The horror

Look what was in my CHU.



Of course, it was alive when it first zoomed by my head. Now I'm afraid of my CHU, since insects that large make my soul shudder.

Odd things

So we are in Iraq, right?

Iraq is a desert. The part of Iraq we are in is, in fact, experiencing a drought. Drought in a desert is, of course, dry.

Even away from the rivers, occasionally you will see grass here. It's a status symbol. You'd see small (like 4-fooy-square) patches in the front of the occasional house, that sort of thing.

We were out trooping around yesterday, and I ran across an odd one.



That's a lawn - okay - but that's also a sprinkler. A sprinkler that is running. Did I mention that was no-kidding 95 degree in the shade at 1000 yesterday?

Hooah, basic conservation skills.

Memorial Day

Same statement as I put up every year, folks.

Cook out. Barbecue some critter. Hang out with your family and friends. Enjoy yourselves, because that's what the folks who didn't make it home would have wanted you to do. Do that for them, because they gave up a lifetime's worth of slightly-charred burgers and games of catch to preserve those things for the rest of us.

^$%^$ furniture

Well, I went to a war, and a garrison broke out.

They ordered furniture. Each CHU got two wall lockers and two little drawer/chest thingies. Today we did wall-lockers. Well, we did two of them. Out of the six we have.

Each wall-locker arrives in three boxes. Here's one box:



Many, many pieces. There were 50mm screws, too. About 10,000 of those.



Did I mention we don't have any powered screwdrivers? I was lucky in that I found a real one - that's a lot of screws to drive with a Gerber/Leatherman.

So, with four more of those and the little drawer thingies to put together, we shouldn't be bored for a few days. And, if nothing else, it's a wrist workout.

Scenes from a FOB

I actually took my camera this evening as I wandered out on an errand. I thought I'd share some imagery with y'all. Now, certainly you understand that I can't really stand on top of something tall, take a picture of the whole FOB, and label it with handy information like "PX," "LZ," "motor pool," etc. But I figure I can take all the candid FOB shots I want.

I walked out of the Hesco barriers that surround the living area, and shot a picture of the first interesting thing I saw.



Now, being a decent noncommissioned officer, I'd normally pick up a piece of refuse. But I left this one alone. Why, you ask?



Because it was underpants. Ick.

I trudged down, copied the number I needed off our quadconn, and turned to trudge back. And saw this delightful little slice of tackiness!



Yes, in the foreground you will see what is affectionately referred to as a "piss bottle." Because half of the world cannot be bothered to drag their sorry carcasses outside to pee at night. Not my half, I'd point out.

I didn't pick that up, either. But don't you think the dead mattresses add something classy?

I headed back to the office. Passing through the Hescos again, I glanced at the CHU behind mine where one of the first sergeants lives. We received some furniture for the CHUs this morning (some assembly required), and I note that the first sergeant's was (like most of ours), as yet unopened. Then I noticed that it was also, apparently, doubling as a lair.



I tried to lure the little critter over for some petting, but apparently he (or she) is already aware of the FOB's If You Don't Pet It It's Not A Pet policy, and kept its distance. Then I noticed it wasn't alone.



The only thing worse than one very small tiger is a whole gang of very small tigers. So I turned off the camera and backed away.

Next time - adventures in furniture assembly!

Road trips

The Bossman was recently out of town (yet again), hanging out in a much nicer and more Kurdish area, doing...well, field grade stuff (naps and PowerPoint). Or something. Word was passed that he should return to Big Base on Tuesday, or perhaps Wednesday, and then he might begin to try to find a way down here.

Our manuever battalion is doing most of our job at this point, so we're a little underemployed. Given that, we decided the best way to ensure Bossman made it home (rather than hanging out with the wireless internet and good chowhall for days on end) was to go fetch him back.

We packed our assault packs, loaded the radios, stuck SGT B in the turret, SSG C in the driver's seat and Yours Truly in what I like to refer to as the "aircraft commander" seat. Trading an open seat in the back for a spot in an outbound convoy, we hit the road.



Is that exciting or what? However, I've reached a point where if a car ride in Iraq is boring beyond words, I recognize it for the good thing it is.

We made it to the Big Base, found the Bossman, bought a lot of meat, grabbed a lot of snacks (hooah for Higher, who managed to get us access to the fresh fruit and vegetable storgae point!), and trucked back.

The ride back was at night (hence the lack of pictures). Alas, it wasn't utterly uneventful. In good news, our people are pretty good at handling nasty surprises in the road these days. In less-good news, handling those does take a while. So there was waiting. A good, long, stretch of waiting.

I will not elaborate on the acrobatics required to pee during said wait, when one is wedged into an abnormally small front seat area and wearing a ridiculous amount of gear. Suffice it to say it required monkeylike feats of perching, balancing and hanging by the arms.

I love my job.

But all's well that ends well. We made it back to FOB McSleepy with our Boss and our snacks. Although we told people we'd be gone, nobody really seems to have noted our absence. And although we had a couple of virtual papers in our electronic inbox, we're certainly not swamped. The excitement just never ends over here, I tell ya...

cringe

You know, I'd have thought there was maybe a better way to deal with this, pubicity-wise, than to publicize the resolution this way: Military burns unsolicited Bibles sent to Afghanistan.

I'm not a Bible person myself, understand. And I am fully aware of all the ways in which proselytizing of any religion, faith, or practice (Gen. Order 1B, paragraph 2k) might not really help the cause in Afghanistan.

But reeeally?

"The decision was made that it was a 'force protection' measure to throw them away, because, if they did get out, it could be perceived by Afghans that the U.S. government or the U.S. military was trying to convert Muslims," Wright told CNN on Tuesday.

Troops at posts in war zones are required to burn their trash, Wright said.

I don't know how they do it there, but we tend to burn classified stuff, personnel rosters and such, and address labels from our mail. And I mean we burn it (usually in our high speed classified material disposal unit - our grill). The rest of our trash we cart to the burn pit, where a super-healthy fire smolders 24/7, blowing charred bits of refuse and questionable smoke across the FOB.

But something about burning Bibles in the name of force protection and then doing media interviews about it strikes me as either creepy or bad public affairs work. Possibly both.

Then again, who knows. Maybe Bagram is so very crowded and packed, or there were so many Bibles, than it was impossible to shove the box into the back of the chaplain's conex for eventual transport stateside.

Small ray of sunshine

There's been a lot of grumpiness around here of late. We're not getting out much, and are mostly engaged in perpetuating some serious self-licking ice cream cone action.

So there we were in the office this afternoon. SGT C and I were griping. SGT B was on the NIPR, and I asked him to click into my AKO email. He did.

You've got an email from the first sergeant, he sang (with a certain degree of snarky cheer).

Awesome, replied Abby. I love communication from my chain of command. Let's see what wise things they have to say! (Or something very similar to that)

The subject line on the email read MAY JUNIOR BOARD PPRL.

SGT C, sensing my impending ecstasy at receiving email from Higher, edged toward the door as the email popped up.

I'm out, Sergeant..., he began.

CONGRATULATIONS TO OUR SOLDIERS WHO MADE THE LIST....read the email.

No. Don't leave. I need to read this. Stand right there and don't read over my shoulder, I did my best Sergeant growl. SGT C's packet was in front of the board, but they've been rough on him because, between two prior OIF/OEF deployments, a fine young family and a real job, SGT C has not yet gone to college. This has, in the eyes of previous boards, made him a giant, epic tower of FAIL.

The attachment opened....cover letter...[scroll...scroll....]...list of new Sergeants...list of new Staff Sergeants...

Hey! I smacked SGT C on the shoulder. Look!

He leaned. He peered. SGT B leaned and peered.

And there was grinning and backslapping and handshaking and great rejoicing all around. Effective 14 May, SGT C had become SSG C. That's good stuff, and it couldn't happen to a better guy.

The nail, it has been struck...

upon its head.

Tamara earned herself a hearty hooah from all three of the NCOs on my team with this shockingly accurate observation:

That whole corner of the world is like a Renaissance Festival gone amok; one where the participants don't take off their medieval garb and come back to the 21st Century at the end of the day, because it's never Miller Time in a country where booze is illegal and most anything fun can result in having various bits chopped off in a court of law.

It's one of those things we try not to say, but which does cross your mind from time to time if you hang out here long enough.

Mothers' Day

Just a note to wish all of my moms out there a Happy Mothers' Day. For the rest of you, make sure you call and tell YOUR Mom how fabulous she is. My Mom is, of course, the most fabulous one out there, but I'm sure y'all have some pretty good ones, too.

Next year, we have spend the day together, Mom!

They try...

but they fail.

Higher sent some people down today with some crap for us to hand out. They also brought snacks. A couple cases of soda (good), a box of fresh fruit and veggies (great) and a big box of bagels (awesome!).

Ok, so maybe not so much awesome on that last one. I popped it open so we could stick most of them in the freezer, and...



Now, seeing as we've been begging for them to send us something - anything - for months now, it was a commendable effort. But...nothing says you've been written off like a great whopping box of moldy bagels.

Wild and crazy

I tell you what, there's no bored like bored in Iraq. Well, actually, I bet bored in Afghanistan is pretty similar, as is bored in Kuwait (but that bored lack indirect fire, so maybe it's not the same).

But, the World's Coolest Grandmother used to say that only boring people get bored, so we do our best to resist. I thought I'd bring you a couple of bits of recent things that have passed for diversions.



I was playing with my knife (Benchmade Nimravus tanto - significantly less than MSRP thru AAFES - seriously, less than half. It's a pretty nice knife, but not that nice) when I noted that it had degraded to only sorta sharp enough to shave hair, but that it was reaping an impressive quantity of dry skin.



Bossman yelled at us when we started gathering materials to collect all our dry skin in a baggie to take to Higher, so that was the end of that.

Shortly later, sitting on my porch, we were absolutely enthralled by, well...



Hooah, fly sex.

Is it any wonder we've taken up arts and crafts to kill time?

Freakin' Lovely

Seriously - if only I could figure out how to buy retirement property here...

It's warming up, which is fine. I mean, it is Iraq - it's not supposed to be cool. The warmth brings the flies - fine. Flies are an integral part of the Iraq experience (can you eat with one hand while waving flies off your food constantly with the other and not break up your conversations? We can).

The mice are gone, and there are rumors of snakes. Great. I had mice running through my walls all winter and sneaking through holes in the interior of my trailer - I love to visualize sand vipers doing the same thing. Comfy feeling, trying to drift off to sleep, hearing something odd in the wall, thinking it might be a poisonous snake.

HAAATE.

And now - now the Iraqi mosquitos have come out. Vicious little bastards, with the emphasis on little. Much like American mosquitos, interestingly, they really seem to like my A NEG blood. I can sit around with both of my dudes, all of us wearing PT gear, and I am the one covered in bites in moments.

No - I don't use some sort of mosquito attractant soap. I just seem to have brought the "drink my blood and make scratch" neon sign that's been hovering over my head since childhood.

The things one sees

I was trudging back to the trailer after Evening Sadness (supper) last night. And off to my left, I saw...this:



Yeah. That would be a terp, in some sort of man hotpants, trying to get a cellphone signal, while striking a rather unfortunate pose.

[sigh]

The cell issue drives us crazy here - several nights a week one can see my guys boosting Tim the Superterp up onto my roof because that's where we get the best signal after dark. If one wants to stay in touch with local contractors and municipal bubbas, one does need some sort of communications beyond DSN and VOIP phones.

Good Work

The Iraq and Afghanistan Veterans of America is exactly what it sounds like - an organization dedicated to the folks who've participated in the wars we're fighting now. Far be it from me to pass judgement on any of the veterans' organizations out there, but I do think each conflict is different enough that perhaps an organization dedicated to veterans of one particular period of conflict might be valuable.

Anyway - these folks have been putting out some public service announcements, and they've got a new good one now.



Recognizing that many of our war veterans now are Guardsmen and Reservists, or Active Duty folks who might leave the military, I think it's particularly important to educate friends and family members about our care and feeding. The only harder thing, I'd say, than coming home and trying to readjust, can be coming home without your support network of comrades in arms.

There's a ton of good information there not only for vets, but for people who love vets. Worth a visit if you're in that position.

Harumph

A severe case of the Iraq has set in among the team here. For no apparent reason, we've all got a case of the OIF grumpies. We've likened it to a combination of athlete's foot, poorly-fitted underwear and a toothache.

So let's talk about something else, shall we? Look at what Mom found while I was in Michigan on leave:



Yeah - that's a chocolate bacon bar. It's a chocolate bar, but with little pieces of bacon in it.

I ate it, of course. But I'm still reserving judgement. Chocolate = fabulous, and bacon = awesome, but chocolate + bacon = kinda weird.

Arts and Crafts

This place is like the summer camp from Hell, really. Less singing, and no canoes, but other than that...

To kill time as things have slowed down, we've started to make things with our own little grubby paws. It started when we ordered some pewter skull beads just for kicks, and it's gone downhill from there.



Because, of course, if you start with pewter skull beads, then you start to wonder what other skull beads might be out there.

Then, after you string some beads, you start to feel mighty crafty. You notice you have some 550 cord, and that there are other, cooler colors available. If you're shockingly uninclined to figure out how to do arts and crafts on your own, there are websites out there to help you. And eventually you end up having days that produce this:



I'm learning. The watchband was strictly an academic exercise, but I'm thinking of making a new pistol belt based on the concept...

The Bossman came over yesterday and discovered his NCOs sitting around playing with 550 cord and debating color combinations. He looked for a second like he might make fun of us, then gathered his courage and asked, instead, "you think I might get some of that bright cord, if you've got some extra? I could make my daughters some bracelets..."

It's probably fortunate none of us knows how to quilt. Then again, I bet there are instructions for that on the internet as well...

Home, such as it is

I finally escaped Big Base and made it back here. The trip was the usual goatrope of oh-you-needed-to-go-to-FOB-McLazy-you-should-have-told-us-we-went-there-yesterday that always happens when you're trying to get somewhere around here.

I hitched a ride in the last free seat on a convoy, and it was only marginally free. I ended up riding with a significant amount of "Class 1 Supplies" (that is, snacks and drinks). My view for the ride looked something like this:



They'd used almost every bit of webbing, rope and bungee cord in Iraq, but had run out at the top of the heap. If the world had ended on my ride home, I may have met Saint Peter covered in blue Gatorade and grapes. Everyone's gotta go some way or another, I suppose.

But that wasn't the only thing aboard. There were some boxes... We had time to kill, so we opened them up. And what had the Tax Dollar Fairy brought for the grubby little Soldiers?



Tricked-out M14s! Your tax dollars at work, folks.

The platoon sergeant and I spent the entire ride back debating how to work the hand receipts so that the gaining unit got six M14s, he got one, and the Civil Affairs team sergeant signed for the other...

Credit where it's due

I'm chilling with Higher on the Big Base, waiting for a ride home to FOB McSleepy. It cannot come soon enough.

Like any decent NCO, Higher annoys the bejesus out of me. Silly requests, weird preoccupations with suspenses imposed by battalion, etc etc. But once in a while, they do something very clever and I must, alas, give them their due.

The Higher compound has, of course, porta-jons.



They are always very nice, due to the fact that we don't have many soldiers and none of them are inclined to act like savages in the green closets. But the truly wonderful thing about these porta-jons is up on top. Look closely. No, I'm not talking about the shade (although that's nice).



That's a light bar. They flip it on at dusk, and so one's nighttime trip to the closet is never dark and scary. No flashlight needed, no godawful surprises.

It's simply brilliant. One of the little things that takes a porta-john from godawful to not bad at all.

Book reports

Remember a while back when I asked you all for some reading recommendations? I did follow up, and ordered a couple off the list.

I read Young Rissa, and while I enjoyed it quite a bit, it was a long wait for a short read, and I haven't bothered ordering the next in the series yet. Cool character, though. I'll get around to the others at some point.

The one I really ended up diving into was the 1632/Ring of Fire series. These are a fun read, dense and meaty. Recurring characters, and overarching plot...good stuff. Fabulous travel reads, since one probably isn't going to get through one on a single plane ride.

And of course that series reminded me of Harry Turtledove. I'd read the Pearl Harbor pair, then a buddy over here reminded me about him and recommended The Guns of the South. I found that to be a pretty interesting read (mostly what came after the war), and so picked up the first couple in the Great War series while was home.

I'm going to keep working on the list, this next time with a focus on some of the cop and detective stuff I saw there.