Regime Change

When you are an Individual Augmentee (IA), you go to your unit alone, and you leave your unit alone. Where I work, everyone is an IA, so everybody sort of drifts in and out according to their own orbital plan. In August we are losing a bunch of folks, which means that me and my buddy will pretty much be the senior people in our shop. By the time I start to understand this job, it will be time for me to leave - which brings us to our big news: I got my demob orders! Yup, yours truly will be cut out of here in November, so they will have approximately only about four more months to do with me as they will (go ahead, send me forward - I dare you...). My orders originally had me here for about a year, but I guess Big Navy decided that I had to get back to get commissioned (small fist pump). I am glad that I came out here - I wish that I could say that it was more fulfilling, but hey, I always knew I was a small cog in a big machine. My unit back in the States told me that it was best to be doing a job where they worked you like a dog and put you away wet (it helps to make the time go faster). They were right. Our schedule is hectic, and the days blur together into one big perpetual Monday. I have learned a lot - both professionally, and also as a leader. I am never going to be one of those folks with an amazing career - but I am, all-in-all, happy with my lot and experiences. Although, maybe next time we will get to do what was actually put in our orders.

Living the life less ordinary.

I am currently sitting outside in a place that everyone congregates at at night because it has WiFi, and they tend to have social activities (oh, and it is well lit). I was going to talk about what we do here, and about the folks I know, but, the OPSEC monster keeps taping me on the shoulder, and I feel like I really shouldn't. However, I will give you some impressions of the place, and the people. First off - I think that I have become acclimatized. The other night we got out of work at an ungodly hour, and when we stepped outside it felt somewhat cool (or, I should say, cooler). Now, actually, it probably wasn't all that much of a temperature change, but it was enough that it actually felt nice (relatively).
There is woman who has a mountain bike in my living area - I don't know who she is, or what she does, but I have begun calling her the Bike Ninja Girl. Bike Ninja Girl (hereafter to called BNG) probably got her bike like most of the other people who have bikes over here: handed down (I imagine that it is a fifth or sixth-generation-tour hand-me-down bike, judging by its well-weathered look). BNG wears the new Air Force tigerstripe camouflage uniform, a bike helmet (for safety), wrap-around sunglasses, and a keffiyeh wrapped entirely around her face and head so that all you see are the cool Terminator sunglasses. I have never seen BNG's face (kind of like Darth Vader, but without the rasping breath, or the Force-choking power...), but she is one of those people who I see everyday (tearing off to work, doing whatever BNG does...).
I drive the bread truck (Toyota Landcruiser) to work almost every morning, and I try to pick up folks waiting for the bus (which takes forever to do its route). I tell my passengers that I am trying to amass enough good karma to earn a good day, but in actuality, I do it because it is one of the few things that I can do to help people out in this place, and it gives me the warm-fuzzy feeling - which in this place is a good thing (it really is easy to get soul-crushed and get bitter - a lot of people succumb to that - I try to smile and pass on the good feelings, but heck, if you've been here for long enough, you can be excused for getting moody, I suppose...). You have to work at keeping your humanity - it is like working out, or reading - if you don't do it regularly, it gets rusty, and you forget how to care.
My buddy over here has the same name as me (we'll call him Ushiku II) - we refer to the breadtruck as our MRAP (Major-league Recreation Attack Party vehicle), and we are looking at outfitting the Toyota with magnetic flame stickers to put on the sides, battery-powered Christmas lights in the interior, and carpet in the interior (with lawn chairs, if we can scrounge them up). I have decided to secretly dub our truck Maru-Chan II.

Repetition is the enemy in this place, so we try to do things differently every week, but there is only so many ways that you can do the same set of things before you exhaust your choices.


Yesterday, I spoke with a guy who was pushing forward into Theater. We spoke about life at the pointy end, and in a way I envied him. The war is forward, and that is where I want to be. Call me Mr. Roberts (my shop calls me "stupid"), but that is how I feel.

The Brits and Aussies here are a force onto themselves - they live on the base, thus they have obey a lot of the Air Force's asinine rules - but they choose to ignore the most blatantly foolish (all the while claiming that they didn't understand - see, they are foreigners, right?). Brilliant. I spoke with an Australian C-130 pilot this morning, and we laughed about the place (like having to wear a reflector belt practically all the time). Secretly, we Americans all want to know where the Brits and Aussies hang out (rumor has it they have set up some sort of rogue desert public house). That is our next mission - to find this rumored El Dorado.

TCNs

TCNs - Third Country Nationals - is the name given to folks trucked-in from outside the "host nation" who provide ancillary services to the Coalition Forces. You see TCNs at the DFAC, doing construction, running the AAFES BX/PX - pretty much doing anything that the military doesn't have the manpower to do - the TCNs are there. Personally, I feel for the TCNs - they generally work hard, they are far from home and they are as ubiquitous as the dust that swirls around this place (it is easy to let them slip into the background - but I try to always try to say "hello" and "thank you" to them whenever I can). Most folks appreciate them, although there are a few who can be jerks (thankfully they are few and far between, but I'd like to smack those fools just the same). When you see TCNs outside, they tend to wrap themselves up in a lot of clothing to protect themselves from the sun. TCNs are from the third world, and they tend to be rather short - add sunglasses, and voila! - they look remarkably like Jawas (the Tatooine-esque environment of this place doesn't help in dispelling the image).). We have taken to calling the really huge construction vehicles "sand crawlers", and when you see one stop, and an improbably huge group of TCNs dismount, it just completes the whole Star Wars-imagery-thing. Thank you, TCNs, for all the work you do - I, for one, appreciate it (there are enough dirty jobs to go around in this place - believe me, we've got our share!).

物の哀れ

Just taking a moment to reflect on things.

My OIC refers to me as an "academic". I think he uses the term the same way as the Kommissar in Doctor Zhivago who dispargingly taunts the chained man (on the train bound for the Gulag) as an "intellectual".

I like to think that I am bringing to this job some thoughtfulness, maturity, insight and empathy - but then, as I am so often reminded, I was brought out here just to fill a slot (and they certainly don't need anyone with no damned empathy) and to just do the job - and then that is when I say: "Oh, I'm sorry - I'll shut up now, sir.".

That's one side. Then, there is the other side, where I am told that I was brought out here because I bring thoughtfulness, maturity, insight and empathy to the table.

Yes, there is a certain amount of ambiguity (not to mention bi-polarness) attached to this job.

The whole thing is very tedious, but what we do is important. I hold my tongue and observe the big picture.

And then there are times, such as now, that I just think.

"sunt lacrimae rerum et mentem mortalia tangunt"

But It Is A Dry Heat

The mornings have always been my favorite time of the day. One of the things that I find that I crave more and more are moments of quiet solitude (yeah, good luck trying to find that on a military base). Dust, concrete barriers, sandbags - these are the things that we see everywhere. I am sure there is a haiku in this picture, somewhere...

Bunker in morning
Forever smells of dust
Patiently waiting

Boots On Ground

Say hello to my Wellco X-Force desert boots: they may not look like much (kinda beat up and grungy right now), but these are the most comfortable boots I have ever worn. Period. And, they were issued. Boots are one of those things that military people have a love/hate relationship with - we depend on them to protect our feet, and help us get from point A to Point B. Usually, military-issued boots are of the lowest common denominator, but somehow I got issued some SF-type stuff (evidently, they ran out of regular-guy boots in my size, and had to reach back into the special operator pile). Outstanding. I can only describe these Wellcos as like walking on clouds (with whipped cream inserts). Not a day goes by that I don't thank the gods of military footwear for these boots (especially when my friends tell me about their foot problems).