Even our future robot overlords will not be able to significantly improve on it.
The M240B is a 7.62mm general purpose machine gun. Smaller than the M-2, it is meant to be carried or mounted on vehicles. Whatever the situation dictates.
If I remember right, it is pretty much just a Mag 58, which is pretty much just a German MG42 from WWII. It still works just fine.
The Mk46 and Mk48 are smaller machine guns in 5.56mm (the same caliber as our M-4 carbines, the ubiquitous shorter versions of the M-16) and 7.62mm calibers that are easier to carry. There are trade-offs to the smaller size, but they seem to work just fine.
Ounces are pounds and pounds are pain... so smaller can be much better for the guy that has to carry the equipment around. Smaller can often mean a shorter barrel, which will generally translate into slower bullet velocity out of the barrel and inferior terminal ballistics as well.
Weapons are tools. When you have options, pick the one best suited to the task at hand.
As an Air Force guy though, my favorite weapon is still a radio. If the first rule of a gunfight is to bring all of your friends with guns... it's always better to bring all of your friends with guns and bombs and an overhead view of all that is happening.
On the topic of friends, I realized when someone was going home that we never say good bye here. It's not because of sentiment, but because odds are we'll see each other again on some future deployment, exercise, or boondoggle of a trip.
The military with its millions of people is really a very small place. The SOF community is even smaller.
Within every SOF specialty there is a saying that if you ain't cheatin', you ain't trying. If you get caught, you ain't (insert name of specialty that thinks it coined this cliche here).
True to form, the hoarding of Gatorade Health Shakes from the chow hall has begun anew. Karl Marx may have preached about giving according to your abilities and taking only according to your needs, but the distribution of desired goodies from the chow hall is based more on a Social Darwinism.
He who can take the most, the fastest, has the most soonest. Sometimes that is fodder for trading.
Me? I just think a Gatorade Health Shake and a Shock Coffee make a great breakfast.
I do, however, need to take inventory of my kit and evaluate what I am willing to use as for trading and what I'm either accountable for or truly want/need.
There may be some good opportunities for new or new-to-me toys.
My partner was kind enough to donate a pair of flame-resistant ACUs to me. He forgot his ACU name tapes at home, and doesn't plan on paying to have new ones made here since he doesn't really care for the ACUs anyway. He also has a bunch of ACUs back at home already so the new ones he got issued here are of no use to him.
Unfortunately, one thing I can't trade for is a new pair of running shoes. I believe I mentioned earlier that I found a good deal on a the pair I've been looking for and ordered them. Well, the company emailed me back to say they were kidding.
They don't have my size.
Apparenlty finding running shoes sized like snow shoes will be more difficult than I thought. Oh well.
Monday, July 27, 2009
Head Space and Timing
MRAP guys did have Shock Coffees. They were willing to share.
And the other people restocked.
Life is good.
Meanwhile at the remote control machine gun class we learned all about the system. It's a machine gun, not a sniper rifle. But the first shot accuracy, and that it is rapdily followed by many more accurate shots, is pretty impressive. Especially from the relative--but not perfect, never perfect--safety of an armored cocoon of an MRAP.
We got to practice with a simulator, which was really a glorifed first-person shooter game. The younger guys with their video game experience picked up the gaming part of it pretty quick. The older guys picked on the simulation part of it.
Young guys, with less experience, didn't adjust ranging as often, were less conscious of ammo usage, and played a game more than experienced a simulation.
It was also interesting to note that some of the guys instinctively targetted trucks and other civilian vehicles that are often the threat here. But they didn't target the "enemy" armored vehicles in the scenarios.
Cold Warriors would have been the reverse, with instinctive recognition of Russian armor and less awareness of VBIEDs.
Balance is hard.
I'm probably reading too much in to it. We weren't using the software to practice missions. We were just using it to learn the system. And it was very effective.
At the core of this incredible technological beast is a machine gun that was last updated in 1919. The venerable M-2 .50 Caliber machine gun.
If John Moses Browning invented it, leave it alone. It works.
We spent a lot of time reviewing its function, disassembling it, and checking the head space and timing (to make sure the trigger mechanisms and barrel spacing was correct... lest the weapon blow up).
Unfortunately, there was no live fire part of the course. A little unsatisfying, to say the least.
Tomorrow we work on one more automated system with the M240B machine gun. A smaller caliber gun that is derrived from the German MG42 machine gun. I guess there really is no school like the old school when it comes to machine guns.
Well, the Mk46 and Mk48 are pretty newish, but I haven't gotten to play with them yet.
And the other people restocked.
Life is good.
Meanwhile at the remote control machine gun class we learned all about the system. It's a machine gun, not a sniper rifle. But the first shot accuracy, and that it is rapdily followed by many more accurate shots, is pretty impressive. Especially from the relative--but not perfect, never perfect--safety of an armored cocoon of an MRAP.
We got to practice with a simulator, which was really a glorifed first-person shooter game. The younger guys with their video game experience picked up the gaming part of it pretty quick. The older guys picked on the simulation part of it.
Young guys, with less experience, didn't adjust ranging as often, were less conscious of ammo usage, and played a game more than experienced a simulation.
It was also interesting to note that some of the guys instinctively targetted trucks and other civilian vehicles that are often the threat here. But they didn't target the "enemy" armored vehicles in the scenarios.
Cold Warriors would have been the reverse, with instinctive recognition of Russian armor and less awareness of VBIEDs.
Balance is hard.
I'm probably reading too much in to it. We weren't using the software to practice missions. We were just using it to learn the system. And it was very effective.
At the core of this incredible technological beast is a machine gun that was last updated in 1919. The venerable M-2 .50 Caliber machine gun.
If John Moses Browning invented it, leave it alone. It works.
We spent a lot of time reviewing its function, disassembling it, and checking the head space and timing (to make sure the trigger mechanisms and barrel spacing was correct... lest the weapon blow up).
Unfortunately, there was no live fire part of the course. A little unsatisfying, to say the least.
Tomorrow we work on one more automated system with the M240B machine gun. A smaller caliber gun that is derrived from the German MG42 machine gun. I guess there really is no school like the old school when it comes to machine guns.
Well, the Mk46 and Mk48 are pretty newish, but I haven't gotten to play with them yet.
Sunday, July 26, 2009
Green Beans!!!
Green Beans you foul temptress. Waiting there, just a few trailers away from the barbershop, pictures of sugary coffee beverages like a visual siren song waiting to capture weary troops...
I resisted. I was waiting for my haircut. It was right there, but I held off. Too close to dinner. I didn't need a sugary yummy "coffee."
But we have run out of Shock coffees. By "we," I mean the unit I've been, um, borrowing, them from for the past months.
It's such a problem that I told a friend of mine their to complain to the their supply people.
Of course, I can stop any time. I don't need my Shock coffee. I just want it. They are the base on which my morning routine is built.
Hopefully the people running the remote control machine gun goodness class tomorrow have a secret stash in their fridge. The MRAP guys did.
If not, I'll grab some from the MRAP guys.
While at the PX I picked up a toothbrush for a buddy. When he said thanks, I told him it was a gift for all of us.
This led to some jokes about chemical warfare. Which is one of three things that will make any hardened steely eye killer truly scared.
1. Chemical Warfare. The only thing scarier than a chemical attack is being stuck in your chemical gear for any period of time...
2. Explosives. EOD guys excepted, they raise the pucker factor. But they will solve most problems, one way or another.
3. Signing things. You sign for a multi-million dollar piece of government property that is about to be horribly abused and see how you feel...
Signing for things is the worst. The first two, if the worst happens, you're dead or too messed up to worry about it for a while.
But once you've signed for something... death can't save you.
Anyway, at chow my decision not to get Green Beans was validated. The evil Army men convinced me to get ice cream.
There was no Cookies 'n Cream. There was vanilla ice cream and A & W Root Beer...
Root Beer Float: Quite possibly my greatest achievement of this rotation.
Don't worry, I was told that ordering running shoes counted karmically as a PT session. I'm excited but nervous. These are an updated version of a pair of shoes I loved. I hope that the updates are actually improvements. My current shoes aren't quite dead, but will be soon, and I never had any knee issues running in that last pair.
We'll see.
So, back on track... scariest moment so far was when some one came up to us and said he had a quick question.
Two of us simultaneously interupted him and said, "42."
And to close... I saw an Op-Ed on the Huffington Post by some screenwriter about how it is hard t obe an American... I'm sure he has it tough becaus he feels so deeply about the issues.
The little summary below the link asked "Who amongst us can say we're actually doing the hard work of being an American?"
I don't know Mr. Screenwritier Archetype from Team America's Film Actor's Guild... enlighten me.
Oh, and Oliver Stone accused the CIA and Military Intelligence of killing Kennedy.
I'm glad he cleared that up for us.
I resisted. I was waiting for my haircut. It was right there, but I held off. Too close to dinner. I didn't need a sugary yummy "coffee."
But we have run out of Shock coffees. By "we," I mean the unit I've been, um, borrowing, them from for the past months.
It's such a problem that I told a friend of mine their to complain to the their supply people.
Of course, I can stop any time. I don't need my Shock coffee. I just want it. They are the base on which my morning routine is built.
Hopefully the people running the remote control machine gun goodness class tomorrow have a secret stash in their fridge. The MRAP guys did.
If not, I'll grab some from the MRAP guys.
While at the PX I picked up a toothbrush for a buddy. When he said thanks, I told him it was a gift for all of us.
This led to some jokes about chemical warfare. Which is one of three things that will make any hardened steely eye killer truly scared.
1. Chemical Warfare. The only thing scarier than a chemical attack is being stuck in your chemical gear for any period of time...
2. Explosives. EOD guys excepted, they raise the pucker factor. But they will solve most problems, one way or another.
3. Signing things. You sign for a multi-million dollar piece of government property that is about to be horribly abused and see how you feel...
Signing for things is the worst. The first two, if the worst happens, you're dead or too messed up to worry about it for a while.
But once you've signed for something... death can't save you.
Anyway, at chow my decision not to get Green Beans was validated. The evil Army men convinced me to get ice cream.
There was no Cookies 'n Cream. There was vanilla ice cream and A & W Root Beer...
Root Beer Float: Quite possibly my greatest achievement of this rotation.
Don't worry, I was told that ordering running shoes counted karmically as a PT session. I'm excited but nervous. These are an updated version of a pair of shoes I loved. I hope that the updates are actually improvements. My current shoes aren't quite dead, but will be soon, and I never had any knee issues running in that last pair.
We'll see.
So, back on track... scariest moment so far was when some one came up to us and said he had a quick question.
Two of us simultaneously interupted him and said, "42."
And to close... I saw an Op-Ed on the Huffington Post by some screenwriter about how it is hard t obe an American... I'm sure he has it tough becaus he feels so deeply about the issues.
The little summary below the link asked "Who amongst us can say we're actually doing the hard work of being an American?"
I don't know Mr. Screenwritier Archetype from Team America's Film Actor's Guild... enlighten me.
Oh, and Oliver Stone accused the CIA and Military Intelligence of killing Kennedy.
I'm glad he cleared that up for us.
Saturday, July 25, 2009
Do the Right Thing
OK, I haven't posted in a few days. It's amazing how even when things are slow you can still lose track of time. I guess nothing either I could blog about or worth blogging about happened. Maybe I was just distracted. I don't know. But today was one my ice cream days so all is well in the world.
Unfortunately making things all right in the world isn't always fun. One of the NCOs here had to step up and explain to a couple of different ranking officers why the proposed changes to his job would be wrong and bad for the mission. He did this even though the proposed changes would have made his life a lot more fun. It just would have created some dangerous gaps.
I've had a few not so fun moments too. I had to essentially fire someone, and work to arrange for them to be swapped out with someone else. No fun for all involved, but mission needs require it.
I also have to deal with an awards issue. Apparently the command wants to restore some sanity and objectivity to how they give out awards. Great. But when checking on the awards status for the last weather team I noticed that the awards for me and my partner have been downgraded. I asked about it, and was told a new time limit for eligibility was established for the higher award, and we won't mee it.
It's not like we get a free toaster once we earn enough Joint Commendation Medals. So I'm not trying to collect the award just to collect it. I'm not doing anything here for the medals.
However, I also don't want the NCO I work with to have to explain to his home unit why the last guy to work this desk got a higher award than he did. It looks bad. If we did something wrong, downgrade us or don't give us anything. But don't mess with our records over some arbitrarily instituted new standard. So I get to fight that silly fight.
I guess some of the silliness is a result of the war winding down. We can't get complacent, but at the same time it is much slower and much different here than it was even a few months ago. This gives commands time to look for things get involved with, which probably leads to the medal issues. It has given me time, while stuck as a staff officer at a command (an officer being good and understanding the staff process is another do the right thing issue... it sucks, we'd all rather be out with our team and doing the mission but officers hiding from and not knowing staff functions are what put the NCO mentioned above in a position he should not have been in) to come up with projects.
Some of my projects have dead ended, but were good for my education. Others are moving slowly forward. A little patients and taking time to ask the right questions means they will happen more gradually than I'd like, but will be done right because they were staffed properly across various commands.
I would love to just kit up, jump in a helicopter, and get it all done. But I need to ensure the proper logistics and long term issues are resolved for all of my initiatives.
Sadly, this means some one else will likely get to do the fun part of "doing."
At least it'll get done.
Special Forces and SEAL officers get stuck doing staff work too. It's just a little frustrating that while they have the ODA or Platoon time built into their career path to get actual tactical experience, our operational window is much narrower. I'm too senior to have any fun.
I'm also doing some more document review for my Guard unit back home in conjunction with the folks up at the National Guard Bureau. Hopefully it'll make things better for the guys we do send forward.
As I've said before, I'm also using the spare time to pick up various other certifications. Admittedly, I probably won't get to employ the remote weapons system I'm going to get trained up on this week, but I'll be familiar with the system and able to direct training and exercises using it in the future.
To work out the stress at work I bought my own Captain of Crush grippers. My buddy who owned the ones I'd been using went home and took his toys with him. They came in a few days ago. Just be careful shaking my hand when I get home. I won't know my own strength.
I'm also reading a book called 1491 about Native Americans before Columbus as part of our little book club here. Really interesting. It's just as much about the development of new theories among historians/anthropologists/archeologists as it is about the actual history.
We also stay entertained telling old stories and complaining to each other. I've learned a lot about other people's jobs. I've learned what happens when you let Marines get bored. I know one guy has a theory that when he comes to Iraq the best way to adjust is to drink a bottle of tap water real fast... after that first week there are no more digestive issues.
Unfortunately making things all right in the world isn't always fun. One of the NCOs here had to step up and explain to a couple of different ranking officers why the proposed changes to his job would be wrong and bad for the mission. He did this even though the proposed changes would have made his life a lot more fun. It just would have created some dangerous gaps.
I've had a few not so fun moments too. I had to essentially fire someone, and work to arrange for them to be swapped out with someone else. No fun for all involved, but mission needs require it.
I also have to deal with an awards issue. Apparently the command wants to restore some sanity and objectivity to how they give out awards. Great. But when checking on the awards status for the last weather team I noticed that the awards for me and my partner have been downgraded. I asked about it, and was told a new time limit for eligibility was established for the higher award, and we won't mee it.
It's not like we get a free toaster once we earn enough Joint Commendation Medals. So I'm not trying to collect the award just to collect it. I'm not doing anything here for the medals.
However, I also don't want the NCO I work with to have to explain to his home unit why the last guy to work this desk got a higher award than he did. It looks bad. If we did something wrong, downgrade us or don't give us anything. But don't mess with our records over some arbitrarily instituted new standard. So I get to fight that silly fight.
I guess some of the silliness is a result of the war winding down. We can't get complacent, but at the same time it is much slower and much different here than it was even a few months ago. This gives commands time to look for things get involved with, which probably leads to the medal issues. It has given me time, while stuck as a staff officer at a command (an officer being good and understanding the staff process is another do the right thing issue... it sucks, we'd all rather be out with our team and doing the mission but officers hiding from and not knowing staff functions are what put the NCO mentioned above in a position he should not have been in) to come up with projects.
Some of my projects have dead ended, but were good for my education. Others are moving slowly forward. A little patients and taking time to ask the right questions means they will happen more gradually than I'd like, but will be done right because they were staffed properly across various commands.
I would love to just kit up, jump in a helicopter, and get it all done. But I need to ensure the proper logistics and long term issues are resolved for all of my initiatives.
Sadly, this means some one else will likely get to do the fun part of "doing."
At least it'll get done.
Special Forces and SEAL officers get stuck doing staff work too. It's just a little frustrating that while they have the ODA or Platoon time built into their career path to get actual tactical experience, our operational window is much narrower. I'm too senior to have any fun.
I'm also doing some more document review for my Guard unit back home in conjunction with the folks up at the National Guard Bureau. Hopefully it'll make things better for the guys we do send forward.
As I've said before, I'm also using the spare time to pick up various other certifications. Admittedly, I probably won't get to employ the remote weapons system I'm going to get trained up on this week, but I'll be familiar with the system and able to direct training and exercises using it in the future.
To work out the stress at work I bought my own Captain of Crush grippers. My buddy who owned the ones I'd been using went home and took his toys with him. They came in a few days ago. Just be careful shaking my hand when I get home. I won't know my own strength.
I'm also reading a book called 1491 about Native Americans before Columbus as part of our little book club here. Really interesting. It's just as much about the development of new theories among historians/anthropologists/archeologists as it is about the actual history.
We also stay entertained telling old stories and complaining to each other. I've learned a lot about other people's jobs. I've learned what happens when you let Marines get bored. I know one guy has a theory that when he comes to Iraq the best way to adjust is to drink a bottle of tap water real fast... after that first week there are no more digestive issues.
Tuesday, July 21, 2009
Moments of Clarity
I was chatting on-line with a friend who had the thankless job of defending Congress since he works for one of the staffs. I shared some of our gripes and the issue of the CIA being everybodies punching bag came up.
He pointed out, or at least made me realize, that I tend to use congress as my easy punching bag for much of what is wrong. Granted, while Congress as an institution is a beautiful thing, the members are usually deserving of the scorn with which I regard them. However, that is not always the case.
I don't intend to idealize the military. The bureaucracy is ridiculous. There are some brilliant folks and some true winners. But as a whole, it does seem we tend to take our mission and our duty seriously.
After our chat, I wonder if a perceived--if not real--lack of seriousness about things among the civilian leadership is at the root of much my frustration. And maybe that of my peers, though I am hesitant to generalize. We read the news and among appointees and elected leaders, "leaders," point scoring and polls seem more important than adult decisions.
I don't know. I talk about adult decisions but was laughing at chow when one of the guys was telling stories about patrols with an Iraqi force he was training. One of his guys stopped to lick a rock just to see if the Iraqis would all stop to lick the rock too because the American did.
They did.
All kidding aside though, it was interesting to hear them talk about the development of some of the forces we work with now. A few years ago on joint patrols some of the Americans would lead while the others pretended to lead while really watching the Iraqis in case they turned on us.
Now there is a real trust. That's from a guy who's had to put his life in Iraqi hands.
OK, so all my posts are kind of rambling with rough transitions and no real theme. I feel like I should be bothered by that, but I'm OK with it.
He pointed out, or at least made me realize, that I tend to use congress as my easy punching bag for much of what is wrong. Granted, while Congress as an institution is a beautiful thing, the members are usually deserving of the scorn with which I regard them. However, that is not always the case.
I don't intend to idealize the military. The bureaucracy is ridiculous. There are some brilliant folks and some true winners. But as a whole, it does seem we tend to take our mission and our duty seriously.
After our chat, I wonder if a perceived--if not real--lack of seriousness about things among the civilian leadership is at the root of much my frustration. And maybe that of my peers, though I am hesitant to generalize. We read the news and among appointees and elected leaders, "leaders," point scoring and polls seem more important than adult decisions.
I don't know. I talk about adult decisions but was laughing at chow when one of the guys was telling stories about patrols with an Iraqi force he was training. One of his guys stopped to lick a rock just to see if the Iraqis would all stop to lick the rock too because the American did.
They did.
All kidding aside though, it was interesting to hear them talk about the development of some of the forces we work with now. A few years ago on joint patrols some of the Americans would lead while the others pretended to lead while really watching the Iraqis in case they turned on us.
Now there is a real trust. That's from a guy who's had to put his life in Iraqi hands.
OK, so all my posts are kind of rambling with rough transitions and no real theme. I feel like I should be bothered by that, but I'm OK with it.
Monday, July 20, 2009
Propoganda
So the Taliban released a video showing the troop they captured. No surprise there.
The question we've been debating here was whether it was right for the media to replay the video and give the Taliban free airtime to exploit this soldier.
We are a democracy, an open society, and the capture of any of our troops is news. None of us disagreed with that. But was it necessary to go beyond reporting the fact that one of our troops was missing, captured, etc. and replay the video?
I didn't have much to say because I'm wasn't sure where I stood. The more I think about it, the less I like playing the released video. It gives the Taliban free propoganda. It becomes further incentive to capture our troops.
I guess the argument for playing the video is that is keeps the story in the news, and hopefully makes the hostage more valuable alive, rather than dead. Maybe there was consent from the our government to air the tape. I don't know.
I do know that various media outlets were very capable of keeping quiet when one of their own was captured because they decided publicity was a greater risk than silence.
Something to ponder.
All I know is that all of us here hope we can find this troop and rescue him.
We've seen the tapes that don't get aired that show how these things end. Sometimes I wonder if more people saw those tapes that they'd realize just what it is we are fighting against. But I doubt it. It would seem unreal in its stark reality, the effects are nowhere near as good as the latest Michael Bay flick, and it is too far away and happening to a stranger.
I hope that's just me being cynical.
That cynicism probably says something sad about civil-military relations... maybe we can tackle that one on another day.
As always though, whatever else is going on in the world, the ball keeps rolling here.
I got one response to one of my proposals so far. He punted... not his call to make.
At least he didn't shoot it down. And this individual was more cc'd as courtesy and to BS check since he has some informal influence but it really isn't his call.
I also had a funny exchange with one of the senior NCOs here. He was asking when I go home, which led to him asking if I was stationed at Fort Bragg.
I told him no, I'm Guard. I admit, it is always nice when people assume I'm Active Duty. It stokes the ego, and this fine forecasting machine runs on props (did I mention I watched Seasons 1-7 of Scrubs since getting here?).
The Guard issue always prompts the question of what I do when I'm not doing this. I explained I'm a Law Student, which jarred his memory, cause it probably came up when I first got here.
As we talked I said it was actually kind of a nice break. As much as I enjoy the learning process, I'm not a great fit in academia.
When I said that Law School as an institution and Law Students in particular have an inflated sense of self-importance, he said the Special Forces guys are the same way.
One of the many ways this place, really these people, can keep me grounded.
Another great moment was when one of the guys I would coordinate with here logged into one of our chat rooms from back home. Just as he was asking how things were going, I was posting that one of the conventional weather guys needs to be pistol whipped.
My friend concluded that nothing had changed.
No, I didn't pistol whip him.
Yes, I still think he needs it. But I won't.
No, it was not an open chat room. It is restricted for SOF forecasters. There is a log, as with all chat rooms, but given the things we've said about each other's lineage and social relations, I don't think the pistol whipping comment would be the first thing to get us in trouble if someone where so bored and uptight as to check through them for such comments.
The question we've been debating here was whether it was right for the media to replay the video and give the Taliban free airtime to exploit this soldier.
We are a democracy, an open society, and the capture of any of our troops is news. None of us disagreed with that. But was it necessary to go beyond reporting the fact that one of our troops was missing, captured, etc. and replay the video?
I didn't have much to say because I'm wasn't sure where I stood. The more I think about it, the less I like playing the released video. It gives the Taliban free propoganda. It becomes further incentive to capture our troops.
I guess the argument for playing the video is that is keeps the story in the news, and hopefully makes the hostage more valuable alive, rather than dead. Maybe there was consent from the our government to air the tape. I don't know.
I do know that various media outlets were very capable of keeping quiet when one of their own was captured because they decided publicity was a greater risk than silence.
Something to ponder.
All I know is that all of us here hope we can find this troop and rescue him.
We've seen the tapes that don't get aired that show how these things end. Sometimes I wonder if more people saw those tapes that they'd realize just what it is we are fighting against. But I doubt it. It would seem unreal in its stark reality, the effects are nowhere near as good as the latest Michael Bay flick, and it is too far away and happening to a stranger.
I hope that's just me being cynical.
That cynicism probably says something sad about civil-military relations... maybe we can tackle that one on another day.
As always though, whatever else is going on in the world, the ball keeps rolling here.
I got one response to one of my proposals so far. He punted... not his call to make.
At least he didn't shoot it down. And this individual was more cc'd as courtesy and to BS check since he has some informal influence but it really isn't his call.
I also had a funny exchange with one of the senior NCOs here. He was asking when I go home, which led to him asking if I was stationed at Fort Bragg.
I told him no, I'm Guard. I admit, it is always nice when people assume I'm Active Duty. It stokes the ego, and this fine forecasting machine runs on props (did I mention I watched Seasons 1-7 of Scrubs since getting here?).
The Guard issue always prompts the question of what I do when I'm not doing this. I explained I'm a Law Student, which jarred his memory, cause it probably came up when I first got here.
As we talked I said it was actually kind of a nice break. As much as I enjoy the learning process, I'm not a great fit in academia.
When I said that Law School as an institution and Law Students in particular have an inflated sense of self-importance, he said the Special Forces guys are the same way.
One of the many ways this place, really these people, can keep me grounded.
Another great moment was when one of the guys I would coordinate with here logged into one of our chat rooms from back home. Just as he was asking how things were going, I was posting that one of the conventional weather guys needs to be pistol whipped.
My friend concluded that nothing had changed.
No, I didn't pistol whip him.
Yes, I still think he needs it. But I won't.
No, it was not an open chat room. It is restricted for SOF forecasters. There is a log, as with all chat rooms, but given the things we've said about each other's lineage and social relations, I don't think the pistol whipping comment would be the first thing to get us in trouble if someone where so bored and uptight as to check through them for such comments.
Sunday, July 19, 2009
Rambo Can Fix Anything.
I was told I needed to see the last Rambo movie. It was kind of a slow day, so I had it on in the background this morning.
For those who don't know, when we last left John Rambo over twenty years ago, he had been pardoned for destroying a small town as a reward for saving lost POWs and re-fighting and winning in Vietnam. He had kicked the Soviets out of Afghanistan.
The new movie finds him living the quiet life in Thailand when suddenly he needs to rescue a damsel in distress in Burma.
Rambo killed every bad guy in Burma. Every one of them. With a bow and arrow, a machete he made from a truck's leaf spring (actually, a common way of making the tool in poorer countries), and .50 Cal machine gun that he commandeered at just the right time.
Not a family movie. But Burma is on my list of countries where there are some truly evil people that just need to be shot but we, for a variety of reasons, will never go in and shoot them.
At least Rambo did it.
Being that it was a relatively slow day for me, I could re-engage on the planning project that got me in trouble early in this rotation. I'm smarter now. I know who to go through. I know what most (or at least some) of the guiding documents are. So I'm trying again, since I think the end result I was pursuing was still the right answer.
If nothing else, I'll learn more about why the people above me think my answer is wrong (even if it's not...). I'll have a better understanding, I hope, of how things work. And I'll be better prepared when I am working the higher levels in the future.
My counterpart in Afghanistan agrees with me, but was saying that his attitude has become one of "shut up and color." There's a time for that, but for me, it's not that time yet. He can't ruffle too many feathers because there are only so many SOWT Officer positions and rocking the boat hurts your chances of staying in the community. I, however, am in the Guard. My position is safe. I need to maintain a good working relationship, and don't want to needlessly create trouble. But in this case I am a little more free to question some things.
We'll see.
That said, when I am working those higher levels of command... well God help us all.
I also had another opportunity to get educated on some of our systems. One of the aircrews was offering a tour of their bird to the ground guys. In addition to learning more about their capabilities and how they work, I was able to learn more about how I, as a weather guy, can better support their operations and better support our ground ops with planning knowledge on it's limitations.
I also used this information to compare notes with our air controller, who runs the program for the guys directing air strikes, so that my planning information is tailored to the abilities and equipment of not only the aircraft but to the guy directing the aircraft.
It was a very informative session and I got tinker with some very cool toys.
Definitely one of those moments where I was glad that this equipment was on our side.
It may be cliche, but bad guys can run from this thing, but they will only die tired.
For those who don't know, when we last left John Rambo over twenty years ago, he had been pardoned for destroying a small town as a reward for saving lost POWs and re-fighting and winning in Vietnam. He had kicked the Soviets out of Afghanistan.
The new movie finds him living the quiet life in Thailand when suddenly he needs to rescue a damsel in distress in Burma.
Rambo killed every bad guy in Burma. Every one of them. With a bow and arrow, a machete he made from a truck's leaf spring (actually, a common way of making the tool in poorer countries), and .50 Cal machine gun that he commandeered at just the right time.
Not a family movie. But Burma is on my list of countries where there are some truly evil people that just need to be shot but we, for a variety of reasons, will never go in and shoot them.
At least Rambo did it.
Being that it was a relatively slow day for me, I could re-engage on the planning project that got me in trouble early in this rotation. I'm smarter now. I know who to go through. I know what most (or at least some) of the guiding documents are. So I'm trying again, since I think the end result I was pursuing was still the right answer.
If nothing else, I'll learn more about why the people above me think my answer is wrong (even if it's not...). I'll have a better understanding, I hope, of how things work. And I'll be better prepared when I am working the higher levels in the future.
My counterpart in Afghanistan agrees with me, but was saying that his attitude has become one of "shut up and color." There's a time for that, but for me, it's not that time yet. He can't ruffle too many feathers because there are only so many SOWT Officer positions and rocking the boat hurts your chances of staying in the community. I, however, am in the Guard. My position is safe. I need to maintain a good working relationship, and don't want to needlessly create trouble. But in this case I am a little more free to question some things.
We'll see.
That said, when I am working those higher levels of command... well God help us all.
I also had another opportunity to get educated on some of our systems. One of the aircrews was offering a tour of their bird to the ground guys. In addition to learning more about their capabilities and how they work, I was able to learn more about how I, as a weather guy, can better support their operations and better support our ground ops with planning knowledge on it's limitations.
I also used this information to compare notes with our air controller, who runs the program for the guys directing air strikes, so that my planning information is tailored to the abilities and equipment of not only the aircraft but to the guy directing the aircraft.
It was a very informative session and I got tinker with some very cool toys.
Definitely one of those moments where I was glad that this equipment was on our side.
It may be cliche, but bad guys can run from this thing, but they will only die tired.
Saturday, July 18, 2009
Embracing my role...
I start off this post with a nod to someone who is very responsible for me being where I am today. And for my being, period. Today is my Father's birthday.
He taught me all of the words that I need to be able to use well in order to fit in here.
Despite all of my claims to be setting out on my own path, I went to the same undergraduate school the he did. I am now, despite having sworn not to and having seen enough to know better, following him to law school. Maybe he was on to something.
While being a paratrooper is something he would never do, I think I get a lot of my work ethic (the good part of it) from him--I may also get my procrastination from how he submits his hours.
He very quietly had done a lot of work for charitable institutions, his own firm, international organizations, and political appointees. When it is all done right, it rarely makes the news and is all too often unrecognized except among his peers.
More importantly, my wife is hopeful that I will also have as much of my hair as he does when I'm his age.
- - - - - - - - - -
I got a message from my counterpart in another theater asking how I liked being a staff guy. I guess I could complain more, but I may as well make the most of it.
My goal at the outset was to make this better for the next guy and improve the support we are providing to our teams. Today I think I got the ball rolling on few projects.
I've been doing my homework, learning the processes, gathering the contacts, today I struck. We'll see where it goes, but I'm pretty excited. Some of these are things that past guys in my seats have tried and failed. I studied their mistakes and hope I learned the right lessons from them.
Hopefully the fact that I've been ahead of any guidance I've gotten from higher commands bodes well.
Like I said, we'll see how it all shakes out.
I've also been having fun at dinner. I've been eating with some of the senior JOC staff and we solve the world's problems and have our own little reading club.
We have more fodder because my parents just sent me a package with cookies and magazines. I gave the People magazine to a friend of mine to give to a friend of his who said she reads it. The Economist and Smithsonian magazines will be big hits.
The cookies are excellent but poorly times. You see, someone else had just opened a package of brownies. After I had ice cream at lunch.
I like cookies.
He taught me all of the words that I need to be able to use well in order to fit in here.
Despite all of my claims to be setting out on my own path, I went to the same undergraduate school the he did. I am now, despite having sworn not to and having seen enough to know better, following him to law school. Maybe he was on to something.
While being a paratrooper is something he would never do, I think I get a lot of my work ethic (the good part of it) from him--I may also get my procrastination from how he submits his hours.
He very quietly had done a lot of work for charitable institutions, his own firm, international organizations, and political appointees. When it is all done right, it rarely makes the news and is all too often unrecognized except among his peers.
More importantly, my wife is hopeful that I will also have as much of my hair as he does when I'm his age.
- - - - - - - - - -
I got a message from my counterpart in another theater asking how I liked being a staff guy. I guess I could complain more, but I may as well make the most of it.
My goal at the outset was to make this better for the next guy and improve the support we are providing to our teams. Today I think I got the ball rolling on few projects.
I've been doing my homework, learning the processes, gathering the contacts, today I struck. We'll see where it goes, but I'm pretty excited. Some of these are things that past guys in my seats have tried and failed. I studied their mistakes and hope I learned the right lessons from them.
Hopefully the fact that I've been ahead of any guidance I've gotten from higher commands bodes well.
Like I said, we'll see how it all shakes out.
I've also been having fun at dinner. I've been eating with some of the senior JOC staff and we solve the world's problems and have our own little reading club.
We have more fodder because my parents just sent me a package with cookies and magazines. I gave the People magazine to a friend of mine to give to a friend of his who said she reads it. The Economist and Smithsonian magazines will be big hits.
The cookies are excellent but poorly times. You see, someone else had just opened a package of brownies. After I had ice cream at lunch.
I like cookies.
Thursday, July 16, 2009
Learn Something New...
I learned that one of the guys here who goes back to his hooch to brush his teeth after every meal is the son of a dental hygienist.
I learned that it's not just me and the current chaplain is more low key than other chaplains I've encountered in SOF.
For example, it was mentioned to me that one of the recent chaplains was a big dude, built like Brock Lesnar, with a similar affinity for mixed martial arts. The guy who was telling me about him apparently started a rumor that an injury his boss received during combatives training was the result of being beat up by the chaplain.
People believed it.
The current chaplain is more Father Mulcahey-ish.
Takes all kinds.
In the meantime, I've enjoyed BSing with one of the other Air Force guys about Special Tactics shenanigans. It's also interesting to learn more about what other people do and how they do it.
I'm still working on future planning to set up my replacements for success. As you can imagine, things are in flux.
Things are always in flux.
But now I've got some meetings with my counterparts in some other elements and will be doing some more coordination with the conventional folks to try and firm things up some.
It's crazy, but from the moment I got here I've been working on how it needs to be when I leave.
Similarly, I guess, shortly after my wife got to the clinic in South America they began plotting for when they go back next year. She's probably too busy to let it hit her, but I'm in shock that after watching so many months of hard work, their trip is almost over.
I learned that it's not just me and the current chaplain is more low key than other chaplains I've encountered in SOF.
For example, it was mentioned to me that one of the recent chaplains was a big dude, built like Brock Lesnar, with a similar affinity for mixed martial arts. The guy who was telling me about him apparently started a rumor that an injury his boss received during combatives training was the result of being beat up by the chaplain.
People believed it.
The current chaplain is more Father Mulcahey-ish.
Takes all kinds.
In the meantime, I've enjoyed BSing with one of the other Air Force guys about Special Tactics shenanigans. It's also interesting to learn more about what other people do and how they do it.
I'm still working on future planning to set up my replacements for success. As you can imagine, things are in flux.
Things are always in flux.
But now I've got some meetings with my counterparts in some other elements and will be doing some more coordination with the conventional folks to try and firm things up some.
It's crazy, but from the moment I got here I've been working on how it needs to be when I leave.
Similarly, I guess, shortly after my wife got to the clinic in South America they began plotting for when they go back next year. She's probably too busy to let it hit her, but I'm in shock that after watching so many months of hard work, their trip is almost over.
Wednesday, July 15, 2009
A Tangible Accomplishment
Now I'm officially certified to drive an MRAP. I passed the written test and the day/night driving evaluation.
Not that it was particularly hard, I didn't crash and the night test was pretty much just driving with headlights on. Granted, it is a large beast with poor visibility.
The fun part was changing a tire. Well, being king of the road was fun too. But changing a tire involved jumping on a wrench to break torque on the lug nuts.
Another part that is sure to be a hit at childrens' parties was the roll-over egress trainer. There is actually mock-up of an MRAP-type vehicle that you can strap in to, and then they roll it over so you can practice unbuckling and crawling out the various doors and hatches.
Being upside down, hanging from your seatbelt, while wearing all of your armor and equipment, you need to brace yourself before just dropping free. It sounds obvious, but some people forget that when the adrenaline is going.
When the vehicle is on its side and your buddy that was sitting next to you or across from you is now dangling on top of you... well you better remind him to wait until you are free and in a position to support him before he drops with a thud on to you.
Good times.
Now I need to see what other certifications I can pick up while I'm here.
I still need to get spun up on the remote control machine gun that can be mounted to the top of the MRAP.
Even though they are so 2006, I think my next vehicle will be an up-armored Humvee. Not really that different than a normal Humvee, but may as well get the official paperwork done.
Not that it was particularly hard, I didn't crash and the night test was pretty much just driving with headlights on. Granted, it is a large beast with poor visibility.
The fun part was changing a tire. Well, being king of the road was fun too. But changing a tire involved jumping on a wrench to break torque on the lug nuts.
Another part that is sure to be a hit at childrens' parties was the roll-over egress trainer. There is actually mock-up of an MRAP-type vehicle that you can strap in to, and then they roll it over so you can practice unbuckling and crawling out the various doors and hatches.
Being upside down, hanging from your seatbelt, while wearing all of your armor and equipment, you need to brace yourself before just dropping free. It sounds obvious, but some people forget that when the adrenaline is going.
When the vehicle is on its side and your buddy that was sitting next to you or across from you is now dangling on top of you... well you better remind him to wait until you are free and in a position to support him before he drops with a thud on to you.
Good times.
Now I need to see what other certifications I can pick up while I'm here.
I still need to get spun up on the remote control machine gun that can be mounted to the top of the MRAP.
Even though they are so 2006, I think my next vehicle will be an up-armored Humvee. Not really that different than a normal Humvee, but may as well get the official paperwork done.
Tuesday, July 14, 2009
I Must Have One
OK, on the outside the MRAP looks like a prop from Mad Max. On the inside, it is something out of Stark Trek, but real and better.
Today was a bit crazy. It started with my night guy knocking on my door just before my alarm went off. I was worried at first that I'd overslept. But no, he just wanted to make sure I knew to take my armor with me to the course.
Originally I was told just to take my helmet, but that was wrong. I'm very appreciative of the effort he made to get me the news. Part of me was annoyed because I had time to run back to my hooch after I checked in at the JOC, but he couldn't have known that would be the case.
I hadn't told him that I had padded my schedule some to ensure I wouldn't be late.
I was late.
I had directions. They were pretty good directions. Not quite good enough. The training site was well hidden and not marked. Ultimately, after driving past it repeatedly for an hour and half (I was all set to be over a half hour early...), I found it.
Of course.
Because it was a very small class, the instructors were flexible. They were fast, but did not rush us. They quizzed us repeatedly as we went to make sure we were learning the systems and the vehicles limitations, fuel tank capacity, type of oil, operating ranges for various systems, etc.
Turning it on is a complicated procedure. Opening the doors requires a checklist. But wow, it is an impressive machine.
The various design features to not only armor the crew compartment but to protect the passengers from impacts forces are incredible. It also incorporates a wide array of technological features that shows the end user was considered during it's rushed design.
The trade-off is that it is an incredibly ungainly beast. There are small emergency air SCUBA-like tanks for if the MRAP rolls into water. People have drowned in them.
Fortunately, it is the essentially the same emergency air system I'd been trained on for helicopter egress training, so it was one less new thing to take up limited brain space.
As with all armor solutions, your trade mobility for protection... which only lasts until th enemy makes a bigger bomb or you deter/interdict the enemy to the point that bombs are no longer a threat.
Cavemen had the same debates.
All in all I was very pleasantly surprised by the MRAP.
If they can improve the mileage some, I'll be tempted to buy one.
I also got a reassuring email that was seconded by my night shift guy. There's been a chain of emails about command and control issues between a few SOWT officers. Things can get convoluted and we were collaborating on some ideas to simplify things and improver them.
The first step is to understand where things stand now and what the problems are. I summed up my thoughts on it and sent them out. I got a reply from one of the smart guys affirming what I wrote.
My night guy read it and said it was the first time any one explained it in a way that didn't confuse him further.
I hope I have it right. I think I do, because I've gotten to work under a variety of the command structures we were discussing during my short career. I have troops working under those various elements now.
For their sake, I really better be right because I need to be able to advocate for them and make sure they are taken care of properly.
If not, I better figure it out quick.
Today was a bit crazy. It started with my night guy knocking on my door just before my alarm went off. I was worried at first that I'd overslept. But no, he just wanted to make sure I knew to take my armor with me to the course.
Originally I was told just to take my helmet, but that was wrong. I'm very appreciative of the effort he made to get me the news. Part of me was annoyed because I had time to run back to my hooch after I checked in at the JOC, but he couldn't have known that would be the case.
I hadn't told him that I had padded my schedule some to ensure I wouldn't be late.
I was late.
I had directions. They were pretty good directions. Not quite good enough. The training site was well hidden and not marked. Ultimately, after driving past it repeatedly for an hour and half (I was all set to be over a half hour early...), I found it.
Of course.
Because it was a very small class, the instructors were flexible. They were fast, but did not rush us. They quizzed us repeatedly as we went to make sure we were learning the systems and the vehicles limitations, fuel tank capacity, type of oil, operating ranges for various systems, etc.
Turning it on is a complicated procedure. Opening the doors requires a checklist. But wow, it is an impressive machine.
The various design features to not only armor the crew compartment but to protect the passengers from impacts forces are incredible. It also incorporates a wide array of technological features that shows the end user was considered during it's rushed design.
The trade-off is that it is an incredibly ungainly beast. There are small emergency air SCUBA-like tanks for if the MRAP rolls into water. People have drowned in them.
Fortunately, it is the essentially the same emergency air system I'd been trained on for helicopter egress training, so it was one less new thing to take up limited brain space.
As with all armor solutions, your trade mobility for protection... which only lasts until th enemy makes a bigger bomb or you deter/interdict the enemy to the point that bombs are no longer a threat.
Cavemen had the same debates.
All in all I was very pleasantly surprised by the MRAP.
If they can improve the mileage some, I'll be tempted to buy one.
I also got a reassuring email that was seconded by my night shift guy. There's been a chain of emails about command and control issues between a few SOWT officers. Things can get convoluted and we were collaborating on some ideas to simplify things and improver them.
The first step is to understand where things stand now and what the problems are. I summed up my thoughts on it and sent them out. I got a reply from one of the smart guys affirming what I wrote.
My night guy read it and said it was the first time any one explained it in a way that didn't confuse him further.
I hope I have it right. I think I do, because I've gotten to work under a variety of the command structures we were discussing during my short career. I have troops working under those various elements now.
For their sake, I really better be right because I need to be able to advocate for them and make sure they are taken care of properly.
If not, I better figure it out quick.
Monday, July 13, 2009
Baby Steps...
First, a reminder for everyone to call or email my wife tomorrow and wish her a Happy Birthday. She doesn't want to make a big deal out of it, she is incredibly busy training a new group of volunteers in addition to the daily work they are doing at the clinic, and barely has time to read her emails.
Wish her a Happy Birthday anyway.
I have successfully scheduled MRAP training. The next time I post I should be a certified driver. I may even be certified to operate the remote weapons system.
It's kind of amazing that we are still using a machine gun designed 100 years ago, just mounting it on a robotic swivel on a vehicle out of a cheesy 80's movie.
Gaston Glock has nothing on John Moses Browning... even if I did buy a Glock over a 1911.
Hopefully, once I meet the instructors, I can get a list of the other vehicles we have on hand that I can get certified on. May as well. This plan is moving from the nice idea column to the in-execution column.
Unfortunately, I'm not the only one who get regular visits from the good idea fairy. One of my peers had a great idea that I'm trying to make sense of. It could end up with me doing more work, which is fine, but I can't understand what the work is supposed to accomplish.
I pinged one of the Senior NCOs I trust on these issues to BS check it. He doesn't get it either.
Whatever. The process of vetting these ideas usually leaves me smarter than I was before, so I guess either way it is a good opportunity.
Wish her a Happy Birthday anyway.
I have successfully scheduled MRAP training. The next time I post I should be a certified driver. I may even be certified to operate the remote weapons system.
It's kind of amazing that we are still using a machine gun designed 100 years ago, just mounting it on a robotic swivel on a vehicle out of a cheesy 80's movie.
Gaston Glock has nothing on John Moses Browning... even if I did buy a Glock over a 1911.
Hopefully, once I meet the instructors, I can get a list of the other vehicles we have on hand that I can get certified on. May as well. This plan is moving from the nice idea column to the in-execution column.
Unfortunately, I'm not the only one who get regular visits from the good idea fairy. One of my peers had a great idea that I'm trying to make sense of. It could end up with me doing more work, which is fine, but I can't understand what the work is supposed to accomplish.
I pinged one of the Senior NCOs I trust on these issues to BS check it. He doesn't get it either.
Whatever. The process of vetting these ideas usually leaves me smarter than I was before, so I guess either way it is a good opportunity.
Sunday, July 12, 2009
Solving the World's Problems.
OK. So we solved nothing.
We couldn't agree if there is a Car Tzar, a Car Tsar, or Car Czar. Most of us aren't really fans of the concept of Tsars/Tzars/Czars in general, but they are fun to discuss.
We also discussed health care reform since it was on TV in the chow hall. It is interesting that so many of us who are (at least while I'm on orders) essentially on a governmnent provided health care plan are opposed to that as a systemic solution. I also wondered aloud if buying into Tricare Reserve Select, essentially a public option of sorts that is only open to members of the Guard and Reserve since it is roughly like buying into the medical plan provided to the active duty forces, would be hypocritical for someone (me, for instance) who does not support the public option as a real means to keep costs down.
Something to ponder.
One guy also decided that the should try to register as a Muslim, Christian, and Jew to see if he'd get three day weekends. I warned him that the Jew thing wouldn't help much since I've had to work through plenty of holidays. The Muslim thing wouldn't work because he'd just end up with a Fatwa against him and death threats for being an apostate due to the competing claims of being a Jew and Christian.
Besides, there are no days off here anyway. Well some people have days off, but with certain exceptions, if you have days off then your shop is overmanned and some of you wastes of space should be sent home.
I suggested he try Wiccan instead since he could make up holidays and no one would be the wiser.
Also, as books rotate around, I essentially flipped a coin with another officer as to who would get to read The Founding Fathers and 1491. I ended up with 1491, and then we'll swap afterwards.
The other officer is curious as to how the Native Americans managed their waste. As someone who has spent a lot of time in the field and is trained to work with various peoples, he said you can learn a lot about a culture by how it manages its poo (picture Woody from Toy Story: "Somebody poisoned the water hole!"). Somehow, it never comes up in the pop history that most of us are exposed to about the Native Americans.
I suspect 1491 will dispel a lot of myths. However, the index does not have the words bathroom, restroom, defecate, water closet, poo or any other semi-professional terminology that addresses my friend's question.
The Founding Fathers should be interesting too. It got a ringing endorsement from a SEAL.
I also discovered a library in our MWR hooch. Well, discovered it like De Sote "discovered" the Mississippi River. It was new to me and now I'm publicizing it.
I snagged an old yellow copy of Our Town. I'll probably blow through that a few times over the next week before reading anything else.
I also saw something incredibly disturbing. Some middle-aged dude was walking around with a popped collar. That is all kinds of wrong.
And since my mom asked when I was on the phone with her, I'll mention that I don't get any second class treatment because I'm a Guard guy. They only care about performance here. If you do your job, good. If not, you will be fired or have your career nuked via performance report.
I get made fun of for being Guard. For being Air Force. For being Jewish. For being short. For being a weather guy. For anything really.
I make fun of other people for being Army, for being Navy, for being short, for being old, for being young, for being whatever they are.
All of it horribly politically incorrect, most of us thick skinned, and have a lot of fun with it.
We couldn't agree if there is a Car Tzar, a Car Tsar, or Car Czar. Most of us aren't really fans of the concept of Tsars/Tzars/Czars in general, but they are fun to discuss.
We also discussed health care reform since it was on TV in the chow hall. It is interesting that so many of us who are (at least while I'm on orders) essentially on a governmnent provided health care plan are opposed to that as a systemic solution. I also wondered aloud if buying into Tricare Reserve Select, essentially a public option of sorts that is only open to members of the Guard and Reserve since it is roughly like buying into the medical plan provided to the active duty forces, would be hypocritical for someone (me, for instance) who does not support the public option as a real means to keep costs down.
Something to ponder.
One guy also decided that the should try to register as a Muslim, Christian, and Jew to see if he'd get three day weekends. I warned him that the Jew thing wouldn't help much since I've had to work through plenty of holidays. The Muslim thing wouldn't work because he'd just end up with a Fatwa against him and death threats for being an apostate due to the competing claims of being a Jew and Christian.
Besides, there are no days off here anyway. Well some people have days off, but with certain exceptions, if you have days off then your shop is overmanned and some of you wastes of space should be sent home.
I suggested he try Wiccan instead since he could make up holidays and no one would be the wiser.
Also, as books rotate around, I essentially flipped a coin with another officer as to who would get to read The Founding Fathers and 1491. I ended up with 1491, and then we'll swap afterwards.
The other officer is curious as to how the Native Americans managed their waste. As someone who has spent a lot of time in the field and is trained to work with various peoples, he said you can learn a lot about a culture by how it manages its poo (picture Woody from Toy Story: "Somebody poisoned the water hole!"). Somehow, it never comes up in the pop history that most of us are exposed to about the Native Americans.
I suspect 1491 will dispel a lot of myths. However, the index does not have the words bathroom, restroom, defecate, water closet, poo or any other semi-professional terminology that addresses my friend's question.
The Founding Fathers should be interesting too. It got a ringing endorsement from a SEAL.
I also discovered a library in our MWR hooch. Well, discovered it like De Sote "discovered" the Mississippi River. It was new to me and now I'm publicizing it.
I snagged an old yellow copy of Our Town. I'll probably blow through that a few times over the next week before reading anything else.
I also saw something incredibly disturbing. Some middle-aged dude was walking around with a popped collar. That is all kinds of wrong.
And since my mom asked when I was on the phone with her, I'll mention that I don't get any second class treatment because I'm a Guard guy. They only care about performance here. If you do your job, good. If not, you will be fired or have your career nuked via performance report.
I get made fun of for being Guard. For being Air Force. For being Jewish. For being short. For being a weather guy. For anything really.
I make fun of other people for being Army, for being Navy, for being short, for being old, for being young, for being whatever they are.
All of it horribly politically incorrect, most of us thick skinned, and have a lot of fun with it.
Saturday, July 11, 2009
Pocket SCIF
In a slow moment today we had a little campfire in the JOC and BS'ed some more. The topic of the pocket SCIF came up. A SCIF is a secure vault where top secret material is handled. A pocket SCIF is a highly illegal means of transporting classified material.
It is a pocket. And we would never transport classified material in a pocket. Definitely not in a cargo pocket. Not in a lower leg pocket. Never in a sleevepocket.
So many options. All off limits though.
In case you are curious, I do keep a notepad in my lower leg pocket though. Very handy.
We also learned that the grip strength things work a lot better if you oil them on occassion. The idea is to fight the spring tension, not metal-on-metal friction. A litte bit of gun lube and they don't squeak as much either.
Clearly, I'm pretty relaxed here. I'm in a groove with my job. Not cocky, but very comfortable with my forecasting and what I need to do to support our operations.
This is freeing me up to investigate side projects. My project for this week is getting certified to drive MRAPs. I may also see what other vehicles I can get signed off on while I'm here. There is a long list of vehicles I should be ready to drive, but a very short list of vehicles that my unit back home as regular access to.
I've also got some other planning projects going on. Always something.
And for the hell of it, I'm going to see if I can get some equipment replaced too. Better, faster, smaller. Why not?
We'll see how it all goes.
May as well maximize my time here.
It is a pocket. And we would never transport classified material in a pocket. Definitely not in a cargo pocket. Not in a lower leg pocket. Never in a sleevepocket.
So many options. All off limits though.
In case you are curious, I do keep a notepad in my lower leg pocket though. Very handy.
We also learned that the grip strength things work a lot better if you oil them on occassion. The idea is to fight the spring tension, not metal-on-metal friction. A litte bit of gun lube and they don't squeak as much either.
Clearly, I'm pretty relaxed here. I'm in a groove with my job. Not cocky, but very comfortable with my forecasting and what I need to do to support our operations.
This is freeing me up to investigate side projects. My project for this week is getting certified to drive MRAPs. I may also see what other vehicles I can get signed off on while I'm here. There is a long list of vehicles I should be ready to drive, but a very short list of vehicles that my unit back home as regular access to.
I've also got some other planning projects going on. Always something.
And for the hell of it, I'm going to see if I can get some equipment replaced too. Better, faster, smaller. Why not?
We'll see how it all goes.
May as well maximize my time here.
Thursday, July 9, 2009
HF is Free
So I got to play with a new radio today. It was very similar and yet very different from the radios I usually play with. It was made by the same company that makes some of our walkie-talkie type team radios and larger back-pack radios. That was nice because the interface was very similar. In fact, it uses the same keypad, which saves the company money and saves us users limited brain space.
What made this radio different is that it only uses HF frequencies. None of that fancy satellite communication that we take for granted. As one of the other guys in the class likes to say, HF is free. You measure your antenna and blast it out. If you calculate right, it'll bounce around the atmosphere until it gets to your intended receiver. Roughly speaking.
On the other hand, satellite communications cost money and bandwidth. There is a nice simplicity to just shooting a signal at a satellite and letting the satellite system do the hard work of shooting it to the intended receiver. But reliance on a single system is never a good thing.
We carry GPS, but should have a paper map and compass too (and know how to use them). Similarly, we should be proficient in various means of radio communication. Unfortunately, I've probably missed the window in my career where I'll be out with a team and sending back reports via radio. But I am responsible for being an expert in how my guys can and should be employed and therefore need to know all the tools of the trade.
Besides, it got me out of the JOC for a few hours. I may schedule a couple other radio sessions while I'm out here. Never hurts.
I am also making slow progress in future planning. We'll see where it goes.
And, Groundhog Day was on in the gym this evening. Who would have thought that Groundhog Day would have a more lasting impact on military culture and lingo than Stripes?
Groundhog Day is, and remains, the greatest dramatic rendering of the deployed staff experience. Possibly of any deployed experience. Well, except for the part about changing, finding himself, and falling in love with your producer turning you in to a better man. Just the day after day after day after day after day...
And in news from back home, a friend of mine from Law School may be taking a year off to work a development contract through USAID in Afghanistan.
If society can be accepting of five years to get a liberal arts degree, the legal profession should be able to cope with people taking an extra year or so to finish their J.D... especially if they could finish an engineering degree in four...
I'm a little biased.
Besides, a year off from school with a full salary and major management/leadership responsibilities is more than many law school graduates have right out of school these days. So good for my friend.
What made this radio different is that it only uses HF frequencies. None of that fancy satellite communication that we take for granted. As one of the other guys in the class likes to say, HF is free. You measure your antenna and blast it out. If you calculate right, it'll bounce around the atmosphere until it gets to your intended receiver. Roughly speaking.
On the other hand, satellite communications cost money and bandwidth. There is a nice simplicity to just shooting a signal at a satellite and letting the satellite system do the hard work of shooting it to the intended receiver. But reliance on a single system is never a good thing.
We carry GPS, but should have a paper map and compass too (and know how to use them). Similarly, we should be proficient in various means of radio communication. Unfortunately, I've probably missed the window in my career where I'll be out with a team and sending back reports via radio. But I am responsible for being an expert in how my guys can and should be employed and therefore need to know all the tools of the trade.
Besides, it got me out of the JOC for a few hours. I may schedule a couple other radio sessions while I'm out here. Never hurts.
I am also making slow progress in future planning. We'll see where it goes.
And, Groundhog Day was on in the gym this evening. Who would have thought that Groundhog Day would have a more lasting impact on military culture and lingo than Stripes?
Groundhog Day is, and remains, the greatest dramatic rendering of the deployed staff experience. Possibly of any deployed experience. Well, except for the part about changing, finding himself, and falling in love with your producer turning you in to a better man. Just the day after day after day after day after day...
And in news from back home, a friend of mine from Law School may be taking a year off to work a development contract through USAID in Afghanistan.
If society can be accepting of five years to get a liberal arts degree, the legal profession should be able to cope with people taking an extra year or so to finish their J.D... especially if they could finish an engineering degree in four...
I'm a little biased.
Besides, a year off from school with a full salary and major management/leadership responsibilities is more than many law school graduates have right out of school these days. So good for my friend.
Wednesday, July 8, 2009
We're not all crazy
CSI: New York was on the TV in the gym during my evening PT session. I guess they'll run out of CSI spin-offs once they run out of Who songs for the intro.
Anyway, Gary Sinise is the man, so always fun to watch Lt. Dan catch bad guys. But, why... WHY??? are all veterans crazy maladjusted criminals who magically have access to "military grade" weapons?
We have been joking for a few years now that Iraq Vets with PTSD will be the fictional criminals of prime time TV in a few years like our Vietnam Vets before us. The future is now, I guess.
As for my immediate future, I get to mix things up a bit by taking a class on how to use a new radio. Not sure if I'll ever use this particular radio, but it never hurts to learn more.
Also, an aviator recently sent up a critique of conventional Air Force Weather support. His frustrations matched a lot of my own complaints with what many of the other weather troops in theater are doing and how they do it. I'm already trying to schedule a meeting with this guy so I can add his documented issues to what we are compiling.
The goal is not throw any young troops under the bus. They weren't taught. I'd love to see some senior leaders lose their heads over this, but I'd settle for some changes to the the structure and how they train.
Sadly, I'm not very optimistic that much will change. At least my guys are doing it right.
Anyway, Gary Sinise is the man, so always fun to watch Lt. Dan catch bad guys. But, why... WHY??? are all veterans crazy maladjusted criminals who magically have access to "military grade" weapons?
We have been joking for a few years now that Iraq Vets with PTSD will be the fictional criminals of prime time TV in a few years like our Vietnam Vets before us. The future is now, I guess.
As for my immediate future, I get to mix things up a bit by taking a class on how to use a new radio. Not sure if I'll ever use this particular radio, but it never hurts to learn more.
Also, an aviator recently sent up a critique of conventional Air Force Weather support. His frustrations matched a lot of my own complaints with what many of the other weather troops in theater are doing and how they do it. I'm already trying to schedule a meeting with this guy so I can add his documented issues to what we are compiling.
The goal is not throw any young troops under the bus. They weren't taught. I'd love to see some senior leaders lose their heads over this, but I'd settle for some changes to the the structure and how they train.
Sadly, I'm not very optimistic that much will change. At least my guys are doing it right.
Tuesday, July 7, 2009
Disconnect
This morning I read Bob Herbert's commentary/obituary on former Defense Secretary Robert McNamara. Some writers have tried to look back at the big picture lessons learned, some--having had a personal connection to McNamara--wrote about the man and general lessons to be learned from his flaws, and some have continued to force analogies to Vietnam on to the current conflicts.
There is a difference between learning lessons from the past that can be instructive for the future and forcing bad analogies with the past.
An example would be something I was discussing with one of the other guys here as we drove around Balad. I mentioned how all the crazy MRAP-type vehicles that look like they were taken off the set of a "Mad Max" movies weren't even in the military inventory 2 years ago. Now they are ubiquitous...
Pundits used to say that the Humvee would be to OIF what the Huey was to Vietnam. No one here drives Humvees anymore. We adapted, we found something better suited, and we fielded it on a mass scale half-way around the world. It may have seemed to take forever but when you see the sheer scale of the effort up close, it is amazing.
Even more amazing, and instructive to me about the failings of all our forced analogies, was when the guy I was riding with wondered how WWII could have jump started the economy but this awe-inspiring production, logistics, and support achievement has not. The answer to me, in my relatively uninformed, non-expert, grass-height level view of the world is that world and our economy are all so different from 70 years ago. It's not that deep, I know.
The economy is so much bigger even as technology has made the world that much smaller. We all long for the unified purpose of WWII. But part of that is more myth than reality.
There are enduring lessons. That is part of why we study history, why we can always look to the Pelopenisian War and see a reflection of our own hubris, why Sun Tzu is still read thousands of years later, and why David Galula found a new following within the military. But just because we like to say that the more things change, the more they stay the same, we still have to recognize how that little saying does acknowledge that change occurs.
This takes me back to Bob Herbert talking about Vietnam and exporting his Vietnam-ere draftee experience to the present. Iraq is not Vietnam. Afghanistan is not Vietnam. Vietnam today is not Vietnam then.
My first thought when he laments that the deaths of Americans in Afghanistan now are just as pointless as the deaths of his peers in Vietnam years ago was how little how care what he, or just about any Op-Ed writer, thinks about such things anymore.
Most of the team I trained with for this rotation is in Afghanistan. Our exercises focused on the combat scenarios they would face. I get regular updates on their fight. I have no doubt that ensuring the Taliban, as a movement and ideology, do not become the dominant force in South Asia is very much a strategically significant cause. But that's not the point right now.
My gut reaction really is to say to hell with him and his irrelevant ranting (pot meet kettle... I know). None of us care anymore. This whole post is more inspired my lack of rage at his simple dismissal of the sacrifices of my peers than by anger. Herbert hides his insult with the illusion that he is painfully speaking the needed truth to power that only he as a draftee victim of McNamara can. Rep David Obey talks about Afghanistan as if it is Vietnam and he will do his moral duty of giving a new president an arbitrary timeline and then fight it (I wish all politicians had the moral courage to not only come out against Vietnam in the late 60's after being elected from a liberal district but then do the same thing 8 years into another war...).
So I guess here's the point of this stream of consciousness:
I hope that my generation, particularly us veterans and the few of us that were actually connected to the war, are not as limited by it later in life as our current crop of aging commentators and politicians have been stunted by their selective memories of Vietnam. I'm sure it will alter our perspective on things, but we must learn from it and grow.
I really hope this whole Vietnam-colored-glasses phenomenon is just another example of boomer narcissism and entitlement and not some enduring human or at least American inability to see beyond our own experiences.
Forty years from now, I don't want to be that guy forcing an anology from how I remember Iraq on to our children's fights. I hope I'll have something intelligent and worthwhile to contribute, just like I hope have that now.
Of course, forty years from now, I hope the world is smart enough not to give me a soap box of equivalent significance to a syndicated NY Times Op-Ed column. God help us all.
----------
To clarify, this isn't meant as a personal attack on Bob Herbert or a denigration of his service to this country. My personal politics and overall philosophy are definitely to the right of what I find in his writings, but I still read his work regularly and usually appreciate his insights.
David Obey, on the other hand... I categorize him with Harry Reid and the 2006/2007 comments meant to undermine the change of strategy here in Iraq. I respect their offices, that's about it.
Lest you think I'm being too partisan... the GOP is too actively making itself irrelevant on these issues for me to care much what they say.
I know, this whole thing is a rambling mess.
There is a difference between learning lessons from the past that can be instructive for the future and forcing bad analogies with the past.
An example would be something I was discussing with one of the other guys here as we drove around Balad. I mentioned how all the crazy MRAP-type vehicles that look like they were taken off the set of a "Mad Max" movies weren't even in the military inventory 2 years ago. Now they are ubiquitous...
Pundits used to say that the Humvee would be to OIF what the Huey was to Vietnam. No one here drives Humvees anymore. We adapted, we found something better suited, and we fielded it on a mass scale half-way around the world. It may have seemed to take forever but when you see the sheer scale of the effort up close, it is amazing.
Even more amazing, and instructive to me about the failings of all our forced analogies, was when the guy I was riding with wondered how WWII could have jump started the economy but this awe-inspiring production, logistics, and support achievement has not. The answer to me, in my relatively uninformed, non-expert, grass-height level view of the world is that world and our economy are all so different from 70 years ago. It's not that deep, I know.
The economy is so much bigger even as technology has made the world that much smaller. We all long for the unified purpose of WWII. But part of that is more myth than reality.
There are enduring lessons. That is part of why we study history, why we can always look to the Pelopenisian War and see a reflection of our own hubris, why Sun Tzu is still read thousands of years later, and why David Galula found a new following within the military. But just because we like to say that the more things change, the more they stay the same, we still have to recognize how that little saying does acknowledge that change occurs.
This takes me back to Bob Herbert talking about Vietnam and exporting his Vietnam-ere draftee experience to the present. Iraq is not Vietnam. Afghanistan is not Vietnam. Vietnam today is not Vietnam then.
My first thought when he laments that the deaths of Americans in Afghanistan now are just as pointless as the deaths of his peers in Vietnam years ago was how little how care what he, or just about any Op-Ed writer, thinks about such things anymore.
Most of the team I trained with for this rotation is in Afghanistan. Our exercises focused on the combat scenarios they would face. I get regular updates on their fight. I have no doubt that ensuring the Taliban, as a movement and ideology, do not become the dominant force in South Asia is very much a strategically significant cause. But that's not the point right now.
My gut reaction really is to say to hell with him and his irrelevant ranting (pot meet kettle... I know). None of us care anymore. This whole post is more inspired my lack of rage at his simple dismissal of the sacrifices of my peers than by anger. Herbert hides his insult with the illusion that he is painfully speaking the needed truth to power that only he as a draftee victim of McNamara can. Rep David Obey talks about Afghanistan as if it is Vietnam and he will do his moral duty of giving a new president an arbitrary timeline and then fight it (I wish all politicians had the moral courage to not only come out against Vietnam in the late 60's after being elected from a liberal district but then do the same thing 8 years into another war...).
So I guess here's the point of this stream of consciousness:
I hope that my generation, particularly us veterans and the few of us that were actually connected to the war, are not as limited by it later in life as our current crop of aging commentators and politicians have been stunted by their selective memories of Vietnam. I'm sure it will alter our perspective on things, but we must learn from it and grow.
I really hope this whole Vietnam-colored-glasses phenomenon is just another example of boomer narcissism and entitlement and not some enduring human or at least American inability to see beyond our own experiences.
Forty years from now, I don't want to be that guy forcing an anology from how I remember Iraq on to our children's fights. I hope I'll have something intelligent and worthwhile to contribute, just like I hope have that now.
Of course, forty years from now, I hope the world is smart enough not to give me a soap box of equivalent significance to a syndicated NY Times Op-Ed column. God help us all.
----------
To clarify, this isn't meant as a personal attack on Bob Herbert or a denigration of his service to this country. My personal politics and overall philosophy are definitely to the right of what I find in his writings, but I still read his work regularly and usually appreciate his insights.
David Obey, on the other hand... I categorize him with Harry Reid and the 2006/2007 comments meant to undermine the change of strategy here in Iraq. I respect their offices, that's about it.
Lest you think I'm being too partisan... the GOP is too actively making itself irrelevant on these issues for me to care much what they say.
I know, this whole thing is a rambling mess.
Monday, July 6, 2009
Improved Vocabulary
Bakla. I think it's the Tagalog word for transvestite. Whatever the language is, it means transvestite in English. And there are four baklas working for the contractor that does our laundry.
The entire beauty shop, since we have both a beauty shop and a barber here on Balad, is staffed by baklas.
This is what I learned when dropping off my laundry. Some other contractors and the nice Filipino couple that runs our laundry were discussing it.
I already knew about the beauty shop. It's pretty obvious.
At the barbershop though, I could care less. Cut my hair close to the way I want it, and I'm happy. I'm not that picky and don't really need to impress anyone here. I'm not expecting much for the $5 I spend on it, which includes a 25% tip. The webcams here aren't so great that my wife can tell the difference between a good and bad haircut via Skype anyway--just whether or not my hair is "long" or not.
I realize that my standard of long hair is different than civilian standards for long hair. I don't really measure it by length so much as hassle though. If it really needs to be brushed in the morning, then it is too long. Not that I don't brush it either way, but if I need to brush it... that is the standard.
In the background as I draft this, a senior NCO is making "neeeyah" noises to make up for the lack of volume on the Rolex Series race on AFN Sports on our flatscreens. I think it adds a little something to the excitement.
I wish we had his sound effects for the Roddick-Federer match yesterday. It may have broken the unavoidable tension that builds during such an epic event. But it would have been amusing all the same.
Over the last week I finished two Grisham books and one Crichton book that I found lying around. Maybe it's been so long since I've read any of their work, but it seems like there is more blatant moralizing in their more recent efforts.
Admittedly I share Grisham's concerns over elected judges and the whole concept of gene patents confuses me when patenting an element of nature is otherwise a no-go, but disrupting the narrative to better serve the underlying diatribe regardless of how it breaks the story-telling flow is annoying to me.
I fear subtelty, like the bunt, is quickly becoming a lost art.
Today was a crazy day becaue with the break in the weather came lots of mail. Everyone had cookies and candy from home to pass around. I also got some new PT socks and PT shorts.
The socks are basic merino wool/coolmax micro socks. Nothing special. I may start wearing my PT socks with my combat boots though. I got the idea from a Marine. At first I thought he was nuts, but then I tried it.
It's hot out. Less sock means less heat on my foot/lower leg. Nice.
The shorts were a bit of a disappointment. Not quite as loose a fit as my Ranger panties, even after I cut out the liner. But they are a little longer.
I don't have to look at me, I don't think anyone in the gym really cares, but my neighbor thanked me.
I think he's just jealous.
I also got another set of glasses and double checked my prescription. Since the glasses I brought with me have been broken beyond repair (I got what I paid for...), I figured it would be a good idea to get a spare spare pair. So I went with the competition shooter to the eye clinic. His eyes aren't what they used to be and 20/40 doesn't cut at the national level, so he figured he'd get a prescription set.
I just figured I'd double check my prescription and nab another free pair while the getting is good, so I tagged along. I was asked if the Air Force participated in whatever the acronymn was that is responsible for the eyewear issue. I shrugged my shoulders and said I've been playing Army this whole rotation and was told to go to this clinic. It worked.
The first frames I got were black. They work, but my wife doesn't like them. Not sure if it's the shape, size, or the color she didn't like. I got the second pair in silver, since there was no variety in size/shape. I hope she likes these better. These are actually pretty good quality frames.
With my glasses, my vision is apparently 20/15. Good to know my prescription hasn't changed in over two years.
Maybe it was a little dark, but on the way to the clinic we were joking that if we would need our weapons, the most likely threat would be from another soldier.
When we got the clinic, we had to check our guns. It was funny because in an almost synchronized motion we both reached back under our ACU jackets and drew our guns from our concealment holsters. We cleared them and handed them to the orderly at pretty much the same time.
While I was waiting to get on the computer to post this, one of our interpreters asked if I could help him with an email to his supervisor. I checked his spelling and syntax for him. It was pretty good, I just had to correct some minor typos and Americanize some of the punctuation.
I'm also proud to say that my wife is doing incredible things in rural South America. Her clinic has treated hundreds of patients already and everyone there looks to her to lead.
The entire beauty shop, since we have both a beauty shop and a barber here on Balad, is staffed by baklas.
This is what I learned when dropping off my laundry. Some other contractors and the nice Filipino couple that runs our laundry were discussing it.
I already knew about the beauty shop. It's pretty obvious.
At the barbershop though, I could care less. Cut my hair close to the way I want it, and I'm happy. I'm not that picky and don't really need to impress anyone here. I'm not expecting much for the $5 I spend on it, which includes a 25% tip. The webcams here aren't so great that my wife can tell the difference between a good and bad haircut via Skype anyway--just whether or not my hair is "long" or not.
I realize that my standard of long hair is different than civilian standards for long hair. I don't really measure it by length so much as hassle though. If it really needs to be brushed in the morning, then it is too long. Not that I don't brush it either way, but if I need to brush it... that is the standard.
In the background as I draft this, a senior NCO is making "neeeyah" noises to make up for the lack of volume on the Rolex Series race on AFN Sports on our flatscreens. I think it adds a little something to the excitement.
I wish we had his sound effects for the Roddick-Federer match yesterday. It may have broken the unavoidable tension that builds during such an epic event. But it would have been amusing all the same.
Over the last week I finished two Grisham books and one Crichton book that I found lying around. Maybe it's been so long since I've read any of their work, but it seems like there is more blatant moralizing in their more recent efforts.
Admittedly I share Grisham's concerns over elected judges and the whole concept of gene patents confuses me when patenting an element of nature is otherwise a no-go, but disrupting the narrative to better serve the underlying diatribe regardless of how it breaks the story-telling flow is annoying to me.
I fear subtelty, like the bunt, is quickly becoming a lost art.
Today was a crazy day becaue with the break in the weather came lots of mail. Everyone had cookies and candy from home to pass around. I also got some new PT socks and PT shorts.
The socks are basic merino wool/coolmax micro socks. Nothing special. I may start wearing my PT socks with my combat boots though. I got the idea from a Marine. At first I thought he was nuts, but then I tried it.
It's hot out. Less sock means less heat on my foot/lower leg. Nice.
The shorts were a bit of a disappointment. Not quite as loose a fit as my Ranger panties, even after I cut out the liner. But they are a little longer.
I don't have to look at me, I don't think anyone in the gym really cares, but my neighbor thanked me.
I think he's just jealous.
I also got another set of glasses and double checked my prescription. Since the glasses I brought with me have been broken beyond repair (I got what I paid for...), I figured it would be a good idea to get a spare spare pair. So I went with the competition shooter to the eye clinic. His eyes aren't what they used to be and 20/40 doesn't cut at the national level, so he figured he'd get a prescription set.
I just figured I'd double check my prescription and nab another free pair while the getting is good, so I tagged along. I was asked if the Air Force participated in whatever the acronymn was that is responsible for the eyewear issue. I shrugged my shoulders and said I've been playing Army this whole rotation and was told to go to this clinic. It worked.
The first frames I got were black. They work, but my wife doesn't like them. Not sure if it's the shape, size, or the color she didn't like. I got the second pair in silver, since there was no variety in size/shape. I hope she likes these better. These are actually pretty good quality frames.
With my glasses, my vision is apparently 20/15. Good to know my prescription hasn't changed in over two years.
Maybe it was a little dark, but on the way to the clinic we were joking that if we would need our weapons, the most likely threat would be from another soldier.
When we got the clinic, we had to check our guns. It was funny because in an almost synchronized motion we both reached back under our ACU jackets and drew our guns from our concealment holsters. We cleared them and handed them to the orderly at pretty much the same time.
While I was waiting to get on the computer to post this, one of our interpreters asked if I could help him with an email to his supervisor. I checked his spelling and syntax for him. It was pretty good, I just had to correct some minor typos and Americanize some of the punctuation.
I'm also proud to say that my wife is doing incredible things in rural South America. Her clinic has treated hundreds of patients already and everyone there looks to her to lead.
Sunday, July 5, 2009
Rule of Law
Rule of Law. It's boring. This thing is so very civilized.
Rule of law is good. Civilized is good. Don't get me wrong. It's just, well, not as exciting as the Wild Wild West days.
I've visited friends at Walter Reed. Recognized names of those killed in action. I see the faces of those we've lost on the plaques in the JOC every day at work. This boredom is great in the big picture.
But it can be boring.
I also wonder if hearts exploding due to Rip It overdoses and early onset of high blood pressure due to energy drink addiction will be to this phase of the war what TBI was to the prior phases.
The makers of NO-Xplode, Red Bull, and Rip It would probably band together like the Tobacco Companies and kill any such study.
Speaking of which, we convinced a new guy that his job is to maintain our not-so-secret Rip It stash. We keep it behind some folders since people were stealing from it without replenishing (take one, give two, that is the rule) when it was just on a shelf. This way we are guaranteed to have a ready stock when the chow hall runs out... say due to a sustained dust storm that lasts as long as expected and lifts when the genius forecaster said it would... I'm a little bored but still take pride in my work (which is why I just got suckered into betting a soda on what the minimum visibility will be at Balad tomorrow...).
Every meal he returns from the chow hall with each pocket full of Rip It cans.
One day I will actually replace the sign on the beverage fridges in the chow hall that says "Limit Two drinks per person" with one that says "Limit Two drinks per pocket."
Rules that can't be enforced are worse than no rules, after all.
Rule of law is good. Civilized is good. Don't get me wrong. It's just, well, not as exciting as the Wild Wild West days.
I've visited friends at Walter Reed. Recognized names of those killed in action. I see the faces of those we've lost on the plaques in the JOC every day at work. This boredom is great in the big picture.
But it can be boring.
I also wonder if hearts exploding due to Rip It overdoses and early onset of high blood pressure due to energy drink addiction will be to this phase of the war what TBI was to the prior phases.
The makers of NO-Xplode, Red Bull, and Rip It would probably band together like the Tobacco Companies and kill any such study.
Speaking of which, we convinced a new guy that his job is to maintain our not-so-secret Rip It stash. We keep it behind some folders since people were stealing from it without replenishing (take one, give two, that is the rule) when it was just on a shelf. This way we are guaranteed to have a ready stock when the chow hall runs out... say due to a sustained dust storm that lasts as long as expected and lifts when the genius forecaster said it would... I'm a little bored but still take pride in my work (which is why I just got suckered into betting a soda on what the minimum visibility will be at Balad tomorrow...).
Every meal he returns from the chow hall with each pocket full of Rip It cans.
One day I will actually replace the sign on the beverage fridges in the chow hall that says "Limit Two drinks per person" with one that says "Limit Two drinks per pocket."
Rules that can't be enforced are worse than no rules, after all.
Saturday, July 4, 2009
Happy Birthday!!!
First, and foremost, Happy Birthday!!! to my brother. I will call and it should still be your birthday in your timezone when I do. I'm sure you understand that with the time difference it was difficult for me to call earlier and yet be at a time when you could answer.
Also, Happy Birthday to our Declaration of Independence. It's amazing what a determined group of people who determine that they are tired of being dumped on and will make it on their own can accomplish.
On that note, I ask you to look up the website for the Erbil International Airport. Use "Blackle" instead of Google to search for it to save power, and cause it's funny. Anyway, the Kurds did that. On their own it seems.
Pretty impressive.
Fourth of July here on the red dust planet was actually pretty fun. We get a whole casual weekend for it. T-Shirt and Jeans. Nice.
When I came in to work this morning there were streamers, flags, and baloons all over. Well done, night shift.
At lunch, we had a celebratory Coors Cutter.
There was a cook out by the MWR facilities this evening, but I'm not sure how well attended it was. It's a bit dusty. I actually played the clip from Zoolander where he complains about the Black Lung in place of briefing my forecast. I figured that was explanation enough.
There was an unofficial cook out that one of the guys here found out about. He told a few of us and we all wandered off their for dinner. Some guys actually fabricated a large grill and slowly roasted a whole pig. Everyone said it was delicious.
We ate inside on folding picnic tables. I grabbed some chips and salsa. There was a cooler full of German near-beer in bottles. I sat on a folding camping chair with a little cup holder in it. Leaned back.
It was beautiful.
Some dude even busted out his guitar.
They also had a shooting competition. Also, due to weather, it wasn't so well attended. One guy, who happens to be a national competition shooter, went. He won. His prize was a commander's coin.
Not only did the commander say that this winner was a ringer, but the coin is the same coin that everyone gets when they leave here.
When he looks back on his great victories, this will not be among them.
Though it might be notable for his barely being able to make out the target at 25M due to dust.
And as I learned last time and we all agreed once again, dust does make for great epic boogers. You have a new appreciation for mucus after being here in a dust storm. You are grateful that all the dirt you cough and hack up got caught rather than stuck in your lungs.
We also debated whether men get emotionally stunted at the 5th or 9th grade level. It came up while two senior NCO's wrestled over the grip strength thingies. One put silly puddy in the spring of the gripper and then squeezed it a few times to work it in to the mechanism. The other wanted his silly puddy back and so threatened to put some valued toy of the other guy's down his pants.
Really.
We also have secret knick names for various people.
Really.
That would suggest being stunted at 5th Grade.
I still went with 9th Grade though. Due to language, certain mature interests, and a, um, "worldliness" that no 5th Grader should be aware of and 9th Graders (hopefully only) imagine.
And yes, baloons were popped at random times just to see who would jump.
Quiet Professionals.
Also, Happy Birthday to our Declaration of Independence. It's amazing what a determined group of people who determine that they are tired of being dumped on and will make it on their own can accomplish.
On that note, I ask you to look up the website for the Erbil International Airport. Use "Blackle" instead of Google to search for it to save power, and cause it's funny. Anyway, the Kurds did that. On their own it seems.
Pretty impressive.
Fourth of July here on the red dust planet was actually pretty fun. We get a whole casual weekend for it. T-Shirt and Jeans. Nice.
When I came in to work this morning there were streamers, flags, and baloons all over. Well done, night shift.
At lunch, we had a celebratory Coors Cutter.
There was a cook out by the MWR facilities this evening, but I'm not sure how well attended it was. It's a bit dusty. I actually played the clip from Zoolander where he complains about the Black Lung in place of briefing my forecast. I figured that was explanation enough.
There was an unofficial cook out that one of the guys here found out about. He told a few of us and we all wandered off their for dinner. Some guys actually fabricated a large grill and slowly roasted a whole pig. Everyone said it was delicious.
We ate inside on folding picnic tables. I grabbed some chips and salsa. There was a cooler full of German near-beer in bottles. I sat on a folding camping chair with a little cup holder in it. Leaned back.
It was beautiful.
Some dude even busted out his guitar.
They also had a shooting competition. Also, due to weather, it wasn't so well attended. One guy, who happens to be a national competition shooter, went. He won. His prize was a commander's coin.
Not only did the commander say that this winner was a ringer, but the coin is the same coin that everyone gets when they leave here.
When he looks back on his great victories, this will not be among them.
Though it might be notable for his barely being able to make out the target at 25M due to dust.
And as I learned last time and we all agreed once again, dust does make for great epic boogers. You have a new appreciation for mucus after being here in a dust storm. You are grateful that all the dirt you cough and hack up got caught rather than stuck in your lungs.
We also debated whether men get emotionally stunted at the 5th or 9th grade level. It came up while two senior NCO's wrestled over the grip strength thingies. One put silly puddy in the spring of the gripper and then squeezed it a few times to work it in to the mechanism. The other wanted his silly puddy back and so threatened to put some valued toy of the other guy's down his pants.
Really.
We also have secret knick names for various people.
Really.
That would suggest being stunted at 5th Grade.
I still went with 9th Grade though. Due to language, certain mature interests, and a, um, "worldliness" that no 5th Grader should be aware of and 9th Graders (hopefully only) imagine.
And yes, baloons were popped at random times just to see who would jump.
Quiet Professionals.
Four Years
Admittedly, neither of us are big on arbitrary dates. I regularly confuse our anniversary and her birthday. I didn't realize our anniversary was coming up so soon until we were on the phone and she corrected me.
Wedding dates, and the subsequent anniversaries of them, are rather arbitrary. But they are still milestones.
My wife and I tend to mark our anniversaries by travelling. The first anniversary found us on a road trip while moving across the country.
The second anniversary found her in Iceland and me in Iraq. At least they both start with I. And we have incredible pictures from her trip. There is one picture from my trip. It was taken in non-descript building at an indisclosed location with a large flag mounted in the background to prevent any significant information from being determined from the photo. I have never gotten a copy of the picture. I should look in to that.
I really was in Iraq though. I swear. My pay records say so.
Last year I was experiencing the great out doors at SERE school during our anniversary. I can't remember where my wife was. I think working. Oh well.
This year, my wife is treating the under served in a remote South American village. I can almost see my hand in front of my face during another Iraqi dust storm.
This time both countries don't start with "I," but both countries do play host to Leishmaniasis.
I don't know where we'll be for our next anniversary, but it would be nice to be there together.
Wedding dates, and the subsequent anniversaries of them, are rather arbitrary. But they are still milestones.
My wife and I tend to mark our anniversaries by travelling. The first anniversary found us on a road trip while moving across the country.
The second anniversary found her in Iceland and me in Iraq. At least they both start with I. And we have incredible pictures from her trip. There is one picture from my trip. It was taken in non-descript building at an indisclosed location with a large flag mounted in the background to prevent any significant information from being determined from the photo. I have never gotten a copy of the picture. I should look in to that.
I really was in Iraq though. I swear. My pay records say so.
Last year I was experiencing the great out doors at SERE school during our anniversary. I can't remember where my wife was. I think working. Oh well.
This year, my wife is treating the under served in a remote South American village. I can almost see my hand in front of my face during another Iraqi dust storm.
This time both countries don't start with "I," but both countries do play host to Leishmaniasis.
I don't know where we'll be for our next anniversary, but it would be nice to be there together.
Wednesday, July 1, 2009
All Alone
We encountered a truck with the audacity to drive on the road on the way back from dinner. One of the guys shouted at the truck, harrassing them for fun, complaining that it wasn't a road but a sidewalk. In the vehicle, that was able to make all of 2 mph at most due to the volume of pedestrian traffic going to or from the chow hall, were a few Airmen. On their way to chow.
One of the guys I was with mentioned that this truck was driving the very short distance to the chow hall. One of the other guys feigned surprise over the need to drive such a short distance.
Someone then simply said "Air Force," as if that was sufficient to explain lazy fat people that couldn't be bothered to walk to the source of their deep-fried fix for the evening.
I felt a need to stand up for the Air Force. Even if in this case we deserved. Before the word "hey" was out of my mouth, one of the guys said there's only one of you... so just nod and say yes.
Serves me right for eating every night with a bunch of Army dudes, I guess.
Today's other lesson learned was that my feelings toward PTing in the middle of a shift is are mixed. PT is fun. But I had a small window so I just hit the gym in my uniform and swung the kettlebell around in my t-shirt, ACU pants, and boots.
I came back to work a sweaty mess. That was less than pleasant.
So in the future, I should probably just stick to PT before and/or after work.
And so, I'm off to the gym.
One of the guys I was with mentioned that this truck was driving the very short distance to the chow hall. One of the other guys feigned surprise over the need to drive such a short distance.
Someone then simply said "Air Force," as if that was sufficient to explain lazy fat people that couldn't be bothered to walk to the source of their deep-fried fix for the evening.
I felt a need to stand up for the Air Force. Even if in this case we deserved. Before the word "hey" was out of my mouth, one of the guys said there's only one of you... so just nod and say yes.
Serves me right for eating every night with a bunch of Army dudes, I guess.
Today's other lesson learned was that my feelings toward PTing in the middle of a shift is are mixed. PT is fun. But I had a small window so I just hit the gym in my uniform and swung the kettlebell around in my t-shirt, ACU pants, and boots.
I came back to work a sweaty mess. That was less than pleasant.
So in the future, I should probably just stick to PT before and/or after work.
And so, I'm off to the gym.
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