I Think It's Time

When the job becomes more difficult to accomplish because I don't have enough rank, it may be time to put in for a promotion. I'd been putting it off, feeling my way through the responsibilities I have now, trying to reassure myself that I'm competent...the Army has a way of exacerbating my already prodigious (excessive?) self-doubt. No really, I am a paragon of self-doubt. It may not seem like it in person on account of I rarely express my doubts unless asked directly. But I spend incredible amounts of time and energy reviewing my actions for error.

Anyways, the one thing that could really motivate me to this--my lowly position interfering with the accomplishment of my mission--has now come to pass. I mean really, would it be intolerable to use a specialist as a point of contact? Is the arrival of a single part really so critical that it must be supervised by a sergeant or officer?

Sigh.

Alternatively

Brigade could just use the whole GS thing to give themselves a way to task us out, while keeping our existing, non-functional relationship with the battalion exactly the same.

Dum de Dee Dum

It seems we may be getting out from under the thumb of our infantry gaggle soon. Brigade has apparently authorized our request to go general support. Which means that instead of having to cut our way through the variegated thickets of ego and regulation in the headquarters there, we might be getting taskings and reporting directly to the brigade. Probably be better, could be worse. Don't get me wrong, I love the guys on the ground. But their command doesn't seem to get it. We'll see if -their- command gets it.

Connections

I am reminded today of that wonderful TV show on public television. The exploration of the interrelations between inventions, historical events, and the unintended consequences of everyone's choices. Why? Most of the reconstruction funds us military types have access to nowadays come in the form of ICERP, since all the American cash is tied up with paying the Sons of Iraq. Not only is there less of it than there was on the last deployment, but it's more restricted, since we want to encourage the Iraqi government to do most of their own damn reconstruction.

Well, those funds just got cut to $10 million for the entire province. Now, that sounds like a lot, but it ain't. My CA sergeant's team, a single CA team, spent apparently upwards of $15 million last time they were here. Those funds were cut because the Iraqi government gets 90% of their money from oil revenues. With oil dropping like a rock (I hear gas back in the states is down around $2.25 again), all those projected dollars/dinars have gone poof. One of the primary causes of oil's decline is the global economic troubles we're facing. Why are we facing a global recession? Well for one thing, a bunch of wealthy twits with no long-term sense decided to run up the housing market to unsustainable levels, creating one of the most important preconditions for this crash.

That's right. A bunch of Wall Street and D.C. stuffed suits stabbed the slowly awakening corpse of the Iraqi nation/state...FROM THE PAST. What the hell?

Strange But True

People are always shocked when I tell them I've never had a girlfriend. I can't say I blame them; it is highly irregular. Nonetheless, it does get irritating when they evince doubt that such a thing is even possible, and/or that there's something wrong with that fact and they try to hook me up.

Listen up, all you pro-relationship zealots, cause here's the bottom line: I'm a fighter, not a lover. I'm all for love; this world wouldn't be worth living in without it. (Though as late as four years ago, I thought it was a silly thing that could only lead to disaster. I blame my parents.) But it ain't for me, not right now.

Maybe once I find a battle worth fighting. I've spent a long time looking for one; that's precisely why I'm here in Iraq. Not sure if this is it though.

Note To Self

When firing weapon, do not place finger(s) over ejection port.

Ouch.

What The Hell, Army

My ballot just arrived yesterday. Lame.

This Country

is the strangest place ever.

Negativity

I'll admit it makes very little sense for an organization premised on killing people and blowing things up to be chipper. But I'm still regularly irritated by how the Army is both institutionally and individually so damn hostile to EVERYTHING. Back in college, most of my relationships were premised on people telling each other how damn awesome they are. But here, it's just constant shouting and bitching. About everything. I had to go up on my roof last night and sing happy songs to myself just to get away from that BS.

Sigh.

I dunno if it's just the stress, but this place sure seems to induce some strange dreams. I don't remember any of them, because there's invariably something waking me up at unholy hours, but the general sense of "...what?" remains. Some of the other guys seem to be having the same thing.

Probably just the stress.

Simple Pleasures

They just cleaned the port-a-shitters. Yay.

I Hate Everyone

I am an introvert living in a tent with 60+ dudes. The door is 5 feet away from my head. I haven't slept for more than two hours at a time since I got here. I have acquired a hacking cough, and the scab on my arm floats on vaccinia pus like a tectonic plate on the intolerable molten mantle of the earth. The only natural light that enters is when someone leaves both of the airlock-double-doors open. We have accomplished a task and a half in the three?...four?...days that we have been here.

Why have you forsaken me?

(You volunteered to be forsaken, so that others might live.)

Oh. Yeah.

Kuwait

Military life is conducted almost completely in bizarro world. You put on this uniform, and all the sense that things make in the real world evaporates like ethanol under a blowtorch. We got a briefing yesterday that contained the both an insistence that we are in a combat zone (Uh-huh. When was the last shot we fired in this country?) and an admonition to make sure we continue to observe military customs and courtesies. (Saluting officers...which happens to handily pick them out for snipers.)

And this morning, the desert was coated in a thick layer of fog. (On the upside, it did feel nicely like home.) It was so thick that the busses that were supposed to take us out to the range (about 30 minutes out of the base, I believe) weren't allowed to. However, they did drive us to the chow hall over roads substantially more crowded than the highway outside the base.

This is the sort of thing that destroys people's brains. Last time I was on active duty (basic and AIT), it took me several months to regain the ability to interact properly with the world. I wonder how long it'll take this time.

Timing

Can somebody tell me why it was necessary to start movement to Kuwait and on to Iraq just as my bloody ballot gets sent out? I couldn't register with my APO because I didn't have it until just a few days ago, so now it's gotta get forwarded from home. Now I'm just hoping it doesn't get blown up. Well, that or lost on the way there. Or the way back. Not sure which of those many disaster options to worry about more.

Maybe I should've just had mum forge my signature.

Smallpox

Man, if the innoculation for it (delicious cowpox) sucks this bad, I can't imagine what having a full-blown case of the real deal is like.

Also, ceremonies are stupid. What brain disorder do they implant in these officer types that make them think having us stand around for an hour and giving us a flag is motivational? We've got shit to do, don't take it up telling us how special we are.

Hats

As some of you may know, whenever military types are outside we have to put our 'cover' (hat) on. But do you know why?

It's to hide us from the vengeful gaze of God. After all, we make a living breaking his shit. If your kids came over to your house and started shooting the place up, wouldn't you be pissed?

Breakfast

The other two guys in my company who're still here for pass decided to go to Cracker Barrel for breakfast today.

First thing the hostess did was look at their shirts (both emblazoned with ARMY in big block letters) and ask wide-eyed with amazement, "Are you in the Army?" You've got to be kidding me. Really? She was somehow awestruck that less than 15 miles from an Army base, there were soldiers having breakfast. Wow.

But then, oh no. They undercooked their eggs (mine were fine). So they sent them back. Okay, fine. Not my style, as I generally fail to give a crap about meaningless stuff like that. Then they came back overcooked. Uh-oh. You've offended my buddy's delicate sensitivities about his food. We were mostly done at that point, and this guy is pissed. He snatches the check out of my hand, tromps up to the counter, and when asked how his meal was: "Crappy."

He proceeded to bitch until the manager came over, listened politely, then took the receipt, shook our hands, and said good day. I was a little dumbfounded--I dont go out to restaurants often, and that's never happened before.

It didn't sit well with me at all. Working a restaurant is, by all accounts I've heard, a pretty shitty job. Worse than the Army, even. So while they were out smoking their cigarette (I'm quite sick of waiting for addicts to do their business so I can get on with mine, by the way), I went back in and told the cashier, "My meal was fine, I'll pay for it." You know what she told me? The manager wouldn't let me. Say what? How can he not let me pay for my food. It just feels wrong. She suggested, helpfully, that I do something nice for somebody and thanked me for coming back. So now I owe the universe a favor. Any suggestions? Worthy charities, maybe?

I Feel Deadly, Oh So Deadly

Well, my time here at Dix is coming to an end. I've completed all the training the Army says I need to have before we ship off to Kuwait, and now I'm on a four day pass. Time to start catching up on my sleep.

Free Riders: US Army Edition

Free ridership is ingrained into the very existence of the US military. We provide a public good--national defense--paid for collectively through taxation. Of course, those who pay fewer taxes than the average receive proportionately more of this good for their dollar than others. Those who pay no taxes are classic free riders, even though this may be because they simply don't earn enough money to do so. This is one of the main reasons I object to the cutting of taxes on the rich and corporations; they receive very substantial benefits from the protection we provide for their wealth.

But it's a problem within the service as well, as I realized last night when I was cleaning up after someone else's mess. (Again.) Cleaning is a highly collectivized task here. We all take turns cleaning up. But the disconnect this creates between people and their own crap leaves us with people making a bigger mess than they otherwise would, and more work for everyone.

The most common manifestation is hugely overflowing trash cans. It's not that hard to take the trash out when it's full, but nobody thinks to do it because it's someone else's duty day. Unfortunately, however, duty days get missed sometimes, and the sheer volume of trash created by soldiers is mindboggling. (Don't get me started on the lack of recycling opportunities in this job either.)

On the other hand, I guess I'm lucky to be in an MOS of 4-person teams. Nobody can afford to slack off or the mission is immediately jeopardized. Yay for economies of (small) scale.

My Mutant Head

Can barely fit a standard gas mask. Apparently my chin is too pointy. Combine this with the fact that apparently the mask they issued me back at the unit has a mysterious defect, and I was there about a half-hour longer than anyone else trying to successfully clear the damn thing. All that time spent for a threat that will not occur. It's not just unlikely, it's simply not going to happen. There are no WMDs in Iraq. Period. "But what about those chlorine VBIEDs the insurgents were using?" ask the retards who only watch CNN Headline News. Yeah, uh-huh, remember how they completely failed to accomplish anything? Not only does the explosion incinerate most of the gas, it's a pretty weak chemical weapon even used alone.

Bottom line: My gas mask is, unless I'm ordered otherwise, going to stay stowed for the next year. (Once I get one that works.)

Rumors

Just heard through a grapevine (some of the instructors here) that USACAPOC (my big bosses) may be headed back under USASOC (special operations big bosses). Apparently USARC (reserve big bosses) find us too damn expensive, and they're spending all the money that Congress is allocating to fund us on other shit. Meanwhile USASOC supposedly has commitments to maintain the equipment they issued us until we got moved, but they're not getting any money to do it.

This would be a very good thing. USASOC knows how to manage us a thousand times better than USARC. From what the old hands at this unit say, our training was a lot better back then too. I would be happy, very happy, if this happened.

Army Vaccines

They're some tricky buggers, I'll tell you. The Japanese Encephalitis shot that I got last year, I was fine for a few days. Then I started itching--everywhere. Toenails to asscrack. It went like that for about a week...damn did that suck. And anthrax just kind slides in there real smooth like, then it lights up like, in one SSG's words, "a ball of hot lead."

Shit. Sux.

This Anniversary

All it really does anymore is piss me off, because it makes me think of the rampant lawlessness that those 19 angry Arabs unleashed on this country. In my opinion, they enabled far more damage--to the rule of law and constitutionalism--than they inflicted themselves.

In fact, that's one of the few things that truly offends me about the last 8 years. I disagree with most of the Bush administration's policies, but those are just opinions that reasonable people can disagree on. But their disregard for the basic constitutional precepts (accountability, checks and balances, and transparency in government, among others) that have kept us free for 200 years is far beyond the pale. I took an oath when I joined the Army to defend that scrap of parchment, goddamnit. And the President, whose orders I also swore to obey, has been the primary architect of dismantling it.

The Countdown Has Begun

399 days.

Political Awareness

The first time I ever paid any attention to any "issue" was back in high school. Youth rights, the right of teenagers to not be treated like babies, was what got me fired up. Of course, there was a degree of self-interest in that, and I was angry at the world. (Still am, though now it's because of all of the manifest failures of humanity than any particular injury done to me.) But I still think that if you expect young adults to act maturely and give them the tools and opportunities to do so, most of them damn well will.

So, it's interesting to see someone in the mainstream media bring these issues up. And of course, it would be in Slate. http://www.slate.com/id/2199258/ The only thing that irritates me is that Mr. Saletan's argument seems to hinge at the end on the idea that restrictions on young adults are bad insofar as they lead to restrictions on legal adults. But whatever.

He acknowledges that young people are disadvantaged politically because they lack the franchise, which is a crucial fact. Most often, when I brought this up to people, they counterargued that the parents' vote would represent their children's interested. But that's just not how a representative democracy/republic works. Everyone is supposed to be able, if they wish, to have their voice heard. If you want my view, abolish the damn voting age and require people to pass the citizenship test in order to vote. But I don't think that'd be very popular. Ah well. Baby steps.

Six Flags

Even hard working Civil Affairs soldiers need/get time off now and then. So we went to Six Flags yesterday. I learned something: I'm not a thrill ride guy. "You'll drive a humvee in a combat zone, but you won't ride a roller coaster." (This was after I'd gotten a taste of it and opted out of most of the rest.) "I get paid to do that," was my reply. But it's only partly that. I don't mind a shot of adrenaline now and then, but I'd rather be in control of it. Just going along for the ride is not particularly fun for me. Just one of my personal pathologies. Plus it makes my head hurt. But most of all, one of the damn things took my lucky driving hat. Bad rollercoaster. No cookie.

Nonetheless, it was a damn good day, overall. Got out of the nasty barracks, spent some time in the real world, learned something about myself. The 50 bucks or whatever I spent was well worth it.

Although our main job is talking to people, Civil Affairs can absolutely tear the battlefield up when it becomes necessary. We've got a high percentage of former combat arms soldiers, plus loads of combat experience that makes an FNG like me feel much better about my chances for surviving this tour. We did our final pre-mob exercise today, and the cadre running it said we were one of the best units they'd ever seen. Hells yeah.

Also, training-FOB life sucks. The guys in my unit who've been downrange say real FOBs aren't so poorly designed. They better be right.

MRAPs

I recently learned that we're going to be rolling in all MRAPs once we get in country. I'm not sure I approve of this. (Not that my opinion as a near-expendable junior enlisted soldier matters to anyone.) For those who don't know, MRAPs are Mine-Resistant Ambush-Protected vehicles. Originally it was a Marine Corps acquisition program for replacing HMMWVs. From all the reports I've read, the V-hulls and extra armor do a fine job of protecting my buddies out there from IED attacks. But I'm not convinced that it's nothing but improvements over the humvee.

Firstly, it's a big damn vehicle. There's several issues with this, but most important for Civil Affairs types is the potential for hampering our mission. It's pretty intimidating, which cuts us off from the civilian population. And it fucks up roads something good, which we then have to turn around and get fixed or risk pissing people off.

Second, there's also a loss of mobility and the extra logistics support needed, both because it sucks up more resourceas and because it's fairly new.

Third, I haven't been trained on anything close to the 14 to 20 top-heavy tons some of these things weigh. I've barely been trained on a humvee...if you ask me to drive one of these things, there's a pretty damn good chance for a potentially fatal rollover accident. I'm sure we'll have some training when we get to Kuwait, and damn do I hope it'll be enough.

And finally, there's only so much extra protection you can get by just adding more armor. EFPs will still chunk it and concussion will still be knocking people's brains around.

When we get to the next war, will IEDs still be such a big problem that we'll need all of these massive trucks? I'm far from omniscient, but I'm guessing there wasn't much serious cost-benefit analysis put into this. It's reactive behavior, and reactive behavior doesn't win wars. If that sounds cold, I'll say it again: I'm the guy gonna be riding in one of these. Decide on your own if this program sounds like it's worth it...Congress is writing the checks, after all.

CERP

You want some insight into Civil Affairs, this explains one of our primary weapons, courtesy of a fine newspaper. (Go Seahawks!)

http://seattletimes.nwsource.com/html/nationworld/2008107036_iraqcash12.html

Sick Call

One thing about barracks living is the proximity. It's not easy for a comparatively introverted person like myself to sit around with 11 other dudes whenever we're off duty. But aside from that, disease spreads like wildfire. Right now, it's a throat bug. Apparently most of B Co. has caught it, and 4 of the 12 in my room have it as well.

Naturally, when I felt that crustly, burninating sensation in my throat last night, my first thought was "Shit." My second thought was "Well, I'm going to sick call. First time for everything, right?" I never was one of the excessively retards who vowed not to miss training when I was diseased. I was just lucky to have an immune system chock full of Grammaton Cleric T-cells.

Anyways, I had a bad day today. I lost my patrol cap, put the wrong grade on my sick call slip, left all my gear in the room when I actually went to sick call, and forgot the key to get back in. Fortunately, we were just in classrooms all day, and I made it back in time to get the box checked off for all of them.

When you're locked down on an army base, with no mailing address, no pay for a month--they put us on ADT orders that run right into our mobilization orders so they could get away with not paying us all our benefits--it's generally a bad idea to break your computer. And yet, I did it anyways. I think that's the only thing I have really bad luck with, computers. The one I'm posting from now is the fourth I bought since 2003. I've broken a couple, some have broken themselves, sometimes a little of both. That's a good thing, since it means I'll have good luck on this deployment...but damn is it expensive to replace these things over and over.

Say what, Staff Sergeant? Listen, you come deploy with us, or hell, deploy with anybody, and then I'll listen to your prattle about being motivated. I'm plenty damn motivated; I signed my contract in the middle of a war I thought was a terrible idea from the beginning, knowing full well that I'd end up going over. Don't talk to me about motivation. It's not even that you're a bloody slicksleever. Yeah, you have no way of understanding the BS we're dealing with from your comfy position administrating it. But that's secondary to the simple presumption of telling anybody else how they should react emotionally to it, regardless of whether you've dealt with it.

Now that that's over with, I'm happy to say that we're off to a good start. Better training than anything I got in basic or AIT. May have something to do with the lack of omnipresent dread of the next disaster, be it legitimate, brought on by idiot privates, or concoted by drill sergeants. Combatives will knock you the hell out though. I'm sore all over. Need more drugs.

I may have acquired a nickname. We were all lodged in WWII barracks on one side of the fort, preparing to head over to the other side to meet the bus to the airport. Since I was one of the few organic personnel staying there, I was partially responsible for helping run things. So shortly before we got things in gear, it happened to my knowledge that we didn't have the bus keys. Damnit.

Solution: Do two shuttle trips in the van, all the way across our sprawling base. But that meant we were behind schedule. I got the keys from the LT, hustled the passengers into the van and took off. Yeah, I was traveling well above the posted limit. But damnit, I needed to make mission. I take it personally when things I'm involved in fail. Of course, just before we hit the gate, the mission failed anyways on account of a blacked-out MP that just had to be sitting there. Lights flash. Well shit. I guess I should've expected it, since it was Friday night. Lots of drunk, dumb soldiers out there on Friday night. Lots of quotas just waiting to be made. (On the trip back and the next drop-off, I saw at least three sets of lights flashing.)

I got off without a ticket. We were all in uniform, in a GSA vehicle. I guess the guy knew I had (reasonable) cause. But obviously, I kept to the limit the rest of the way. Nonetheless, there's a bunch of guys now calling me "Speed Racer." There's definitely worse things I could be called.