Deleram or Delaram?

April 17, 2010
Delaram 2, Afghanistan
20:07

Note 1 (20100427): I'm posting this in a tiny little window, so I can't do any kind of spell check. I was able to actually get on blogger yesterday, but it seems to be blocked again. Just hang in there.

Note 2: I'm going to try and stay in the past tense when I write from now on. I find that when I try and write in the present, I always end up switching to past tnese by accident. Something about it feels more natural and it comes easier without making a conscious effort to maintain that style. This is just in an effort to standardize things. If you catch me flipping back and forth like I've done in the past, let me know.

I've been in Delaram II about ten days now without any internet access, so I decided not to worry about the blog, but then I thought that it wouldn't matter if I typed it online or typed it on my computer and posted it later. This post may show up after others getting posted first since I don't know if I'll ever get internet access on my computer out here. If you're reading this sometime within the three months of me writing it, congratulations.

I was hafl nervous about the move to Delaram II (from Leatherneck) and half apathetic. I alwas build up every movement I have to take part in because I hate military movements. They're always so hectic and unorganized, and I hate packing and carrying luggage. This time I couldn't carry it all at once, but I had some help. There were three people in our group going to Delaram I and the other seven of us heading to D2, which we had all heard from time to time was a "nice" place, whatever that means.

The flight wasn't so bad, only about twenty-five minutes aboard a CH-53. I didn't get dripped on too bad either. Last time I flew on one my knee got so soaked with oil and hydraulic fluid I never wanted to fly on one again. Thinking about it, to keep a huge metal propeller turning, there has to be a lot of fluid lubricating the thing, and of course since it's the Marine Corps, it's going to get everywhere, namely the passengers. But, I was fortunate enough to have a good seat this time.

We arrived at D2 and unloaded our bags in the dark. The helicopters took off about fifty feet away from us and we all got sandblasted pretty bad. Our bags got blown all over the place. At this point it was about 01:00. We were sstanding on a rocky surface, and I don't mean gravel. I mean we were standing around like fools on a flat area covered in large rocks. I thought I was going to roll my ankles with every step. There were some lights about five hundred yards away, but not many of them. I got reservations about how remote the place was going to be.

Fortunately, a seven-ton pulled up and we loaded our baggage onto it. Luckily the tent that me and the other six were moving in to was the closest to where we had landed. It was a short walk. The door to the tent was open for some reason, which now I find to be uncalled for since this place is infested with moths. The light was on inside and we walked in after being told it was where we were going to live (because of it's proximity to the LZ). The tent was amazing. I hadn't been so comfortable since the transition from Camp Wilson, 29 Palms to March Air Force Base in California during Mojave Viper training. The tent was small; there were (and still are) only seven bunk beds inside. Each had a mattress, which was a breath of fresh air. I'd been sleeping on a cot insode or on top of a sleeping bag for over two months straight now, now I got to actually lie down and sleep with a pillow instead of using a bunch of sweatshirts as a pillow. Not to mention, the air conditioning. SOmetimes I'm too cold, but I like the cold so it's nice. Each bed also has it's own extention cord hanging through the wall. Power. Finally it wasn't a hassle to simply charge an electronic device.

After being told by our platoon commander that we didn't need to be awake at any certain time, we fell asleep and didn't wake up till later the next day.

I decided to eat at some point, so I went to the chow hall. I'm not sure why, but after waiting in line outside in the sun, it's even more unbearable inside the first tent. There is no air conditioning and the place is sweltering. The locals working there are dressed like movie theater ushers with paper hats. They wear black bowties and maroon vests over long sleeve white shirts. Their name tags puzzled me, and still do. They range from names like "Loyd" and "Rodrigues" to "Filantro James" and "Shine Thomas," my favorite. Filantro James? Do Afghans really name their kids Shine Thomas, or did this guy deliberately pick this name? How in the heck did he choose Shine Thomas?

After a little less than a week, we started working again. The hours were the same, though I work on the opposite shift than what I did at Bastion and everything's more laid back. There are only a few missions a day total, so even less during a 12 hour period. I've been able to get a good amount of reading and writing done, which has been pretty fulfilling. I find that the more confident I am about something I've written, I'm in a better mood overall.

I was actually able to get access to a NIPR account, which is an unclassified government computer. I checked my gmail and found an interesting message. It wasn't a spam, and it was surprising.

I've recieved a good deal of feedback on Full Metal Journal, the first blog I started over a year ago. I was sort of dumfounded the first time I discovered that a bigger number of people even knew about it than I was aware. I remember getting an email telling me that people were indeed reading it, and the sender of the email pointed me to a thread on Leatherneck.com where some poolees were discussing the blog. From then on, I recieved a fair amount of comments and feedback from poolees who were happy to know the info I was writing. There was even someone who told me a marine friend of theirs pointed them in my direction because it was the best representation of Recruit Training, which they were about to embark on.

That was flattering and it caught me off guard.

So, naturally I was surprised to receive an email from someone who is a superior rank to me.. I'm not going to mention the rank, yet. I was in disbelief at first though, that a marine with a rank as senior to me as it is even contacted me. He'd obviously read the blog and advised me that I review what I write and be cautious. It wasn't a threat and it wasn't a reprimand. It was actually kind of a friendly heads up between fellow bloggers. Coming from someone as high up as him, I can only take that as one of the best complimetnts. He told me that he'd hate to seem me standing tall before the man for something I've written.

And I guess that is true that I need to watch it sometimes. He isn't the first person to say it, and if I keep it up, I know he won't be the last. For those of you who are lurking (that is, you don't follow this with a google account) and keeping up with me, I apologize for being childish at times. I like to think of myself as a realist, and not a pessimist, though I know that my writing sounds negative a lot. Before I submit to takine on a more even tone in my writing, let me just say this:

I believe that my responsibility to my readers is to be honest with them. If you continue to follow my writing when I revert back to Full Metal Journal, you'll realize this. Trust me. There's no point in me writing an account of something that's actually happening if I turn it into a fairy tale. I believe that the true nature of what I'm writing and documenting will most often sound pessimistic and depressing, but I'll try and even out my tone.

Finally, a blog entry that didn't limit me to thirty minutes of witing. This time it was actually kind of relaxing to write it. If you're reading this before July, missions accomplished. If not, sorry for the wait.

Take it easy.