3 Phones and a Shadow

I should be careful what I write, because of how sensitive the subject is. Suffice to say, Security is Security.

I came to Texas with my favorite phone, the aluminum casing and Corning Gorilla Glass was surely going to make it all the way through my deployment. The fatal flaw of my perfect phone was that I didn't have the correct settings to receive cutesy pictures of the clothes Ashelyn was buying for Addy. Being the perfect mother of my child, she sent me my less cooler, slightly slimmer phone that was pre-dated the smartphone era. I used each one with the same number for weeks on end, one was to bring internet to my computer, the second, pictures of..... baby clothes.

One day my smarter phone met its demise in the form of a USB charger breaking off of the main body, with no way to re-charge it, I used my other phone as my main one. (besides, Ashelyn is in Paris, why do i need text messaging in the form instant messaging quotes.)

I am now using multiple systems with different classification settings. It sound spiffy, but you get used to it. I can't tell what exactly happened, but I can say I put information "A" into network "B" without clearing it with "C." I was promptly escorted out of the TOC. If I had been anywhere but a controlled training area, I would be arrested for XYZ. I was let off with a wrist slapping, but the security did confiscate my phone. (The second one mind you)

I now have a Shadow, he follows me to learn what I do in the case in suddenly go down with food poisoning during our training. (You chuckle now, but they really pull people out claiming 'food poisoning' to see how the system can handle under stress) Rolstad is a champ so far, I know him from the barracks and have gotten to know him pretty well. The one thing Rolstad hasn't really adjusted to is what I call "Downs Speed." I go fast and get stuff done so, nice and tidy like. "you need to tattoo freaking wings on your ankles like that one Viking God!" he'll say, I'm pretty sure he means Hermes, the Greek messenger god.

Oh and the third phone? I have it in my hand, its a cheap little android that I'll abuse for the next year, and trash it when I get back. Sorry ol' Optimus Q, that is your fate.

Much Love..

My Battles (Battle Buddies that is)

Before I begin, I missed the PRT by 5 situps, I guess that having a wonderful girl that can bake at home really added a few inches on my waist.

So if your looking for news, please disregard the rest of the blog, and hang up the phone now. If you are looking for a memoir; press 1 now, and read on.

This week when we were being tested on our physical capability, and the last event is the 2 mile run. Our course in NFH is a mile stretch of road, run from one cone to the other.  The goal is to come in under the time designated for your age group. (Mine for an example is a 2 mile run in a measly 17:36).

The run doesnt catch up to you until over a mile. That is where you burn out all your anxiety energy, and you are just stranded out there, jogging home. It is slightly nerve racking because all the other group runs you are, well, in a group running together, sing cadences. The similiariry I see in each run is that we can't be silent!  When we are focusing on our shins exploding, and the lack of air in our chest, we look out and shout at our peers quick phrases of encouragement, or bribery. I have been on both ends of this, as the one being yelled at, I straghtened up, breathed deeper, ran faster, and relaxed.  As the shouter, I was distracted from my own problems. Focusing on the group effort removed my personal needs, because I could feel better if I pushed someone else across the finish line.

I look at the few people I live with, sleep with, eat with, and its truly is a different relationship that no one can understand unless you have been there yourself. I have had few other times where this has happened, mainly on my mission.

I try to explain the closeness of the relationships, but its hard to convey the emotions attached to it. I figure thats why it termed "Brothers in Arms"

I ponder on all the things I did over the last week to come out with some funny nuance that all encompasses the over arching mood of the week. (Yes, I'm listening to Frank Sinatra, therefore, I feel smarter.) The only memories that stick out are not of the humorous punchline, but is found in the impromptu lessons that were found in the sweet reprise after our work day has settled.

After running nearly 5 weeks straight pulling more than 14 hour shifts. I have finally been able to slow down a bit and act more like a typical 9-5 job. this allows me to spend a few more moments in the barracks with my fellow soldiers.

The 'older' soldiers, that is to say, the ones with gray hairs, vastly outnumber the 'younger' ones. This only changes the dynamic of how you request help. You typically approach them as if they were your grandpa, and less like your high school buddy (I swear I may get to the point eventually)

A few nights ago, I requested help with my haircut from one of the officialese that has created a small business out of trimming hair. He promptly grab his tools and a chair and motioned me into the sink room. Staring at the white brick wall, wondering how old the ceiling fixtures were, he prepped his clippers and turned them on. I believe that the sound of clippers have a profound soothing effect on the general male population, because as he began to cut my hair, we both started relaxing.

It didn't take long for the 'barber shop talk' to begin. I probed his mind of Army stuff. He asked general questions one would ask another at a neighborhood barbecue. The point of the conversation was neither here nor there, but eventually i had to ask him if he'll ever start his own barber shop. (The question was slightly racist, because he was an African American that was good with clippers).

This started his monologue, which I was contempt in letting him talk. I cannot tell you all the things he touched on or eluded to, because his voice was soft and the clippers were on my head. I felt his sincerity when he did talk. I do remember him talking about giving generously, and to follow your dreams with your family.

We have older people in our life so that we have examples and advisers in our life. Just remember that their advice, not doctrine.

(Darn, no more Frank Sinatra, I guess I'm done! Hee Hee)

Convoy?

I was so excited about yesterdays adventures, I need to share it with my Blogosphere! As everyone knows that reads this on a consist basis, I have been in Texas for the last month getting ready to head out into "the sandbox." A lot of the training has been class work and study. Yesterday, I did things a little different.

Meet Rocko and Bull

These two handsome vechiles are the newest craze in the Army. both are mine/IED resistant, completely are armored, go anywhere you need them, and have their own Life support system in case of a chemical attack.

More Images

I Got to play with Rocko and Bull, along with a few of their friends. The Army viewed it as training us to look for sign of explosives while driving in convoys. I saw this as a day of off-roading. Mother nature was even kind enough to have it rain all night prior, so we had plenty of mud and puddles to climb through, and by the end of the night we were MUDDY.

The next day, we started a more "life-like" We drove around the back of Fort Hood to simulate a convoy. I was placed in lead car, Gunner seat (the Turret up top) it was fun to be standing in a moving vechile after all those years that mom never let me. 

Army gives you many opportunities to full fill your childhood dreams!!

To the Music?

Rhythm, Either you got it or you don't. That's just a lie that black people say to white boys in the barracks to explain why we dance "like a retarded seal" But in truth, we all have a steady, consistent pace. Just because the world doesn't hear the music you dance to, doesn't mean its not there.

I have found my Battle Rhythm. That is the Army's way of saying I got settled into what I will be doing. Mostly that means being able to wake up and fall asleep on time, get hungry at the right time, etc etc. I'm very pleased that I can adapt to the things I need to do. Everything will go according to plan, because we are all just little solos in Gods master rhythm

9600 hours

1 O God, where art thou? And where is the pavilion that covereth thy hiding place?

2 How long shall thy hand be stayed, and thine eye, yea thy pure eye, behold from the eternal heavens the wrongs of thy people and of thy servants, and thine ear be penetrated with their cries?

       There are many times in my life that I feel I need to just do it.... ya know? like the dishes, you see them and you say "Self, just do it." I was expecting this deployment to be like that. It was to be just another nuisance in my life that displaces plans all together. (Not to say that they were good plans, they were held together with duct tape)

      It has been much harder than that, much, much harder. To start with, I didn't know the first couple of days would be this emotionally painful being away from Ashelyn and Addy. As I gather around with the men in my barracks to have another sausage filled night, I seem to be stalking Ash on Facebook, more or less just so i remember what a girl looks like.

      I do have a confession, I have let myself go since AIT about a year ago. Back then, running was annoying because it wasted my time. I could go through the motions of Physical Training with no worries.  I have been enlisted into the Darnell School of Smoke U. Sergeant Darnell likes me to do at least 20 pushups every time I see him, now that we live in the same floor, that is often.  The first day we ran over 3.5 miles to get us "acclimatized." Yesterday, we ran suicides (Google it) along with squats and bench presses. 

7 My son, peace be unto thy soul; thine adversity and thine afflictions shall be but a small moment;

 8 And then, if thou endure it well, God shall exalt thee on high; thou shalt triumph over all thy foes.

      Today has been my break through. I am still missing my girls, but the pain is manageable. SGT Darnell, in his infinite wisdom, let me work out myself.  This allowed me to run at my pace a.k.a a little slower, and it allowed me to practice my strides.... along with letting my mind run.

      The lights are out. so I must retire, but I will be glad that I served my country.  I know I will succeed in what I do, but until then, it is a long painful road 

EPIC FAIL

i was writing this blog in my head as i was making sunday dinner. I was going to brag about how awesome i am at throwing things and ideas together and making them work. I would still do that, but then i would be lying to you. it started with the mistiming, i forgot that with my pans, water boild after 20 minutes, and i need to cook the pasta for less than 10.
pasta= 30 min cook time. the italian chicken i was planning to cook takes 20 minutes after the pan gets hot. chicken=25 minutes. i started the chicken when the water boiled. so what am i to do when the pasta is done and the chicken aint? *lightbulb* put marinara in pasta after, so they can warm up. mean while, chicken pan is too hot, but the recipe says dont open the lid or youll dry out the chicken....... pasta is too wet when combined with sauce,  so boild some out..... chicken is "done" but all it really is is batter burned on bottom, runny on top. pasta and marinara is "done" but the bottom of the pan is burned and the pasta overcooked. while im eating this, all i hear is the food network judges critiquing my food, and that one guy saying "sorry, but you are not a sweet genius"