sgtmadmike

Field Exercise FTF.

Wed, 09 Dec 2009 20:06:57 GMT

Drill weekends are normally two days, sometimes two and a half, occasionally longer for exercises. This was nominally four (Thurs-Sun) plus travel time.

So, my 4.5 day drill was at Ft Smith, Arkansas, on a bight of the Arkansas River in the northwest corner of the state.

Being that we’re an Air Guard unit, we traveled by....chartered bus. I’d thought we might take one of those large silver winged-thingies, seeing as there are long, flat, illuminated road thingies on each base, but no.

It was probably cheaper to bus, but it was 8 hours each way, and I have a four hour drive to get to my base from my house…so, 4 hours down Wednesday night, 5 hours in billeting, showtime 0500 in the cold and windy (Wait, there’s a 5 o’clock in the MORNING, too?), get issued sleeping bag, cold weather parka (not “extreme cold weather,” just “cold weather.” That gives you a hint on some of the exercises we do), extra long johns, board the bus with 63 of my closest friends (no, not really) and pull out behind the second bus.

At which point, my superior, who lives in TX and drove up directly rather than drive halfway across the country to drive back south, texts my subordinate, and asks him if we brought any tools.

Why, no, this being a regional training site we’re going to, and since said superior made no mention of tools previously, in fact did not contact us at all, which is one more reason I hope he’s retiring soon, and since the orders and newsletter made no mention of tools, I only brought a few of my own. PS: He kinda shoulda contacted me, not someone lower down the food chain.

So, eight hour drive and some movies. The first thing I figured would go over with this crowd
was “Team America.” The major hadn’t seen it and asked me, “Is this PG?”

“Yes, sir. Yes it is. No, not really.”

“We don’t want to offend anyone.”

“In this unit??”

There weren’t any other comedies, only Will Ferrell, but I did find Casino Royale in there (The new one) and the driver recommended following that with G.I. Joe (it’s lame). We stop for breakfast and lunch out of pocket, but we should get reimbursed Real Soon Now.

We arrive, find our tents (Alaskan Shelter Systems. Basically aluminum-framed Quonset huts with double layered rubberized canvas, lights and a plenum for heat or AC or overpressure against contamination. Better than some Army barracks, actually), drop our gear, and get briefed.

I recommend from now on, that our Christmas Party Committee contain at least two members over the age of 25. We were informed that we had BEER! And would have MORE BEER! Friday and Saturday nights.

They lied…unless, of course, you consider “Bud Light” and “Lite Beer from Miller” to be “Beer,” which I do not.

One of our people drove a school busload of us to town for food. I had Chilis with one of the firefighters, who forgot to bring anything more than a sweat shirt. I was cold with ski mask and gloves and jacket. Several went to Hooters, of course.

Friday morning, Mechanical Section (that being us) has to fix two of the FDECUs on the tents. The Field Deployable Environmental Control Unit is a $25,000 unit that fits six to a standard aircraft pallet, plugs into a standard generator or Power Distribution Panel cable, heats from -60F, cools from 160F, filters and overpressurizes against NBC contamination for 6000 cubic feet, can self-diagnose problems and has blinkenlights for all this.

In theory.

One was drawing too much fresh air, and thus the space was too cool. The other…wasn’t engaging the heat pump. We tried multiple resets and analyses, and finally just shut it off and rebooted. It seems it had dust in a relay. In Arkansas. In December. Seeing as it’s much dustier in the Middle East, I’m not confident of these POSes. Neither is anyone else, except the school staff, who insist they’re wonderful.
Except I recall a 35 day sandstorm last year, temperatures running from a nighttime low of 93 to a daytime high of 118, and dust in everything imaginable, including places you’d rather not imagine. We insisted on using the officially phased out -39 ECU, which is all electromechanical relays and brute force.

Engineer humor: You have a warehouse tent, and a Cooline, a -39 and an FDECU. Where do you place the units for best cooling effect?

Answer: You place the -39 in the back, the FDECU in the front so when it fails you can easily reach it, and the Cooline goes in the dumpster for salvage to save time on doing it later.

And that was our work for the day, seeing as there wasn’t any other mechanical equipment and no cadre. Good thing we’re self-motivating.

From there, we got a little time on 10K all terrain loaders, front end loaders and trenchers, because everyone in an engineer unit needs to know construction.

I was the designated bus driver for after hours recreation, since I’m also qualified on school bus. More precisely, I was designated for Saturday, but the Friday driver got confused (Sure he did) and got into the beer, so I took Friday. I dropped a load at The Electric Cowboy (yee hah!) and another group at Hooters, came back and warmed up—for some reason, none of those brand new Bluebird school buses have heat. They have digital dashes that tell me I can run 19 pounds of boost on the turbo, but no heat.

One of the fire chiefs asked me about the next run. I said, “Nine thirty, and final pickup at eleven.” Since we had to be up at 0600, I thought that was reasonable.

“That @#$ ain’t gonna fly. Maybe we need to talk to the Chief.”

Well, you can talk to anyone you want…I’m a volunteer, and I don’t take orders to drive people to bars in government vehicles late at night.

I compromised on midnight. I’m still cold, especially my feet. We load up 19 men and 2 women to go to a strip club...

Twenty-five miles into the trip, I sarcastically ask, “So where is this club? Oklahoma?”

“Yes!”

“…!”

I shiver my way across the state line, drop them all, and head back to the Electric Cowboy…where someone asks if I can grab them AFTER I grab the bunch from the Cheyenne Strip Club.

You see where this is going.

Then to WalMart so someone can buy party supplies for our Christmas Party (since the Wing party is back at our home station, we’re improvising).

I feel more like a taxi driver than a bus driver.

Back to the base, warm up, then back to the strip club at midnight…just as I’m about to drive off in disgust, one guy comes out and tells me they’re taking the club limo back, that no one wanted to bother to come out and talk to me but he felt obligated (Thanks, much appreciated that someone did), and they didn’t have my cell number.

Well, no, but I’m pretty sure they have the Chief’s cell number, or my superior’s, or that of two other people in my shop, anyone of whom could have relayed a message and saved time and gas.

Then back to the Electric Cowboy, where they’ve decided to take cabs, but at least come out and tell me so. Back at 0100, park the bus, close up, get into the tent, just in time to see someone looking very scared sprint for the door, miss and projectile heave beer foam all over it. So, after we get him to the latrine to purge and clean up, and have him clean up the (luckily, just liquid) mess, I have to fix the door mechanism that got smashed open, since I have the cot nearest the door.

One of the NCOs chased them out at 0300, into waiting cabs. More on him later.

This is like the 1970s military, not the modern military. I’m kinda glad for the reactionaryism, but I could do without the stupidity, except there’s always SOME KIND of stupidity, and no one is getting hurt.

Saturday…after breakfast I take a nap.

Then back to the vehicles. I have too many hundred hours in dump trucks, pallet loaders, forklifts, bucket lifts, JLGs, to even bother with, but I could use, and get, some stick time on tractor-flatbed and front end loader.

Oh, yes—our meals are catered by Golden Corral. Eh. Five pounds gained in five days from eating nothing but fast and pre-packed food. I’ve gotten two of it back off already (as of post time), but it’s not healthy.

Clean vehicles, fuel vehicles, park vehicles. Then time for the Christmas party. It featured....BEER! (as previously discussed.)

Eight door prizes and $800 of cheap beer.

I decide to crash early. About 2100, I wake up. Remember the responsible NCO with the cab roundup? He has a certain…sense of humor. I wake up to see a helicopter. Yes, he’s naked two feet from me and twirling. That’s a hell of a way to wake up, let me tell you.

He's actually very well built and rather smart, but what an ass...hole...type person.

Next morning, close up the FDECUs, clean facilities and latrines and classrooms, drop three tents, tear down our gear, pack it and load it on the buses. Forty-five minutes. I have no complaints about anyone’s work ethic, I just would like more scheduled work and less crap beer.

Back onto other buses…one’s a beefed up truck chassis. The short bus.

More movies. The DVD player refused to play a Will Ferrell movie 5 times in a row. I guess it’s semi-sentient and has learned to recognize and refuse to eat crap. “Blow” is a very good but tragic movie. “Shoot ‘Em Up” is incredibly stupid but very entertaining. “Mr. Woodcock” is decently acted but predictable.

The driver was getting pretty groggy. He kept hitting the rumble strips, almost cutting off cars and once a semi. I stayed awake the entire trip.

One McDogfood’s and eight hours later (Waving to Zombie Squad and Laurell Hamilton in spirit as we run through Saint Louis) we pull into the base.

I turn in my sleeping bag and have only a 4 hour drive home…and then unload and stow all my stuff and try to unwind.

At least no one was shooting at me.

New Meds FTW!

Mon, 02 Feb 2009 18:10:32 GMT

Holy crap!

I had no idea how far out of it I've been for the last four months, until I got some new meds last week.

I can BREATHE!

I can SLEEP!

I am awake and alert and knocking out words.

I am doing the paperwork to get it officially tagged as a result of my last deployment...which, sadly, may BE my last deployment. It depends on how long (or "if," though the prognosis is good) recover takes.

(this has been a periodic update. Please see the same thread at mzmadmike and respond there)

HOLY SHIT, IT'S RAINING!!!

Sun, 07 Sep 2008 11:55:55 GMT

We are not hallucinating. We took measurement equipment out.

An actual .0625 inches of rain.

This does not affect my plans to become sheik.

Very Seekrit Diary

Wed, 27 Aug 2008 16:04:13 GMT

Day 8400.

How I detest this life of vile servitude.

Bored. No bheer. Nothing to do but play Scrabble with TCNs. V. boring, as most of them don't speak English.

Spent day dousing dust covered filters with water. Mud. Greasy and slick. Long isolation generated impure thoughts. Briefly thought about the hawt looking Army sergeant with pouty lip and unicorn posters above her bed, but terribly afraid Uncle Sam will kill me if I try anything.

Still no return date. Am doomed to be here Two More Weeks forever.

Still not Sheik.

(I mark 23 years of service today, 17 Air Force, 6 Army. GO ME!)

I Have A Return Date

Sun, 24 Aug 2008 06:35:00 GMT

It's so secret, they won't even tell ME when it is.

Really.

However, I have a window coming up, and will get 2-3 days notice in that window, during which time I must be able to board available transport on an hour's notice.

Not a problem. I'll take a Cessna with a wonky engine if it's leaving this hole.

Hey, China

Mon, 18 Aug 2008 16:54:59 GMT

You have four times our population to select from, a massive government program, and threats of horrific reprisals for failure.

So why don't you have four times the medals we do?

Oh, yeah--Because YOU SUCK, you bunch of Maoist-Marxist pansies.

On a medal per population basis, you're getting stomped by the US, South Korea, AUSTRALIA, UK, Germany, and probably Italy.

You're on par with France.

Enough said.

Blackmail, SCORE!

Thu, 07 Aug 2008 17:36:50 GMT

We've been hassled all along about proper work/rest cycles (20 on, 40 off in Heat Condition 5, unless actually engaged in combat ops or mission critical work), hard hats, harnesses, gloves, boots, the works.

A colonel freaked out and wanted something minor done very fast the other day.

Base Safety is in the HQ building.

We now have a photo of the Ground Safety NCO holding a stepladder while one of our techs stood on the top step.

We remind Ground Safety NCO of this whenever we think we're being looked at with the possibility of a writeup.

Note to potential enemies: blackmail, abandoned HAZMAT, suspicious packages and tackle basketball are how we treat our FRIENDS.

31-35 days to go

Wed, 06 Aug 2008 13:21:38 GMT

semi-official but not in writing.

Must hurry up on campaign to be Sheik.

Will petition commanders of me Legions of Terror to kill another million Arabs.

And a big-busted blonde.

33-54 Days Left

Sun, 03 Aug 2008 18:20:29 GMT

Upcoming travels to various bases, and ultimately prep for departure.

Have arranged a concession to sell sand. World's largest beach here. Figure anywhere with water can be economically exploited with a few tons.

Visit to embassy, avoided creating international incident. Go me!

Routine maintenance on weapon and gas mask, little and not used respectively.

But still not Sheik.

Must. Not. Kill. Roommate

Sat, 02 Aug 2008 02:09:06 GMT

Former 101st. 38. E7. Biggest @#$ing pansy on the planet. Alarm starts going off at 0445. I usually have time to get to the latrine, brush teeth, come back, and alarm is still going. Then he hits snooze 20 times until 0530 and barely makes it in by 0600.

"Oh, I just have trouble waking up in the morning. I'm not a morning person."

I can see why the infamous Skippy woke someone up by repeatedly banging on the head with a bag of trash.

Roommate jokes about it, and so do I, but dammit, the temptation to unplug the alarm, throw it at him, then strangle him with the cord...

And he's one of those addicts who can' sleep without TV, and will surf through AFN, local stations in Arabic and Showtime, whine that nothing is on, and keep clicking, every 5-10 seconds, for a @#$ing hour. "Oh, I just can't sleep without TV."

Boy, I can see why this twit left the infantry. Must have killed him to sleep on the ground.

Why do we have TV in a war zone anyway? Last time I was here I was in Tent City (In Kuwait, no less), and TV was in the rec center.

Not Sheik yet.

Day 80

Wed, 30 Jul 2008 05:56:02 GMT

Walked ten miles yesterday. Had beef ribs, but strongly suspect they were actually camel. Transferred 300 lbs of contaminated gas to cylinders for disposal.

Stubble update: manly.

Could use a shower.

Not Sheik yet.

Very Secret Diaries

Fri, 25 Jul 2008 22:53:33 GMT

Been in Arabia 63 days.

Apparently have joined some sort of quest.

Still not Sheik.

Obscure Humor

Sat, 19 Jul 2008 21:57:27 GMT

We installed ducts, in a WAREHOUSE shelter (tent made of fiberglass panels).

They ordered us to remove them: they "look ugly."

so, they now have FOUR crappy Cooline air conditioners instead of two.

The joke I came up with goes thus:

You have a frame shelter, with plenums on each end, and one in the middle.

You have a Cooline, a -39 ECU and an FDECU. Where do you put them?

Answer:

You put the FDECU where it is easiest to reach to troubleshoot for when it fails.

You put the -39 at one end.

And you put the Cooline in the dumpster to go to DRMO.

if you were an AF engineer, you'd be rolling on the ground laughing now.;-)

aaaaand Now We Have A New Policy.

Fri, 18 Jul 2008 08:21:16 GMT

Sergeant Asshole is a very good technician. Once you grasp that he's a blue-collar Jersey boy with no social graces, he's not all bad.

Personally.

However.

So, we're on swings together the next two weeks, handling "emergencies"--the flight line, command and control, operations, any support for combat ops, medical, colonels....

Yes, if a colonel's vent fan or air conditioner goes on the fritz, it's an "emergency."

I feel about this the way he does.

Nevertheless, we have our orders.

So, we get a call that one of the brass has an AC problem. I grab the phone, get the details.

First, he has us finish a routine repair in shop.

Then I ask, "Going to put a shirt on before we respond?" (We normally strip to T shirts on the job site).

His response: "Fuck im. He puts his pants on one leg at a time just like I do."

Okay, I think every veteran in the WORLD sees where this is going.

We show up, I wear my shirt but no hat. He wears his hat inside but no shirt.

At no time does he use the word, "Sir."

The Support Group Commander comes out from across the hall.

The expression on SGC's face as this goes on is very, very concerned.

He does not even look at SGC. I nod and offer a proper military greeting. Got to cover my own ass.

We go outside, and ID a leak. Relatively simple.

Apparently, several previous calls have taken place, and troops were eager to prove they could fix it.

Apparently they could not.

The Colonel makes noises that he'd like it fixed now.

Now, I would have explained that it's a 4ish hour job to REPLACE the unit, and if we start at 2300, we MIGHT be done by 0300, including hammering, drilling and assorted light industrial noises that will disturb all the brass, that we apologize it has not been fixed sooner but will be on the Master Sergeant's desk at 0600, and the temp fix will assure he's cool until then, please feel free to call this number directly if there are problems between now and then.

Sergeant Asshole just grins and looks shifty and says he's "not going to get into it in the dark" and that it will be taken care of in the morning, we've made temporary repairs, have a good evening.

Still no, "Sir."

No actual conversation. It's sort of a blather in a Joisey drawl.

The SG commander looks VERY concerned.

Gee, can anyone GUESS where this is going?

So, as of 1400, the new policy is that calls to brass and distinguished visitors will be filtered through our Operations MAJOR, and through our operations CHIEF, who will accompany us on the call.

Just what I need--more brass staring over my shoulder while I work.

He'd Have My Vote

Sun, 06 Jul 2008 16:03:30 GMT

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=x1dtP5dBHdo

Diplomacy for Kirk was a phaser and a smirk.

(tried to embed and couldn't)

A NEW New Uniform?

Sat, 05 Jul 2008 20:57:57 GMT

a NEW new uniform, to replace the new ABUs just being adopted.

Because our uniform board (sometimes) listens to the troops. After the fact of their effup, of course.

IMMEDIATE FIX, already done: Stupid internal "map pockets" that are too small and impossible to use and extra layer of fabric that causes heat injuries in the ABU shirt: removed.

IN PROCESS:

Fabric: Lightened to 6 oz, pants left 8 oz for wear and tear.
Fabric: Will be non-flammable and flame retardant. (duh) (thank common sense)
Fabric: Will be cotton for those of us involved with flammables until above such are fully fielded.
Camouflage: Will be starker in contrast.
Camouflage: Will still not blend in anywhere except a flight line.* (partial loss when combined with above, but overall win so far).
Pants: stupid pen and cell sized pockets on the cuffs removed.
Pants: thigh pockets subdivided for lights, tools, phones, radios, etc.
Pants: Thigh pockets with zippers on the front, so as to enable access when vehicle mounted.
Shirt: insignia reduced to standard aircrew-type name tag with rank, name and qual badges.+
Undershirt: Flame retardant mesh, with four sleeve pockets, designed to wear under body armor directly (to be fair, this is an existing Army design).

*Apparently, part of the idea is to look different from the Army, but close enough to blend in when serving ILA (in Lieu of Airman, IOW: doing the Army's job). Once again, the Army's stupidity (Hello, M16 revisions not approved by Colt, Armalite or Eugene Stoner. Hello, clip fed Garand. Hello, Trapdoor....bit I digress) sends ripples out.

Incidentally, we sent a 16 man mechanic section further up to replace a 66 man Army mechanic section. In two weeks, operational level of the Bde's vehicles went from 60% to 90%.

SOLDIERS are absolutely not to blame for this type of issue. They're dedicated, motivated and work hard (remember that I have been a Soldier, and my wife is now).

The ARMY, however, IOW, its current leadership, should commit seppuku in disgrace.

+McPeak's only worthwhile idea as Chief of Staff. And morons are complaining about it. Still. "People won't be able to tell what rank you are!" Yes, EXACTLY! That's a GOOD THING in a war zone. "Hey, Muhammad!" "Yes, Muhammad?" "See the American with the wide chevrons? He's an Air Force senior NCO. If he's with an Army unit, he's special. Shoot at him first." "Okay, Muhammad."

Update

Sun, 29 Jun 2008 18:52:31 GMT

Week ending 29 June

60^th anniversary of the Berlin Airlift. The first proof of airborne logistics, now essential to any operation. (Yes, airborne supply was used in WWII, but predominantly naval support. Berlin was just aircraft).

I did a book signing here last night, and will attempt to do another one at the Army facility adjoining.

Amusing note: The Army checks ID upon leaving post, too. They’ve had troops drive off, even to bases south of here in Kuwait, and arrive sans ID. This creates a massive security problem.

The Army side has better food in the chow hall, a McDogfood’s, a Chinese restaurant, a donut shop, a KFC, a Subway, a Pizza Hut, jewelers, internet cafes, the works. Sheesh. I keep hearing about how rough it is. Doesn’t sound too bad to me. Here and at al Jaber in Kuwait, I’ve generally had chow hall and not much else. We do have a pocket Taco Bell and Subway here, but none of the other stuff. Granted, our chow hall is an actual building, not a double wide, but we have Host Nation cooks and they have KBR.

I realize the Army is undersized, but I’m amazed at how bad management is. Base security: Contract. Engineering: contract. Services and support: contract. They’re using AF transportation and drivers for convoys, AF Security Forces and Force Protection for convoys, AF and Navy combat photographers, AF weather forecasters, AF, Navy and Marine EOD, Naval port and customs, they’re using our flight line for their transport planes, and of course, the main air support is ours, our medics and our CASF for support and evac (and Navy), AF and Marine JTACs and fire control, and still can’t get into an expeditionary mode and have reasonable rotations. They even have some of our snipers. Their aviation transportation detachment is billeted and managed from our side.

In contrast, our side is pretty much self sufficient. Each unit here has one or two civil service or contractors whose main job is liaison with local supply, and stateside coordination. Everyone else is AF, and we provide support to the Seabee det, ROKAF, JASDF, RAF, RAAF and occasional passers through. We have contractors to take care of cleanup, trash, chow hall and Host Nation requires that they do the construction. That’s it.

I will be getting less and less time outside the wire. I suppose that’s good, but I’d like to play, not just coach and manage. I’m HAZMAT NCO, HAZCOM NCO, material control NCO, inventory control NCO, and when the E7 gets too frustrated to deal with stuff he heads out to get hands on and I sub in as “office bitch” (His term for his position). When not doing any of that or when we get smashed, I also do work orders and provide myself as manpower for other duties, including assisting with medevac organization and training. Every NCO in our shop has at least two positions.

Ironically, maintenance is easier in Tent City 1, 2, 3, and 4 than in hard billets. Host Nation power is theoretically 240 V. That means it might be 210 V, or 280 V, and most of this stuff is not built for 50 Hz. Also, much of it was license built in Saudi Arabia, meaning by some poor illiterate third world bastard the Saudis conned into being almost slave labor. We install new equipment and then have to overhaul it to make it work. If we get four calls in the same building, we know it was a voltage spike even before Power Pro does.

Tent City…ah…ECU not working? Checklist:

“Evaporator?”

“Clean.”

“K1 contactor?”

“Works.”

“K2?”

“Works.”

“K3?

“Works.”

“K4 relay?

“Not engaged.”

“Screwdriver…bigger…bigger…bigger…”

WHACK!

BUZZZZZzzzzhummmmmzzzzzzzzz.

“Check for pulse.”

“Pulse steady.”

“Dustoff.”

Spraayyyyyyyyy.

“Close.”

“Closing.”

“Duct tape.”

Ah, percussive maintenance. I wonder if it works on idiots?

We had a First Sergeant (in Services, no less) call up to complain that one of his troops’ room’s AC was out. Yeah, you and 40 others, pal. Get in line. He personally demanded that we fix it, AND make immediate arrangements to move his troops meantime.

I have to wonder how he got to that position in Services without realizing that Services handles billeting assignments, AND submits work order requests to our Production Control. Considering the prima donna attitude, he must have just come over from the flight line.

Generally, though, the air crews are well behaved, decent and courteous. It seems the less action someone gets, the more they whine, complain and regard themselves as some kind of hero, in all branches. We’re all volunteers. Just perform your effing mission, get things done, and go home. Why the drama?

EOD disposed of more leftovers/captures and the three blasts were tremendous. We all fell outside to hoot and holler. Engineers LOVE explosions. Of course, ones we instigate are better than the other kind.

The CASF (Aeromedical evac) building is going to be the death of us. We had a long sit down, our management to theirs, and discussed that even the Wing King can’t authorize the money necessary to fix the badly designed, locally constructed ductwork and filtration, and our field units are NOT sealed enough to provide the filtration level they need. We can stack bag filters, but then we lose airflow, stress the system, burn compressors. We’ve already replaced $4000 worth of compressor late at night to minimize stress on the facility and patients. We all agreed they can manage with a little more relatively clean desert dust, as long as the patients are comfortable before they evac. It would really, really suck to be lying there injured in a hot, humid building full of sick people and bacteria. Dust can be cleaned, or you can cover with a sheet.

Apparently, there was an altercation at the chow hall with some Army sar major who probably has never been in the field and thought he was a badass. He began (quietly, at least) berating an Airman for wearing his dust goggles around his neck.

Pity I wasn’t there. I speak fluent Army and fluent AF. It would have gone like this:

“Sergeant Major, let me explain a few things to you. First, this is not “your” DFAC. Your “chowhall,” because it lacks the dignity to be “dining facility” is three miles over that way, and is built on Air Force AM2 matting from when we occupied that hole. This is an Air Force dining hall. As such, it is infrastructure. As an engineer, infrastructure is my domain, including two thirds of the equipment in this building, the building itself belonging to the Structures superintendent, the crusty wrestler-looking guy over there. So in actuality, it’s my chow hall. Had you bothered to pay attention at your inbrief, you’d be aware that local regs allow the wear of goggles and glasses around the neck in any uniform combination. We even extend that courtesy to Army personnel on this side, and allow them to abide by Army standards where such standards are laxer than our own. Now, on your side, you insist everyone abide by your rules only, and we don’t complain about it. So while you’re here to slop at our trough, enjoy the air conditioning I provide as a courtesy, and watch Services’ big screens with choice of Fox News, ESPN or local military briefs, how about acting like a guest?”

Apparently, one of our Chiefs explained it to him. Depending on which Chief, it was either more diplomatic than I would have, or much shorter and cruder.

You can always tell a desk sitter, but you can’t tell him much.

Good thing he didn’t meet Sergeant Asshole, who last week got in an argument with an E3, and responded with, “I’ll fuck your mother.” Really. I know he’s 30 year Guard with no active duty, works in a prison and is from Jersey, but even (or especially) with a subordinate customer…sigh…would have been fun to see him and the SGM, though.

Contracting office…sigh. Per US law, and local law, everything has to be put out for bid. This actually costs more money. We know what we need, let us buy it. Small purchases out for bid cause delays, and then some small vendor buys what we would have and slaps 10% on. It’s Good for American Business, according to a certain political party whose identifier can also initial the word “Dumb.” End result is that same vendor pays more taxes. This is a benefit?

That’s if it works correctly.

Contracting is allowed to “acceptable substitute.” This is what causes Master Sergeant Office Bitch to kick filing cabinets and throw furniture.

We get “acceptable substitute” transformers with the same load rating as we ordered….that won’t fit in the box we have to put it in. This is not “cheaper.”

We get electrically insulated friction tape, which is not electrical tape.

We get anemometers a backpacker might use, or my daughter for her science lab, that are far too coarse for precision air balancing of the clinic. We don’t need to measure in Beauforts, or even in feet per hour. We need to measure inches or centimeters per second sometimes, and it has to be precise AND sturdy. Sigh.

From now on, with our CO’s agreement, we’ll be ordering everything on Form 9s with lengthy explanations as to why no substitute is acceptable, and a specific vendor is mandatory.

I suggested we play dodgeball, engineers vs contracting, with volleyballs. I was told the flaw was that they’d Acceptably Substitute for the volleyballs. OTOH, we might get lucky and get baseballs. Or bullets.

Generally, the contractors we have deliver what they are contracted to. The problem comes when Contracting doesn’t tell them adequately what mission requirements are. The second problem is that sometimes the contractor is owned by a local mob boss, who wants his share of Uncle Sam’s pie, and doesn’t give a rat’s ass if his people perform or not. He’s paying them $5/day, who cares if they’re any good or even work? Just have them get on base, and claim contract delivered.

I guess I would summarize all that part as “if someone tells you how evil and corrupt Halliburton is, beat them to death with a ball bat.” Halliburton, like Lockheed, manages to bid, deliver, usually ahead of schedule and under budget, and perform. If we had them in our supply chain, we’d have a lot less problems. We’d get stateside built stuff that would work right the first time, not third world “substitutes.”

KBR also does the engineering for the Army side. One of the Army ID and personnel offices has an AF detachment. They called us for a work order. We’re looking at the map going, “Where the @#$ is G6???”

Sorry, guys. You’re their problem. We wouldn’t like it if they came up here and screwed with our equipment. We don’t screw with theirs. Nor are we going to give the Army or its contractor a working unit and accept a bad one in return. They’re as busy as we are, be patient.

Geeze, it’s long this week.

Heinlein described the military as having Surprise Party, Practical Joke, and Fairy Godmother Departments. So get this:

I am the only one from my home unit here, except for 6 firefighters. Practical Joke Department decreed that my orders be copied from theirs, complete to requiring me to have rebreather gear and license to drive three different fire trucks.

Surprise Party Department decreed that my orders be coded so I can only leave on the designated date.

However…Fairy Godmother Department noticed the discrepancy in my orders, and decided that the coding was inapplicable.

So…there’s an excellent chance I’m getting out of here two weeks early, right around 120 days as theoretically planned, not 135.

We’ll see.

Solstice, and 25% done with rotation

Sun, 22 Jun 2008 17:50:07 GMT

22Jun

Dodgeball and local color.

Twice a week, we run 2 miles, either around the compound, or along the perimeter road. It’s not too bad at 0600, when the temp is only 80-90 some. Sandstorms don’t help, though. I’m third fastest in my shop, and third oldest, so I’m comfortable with my speed, but I do need to recover my endurance. The good news is the 2 years of lung problems are gone, even with the sand here. Something specific to either my house or the farmland around it is my problem. Knowing it’s locational and situational and not a chronic problem with me, helps. Still, I’m a long way from 5 miles in 42 minutes, as I could do four years ago. My pushups are still great, and my abs are stronger than ever.

Fridays, we do either circuit training or team sports. This Friday was dodgeball.

Dodgeball with a hundred enthusiastic, tired military engineers is a heck of a game.

We throw lengthwise the full length of the gym, using large foam balls. If we used volleyballs, people would get hurt. Even as soft as they are, a shot to the groin, thigh or head hurts, and they often bounce off the back wall with enough momentum to make it back.

When the Colonel shouted, “GO!” I took a new tactic this time. I sprinted right down to the middle, and instead of wrestling for the ball with a structural chief who outweighs me by 40 lbs, all upper body, and a 22 year old Academy cadet, I just kicked it like a soccer ball. I think the poor sap I nailed was about ten feet away. WHAP!

Unfortunately, I got nailed sideways about a half second later.

Someone owes me $10, for not believing I’d do it.

Round two, I persuaded two accomplices to join me. After we acquired enough balls, we simply sprinted downrange, almost took a couple of hits, crossed the center line, got well into the middle of the opposing team on their side, in violation of the rules, screamed, “JIHAD!” and started pasting them. All hail Operations Flight’s suicide dodgeball players.

I have to give credit to one of Engineering Flight’s dudes, who, as sole survivor of his team, nailed three people in rapid succession and caught a return, for a 4 point streak and the win. Well done.

Friday is surf and turf day. I don’t like lobster, but the steak was reasonably tender and tasty. They don’t have tongs in the chow hall, so you have to have your own pliers for crab or lobster.

(I’m aware of the trend to call it a “DFAC,” Army style, and to use the generic term “hooah!” as a mindless response to an officer’s comment. I will not be following this trend. I got out of the Army for a reason.)

(Little known fact: “Hooah” started in the early 1990s as “Hua!” among junior officers. It’s no accident that lieutenants came up with a word that’s an acronym for “Head up ass.”)

Sunday, I did some writing, then went out to mail an anniversary gift (Whoops. Sorry, Gail. Act surprised), buy a movie (The Simpsons. There isn’t much selection), and check in at the concessionaire mall. They know me by now, and it was kinda neat. As I walk in, a Japanese officer is coming from the other direction. “Konichiwa, captain san.”

“Good day,” he says.

“Hello, sir,” to me from one of the Indian concessionaires. He’s done several uniforms, baggage tags, a custom bag and some embroidery for me. His English is excellent. So is his Arabic, Japanese, Korean, and probably Polish for all I know.

“Hi.” I look at the Arab vendor from the souvenir shop, his wife and one of the barbers. “MarHaba. Kaif Haalak. Kaif haalik, sayyida.”

All of them, Hindu and Muslim are sitting on stools around a table. “Hello. Can you wait five minutes? We’re eating. Join us.”

“Is that real curry I smell???”

“Yes, please, have some. We ordered too much.”

I get handed a big piece of naan flat bread, and as you may recall, the chow hall just isn’t spicy enough to suit me. I dig into some curried lentils and beans with a torn chunk. There’s rice, long grain and brown and colored with turmeric, everyone digging in with fingers. The cell phone concessionaire dumps out a bag of chicken vindaloo. No worries. These people are scrupulously clean. They even drink with the water bottle over a thumb so as not to get any backwash.

“That’s very hot. It may be too spicy. Careful.”

“Oh, no, this is great.” Flavorful, pungent and with a worthy kick. Ahhhhh.

There’s a salted, spiced fish with a very firm flesh. Damn, this is good. A scrape is all you need, like anchovy. I remembered to use my right hand on the second pass. They didn’t seem bothered by my left-handed gaffe, though.

Just then, my Puerto Rican branch chief comes out of the barber shop. “Mister Williamson!”

“Sergeant ____, Hola. Bienvenido.”

“Hola. How are you this evening?”

“Very well. That’s a tight haircut.”

Here comes an Aussie…

There are Sikhs working in the kitchen at the chow hall, also Filipinos and Kazakhs.

As I leave, I walk back past the pool. A mixed group of Japanese and Korean NCOs are joking and splashing, with a couple of Brits, some Soldiers and someone from the Naval Port detail. A couple of contractors, security and air crew, are sitting around grilling brats. One of them is Egyptian.

Every day that this goes on proves that peace is possible. Every day the insurgents see that women can be competent, professional leaders, and men can take their orders without being demeaned, and without ogling them (Except at the pool. Thank God for polarized shades. Hey, I’m just sayin…), it’s a lesson. Every day Hindus, Muslims, Christians, occasional Sikhs, Jews and Wiccans, Buddhists can have a good time without worrying or even wondering who belongs to which religion, nation, race, culture, is a lesson.

If nothing else is accomplished here (and it is, believe me), this by itself will have a positive effect.

Every day, we demonstrate that we can move several thousand tons of cargo and hundreds of troops, even in sandstorms, and fight on their chosen terrain and conditions, and beat them a hundred to one and then some.

Zombies

Fri, 13 Jun 2008 17:40:11 GMT

Hah. Zombies.

Worst place in the world for zombies. Of course, they don't really have braaaiiinss.

First of all, we're heavily armed. Guns of all types, combat aircraft, bunkers, Hesco, razor wire. It wasn't much of a fight. "Zombies in the wire!" babababababang,

Zombie dogs, though...you know we have a Korean contingent here, right? They went after them with blowtorches and kitchen knives. Chop chop.

Not to mention the sandstorm shredding everything in sight.

Then the locusts. Zombie locusts eating zombie dogs and zombie Arabs and zombie insurgents wearing zombie dynamite. It's insane, I tell you.

The neat thing? In the midst of a zombie outbreak, no one misses a lieutenant or two...and you can always claim it as an accident. The glazed eyes, the mindless stare...

Got to go. Round Two. I'm glad I brought the 90 round drum and the uber-bayonet, I tell you. Hah. Who's laughing now?

Back Online

Sun, 08 Jun 2008 12:56:43 GMT

25 May

Temper flare up today over stupid stuff. I took exception to being told my mandatory travel voucher wasn’t “military” and should be done on “my own time.” If the MILITARY office responsible was open on “my own time,” I’d consider it. Add in that the person helping me with it was the one who complained first, after about 90 seconds. Then again. Then someone else, accusing me of “not being a team player” and “selfish” and “unhelpful,” etc. The other suggested I should just have my wife write a check to the government credit card company, and take care of it after I get home in October, since it’s “only” $500ish in expenses. Either he’s a lot richer than I am, or... It took me less than ten minutes, even with three interruptions from these assholes. They spent longer than that bitching about it to the boss. Two assholes in the shop, and I get assigned to work with both. Nice luck I have. I didn’t say anything about the constant cigarette breaks one took, or the other spending a half hour screwing around with a piece of gardening equipment that isn’t our responsibility. Apparently, it’s only my professional commitments that affect the shop operation, not their personal issues. Noted. I better not hear another word about it. Luckily, the two guys in charge seem to be on top of it. Nothing was said to me after I advised one to “take it up with the master sergeant in the office.”

They also missed the mandatory Memorial Day ceremony, and a mandatory briefing after lunch. Technically, they are undoubtedly good at what they do. I can’t fault their work ethic generally. They need a little bit of reflection on themselves, though. I smell conceit.

26 May

Dear Sergeant Asshole,

Okay, I can fault your work ethic, you hypocritical cockbag.

I realize that you have time in service over me, but I’m amazed how you’ve lasted. Like your two finger gesture to the female in the chow hall.

“It means ‘I want to stick two fingers in you.’ Yeah, she was smiling. She got it,” you said.

Yes, I’m sure every attractive, tall, 20ish E3 craves to have two fingers stuck in her by a beer-gutted, tattooed, 50 year old with a receding hairline. Or I’m sure that’s the case in your “happily married” mind. Let’s not discuss your need to stop by the BX to “buy a pack of burners” and your constant “burning” of same. Clearly, that is “duty related,” unlike my travel voucher. I shouldn’t be surprised to hear you got caught napping in the barracks during the duty day, nor that another NCO doesn’t want to work with you, either.

I’ll admit, you’re better technically than I am, but let’s say that your civil service job at a prison has given you a very unmilitary POV on how things are done. It also doesn’t indicate a lot of ambition. But then, you’ve been in a decade longer than me and are still an E6. Glad to hear you’re retiring. I’m not sure you’re actually going to “pin on” E7 to retire, though. If your unit is any good, they know white trash when they see it. I’m glad I don’t have to work with you for a while. My teeth ache from gritting them.

Frankly, I see no reason why anyone in engineer units should be allowed to smoke. They don’t allow it in Basic or tech school, so there’s no reason to start afterwards. Smoking patios cost money. Smoke breaks take valuable time. Cigarettes can be seen and smelled by the enemy, when it comes to that. I recall a few years back one twit gasping and wheezing while we were striking off concrete, clutching at his pocket insisting he had to stop and light a cigarette, as if that would help him. No, you may not light a @#$ing cigarette in the middle of a strike. You can’t stop a pour in the middle. You’ll just have to exert yourself another five minutes and get done.

Same with you, Sergeant Asshole. How about you smoke on your own time? You have up to 12 hours a day to do so. Why do you need to do so while we’re swamped with military duties?

May 31

Found a UXO today (not an IED). Small thing, one of ours, probably recent, but could be from the Gulf War. We were outside the US perimeter but inside the local one. Their security sucks, and the laborers working on buildings don’t seem to be in any hurry. OTOH, it is hotter than hell and hard to work.

I worked until 1900. Could have got our stuff done earlier, but my associate had us come out with no ladder, go back for one that was too short, back for another, then bring scaffolding. It was after lunch before we started. Then, once back on base, we still had AC calls. I stepped up and took care of two dorm rooms, though I could have made them wait. It seemed like the nice thing to do.

Called the kids late tonight. They’re doing okay, but homesick.

1 June

Did some writing, laundry, shopping. Stressed out. Aggravation, not fear or anger. I miss the kids, too. They’re having a little trouble adapting. That gives me another countdown—days until they’re home with Gail, before I get home. Frankly, I wouldn’t mind more action. I see some on TV, mostly. We have security alerts and other alarms several times a day, but not much comes of it. I suspect my unit’s detachment further north is getting a little more, but even that area is fairly calm.

Physically, I’m acclimated. Socially, it’s going to take a while. I have zero interest in bonding or ‘team building’ with most of these people. I have nothing in common with most, and don’t care to with at least a couple.

3 June

Sandstorm. 109F at 2000 hours. Feels like someone throwing sand into a hairdryer.

Decent enough day, got some stuff overhauled.

6 June

1/7^th done and a day. Hanging in there. Section superintendent arranged for Wileys and DCUs for us, so we’ll be a bit more comfortable and not go sand-blind. There were several hundred dust clavas available at supply, but as soon as the desk-sitters heard, they swarmed to get one to look cool with. Those of us out on duty are going to have to make do, or try to buy one. Par for the course.

Dear Colonel: Please stop promising your friends air conditioning. We have a flight line support mission, a clinic, a morgue, a chow hall, a headquarters, a commo building to support, filter, maintain, cool, extract, etc. It sure would be nice if every whining captain could get a brand new window AC to replace his old one, but he’ll have to make do with an expert overhaul in situ. We’re at 50% strength and the last yahoos kept crappy notes and didn’t do half the work they should.

Dear last rotation: you know, a scroll compressor is damned near indestructible, but when you mistake Bar (14.5 PSI) for PSI…holy crap. 900 @#$ing PSI in the system? On a flight line facility? For our Korean counterparts? Here’s a hint: desert pressure should be 50 low, 300 high. Do you know how much I LOVE hauling a gas cylinder, pump and tools up the side of a system that, if it has a railing at all, has one built by some local contractor out of sheet metal, within sight of the outer berm, well into field of view of any hostiles, on a ladder or JLG Lift, in a sandstorm, to abide by some Montreal Protocol on “greenhouse emissions” that would frankly IMPROVE the environment if they weren’t utter political bullshit? The solution to every cooling problem isn’t “add more gas.” Air balance, system purity, metering, filtration, other things our 18 months of training should have taught you all play a part. Learn to read your gauges and an enthalpy chart, please.

Dear residents: Your fridge and AC come after all the stuff listed above that is mission essential, after the colonel, after the Chiefs, after our own people, after the Colonel’s friend, after the military working dogs, as a matter of fact. Calling in 5 work orders doesn’t get it done faster. It just means when we do respond, we respond with five different people. This means four of them aren’t helping your buddies. Please list your room number, not just building, and your door code and or key. Don’t ask us “not to steal anything.” We have no interest in your crap. We also have a female. She’s small, cute, competent, fairly rough, swears very well in English and Spanish, but she doesn’t care that much for beaver shots barely disguised by Brazillian slingshots and bulging pudenda pinups on your walls that REALLY skirt the boundaries of the “no porn” reg. Also, if you’re female, please list so on the work order so we can send two people—no unescorted males in your rooms, remember? For our safety and yours in this candyass society. And before any of you call us, please clean your @#$%ing filters. That’s ¾ of the problem: desert dust. If we show up, clean your filter without setting off the fire alarm from the dust, and leave a bit of a mess, it’s your fault for putting your bunk under the AC. Calling our first sergeant to complain just makes you a douche, especially when you’re an E3.

Dear Gym: Your fridge isn’t cooling? You know, this isn’t rocket science. You open the door, warm air gets in. VERY WARM. It has to be cooled down. Now, the cooled mass helps maintain temperature, but if you post a sign that says, “take a water, put one back,” so that heat load is constantly going into the system, it is NEVER going to get cool. You’ll just have to get off your ass and fill the fridge at the end of the duty day, so it has all next shift to cool. Besides, refrigerated water can be a shock to the system. Drink it cool or room temp and stop whining. See above about critical facilities.

Dear medical NCO and building custodian: Okay, we provided you with a precise balance of temperature, humidity, air exchange, filtration and purity, not to mention bottled O2, in a desert war zone. Staring at us stony-faced as we explain what we’ve done, then insisting you “have work to do,” as you turn back toward your office TV with Miss Congeniality playing just…I have no words.

Dear admin puke: No, it is not “just as warm, believe me” in your office as outside. It’s 75 fucking degrees in your office, 120 outside. I’m sorry you like it at 68. See above about critical facilities. Go screw.

Dear idiots everywhere: The water in this part of the world hasn’t been potable as long as we’ve been here—1975ish. That’s why they bring in entire container ships of bottled water. Brushing your teeth with that brown crap, getting sick, and blaming it on conspiracy theories of malicious contractors just proves you’re not as fucking smart as you’d like people to believe you think you are. Dumb fucks. If it’s not at least clear, your engineers suck. We, however, know what we’re doing, and have clear, fresh water. We still don’t drink it.

Dear Brits: Okay, you get a pass. There isn’t much AC in the UK, so you couldn’t be expected to know that stacking your wet kit and boots on the condenser fan will hinder cooling, and that a tent is never going to get down to British temps, unless it’s in Britain.

Dear Unnamed Supply Warehouse: Thanks for being patient. Thanks for the gear. We got you covered. One hell of an air balancing job, if I do say so. You may want to make a sweep for more UXOs, though. We know some of the locals are dirty, and they were working outside where I found it.

Dear Seabees: Thanks. We owe you one. Our own people won’t give us enough budget or gear, but your generosity is not unnoticed.

Dear civil engineer: What the fuck were you thinking putting split systems in field military barracks? Stick a unit through the wall. We can do a 90 second change out and troubleshoot at the shop. Separate evaporator, condenser, lines through the wall, power…arggg. And remote controlled AC??? I don’t have that in the suburbs. This is a WAR ZONE. On/off, temp switch on the unit. Don’t confuse the residents (hell, and me) with 8 cutesy pictograms, 2 AA batteries and an IR sensor. They should be glad they have air conditioned barracks. Last time I was here, I had a tent. The special people had expandable metal palletized boxes. Remotes???

Dear local cooks: you may not eat pork, but you cook a damned tasty pork chop. We need to discuss your concept of “hot,” though. I can use your “hot” sauce like ketchup.

Update From Overseas

Sat, 24 May 2008 18:53:34 GMT

TUESDAY

Civilian air from STL to OLF. Shuttle to military paxair terminal. Check weapon and bags, go to hotel. Eventually got connected and met up with Warpcordova for dinner. Hotel recommended a seafood place that took an hour to find and was a shirt and tie place. I did not have a shirt and tie. Settled on a sports bar. Decent burger and wings.

WEDNESDAY

After wings for breakfast, met with Chakaal for lunch. Of course, I was checked out and in ABUs by then. Felt a bit icky from the burger (rich, not bad), and had crabcake and mushrooms and Ruby Tuesdays. Not bad.

Met up with Joelle and Andy Presby for Japanese and sushi for dinner. Okay steak, amazing sushi. That’s a lot of food. On the way back I’ll try to meet up with everyone at once for a microcon.

Andy and Joelle dropped me at Paxair. I and 62 of my closest friends boarded quickly.

North American Airlines did fly a lot of routes to Africa, but now flies mostly military rotator flights. Decent plane, good crew, competent and friendly. Smoking hot Ghanian and Surinamese women. Sorry, let me correct that. SMOKING HOT!

Bangor, ME first stop. Yes, the locals really do get up at all hours to greet troops, offer free cell phone use, free snacks and handshakes. I thanked several of them. These WWII vets did a lot more than I have.

THURSDAY

Two hours on the ground, then Leipzig, Germany. Two more hours. Weather was gray but nice, prices were outrageous. $47 for a Rammstein CD? $2 for a candy bar? They’re smoking crack. Hysterical moment: The men’s room dispenser offered 5 condoms for E3, or a “travel pussy.” It’s good to know the Germans are thinking of the traveler.;-)

Back in the air, 6 more hours to Kuwait Intl. I didn’t see much of it this time. It was a sultry 95 degrees at 1030 PM. We were ordered to take a bathroom break and get on buses with shades over the windows. Each chalk commander had a radio and we had some armed escort vehicles. We were instructed to stay awake, alert, wait for orders regarding threats, and not let the TCN drivers write anything, handle any radios, iPods, phones, etc. Every few minutes, escort would report, “Be advised, vehicle on side of road at marker XX.” This is common, but one never knows if there’s a problem or threat.

We arrived at our destination a period of time later. Here, we split several ways and continued to other locations.

FRIDAY

I’m afraid I can’t get any pictures or such. Prohibited by various agencies and governments. What few I get will not reveal anything about the location.

By the time we inprocessed and had a sandwich it was 0200. By the time I got to my billet and crashed it was 0300. I had to be at my shop by 0600. I actually felt okay, after some sleep on the plane. By 0800 it was a lovely 95, by noon 106. I don’t step outside without polarized ballistic goggles and a boonie hat. The dry, hot air makes my eyes feel as if they’re baking. It feels like an oven until the wind blows. When it blows, it feels like a hairdryer. When it blows faster, it feels like being in a sandblaster.

We have our shop here, and over 2500 pieces of equipment to maintain. We also have two satellite locations we sometimes have to travel to (hence the weapons with Happy Switches). As of yet it’s one 12 hour shift, 6 days a week. When it gets hot we’ll switch to two shifts to handle the emergency calls. Lots of this stuff has been handled by Army, AF, various contractors for various governments, civilian caretakers, etc. Without complete teardowns we lack time and budget to do, we’ll be duct taping a lot of stuff.

In addition to ID card, I have to carry gov’t drivers’ license and controlled area access badge. There are passwords for various AREAS, not just the base, and they change several times a day. We do not talk to the local contractors about anything, nor in their presence. Our shop is locked and coded and is never unlocked, even though most of the contents are not that mission critical.

This is a relatively safe area, so all our battle gear is stowed in the shop. Whenever a team leaves base, of course, they gear up.

We have Security Forces all over, plus locals and contractors, for base security. There’s also Force Protection, which covers convoys, escorts contractors, visitors, etc. You better have ID visible if challenged.

I have internet access, but I can do very little from a government computer, obviously. The net won’t even let me access gmail. I have decent civilian access, but my hours are short.

SATURDAY

Yes, short hours. In this heat, AC is essential, for computers, command and control, and the tents, hooches and barracks aren’t designed for ventilation.

So, after all the mission essential stuff today, we got a call from the gym about their store-type refrigerators used for drinking water bottles. This shouldn’t be rocket science, but with the best of intentions they managed to do everything wrong. Bottles are stacked flat, not upright, so there’s no airflow. They also want everyone to replace the bottle they take with a warm one. Add in the doors being opened every few seconds, and these units will never shut off. Then they fail from excessive heat. The plastic wrapped around the motor shafts doesn’t help.

We opened them up, released a cloud of dust, and the fire alarms blew. These fire alarms are LOUD. It also agitates the fire department, who’d just dealt with a fuel spill. The fuel in question can ignite at 180 degrees, and the surface of the flight line was over 160.

Minor crap. Minor crap goes on 24/7. Minor crap on top of major crap that affects the war.

One of the key aids to this is regular preventive maintenance. Remember how this winter was cold enough to smash those stupid global warming myths? It was also cold enough that little AC was in use from Dec-Apr. This means the previous rotation wasn’t able to do any PM or overhauls, since they had no idea which pieces needed it.

My shop is all Guard, mostly Puerto Rico and Guam. Besides Arabic, I should learn Spanish and Chamorro. I could also learn Korean or Japanese—both detachments offer lessons and occasional meals. The Aussies don’t offer language lessons, but do have actual beer. There are Seabees here, and our Gulfport unit knows their Gulfport unit. The Army engineers mostly stay on their side of the base, but quite a few soldiers come over for chow now and then. There are some Marines here, but I’m not sure what they’re doing. The local forces, their contractors and mercenaries, our contractors, everyone else’s, make this a busy location. There are several tent cities, several barracks areas, several portable, expandable shelters, and both transients and assigned personnel.

I’d sure like to meet one of these assholes who insists the AF is “nowhere to be seen,” because while I was doing some work at the Pax Air Terminal, a hundred Airmen came through every hour from Kuwait, then redeployed forward, or headed back out. There’s an awful lot of USAF uniforms with rifles for people “nowhere to be seen.” Perhaps they’re mistaking discretion for absence.

I can’t complain about my barracks. I and an E7 from the power production shop (who also handle aircraft arrestor gear) have about 12’ X 12’, air conditioned, with a base phone for emergency calls. The window is taped with black trash bag so we can keep it dark. All buildings maintain quiet hours 24/7, so that aircrews can get mandatory crew rest. There are unit stickers on most doors, from units all over the world. I’m particularly amused by Delaware Air National Guard—DANG.

I’m going to grab some food now, and log on.

Nawfook

Wed, 21 May 2008 12:30:31 GMT

Expensive town, dress codes in the restaurants. Snobs.

Lugged stuff through airport, checked weapon. Ironically, flight before mine was to Indy. Sigh.

Met a friendly Chief on the same rotation, deploying even further forward than I am. We found shuttle to paxterm on landing and got us and some others transported.

I was not on the flight manifest. A very efficient civilian put me on. He could have held off a day. I'm not in that huge a hurry. At least transport isn't overbooked.

Got mil tickets, checked weapon with rotation courier. Checked bags. All I have is a carry on to worry about.

Checked into Hampton Inn

Met Warpcordova and his GF for dinner.

Flight has stateside and overseas stops before arriving. 18 frigging hours. Add in time zone change, arrival processing, driving from airport to local area in theater, it'll be bed time again by the time I'm done.

Hoping to do some research locally with the Coast Guard, for one of my stories.

Ready to Travel

Mon, 19 May 2008 21:58:48 GMT

I'm movement NCO, weapons courier, materials NCO, transportation NCO, etc. All me.

MrMeval drove me down, and they stuck me all the way in the back building, top floor, with all my @#$ing gear. I got in just in time for a massive GI attack to hit. Almost didn't make it through the door.

Tomorrow I have to drag it all the way BACK through two buildings for my transport.

If anyone's in Norfolk area, I arrive tomorrow around 1600ish as I pass through.

Mobed

Thu, 15 May 2008 13:28:37 GMT

Ugh. An entire day on medical refresher and force protection. Worthwhile, but long.

Upgraded first aid kit now includes coagulant, nasopharangeal airway, a bandage/dressing that works in awkward places, a new tourniquet, as well as the usual dressings, disinfectants, stabilizing gear, scalpels, band aids, etc. Ours is the same as the Marines', so I assume they've upgraded, too.

The mass kit includes folding splints for all limbs and joints.

Compared to the Army's "First Aid Kit" that consists of ONE field dressing in a compass pouch, I feel well-equipped.

Our chem warfare/readiness/disaster response/battle management NCO (Whatever they're called this month) said the test on the force protection refresher is tough enough some of the specialists don't pass the review questions the first time. I can believe it. Waaaay too detailed. Does it matter if the JSLIST hood tightens with elastic or a barrel fastener? It fastens. Good enough. Do I really need to know the service life of the current issue mask? I know dry rot when I see it, and they'll take it away long before that.

I also argue that an RPG is not a grenade, it's a @!#$ing rocket with an explosively formed penetrator. "Grenades" don't bust holes in Abrams. He agrees, but that's what the quiz says.

The Army does all this stuff hands on, and tends to oversimplify. The AF does most of it on video/powerpoint, and tends to overcomplicate. I'd like a nice middle ground. The videos are useful, but more hands on is always good.

Got some more paperwork, done.

"Morning, sir," (Salute)

"Morning," (return salute) "how are you doing?"

"Well, sir, I'm trying to fight a war, but I have to do the paperwork first."

"I know what you mean, sergeant."

Now I have to pack all this crap into one B3 bag (blessedly with rollers), one duffel or ruck, one small pack for laptop and carry on supplies and change of clothes, so I have a hand free for my weapon case. At least I don't have to carry body armor, etc. That's all issued on arrival at our central point. This time, I believe them.

I still don't have printed orders, but itinerary is in system. I'm supposed to be stateside again 26 Sep. Let's see how reliable the USAF is:) We went from "May" (last Sep's estimate) to "mid May" to "22 May" to "15 May" (Which turned out to be the firefighters) and back to "22 May." So they're doing pretty good so far.

And yes, I'm sneering at the Army leadership, who couldn't tell 76th Bde what MONTH we were deploying in less than 6 months out, took 24 weeks to process for Asscrackistan, four weeks for Iraq, and still isn't sure it's only going to be 12 months this time about. For the last 17 years, the USAF has operated on "You will be deployed/subject to it from this date to this date five years from now, to this theater of operations. You will be ready to go, your gear will be generated, and you will be able to deploy in theater within 28 hours from 'go.'" It took me three days to process MYSELF, and some my my unit's offices are drill weekends only--I had to hit the active duty side firing range, legal office, hospital for shots. One of my troops got backfilled onto one of the other missions over drill weekend in April. Even taking all the parallel Army training (they're accompanying an Army unit) took only 10 days, with Army instructors operating to our contract. The Army frequently takes a month or more.

And yes, I know when my next deployment cycle is, too. We're already building pallets and prepping gear/specialty training for THAT one.

Engineers: We build to kill.

ugh

Tue, 13 May 2008 23:08:07 GMT

HOURS in SERE updates. What to do if captured. Give them nothing, take from them everything. Use them for intel, play stupid, laugh at them silently, wait for recovery. How to recognize rescue, how to facilitate it, signal for help, etc.

Got my ABUs. My deserts will be shipped to me. Got my 8 point cover (USMC style) and boonie hat, and boonie hat for ABUs, and another patrol pack.

Some of you may remember a certain clown E8 whining about my ACU ruck with BDU uniform back in April. He was whining today to our firefighters to make sure their accessories match, yadda yadda. It's a @#$ING WAR ZONE. They're firefighters, I'm an engineer, everyone's stuff comes from three different generations, nobody gives a shit, jackass. We use what we're issued or can acquire. Reference my long-held comments on pink tutus.

Some more paperwork, and Hep B and anthrax shots. WTF is the point of an anthrax shot? I won't be handling mules, camels or goats, no one has any weaponized anthrax, and if they did, this shot would be of minimal effect. I get smallpox after arriving (vaccine, not disease)(And the only one that properly should be called a vaccine, and not an immunization).

Oh, and ripped the stupid "map pockets" out of my ABUs. Inside the shirt is a crappy place for maps, even when not in body armor, and it's extra insulation for sweat I don't need. So: The uniform is badly designed, and unwearable by anyone working with flammables
(me), high voltage (me), caustics (me), firefighters, or anyone exposed to IEDs (all "Battlefield Airmen," and even some of us who are not "Battlefield Airmen" but nevertheless carry weapons in a war zone). Most such units are not wearing the ABUs, and are awaiting proper replacement. One wonders why an AIR FORCE UNIFORM BOARD didn't consider actual usability. Apparently, that's secondary to not looking like the Army, and trying to be "distinctive." Assholes.

Oh, Gail was in class, not flying, and was the only applicant for permanent position for her current duty assignment. GO HER.

In other news, intel brief in a secured room with a white noise generator, jamming and no cell phones allowed, an updated threat brief, and some misc stuff.

What's going to be funnier than hell is when you figure out I'd get all this if I were going to Florida for an exercise, or Germany to backfill a slot. There's not enough information here to have any idea what I'm actually doing.

Good.