Predeployment

So it's been awhile since I've posted, and for good reason.

Since returning from JRTC our brigade has shifted into deployment mode and we've been packing shit up, shipping shit out and getting ready for a 15 month vacation.

A lot of has changed with our unit since JRTC. Probably the largest change is the fact that we've turned in our motor pool. That's right. We trained as a Brigade on mechanized tactics and now we're going to ship to Iraq as a light unit. Whatever. Those Bradleys were ovens in Louisiana, I don't ever want to experience one in the heat of Iraq.

Another change, and probably my favorite, is that we've turned in all M16s for M4 Carbines. Woohoo! Too bad the third round I put through it at the zero range jammed. I'm hoping this won't become the norm in Iraq.

As of now I've also been shifted from my original dismount squad into the Weapons squad. On paper I'm listed as a M240B Assistant gunner but from what I've been told more than likely during patrols, missions or whatever I'll just be attached to my old squad as a standard Rifleman. Sounds good to me.

So right now I'm on predeployment block leave. Two weeks of home sweet home before sweet home Iraq. Strangly I'm looking forward to Iraq, mainly to get it over with. I've already ear marked my Iraq money toward an older Corvette. Awww yeah! Money management at its finest. People like me are the reason service men and women have to sit through hours of boring Finance classes every year. But as long as I get to drive a Corvette for a few weeks before I crash the hell out of it, it's all good.

All in all, things are coming along nicely in the Army. Yeah, PT is a bitch and I hate it but once its over with you dont have to do it again for another 23 hours. Yeah, being a Private sucks because you get put on shit details all the time but if it's an all day detail you usually get relieved within an hour or two so it's not that bad.

99% of the time I end the day with atleast a fake smile on my face but I'll admit it sucks having your life totally consumed by the Army. There are very few days during the week where I get off of work and am actually off of work. Weekends are scary because you want to go out and have a good time, but you don't want to be ''that guy'' who gets into shit and causes the CO to hold formation for an extra 15 minutes on Friday so he can lecture the company on staying out of trouble.

My weekends usually consist of the unmarried guys from my squad and a few other platoon members hitting up Outback or Texas Roadhouse and then coming back onto post to cause the maximum amount of trouble possible without getting the MPs called. Whatever it takes to get a week of bullshit off of your mind.

JRTC

The Joint Readiness Training Center. The name sounds like a very professional military center where one would go to...get ready. Get ready for what you may ask. Iraq is what. We leave tonight and have an 11 hour bus ride into the heart of Louisiana to a little place called Ft. Polk. I've heard nothing but bad things about this place. From Ft. Polk we ride even further into the wilderness until we are securely positioned in the middle of nowhere, where we will then begin our training.

The number one item I've had recommended to me so far is bug spray.

"But its the middle of winter, there can't be that many bugs."

"Dude, just bring bug spray."

Stellar. The extent of my unit level training has been "clearing" the stairwell of my barracks with my fireteam and going over Battle Drills which usually turns into my squad leader drawing pictures of hilarious sex positions on the white board. The laughs are good and all but I really wish I was getting more training before going to a place where a lack of training increases your chances of death.

I'm really hoping JRTC is more than just "20 days in a swamp" like everyone is saying it's going to be.

Mechanized Infantry

Uhhh, yeah. So here I am in Fort Hood Texas. I made it, I guess. And just in time to get deployed. Woohoo. We leave for JRTC in two weeks, come home for a month, and then deploy. Perfect timing. Way to go guy!

The real Army is strange. I would be lieing if I said I didn't miss basic training. There's too much, dare I say, freedom here. Too much room to fuck up. And coming home from work everynight to a TOTALLY empty room is one of the worst punishments I've had to endure. When you're at home, you take things like cups, plates, silverware and toilet paper for granted. Drinking water out of the faucet like a caveman has become the norm as has walking the half mile to the Food Court just to use the restroom there.

Maybe through some financial miracle I'll come across enough money to pay for a laptop, but until then, $20.00 to use the internet for two hours is whats happening now. I've been here for about a week and so far all I've gotten to fill my room up is TA-50. Otherwise known as all of the equipment we get issued. Canteens, body armor, ruck sacks, great stuff.

Not having a car sucks. I've been getting lots of practice for Iraq walking around in the Texas heat. Its the middle/end of winter and it's 70 degrees everyday compared to Ft. Bennings 30-40. I thought I was going to die my first day here.

I've been slotted as a Rifleman in our dismounted infantry squad. Cool I guess. I was kind of hoping to get to sit in the air conditioned Bradley while everyone else went out and did all the work, but oh well. I still havn't been issued my weapon and havn't gone for a ride in the Bradley yet either. That probably wont happen until JRTC.

Hopefully I'll be able to post more later. Until the next 20 dollar bill.

Here We Go Again...

Looks like the last post before I head out for the glorious Hill of Sand. Hopefully the next time I get to post will be as an actual Soldier and as an actual Infantryman. There is quite the shit-ton of pain heading my way and I suppose right now I'm just preparing to suck it up and love every minute of it. Haha, yeah right. Oh well, until next time.

Is this real?

So I watched the sun rise this morning. Somewhere around halfway through I remembered that for the past month and a half I saw the sun rise every morning...from the PT field. And guess what? For the next month and a half I'm going to see the sun rise every morning...from the PT field. I quickly lost interest.

Before I left Ft Benning I remember our Battallion Commander giving us a briefing. "Dont do something stupid in a moment of weakness, men." In other words, dont go AWOL. It's not that I'm thinking of going AWOL, but I sure as hell am dreading going back. In a way I wish I had never left. When you're there it isnt so bad, it doesn't feel real. You wake up, do your thing, come home, rack out and do it all over again the next day without asking questions because you're told to.

But having this freedom to go to bed at 5 in the morning has ruined me. I havn't done any PT and I've eaten junk for my entire stay here at home. I'm screwed when I go back and I know it. I'm sure on our first day back we'll have a 4 mile run for PT. We always run on Fridays and we go back on a Thursday.

Maybe they'll even grace us with our 6 mile ruck march that they've been telling us about. Oh joy! Maybe I should talk a little bit about ruck marches. You carry a backpack full of equipment (about 40 pounds for us at the moment) and walk for miles. Sounds simple right? Add in the fact that your ruck is probably digging into your back, you're probably developing multiple blisters on each foot, and a few hills (read: mountains) and it turns into a little bit more than just a lovely walk through Ft. Benning.

Also add in the fact that you have to walk in straight lines in the dirt on each side of the road and you have to keep about 3-5 paces behind the guy in front of you. Having said this, the farther back in the line you are, the more and more it starts to feel like driving through Thanksgiving traffic. If the guy in front of you is going slow, you have to go slow, and then suddenly without warning he speeds up (runs). Guess what, you have to run right along with him, with all of the extra variables I listed above.

Our last ruck was a special treat. On this glorious day our 1SG decided that instead of taking transportation to the Grenade range we're going to Fred Flinstone it to work today. His words, not mine. So off we go into the foot hills (mountains) of Ft Benning. At first our DS told us it would be a 6 mile march. Then we were told less than a mile. So as we march we start to see the usual distance markers. 1/2 mile...1 mile...2 miles....2 1/2 miles...what the fuck? So we're marching up a hill and finally we make a left hand onto...you guessed it...an even steeper hill.

I'm leading the line on this march (Thanks Ruck God) and trying to keep in line with the other line leader on the opposite side of the road. By this time I'm sucking...hard. Of course our Drill Sergeant is dancing and prancing up and down our lines laughing his ass off at our suffering. After awhile I notice that the leader on the other side of the road is falling out and I have to set the pace myself. Ah yes...such a nice slow pace it was.

Eventually we arrive and after everyone finished throwing up and what not we reassemble our IBA (Improved Body Armor) and carry on with Grenade Training. At the end of the day we've been told we'll take Transportation back to the Company Area and call it a day. Guess what. The bus schedule got FUBARed so we're marching back. I laugh when the Platoon Guide says this. Good one PG, you had me going for a minute.

"HURRY UP PRIVATES PACK YOUR RUCK AND GET IN FORMATION HURRY THE FUCK UP!!!!"

I probably missed a few, but I think I covered just about every swear word in the swearing dictionary while packing my ruck and getting ready to move out. Hooraaaayyy now we get to march all the way back. I didn't feel too bad about it as I remembered how easy the ruck was until we hit the last quarter of a mile or so. So we move out and spirits are high. I'm singing cadences in my head and listening to the Drill Sergeants poke fun at all the privates.

One thing you learn early on is that during a ruck you always keep your head down and watch the feet of the guy infront of you. It basically puts you into auto pilot and you just walk. Soon I realized that I was having to lean forward quite a bit to keep pace. I looked up. The first thought through my head was "Thats a fucking big hill." And then I realized why the ruck to the range was so easy. It was downhill 95% of the way.

You see, all of the basic trainees on Ft Benning live on a place called Sand Hill. To be more specific, we live on top of the hill. As I said earlier, in most cases Hill should be read as Mountain. So up we went, on our journey up Sand Mountain. This time, I was in the very back of the line. Cue the slinky effect. About every 15 seconds or so, the guy in front of me would run his ass off to catch up with the guy in front of him, who was also running to catch up with the guy in front of him, and so on and so forth. We had a great time. Lots of "Stop falling behind and you wont have to run ass!" and "I cant d00d my ruck is messed up!".

After lots of crying, we actually made it back to the barracks. I had a short funeral for my left heel and then moved smartly to the latrine where I proceeded to pour cold water all over myself. I didn't have to worry about getting wet because I was already so drenched in sweat that you couldn't even tell I was wet to begin with. No harm no foul. Eventually I removed my boots to examine the battlefield. Ah yes, a nice puffy half dollar sized blister sticking out of my left heel. That'll feel great on the Company run tomorrow morning!

So we retired that night knowing that in 7 hours we would have to wake up and do it all over again. But every private on Sand Hill has something they tell themselves at night just before bed. Something that keeps them going. On our first day at Reception, a Drill Sergeant said something I'll never forget.

"How long is basic training Privates?"

Numbers filled the air. 9 weeks? 14 weeks? 3 months? Forever? Eventually it was silent again.

"Wrong Privates. Basic training is one day, the next day."

Exodus

Half way done. It's strange being home. The second I sat back down in this chair where I spent the last 2 years I wanted to run back home/to Sand Hill. I hate the civilian world, especially when I can't hide in civilian clothes and have to walk around in my uniform. You'd think that living 10 minutes from Ft. Campbell people would be used to seeing soldiers, but everytime I go out with my uniform it's all eyes on me everywhere I go.

Thank you for your service! You're a hero!

No, I'm not. For the most part I'm not even a soldier yet, and I definately havn't earned the right to call myself an Infantryman yet. But you can't say that to them. You just smile, shake their hand, say Thank you and walk away wondering how many people saw that and are going to chase you down to do the same. I suppose I'm kind of a hypocrite, I don't complain when I get the eye from the girlies, but atleast they dont get all in my face and thank me for my "service" which has consisted of nothing more than getting yelled at all day and counting the days until I get off of Sand Hill and move on to my first duty station, which apparently is going to be Ft. Drum, NY with the 10th Mountain Division. "Cold ass Infantry" as the Drill Sergeants call them.

I'm really hoping the 10th Mountain thing is just a rumor but I'm kind of doubting it since I was there when the rumor was started...by the 1SG. Ft. Campbell with the 101st is where I want to be since it's so close to home. I've never really understood why all my buddys at basic want to get so far away from home. Even the ones that have good relationships with their familys want to go to places like Italy, Germany and Korea.

I suppose I could give you a day in the life of basic training. Seeing as I've spent the last 3 weeks going to the range everyday, a range day will be easiest to describe. Typically we would have wake up at 0430 and would have to shave, brush our teeth, and change into our PT uniform within about 15 minutes and be outside in the freezing cold before 0500 for first call. After first call we move as a company down to the PT field (a giant football field with a track around it covered in several feet of sand) to do, you guessed it, PT...or Physical Training. Usually it was Conditioning Drill 1 and 2 which was basic stretching followed by pushups, pull ups, dips, and maybe a few laps around the track.

After all of that was over we would move back to the bay and change into ACU's and then proceed to the Company Training Area which is basically just a big slab of concrete with a roof over it. We would then probably eat breakfast in the CTA which could either be just an MRE or they may pull the awesome card and actually bring us food from the Dining Facility. By now it's probably 0700 and we move back to the bay once more and secure our ruck sacks which weigh in at about 40 pounds right now. We would then move down to the road and ground our ruck sacks and wait for Transportation.

Once transportation arrived we would front load our rucks (basically you just wear it on your front instead of your back to make it easier to sit down on the bus) and board the vehicles. We would then pray that the range was somewhere in Kansas so we could have a nice nap. Only twice has it been on main post which is about a 20 minute drive. After the probably 5 minute drive we would unload, form up in the grass somewhere and ground our shit. From there we would move to the bleachers and withstand the most painful 15 minutes of the day and listen to the safety briefing and short explanation of what exactly would be going on that day.

From the bleachers we would then line up in 10 files or so and have our weapons rodded to check for any obstructions in the barrel and then oiled for some unknown reason. We would then get our firing line assignment and start getting called onto the range to fire our weapons. By the way, our M16A4s SUCK in every sense of the word. Half of them are taped together and the other half need to be but we ran out of tape. But I digress. After moving onto the firing line we would fire at whatever the hell we were supposed to be firing at that day. Pop ups, statics, double pop ups, the burm in front of the target, several feet to the left or right, oh my god look at that retarded bird that just landed in front of my target im going to blow the shit out of it.

When we first moved into Gunfighter phase and went to the ETS or something like that to fire fake M16s at a computer screen I found out that apparently I'm a really good shot. The average shot group was around 1.5cm and mine was a 0.6, one of the lowest (low is good) in my company. Go me! I will now explain to you why I only hit 30 out of 40 targets on qualification day. While we were all sitting in our files waiting to be called on the range there were a couple of restarts who had already qualified walking around giving out advice.

The advice was to take a few rounds out of our practice magazine and load them into our qualification magazines. Everyone acting like they were all going to do it but I think I'm the only genius that actually did it. Yeah, OH MY GOD INTEGRITY VIOLATION, I know, shut up. Anyway, so I get up to the firing line and theres a Drill standing on my lane pretty much breathing down the neck of the kid thats firing infront of me. My "oh shit im going to get caught"-o meter is going wild and theres no way I can fix my magazines right now because guess what. I got my magazines mixed up and have absolutely no idea which one is low and which ones have extra. Sweet! The Army Values God is really screwing me now.

After the kid in front of me fires and leaves the range the Drill moves to the next firing line down. I breathe a sigh of relief and get down into the prone position. I hold all 3 of my magazines and try to see if I can find the lighter one. I can't. I load one that kind of feels light and proceed to rock and roll. Once I get to the 16th round I pray to the M16 gods that this is the last round. A target pops up, I aim, squeeze, fire...and the bolt doesnt lock to the rear, meaning there are more than 16 rounds in this magazine, meaning I fucked myself. I continue to fire, knowing that I would never be able to reload a magazine without the Drill Sergeant noticing. "God I'm a dumbass" I think to myself.

Once we start firing for qualification, I start rockin and rollin. By the time I got to the kneeling position I had only missed 2 targets. I transition to the kneeling and see that there are a few extra rounds on the ground to my left in the dirt. I look around and quickly load them into the last magazine I have, this one obviously being the short one since my last one had all 20 in it. I breathe a sigh of relief, release the bolt and tap the forward assist. I put my arm through the sling just like my Drill Sergeant taught me to and start knocking the little green men down. About half way through the kneeling I've still only missed 2. I aim, squeeze, click...I pull the bolt to the rear and release it and it only goes half way forward. NO DAMNIT! I perform SPORTS. Slap the magazine, pull the charging handle, observe the magazine...ARG double feed. FUCKING MAGAZINE. Double feeds occur when a magazine is bent, usually caused by some stupid private tapping the magazine on his helmet like he's in the movies.

It probably took me around 15 to 20 seconds to get the damn double feed out and back into the firing position. I fire at another target and miss one but hit the other. SHIT! I aim, squeeze, click. I comprehend throwing my M16 downrange at the target, but 200 meters is a long way and the M16 weighs a lot. Defeated, I watch as target pair after target pair come up and go down while I fuck with my piece of shit weapon thats being jammed up by a 5.56mm piece of payback sent straight from the Army Values god. I manage to get it unjammed and ready for the last two pair which I knock down.

There goes Expert, probably Sharpshooter too. I walk back down to the clearing barrel and a Drill Sergeant from my platoon asks me how I did. "I jammed twice Drill Sergeant." The response is unexpected. "WHY THE FUCK IS YOUR WEAPON ON SEMI, PRIVATE? RAAAWWR RAAWRR RAAWR BLAH BLAH BLAH" I place the weapon on safe and continue to clear it and then walk over to the 1SG to get my score and badge.

I end up getting Sharpshooter with a 30 out of 40 which is still pretty good I guess considering my weapon was jam happy as hell. Oh well, I'll get another chance at my unit I guess. My senior Drill Sergeant saw I was pretty disappointed and walked over to the cleaning table with me and told me about how pretty much the same thing happened with him when he was in basic and he only got Sharpshooter too, but that since then his badge hasnt changed from Expert. It made me feel a lot better to hear that from him, especially since I already have so much respect for him. Drill Sergeant Smith is probably the best Drill Sergeant on the whole of Sand Hill. He told us on day 1 that he believes in leadership through respect, not through fear. If that man asked me to ruck march 30 miles to a mountain and then jump off of the fucker I probably would just because he's so awesome.

I just realised this post is so long that nobody will read it, as if anybody reads this blog anyway.

The Last Hoo(r)ah

The night before I ship. I'm more fearful getting down there and not having something that was on the packing list than I am of the actual BCT itself. I'm lucky in the sense that, because of my training schedule, I'll have a two week break right in the middle of my training cycle to rest up and see friends and stuff. I'll let you know how that goes. I think the hardest things about that will be worrying about the cost of flying back and forth and actually having to go back to Hell...I mean Benning.

I'm almost positive that I'm going to end up in "Fat Camp" for my run time but I'm trying to stay optomistic about it. I've made up my mind that during the initial PT Assessment I'll just run as hard as I can until I die or they tell me to stop. The first one seems more likely. I used to run just about everyday but around the time that I started my MEPS journey I cut out the running totally. I probably havn't ran in over a month so the two months or so of progress that I made on my run time are probably wasted by now.

My hopes and dreams in the Army? A secondary goal of mine is to be in a Sniper unit but my main focus is on the Special Forces. Some of the coolest people I've known are or were SF Operators. I'm sure you're thinking "Great, get in line kid." but for me this is the one thing that nobody can ever convince me to quit on. The second I get my GT score in shape (currently 101, 110 required for 18B which is what I want) and my body in shape, I'm going for it.

Hopefully I don't get to post on here until Christmas. If I was able to, it would mean that I either quit (not happening) or am injured severely enough that I've been placed in an area with computers. This would be a bad thing.

Anyways, I suppose I'm off to do things like go over my packing list for a third time. Hopefully the Drill Sergeants square me away nicely and I'll graduate with a blue cord and my silver wings if the dice fall in my favor. And the real journey begins. Hooah!