An Anecdote

When I left the Army the first time around, I said my farewell to my army colleagues at a traditional Army get together appropriately named a "Hail and Farewell". Most units have one of these parties every 2 or 3 months to welcome newcomers and send old friends on their way.

At such events departing officers typically get the chance to make a little speech to the crowd. As those of you who know me well can attest, I enjoy giving little speeches.

For example: When I was promoted to first lieutenant--another speech worthy event in the Army's eyes--I asked my fellow lieutenants up in Alaska to give me a list of 5 words that I would have to incorporate into the speech. The catch? I wouldn't look at the list until I was in front of the battalion and it was my turn to speak. True to my word, I improvised the promotion speech on the spot, and I used all 5 of those words in the process. To tell you the truth, I can't remember a single one of those words now--but I do still remember the stifled laughs of my peers, and the befuddled look of my battalion commander.

Back to the speech I gave when I left the Army the first time. It was nothing so flashy or outrageous as the promotion speech. I don't remember much of what I said in this speech either, other than thanking everyone I'd worked with, and Lauren, who was in attendance that afternoon. But as I concluded the speech, I ended on a little line that I had prepared.

"Peace in the middle east, no blood for oil, I'm out!"

This line drew hoots and applause. Soldiers who knew me, and my sense of humor, appreciated the irony of these statements. I shook hands on my way out, and I listened politely to the speeches of the other departing officers.

I found out about 6 months later that at least one wife in the crowd was deeply offended by my remarks. In her mind, I was making light of the danger that her husband had faced in Iraq. And of course, she was right. I was making a joke about the situation, which is and was as big part of my leadership style.

Aunt Terry, I think, is reacting to my general tone in much the same way as that Army wife. I haven't said anything that is specifically negative about Iraq--about the situation there, about military and political progress, etc. I think opinions on those matters are for each of us to figure out on our own. What I do, however, is make snide remarks using made-up phrases like "neo-global islamo-fascism". Does this humor betray my underlying views on the efficacy of our nation's current strategy? Or of the underlying premise/justification of a Long War to end/mitigate global terrorism's impact? I imagine that it might. But more than that, such language pokes fun at the propaganda and sloganeering that so often serves to replace popular dialogue about the situation in the middle east.

Because really, what's more absurd--that we're waging a war to end "neo-global islamo-fascism" or that what we're doing in Iraq is somehow related to trading blood for oil? Each phrase represents a gross simplification and (in my opinion) misrepresentation of the actual situation in the middle east.

Long Live the Yellow Elephants

This isn't new territory, but check out the latest on Mitt Romney.

And lest we forget, it's worth reading this piece that ran in the times last week about Chelsea Clinton, who was so moved by 9-11 that she set out on a career of public service got rich with gigs as a consultant and a hedge fund manager.

Ladies and gentlemen, I give you the children of the modern day American aristocracy.

Now, you might question my cynicism seeing as I myself sought to leave military service for a career in business not that dissimilar from Chelsea's or Tagg's. For that matter, most of my friends are engaged in such endeavors, and have never served a day in uniform in their lives. Many of them, just like Tagg and Chelsea, engage in philanthropic and volunteer efforts big and small.

What's the difference, then, between me/my friends and Tagg/Chelsea? No one in my circle is being held up as shining examples of their generation, while Tagg and Chelsea are. While Prince Charles's sons put on military uniforms and beg to go to Iraq (in Harry's case, at least), few if any famous sons in America go off to war. It seems harsh to judge the Chelseas and Taggs of the world based on the actions of their peers, rather than on their own merits...but for whatever reason, the almost utter lack of a famous name in service makes it worse.

Ah well...thank God for Rob Riggle!

What are they gonna do, send us to Iraq?

My old buddy Chris Davis asks a great question in the comments section of yesterday's post:

"What happens to those that don't pass the weigh-in or apft?"

And the answer is...basically nothing. We're all already going to Iraq, so if we fail to meet the course standards (including APFT type stuff) the "worst" they can do to us is send us over in a non-CA capacity. But since CA officers have one of the highest KIA rates of all Army officers, getting sent to Iraq in a non-CA capacity isn't necessarily a bad thing...

That said, an interesting rumor was floating around the water cooler earlier today. Without giving away too much, we're hearing that the IRR Captains in the class 7 weeks in front of me are getting assigned to staff jobs, rather than Team Leader roles. Staff guys are as "in the rear with the gear" as is possible in this age of non-contiguous battle spaces. The Team Leaders, on the other hand, are the bubbas out on the front lines of freedom, bravely risking their necks to ensure that no Iraqi child goes to bed without a beanie baby.

Bottom line--staff is safer, but Team Leader positions are more interesting and rife with professional/personal development opportunities. Food for thought.

Some Iraq Video

Here is an interesting video essay on one little corner of Iraq, for those interested in such things. Warning--this one isn't for the feint hearted.

Sometimes, getting the minimum is juuuust fine

As I alluded to in my previous post, today was our last day of Army Training here at Fort Jackson. To celebrate, we drew M16-A2 rifles early this morning, and headed to the range for a little Basic Rifle Marksmanship, or BRM.

Now to those of you who knew me during my huahh-huahh Army 1.0 days, you probably recall that BRM was something that I was never really that good at. Sure, I had my good days...but I never qualified expert (36 out of 40 hits) and once or twice I put up some real stinkers.

In fact, in a 4 year Army career otherwise unmarred by mediocrity, my rifle skills were never more than average.

Furthermore, I found rifle ranges so stressful--I was never 100% positive I would qualify--that the last time I fired an M16 back in April of 2005 was, at the time at least, one of the 2 or 3 happiest moments of my life. It meant that I never had to fire an M16 again, and I was more grateful for that than you can imagine.

All of that brings us to today, and my triumphant return to the M16. And by triumphant, I mean that I managed to put up a 23/40...the minimum score needed to pass. Of course, had I failed to pass they would have simply made note of it, and sent me on my way. What else could they do, really? Send me to Iraq?

All in all, though, I was relieved to pass after my two year hiatus from shooting. And to be honest, I'm proud of my 23. It was a nasty-hot day, my glasses fogged up on me, and I didn't have time to properly zero my weapon before the qualification range--I basically had to aim low and left on all of the targets to get the rounds to hit where I wanted them too. At the end of the day, I passed, and that's good enough for now.