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.

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.

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.

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?

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 Iraq stationed at Al Taqaddum, with the CH-47D Chinook unit from Fort Wainwright, Alaska (near Fairbanks). My old blog from my first tour (arieck.blogspot.com … follow that link at your own peril) has been hostilely taken over by spammers. They can have it. I’ll start anew with this one and try harder to defend it. I’ll write whenever I get the chance, and you all can read it whenever you’re bored enough.

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.