Returned from the field...the massive update part 1.

Ah, gentle readers, this will be a long, visually intensive post - I may not even get it finished tonight! As some of you know a group of us went into the field for the better part of a week for gunnery training. What this consists of, for those of you not well versed in military things, is that a select number of us had to report for training to become qualified as gunners (people who fire crew served weapons like the M249 SAW 5.56mm machine gun, the M240B 7.62mm machine gun, and M2 .50cal machine gun). The course would be only for the M240B and M2 and gunners would engage targets from about 80 meters to 800 meters during both the day and night (aided by nightvision devices like the PVS-7 GEN III night vision goggles and PAS-15 thermal weapons sight) over the course of a week.

Unfortunately for me, since my weapon wasn't going to be qualified at the range, I was selected as a driver of the 1151A1 HMMWV (humvee). Sgt. Damask was picked as my TC (tank commander/truck commander) and Spc. Williams was selected to be the M2 gunner. We loaded up our kits (a full infantry load by anyone's standards - about 100 pounds on our backs, a 40 pound IOTV (Improved Outer Tactical Vest - body armor), our ACH (the helmet), our assault pack, and our weapons. Here are a few pictures of us on our way:

Here we see Spc. Felda with his M16A2, assault pack held in front of him, and rucksack on his pack. We look like we're moving pretty quickly in the pictures, and we are, because the weight was such that if we slowed down even a little, we'd probably end up on our backsides as helpless as a turtle who has been flipped on his shell!

To the right is Spc. Barnett, smiling as always, a positive attitude, as always! Her part in this exercise is that of gunner for truck 18 on the M240B. And two more pictures of the march over there:


The thing to look at in all of these pictures is our faces. Most of us are smiling...unsuspecting of what the week will hold...one face though (yours truly) already had a feeling creeping through his bones, slithering through his veins like a serpent of dread...

And here, finally, before a video (I know you all love the videos!), is a 'hero' picture of me as my brother (a Captain in the Army) called it. There are a few things not right about it (as my brother was kind enough to point out). First, I have a BFA (Blank Fire Adapter - for use with blank ammunition) on my M249 SAW. Hero pictures, my brother expounds, should not have weapons with blank adapters on them. Second, it is the wrong BFA for my weapon (the one pictured is square, and designed for the M16 series of weapons.) At the time the BFAs were being handed out, the unit didn't have any


SAW blank adapters. So no smarmy comments about it!


The following is a video taken from inside my 1151A1 of the trail (while we were still on the hardball) on the way to the range. We're already in the middle of nowhere and we drove another hour into nowhere (which I suspect means we were actually close to somewhere) to get to our range. The drive was actually a lot of fun, as we really got to push the vehicles and see what they'd do! They handled it well, though I think that some of our passengers were a little green by the end of the trip!




Once we arrived at the location, we were chagrined to find out that we would be sleeping in tents. Tents that we would have to set up. Tents from the fifties, more suited to the M*A*S*H* television show than anything that we were doing. We set up two because we were told the 367th (another unit) would be joining us, and then we set up the heaters, the sun screens (mesh tents open on two sides), and the cots for both units. Once that was done we had some time to relax, which was wonderful. Chow (food) was brought out to us twice a day (usually around 0600 in the morning and 1800 (6PM) in the evening, give or take an hour, but never early.

The next morning we rushed out to unload the ammunition. Quite literally hundreds of boxes of linked .50 cal ammunition (each round is nearly seven inches long and comes 200 rounds per box) and dozens of boxes of linked 7.62 ammunition. Seeing it all in one places gave me a warm feeling as I love shooting, especially when I don't have to pay for the ammo (your tax dollars at work!) I was later to learn that I wasn't going to get to shoot at all, which made me quite sad. The ammo trucks left right after sunrise, and I snapped a great picture of the sun's first rays on the mountains as they began to pull away.

Soon we established a routine (the 367th conveniently arrived at the location right after the trucks were unloaded and right before chow, and somehow ended up first in line for the food. Definitely not the best first impression to make, and sadly, first impressions are often the most lasting ones.) The routine became something along these lines. Wake up at 0530 if you weren't already awake. Chow at 0600. Safety brief between 0730 and 0800. The lanes (what we call range training) opened generally at 0800. This means that the ammunition detail began soon before that, as did the fire guard (an ad hoc group of soldiers who were made firefighters in case the tracer ammunition that we shoot started a fire in the desert), and the other fire guard (responsible for keeping the heaters in the tent going) and the range detail, and the gate detail. A lot of details. Each detail generally lasts six hours. On average, each soldier expects to get about two hours of sleep a day, not usually all at once.



During the day you also have to actually go on the range. The range is set up with a series of firing stations that the humvee pulls up to, and then the gunner engages the targets. Gun crews are graded on their gun crew commands, time used to engage and destroy the targets, and general cohesiveness. The range SHOULD take no more than 12 minutes to navigate from start to finish, but as we soon all discovered, it can take longer than an hour for a single truck to go through. There were originally nearly 30 trucks slotted for the range from several different units. Each truck is expected to do both a day fire and a night fire during each 24 hours. I'm no mathematician but even I can figure out that if each truck is taking an hour, and the range is open from generally 0800-0500 each day, with breaks throughout to reset targets that are literally destroyed, for dinner, and for latrine breaks for cadre...no way are we going to get all the trucks through twice in one day.



I think at this point I'm going to end this first part of the synopsis, but first, a few shout outs, as it were. Special thanks to my grandfather for digging the wells in the area so many years ago (and for guessing so accurately as to where we are), and also to all of the readers who provide feedback either through email or, as I received today, through their soldiers here (specifically, Spc. Okrasinksi's mom - I'm glad that you enjoy the blog and that you feel that I have some talent at this! Your daughter is doing fine, and was walking with a spring in her step and smile on her face when I ran into her today!) Others to be included are the soldiers who listen to me rant about both the positives and negatives of this deployment and give me ideas for the stories I tell in this blog - I'm also VERY grateful for them not having broken my video camera, as I know it's near constant presence can get a bit irritating! My girlfriend also deserves a very special thanks as she gets to hear all of these tales (and then some!) before the rest of you, and most of all for her putting up with the Army. As she so eloquently put it earlier today when I had yet another meeting to attend, and I said, "It's the Army..." She replied succinctly with, "You signed up, but I didn't" or something to that effect. My squad leader overheard, and agrees with you that the Army is a terribly unfair creature when it comes to loved ones!

I'll write part 2 tomorrow!

Rainy days, boring days

The last two days have been remarkably quiet. Scarily so in many ways, as in the Army whenever there is calm, there is always a storm. Always.

Yesterday went well, we were all awake at a reasonable hour to walk across the way to the DFAC (Dining Facility) to first get chow, and afterward have our TB tests checked. Mine had healed so completely, and tested so negatively that the medic wasn't even able to find it. The day after that passed smoothly, and we all had time even to do some things that we wanted to. For me, that was talk with my girlfriend.

I really lucked out as her work day was shorter than usual and so I got to webchat with her! The webchat was a little strange just because I don't have much experience with it, and with the four different stereos playing four different kinds of music, and countless soldiers watching movies on their laptops I didn't want to use the microphone or speakers on my computer - I need to invest in a headset! Still, getting to speak with my hellkat not once but twice yesterday on the phone, and once through the computer really made my day!

Afterward I spent some time watching the film "Cloudy with a Chance of Meatballs." It was a cute feel-good believe-in-yourself kind of film. It helped to destress the full-time army lifestyle that I now find myself in. Sometimes it's fun to just watch something that doesn't make you think too hard.

In the evening I got together with SPC Kuntze, SPC Chalker, and PV2 Wagner to go for a diagnostic run on the track here on our base. The track itself was pretty interesting inasmuch as most military tracks are either a quarter mile or a half mile long. This track was .57 of a mile around, so 3.5 times around the track equaled one two mile PT test. As it was a diagnostic run, I asked everyone to not worry about the time they run the course in, but instead to just finish the course. We all need some work on our run times, but I ran in under the max time allotted for my age bracket, so I know I'll pass at least this portion of the PT test in a few weeks.

Ordinarily the rest of the night would be pretty quiet, a shower after the run, a phone call, maybe read, or write for a little while. Update this blog even. Last night though, nearly before lights out we went through the calamity of issuing out weapons cards and optics cards. If you thought that after that we'd be released though, you were mistaken, gentle reader. After that the company arms room opened up and began the issue of our weapons.

I was excited to see my M249 SAW once more as I hadn't seen her since about a week into our training at RTC when I turned her in to have the new shorter barrels with fixed gas-tubes headspaced and timed. The process was supposed to take two days. I was still excited though, as this was the weapon I was assured I would deploy with, and so I had turned it in with all accessories attached, and then stored my range bag with other accessories in the company arms room. Imagine my surprise when a different M249 was handed to me.

Rage would be a more accurate adjective for the emotion, actually. And I became progressively more angry as the process continued. First they didn't know where my M249 was. Then they wanted me to wait in the cold until they were done with everyone before I could sign out the weapon, and finally, after much irritation, I walked up to retrieve my SAW. It wasn't my SAW, it was some other one. It had a full stock (as opposed to the collapsible stock I had) and it came with three spare barrels. Two full length, and two short barrels. And a broken range bag minus all of my accessories. I'm still pretty livid about it. How hard is it to assign a soldier a weapon and let them hang on to it? I've had about ten different weapons assigned to me in the last three years.

Bed was a long time coming it seemed last night, and today some of the squad members went to a CLS (Combat Lifesaver) course, while the rest of us tried to think small and stay hidden. Alas it was not to be and we've been going over all of the classes that we go over every month, for the last two years, again and again. I know some of the soldiers need boots and wanted to go to the main PX today to buy them, some of us wanted to go to the headquarters attachment to retrieve personal documentation for our promotion packets, and all of us wanted to go to the gym. Unfortunately none of that was to be. It looks like more classes tomorrow.

But now time for some better updates! Pictures! On the left we see SPC Kuntze on his way to CLS class this morning, absolutely refusing to stand still so I could get a good picture!


On the right we have SGT Damask showing off his new moustache. $0.50 out of a vending machine at the shopette well spent!


Last but not least, a picture of myself and PFC Ramos wearing every piece of armor the unit has given us. Surprisingly comfortable, but rather bulky! Hopefully tomorrow is a bit of a better day, the rain combined with these classes hasn't put everyone in a really good mood, and tempers seem to be simmering. I'll try to take some more videos, and more pictures of the troops, I'm also contemplating the idea of allowing some soldiers to ghostwrite from time to time here. Lastly, if there is a picture of a family member that you're looking for, shoot me an email and I'll try to get them to pose quickly and post it up here.

Barracks walk-through

This is our new home away from home - at least temporarily.

Of IOTV and SRP

The desire to write yesterday after a long day of training was like a man adrift in the desert, searching for water. After the day that we all had though, I needed a gatorade, so instead of writing, I called my girlfriend. Her gain, my gain, my gentle readers' loss. Wouldn't change it for the world!

Yesterday began at 0400 (we were all racked out and asleep nearing 1230 so it really wasn't much sleep) and we began our trips to the different stations to receive the newest in uniforming the army had to issue. Issue days at CIF (Central Issue Facility) for our RFI (Rapid Fielding Initiative) are always kind of strange. On the one hand it's a bit like waking up to presents beneath a tree. You know that you're going to get some good stuff - you can even hedge your bets that it is going to be EXPENSIVE good stuff; heck, you don't even have to be good to get it! But they will make you wait in line all day.

We were all really pleased to receive our new ACU (army combat uniform) shirts for wear with the IOTV (Improved Outer Tactical Vest i.e. body armor) as they combine the best of both worlds - gone is the zipper of our ACU tops digging into our bodies while we wear body armor! Gone are the days of fumbling with velcro sleeve pockets! Here are the days of...not wearing said shirts until we're told we can. They are moisture wicking and and made of a softer material on the sleeves than our normal ACU tops, and I'm certain that they'll be worth their weight in gold (they're very light, too, but gold is going for about $1000 an ounce...maybe they aren't quite worth that, but several of them would be!). We shuffled down the line and received the new flame retardant uniforms that we will be wearing, and though I haven't really experimented with them, they look pretty spiffy. We also received some new pads for our ACH (Advanced Combat Helmet) and I was shocked...SHOCKED! to find that they were out of my hat size for the boonie cap (or sun hat as it seems to be officially labeled; that however makes me think of a big straw bonnet, which this is not). My shock and near disdain of the supply system comes from the simple fact that of all the myriad items I've purchased for myself over the years for the Army, I have put my foot down when it comes to this hat. So I've gone to supply...for nearly three years, requesting one. The wait continues.

Now these new items filled half of another seabag (the army insists on calling them duffle bags, but somehow GySgt Arp calling out the name of things as he threw them at us has drilled the name 'seabag' into my head). As we packed the hastily labeled bags into the back of a box truck we all soldiered back to the position of back-lean-and-rest on the bus. Outside we could hear the soft cooing noises of Sgt. Joyce attempting to entice the largest pigeons I've ever seen down from one of the buildings. Some of us drifted to quick sleep, others texted, or made phone calls, and others just wandered off to the latrine, or the shopette, the px, or various vending machines.

Eventually we all gathered for the second part of our issue. The IOTV. At least that was mostly what we were forming up for. As I quickly learned we would be receiving a few other things. A canteen (I have three camelback hydration systems with me) that I quickly questioned why I needed. The answer filled me with dismay: CBRN (formally called NBC, CBRN stands for Chemical Biological Radioactive Nuclear) is my least favorite part of anything. If you think you're having a bad day, get tear gassed. It will become exponentially worse. When I simply hear the word said (it's pronounced see-burn) I can already feel CS (tear gas) burning my eyes out of their sockets, filling my lungs with unusable gas, and generally making my life awful.

How are canteens associated with CBRN? Well, gas masks have a drinking tube attachment (no eating tube attachment yet that I've found) that functions excellently with canteens but not so well with camelbacks unless they have a specific type of seal, a specific type of adapter piece, and then an adapter piece that fits into the adapter piece. Canteens though have the adapter's build in.

We also received a wet weather bag, which has been an elusive (like the boonie hat) piece of army equipment that up until now I had heard of bet never actually seen. Now I have one! The chances of rain here are slight at best, so it becomes one more item of issue to carry. If you're curious as to what it does, it keeps whatever is in it dry, or so I've been told.

Then came the long process of fitting for the IOTV. The new armor is vastly superior in fit than the last kind! The new kind has a fast release tab for those moments when you just don't want to wear it a moment longer than you must, and also secures to the body much more like a police vest (which I'm used to wearing) and not at all like the old vest which ground itself against your spine, crushed your short ribs, and sat heavily upon your shoulders. The new one is like getting a giant bulletproof hug. It carries more armor than the last one, too, and offers much greater protection. For all of these amazing positives, there must be a negative, right? Right! It's a lot heavier than the last one to lug around in a seabag!

I'll try to get some pictures of all this fancy new stuff up here soon - just so that those of you back home understand why we all like this so much better!

Today was the dreaded SRP (I have no idea what it stands for, but one guess is Slow Retarded Progress) that we have gone through I believe four times in the last 12 months. It's a bit like a gameshow for the extremely masochistic. The goal is to take as much time as possible to receive a 'Go' at each of several dozen stations. The stations will test your readiness in such diverse areas as: Financial! Personnel! Dental! Vision! Immunizations! Health Assessment! Baseline Vitals! Hearing! and the always popular, never going out of style, powerpoint presentations!! And rather than have one contestant at a time, picture, if you will, an entire companies of soldiers jockeying for position in the lines, attitudes and breath becoming only worse as the day progresses.

Our day began at 0200. First formation was at 0300. One of the platoons - not mine - decided to be fashionably late. We made it in line for chow by 0400. Chow opened at 0430 and we proceeded to eat the very edible bacon, scrambled eggs with ham and cheese, and hashbrowns (which I've yet to try, but I hear are very good!). The only ruination of my breakfast occurred when I asked my battle buddy to pass the pepper. He heard salt. I took the shaker (not looking at the contents) and liberally dosed my meal with it. Ugh. But otherwise quite tasty! By 0515 give or take we were at the SRP site milling around like flightless birds from the Galapagos islands (now extinct) and waiting for our paperwork. Then began, slowly, ponderously, like a gathering biblical storm, the SRP process.

First stop was Financial, where we were assured that the army does not need a copy of our lease/rental agreements in order for us to be paid. We attempted to shove them on the Specialist working there, but he wasn't having it. My fingers are crossed for our housing allowance. Then Personnel, where I came within a hair's breadth of FINALLY getting a copy of my 2-1. (The 2-1 is a form which carries a list of much of a soldier's most basic information - ASVAB scores, unit assignments, weapons qualifications, schools attended, etc.) My 2-1 has become a sort of holy grail for me as I strive to put together my Sergeant packet. It is the final piece of paperwork that I know exists that I need. I saw the packet it currently resides in sitting on a desk, asked for it, and I think because of either an Army or a Spanish language barrier, was unable to secure a copy. The search continues.

Afterward began the long line for MED 1. Medical 1 was to establish baseline vitals (BP, Height, Weight, Pulse Rate). I was pulled to MED 2 by a Medical Officer and thought to myself, "Myself," says I, "This is going to be GREAT!" and not just a little great, but full on Tony the Tiger Frosted Flakes G-R-R-R-R-EAT! I was the next soldier to be called (skipping a station to complete two tasks at one station is nice!) when the examiner went on lunch. Back to MED 1 for me. MED 3 was the next stop and first stop there was the blood draw for HIV. Four times in a year! The phlebotomist was skilled and the draw was over quick fast and in a hurry. Next stop was...something else, I don't recall exactly what, possibly sitting in a chair, and then was immunizations!

I'm pretty up on my immunizations, and lucky enough to never really, really badly react to them. Today was going to be TB test, H1N1, and Smallpox. Luckily for my tattooed self, partially healed tattoos push back the Smallpox vaccine which I'm in no hurry to receive. Unlucky for my tattooed self is that the TB test is very difficult to administer to a person with ink in their forearms. A site was found, the day was saved, and the H1N1 went by without a hitch. Dental my teeth were given a 'Go' as soon as I smiled. At vision I discovered that I can read a wall chart, and then it was outprocess and done. Total time from wake-up to finish was about ten hours. The time after that was what truly dragged.

With nothing really left to accomplish I set out to see if anyone else was finished. I found that my Platoon Sergeant had breezed through the process along with our Warrant Officer and one of the squad leaders. I'm almost positive that the Chief put on "party in the u.s.a." once it was discovered that 1) yes we could leave the SRP site and 2) we had transportation to the main PX (post exchange - a kind of all in one mall). The shopping expedition was fruitful (I had new name-tapes made and bought a bottle of water and gum) and we returned to the SRP site to sit in abject misery for another 7 hours.

But we're back in the barracks now, I was able to write for a bit, and I found a Bawidamann pin-up girl shirt that I'd wanted for some time. It has a SAW gunner on it, and as a gunner, I felt compelled to buy it. And yes, I know it serves no useful purpose. But it is cool.

For now though, it's time for bed!

Planes, buses, and automobiles

And not necessarily in that order. A month has passed since the last update, and the unit has been busy busy busy. This blog was started to follow our progress towards deployment, and as we enter the last phase the anxiety and excitement is palpable.

The unit had it's official deployment ceremony just a few short days ago, and already the memories of that day are well worn. It was, as is so often the case, a very early day for many of us, followed by a period of time best described as 'attempting to stay awake.' Family members began arriving at 1000 hours and soon after the first members of the Patriot Guard Riders also arrived to help send us on our way in style. Our unit FRG (Family Readiness Group) prepared snacks, cakes, coffee, drinks, and a raffle to help raise money for the FRG (many thanks to Mrs. Macaluso!), and the USO was also in attendance.

As the tables were wrapped in red, white, and blue table cloths the majority of us troops were upstairs, eating a remarkably silent lunch, each of us alone with our own thoughts, eager to see our families and loved ones, but anxious about the finality of the upcoming ceremony. For so very many of us, this day would mark the moment of actualization of the tasks that we had not only trained for beginning with day one of our IET (Initial Entry Training, boot camp) but had volunteered for in spite of, or perhaps because of, the war-time status of the nation. Sobering thoughts for a wintry day.

I was very happy to meet with the members of the Patriot Guard who had arrived, and I was thrilled to find that the Patriot Guard Riders had been notified of our upcoming mission. I had first heard of the PGR a couple of years back, and as a biker had decided to assist in their efforts to give dignified send-offs and homecomings to the Soldiers, Marines, Airmen, and Sailors of our country back in March. Meeting with Mark and all of the others was truly wonderful, and the challenge coins that I was given are beside me now - I am eagerly looking forward to the day that we all return, and I can ride with them all welcoming home and sending off other units and individuals serving in the armed forces.

The ceremony went off without a hitch, though I am sure that our friends in attendance have a new appreciation for the phrase, "hurry up and wait" which I am certain they had heard many times before, but perhaps had not fully understood.

After being released we all hurried home to spend time with our families, take care of last minute packing, and try to relax a bit before the following morning's formation. My father and mother, never altogether comfortable, I think, with my enthusiasm for motorcycles got to spend far more time with my bike than I think they ever expected to as we loaded it on to the back of my truck. After a few more minutes ensuring that I had everything I will need (or at the least, everything that I could think of) for the upcoming mission, I made my farewells and was able to enjoy a couple of beers, some great conversation, and a delicious dinner with my old lady. Before I knew it, it was time to drive on, pick up another soldier, and report in.

Time moves so slowly during the actual experiencing of events, but now it feels the last 24 hours have flown by. We arrived in a flurry of activity at our home away from home to a welcome brief and a quick check for symptoms of ill health. Chow was simple fare, but good, and I actually think that if I'd wanted to, I could have had seconds. My stomach is growling, so I rather think that would have been a good idea.

Our barracks are adequate, each soldier has a wall locker and a bunk, and the training schedule before us will be fast - very fast. Imagine an artist quickly spreading paint on a canvas, moving so quickly that the colors blur into an almost hypnotic palette...only when his brush stops moving will the ingenuity and full scope, depth, and vibrancy of the piece be comprehended.

The thoughts that thrum through me most frequently are already thoughts of home. The crisp air in Chicago, which in only a few short months will have the earthy smells of spring. Little Italy, where some of my happiest and most treasured memories were created. My family, no doubt even now turning what were my living quarters into computer rooms and guest bedrooms. My girlfriend, who I'm already trying to schedule time to write to, and draw my silly impressions of army life in the margins of the letters, and who has been so strong, and so consistently supportive of me through all of the stress, anxiety, and fears of the what the mission may entail.

It's long past lights out, and I'm going to try to catch a few hours of sleep as my brothers around me are already (LOUDLY) doing. There must be something about being in the Army that makes a soldier snore at night...perhaps it's a subconscious rebellion against the forced silence that accompanies standing at attention and endless classes.

From the first step I knew
this path was set for me;
Shoulder to shoulder
each step brings increasing clarity.