Today was supposed to be the first day of a new month. What kind of luck in the draw is it to deploy over leap year? It feels like we are forced an extra day. 365 BOG includes the extra day. That being said, the actuality is that it only seems as though we got stuck with another day. The way the day went, it was a long one too.
Egos are rearing their ugly head again. It happens often in the Army. In this case it really doesn't affect me or my team. Unfortunately, the replacements are in the crosshairs. It involves command and control (C2). Apparently there is a change in the works. The replacements didn't know anything about the change and feel as though they've been ambushed. I empathize with them completely. I spent most of today on the phone and in meetings. My efforts were to clarify the changes and see if I could determine the root causes. The command of the incoming unit is not happy with the changes. I see a big fight on the horizon. I'm only thankful it will be a battle that occurs after I'm gone. I hate it when egos get in the way of mission success. I've been summoned to provide an in-depth briefing of our operations over the past year. This will take place once I'm back in Kuwait. I look forward to this, as it will give the incoming unit commander a thorough understanding of what his soldiers will be doing in Iraq. I also hope it will help alleviate any concerns he has regarding the imminent changes to C2.
Our inventory continued today. I think we finally wrapped up. I held an AAR with the new team. They were extremely happy with the training we provided. They are just eager to get out on their first mission. They had to wait an extra day - remember that it's leap year.
I have almost reached saturation at this point. My redeployment couldn't come at a better time. Home, friends, family, beer, my life.... I look forward to having them all back.
Friday, February 29, 2008
28 February 2008: Inventory
I didn't remember my team having so much equipment. Our inventory is taking longer than I planned. This is a necessary evil of RIP-TOA. We don't take anything but our personal gear back. All the "tools of our trade" are signed over to the incoming team. The inventory verifies everything is present and that the serial numbers match. My team works with various high-tech items that are specific to the transportation management and tracking community. After all, that's the main thing we do.
For anyone who is wondering, I am feeling a lot better. That doesn't mean I'm not still carrying Warhorse with me. It's still lingering. My voice is a lot stronger now. That meant I could conclude some of the training I had remaining. The replacements are on the eve of their first mission. They've had much better preparation for it than my team had. That I can guarantee.
I've also started the process of packing my hooch. I feel like I've barely lived there. Truth is, I've only seen the LSAA hooch about three weeks total since August. The difference in clearing out this one is that I accumulated some makeshift furniture. That has to be discarded. I also have to part ways with my Ivy Tavern-Baghdad mileage sign. It still adorns the room. I'm not certain what to do with the thing. I definitely can't take it with me.
Anaconda is the same place I remember. The same old announcements and alarms still sound. We still don't react to them. At this point I'm convinced they are only to convince the people who never leave LSAA that they are "toughing it". After this past year FOB-Hopping, I beg to differ.
For anyone who is wondering, I am feeling a lot better. That doesn't mean I'm not still carrying Warhorse with me. It's still lingering. My voice is a lot stronger now. That meant I could conclude some of the training I had remaining. The replacements are on the eve of their first mission. They've had much better preparation for it than my team had. That I can guarantee.
I've also started the process of packing my hooch. I feel like I've barely lived there. Truth is, I've only seen the LSAA hooch about three weeks total since August. The difference in clearing out this one is that I accumulated some makeshift furniture. That has to be discarded. I also have to part ways with my Ivy Tavern-Baghdad mileage sign. It still adorns the room. I'm not certain what to do with the thing. I definitely can't take it with me.
Anaconda is the same place I remember. The same old announcements and alarms still sound. We still don't react to them. At this point I'm convinced they are only to convince the people who never leave LSAA that they are "toughing it". After this past year FOB-Hopping, I beg to differ.
Wednesday, February 27, 2008
27 February 2008: Progress
The most important progress being made is that my "RIP-TOA" plan for the replacements is going very well. Every training event I had arranged for them has worked like a charm. The continuity books I prepared are basic and focused. The briefings are all complete. The new Team Chief has his first mission planned out. All the newbies don't have the raw look anymore. They are beginning to understand exactly what's in store for them. More importantly, they understand how to go about meeting mission success. They are very happy with what we've provided them.
The other progress being made is my health. Throughout the day I improved dramatically. My voice is back, although karaoke is out for now. The sore throat and coughing have disappeared. That's the best part. I was able to talk with my replacement without fear of another vocal chord blowout. We made a lot of progress. I believe the baton is ready to be handed off. It's his team, his personnel. The only things we have left to do are inventory and sign over equipment, pack up our hooches and catch the flight to Kuwait.
As much as I've been immersed in my job I had begun to fear I would have difficulty letting it go. Somehow I was afraid I would be reluctant in handing over the reins. I'm finding it to be surprisingly easy. The rest of my team are finding the same. It's a surefire sign of a few things. Most importantly, it's a sign that we are very satisfied with the work we've done - there's nothing else to prove. It's also a sign we are ready to go home. We've got no regrets. We met the challenge and passed the test.
Before I wrap this blog up I will make a post to highlight everything my team has accomplished in the past year. I think anyone reading will rub their eyes in astonished disbelief. It's astounding to even myself. The replacements have their work cut out for them in the coming year.
The other progress being made is my health. Throughout the day I improved dramatically. My voice is back, although karaoke is out for now. The sore throat and coughing have disappeared. That's the best part. I was able to talk with my replacement without fear of another vocal chord blowout. We made a lot of progress. I believe the baton is ready to be handed off. It's his team, his personnel. The only things we have left to do are inventory and sign over equipment, pack up our hooches and catch the flight to Kuwait.
As much as I've been immersed in my job I had begun to fear I would have difficulty letting it go. Somehow I was afraid I would be reluctant in handing over the reins. I'm finding it to be surprisingly easy. The rest of my team are finding the same. It's a surefire sign of a few things. Most importantly, it's a sign that we are very satisfied with the work we've done - there's nothing else to prove. It's also a sign we are ready to go home. We've got no regrets. We met the challenge and passed the test.
Before I wrap this blog up I will make a post to highlight everything my team has accomplished in the past year. I think anyone reading will rub their eyes in astonished disbelief. It's astounding to even myself. The replacements have their work cut out for them in the coming year.
26 February 2008: Sick call
Two words that have never entered the lexicon of my daily Army existence were given life. When I woke up this morning I was death. Even fresh, hot coffee didn't provide any relief. I loitered in the hooch for an extra hour waiting to feel better. Reluctantly, I began to consider the possibility of strep throat, flu, or worse (this is Iraq). Ok, I don't fuckin' like the idea but I'll go to sick call. "Sick call" is the term given to the time in the morning the clinic allows soldiers without appointments to stop by for medical conditions. It's normally a term used as a joking way to describe substandard soldiers (the fat crew). That's because you can always find a Joe avoiding physical training by going to sick call.That doesn't mean there aren't legitimate cases to be found at sick call. For the first time in my Army career, I went to sick call.
All was well. I was happy I went. There wasn't a "cure all". I walked away feeling just as bad as when I entered the clinic. However, I knew my ailment was not due to the flu, strep throat, or anything else. I just had the generic "bug" that goes around. The doctor gave me some industrial strength horse pills for congestion and sent me on my way. My voice was back but very weak. It was also about ten octaves lower than normal - reducing me to a whispering Barry White. Although I would have loved to go back to the hooch, I had work to do with the newbies.
I was glad I stopped by the office. The new Team Chief was planning his first mission and had multiple questions. He's one of the types that tries to know everything up front - you know the type. I operate on the "point me in the right direction and I'll figure the rest out on the way" mentality. That doesn't mean I clash with my replacement - to the contrary. I'm happy to talk with him for hours to ensure his success. I just don't have the stamina in my voice right now. The end result was that I assisted his planning until my voice gave out again. Reduced to a whisper, I called it a day. One of my soldiers said, "Sir, I've never seen you sick. I didn't think it was possible for you to be sick." "I know Martinez. I'm shocked myself."
This is where the day will sound strangely similar. I stopped at the DFAC and, once again, made a pre-supper nature call. The KBR port-o-jon delivered again. As I relieved my bladder I glanced up at some writing. "Deadpan Joe" had a comment that made me laugh. He wrote:
"What are you looking up here for? The joke is in your hand"
As I turned to exit the port-o-jon, I noticed another quote. Now this particular Joe is obviously the type that looks for ways to get out of work. We call it "shamming". However, reading "Sham Joe's" quote I couldn't decide if he was Irish or simply couldn't spell. You can make the call.
Sham Joe: "Here I go again shaming in the shiter! HA HA HA!"
Once I got back to the hooch I was able to stay awake long enough to see part 2 of the "Stewie kills Lois" episode of The Family Guy. I had to have closure. After all, I saw part 1 at FOB Warhorse. I also wanted to see if my prediction on the ending was correct. I was close. I don't remember anything after the show ended. Doped up and dazed, I crashed.
All was well. I was happy I went. There wasn't a "cure all". I walked away feeling just as bad as when I entered the clinic. However, I knew my ailment was not due to the flu, strep throat, or anything else. I just had the generic "bug" that goes around. The doctor gave me some industrial strength horse pills for congestion and sent me on my way. My voice was back but very weak. It was also about ten octaves lower than normal - reducing me to a whispering Barry White. Although I would have loved to go back to the hooch, I had work to do with the newbies.
I was glad I stopped by the office. The new Team Chief was planning his first mission and had multiple questions. He's one of the types that tries to know everything up front - you know the type. I operate on the "point me in the right direction and I'll figure the rest out on the way" mentality. That doesn't mean I clash with my replacement - to the contrary. I'm happy to talk with him for hours to ensure his success. I just don't have the stamina in my voice right now. The end result was that I assisted his planning until my voice gave out again. Reduced to a whisper, I called it a day. One of my soldiers said, "Sir, I've never seen you sick. I didn't think it was possible for you to be sick." "I know Martinez. I'm shocked myself."
This is where the day will sound strangely similar. I stopped at the DFAC and, once again, made a pre-supper nature call. The KBR port-o-jon delivered again. As I relieved my bladder I glanced up at some writing. "Deadpan Joe" had a comment that made me laugh. He wrote:
"What are you looking up here for? The joke is in your hand"
As I turned to exit the port-o-jon, I noticed another quote. Now this particular Joe is obviously the type that looks for ways to get out of work. We call it "shamming". However, reading "Sham Joe's" quote I couldn't decide if he was Irish or simply couldn't spell. You can make the call.
Sham Joe: "Here I go again shaming in the shiter! HA HA HA!"
Once I got back to the hooch I was able to stay awake long enough to see part 2 of the "Stewie kills Lois" episode of The Family Guy. I had to have closure. After all, I saw part 1 at FOB Warhorse. I also wanted to see if my prediction on the ending was correct. I was close. I don't remember anything after the show ended. Doped up and dazed, I crashed.
25 February 2008: Losing my voice
It's never happened to me before my entire life. It happened today. It was already weak and cracking. I joked and said it was due to me reaching puberty. Then, right in the middle of me giving the replacements a briefing, it was gone. My voice simply vanished. One of the new Sergeants reached in her pocket and produced some peppermints. She handed me one and said, "Try this sir. These are the good kind. I got them at Cracker Barrel." I gratefully took it and shoved it in my mouth. The candy had just enough restorative power to allow me to finish the training brief. A few minutes later my voice took leave for the rest of the day. I followed shortly after. Whatever I picked up from that shitty CHU at Warhorse is gripping more tightly on me with every passing minute. I didn't have any more presentations to give the replacements. I handed the training over to one of my NCO's.
It really sucks to be feeling so poorly. This is a feeling made more acute by the fact that I have a new team hanging on every word I say. I never get sick. Ask any of my friends. Yet, here I am within days of leaving and struggling with the bug. On my way back to the hooch I made a stop at the chow hall. I was glad I did. A nature call gave me an opportunity to see some port-o-jon wisdom. Actually, most of it was so foul and raunchy that I won't even quote it here. I mean, it was that bad. However, there was a Joe who decided to provide a plausible "exit strategy" with justification. State Department Joe wrote:
"Let's just make Iraq a state. That way Mississippi won't be the worst one of all."
I've been to Mississippi. SD Joe may be onto something here. My question is this - would Iraqi University be in the Southeastern Conference? That would keep Vanderbilt from being the annual football goat (at least for a few years).
After supper I cruised back to the hooch and crashed hard. It was a fitful sleep though. A nagging cough and a sore throat from hell kept waking me back up.
It really sucks to be feeling so poorly. This is a feeling made more acute by the fact that I have a new team hanging on every word I say. I never get sick. Ask any of my friends. Yet, here I am within days of leaving and struggling with the bug. On my way back to the hooch I made a stop at the chow hall. I was glad I did. A nature call gave me an opportunity to see some port-o-jon wisdom. Actually, most of it was so foul and raunchy that I won't even quote it here. I mean, it was that bad. However, there was a Joe who decided to provide a plausible "exit strategy" with justification. State Department Joe wrote:
"Let's just make Iraq a state. That way Mississippi won't be the worst one of all."
I've been to Mississippi. SD Joe may be onto something here. My question is this - would Iraqi University be in the Southeastern Conference? That would keep Vanderbilt from being the annual football goat (at least for a few years).
After supper I cruised back to the hooch and crashed hard. It was a fitful sleep though. A nagging cough and a sore throat from hell kept waking me back up.
Monday, February 25, 2008
24 February 2008: The Replacements, part II
They are here. They arrived at the fixed wing pax terminal around 0130. It took at least 30 minutes to gather all their gear and haul them over to the housing office. The new soldiers are eager, raw, and still in a daze from the traveling. Jet-lag is a bitch. Even though they were smoked, they stood around asking me questions about what's in store for them. Finally, around 0330, I got them to all go back to their new hooches and get some sleep.
We met back at 1200 for lunch. On my way into DFAC 3 I ran into the outgoing battalion commander of the unit I'll be taking over in the summer. It was the first time we'd ever met in person. We chatted for a few. I told him I'd be stopping back by later in the week. Training my replacements was the priority for now. Once inside, I sat amongst the new personnel. They were wide-eyed. Only a few of them have deployed before. I assured them they would be fine.
After lunch I set about the task of "handing off the baton". After an overview briefing, I gave them a foundation of the various types of missions our team does. The incoming Team Chief is now clear on the upcoming missions through June. I even helped him plan his first mission. At the same time, I became increasingly under the weather. I've never been sick this entire deployment. It's hitting me now. I know what it's from - FOB Warhorse. The CHU I stayed in was as inhospitable as any I've ever seen. Now I have some crud that has me achy, stuffy, and talking through a painfully sore throat. Warhorse refuses to let go of me. I'll drive on though. The new team will be ready.
I'd rather get sick now than after I redeploy. Fine, I'll deal with it now.
We met back at 1200 for lunch. On my way into DFAC 3 I ran into the outgoing battalion commander of the unit I'll be taking over in the summer. It was the first time we'd ever met in person. We chatted for a few. I told him I'd be stopping back by later in the week. Training my replacements was the priority for now. Once inside, I sat amongst the new personnel. They were wide-eyed. Only a few of them have deployed before. I assured them they would be fine.
After lunch I set about the task of "handing off the baton". After an overview briefing, I gave them a foundation of the various types of missions our team does. The incoming Team Chief is now clear on the upcoming missions through June. I even helped him plan his first mission. At the same time, I became increasingly under the weather. I've never been sick this entire deployment. It's hitting me now. I know what it's from - FOB Warhorse. The CHU I stayed in was as inhospitable as any I've ever seen. Now I have some crud that has me achy, stuffy, and talking through a painfully sore throat. Warhorse refuses to let go of me. I'll drive on though. The new team will be ready.
I'd rather get sick now than after I redeploy. Fine, I'll deal with it now.
Saturday, February 23, 2008
23 February 2008: The Replacements
Well, they aren't here - yet. I'm waiting on them. I expect them here any minute. Given that there's an internet cafe at the pax terminal, I figured I'd go ahead and keep typing. Another sign of the finality of my deployment's approaching end is imminent. My team's replacements will be here and checked into their billets within the hour. I have spent almost my entire time since I returned from Warhorse immersed in the presentations I will be giving them starting tomorrow. I've also put together a comprehensive "continuity" book for the new Team Chief. It will be a lot more than I got when I arrived. Truth is, the team my soldiers replaced were only interested in leaving. They left us with nothing - no classes, briefings, or even records from any of the work they had accomplished from their time here. I am resolved to ensure my replacement is well prepared. He will be.
I barely saw any of LSAA today. The entire time was spent in the office. This is a by-product of being stuck in FOB Warhorse. The time I had allotted was consumed in the dust of cancelled flights. That's alright though, I had it all together in my head. It just required me putting it to paper.
Hot damn! I've only got about nine days left in Iraq. Has it already been a year? Almost.
I barely saw any of LSAA today. The entire time was spent in the office. This is a by-product of being stuck in FOB Warhorse. The time I had allotted was consumed in the dust of cancelled flights. That's alright though, I had it all together in my head. It just required me putting it to paper.
Hot damn! I've only got about nine days left in Iraq. Has it already been a year? Almost.
22 February 2008: Warhorse versus Anaconda
Even a stranger to my blog knows that FOB Warhorse is a shithole. It's a bleak, barren place. The facilities are devoid of entertainment. Joes who aren't on duty get very bored. Although I am happy to have not spent my deployment there, I have to grudgingly admit that a place like Warhorse has its perks. I don't find it surprising that Joes take pride with their smaller, warrior-FOB's. I hated getting stuck at Warhorse - again. But the place is much more hospitable now than a few months ago. It's sort of a ghost town these days. Gone are the endless lines of armored vehicles lining every street. CHU's and tents aren't overcrowded anymore. A Joe can truly find privacy there. But what makes a place like Warhorse a better location for Joe is what's not visible on the outside. The FOB is completely absent of the "garrison" mentality found on a super-FOB like Anaconda. Joe doesn't have to worry about a creeping Sergeant Major lurking in the shadows, ready to pounce on the slightest uniform discrepency. The place is home of personnel who spend more time outside the wire than in. There isn't time for stupid rules from the Mayor's Cell. When Joe has time off, he can spend his time without interference from red tape. The trade-off is the lack of amenities. That's why the soldier from a small, fighting FOB always enjoys a quick trip to a big place like Anaconda. A few hours means a well stocked PX, multiple food courts, a movie theater with first-run movies, and lots of pretty females (perhaps more than the Joes have seen in months). When convoys come in they rarely stay overnight. It's more of a morale boost. However, there are too many rules at Anaconda for the fighting Joe from Warhorse to stay for more than a few hours at a time.
I had a wake-up call today. Yes, I am back in Anaconda. How did I know I was back? When I went to supper I was stopped by a soldier at the entrance. He was working detail in the DFAC. He said, "Sir, do you have a reflective belt?" I said, "say again?" With a dead serious look, he said, "Sir, a reflective belt is required after dark. Do you have one?" In my mind I thought, "Oh yeah! That's right. This is Anaconda. There are rules." In frustration I blurted, "I just came straight from work. I have a reflective belt in my room. I'll get it after I eat." The soldier said, "Roger sir!" There was no fucking way I was going all the way back to my room. Welcome back to garrison life. At least at FOB Warhorse I never encountered anyone being anal about reflective belts.
The only, real reason I'm back in LSAA is because it's time to wrap up this deployment and go home.
I had a wake-up call today. Yes, I am back in Anaconda. How did I know I was back? When I went to supper I was stopped by a soldier at the entrance. He was working detail in the DFAC. He said, "Sir, do you have a reflective belt?" I said, "say again?" With a dead serious look, he said, "Sir, a reflective belt is required after dark. Do you have one?" In my mind I thought, "Oh yeah! That's right. This is Anaconda. There are rules." In frustration I blurted, "I just came straight from work. I have a reflective belt in my room. I'll get it after I eat." The soldier said, "Roger sir!" There was no fucking way I was going all the way back to my room. Welcome back to garrison life. At least at FOB Warhorse I never encountered anyone being anal about reflective belts.
The only, real reason I'm back in LSAA is because it's time to wrap up this deployment and go home.
Friday, February 22, 2008
21 February 2008: Lunar eclipse and a convoy back to LSAA
I couldn't wait any longer to get back to Anaconda. Flights have continually proven to be unreliable. My team cannot control the weather. There was only one guaranteed manner to get from Warhorse back to LSAA - ground convoy. With that in mind, I manifested myself on an early morning ride back. A Captain from the convoy would stop by my hooch at 0615 to pick me up and give me a ride over to the convoy staging area.
Now that I've provided the background, you'll understand why I was up very early today. This proved to be a boon. I got up about 0500 to utilize the shower facilities. Walking over to the latrine I noticed the lunar eclipse was about halfway complete. By the time I finished my shave, only about a fifth of the moon remained. I hurriedly got dressed and made a beeline over to Green Beans. I'll be damned if the convoy would keep me from morning coffee. I gleefully yelled at every Joe I saw to look to the moon. Nobody even seemed aware that the eclipse was occurring. I was the town crier. It was a spectacular event. The sky was crystal clear, the moon full. About 0555 the eclipse was total. The moon glowed a dull red in the early morning sky. I even told the TCN working GB's to step outside and look. After all, the next one won't be visible until December 2010. He was amazed and asked if it was good luck. I told him if he wanted to see it as a sign of good fortune he was more than welcome.
At 0615 sharp, the CPT came to get me. I immediately mentioned the lunar eclipse. By then the moon had dipped below the horizon. The CPT had missed the show. He seemed rather bummed. It was very cold and I regretted not putting on an extra layer of warmth. In just a few minutes we arrived at the convoy. There were armored humvees, strikers, and some KBR trucks. I would ride in one of the humvees. The convoy commander gave the briefing to everybody, followed by radio checks. By 0730, I was strapped in and we were departing. It would be about an hour drive from Warhorse to Balad. The threat level was low. The convoy route required traversing Baqubah, a tributary of the Tigris, numerous villages, and Balad. The biggest concern was the major choke point at the river. The pre-war bridge was destroyed. This forced the convoy to utilize a temporary one-lane span. Only one vehicle could cross at a time. Each vehicle would travel at only 3mph upon crossing the bridge until everyone was across. Only then would the convoy resume normal march speed.
All in all, the convoy proved rather boring. That's a good thing. Although we encountered numerous vehicles and civilians, there was no sign of trouble at any time. The weather was beautiful. Visibility was excellent. I spent the ride more as a tourist. I snapped numerous photos and took a couple of videos. The crew of my humvee was very jovial. They joked and laughed the entire trip. I asked them a few questions regarding the presence of AQI (Al Quaeda Iraq) in their area. It seems the surge has routed AQI around here - as with almost every other location in the country. That makes for quiet convoys. At 0830 we rolled up on the north gate of LSAA. After all the vehicles reported to a rally point, my crew drove me over to Catfish Air. I had my old Admiral pick-up parked there. It was rather ironic that the truck was waiting on me to arrive by air. I thanked them for the ride. About 0900 I was back at my old hooch. I've only been here one night in the past 120 days. This will be my home for another twelve days before I leave to Kuwait for redeployment.
My final mission, the mission to FOB Warhorse, is complete. Going home is now number one on the priority list.
Thursday, February 21, 2008
20 February 2008: Can't get there from here
Today enticed my entire team. It fooled us into believing we had a chance to leave FOB Warhorse. Although it was still dusty in the morning, the day became bright and clear. Around 1400 a couple of Blackhawks circled and landed. This caused everyone waiting on a flight to scurry over to the pax terminal. It was a head-fake. Never mind those helicopters, they were just a General officer. The spirits soared and then sank. You just can't get "there" from "here" when the "here" is Warhorse.
Regardless of the wait, we remained pretty confident that we'd get out. After supper my NCOIC stopped back by the pax terminal to check. All flights were on weather hold. Apparently, visibility was still bad somewhere. No worries, right? Everything looked great from our perspective. Surely we could count on flights? Wrong. Two hours later, I stopped back by to check the status. Dreadful words hit my ears. "Sir, all flights cancelled. Visibility is bad back at Balad and Speicher." My team was already dragging their gear over. I rushed out to stop them. Fortunately, I caught them after about 100 meters of rucksack hauling. We're back to the drawing board. Warhorse remains home for now.
Regardless of the wait, we remained pretty confident that we'd get out. After supper my NCOIC stopped back by the pax terminal to check. All flights were on weather hold. Apparently, visibility was still bad somewhere. No worries, right? Everything looked great from our perspective. Surely we could count on flights? Wrong. Two hours later, I stopped back by to check the status. Dreadful words hit my ears. "Sir, all flights cancelled. Visibility is bad back at Balad and Speicher." My team was already dragging their gear over. I rushed out to stop them. Fortunately, I caught them after about 100 meters of rucksack hauling. We're back to the drawing board. Warhorse remains home for now.
Tuesday, February 19, 2008
19 February 2008: Fast-roping spiders
There is a terrible dust storm all over the area of operations. All flights have been grounded. My team continues to call Warhorse home for now. It looked like the weather was going to break earlier. The sun came out. We could even see blue sky. Visibility in any direction was never more than about 300 meters. We pursued every option available for flights. By 1000, all morning flights had cancelled. The daily logistics patrol to Balad had already departed so that was out as an option. Obviously, another day would be spent at Warhorse.
After lunch I faced the daunting task of finding something to do. The easy fix was a nap. I cruised back to my loaner hooch. We're housed in a total ghetto. Every CHU is in disrepair. There's tattered camoulflage netting everywhere. Previous occupants made attempts to build decks and patios. Those structures are all in shambles. Nobody cleaned up the mess. Even the sandbags are rotten. My hooch has three beds. One of them is broken, with the mattress leaning on the floor. There's a refigerator but it doesn't work. Whoever stayed in the CHU before left a loaf of bread and some other things that are now all moldy and rotten. The place smells of dust.
I reported to my CHU about 1400 and quickly took up the prone position on my bed. In a few minutes I was asleep. My nap knocked another hour out of the day. At precisely 1500 I sat up. As I stood up I noticed something through my blurry near-vision. At first I thought it was just the sleep in my eyes. As the fog of the nap cleared, I realized that something was dangling off of my nose. It was a spider! A fucking spider was fast-roping off the end of my nose! Almost instinctively, I clapped my hands on the beast and extinguished his brazen attempt at escape. It was then that I noticed something else. Another spider was rapidly descending off of my left elbow! I quickly stomped him into a pulp on the wooden floor. By now I had the complete paranoia of heightened senses. Every little tingle had me slapping. I shook my hands through my scalp and all over my body. I slapped all my clothing. I inspected the bed for signs of movement. There was nothing. Was it just two rogue insurgents in spider costumes? Regardless, they were history. It took several hours for me to convince myself that nothing else was crawling on me.
There really wasn't anything else to do. The evening flights cancelled. Visibility dropped to less than 100 meters. I walked to the gym to break the monotony. Later in the evening, one of my soldiers and I walked to the MWR to watch a new episode of "The Family Guy". Stewie kills Lois. It turns out it's a two-part episode. Now we have to wait until next week to see what happened. I sure hope we're not watching part 2 at FOB Warhorse. At the rate this is going, my flight out of Warhorse will be part of my redeployment flight. The weather shows no signs of abating.
I hope I killed all the spiders.
After lunch I faced the daunting task of finding something to do. The easy fix was a nap. I cruised back to my loaner hooch. We're housed in a total ghetto. Every CHU is in disrepair. There's tattered camoulflage netting everywhere. Previous occupants made attempts to build decks and patios. Those structures are all in shambles. Nobody cleaned up the mess. Even the sandbags are rotten. My hooch has three beds. One of them is broken, with the mattress leaning on the floor. There's a refigerator but it doesn't work. Whoever stayed in the CHU before left a loaf of bread and some other things that are now all moldy and rotten. The place smells of dust.
I reported to my CHU about 1400 and quickly took up the prone position on my bed. In a few minutes I was asleep. My nap knocked another hour out of the day. At precisely 1500 I sat up. As I stood up I noticed something through my blurry near-vision. At first I thought it was just the sleep in my eyes. As the fog of the nap cleared, I realized that something was dangling off of my nose. It was a spider! A fucking spider was fast-roping off the end of my nose! Almost instinctively, I clapped my hands on the beast and extinguished his brazen attempt at escape. It was then that I noticed something else. Another spider was rapidly descending off of my left elbow! I quickly stomped him into a pulp on the wooden floor. By now I had the complete paranoia of heightened senses. Every little tingle had me slapping. I shook my hands through my scalp and all over my body. I slapped all my clothing. I inspected the bed for signs of movement. There was nothing. Was it just two rogue insurgents in spider costumes? Regardless, they were history. It took several hours for me to convince myself that nothing else was crawling on me.
There really wasn't anything else to do. The evening flights cancelled. Visibility dropped to less than 100 meters. I walked to the gym to break the monotony. Later in the evening, one of my soldiers and I walked to the MWR to watch a new episode of "The Family Guy". Stewie kills Lois. It turns out it's a two-part episode. Now we have to wait until next week to see what happened. I sure hope we're not watching part 2 at FOB Warhorse. At the rate this is going, my flight out of Warhorse will be part of my redeployment flight. The weather shows no signs of abating.
I hope I killed all the spiders.
Monday, February 18, 2008
18 February 2008: Warhorse goes with weather hold
They are like two peas in a pod. The intent was for me to fly from here back to Balad as soon as our training ended. Well... FOB Warhorse... Once you're in it grabs hold and won't let go. I know from experience, having been stuck here before. This time the culprit was 30+ knot winds throughout the area of operations. Flights were grounded everywhere. They all cancelled. My magic sleigh ride out of here will have to wait. The whole "weather hold" routine will start anew in the morning. I hope it isn't the same episode of days waiting we experienced just a couple of weeks ago in Camp Liberty. FOB Warhorse, although not as crowded as it once was, is still a crappy place to be stuck.
The happy times here were in the conduct of our training. We can chalk another brigade up on our "trained for redeployment" list. I think that's eighteen and counting. We conducted classes in the theater, which is a makeshift wooden structure. It provided good automation for our slides. The acoustics were more than adequate. I don't like to raise my voice.
After the classes were over we saw how much the weather had deteriorated. I had a sinking feeling I wouldn't be going anywhere. Several trips to the pax terminal confirmed what I feared. Nothing was flying. However, there was more evidence that the KBR and military personnel involved with flight operations don't talk to one another. When I first reported to the pax terminal, the Sergeant on duty called Balad to check on my flight status. This was at 1415. The KBR person in Balad said the mission had departed and was making its rounds. The arrival time at Warhorse for my flight was 1515. The time came and went. About 1545 the Sergeant called back to Balad. This time the KBR person said the mission was complete. The Sergeant was quick to point out that they missed a stop on their route. He insisted on talking to the military side. The military informed him that the flight had made limited stops (due to weather) and had returned to Balad at 1230. That's almost two hours prior to the KBR person claiming the helicopters were out making their rounds! Shit! Where's the audit of these services? This crap happens all the time. I should know. Flying is a necessary part of my team's operations.
Later I stopped by a port-o-jon on the way to supper. A Joe had summed up the operations being conducted around FOB Warhorse. He said, "This isn't a war! We're just cops out on the beat."
I'm just a Team Chief trying to get back to Balad so I can meet my replacement. It's time to go home.
The happy times here were in the conduct of our training. We can chalk another brigade up on our "trained for redeployment" list. I think that's eighteen and counting. We conducted classes in the theater, which is a makeshift wooden structure. It provided good automation for our slides. The acoustics were more than adequate. I don't like to raise my voice.
After the classes were over we saw how much the weather had deteriorated. I had a sinking feeling I wouldn't be going anywhere. Several trips to the pax terminal confirmed what I feared. Nothing was flying. However, there was more evidence that the KBR and military personnel involved with flight operations don't talk to one another. When I first reported to the pax terminal, the Sergeant on duty called Balad to check on my flight status. This was at 1415. The KBR person in Balad said the mission had departed and was making its rounds. The arrival time at Warhorse for my flight was 1515. The time came and went. About 1545 the Sergeant called back to Balad. This time the KBR person said the mission was complete. The Sergeant was quick to point out that they missed a stop on their route. He insisted on talking to the military side. The military informed him that the flight had made limited stops (due to weather) and had returned to Balad at 1230. That's almost two hours prior to the KBR person claiming the helicopters were out making their rounds! Shit! Where's the audit of these services? This crap happens all the time. I should know. Flying is a necessary part of my team's operations.
Later I stopped by a port-o-jon on the way to supper. A Joe had summed up the operations being conducted around FOB Warhorse. He said, "This isn't a war! We're just cops out on the beat."
I'm just a Team Chief trying to get back to Balad so I can meet my replacement. It's time to go home.
17 February 2008: Goodbye Liberty! Hello Warhorse!
I never said I was headed straight back to Balad. We've still got work to do. Yet, today was my last to wake up in Camp Liberty. Having packed the night before, the only thing I needed to do was wait until time to report to Liberty Pad. There would be no delays today, no weather hold. It was clear and warm. I swept my old hooch one more time and made certain I hadn't left anything behind. After grabbing a lunch to go, I headed over to LP for, perhaps, the last time ever.
Liberty Pad was humming with activity. Helicopters were flying in and out at regular intervals. The waiting passengers cycled through frequently. I sat down and ate my lunch. Our flight was to depart at 1330. They weren't kidding either. Those birds were right on time. I barely was able to finish lunch - gulping down my drink as I strapped on gear. My team loaded quickly and we took off. Unfortunately, we had to make a stop at BIAP for fuel. The reason I say "unfortunately" is because fuel stops require all the passengers to exit the aircraft. So less than five minutes after strapping in we were unbuckling and climbing back out of the helicopters to wait. About twenty minutes later we were on our way.
Our destination was FOB Warhorse. I like to call it Hell. We don't have fond memories of the place. None of us were happy at having to return to Hell so close to our redeployment. It's our job though. As you can guess, there's a BCT needing our assistance. We had a pleasant surprise waiting on us when we arrived.
We landed at Warhorse around 1500. Our ride wasn't there yet. Once we were clear of the aircraft, we gathered around a concrete barrier to wait. I looked around and said, "Welcome back to Hell!" Everyone laughed. It was apparent that something was different at Warhorse. The place seemed practically deserted. This tiny FOB used to host three full Brigade Combat Teams. It's designed for one. The last time we were here the place was teaming with Joes and equipment. Every street was lined with combat vehicles, every tent or CHU was full, and every open space had containers packed in like sardines. As we waited for our ride we could see that the streets were empty. There was an absence of containers. We saw only random Joes. The FOB was livable. Our ride showed up - a sergeant - and he explained that there was only one BCT now. My entire team was housed in CHU's (last time they were packed in tents that were 80-deep with Joes). We found the DFAC to be empty, the gym had no wait, the PX was absent of long lines - Warhorse had become a place where privacy could be had.
I took the time to walk around the FOB. Our training wasn't until the next day. The "National Forest" is still here - albeit in much disrepair. The Green Beans has moved into an all new food court. There's a putt-putt golf course in the middle of the food court (are you fucking kidding me?). Everything else is pretty much the same. The boulevards just aren't lined with Strikers combat vehicles and Abrams tanks. Walking around still brought back the unpleasant memories of 140 degree heat and moondust. I'll always remember Warhorse for that.
So here we are at FOB Warhorse. It's not exactly Hell anymore. Perhaps our final mission won't be so bad after all. I still don't want to get stuck here due to weather. I've almost got one foot out the door now.
Liberty Pad was humming with activity. Helicopters were flying in and out at regular intervals. The waiting passengers cycled through frequently. I sat down and ate my lunch. Our flight was to depart at 1330. They weren't kidding either. Those birds were right on time. I barely was able to finish lunch - gulping down my drink as I strapped on gear. My team loaded quickly and we took off. Unfortunately, we had to make a stop at BIAP for fuel. The reason I say "unfortunately" is because fuel stops require all the passengers to exit the aircraft. So less than five minutes after strapping in we were unbuckling and climbing back out of the helicopters to wait. About twenty minutes later we were on our way.
Our destination was FOB Warhorse. I like to call it Hell. We don't have fond memories of the place. None of us were happy at having to return to Hell so close to our redeployment. It's our job though. As you can guess, there's a BCT needing our assistance. We had a pleasant surprise waiting on us when we arrived.
We landed at Warhorse around 1500. Our ride wasn't there yet. Once we were clear of the aircraft, we gathered around a concrete barrier to wait. I looked around and said, "Welcome back to Hell!" Everyone laughed. It was apparent that something was different at Warhorse. The place seemed practically deserted. This tiny FOB used to host three full Brigade Combat Teams. It's designed for one. The last time we were here the place was teaming with Joes and equipment. Every street was lined with combat vehicles, every tent or CHU was full, and every open space had containers packed in like sardines. As we waited for our ride we could see that the streets were empty. There was an absence of containers. We saw only random Joes. The FOB was livable. Our ride showed up - a sergeant - and he explained that there was only one BCT now. My entire team was housed in CHU's (last time they were packed in tents that were 80-deep with Joes). We found the DFAC to be empty, the gym had no wait, the PX was absent of long lines - Warhorse had become a place where privacy could be had.
I took the time to walk around the FOB. Our training wasn't until the next day. The "National Forest" is still here - albeit in much disrepair. The Green Beans has moved into an all new food court. There's a putt-putt golf course in the middle of the food court (are you fucking kidding me?). Everything else is pretty much the same. The boulevards just aren't lined with Strikers combat vehicles and Abrams tanks. Walking around still brought back the unpleasant memories of 140 degree heat and moondust. I'll always remember Warhorse for that.
So here we are at FOB Warhorse. It's not exactly Hell anymore. Perhaps our final mission won't be so bad after all. I still don't want to get stuck here due to weather. I've almost got one foot out the door now.
Sunday, February 17, 2008
16 February 2007: Packing up the Liberty hooch
Today was potentially my last to begin and end at Camp Liberty. It seems amazing to say that. Everywhere I went through the course of the day I watched for something significant. Nothing happened. The big highlight was packing my gear. Even though I mailed several boxes home, I still found that I had a lot more gear than I thought. I didn't attempt to pack the ruck. Instead I just staged everything for easy packing later. Once everything was laid out it became obvious that I may not have enough room. I handed all my food to one of the engineering units. I was never going to finish it all (by food, I meant unopened packets of jerky, cheese crackers, chocolates, and other things that had accumulated faster than I could keep up. I received a lot of packages from friends and family back home). Once I had rearranged everything it was easier to clean the hooch. There were some dustballs big enough to eat small mice.
At supper time I stopped by MND-B HQ to meet up with my old friend from PC ROTC. Ryan and I ate at the MND-B DFAC and reminisced about the old times. We did a lot of catching up too. It was good to see him. We didn't realize how long our conversation had gone on until a TCN came around wiping down our table. It was almost 2100. We'd been in the DFAC for almost two hours. I walked back over to MND-B with him and then headed back to my freshly cleaned hooch. This was to be my final night at Camp Liberty. I hope that holds true.
It still hasn't really hit me yet. I'm finally leaving Camp Liberty for good. Next I have to clear Balad. We've still got another mission though.
At supper time I stopped by MND-B HQ to meet up with my old friend from PC ROTC. Ryan and I ate at the MND-B DFAC and reminisced about the old times. We did a lot of catching up too. It was good to see him. We didn't realize how long our conversation had gone on until a TCN came around wiping down our table. It was almost 2100. We'd been in the DFAC for almost two hours. I walked back over to MND-B with him and then headed back to my freshly cleaned hooch. This was to be my final night at Camp Liberty. I hope that holds true.
It still hasn't really hit me yet. I'm finally leaving Camp Liberty for good. Next I have to clear Balad. We've still got another mission though.
Saturday, February 16, 2008
15 February 2008: Revisiting Rocky
I'm not talking about Rocky Balboa. I'm talking about Rocky the mascot of 3rd Infantry Division, "Rock of the Marne". I made a "business call" over at the MND-C HQ. Those of you who pay attention to my blog will recall this HQ to be on Victory Base. Last week I made a visit to the VBC post office to mail some boxes home. The two buildings share the same parking lot. Unlike the day before, this time I included some of my team. I wasn't coming to see Rocky to hammer out differences. This was just an in-progress review. 3rd ID is very, very happy with the services my team provides to them. They are always happy to see us. No matter what FOB we visit to assist "Rock of the Marne", we are always well cared for. Most of 3rd ID come from Fort Stewart, GA. Although this Army post is adjacent to a typical, small military town (Hinesville), it's within striking distance of Savannah. That city is one of the most awesome places on the east coast. Where was I going with this? I guess my mind was wandering. It sure would be nice to hit Savannah tonight. Anyway, the meeting went outstanding. Rock of the Marne! I even pet the Rocky statue on the way in.
Speaking of on the way in, the entrance has controlled access. As my team was making our way in we each showed our access badges to the soldier at the gate. When she saw me she snapped to attention, saluted and bellowed, "ROCK OF THE MARNE!" I instinctively returned the salute and said, "Rock of the Marne!" I'm not assigned to the division so, technically, it wasn't my place to say that. However, I always feel at home with 3rd ID. It felt natural to say that.
The term Rock of the Marne comes from the 3rd Infantry Division's distinctive, proud history. In 1918, the Germans launched a massive offensive in France during the last months of World War I. It was their last effort to win the war. It almost worked. American forces were being rushed into the conflict (the United States didn't even enter the war until 1917). The war had been dragging on since 1914 with catastrophic losses of men and material. The French and British armies had practically no reserves. The American Army, newcomers full of vigor and enthusiasm, were rushed into the faltering French lines. The German Army had broken through and were threatening Paris. The 3rd Infantry Division took up defensive positions along the Marne River. They stopped the German offensive. Paris was saved. The German Army was spent. The war ended within the year. Ever since that battle the 3rd Infantry Division has been known as Rock of the Marne.
Audie Murphy also served with Rock of the Marne. I hope everyone has heard of him. Audie Murphy was the most highly decorated soldier in the history of the Army. He earned every single valor medal - Bronze Star, Silver Star, Distinguished Service Cross, and the Medal of Honor. Keep in mind that each medal was earned for a separate demonstration of combat valor. His actions are legendary even today. He was Rock of the Marne.
I like being around the 3rd ID. They are professional, friendly, and are always eager to help. It's always a pleasure, and honor, to be around the Rock of the Marne soldiers.
Speaking of on the way in, the entrance has controlled access. As my team was making our way in we each showed our access badges to the soldier at the gate. When she saw me she snapped to attention, saluted and bellowed, "ROCK OF THE MARNE!" I instinctively returned the salute and said, "Rock of the Marne!" I'm not assigned to the division so, technically, it wasn't my place to say that. However, I always feel at home with 3rd ID. It felt natural to say that.
The term Rock of the Marne comes from the 3rd Infantry Division's distinctive, proud history. In 1918, the Germans launched a massive offensive in France during the last months of World War I. It was their last effort to win the war. It almost worked. American forces were being rushed into the conflict (the United States didn't even enter the war until 1917). The war had been dragging on since 1914 with catastrophic losses of men and material. The French and British armies had practically no reserves. The American Army, newcomers full of vigor and enthusiasm, were rushed into the faltering French lines. The German Army had broken through and were threatening Paris. The 3rd Infantry Division took up defensive positions along the Marne River. They stopped the German offensive. Paris was saved. The German Army was spent. The war ended within the year. Ever since that battle the 3rd Infantry Division has been known as Rock of the Marne.
Audie Murphy also served with Rock of the Marne. I hope everyone has heard of him. Audie Murphy was the most highly decorated soldier in the history of the Army. He earned every single valor medal - Bronze Star, Silver Star, Distinguished Service Cross, and the Medal of Honor. Keep in mind that each medal was earned for a separate demonstration of combat valor. His actions are legendary even today. He was Rock of the Marne.
I like being around the 3rd ID. They are professional, friendly, and are always eager to help. It's always a pleasure, and honor, to be around the Rock of the Marne soldiers.
Friday, February 15, 2008
14 February 2008: Happy Valentine's Day
Ah... A day for lovers in Iraq... I know a lot of the soldiers around here have a "battle buddy with benefits". I see them walking to the DFAC together, giggling on the way to the MWR, making googly eyes at one another in the gym, and moving about in the shadows at night. There's no PDA (public display of affection). That way everything is deniable. Mainly this stuff goes on with the enlisted soldiers. The biggest reason is because there are so much more of them. However, I can always spot the officer hanky panky. The ultimate forbidden fruit is the officer-enlisted relationship. The "battle buddy with benefits" can't even be seen in that case. Officer-enlisted relationships are against Army regulation. That doesn't mean it isn't happening. There's a lot of lurking in the shadows at night on every FOB. Valentine's Day doesn't make everyone come out in the open. The same stealthy measures are still in effect. I'd be certain there were a few cards and gifts exchanged in secret places.
Surprisingly enough, the DeFleury chow hall had V-day decorations. There was a gigantic Valentine's sheet cake. The staff was carving a piece for anyone who wanted a slice. I declined. They also served sparkling grape juice. I guess that was the champagne. There were no candles on the tables, no soft lighting, and no musical troupes serenading the diners. It looked like any other day in the DFAC. All the boom-boom was still in the shadows.
My Valentine's activity was a knockdown, drag-out meeting at MND-B. I had to sort out some new "rules of the road" being laid down by 4th Infantry Division. Refer back to my entry on egos. It really wasn't a bad meeting. Truth is, it was very productive. The odds weren't favorable but I acquitted myself well. There were five of them ganging up on me. I chose not to bring any other members of my team into the discussion. This was an "officers only, closed door" discussion. When I walked in I was met with grim faces. I went in with a listen first mentality. Once everyone had aired out their thoughts, I threw them all a bone by agreeing with some of the merits of their ideas. Then I began the orchestrated move of smoothing the egos and weaving their ideas into the framework of what my team already does. Slowly the lightbulbs came on in each of their respective brain-housing groups. I suggested they publish a FRAGO to their BCT's. That made them happy. It was as though they hadn't thought of that before. Well, actually, they hadn't. Before I knew it, they were asking me questions about the redeployment process. It turned into a roundtable discussion where I sat in the center and answered all their questions. Suddenly they were seeking knowledge and I was the answer. Eventually I said, "once you have your draft FRAGO written, send it to me for review. I'll send it back to you with corrections so you can publish it for your BCT's" Meeting adjourned. It was a scene reminiscent of Star Wars. I was Obi Wan Kenobi using the force to manipulate the Imperial Storm Troopers. Everyone was all smiles, happy, and laughing.
On the way out of MND-B HQ I ran into an old friend. I figured he was here somewhere because I knew he was working for 4th ID. It was good to see Ryan. He used to be on the ROTC staff with me at Providence College. We chatted for a few minutes. We couldn't talk long though. Instead, we agreed to get together for chow in the next couple of days. I'm looking forward to that. The Army is a small community. In the course of multiple deployments it's very easy to run into old friends often.
My Valentine's evening was no different than any other evening at Camp Liberty. However, it was a celebration. I'm one day closer to going home.
Surprisingly enough, the DeFleury chow hall had V-day decorations. There was a gigantic Valentine's sheet cake. The staff was carving a piece for anyone who wanted a slice. I declined. They also served sparkling grape juice. I guess that was the champagne. There were no candles on the tables, no soft lighting, and no musical troupes serenading the diners. It looked like any other day in the DFAC. All the boom-boom was still in the shadows.
My Valentine's activity was a knockdown, drag-out meeting at MND-B. I had to sort out some new "rules of the road" being laid down by 4th Infantry Division. Refer back to my entry on egos. It really wasn't a bad meeting. Truth is, it was very productive. The odds weren't favorable but I acquitted myself well. There were five of them ganging up on me. I chose not to bring any other members of my team into the discussion. This was an "officers only, closed door" discussion. When I walked in I was met with grim faces. I went in with a listen first mentality. Once everyone had aired out their thoughts, I threw them all a bone by agreeing with some of the merits of their ideas. Then I began the orchestrated move of smoothing the egos and weaving their ideas into the framework of what my team already does. Slowly the lightbulbs came on in each of their respective brain-housing groups. I suggested they publish a FRAGO to their BCT's. That made them happy. It was as though they hadn't thought of that before. Well, actually, they hadn't. Before I knew it, they were asking me questions about the redeployment process. It turned into a roundtable discussion where I sat in the center and answered all their questions. Suddenly they were seeking knowledge and I was the answer. Eventually I said, "once you have your draft FRAGO written, send it to me for review. I'll send it back to you with corrections so you can publish it for your BCT's" Meeting adjourned. It was a scene reminiscent of Star Wars. I was Obi Wan Kenobi using the force to manipulate the Imperial Storm Troopers. Everyone was all smiles, happy, and laughing.
On the way out of MND-B HQ I ran into an old friend. I figured he was here somewhere because I knew he was working for 4th ID. It was good to see Ryan. He used to be on the ROTC staff with me at Providence College. We chatted for a few minutes. We couldn't talk long though. Instead, we agreed to get together for chow in the next couple of days. I'm looking forward to that. The Army is a small community. In the course of multiple deployments it's very easy to run into old friends often.
My Valentine's evening was no different than any other evening at Camp Liberty. However, it was a celebration. I'm one day closer to going home.
Thursday, February 14, 2008
13 February 2008: 27 days and counting
Although we are extremely busy, the clock seems to have slowed to a crawl. Twenty seven days doesn't seem like much - and it isn't when compared to the deployment as a whole. It's strange that the time feels like such a drag right now. This is what happens every deployment. The days fly by until the end is near. Remember what it was like as a little kid counting the days down until Christmas? I do. I had a "25 days of candy canes" decoration on the wall. It was shaped like a Christmas tree. Every day I would untie a candy cane from the tree. Then at night I'd stare at the thing. It seemed like there were so many candy canes left to go. Ultimately, it would boil down to the final night. Christmas Eve would be the longest day (and night) of my entire year. Well... counting the days down to redeployment is bringing back those memories. Each successive day seems slower than the one before. Every time I look at the calender there are a lot of days left in the month. Thank god my team is busy. Our workload gives us less time to think about how slowly the home stretch seems to pass. We are all beyond ready to go home.
If only I had a "27 days of Yuengling" decoration to help me out. Ok, that's not going to happen. However, 27 days until my next beer is a wonderful - almost lustful - thought. Now, hurry up days! Home is calling.
If only I had a "27 days of Yuengling" decoration to help me out. Ok, that's not going to happen. However, 27 days until my next beer is a wonderful - almost lustful - thought. Now, hurry up days! Home is calling.
Wednesday, February 13, 2008
12 February 2008: Which DFAC?
Meticulous planning doesn't always guarantee communication will be foolproof. Today proved to be a case in point. Our day was supposed to start off with training for a combat aviation brigade here at VBC. There were several other units that got wind of the event and requested to attend. It was up to the aviators to set up the location for the training. The word they put out was the Marne DFAC, which is on Victory Base. Training would start promptly at 0900. My team and I arrived to find about thirty officers and NCO's from the units who had asked permission to attend. There was no sign of the aviators, no in-focus projector, and no sign of any attempt to set up the conference room. I spoke to the DFAC staff and they had negative knowledge of any training scheduled. I immediately sent some of my team to fan out and see if they could get to the bottom of everything. In the meantime, I asked the personnel waiting to hang tight. I'm glad they were patient. It took almost 45 minutes to figure out what happened. The aviators were set up at Camp Striker in the Commando Cafe. WTF? That's a thirty minute drive from Marne DFAC. I rounded up everyone and we headed on over to Camp Striker.
It was 1000 when we arrived at Commando Cafe. We had to wait an additional 15 minutes while the DFAC generators were serviced. Finally, at 1020 (an hour and 20 minutes late) we began our training. There were over 80 people in attendance from four different brigade-size units. That's what happens when word gets out about training conducted by my team. Everyone wants to attend. Everybody wants to go home. They all know my team can show how to make it happen with minimal difficulties. We're glad to oblige.
I wasn't happy our classes started so late. We made up for the lost time though. I know, boring entry today. I'm thinking more about going home
It was 1000 when we arrived at Commando Cafe. We had to wait an additional 15 minutes while the DFAC generators were serviced. Finally, at 1020 (an hour and 20 minutes late) we began our training. There were over 80 people in attendance from four different brigade-size units. That's what happens when word gets out about training conducted by my team. Everyone wants to attend. Everybody wants to go home. They all know my team can show how to make it happen with minimal difficulties. We're glad to oblige.
I wasn't happy our classes started so late. We made up for the lost time though. I know, boring entry today. I'm thinking more about going home
Tuesday, February 12, 2008
11 February 2008: Ego crisis management
Teamwork is essential to success. That's more than just a cliche. Egos can get in the way of teamwork. When a Brigade Combat Team redeploys it should be a win for everyone involved. There are so many moving pieces that have to be orchestrated. My team plays such an integral role in the entire process. We really don't have time for big egos. Unfortunately, they exist. The military is full of huge egos. I frequently have to spend time engaged in ego crisis management. The crisis normally happens when we are helping a unit and someone in the unit's chain-of-command perceives our assistance as stepping into "his lane". I had to engage in ego crisis management all afternoon.
The old MND-B was an awesome crew to work with. They absolutely loved my team because of how much time and effort we saved them. They gave us complete leeway to assist the BCT's within their area of responsibility. We jumped around from BCT to BCT, squaring away eight of them for their respective redeployments. The old MND-B - 1st Cavalry Division - left back in December. Now we're dealing with the biggest egos on the block - 4th Infantry Division. Somehow, they've got it in their mind that my team works for them and that we can't even fart without their approval. In the meantime, their BCT's are clamoring for our help. We don't ever turn them away. The safe, timely redeployment of the Brigade Combat Team is our mission. In that regard, we've been driving on business as usual. Well......those crazies from 4th ID.
Right after lunch I got an e-mail from my unit in Kuwait. The G4 at MND-B was calling, claiming he'd been unable to get hold of me. He had a problem with how my team was conducting business. I had just sent the guy a cordial e-mail not two days prior. All he had to do was answer and I'd have been right over. I had my NCOIC pick me up and we rushed on over to see what was up. It was a non-issue. He was mad because we'd been helping his BCT's without coordinating things with him first. I explained that he was talking in the wrong direction. His BCT's have been coming to us and leaving him out of the loop. I told him that if he wanted to centralize his process for utilizing the services of my team he'd have to have the discussion with the mobility warrants at the brigade level. I don't care how the scheduling takes place, so long as the BCT's receive our help in a timely fashion. The whole episode was a good example of someone's ego feathers getting rubbed the wrong way because he felt left out of the loop.
Problem solved again. My latest episode of ego crisis management had a happy ending. It will stay happy until someone else's ego gets ruffled. It's inevitable - this is the Army and we are in a war.
The old MND-B was an awesome crew to work with. They absolutely loved my team because of how much time and effort we saved them. They gave us complete leeway to assist the BCT's within their area of responsibility. We jumped around from BCT to BCT, squaring away eight of them for their respective redeployments. The old MND-B - 1st Cavalry Division - left back in December. Now we're dealing with the biggest egos on the block - 4th Infantry Division. Somehow, they've got it in their mind that my team works for them and that we can't even fart without their approval. In the meantime, their BCT's are clamoring for our help. We don't ever turn them away. The safe, timely redeployment of the Brigade Combat Team is our mission. In that regard, we've been driving on business as usual. Well......those crazies from 4th ID.
Right after lunch I got an e-mail from my unit in Kuwait. The G4 at MND-B was calling, claiming he'd been unable to get hold of me. He had a problem with how my team was conducting business. I had just sent the guy a cordial e-mail not two days prior. All he had to do was answer and I'd have been right over. I had my NCOIC pick me up and we rushed on over to see what was up. It was a non-issue. He was mad because we'd been helping his BCT's without coordinating things with him first. I explained that he was talking in the wrong direction. His BCT's have been coming to us and leaving him out of the loop. I told him that if he wanted to centralize his process for utilizing the services of my team he'd have to have the discussion with the mobility warrants at the brigade level. I don't care how the scheduling takes place, so long as the BCT's receive our help in a timely fashion. The whole episode was a good example of someone's ego feathers getting rubbed the wrong way because he felt left out of the loop.
Problem solved again. My latest episode of ego crisis management had a happy ending. It will stay happy until someone else's ego gets ruffled. It's inevitable - this is the Army and we are in a war.
Monday, February 11, 2008
10 February 2008: And so....
....we're back in Camp Liberty. Camp Ramadi is behind us. I'm focusing again on our upcoming redeployment. There's a lot more work involved than one would think. It isn't a matter of just packing our dufflebags and jumping on the plane home. I wish it was that easy. That being said, I spent most of my time working on the continuity book for my replacement. He's going to be provided a lot more than I got when I arrived.
As quiet as it's been it can be easy to feel as though there is no war. Not only is there still a war on, it hit very close to home the night before. Two soldiers were killed by an IED. They belonged to one of the engineer units next to my hooch. I can't describe the hollow feeling that shot through me when I found out. The grim faces of their comrades are very sobering. Being the good soldiers they are, their pursuit of mission success continued unabated. They geared up and left out on night recon once again. Nobody back home can ever completely understand the adversity these young men and women overcome daily. They do it without a second thought. I would trust one of these nineteen year olds with my very life without even a slight hesitation. They are the best of the best. I pray when this is over they live long lives filled with peace and happiness.
As quiet as it's been it can be easy to feel as though there is no war. Not only is there still a war on, it hit very close to home the night before. Two soldiers were killed by an IED. They belonged to one of the engineer units next to my hooch. I can't describe the hollow feeling that shot through me when I found out. The grim faces of their comrades are very sobering. Being the good soldiers they are, their pursuit of mission success continued unabated. They geared up and left out on night recon once again. Nobody back home can ever completely understand the adversity these young men and women overcome daily. They do it without a second thought. I would trust one of these nineteen year olds with my very life without even a slight hesitation. They are the best of the best. I pray when this is over they live long lives filled with peace and happiness.
Sunday, February 10, 2008
09 February 2008: Reflections on Camp Ramadi
We weren't there long enough to explore the entire camp. What I saw was depressing. Our 24 hours in Ramadi were filled with gray skies and dark brown hues of Iraqi mud. However, the camp is center to a lot of activities in Anbar Province. Camp Ramadi is home to one of the biggest success stories in all of Operation Iraqi Freedom. Operations centered out of Camp Ramadi cleared Anbar Province of Al Qaeda and other insurgent activities. The local population reclaimed the province, kicked the insurgents out, and work closely with the coalition and Iraqi security forces to rebuild and maintain peace. What was once the most volatile province in Iraq is now the most peaceful. The local "Awakening Councils" consist of tribes that have come together in peace to rid their communities of the tyranny of Al Qaeda. They've done an outstanding job. As peaceful as it is now, it seems the Marines would have more time to fix up their camp. They have a head start in landscaping - the camp has areas of palm trees that could be a nice "resort" touch.
I'm glad we didn't have to spend much time in Camp Ramadi. The real work will come later. It will happen after I've departed. We've set our replacements up for success. The rainy season should be over by the time they return to this camp.
My activities for today were recovery. I slept in. Then I completed the after action review for the mission. How many missions have we completed on this deployment? I have no idea. I can't remember them all. Here's my answer - a lot.
I'm glad we didn't have to spend much time in Camp Ramadi. The real work will come later. It will happen after I've departed. We've set our replacements up for success. The rainy season should be over by the time they return to this camp.
My activities for today were recovery. I slept in. Then I completed the after action review for the mission. How many missions have we completed on this deployment? I have no idea. I can't remember them all. Here's my answer - a lot.
Saturday, February 9, 2008
08 February 2008: Camp Ramadi
Camp Ramadi is a dump. My NCOIC and I both agreed that it reminded us of Tallil Air Base back in 2003. Anyone who saw Tallil in 2003 knows exactly what I'm talking about. Ramadi was that bad. The "barracks" for the Marines were old cinderblock buildings fortified with sandbags and portable AC units. Every street was dirt. Evidence of vast fields of mud was everywhere. Vehicles of every type bore witness to the catastrophe of a rainy day in Camp Ramadi. If there had not been the presence of CHU's and a modern DFAC it would have been easy to convince someone that it actually was 2003.
Regardless of the state of the place, we set about our task. I got up around 0630. Walking to the shower trailer I realized that our CHU's may have been new but the neighborhood was low-rent. We had been housed with the contracted Ugandan guards. As could be expected, the facilities were sparse. Only one shower trailer was provided for almost 100 CHU's. There were probably twenty or more people in the shower trailer. There was no hot water. The trailer only had two sinks. I had to wait for one. It was comical to listen to the folks taking showers. They were braving the ice cold water. The noises they made were hilarious.
After breakfast came the training. We taught our classes in the chapel. There were around 70 attendees. Our biggest concern was the weather. It was threatening rain. The thought of getting stranded in Camp Ramadi was crossing our minds. However, it didn't affect the quality of our work. It was another good day for the team. We could chalk up another Brigade on our successfully trained list. It was all the more satisfying knowing that it almost didn't happen.
This was a "quick strike" mission. Our return flight was the same day as the training. About 1900 we reported to the Ramadi pax terminal. Although the weather gave us cause to worry, everything was flying. We were on the manifest so there were no space-A concerns. We found ourselves hoping for Ospreys. Then we were told we'd fly on CH47's. Chinooks are a welcome upgrade from the Sea Knights. Our flight would take us to FOB Kalsu, then to Washington LZ (Green Zone), and then on to Liberty Pad. That's a long flight. About 2000 we lined up. Much to our dismay, two CH46's came in to land. Sure enough, this was our flight. As we walked on the helicopter we immediately started jockeying for seats. There was no way in hell any of us were getting stuck with the hurricane seat. I planted my ass in a seat near the rear of the aircraft. We were airborne by 2020. The long trip commenced.
I think the Marine pilots were joyriding. We flew out over the lake that separates Camp Ramadi and Al Taqaddum. The helicopters started banking hard and criss-crossing each other. We would gain altitude, then drop back to the deck. It was crazy. I kept watching the man to my left and right to make certain no vomit would be flying in my direction. When someone vomits in a helicopter it flies around inside in a turbulent swirl of splatter in every direction. It isn't pretty. Fortunately, everyone on this flight had an iron stomach. We landed at FOB Kalsu about 2100. After disgorging and taking on new passengers, we were on our way again about 2130. Our next stop was Washington LZ. The pilots flew in an even crazier fashion - despite the fact we were now flying over urban areas. Our stop in the Green Zone was less than ten minutes. By 2215 we were touching down at Liberty Pad. Mission complete. Take that weather holds! We still won.
I was back in my hooch by 2245. Our total mission time from start to finish was just over 26 hours. I think we set a new record.
Regardless of the state of the place, we set about our task. I got up around 0630. Walking to the shower trailer I realized that our CHU's may have been new but the neighborhood was low-rent. We had been housed with the contracted Ugandan guards. As could be expected, the facilities were sparse. Only one shower trailer was provided for almost 100 CHU's. There were probably twenty or more people in the shower trailer. There was no hot water. The trailer only had two sinks. I had to wait for one. It was comical to listen to the folks taking showers. They were braving the ice cold water. The noises they made were hilarious.
After breakfast came the training. We taught our classes in the chapel. There were around 70 attendees. Our biggest concern was the weather. It was threatening rain. The thought of getting stranded in Camp Ramadi was crossing our minds. However, it didn't affect the quality of our work. It was another good day for the team. We could chalk up another Brigade on our successfully trained list. It was all the more satisfying knowing that it almost didn't happen.
This was a "quick strike" mission. Our return flight was the same day as the training. About 1900 we reported to the Ramadi pax terminal. Although the weather gave us cause to worry, everything was flying. We were on the manifest so there were no space-A concerns. We found ourselves hoping for Ospreys. Then we were told we'd fly on CH47's. Chinooks are a welcome upgrade from the Sea Knights. Our flight would take us to FOB Kalsu, then to Washington LZ (Green Zone), and then on to Liberty Pad. That's a long flight. About 2000 we lined up. Much to our dismay, two CH46's came in to land. Sure enough, this was our flight. As we walked on the helicopter we immediately started jockeying for seats. There was no way in hell any of us were getting stuck with the hurricane seat. I planted my ass in a seat near the rear of the aircraft. We were airborne by 2020. The long trip commenced.
I think the Marine pilots were joyriding. We flew out over the lake that separates Camp Ramadi and Al Taqaddum. The helicopters started banking hard and criss-crossing each other. We would gain altitude, then drop back to the deck. It was crazy. I kept watching the man to my left and right to make certain no vomit would be flying in my direction. When someone vomits in a helicopter it flies around inside in a turbulent swirl of splatter in every direction. It isn't pretty. Fortunately, everyone on this flight had an iron stomach. We landed at FOB Kalsu about 2100. After disgorging and taking on new passengers, we were on our way again about 2130. Our next stop was Washington LZ. The pilots flew in an even crazier fashion - despite the fact we were now flying over urban areas. Our stop in the Green Zone was less than ten minutes. By 2215 we were touching down at Liberty Pad. Mission complete. Take that weather holds! We still won.
I was back in my hooch by 2245. Our total mission time from start to finish was just over 26 hours. I think we set a new record.
07 February 2008: Making up for last week
Last week was the most frustrating seven days of this deployment. If you recall, over a seven day time period we spent five nights at Liberty Pad for flights that ended up cancelling. The end result was scrubbing a mission. Earlier this week, I presented an alternative course of action to the supported unit. They approved the plan. Today we moved out in the execution phase. The mission from last week was back on - albeit in abbreviated form. Last week we were supposed to begin by flying to a remote place called Camp Korean Village. CKV is due west of Baghdad near the Syrian border. After CKV we were going to Camp Ramadi. My abbreviated plan allowed for making up the biggest part of last week's aborted mission. That meant completing the training at Camp Ramadi. We were very fortunate to find our flight was not on weather hold.
It seemed like a bad case of deja vu. Once again we found ourselves waiting for a flight out of Liberty Pad. Unlike last week, helicopters were actually flying. We would definitely get to Camp Ramadi. We lined up about 2130 to stage for the arrival of our helicopters. Shortly after that we heard the familiar rotor blade chop of CH46's (Sea Knights). Helicopters fly completely blacked out at night. They flip on their landing lights and landing spotlight just before coming in to land. People who fly a lot - like us - learn very quickly to recognize the type of helicopter simply by the sound of the approaching rotor blades. CH46's are flown exclusively by Marines. They aren't the aircraft of choice. These aircraft are Vietnam vintage. They are loud, vibrate badly, and are extremely breezy inside (not a good thing on cold nights). We were hoping to get V22 Ospreys, which are new tilt-rotor aircraft now operating in theater. Ospreys are bigger and much faster. They take off and land just like helicopters but then rotate their blades forward to fly more like airplanes. Last week we had been scheduled to fly on Ospreys but the weather kept cancelling our ride. Now we were actually flying and stuck with the Sea Knights. Fortunately, I did not sit in the "hurricane seat". It was still a chilly ride to Camp Ramadi. We touched down around 2300.
Our ride was waiting for us. Within thirty minutes we were in our CHU's. They were brand new. There was still plastic on my mattress. I held a quick meeting with my team to synchronize the next morning. We really couldn't see much of Camp Ramadi at night. It was easy to see how muddy the place becomes when it rains. The place is primarily run by Marines, as are most operating bases in western Iraq and Anbar province. Marine bases are much more spartan. For some reason, the Marines never seem to take interest in fixing up buildings and facilities. It's as if they came with a short stay in mind and, years later, still have short stay in mind.
We went to bed knowing that our setback of last week was only temporary.
It seemed like a bad case of deja vu. Once again we found ourselves waiting for a flight out of Liberty Pad. Unlike last week, helicopters were actually flying. We would definitely get to Camp Ramadi. We lined up about 2130 to stage for the arrival of our helicopters. Shortly after that we heard the familiar rotor blade chop of CH46's (Sea Knights). Helicopters fly completely blacked out at night. They flip on their landing lights and landing spotlight just before coming in to land. People who fly a lot - like us - learn very quickly to recognize the type of helicopter simply by the sound of the approaching rotor blades. CH46's are flown exclusively by Marines. They aren't the aircraft of choice. These aircraft are Vietnam vintage. They are loud, vibrate badly, and are extremely breezy inside (not a good thing on cold nights). We were hoping to get V22 Ospreys, which are new tilt-rotor aircraft now operating in theater. Ospreys are bigger and much faster. They take off and land just like helicopters but then rotate their blades forward to fly more like airplanes. Last week we had been scheduled to fly on Ospreys but the weather kept cancelling our ride. Now we were actually flying and stuck with the Sea Knights. Fortunately, I did not sit in the "hurricane seat". It was still a chilly ride to Camp Ramadi. We touched down around 2300.
Our ride was waiting for us. Within thirty minutes we were in our CHU's. They were brand new. There was still plastic on my mattress. I held a quick meeting with my team to synchronize the next morning. We really couldn't see much of Camp Ramadi at night. It was easy to see how muddy the place becomes when it rains. The place is primarily run by Marines, as are most operating bases in western Iraq and Anbar province. Marine bases are much more spartan. For some reason, the Marines never seem to take interest in fixing up buildings and facilities. It's as if they came with a short stay in mind and, years later, still have short stay in mind.
We went to bed knowing that our setback of last week was only temporary.
Thursday, February 7, 2008
06 February 2008: VBC Post Office
I had three large packages to mail. Two were going home and the other was going to my parent unit down in Kuwait. The "APO to APO" mail is cool because it's free. I had planned to mail from the Camp Liberty post office. Since I don't have the NTV, I asked my NCOIC to pick me up. He drove past the Libery PO and kept on going. Then he turned to me and said, "Sir, I figured we'd go to the Victory post office. It's a lot better than the one here." I'd never been to the Victory PO so I figured that's cool. However, I knew from experience that the Liberty PO was large, roomy, and probably not crowded after lunch.
After driving the labyrinth of palaces and man-made lakes of Victory Base, we reached the post office. It sat adjacent to the "Rock of the Marne" HQ. I would never have known it was there. The place was tiny - tucked away astride some old war junk. We parked and lugged the three boxes inside. It was packed. There must've been twenty Joes lugging gear. The post office has two lines. Everyone with packages has to negotiate both. The first line is where the boxes are inspected by customs. The second line is the postal counter. After filling out the appropriate customs forms for each box, we got in the first line. About twenty minutes later we got to the inspector. That's when I figured out why my NCO wanted to come to this tiny, cramped place. He was hitting on the inspector. I should've known there was some angle! My NCOIC is a schmoozer through and through. I ignored the small talk. I realized, though, that the way he was distracting her I could've packed some contraband. By the third package she barely even looked inside.
Note to self - next time I need to use the post office I'm going to the Liberty PO. A full hour after we arrived we were finally at the postal counter. My boxes were weighed and I paid for the postage on the two boxes going home. The line now stretched out the door and into the parking lot. We definitely got to the place at the right time. I thought it would be a good idea if a sign were posted similar to what you see for amusement park rides. A sign at the door could read "One hour wait from this point".
After driving the labyrinth of palaces and man-made lakes of Victory Base, we reached the post office. It sat adjacent to the "Rock of the Marne" HQ. I would never have known it was there. The place was tiny - tucked away astride some old war junk. We parked and lugged the three boxes inside. It was packed. There must've been twenty Joes lugging gear. The post office has two lines. Everyone with packages has to negotiate both. The first line is where the boxes are inspected by customs. The second line is the postal counter. After filling out the appropriate customs forms for each box, we got in the first line. About twenty minutes later we got to the inspector. That's when I figured out why my NCO wanted to come to this tiny, cramped place. He was hitting on the inspector. I should've known there was some angle! My NCOIC is a schmoozer through and through. I ignored the small talk. I realized, though, that the way he was distracting her I could've packed some contraband. By the third package she barely even looked inside.
Note to self - next time I need to use the post office I'm going to the Liberty PO. A full hour after we arrived we were finally at the postal counter. My boxes were weighed and I paid for the postage on the two boxes going home. The line now stretched out the door and into the parking lot. We definitely got to the place at the right time. I thought it would be a good idea if a sign were posted similar to what you see for amusement park rides. A sign at the door could read "One hour wait from this point".
Wednesday, February 6, 2008
05 February 2008: Planning the home stretch
February is a short month but it's long on work. I was able to reschedule the mission from last week. A couple of other big events are also on the calender coming up. This deployment isn't going to allow my team to leave easy. We aren't stressed over this. All this work will make the time fly. Most of our unit is spending the last month down in Kuwait. They're, essentially, just waiting for the flight home. In the meantime, my little "band of brothers" will drive on to a few more FOB's.
Another sign of light at the end of the deployment tunnel was that I packed a few boxes of gear to ship home. It's astounding how much gear a soldier will accumulate over the course of one year of deployment. I know I've already mentioned this before so I won't open this up for discussion again. By the time I leave, my goal is to have one duffelbag and my backpack. Everything else will have been shipped home.
All the mud has dried. I guess it's time for rain.
Another sign of light at the end of the deployment tunnel was that I packed a few boxes of gear to ship home. It's astounding how much gear a soldier will accumulate over the course of one year of deployment. I know I've already mentioned this before so I won't open this up for discussion again. By the time I leave, my goal is to have one duffelbag and my backpack. Everything else will have been shipped home.
All the mud has dried. I guess it's time for rain.
Tuesday, February 5, 2008
04 February 2008: Day of the Dead
Camp Liberty was a land of zombies today. I guess I wasn't the only person who stayed up all night for the Super Bowl. As I mentioned in yesterday's entry, my bedtime was 0620. I slept for about two hours. Then I had to get back up and tend to work. It appeared to me that every Joe had done the same thing. I couldn't discern between Patriots and Giants fans. Everyone was smoked. It was the Day of the Dead. I didn't notice anyone eating flesh though.
The SB had a ripple effect on the entire day. I noticed the DFAC was practically empty for lunch. My assumption was that everyone tried to grab an hour snooze instead of eating. I grabbed a to-go lunch, went back to my hooch, ate and slept for another thirty minutes. Later on I found the gym empty. I had to ignore the TV because AFN was airing a repeat of the game. The DFAC was empty again at supper. The entire camp was devoid of any celebration or even post-game analysis. Only AFN served as a reminder of the big game.
The cruel result of staying up the entire night before was finding myself wired when I should have been sleeping. Try as I might, I simply couldn't go to sleep. It was around 0200 before my eyes began to close. The one day foray into zombie land came to a close.
The SB had a ripple effect on the entire day. I noticed the DFAC was practically empty for lunch. My assumption was that everyone tried to grab an hour snooze instead of eating. I grabbed a to-go lunch, went back to my hooch, ate and slept for another thirty minutes. Later on I found the gym empty. I had to ignore the TV because AFN was airing a repeat of the game. The DFAC was empty again at supper. The entire camp was devoid of any celebration or even post-game analysis. Only AFN served as a reminder of the big game.
The cruel result of staying up the entire night before was finding myself wired when I should have been sleeping. Try as I might, I simply couldn't go to sleep. It was around 0200 before my eyes began to close. The one day foray into zombie land came to a close.
Monday, February 4, 2008
03 February 2008: Super Bowl, Super Blues
I unequivocally, emphatically admit that I was wrong. This was not the Patriots' year. There was one team that simply didn't buy into the hype. Unfortunately, it was the New York Giants. I don't particularly like the G-Men. I'm not a big fan of the Manning brothers. The Super Bowl doesn't change that either. However, I will give them my respect and offer my congratulations. The Giants won fair and square. For the second year in a row, a guy named Manning is the Super Bowl MVP. It was a great game, worthy of its namesake. Just like most every other soldier, I stayed up all night to watch. It was 0620 on Monday when I finally went to sleep for a short nap. I know most of my friends at home are going to have the Super Blues all week.
I have some thoughts on the game. First, I saw something very unusual happen. Bill Belichick was outcoached. The Patriots are always the best team at making adjustments throughout a game. They never adjusted to the Giants blitzing schemes. Someone was hitting Tom Brady on every play. It caused him to miss badly downfield on several occasions. That's the first time in the Belichick era I've ever seen a team that seemed one coaching step ahead of the Patriots from start to finish.
Second, are any of you regretting that Janet Jackson's "wardrobe malfunction" happened? I am. I like Tom Petty. I really do. That was one tired halftime show though. Ever since the Jackson-Timberlake expose, the halftime show has been a parade of old rockers, way past their prime, singing short renditions of their greatest hits. Let's look at the past four Super Bowls. Last night was Tom Petty, last year was Billy Joel (I think), before that the Rolling Stones brought to life the latest rendition of "Night of the Living Dead", and, last, we had Paul McCartney reminding us that "The Wings" were no substitute for "The Beatles". I'm almost positive that some of the people "rocking" down on the field were Tom Petty's grandkids. Oh well, at least the NFL hasn't reverted back to the old "Up With People" days. Some of you know what I'm talking about.
Third, my favorite part of the Super Bowl was just before kickoff. Fox Sports did a piece where several past and present NFL personalities recited the Declaration of Independence. I really hope all of you turned the TV up and listened to those words. I am not ashamed to say that by the end of the reading I was wiping tears away. It's not just the words that move me. As I listened to the recitation of that absolutely brilliant document I thought of the men who signed. Every single one of them knew they were signing their own death warrant, placing their families and fortunes in jeopardy. They did so in recognition of all of us. It definitely wasn't for fame, fortune, or immortality. They signed to say from that moment forward this new country will provide the right of "life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness" to every generation of its citizens thereafter and for evermore. These were men of faith who believed in one another and in the common vision they shared. Thank God that vision still lives today. That vision is one of the reasons I admire Joe. He wears the uniform proudly. By choosing to serve, he openly accepted the responsibility of something larger than himself. How many men and women in the history of our nation have given the ultimate sacrifice in order to preserve that vision? If you missed the Fox presentation prior to the game I implore you to read the Declaration of Independence. Read it completely and then read every single signature. Those men, those truly great men, are the foundation - the very fabric - of what makes our country the light of the free world. May we never lose sight of the vision they shared for all of us. I want to thank Fox Sports for airing that stirring tribute prior to the game. I hope that it becomes a tradition every year prior to the Super Bowl, regardless of network.
The real torture of the Super Bowl will be putting up with AFN the rest of the week. AFN sports will show the game several times a day for the next several days. I won't be able to go to the DFAC, the gym, or even turn on the TV in my hooch without being reminded. The Patriots lost. I wouldn't doubt some of my friends back home are on suicide watch. At least Red Sox Nation still rules the world.
I have some thoughts on the game. First, I saw something very unusual happen. Bill Belichick was outcoached. The Patriots are always the best team at making adjustments throughout a game. They never adjusted to the Giants blitzing schemes. Someone was hitting Tom Brady on every play. It caused him to miss badly downfield on several occasions. That's the first time in the Belichick era I've ever seen a team that seemed one coaching step ahead of the Patriots from start to finish.
Second, are any of you regretting that Janet Jackson's "wardrobe malfunction" happened? I am. I like Tom Petty. I really do. That was one tired halftime show though. Ever since the Jackson-Timberlake expose, the halftime show has been a parade of old rockers, way past their prime, singing short renditions of their greatest hits. Let's look at the past four Super Bowls. Last night was Tom Petty, last year was Billy Joel (I think), before that the Rolling Stones brought to life the latest rendition of "Night of the Living Dead", and, last, we had Paul McCartney reminding us that "The Wings" were no substitute for "The Beatles". I'm almost positive that some of the people "rocking" down on the field were Tom Petty's grandkids. Oh well, at least the NFL hasn't reverted back to the old "Up With People" days. Some of you know what I'm talking about.
Third, my favorite part of the Super Bowl was just before kickoff. Fox Sports did a piece where several past and present NFL personalities recited the Declaration of Independence. I really hope all of you turned the TV up and listened to those words. I am not ashamed to say that by the end of the reading I was wiping tears away. It's not just the words that move me. As I listened to the recitation of that absolutely brilliant document I thought of the men who signed. Every single one of them knew they were signing their own death warrant, placing their families and fortunes in jeopardy. They did so in recognition of all of us. It definitely wasn't for fame, fortune, or immortality. They signed to say from that moment forward this new country will provide the right of "life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness" to every generation of its citizens thereafter and for evermore. These were men of faith who believed in one another and in the common vision they shared. Thank God that vision still lives today. That vision is one of the reasons I admire Joe. He wears the uniform proudly. By choosing to serve, he openly accepted the responsibility of something larger than himself. How many men and women in the history of our nation have given the ultimate sacrifice in order to preserve that vision? If you missed the Fox presentation prior to the game I implore you to read the Declaration of Independence. Read it completely and then read every single signature. Those men, those truly great men, are the foundation - the very fabric - of what makes our country the light of the free world. May we never lose sight of the vision they shared for all of us. I want to thank Fox Sports for airing that stirring tribute prior to the game. I hope that it becomes a tradition every year prior to the Super Bowl, regardless of network.
The real torture of the Super Bowl will be putting up with AFN the rest of the week. AFN sports will show the game several times a day for the next several days. I won't be able to go to the DFAC, the gym, or even turn on the TV in my hooch without being reminded. The Patriots lost. I wouldn't doubt some of my friends back home are on suicide watch. At least Red Sox Nation still rules the world.
Sunday, February 3, 2008
02 February 2008: Iraqi Groundhog Day
This time, it actually was Groundhog Day. It should be no surprise that the day was like just about any other day at Camp Liberty. The forecast? Six more weeks of winter is in store. The sky was crystal blue all day. Baghdad Bill, celebrated Iraqi Groundhog, saw his shadow surrounded by festive onlookers and random suicide bombers. He lived to see his shadow next year - or so I'm told. Hopefully, six more weeks of winter won't mean more cancelled flights.
The entire camp seems to be biding time until the Super Bowl. There was even cheap football decorations in the DFAC. I didn't see any flyers posted about gatherings, but I'm certain the MWR will have something. Kickoff isn't until 0200 so it's actually going to be Super Bowl Early Monday Morning. Sunday will just come and go.
Happy Birthday Peggi!
The entire camp seems to be biding time until the Super Bowl. There was even cheap football decorations in the DFAC. I didn't see any flyers posted about gatherings, but I'm certain the MWR will have something. Kickoff isn't until 0200 so it's actually going to be Super Bowl Early Monday Morning. Sunday will just come and go.
Happy Birthday Peggi!
Saturday, February 2, 2008
01 February 2008: The last full calender month begins
February is the last month I will be in Iraq from start to finish. Where did the time go? Wouldn't you know it? I got the leap year. My February will have 29 days. That's ok, it's still a short month.
I can't say that anything notable took place. After our most frustrating week of the deployment, the only sensible thing to do was give the team the day off. That's exactly what we all did. I recharged my motivation batteries. I'm happy to report that I've been able to reschedule this past week's mission. Now we just need the weather to cooperate.
As if to mock us all, the weather today was spectacular. Helicopters were buzzing all day and evening. It's a good thing I have a healthy sense of humor.
I can't say that anything notable took place. After our most frustrating week of the deployment, the only sensible thing to do was give the team the day off. That's exactly what we all did. I recharged my motivation batteries. I'm happy to report that I've been able to reschedule this past week's mission. Now we just need the weather to cooperate.
As if to mock us all, the weather today was spectacular. Helicopters were buzzing all day and evening. It's a good thing I have a healthy sense of humor.
Friday, February 1, 2008
31 January 2008: Mission cancelled
This sucks. It hurts to say it, but, we had to cancel the mission. For the first time this entire deployment, travel woes prevented us from mission success. Today was the last chance to make this one work. It was a no-go. We had a flight. Once again the weather stepped in. This time I used common sense. I'll explain.
Helicopters were flying up until around 1400. Then eerie silence descended once again over Camp Liberty. The culprits? Low cloud ceiling and a heavy ground fog that seemed to spring from nowhere. My NCIOC reported back to me about flight status at 1800 - weather hold. This was no surprise. Here's where common sense stepped in. I told him that we would be ready but for everyone to remain at their hooches. At 2030, he drove back by LP and checked us in for the flight. We were space A. The fog became worse. He stopped back by my hooch and we consulted. There was no way in hell we were going to sit at LP until 0200 for the fifth time this week. We agreed - nothing was going to fly tonight. We would not waste our time lugging gear around. Our intuition proved correct. All flights for the night ended up cancelling. We stayed snug in our hooches.
Now we're back to the drawing board. I'll pull out my calender and balance available days with personnel requirements. If we can make it fit, we will visit this mission again. One way or another we'll make sure we find a solution.
I'm glad to finally have closure on this week. It's been the most frustrating week of the entire deployment.
Helicopters were flying up until around 1400. Then eerie silence descended once again over Camp Liberty. The culprits? Low cloud ceiling and a heavy ground fog that seemed to spring from nowhere. My NCIOC reported back to me about flight status at 1800 - weather hold. This was no surprise. Here's where common sense stepped in. I told him that we would be ready but for everyone to remain at their hooches. At 2030, he drove back by LP and checked us in for the flight. We were space A. The fog became worse. He stopped back by my hooch and we consulted. There was no way in hell we were going to sit at LP until 0200 for the fifth time this week. We agreed - nothing was going to fly tonight. We would not waste our time lugging gear around. Our intuition proved correct. All flights for the night ended up cancelling. We stayed snug in our hooches.
Now we're back to the drawing board. I'll pull out my calender and balance available days with personnel requirements. If we can make it fit, we will visit this mission again. One way or another we'll make sure we find a solution.
I'm glad to finally have closure on this week. It's been the most frustrating week of the entire deployment.
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