November 17, 2008 2005 hrs.
Well guess who showed up today. The Sergeant Major. Now for those of you who don't know who he is, he's the top enlisted man in our battalion and a pretty good guy from what I see so far. So I am going to give him the benefit of the doubt in reference the amazing amount of bullshit that flowed down the pipe today.
However, no one else will be spared. We had to clean everything. I mean we have dirt floors here and we had to clean. Am I the only one who thinks its kind of pointless to clean rooms with dirt floors. I mean it was like a permanent haze of dust floating in the air all day. If I didn't know better I would've thought there were Jamaican's living in our barracks. My apologies to any Jamaican's that don't smoke weed.
Then we had to clean up the MWR building. Which was humorous for me, given the fact that in an Army FOB there was Marine Corps recruiting literature. Really? The Marines recruit at remote FOB's in AssCrackIstan? But whatever, it brought a smile to my face. We had to stack all the books neatly by size, then we had to line up all the movies, and pile all the magazines up nice, and sweep the floor and wipe off the TV and all this and that. All the while the locals were laughing hysterically at us due to the fact that we pay them to do this exact same thing.
Then we had to dress right dress all the vehicles and everything in them. (Dress Right Dress=Making everything look the same) DRD does not really serve any purpose other than making things look pretty. Someone will have to explain to me someday why anything in this country needs to be prettied up, but I digress. I mean really? A dog and pony show in a war zone? You have got to be shitting me.
Then they got onto us. I mean our personal hygiene and what not. Now bear in mind 80% of us do not have all of our bags here yet, which is another story all together. But I only have one uniform, one pair of skivvies, and one t-shirt. Not to mention had the mail not come I would have no personal hygiene items but the boys and girls back home came through for me. So thanks. Anyways, these goofy ass NCO's walked around to everyone staring at their chins and cheeks and upper lips to ensure that we had shaved recently. One of them even walked around with a credit card. And was doing the under the chin swipe to see if we had shaved. Basically, all that is is taking one end of a credit card and dragging it along your face and listening for the distinct sound created by a piece of hard plastic grating against little whiskers. I was aghast. Yeah, how many of you thought I knew what "aghast" means? Am I the only one standing in sheer amazement at the Army's preoccupation with looks. Form over function as Pigpen would say. I mean really, is a man with the responsibility of the Sergeant Major really concerned with whether or not I had shaved today? Well, apparently so.
So, now he gets here. Flies on in with his entourage. I couldn't help but wonder how much money and manpower is spent sending this guy to this place and that within AssCrackIstan to make sure that everyone is clean shaven.
Now all these guys jump off the bird, turns out that the Sergeant Major brought some Colonel with him, now things really got fun. The pucker factor went up about 10 degrees.
Definition, "Pucker Factor": Any situation that causes the asshole of anyone to tighten exponentially due to the situation's probability of causing any manner of shitty things to happen. Measured in degrees.
Well now the commander is there smooching booty and the 1SG is doing his politicking with the Sergeant Major and everyone is falling all over themselves trying to make them as comfortable as possible. I was waiting for the order to come down that all the lower enlisted were to lay down in a row so that the Colonel and the Sergeant Major didn't have to get dust on their boots. But thankfully, that didn't come.
What am I doing? Hiding in my room praying that no one sees the "Combat Jack" tally board that is written on the wall directly outside my room.
Definition, "Combat Jack": Masturbating in a combat zone. Normally characterized not only by being done within a combat zone but also by the disgustingness of the surroundings in which said activity is being performed. For example, a port-a-shitter in Afghanistan.
The board is part of a running contest that the platoon males have going to see who can do it the most. Right now I made it to 5, but suffice it to say that I am in the middle of the pack. Some of these guys are going to pull the cap off by Christmas. But moving on...(Oh Dear God, my mom is going to read that)
But whatever, it is what it is. Now I manage to fall asleep for a while and apparently my buddy, Wonderboy woke me up and told me that the Sergeant Major wanted to see me at 1800. I don't know about you, but whenever you wake me up and tell me something, all I do is figure that it was part of the dream I was having and I go back to sleep. Why the Sergeant Major wanted to see me while I was on the moon with the entire USC cheerleading team, I'll never know. But these are dreams people, who knows what the hell they mean.
Luckily for me, I woke up around 1715 and was hungry as hell. I mean these cheerleaders will run you ragged. So I go to chow and my team leader says, "When are you going to see the Sergeant Major?" To which I reply, "What did I do?" He replies, "I dunno, they told me you were supposed to see the Sergeant Major tonight sometime"
So my brain kicks into overdrive again trying to figure out what I could've done to piss the Sergeant Major off today or anytime since getting in country. Well thankfully before I drove myself too nuts Wonderboy came over and told me what was up.
I would tell you exactly what it is, but once again I don't really know if I can. We'll just say that everyone was doing something they shouldn't and we told them, "Hey Sergeant Major, that's fucked up. We shouldn't be doing that." To which he replied, "I'll check on it." To which we replied, "Yes, Sergeant Major." All the while thinking to ourselves, "Go ahead, you check on it, why don't you just tell us to fuck off?" But apparently, he did check on it and he found out that we were right. And now the policy for the whole joint is changing. Not bad for a smart ass who barely graduated high school. But enough tooting of my own horn.
So we got dragged into a conference room with all the senior NCO's in our company waiting for the Sergeant Major. Now this is easily one of the top 5 most uncomfortable rooms I have ever been in. And I have been in more than a few prison cells so that should tell you something. Don't worry, I work in a prison, I was not a resident.
Now he gets there and he goes through about a 5 minute spiel about how we were able to right a wrong within the theater and all that. Interestingly enough while he was giving his speech and looking at us he was looking at our chins. I can only assume to make sure we had shaved. Then he gave us a coin. Which is what the Army does when you do something good but they don't want to do any paperwork for a BS award. I mean its nice, but this coin and a buck will get me a coke. So whatever, he gives it to us and we leave. Now I am sitting here in my rack writing this and hoping that he and his entourage are gone by now.
Tonight brings another shift of guard duty. Which basically is two of us stuck in a tower that is roughly the size of the trunk of a honda civic with a heater blowing in the window that is made to heat an area the size of a football field. I mean these fucking heaters can melt concrete. All the while staring out at the Afghani countryside through night vision goggles and wondering if and when something is actually going to happen. I have had to do this for 12 hours a day for the past two days. Not really bad duty, I got to hang out with the ANP (Afghan National Police), and the "terps".
Definition: "Terp": Shortened version of interpreter. You know the guys that speak Pashtu, Dari, and English.
So I got to pick their brains about this war, this country, our country and a million other things. Not to mention I bought a couple of ANP patches off the guy for 5 bucks. Should've seen the look on his face when the terp told him how much Afghani money 5 bucks would get him. I'll tell you some of the stuff they said when I have more time to think and a little less acrimony about this shit today.
Well the big dogs went home so everything has settled back to some semblance of normalcy. Or as normal as things will get in Afghanistan. We are settling in for the winter. Which apparently is going to be brutal. We are about 7000 feet above sea level which says that it is going to get really flipping cold, and that explains why I get winded walking up the stairs. If everything stays this boring for the remainder of my time here I will be the happiest GI ever. However, I would have to assume that the "whatever sucks the most" principle would have to apply here. That and everyone seems to think that the bad guys have slipped back over the border into Pakistan for the winter to regroup and will be back come the spring. Well I guess we need to go someplace that stays cold all year round then.
I'm done for now.
Later,
I love you mom...
Nov 14, 2008
First Day, First Mission Or Hello Mr Afghani Man, I Like Your Goat…
November 14, 2008 1149 HRS.
So we actually, finally, after so damn long made it to the FOB where we are supposedly going to spend our deployment to Afghanistan.
I must admit. Not half bad. I expected a lot worse. Once again though, I would love for the vets from Vietnam and WWII and all that to see what we live in now and how we eat and all the luxuries we've got. I promise you that they would absolutely shit. But whatever, I'll probably find something worth bitching about soon, but so far I've got nothing.
We've got 6 computers hooked up to the internet. So I guess I could bitch that I have to share, but I am already getting used to the communal living thing again. My years as a dirty hippy are finally paying off.
Ah, wait...I got it. I can bitch about this. Dust, this country is nothing more than a big pile of dust. I haven't been anywhere in this country where its clean. Everything has an inch of dust caked on it. I am covered in dust. Inside and out. LITERALLY!!! The funny thing is I am actually glad I am a smoker. Because here, when I am smoking I am actually improving the air quality. But I digress.
So I poked around the FOB for a little while. Checked out the gym, went to the MWR (morale, welfare, and recreation). Found a foosball table, a ping pong table and a gigantic TV with satellite cable. Nice. I wonder what my dad would've said had he found out that we have satellite cable television in a war zone. I mean just because I am deployed doesn't mean I shouldn't be able to keep up with my soaps, right?
After all that is was like 2100 hrs. and we got notified of our first mission outside the wire. Fun for me. So we started getting everything ready. Getting the trucks set up, getting our ammunition, getting water, getting food, getting fuel, getting this, getting that, going here and going there. And if I may be so bold as to make a recommendation to any military personnel reading this. Please ensure that all the shit you need for your missions is all in one place. And if it cannot be stored in the same place, i.e. food and fuel, please put those things at least somewhat nearby to one another. I mean I joined the MP's for a reason, I don't like to walk. If I liked to walk I would've joined the infantry. But when your bullets are on one end of the FOB and your food is on the other. That makes me very sad.
Moving on, what is this mission of which you speak? Air drop. Air dropping what? I don't know. Of course you don't, why would you, you're only the boss.
The preceding is a conversation I had with my squad leader.
So anyways, we figured out who was going where and who was doing what and what was going to happen, and then they told us to go and draw our "BIG" guns. Ok, so I go and get it and bring it back and I realize that this weapon is fucking filthy. Of course it is, why wouldn't it be, whatever sucks the most.
Hey Sarge, when do we have to get up for this mission?
0500
Wow that sucks, its 2330 right now!
Is that weapon clean?
I'll give you three guesses and the first two don't count
Well clean it before you go to bed
I know, I know, can I get some help?
Sure ask the rest of your team.
Ok, I'll do just that.
That is an exchange between myself and my squad leader that happened just prior to me finding out that there are some real lazy motherfuckers in my platoon. So I asked a bunch of guys from the platoon to help us clean these weapons so we could get in bed as soon as possible. You know putting someone behind a fully automatic military crew serve weapon on little or no sleep is not such a hot idea. That is a recipe for little ole' me to end up on CNN for slaughtering an entire herd of camels thinking they were Osama bin Laden and his 56 wives.
It was like pulling teeth getting these guys to help. I'll leave it at that. I am really starting to wonder if my generation is the laziest bunch of shitbags to ever walk the earth. But I digress.
Moving on, the next morning (today) we got up at 0500 at I found out that in the desert it is as cold as penguin balls at 0500 in the morning. Then we went and got all these trucks up and running, and got moving out. It took us like 3 fucking hours just to do that.
However, just prior to leaving we got issued assless chaps. Yes thats right, assless chaps. (AKA "gunners pants") Another piece of military equipment that makes me look more and more like the michelin man. I have said this before, I am a big boy, and when you add all my body armor I become a behemoth. Now they decided to give us these gunners pants which are basically really thick chaps that fit over your uniform to protect your legs. Which made me wonder. My legs are inside the vehicle, if my legs are in danger then we are all pretty much fucked. But whatever, mine is not to reason why...
So we go. We get to the gate of our FOB and I have to admit, my heart was racing. First time outside the wire is always an exhilarating experience. Needless to say I got over once I saw just how boring the Afghani landscape is. Beautiful, but boring. Miles and miles of sand and rocks, interrupted periodically by mountains and mud huts.
So we get there and form our perimeter and I begin to look out over the desert around me. I couldn't believe how many people I saw. We saw a guy riding his bike. I mean just putting along on his schwinn right through the middle of the desert, carrying a pick axe no less. Then I got to see the goat herders, gotta love these guys. Running around with his 6 goats trying to keep them all together. Probably the only possessions he has in this world. Kind of depressing.
Then I learned a little something about the Afghani's. Apparently, they dig a shit ton of holes in the desert before the winter starts, and when the snow or rain falls they use the holes to collect the water after it melts, and then they use the mud beneath to make bricks for building. Or so the NCO in my truck says, I don't really know. Never heard that one before but I guess it seems reasonable.
Now the air drop comes, which was a blast to watch. I was like a little kid. "OOOH, OOOH, Look at the airplane!!!" You know what I mean. Then the airplanes ass end opened up and 20 pallets fell from the sky. 4 of which didn't have working parachutes. Now this just made my day. Watching something that weighs God only knows how much rocketing toward the earth with nothing slowing it down, and then smashing into the desert floor with a rather large "thud" followed by a huge puff of smoke. Good times for me.
Well then we picked all this shit up, and threw it into trailers and then we drove back to the FOB. Uh, I got all dressed up for this? I thought I was going to get to slay the huns and defeat terrorism today. Or so that is what our wonderful commander would have us believe. Well I guess picking up this stuff is part of defeating terrorism. But at least we left all the cardboard and a half a pallet of water for the locals to get. I thought that was a great idea, you know winning hearts and minds and all that.
Still how disappointing. Kind of like a "titty bar", all show and no go. So it goes.
So now I am back here and wondering what the rest of this deployment will hold. Whatever it may be today was supremely boring except for the whole "thud" thing. Now I am waiting eagerly to be told that I have to spend the next 12 hours of my life in a tower staring at the sand. Once again, fun for me.
In conclusion, I would like to say thanks to everybody that comments on my posts. You guys are awesome and your support is much appreciated. I wish I could respond to each and everyone of you, but I just don't have the time. If I did respond, I wouldn't be able to call the mom, and then when I make it home alive, she would kill me. Either way you guys are awesome and I feel a thousand times better after reading what you write.
Later,
I love you mom...
So we actually, finally, after so damn long made it to the FOB where we are supposedly going to spend our deployment to Afghanistan.
I must admit. Not half bad. I expected a lot worse. Once again though, I would love for the vets from Vietnam and WWII and all that to see what we live in now and how we eat and all the luxuries we've got. I promise you that they would absolutely shit. But whatever, I'll probably find something worth bitching about soon, but so far I've got nothing.
We've got 6 computers hooked up to the internet. So I guess I could bitch that I have to share, but I am already getting used to the communal living thing again. My years as a dirty hippy are finally paying off.
Ah, wait...I got it. I can bitch about this. Dust, this country is nothing more than a big pile of dust. I haven't been anywhere in this country where its clean. Everything has an inch of dust caked on it. I am covered in dust. Inside and out. LITERALLY!!! The funny thing is I am actually glad I am a smoker. Because here, when I am smoking I am actually improving the air quality. But I digress.
So I poked around the FOB for a little while. Checked out the gym, went to the MWR (morale, welfare, and recreation). Found a foosball table, a ping pong table and a gigantic TV with satellite cable. Nice. I wonder what my dad would've said had he found out that we have satellite cable television in a war zone. I mean just because I am deployed doesn't mean I shouldn't be able to keep up with my soaps, right?
After all that is was like 2100 hrs. and we got notified of our first mission outside the wire. Fun for me. So we started getting everything ready. Getting the trucks set up, getting our ammunition, getting water, getting food, getting fuel, getting this, getting that, going here and going there. And if I may be so bold as to make a recommendation to any military personnel reading this. Please ensure that all the shit you need for your missions is all in one place. And if it cannot be stored in the same place, i.e. food and fuel, please put those things at least somewhat nearby to one another. I mean I joined the MP's for a reason, I don't like to walk. If I liked to walk I would've joined the infantry. But when your bullets are on one end of the FOB and your food is on the other. That makes me very sad.
Moving on, what is this mission of which you speak? Air drop. Air dropping what? I don't know. Of course you don't, why would you, you're only the boss.
The preceding is a conversation I had with my squad leader.
So anyways, we figured out who was going where and who was doing what and what was going to happen, and then they told us to go and draw our "BIG" guns. Ok, so I go and get it and bring it back and I realize that this weapon is fucking filthy. Of course it is, why wouldn't it be, whatever sucks the most.
Hey Sarge, when do we have to get up for this mission?
0500
Wow that sucks, its 2330 right now!
Is that weapon clean?
I'll give you three guesses and the first two don't count
Well clean it before you go to bed
I know, I know, can I get some help?
Sure ask the rest of your team.
Ok, I'll do just that.
That is an exchange between myself and my squad leader that happened just prior to me finding out that there are some real lazy motherfuckers in my platoon. So I asked a bunch of guys from the platoon to help us clean these weapons so we could get in bed as soon as possible. You know putting someone behind a fully automatic military crew serve weapon on little or no sleep is not such a hot idea. That is a recipe for little ole' me to end up on CNN for slaughtering an entire herd of camels thinking they were Osama bin Laden and his 56 wives.
It was like pulling teeth getting these guys to help. I'll leave it at that. I am really starting to wonder if my generation is the laziest bunch of shitbags to ever walk the earth. But I digress.
Moving on, the next morning (today) we got up at 0500 at I found out that in the desert it is as cold as penguin balls at 0500 in the morning. Then we went and got all these trucks up and running, and got moving out. It took us like 3 fucking hours just to do that.
However, just prior to leaving we got issued assless chaps. Yes thats right, assless chaps. (AKA "gunners pants") Another piece of military equipment that makes me look more and more like the michelin man. I have said this before, I am a big boy, and when you add all my body armor I become a behemoth. Now they decided to give us these gunners pants which are basically really thick chaps that fit over your uniform to protect your legs. Which made me wonder. My legs are inside the vehicle, if my legs are in danger then we are all pretty much fucked. But whatever, mine is not to reason why...
So we go. We get to the gate of our FOB and I have to admit, my heart was racing. First time outside the wire is always an exhilarating experience. Needless to say I got over once I saw just how boring the Afghani landscape is. Beautiful, but boring. Miles and miles of sand and rocks, interrupted periodically by mountains and mud huts.
So we get there and form our perimeter and I begin to look out over the desert around me. I couldn't believe how many people I saw. We saw a guy riding his bike. I mean just putting along on his schwinn right through the middle of the desert, carrying a pick axe no less. Then I got to see the goat herders, gotta love these guys. Running around with his 6 goats trying to keep them all together. Probably the only possessions he has in this world. Kind of depressing.
Then I learned a little something about the Afghani's. Apparently, they dig a shit ton of holes in the desert before the winter starts, and when the snow or rain falls they use the holes to collect the water after it melts, and then they use the mud beneath to make bricks for building. Or so the NCO in my truck says, I don't really know. Never heard that one before but I guess it seems reasonable.
Now the air drop comes, which was a blast to watch. I was like a little kid. "OOOH, OOOH, Look at the airplane!!!" You know what I mean. Then the airplanes ass end opened up and 20 pallets fell from the sky. 4 of which didn't have working parachutes. Now this just made my day. Watching something that weighs God only knows how much rocketing toward the earth with nothing slowing it down, and then smashing into the desert floor with a rather large "thud" followed by a huge puff of smoke. Good times for me.
Well then we picked all this shit up, and threw it into trailers and then we drove back to the FOB. Uh, I got all dressed up for this? I thought I was going to get to slay the huns and defeat terrorism today. Or so that is what our wonderful commander would have us believe. Well I guess picking up this stuff is part of defeating terrorism. But at least we left all the cardboard and a half a pallet of water for the locals to get. I thought that was a great idea, you know winning hearts and minds and all that.
Still how disappointing. Kind of like a "titty bar", all show and no go. So it goes.
So now I am back here and wondering what the rest of this deployment will hold. Whatever it may be today was supremely boring except for the whole "thud" thing. Now I am waiting eagerly to be told that I have to spend the next 12 hours of my life in a tower staring at the sand. Once again, fun for me.
In conclusion, I would like to say thanks to everybody that comments on my posts. You guys are awesome and your support is much appreciated. I wish I could respond to each and everyone of you, but I just don't have the time. If I did respond, I wouldn't be able to call the mom, and then when I make it home alive, she would kill me. Either way you guys are awesome and I feel a thousand times better after reading what you write.
Later,
I love you mom...
Operaton Combat Blue Balls Is Continuing With A Vengeance
Wednesday, November 12, 2008 2057 Hrs.
Well guess what? We got bumped from our flight again. Yep, we loaded up all that shit again, piled into those ridiculous buses, again. And unloaded all the shit and piled it into trucks and palletized some of the other stuff and we got all hyped up like we were actually going somewhere and what happens? We get bumped. Fun for me. Fun for everyone. Or as Pigpen would say, "Gay sex for everybody"
Yeah, I am so very impressed with the level of organization in the US Army. I can't even blame this shit on the Air Force anymore. This one is all courtesy of Uncle Sam's Mean Green Machine.
So here I sit typing this, and watching "Superbad" in this wonderful little "airport" that the Army has set up here and my blue balls are getting to the danger point. I mean really, how many times could they bring me right to the brink and then leave me unsatisfied. Now I know what every woman who was ever goodly enough to sleep with me felt like.
Well moving on, what is there to talk about today. I wonder what McLovin would have to say about this. He'd probably tell these people what time it is.
Ah, my brain is frozen. When are we going to go to war with someone who lives someplace nice. Why couldn't we fight with Tahiti or some country like that. I mean we made up a reason to invade Iraq, why can't we make up a reason to invade Tahiti. I think it would be fun. Uh, probably not such a good idea. Disregard the previous paragraph.
So I managed to get guard duty tonight. What am I guarding? All the shit that nobody wanted to take back to the tent with them. All the bags got thrown on two pallets so we left a few of us back to watch them to make sure nobody fucks with them. But at least I get to sleep on some nice leather couches instead of the wonderful mattresses that they have back at the FOB. That and I don't have to lug my shit all over AssCrackIstan for no good reason. So I guess the day wasn't completely wasted.
But I got to talk to the mom again today. She seems to be holding up pretty well. I can't even begin to explain what its like talking to her when I know she's hurting so bad missing me. It would probably be a little easier if she wasn't hurting because of me. I mean how much can one woman be expected to bear. But she's a tough ole' broad and she'll be fine...she'll be just fine. Like I told her, a little CCR on the radio and I'll be coming home soon.
Ah, got to stop thinking of home. Going to make myself crazy. By the way my apologies to everyone that I haven't been calling. But its just going to be like this. Anytime I get a chance to call home, I am calling mom first. End of story.
Well we got another gem of news from our headquarters. Apparently, AssCrackIstan has some pretty severe winters. Which make air travel, i.e. helicopters pretty much impossible for everything except absolute necessities. Meaning what? Meaning we are probably not going to get any mail for about 3 months or so. I don't know if that is exactly true but if we hold to form. Which we probably will. Remember the principle of "whatever sucks the most", that is what is going to happen.
Alright, I am done for now. Maybe I'll write a bit more later.
Later,
I love you mom...
Well guess what? We got bumped from our flight again. Yep, we loaded up all that shit again, piled into those ridiculous buses, again. And unloaded all the shit and piled it into trucks and palletized some of the other stuff and we got all hyped up like we were actually going somewhere and what happens? We get bumped. Fun for me. Fun for everyone. Or as Pigpen would say, "Gay sex for everybody"
Yeah, I am so very impressed with the level of organization in the US Army. I can't even blame this shit on the Air Force anymore. This one is all courtesy of Uncle Sam's Mean Green Machine.
So here I sit typing this, and watching "Superbad" in this wonderful little "airport" that the Army has set up here and my blue balls are getting to the danger point. I mean really, how many times could they bring me right to the brink and then leave me unsatisfied. Now I know what every woman who was ever goodly enough to sleep with me felt like.
Well moving on, what is there to talk about today. I wonder what McLovin would have to say about this. He'd probably tell these people what time it is.
Ah, my brain is frozen. When are we going to go to war with someone who lives someplace nice. Why couldn't we fight with Tahiti or some country like that. I mean we made up a reason to invade Iraq, why can't we make up a reason to invade Tahiti. I think it would be fun. Uh, probably not such a good idea. Disregard the previous paragraph.
So I managed to get guard duty tonight. What am I guarding? All the shit that nobody wanted to take back to the tent with them. All the bags got thrown on two pallets so we left a few of us back to watch them to make sure nobody fucks with them. But at least I get to sleep on some nice leather couches instead of the wonderful mattresses that they have back at the FOB. That and I don't have to lug my shit all over AssCrackIstan for no good reason. So I guess the day wasn't completely wasted.
But I got to talk to the mom again today. She seems to be holding up pretty well. I can't even begin to explain what its like talking to her when I know she's hurting so bad missing me. It would probably be a little easier if she wasn't hurting because of me. I mean how much can one woman be expected to bear. But she's a tough ole' broad and she'll be fine...she'll be just fine. Like I told her, a little CCR on the radio and I'll be coming home soon.
Ah, got to stop thinking of home. Going to make myself crazy. By the way my apologies to everyone that I haven't been calling. But its just going to be like this. Anytime I get a chance to call home, I am calling mom first. End of story.
Well we got another gem of news from our headquarters. Apparently, AssCrackIstan has some pretty severe winters. Which make air travel, i.e. helicopters pretty much impossible for everything except absolute necessities. Meaning what? Meaning we are probably not going to get any mail for about 3 months or so. I don't know if that is exactly true but if we hold to form. Which we probably will. Remember the principle of "whatever sucks the most", that is what is going to happen.
Alright, I am done for now. Maybe I'll write a bit more later.
Later,
I love you mom...
Nov 11, 2008
Operation Combat Blue Balls Is A Go...
Before I start today's tirade I'll let you know that since I am going to have a hard time getting on the internet for the remainder of this adventure I am just going to start every post with the time and date so you all can know when I am writing this...
November 12, 0200
Operation Combat Blue Balls: Mission is stated as follows, commanders will continually raise their soldiers expectations of the importance and imminence of their mission only to bring them right to the cusp and force them to return to their tent. To continue sitting around doing nothing. Just a playful little name we came up with for this clusterfuck.
Well where to begin. I am in someplace called Sharana or some shit like that, we just flew in about an hour ago. I am already missing Bagram.
I got to tell you though about something that happened to me this morning. I always sleep with my iPod in my ears, it plays pretty much all night, every night. So I fell asleep last night with it on shuffle. So I awoke this morning a song called "My Life To Live" By Lars Frederikson & The Bastards. The first line of that song is,
MY LIFE IS JUST LIKE A CAR CRASH.
I couldn't help but quietly chuckle to myself and say, "How fitting".
Now a recap of my day and the wonderful avalanche of douchebaggery that flowed my way today.
First we laid around all day again, after the flight line debacle that I told you about in my previous post. But around 1200 today we got the word that we were leaving at 1600. No problem, they actually gave me advance notice of what I was going to have to do. Wonderful, I can be ready and waiting for the bus when it gets here baby.
So we load up all of our shit again. Always a joyful experience. Loading an entire platoon's worth of shit once blows enough, doing it for the second time really sucks. But whatever, I am getting used to the rather large purple dildo that this unit continually shoves up our collective...you get the idea. Why is it purple? I have no idea.
So we get to the airport...again, and we unload all of our bags there and the Air Force pukes palletize them. Which basically means they stacked all of our crap on a pallet then wrapped it with plastic and tow straps.
Wait, let me back up. Everyone knows that soldiers have to wear a ton of stuff and have to carry around all sorts of shit. Weapons, body armor, tools, knives, ammunition, food, water, and whatever else the soldier deems necessary. (Cigarettes, pornography, skittles, iPod's and what not.) So when you have all this stuff on you are significantly larger that you would normally be. Now the buses that they used to transport us from the tents to the airport were the school bus kind and we are going to have to fill every single seat with 2 GI's who are loaded down with about 60 pounds of gear and have expanded a few dress sizes due to the wearing of all this shit. Now I am not bitching about this stuff, I am eternally grateful that the government has realized that keeping us alive should be a priority. But cramming us all in this bus really sucks but makes for a really funny ride.
Now everyone manages to push and shove and cram and jam their way onto the bus. Amidst this chorus of cries of pain and exclamations of "It doesn't fit there", "Get off my leg, asshole", "Who's touching my ass", "Get your hand out of there you aren't my priest." (You get the idea) Pigpen threw out a few gems that are worth sharing. Someone yelled out "I can't fit it in there", to which Pigpen replied..."Spit on it and push harder!" Almost immediately after that came this one. "It's not the right size." To which he said, "If its not the right size, just grit your teeth and close your eyes." I have said it before and I'll say it again...I flipping love this guy.
Finally, we are all in the bus and seated, sort of. You have all of us crammed right up against one another doing our best sardine impressions. Anyone who wants to move their leg has to lift the weight of the person to their left and right just to pull it off. So try to envision a platoon of soldiers literally sitting on top of each other, weapons, bags, equipment and all piled on top of them. What do they do? Do they bitch? Do they moan? Do they try to sleep? Do they fume? Do they curse the Army at the top of their lungs?
Nope, non of the above. What do we do? We sang. We sang Bohemian Rhapsody, we sang Barbie Girl, we sang I Will Survive, we sang It's Raining Men. Yeah, I said we sang Its Raining Men, what are you going to to do about it?
Don't worry ladies and gentlemen, I have video of this which will be posted once I edit it and get a reliable internet connection.
In any event, seeing a bus load of soldiers looking as pitiful as we must've looked, singing all those songs would really be a sight to see.
Where was I, the airport. We got to the airport and sat around for a few hours, got some chow, I managed to get my last post up at the USO and then we got called out to the flight line. So we loaded up into another bus. Yes it was more of the same, but you already heard that story so I will not bore you with it again.
We get out there and we pull up next to a plane that we correctly assume is the one we are going on. But they won't let us off the bus. Why? Because apparently the pallet that the Air Force made for the Air Force Plane with Air Force equipment and Air Force personnel...didn't fit in the fucking airplane. Really? You have got to be shitting me. Nope, it took them another 30 minutes of us crammed on this bus before they got the thing to fit. That's right, they left us sitting in this bus while these d-bags figured out how to fit this pallet on the plane. My compliments to the US Air Force.
Next problem. The plane has enough room for all of us, but not all of our weapons. So here's what we did. Personal weapons in your lap. Crew weapons on the floor behind the seating area, (A few hundred pounds of weapons just sitting on the floor not strapped down, Brilliant!) carry on bags hanging precariously above your head, and once again we are sitting cheek to cheek on this plane on seats that are nothing more than tow strap webbing. Good times. Even the crew chief on the plane said, "I have been doing this over here for 8 months now and I have never seen any unit do this bullshit."
Well finally after about an hour of fluffing and stuffing we manage to get all these people and all this shit into this plane. Interestingly enough the plane sitting right next to us was humongous, while the one we were loading was a little baby plane. Now I know that there was probably a million reasons, and good ones, why we were taking the little one instead of the big one. But it was just like a nice little, "up yours" from the Air Force to have to be sitting here turning this plane into a clown car while this big ass plane sat there damn near laughing at us.
Moving on, now we take off. Military planes are always fun because first of all they are built by the lowest bidder and secondly because that bidder had absolutely no concern whatsoever for whether or not you could hear after riding in this thing for an hour. I mean this mother was LOUD. Propellers going, hydraulics pumping, lights humming, and the climate control shooting you with either hot or cold air. Fun for us.
Not to mention I do believe that the plane was cocked with the ass end of the plane down and the nose up. It felt like the plane was climbing for the entire flight. It even felt that way when we were descending to land. How is that possible? But of course I was on the end of one of the rows and had about 14 soldiers plus all their shit's worth of weight bearing down on my right shoulder.
Then we get here. Where I am now. We land and are immediately shooed off the plane. Not a grand idea given that all of us had just been compacted to the size of garden gnomes with body armor and big guns and jammed onto a plane, and we had some cramping issues to deal with. I jump out the back of this plane and am immediately greeted by not only the cold but the brutal stinging wind coming off the propellers. I mean when wind can move my big ass you know its going too fast. Not to mention we are all carrying all of our shit and I look up to see...
That the damn buildings we are headed to are about 300 meters off. Why wouldn't they be. Remember, whatever sucks the most. We get a bus that pulls up to within 20 meters of the plane in Bagram, here we get some Air Force guy with his glow stick pointing that way, and saying "Start walking you'll see it".
Curiously enough, I was in a fabulous mood all day. I guess its probably because I got to talk to my mom. Hopefully someday she'll let me tell all of you about her. She's a lunatic, but she is the best mom a guy could ask for and just talking to her made my whole day.
Then after all of that we got here. I'll leave it at this because I have rambled quite enough for today. These billets have been slept in by 8 years worth of soldiers from God only knows how many countries, and it has NEVER been fucking cleaned. So it goes. But I can't complain too much. They have 24 hour MWR so I can use this computer to post this and talk to you all.
Later,
I love you mom...
November 12, 0200
Operation Combat Blue Balls: Mission is stated as follows, commanders will continually raise their soldiers expectations of the importance and imminence of their mission only to bring them right to the cusp and force them to return to their tent. To continue sitting around doing nothing. Just a playful little name we came up with for this clusterfuck.
Well where to begin. I am in someplace called Sharana or some shit like that, we just flew in about an hour ago. I am already missing Bagram.
I got to tell you though about something that happened to me this morning. I always sleep with my iPod in my ears, it plays pretty much all night, every night. So I fell asleep last night with it on shuffle. So I awoke this morning a song called "My Life To Live" By Lars Frederikson & The Bastards. The first line of that song is,
MY LIFE IS JUST LIKE A CAR CRASH.
I couldn't help but quietly chuckle to myself and say, "How fitting".
Now a recap of my day and the wonderful avalanche of douchebaggery that flowed my way today.
First we laid around all day again, after the flight line debacle that I told you about in my previous post. But around 1200 today we got the word that we were leaving at 1600. No problem, they actually gave me advance notice of what I was going to have to do. Wonderful, I can be ready and waiting for the bus when it gets here baby.
So we load up all of our shit again. Always a joyful experience. Loading an entire platoon's worth of shit once blows enough, doing it for the second time really sucks. But whatever, I am getting used to the rather large purple dildo that this unit continually shoves up our collective...you get the idea. Why is it purple? I have no idea.
So we get to the airport...again, and we unload all of our bags there and the Air Force pukes palletize them. Which basically means they stacked all of our crap on a pallet then wrapped it with plastic and tow straps.
Wait, let me back up. Everyone knows that soldiers have to wear a ton of stuff and have to carry around all sorts of shit. Weapons, body armor, tools, knives, ammunition, food, water, and whatever else the soldier deems necessary. (Cigarettes, pornography, skittles, iPod's and what not.) So when you have all this stuff on you are significantly larger that you would normally be. Now the buses that they used to transport us from the tents to the airport were the school bus kind and we are going to have to fill every single seat with 2 GI's who are loaded down with about 60 pounds of gear and have expanded a few dress sizes due to the wearing of all this shit. Now I am not bitching about this stuff, I am eternally grateful that the government has realized that keeping us alive should be a priority. But cramming us all in this bus really sucks but makes for a really funny ride.
Now everyone manages to push and shove and cram and jam their way onto the bus. Amidst this chorus of cries of pain and exclamations of "It doesn't fit there", "Get off my leg, asshole", "Who's touching my ass", "Get your hand out of there you aren't my priest." (You get the idea) Pigpen threw out a few gems that are worth sharing. Someone yelled out "I can't fit it in there", to which Pigpen replied..."Spit on it and push harder!" Almost immediately after that came this one. "It's not the right size." To which he said, "If its not the right size, just grit your teeth and close your eyes." I have said it before and I'll say it again...I flipping love this guy.
Finally, we are all in the bus and seated, sort of. You have all of us crammed right up against one another doing our best sardine impressions. Anyone who wants to move their leg has to lift the weight of the person to their left and right just to pull it off. So try to envision a platoon of soldiers literally sitting on top of each other, weapons, bags, equipment and all piled on top of them. What do they do? Do they bitch? Do they moan? Do they try to sleep? Do they fume? Do they curse the Army at the top of their lungs?
Nope, non of the above. What do we do? We sang. We sang Bohemian Rhapsody, we sang Barbie Girl, we sang I Will Survive, we sang It's Raining Men. Yeah, I said we sang Its Raining Men, what are you going to to do about it?
Don't worry ladies and gentlemen, I have video of this which will be posted once I edit it and get a reliable internet connection.
In any event, seeing a bus load of soldiers looking as pitiful as we must've looked, singing all those songs would really be a sight to see.
Where was I, the airport. We got to the airport and sat around for a few hours, got some chow, I managed to get my last post up at the USO and then we got called out to the flight line. So we loaded up into another bus. Yes it was more of the same, but you already heard that story so I will not bore you with it again.
We get out there and we pull up next to a plane that we correctly assume is the one we are going on. But they won't let us off the bus. Why? Because apparently the pallet that the Air Force made for the Air Force Plane with Air Force equipment and Air Force personnel...didn't fit in the fucking airplane. Really? You have got to be shitting me. Nope, it took them another 30 minutes of us crammed on this bus before they got the thing to fit. That's right, they left us sitting in this bus while these d-bags figured out how to fit this pallet on the plane. My compliments to the US Air Force.
Next problem. The plane has enough room for all of us, but not all of our weapons. So here's what we did. Personal weapons in your lap. Crew weapons on the floor behind the seating area, (A few hundred pounds of weapons just sitting on the floor not strapped down, Brilliant!) carry on bags hanging precariously above your head, and once again we are sitting cheek to cheek on this plane on seats that are nothing more than tow strap webbing. Good times. Even the crew chief on the plane said, "I have been doing this over here for 8 months now and I have never seen any unit do this bullshit."
Well finally after about an hour of fluffing and stuffing we manage to get all these people and all this shit into this plane. Interestingly enough the plane sitting right next to us was humongous, while the one we were loading was a little baby plane. Now I know that there was probably a million reasons, and good ones, why we were taking the little one instead of the big one. But it was just like a nice little, "up yours" from the Air Force to have to be sitting here turning this plane into a clown car while this big ass plane sat there damn near laughing at us.
Moving on, now we take off. Military planes are always fun because first of all they are built by the lowest bidder and secondly because that bidder had absolutely no concern whatsoever for whether or not you could hear after riding in this thing for an hour. I mean this mother was LOUD. Propellers going, hydraulics pumping, lights humming, and the climate control shooting you with either hot or cold air. Fun for us.
Not to mention I do believe that the plane was cocked with the ass end of the plane down and the nose up. It felt like the plane was climbing for the entire flight. It even felt that way when we were descending to land. How is that possible? But of course I was on the end of one of the rows and had about 14 soldiers plus all their shit's worth of weight bearing down on my right shoulder.
Then we get here. Where I am now. We land and are immediately shooed off the plane. Not a grand idea given that all of us had just been compacted to the size of garden gnomes with body armor and big guns and jammed onto a plane, and we had some cramping issues to deal with. I jump out the back of this plane and am immediately greeted by not only the cold but the brutal stinging wind coming off the propellers. I mean when wind can move my big ass you know its going too fast. Not to mention we are all carrying all of our shit and I look up to see...
That the damn buildings we are headed to are about 300 meters off. Why wouldn't they be. Remember, whatever sucks the most. We get a bus that pulls up to within 20 meters of the plane in Bagram, here we get some Air Force guy with his glow stick pointing that way, and saying "Start walking you'll see it".
Curiously enough, I was in a fabulous mood all day. I guess its probably because I got to talk to my mom. Hopefully someday she'll let me tell all of you about her. She's a lunatic, but she is the best mom a guy could ask for and just talking to her made my whole day.
Then after all of that we got here. I'll leave it at this because I have rambled quite enough for today. These billets have been slept in by 8 years worth of soldiers from God only knows how many countries, and it has NEVER been fucking cleaned. So it goes. But I can't complain too much. They have 24 hour MWR so I can use this computer to post this and talk to you all.
Later,
I love you mom...
Holy O' Shit, War Is Quite Boring...
So we got here to AssCrackIstan the other day, and it has been nothing but excitement. (Not really, I have been bored to tears for the most part). We have been sitting around Bagram waiting for a flight out to where we are going to spend the majority of our deployment here. Once again, I will eventually tell you where but for the time being I cannot. So it goes.
We got here and had to go through some IED training which I can appreciate. If there is one thing that terrifies me it is the thought of being blown up by some random bomb placed in the road by one of these assholes.
Other than that for like the past 3 days we have done really nothing but sleep and eat. And my good, good Lord do we get to eat. Bagram has chow halls that would put some restaurants to shame. I mean everything you could think of, chicken, burgers, beef kabobs, lasagna, spaghetti, salad, french fries, mashed potatoes, green beans, and ICE CREAM. These pricks have ice cream. (I love ice cream) You could not even tell you are in a war zone up here.
I mean they have a PX which is fantastic, they have new car sales, which made me laugh, but then I remembered buying a car here cuts all the taxes out of the equation. They have a haji shop here that sells houkas, you know the place that has the little signs on the shelves that says, "for tobacco use only". They have a cell phone place. They have a sporting goods store, they have a, they have a, they have a, you get the idea. They have everything up here. Which makes me so very happy to be going somewhere else. Not really...
Anyways, so now I am sitting here in this fucking tent that only has two temperatures. Fires of hell, and cold as penguin balls, wondering why I am still here. I, check that, we were supposed to leave this morning. But apparently, there was some sort of problem with the helicopter that was to take us to our outlying FOB. I don't really know what it was. The PNN (private news network, or more accurately the rumor mill) says that there was an equipment change that needed to happen. Is it just me or does that sound like military speak for "broken helicopter". But I digress.
Now we have been told that we could be stuck here for another 2-4 days. Its already November 10. Well I guess it could be worse, I could be getting shot at all the damn time. Oh, that reminds me of a funny story of what happened to us today. After we got up at like 2 a.m. to load all our shit, and take it out to the airfield so we could get on with this shit. We got there and found out that we had entirely too much shit and too many people for the amount of birds they had going our way. So right off the bat about 20 of us got bumped and told, ever so politely, "Get the fuck out of here, you're in the way." I was one of those 20. Then we hauled all this shit back to the tent and unloaded it and went to sleep for about an hour or so. Now bear in mind all that took from about 3 a.m. until about 10 a.m. Fun for me. Then it happened...
The sirens went off and the bullhorns started blaring some shit about an incoming attack. Nobody moved. We were all asleep. Good to know that chances are good I could probably sleep through this war if given the opportunity. We heard a few distant explosions and what not. Nothing worth getting out of bed for. Then the platoon daddy came in and told us all to get our shit and get to the nearest bunker. First thing that popped into my head was, "They have bunkers here? Where are these bunkers of which you speak?" So we all threw on our body armor and went to the nearest bunker. Thankfully, the civilians around here knew where it was. Thank God somebody does.
So I went to this bunker which was nothing more than an inverted concrete "U" placed on the ground. I sat underneath this thing smoking and playing the name game while this bullhorn kept blaring every 5 minutes that there was an incoming attack. "Yes we got it, just let me know when I can go back to bed"
Well if nothing else I can say that I took incoming fire. Not really, like I said, War is boring. Especially fighting with these chicken shits that we got. Fire off a rocket, or mortar or two and then they run away. I guess I can't blame them, I would probably do the same if I was up against us. But it doesn't change the fact that they are a very boring enemy to fight. I should probably be happy. I imagine the guys from WWII and Vietnam would've traded wars with me any day. But still, this deployment has been one big bag of ass thus far. So it goes, with a commander like we got who could expect anything more.
Finally, something that...I really don't know what it did yet but I will let you know as soon as I know. The first morning we were here we had to get up ass crack early and I went out to smoke just as the sun was rising behind the mountains nearby. Now with all of the jet fuel, helicopter fumes, smoke, pollution, burnt shit, and everything else that is in the air around this hole. It made the sky the most beautiful shade of red I have ever seen. Couple that with the clouds and the streams of smoke left by the jets that take off every second or two hear and you have the recipe for one of the prettiest sunrises one could ever hope to see. I couldn't help thinking, "It is truly amazing that something so very beautiful could be seen in someplace so truly terrible."
So it goes.
Later,
I love you mom...
We got here and had to go through some IED training which I can appreciate. If there is one thing that terrifies me it is the thought of being blown up by some random bomb placed in the road by one of these assholes.
Other than that for like the past 3 days we have done really nothing but sleep and eat. And my good, good Lord do we get to eat. Bagram has chow halls that would put some restaurants to shame. I mean everything you could think of, chicken, burgers, beef kabobs, lasagna, spaghetti, salad, french fries, mashed potatoes, green beans, and ICE CREAM. These pricks have ice cream. (I love ice cream) You could not even tell you are in a war zone up here.
I mean they have a PX which is fantastic, they have new car sales, which made me laugh, but then I remembered buying a car here cuts all the taxes out of the equation. They have a haji shop here that sells houkas, you know the place that has the little signs on the shelves that says, "for tobacco use only". They have a cell phone place. They have a sporting goods store, they have a, they have a, they have a, you get the idea. They have everything up here. Which makes me so very happy to be going somewhere else. Not really...
Anyways, so now I am sitting here in this fucking tent that only has two temperatures. Fires of hell, and cold as penguin balls, wondering why I am still here. I, check that, we were supposed to leave this morning. But apparently, there was some sort of problem with the helicopter that was to take us to our outlying FOB. I don't really know what it was. The PNN (private news network, or more accurately the rumor mill) says that there was an equipment change that needed to happen. Is it just me or does that sound like military speak for "broken helicopter". But I digress.
Now we have been told that we could be stuck here for another 2-4 days. Its already November 10. Well I guess it could be worse, I could be getting shot at all the damn time. Oh, that reminds me of a funny story of what happened to us today. After we got up at like 2 a.m. to load all our shit, and take it out to the airfield so we could get on with this shit. We got there and found out that we had entirely too much shit and too many people for the amount of birds they had going our way. So right off the bat about 20 of us got bumped and told, ever so politely, "Get the fuck out of here, you're in the way." I was one of those 20. Then we hauled all this shit back to the tent and unloaded it and went to sleep for about an hour or so. Now bear in mind all that took from about 3 a.m. until about 10 a.m. Fun for me. Then it happened...
The sirens went off and the bullhorns started blaring some shit about an incoming attack. Nobody moved. We were all asleep. Good to know that chances are good I could probably sleep through this war if given the opportunity. We heard a few distant explosions and what not. Nothing worth getting out of bed for. Then the platoon daddy came in and told us all to get our shit and get to the nearest bunker. First thing that popped into my head was, "They have bunkers here? Where are these bunkers of which you speak?" So we all threw on our body armor and went to the nearest bunker. Thankfully, the civilians around here knew where it was. Thank God somebody does.
So I went to this bunker which was nothing more than an inverted concrete "U" placed on the ground. I sat underneath this thing smoking and playing the name game while this bullhorn kept blaring every 5 minutes that there was an incoming attack. "Yes we got it, just let me know when I can go back to bed"
Well if nothing else I can say that I took incoming fire. Not really, like I said, War is boring. Especially fighting with these chicken shits that we got. Fire off a rocket, or mortar or two and then they run away. I guess I can't blame them, I would probably do the same if I was up against us. But it doesn't change the fact that they are a very boring enemy to fight. I should probably be happy. I imagine the guys from WWII and Vietnam would've traded wars with me any day. But still, this deployment has been one big bag of ass thus far. So it goes, with a commander like we got who could expect anything more.
Finally, something that...I really don't know what it did yet but I will let you know as soon as I know. The first morning we were here we had to get up ass crack early and I went out to smoke just as the sun was rising behind the mountains nearby. Now with all of the jet fuel, helicopter fumes, smoke, pollution, burnt shit, and everything else that is in the air around this hole. It made the sky the most beautiful shade of red I have ever seen. Couple that with the clouds and the streams of smoke left by the jets that take off every second or two hear and you have the recipe for one of the prettiest sunrises one could ever hope to see. I couldn't help thinking, "It is truly amazing that something so very beautiful could be seen in someplace so truly terrible."
So it goes.
Later,
I love you mom...
Nov 5, 2008
Hello, Mr. Polish Man, I Like Your Hat, Not To Mention Obama Won...
So I begin today with a little bounce in my step because I got to see Obama win this little election of ours. Nice... Makes me so very happy. Not to mention I get to sit here and give Pigpen a rash of shit about it for the next four years.
And what does my friend Pigpen have to say about all of this. Well, he says, and I quote, "While you guys are having a love in, I am going to go and nuke a gay whale for Jesus." Apparently you cannot get any more right wing than that, and Pigpen is having a hard time dealing with his new boss.
Ah, but before I get too far into this let me explain the title. "Hello Mr. Polish Man, I like your hat." Well this is in reference to all the Polish soldiers that are here with us waiting to go to Afghanistan. Now the US Army has a uniformity standard. We all have to look the same, all the time. Kind of a 1984 meets your wardrobe kind of thing. Apparently, the Polish army does not have such strict standards. The Polish wear some of the weirdest hats I have ever seen. Some wear berets that are like infant sized, some wear boonie hats that are a kind of eastern European crocodile dundee thing. These guys are awesome, they walk around to smoke, and shower and what not, totally in their tighty whitey's. Not that I like to see Polish men in their skivvies but it just makes me laugh that I would never walk around if I didn't look just like everyone else. These guys just don't seem to give a shit. Not to mention one of them has a "Mo-mullet" I mean it is half mohawk and half mullet. It's a beautiful thing. And last but certainly not least there are the chin pubes. Yes that's right, chin pubes. The Polish soldiers, or at least every third one seems to have pubes growing out of their chin's in kind of a pre-pubescent ZZ Top sort of thing. And I have to be clean shaven every morning. I am so friggin jealous.
Moving on, I may not be writing for a few days or weeks, I don't know. I take that back, I will be writing but I don't know if I will be able to post. I don't know what kind of internet we are going to have at the FOB. So I leave you in the care and good graces of the Lord.
Lastly, thank sweet merciful God Obama won. Now I can give all the Republicans here a huge amount of shit. Which makes me happy. Not to mention all the guys back at "the bar" especially you Paulie and Tony, how you like them apples, baby.
But anyways, things will be getting real, real soon so stay tuned. Up to this point this blog has been driven by my rather adolescent sense of humor. It's about to get driven by the absolute lunacy that is war. So sit back, relax, embrace the suck of it all and keep on reading.
Later,
I love you mom...
And what does my friend Pigpen have to say about all of this. Well, he says, and I quote, "While you guys are having a love in, I am going to go and nuke a gay whale for Jesus." Apparently you cannot get any more right wing than that, and Pigpen is having a hard time dealing with his new boss.
Ah, but before I get too far into this let me explain the title. "Hello Mr. Polish Man, I like your hat." Well this is in reference to all the Polish soldiers that are here with us waiting to go to Afghanistan. Now the US Army has a uniformity standard. We all have to look the same, all the time. Kind of a 1984 meets your wardrobe kind of thing. Apparently, the Polish army does not have such strict standards. The Polish wear some of the weirdest hats I have ever seen. Some wear berets that are like infant sized, some wear boonie hats that are a kind of eastern European crocodile dundee thing. These guys are awesome, they walk around to smoke, and shower and what not, totally in their tighty whitey's. Not that I like to see Polish men in their skivvies but it just makes me laugh that I would never walk around if I didn't look just like everyone else. These guys just don't seem to give a shit. Not to mention one of them has a "Mo-mullet" I mean it is half mohawk and half mullet. It's a beautiful thing. And last but certainly not least there are the chin pubes. Yes that's right, chin pubes. The Polish soldiers, or at least every third one seems to have pubes growing out of their chin's in kind of a pre-pubescent ZZ Top sort of thing. And I have to be clean shaven every morning. I am so friggin jealous.
Moving on, I may not be writing for a few days or weeks, I don't know. I take that back, I will be writing but I don't know if I will be able to post. I don't know what kind of internet we are going to have at the FOB. So I leave you in the care and good graces of the Lord.
Lastly, thank sweet merciful God Obama won. Now I can give all the Republicans here a huge amount of shit. Which makes me happy. Not to mention all the guys back at "the bar" especially you Paulie and Tony, how you like them apples, baby.
But anyways, things will be getting real, real soon so stay tuned. Up to this point this blog has been driven by my rather adolescent sense of humor. It's about to get driven by the absolute lunacy that is war. So sit back, relax, embrace the suck of it all and keep on reading.
Later,
I love you mom...
Nov 3, 2008
A Line Of Angry, Smelly Joes Walks Into A Bar...
and doesn't get to drink a damn thing. That is what I am currently contending with. Lot's of fun. Everyone here is smelling like an anchovie's asshole due to the fact that the locals who clean the bathrooms choose the most inopportune times to clean them. As soon as everyone is awake and as soon as everyone wants to go to bed they decide that those are the times they are going to spend an hour disinfecting our bathing areas. Oh Joy. So I figured I would come down here and write about my hygiene misadventures and blow off a little steam.
And as far as the bar thing and drinking goes, we are on an Air Force base. The Air Force is notorious for treating their people well. The Army and the Marines will always insist that they coddle their people and treat them like little furry teddy bears, which to a point may be true. But those of us on the receiving end of Army bullshit tend to believe that the Air Force simply treats their people like...well people. Which is a totally foreign idea to anything green. So it goes. So the bar works like this, the Air Force guys can pretty much drink as much as they want. The signs say two beers per day, but if the state of inebriation that I saw that airman in last night was any indication apparently there are ways around that little rule. But the wonderful Army does not allow us to imbibe any alcoholic beverages of any kind. So we just get to sit there and watch the Air Force guys have all the fun. That and the Air Force has always had the hottest chicks. Once again, so it goes. I had a one if four shot of picking the right one when I enlisted and I lost that little lottery.
I at least got to spend all of yesterday basically jacking around and looking at all the nifty little local shops that have set themselves up here on post and are selling GI's the usual fare for entirely too much cash, and it makes me laugh that regardless of how bad our economy is they all still want American money. Interesting.
Well that being said, we are another day closer. We finally got notified of when we were actually going to be in country and that is depressing. I would tell you, but of course then I would have to kill you, and given the fact that apparently I have a reader in Siberia I don't want to have to burn all that money on cab fare, I'll just keep it to myself.
This morning we got a wonderful talk from our platoon sergeant about getting our minds right for the battle we are about to join. At the beginning it was a good talk, you know. He covered things like training and keeping on top of your weapons and keeping yourself clean and what not. But then he went off the deep end. He started telling us that we should begin the practice of taking "battle shits"
Yes ladies and gentlemen, I was advised this morning by a man charged with leading an entire platoon into battle, that I should make sure to force a movement prior to any mission with likely enemy contact. Really? Military leaders throughout history have been making inspiring speeches to their men in order to motivate them to face the most terrifying situations and the most harrowing odds and overcome all of that. What do I get? "Battle Shit" You have got to be fucking kidding me. I just sat outside, where it is balls cold, and listened to my platoon sergeant espouse the merits of the pre-battle bowel movement! Now I could go on forever about this, but am I the only one who would think that a leader would have better things to think about than the condition of his troops underwear if they ever were to come into close combat with the enemy. But I digress.
Moving on. I met a guy last night. Probably not the best way for a heterosexual male to begin a sentence but whatever. And this was one of those guys that just makes you feel lazy. Turns out that he is my age. However, instead of being a lowly joe like me, he is a flight surgeon. Which sounds a lot to me like a guy who operates on people while they are flying. Where you find people that can fly who need surgery, I have no idea, nor did I know there were enough of them to need doctors. (Alright, bad joke)
But on top of that he is like a marathon runner and all that sort of shit. I get tired driving past a gym. But whatever, screw that guy. Anyways, people like that who have had the same amount of time on this earth and yet have managed to do that much more than me, just piss me off.
With that I am going to go, Pigpen is getting antsy because his computer will not work, so until next time.
Later,
I love you mom...
And as far as the bar thing and drinking goes, we are on an Air Force base. The Air Force is notorious for treating their people well. The Army and the Marines will always insist that they coddle their people and treat them like little furry teddy bears, which to a point may be true. But those of us on the receiving end of Army bullshit tend to believe that the Air Force simply treats their people like...well people. Which is a totally foreign idea to anything green. So it goes. So the bar works like this, the Air Force guys can pretty much drink as much as they want. The signs say two beers per day, but if the state of inebriation that I saw that airman in last night was any indication apparently there are ways around that little rule. But the wonderful Army does not allow us to imbibe any alcoholic beverages of any kind. So we just get to sit there and watch the Air Force guys have all the fun. That and the Air Force has always had the hottest chicks. Once again, so it goes. I had a one if four shot of picking the right one when I enlisted and I lost that little lottery.
I at least got to spend all of yesterday basically jacking around and looking at all the nifty little local shops that have set themselves up here on post and are selling GI's the usual fare for entirely too much cash, and it makes me laugh that regardless of how bad our economy is they all still want American money. Interesting.
Well that being said, we are another day closer. We finally got notified of when we were actually going to be in country and that is depressing. I would tell you, but of course then I would have to kill you, and given the fact that apparently I have a reader in Siberia I don't want to have to burn all that money on cab fare, I'll just keep it to myself.
This morning we got a wonderful talk from our platoon sergeant about getting our minds right for the battle we are about to join. At the beginning it was a good talk, you know. He covered things like training and keeping on top of your weapons and keeping yourself clean and what not. But then he went off the deep end. He started telling us that we should begin the practice of taking "battle shits"
Yes ladies and gentlemen, I was advised this morning by a man charged with leading an entire platoon into battle, that I should make sure to force a movement prior to any mission with likely enemy contact. Really? Military leaders throughout history have been making inspiring speeches to their men in order to motivate them to face the most terrifying situations and the most harrowing odds and overcome all of that. What do I get? "Battle Shit" You have got to be fucking kidding me. I just sat outside, where it is balls cold, and listened to my platoon sergeant espouse the merits of the pre-battle bowel movement! Now I could go on forever about this, but am I the only one who would think that a leader would have better things to think about than the condition of his troops underwear if they ever were to come into close combat with the enemy. But I digress.
Moving on. I met a guy last night. Probably not the best way for a heterosexual male to begin a sentence but whatever. And this was one of those guys that just makes you feel lazy. Turns out that he is my age. However, instead of being a lowly joe like me, he is a flight surgeon. Which sounds a lot to me like a guy who operates on people while they are flying. Where you find people that can fly who need surgery, I have no idea, nor did I know there were enough of them to need doctors. (Alright, bad joke)
But on top of that he is like a marathon runner and all that sort of shit. I get tired driving past a gym. But whatever, screw that guy. Anyways, people like that who have had the same amount of time on this earth and yet have managed to do that much more than me, just piss me off.
With that I am going to go, Pigpen is getting antsy because his computer will not work, so until next time.
Later,
I love you mom...
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