8 Years.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You are an unstoppable wave overwhelming all resistance.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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