I know the title sounds almost laughable.
But think about it.
Here's how I think any soldier, sailor, airman, or marine would define "embrace the suck" if you asked him or her.
Embrace The Suck: A sometimes polite, possibly even forceful reminder from one troop to another that this life of theirs sucks and you only have two choices. Embrace it, or roll over and die.
I was fortunate enough to find a definition in the Urban dictionary that fits also...
Often used by NCO's in the military. The term would be used when an individual or a group must complete a task that is pointless, tiring, and/or lame.
NCO: Hey gather up, we need to mow the grass before we are released today.
Soldier: That's bullshit, we had all day to do that.
NCO: Well then just embrace the suck and get it done.
So since the article hit the paper, I've been having entirely too much fun. I have pretty much been drunk for 2 and a half weeks now. Minus a few 14-16 hour snoozes, I have been intoxicated for the duration. So that's about the only update I can really give you because I don't remember between 80 and 90 percent of the past few weeks. And what I do, I am unsure as to whether or not my recollections are accurate or not.
Moving on from that, what the hell am I talking about here?
Embrace the suck as a philosophy of life!
I can't tell you how many times (mostly from drunkenness) that I've been presented with a situation and thought of embracing the suck of it all.
Some examples,
I'm running out of cash...Embrace the suck!
Gotta go back to work tomorrow...Embrace the suck!
Gotta buy an overpriced POS car...Embrace the suck!
Heard a car backfire and dove for cover...Embrace the suck!
Had to deal with some jackass drunk at the bar...Embrace the suck!
Women are a pain in the ass...Embrace the suck!
Everyone wants to see you all at once...Embrace the suck!
Even though all I want is to be alone...Embrace the suck!
And they get pissed if you don't do what they want...Embrace the suck!
Sox are losing every other game...Embrace the suck!
Packers beat the Bears...Embrace the suck!
Gotta get out of the mom's house...Embrace the suck!
Cigarettes cost a shit ton here...Embrace the suck!
Some guy just asked me if I had killed anyone over there...Embrace the suck!
I could go on and on.
But for all of our sanity's sake I will not.
Afghanistan is still as crystal clear in my mind as the keyboard in front me. I see it in all its suckiness. And I see the world through that lens now. Whether I like it or not. And let me tell you I don't like it one bit.
Funny part is, none of the previously listed things even came close to bothering me. It used to be that when my checking account was getting a little low I would go into a fit of anxiety. If the Bears lost to the Packers, my whole week was shot. When I couldn't accommodate people I would feel horrible.
I guess I may have learned to embrace the suck. Wait, there is no guessing. I did learn to embrace the suck.
So I've been forming that one little phrase into the baseline for my entire outlook on the world. At first I didn't really think it could be that profound. But the more that I think about it the more it works.
I'll steal one from Dennis Miller here, but its true. "Life is just one protracted episode of getting kicked in the nuts with one thing or another."
That being said, life in all its glory and all its suck needs to be embraced. Better open them arms and get ready to give it a hug!
So where am I going with this...who knows, who cares? I don't. I just love writing and am going to keep right on doing it whether anyone reads it or not. What am I going to write about? The world through a pair of suck colored spectacles!!!
Stay tuned, lets see how it looks...
Later,
I love you Mom...
Sep 21, 2009
Sep 12, 2009
Boy, Do I Clean Up Good...
Alright ladies and gents, due to this article I was in along with a steady stream of people telling me to make a book out of this thing I decided to clean everything up and make this blog presentable.
Haha, yeah right!
I'm going to sanitize out everything that could potentially get me into hot water. I don't think I did anything wrong, nor did I reveal any sensitive information. My crime was aggravating officers. Which I will not apologize for.
So I just started with my first 5 posts today, scrubbed them clean. And will be reposting them as I go. Don't worry, the sarcasm will still be there, the reality will still be there, the humor will still be there, and unfortunately for my mother the profanity will still be there.
I figure this will take me about 2 weeks of work to complete.
But it will enable me to take the blog public again. Then everyone can read every word.
And I hope they do!
Later,
I love you Mom...
Haha, yeah right!
I'm going to sanitize out everything that could potentially get me into hot water. I don't think I did anything wrong, nor did I reveal any sensitive information. My crime was aggravating officers. Which I will not apologize for.
So I just started with my first 5 posts today, scrubbed them clean. And will be reposting them as I go. Don't worry, the sarcasm will still be there, the reality will still be there, the humor will still be there, and unfortunately for my mother the profanity will still be there.
I figure this will take me about 2 weeks of work to complete.
But it will enable me to take the blog public again. Then everyone can read every word.
And I hope they do!
Later,
I love you Mom...
Sep 8, 2009
Finally Made The Big Time...
Well here it is...
NY TIMES ARTICLE
Just thought you all might like to read it.
Later,
I love you Mom...
NY TIMES ARTICLE
Just thought you all might like to read it.
Later,
I love you Mom...
Sep 1, 2009
I Kissed My Mom Today...
So I got home today. As you can see from the video that I posted prior to writing this. I wrote this several months back as a kind of goodbye for this blog. But I don’t think I am going to be able to call it a day. I still have a lot to say and I still have a lot of living left to do. Not to mention I still have about 9 years or so to go in Ole’ Uncle Sam’s Mean Green Machine before I can retire so I think there will be plenty of stories worth telling. So this is the prelude to my final post. Or at least the final post that was written in the “suck”.
I’m going to keep writing, but for right now I have to scrub up everything I have written up until this point so that I can publish it on the net for all to see. God only knows how long that will take me.
But all this last year, every bit of shit that I went through, all the explosions, all the bullets, all the bullshit, all the insanity, all the stupidity, all the heartache, all the pain...led up to that moment when I stepped on the ground, looked out into a sea of bloodshot and tear glazed eyes, and found my family. There are no words to describe what its like to see your loved ones again after something like this so I won’t even try.
Suffice it to say...I kissed my mom today!
And everything after this is the post I wrote that would’ve been posted had I met my demise in Afghanistan...stay tuned, I’m not done just yet!
Don’t Rely On The Sword, Because Your Words Will Outlive Even Time...
If you are reading this and there isn’t a prelude above the title that means that I have been killed in Afghanistan, or died, who knows, I sure as hell don’t I haven’t died yet. But that is no matter.
I already gave the responsibility for posting this to my cousin Kenny. Hows that for a good relative? Hey pal, just in case I die, keep this saved on your computer so that we can tell all the people who read my blog that I am dead! Real good, Dan! Well at least I can use my name now because I am dead and as such anyone who wants to can get pissed about what I write, or they can try and steal my social security number and run up some credit card debt. I don’t care, because once again, if you are reading this I am dead.
So what do I want to tell all of you? I have no fucking idea! I mean these are kind of like words from the grave, right? Which is kind of creepy. But I digress.
Whatever this is, I guess it can only be a long, drawn out, exceedingly depressing goodbye. We sure had some fun, didn’t we. I started writing this blog, then shortly thereafter a lot of people started to read it, then I got into trouble, I took the whole thing private, now I’m dead, my cousin has made it all public again and you all get to read my final sayonara.
So why did I come here in the first place? Well Afghanistan was the war that I got, so I came. There is no other way of putting it. Had I been born in another generation, I would’ve gone to Vietnam, or Korea, or Europe, or the Pacific, or wherever. Its just part of who I am. I can’t stand the idea of anything big happening that I am not a part of.
I volunteered for this deployment. So that makes two times I am a dumb ass. First time, when I volunteered to join this man’s Army. Second time, when I volunteered for this deployment. Painful as it may be for me to admit, my intelligence level is obviously questionable.
Regardless of any of that, I came here, I did what the military told me to do, I served honorably but without distinction. I don’t know which really smart guy said it, but someone once said, “All that can be asked of a man is that he do his duty, no more, no less.” So I can check that one off my list of things to do. Better yet, someone set fire to that list of things to do, I’m dead there will be no more things to do. All I have to do now is lay there.
I have to say though, this has been a lot of fun for me. This blog has provided me with endless hours of entertainment, not to mention the ego boost of knowing that people actually liked reading my words. I know its true, they told me so. The only wish I really had was that I could’ve kept this whole thing public so that everyone could have enjoyed my take on what was going on here. However, military rules, and the rather sensitive ego’s of shit bag officers precluded me from doing that. But I got the last word, even if I had to email it in. So fuck them.
Now that I am dead, how do I want to be remembered? I don’t really care, I’m dead. But given the fact that I am writing this, which means at this particular Moment I am very much alive, this is how I would like to be thought of...
Remember me as I am. Don’t remember the idealized version of me. You know the one, where you go to a funeral and everyone spouts off about what a great person this was and blah, blah, blah. Even though a good half of the living people in the room despised the prick. I don’t want that. I want an honest remembrance.
Let’s be honest. I was profane. I was obnoxious. I was a bit of an asshole from time to time. I drank too much. I smoked WAY too much. (Ha, at least I didn’t die of cancer!) I was a little loose in my dealings with women. I could be selfish. I could be destructive. I could be downright mean at times. Lord knows, I have told a lie or two.
However, (now that I am done beating my dead ass up) I loved my family. I loved my friends. I loved my country. I loved my comrades in arms. I served my country. I took care of my family as best I could. I made my living as honestly as any man ever could. I never took anything that wasn’t mine. I made sacrifices for the good of my nation. I believed down to my last breath in the God of my parents. To my God, my country, my service, my family, my friends and to myself, I did my duty.
During my life I always believed that someday I was going to die, and when that happened I would have to stand face to face with God. And on that day I would have to answer for my life. I think I’ll be able to look God dead in the eye and say, “Yep, that was my life. I lived the best way that I knew how. I didn’t always do the right thing, but who does. I might have been a little rough around the edges, but the inside was always good. If you’ve got a place for me here, that’d be nice. But if you don’t you won’t hear anything out of me. I’ll take what I’ve got coming. I won’t make any apologies or excuses for the life I lived.”
Well now that we’ve gotten past the whole existential, heaven and hell portion of this, let’s get on to the rest of it.
The title of this reflects a line from an “O.A.R.” song entitled “James”. “Don’t rely on the sword, because your words will outlive even time.” I think that maybe that is part of the reason that I wrote this whole thing. Is it possible that in some small measure the words that I wrote here will outlive me? Yep, that’s already true because you are reading this and I am dead. So how does it feel to be talking to a dead guy? Anyone who has, or will read this noticed that I wrote every bit of this as if I were talking to someone. Its been a rather one sided conversation, but most conversations with me were one sided. That whole obnoxiousness thing again.
I learned a few things while I have been here. Most of them have been covered, in exhaustive detail, in previous posts, so lets not rehash all that shit. What is the most important thing that I learned here. That words are more powerful than the sword. Why? Because the use of the words is a precursor to the use of the sword. I am not talking about all this Islam vs. The west bullshit that is going on over here. I am talking so much bigger than that. Words have the ability to change the way people think. For better, and for worse. Words are the basis of religion, of government, of law, of society, or relationships, of civilization. Written or spoken, it doesn’t matter. Words are the difference between human beings and animals. Words are what allow us to further our lives and progress in our societies.
Unfortunately, they are also instruments of destruction. They can reduce ideas to nothing more than orders. They can reduce religious believers to terrorists. They can reduce the minds of people to nothing more than automatons. They can reduce a society to a dictatorship. They can reduce relationships to slavery. They can reduce laws to oppression. They can reduce governments to regimes. They can reduce societies to herds of cattle.
So all that being said, they can either reduce or uplift. Two directions only, ladies and gentlemen. Up or down. Black or white. Right or wrong.
This is what I have. These are my words. At times, I have not chosen my words carefully. For this I am sorry. I guess that is one of the few regrets that I have. I have used words that were specifically designed to injure people. I have used words before I gave them adequate forethought. I have written and said things while I was insanely angry. I have written and said things while incredibly depressed. I have written and said things while disillusioned. All these things cloud my reason and lessen my ability to think. This is the only real advice I could ever give anyone, don’t ever say or write anything when you cannot think clearly. Say what you like, write what you like, be as you are, but always think your way through whatever you are writing or saying. These words that you use, can injure, they can uplift, they can convey love, they can induce hate, they can do all these things. Regardless of what they do, they will outlast your life. Your words will echo long after you are dead. So consider them carefully.
So where does that leave us. You, well it leaves you wherever you are. Me, on the other hand, it leaves 6 feet under pushing up daisies. Actually in my case it leaves me burnt to a crisp in an urn on a mantle somewhere. You see it all amounts to a whole bunch of nothing when its all said and done. The only thing that is left is the words. Which, given that I have a word processing program that counts the number of words, is presently sitting at 169,541. God only knows where it will be when I am done. That’s a whole lot of bullshit. That’s a whole lot of words. And I am writing this on April 1, 2009. Seems kind of fitting that I would write my end to the blog and to my life right in the middle of all the fun and on April Fool’s Day no less.
What do I want you to think of this war? Quite frankly I couldn’t care less what you think of this war. I am not even sure what I think of this war. I have been part of endless missions, a whole shit ton of IED attacks, a handful of firefights, and a whole lot of suck. On the other side of the coin are all the good things I got to do here. I got to flip a kid enough money to feed his family for a month, but it only takes me about 45 minutes to make. I got to take care of a few dogs. I got to hand out a mountain of humanitarian aid. I got to see the look on the kids faces when you threw them candy, and pop, and what not. I may even have made a difference in this country. Then again I may not have made a difference. I don’t know. How could I, I am just one lonely soldier in this mountain of bullshit. But I still had hope. So maybe that is the only thing I could say about this war. Regardless of what happened, I never really lost hope. There is something good that we could do here. Whether we are actually doing that good thing is another matter entirely. Hopefully, someone will figure out what the good is, and then do it. Unfortunately, I don’t have any good advice for them. Except this, remember the words, there are only two directions, up and down. So choose them wisely.
What do I want you to think of me? Once again, don’t really care. But I do hope that at least of the few of the things that I have said over this past year or however long it may or may not have been, have been words that have affected you in some way. Good or bad, any effect is better than none. Like I said, I don’t really care what you think of me, I would much rather that you think.
If I were to give any piece of advice to new soldiers going to Afghanistan, it would be this. This is not like any war you have ever seen on any television screen or computer monitor. I guess the only thing you could call this is a low intensity conflict. The bad guys hit you with IED’s that they hide in the ground, they hit you from distant mountaintops, and they use the people and their needs against you. The chances of you ever seeing a high intensity firefight with a known enemy that you can see, are remote. You’ll get here, and your truck will explode and there will be no one around. You’ll get shot at, and you won’t see anything but far off muzzle flashes. You’ll take fire from a village and the culprit will melt into the local populace and you’ll never see him again. Mortar rounds will fall on your head at random, and by the time you figure out where they were coming from the shooters will already be gone, and that’s if they weren’t set on a timer. You’ll see a mirror flash in the mountains 2000 meters away, and then a bomb will go off right in the middle of the road and by the time you look up again, the guy with the mirror will be gone. That is what you are going to see here. There is no John Wayne hero shit going on in Afghanistan. The best you can hope for is that you can make a difference in some small measure in the lives of the Afghanis around you. The Army terms this “winning hearts and minds”. Well, then we have an awful lot of catching up to do, because we are way behind in this contest for their hearts and minds. There is no doubt that you, as a dog face soldier, are the one who is going to have to score the points to get us back in this game. I wish I could tell you that this war was going to be won easily, and American military superiority would carry the day. I wish that I could tell you that there is a simple solution to all of this mess, and the fact that our guns are bigger and there are more of them, would make this war simple. That is just not the case.
You are dealing with a culture that is different than anything you have ever seen before. Afghanistan isn’t even really a country if you ask me. Its a collection of warring tribes. Tribal and familial loyalties run deeper here than any love of country. Which makes everything all the more difficult. You cannot trust any of the government agencies or their personnel, but you will still have to work with, and in some cases for them. So watch your ass with that.
You will see some strange things here. I wish I could explain all of them to you, but that would ruin the fun of you coming over here. Suffice it to say that you will spend the first month or two wondering if you are still on earth.
The language barrier is another one. Learn as much Pashtu as you can, or if you are in one of the Dari areas learn as much of that as you can. Don’t worry, if you show a sincere interest in learning the terps will be happy to teach you. Remember what I said about words, and here, whether you like it or not, you have to use theirs.
Culture is another one. Their culture is completely different than ours. When you drive through villages the first thing you will notice is that apparently there are no women in Afghanistan. Patriarchal culture at its finest. You will learn things like not to touch any woman over the age of twelve because if you do, they will kill her for being contaminated by the infidels. You will also hear the prayer call 5 times a day, or whatever it is. Not to mention it will probably spook you a little when you hear the 1900 call, because it will be dark and its a little creepy. Just remember, walk softly. This is their land. These people, if properly treated, will help you. They will tell you where to find the Taliban. They will tell you where the IED’s are. They will assist you, if they believe you will help and protect them. Enough said on that.
Finally, try not to let the things that happen to you color your opinion of these people. They are not all Taliban or al Qaeda. I’m telling you right now, the first time you get blown up, you are going to want to slaughter each and every one of these motherfuckers. Well, first of all, if you don’t want to see the inside of a prison cell, don’t do that. Secondly, they aren’t all trying to kill you. In fact, most of them just want to live. Same as you, they just want to live, work, feed their kids, raise them, worship, and do what everyone else does. The part that sucks is that they live here, and they have to deal with these Taliban and al Qaeda fucks coming in here and screwing everything up. So don’t blame all for the actions of some.
However, and this will be hard to reconcile with what the Army feeds you, but there isn’t a thing in this country worth dying for. None of these people, none of these missions, none of it, is worth dying for. The only thing that warrants that kind of sacrifice is the soldier next to you. Your job is simple, get you and all your boys home. Preferably in one piece, but if that is not possible, breathing. That is the only thing you need to do. Don’t be one of these guys that wants to run into this country and slay the huns and save the world. It’s just not possible. Don’t chase your CAB either. Don’t go out looking for a fight, it’ll come to you eventually. If you can go home without your Combat Action Badge that means you accomplished the only real job you ever had and that was getting you and your boys home safely to your families.
Last piece of advice I will give is this. Whatever happens, regardless of how many times you blow up, regardless of how many firefights you get into, regardless of how many mortar rounds land right next to your piss tubes, don’t tell your Mom or family. Every time you call home make sure that everything is sunshine, puppy dogs and ice cream. Tell them you are in Bagram and nothing ever happens there. You can tell all the war stories you want when you get home, but this is hard enough on your mother and your family without you making it worse by telling them what a badass you are. That is a mistake that I made, and I will never forgive myself for making this whole ordeal harder on my family.
So hopefully that helps. Think about it.
Finally I would like to say thanks to all the people that have read my words. I picked up quite a few new friends along the way while this thing was still public. I can’t tell you how much you all mean to me. Just for the simple fact that you made sure that I knew that someone was hearing me. I told you many times that I used this blog as therapy. You have seen how many times my state of mind swung from one end of the spectrum to the other. Had I not been able to at least write about it, my head may very well have exploded. So thank you for keeping my head from exploding.
In any case, I am gone now. I lived as best I could, I served as best I could, and now I am dead. Don’t bother shedding any tears for me, death is a part of life. We all have to do it sooner or later, my time just came a bit sooner and was hustled along by my own choices. Choices for which I have no regrets. As Mr. Sinatra once said, “I did it my way.”
I sincerely hope that this war is won. Whatever that means. I sincerely hope that my words have helped, or made a difference in some way. I wish all the best for all of you who read this, to hell with anyone else. (Kidding)
And with that, I am done, but to my family I say...You’re going to be fine, you are all going to be just fine.
To everyone else I say...
Later, its been a blast.
And as always and forever,
I love you Mom...
I’m going to keep writing, but for right now I have to scrub up everything I have written up until this point so that I can publish it on the net for all to see. God only knows how long that will take me.
But all this last year, every bit of shit that I went through, all the explosions, all the bullets, all the bullshit, all the insanity, all the stupidity, all the heartache, all the pain...led up to that moment when I stepped on the ground, looked out into a sea of bloodshot and tear glazed eyes, and found my family. There are no words to describe what its like to see your loved ones again after something like this so I won’t even try.
Suffice it to say...I kissed my mom today!
And everything after this is the post I wrote that would’ve been posted had I met my demise in Afghanistan...stay tuned, I’m not done just yet!
Don’t Rely On The Sword, Because Your Words Will Outlive Even Time...
If you are reading this and there isn’t a prelude above the title that means that I have been killed in Afghanistan, or died, who knows, I sure as hell don’t I haven’t died yet. But that is no matter.
I already gave the responsibility for posting this to my cousin Kenny. Hows that for a good relative? Hey pal, just in case I die, keep this saved on your computer so that we can tell all the people who read my blog that I am dead! Real good, Dan! Well at least I can use my name now because I am dead and as such anyone who wants to can get pissed about what I write, or they can try and steal my social security number and run up some credit card debt. I don’t care, because once again, if you are reading this I am dead.
So what do I want to tell all of you? I have no fucking idea! I mean these are kind of like words from the grave, right? Which is kind of creepy. But I digress.
Whatever this is, I guess it can only be a long, drawn out, exceedingly depressing goodbye. We sure had some fun, didn’t we. I started writing this blog, then shortly thereafter a lot of people started to read it, then I got into trouble, I took the whole thing private, now I’m dead, my cousin has made it all public again and you all get to read my final sayonara.
So why did I come here in the first place? Well Afghanistan was the war that I got, so I came. There is no other way of putting it. Had I been born in another generation, I would’ve gone to Vietnam, or Korea, or Europe, or the Pacific, or wherever. Its just part of who I am. I can’t stand the idea of anything big happening that I am not a part of.
I volunteered for this deployment. So that makes two times I am a dumb ass. First time, when I volunteered to join this man’s Army. Second time, when I volunteered for this deployment. Painful as it may be for me to admit, my intelligence level is obviously questionable.
Regardless of any of that, I came here, I did what the military told me to do, I served honorably but without distinction. I don’t know which really smart guy said it, but someone once said, “All that can be asked of a man is that he do his duty, no more, no less.” So I can check that one off my list of things to do. Better yet, someone set fire to that list of things to do, I’m dead there will be no more things to do. All I have to do now is lay there.
I have to say though, this has been a lot of fun for me. This blog has provided me with endless hours of entertainment, not to mention the ego boost of knowing that people actually liked reading my words. I know its true, they told me so. The only wish I really had was that I could’ve kept this whole thing public so that everyone could have enjoyed my take on what was going on here. However, military rules, and the rather sensitive ego’s of shit bag officers precluded me from doing that. But I got the last word, even if I had to email it in. So fuck them.
Now that I am dead, how do I want to be remembered? I don’t really care, I’m dead. But given the fact that I am writing this, which means at this particular Moment I am very much alive, this is how I would like to be thought of...
Remember me as I am. Don’t remember the idealized version of me. You know the one, where you go to a funeral and everyone spouts off about what a great person this was and blah, blah, blah. Even though a good half of the living people in the room despised the prick. I don’t want that. I want an honest remembrance.
Let’s be honest. I was profane. I was obnoxious. I was a bit of an asshole from time to time. I drank too much. I smoked WAY too much. (Ha, at least I didn’t die of cancer!) I was a little loose in my dealings with women. I could be selfish. I could be destructive. I could be downright mean at times. Lord knows, I have told a lie or two.
However, (now that I am done beating my dead ass up) I loved my family. I loved my friends. I loved my country. I loved my comrades in arms. I served my country. I took care of my family as best I could. I made my living as honestly as any man ever could. I never took anything that wasn’t mine. I made sacrifices for the good of my nation. I believed down to my last breath in the God of my parents. To my God, my country, my service, my family, my friends and to myself, I did my duty.
During my life I always believed that someday I was going to die, and when that happened I would have to stand face to face with God. And on that day I would have to answer for my life. I think I’ll be able to look God dead in the eye and say, “Yep, that was my life. I lived the best way that I knew how. I didn’t always do the right thing, but who does. I might have been a little rough around the edges, but the inside was always good. If you’ve got a place for me here, that’d be nice. But if you don’t you won’t hear anything out of me. I’ll take what I’ve got coming. I won’t make any apologies or excuses for the life I lived.”
Well now that we’ve gotten past the whole existential, heaven and hell portion of this, let’s get on to the rest of it.
The title of this reflects a line from an “O.A.R.” song entitled “James”. “Don’t rely on the sword, because your words will outlive even time.” I think that maybe that is part of the reason that I wrote this whole thing. Is it possible that in some small measure the words that I wrote here will outlive me? Yep, that’s already true because you are reading this and I am dead. So how does it feel to be talking to a dead guy? Anyone who has, or will read this noticed that I wrote every bit of this as if I were talking to someone. Its been a rather one sided conversation, but most conversations with me were one sided. That whole obnoxiousness thing again.
I learned a few things while I have been here. Most of them have been covered, in exhaustive detail, in previous posts, so lets not rehash all that shit. What is the most important thing that I learned here. That words are more powerful than the sword. Why? Because the use of the words is a precursor to the use of the sword. I am not talking about all this Islam vs. The west bullshit that is going on over here. I am talking so much bigger than that. Words have the ability to change the way people think. For better, and for worse. Words are the basis of religion, of government, of law, of society, or relationships, of civilization. Written or spoken, it doesn’t matter. Words are the difference between human beings and animals. Words are what allow us to further our lives and progress in our societies.
Unfortunately, they are also instruments of destruction. They can reduce ideas to nothing more than orders. They can reduce religious believers to terrorists. They can reduce the minds of people to nothing more than automatons. They can reduce a society to a dictatorship. They can reduce relationships to slavery. They can reduce laws to oppression. They can reduce governments to regimes. They can reduce societies to herds of cattle.
So all that being said, they can either reduce or uplift. Two directions only, ladies and gentlemen. Up or down. Black or white. Right or wrong.
This is what I have. These are my words. At times, I have not chosen my words carefully. For this I am sorry. I guess that is one of the few regrets that I have. I have used words that were specifically designed to injure people. I have used words before I gave them adequate forethought. I have written and said things while I was insanely angry. I have written and said things while incredibly depressed. I have written and said things while disillusioned. All these things cloud my reason and lessen my ability to think. This is the only real advice I could ever give anyone, don’t ever say or write anything when you cannot think clearly. Say what you like, write what you like, be as you are, but always think your way through whatever you are writing or saying. These words that you use, can injure, they can uplift, they can convey love, they can induce hate, they can do all these things. Regardless of what they do, they will outlast your life. Your words will echo long after you are dead. So consider them carefully.
So where does that leave us. You, well it leaves you wherever you are. Me, on the other hand, it leaves 6 feet under pushing up daisies. Actually in my case it leaves me burnt to a crisp in an urn on a mantle somewhere. You see it all amounts to a whole bunch of nothing when its all said and done. The only thing that is left is the words. Which, given that I have a word processing program that counts the number of words, is presently sitting at 169,541. God only knows where it will be when I am done. That’s a whole lot of bullshit. That’s a whole lot of words. And I am writing this on April 1, 2009. Seems kind of fitting that I would write my end to the blog and to my life right in the middle of all the fun and on April Fool’s Day no less.
What do I want you to think of this war? Quite frankly I couldn’t care less what you think of this war. I am not even sure what I think of this war. I have been part of endless missions, a whole shit ton of IED attacks, a handful of firefights, and a whole lot of suck. On the other side of the coin are all the good things I got to do here. I got to flip a kid enough money to feed his family for a month, but it only takes me about 45 minutes to make. I got to take care of a few dogs. I got to hand out a mountain of humanitarian aid. I got to see the look on the kids faces when you threw them candy, and pop, and what not. I may even have made a difference in this country. Then again I may not have made a difference. I don’t know. How could I, I am just one lonely soldier in this mountain of bullshit. But I still had hope. So maybe that is the only thing I could say about this war. Regardless of what happened, I never really lost hope. There is something good that we could do here. Whether we are actually doing that good thing is another matter entirely. Hopefully, someone will figure out what the good is, and then do it. Unfortunately, I don’t have any good advice for them. Except this, remember the words, there are only two directions, up and down. So choose them wisely.
What do I want you to think of me? Once again, don’t really care. But I do hope that at least of the few of the things that I have said over this past year or however long it may or may not have been, have been words that have affected you in some way. Good or bad, any effect is better than none. Like I said, I don’t really care what you think of me, I would much rather that you think.
If I were to give any piece of advice to new soldiers going to Afghanistan, it would be this. This is not like any war you have ever seen on any television screen or computer monitor. I guess the only thing you could call this is a low intensity conflict. The bad guys hit you with IED’s that they hide in the ground, they hit you from distant mountaintops, and they use the people and their needs against you. The chances of you ever seeing a high intensity firefight with a known enemy that you can see, are remote. You’ll get here, and your truck will explode and there will be no one around. You’ll get shot at, and you won’t see anything but far off muzzle flashes. You’ll take fire from a village and the culprit will melt into the local populace and you’ll never see him again. Mortar rounds will fall on your head at random, and by the time you figure out where they were coming from the shooters will already be gone, and that’s if they weren’t set on a timer. You’ll see a mirror flash in the mountains 2000 meters away, and then a bomb will go off right in the middle of the road and by the time you look up again, the guy with the mirror will be gone. That is what you are going to see here. There is no John Wayne hero shit going on in Afghanistan. The best you can hope for is that you can make a difference in some small measure in the lives of the Afghanis around you. The Army terms this “winning hearts and minds”. Well, then we have an awful lot of catching up to do, because we are way behind in this contest for their hearts and minds. There is no doubt that you, as a dog face soldier, are the one who is going to have to score the points to get us back in this game. I wish I could tell you that this war was going to be won easily, and American military superiority would carry the day. I wish that I could tell you that there is a simple solution to all of this mess, and the fact that our guns are bigger and there are more of them, would make this war simple. That is just not the case.
You are dealing with a culture that is different than anything you have ever seen before. Afghanistan isn’t even really a country if you ask me. Its a collection of warring tribes. Tribal and familial loyalties run deeper here than any love of country. Which makes everything all the more difficult. You cannot trust any of the government agencies or their personnel, but you will still have to work with, and in some cases for them. So watch your ass with that.
You will see some strange things here. I wish I could explain all of them to you, but that would ruin the fun of you coming over here. Suffice it to say that you will spend the first month or two wondering if you are still on earth.
The language barrier is another one. Learn as much Pashtu as you can, or if you are in one of the Dari areas learn as much of that as you can. Don’t worry, if you show a sincere interest in learning the terps will be happy to teach you. Remember what I said about words, and here, whether you like it or not, you have to use theirs.
Culture is another one. Their culture is completely different than ours. When you drive through villages the first thing you will notice is that apparently there are no women in Afghanistan. Patriarchal culture at its finest. You will learn things like not to touch any woman over the age of twelve because if you do, they will kill her for being contaminated by the infidels. You will also hear the prayer call 5 times a day, or whatever it is. Not to mention it will probably spook you a little when you hear the 1900 call, because it will be dark and its a little creepy. Just remember, walk softly. This is their land. These people, if properly treated, will help you. They will tell you where to find the Taliban. They will tell you where the IED’s are. They will assist you, if they believe you will help and protect them. Enough said on that.
Finally, try not to let the things that happen to you color your opinion of these people. They are not all Taliban or al Qaeda. I’m telling you right now, the first time you get blown up, you are going to want to slaughter each and every one of these motherfuckers. Well, first of all, if you don’t want to see the inside of a prison cell, don’t do that. Secondly, they aren’t all trying to kill you. In fact, most of them just want to live. Same as you, they just want to live, work, feed their kids, raise them, worship, and do what everyone else does. The part that sucks is that they live here, and they have to deal with these Taliban and al Qaeda fucks coming in here and screwing everything up. So don’t blame all for the actions of some.
However, and this will be hard to reconcile with what the Army feeds you, but there isn’t a thing in this country worth dying for. None of these people, none of these missions, none of it, is worth dying for. The only thing that warrants that kind of sacrifice is the soldier next to you. Your job is simple, get you and all your boys home. Preferably in one piece, but if that is not possible, breathing. That is the only thing you need to do. Don’t be one of these guys that wants to run into this country and slay the huns and save the world. It’s just not possible. Don’t chase your CAB either. Don’t go out looking for a fight, it’ll come to you eventually. If you can go home without your Combat Action Badge that means you accomplished the only real job you ever had and that was getting you and your boys home safely to your families.
Last piece of advice I will give is this. Whatever happens, regardless of how many times you blow up, regardless of how many firefights you get into, regardless of how many mortar rounds land right next to your piss tubes, don’t tell your Mom or family. Every time you call home make sure that everything is sunshine, puppy dogs and ice cream. Tell them you are in Bagram and nothing ever happens there. You can tell all the war stories you want when you get home, but this is hard enough on your mother and your family without you making it worse by telling them what a badass you are. That is a mistake that I made, and I will never forgive myself for making this whole ordeal harder on my family.
So hopefully that helps. Think about it.
Finally I would like to say thanks to all the people that have read my words. I picked up quite a few new friends along the way while this thing was still public. I can’t tell you how much you all mean to me. Just for the simple fact that you made sure that I knew that someone was hearing me. I told you many times that I used this blog as therapy. You have seen how many times my state of mind swung from one end of the spectrum to the other. Had I not been able to at least write about it, my head may very well have exploded. So thank you for keeping my head from exploding.
In any case, I am gone now. I lived as best I could, I served as best I could, and now I am dead. Don’t bother shedding any tears for me, death is a part of life. We all have to do it sooner or later, my time just came a bit sooner and was hustled along by my own choices. Choices for which I have no regrets. As Mr. Sinatra once said, “I did it my way.”
I sincerely hope that this war is won. Whatever that means. I sincerely hope that my words have helped, or made a difference in some way. I wish all the best for all of you who read this, to hell with anyone else. (Kidding)
And with that, I am done, but to my family I say...You’re going to be fine, you are all going to be just fine.
To everyone else I say...
Later, its been a blast.
And as always and forever,
I love you Mom...
Objects In The Rearview Mirror May Appear Closer Than They Are...
(Was written while I was at Fort McCoy, I've been home now for a few days. Almost a week. I got a few more things to say before I cap this off. But don't worry, I think Embrace The Suck will go on even now that this is all over for me.)
Well, we all know by now that I set my entire life to music, and the song today is Meatloaf’s “Objects in the rearview mirror may appear closer than they are.”
Why? Because that’s one of the songs I kept on going back to on my iPod while we made this flight home. All in all we spent about 16 hours in a plane. We stopped off in Ireland after Kyrgyzstan, then we flew to Bangor, Maine and finished up the whole clusterfuck in Fort McCoy, Wisconsin which is where I am writing this from.
Unfortunately for me, and for you, nothing good happened on the flights over here. Just a whole lot of sitting around, eating terrible airline food, and sleeping. Not a thing worth writing about. But I did get a lot of thinking done. And we all know that leaving me alone with my thoughts is a dangerous thing.
What was I thinking about? Home. What the hell else could I think about? Nothing. So I thought about it. Then a few questions started to form in my head.
You see they keep on telling us about all the weird shit that is going to go on when we get home. They tell you about the honeymoon period where you will just be so happy to be home that not a thing in the world will bother you and it’ll just be like you are a relative who hasn’t been seen in a year and you came to visit.
Well I guess that’s not so bad. I don’t want much. A few hundred beers, a lot a days spent sleeping in, a weekend NCA (if you don’t know what NCA means do NOT ask me) trip to Vegas, and a road trip to Graceland with the mom, and I’m good. And that’ll about take care of the honeymoon for me.
So what happens then? Life returns to normal. Correction, my life returns to normal. How the fuck is my life ever going to return to normal? After this how is anything that goes on at home going to compare with this past year’s worth of shit? It’s not.
But I wonder.
What’s going to bug me about home?
How are people going to deal with me?
How much have I changed?
How much have they changed?
How much have they NOT changed?
What’s going to be the first thing that sets me off?
What’s going to stick with me the most?
What’s going to haunt me?
How the hell am I going to explain any of this shit to them?
I mean I have been back in the States for all of 15 hours so far and shit is already starting to bug me.
We got off the plane and there was a line of soldiers waiting to greet us. (A nice gesture) But there were some pretty high ranking folks in this line. Sergeant Major’s, Generals, Majors, Colonels, the whole kit and caboodle. I walked past and shook each and every one of their hands, said hello, and noticed a surprising lack of combat patches on these pricks. I guess they must’ve spent the war playing Wal-Mart greeter to all the returning soldiers.
I went to the chow hall today for dinner and was pissed when I found out that they don’t have gatorade and pop that we can just take with us. Apparently, here we have to go to the PX and buy gatorade and pop. What the fuck is that? (All that stuff was free in the suck)
I walked outside to look for some water and realized that they don’t have the piles of bottled water every 50 meters here. I had to drink my water out of this strange contraption that is bolted to the wall. In Wisconsin they call this thing a “bubbler”.
Then came the one that I really don’t like. I was unpacking all my shit and someone living on the second floor must’ve dropped something heavy. Like a plate from their vest.
It hit the floor.
There was a loud THUD!!!!
Followed by my entire body shuddering.
My palms starting to sweat.
My eyes darting from side to side, and up and down.
My hands darting around to my hip and my back...
Searching, feverishly for a gun.
Well, isn’t this wonderful. Just what I always wanted. A psychotic reaction to loud noises. This should be a lot of fun. The next time some kid drops and breaks a glass, I may try to shoot him. Well, there goes my part time babysitting gig!
But they said this would happen. Okay, that’s nice. Now that we’ve established that its going to happen, the next step is telling me how to make it stop.
Alright, enough of that. What else has been on my mind? Trying to think of all the odd things that will throw me for a loop when I get home. The funny things...
I will no longer have to put on either shoes or a coat to go to the bathroom.
I have already flushed the toilet about 900 times. It still fascinates me.
I caught myself flipping the lights on and off. Electricity is fun.
I got pissed on the bus on the way here because no one got out of our way. (All vehicles in Afghanistan pull over and get out of our way, otherwise we might shoot them.)
I still find myself wondering what the hell is under my feet when I am walking on pavement.
I don’t have to keep candy in my pocket anymore just to keep kids away from my car.
I no longer need two weapons, nor do I need 70 pounds of armor to walk across the street.
I will probably accidentally steal my first tank of gas. We just filled up and drove off in the suck.
A drive through the country will no longer require a belt fed weapon.
Roads do NOT explode here. Except I have caught myself looking for IED’s on the highway!
Well that’s all I’ve got for right now. I’ll probably think of a few more in the coming weeks and months. Which is either going to be really funny, or incredibly depressing. Either way, I’m home now. Or at least back in the States. Home is tomorrow. Its all behind me now, but objects in the rearview mirror may appear closer than they are...
Later,
I love you Mom...
Well, we all know by now that I set my entire life to music, and the song today is Meatloaf’s “Objects in the rearview mirror may appear closer than they are.”
Why? Because that’s one of the songs I kept on going back to on my iPod while we made this flight home. All in all we spent about 16 hours in a plane. We stopped off in Ireland after Kyrgyzstan, then we flew to Bangor, Maine and finished up the whole clusterfuck in Fort McCoy, Wisconsin which is where I am writing this from.
Unfortunately for me, and for you, nothing good happened on the flights over here. Just a whole lot of sitting around, eating terrible airline food, and sleeping. Not a thing worth writing about. But I did get a lot of thinking done. And we all know that leaving me alone with my thoughts is a dangerous thing.
What was I thinking about? Home. What the hell else could I think about? Nothing. So I thought about it. Then a few questions started to form in my head.
You see they keep on telling us about all the weird shit that is going to go on when we get home. They tell you about the honeymoon period where you will just be so happy to be home that not a thing in the world will bother you and it’ll just be like you are a relative who hasn’t been seen in a year and you came to visit.
Well I guess that’s not so bad. I don’t want much. A few hundred beers, a lot a days spent sleeping in, a weekend NCA (if you don’t know what NCA means do NOT ask me) trip to Vegas, and a road trip to Graceland with the mom, and I’m good. And that’ll about take care of the honeymoon for me.
So what happens then? Life returns to normal. Correction, my life returns to normal. How the fuck is my life ever going to return to normal? After this how is anything that goes on at home going to compare with this past year’s worth of shit? It’s not.
But I wonder.
What’s going to bug me about home?
How are people going to deal with me?
How much have I changed?
How much have they changed?
How much have they NOT changed?
What’s going to be the first thing that sets me off?
What’s going to stick with me the most?
What’s going to haunt me?
How the hell am I going to explain any of this shit to them?
I mean I have been back in the States for all of 15 hours so far and shit is already starting to bug me.
We got off the plane and there was a line of soldiers waiting to greet us. (A nice gesture) But there were some pretty high ranking folks in this line. Sergeant Major’s, Generals, Majors, Colonels, the whole kit and caboodle. I walked past and shook each and every one of their hands, said hello, and noticed a surprising lack of combat patches on these pricks. I guess they must’ve spent the war playing Wal-Mart greeter to all the returning soldiers.
I went to the chow hall today for dinner and was pissed when I found out that they don’t have gatorade and pop that we can just take with us. Apparently, here we have to go to the PX and buy gatorade and pop. What the fuck is that? (All that stuff was free in the suck)
I walked outside to look for some water and realized that they don’t have the piles of bottled water every 50 meters here. I had to drink my water out of this strange contraption that is bolted to the wall. In Wisconsin they call this thing a “bubbler”.
Then came the one that I really don’t like. I was unpacking all my shit and someone living on the second floor must’ve dropped something heavy. Like a plate from their vest.
It hit the floor.
There was a loud THUD!!!!
Followed by my entire body shuddering.
My palms starting to sweat.
My eyes darting from side to side, and up and down.
My hands darting around to my hip and my back...
Searching, feverishly for a gun.
Well, isn’t this wonderful. Just what I always wanted. A psychotic reaction to loud noises. This should be a lot of fun. The next time some kid drops and breaks a glass, I may try to shoot him. Well, there goes my part time babysitting gig!
But they said this would happen. Okay, that’s nice. Now that we’ve established that its going to happen, the next step is telling me how to make it stop.
Alright, enough of that. What else has been on my mind? Trying to think of all the odd things that will throw me for a loop when I get home. The funny things...
I will no longer have to put on either shoes or a coat to go to the bathroom.
I have already flushed the toilet about 900 times. It still fascinates me.
I caught myself flipping the lights on and off. Electricity is fun.
I got pissed on the bus on the way here because no one got out of our way. (All vehicles in Afghanistan pull over and get out of our way, otherwise we might shoot them.)
I still find myself wondering what the hell is under my feet when I am walking on pavement.
I don’t have to keep candy in my pocket anymore just to keep kids away from my car.
I no longer need two weapons, nor do I need 70 pounds of armor to walk across the street.
I will probably accidentally steal my first tank of gas. We just filled up and drove off in the suck.
A drive through the country will no longer require a belt fed weapon.
Roads do NOT explode here. Except I have caught myself looking for IED’s on the highway!
Well that’s all I’ve got for right now. I’ll probably think of a few more in the coming weeks and months. Which is either going to be really funny, or incredibly depressing. Either way, I’m home now. Or at least back in the States. Home is tomorrow. Its all behind me now, but objects in the rearview mirror may appear closer than they are...
Later,
I love you Mom...
Aug 22, 2009
Who The Hell Wants To Go To Wisconsin...
I never thought I'd say it, "But dammit, I want to go to Wisconsin!!!!"
Which is exactly where I am headed in about 2 hours or so.
Actually, I gotta do the bag drag across post. Which will be loads of fun. Then I have to drop my stuff off so that it can be sniffed by the drug dog. Apparently some GI's are bringing hashish back from Afghanistan. Can you believe it?
Then I have to get my carry on bag searched by a customs agent to make sure I don't have any knives or sharp objects. There are two problems with this.
1. Does anyone actually think that returning soldiers would be a hijack risk? We're going home. And even if one did try, he would promptly be killed by all his fellow soldiers.
2. I am bringing one 9mm pistol and one 5.56mm M4 military grade assault rifle on the plane. So basically, they are saying that a knife is no good, but a gun is fine. Whoever made that rule needs to be placed in a rubber room for the remainder of their life.
Anyway, we are leaving Kyrgyzstan today. Should be back in the states today. International date line is a funny thing. I'll actually fly back in time.
Then we clear Fort McCoy for a few days. Then we take a bus home.
Just wanted to update everyone on what I'm doing. I'll be home by next weekend.
Later,
I love you Mom...
Which is exactly where I am headed in about 2 hours or so.
Actually, I gotta do the bag drag across post. Which will be loads of fun. Then I have to drop my stuff off so that it can be sniffed by the drug dog. Apparently some GI's are bringing hashish back from Afghanistan. Can you believe it?
Then I have to get my carry on bag searched by a customs agent to make sure I don't have any knives or sharp objects. There are two problems with this.
1. Does anyone actually think that returning soldiers would be a hijack risk? We're going home. And even if one did try, he would promptly be killed by all his fellow soldiers.
2. I am bringing one 9mm pistol and one 5.56mm M4 military grade assault rifle on the plane. So basically, they are saying that a knife is no good, but a gun is fine. Whoever made that rule needs to be placed in a rubber room for the remainder of their life.
Anyway, we are leaving Kyrgyzstan today. Should be back in the states today. International date line is a funny thing. I'll actually fly back in time.
Then we clear Fort McCoy for a few days. Then we take a bus home.
Just wanted to update everyone on what I'm doing. I'll be home by next weekend.
Later,
I love you Mom...
Aug 19, 2009
Charlie Foxtrotting Our Way Home From Afghanistan...
Its 1930, Saturday August 15th. I am sitting on a cot in a tent on FOB Salerno in eastern Afghanistan. I had to reach way back for the title to this one. I went all the way back to the beginning of our trip over here. I wrote a post called “Charlie Foxtrotting Our Way To Afghanistan.” So I thought it only fitting that I entitle this one the way that I did.
Anyway, today we hauled our asses out of bed at 0530. Or at least they woke us all up at 0530. However, given the fact that the new unit is in charge of all the trucks now and I had packed all my shit last night. All I had to do was get up, throw some clothes on, brush my chicklets, and get my shit and my self in the truck. I looked at the board and saw that we were leaving at 0800. Now why on earth would I get up at 0530 if we don’t have to leave until 0800 and the amount of things I have to do will take a grand total of 20 minutes and that’s only if I’m really dragging ass.
After falling back to sleep until 0620, I was rudely awakened by a rather pissy NCO. Was he mad that I was sleeping? Nope, he was mad that I was sleeping and he wasn’t.
“Why are you sleeping?” He asks.
“We don’t have to leave for like an hour and a half, and I don’t have shit to do.” I reply.
“We have to get the trucks ready!”
“Bullshit, that’s their job now. My only job is to ride.”
“True, but...” (he’s thinking about it)
He doesn’t even finish his sentence when he lays down on the bunk next to me.
Then we both end up sleeping for another hour. Which was nice.
Then we got up, threw our shit in a trailer, got in the truck and sat there. Waiting and waiting while these guys were trying to get all the radios filled, and the computers working, and the weapons mounted and all this other shit that would most likely have taken us a grand total of 20 minutes to do. But they’re new so let’s cut them some slack. We were only an hour late.
It wasn’t so much the being late that pissed me off. It was the fact that I could’ve slept another hour!
Now we finally got moving. Good for us, and good for these guys. Good for us, because we’re going home and good for them because this is their first time out the wire when they’re running the show.
And as luck would have it, the driver of the truck I was in had a sense of humor. Now I’ve told you what kind of ride these vehicles have. If you don’t remember just think of a dump truck with brick shocks. That’s the kind of ride this is.
So he decides that in order to give us a proper send off he is going to nail every single bump, pot hole, IED hole, and speed bump on the ride from Clark to Salerno. This guy hit one bump so hard that I literally flew into the air off my seat and came down sitting on my nuts! That’ll wake you up in the morning.
So after recovering my ability to speak with any bass at all in my voice, we made it to Salerno. We said our goodbyes to the new guys, grabbed our shit, and settled down for the night in the transient tents.
To the 2-151 Infantry, Indiana National Guard...y’all be good!
So now here I sit, typing away and thinking about a good long shower. We find out in a few hours when or if we are going to fly out of this hole tomorrow. We’ll still be in Afghanistan, but we’ll be one step closer to home. At least now, I can count this shit in days as opposed to months.
Finally before I wrap today up, let me tell you about something that we have to do tomorrow. We just got notified that we have to stand for the TOA formation. (TOA=transfer of authority) Meaning that we were responsible for all this, and now Indiana is.
Really? Like any of us want to stand in this thing. Just throw them the keys to the house and let’s roll out! But the Army is a slave to pomp and pageantry, and they certainly love a good dog and pony show. Which is why they are going around asking people if they have a nice uniform to wear for the formation.
Are you fucking kidding me? I have been in Afghanistan for a year and you know, sleeping outside, running through the mountains, sweating my balls off, fighting with the Taliban, blowing up, getting mortared, and basically living like a damn haji. None of these things are very good for the condition and/or presentability of your clothes. So NO! I don’t have a nice uniform. And this is one place where I got a little pissed at them. I don’t give a rat shit what the Sergeant Major, or the Captain, or whoever the hell else says about my uniform. I’ve been a bit busy for the past year and the last thing I cared about was making sure that my uniform was crisp and clean. They don’t like it, then tell them to ask the Taliban to confine their bullshit to business hours so that I have time to properly care for my uniforms. Other than that, you can blow your little formation and TOA directly out your asses!
I swear the shit the Army comes up with sometimes is enough to anger a saint!
That was yesterday, now it’s August 16, 2009. And I got to do something that I haven’t been able to do for a long time.
I GOT TO SLEEP IN!!!!
Last night before we went to bed the platoon daddy said we ain’t really got shit to do tomorrow except that transfer of authority formation which is at 1230 hrs so just sleep till whenever and make sure you’re at the formation.
So I did.
You want to know what time I ended up getting out of bed?
Fucking 0830.
That’s it, that’s all the more I was able to sleep. I couldn’t stay asleep. I tried. I woke up at 0700 and I already had this feeling of dread that I was late for something. Then I remembered that I don’t have to be anywhere until 1230. So I tried to go back to sleep. And I tried for an hour and a half before I just said, “To hell with this” and got up.
This is what a year of this can do to you. Sleeping in for me used to be 1 or 2 in the afternoon. Hell if I got drunk the night before I could sleep until dinner! Now my body won’t even let me sleep past 0700. And I can’t even force myself to go back to sleep. Fucking Army!
So I got up, smoked a few cigarettes, took a shower, ate lunch and then got ready for this TOA formation.
Just the usual. A few Colonel’s and Sergeant Majors, along with my commander, first sergeant and all of us standing in our nice little rows and columns.
Fist the Chaplain gets up and gives a prayer asking God to bless everyone and their brother and bless this, and bless that, and bless him and bless her, and yada yada yada...
Then the Colonel gets up and tells us what a great job we did this past year even though he has never even seen us before.
Then our commander gets up and tells us what a great job we did, and tells the new guys what a great job they will do.
Then the new guy’s commander gets up and tells us what a great job we did, and then tells his guys what a great job they will do.
Then our commander encases our guidon.
Then their commander uncases their guidon.
And its over.
Took about 20 minutes from start to finish.
I was glad it didn’t take very long. I mean, who the hell wants to sit there and listen to some Colonel yap about missions and winning hearts and minds and all the other talking points he has had delivered directly from the General’s office. Not to mention, its about as hot as the floor above hell here, so I didn’t want to stand out there any longer than I had to.
So I was thinking about this while we were standing in this formation and I started to imagine what I would say if I were the commander. What would I say to a company full of new guys? What would I say as I looked into the green little faces, and stared into the steely eyes of all those who were with me here over the past year.
Well, here is what I would say...
Gentlemen, we had a helluva year. We blew up...A LOT! We fought it out with enemy, we won some hearts and minds, we traveled a million miles, we worked our asses off, we dealt with a mountain of bullshit, we accomplished every mission they hit us with (even the ones we weren’t prepared for.) We got through all of this and everyone is going home breathing and with all their appendages still attached. So as far as I’m concerned it was a successful year.
And to all you new guys...
We’re going home, AND YOU’RE NOT! And I’m not going to lie, that sucks. You’re going to blow up...A LOT. Just like we did. You’re going to be introduced to Mr. Taliban Man, and those introductions will probably take place very, very soon.
So the only advice I could really give you is this, keep your eyes and ears open, your mouth shut, and your ass down. The only job you have here is to accomplish the mission that is set for you, and to bring all your boys back home with you. That’s it and that’s all.
Be safe, and we’ll have a beer for you when we get home!
Later...
Yeah, that’s what I would say.
I guess you could look upon the TOA formation as a kind of metaphorical period put on the end of our deployment. Its basically saying that we have no responsibilities here anymore other than getting home. And I like that. This makes me very happy. So in that respect it was nice.
Couldn’t help but laugh about something though. Sometimes something happens that just subtly reminds you that God is watching and Karma is hanging around. You’ve read all about the mountain of suck that this deployment was for us. It will most likely be the same for the new guys. There’s just no way around it. So we’re doing the TOA ceremony, and its a beautiful day, except for the searing heat its a bright sunshiny day. Then about half way through, right about the time that the commanders were encasing, and uncasing the guidon, it started to rain!
Maybe Karma was saying goodbye to us...
...and saying hello to this bunch of FNG’s.
So tomorrow we fly out of here to Bagram Air Field (BAF). We turn in the last of our ammunition, and exchange our ratty, torn, burnt, dirty, and destroyed uniforms for brand spanking new ones, and then we’ll get on another plane and fly out of this country. Then, at least for us this deployment will be over.
I’d like to say that, for us the war will be over, but I have a nagging feeling that that just will not be the case.
But that’s enough for today, tomorrow is another day and another few thousand words...
And now its the next day, Monday August 17, 2009. What was supposed to happen today? We were supposed to get up at 0530, pack up a 5 ton truck with all our gear, then move on down to the flight line at 0800 to fly out of Salerno to BAF at 1100. Well as I’m writing this its 1320 hrs, and I’m still in Salerno.
What happened? It rained.
Yes ladies and gentlemen, the worlds most vaunted military machine (the US Military) can be brought to a screeching halt by a little rain. Okay, so it wasn’t a little rain. It rained pretty much all last night. And it was a downpour. But I see those Coast Guard guys flying in hurricanes, so what the hell is wrong with these Army pilots?
So we get up this morning, hoping that it wasn’t raining anymore and sure enough it wasn’t. So at the time, I figured that there wouldn’t be too much trouble with us getting out of here.
Then we get the word from the flight line that no flights will be leaving because, get this, because the runway is too wet. Oh, yeah I forgot to tell you that the runway here is gravel. Every single building on this FOB is made out of concrete. Even a few of the shitters are made of concrete, but the runway is gravel. So basically, they are saying that we got stopped from flying by mud.
(Just a fun little aside, I shit you not as I’m writing this I heard a plane, then ran outside to observe a C-130 flying overhead. You know, nose up, low flying heading away from the flight line. Its a certainty that it just took off. Apparently, only OUR C-130 has trouble with the mud.)
Oh joy. What a wonderful day. Whatever, so when the hell are we leaving? Well in their infinite wisdom they have decided to reschedule our flight for 2330 hrs, tomorrow night! So basically, the rain just bought me and extra day and a half in this hole.
But here’s the fun part. Due to our schedule, and the fact that our date to be out of country is rapidly approaching. They are going to have to hustle our asses out of BAF within about 8 hours of us landing.
Here’s how this is supposed to go. We are scheduled to land in BAF sometime around 0030, and then we are supposed to hit customs before we even leave the runway, they are bringing the customs guy out to the runway to meet us, that’s how fast we need to be out of this country. Then we have to go to the terminal to get the “don’t beat your wife, don’t beat your kids, don’t drink too much, don’t kill yourself or anyone else, don’t get arrested when you get home” briefing. We won’t even leave the terminal before we got on a plane and fly to Manas, Kyrgyzstan by 0900 the next morning.
Now why do we have to hustle like this? Well that’s pretty simple. The government/military gives deployed soldiers a lot of extra cash. Hostile fire pay, eminent danger, combat pay, family separation, not to mention the fact that we don’t pay taxes. All of this money adds up, and if you spend even a single day in a combat zone during a month they have to give you all those entitlements for the entire month. They have to get us the hell out of here before September or risk paying those goodies to 150 soldiers who weren’t supposed to get it.
I don’t think Uncle Sam can wait another month before he starts taking that big bite out of my paycheck again!
Alright, now its Tuesday August 18, 2009 and its about 1600 hrs and we’re still in Salerno. But we were supposed to still be here anyway. So what did I wake up to this morning at 1000 hrs? I awoke to find out that our flight had once again been pushed off. Now we are leaving at 0600 hrs tomorrow morning, which means we’ve gotta be in the terminal at 0300.
Which means that everything that goes along with loading up a plane is going to happen in the middle of the night. Which has its good and its bad points. Its good insomuch as we don’t have to do all this shit under the oppressive midday sun. Its bad insomuch as we have to do all this shit in the pitch dark of the middle of an Afghani night. Not to mention this is a blackout FOB which means the only light we’re going to have is the red and blue lens lights that aren’t anywhere near strong enough to make this process easy.
Definition: Blackout FOB, a FOB that as soon as it gets dark all lights are turned out and the only authorized lights are either the red or blue lens lights that are exceedingly difficult to see with, or moonlight. The purpose of this is, and I’m guessing here, to not allow the enemy to see moving lights from the mountains at night. Apparently, its really hard for them to see the FOB during the day and then decide where to fire their little rockets and mortars!
So anyway, we have been spending the entirety of this day laying around doing absolutely nothing. Which is fine with me. As of that TOA formation I have no responsibilities here whatsoever.
The latest on our little stay in BAF is that we are going to be locked in the terminal until we fly out to Manas, Kyrgyzstan sometime tomorrow afternoon. We’ll have to see how that goes. If the trip thus far has been any indication, we’ll probably be locked in the terminal for upwards of three days.
Then we got notified that we are exchanging our FRACU uniforms for brand new ACU uniforms when we get to BAF. Basically, FRACU’s and ACU’s are the exact same uniform except for the fact that the FRACU’s have a little patch sewn onto the left cargo pocket of the pants and the left cuff of the shirt so that you can tell the difference. FRACU’s are Fire Retardant ACU’s.
Now since we are coming in so damn late, we can’t do this the way that this is supposed to be done. Here’s how its supposed to go. You stand in a line with one set of FRACU’s, when you get to the front of the line they take the uniform, and you tell them what size you want to get back. They send some haji into the back room and he comes back with the size you asked for. Then you sign the little paper and on your way you go. That’s what should happen.
But since we can’t leave the terminal (customs issues) we have to take our uniforms that we are turning in and tape them together and write on the outside our names, social security numbers, and the size we want. Then when we get there three guys from the company that are already there will take all our uniforms to the supply warehouse and exchange them for the new ones.
52 soldiers have placed their uniforms into the hands of 3. Three guys will be taking these over there and getting them exchanged. Oh, I can’t see anything going wrong here. But time will tell.
So now all I have to do tomorrow is load a truck with all my shit, take the long walk to the flight line, sit there for three hours, load a plane, get on the plane, sit there while it takes off, fall asleep, and be rudely awakened by the rather rough landing that Air Force pilots are prone to, unload all my shit, and sit in the terminal until another plane comes. The rest of my day is shaping up beautifully! Everybody loves doing the ole’ Army Bag Drag!
So I’m done for now, will continue this either from the terminal in BAF, or if I’m really lucky my cot in Kyrgyzstan.
Now it's 2220 on August 19, 2009 and we made it into Manas, Kyrgyzstan. Nothing really to tell except for the fact that low and behold the entire operation today went...
EXACTLY AS FUCKING PLANNED.
I am waiting for the sky to fall right about now.
About the only thing I can tell you about Manas is we got in a little late and went to midnight chow and at this meal they had something that I haven't had in over a year. Something I didn't even know that I missed until it crossed my lips. Something that my family had better make sure there is a fridge full of when I get home!
THEY HAD REAL MILK!!!! I drank real milk for the first time in a year. And I have never tasted something so sweet.
So anyway, we are supposed to sit here for 3 days then fly back to the states. We'll see how that goes.
Alright, I'm done for now, but this one is a work in progress.
Later,
I love you Mom...
Anyway, today we hauled our asses out of bed at 0530. Or at least they woke us all up at 0530. However, given the fact that the new unit is in charge of all the trucks now and I had packed all my shit last night. All I had to do was get up, throw some clothes on, brush my chicklets, and get my shit and my self in the truck. I looked at the board and saw that we were leaving at 0800. Now why on earth would I get up at 0530 if we don’t have to leave until 0800 and the amount of things I have to do will take a grand total of 20 minutes and that’s only if I’m really dragging ass.
After falling back to sleep until 0620, I was rudely awakened by a rather pissy NCO. Was he mad that I was sleeping? Nope, he was mad that I was sleeping and he wasn’t.
“Why are you sleeping?” He asks.
“We don’t have to leave for like an hour and a half, and I don’t have shit to do.” I reply.
“We have to get the trucks ready!”
“Bullshit, that’s their job now. My only job is to ride.”
“True, but...” (he’s thinking about it)
He doesn’t even finish his sentence when he lays down on the bunk next to me.
Then we both end up sleeping for another hour. Which was nice.
Then we got up, threw our shit in a trailer, got in the truck and sat there. Waiting and waiting while these guys were trying to get all the radios filled, and the computers working, and the weapons mounted and all this other shit that would most likely have taken us a grand total of 20 minutes to do. But they’re new so let’s cut them some slack. We were only an hour late.
It wasn’t so much the being late that pissed me off. It was the fact that I could’ve slept another hour!
Now we finally got moving. Good for us, and good for these guys. Good for us, because we’re going home and good for them because this is their first time out the wire when they’re running the show.
And as luck would have it, the driver of the truck I was in had a sense of humor. Now I’ve told you what kind of ride these vehicles have. If you don’t remember just think of a dump truck with brick shocks. That’s the kind of ride this is.
So he decides that in order to give us a proper send off he is going to nail every single bump, pot hole, IED hole, and speed bump on the ride from Clark to Salerno. This guy hit one bump so hard that I literally flew into the air off my seat and came down sitting on my nuts! That’ll wake you up in the morning.
So after recovering my ability to speak with any bass at all in my voice, we made it to Salerno. We said our goodbyes to the new guys, grabbed our shit, and settled down for the night in the transient tents.
To the 2-151 Infantry, Indiana National Guard...y’all be good!
So now here I sit, typing away and thinking about a good long shower. We find out in a few hours when or if we are going to fly out of this hole tomorrow. We’ll still be in Afghanistan, but we’ll be one step closer to home. At least now, I can count this shit in days as opposed to months.
Finally before I wrap today up, let me tell you about something that we have to do tomorrow. We just got notified that we have to stand for the TOA formation. (TOA=transfer of authority) Meaning that we were responsible for all this, and now Indiana is.
Really? Like any of us want to stand in this thing. Just throw them the keys to the house and let’s roll out! But the Army is a slave to pomp and pageantry, and they certainly love a good dog and pony show. Which is why they are going around asking people if they have a nice uniform to wear for the formation.
Are you fucking kidding me? I have been in Afghanistan for a year and you know, sleeping outside, running through the mountains, sweating my balls off, fighting with the Taliban, blowing up, getting mortared, and basically living like a damn haji. None of these things are very good for the condition and/or presentability of your clothes. So NO! I don’t have a nice uniform. And this is one place where I got a little pissed at them. I don’t give a rat shit what the Sergeant Major, or the Captain, or whoever the hell else says about my uniform. I’ve been a bit busy for the past year and the last thing I cared about was making sure that my uniform was crisp and clean. They don’t like it, then tell them to ask the Taliban to confine their bullshit to business hours so that I have time to properly care for my uniforms. Other than that, you can blow your little formation and TOA directly out your asses!
I swear the shit the Army comes up with sometimes is enough to anger a saint!
That was yesterday, now it’s August 16, 2009. And I got to do something that I haven’t been able to do for a long time.
I GOT TO SLEEP IN!!!!
Last night before we went to bed the platoon daddy said we ain’t really got shit to do tomorrow except that transfer of authority formation which is at 1230 hrs so just sleep till whenever and make sure you’re at the formation.
So I did.
You want to know what time I ended up getting out of bed?
Fucking 0830.
That’s it, that’s all the more I was able to sleep. I couldn’t stay asleep. I tried. I woke up at 0700 and I already had this feeling of dread that I was late for something. Then I remembered that I don’t have to be anywhere until 1230. So I tried to go back to sleep. And I tried for an hour and a half before I just said, “To hell with this” and got up.
This is what a year of this can do to you. Sleeping in for me used to be 1 or 2 in the afternoon. Hell if I got drunk the night before I could sleep until dinner! Now my body won’t even let me sleep past 0700. And I can’t even force myself to go back to sleep. Fucking Army!
So I got up, smoked a few cigarettes, took a shower, ate lunch and then got ready for this TOA formation.
Just the usual. A few Colonel’s and Sergeant Majors, along with my commander, first sergeant and all of us standing in our nice little rows and columns.
Fist the Chaplain gets up and gives a prayer asking God to bless everyone and their brother and bless this, and bless that, and bless him and bless her, and yada yada yada...
Then the Colonel gets up and tells us what a great job we did this past year even though he has never even seen us before.
Then our commander gets up and tells us what a great job we did, and tells the new guys what a great job they will do.
Then the new guy’s commander gets up and tells us what a great job we did, and then tells his guys what a great job they will do.
Then our commander encases our guidon.
Then their commander uncases their guidon.
And its over.
Took about 20 minutes from start to finish.
I was glad it didn’t take very long. I mean, who the hell wants to sit there and listen to some Colonel yap about missions and winning hearts and minds and all the other talking points he has had delivered directly from the General’s office. Not to mention, its about as hot as the floor above hell here, so I didn’t want to stand out there any longer than I had to.
So I was thinking about this while we were standing in this formation and I started to imagine what I would say if I were the commander. What would I say to a company full of new guys? What would I say as I looked into the green little faces, and stared into the steely eyes of all those who were with me here over the past year.
Well, here is what I would say...
Gentlemen, we had a helluva year. We blew up...A LOT! We fought it out with enemy, we won some hearts and minds, we traveled a million miles, we worked our asses off, we dealt with a mountain of bullshit, we accomplished every mission they hit us with (even the ones we weren’t prepared for.) We got through all of this and everyone is going home breathing and with all their appendages still attached. So as far as I’m concerned it was a successful year.
And to all you new guys...
We’re going home, AND YOU’RE NOT! And I’m not going to lie, that sucks. You’re going to blow up...A LOT. Just like we did. You’re going to be introduced to Mr. Taliban Man, and those introductions will probably take place very, very soon.
So the only advice I could really give you is this, keep your eyes and ears open, your mouth shut, and your ass down. The only job you have here is to accomplish the mission that is set for you, and to bring all your boys back home with you. That’s it and that’s all.
Be safe, and we’ll have a beer for you when we get home!
Later...
Yeah, that’s what I would say.
I guess you could look upon the TOA formation as a kind of metaphorical period put on the end of our deployment. Its basically saying that we have no responsibilities here anymore other than getting home. And I like that. This makes me very happy. So in that respect it was nice.
Couldn’t help but laugh about something though. Sometimes something happens that just subtly reminds you that God is watching and Karma is hanging around. You’ve read all about the mountain of suck that this deployment was for us. It will most likely be the same for the new guys. There’s just no way around it. So we’re doing the TOA ceremony, and its a beautiful day, except for the searing heat its a bright sunshiny day. Then about half way through, right about the time that the commanders were encasing, and uncasing the guidon, it started to rain!
Maybe Karma was saying goodbye to us...
...and saying hello to this bunch of FNG’s.
So tomorrow we fly out of here to Bagram Air Field (BAF). We turn in the last of our ammunition, and exchange our ratty, torn, burnt, dirty, and destroyed uniforms for brand spanking new ones, and then we’ll get on another plane and fly out of this country. Then, at least for us this deployment will be over.
I’d like to say that, for us the war will be over, but I have a nagging feeling that that just will not be the case.
But that’s enough for today, tomorrow is another day and another few thousand words...
And now its the next day, Monday August 17, 2009. What was supposed to happen today? We were supposed to get up at 0530, pack up a 5 ton truck with all our gear, then move on down to the flight line at 0800 to fly out of Salerno to BAF at 1100. Well as I’m writing this its 1320 hrs, and I’m still in Salerno.
What happened? It rained.
Yes ladies and gentlemen, the worlds most vaunted military machine (the US Military) can be brought to a screeching halt by a little rain. Okay, so it wasn’t a little rain. It rained pretty much all last night. And it was a downpour. But I see those Coast Guard guys flying in hurricanes, so what the hell is wrong with these Army pilots?
So we get up this morning, hoping that it wasn’t raining anymore and sure enough it wasn’t. So at the time, I figured that there wouldn’t be too much trouble with us getting out of here.
Then we get the word from the flight line that no flights will be leaving because, get this, because the runway is too wet. Oh, yeah I forgot to tell you that the runway here is gravel. Every single building on this FOB is made out of concrete. Even a few of the shitters are made of concrete, but the runway is gravel. So basically, they are saying that we got stopped from flying by mud.
(Just a fun little aside, I shit you not as I’m writing this I heard a plane, then ran outside to observe a C-130 flying overhead. You know, nose up, low flying heading away from the flight line. Its a certainty that it just took off. Apparently, only OUR C-130 has trouble with the mud.)
Oh joy. What a wonderful day. Whatever, so when the hell are we leaving? Well in their infinite wisdom they have decided to reschedule our flight for 2330 hrs, tomorrow night! So basically, the rain just bought me and extra day and a half in this hole.
But here’s the fun part. Due to our schedule, and the fact that our date to be out of country is rapidly approaching. They are going to have to hustle our asses out of BAF within about 8 hours of us landing.
Here’s how this is supposed to go. We are scheduled to land in BAF sometime around 0030, and then we are supposed to hit customs before we even leave the runway, they are bringing the customs guy out to the runway to meet us, that’s how fast we need to be out of this country. Then we have to go to the terminal to get the “don’t beat your wife, don’t beat your kids, don’t drink too much, don’t kill yourself or anyone else, don’t get arrested when you get home” briefing. We won’t even leave the terminal before we got on a plane and fly to Manas, Kyrgyzstan by 0900 the next morning.
Now why do we have to hustle like this? Well that’s pretty simple. The government/military gives deployed soldiers a lot of extra cash. Hostile fire pay, eminent danger, combat pay, family separation, not to mention the fact that we don’t pay taxes. All of this money adds up, and if you spend even a single day in a combat zone during a month they have to give you all those entitlements for the entire month. They have to get us the hell out of here before September or risk paying those goodies to 150 soldiers who weren’t supposed to get it.
I don’t think Uncle Sam can wait another month before he starts taking that big bite out of my paycheck again!
Alright, now its Tuesday August 18, 2009 and its about 1600 hrs and we’re still in Salerno. But we were supposed to still be here anyway. So what did I wake up to this morning at 1000 hrs? I awoke to find out that our flight had once again been pushed off. Now we are leaving at 0600 hrs tomorrow morning, which means we’ve gotta be in the terminal at 0300.
Which means that everything that goes along with loading up a plane is going to happen in the middle of the night. Which has its good and its bad points. Its good insomuch as we don’t have to do all this shit under the oppressive midday sun. Its bad insomuch as we have to do all this shit in the pitch dark of the middle of an Afghani night. Not to mention this is a blackout FOB which means the only light we’re going to have is the red and blue lens lights that aren’t anywhere near strong enough to make this process easy.
Definition: Blackout FOB, a FOB that as soon as it gets dark all lights are turned out and the only authorized lights are either the red or blue lens lights that are exceedingly difficult to see with, or moonlight. The purpose of this is, and I’m guessing here, to not allow the enemy to see moving lights from the mountains at night. Apparently, its really hard for them to see the FOB during the day and then decide where to fire their little rockets and mortars!
So anyway, we have been spending the entirety of this day laying around doing absolutely nothing. Which is fine with me. As of that TOA formation I have no responsibilities here whatsoever.
The latest on our little stay in BAF is that we are going to be locked in the terminal until we fly out to Manas, Kyrgyzstan sometime tomorrow afternoon. We’ll have to see how that goes. If the trip thus far has been any indication, we’ll probably be locked in the terminal for upwards of three days.
Then we got notified that we are exchanging our FRACU uniforms for brand new ACU uniforms when we get to BAF. Basically, FRACU’s and ACU’s are the exact same uniform except for the fact that the FRACU’s have a little patch sewn onto the left cargo pocket of the pants and the left cuff of the shirt so that you can tell the difference. FRACU’s are Fire Retardant ACU’s.
Now since we are coming in so damn late, we can’t do this the way that this is supposed to be done. Here’s how its supposed to go. You stand in a line with one set of FRACU’s, when you get to the front of the line they take the uniform, and you tell them what size you want to get back. They send some haji into the back room and he comes back with the size you asked for. Then you sign the little paper and on your way you go. That’s what should happen.
But since we can’t leave the terminal (customs issues) we have to take our uniforms that we are turning in and tape them together and write on the outside our names, social security numbers, and the size we want. Then when we get there three guys from the company that are already there will take all our uniforms to the supply warehouse and exchange them for the new ones.
52 soldiers have placed their uniforms into the hands of 3. Three guys will be taking these over there and getting them exchanged. Oh, I can’t see anything going wrong here. But time will tell.
So now all I have to do tomorrow is load a truck with all my shit, take the long walk to the flight line, sit there for three hours, load a plane, get on the plane, sit there while it takes off, fall asleep, and be rudely awakened by the rather rough landing that Air Force pilots are prone to, unload all my shit, and sit in the terminal until another plane comes. The rest of my day is shaping up beautifully! Everybody loves doing the ole’ Army Bag Drag!
So I’m done for now, will continue this either from the terminal in BAF, or if I’m really lucky my cot in Kyrgyzstan.
Now it's 2220 on August 19, 2009 and we made it into Manas, Kyrgyzstan. Nothing really to tell except for the fact that low and behold the entire operation today went...
EXACTLY AS FUCKING PLANNED.
I am waiting for the sky to fall right about now.
About the only thing I can tell you about Manas is we got in a little late and went to midnight chow and at this meal they had something that I haven't had in over a year. Something I didn't even know that I missed until it crossed my lips. Something that my family had better make sure there is a fridge full of when I get home!
THEY HAD REAL MILK!!!! I drank real milk for the first time in a year. And I have never tasted something so sweet.
So anyway, we are supposed to sit here for 3 days then fly back to the states. We'll see how that goes.
Alright, I'm done for now, but this one is a work in progress.
Later,
I love you Mom...
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
The 24 Inch Gauge...
Like I said in my last post, I joined a lodge of Freemasons. Immediately upon starting the process you start to learn things. A lot of diff...
