Guns, Lots of Guns

August 30th, 2005

I sat in my arms room most of the day and checked the cleaniness of soldier's weapons and doing various officework. I say 'my' arms room because I'm the Arms Room Officer. It sounds kinda cool, but isn't. Think about the same time you moved. Remember all the crap you packed up? Did you have expensive or fragile stuff? Yeah, those things probably made moving more difficult. Now think if you were moving and had enough weapons and other cool toys to start a small rebel uprising. Think about if you were moving overseas, across a ton of international borders, and into a war zone. Now you get the idea.

Don't Hold Your Breath

August 29th, 2005

All our guys did a lap through the Gas Chamber today. Pretty fun to watch, until it's your turn to go in. Living in Boulder for a few years probably helps with one's tolerance towards tear gas though, as I had an easier time than a lot of our other guys did. I was ballsy and stayed in the chamber a bit longer, just to spite the Sergeant running everything and those who were afraid to take off their gas masks. It's a fun game, seeing how long you can keep your eyes open before you stumble to the door.

Hooray (?) beer

August 28th, 2005

I woke up this morning and had half a moment of clarity. I say half because I was hanging over pretty bad. I realized I don't like drinking much anymore. I should have been at home, in the big-ass bed I bought when I got to North Carolina, sleeping peacefully. Instead I was sitting upright in my a recliner at my buddy Rob's house, which I had eventually passed out in. Much of the Mojave desert was not as dry as my mouth was at the time. Still sitting in the recliner, I could see out the window to his backyard, where some of the bright red keg cups had fallen off the beer pong table onto the wooden deck. Yeah, definitely went too many rounds of that nonsense last night. Sometimes it's easy to forget that I'm not in college anymore. I'm not talking trash in the SigEp basement, trying to impress the random women watching the game. Furthernore, it now takes way too long for me to recover and screws me up for PT on the weekends. I find a bit of comfort in the fact that I won't be drinking at all for a year while I'm deployed. Booze has no place in a combat zone. Or in me for that matter. At some point something will click in my mind, and I'll loose all interest in that next beer. I think that just happened. Cheers.

You call, we haul

I layed the map down on the hood of the humvee, flipped on my little LED flashlight, and started tracing the roads with my finger. Mentally I tried to remember what kind of condition each road was in, and if each would permit my team of escort vehicles and the numerous other convoy vehicles (of which I was escorting during this exercise) to pass without having to slow down. Slower trucks equal bigger targets for hadji. I've been at Fort Bragg for about six weeks, yet I'm entrusted to escort (and lead) more vehicles in a single column than most used car dealers in Fayetteville have on their entire lot. The original route planned by myself and my NCOs had been 'blocked' by a simulated IED detonation and now I had to find an alternate route. The open area our two elements have linked up at has now become a parking lot- diesel engines rumble at idle and headlights shine into the darkness. I think it's about 2345 hours, but I keep my attention focused on the map. Finally satisfied with the route, I look up at one of the best E5s I've ever met, Sergeant Tim.

"Looks good sir," Tim approves from the roof of my humvee. Ok, let's rock.

"Are you ready for the other personnel, LT?" The question floats out of the darkness to my left. It's the voice of the OC (Observer-Controller), a Captain who is critiqing me during the exercise. In this case, he waits for me to screw up and then verbally pimp-slaps me over the radio. The learning curve is steep tonight- he would be better suited wearing a leopard print cape and driving a '76 Cadillac Eldorado.

"Uh, yeah. Bring 'em over," It's usually only two or three guys that need to be briefed. Simple.

5 minutes pass, and 30 some soldiers appear from somewhere and clump together in front of my vehicle. Not only are there the (somewhat) expected junior enlisted and NCOs standing there, waiting for me to recite the convoy gospel, but also a handful of Lieutenants, Captains, and one Lieutenant Colonel. Let's remind ourselves that I am a Second Lieutenant, and a junior one at that. Sweet. I struggle through my 'brief' like Paris Hilton at an acting lesson. I'm getting sharp-shooted (asked difficult and often unnecessary questions) by people left and right. Even the Lieutenant Colonel gets in on the organized harrassment. I'm the Convoy Commander, the man in charge regardless of rank, and it is apparent to the soldiers I'm leading that I haven't done this a whole lot. I retrace the route I planned moments before, only to realize that now I can't read the map, or speak coherent english. Damn. Sergeant Tim jumps in and helps me out, providing a detailed description of the entire route straight from memory. I answer some questions from the crowd, and finally conclude the brief. I think my pride still has a pulse, but it will be a few weeks before it walks and talks again.

When all the vehicles finally get on the dirt road close to our previously occupied area, the column is several kilometers long. Fortunately I can jockey a radio with the best of soldiers, and constantly pull information from my escort vehicles to keep tabs on their condition and the surrounding area. However, due to terrain and distance, I can't communicate with the lead vehicle. Through some quick engineering we re-establish comms, and drive on with the mission. Through luck we make it to our destination without taking any IED hits or small arms fire from the OPFOR (opposing force).

On the trip back to our little corner of Fort Bragg my Humvee is given 'simulated mechanical failure' and must be towed. No problem, my guys have done this drill many times and can hook up the recovery gear from one vehicle to another in minutes. We stay in the vehicle while it is being towed, and after a several miles the recovery gear can be removed. Apparently Lady Luck isn't done screwing with me for the night. Seconds after the tow bar comes off, the diesel engine on my vehicle dies and will not turn over. Now we really need to tow it, and can't remain in the cab due to post regulations. I grab my carbine and radio, scramble up to the lead FMTV (big green army truck), and switch positions with the staff sergeant in the passenger seat. I'm now jockeying several radios, plotting our position on the map, and telling the driver where to turn. I manage to get the escort vehicles back without any navigational problems. Lieutenants' navigational prowess is not often well-regarded, but I stave off the critics for a bit.

Afterward the OC comes by my vehicle to give me his thoughts. I brace again for the pimp-hand, but it never comes. I had been given a pretty tough mission, and managed to successfully get all my people and vehicles to their destination. Despite some of the jacked up details, I had done pretty well. Lucky? No. I walk back to the broom closet that doubles as the Lieutenant's office, and strip off my helmet and body armor. The clock reads 0459, so I set the alarm for 0700. I forget when I fell asleep, but it didn't take long. Soon after the morning arrived, uninvited. Despite any of this, I love my job.

Commo Check?

The tricky part about recording and publishing the details of one's profession when in the military is not violating OPSEC. OPSEC is military slang for Operational Security, and it refers to not divulging sensitive information over an open forum. I wiill make an honest effort keep my postings as detailed as possible, but without saying anything stupid. Bear with me a bit.

OBC Journal - 3/24/05

The AC Reception

Sometimes one can make all the 'right' decisions in the pursuit of some happy ending. The knight in shining armor will sharpen his sword in with the hope that he will successfully slay the dragon. Sometimes luck is on your side, and sometimes not. For the first time in a long goddamn while, the setting for the evening was perfect. Despite this, the night totally sucked. Some kind of lucky streak has just come to an ugly end in a huge ball of flame.I could have sat home and banged my head against a wall and come out with a better feeling of satisfaction.

The AC Reception is the 'formal' evening where all the lieutenants [and supposedly their dates?] get dressed up and hang at what used to be the Fort Sill Officer's Club. It is now called the 'Patriot Club' and is open to all ranks. So much for being a snob college-boy. Everyone eats and drinks and dances the night away, if they choose. It's a good time. Or it's intended to be.

Oklahoma weather usually sucks. Ever hear of someone commenting about how the Oklahoma wind was 'Absolutely awesome yesterday'? Of course you haven't, and for good reason. However, the weather here couldn’t have been better tonight. I kinda like the setup of the ‘Patriot’ Club and most of the other FA Lieutenants are cool to chill with. I’m pissed because for the first time since middle school I couldn’t find a damn date, and with all the shit that we need to do for tomorrow it would have been a wasted evening even if I had a date. One huge misfire, as I'm all dressed up an have nobody to impress. I even shined my buttons.

If it mattered, I would worry about making a good impression on all the high-ranking officers I met tonight, but it doesn’t, so I couldn't care less. I’m sure Janus will be fun for the rest of the night. Oh yeah, Janus. Remember those presentations you gave in High School or College? You know, where the kids in the group would talk collectively for roughly 10 or 15 minutes on some random topic the TA chose? Janus is a computer generated simulation based on real military capabilities that the students here actually fight out over the course of a few days. My brief is tomorrow. I should mention that it's normal for the presentation/briefing to last 30-45 minutes for only one student. No one works together, or any of that other BS. Having that much material to present and simultaniously not looking like a moron is kinda tough. Yeah, I'll be up all night. Back to work.

(Edited note: I ended up not sleeping for a few days, but still racked up an 89% on the brief.)

One More thing...

I haven't written anything of real substance for a while, due to various reasons that when combined together still don't justify anything. The biggest reason is that I've been on leave in Colorado for a bit, as it will be my last chance to really get away from Carolina before we deploy.

Yeah, I'll be in Iraq sometime between October or November. My unit is performing exclusively convoy escort duties for a group of units- part of the hired muscle in the area. Think Mad Max in the desert with Humvees. My official function is platoon leader, and I'll also be a convoy commander when tapped to go outside the wire.

In the meantime the unit has been training as much as possible. Next week we're running a certification exercise to see how much we all know about running convoys. I'm spending this Sunday reading up on everything available so I don't look too stupid next week. Even though the chance of our unit making a combat jump anywhere but in a WWII re-inactment is 0.003%, we still throw ourselves out of airplanes on roughly a bi-weekly basis. Jump days are pretty fun, and it's almost like having a day off from work. Jumping makes a young guy glad he chose to be a paratrooper instead of going to some leg (Non-Airborne) unit.

I'm still adjusting to life in Fayetteville. I made the desicion a while back not to buy too much stuff to furnish my apartment, as I will just be moving everything into storage in a couple months. So I've got this empty place when I'm home. I live in a quiet apartment home complex, and almost never see my neighbors. There are quite a few military types that live around here, as with everywhere else in Fayetteville. We all leave early in the morning for PT (around 5), and don't often get home before 6 or 7 in the evening. On weekends people sit by the pool or hang out in the weight room. I try to get out with the other LTs that I know from Oklahoma or my battalion, or my buddy from CU who is in the Special Forces pipeline (training). Going from knowing a ton of people in Boulder to not many in NC is disconcerting, but fairly normal I'm sure. I'm finally getting used to the humidity, some days are still pretty ridiculous. Despite some of the obvious differences, Fayetteville feels like Boulder in the sense that most people are very active and fit. More to come.

The Raleigh-Durham Airport...

...Can go to hell. This little prize was the result of me not predicting North Carolina traffic and the lack of adequate signage at the airport. I think it's funny more than anything else- there goes the beer budget. Unlucky maybe?


Random stuff:

sworks76: it's like a guy that once had standards will now do anything that walks
sworks76: because he is deprived of a necessity
CatchMe302: like a starving dog on a dog food commercial

Indecisiveness

I changed the layout of the Weblog, as the other style was wearing on me a bit.

It's pretty late right now, but I'll post a ton of stuff tomorrow. Goodnight all.

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.