<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14164849</id><updated>2009-09-10T20:24:28.625-05:00</updated><title type='text'>The Lucky Chronicle</title><subtitle type='html'>One Soldier's study of luck.</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://luckychronicle.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14164849/posts/default'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://luckychronicle.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><link rel='next' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14164849/posts/default?start-index=26&amp;max-results=25'/><author><name>Taylor</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10308938039639053603</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>46</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>25</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14164849.post-114034516165782915</id><published>2006-02-19T05:29:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-02-19T05:32:41.996-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Update, but not really.</title><content type='html'>It's been over a month since I posted anything, due to the fact that I work at least 16 hours a day, every day. I wanted to let everyone know out there we're fine, despite some many close calls. The journal is still receiving entries, and will be posted at some point. Cheers.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/14164849-114034516165782915?l=luckychronicle.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14164849/posts/default/114034516165782915'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14164849/posts/default/114034516165782915'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://luckychronicle.blogspot.com/2006/02/update-but-not-really.html' title='Update, but not really.'/><author><name>Taylor</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10308938039639053603</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='13999186693588882754'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14164849.post-113680416083946139</id><published>2006-01-09T05:46:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-01-09T05:56:00.853-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Back in the Gate</title><content type='html'>I just got back from a little tour around a rather enormous northern Iraqi city, and have a great story to tell. Haven't slept in a few days, and a shave would be good, but there is still another leg to go and I need to focus on that at the moment. However I wanted to let everyone know that things are fine, and I'm in good spirits.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/14164849-113680416083946139?l=luckychronicle.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14164849/posts/default/113680416083946139'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14164849/posts/default/113680416083946139'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://luckychronicle.blogspot.com/2006/01/back-in-gate_09.html' title='Back in the Gate'/><author><name>Taylor</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10308938039639053603</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='13999186693588882754'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14164849.post-113657593616407237</id><published>2006-01-06T14:23:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-01-06T14:32:16.166-05:00</updated><title type='text'>For Sale:</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5116/1273/1600/IraqHouse.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5116/1273/320/IraqHouse.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; For Sale:&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;  Small, numerous bedroom house in northern Iraq. Interior is non-finished plywood with spraypainted accents, flooring is authentic 3rd rate Indian tile. No central air conditioning, rather 12 window mounted A/C units. Electricity provided by diesel/electric generator. No indoor plumbing, 2 porta-potties located in driveway. Must provide own military escort for showings. $500 US or best offer.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/14164849-113657593616407237?l=luckychronicle.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14164849/posts/default/113657593616407237'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14164849/posts/default/113657593616407237'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://luckychronicle.blogspot.com/2006/01/for-sale.html' title='For Sale:'/><author><name>Taylor</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10308938039639053603</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='13999186693588882754'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14164849.post-113657500931702905</id><published>2006-01-06T14:07:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-01-06T14:16:49.340-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Safety</title><content type='html'>I would like everyone to know that I am alive and well. Updates (and free time, for that matter) come at a considerable premium, but know that I am recording much of life here and will eventually post everything that I have and will see here.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Many people keep telling me to 'be safe' in correspondence of various sorts. While I am deeply and genuinely glad that there are those out there who care enough to worry about me, please refrain from using this phrase. I am without the ability to 'be safe' because simply living anywhere in this whole country is inherently dangerous. My occupation makes it more dangerous, another reason why I wear 40+ pounds of body armor every time I leave the base, and move around in armored vehicles. That being said, I have an elaborate list of those who have sent cards and packages, and I will be sending letters and thank yous to everyone.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/14164849-113657500931702905?l=luckychronicle.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14164849/posts/default/113657500931702905'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14164849/posts/default/113657500931702905'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://luckychronicle.blogspot.com/2006/01/safety.html' title='Safety'/><author><name>Taylor</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10308938039639053603</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='13999186693588882754'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14164849.post-113559577015287408</id><published>2005-12-26T06:14:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-01-06T14:37:46.733-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Merry Christmas, everyone</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;(Especially to Kris.)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/14164849-113559577015287408?l=luckychronicle.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14164849/posts/default/113559577015287408'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14164849/posts/default/113559577015287408'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://luckychronicle.blogspot.com/2005/12/merry-christmas-everyone.html' title='Merry Christmas, everyone'/><author><name>Taylor</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10308938039639053603</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='13999186693588882754'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14164849.post-113456861274056355</id><published>2005-12-14T08:44:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-12-14T08:56:52.760-05:00</updated><title type='text'>You Knew It All Along</title><content type='html'>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.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Let me say this outright. We (the U.S.) are doing good things here. Don't let anyone or any entity say otherwise.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;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.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/14164849-113456861274056355?l=luckychronicle.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14164849/posts/default/113456861274056355'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14164849/posts/default/113456861274056355'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://luckychronicle.blogspot.com/2005/12/you-knew-it-all-along.html' title='You Knew It All Along'/><author><name>Taylor</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10308938039639053603</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='13999186693588882754'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14164849.post-113398250505668747</id><published>2005-12-07T14:01:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-12-07T14:08:25.056-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Thought for the Day</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;"There comes a time in your life when you realize who really matters, who never did, and who always will."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;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.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;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.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/14164849-113398250505668747?l=luckychronicle.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14164849/posts/default/113398250505668747'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14164849/posts/default/113398250505668747'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://luckychronicle.blogspot.com/2005/12/thought-for-day.html' title='Thought for the Day'/><author><name>Taylor</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10308938039639053603</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='13999186693588882754'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14164849.post-113398176483325027</id><published>2005-12-07T13:50:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-12-07T13:56:04.873-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Images</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5116/1273/1600/DesertCamels.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5116/1273/320/DesertCamels.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;Deer in the US, Camels in Iraq.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/14164849-113398176483325027?l=luckychronicle.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14164849/posts/default/113398176483325027'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14164849/posts/default/113398176483325027'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://luckychronicle.blogspot.com/2005/12/images.html' title='Images'/><author><name>Taylor</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10308938039639053603</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='13999186693588882754'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14164849.post-113384773499085587</id><published>2005-12-06T00:40:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-12-06T00:42:14.990-05:00</updated><title type='text'>You Pump, I'll Pour</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;November 28th, 2005&lt;/strong&gt;-&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt; 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.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/14164849-113384773499085587?l=luckychronicle.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14164849/posts/default/113384773499085587'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14164849/posts/default/113384773499085587'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://luckychronicle.blogspot.com/2005/12/you-pump-ill-pour.html' title='You Pump, I&apos;ll Pour'/><author><name>Taylor</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10308938039639053603</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='13999186693588882754'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14164849.post-113384759640399556</id><published>2005-12-06T00:38:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-12-06T00:39:56.406-05:00</updated><title type='text'>This Old [Crack]House</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;November 26th, 2005-&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt; 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.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; 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. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/14164849-113384759640399556?l=luckychronicle.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14164849/posts/default/113384759640399556'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14164849/posts/default/113384759640399556'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://luckychronicle.blogspot.com/2005/12/this-old-crackhouse.html' title='This Old [Crack]House'/><author><name>Taylor</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10308938039639053603</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='13999186693588882754'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14164849.post-113384749857314268</id><published>2005-12-06T00:37:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-12-06T00:38:18.573-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Give Thanks</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;November 24th, 2005-&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt; 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.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/14164849-113384749857314268?l=luckychronicle.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14164849/posts/default/113384749857314268'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14164849/posts/default/113384749857314268'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://luckychronicle.blogspot.com/2005/12/give-thanks.html' title='Give Thanks'/><author><name>Taylor</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10308938039639053603</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='13999186693588882754'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14164849.post-113384742959522506</id><published>2005-12-06T00:36:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-12-06T00:37:09.596-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Road Warrior</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;November 21st, 2005-&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt; 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.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; "Right here is good." I yell through the big hole cut in the armored cab of the truck.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; 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.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"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.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/14164849-113384742959522506?l=luckychronicle.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14164849/posts/default/113384742959522506'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14164849/posts/default/113384742959522506'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://luckychronicle.blogspot.com/2005/12/road-warrior.html' title='Road Warrior'/><author><name>Taylor</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10308938039639053603</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='13999186693588882754'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14164849.post-113384733156705871</id><published>2005-12-06T00:30:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-12-06T00:35:31.570-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Get in the Truck</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;November 20th, 2005-&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;Back into the Humvees.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt; 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.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; 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.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;1600 hours-&lt;/strong&gt;  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Humvee is going about 65 miles an hour down something that used to resemble a dirt road.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;They must have taken the govenor off this thing, because you'd can't usually go this fast.&lt;/em&gt;  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.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Fast enough for ya, LT?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; 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.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;strong&gt;1740 hours-&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; 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.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/14164849-113384733156705871?l=luckychronicle.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14164849/posts/default/113384733156705871'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14164849/posts/default/113384733156705871'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://luckychronicle.blogspot.com/2005/12/get-in-truck.html' title='Get in the Truck'/><author><name>Taylor</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10308938039639053603</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='13999186693588882754'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14164849.post-113384701489795116</id><published>2005-12-06T00:25:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-12-06T00:30:15.126-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Transition Continued</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;November 19th, 2005-&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt; Happy Birthday Erin. Hopefully I'll be there for the next one.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; 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. &lt;em&gt;Wow, I'm actually having fun.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/14164849-113384701489795116?l=luckychronicle.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14164849/posts/default/113384701489795116'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14164849/posts/default/113384701489795116'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://luckychronicle.blogspot.com/2005/12/transition-continued.html' title='Transition Continued'/><author><name>Taylor</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10308938039639053603</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='13999186693588882754'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14164849.post-113332854924506905</id><published>2005-11-30T00:20:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-11-30T00:29:09.290-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Transition</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;November 13th, 2005-&lt;/strong&gt; I talked to a soldier in our unit about why&lt;strong&gt; we&lt;/strong&gt; are here in the middle east. My argument ultimately came down to the fact that we are making an investment here, knowing that there will be returns (of many types) in the future. I had solidified my own reasons for being here a long time ago, but also realized in the course of the evening that I am indeed making an investment in myself. I had to come and see what things were really like here- I had to come and be a part of history while there was history to be made, at least for the time being. I'm here to learn how to be a leader, because higher leadership can't be tought doing trust falls. I'm here to learn skills that cannot be learned in a classroom. I'm here to make some kind of difference. Perhaps this is why I had such an easy time explaining things to him. When politics evolve (or digress, depending on how one analyzes the situation) into military action, the 'why' part is already old news. 'Why' will always be a factor, but it will have a different role. Thus it is important to know why &lt;strong&gt;you&lt;/strong&gt; are there, and not why &lt;strong&gt;we&lt;/strong&gt; are there. The two are rarely the same.   &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt; I got to talk to mom and dad for the first time today, and had the &lt;strong&gt;luck&lt;/strong&gt; to take a hot shower. My how the little things make a huge difference. We had a brief tonight concerning IEDs that I had sat through probably ten or eleven times in different various forms. I was disinterested enough to start daydreaming a bit, thinking about different times and places. Despite what people may say to you, sometimes you wonder if anyone really knows you're gone.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;November 14th, 2005-&lt;/strong&gt; We went to another range and did Zeros and Qualification with our M16s and M4s. It seems to me like that's all Kuwait is- one long ass range sitting upon a load of crude oil. We also did some Close Quarter Battle training, which is a refreshing change from the 'old style' of military marksmanship. Instead of training to pick off swarms of Soviet Infantrymen rushing through Eastern Europe, we train to bring our weapons up quickly and engage targets without necessarily using our iron sights. The goal is to develop muscle memory. I think that the soldiers had fun during the CQB stuff, but were pissed that we spent the day doing yet a&lt;strong&gt;nother&lt;/strong&gt; qualification range.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; Before we took off I sat and wondered if Iraq will change me all that much. We'll see.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;November 15th, 2005-&lt;/strong&gt; The days seem to run together. There aren't really days with names anymore, but rather each 24 hour period has been reduced to a number on a calendar. I used the calendar feature on my Ipod to check what day it is. Tuesday. Live Monday night football was on in the gym this morning when the LTs went to work out. It's kinda weird when you see that for the first time. I was focusing on my workout, thus I forgot who won. We're in the gym lifting to help us with our job and stay alive. Professional Football seems kinda trivial at the moment.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;November 16th, 2005-&lt;/strong&gt; Camp B (name changed due to OPSEC) isn't that much fun. It has turned into quite the military mecca since our unit arrived a few days ago. It takes much longer to get through the chow line and to use the phones. A random Captain said there were many thousands of troops coming through here in the next few weeks, which has been pretty obvious. I don't really like hanging out with National Guard units here, but they do serve as a reminder that our own unit isn't as jacked up as we previously thought. (Definitely not a blanket bash on the National Guard, as I have seen some squared away Guardsmen and Reservists) Being in-country affords one either way too much or not nearly enough time to think about things back home. You wonder about the coulda-woulda-shoulda types of things, mostly because you have no control over such things here. Oh yeah, it started raining last night. If there weren't enough issues keeping equipment and clothes clean (not to mention ourselves) now sand and dirt is turning into mud. The desert sucks, lets just get that fact out of the way right now. For the most part, rain sucks too (learned that during my last 'vacation' to Georgia). Rain in your tent which is in the desert really sucks. I am interested to see how everyone fatigues over the next few weeks and months. I wonder about myself too.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;November 17th, 2005-&lt;/strong&gt; The 25 passenger Toyota buses units use to move Soldiers around the base and Kuwait in general look a lot like 'The Mystery Machine' from Scooby-Doo. They've been affectionately nicknamed Scooby-Doo buses (or simply Scooby-Doo) by the Soldiers here, including the ones from my own unit. Today I sat in the last row of one being flung (literally) from one seat to another as the bus propelled itself over sand berms and through huge dips in the road. Six Flags has nothing on the Scooby-Doo bus. Today we moved temporarily from Camp B out to a training site, which was out in the middle of the Kuwaiti desert. We're scheduled to do additional Convoy and Gun Truck training before ultimately moving up to Iraq. It kind of feels like the months spent at Bragg training to run convoys was a waste, and that we need yet more help in getting our preverbial crap together. The Army thinks we need another week of training to top everything. Honestly I shouldn't be complaining, as we're happy to receive any additional training that might help us peform better and keep everyone alive. As good as it is, being out here seems like another week or two spent rotting in the desert, no matter how good the training is.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/14164849-113332854924506905?l=luckychronicle.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14164849/posts/default/113332854924506905'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14164849/posts/default/113332854924506905'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://luckychronicle.blogspot.com/2005/11/transition.html' title='Transition'/><author><name>Taylor</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10308938039639053603</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='13999186693588882754'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14164849.post-113319846204925769</id><published>2005-11-28T12:13:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-11-28T12:21:02.066-05:00</updated><title type='text'>The Beginning</title><content type='html'>My journal from the first few days of deployment. Beware, it is unedited.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Monday, November 7th&lt;/strong&gt;- I spent the last night in the United States sleeping on the floor of my empty apartment. The day before I hung out by a small lake on the outskirts of Fort Bragg with a buddy and his wife. I'm not sure if it was the right way to spend the day, as I had a load of things I still needed to do and I was seriously rushed this morning. Oh well.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Tuesday, November 8th&lt;/strong&gt;-  Our civilian airliner left Pope Air Force Base at roughly 0440. It was a fairly comfortable aircraft, save for the rear echelon motherfuckers (REMFs) that hogged all the business class seats on OUR aircraft. I will not allow a bunch of fucking non-combat privates to take seats that belong to hard-working troops that have seen the elephant ever again. We stopped for a a few hours in Germany, drank some coffee and tea, then left for Kuwait. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;November 10th-&lt;/strong&gt; "Fuck you." I'm not sure what ellicited that somewhat sarcastic response from my mouth, but I remember I said it very eloquently as I took another puff of my cigar. LT K chuckled quietly, then took another puff of his own cigar. Tonight we actually had some free time to hang out and pretend not to be in charge of this whole complicated operation for 20 minutes. I decide that when I go on Rest and Relaxation Leave I will go somewhere that encourages drinking. I'm not sure what spurred this thought, but it seems like a good idea at the moment.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;November 11th-&lt;/strong&gt; "Go find me some [M]203 targets. I want some cool-ass shit!" -The CO&lt;br /&gt; Myself and another Lieutenant drove around the Camp today searching for objects that would make good grenade launcher and machine gun targets. Items found (and pilfered) included sinks, toilets, doors, traffic cones, and one large water heater. It's not a good idea to tell two vindictive LTs to go find things to shoot with heavy weapons and leave it at that. Because we *will* find stuff, regardless of the situation. We had enough M249 (light machine gun) rounds to nearly saw the water heater in half. It was a pretty good day. In Kuwait we use Mitsubishi Monteros (called a 'Pajero' here) instead of Humvees. That's fine with me, as now we have stereos in the vehicles and Kuwaiti radio really isn't all that bad. Cheers.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/14164849-113319846204925769?l=luckychronicle.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14164849/posts/default/113319846204925769'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14164849/posts/default/113319846204925769'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://luckychronicle.blogspot.com/2005/11/beginning.html' title='The Beginning'/><author><name>Taylor</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10308938039639053603</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='13999186693588882754'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14164849.post-113301436321678763</id><published>2005-11-26T09:04:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-11-26T09:12:43.230-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Wherever You Go, There You Are.</title><content type='html'>Or in my case, here I am. I want everyone to know that I've made it successfully to Iraq, and the overall things are fine. Kuwait was pretty boring apart from a week straight of training out in the middle of the desert. I can't and won't be too specific about things, but I've been sleeping a lot less and trying to do as much as I can to get my soldiers ready for upcoming missions.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've been keeping a daily journal of everything going on, and will post all non-sensitive items from it as soon as I have a chance. We've got a lot more internet access now, and I happen to have stumbled on a way to post more frequently by accident.  I'll also send out an email to everyone I've gotten an address from in the past few months. I will say that the dust is no joke here, and it's playing hell with the lungs of myself and my soldiers. I've got a lot of interesting stories to tell, and will post updates on how things are going from my point of view. Either way, stay tuned.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/14164849-113301436321678763?l=luckychronicle.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14164849/posts/default/113301436321678763'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14164849/posts/default/113301436321678763'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://luckychronicle.blogspot.com/2005/11/wherever-you-go-there-you-are.html' title='Wherever You Go, There You Are.'/><author><name>Taylor</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10308938039639053603</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='13999186693588882754'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14164849.post-113081771309835767</id><published>2005-10-31T22:52:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-10-31T23:01:53.116-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Article</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family: times new roman;"&gt;This is an article that I wrote for the Fort Bragg newspaper a while back. Names and specifics have been changed to protect the vigilant.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;_______________________________________________&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;  &lt;p style="font-family: times new roman;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;By LT Taylor&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;   &lt;p style="font-family: times new roman;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;            &lt;/span&gt;An FMTV rolled up from behind the disabled HMMWV, providing left flank security with its big M-2 .50 cal. machine gun. The gunner behind the ‘Ma Deuce’ scanned the horizon along the halted convoy’s most vulnerable side. Two crewmen from other vehicles rushed out to attach recovery equipment from the disabled humvee to the vehicle directly to its front. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;   &lt;p style="font-family: times new roman;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;            &lt;/span&gt;“Incoming fire, &lt;st1:time minute="0" hour="11"&gt;eleven o’clock&lt;/st1:time&gt;, 500 meters!” One of the drivers yelled into his radio. Others listening on the convoy’s internal radio net echoed the phrase. The gunners on both the FMTV and the lead vehicle immediately initiated fire with their crew-served weapons, suppressing the simulated enemy fire. The crewmembers quickly returned to their vehicles as expended casings fell into the dirt around them. With the equipment firmly attached to the designated recovery vehicle, the convoy moved out, the disabled vehicle safely in tow. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;   &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; font-family: times new roman;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;In July, Bravo *****, ************* ******************* conducted live fire convoy operations at Range ** as part of their pre-deployment training. “We’ve visited Range ** ****** times in the past six months, as it is one of the largest driving ranges on &lt;st1:place&gt;&lt;st1:placetype&gt;Fort&lt;/st1:PlaceType&gt; &lt;st1:placename&gt;Bragg&lt;/st1:PlaceName&gt;&lt;/st1:place&gt;,” noted Bravo Sergeant Tyler. “[Range] ** affords our soldiers the opportunity to face scenarios similar to what we will see in &lt;st1:country-region&gt;&lt;st1:place&gt;Iraq&lt;/st1:place&gt;&lt;/st1:country-region&gt;.”&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;   &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in; font-family: times new roman;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;The unit will not be firing their ************* when they deploy in the fall. The *********** will trade their howitzers for armored trucks and serve as convoy security elements. Vehicle recovery at Range ** was one drill that included actions on enemy contact and reacting to blocked ambushes. Bravo &lt;st1:place&gt;Battery&lt;/st1:place&gt; soldiers also rehearsed reacting to improvised explosive devices (IEDs), driving with night vision goggles, and changing tires. “We went through pretty realistic training out on the range. Even little things like riding with the [vehicle] windows up can make a noticeable difference,” said Specialist Wilson. To make training as realistic as possible, vehicles were loaded late in the evening and continued to operate in convoys through the night. Soldiers experienced the difficulty of remaining tactically alert after many hours of driving. Despite the challenges they will face in the coming months and during their deployment, the Bravo ******* ‘Bulldogs’ will continue the proud tradition of the Airborne in Iraq. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/14164849-113081771309835767?l=luckychronicle.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14164849/posts/default/113081771309835767'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14164849/posts/default/113081771309835767'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://luckychronicle.blogspot.com/2005/10/article.html' title='Article'/><author><name>Taylor</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10308938039639053603</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='13999186693588882754'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14164849.post-112951589479972891</id><published>2005-10-16T21:08:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-10-16T21:24:54.806-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Rules</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family: times new roman;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: times new roman;"&gt;Through the grapevine I came upon a set of 'rules' that some grunts had put together. In light of my own pending departure to the sandbox I'm posting the rules that I feel especially relevent. If you or someone you know is the original author please let me know so the credit can go to the right place.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5. If it can go wrong, it will.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;10. Always have a backup plan. Have a back up plan for that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;11. There is no such thing as 'friendly' fire.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;12. Mortars do whistle, you just have to be close enough to hear them. They make a distinct sound when they land.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;14. The friendships forged here are to the death.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;15. You can't get along with anyone for a year, especially when you live in the same room with people.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;18. Fool-proof plans aren't.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;19. Even if you plan for everything, 'they' will come up with at least one new trick.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;21. The 'kindler-gentler' Army is a crock of shit.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;22. If you count on someone, they will more than likely let you down.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;26. If doesn't matter if you are a nice guy or not, you will be taken advantage of.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;28. The greatest invention was the laptop computer. The second greatest was headphones.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;29. You can do everything right and still die.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;30. Don't trust anyone except yourself, and be wary of him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;35. You will hear every story that a buddy has to tell, twice.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;42. Sometimes shooting first and asking questions later isn't a bad idea.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;53. 'Jody' calls aren't just a part of running. You will learn that a buddy's wife or girlfriend left him. You will listen to his pain, you will sample the rage, and you will feel the hate.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;54. Soldiers will always bitch about everything.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;55. It doesn't matter how bad 'their' aim is, they will get lucky eventually.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/14164849-112951589479972891?l=luckychronicle.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14164849/posts/default/112951589479972891'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14164849/posts/default/112951589479972891'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://luckychronicle.blogspot.com/2005/10/rules.html' title='Rules'/><author><name>Taylor</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10308938039639053603</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='13999186693588882754'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14164849.post-112925218915669573</id><published>2005-10-13T20:07:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-10-13T20:09:49.163-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Images</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5116/1273/1600/StrapIn.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5116/1273/400/StrapIn.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: times new roman;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: times new roman;font-size:100%;" &gt;Beats a suit and tie.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/14164849-112925218915669573?l=luckychronicle.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14164849/posts/default/112925218915669573'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14164849/posts/default/112925218915669573'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://luckychronicle.blogspot.com/2005/10/images_13.html' title='Images'/><author><name>Taylor</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10308938039639053603</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='13999186693588882754'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14164849.post-112925150352933727</id><published>2005-10-13T19:58:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-10-13T20:00:51.086-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Images</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5116/1273/1600/BusOnTheCurb.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5116/1273/400/BusOnTheCurb.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: times new roman;"&gt;The bus, waiting on the curb. Who needs an airfield?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/14164849-112925150352933727?l=luckychronicle.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14164849/posts/default/112925150352933727'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14164849/posts/default/112925150352933727'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://luckychronicle.blogspot.com/2005/10/images.html' title='Images'/><author><name>Taylor</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10308938039639053603</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='13999186693588882754'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14164849.post-112925137703784534</id><published>2005-10-13T19:51:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-10-13T19:56:17.043-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Number Nine</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5116/1273/1600/SicilyBlogger.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5116/1273/400/SicilyBlogger.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: times new roman;"&gt;Wednesday, October 5th.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;  &lt;span style="font-family: times new roman;"&gt;    Today we had the last jump we're going to experience for a long time. The wind was high, and the Air Force was about as decisive as Rosie O'Donnell at an all-you-can-eat buffett. Paratrooper injuries go up proportionally with wind speed. Despite some precautions we had eight or nine guys end up in the Field Ambulance (Medic's humvee) after every group had jumped. A Lieutenant I work with ended up with a concussion. I think luck was on my side today, as I had a great exit from the aging C-130H, and also a fairly soft landing on the DZ. After impacting (not landing) back onto the earth, it takes a second to make sure everything is working and is still in the right spot. The Field Ambulances roam the DZ after each chalk (group of paratroopers) lands to make sure everyone is ok. The injury for me was my ID card, which had a corner broken off. I'm not sure how that happened, as it was in my left breast pocket during the jump. I left after jumping, as there were still some things to be accomplished back at the office. I had been on the main post for about five minutes before the clouds started dumping rain. I felt lucky at the time, but unlucky four days later when the rain had not stopped. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/14164849-112925137703784534?l=luckychronicle.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14164849/posts/default/112925137703784534'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14164849/posts/default/112925137703784534'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://luckychronicle.blogspot.com/2005/10/number-nine.html' title='Number Nine'/><author><name>Taylor</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10308938039639053603</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='13999186693588882754'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14164849.post-112925080196769019</id><published>2005-10-13T19:45:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-10-13T19:46:41.980-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Nice</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family: times new roman;"&gt;Wednesday, September 28th, 2005.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;    The humid blast furnace that is the Carolina Summer has finally been turned off. Today is one of the prettiest and most comfortable days I've experienced since I left Colorado. There are few things more satisfying than driving around (albeit still getting things done) with the windows down and the sunroof open. I'm ecstatic that I finally get to do this here.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/14164849-112925080196769019?l=luckychronicle.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14164849/posts/default/112925080196769019'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14164849/posts/default/112925080196769019'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://luckychronicle.blogspot.com/2005/10/nice.html' title='Nice'/><author><name>Taylor</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10308938039639053603</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='13999186693588882754'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14164849.post-112839294202904881</id><published>2005-10-03T21:14:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-10-03T21:29:02.036-05:00</updated><title type='text'>More of the Same</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5116/1273/1600/ABNJumpSmall.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5116/1273/320/ABNJumpSmall.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: times new roman;"&gt;Yeah, I've been lax on posting lately. Can't be helped.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The good news- all the things we need that are not being personally carried by individual paratroopers are no longer any of our concern. As a unit we accomplished a tremendous amount of work in a very short amount of time. One of our sister units took twice as long to complete the same task. Go us.&lt;br /&gt;Despite nearing our departure for other parts of the world, we continue to jump. This week there are several jumps that I hope I make it in on. Jumps nine and ten are right around the corner.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've been a bit of an insomniac lately, which is why I am writing this and not sleeping. Scattered thoughts seem to come with that. I've got a lot of random things I will post soon. Goodnight all.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/14164849-112839294202904881?l=luckychronicle.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14164849/posts/default/112839294202904881'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14164849/posts/default/112839294202904881'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://luckychronicle.blogspot.com/2005/10/more-of-same.html' title='More of the Same'/><author><name>Taylor</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10308938039639053603</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='13999186693588882754'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14164849.post-112762115962441203</id><published>2005-09-24T22:58:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2005-09-24T23:05:59.630-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Beans and Bullets</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family: times new roman;"&gt;    I haven't posted much over the past two weeks, simply because there is nothing all that extraordinary to write about. We continue to prep for the move over to the Middle East. Inventories and Paperwork and Bears, oh my!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;    We had a fun jump today over on Sicily drop zone that went really well. However it required being at Pope AFB before the bars were even closed in Boulder. Oh well. Riding around in a C-17 at 500 feet AGL and jumping beats fighting a hangover. Lots of PT is on the plate for tomorrow anyway, along with a longer post.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/14164849-112762115962441203?l=luckychronicle.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14164849/posts/default/112762115962441203'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/14164849/posts/default/112762115962441203'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://luckychronicle.blogspot.com/2005/09/beans-and-bullets.html' title='Beans and Bullets'/><author><name>Taylor</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10308938039639053603</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='13999186693588882754'/></author></entry></feed>