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.