The other day I came to work and a soldier in our Company was low crawling through the sand around our buildings. His Platoon Sergeant stood over him giving encouraging words while sipping from his morning coffee. I asked Tom (Tom = Tom Pierce = 1LT Pierce = Good friend of Caroline's) what was up and he told me the dude was 45 minutes late to work that day.
That evening we had a formation to give out awards for some soldiers who traveled to another post to fix a helicopter that was broke. (It was actually a helicopter I was flying, but that's a story for another day that I'll probably never get around to telling) And who was up in front of our entire formation getting an award but the same guy crawling through the sand earlier that day
Tom summed it up best at lunch today when he said only in the Army can an adult be dragging himself across the ground as punishment in the morning and having medals pinned to his chest that night.
Sunday, December 16, 2007
Sunday, December 9, 2007
17 - Package from Whoville
I had pretty much given up on the holidays. Thanksgiving came and I spent that whole day going out of my way to be grumpy. It seemed, though, the grumpier I was to people, the more it entertained them. Like poking a bug with a stick, at work people would amble up to me to talk. I'd greet them with a "Go away," but instead they'd smile and stay to torment. I dig the holidays (minus shopping for presents) so much, that my defense mechanism for spending it over here was tune it all out. "Christmas is canceled," was my creed. But then those crazy kids from my neighborhood growing up had to go and ruin it all.
In the mail today comes a package that would warm the heart of any grinch. Thoughtfulness, consideration, and general Christmas cheer are just mean ways to come at a guy trying to martyr himself for the Noel. Kill your enemies with kindness goes a famous saying. Yeah, well, my holiday humbug is KIA. Barb, Art, Judy, Jan, Linda, Jon, Reed, Patti, Jim and Diana, thank you for your kindness. Most of the goods went to the heathens in my Company, who quickly pillaged the package for sustenance. I picked out a few of my favorites (air freshener - my room smells like a locker room these days / smoked salmon - most of these guys wouldn't know smoked salmon from a can of tuna, best to go to a Pacific Northwest connisoure / and exotic almonds to name a few). The postcard of the Mukilteo lighthouse is going up on my wall as well, right next to the reminder to call my mom that works about as well as all the other reminders she's sent me (I'm an absolute first-ballot selection in the Sons-Who-Don't-Call-Their-Mothers-Enough Hall of Fame).
Today's package, along with the annoyingly festive Christmas lights people put up around the office, irritatingly delicious homemade cookies and fudge showing up on tables that should be used to brief missions, and confusingly splendid mood everyone skips around in has broken my spirit. The Whos have won. As much as I didn't want to, I'm going to be forced to chalk this Christmas up as: sort of OK.
But no Christmas music.
In the mail today comes a package that would warm the heart of any grinch. Thoughtfulness, consideration, and general Christmas cheer are just mean ways to come at a guy trying to martyr himself for the Noel. Kill your enemies with kindness goes a famous saying. Yeah, well, my holiday humbug is KIA. Barb, Art, Judy, Jan, Linda, Jon, Reed, Patti, Jim and Diana, thank you for your kindness. Most of the goods went to the heathens in my Company, who quickly pillaged the package for sustenance. I picked out a few of my favorites (air freshener - my room smells like a locker room these days / smoked salmon - most of these guys wouldn't know smoked salmon from a can of tuna, best to go to a Pacific Northwest connisoure / and exotic almonds to name a few). The postcard of the Mukilteo lighthouse is going up on my wall as well, right next to the reminder to call my mom that works about as well as all the other reminders she's sent me (I'm an absolute first-ballot selection in the Sons-Who-Don't-Call-Their-Mothers-Enough Hall of Fame).
Today's package, along with the annoyingly festive Christmas lights people put up around the office, irritatingly delicious homemade cookies and fudge showing up on tables that should be used to brief missions, and confusingly splendid mood everyone skips around in has broken my spirit. The Whos have won. As much as I didn't want to, I'm going to be forced to chalk this Christmas up as: sort of OK.
But no Christmas music.
Sunday, November 11, 2007
USMC B-Day
Months before we deployed, someone off-handedly remarked about this deployment, "at least we'll get two beers on November 10th." Wait, what? Apparently on the Marine Corps Birthday, November 10th, all deployed Marines get two beers at dinner. Since we'd be working for the Marines, assigned to a Marine base, we rationalized that we, too, might fall under the 2-beer umbrella. I didn't really give much thought to it until November 9th, when we were told we'd be allowed two beers at dinner.
It was supposed to work like this: anybody who wanted their share of brew at dinner would go into the back room at the chow hall where representatives from their unit would be back there with coolers of beer and a roster. They check your name off, open the beers right there an front of you, and send you on your way. Sounded good to me. What actually ended up happening was they didn't have enough for all, so only lower enlisted (E5 and below) got buzzed on suds, while the rest of us got to watch. I didn't mind. Two beer would have only whet my appetite for more, better to not even feed the beast. It was amusing, however, to see cans of beer on the tables across the chow hall. Those that got them had pleasant smiles on their faces and rosy cheeks.
And if you're wondering, the available ales: MGD, Miller Lite, Bud, Bud Light, and Guinness.
It was supposed to work like this: anybody who wanted their share of brew at dinner would go into the back room at the chow hall where representatives from their unit would be back there with coolers of beer and a roster. They check your name off, open the beers right there an front of you, and send you on your way. Sounded good to me. What actually ended up happening was they didn't have enough for all, so only lower enlisted (E5 and below) got buzzed on suds, while the rest of us got to watch. I didn't mind. Two beer would have only whet my appetite for more, better to not even feed the beast. It was amusing, however, to see cans of beer on the tables across the chow hall. Those that got them had pleasant smiles on their faces and rosy cheeks.
And if you're wondering, the available ales: MGD, Miller Lite, Bud, Bud Light, and Guinness.
Thursday, November 8, 2007
15 - Extract
So I always so nothing interesting happens. Well how 'bout this one.
We were executing the extraction portion of a Raid we had done. What's a Raid? Well, basically an Infantry unit comes to us and says we want you to drop us off right here using your helicopters. There are bad guys in the buildings surrounding these fields and helicopters coming in quickly when it's night time is the best way to get 'em. We say OK, here's how we'll do it. Then all sorts of other units want to play as well. Like attack helicopters and airplanes and jets. They all want to watch and observe and stand ready in case something bad happens during the Raid.
Anyway, we were executing the extraction portion of the Raid, an earlier night we'd dropped the guys off, they Raid-ed, and now it was time to get picked up. A couple of our helicopters were picking guys up from one LZ and a couple were going to another one. As the first helicopters broke out of our formation to land in the first LZ, we passed around them and continued on. Out of the corner of my eye I could see them making their approach into the small, dusty field. As they were about 50 feet off the ground, something exploded right near their landing area. We continued on to our LZ as the radios started to go crazy. Everyone above us wanted to know what was going on. As we were coming into our field, I heard the first report of 5 casualties, 2 urgent, 3 serious. The first thing that flashed through my mind was 5 casulties and 5 crew members per aircraft. With the luck we've had this deployment, I couldn't help but think something very bad had happened to us again.
As it turned out, none of our guys were injured. But that can't be said for the unit we were extracting. Speculation is that during their Raid they came across an enemy's cache of weapons and explosives. They had some explosives in a backpack and as they were huddled waiting for our helicopter to land, the static electricity put off by the helicopter blades ignited whatever was in that bag. The poor dude wearing the pack pretty much got annihilated. The guys who were flying it said there was blood all over the side of the helicopter and on the rotor blades. All the windows on one side blew out, even the chin bubble window on the front. Once they landed, they got all the injured guys on and took off for the nearest hospital. There are eerie stories coming out of this, ones you read about in war books but don't think you'll ever experience. Like one crew chief was handed a garbage bag by a medic with a leg in it. As far as I know now, there was one KIA and 10 wounded.
Not quite sure what to make of that night. A little bit of bad luck, I suppose. Seems to be our theme this time round.
We were executing the extraction portion of a Raid we had done. What's a Raid? Well, basically an Infantry unit comes to us and says we want you to drop us off right here using your helicopters. There are bad guys in the buildings surrounding these fields and helicopters coming in quickly when it's night time is the best way to get 'em. We say OK, here's how we'll do it. Then all sorts of other units want to play as well. Like attack helicopters and airplanes and jets. They all want to watch and observe and stand ready in case something bad happens during the Raid.
Anyway, we were executing the extraction portion of the Raid, an earlier night we'd dropped the guys off, they Raid-ed, and now it was time to get picked up. A couple of our helicopters were picking guys up from one LZ and a couple were going to another one. As the first helicopters broke out of our formation to land in the first LZ, we passed around them and continued on. Out of the corner of my eye I could see them making their approach into the small, dusty field. As they were about 50 feet off the ground, something exploded right near their landing area. We continued on to our LZ as the radios started to go crazy. Everyone above us wanted to know what was going on. As we were coming into our field, I heard the first report of 5 casualties, 2 urgent, 3 serious. The first thing that flashed through my mind was 5 casulties and 5 crew members per aircraft. With the luck we've had this deployment, I couldn't help but think something very bad had happened to us again.
As it turned out, none of our guys were injured. But that can't be said for the unit we were extracting. Speculation is that during their Raid they came across an enemy's cache of weapons and explosives. They had some explosives in a backpack and as they were huddled waiting for our helicopter to land, the static electricity put off by the helicopter blades ignited whatever was in that bag. The poor dude wearing the pack pretty much got annihilated. The guys who were flying it said there was blood all over the side of the helicopter and on the rotor blades. All the windows on one side blew out, even the chin bubble window on the front. Once they landed, they got all the injured guys on and took off for the nearest hospital. There are eerie stories coming out of this, ones you read about in war books but don't think you'll ever experience. Like one crew chief was handed a garbage bag by a medic with a leg in it. As far as I know now, there was one KIA and 10 wounded.
Not quite sure what to make of that night. A little bit of bad luck, I suppose. Seems to be our theme this time round.
Wednesday, October 24, 2007
14 - Secrecy
So Haley basically told me, "Hey, thanks for never writing on your blog but letting people check it daily and find nothing there. It's great!" Well, she didn't actually say that, but she might as well. My bad, really.
So in the realm I work in, we have "Secret" stuff. Computers, laptops, printers, USB drives (thumb drives as I think everyone calls them, but that could just be my realm), binders, papers, even Internet and email. Something is deemed Secret if it contains or is used to contain any information that, if slipped into the wrong hands, could potentially compromise our mission. For example, if wanted find out where I was flying tonight, I would log onto a Secret computer, open the Secret internet, use Secret email to ask someone about it, print any info I needed with a Secret printer onto Secret paper and save anything onto a Secret thumb drive. Might sound very Cloak & Daggar, but it's mostly just annoying.
On a flight a few weeks ago, one of our pilots had his map (printed on Secret paper because it's very secret) get sucked out the window while flying. Oops. It created a big stir because the map, as you could imagine, had some Secret stuff on it. A decree was sent down to have all pilots create a Secret map folder, rather than have maps printed on loose paper. Anything that is Secret has to have a small Secret sticker put on it, so they put out a stack of Secret stickers for us. I took my map book and covered the entire cover of book with Secret stickers. It got a few laughs when people saw 25 stickers on my book. I then grabbed the box of salt next to our popcorn machine (yes, we have a popcorn machine. like one you'd see in a movie theater) and put a Secret sticker on that.
Fast forward a few more days.
One of the Secret thumb drives went missing. For two days, we tore our offices apart looking for the stupid thing. It had A LOT of sensitive info on it and would have been a big, humongous pain in the ass for many levels above us to change all the info on it. Even though it probably dropped in the trash and would never make it into the hands of the enemy, not to mention be able to be used effectively by said enemy, you still had to assume the worse and change everything. Everyone was real uptight for those two days looking for the thumb drive. Eventually everyone was sat down and scolded about lack of discipline with sensitive material and this and that and while we're on the subject, whomever put the Secret sticker on the popcorn salt, well, that's not funny either. I had to stare at the ground to keep from laughing as the 4-5 guys who saw me do it turned and looked at me with knowing smiles on their face. Oops. Bad timing, I guess.
Anyway, the thumb drive was eventually found in the laundry, nobody got in trouble, especially me, and we're all a little more disciplined with Secret stuff, especially me. I'm not quite sure this story makes much sense at all, perhaps it was a you-had-to-be-there instance. But it was a bit out of the ordinary for our monotonous life.
Rockies in 6. And if you didn't know it, possibly the best weekend of college football this year. If you're stuck in the desert and live for nothing else but good weekends of football, you might be very excited for this one.
So in the realm I work in, we have "Secret" stuff. Computers, laptops, printers, USB drives (thumb drives as I think everyone calls them, but that could just be my realm), binders, papers, even Internet and email. Something is deemed Secret if it contains or is used to contain any information that, if slipped into the wrong hands, could potentially compromise our mission. For example, if wanted find out where I was flying tonight, I would log onto a Secret computer, open the Secret internet, use Secret email to ask someone about it, print any info I needed with a Secret printer onto Secret paper and save anything onto a Secret thumb drive. Might sound very Cloak & Daggar, but it's mostly just annoying.
On a flight a few weeks ago, one of our pilots had his map (printed on Secret paper because it's very secret) get sucked out the window while flying. Oops. It created a big stir because the map, as you could imagine, had some Secret stuff on it. A decree was sent down to have all pilots create a Secret map folder, rather than have maps printed on loose paper. Anything that is Secret has to have a small Secret sticker put on it, so they put out a stack of Secret stickers for us. I took my map book and covered the entire cover of book with Secret stickers. It got a few laughs when people saw 25 stickers on my book. I then grabbed the box of salt next to our popcorn machine (yes, we have a popcorn machine. like one you'd see in a movie theater) and put a Secret sticker on that.
Fast forward a few more days.
One of the Secret thumb drives went missing. For two days, we tore our offices apart looking for the stupid thing. It had A LOT of sensitive info on it and would have been a big, humongous pain in the ass for many levels above us to change all the info on it. Even though it probably dropped in the trash and would never make it into the hands of the enemy, not to mention be able to be used effectively by said enemy, you still had to assume the worse and change everything. Everyone was real uptight for those two days looking for the thumb drive. Eventually everyone was sat down and scolded about lack of discipline with sensitive material and this and that and while we're on the subject, whomever put the Secret sticker on the popcorn salt, well, that's not funny either. I had to stare at the ground to keep from laughing as the 4-5 guys who saw me do it turned and looked at me with knowing smiles on their face. Oops. Bad timing, I guess.
Anyway, the thumb drive was eventually found in the laundry, nobody got in trouble, especially me, and we're all a little more disciplined with Secret stuff, especially me. I'm not quite sure this story makes much sense at all, perhaps it was a you-had-to-be-there instance. But it was a bit out of the ordinary for our monotonous life.
Rockies in 6. And if you didn't know it, possibly the best weekend of college football this year. If you're stuck in the desert and live for nothing else but good weekends of football, you might be very excited for this one.
Sunday, October 7, 2007
13 - Saturday
Gosh, sorry there's been nothing much to report. I've settled into a nice groove over here, each day seems to run into the next. It's making the time tick by faster. Did watch a lot of football yesterday (Sat). LSU/Florida. Is that not college football in a nutshell. I mean, guys were crying after the game, and it's the middle of the season. And as Josh and I were watching that game, the Stanford/USC score went final across the bottom ticker. We both were silent, staring at it. Then Josh turned to me and asked, "Did that really happen?" Any given Saturday, I guess.
About once every few hours while watching football Josh will turn to me and say, "Couldn't you just go for a nice big pitcher of beer?" "Please stop," I tell him as I nurse my bottle of water.
And finally, the skies were filled with clouds, a few droplets of water fell, and the temperature barely rose above eighty today. Oh sweet glorious autumn, how I missed you. Unless I were still in Fairbanks, where the high is 27 degrees today and snowing. Global warming, my ass.
About once every few hours while watching football Josh will turn to me and say, "Couldn't you just go for a nice big pitcher of beer?" "Please stop," I tell him as I nurse my bottle of water.
And finally, the skies were filled with clouds, a few droplets of water fell, and the temperature barely rose above eighty today. Oh sweet glorious autumn, how I missed you. Unless I were still in Fairbanks, where the high is 27 degrees today and snowing. Global warming, my ass.
Saturday, September 29, 2007
12 - Youth
Last night's flight was completely normal, except that we realized about half way through what a young crew it was. I was the oldest at 26. The other pilot was Tom Pierce (a Gonzaga alum, making it an all Gonzaga cockpit, the spirit of Adam Morrison was in the jumpseat) at 24. The Flight Engineer was 23 and the two Crew Chief's were both 21. Yikes. As the old man of the crew, I gave my best effort to be as grumpy as possible.
Young crews aren't that usual, especially with warrant officers in the mix. Most of those guys are prior enlisted who have several years in the service. I've more often found myself the youngest on board, enduring the heckling that sometimes comes with that. For the most part, the pilots are all in their late 20's to mid 30's. The prime of their career. We have one though that celebrated his 50th birthday when we in Kuwait. FIFTY! God help me if I'm over here for my 50th birthday.
Young crews aren't that usual, especially with warrant officers in the mix. Most of those guys are prior enlisted who have several years in the service. I've more often found myself the youngest on board, enduring the heckling that sometimes comes with that. For the most part, the pilots are all in their late 20's to mid 30's. The prime of their career. We have one though that celebrated his 50th birthday when we in Kuwait. FIFTY! God help me if I'm over here for my 50th birthday.
Friday, September 21, 2007
11 - Benjamins
$35,000. The Army just announced a bonus for eligible Captains (like me!) if I add another three years onto my already six-year commitment. I agree with Josh on this one: you can't buy my love. Besides, I'd feel like A-Rod after the 2000 season when he took the money and bolted for Texas. Only $251,965,000 not as rich. Another three years and the Army would own me into 2014. I can see myself deploying another three times between now and then. That would be five deployments. FIVE! Good lord. Thanks, but no thanks. I have a wife who likes me right now and I'd like to keep it that way.
I could see this one coming a while back. Nearly all my ROTC friends from Gonzaga did their four-year commitments, deployed at least twice during that time, and never looked back as they got out. So maybe we're not the Greatest Generation. Sometimes you gotta take care of #1. As much as my time in the service has meant to me, and for as loud as I sang Lee Greenwood at my wedding, I still can't rationalize my extended presence in this Army. I'm just too confident they'll ask me to postpone or completely miss some important things, like starting a family or a Mariner's World Series victory.
The Army's going to get their Captains. Cash is king. Throwing money at this problem may be quick fix, but it isn't solving the deep down issue of retention. The solution to that lies at the center of this complex storm our country finds itself in. You tell me how to solve it and you got my vote.
I could see this one coming a while back. Nearly all my ROTC friends from Gonzaga did their four-year commitments, deployed at least twice during that time, and never looked back as they got out. So maybe we're not the Greatest Generation. Sometimes you gotta take care of #1. As much as my time in the service has meant to me, and for as loud as I sang Lee Greenwood at my wedding, I still can't rationalize my extended presence in this Army. I'm just too confident they'll ask me to postpone or completely miss some important things, like starting a family or a Mariner's World Series victory.
The Army's going to get their Captains. Cash is king. Throwing money at this problem may be quick fix, but it isn't solving the deep down issue of retention. The solution to that lies at the center of this complex storm our country finds itself in. You tell me how to solve it and you got my vote.
Sunday, September 16, 2007
10 - Running
I went for a run today outside. It was 108 degrees. I've been waiting for the weather to break, and anything under 110 felt broken at first. I was trying for 30 minutes. I was good through about 25. A little dry in the mouth, but maintaining a good pace. By 26, I was hurting for the end. By 27, I'd slowed down to an easy jog. For minutes 28-30, imagine Chevy Chase in National Lampoon's Vacation singing 99 Bottles Of Beer On The Wall as he's wandering through the desert after crashing the car. I sort of felt like I was boiling from the inside out.
This follows in a series of scientific experiments I've conducted to test the limits human temperature toleration. It's done less out of desire for aerobic fitness, and more out of simple curiosity. Back in Alaska's Arctic Interior, I bottomed the thermometer out during a 45 minute jog at 42 below zero. The idea started during November, after a run around 0 F, I figured if I added a few layers to a few key areas, I could probably go another 10 degrees cooler. I just kept adding layers as the temperature kept dropping, eventually finding the right clothes for the job. Quite literally, at those temperatures, I was running for my life. If I stopped, I was done.
I know. I'm an idiot.
This follows in a series of scientific experiments I've conducted to test the limits human temperature toleration. It's done less out of desire for aerobic fitness, and more out of simple curiosity. Back in Alaska's Arctic Interior, I bottomed the thermometer out during a 45 minute jog at 42 below zero. The idea started during November, after a run around 0 F, I figured if I added a few layers to a few key areas, I could probably go another 10 degrees cooler. I just kept adding layers as the temperature kept dropping, eventually finding the right clothes for the job. Quite literally, at those temperatures, I was running for my life. If I stopped, I was done.
I know. I'm an idiot.
Friday, September 14, 2007
9 - Top Gun
A monumental occurrence tonight. For the first time ever, Josh and I took to the skies together. We were like Goose and Maverick up there, but with considerably less volleyball skills.
Saturday, September 8, 2007
8 - Weddings
As my Grandma so eloquently put it in her email to me this morning, "This is the day the Lord has made for Chelsea and Ross, two beautiful people, let us rejoice and be glad." I'll include Erin and Ryan Kelly into that mix as well. Congratulations to both couples.
I wish I was there too, Grandma.
I wish I was there too, Grandma.
Friday, September 7, 2007
7 - Ants, Weather
-My room has a bit of an ant issue. There's always a parade of some sort up and down the walls or across the ceiling. No matter how clean I am with the little bit of food I keep and eat in my room, they're always around. I asked Haley to send me some traps, which she did, along with some chili powder. She heard that the ants won't cross a line a chili powder. Testing the theory, I dumped a bunch right in one of their paths. It stopped short of the line, sniffed it, and then plowed right though, probably ate a little as well. I wrote her back saying the chili powder was an unfortunate failure. These ants are tough. They're from Iraq. Compared to the country's recent regime change, a little chili powder wasn't going to stop them.
The poison traps worked a little better. Now, instead of a full sprint during the parade, they just sort of stumble around like they're drunk. They're not stopping, but wherever they're going, it's with a little less purpose. I'll take what I can get. I'm not gong to win this one. I'm too far outnumbered, plus I'm on the road. Besides, they're not really bothering me, just visually unappetizing.
-On my flight tonight, we had some bad weather. The winds have picked up lately and blown some thick dust into the area. We barely had our minimum visibilities when we took off. It was also low illumination since the moon wasn't up, plus it's nearly a new moon. As we flew away from the airfield, the goggles started to scintillate, meaning they weren't getting enough ambient light to brighten our view. Looking around, I basically couldn't see anything in front or below me. Bad feeling. We quickly tucked our tail between our legs, turned around and went back home before it got any worse. Aircraft have crashed out here on low illum nights with dust reducing their visibilities. The pilots loose all references and just sort of fly right into the ground without realizing anything is wrong. A phrase that gets tossed around the aviation world when it comes to weather is this: it's better to be on the ground, wishing you were in the air, than to be in the air, wishing you were on the ground.
The poison traps worked a little better. Now, instead of a full sprint during the parade, they just sort of stumble around like they're drunk. They're not stopping, but wherever they're going, it's with a little less purpose. I'll take what I can get. I'm not gong to win this one. I'm too far outnumbered, plus I'm on the road. Besides, they're not really bothering me, just visually unappetizing.
-On my flight tonight, we had some bad weather. The winds have picked up lately and blown some thick dust into the area. We barely had our minimum visibilities when we took off. It was also low illumination since the moon wasn't up, plus it's nearly a new moon. As we flew away from the airfield, the goggles started to scintillate, meaning they weren't getting enough ambient light to brighten our view. Looking around, I basically couldn't see anything in front or below me. Bad feeling. We quickly tucked our tail between our legs, turned around and went back home before it got any worse. Aircraft have crashed out here on low illum nights with dust reducing their visibilities. The pilots loose all references and just sort of fly right into the ground without realizing anything is wrong. A phrase that gets tossed around the aviation world when it comes to weather is this: it's better to be on the ground, wishing you were in the air, than to be in the air, wishing you were on the ground.
Monday, September 3, 2007
6 - Football, The Office
A couple of quick things...
-Josh and I watched the first Saturday of college football the other night. AFN (Armed Forces Network) does a pretty decent job of showing the best games on a few channels. The games start around 10pm over here and go all night up to about 8am. Josh brought his "small" TV from home (36 inches) and set it up in his room. Room dimension limitations cause us to sit about 3 ft from the screen so it's quite the experience. Josh takes the lounger ($8 camping chair) while I take the couch (4ft Tuff Box) and we cheer quietly as to not wake his neighbors. On a whole, it was one of the best times I've had over here and makes me happy for the distraction of football. Before long I'll turn around and it'll be February. And I'll still have another 9 months. Ugh.
We have a weekly football bet that started back on our first tour when we were roommates. We take the best college games and all the pro games and take turns picking the straight up winners. If he takes a team, I automatically get their opponent. That way, we're rooting against each other on every game. Makes things a little more interesting. As far as the terms of the bet, there's no eloquent way to say this, so oh well: the loser has to take the winner's piss bottles out for the week. Yes, about 90% of the dudes over here don't get fully dressed and walk 100 yards to the nearest bathroom every time they have to go #1. Water bottles are used not only for replenishment, but also for relief. And that's about all I'll say about the matter, seeing as my grandma reads these posts.
-The TV show The Office has recently emerged as one of my favorites of all time. Having plowed through the first three seasons over the past week, I'm pretty sure I'm just going to start watching it again from the beginning. It's that good. You know a show is great when you start imagining the characters in your life. Like back in high school, when I tried to figure out which one of my friends were George, Kramer or Elaine. Or back on the last deployment when I was pretty sure I was an amalgamation of the three best character traits of Seth, Ryan and Sandy from The O.C. (Haley promptly laughed at me with pity when I told her about that one). Anyway, since watching The Office, I've been trying to decide who at work fits the different characters. It's tough, since I have to translate it into Army life, but incompetent and irritating people are omnipresent. If you choose to watch it, give it till at least halfway through the 2nd season. You may think it's ridiculous. Or it might just change your life.
-Josh and I watched the first Saturday of college football the other night. AFN (Armed Forces Network) does a pretty decent job of showing the best games on a few channels. The games start around 10pm over here and go all night up to about 8am. Josh brought his "small" TV from home (36 inches) and set it up in his room. Room dimension limitations cause us to sit about 3 ft from the screen so it's quite the experience. Josh takes the lounger ($8 camping chair) while I take the couch (4ft Tuff Box) and we cheer quietly as to not wake his neighbors. On a whole, it was one of the best times I've had over here and makes me happy for the distraction of football. Before long I'll turn around and it'll be February. And I'll still have another 9 months. Ugh.
We have a weekly football bet that started back on our first tour when we were roommates. We take the best college games and all the pro games and take turns picking the straight up winners. If he takes a team, I automatically get their opponent. That way, we're rooting against each other on every game. Makes things a little more interesting. As far as the terms of the bet, there's no eloquent way to say this, so oh well: the loser has to take the winner's piss bottles out for the week. Yes, about 90% of the dudes over here don't get fully dressed and walk 100 yards to the nearest bathroom every time they have to go #1. Water bottles are used not only for replenishment, but also for relief. And that's about all I'll say about the matter, seeing as my grandma reads these posts.
-The TV show The Office has recently emerged as one of my favorites of all time. Having plowed through the first three seasons over the past week, I'm pretty sure I'm just going to start watching it again from the beginning. It's that good. You know a show is great when you start imagining the characters in your life. Like back in high school, when I tried to figure out which one of my friends were George, Kramer or Elaine. Or back on the last deployment when I was pretty sure I was an amalgamation of the three best character traits of Seth, Ryan and Sandy from The O.C. (Haley promptly laughed at me with pity when I told her about that one). Anyway, since watching The Office, I've been trying to decide who at work fits the different characters. It's tough, since I have to translate it into Army life, but incompetent and irritating people are omnipresent. If you choose to watch it, give it till at least halfway through the 2nd season. You may think it's ridiculous. Or it might just change your life.
Thursday, August 30, 2007
5 - Kate
Happy Birthday, Kate.
There. Are you happy? A whole post all to yourself.
PS. I had a lot more fun on your birthday last year.
There. Are you happy? A whole post all to yourself.
PS. I had a lot more fun on your birthday last year.
Monday, August 27, 2007
4 - Prologue: Shipped Out
We left Fairbanks on July 7. After spending about 5 hours in the holding area at Fort Wainwright, they bused a half hour down the road to Eielson Air Force Base where we waited for another 3 hours before boarding our World Airlines MD-11. It very well could have been the same airplane I took over last time, that's how similar the experience was. During the 5 hours at Wainwright, we were given another round of shots (to go with the 10 or so we've had in the last 6 months), issued our weapons, counted, marked and loaded bags onto the semi-trucks, and made idle chatter with each other. I mean, what do you say to someone who's just said goodbye to their wife or kids or both for the next 15 months? I tried to keep to myself, not being much for small talk, but I couldn't stop shaking my head that we were headed out. I honestly thought that it wouldn't happen. My cynical attitude wasn't the greatest way to start.
Once airborne, we flew from Fairbanks to Colorado Springs to Maine to Germany to Kuwait City with about 3 hours at each layover. We were bused from Kuwait City to Camp Buehring in northern Kuwait. For our temporary stay, all 150+ of us were put into three big tents. At the time we thought it'd be for about 7-10 days. It turned out to be 30.
After staying in Kuwait for a month, I've learned that we humans can get used to pretty much everything. Kuwait in July made the inside of the tents 90 degrees by 9 AM and triple digits by 10 AM. Sleeping in was impossible, which made our night flight training a bit more difficult. With over 55 guys in our tent, each person got a cot and a space to put his boots on either side. Plus a row of cots ran down the middle of the tent for the unlucky SOB's that claimed their beds last. Halfway through the stay, kangaroo rats decided to help us pick up the crumbs people had dropped and could be seen scurrying under cots at night . Walking around in flip-flops was an at-your-own-risk event. But like I said, I just got used to the suck of it and by the end, didn't really mind my lot.
Finally at the beginning of the month, we were allowed to come up north. The unit we replaced (HMM-262 - Flying Tigers - OOH-RAH!), didn't really have a place for us to live or park our helos till August, so I can understand the delay. On the flight up, Flight Engineer SSG Clay Sauer took his oath of re-enlistment standing on the ramp of helicopter as I read it to him over the intercom system just as we crossed the border into Iraq. It's a ceremonious thing for those guys, to do the oath over the ICS while flying. Some have done it just as the helicopter crossed over the top of Mount McKinley at over 20,000 feet with oxygen masks on. It was an honor to be able to read it, especially for a guy like Clay.
Once here in TQ, we spent another week in 12-man huts before the Flying Tigers left for their home station in Okinawa, Japan. No real complaints about that except I got the top bunk. The top bunk is for the birds. But since the second week in August, I've been released from purgatory of sleeping next people I don't call "hon" and have moved into a spacious, relaxing, temperate, and internet-equipped haven. I have the 20'x10' bachelor pad all to myself, the perks of outranking all but about 5 people on our task force, though certainly not earning my single by any stretch of the imagination. Yes, sir, I could definitely fight a war accommodated like this.
Once airborne, we flew from Fairbanks to Colorado Springs to Maine to Germany to Kuwait City with about 3 hours at each layover. We were bused from Kuwait City to Camp Buehring in northern Kuwait. For our temporary stay, all 150+ of us were put into three big tents. At the time we thought it'd be for about 7-10 days. It turned out to be 30.
After staying in Kuwait for a month, I've learned that we humans can get used to pretty much everything. Kuwait in July made the inside of the tents 90 degrees by 9 AM and triple digits by 10 AM. Sleeping in was impossible, which made our night flight training a bit more difficult. With over 55 guys in our tent, each person got a cot and a space to put his boots on either side. Plus a row of cots ran down the middle of the tent for the unlucky SOB's that claimed their beds last. Halfway through the stay, kangaroo rats decided to help us pick up the crumbs people had dropped and could be seen scurrying under cots at night . Walking around in flip-flops was an at-your-own-risk event. But like I said, I just got used to the suck of it and by the end, didn't really mind my lot.
Finally at the beginning of the month, we were allowed to come up north. The unit we replaced (HMM-262 - Flying Tigers - OOH-RAH!), didn't really have a place for us to live or park our helos till August, so I can understand the delay. On the flight up, Flight Engineer SSG Clay Sauer took his oath of re-enlistment standing on the ramp of helicopter as I read it to him over the intercom system just as we crossed the border into Iraq. It's a ceremonious thing for those guys, to do the oath over the ICS while flying. Some have done it just as the helicopter crossed over the top of Mount McKinley at over 20,000 feet with oxygen masks on. It was an honor to be able to read it, especially for a guy like Clay.
Once here in TQ, we spent another week in 12-man huts before the Flying Tigers left for their home station in Okinawa, Japan. No real complaints about that except I got the top bunk. The top bunk is for the birds. But since the second week in August, I've been released from purgatory of sleeping next people I don't call "hon" and have moved into a spacious, relaxing, temperate, and internet-equipped haven. I have the 20'x10' bachelor pad all to myself, the perks of outranking all but about 5 people on our task force, though certainly not earning my single by any stretch of the imagination. Yes, sir, I could definitely fight a war accommodated like this.
Friday, August 24, 2007
3 - Prologue: Predeployment
We first learned about this deployment before Christmas. Chinooks, July '07, Supporting the Marines in Western Iraq. That's pretty much all the info that trickled down to us at the lowest level. Haley and I planned to keep the news to ourselves. We figured seven months out was still a ways away. No sense in making ourselves the center of bad news. I don't take praise very well, and do worse with sympathy. My new mother-in-law, Susan, sniffed us out quickly. She spiked my egg nog something fierce one night, and then while I was in recovery the next day, blocked my view of a meaningless college football bowl game and asked, "If you knew you were going to deploy, would you tell me?" "Yes," I answered. "Are you going to deploy?" "Yes," I answered. So much for our secret.
From there, as the months passed, the rumor became fact. Part of me figured it would all just go away, as if one day someone would call from a red phone and tell us they didn't need us to come anymore. But obviously that didn't happen.
In June I took block leave (a designated time for entire units to take leave...happens before and after deployments, and sometimes around Christmas), to California with Haley and Josh. We lived it up in Southern California as if we were about to deploy for 15 months. Beaches, baseball games, Vegas, Bill's Gambling Hall, UCLA, In-N-Out Burger, Saki bombs, shopping carts, and pools. We attempted to make it rain, and I do believe precipitation fell from the sky.
After returning from California, Josh was the first to go. He was assigned to the Advanced Party, sent early to get things set up for the Main Body. The night before he left, he asked me is what Paris Hilton felt like the night before she went to jail. More than likely, I told him.
On a whim, I was able to jet down to Seattle a few days before I was scheduled to ship off to surprise Haley's brother, Mike, at his bachelor party headed to the Mariner game. Matt and Brad showed up, and since none of us could attend Mike's matrimony, we were able to send him off into married life a few days before. My grandmother was also in town, and though she turned down my invitation to come to the bachelor party, I was able to spend some good time with her that weekend as well.
Once back up in Alaska, all trips being complete, Haley and I settled in for the final few days. We did a little camping, played cards, cooked some halibut, and watched the clock tick away our moments together. Having done this a few times, I say with certainty that those last few days before we leave are the hardest. Time refuses to slow down and your stomach is in a constant knot. It hurts more than I can explain.
At 4 AM, on a stormy Saturday morning, Haley dropped me off at the hangar. The only thing I left her to do was clean our house, pack our things, drive herself from Alaska to Salem (with the help of her dad, thanks Jan), take care of all paperwork I didn't get around to, find a new job and move back in with her parents. And I never even got a thank you for doing the dishes the night before I left. If you ask her about any of these inconveniences, or my being gone for the next 400 days or so, you'll get a quick "no big deal" and a smile. I'm humbled by her resilience and attitude.
But the silver lining in all of this, and something I've shared with others and have only gotten odd looks, is this. Since the day I learned about this deployment, every moment I'd taken for granted before, I no longer did. Every Saturday morning I got to sleep in, every Mariner game I got to watch, and yes, every beer I happened upon, I took with a renewed enlightenment. Daily I found myself saying, "self, in a few months, this is as good as gone, enjoy it while you can." And I did. It was a profound way to live, made the thought of deploying a little more bearable, and sure made the beer taste good.
From there, as the months passed, the rumor became fact. Part of me figured it would all just go away, as if one day someone would call from a red phone and tell us they didn't need us to come anymore. But obviously that didn't happen.
In June I took block leave (a designated time for entire units to take leave...happens before and after deployments, and sometimes around Christmas), to California with Haley and Josh. We lived it up in Southern California as if we were about to deploy for 15 months. Beaches, baseball games, Vegas, Bill's Gambling Hall, UCLA, In-N-Out Burger, Saki bombs, shopping carts, and pools. We attempted to make it rain, and I do believe precipitation fell from the sky.
After returning from California, Josh was the first to go. He was assigned to the Advanced Party, sent early to get things set up for the Main Body. The night before he left, he asked me is what Paris Hilton felt like the night before she went to jail. More than likely, I told him.
On a whim, I was able to jet down to Seattle a few days before I was scheduled to ship off to surprise Haley's brother, Mike, at his bachelor party headed to the Mariner game. Matt and Brad showed up, and since none of us could attend Mike's matrimony, we were able to send him off into married life a few days before. My grandmother was also in town, and though she turned down my invitation to come to the bachelor party, I was able to spend some good time with her that weekend as well.
Once back up in Alaska, all trips being complete, Haley and I settled in for the final few days. We did a little camping, played cards, cooked some halibut, and watched the clock tick away our moments together. Having done this a few times, I say with certainty that those last few days before we leave are the hardest. Time refuses to slow down and your stomach is in a constant knot. It hurts more than I can explain.
At 4 AM, on a stormy Saturday morning, Haley dropped me off at the hangar. The only thing I left her to do was clean our house, pack our things, drive herself from Alaska to Salem (with the help of her dad, thanks Jan), take care of all paperwork I didn't get around to, find a new job and move back in with her parents. And I never even got a thank you for doing the dishes the night before I left. If you ask her about any of these inconveniences, or my being gone for the next 400 days or so, you'll get a quick "no big deal" and a smile. I'm humbled by her resilience and attitude.
But the silver lining in all of this, and something I've shared with others and have only gotten odd looks, is this. Since the day I learned about this deployment, every moment I'd taken for granted before, I no longer did. Every Saturday morning I got to sleep in, every Mariner game I got to watch, and yes, every beer I happened upon, I took with a renewed enlightenment. Daily I found myself saying, "self, in a few months, this is as good as gone, enjoy it while you can." And I did. It was a profound way to live, made the thought of deploying a little more bearable, and sure made the beer taste good.
Thursday, August 23, 2007
2 - Address
Several have inquired about my address. I quickly respond to them, as I'll do here, so as to increase the bounty I can collect off of sympathetic folks doing their part for the war effort. But in all seriousness, I appreciate the smallest note or largest care package. It's always great to see your name on the Mail Call board.
CPT Andrew Rieck
B Co. 1-52nd AVN
TF Dragon
APO, AE 09381
Anything that's sent that I don't think I'll use or want will go towards the rest of the soldiers. We have a corner in one of the offices set up were we put extra items and anyone can pick through it and find something they need. Your generosity will be repaid with good karma. And who doesn't need more of that?
Tuesday, August 21, 2007
1 - Memorial
I figure I’ve put off starting this blog back up long enough. I’d given myself enough excuses: not enough access to internet, nothing to really write about; but any longer and it’d flat out be lazy procrastination. So screw it. It’s back up. If you didn’t already know, I’m on my second combat tour to
Today was our unit’s memorial for those five pilots and crew members aboard aircraft 171 when it crashed during a maintenance test flight one week ago today. It was held at the small chapel that sits between the gym and the locally run store that sells pirated DVD’s for a couple bucks. Besides the people from our unit, in attendance were two 2-star generals, one 1-star general and the entourages that follow those officers around. As we were milling around outside before it began, a motorcade of about 8 SUV’s pulled up to drop them off. These guys roll like rock stars.
After a few scripture readings and some music, each of the deceased had someone stand up and say a few words about them. It hurt a bit to hear about these men’s hobbies, passions, pasts, and future plans. It hurt even more to hear of the wives and children, moms and dads, they left behind. To be snatched so suddenly, with so many prospects ahead of you and so many people who depend on you and love you. Just a sad event, no matter how you justify it.
After the personal reflections and a final prayer, they did a roll call. It’s the first one I’ve ever seen, though I heard about it a few years back. Apparently a military custom when soldiers die is to stage a last roll call. The 1st Sergeant calls the names of a few people from the unit and they respond with “Here.” Then he calls the names of the ones who died. He calls each name three times, each time getting silence in return. Following the roll call, they fired rifle volleys and played taps. It was a somber, respectful military ceremony and I hope I don’t have to be a part of too many more of those.
This crash was an ominous way to start the deployment. We’re all expecting to be here for 15 months, this happening in the first few weeks makes me cringe. One thing we hoped to hold on to was the feeling that no matter how bad things got, no matter how much we missed home, or no matter much suck we endured, if everyone came home safe, we could call this tour a success. We lost that luxury last week. But like so many other units that have suffered losses, we’ll just push on, hoping to accomplish something that will justify and honor their passing
And if nothing else, football season starts next week.
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