The More Things Change...

I have moved jobs yet again, but this time the move is largely cosmetic. I'm still working for the same organization I was before, but I've more or less shifted from being a worker bee to being in charge of the shop. The team I work with is great, and largely self sufficient, so I don't foresee much in the way of superviseree duties coming with my exciting new job title.

What this does mean is that I am in a better position to shape our overall strategy as a staff shop. The move also strips one layer of the chain of command between me and the Task Force Commander, which means I will have a more active role in shaping our overall strategy for four provinces in eastern/central Afghanistan. Pretty exciting stuff, all in all.

The downside is that I now have a lot more of the day to day beauracratic stuff on my plate. Giving the islamo-fasiacists the what-for apparently involves a ceaseless stream of meetings and slideshows and teleconferences (who knew?) and I'm now the guy who has to make sure all of those things get taken care of. Before, I could focus on my slice of the pie (which was already focussed on strategy) and leave the boring stuff to the boss.

So, all in all this is a good move, and I'm in an infinitely more interesting job than I was when I first arrived. Because honestly, coming all the way to Afghanistan after everything I went through at Fort Jackson, Fort Bragg, the CAQC and FOB Patriot, if I spent my time here lifting weights and playing video games...

You guys know what I'm getting at.

**I couldn't come up with a related picture for this post, so I put in this one of an adorable puppy instead, for one or more of the following reasons:

A) Everyone loves adorable puppies
B) My new gig requires long hours that make me fall asleep in my water bowl
C) I'm trying to establish a pattern of behavior
D) All of the above

I know which reason I'm leaning towards, but I leave it for y'all to guess at...

Laser, Rocket Arm #1: A fitting farewell from Faith...

Completing the trifecta of captains/recent MBA grads/IRR call-ups, I'm Andrew's friend, Chris. I apologize for delaying my debut, but like Andrew and Jeff before me, I am finally getting to experience the joys of FOB Patriot, Ft. Bragg. I am also heading to Afghanistan but will be a CA team leader on a Provincial Reconstruction Team (more to follow about this in the future).

In my first blog post (that's right, my first, so CAQC monitors - you can stop searching for my secret blog), I thought I would share a tale from my last night in the comforts of the Faith Barracks.

The Faith Barracks were home to Andrew and I our entire time in Ft. Bragg (minus FOB time), so needless to say, they hold a special place in my heart. Sure the the heat might not always work or in some cases work too well, but this has been my IRR home away from home. It wasn't Jeff's luxury skyscraper, but it was briefly home and I thought Faith and I got along pretty well. At least I thought we did...

During my last night before moving out to the FOB I was up quite late packing. I had slowly been getting everything ready but I definitely underestimated just how much crap you can accumulate in 6 months. Around 3 am I was finally putting the finishing touches on everything. I had to be up at 5 am, but I was ready to drift off to sleep.

That's when Faith decided to intervene. In a very fitting conclusion to that chapter of my mobilization (and par for many of the IRR mafia's experiences at Ft. Bragg), the fire alarm went off.

I don't know if there is anyway to describe the Faith Barracks' fire alarm as anything but the loudest and worst sound I have ever heard in my life. It physically hurts your body, not just your ears. This is valuable when trying to evade a fiery death, but not such a good thing when trying to squeeze in the last couple hours of sleep you will have in an actual bed for a while.

My first thought was that Joe (slang for lower-ranking enlisted soldiers when they screw up) had gotten drunk and decided that pulling the fire alarm sounded more fun than Halo 3 or Rock Band. Then I smelled and saw smoke pouring out of the ventilation.

I never did find out what caused the smoke. I suspect the goons from the Holland Barracks. All I know is that 5 fire trucks (one of which is pictured above by my masterful photography skills) and 90 minutes later, I was allowed back in my room. I'm not sure if I fell asleep but as I laid there I had to laugh at Faith's farewell to the IRR.

12:13 PM 22 Dec 07--Final Meals

We were served our final meal here on American Terra Firma. It was catered by the same nice people who fed us out at FOB Patriot for these last couple of months. Next up: airline food.

Almost There

I can't give specifics, but I'm getting very close to my travel date/time. I'll be moving through several different countries on my way to Afghanistan, and once I've moved through, I'll tell the tale here.

The problem, then, is that I don't know when and where I'll next have an internet connection.

How will I overcome that, you wonder? With pluck, grit, and a healthy dose of hardworksmanship, that's how.

By which I mean I'll be writing posts to myself on the laptop as I go, saving them on a flash drive. When I get access to a computer, I will upload the posts. Tale told, end of story, right?

Now, for those of you wondering if lack of access can explain my poor blogging record over the last month...sadly, this is not the case. For the sake of making excuses, though, let's say that I've spent the last month driving around the US in a van solving mysteries.

Still Alive

Still at FOB Patriot.

Still in great spirits.

Why?

Because I'll be DONE w/ FOB Patriot in a week.

Awesome.

A Different Sort of Thanksgiving

Things tend to get dramatic here at the forward edge of freedom, and Thanksgiving 2007 proved to be no exception.

First things first, the most important part of the holiday is that I was able to spend it with my beautiful wife Lauren. This was our first Thanksgiving as a married couple. Thanks to Uncle Sam and his relentless pursuit of Neo-Global Islamo-Fasciasts, our first Thanksgiving as a married couple nearly didn't happen.

You see, the good people who run FOB Patriot do so with a simple, powerful premise behind everything that they do--Theater Immersion. They reckon that the best way to prepare for life in Iraq or Afghanistan is to simulate that lifestyle as closely as possible for 6 weeks immediately before sending units overseas.

Is this a good way to train, in my opinion? I think that, as with everything, there are tradeoffs--but generally, Theater Immersion, if done well, seems like it might have a small incremental affect on our survivability overseas. If a spot of hassle and discomfort are the price we pay for one or two or 10 dudes not getting hurt or killed, then it was a small price indeed.

That said, Theater Immersion sometimes stretches the bounds of common sense. Such was almost the case this Thanksgiving.

To wit, we were originally supposed to spend the entire Thanksgiving holiday here at FOB Patriot, locked down as always, despite the fact that we had NO training scheduled for the day. More reasonable minds eventually prevailed, and we owe that almost entirely to our battalion chain of command. Our Battalion Commander has fought relentlessly for the well being of the soldiers in my unit since the day we arrived at FOB Patriot.

Unfortunately, though, because of the late notice that we'd be able to leave the FOB over Tgiving, most of the battalion was unable to arrange for their families to visit. I was fortunate that Lauren lives relatively close to here, but we literally made the final call on Tuesday or Wednesday for her to come down to Fort Bragg.

Once here, Lauren and I spent the holiday with my old friend Matt Holmes and his beautiful family. Matt has opened up his home to me and Lauren time after time since I've been at Fort Bragg, and once again I find myself at a loss for words in thanking him for his generosity. Lauren and I had a wonderful day surrounded by babies and pets and a loving family.

And more than anything else, Lauren and I had each other. So while things didn't play out exactly as Lauren and I had planned, our first Thanksgiving as a married couple will forever be a holiday to remember.

p.s. I wrote many moons ago about the amount of turkey that I had consumed at Army dining facilities. Since then, I've been served surprisingly little turkey, much to my chagrin and/or relief. That said, Lauren and I definitely ate the hell outta some turkey on Tgiving. And then on Friday, when I had a few more hours free, we got lunch at Boston Market, split an 8 oz turkey plate with stuffing and mashed potatoes, and pretended that we were eating leftovers.

Range Week at FOB Patriot

Hello again, folks.

For the last week or so I have been engaged in an epic battle with freedom hating, terror loving man-sized silhouettes. After seven days and hundreds of bullets, the results are in--if man sized silhouettes pop up at me for 3-7 seconds at a time at a range of 50-300 meters--remaining perfectly still and not firing back--I will totally shoot them approximately 75% of the time. Put that in your water pipe and smoke it, Taliban.

That's right, everyone, I successfully qualified not once, not twice, but three times on my M16--once on a computer simulation (35/40), once using my iron sites (26/40) and once using my laser optic (25/40). For those of you scoring at home, the minimum to pass is 23/40, so yes, my never ending hunger for terrorist killing remains tragically hamstrung by a persistent streak of mediocrity in my marksmanship.

I also got to qualify on a 9mm pistol for the first time in my military career, which was enjoyable. As Lauren says, the targets are sometimes so close that you think they're jumping out at you (they start at 7m away) but shooting a pistol w/ accuracy is no mean feet. And I actually got the designation "1st class" with the pistol, which at the very least makes me sound cool. I'm not exactly sure how to work "Pistoleer First Class" onto my resume when it comes time to seek post-Army 2.0 employment, but I'll let y'all know when I do.

Search Engine Optimization Update

Hey everyone.

I haven't checked in for a while regarding how Army 2.0 shows up on search engines--but it turns out that we're sitting at number 3 when you Google "FOB Patriot". I've already had a couple of folks contact me with questions about the FOB. As always, I'm glad to help those Soldiers who come after me know a little more about what they're about to get themselves into.

Potato Chips are Delicious

I know that you aren't supposed to eat when you're down. But after venting a bit in that last post, I talked to Lauren and chomped down a bag of Cape Cod Salt 'n Vinegar Potato Chips.

For the record, Cape Cod Salt 'n Vinegar Potato Chips are delicious, and the good people of Cape Cod should be commended for living somewhere worthy of having so tasty a snack named after their home town.

After saying goodbye to Lauren, I jogged the quarter mile to the shower trailer, and I enjoyed a nice hot, 5 minute shower. Nevermind that I forgot my shower shoes and very well might have picked up some foot funk, it was a damn fine bathing experience.

So I guess my point is, and continues to be, that all things considered, we've got it pretty good here on the FOB. As glorified prison camps go, we're living in the Hilton for sure**.

**To any and all FOB personnel, administrators, and well-wishers--I don't in any way shape or form consider FOB Patriot to be a prison camp. You don't get paid salaries to go to prison camps. And they don't let you have your own guns. I get paid good money to be here, and I walk around armed to the hilt. I rule. And I really do dig it here. But, as you might imagine, I miss my wife a lot...

Did I say "easy as Wednesday morning"?

Well, it turns out that my morning me-time might very well be going the way of the Do Do. All of our morning start times are getting pushed up, in part because we want to jam as much training in during these next many days so that our instructor/trainers can take time off over the Thanksgiving holiday. As best as I can tell, my unit will get the day off for the holiday, but we'll have training all through the rest of the weekend.

The instructors don't live here at the FOB with us--they rotate in to teach whatever classes they're assigned. There is a separate chain of command that administers the FOB itself, and a third that makes the training calendars that governs us, the FOB administrators and the trainers. Having this many cooks leads to some (a lot of) confusion and crossed signals, but that's an entirely different post...

Bottom line, my free time at the FOB is about to get a little more restricted. And I lost my Nomex gloves. And my slightly torn/strained rotator cuff doesn't like the armor I wear every day. And even though we've been here 14 days now, we have 28 more days of FOB Patriot.

But for now, I know that I've got next Thursday off. All I'm focussed on is drudging through 5 more days, getting in some more good training, and (hopefully) seeing Lauren for Thanksgiving. From there, we'll see where things go.