It Fits!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Maybe that's the real reason we PT.


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

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

They said it was the only thing on.

The Waiting Game

All that's left is to pack.

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

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

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

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

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

I'll find out.

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

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

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

Try finding that in this economy.

Decision Point

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

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

Oh well. I'm not particularly worried.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And it's gone...

My mustache. It's gone.

I don't recognize myself in the mirror.

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

No joy.

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

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

And my wife told me it had to go.

So it went.

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

In the JOC, no one cared.

Silly Air Force.

Day Off

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Maintaining a special operations unit is expensive.

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

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

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

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

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

Terrible Horrible No Good Very Bad Day

It was actually a few days ago.

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

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

Awesome.

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

Awesome.

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

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

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

I didn't.

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

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

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

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

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

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

The Airmen are taken care of.

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

Our flight home is in the final planning stages.

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

All is well.

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

Goodbye/Hello

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

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

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

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

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

--------

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

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

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

So according to my official bio:

I'm married to an almost-doctor.

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

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

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

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

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

It's a small community and an odd world.

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

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

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

To finish it off, I got my flu shot.

Mark Twain Wins Again

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

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

I just smiled and nodded.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And he loves sharing the results of his prunes.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A little taste of home...

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

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

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

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

That was a terrible attempt at profound humor.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

So I guess I'm doing OK.

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

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

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

My wife told me it needs to be go anyway.

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

New Year

Just have time for a quick note...

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

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

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

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

I'm ready.

Finish Strong

Today was a good day.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I'm not a fan.

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

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

That Was Easy...

So I'm pretty much outprocessed.

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

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

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

Presumably the personnel office does some actual "processing."

All I know is I walked all over collecting autographs.

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

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

And so it begins to end...

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

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

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

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

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

Snood

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

8 Years.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You are an unstoppable wave overwhelming all resistance.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Won't Happen Again

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He just shook his head and said he hoped so.

I Smell Terrible

Today was a crazy but productive and enjoyable day.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

So, all in all, a good day.

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

Myself Again

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Geeking Out

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

So it goes.

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

Fight! Fight! Fight!

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

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

I don't really know hot it got started.

Neither does he.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Not really sure.