One of my teammates and I were driving to one of the camps to look for prostitutes (wait, that didn't come out the way I meant...), when Ka-WHOOM!!!!!!!, there was a huge explosion 150 meters off to my left, followed by a rising column of black smoke. We looked at each other, said simultaneously, "Oh Crap, ROCKET ATTACK!", and I started to pull over next to a drainage ditch. Another explosion rocked our SUV, but then I noticed there were a handful of people casually standing fairly close to the site of the bursts. After the third concussion knocked the remaining mud from the bumper, the "Big Voice" loudspeaker announced, "Attention! This is the Command Post! There will be a series of controlled detonations in...uh...two minutes ago...Command Post, Out!"
Sheesh...just when I think there will be nothing to write about today, once again the U.S. Armed Forces comes through in the clutch!
(Special thanks to SGT Homer "Command Post Announcer Guy" Simpson...I could have sworn I heard a muffled, "Doh!" after the announcement...)
Wednesday, April 21, 2010
Tuesday, April 20, 2010
The G.A.S. gauge is on "E"...
The team is looking toward the finish line, closing cases, and getting ready to hand off responsibility for investigating "Bad Things in Baghdad" to a fresh crew. With our replacements due to arrive in a couple of weeks, everyone, and I do mean everyone, has their G.A.S. gauge pegged on "Empty". We do have a couple of moderately interesting cases going on, but for the most part our focus is elsewhere. There are post-deployment leaves to plan, new duty assignments on the near horizon, and for us reservists, a return to the comfortable and familiar routines we left behind a year ago.
Close as we are to doing the "Beat it outta Baghdad Boogie", loud explosions have some folks looking a bit twitchy...even if it's something as routine as the daily pre-announced controlled detonations or test firing of our 20mm Gatling Gun Guardians, otherwise known as the Phalanx System. Conversely, goofy decisions from various levels of bureaucracy are now met with a resigned shrug and sad shake of the head. When it is time to get on the aircraft and head for home, even the most outspoken among us will likely be as docile as a sheep...albeit an armed and armored sheep. There is life after deployment, and right now, that is what really matters.
Close as we are to doing the "Beat it outta Baghdad Boogie", loud explosions have some folks looking a bit twitchy...even if it's something as routine as the daily pre-announced controlled detonations or test firing of our 20mm Gatling Gun Guardians, otherwise known as the Phalanx System. Conversely, goofy decisions from various levels of bureaucracy are now met with a resigned shrug and sad shake of the head. When it is time to get on the aircraft and head for home, even the most outspoken among us will likely be as docile as a sheep...albeit an armed and armored sheep. There is life after deployment, and right now, that is what really matters.
Monday, April 12, 2010
Quick Update from Bloghdad
Sorry, y'all, for not posting anything for the past two weeks. It has been crazy busy between getting ready to GTFOB, and the flood of new investigations, which don't seem to be letting up one darn bit. While I'd love to share some of the weirder details of a couple of these cases, which are "Quentin Tarantino- Wes Craven Bizarre", I'd end up with my wrinkled old butt in a sling if I did so. Sorry!
I AM taking notes so that I can modify the details sufficiently enough to use this stuff in my eventual novel(s). Some of this stuff is just too strange, and yet perfectly illustrative of my little piece of the war, so it's gotta be there in some form.
One of the major distractors we are dealing with has nothing to do with case work. While preparing to re-deploy and in the case of us reservists, demobilize from Active status, it is clearly evident that despite the "One Team, One Fight" slogan, we are to be treated like second-class citizen-soldiers upon our return stateside. Normally, when our active component counterparts return from a combat deployment, they have 3 half-days of post-deployment processing, and can live at home, drive their own cars, and even consume alcoholic beverages...all while returning every evening to the bosom of their families. Sounds pretty routine, doesn't it? Well, for us reservists, our return is more akin to being released to a half-way house after finishing a prison term. We will be essentially "confined" to the limits of Fort Lewis, prohibited from operating, or even riding as a passenger in a POV (Privately-Owned Vehicle), or commercial taxi/limo/bus. Even though a lot of us reside mere minutes away from base, we will be spending six or seven nights living in a WWII-era open bay wooden barracks, and worst of all, kept apart from our families and friends. Meanwhile, the active duty soldiers we served alongside who are stationed at the base will be spending THEIR nights in their civilian beds, next to THEIR significant others, drinking whatever adult beverage they wish, driving up to Seattle for sushi, or Bremerton for BBQ... (By the way, our active duty brothers and sisters who were pulled from units all over the U.S. to staff all the offices in Kuwait, Iraq and Afghanistan are also going to be jammed into those barracks and confined to base with the same restrictions, albeit for only 3 days...but you can imagine what these Regular Army officers and NCOs think about that!)
The message seems pretty clear: Army Reservists are acceptable enough soldiers to serve a year in a war zone, but back home, where most of us will be returning to very responsible civilian careers, we are regarded in the same league as Basic Trainees, despite a lot of us having 20 or more years of military service under our belts. In my humble opinion, it's a pretty stupid message, which speaks louder than all the "Army Strong, Hooah!" crap posted everywhere we look. I think we've earned better...
I AM taking notes so that I can modify the details sufficiently enough to use this stuff in my eventual novel(s). Some of this stuff is just too strange, and yet perfectly illustrative of my little piece of the war, so it's gotta be there in some form.
One of the major distractors we are dealing with has nothing to do with case work. While preparing to re-deploy and in the case of us reservists, demobilize from Active status, it is clearly evident that despite the "One Team, One Fight" slogan, we are to be treated like second-class citizen-soldiers upon our return stateside. Normally, when our active component counterparts return from a combat deployment, they have 3 half-days of post-deployment processing, and can live at home, drive their own cars, and even consume alcoholic beverages...all while returning every evening to the bosom of their families. Sounds pretty routine, doesn't it? Well, for us reservists, our return is more akin to being released to a half-way house after finishing a prison term. We will be essentially "confined" to the limits of Fort Lewis, prohibited from operating, or even riding as a passenger in a POV (Privately-Owned Vehicle), or commercial taxi/limo/bus. Even though a lot of us reside mere minutes away from base, we will be spending six or seven nights living in a WWII-era open bay wooden barracks, and worst of all, kept apart from our families and friends. Meanwhile, the active duty soldiers we served alongside who are stationed at the base will be spending THEIR nights in their civilian beds, next to THEIR significant others, drinking whatever adult beverage they wish, driving up to Seattle for sushi, or Bremerton for BBQ... (By the way, our active duty brothers and sisters who were pulled from units all over the U.S. to staff all the offices in Kuwait, Iraq and Afghanistan are also going to be jammed into those barracks and confined to base with the same restrictions, albeit for only 3 days...but you can imagine what these Regular Army officers and NCOs think about that!)
The message seems pretty clear: Army Reservists are acceptable enough soldiers to serve a year in a war zone, but back home, where most of us will be returning to very responsible civilian careers, we are regarded in the same league as Basic Trainees, despite a lot of us having 20 or more years of military service under our belts. In my humble opinion, it's a pretty stupid message, which speaks louder than all the "Army Strong, Hooah!" crap posted everywhere we look. I think we've earned better...
Tuesday, March 30, 2010
Surprise! Water Shortage in the Desert!
Seriously? That's news? Yeah, I guess it must be, as we've gotten dire warnings from the base administration folks over the past week. One of the threats which has gotten the most laughs is that the toilet trailers will be closed, and porta-potties will be placed at the end of each row of CHUs. Heck, for most of us, that'll represent an improvement! (In my case, it'll shorten my walking distance from 250 meters to 5 meters...I vote, "Heck Yeah!")
The old joke about "Save Water, Shower With a Friend!" has been resurrected by a new generation...there is even a rumor floating around that some wiseguy has distributed flyers around the base, offering himself to females as a combination "Shower Security/Water Conservation Partner". His nickname? "Clean But Creepy Dude". If this is more than an urban legend, I'm sure he's gonna get punk'd a bunch of times.
The old joke about "Save Water, Shower With a Friend!" has been resurrected by a new generation...there is even a rumor floating around that some wiseguy has distributed flyers around the base, offering himself to females as a combination "Shower Security/Water Conservation Partner". His nickname? "Clean But Creepy Dude". If this is more than an urban legend, I'm sure he's gonna get punk'd a bunch of times.
Saturday, March 27, 2010
It's Raining Lead...
But no one was saying, "Hallelujah"...!
Last night the Iraqis announced that Mr. Allawi's party had outpolled Mr. Maliki's party in the recent elections, which sent Allawi's supporters outside to the streets, shouting, singing, and firing thousands of rounds of AK-47 ammo up toward the heavens...and then back earthward, which the Iraqis seem to conveniently forget every time they whoop it up.
I was reading in my CHU when the heavy gunfire erupted. I grabbed my helmet, body armor and weapon and bounced outside, ready to defend the base. Peering out from behind the closest concrete T-wall, I quickly sized up the tactical situation. Recalling the basics of gunfire analysis from my days as a cavalryman, I noticed a whole lot of red and green tracers emanating from outside the wire...but all heading in a more or less vertical direction. That meant no attack, just your basic Baghdad celebration. The tracers triggered the base warning alarms, and the loudspeakers blared, "Attention, this is the command post, take cover immediately due to Iraqi celebratory fire!" Since I no longer had to emulate the great Sam Elliott in his role as CSM Basil Plumley, ("Gentlemen, prepare to defend yourselves!"), I retired back inside my CHU and took up a position on my bunkbed. I knew I'd be shielded from falling projectiles by the combination of the thin aluminum CHU roof, ultra-hard and lumpy upper mattress, and the plywood base.
I grabbed my laptop and TV remote and chilled out, listening to the rattle of gunfire which was soon joined by the pounding of a gigunda thunderstorm. Is it possible all that lead seeded the clouds, provoking the deluge? At any rate, nobody on base was hit, and aside from another darn mudfield, we survived the Iraqi celebrations in one piece.
Last night the Iraqis announced that Mr. Allawi's party had outpolled Mr. Maliki's party in the recent elections, which sent Allawi's supporters outside to the streets, shouting, singing, and firing thousands of rounds of AK-47 ammo up toward the heavens...and then back earthward, which the Iraqis seem to conveniently forget every time they whoop it up.
I was reading in my CHU when the heavy gunfire erupted. I grabbed my helmet, body armor and weapon and bounced outside, ready to defend the base. Peering out from behind the closest concrete T-wall, I quickly sized up the tactical situation. Recalling the basics of gunfire analysis from my days as a cavalryman, I noticed a whole lot of red and green tracers emanating from outside the wire...but all heading in a more or less vertical direction. That meant no attack, just your basic Baghdad celebration. The tracers triggered the base warning alarms, and the loudspeakers blared, "Attention, this is the command post, take cover immediately due to Iraqi celebratory fire!" Since I no longer had to emulate the great Sam Elliott in his role as CSM Basil Plumley, ("Gentlemen, prepare to defend yourselves!"), I retired back inside my CHU and took up a position on my bunkbed. I knew I'd be shielded from falling projectiles by the combination of the thin aluminum CHU roof, ultra-hard and lumpy upper mattress, and the plywood base.
I grabbed my laptop and TV remote and chilled out, listening to the rattle of gunfire which was soon joined by the pounding of a gigunda thunderstorm. Is it possible all that lead seeded the clouds, provoking the deluge? At any rate, nobody on base was hit, and aside from another darn mudfield, we survived the Iraqi celebrations in one piece.
Monday, March 22, 2010
Phalanx Phollies
Here's another slice of life here that illustrates how fast things can turn from scary to hilarious:
It was lunchtime, and an SUV-load of us was traveling the gravel road toward the mess hall, windows down, enjoying the spring sunshine. I was driving, and as we neared the main PX, I heard the indirect fire alarm go off. I quickly pulled over at a handy roadside bunker, and we all piled out of the SUV...I managed to bonk my noggin on the door frame as I bailed out, and landed flat on the ground in a big poof of dust. When my head cleared, I looked up toward "Strawberry Hill" just as the Phalanx 20mm gatling gun blasted a long stream of bright red tracers skyward. I wasn't the only person entranced by this awesome vision of firepower...a young soldier pedaling a mountain bike, rifle slung across his back, and wearing his kevlar helmet jerked his head up at the Phalanx's distinctive sound (think of Godzilla breaking wind), and managed to run head on into a cement T-Wall. We all laughed when it became clear only the soldier's pride was injured, and also at relief when no mortar rounds or rockets came spiraling in on top of us.
I still have a small bump on my forehead, and a couple of my teammates got skinned forearms from hitting the gravel, but these minor wounds were just the price of admission to a brief moment of combat zone comedy. We were all definitely glad that the comedy wasn't followed by tragedy...unless of course you count the bent bicycle wheel.
It was lunchtime, and an SUV-load of us was traveling the gravel road toward the mess hall, windows down, enjoying the spring sunshine. I was driving, and as we neared the main PX, I heard the indirect fire alarm go off. I quickly pulled over at a handy roadside bunker, and we all piled out of the SUV...I managed to bonk my noggin on the door frame as I bailed out, and landed flat on the ground in a big poof of dust. When my head cleared, I looked up toward "Strawberry Hill" just as the Phalanx 20mm gatling gun blasted a long stream of bright red tracers skyward. I wasn't the only person entranced by this awesome vision of firepower...a young soldier pedaling a mountain bike, rifle slung across his back, and wearing his kevlar helmet jerked his head up at the Phalanx's distinctive sound (think of Godzilla breaking wind), and managed to run head on into a cement T-Wall. We all laughed when it became clear only the soldier's pride was injured, and also at relief when no mortar rounds or rockets came spiraling in on top of us.
I still have a small bump on my forehead, and a couple of my teammates got skinned forearms from hitting the gravel, but these minor wounds were just the price of admission to a brief moment of combat zone comedy. We were all definitely glad that the comedy wasn't followed by tragedy...unless of course you count the bent bicycle wheel.
Tuesday, March 16, 2010
Happy Saint Patrick's Day!!!!!
Tis the Fighting Leprechaun's second most favorite day, (ranked only behind me wedding anniversary), so what will I be doin'? Sure now, I'd like to be chasin' out the insurgents with me trusty shilelagh, but I doubt I'd be gettin' permission for that bit of fun...
Looks like I'll have to be content with gettin' everyone to go for the wearing of the green...and it looks like I'll be havin' a great deal of success...
Never underestimate the powers of a Leprechaun!
Looks like I'll have to be content with gettin' everyone to go for the wearing of the green...and it looks like I'll be havin' a great deal of success...
Never underestimate the powers of a Leprechaun!
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