We Landed on Mars! (Or Spring has Sprung in Mosul)

This is what my afternoon looked like today. No camera tricks...it was that eery. Needless to say, I found myself quoting Total Recall all day today -- because of the Mars-like glow, not because that movie is completely awesome and should be quoted at every opportunity or anything.

A Lesson In Control

Last night was a pretty nice evening in Northern Iraq, so three of us were standing outside enjoying the weather and conversation. Every now and again, the guys up on radar hill will pick up signatures of indirect fire (IDF -- mortars, rockets, etc...) being fired from around the city. Sometimes these signatures are just random explosions that are not related at all to IDF. As a precaution, however, these signatures trigger an alert that goes out over the PA system that sounds like an awful alarm clock, followed by "INCOMING! INCOMING!" When this is heard, you can usually find me going on about my business as usual. We've been pretty lucky over the course of the past six and a half months to not have anything land close. As we were standing outside last night, the alarm went off again. When it goes off, the conversation usually pauses so we don't have to speak any louder, and to see if something actually lands. After it finished it's last "INCOMING!", a friend of mine looked at me and said, "You know, one of these days, a rocket is just gonna land right on top of u...."

BOOOOOOOM!

It nearly did. At that point, we decided to see what the inside of our bunker looked like. See, when they shoot rockets, they shoot them in groups off rails. They've been finding them with 9-12 rockets per rail system. Because these guys aren't exactly proficient at their jobs, you can usually expect only about 4 to 5 to actually land near where they are aimed. Of those 4 to 5, only around 2 to 3 will actually explode. When that first one landed near, we knew 3 to 4 were still en route. 2 more exploded once we were inside the bunker, though not nearly as close as the first one.

In my 27 years, I've found nothing nearly exciting as a rocket exploding nearby. As I was sitting in the bunker, I started thinking. There is literally nothing you can do to avoid one landing at your feet. Now, the laws of probability really work against a rocket actually landing close enough to kill you, but there's something sexy about one landing nearby and you being able to blog about it 24 hours later. After seeing and hearing explosions on the countless war movies I've watched over the years, let me assure you that when they happen in real life, they sound completely different...just like gunfire. You might feel the bass from the sound effects in the theater, but you don't feel the ground shake beneath your feet from a real 107mm rocket exploding. Luckily no one was killed during the attack, but it really brings you back to reality when something happens like that.

For years now, I have been a man who needs to be in control. I would rather drive than ride along. I don't like tour groups. I don't like other people making plans for me (which is ironic, based on my career choice). I would rather fly the plane than sit in the cabin (knowing full well that it probably wouldn't end well for me and the rest of the passengers). However, last night was a great lesson from the "You-can't-always-be-in-control" school of thought. See what they did there? These violent extremists are teaching me lessons in life even while they're trying to take mine. Kudos, guys. Kudos.

An Open Letter to My Mustache

Author's Note: Some of you might have seen this on my facebook. For the roughly 3 Americans still out there that do not yet have a facebook (give it time...it'll happen when you're ready.), I repost this here for you:


Dear Magnum P.I.,

Let me preface this letter by saying that I've truly enjoyed our time together. You always (and I mean always) bring a smile to my face. When I have bad days, you're always there to lift my spirits. In fact, you've lifted the spirits of many in and around Mosul. But, like a baby panda, you have reached your peak of pulchritude. You came to me a nervous little shadow, and have blossomed into such a glorious spectacle. I am proud to call you mine. Your function is two-fold: 1) You make people smile (and the occasional child cry...though I really believe someone took his ice cream cone right before he saw me) and 2) You keep my lip warm during the cold Iraqi nights. Since spring has arrived, you serve only one purpose, and as Alton Brown says, a fire extinguisher should be your only unitasker. We both knew from Day 1 of "New Year, New Mustache" that there would be a wear-out date. Though I wasn't sure of how long you would be with me, I knew that you could never be a permanent fixture on my lip. That may come off as harsh, but understand me here: Personally, I think you are a great facial accessory. Some of the greatest men (and women!) have sported such lip warmers. Women, however, are not always so fond of the soup strainer. Furthermore, I am 100% sure that I could not trust any woman that truly believed you to be sexy. I'm not saying I don't think you're sexy. Let me rephrase: I don't think you're sexy. I'm 27, nearly 28, and I feel like it's probably about time to settle down and find a good woman to make me look better. You very well may stand in between me and my happily ever after, Magnum. I can't stand idly by while life passes me by. Thus, April 1, 2011, you will no longer be a part of my life. I'm giving notice so you can have a few days to get your things together, and possibly put out some feelers for future employment. I have nothing but good things to say about you, so if you do decide to seek employment elsewhere, you can count on a great letter of recommendation. Unfortunately, I just can no longer afford to keep you on...my lip. Good luck in your future endeavors, and vaya con Dios.

With All Sincerity,

XXXX "XXXXXX" XXXXXX

Boosting Morale 7,000 Miles From Home

We've been lucky these past 6 and a half months. We've run over 50 missions through some of the worst areas left in Iraq and haven't lost anyone. The rockets and mortars that occasionally make their presence known have been off-target, and other than an isolated incident involving a violent extremist (that's the new politically-correct term, FYI) posing as an Iraqi soldier, there has been no violence to speak of on our base. All that to say this: regardless of all those good things, this is not an easy deployment for anybody. Marital strife in the Army has almost become the norm, rather than the exception. One of my soldiers is dealing with that as we speak, and I can't imagine what he's going through. I spoke with another soldier on the bus yesterday who is on his 4th (yes, fourth) deployment. His daughter was born shortly before his first deployment, and is now 8. He has spent 4 years TOTAL with his 8 year-old daughter. That's another untold cost of war. Military divorce rates were through the roof but are finally starting to level off, but only now that the deployment cycles have slowed. A lot of the reason I'm here in this Army right now is so that that Staff Sergeant won't ever have to miss another year of his girl's life. Largely symbolic, but better me than that husband and father. We are halfway done here, but these kinds of stresses are huge burdens on us over here trying to finish the job so we can get back home to our loved ones. Unit morale is often affected by stress...be it inside the unit, problems back home, or just soldiers getting stuck in a rut. Morale in the workplace, regardless of the workplace, is INCREDIBLY important. It doesn't matter if you're a dishwasher at the Olive Garden or the Army Chief of Staff. If your morale is low, your job is affected. So, what can be done to boost morale in the workplace? Today, it was throwing a whole bunch of meat on the grill and pumping out awful hip hop music through computer speakers. It never ceases to amaze me how such a simple thing like a "backyard" BBQ can improve our morale. It's rare to have a "fun" day out here, but today was fun. I saw a platoon come together to put this "grillstravaganza" together and every single one of us had fun...for hours. 3 bags of charcoal, and roughly 30 pounds of meat were consumed and every soldier left with a smile on his face. Did we solve all our problems as a result of John's famous (near-)beer brats? No. But we were reminded of the fact that every single one of these soldiers here has whatever support that they may need, regardless of the situation, and that DOES (re)build morale.

Would you believe that the internet has been out for the last month? That's not even nearly true, but it would excuse my lack of musings. So, over the course of 1 month (these gaps between posts are growing, it seems) things have changed from week to week and even day to day. As I'm sure you're all aware, dear readers, we (the U.S. Army) are tentatively scheduled to leave Iraq completely by the end of this year. That being said we'd be remiss to not at least attempt to train the Iraqi army in the fine art of field artillery. Now, when the United States replaces old weapons systems with new ones, the old models are typically either scrapped and sold for parts, left to rust in "graveyards" somewhere, or given to third world countries as a show of compassion...or something like that. A few years ago, we replaced our M198 howitzer (dating back to 1979) with the M777. Now, I understand these numbers are probably Greek to the lot of you, but I will give you the most important differences between these two guns. The old one weighs every bit of 16,000 pounds and is manipulated completely by those unfortunate enough to be assigned to the weapon. The new one weighs just over 6,000 pounds, and has a lot in the way of hydraulic assistance. Needless to say, we don't like the old one anymore, so we're giving over 100 to the Iraqis. Now, that sounds like we're giving them our hand-me-downs...but these guns aren't bad. They're combat-proven, reliable pieces of equipment. Ironically, it's likely at least some of these guns sent what the Iraqi army called "steel rain" into Iraq in '91 and again in '03...So, they're getting a good deal (in terms of the guns, not in terms of ACTUAL cost). Anyhoo...these guns are essentially just 8 tons of steel unless somebody shows you how to properly operate them (and safely). Seeing as how my section is the best in the battalion, what other choice do they have but to have us train these future Iraqi Redlegs? Answer? Plenty, but they chose us. In the world of U.S. Field Artillery, there are essentially two camps: towed, and self-propelled. Most artillerymen spend their careers in one or the other. Based on the pictures I've posted, it's probably obvious to you, dear readers, that I fall into the "self-propelled" category with our M109A6 Paladins. The main difference between the two groups is that the towed guys LOVE to run around and are, for all intents and purposes, gluttons for punishment. See, my office is inside the Paladin, which means I only have to move slightly to perform any job inside the gun. The towed folks are constantly running and gunning outside the gun, wherever their helicopter or truck drops them off. There's a saying in the Army..."work smarter, not harder"...and the towed fellows definitely work harder. So, when it came down to find some Redlegs to train the Iraqis on a towed artillery piece, people with towed artillery experience would be the obvious choice. But our Creator has a wonderful sense of humor, apparently, because my platoon was chosen to first learn about this behemoth, then teach it to a group that knows probably 30 English words between them, none of which relates to artillery. Hilarious. Will this event ever come to fruition? Stay tuned, sports fans, because I don't even know since the plans keep changing from day to day and week to week. See how I tied that all together? Nice.

In other news...we're over halfway done here. Unbelievable, really. Seems like last week I was staring into the nothingness that is Kuwait wondering what awaited me. Now, I just can't wait to see Kuwait again, because that means I'll be headed home for a spell. Thanks for keeping up with me and my occasional ramblings, but feedback is always welcome...I might even post more often...just sayin'.

Where I've Been, What I've done

It seems like every time I post, I'm apologizing for a break in writing. This entry will be no different. I'm SORRY for not writing more. The all-caps and bold font should indicate that I'm more sorry than in previous entries. According to the stats, I haven't posted since February 4. Much has happened since then...West Texas was shut down by snow and ice and apparently the Middle East discovered facebook and democracy all at once. So, let's talk.

Last week, I did something that I have never done before. They say that prostitution is the oldest profession. I believe that right after that job was created, guard duty was. I was lucky enough to get picked for the weekly gate guard duty. What this entails is about 8 hours of sitting at the gate staring out at this:



Now, don't be fooled by all the excitement going on in this picture. It's not as awesome as it looks. At this particular gate, NOTHING HAPPENS. However, I have no problem with that. When things start happening there, nothing good comes of it. But, to make a short story even shorter, I spent a week protecting my fellow soldiers from dangerous, malicious (and possibly retarded...I don't have a good zoom on my camera, or else there would be evidence) sheep. I will say that despite doing next to nothing for 8 hours a day, 7 days in a row, it is exhausting. There's also the reality aspect involved. There is a line out there leading up to the gate that, if crossed, will cause all hell to break loose. And for 8 hours a day, you are that guy required to unleash said hell. If you don't, then you really put a whole bunch of lives at risk. That thought alone will (or at least SHOULD) keep most awake while up there in the turret when it's 30 degrees and windy. Anyhoo...I did that for a week. I survived it, and so did all the personnel I was defending.

In other news, I can put VIP driver on my resumé. I won't say who/what/when/where, but there was about 100 years of combined officer experience in my truck the other day. Needless to say, they were very quick to tell me how amazing my driving and overall performance was. OK...That's not true. But they didn't say ANYTHING to me, so that's good.

Oh, and as the Middle East continues to get wild(er) and crazy(er -- I'm aware that this creates a spelling error, but after a couple of minutes of playing with it, I'm sticking to it.), remember us over here. And the people of these countries fighting oppression.

Home on the Range

So, since we're not doing much right now...the Arab world just seems a little fragile at this point...we're busy trying to find stuff for us to do. It's been proven many times over that unengaged soldiers spell trouble. So, recently, we took out the trucks to a range to shoot our M240B, which just so happens to be my favorite weapon system in the US Army. Now, because I am what the Army calls an Expert Rifleman (39/40 targets...The target FELT that 1 round whiz past its "ear", but didn't want to go down) I don't get a chance to shoot all that much. I guess they feel like once you master something, you just don't have to do it much at all. I have fundamental issues with that line of thought, but some people do need more...practice. Anyhoo...I got to go out and shoot the always-fun 240 off the top of my truck. Here's a fun picture from the files of "John's 'Days Off'."