Monday, December 26, 2005
Wednesday, December 14, 2005
You Knew It All Along
I will post more journal entries soon, but I wanted to give a brief update to those back in the world. We're chilling out a bit until the National Elections are over. Hopefully we will see the vast majority of the population get out and vote, which would be a huge step in the right direction.
Let me say this outright. We (the U.S.) are doing good things here. Don't let anyone or any entity say otherwise.
There was a report today on MSNBC about new IEDs that are more dangerous than previous types, which is substantial because IEDs are the #1 killer of US troops on the ground here. However the report made the issue sound like it was a huge problem that needed to be solved immediately, when in reality this couldn't be farther from the truth. Everyone that is concerned with the current US-Iraq issue needs to understand the media bias. I always knew it was there, but it really didn't become painfully aparent until I sat down to eat my cocoa puffs this morning for breakfast. The Media is seriously always looking to stir up shit, so keep this in mind when (or if) you try to analyze what is going on. When I was in ROTC, there was this older Lieutenant Colonel who was wise beyond his years. 'Never believe the first story', he would often say when we discussed things in class. This advice definitely holds true now.
Let me say this outright. We (the U.S.) are doing good things here. Don't let anyone or any entity say otherwise.
There was a report today on MSNBC about new IEDs that are more dangerous than previous types, which is substantial because IEDs are the #1 killer of US troops on the ground here. However the report made the issue sound like it was a huge problem that needed to be solved immediately, when in reality this couldn't be farther from the truth. Everyone that is concerned with the current US-Iraq issue needs to understand the media bias. I always knew it was there, but it really didn't become painfully aparent until I sat down to eat my cocoa puffs this morning for breakfast. The Media is seriously always looking to stir up shit, so keep this in mind when (or if) you try to analyze what is going on. When I was in ROTC, there was this older Lieutenant Colonel who was wise beyond his years. 'Never believe the first story', he would often say when we discussed things in class. This advice definitely holds true now.
Wednesday, December 07, 2005
Thought for the Day
"There comes a time in your life when you realize who really matters, who never did, and who always will."
Thanks goes to Tamara for the quote. Nowhere is this quote more true than in a combat zone. It applies to most facets of our [Soldiers] lives, simply due to the nature of our situation. It's impossible to understand if you've never been there, 12,000 miles away from the rest of your life. Some will stick by you, and others will fade away.
Dad, if you're reading this, I understand very clearly now what you were talking about before when we discussed this subject. We'll have quite a bit to discuss when I get back. Cheers.
Thanks goes to Tamara for the quote. Nowhere is this quote more true than in a combat zone. It applies to most facets of our [Soldiers] lives, simply due to the nature of our situation. It's impossible to understand if you've never been there, 12,000 miles away from the rest of your life. Some will stick by you, and others will fade away.
Dad, if you're reading this, I understand very clearly now what you were talking about before when we discussed this subject. We'll have quite a bit to discuss when I get back. Cheers.
Tuesday, December 06, 2005
You Pump, I'll Pour
November 28th, 2005-
My first impression of the situation my unit is now involving ourselves in (in Iraq) is that we're showing up to the house party at 2:30am and the keg is almost empty. Despite this, the unit that has been charged with our train-up is informing us that there is a 99% chance that we'll get shot at, RPG'ed, or hit with an IED. I'm mentally preparing myself now for the particular time it happens to my convoy. I still wonder how I'll really react when the Elephant finally shows itself.
My first impression of the situation my unit is now involving ourselves in (in Iraq) is that we're showing up to the house party at 2:30am and the keg is almost empty. Despite this, the unit that has been charged with our train-up is informing us that there is a 99% chance that we'll get shot at, RPG'ed, or hit with an IED. I'm mentally preparing myself now for the particular time it happens to my convoy. I still wonder how I'll really react when the Elephant finally shows itself.
This Old [Crack]House
November 26th, 2005-
When you're overseas living and working in a third-world country, living accomodations can be pretty important. Hell, they're important in any locale for that matter. My platoon has been assigned quarters pretty far away from the main Company Building. The other line platoons and the HQ platoon are all housed at the main building, while my platoon has been set off in a set of much smaller buildings. In a sense, it's almost like I've been given my own platoon. Since we're physically set away my Platoon Sergeant and I have more control of how things run. This is a rare setup- platoons almost always operate under strict company or battery control, and if they are detached a senior Lieutenant would be in charge. However, here I am, the most junior officer in the battalion, with a highly autonomous platoon operation in a combat zone. I'm psyched and hesitant at the same time. With greated freedom and control comes greater responsibility, and I haven't necessarily learned all the Platoon Leader ropes yet.
Let me get to the other interesting part, the actual buildings were housed in. The FOB we're at is divided into several areas, with our particular area being lovingly nicknamed the 'Crack Houses' by the soldiers. The two buildings that the soldiers sleep in are residential-type houses most likely left over from before the first Gulf War. They were in really rough shape when we first moved in. Thanks to some Soldier 'Field Expedient' engineering and elbow grease, the two houses are now roughly liveable. They still probably break every fire code ever written in the United States, but Iraqi architecture probably does in general anyway. The term 'fixer-upper' has never been more appropriate. Now that I think about it, my bedroom closet back home is about the same size as my room is now. However, my platoon has their own set of showers and washing machines. We even have a gym that I swear was used in one of the *Rocky* movies when he fought that Russian guy. 'Eye of the Tiger' runs through my head when I go lift. Now if it would only snow here.
When you're overseas living and working in a third-world country, living accomodations can be pretty important. Hell, they're important in any locale for that matter. My platoon has been assigned quarters pretty far away from the main Company Building. The other line platoons and the HQ platoon are all housed at the main building, while my platoon has been set off in a set of much smaller buildings. In a sense, it's almost like I've been given my own platoon. Since we're physically set away my Platoon Sergeant and I have more control of how things run. This is a rare setup- platoons almost always operate under strict company or battery control, and if they are detached a senior Lieutenant would be in charge. However, here I am, the most junior officer in the battalion, with a highly autonomous platoon operation in a combat zone. I'm psyched and hesitant at the same time. With greated freedom and control comes greater responsibility, and I haven't necessarily learned all the Platoon Leader ropes yet.
Let me get to the other interesting part, the actual buildings were housed in. The FOB we're at is divided into several areas, with our particular area being lovingly nicknamed the 'Crack Houses' by the soldiers. The two buildings that the soldiers sleep in are residential-type houses most likely left over from before the first Gulf War. They were in really rough shape when we first moved in. Thanks to some Soldier 'Field Expedient' engineering and elbow grease, the two houses are now roughly liveable. They still probably break every fire code ever written in the United States, but Iraqi architecture probably does in general anyway. The term 'fixer-upper' has never been more appropriate. Now that I think about it, my bedroom closet back home is about the same size as my room is now. However, my platoon has their own set of showers and washing machines. We even have a gym that I swear was used in one of the *Rocky* movies when he fought that Russian guy. 'Eye of the Tiger' runs through my head when I go lift. Now if it would only snow here.
Give Thanks
November 24th, 2005-
Thanksgiving Day. Up until my Platoon Sergeant and I had Thanksgiving Dinner at 1900, I hadn't eaten since lunch the day prior. Not a huge deal, but sometimes you don't realize how hungry you are until you smell food. We got 'up North' to the FOB at about 3 in the morning, and I stayed up (except for the hour nap I took in the afternoon) the entire next day until about 0230 in the morning on the third day. I waited a couple hours just to make a few phone calls home, as every soldier on the FOB wanted to do the exact same thing. I can't say I blame them.
Thanksgiving Day. Up until my Platoon Sergeant and I had Thanksgiving Dinner at 1900, I hadn't eaten since lunch the day prior. Not a huge deal, but sometimes you don't realize how hungry you are until you smell food. We got 'up North' to the FOB at about 3 in the morning, and I stayed up (except for the hour nap I took in the afternoon) the entire next day until about 0230 in the morning on the third day. I waited a couple hours just to make a few phone calls home, as every soldier on the FOB wanted to do the exact same thing. I can't say I blame them.
Road Warrior
November 21st, 2005-
Sitting in the turret of the 5-ton truck, I call commands to the four armored humvees trailing behind me over the radio. PFC Tony is my wheelman.
"Right here is good." I yell through the big hole cut in the armored cab of the truck.
PFC Tony takes the six-wheeled truck over to the side of the dirt road. I adjust my goggles and put the black handmike up to my ear. At the gunner's position I can better observe what my 1st section soldiers are doing than through the armored glass of the cab.
"Gun 5 is set," I say over the radio. The humvees begin movement along the dirt road in a simulated convoy formation, the type we'll use up north in Iraq.
Sitting in the turret of the 5-ton truck, I call commands to the four armored humvees trailing behind me over the radio. PFC Tony is my wheelman.
"Right here is good." I yell through the big hole cut in the armored cab of the truck.
PFC Tony takes the six-wheeled truck over to the side of the dirt road. I adjust my goggles and put the black handmike up to my ear. At the gunner's position I can better observe what my 1st section soldiers are doing than through the armored glass of the cab.
"Gun 5 is set," I say over the radio. The humvees begin movement along the dirt road in a simulated convoy formation, the type we'll use up north in Iraq.
Get in the Truck
November 20th, 2005-
Back into the Humvees.
The previous night my Platoon Sergeant and I stayed up putting together the operations order that we both briefed today. This is the same stuff I learned as a cadet, just without much of the 'simulated' stuff we used to do. I'm the Convoy Commander tomorrow, responsible for [double digits] vehicles tomorrow. The reaction to IEDs or small arms attacks will be largely my decision. (I will learn later on though that in reality, the decisions largely fall to the Truck/Vehicle Commander. The Convoy Commander has too much to worry about to be directing each individual vehicle in a convoy that might be miles long.)
Today is not a day 'off' because I am still at work. However today is the first day in a month or so that I haven't had a billion things to do. The Operations Order is done, and my subordinates know what they need to get done. Here I sit [not many] miles from the Iraqi border in the Kuwaiti desert. Less than a year ago I was worrying about College finals and having the 'last hurrah' with college parties before it was time to go serve in the Army. Now I'm responsible for myself and the lives of 35 other men, many of whom are several (or many) years my senior. I hear jokes from the Second Platoon Sergeant if I am old enough to smoke the Cigar I am currently puffing on. I wonder if the impending situation has dawned on any of us yet. I don't think it has, even for those who have been here before. I've written previously about the 'Warrior Mindset', and whether or not it exists within myself and those around me. I still debate whether or not I truely have it, but I think I can see it in others. There are examples of it here, but also glaring absences of it. Some individuals are naturally not cut out for this line or work, and some excel. I think the true warriors will shine through when it is finally time to see the elephant.
1600 hours-
The Humvee is going about 65 miles an hour down something that used to resemble a dirt road.
They must have taken the govenor off this thing, because you'd can't usually go this fast. A crazy old tanker turned instructor sits next to me at the wheel. He turns to me and cracks a smile that is missing a few teeth.
"Fast enough for ya, LT?"
I respond with a hearty, "Yeah", wondering how many times this thing will flip if Grandpa hits a berm wrong. Let's remember I jump out of planes for a living.
1740 hours-
Guys from my platoon sit inside our tent arguing over the better NFL Quarterback. I sit off to the side, cleaning my M4 carbine. I don't really get how you can argue over something this pointless. It's alright, as long as it keeps them entertained while we're still out here 'training'. That reminds me, I dated a girl in college named after a quarterback. She was named after Jim Kelley. No, her name wasn't Jim.
Back into the Humvees.
The previous night my Platoon Sergeant and I stayed up putting together the operations order that we both briefed today. This is the same stuff I learned as a cadet, just without much of the 'simulated' stuff we used to do. I'm the Convoy Commander tomorrow, responsible for [double digits] vehicles tomorrow. The reaction to IEDs or small arms attacks will be largely my decision. (I will learn later on though that in reality, the decisions largely fall to the Truck/Vehicle Commander. The Convoy Commander has too much to worry about to be directing each individual vehicle in a convoy that might be miles long.)
Today is not a day 'off' because I am still at work. However today is the first day in a month or so that I haven't had a billion things to do. The Operations Order is done, and my subordinates know what they need to get done. Here I sit [not many] miles from the Iraqi border in the Kuwaiti desert. Less than a year ago I was worrying about College finals and having the 'last hurrah' with college parties before it was time to go serve in the Army. Now I'm responsible for myself and the lives of 35 other men, many of whom are several (or many) years my senior. I hear jokes from the Second Platoon Sergeant if I am old enough to smoke the Cigar I am currently puffing on. I wonder if the impending situation has dawned on any of us yet. I don't think it has, even for those who have been here before. I've written previously about the 'Warrior Mindset', and whether or not it exists within myself and those around me. I still debate whether or not I truely have it, but I think I can see it in others. There are examples of it here, but also glaring absences of it. Some individuals are naturally not cut out for this line or work, and some excel. I think the true warriors will shine through when it is finally time to see the elephant.
1600 hours-
The Humvee is going about 65 miles an hour down something that used to resemble a dirt road.
They must have taken the govenor off this thing, because you'd can't usually go this fast. A crazy old tanker turned instructor sits next to me at the wheel. He turns to me and cracks a smile that is missing a few teeth.
"Fast enough for ya, LT?"
I respond with a hearty, "Yeah", wondering how many times this thing will flip if Grandpa hits a berm wrong. Let's remember I jump out of planes for a living.
1740 hours-
Guys from my platoon sit inside our tent arguing over the better NFL Quarterback. I sit off to the side, cleaning my M4 carbine. I don't really get how you can argue over something this pointless. It's alright, as long as it keeps them entertained while we're still out here 'training'. That reminds me, I dated a girl in college named after a quarterback. She was named after Jim Kelley. No, her name wasn't Jim.
Transition Continued
November 19th, 2005-
Happy Birthday Erin. Hopefully I'll be there for the next one.
I'm shivering in my DCUs and body armor, but hopefully the sun will come out soon. I don't really worry about the cold, instead I worry about the silouette 25 meters in front of me. Methodically I go through the steps: weapon up, weapon off safe, sight picture, trigger squeeze, sight picture, squeeze the trigger, weapon on safe, weapon down.We repeat the steps over and over, trying to build muscle memory. The actual process takes maybe a second and a half. I'm the second man in the four-man stack, moving laterally across the small arms range. We engage targets as we move across, simulating a city street or other linear engagement area we someday might find ourselves on. The lead man calls out targets, all four of us engage them. I feel the muzzle blast of the man behind me as we both pop off rounds at the target. For the first time in a while, I get goosebumps as my tan desert boots kick up the Kuwaiti sand. Wow, I'm actually having fun.
Happy Birthday Erin. Hopefully I'll be there for the next one.
I'm shivering in my DCUs and body armor, but hopefully the sun will come out soon. I don't really worry about the cold, instead I worry about the silouette 25 meters in front of me. Methodically I go through the steps: weapon up, weapon off safe, sight picture, trigger squeeze, sight picture, squeeze the trigger, weapon on safe, weapon down.We repeat the steps over and over, trying to build muscle memory. The actual process takes maybe a second and a half. I'm the second man in the four-man stack, moving laterally across the small arms range. We engage targets as we move across, simulating a city street or other linear engagement area we someday might find ourselves on. The lead man calls out targets, all four of us engage them. I feel the muzzle blast of the man behind me as we both pop off rounds at the target. For the first time in a while, I get goosebumps as my tan desert boots kick up the Kuwaiti sand. Wow, I'm actually having fun.
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