(L to R) SGTs Kade Miller, Jeremy Fowler and Emily Anderson, all of the 314th Public Affairs Operations Center, recite the oath of reenlistment with their commander, LTC Ignacio J. Perez, at the Combined Press Information Center, in Baghdad, Iraq, on January 28, 2009.

Today, January 28 at 1515 local time, 1215 Zulu or 0715 EST, I reenlisted in the United States Army Reserve. At that date, it has been six years, six months and seven days since I first raised my hand and took the oath to defend the Constitution. I have fulfilled my first contract and am now locked into a second, six-year obligation. I am dizzy with thoughts of wondering what the next six years will bring, where it will send me and where I will find myself after that time.

I think back to the last six years and wonder where all that time went. It doesn’t seem that all that long ago I was sitting in a recruiter’s office in Dover, NH, pondering the idea of whether military service was at all for me. My mother will tell you that she always knew that she would see me in a uniform. I wore one for 15 years as a boy scout and I suspect she always knew that I would carry on military heritage throughout her family. I remember the Military Entrance Processing Station in Portland, Maine. I still remember the flag draped room where I first raised my hand and took the oath for the first time.

I remember being more fearful then, that night before leaving for basic training, more than anything since. I feared the future. I remember feeling all alone in a hotel the night before my flight to South Carolina; my brothers, father, mother and my maternal grandparents treated me to a farewell lobster dinner somewhere in Portland’s old port. I still have a picture of my older brother Steve and I, shaggy hair and all, kicking around from that evening. Then they dropped me off at the hotel where I was to check in. I had a roommate, that evening he fell asleep early while I stirred most of the evening with nervous anticipation and wonder. Thus I began my enlistment.

Between then and now seems like a flash. I’ve been to the other side of the world and have served all over the United States and Korea. Now I sit in the Coalition Press Information Center in Baghdad, Iraq, missing all that I’ve accomplished in the last six year. I miss my family, my brother, my friends, I miss Jen, the love of my life, I miss the farmland on the Salmon Falls River that I will always consider home.

I’m not lonely though. I have brothers and sisters that I see every day.  My fellow Soldiers with whom I serve has become my temporary family.

It is because of that, I have managed to find the ability to easily reenlist in the Army Reserve. But, it is only through the overwhelming support of my girlfriend, my family and friends that I could really do it without hesitation.

I have found that the Army life is very fitting for me. Teamwork, honor, selfless service, weapons handling, maintenance, survival skills, driving skills, journalistic skills, people skills, and leadership; this is only a brief synopsis of what I have learned in the last six years. What will the future hold? I am eager to find out.

To all those who support me, thank you. I can only hope to make you proud.

There is something about rain. It makes me think. I find myself sitting; listening to it hit the ground, each little drop. Singularly it’s barely audible, but in mass it forms a chorus of sounds, rhythms and melodies. You can hear the frequency pick up, slow down or flat out stop. When interacting with various objects it becomes more interesting. I’d be cliché to say like rain on a tin roof, but it is an addicting sound. I find it much more interesting to listen to rain react with plant life.
Some of my deepest thinking has been during a rainstorm. I hunt; to most people this is all about going out to “score the big buck” or to “bag that wild turkey that you’ve seen waddling around the cornfield.” I cannot claim to be a devout hunter, good at it, or even to have a wall of trophies, but it is a sport that I enjoy. It helps yield for a better understanding of nature but further it provides me a reason to remove myself from society. I can withdraw, even if just for a few hours, into a completely different world. Escaping the brutally routine everyday commotion that we subject ourselves to; I experience life at its most primitive. I enjoy camping for just the same reason. Maybe I’m a recluse deep down or maybe I’m just a confused hermit. Regardless, one of my favorite past times is listening to the rain in the forest. Bundled up in rain gear with my back against a tree scanning the woods, or in a tent listening to the rain.
Light rain usually yields a fog in the Northern New England forests that in itself loses me in fantastical thought my mind wanders form thought to bizarre differing thought. Conversely outright downpours, the real deep rain that bounces off leaves in big drops and sounds more like millions of tiny slaps causes deeper thoughts. Time manages to decompress itself in these wooded monsoons.
Snow, well that is another story. That will have to wait for another blog.
I had never really thought about this until I sat here in Iraq trying to remember the last time I saw precipitation. That is what sparked these notions. When we left New Jersey it was snowing, or darn near it. We missed the Kuwait rainstorms that I had heard so much about. The talcum-powder-fine desert dust mixed with sheets of rain, however brief, purportedly yields a sugar-cookie-dough-like substance which cakes to boots, tires etc just adding weight. I’m not sorry I missed that. But here in Baghdad, the lack of rain was apparent.
I did witness my first sandstorm. The day started cast in shades of crimson and red overcast clouds, not unlike a winter evening in New England prior to an impending snowstorm. The until now non-existent wind slowly began to whip up and by 10:00 it was intermittently blowing fierce enough to cause the canvas shade coverings outside to pop and snap. With it came sand, the same fine sand that was in Kuwait. There it was everywhere, heck it was a desert. There wasn’t anything but sand. But here, in Baghdad that sand was just stuck to everything I saw and with no visible reason for it being there. There was concrete and gravel everywhere. Like Oakies in the dust bowl, you had to wander about trying to do the best not to get dust in your eyes, nose and mouth. This, of course proved impossible. Initially on my arrival, it seemed like the locals had some kind of freakish party where they sprayed a light coat of water on everything just to throw bags of dust about just to watch it stick; merry pranksters wreaking havoc just for obsessive compulsive officers to drop their jaws at the mess they made and itch to clean it up.
I soon realized that this wind was the reason for all of this. It was the reason that I spend hours, and money on Swifer wet-jet pads cleaning my living area. This storm was mild I was told by those who had been here before me. But it was part of something bigger. Somebody up there must like me, because this necessary evil, this sandstorm gave way to rain. That night, as I left work to return to my living quarters, the wind died down and I felt it. Rain, slow drops of it here and there. It dawned on me then that it had been over a month since I had seen any form of precipitation. I had been far too busy to notice up until now. While driving back, lightning flashed and lit the otherwise dark and clouded skies and the reverberations of lighting in the distance heightened my alert. Mentally I was confusing it for distant explosions.
I reached the sanctity of FOB Prosperity and could relax my guard a little. I was a bit edgy, that drive always amplifying my vigilance. The sky opened up and the rain quickly puddle on all surfaces. This, just in time for me to walk to my CHU (living quarters), “you can’t win them all,” I thought. I spent the evening looking out the door at the rain and listening to it pelt the trailer roof…thinking.

Well I’m still hanging around Camp Buehring and I must admit I’m getting quite anxious.

The novelty of this new location has lost its luster and I am ready to head down range, get settled into a routine and be gainfully employed. Many times in the Army you find moments of shear excitement and volatility only to be punctuated by long periods of down time. Kuwait is no exception. We have, for the most part, been sitting around for the last few days with only something small here and there. It is a good way to get accustomed to the time change I suppose.

I’ve found myself battling the z-monster, the continuous urge to fall asleep, as we crawl through the few remaining days until our flight up country. I know that if I fall into that trap I will succumb to delaying my biological adaptation of my displacement half way around the world. So I’ve been trying to be proactive in spending my time wisely.

Just prior to our flight, the Chaplin at Fort Dix gave us the opportunity to grab some spiritual or leadership literature. I happened to grab one of the former with the intentions of reading it in its entirety prior to the end of the flight. Typically I have a hard time sleeping on a plane. This excursion was an exception and I thus didn’t finish -in fact I barely started- the book. I’ve spent the majority of my down time perusing it, not really a bad read. I found some much needed spiritual enlightenment there.

Oddly enough I’ve moved on to another book that is in stark contrast, that my friend Scott lent me. He is a longtime friend from high school that is an English major from Johnson State College in Vermont, where we both attended for a spell. I attended the school for a brief semester after basic training before realizing the flaming hoops one has to jump through to achieve financial aid form the Army. I’ve heard that it has been more streamlined so I hope to take advantage of that in the future. I broke my leg during my employment at a ski resort trying to work off the debt incured during the semester. I had to use the workers compensation claim to pay off my balance completely. This unpleasant welcome to college helped turn me off to pursuing my degree further. Scott is a drinking buddy from time to time, but is going to serve as my literature aid while I’m over here. I don’t care to say “book buddy” because, well I just don’t like the sound of that. He is going to send me “good reads” from his already sizable personal library.

I was reading ‘Gonzo’ which is about the life of Hunter S. Thompson as told by some of his friends and companions. I was quite into the book, but left it back in NH due to the limited cargo capacity of my travels at this time. Scott did lend me ‘The Rum Diary”, his first novel which was smaller. So thus I have transitioned from a spiritual-based self-help book to a work of fiction that can be quite explicit. All things in balance, I suppose.

Aside from that I have been trying to square away some loose ends. I have some things on my plate that I must take care of while there is down time. I’ve visited the education office today to see what I can do about taking classes while in theater to get back on the education train. I heavily regret, and am quite sensitive about having not yet achieved a bachelor’s degree at this point in my life, just a handful of credits from the University of New Hampshire and Johnson State College. I hope that during some down time, if any, that I may have during this deployment can be used for such a positive benefit.

I do worry about transferability of online credits and I know how stingy the University of New Hampshire can be about accepting outside credits. It’s to bad, but hopefully with the overhauled GI bill, and, if need be, a letter to my local congress representative may justify this.

In addition, I have to stop by the retention office to get some information on reenlisting. It is time to seriously think about that. Truth be told, the Army, as hectic as it can be on my schedule and life, is exciting for me. Otherwise I spend my weeks sitting in an office at my civilian job and lead a rather mundane life. I really have to weigh the pros and cons of a possible 3 or 6 year reenlistment.  This weighs heavy on my mind as thinking for that far into the future is nearly beyond my comprehension. It’s the whole me versus time thing again… we just don’t get along well.

If there is one thing that I have at the moment, it’s time. But, I’ve been duped by time before and I’m sure that I will be again.

Until then I’ll be thinking and waiting…

Cheers

Well, we’re in Kuwait. It was a long flight with two stops, Iceland- which went rather quickly- and on to Germany. The latter place we were stuck there for something like 6 hours, much of it I spent curled up like a vagrant on some seating in the military portion of the terminal. I managed to doze off and recon the insides of my eyelids. The plane was less than crowded and I had a window and aisle seat all to myself. Try as I might up until this point, I could not seem to get any sleep. So Germany it was then, Leipzig to be precise. As we began initial descent, from altitude into Germany we were somewhere over France. I could identify Paris, Normandy and even London through their gleaming lights that stood out in the darkness. I can’t wait to return to France. I visited Paris on a trip in high school and hope to see more of the country.

Germany was cold and there was snow everywhere. They must have received nearly 10 inches of snow prior to our arrival. That was nearly all I saw of the country though. In time I will hope to go there as a tourist, but now I was merely passing through. Something managed to wake me from my slumber, I will have to call it hunger, simply just hunger. The time changes really jacked me up and now my stomach was paying the price. Apparently I slept through a free breakfast that was offered. I meandered about looking for some form of subsistence. There was a gift shop in the area, two actually, with everything from beer to jagermeister to absinthe and other things that I could not buy. But there were shot glasses and other tourist fare, to include the beloved party favorite, the glass boot. As tempting as it was I had no use for it where I was going and Jen bought me one a while back.  I did manage to find a sausage, more like a hot dog. It was terrible and bland, but it filled the void.

Then we embarked on our final voyage to Kuwait. This, I was told, was around six hours, but I wouldn’t know it because the nap in Germany served as a primer and I slept most of the flight. We landed late at night or was it the wee hours of the morning? I couldn’t tell you what day it was, but we got there. We were bussed to the central part of the desert by a contracted driver that wasn’t hesitant to jam the brake pedal in such a way as to test Newton’s laws of physics that “an object in motion tends to stay in motion.”  Every time he touched the brake it was forcefully, and most of the rest of the sleeping GIs on the bus would mumble and groan in their sleep. Not me, I was wide awake, this was new country, unseen by these eyes. I stared into the darkness of the night, well rested, but tired and disoriented from my travel. We arrived in the  desert night and were welcomed by briefings and such that it was nearly 0900 local time before we got to rack out. Luckily, I was ahead of the power curve thanks to the sleep on the plane, but I was still exhausted. 

The place is barren, and reminiscent of NTC — Fort Irwin California minus the mountains to look at. It’s flat, and the cloudless sky goes forever. Dust is everywhere and it doesn’t feel unlike I’ve landed on Mars. The infrastructure of the camp is pretty good, with many places to remind us displaced Americans of home. A Taco Bell, a Starbucks and various other establishments beckon you and try to fool you into a false sense that this is just another AT. I can only imagine what this place was back in ‘03 for the push. Surely none of this was there. The communications is a little rough right now.  I usually take some time to send up my blogs due to the fact that I like to reflect on them for a few days before I write. Internet connectivity in the middle of the desert usually consists of waiting in line for a spell, as does the phones. I’ve talked with my brother Steve, girlfriend Jen and my mom since I’ve been here,  it was nice to hear voices. I’ve never been much of a talker on the phone, but now things are changing I suppose. I don’t anticipate being here for long, but I don’t think we can leave soon enough. 

Until then I will sit back in my tent, stare at the ceiling enjoying my non-alcoholic beverages (yes they are available and authorized here… is it bad that I think they are delicious) and wait for movement. I’m Baghdad bound!

NewYork City–In the city that never sleeps, it is apparent that neither does their love for the US military.

We were unfortunate enough to be brought back from our holiday leave prior to New Year’s eve, with the expectation of going wheels up (leaving for our deployment) prior to the calendar change. As it turns out our flight date was changed. Being the highly-motivated, flexible unit of high-speed Army Reserve Soldiers, we only mildly discouraged, but moved on. The bleak prospect of spending New Year’s Eve away from our families seemed depressing. Enter Sgt. Maj. Falardeau! In a day he coordinated a trip to New York City, the Big Apple. We blitzed the city all in uniformed fashion and were lucky enough to see many of the sites that might take a tourist a few days.

We started on a ferry ride from Staten Island parking our vans there to avoid the unimaginable headache, financial burden and logistical nightmare of driving a convoy of 15-passenger vehicles through the city. The ferry disembarked for Battery Park, on the tip of Manhattan. There we were immediately welcomed by an onslaught of admiring fans that seemed more appropriate for a rock band. We hadn’t even left the ferry station before we were swarmed by civilians wanting a picture of us. I could almost imagine seeing a ticker tape parade outside.  They couldn’t seem not to admire a unit of nearly thirty uniformed Soldiers that were simply walking through the city. From that perspective, I guess I could see how much of a spectacle it must have seemed.

We made our way up through the financial district, passing the famed brass bull on Wall St. Somberly we approached the site of the World Trade Center. While my attitude was a little melancholy at the thought of the souls that gave their lives in unbridled heroism and the men and women that lost their lives in that tragic act of terror that day, the citizens of that bustling urban center around us smiled at our presence and emotions ran high. I took a moment to reflect. The last time I was in New York City, I was sporting a different uniform, and the twin towers still proudly stood dwarfing all things surrounding. It was back in 1998 when I came with the Boys Scouts of Troop 186. It was early in my time as a boyscout. Now I stood there speechless in deep thought of the events in my life that led me to the uniform I found myself now in that same location. This was mixed in with the thoughts of the unspeakable act of terror I witnessed at this very site my senior year of high school. THIS WAS the reason that I joined the military.

When one comes to the realization that one is on the right path in his or her life, the feeling is beyond bizarre. That moment really put my life in perspective. Any and all inconviences endured in the service of my country seemed so trivial compared to the events and memories of those that must face ground zero daily. I began to understand the hero’s welcome that we were receiving.

I then began admiring those I stand in service with. My brothers and sisters in arms doing a job that many would refuse and many have. I felt perfectly content with my decision. I felt significant; I felt honorable; I felt proud.

A civilian gladly took a picture of our unit in front of ground zero, from the steps of Brooks Brothers store. The commander, Lt. Col. Perez produced a flag, the stars and stripes, which we proudly clutched unfurled as the pictures were taken. Many on-lookers stopped to take our photo in this gathering as well. We then received the first of many applause that would come that day. The surreal feeling didn’t quite hit me until now as I sit down to write this account, but looking back I am astounded at the support of the people of New York City who couldn’t thank us enough. I personally can’t thank them enough for their sacrifices, but more so, their support.

We moved uptown, passing through city hall park before taking the subway to the Empire State Building. We ascended to to observation point on the 86th floor which. This, as you can imagine, offered a fantastic view of a late-year sunset. This was the last sunset that would beget the last sunrise of the year. Lost in my thoughts, most of the day from that point on was a blur until we ended up a USO located at the New York City Port Authority near Time Square. Being the night before New Year’s Eve the area was buzzing to say the least.

We left to our own devices for dinner and Sgt. McSwain, Sgt. Tull, and myself ended up at Dave and Busters for a meal that was less than adequate, but would suffice. Again roaming the streets we were greeted by on-lookers and curious citizens that were more than aware and excited by our presence. We walked time square briefly to witness the spectacle of lights put on from all of the advertisements and preparations for the New Years festivities that would take place there merely 30 hours from now.

My friends from Alabama were in awe for a bit, but we soon decided to return to the sanctity of the USO to rest our legs, eyes and my mind. We rallied up and proceeded to our next mission… a Broadway Show, wait no, that can’t be right… is it? What? But it was! Sgt. Maj. with his charm and tenacity the previous day, managed to inquire about tickets to Spamalot, which was in its last two weeks of showing at the Shubert Theater.  Wendy, the theater manager was really honored that we would come to the show prior to our deployment and was kind enough to give us standing room tickets at no cost! As we waited outside in the brutally cold wind, our excitement kept us warm Of course the warm welcomes, applause and thank yous that we received from nearly everyone we encountered also helped. It was touching compared to the stares of wonder a uniformed Solider usually gets when traveling.

The spectacle that was Spamalot was hilarious, and the hospitality of the the theater patrons was not atypical of what  we witnessed outside. Two patrons gave up their very expensive 5th row seats to two of our lower enlisted, Spc. Richardson and PFC Clifton, after the first act. We laughed through the rest of the show and singing cadences of “Always look on the bight side of life, one of the numbers from the act. This song really got us fired up, and I believe that it will be the theme of the rest of the deployment.  After the theater cleared out, we were warmly invited on-stage to meet, greet and take pictures with the cast. Clay Aiken, who played Sir Robin, even came out to greet us and give us his well-wishes for a safe deployment. Perhaps the oddest thing was that THEY treated US like star. This impacted me deeply especially after talking with some of the cast who repeatedly thanked us.

“Because of what your do,” one said, ” we can perform this frivolous entertainment for fans. And it is only because of what you do, that makes what we do possible.”

I really appreciated the hospitality of the cast of Spamalot and am so thankful of their appreciation. The time came to lave the theater and proceed back to South Ferry for our return to our barracks. Singing to our new-found tune the whole time.

We retired to the barracks, got some sleep a readied ourselves to watch the ball drop. The barracks would have seemed dismal was it not for the reinvigoration of our motivation due to the awesome trip. This, by far had a positive impact on the moral of our Soldiers. It helped me personally find a reason behind all of this and it put things in perspective.

It is nice to know that New York City is appreciative of the military and we all thank them for giving us a send off. I have to thank the Sgt. Maj. for looking out for his Soldiers and coordinating such a great activity. While it couldn’t compare with sharing a New Year’s kiss with Jen, which I will definitely miss this year, it was probably the best thin that could have happened to us as a unit before we step off.

Thank you New York, and thank you Sgt. Maj. Falardeau!

We managed to take off from Fort Dix at an undisclosed time. Suffice it to say it was earlier than we anticipated, but not as early as we dreamed. Anyhow, we were very lucky to leave.

SFC Poulten, SPC Hope and myself rented a car, kicked the dust of Fort Dix off our boots and headed north-east. Even though I don’t think any of us could tolerate Fort Dix another minute, we did manage to stop at the post class-six shop for a Dunkin’ Donuts coffee. SFC Poulten, in his excitement at the prospect of leaving the post, decided to treat us by paying, for which I hope to return the favor in time.

I was excited to see snow accumulated on the ground less than a 20 minute ride from post. Then we hit the dreadful New York City traffic as we approached the George Washington bridge. In his wisdom of having lived in New York for five years, Poulten managed to dodge much of the traffic after we crossed the bridge by taking the Henry Hudson Parkway. We blew past New York and into Connecticut to the Merritt Parkway. Having never traveled that route before I was impressed at how nice it was. It wasn’t your typical highway with asphalt here and there. It was a two-lane highway with trees. Yes, trees growing out of the median. What a drastic change from the concrete and steel ribbons of barren asphalt we found in New Jersey.

As we continued north, the depth of the snow steadily increased, which caused me great excitement. It felt good to be in New England again. I toyed with the idea of going snowboarding or skiing, while I was home, but decided not to test my luck. I’m a magnet for such disasters and the unit couldn’t afford to lose a Soldier this late in the game, so I thought better of it. As it turns out, I wouldn’t have time to get out anyway due to last-minute shopping, holiday well-wishes and such.

I really began to realize how much I will miss the country though, specifically New England. I arrived at the location of my previous unit, the 362nd MPAD in Manchester, NH around 1640. I gave my unit training NCO SFC O’Neill a call to see if she was still in her office, but she was not. I haven’t seen or talked to her in some time and am curious as to how the unit is now. I’ll have to drop her an email. 

I awaited for a ride from, perhaps the biggest thing I will miss over the next year… my beautiful girlfriend Jennifer! It took us nearly an hour to get to the highway from the reserve center, a ride that usually takes 10 minutes. The reason for the delay? SHOPPERS!!! They were everywhere, trying to get to the mall located off the exit we were trying to get to, ahhhhhhhh!!! I knew that I wouldn’t make it to see my parents that night, yet another thing that I will miss over the next year.

Well I thought, you can’t win them all. I had a sinking feeling inside when I realized that the next day I would join their ranks as LAST-MINUTE shopper.  BOOOO

Well I did it, I was able to free myself from the bonds of Fort Dix. Now it is Christmas and you are probably wondering why I am writing a blog entry right now. Well, as you can imagine the shopping situation was restricted to Fort Dix, which doesn’t offer very many options in the gift area. So until yesterday, Christmas Eve at 1530 (3:30 p.m. for all of you civilians out there- haha) I finished my shopping.

This was a hard-fought battle in which I had no support from my fellow Soldiers at my flanks, I really could have used their help. Alone in the trenches I fought the crowds, the unruly drivers and the ghastly hordes of people all swarming like bees on a hive to get those last minute gifts. The process began the day after I got home to New Hampshire. Arriving late on Monday night in Manchester, my girlfriend picked me up. It took us nearly an hour to escape the mob of people who, from all points surrounding, converged on the city mall causing such massive grid-lock that travel by foot seemed like a good option. We finally broke free and got home for a night of chill-axing.

The next day was the onslaught. Like a deranged CIA operative, I planned my assault on the local mall, I had floor plans laid out in my mind: the closest exits, best routes of ingress and egress, the potentially least-heavily-trafficked sales counters. Knowing that no plan survives first contact, I expected it to be a long day. One thing that i didn’t have planned… I had no idea what to get anyone! Sure I had a good idea back in, ohhh, August when this whole thing started. You must remember that I haven’t seen most of my family, save for but a handful of days, in nearly a quarter of a year. So, with my head on a swivel, I scanned, I searched I, I, I, I was exhausted. For eight hours on the 23rd and four hours on Christmas Eve… but I did it. I dodged the old ladies and their lethal shopping carts, I skirted around the slow-walkers in the mall, I jumped like a gazelle out of the paths of cell-phone addicted drivers, I came, I saw, I conquered-I power shopped!

Now I sit here at my parents Christmas morning, the presents have all been opened. We all had Christmas breakfast, a tradition in my family that I a going to miss. Now for the rest of the running around. Time to get showered and ready for a trip to my grandmother’s house for lunch. So here I am, three days into my leave and I haven’t really had any time to sleep-in, workout, or enjoy my time. Boy, Christmas is intense.

Unfortunately I didn’t make it to church. Mom went to midnight mass Christmas Eve, I wish I could have joined her. I went to Jen’s parent’s house to see her family last night, Christmas Eve. I got to see most of her family so that was nice. But, it has been far to long since I have attended regularly, but I look forward to going more while I’m deployed.

But for now it is run around, make people happy and try to relax. I think if I find myself in this situation in the future, Christmas will be at my house and anyone who wishes will come over. We’ll have a grand old time.

Oh I think that the shower’s open…got to run!

Merry Christmas!

Well we are at the end of out training phase. With the end of this night comes the end of all of our pre-mobilization training, and there is definitely and air of excitment about. However, there is also the realization that it is going to be a long, possibly boring night.

I have the pleasure of being on the night shift for this exercise, which is meant to simulate the job and positions we will hold during our mission to Iraq. The problem is, that this exercise is winding down and therefore this may prove to be a long and boring night. Hopefully the internet connection, which has been quite testy, will hold out long enough for me to order some Christmas presents online during any downtime we might have. The router at this particular location likes to take the night off every now and then, making work difficult when we have some to do, and making downtime painful.

There are other options I suppose. I do have a copy of the Army Leadership manual that I will peruse as a backup plan. A backup to that backup would probably be to try and take the static M7 Priest, a track-mounted howitzer that is on display outside of this building, for a little road march down to the shoppette to do a coffee run in the wee hours of the morning. Wouldn’t that be a sight. Of course, the odds of the success of that side mission might be a little low given the equipment is well over half a century old -but we can dream can’t we?

I will have to see if we can’t get a picture in front of the vehicle tomorrow at some point. It would be a hansome photo.  I can see it now: the commander standing in the gun turret with the guidon flying high with the proud soldiers of the 314th latent with excitement at the prospect of soon leaving Fort Dix below.

After a long day of some rather high-speed training in near arctic conditions, it is my turn to “suffer” through the toils of CQ. Live my brethren who have come before me I will guard this post! I shall not let the chairs float away (a very real threat), nor will I let the admin office explode. I shall walk the halls on a pass just to make sure doors are claoed. This is my mission, and I will do it justice.

I will not lie, I am tired. We were taken from our slumber at 0400 in time for a 0445 formation. We dressed as if we were to invade the north pole-much to Santa’s dismay. The forcast suggested rain turning to sleet and snow, so the layer approach was our answer. Opening the doors to hear the howling pre-dawn wind we all were happy with out choice in clothing. Over this cocoon of heat-retaining, weather-stopping clothing we piled on other improtant gear, the type that is reputed to stop bullets. Our vests weigh in at, I’m guessing, over fifty pounds. As you can imagine this required some coordination and brute physical strength and endurance. I’m glad I’m up on my Physical Training (PT).

Off to the range we went where we were treated by a spectacle of explosion simulators, smoke and enemy attackers. We had to defend at all-costs! This exercise was to hone our defense skills, and we all took a lot away from this task. 

That all ended and we retired to our warm barracks to clean and maintain our weapons. The day really got away from me at that point and the flash between then and now perplexes me. Time tricked me again, unsurprisingly. Now the time on CQ drags on like a rusty razor pulling and jerking rather than quickly getting the job done.

Well December is ticking away. Christmas is fast approaching and today we had a significant amount of down time. I had a chance to go to the base exchange. Not that I  really needed anything. It has become a somewhat melancholy affair going there and seeing the same old movies (outdated for the most part), same nick-knacks, doo-dads and other tempting pieces of entertainment and technology that are ultimately useless to me in my given situation. So I settled on “treating myself” with a  purchase of a flat of 20oz. waters for my roommates and some body wash. Whoo hoo.

Sgt. Tull was treating himself with a haircut, and given the crowded nature of the establishment, he was in line for a while. I had finished my affairs and was waiting for him outside. I took full advantage of the $1.00 per 3 minute massage chairs that were just calling my name. The day prior we had on all of our body armor for a training class, so I did decide to repay my hindquaters for being so kind to me. I couldn’t stop with 3 minutes, so heck I made it 6. Well worth it I thought.

On the second dollar I started to become aware of the music playing in the background. CHRISTMAS MUSIC! Wow, that’s right.  It is just around the corner. Thoughts weighed heavy on my mind considering all that I have to do when I get to go home for holiday leave. Feeling overwhelmed about the cut-throat last minute shopping I will have to endure upon my return to New Hampshire, I decided not to keep feeding the chair money. I moved to a nearby park bench and slowly became more downhearted.

When I arrived at Fort Dix, the first time, it was Oct. 1st, which soon melted into November and now has dissolved into December. Not unlike an episode of the Twilight Zone, something has taken this time and compressed three months into what feels like a span of weeks. I’ve lost track so often. I relied heavily on my cell phone to tell me the date. When I left the charger in Birmingham and my battery bit the dust, I hadn’t a clue what day of the week or month it was. What a shocking realization. Luckily, my beautiful girlfriend back home sent me a charger via post and the world was restored again! Perhaps I shall need a calendar for Christmas, a full sized one and one to keep in my pocket.  

It is a funny thing, time; it usually seems to work against you. Sometimes it works for you, but never quite the rigth way. It is a never-ending battle, you vs. time.  You can neither beat it nor join it, you just have to roll with it.

We shall see what time has in store for me this next year.

Stand by for this message from our sponsor…

-30-

This was the fortune that I received when we went to the Kobe Steakhouse, a Japanese restaurant, last night (5 Dec 2008). Due to the lack of adequate and convenient Internet access this post is… well late. Anyway, it was a hibachi grill, where they cook in front of you.  Daley, Richardson and I decided that as a farewell to good food, hospitality and freedom as our last day in Birmingham that we would have some fine dining. The place was great, though the chef wasn’t as much of a showman as one usually finds at such an establishment.

We were in for a treat however. We were fortunate enough to share out table with a gentleman, Gene and his lovely wife Sheryl. Gene was a a former naval aviator and was very interesting, and made great conversation with us about our upcoming deployment. As we were wearing civilian cloths, I suppose that our short haircuts and demeanor gave us away. When the waitress came back at the end of the meal, we asked for our bills. We ordered on separate checks, with each of us being responsible for our own debts. Gene, however, had a different idea. At some point during the feast Gene clandestinely told the waitress to bring our checks to him. He paid for the whole meal! This of course was unbelievably generous and we bartered back and forth, but could not sway him from his decision. We thanked our new found friend and his wife.

Then our fortune cookies arrived, all three of us opened them to reveal incredibly relevant fortunes. Richardson’s stated: ”Your lucky color next week will be green.” As in ACU green, or Army green we laughed. Mine stated: “You will enjoy doing something different this coming weekend.” Such as going on active duty this weekend? Well I must say to this point, now one week later, I must agree. I am oddly enjoying this much more than I would have previously thought.

It is pleasing to see that good ol’ southern hospitialty is alive and kicking down in Birmingham. Perhaps what is more pleasing is knowing that there are people out there that do respect the men and women of our armed forces.

So to Gene and his wife I would like to extend a very warm thank you.

Hooah, go Army.

Stay tuned.