OBC Journal - 3/17/05

3-17-05
It’s Saint Patrick’s Day, and like last year I won’t be celebrating one of the best holidays at all. A pity, and pretty much sacrilege to the Irish heritage of the family. Last year I spent the evening studying or working on a paper, this year I’ll spend it working on bullshit gunnery stuff. Awesome. I doubt I’ll even feel like making up for it this weekend. I foresee another easygoing Saturday and Sunday spent just trying to get caught up on what I feel behind on during the week. I’m not sure if I’m angry or happy for my peers back home that still get to do the college thing. Lucky fuckers. Even though I’m spending St. Patty’s Day at home (again), there is a semi-cold Guinness stout next to me. I got out of Gunnery study hall pretty quickly, so let's drink to one more day that I’ll never have to spend at OBC again.
But mom and dad sent me a care package with a lot of cool things in it, which was above the call of duty. It did make thing reconsider a few things about my own existence at the moment though. With all the various forms of BS flying (almost literally) at the Lieutenants, it’s easy for us to forget that we are here to do a very important job, and not one that many others are willing to able to do. So sometimes forgo the fact that we are the guardians of the liberties most take for granted. I wonder how it will feel when I look back on the things I am doing right now. How will I react? Will I feel that my time here was well spent, or that I got set on some weird tangent with too little foresight and not enough common sense to do anything else? I really do miss the Boulder Bar Scene, and well, a lot of other things that were native only to the college life in Boulder. Of course, one never knows what he/she is missing until it has been given and taken away again. I seem to feel the need to re-learn this life lesson all the time. Maybe I can convince some kids to head out here before I head off to Ranger School. If that doesn’t happen, then I guess I will see them after I get situated at Bragg- I’m definitely taking a few days of leave when I get the chance. Like college, I really hope I look back on the next few years of my life and think, “Damn, that was a good time.” LT W

Round and Round We Go

I'm pretty smoked from this past week, which included a jump, various ranges (M4/M249), Convoy Patrols both day and night, and me giving the entire battalion a class on crew-served weapons. I'm pretty scatterbrained right now, but I do have some random thoughts for the week:

I had to get a few things for my house at about 10:00pm this past Saturday evening. I try to get all my Suzie homemarker crap done during the afternoon, so I can go out with the guys and drink and hit on women at the various local bars. Like I said before, I was pretty smoked from this past week, so I didn't really feel like going out. Target is closed, so I head down to the local Wal-Mart. Mistake. I figure that at this time on a damn Saturday night most people would be home with the family, or at least, out getting drunk at a bar like normal people. I pulled my car int a parking lot full of vehicles, thinking that there was some special promotion going on. One would think that it was 10:00am on Christmas Eve; feeding time at the consumer trough.
I try not to shop at Wal-Mart, for multiple reasons. I have an educational background that includes economics, but I don't buy into the normal evil-Conglomerate bullshit reasons I often hear against the company. Apart from any economical reasons, the place just bugs the shit out of me. Wal-Mart is the bastard child epitome of Americana- A person could walk into one of these warehouses at any hour of the day, and buy any household product or food. Something about the aura that you can feel when you walk in...it's hard to verbalize. I won't be going back unless it's absolutely necessary.

There is a built-in DVR system in the cable here. It's like TiVo, and friggin' rocks.

Those California Pizza Kitchen BBQ Chicken Pizzas are delicious.

Colorado owns every other state I've been to as far as beer goes, especially North Carolina. (Texas was a close second, but without the micros.) The whole booze system is pretty screwed up here. There are no 'Liquor Stores', except for the Class Six (Booze) stores on Fort Bragg. There are 'ABC' stores that sell liquor, but no beer. Grocery stores sell beer, but nothing all that great, and definitely no microbrews. For a kid that went to College in Boulder, this is damn near ridiculous. Maybe I can get the New Belgium Brewery to mail me a keg every once a while, at least before I deploy.

Cherry Jump

The entire group of paratroopers sits inside what is known as the Rigger shed, waiting for our aircraft, an Air Force C-17, to show up on the tarmac. We're all wearing parachutes and combat gear, idling and sweating inside our cammies in the North Carolina heat. The Rigger shed isn't air conditioned- it resembles a warehouse more than anything else. Hurricane Dennis has kicked up more moisture in an already too humid summer. We continue to sit let the camo facepaint drip off our faces onto the cement floor.
"I'm sure I'll be haulin' ass off the DZ, as long as I don't bust anythin'." Corporal 'Fox' stopped for a second. "Well, suppose I would be if I didn't have some fuckin' Cherry along with me."
I look over at the enlisted man next to me, crack a smile out of the side of my mouth, and raise the middle finger of my left hand. Corporal Fox smirks back. I'm still getting to know the soldiers of my unit, but I think we'll do just fine. Harrassing the new Lieutenant is a fun game everyone gets to play. I usually just laugh too.

A 'Cherry' in an Airborne unit is someone who hasn't jumped (made his/her sixth jump overall) since Airborne School. For the past several weeks I have been called this by my esteemed fellow Lieutenants, and even by some of the more experienced and outspoken NCOs, but no longer. Today was the first time I have thrown myself out of a high performance, low flying aircraft in over three years. I'll admit that I was nervous, but in the end I had an awesome exit from the aircraft (essential to a good jump), and suffered little damage on the landing. I fared much better than one of the guys in my unit, who ended up fracturing his pelvis. If nothing else, it's a reminder that this is a hazardous (but damn fun) business. I love the fact that I get paid to do this kind of stuff.

Happy Independence Day

Some of my associates in the past have complained about this particular holiday, most because their neighbors were more than liberal with their fireworks usage and caused their dogs to bark too much. To hell with that. I love the 4th- Soldiers are the reason for the holiday in the first place. I also think that soldiers should be given a bit more leeway in regard to how they choose to celebrate the holiday. The Fayetteville Police Department didn't seem to agree with this notion, however. Some crap about 'People having to work tomorrow', and 'You can't keep shooting [mortars] over people's houses'. We had plenty of food and beer to consume anyway. I know it is a bit belated, but happy 4th of July.

Origins of the Lucky Chronicle

Luck

n 1: your overall circumstances or condition in life (including everything that happens to you); "whatever my fortune may be"; "deserved a better fate"; "has a happy lot"; "the luck of the Irish"; "a victim of circumstances"; "success that was her portion" [syn: fortune, destiny, fate, lot, circumstances, portion] 2: an unknown and unpredictable phenomenon that causes an event to result one way rather than another; "bad luck caused his downfall"; "we ran into each other by pure chance" [syn: fortune, chance, hazard] 3: an unknown and unpredictable phenomenon that leads to a favorable outcome; "it was my good luck to be there"; "they say luck is a lady"; "it was as if fortune guided his hand" [syn: fortune]


Before and during my teenage years, I remember spending summers at my Grandmother's large home in Sioux Falls, South Dakota. Grandma Elwin was an Irish woman working for the allied war effort during the 1940's. Here she met my grandfather, who was serving in the Army Air Corps. The two married, and moved to the midwest following the end of the war. Grandma Elwin would always have these cute stitched or crocheted things hanging up in her house with little Irish proverbs on them. Being fairly young at the time, I'm sure this is where I began my fascination with luck. My fascination has continued, through seasons playing hockey as a goaltender (some of the most superstitious people in the world are goalies) and especially now, as I routinely throw myself out of aircraft and deploy to Iraq in the fall. I'll keep track of how well Lady Luck and I get along here, hence the title. Cheers.

La Première Entrée

I've been keeping a journal of one type or another for some time, mainly for my own future use. Each entry was simply a record, mostly of mistakes I had make for that particular week or day. I'm going to continue this habit, but post it here for everyone to read. I'll add the disclaimer that I won't edit what I write all that much. I'll post my old journal entries that I think are interesting or funny as hell. We'll see what happens.

Since I graduated from CU I've been sending out emails from time to time detailing what I have been doing as Uncle Sam directs. However, I think the weblog is a better medium to inform those who are interested in my adventures through life and the ever-changing world of the United States Military (re: I can put pictures and other cool stuff here). Also, I was inspired by Comer's Blog (inspired in turn by Bill Myhren) which I think is intelligent, well written and good shit to read. I hope mine is too.