6 years later, and the main "gateway" in Kuwait looks exactly the same. We traveled all day FRI/SAT in a haze of airplanes and windowless airport terminals. If not for the plane windows, I would have had no idea if it were day or night. All of our group made it, as did our bags, so minimal complaints.
My first "back in the suck" experience came quick. A 200m walk from our tent to the latrine & showers. Ugh. We've been spoiled in El Paso. I walked through the door and was punched in the face by the smell. Not necessarily horrible, in comparison, but oddly familiar. Just etched into my brain, waiting to be triggered once again. Like when people who messed with LSD in the past talk about a unexpected trip when they crack their neck or back stretching. Lines of individual showers with wooden benches in the middle of the room. A LBG wearing a blue uniform hosing the floor and showers down and using an industrial squeegee to push the residue down the drain.
All of the gross things Service Members don't need (McDonald's, Pizza Hut, Subway, KFC, and a donut shop) are readily available. I am beginning to remember how Soldiers get fat and sick from these places. "They provide the comfort of home and keep Soldier's morale up." False. Fat, sick, lame, and gross.
The big difference is civilians. They are everywhere. Who are these people? Clad in cargo pants and polo shirts. Are they CIA doing the dirty work? Are they contractors here to drive trucks and facilitate our withdrawal? Are they a big group of weird looking, overweight, long haired, gnarly bearded, tattooed creepsters? Yup.
Hopefully we are out of here soon and on our way to the next black hole pit stop. Happy Halloween from the Middle East. Let the party begin.
30 October 2011
28 October 2011
partyin' partyin'...yeah!
Just wanted to let everyone know that its Friday. This particular Friday is special though. Our 4 day pass starts today which means a lot of partying for a lot of people, including me and my gang of homies. We are gonna do it big. I mean picking which seat in the car we want and eating bowls of cereal. We might throw some drinking in there as well.
Glorious days, like today, come few and far between and only a unit like ours could find a way to take the hooah out of it. The day started with frustration in the sleeping bay over whether the lights should have been on or off. Long story short( I wanna party), we woke up to sign out for our pass at 0630 and didn't get into the wonderful and beautiful west Texas town of El Paso(name the song) until around 1. Awesomesauce(what's even more awesomesauce is that my phone pops up with "awesomesauce" in the autocorrect). I leave you with this...
Don't forget: tomorrow is Saturday and Sunday comes afterward.
Glorious days, like today, come few and far between and only a unit like ours could find a way to take the hooah out of it. The day started with frustration in the sleeping bay over whether the lights should have been on or off. Long story short( I wanna party), we woke up to sign out for our pass at 0630 and didn't get into the wonderful and beautiful west Texas town of El Paso(name the song) until around 1. Awesomesauce(what's even more awesomesauce is that my phone pops up with "awesomesauce" in the autocorrect). I leave you with this...
Don't forget: tomorrow is Saturday and Sunday comes afterward.
27 October 2011
or "I'll have 1/2 Regular Coke, and 1/2 Diet Coke. I'm trying to watch my weight"
The obligatory “fat Soldiers” post. I know you want it. I know you need it. This is my attempt to “chastise into compliance”, safely. We all know that I was crafting this. Subtle, and not so subtle, muffled, and not so muffled, comments verbalized and added to my scratch pad, and overall disgust.
Just recently, I finished reading Lights Out: Sleep, Sugar, and Survival by TS Wiley. A very interesting read, a lot of thought provoking concepts, but overall it just made me concerned (which I suppose is the intended reaction, to initiate action). The military climate is “up before the sun, down far after”. If you can pull down 5-6 hours of sleep, you’re a thief. The ongoing mantra is “sleep is a crutch” and Soldiers constantly catch flack for “laying in their racks” or “flopping out” during down time. Completely counterproductive to peak performance and focus. I understand that a giant gaggle of Soldiers lying on the floor, intertwined in a sea of digital camouflage looks unprofessional, but let’s be real. Forward thinking leaders like to quote some generic ghost Special Forces Soldier with the line “If you are moving you should be kneeling. If you’re kneeling, you should be sitting. If you’re sitting, you should be lying down. And if you’re lying down, you might as well be asleep”. It’s a crock, they never follow through. The stigma of sleeping is embedded deep within the military threadwork. In our group, we work pretty hard…behind a computer…at a desk…inside under fluorescent lights. Bad business.
Partially due to this disrespect for sleep, Soldiers are a mess. Definitely big trouble. As we represent a cross-section of ‘Merica, our forces are sloppy, lack athleticism, and are metabolically deranged.
Don’t worry though; it’s not all frustration and complaints. We are here to attempt to help you.
I really like the idea of the “Soldier/Warrior Athlete”. Service Members have a job that is inherently physical. Even if you’re a desk-jockey, you are more likely to find yourself in a situation where your athleticism will come into play, potentially in a life or death scenario. Plus the ‘Merican public expects us to be fit and look healthy, like we could actually hold our own if it came down to fisticuffs with the bad guys. The public views the military as “young, healthy, and fit” (I think). The military views SF, Rangers, SEALS, Force Recon, and PJ’s as “badass, strong, and unstoppable” (I think). These elite troops view themselves as the best, the average Soldier as weak and brainwashed, and the public as a mess (I think). How do we balance that out? Why can’t a focus be shifted back to our overall health? Not just the minimum standards. More control.
I walk through the dining facility here and I see grown (literally and figuratively) adults creating meals that would make a 10 year old cheer. “On man, you get to eat grilled cheese sandwiches, hot dogs, french fries, soda and ice cream AT EVERY MEAL?! I want to be in the Army. Cool!” Oh, sorry young ‘Merican, you’re too fat and brittle to serve. Get on a diet, start running, and try back later (when either you’ve developed an eating disorder, pumped yourself full of crazy weight loss pills, or in extreme cases had a surgery). Scary sequence, right? Once you get in though, have at it. Soda, Gatorade, Sweet Tea all flows from endless rivers of delicious into your gullet…and your pancreas cries.
You are a professional athlete.
Professional athletes use their bodies to earn a living. Soldiers are professional athletes. Your paycheck not only depends upon your fitness, but so too does your combat performance and survivability
Your body is your primary weapon.
If you are unfit or injured, you are a liability to your unit, not an asset.
- www.militaryathlete.com
Now I don’t claim to be a hardcore, zero defect, and “every Soldier is a rifleman and Warrior first and foremost” type of leader. I understand that there are Soldiers that joined specifically to do their part in a support role, away from the front lines. I do believe, though, that every Soldier should at least attempt to be better than average and take pride in the uniform, and the way you look in it (read: you’re not a fat slob in camo).
The juxtaposition between hard-charging combat troop and post-teenage adultino is never more evident when witnessed in the lobby of a Starbucks. Allow me to attempt to recreate the scene:
“Bro, I’m so glad to be done with that field exercise. If I had to go another day showering with baby wipes and crapping in a cat hole, I’m pretty sure I would have wasted everyone, not just the OPFOR.” “Yeah, I was posted out on perimeter watch the other night and started catching bugs and lizards to chew on to stay awake. That made for some interesting e-tool/trench adventures. Plus I carved my girl’s name into my forearm…and it came out pretty sick.” “I can’t wait for this playtime training to be done, so we can finally get over there and send some real lead downrange. This tour might be my chance for a Universal Soldier ear-necklace.”
Barista: “Good morning, what could I get started for you?”
“Hey, dude, what was that thing you got last time we were here? That was the shit. Oh, right right. I’ll have a venti orange mocha frappuccino.” “ORANGE..MOCHA...FRAPPUCCINOS!”
And then it gets really Don’t Ask Don’t Tell Repeal. These kids (and crusty old salty dudes) are combat hardened, battle worn, 3 or 4 or 5 or 6 trips to Iraq/Afghanistan/wherever and they still think whipped cream and sprinkles is coffee. Much like a teenager showing up at a Superbad house party with a backpack full of Smirnoff Ice or Mike’s. It just seems wrong.
The example set for them isn’t doing much in the way of helping. Each day I witness tubby Soldiers making their way through the soft serve line. Soft and jiggly. Capable of no sort of reflexive maneuvering, short of their spherical-ness bouncing off of the chair or ground (if the chair collapses, obviously). I watch these Soldiers like a hawk, ready to catch them in the beam of shame and raise my eyebrow in an expressive physical shout of “I’m watching. We both know that is a poor idea, don’t we? I’m disappointed in you. You’re decision making privileges are revoked.” Except, they outrank me. Majors and Colonels, all buttered up, strutting around like the Stay Puft Marshmallow Man with extra syrup on their french toast and pancakes and a plate of cake (at lunch or dinner, it’s not that crazy). “If Fatty Arbuckle can make it that high in rank as a gelatinous blob, then what the hell, pass the Bleu Cheese dressing.” Oh, he has a profile. Free pass. Negative, and then I’m the AH.
There is a lot of misinformation out there, and like most good Soldiers, they just go off of what they are told. Red label – Low Performance; Yellow Label – Moderate Performance; Green Label – High Performance, nice. Good attempt Army, but you are still a little off. Still buying into the Low-Fat/No-Fat BS and cramming low quality carbohydrates down Soldiers throats. “It’s cool Sir. I need these (pancake/french toast/syrup) carbs for energy (to sit at a computer desk all day, indoors, under fluorescent lighting)". “Why don’t you get some bacon, at least?” “Oh no Sir, the doc told me my <insert some ailment here> risk was increasing due to my <insert misdiagnosed hormonal or nutrient> levels. I don’t want to have to take any more pills…than the 20 I take already.”
To try and counteract the info put in front of their faces, I try to add little tidbits (of the minimal amounts I think I understand) and it still won’t hit home. “I really want to lose weight/be stronger/be sick less often/feel better/blah blah, but I just can’t give up my <insert gross unnecessary comfort food here>. “OK, well good luck with that. Please tell no one that we spoke…or that you know me at all. Gracias.”
Before my brain explodes, my last request, for those of you who support us at home:
Please don’t send us Halloween candy. No one here needs it. Rather than a “bit of home” how about contributing to our collective health? Try and get over the emotional connection between Candy Corn and dressing up in costumes to run around the neighborhood. I need a Warrior Athlete who can drag my geared-up 220 pounds out of the kill zone and away from a burning vehicle. I’d say 15% of our group could pull that off right now, even with maximal adrenaline. It’s concerning. Let them find comfort in the fact that they can perform when called upon, and look and act the part of a United States Service Member.
Thank you, and goodnight. Most likely, my next post will be from out of the US. International gripes, all over the world.
Be right. K.
Just recently, I finished reading Lights Out: Sleep, Sugar, and Survival by TS Wiley. A very interesting read, a lot of thought provoking concepts, but overall it just made me concerned (which I suppose is the intended reaction, to initiate action). The military climate is “up before the sun, down far after”. If you can pull down 5-6 hours of sleep, you’re a thief. The ongoing mantra is “sleep is a crutch” and Soldiers constantly catch flack for “laying in their racks” or “flopping out” during down time. Completely counterproductive to peak performance and focus. I understand that a giant gaggle of Soldiers lying on the floor, intertwined in a sea of digital camouflage looks unprofessional, but let’s be real. Forward thinking leaders like to quote some generic ghost Special Forces Soldier with the line “If you are moving you should be kneeling. If you’re kneeling, you should be sitting. If you’re sitting, you should be lying down. And if you’re lying down, you might as well be asleep”. It’s a crock, they never follow through. The stigma of sleeping is embedded deep within the military threadwork. In our group, we work pretty hard…behind a computer…at a desk…inside under fluorescent lights. Bad business.
Partially due to this disrespect for sleep, Soldiers are a mess. Definitely big trouble. As we represent a cross-section of ‘Merica, our forces are sloppy, lack athleticism, and are metabolically deranged.
Don’t worry though; it’s not all frustration and complaints. We are here to attempt to help you.
I really like the idea of the “Soldier/Warrior Athlete”. Service Members have a job that is inherently physical. Even if you’re a desk-jockey, you are more likely to find yourself in a situation where your athleticism will come into play, potentially in a life or death scenario. Plus the ‘Merican public expects us to be fit and look healthy, like we could actually hold our own if it came down to fisticuffs with the bad guys. The public views the military as “young, healthy, and fit” (I think). The military views SF, Rangers, SEALS, Force Recon, and PJ’s as “badass, strong, and unstoppable” (I think). These elite troops view themselves as the best, the average Soldier as weak and brainwashed, and the public as a mess (I think). How do we balance that out? Why can’t a focus be shifted back to our overall health? Not just the minimum standards. More control.
I walk through the dining facility here and I see grown (literally and figuratively) adults creating meals that would make a 10 year old cheer. “On man, you get to eat grilled cheese sandwiches, hot dogs, french fries, soda and ice cream AT EVERY MEAL?! I want to be in the Army. Cool!” Oh, sorry young ‘Merican, you’re too fat and brittle to serve. Get on a diet, start running, and try back later (when either you’ve developed an eating disorder, pumped yourself full of crazy weight loss pills, or in extreme cases had a surgery). Scary sequence, right? Once you get in though, have at it. Soda, Gatorade, Sweet Tea all flows from endless rivers of delicious into your gullet…and your pancreas cries.
You are a professional athlete.
Professional athletes use their bodies to earn a living. Soldiers are professional athletes. Your paycheck not only depends upon your fitness, but so too does your combat performance and survivability
Your body is your primary weapon.
If you are unfit or injured, you are a liability to your unit, not an asset.
- www.militaryathlete.com
Now I don’t claim to be a hardcore, zero defect, and “every Soldier is a rifleman and Warrior first and foremost” type of leader. I understand that there are Soldiers that joined specifically to do their part in a support role, away from the front lines. I do believe, though, that every Soldier should at least attempt to be better than average and take pride in the uniform, and the way you look in it (read: you’re not a fat slob in camo).
The juxtaposition between hard-charging combat troop and post-teenage adultino is never more evident when witnessed in the lobby of a Starbucks. Allow me to attempt to recreate the scene:
“Bro, I’m so glad to be done with that field exercise. If I had to go another day showering with baby wipes and crapping in a cat hole, I’m pretty sure I would have wasted everyone, not just the OPFOR.” “Yeah, I was posted out on perimeter watch the other night and started catching bugs and lizards to chew on to stay awake. That made for some interesting e-tool/trench adventures. Plus I carved my girl’s name into my forearm…and it came out pretty sick.” “I can’t wait for this playtime training to be done, so we can finally get over there and send some real lead downrange. This tour might be my chance for a Universal Soldier ear-necklace.”
Barista: “Good morning, what could I get started for you?”
“Hey, dude, what was that thing you got last time we were here? That was the shit. Oh, right right. I’ll have a venti orange mocha frappuccino.” “ORANGE..MOCHA...FRAPPUCCINOS!”
And then it gets really Don’t Ask Don’t Tell Repeal. These kids (and crusty old salty dudes) are combat hardened, battle worn, 3 or 4 or 5 or 6 trips to Iraq/Afghanistan/wherever and they still think whipped cream and sprinkles is coffee. Much like a teenager showing up at a Superbad house party with a backpack full of Smirnoff Ice or Mike’s. It just seems wrong.
The example set for them isn’t doing much in the way of helping. Each day I witness tubby Soldiers making their way through the soft serve line. Soft and jiggly. Capable of no sort of reflexive maneuvering, short of their spherical-ness bouncing off of the chair or ground (if the chair collapses, obviously). I watch these Soldiers like a hawk, ready to catch them in the beam of shame and raise my eyebrow in an expressive physical shout of “I’m watching. We both know that is a poor idea, don’t we? I’m disappointed in you. You’re decision making privileges are revoked.” Except, they outrank me. Majors and Colonels, all buttered up, strutting around like the Stay Puft Marshmallow Man with extra syrup on their french toast and pancakes and a plate of cake (at lunch or dinner, it’s not that crazy). “If Fatty Arbuckle can make it that high in rank as a gelatinous blob, then what the hell, pass the Bleu Cheese dressing.” Oh, he has a profile. Free pass. Negative, and then I’m the AH.
There is a lot of misinformation out there, and like most good Soldiers, they just go off of what they are told. Red label – Low Performance; Yellow Label – Moderate Performance; Green Label – High Performance, nice. Good attempt Army, but you are still a little off. Still buying into the Low-Fat/No-Fat BS and cramming low quality carbohydrates down Soldiers throats. “It’s cool Sir. I need these (pancake/french toast/syrup) carbs for energy (to sit at a computer desk all day, indoors, under fluorescent lighting)". “Why don’t you get some bacon, at least?” “Oh no Sir, the doc told me my <insert some ailment here> risk was increasing due to my <insert misdiagnosed hormonal or nutrient> levels. I don’t want to have to take any more pills…than the 20 I take already.”
To try and counteract the info put in front of their faces, I try to add little tidbits (of the minimal amounts I think I understand) and it still won’t hit home. “I really want to lose weight/be stronger/be sick less often/feel better/blah blah, but I just can’t give up my <insert gross unnecessary comfort food here>. “OK, well good luck with that. Please tell no one that we spoke…or that you know me at all. Gracias.”
Before my brain explodes, my last request, for those of you who support us at home:
Please don’t send us Halloween candy. No one here needs it. Rather than a “bit of home” how about contributing to our collective health? Try and get over the emotional connection between Candy Corn and dressing up in costumes to run around the neighborhood. I need a Warrior Athlete who can drag my geared-up 220 pounds out of the kill zone and away from a burning vehicle. I’d say 15% of our group could pull that off right now, even with maximal adrenaline. It’s concerning. Let them find comfort in the fact that they can perform when called upon, and look and act the part of a United States Service Member.
Thank you, and goodnight. Most likely, my next post will be from out of the US. International gripes, all over the world.
Be right. K.
APFT and the lies it tells
So I'm going to steal the "K's" thunder here a little bit. Note: As I am sitting here writing this people in the bay jumping around yelling about who got the better APFT score.
So today we woke up at 0 dark 30 to take the APFT (Army Physical Fitness Test), this consists of 2 min of pushups, 2 min of sit-ups, and a 2 mile run. This is the story of what went down.........
So at 4:50 I wake up to get ready to go to the APFT test at the gym at 5:15. I walk over to the gym where no-one is standing, trying to be the good soldier and arrive early. Due to our leaders excellent recon of the site the gym doesn't open until 5:30 and latter we discover we don't have a way to measure our height, which is a pretty standard part of any APFT. So during this time a crowd of people is gathering huddling together to stay warm as it sprinkles rain that seems more like sleet and a wicked wind flows through us. When the doors finally open things go pretty smoothly set up for the test and begin the exercises starting with the pushups. The pushup performance of the individuals being tested was horrible, "the K" actually walked around videotaping it to document the massacre of the Army pushup standard. People were doing the worm, not going down all the way, not locking their elbows out, there were some people that shouldn't have had a single push up count. I even heard one person say, "I will see what the grader will let me get away with and just go down that far".
Then we move on to the sit-up. The sit-up is pretty hard to mess up but people still find a way. A few people don't keep their figures interlocked behind their heads, others don't keep their legs at a 90 degree angle, trying to cheat the system, and again get away with it. When that was completed it was time for the run which is hard to cheat on.
The point of all this is that the APFT is supposed to be a standard metrics that everyone can be compared with each other equally. This metric is not only used as bragging rights, which is being demonstrated right now before me, but also a metrics for getting promoted, being battle ready, and for attendance in competitive army schools. Because of the lack of the enforcement of the standard today no one can really say they were better than the other, and the validity of looking at an APFT score comes into question. I can think of several circumstances off the top of my head of where today one person scored higher than his peer on the test because he did not do the exercises to the proper army standard; which means come promotion time it could be a weighing factor of choosing one over the other.
Note: Yes the graders are to blame as well!!!
26 October 2011
FML my life
A lot happened in the last few days. When I say a lot it means a bunch of small stuff that seems like its pointless, but put it all together and its like a shit storm of retardation mixed with glee. This post will be organized in a bitch-fest-story manner.
Two days ago was the last day of our culminating training exercise. It was a beautiful morning, the sun was out, the bird(intentional) was chirping. It wasn't hot or cold, but just right. My coffee was delicious and it was the last day(that's a fantabulous feeling no matter which way you look at it). We woke up knowing it was the last day, but we didn't know how or when it would end, kinda like prom. Things were going well in the office, it was a slow day and the crew was meshing well. Around noon we got the news...the exercise would end at 2pm. It was great. That was the best news in weeks. We could not wait for 2 to roll around. Finally it is 1:55, I finish my smoke and run into the building screaming "ATTENTION IN THE TOC"(this grabs EVERYONES attention) "10-9-8..." By the number 7 everyone chimed in. It was beautiful, everyone smiling and singing. Once we hit 1 it was like a tornado hit our building. I have never seen such teamwork before. Everyone wanted that TOC apart and we were gonna do it in record time. It was like we were Special Forces TOC tearer downers, people found something to do and did it. 2 people stood at the shredder while others merrily tore crap off the walls, computers came apart in seconds. It was amazing, officers and enlisted working together like never before. Immediately after the countdown music was streaming on cue from the one computer with loud speakers. It wasn't just any music either. It was motivational. We're talking songs like "barbie girl" to which a lieutenant was getting "jiggy". You know, "special" music. It was a dance party and the night shift guys really missed out. All in all it took us around 45 minutes to an hour to tear that building down to nothing. It was a feat of epic proportions. Now comes the shitty part(its weird how the shitty part is always preceded by fun). It is time to clean, sweep, mop, you know shit like that. Well I start to notice the numbers dwindling in the building. People keep sneaking off and before you know it there's 5 of us left. The part that really pissed me off is that only 1 of the 5 was a non commission officer(NCO/sergeant). We just got screwed over by our senior enlisted, who went back to the barracks and took a nap or went to the gym. It was cool though because the one NCO we had with us took care of us. Everyone is gonna bail on us? Ok, fuck that were out too. It was refreshing to see that basic leadership quality in this company which, in my opinion has a large majority of shitty people that hold rank, but don't know how to be leaders. It might not sound like it, but it was a roller coaster of a day.
The next day was on par or even worse. I'm told that I have a bunch of shit to do at 9am. Cool. Its easy stuff and I can sleep in. Wrong. Turns out they decided to start everything at 7. Not that big of a deal. I get up and finish everything within 20 minutes. Sweet. Time to relax. Wrong again. I got an idea, lets grab the same people who were left cleaning the TOC yesterday and take them back to the TOC to finish cleaning it. It's really not that big of a deal because the guy running the show is a senior NCO who I respect a lot and he just wants to get the shit done so we can GTFO of this range and go to main post for awhile. No real problem here, we go clean, make that shit sparkle and get the OK to bail. Its 1245, just in time for the bus to main post. We get permission and move out. We get there and the bus is full. Awesome, we'll catch the next one in an hour. Show up at 2pm, jump on the bus, and roll to main post. Finally, we are away from all the retardation.(did i speak too soon?) Whoa not so fast, almost immediately upon getting to main post all of our phones starting ringing.(I think I did) It's the company and they just wanna fuck our day up. We are told about a 5pm formation we must attend. Awesomesauce(its freaking everywhere around here). It is 2:50 and we have to catch the 4 o'clock bus back to our shit hole. There goes the movie we were gonna watch and all the morale associated with it and the trip we got to pseudo take. Upon returning to the "alamo"(where we train/live) we learn that the 5 o'clock formation was called because 2 soldiers did not turn in bags to send to Los Angeles. One of them was a captain and the other a master sergeant. The captain was gone taking care of things for the deployment and the master sergeant was busy working his ass off for the company. (NOTE: in no way am I blaming these 2 people for anything). It's just frustrating that the bullshit never stops with this company.
/Rant
Thanks for listening.
Today was entertaining, but I will write about it tomorrow because it is late and this post is wayyy too long already.
G'nite world.
Yes, I know, Different show. It's damn close though.
Two days ago was the last day of our culminating training exercise. It was a beautiful morning, the sun was out, the bird(intentional) was chirping. It wasn't hot or cold, but just right. My coffee was delicious and it was the last day(that's a fantabulous feeling no matter which way you look at it). We woke up knowing it was the last day, but we didn't know how or when it would end, kinda like prom. Things were going well in the office, it was a slow day and the crew was meshing well. Around noon we got the news...the exercise would end at 2pm. It was great. That was the best news in weeks. We could not wait for 2 to roll around. Finally it is 1:55, I finish my smoke and run into the building screaming "ATTENTION IN THE TOC"(this grabs EVERYONES attention) "10-9-8..." By the number 7 everyone chimed in. It was beautiful, everyone smiling and singing. Once we hit 1 it was like a tornado hit our building. I have never seen such teamwork before. Everyone wanted that TOC apart and we were gonna do it in record time. It was like we were Special Forces TOC tearer downers, people found something to do and did it. 2 people stood at the shredder while others merrily tore crap off the walls, computers came apart in seconds. It was amazing, officers and enlisted working together like never before. Immediately after the countdown music was streaming on cue from the one computer with loud speakers. It wasn't just any music either. It was motivational. We're talking songs like "barbie girl" to which a lieutenant was getting "jiggy". You know, "special" music. It was a dance party and the night shift guys really missed out. All in all it took us around 45 minutes to an hour to tear that building down to nothing. It was a feat of epic proportions. Now comes the shitty part(its weird how the shitty part is always preceded by fun). It is time to clean, sweep, mop, you know shit like that. Well I start to notice the numbers dwindling in the building. People keep sneaking off and before you know it there's 5 of us left. The part that really pissed me off is that only 1 of the 5 was a non commission officer(NCO/sergeant). We just got screwed over by our senior enlisted, who went back to the barracks and took a nap or went to the gym. It was cool though because the one NCO we had with us took care of us. Everyone is gonna bail on us? Ok, fuck that were out too. It was refreshing to see that basic leadership quality in this company which, in my opinion has a large majority of shitty people that hold rank, but don't know how to be leaders. It might not sound like it, but it was a roller coaster of a day.
The next day was on par or even worse. I'm told that I have a bunch of shit to do at 9am. Cool. Its easy stuff and I can sleep in. Wrong. Turns out they decided to start everything at 7. Not that big of a deal. I get up and finish everything within 20 minutes. Sweet. Time to relax. Wrong again. I got an idea, lets grab the same people who were left cleaning the TOC yesterday and take them back to the TOC to finish cleaning it. It's really not that big of a deal because the guy running the show is a senior NCO who I respect a lot and he just wants to get the shit done so we can GTFO of this range and go to main post for awhile. No real problem here, we go clean, make that shit sparkle and get the OK to bail. Its 1245, just in time for the bus to main post. We get permission and move out. We get there and the bus is full. Awesome, we'll catch the next one in an hour. Show up at 2pm, jump on the bus, and roll to main post. Finally, we are away from all the retardation.(did i speak too soon?) Whoa not so fast, almost immediately upon getting to main post all of our phones starting ringing.(I think I did) It's the company and they just wanna fuck our day up. We are told about a 5pm formation we must attend. Awesomesauce(its freaking everywhere around here). It is 2:50 and we have to catch the 4 o'clock bus back to our shit hole. There goes the movie we were gonna watch and all the morale associated with it and the trip we got to pseudo take. Upon returning to the "alamo"(where we train/live) we learn that the 5 o'clock formation was called because 2 soldiers did not turn in bags to send to Los Angeles. One of them was a captain and the other a master sergeant. The captain was gone taking care of things for the deployment and the master sergeant was busy working his ass off for the company. (NOTE: in no way am I blaming these 2 people for anything). It's just frustrating that the bullshit never stops with this company.
/Rant
Thanks for listening.
Today was entertaining, but I will write about it tomorrow because it is late and this post is wayyy too long already.
G'nite world.
Yes, I know, Different show. It's damn close though.
or "Burns, to the Third Degree"
To all that have been following along, this is how the morning workout with the general went down. We met outside at the track, then a call was received "The general wants to meet over in the parking lot." So we jog over, and link up with him. Decent sized guy, very much looks like a football player from the 80's (apparently he was signed by the Washington Redskins, back in the day). We circle up, and stretch out a little, while he describes how it is going to go happen. We are going to run out, in the dark, on some type of dirt roads or trails he remembered running on when he was first here (at FOB McGregor) back in the day. We head out shuffling at a medium pace. I'm right behind him, because I don't know what to expect, so if he takes off like a rocket, I have a better chance of keeping up and avoiding the Slinky-effect in the rear. It's a comfortable pace, so I'm golden. We run along the fence line, across the little sand dunes, through the shrubbery, out of the gate of the main cantonment area, and into the darkness. Once out there, we find a little opening at a turn around spot and circle up again. "Alright, everyone pair up, count off, 1's and 2's. We're doing 100 Push ups, in chunks, and I'll call the switch. One exercises, while the other counts for them." Cool, I can hang with this. We knock that out, then go into a "V" sit hold and once everyone has hit the 100 count, we mount up. "Fireman's Carry". Which was really a piggyback ride, every red-blooded 'Merican loves a good piggyback. A little bit of that, a little more adventure through the dunes in the dark, then back to our original release point. A cool down stretch, a few pictures for the old FB page (making sure to get the mountains in the background "I love them mountains"), then we huddle up. MG Wells has a program he calls "The General's 100" and we are all going to get individual certificates for our participation. Apparently, he travels around and does this program with different groups. Each certificate is individually numbered, so we ARE special snowflakes. But, they don't have enough to give them to us right now, so they'll mail them out later. The general is a little bummed out by this, so he hits us with the consolation prize, "since I wasn't able to get your certificates for you, here is what I'll do, when we send these out I'll include my 75th (the unit he commands) belt buckle". Woot woot. How you like that for some Texas Southern Hospitality? Refreshing to see a high-ranking leader making fitness a priority PLUS creating his own personal belt buckles. We asked "I wonder what budget that falls under?" The 2-star tchotchke fund, sweetness.
Wow, that was more than I anticipated. Back to current events.
Yesterday morning was the After Action Review (AAR) for our Culminating Training Event (CTE). Donesky, over. Now I am set to leave as part of the Advance Party (ADVON) to Afghanistan, so I am technically on my 4-day "pass". I wanted to make a showing for this event though, because I am one of the central players (I know, get over myself, eat it). Big mistake, ugh.
"So, 6 days ago, this event happened, then you sent the info forward...which finger did you use to click send?" Second by second recount of a training inject that happened almost a week ago (a week of 24-hour operations, mind you) with no heads up that we would be asked to break it down. Real awkward.
Detective: "Imma ask you some real simple questions, and I want some real simple answers. Let me get this right, you bought the bottle of beer about 11:15?"
Kain: "I bought the beer, and I accidently dropped it."
Detective: "You bought the bottle of beer at 11:15?"
Kain: "Ah, yeah, at 11:15. Yeah, at 11:15."
Detective: "Then why was it still there, spilled on the floor, after the shooting?"
Kain: "When I was, when we was leaving, after I left, other people was coming in, when we was leaving."
Detective: "But you don't remember what they..."
Kain: "What they looked like..."
Detective: "But you bought the bottle of beer, definitely, at 12:15?"
Kain: "Yeah, it was 12:15, exact, if I'm not mistaken, it was 12:15."
Detective: "Now you see somethin'. Now you see now, you done f'ed up. You know that don't you?"
Pretty much what it felt like.
If you just remain silent long enough, they become anxious and continue to ramble. "Wow, what is that?-I mean, that's a dog, right?-Is that your dog?-Very interesting breed, interesting looking dog." Whoa, what just happened? I blacked out.
My brain has started to lose focus. Time for bed. I'll post a good one tomorrow, promise.
Also, as a follow up, S, another satisfying event was being able to "pin" Sergeant rank on one of the Soldiers that deployed to Iraq with me, back in 2005. He was Private/E-2 and now he is a Sergeant/E-5, which is a big deal (and very long overdue for him). He requested that I do it specifically, and that is pretty powerful. Congrats SGT Cervantes, keep doing good things.
Out.
Wow, that was more than I anticipated. Back to current events.
Yesterday morning was the After Action Review (AAR) for our Culminating Training Event (CTE). Donesky, over. Now I am set to leave as part of the Advance Party (ADVON) to Afghanistan, so I am technically on my 4-day "pass". I wanted to make a showing for this event though, because I am one of the central players (I know, get over myself, eat it). Big mistake, ugh.
"So, 6 days ago, this event happened, then you sent the info forward...which finger did you use to click send?" Second by second recount of a training inject that happened almost a week ago (a week of 24-hour operations, mind you) with no heads up that we would be asked to break it down. Real awkward.
Detective: "Imma ask you some real simple questions, and I want some real simple answers. Let me get this right, you bought the bottle of beer about 11:15?"
Kain: "I bought the beer, and I accidently dropped it."
Detective: "You bought the bottle of beer at 11:15?"
Kain: "Ah, yeah, at 11:15. Yeah, at 11:15."
Detective: "Then why was it still there, spilled on the floor, after the shooting?"
Kain: "When I was, when we was leaving, after I left, other people was coming in, when we was leaving."
Detective: "But you don't remember what they..."
Kain: "What they looked like..."
Detective: "But you bought the bottle of beer, definitely, at 12:15?"
Kain: "Yeah, it was 12:15, exact, if I'm not mistaken, it was 12:15."
Detective: "Now you see somethin'. Now you see now, you done f'ed up. You know that don't you?"
Pretty much what it felt like.
If you just remain silent long enough, they become anxious and continue to ramble. "Wow, what is that?-I mean, that's a dog, right?-Is that your dog?-Very interesting breed, interesting looking dog." Whoa, what just happened? I blacked out.
My brain has started to lose focus. Time for bed. I'll post a good one tomorrow, promise.
Also, as a follow up, S, another satisfying event was being able to "pin" Sergeant rank on one of the Soldiers that deployed to Iraq with me, back in 2005. He was Private/E-2 and now he is a Sergeant/E-5, which is a big deal (and very long overdue for him). He requested that I do it specifically, and that is pretty powerful. Congrats SGT Cervantes, keep doing good things.
Out.
25 October 2011
Radio check in sequence, over.
I originally wanted to title this post Failure to Communicate but, alas, I don't think my section is worthy of Cool Hand Luke. My Communications professor at USC ( aka University of Southern California, Spoiled Children, South Central, God's Country etc.) would adamantly claim that communication was the most crucial resource in the human foundation. Homie made a compelling point. Without good comms, what separates us from the basic orangutang? Enter the mighty S6 (military colloquialism for the communications department). Nobody above the grade of e-4 speaks English. Now, I'm not one of those guys that goes to the Sharks Cove and gets all undie bunched cause I overhear some cats speaking Spanish. Not just because I'm Mexican, but because it's not a big deal. In the US military, however, I feel like basic understanding of the English language isn't an obnoxious requirement; especially in the communications department! OIC - Haiti, NCOIC - Belize, ANCOIC -Nigeria. Fuck me to tears. Lewis Carroll and Bobby Cox couldn't have come up with this all-star batting lineup if they had hallucinogens being fed directly into their veins. You can't understand these guys when they're right in front of you, throw in a military grade radio and they might as well be using braille. We're all familiar with talking to Peggy from khazikstan when we run into issues with our new laptop, it's inconvenient but rather irrelevant in the cosmic sense, but shouldn't critical wartime information be clear and in one universal language spoken by all participants? Am I whining? Do I need to retake the diversity class? Do I give a shit?
Listening to Loving Cup - Rolling Stones ft Jack White
Listening to Loving Cup - Rolling Stones ft Jack White
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