Ready. Steady. Go!

Got my orders and flight info. I fly out of Tampa this evening, head up to D.C. and board a direct flight to Qatar. I should get in tomorrow night (local time) around 9-ish. Wow, it will be a long flight! They tell me that stepping off the plane will be a shock - it is supposed to feel like a hair dryer on the SUPER HOT-setting blowing in your face. Fun. My stuff is pretty much all packed, but I still have to change out of my desert uniform into civies before I go to the airport. Hmmm... no one should notice that I am military... aside from my haircut, and my two green bags...

Detouring

Okay, another delay, but this time it makes sense: they are having me go through the mandatory Petty Officer First Class indoctrination training before I go so that I will be all official, and allowing me to pin-on my first class crows before I leave for Theater. It takes two days, which means that I will be flying out immediately after finishing class tomorrow. It is sort of surreal to have been promoted to PO1; my focus (for most of my brief naval career) has been on getting my commission, so this was like frosting on the cake. All my friends in the Navy are really happy for me (making First is a big deal), but many of them don't know that I was selected for Ensign - they think that I am taking this promotion in stride. All I can say is that I am really happy, but on the same note, I realize that this promotion means added responsibility and higher expectations when I finally get into Theater. I will do my best to meet or exceed those expectations. Meanwhile, back to class!

Moving Forward

Howdy! Well, it looks like the time is drawing near for movement forward. Despite the best efforts of the paperwork monster, my command in Theater has raised a mighty ruckus - so loud, in fact, that even the people in the insulated room where I have been imprisoned in, couldn't ignore it. For the past 12 days I have literally been a ghost - with no official status I haven't existed. I couldn't contribute, except in the most basic ways (Need something thrown out? Check. You have two-years worth of boxes that you need sorted and stacked? I'm your man!). So, aside from using up valuable oxygen, my footprint has been very small (so much so that most of the people in the building where I hang out just assumed I was a new piece of furniture, or an especially clever fork-lift truck). But no longer! I was just tapped on the shoulder and told to prepare for movement - this is it! Deep breaths. I am all packed (heck, I have been on 15-minute alert since I got here...). So, either I will fly out tonight, or tomorrow at the latest, but finally I am going to Theater. To paraphrase Churchill: this isn't the end, but it is the end of the beginning. Wish me luck!

Sunday-ness

Wow. Just enjoying this Sunday - pretty much my last Sunday, State-side, for quite a while. I didn't think I would have this opportunity, so I have spent it constructively: reading, washing an immense load of laundry and writing. Not much happening, and not much to do, but it is nice, nonetheless. I got some text messages from some friends who have already gone forward - lots of sand and dust; not a lot of happy folks, but they are safe and that is what counts. I feel guilty being here. I get to sleep in a nice bed, and I have a shower. My friends do not have those things. I know it sounds stupid, but I will feel better when I am sharing the hardships with everyone - honestly, I do not belong here (I am in limbo). As soon as I get forward, I will have a purpose, and I will feel like I am contributing to something.

Tampa-stan

Tampa-stan. That is what the people, who will be staying here permanently, call this place. As far as deployments go, Tampa is pretty nice. Some of the SeaBees will be based here, and they are getting a well-deserved good deal. As for myself, I am looking forward to going forward - there really isn't any place for me here. The guy I am replacing shot me an email wondering where I was at. Good question - I have sometimes wondered myself if anybody really knows where I am.

They Build and They Fight

Hmmm... well, it seems that someone forgot to tell someone that I was supposed to be heading overseas. I am currently in a holding pattern here in Florida - believe me, there are far worse places to find oneself waiting (and I can think of one that begins with "I" and another that starts with "A"). Anywho, they are busy re-writing my orders and making flight arrangements - all I have to do is show up, hand over some paperwork, and then (hopefully), by Wednesday, I should be on my way. Some good news: My BOG (Boots On Ground) clock has begun ticking, because my old orders had me reporting to Tampa. I'm not entirely sure what I am going to do this weekend. Luckily, I have the Seabees to hang with. I don't know if I mentioned the SeaBees before - here's some back-story: during our three-week training at Fort Jackson, some of the Sailors in my Platoon were SeaBees. What are SeaBees? They are from the Navy Construction Battalions (The "C" and the "B" being transliterated into "SeaBee" - because, according to their motto: "We Build, And We Fight"). These guys are crazy: they have only two switch positions - "ON" and "STANDBY" (there is no "OFF" button). They are super-motivated, highly-skilled and funny as hell. They cracked-wise the entire three weeks, and were the best Soldiers (albeit, Sailors) bar-none. The Navy loves these guys - everybody cuts them slack, because they know that if you need an entire facility built in 24 hours, and it happens to be held by the bad guys, the SeaBees will go in, kick ass, take names, build everything you need from scratch, then hold it until relieved. I am not exagerating. These guys are the real deal. Thank freakin' God that we have people like this. Crazy? Yes - they march, singing the "Fighting Seabee Song" - their favoritie movie? Why "The Fighting Seabees" with John Wayne, of course. These guys have deployed around the world - they love what they do, and they don't take themselves (or anyone else, for that matter) very seriously, but they love being SeaBees. Crazy Awesome! So, anyhow, the SeaBees came down to Tampa with me, and now we are facing a weekend together - it might not pretty, but it certainly will not be boring. When I have to deploy, I am going to bring a couple of SeaBees in my seabag as insurance.

Let Confusion Reign!

Holy Crap. Howdy, howdy, howdy, Dear Readers. Well, I flew into Tampa last night, and right now I am in the lobby of Hotel X (OPSEC: Learn it. Live it. Love it.) waiting for someone to figure out what to do with me. Evidently, there was some confusion - they wanted to ship me directly to Theater last night, but the orders never got modified. Now it is a classic case of CYA. All I know is that I am not supposed to be here, but heck, it is Tampa! Either I will fly out tonight, or Sunday, or maybe Monday... er... well, I will be flying out sometime in the near future. It is never a good thing in the military that when you show up to a destination and they ask you "Are you supposed to be here?". I just follow the itinerary, get on the flight that the ticket says, and pick up my gear. Oh, I got promoted a few days ago - not the BIG promotion (the commission) - I got Petty Officer First Class - I can wear the rank, but I don't start getting paid for it until September. None of my uniforms have been modified with the new rank, and I certainly don't feel any different, but it is nice to get recognized. When I get back from the Sandbox, I will get commissioned - in the meantime, I am just a higher grade of Petty Officer (petty, but not inconsequential). If I get tagged to fly out tonight, it will be a while before I can update my blog. Please be patient (I know, I know - I haven't been the most diligent blogger, but I got legit reasons! Really, honest...). It looks like there might be the possibility that when I get into Theater, I will be pushed even further up. If that is the case, then definitely it will be a while before I get a chance to put finger to keyboard. The past month has been hectic, but interesting - the next six months should prove to be even more hectic, and maybe even rewarding. In any event, if you have the chance (and the inclination) pass on a little word to whatever diety (or dieties) that you might profess to believe in - I could certainly use any divine intervention (as could my friends and Shipmates...). Ushiku out!

Welcome to the Suck

Suck is such a great word. It can be used as a back-handed consolation ("Wow, it sucks to be you."), or you can you it as an interjection ("This freakin' sucks!"). Or, in this case, it can be used as the subject of your entire existence. In the military, we refer to really choice situations as The Suck - and right now Fort Jackson has hit that peak moment of particular suckiness. It has been raining, off-and-on, all week - really heavy showers, punctuated by intense moments of thunder and lightning. Then the clouds pass, and the sun comes on with a vengeance - in the upper 90s - with oh-so-wonderful humidity that you can see. Wearing full IBA (Interceptor Body Armor), with all the extras, in those conditions brings new meaning to heat. IBA is hot - IBA is heavy - IBA might save your life in the Sandbox, but it could also give you heat stroke. We are running around in the sun/rain/combination-of-the-two from before sun-up to just before sun-down. Awesome. "We train as we fight" is the motto of our cadre - next time some smart-ass reporter from the LA Times or some other newspaper tries to tell you that your troops overseas aren't earning their pay, don't believe it. We qualified on weapons this week - yesterday was awesome - we fired the whole enchilada (SAW, Ma Deuce, and the M240B - HOOAH!!). The day before that we fired our M16s - I sucked (ah, another usage of that great word!) - for some reason, my sight picture changed when I wore my IBA (no duh), causing my accuracy to suffer in the prone position. I was freakin' Audie Murphy in the kneeling unsupported (supposedly, the toughest position of the three standard Army firing positions) - I was knocking them down 10 for 10 every time! But in the prone - I sucked, big time. I was the last shooter, and I stayed out there until the Drill Sergeant and I figured out my aim point from the 150m target on out. It was embarrassing - I am currently the laughing stock of the company (I became "That guy" - "Oh boy, don't let Ushiku go out with you, man - that guy sucks!). I am probably going to be the example during the next cycle of BRM. I have taken the ribbing with a smile, but inside I am pissed (not in the British sense, because we can't even look at alcohol). I have doubled my efforts to excell - I am doubly serious, and I am going to do my best not to be last in anything (hmmm... maybe that was the lesson I was supposed to gather from this...). On the other hand, I have tried to be cheerful and positive every day - but finally, the negativity and the churlishness of my regular-Navy counterparts has rubbed off on me, and right now, I really don't care to be in contact with any of these people - maybe tomorrow I will feel better, but right now... the can all go to hell (figuratively, of course). Welcome to the Suck.

Locked and Loaded

Howdy folks! Well, it is Week 2 at sunny (and humid) Fort Jackson, South Carolina. We got issued a ton of stuff, to include a rifle (M16A2) and enough body armor to flatten a gorilla (How much? Oh... about forty or fifty pounds-worth...). Training is coming at us fast and furiously. This week we are going to the range to fire weapons (you name it, and we will probably be putting it on target). So, we are a large group of Sailors, being trained by the Army, wearing mostly Army gear, and doing an Army mission. Wow. It doesn't get any more surreal than this, believe me. Next week we wrap up our training, then we all break up and head off to our individual assignments (that is why they call us Individual Augmentees...). I miss my family and friends, but we are so busy that I usually can only get misty-eyed in the few minutes before conking out in my bunk (oh, the barracks is an open-bay, World War 2 building where me and fifty of my newest bestest friends live in wide-open splendor). Did I mention the Drill Sergeants? Yup, Round Browns (I never thought I would ever - EVER - be in a training environment again with Army Drill Sergeants). Luckily, they aren't in full DS-mode, but occasionally they slip, and then they start referring to us as "Soldiers" (there is one who really doesn't appear to like the Navy, but who cares?). The funny thing is that most of the Navy folks are NCOs and Officers, so the Drills have to be careful (on the other hand, we are all in "Student" staus, so we have to follow the DS commands - no matter what our rank might be). If all goes well, I will finish training next week, and fly to Florida on the 15th to report to my parent command. There I will learn when and how I will head to Theater. That is when my "Boots on Ground" counter starts (while in training, we are in Limbo - whatever our time for mobilization says, that clock doesn't start clicking until we finish all our in-processing and training). The sooner we get this Army-stuff finished, the sooner we can start our jobs, and eventually get home! Hoo Ah!!