Davy Crockett, Sergeant York, and the Leprechaun

This morning was Part 2 of our Humvee love-fest. We practiced climbing in and out of the armored turret, inspecting the engine, operating the radios (well, that part was pretending to operate the radios, because they had all been loaned to a National Guard unit training elsewhere on post..."Now, see that empty rack there? That's where the SINGARS radio goes, and there's a bunch of switches that I'd show you how to work if I could...but hey, here are the headphones...), and we ended up by having a relay race with putting on the gunner's harness (resembles a parachute harness). This afternoon, we piled into a dimly-lit classroom with 75 of our closest BFFs (Battle Foxhole Friends) to learn Basic Rifle Marksmanship. The instructor was energetic and well-qualified, having served in the Army's premier shooting unit for 15 years. He optimistically claimed that after his class, we would all qualify as expert riflemen/women. I appreciate his confidence, but am relying on the new combat rifle scope I was issued. It's the latest technology, and promises to turn me into a successor to the legendary riflemen in this post's title...yeah, and monkeys might fly out of my.....