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.