Tent City

Blog I am in Kuwait after the longest journey of my life. In it all it took about 26 hours to get from a military base in Columbia, SC to a military base in Kuwait. We ended up leaving on Friday night from Columbia, SC. Cheering the deploying military members on were a group of about 100 plus veterans who wanted to wish the Sailors and Soldiers well prior to their departing the USA. The Vets hosted a party of sorts giving out pizza and donuts as well as other gifts. Prior to boarding our plane, the Sailors marched through a gauntlet of these well-wishing Veterans all of whom wished us good luck and offered us handshakes and hugs. After a week of hearing about how Richland County South Carolina held the highest number of reported cases of swine flu, I thought about giving the VETS the old Donald Trump, "I don't shake hands" but thought better of it.

Our Air Carrier to the Middle East was the Charter Air Line called Ryan Air http://www.flyryan.com/. This a private company that provides charter airline services primarily for the US Military and Sport's Team. The plane was a 757. The service on the plane was impeccable and the staff served us great meals and water on demand. Movies played during the entire flight. The only thing that was missing was cold beer.

After about three hours in the air, the Captain of the plane came on the overhead speaker and told the passengers that he needed to stop in Gander, Canada. Gander Canada is located in the North Eastern quadrant of the North Country in the province of Newfoundland and hosts a large airport that regularly welcomes militaries from around the world. Gander was the largest RCAF base during World War II. When the plane landed at Gander the Captain told us that we needed to refuel and that we would be back in the air in thirty minutes. Thirty minutes turned into 4 hours. The Captain told us that there was some bad weather over the Atlantic. I am not so sure about that one. After our 4 hour delay we headed to Leipzig, Germany. One of my JAG mates and I enjoyed a last brew at the former East German Airport before making the final push to Kuwait.

We arrived in Kuwait at approximately 1:40 am local time. Unfortunately we sat at the Kuwait airport until 5:30 am. Mildly annoying. It turns out that somebody mixed all the Army bags with the Navy bags onto one large bus, and the Army and Navy folks were going to different camps in Kuwait. So in the middle of the night a bunch of Sailors were lifting 50 lb bags and sorting them by branch of service. Why this separation did not occur initially is baffling, blog.

At 7:00 am we arrived in Kuwait at Camp Virigina. It is called a camp because there are no permanent structures on the installation. The camp reminds me of Luke Skywalker's home planet of Alderaan. It is hot, dry, flat and utterly inhospitable. There is also a pervasive odor of rotten cabbage which lingers over the base. This smell can be contributed to diesel fuel perpetually burning to produce the electricty that runs this place mixed with dust and sand. My first thought I considered when I saw Kuwait was why would any human contemplate inhabiting a land with such harsh conditions. I hope that were I a nomadic creature I would have the guts to keep on walking..

BUT leave it to the good ole USA to bring all of life's modern conveniences to the middle of the desert. As I write these sentences, I sit here in a perfectly air conditioned Starbucks with access to the Internet. As I stare out the window into the desert sky I can see the Camp VA's Shopping Mall which consists of a AT @T calling center, a Fed-Ex shop, a sub shop, Mac D's, and a Pizza Inn. A transit bus system is in place to move the troops around base. In addition to all these comforts bottle water is free for all the troops. The military is truly doing all it can to keep the morale high for our troops. However, it does make me wonder about the sheer cost to the US taxpayer to keep this place up and running. The electric bill to keep all these tents and buildings cool must be absurd, and also the cost to keep this camp manned and functional.

I hope to spend about a week in Kuwait before making the push into Iraq. Basically all of the Sailors live in a tent while here. The military is basically trying to get us use to the Middle East prior to sending us to our real jobs in Iraq. My living area is called Tent City. Literally, there are thousands of tents located in a 1 mile vicinity. We sleep on cots situated inside of a large canvass tent. There are six of us housed in one large tent. AC cranks in these tents, so don't worry about the heat. Thankfully, I had a good night's sleep last night and I am feeling pretty good today minus a wrecked stomach.

The inside of My Tent located in Tent City on Camp Va, Kuwait.

Today we learned in some training about Counter Insurgency. It appears that the USA under the leadership of General Pertraeus has really focused intensely on changing its military mission from dealing with regular warfare to dealing with what is known as irregular warfare. Apparently a former Australian military officer by the name of David Kilcullen was instrumental in helping to devise our current strageties. His bio as well as his take on the Iraq war is fasicnating if you get the chance. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/David_Kilcullen

The dining facilities here are execellent by the way. You can basically eat anything imaginable, and many of the soldiers take advantage of the Baskin Robins ice cream bar which is open every lunch an dinner. I am enjoying some of the local tomato salads as well as their kidney salads. I have fell pray to its temptation only once thus far.

Tomorrow we head to the Udari Range http://www.globalsecurity.org/military/facility/udairi.htm. It is a training range located in the middle of Kuwait. We are going to do some convoy training as well as some more gun training. This should be interesting as there is no electricty or running water out there. Again we are sleeping in a tent. Hopefully, this training will mark my final manipulations of my M-9 gun.

Thanks to all of you who have posted on the blog. I miss all of you. Have a lot of fun for my sake.

Should we stay or should we go?

Hello blog. Well my time at Camp McCrady is drawing to an end. The ups and downs of military life are ever constant. On Monday we were told we were leaving on Thursday morning at 0600. This presented quite a dilemma to our group as I still needed to figure out how I was going to pack all the gear that I received in an organized fashion, and still get the chance to visit with my family. Most classes leave on Friday as opposed to Thursday. I also had to make sure my M-16 rifle was clean so that the Armory would accept my weapon.



So I was geared up to leave on Thursday, but... on Wednesday we were told that we were leaving on Friday rather than Thursday. That's fine more time with my family and in the USA, and maybe a final round of golf (this was accomplished). But ...literally, five minutes later we were told that we were leaving on Thursday again, and then about an hour later we were told we were leaving on Friday again and that somebody just put out bad information. If this is confusing to you blog reader it should be.

So our departure date is set for Friday. Of course we had to have our bags on the grinder at 0600 even though they did not get loaded on the bus until 0900. The military must be thinking let's see how tired we can get our Sailors before we send them over into a war zone. And so we are all set to leave at 1000 only to be told that our flight is not leaving until 1900 (if that happens I think it will be a miracle)So now all our bags our packed a la the John Denver song and we are sitting in a boiling hot room in our uniforms with no other possessions except our computers etc. I am washing the foul taste that this day has left in my mouth with a few Stella Artois beers.



Last week received an interesting brief from a 20 year old Army Specialist who grew up in Egypt as a Christian. The subject of the young man's brief was Iraqi culture. While this Specialist kept his brief perfunctory, I was most impressed that this young man without a college education was able to get up in front of a room and deliver a poised presentation in front of a slew of high ranking military officers. Some of the pointers he gave the class included if an Iraqi offers you tea then drink it. The Specialist explained how pride is everything to an Iraqi male and that if you do anything to disrespect an Iraqi male well then you lose a friend and create an enemy. According to our speaker the main way to disrespect an Iraqi is to disrespect their women. American Soldiers attend to accomplish this by wantonly staring at an Iraqi male's wife, or by trying to flirt with them. The speaker told us basically you should act like Iraqi women do not exist. Of course this presents no problem for me. The Specialist also told us several Iraqi words:

1. Shako Mako= Hello (I remember this from the song Shock the Money)

2. Salam Alakom= Peace (Will there every be peace in the Middle East? Hopefully, but doubtful)

3. Shionake= How are You (Let's get drunk on some Shionake. Sounds like an exotic drink to me.)

4. La= No (La! This does not sound like a very strong negative to me as compared to no. If you shouted la 3 times in a row you would basically be singing.)

5. Na Am= Yes



Last week ended with a lovely time with my family. Of course sacrifice makes you appreciate the good times in life, and this certainly was the case last weekend. I appreciated every second I got to spend with my family. This is a cliche, but certainly a true one. When you deprive yourself of life's pleasures it makes you realize just how great they are. I also appreciate the intense sacrifices that our military members have made over the last 8 years. It is tough, but our military serves for the most part without complaint and many times without a clear definition of what exactly the mission is.

So prior to getting into Theater I spend nine days in Kuwait at a place called Camp Virginia. That is where I am suppose to fly to today. We stop first in Lhttp://www.globalsecurity.org/military/facility/camp-virginia.htm I never thought I would be going to Kuwait, and probably would never have purposefully gone to this Country but for my current gig in the military. It certainly does not look like a very desirable, and I hear getting stuck in a sandstorm is utterly brutal. The primary purpose for this trip is to get some more training on how to convoy. Coincidentally, our last training mission at McCrady was a convoy op. I basically sat in a vehicle and did not do anything, and this is how I hope to keep it while in Theater. Prior to arriving in Kuwait we stop in Leipzig Germany Slavic word Lipsk, which means "settlement where the lime trees stand". So next time I write I should be in Kuwait....

Mr. Polite

Blog readers meet Mr. Polite. Mr. Polite is a hulking African-American male who served in the United States Army for over 20 years. He rose to the rank of First Sergeant earning him the nickname of "top". This is what Soldiers in the Army call individuals who make it to this rank in the Army. Coincidentally, First Sergeant Conklin who is our Company's First Sergeant is affectionately called "top" by all of the Sailors and the members of the cadre. Mr. Polite's demeanor reflects his namesake. But as you can see from his picture you would not want to see Mr. Polite in an impolite mood because he can put a hurt on you!

Mr. Polite grew up on St. Helena Island in South Carolina which is an Island in South Carolina located directly East of Beaufort. His mother still lives on Joe Polite road. Small world as of course my parents live in Beaufort, South Carolina.

Mr. Polite is charged with training the Sailors how to use an M-16 and an M-9 pistol. His communication skills are excellent so much so that I suggested to him that he could be a disk jockey or a sports announcer. But Mr. Polite likes what he does though, and he is good at his job. Those other occupations hold no interest to Mr. Polite.

Of course when I first showed up to Camp McCrady, I had never shot an M-16 before, and it showed. Mr. Polite took me under his wing, though, and showed me the basics of marksmanship. When I first attempted to hit a target 200 yard down range, I could not do it. Mr. Polite trained me though, and by the end of the training I was killing targets which was blowing my hair back.

Finally a killer, but let's just hope and pray 9-12-09

This week's training primarily included training with the M-9 pistol, and the M-16 rifle. Never in my glorious life did I think that I would be dressed in full battle gear armed with a side arm and a M-16 rifle simultaneously. The battle gear that the Sailors wear here at Fort McCrady is serious business. It consists of full-plated body army known as IBA. It weighs 80 pounds, and covers the chest, back, flanks, and shoulders of my person. In addition, Sailors wear a Kevlar helmet, knee pads, and elbow pads. In the hot South Carolina sun one can get hot in this stuff after just a few paces, or by merely just standing still, or by sitting in a 45 minute bus ride.



On Wednesday we learned what to do in case our Humvee flips over, or worse goes into water. This training is known as HEAT training which is an acronym for: High Mobility Egress Assistance Trainer (http://asc.army.mil/docs/pubs/alt/2007/4_OctNovDec/articles/52_HEAT_---_Army_Innovation_in_Action_200710.pdf) At the initial stage of the war in Iraq many Humvee were being targeted by IAD's and terrorists and soldiers did not know what to do when the Humvee catapulted onto its side. Due to this lack of training, many of the gunners who sit quasi atop the vehicle were being killed when the vehicle flipped. Soldiers also did not know how to exit the vehicle, and so naturally they panicked which could lead to greater casualties. Basically, the Humvee trainer sits atop a medal steak and can do a 180 degree turn. The Humvee does not move forward, but merely rotates so I don'


When I got to this training evolution I was a little nervous. I did not want to do anything to call attention to myself, or to make a fool of myself. When it was my turn to partake in this training, I got into the vehicle put my seat belt on and locked the door without incident. The operator then flipped the vehicle and the four students in the Humvee yelled, "rollover, rollover, rollover." This is the standard call sign soldiers make when a vehicle is about to flip. The operator turned the vehicle all the way over (180 degrees) and I had to try to exit the vehicle. This was no picnic as the vehicle was upside down, and I was wearing the IBA battle gear with my seat belt firmly secured. The operator flipped the vehicle wice, and twice I had to exit the vehicle only the second time the Sgt purposefully locked my door so that I could not get out from my side. He said I handle the situation well though, and I made my way out of the other door. Mission complete. The key is not to panic in these situations. Unfortunately, one of the older doctors in my company did and she came out of the Humvee balling like a baby with diaper rash. In fact one Sailor in the other Company was stricken by this training due to his claustrophobia that he decided to decline to go on his trip to Iraq. He gave it up, and cried "rescue" which coincidentally was the term that we could use if we wanted out of the Humvee. After the Humvee training we actually got to drive a Humvee. It was not unlike driving any other vehicle except that it is a diesel. It is automatic transmission as well. I drove her about a mile before I ad to relinquish the wheel to another student. As I have heard repeatedly from the drill Sergeants in our cadre (cadre is merely a word for a group who trains people) the Army likes to keep things simple.

It always takes me a lot longer to master things than it does the ordinary person. This was surely the case for Friday and Saturday's M-9 training. For some reason I can't seem to hit the backside of the barn when shooting. I get really nervous that I am going to do something unsafe, and get yelled at so much so that I don't focus on the act of shooting. A lot goes into shooting. There is your aim, breathing, and trigger pull. And with regards to the qualification, you also have to take your weapon out of your holster get it off safe and fire all in a relatively quick time. So on Friday when we went to qualify for the M-9 pistol I was nervous. Unlike the first time I shot the M-9 this time I was shooting in my full battle gear which made it even that more difficult.

On the day of the test, I started off killing targets from 3 meters away. This is not difficult. However when I got to the 7 and 12 meter line I started missing. I did not know that I was missing because I could not see where my bullets were landing. I only know that once I got my score I had not passed. I was one of the only few. I was humiliated and embarrassed- and tired from getting up all week pre 5:00a.m. in the morning. Lack of sleep puts me in a foul frame. cause I know that I have good hand eye coordination. In the afternoon we shot the M-16 which I do not have to qualify on. I found that if I cover my left eye with a patch I can shoot a lot better. For some reason when I try to close my left eye to aim I end up closing my right eye slightly as well which messes up my aim.

With regards to the M-9, after I failed the test a drill Sergeant Price took me aside and starting coaching me. He helped me with the fundamentals. Drill Sergeant Price is a Copenhagen chewing, Southern guy with a thick accent from south Charlotte. He like all the cadre members at McCrady is an Army reservist who was called back to active duty to train us Navy folk who are headed to Iraq. He is a first responder in his civilian. Sergeant Price did not make me feel like an idiot for not passing, but rather he tried to make a bad shooter perform better. He could tell that I had a good attitude and wanted to learn. I asked him if he liked his job, and he said he loved it and that he was going to take great pleasure in watching me pass the test. Well, thanks in large part to Sgt Price I passed the test today and am now qualified. Mr. Polite the man who runs the range and truly is as polite as they come can now call me a killer. That is what he calls all the Sailors on the range. Essentially the only real thing I needed to pass in order to get to Iraq was the M-9, and so I am satisfied, although I know that I can certainly improve on my shooting abilities. Let's just hope that I don't have to call on these skills when I get to Iraq. So long blog.

Warrior 9/08/09

I rose today at 0500 for Physical Training. Our company Chief was in a foul mood at the muster because a few members in our platoon were late. Really these folks were not even late, but in the Chiefs mind they were. It rankled me to see her get so worked up over nothing. Ironically tonight at the 1815 muster it was the Chief who was late. Just as old Bob Dylan sang the first one was later last. Enough about the Chief though.

So where does the word muster come from?

Today's joy involved getting our 9mm Beretta and our M16 rifle. The Berreta offers great performance on the range. This is a man's pistol. A true warrior that replaced the 45 ACP 1911 service pistol. The Beretta M9-A1 (or 92FS) is the most tested pistol since the M1911-A1. Used by the U.S. Military's finest. Now I can truly be called a "warrior" as the Army First Sergeant keeps calling the trainees. I sense a touch of sarcasm in his voice when he calls us "warriors", but I don't mind as I know I am not a true warrior and really pray, hope, and expect that I will not see any action in Iraq. After receiving these fine pieces of modern day machinery, we also received about four hours of training on how to fire and safely use these weapons. Safety is paramount as it should be.

It is ironic that the folks who are training us on how to fire the weapons are retired Army personnel who are now civilians. You would think that the warriors who are currently serving actively in the Army would be up to the task, but I guess it is not in the cards. I will say they did a good job training us. I had no problem dismantling my M16 rifle, and the Army staff certainly are a lot more pleasant than the Navy folks who trained me at Newport, Rhode Island.

On a bad note, I drew watch duty from 0200 to 0400 tonight which means that my sleep deprivation will most likely continue. Courty you're so far away from home...

Too Easy

I woke up today at 5:00am today after a lousy night of sleep thanks to the snorer above me. Our platoon named bravo 3 reveled at 0520 on the grinder. The grinder is merely a parking lot in the middle of the base, and so I have no earthly idea why the military calls a parking lot the grinder except for perhaps that is where the troops use to get grinded to the ground.

First Sergeant Conklin the head hauncho was in chipper mood after that he told the group that he just gargled bong water. First Sergeant Taylor is the head enlisted trainer for our group. He is a healthy 6'4 230 lbs with a lively personality and a filthy tongue. Every other word out of his mouth starts with the letter "f". He gives the Sailors instructions such as chow is going to be at 1200 and follows it up with a question, "too easy?" Yes Sgt is is just too easy.

We got some instruction on stress in a combat zone, and how to deal with it. I also ate my first MRE An MRE is short for meal ready to eat. There are 28 different kinds of MRE's you can eat ranging from Omelets to Steaks. In 1992, a Flameless Ration Heater (FRH), a water-activated exothermic reaction product that emits heat, allowed a servicemember in the field to enjoy a hot meal. Basically you pour water into the box and your food is miraculously heated. Today I stuck to the crackers and fig bar. I will fiddle with the hot meal provided by the FRH at a later date.

The ultimate highlight of the day was the issuing of the gear. I received three bags worth of equipment. We got our Kevlar vests. After trying this on, my friend Bryan asked me how I liked carrying a midget around with me. Walking around with Kevlar on is pretty much like lugging a midget around. It is that heavy. Thank the lord it is not too hot in Columbia. I got a helmet, a gerber knife, sleeping bags, mosquito net, cold weather gear (ski pants, pullovers, heavy winter jackets), a shovel, a first aide kit. All this costs approximately $6,200 per person. Of course probably three-fourths of the stuff the military issued to us will never be used by me or any of the other Navy folks with me, but someone is getting rich off this endeavor.

Love you all!

9/06/2009- I am going to get drunk and ride my motorcycle

And so it begins, my journey to Iraq. Before I get there I must go through training at Fort McCrady training site located near Fort Jackson in Columbia, South Carolina. The Command is located on a National Guard Training site and is manned by Army personnel. Any Navy Sailor who wants to go on what is called an IA must go through this training process. Basically, you learn how to fire weapons, drive in a convoy, and navigate over land if you are lost. The name of the Command is the Expeditionary Combat Readiness Center (ECRC).

Thus far things have been good. We arrived on Friday night from LA after a delayed filled travel day. United is lame. We got issued our "birthing" and bedding. Our birthing consists of bunk beds and there are approximately 40 men in one open room. It smells wonderful. There is a nervous anticipation about the room. Some guys are fiddling with their uniform, other guys are listening to their IPODS. On Friday night I went and had a few beers with some of my shipmates at the bar on base called the Impact Zone. It is about five buildings down from our barracks. LCDR Bryan Cook was one of my drinking mates for the evening. At first glance he looks like one mean bastard with his mustache and high and tight haircut, but once you get to know him you realize that he is as soft as orange custard. He has been in the Navy for 27 years-starting out as an E-1 and has climbed all the way to an 04. He is now a supply officer. Impressive indeed. He peppered us young Sailors in the group with war stories about the Navy as all lifers tend to do, but I found it interesting. Of course as more beer was consumed the jokes came out, and I told a few of my favorites which elicited a couple of chuckles...

Tomorrow, we rise at 0500 to begin our first day of training with our drill Sergeant Gainey from North Carolina. The last words Drill Sergeant Gainey left with us as he left us on Sunday night is I am going to get drunk and ride my motorcycle. Hopefully not in that order .