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.