Stoopid Kompewters: The Saga Continues

It has been close to 45 days since my Army computer issues were first identified. The damn thing still doesn't function. Just had another visit from the FOB IT people. They screwed around with it, trying to download "patches" and other needed software, and 3 hours later, they've made absolutely zero progress. These computers are supposedly "Essential Equipment" to carry out our duties, but instead mine is turning out to be a "Farce Multiplier".
(I even went so far as to attempt a download of the case management software on to my personal laptop, but SURPRISE!!! this software doesn't function with the Vista operating system. (Yep, you guessed it...that's what is on my laptop.)

It's official...my GAS gauge is on "E".

Charlie Bravo* Rides Again!

We received our footlockers the other day. Mine contained my Cuisinart thermal carafe coffee maker. With the events of the past week, I didn't really much care about coffee...but yesterday and today I made a pot of decent (German) java, and before I knew it, folks from the adjoining offices were ringing our doorbell and asking where that great coffee aroma was coming from. Of course I shared, and in so doing have changed our own office from a quiet backwater to the functional equivalent of a Combat Starbuck's. Since the outgoing team left a cornucopia of coffee, it's essentially a free service for the representatives of the MNC-I Criminal Justice System. I didn't expect to even want a cup of joe, given the high temperatures even in the a.m., but it's amazing what a Pavlovian response is triggered by the smell of fresh-brewed coffee...in an air-conditioned plywood structure!
Hi Yo, Caffeine! The Lone Barista Rides Again!
* "Charlie Bravo" is the (I hope) affectionate nickname I had back at my civilian job. Don't ask...

The "Combat Patch" as Bar Mitzpha

Or Bas Mitzpha, depending on your gender...

Many years ago (at the end of WWII, I believe) the Army adopted the practice of allowing soldiers who had served in a combat zone to wear the unit patch of their outfit on their right shoulder. The current unit of assignment's patch is worn on the left shoulder. This was a not-so-subtle way of identifying who'd been to war, and who had yet to "become a man". Soldiers referred to this additional insignia as a "Combat Patch", which sounds way more macho that its official Army name: FWSSSI, or "Former Wartime Service Shoulder Sleeve Insignia". A soldier could be highly competent, motivated, and courageous, but without a combat patch, he was just another rookie who hadn't played in a real game yet. After the Vietnam War concluded, there was an entire generation of soldiers who had that slick right sleeve. In the mid-70's to early 80's, almost all of the senior NCOs and officers wore combat patches, which made the rest of us stand out, and not in a good way. Yet for the most part, those who had earned the right to wear a combat patch didn't make a big deal about it, they just had quietly sewn it on their uniforms when they returned home and that was that.
A few soldiers, mostly special ops types, earned combat patches in Panama. Later, more soldiers sported combat patches from the First Gulf War, but still not too many. Then everything changed...After 6 straight years of combat deployments, it's increasingly rare to see soldiers without a combat patch. In fact, the absence of that little piece of fabric and velcro on the right shoulder of an active duty soldier has sometimes sparked quiet, unkind comments from those who have deployed. many with three or more tours under their belts.
So I guess it's only natural for Army units over here to make a big deal about the "combat patch ceremony." It has become quite the event, complete with a quasi-standardized script, read with the requisite gravitas, which tells the no-longer slick sleeved warriors, "Today, you are a man!"

Our team elected to informally slap 'em on just as two of us were ready to board a helicopter, and took a couple of snapshots for posterity...We were all much more comfortable with our approach, and somehow I felt it more appropriate to emulate the same matter-of-fact, low-key manner which previous generations had adopted.
So now I sport an insignia which tells other soldiers that I've gone off to war...and that I guess somehow entitles me to look down my nose at those without it...but I'm not gonna do that, because there are too many soldiers who actually fought, bled, and sometimes died earning that same combat patch...(And those men and women are truly entitled to look down their noses at the rest of us!)

Farewell to a Great Cop and a Good Friend

When I returned to the FOB after a mission about 90 minutes ago, I learned that my very good friend, Steve B., had quietly passed away a couple of days ago. Steve was my partner patrol sergeant with the sheriff's department, and taught me the ropes of first-level leadership. Not only was Steve a superb street cop, but his sense of fun was matched only by his willingness to "push the envelope" in testing the bureaucracy. If there was an opportunity to make mischief, Steve usually was the prime instigator. He loved airplanes and flying, whether it was in the department Cessna as an air observer, or on the computer "flying a mission" with his air combat flight simulator. But above all, Steve's first and most important love was his wife, a great cop in her own right, and the perfect complement and balance to Steve's inimitable personality.
I was thinking of Steve this evening while preparing to board the helicopter for the flight back to home base...how much Steve would enjoy the chance to fly around Iraq...and when I thanked the flight ops coordinator as we walked toward the chopper, he responded, "Just keep your head down and your powder dry..." which was Steve's favorite way to end our conversations. At the time I smiled at the coincidence...but now I think it might have been Steve creatively figuring out a way to say, "Goodbye."
Happy Landings, my friend...

How Now, Brown Chow?

"Brown Chow" pretty much describes most of the entrees served in our FOB's Dining Facility (DFAC for short). The new Army doesn't refer to these places as "mess halls" anymore, but that's what I still call it, which is yet another sign that I'm just an unreconstructed geezer. (Boy, if that last paragraph didn't sound like something Andy Rooney would say...yikes!)

On to tonight's topic...When my colleagues and I arrived here 30 days ago, the mess hall seemed like an upscale Old Country Buffet, full of interesting international choices and a varied menu. The team we were replacing chuckled at our initial reactions and told us we'd be bored inside of two weeks. Well, it took a little longer for me, but I have to admit they spoke the truth. Now don't get me wrong, there are still lots of different choices offered at lunch and dinner, but the problem is that most of those interesting choices are really, really bad nutritionally. Almost everything is fried, covered with cheese, or high carb...and quite a few items are all three. For those of us trying not to become like the Michelin Man, we pretty much are limited to a couple of items. Even the veggies are drenched in butter, cheese sauce, or curried camel lard.
The troops who came over in 2003-2006 would no doubt respond to my commentary with a resounding, "What, are you nuts, or just stupid? We ate really crappy food for 15 months and we were being shot at...so quit your bitching, and have some damned cheesecake or Baskin-Robbins ice cream while you're at it!"
Okay, message received...except for the dessert part, anyway. I still have my pride.

Welcome to FOB Ennui

Everyone here seems to be walking around like zombies lately. I'm also feeling the "it's five o'clock somewhere" effect. Might be that the initial buzz of being in a new situation has worn off, replaced by the realization that it's gonna be pretty much like this everyday for close to a year.

While our SAC has been very creative in coming up with projects (at which ironically, all of my recent bosses have excelled!), there is no adrenaline likely to result from getting 'em done.

Now before anyone responds that "...boredom in a war zone is a good thing!", there is a lot of space between mind-numbing repetition and having mortar rounds, rockets, and bullets flying about like those dang monkeys from The Wizard of Oz. Add in the fact that when we CID folks are busy, it usually means that there are victims, and I'd just as soon not have any of those produced either, thank you very much.

All of this ultimately means that I've run out of excuses, and will have to commence serious work on writing my novel, which has been in suspended animation for quite a few years. Okay, now that I've committed myself publicly to the task, I'll have to either produce something during my tour of duty, or face embarrassing questions upon my return next year. (Not that there won't be a few of those anyway, such as, "How come you didn't offer to review any local jurisdiction CEMPs, if you were so freakin' bored?" and "Is it common to GAIN weight while in a combat zone?")
Well, as the French infantry used to say, "Audace, Audace, Toujours Audace!", which I believe roughly translates to, "What idiot decided for us to charge toward the enemy machine guns?"
Wish me luck, friends...'cause a lot of you will appear in my novel in one form or another...Bwah Hah Hah!

RIP, CAPT "Scott" Speicher

I've worn a POW/MIA bracelet with U.S. Navy CAPT Speicher's name on it pretty much continuously since 1995. His FA-18 fighter was shot down during the first Gulf War, and it was thought that he survived and was captured by Saddam's thugs. His remains were recently discovered near the crash site, and he will finally be going home.
While I took off his bracelet today when the news came out, I certainly won't forget CAPT Speicher's sacrifice...or that of the thousands of soldiers, Marines, sailors, and Coasties who have met their fate here.