August 1, 2010
Kajaki, Afghanistan
02:00
Ok, I've got a few stories about Kajaki before this blog is finished with, so don't worry. I'm not saying goodbye yet. Just give me a few days and I'll update you on the past two months; they've been the most interesting and eventful of the entire deployment.
John
Saturday, July 31, 2010
Monday, June 7, 2010
Civilization?
Kajaki, Afghanistan
June 8, 2010
Time...I don't know...sometime around 7:35....
We left Delaram on a crappy helicopter flight, which is the only way to do it, so no choice in that matter. Of course, it was late, AND the weather was bad in Bastion so the flight to "KJI" was cancelled and we had to spend the day at Leatherneck. I hadn't taken a shower in a couple days (this is on June 1st and I JUST took a shower yesterday).
The day spent in Leatherneck was crappy. I hate it there more than ever now; it's just a big zoo. Too many people...traffic...too many high ranking people, etc. Our flight went out at 8PM and we headed for "KJI." I didn't know the name of where we were going yet, just the three letter code. Really, I hardly knew anything.
The flight was a little on the longer side as we had to go to the North Eastern corner of the Helmand province, and eventually arrived at Kajaki, which is the home of a FOB (that I can't spell) which is operated by the British military, so it was very refreshing to be one of only less than 10 marines. It was strange once we landed; the landscape was completely different, even in the dark.
I could tell the area was much more mountainous, and there were Afghan civilians yelling things at the truck we were riding in as we were driving through the Afghan freaking town of Kajaki in the middle of the night. They were waiting for things to fall off the trailer so they could snag them, but luckily we didn't lose anything.
We arrived through the gate and it was really confusing to tell where the actual boundaries were. The Brits appeared to be living in the middle of a town, which yes...for all intents and purposes, we are. A US marine captain dressed in British clothes gave is a bit of a brief of the area and we went to sleep.
Quick Note: The area we're living in is an old R&R center for Soviets from the 79-89 occupation. There's a building on the other side of the wall from where I live where apparently a bunch of them were skinned alive by Afghans, and it's haunted. I've taken some pictures of it, but it's outside the wire so I can't test the haunting theory.
The first night, we moved into a house. We moved into a freaking house! Not a tent, a house. Though...it didn't have any power, and still doesn't. No air conditioning. There's a bird's nest inside...with birds in it. The mama bird flies in and out feeding the babies all day long, with them chirping annoyingly. We had no cots the first night, so everyone was nervice about sleeping on the floor, and I didn't have a matt, so I literally slept on the floor. It was great when someone found a scorpion in the next room and everyone flipped out. I was just lying there in the dark trying not to think about it. They kipped the scorpion; we fell asleep. My back hurt the next day.
A gunnery sergeant (one of the few marines here at the time) gave us a quick tour. There's a memorial cross with the names of the British marines and soldiers who've died here. There are a lot of names. We're told that we're surrounded by Taliban. Great...
There are six dogs in the FOB. They look insanely scary when you first see them, at least the big males. Then, when you make eye contact with them, (even the huge ones) they drop down and roll onto their side, lifting one of their front paws so you can pet their chest and stomach. Then they pretty much pass out in extasy as you pet them. There is a white alpha male with his ears chewed off and scars on his face. He doesn't really take as much pleasure in being pet, but he doesn't stop you. The dog who's bigger than him though is the laziest of them all. There's a small puppy who came into our house and stole my corporal's card deck box and chewed it in the back yard.
There's a cat...her name is apparently "Tits." She has three kittens.
The British go on patrols, the second day we were here someone got shot on a patrol, and lived.
The second helicopter mission we had came in yesterday and they wouldn't land because they claimed there was too much gear on the LZ. In their holding pattern, one of them broke down outside the wire and me, my corporal, platoon commander, and another marine had to be a Quick Reaction Force (QRF) for the broken down bird. This made me very nervous because I was told the Taliban were circling the area and that's why we were going.
On the helicopter, I loaded a magazine and chambered a round. This is the first time I've gone condition one in Afghanistan. We got off the helicopter and ran around in the dust, locating the downed bird. The crew chief told us where to set up a perimeter, and it was just the four of us guarding the bird. I was freaking out because I could see people walking around in the distance, but there were cobras flying above providing security. We heard cobras shooting at something the other day with their .50 Caliber machineguns.
Eventually, another helicopter landed and a team of British Royal Marine Commandos jumped off carrying enormous sniper rifles and machine guns which they set up in a perimiter joining with us. Then they laid down on the ground...
So, I at least sat down because i'd been standing there for 90 minutes without water, and if the elite guys are seriously lying down on the ground, I'm sitting. That's just how it is; I am sitting down if the commandos are relaxing.
In total, we spent 3.5 hours standing around the helicopter while the crew fixed it. I went from extremely tense, to extremely bored, to extremely dehydrated and on the verge of insanity. We were told to watch our step because the whole area was mined. All the mines from the Soviet ocupation are still here. The country is a mess.
After that, we were pretty much done for the day. I feel like punching whoever's in charge of maintenance for that squadron, which I could name, but probably shouldn't. Hats off to the security squadron who circled overhead for the entire time. One of them let off a burst at something, and we later found out that there were two militants with AK-47s riding around us on motorcycles, but they put the guns away when the cobras came close. So...yeah, there were Taliban watching us the whole time.
In the end though, I like this place better than Delaram or Leatherneck. There aren't as many people, we pretty much do whatever we want when we're not working. We don't have to clean. We don't really need haircuts, because it's kind of impossible. There aren't REAL showers, but that's a small trade to make for such a relaxed lifestyle here.
Still though, I need a drink.
June 8, 2010
Time...I don't know...sometime around 7:35....
We left Delaram on a crappy helicopter flight, which is the only way to do it, so no choice in that matter. Of course, it was late, AND the weather was bad in Bastion so the flight to "KJI" was cancelled and we had to spend the day at Leatherneck. I hadn't taken a shower in a couple days (this is on June 1st and I JUST took a shower yesterday).
The day spent in Leatherneck was crappy. I hate it there more than ever now; it's just a big zoo. Too many people...traffic...too many high ranking people, etc. Our flight went out at 8PM and we headed for "KJI." I didn't know the name of where we were going yet, just the three letter code. Really, I hardly knew anything.
The flight was a little on the longer side as we had to go to the North Eastern corner of the Helmand province, and eventually arrived at Kajaki, which is the home of a FOB (that I can't spell) which is operated by the British military, so it was very refreshing to be one of only less than 10 marines. It was strange once we landed; the landscape was completely different, even in the dark.
I could tell the area was much more mountainous, and there were Afghan civilians yelling things at the truck we were riding in as we were driving through the Afghan freaking town of Kajaki in the middle of the night. They were waiting for things to fall off the trailer so they could snag them, but luckily we didn't lose anything.
We arrived through the gate and it was really confusing to tell where the actual boundaries were. The Brits appeared to be living in the middle of a town, which yes...for all intents and purposes, we are. A US marine captain dressed in British clothes gave is a bit of a brief of the area and we went to sleep.
Quick Note: The area we're living in is an old R&R center for Soviets from the 79-89 occupation. There's a building on the other side of the wall from where I live where apparently a bunch of them were skinned alive by Afghans, and it's haunted. I've taken some pictures of it, but it's outside the wire so I can't test the haunting theory.
The first night, we moved into a house. We moved into a freaking house! Not a tent, a house. Though...it didn't have any power, and still doesn't. No air conditioning. There's a bird's nest inside...with birds in it. The mama bird flies in and out feeding the babies all day long, with them chirping annoyingly. We had no cots the first night, so everyone was nervice about sleeping on the floor, and I didn't have a matt, so I literally slept on the floor. It was great when someone found a scorpion in the next room and everyone flipped out. I was just lying there in the dark trying not to think about it. They kipped the scorpion; we fell asleep. My back hurt the next day.
A gunnery sergeant (one of the few marines here at the time) gave us a quick tour. There's a memorial cross with the names of the British marines and soldiers who've died here. There are a lot of names. We're told that we're surrounded by Taliban. Great...
There are six dogs in the FOB. They look insanely scary when you first see them, at least the big males. Then, when you make eye contact with them, (even the huge ones) they drop down and roll onto their side, lifting one of their front paws so you can pet their chest and stomach. Then they pretty much pass out in extasy as you pet them. There is a white alpha male with his ears chewed off and scars on his face. He doesn't really take as much pleasure in being pet, but he doesn't stop you. The dog who's bigger than him though is the laziest of them all. There's a small puppy who came into our house and stole my corporal's card deck box and chewed it in the back yard.
There's a cat...her name is apparently "Tits." She has three kittens.
The British go on patrols, the second day we were here someone got shot on a patrol, and lived.
The second helicopter mission we had came in yesterday and they wouldn't land because they claimed there was too much gear on the LZ. In their holding pattern, one of them broke down outside the wire and me, my corporal, platoon commander, and another marine had to be a Quick Reaction Force (QRF) for the broken down bird. This made me very nervous because I was told the Taliban were circling the area and that's why we were going.
On the helicopter, I loaded a magazine and chambered a round. This is the first time I've gone condition one in Afghanistan. We got off the helicopter and ran around in the dust, locating the downed bird. The crew chief told us where to set up a perimeter, and it was just the four of us guarding the bird. I was freaking out because I could see people walking around in the distance, but there were cobras flying above providing security. We heard cobras shooting at something the other day with their .50 Caliber machineguns.
Eventually, another helicopter landed and a team of British Royal Marine Commandos jumped off carrying enormous sniper rifles and machine guns which they set up in a perimiter joining with us. Then they laid down on the ground...
So, I at least sat down because i'd been standing there for 90 minutes without water, and if the elite guys are seriously lying down on the ground, I'm sitting. That's just how it is; I am sitting down if the commandos are relaxing.
In total, we spent 3.5 hours standing around the helicopter while the crew fixed it. I went from extremely tense, to extremely bored, to extremely dehydrated and on the verge of insanity. We were told to watch our step because the whole area was mined. All the mines from the Soviet ocupation are still here. The country is a mess.
After that, we were pretty much done for the day. I feel like punching whoever's in charge of maintenance for that squadron, which I could name, but probably shouldn't. Hats off to the security squadron who circled overhead for the entire time. One of them let off a burst at something, and we later found out that there were two militants with AK-47s riding around us on motorcycles, but they put the guns away when the cobras came close. So...yeah, there were Taliban watching us the whole time.
In the end though, I like this place better than Delaram or Leatherneck. There aren't as many people, we pretty much do whatever we want when we're not working. We don't have to clean. We don't really need haircuts, because it's kind of impossible. There aren't REAL showers, but that's a small trade to make for such a relaxed lifestyle here.
Still though, I need a drink.
Monday, May 31, 2010
B(e)R(ight)B(ack)
June 1, 2010
Delaram 2, Afghanistan
04:11
(I can't believe it's June already! Add me to the list of people who say that today.)
Later today, I'm going to be leaving on a mission to resupply some folks out in a really remote area of the country. The FOB starts with the letter K, although I don't recall what it actually is called. I don't know exactly where it is. I don't know exactly what I'm going to be doing. I don't think I'll have laundry facilities. I don't know if there will be showers. I don't know if there will be bathrooms. I'm taking four books and a camera and that's it. Life will probably suck for the next thirty days, unless I'm able to come back sooner.
So, that means I'll be out of touch for a bit. Keep sending me your comments and questions, or suggestions. When a few more are emailed to me, I'll compile them into an entry on here and inform you.
Until next time...
Delaram 2, Afghanistan
04:11
(I can't believe it's June already! Add me to the list of people who say that today.)
Later today, I'm going to be leaving on a mission to resupply some folks out in a really remote area of the country. The FOB starts with the letter K, although I don't recall what it actually is called. I don't know exactly where it is. I don't know exactly what I'm going to be doing. I don't think I'll have laundry facilities. I don't know if there will be showers. I don't know if there will be bathrooms. I'm taking four books and a camera and that's it. Life will probably suck for the next thirty days, unless I'm able to come back sooner.
So, that means I'll be out of touch for a bit. Keep sending me your comments and questions, or suggestions. When a few more are emailed to me, I'll compile them into an entry on here and inform you.
Until next time...
Thursday, May 27, 2010
Big Explosion
May 28, 2010
Delaram 2, Afghanistan
04:55
Yesterday morning I was sitting down in the A/DACG tent. I put some music on, and it started making me a little sleepy like music does. I leaned back in the chair and yawned, closed my eyes. I fell asleep quickly. A moment later...BOOM!
"WHAT THE FUCK!" the guy next to me yelled, and I jerked up in my seat, definitely awake now. What I'd heard was easily the closest explosion to my location since I'd arrived in Afghanistan.
The four of us in the tent opened the front "door" and looked out across the flat area near the LZ. There was smoke blowing away. The mortar round...or rocket, or whatever it was landed only about 300-400 yards away from us. Shortly after, we ran to the shelter and waited for the all clear signal to be given. It was a pretty sobering morning.
I'm willing to bet they're shooting at the LZ, watching where the shell lands, and adjusting their fire to hit closer to the LZ when helicopters are actually on the ground.
That's my update for now.
Also, for anyone reading, is there anything I haven't talked about yet that you're interested in understanding more? Do you have any questions about something I haven't mentioned, or something you want me to elaborate on? Please ask me.
Send me an email (jmilas89@gmail.com) with any questions you have. Ask as many as you want. I'll answer them to the best of my abilities in the next entry I make here. If you don't want me to identify you in the answer to my question, please let me know and I'll mark it as "Anonymous" or something.
Don't be afraid to ask me anything. Don't be afraid to ask a stupid question; I don't judge people for what they don't know.
And if there's anything that you'd like me to discuss in future entries, let me know. Suggestions and feedback are a great tool for writers, and it helps me to adjust my writing to better satisfy the readers. Again, just send me an email to the same address if you've got any comments.
Until next time...
Delaram 2, Afghanistan
04:55
Yesterday morning I was sitting down in the A/DACG tent. I put some music on, and it started making me a little sleepy like music does. I leaned back in the chair and yawned, closed my eyes. I fell asleep quickly. A moment later...BOOM!
"WHAT THE FUCK!" the guy next to me yelled, and I jerked up in my seat, definitely awake now. What I'd heard was easily the closest explosion to my location since I'd arrived in Afghanistan.
The four of us in the tent opened the front "door" and looked out across the flat area near the LZ. There was smoke blowing away. The mortar round...or rocket, or whatever it was landed only about 300-400 yards away from us. Shortly after, we ran to the shelter and waited for the all clear signal to be given. It was a pretty sobering morning.
I'm willing to bet they're shooting at the LZ, watching where the shell lands, and adjusting their fire to hit closer to the LZ when helicopters are actually on the ground.
That's my update for now.
Also, for anyone reading, is there anything I haven't talked about yet that you're interested in understanding more? Do you have any questions about something I haven't mentioned, or something you want me to elaborate on? Please ask me.
Send me an email (jmilas89@gmail.com) with any questions you have. Ask as many as you want. I'll answer them to the best of my abilities in the next entry I make here. If you don't want me to identify you in the answer to my question, please let me know and I'll mark it as "Anonymous" or something.
Don't be afraid to ask me anything. Don't be afraid to ask a stupid question; I don't judge people for what they don't know.
And if there's anything that you'd like me to discuss in future entries, let me know. Suggestions and feedback are a great tool for writers, and it helps me to adjust my writing to better satisfy the readers. Again, just send me an email to the same address if you've got any comments.
Until next time...
Tuesday, May 25, 2010
More Stupidity Part 5: Extremely Stupid Edition
May 26, 2010
Delaram 2, Afghanistan
02:00
Wow, so things keep getting better, and better, and BETTER over here! Life in a deployed status is just peachy right now.
Here are some things I have neglected to mention for one reason or another in my past few entries...
My body armor is defective. Take a deep breath. Inhale through your nose. Hold it. Slow release. Close your eyes. Now let me repeat myself. MY BODY ARMOR IS DEFECTIVE! What!? How is that possible!? The Marine Corps is in a constant state of deployment cycles (since 2001) which means that I'm either deployed, recovering from a deployment, or getting ready to deploy again. Don't you think that sometime between deployments, like during the training of AN ENTIRE BATTALION, the manufacturers would NOTICE THAT THEIR ARMOR PLATES WERE DEFECTIVE!?
Wait, wouldn't they just friggin' notice this DURING THE DEVELOPMENT OF THE MATERIALS IN THE FIRST PLACE!? Isn't this something they're supposed to notice before they issue it to people WHO ARE GOING TO A FRIGGIN' WAR!?
I can't believe how people back home would receive this information. I feel like I need to have a 60 minute stand up routine every week for at least 6 months to explain how modern war really is over here. There's no way that after the constant bombardment of war movies and television in the U.S., the American people could ever imagine what war has become. They've got it engraved in their minds that it's a noble thing to keep the peace in some part of the world, and keep bad guys from getting to America.
Well, here I sit in the middle of a war, with plates that go into the sides of my flak jacket THAT ARE DEFECTIVE! Define defective? I can't. I'm not sure what it means. Does it mean that when the bullet hits me in the side, it goes through the SAPI plate? Does it mean the plate just shatters in a way it wasn't designed to? Does it mean...what else could it mean? Nothing is explained to me other than "If your side SAPIs have 'this serial number on them' then they're defective and they need to be replaced. Let us know if yours are defective."
Guess what? THAT WAS ALMOST A MONTH AGO! That means I've had defective body armor for almost a month, and it hasn't been replaced. A wise man once told me, "You gotta laugh, or you're gonna cry." That statement hasn't been more true in any other situation throughout my life. I'm in a war. My body armor doesn't work. They won't replace it. No one will help me. Rockets get shot at the base I live in. Unbelievable. Nearly a month later...no action taken. Who are these fucking IDIOTS supplying the USMC with defective armor? I'll have to check the SAPI plates for a URL advertisement or something.
So, now that I'm laughing to hold back the tears, I'm about to start laughing even harder for the same reason in relation to another development a couple days ago.
And you're thinking..."John...what could that possibly be?"
My helmet is defective. Take another deep breath. I'm taking another deep breath. My helmet is defective? Yes, my helmet is defective.
I'm trying to figure out how the civilian contractors who build this stuff discover (months, if not years later) that it's defective.
"Hey, let's test the helmet today!"
"Why? We already sold it!"
And so they test it for the first time...ever...and discover it doesn't work. Oh yeah, people are already in a war zone with the defective helmets. Then what do they say after they realize the stuff is defective?
"Oops?"
Maybe they discover it's defective after someone dies wearing it. I wouldn't rule out that possibility either. There isn't any way I can convey how frustrating life is here in text. I'd need to stand on a street corner and just scream at people. Then they'd take me for a lunatic, but that's what I'd become if I had to be here for any longer than what I'm anticipating. Apparently "The Colonel" is coming to this base to tell us what our flight dates are for our return home. Must be some juicy bit of information because he has to tell us in person. Does this mean he's coming in person to apologize because we have to stay longer?
"Oh, yeah, remember the 30,000 troops that were going to surge here? Well, they're all here now and you're a part of them, so you can't leave till 2011! Gotchya!"
In other news, every day now we have to have an "Accountability Formation" to make sure everyone one is accounted for and that no one has gone AWOL into Afghanistan where there are so many opportunities and reasons for a U.S. service member to do so.
By the way, this formation is at 18:00. I work from 00:00 to 12:00. So...now I basically have to wake up in the middle of my day's worth of sleep to stand around with a bunch of other idiots who aren't in my platoon and listen to the instructions they get for the next day's work. Of course, we work on a 12 hour cycle, and therefore my day is the same everyday, so I know no one in a Security, Motor Transportation, or Heavy Equipment platoon is going to tell me what I'm doing the next day. Why? Because I have my own platoon sergeant and platoon commander for that thing.
Nonetheless, I have to wake up before 18:00 (the equivalent of someone on a normal sleeping schedule waking up around...between 1:00-3:00AM) and stand there for ten minutes just to feel like shit while someone makes sure I'm still here and follows by saying a bunch of crap that doesn't apply to me.
Yesterday, we were threatened. Because our company gunnery sergeant, a staff sergeant, is tired of "cleaning up after us" in the heads, he is threatening to post SIX MARINES AT A TIME at all times outside of the bathrooms. They'll make sure all the paper towels are thrown away after people exit the bathroom.
Of course, you can't reason with a staff sergeant, who not surprisingly is an asshole former drill instructor. Incidentally, former DIs have a really hard time letting go of boot camp and persist in treating everyone below their level of authority like recruits, even though we're marines now.
Anyway, like I was saying, you can't reason with him. THERE ARE PEOPLE WHO ARE PAID TO CLEAN THE BATHROOMS TWICE A DAY! But it's our fault that it gets dirty in there! And, it MUST BE BRAVO COMPANY MARINES' FAULT that the bathrooms get dirty with Georgians, Afghan Interpreters, and MARINES FROM ANY OTHER UNIT ON THE BASE using the bathrooms. But no...we get threatened. I guess we needed 30,000 troops to come over here so we could spare enough at a time to post six at once to stand outside a couple bathrooms and have a continuous relief for 24 hours a day. If this actually happens, will I be surprised? No. If this actually happens and they pick LS marines to do it, will I be surprised? No. It doesn't matter that my platoon is the only platoon in the company who has a designated platoon commander that's an officer, we still get the shit slapped out of our face on a daily basis.
Now, the next time I get on facebook and see some peer of mine, some college student who has a bathroom in their apartment and has to only take a few steps to reach it, someone who can get drunk if they need to self medicate at the end of the weekend, someone who never has to worry about electricity, someone who never has to take fucking cover when bombs rain down on their neighborhood TYPE "FML" IN THEIR FACEBOOK STATUS...I'll probably lose it.
Fuck your life? Are you fucking kidding me?
And yes, I didn't get drafted. I wanted to enlist. And if I could go back in time, find myself, and beat the shit out of myself two years ago for even having the thought, I would.
Delaram 2, Afghanistan
02:00
Wow, so things keep getting better, and better, and BETTER over here! Life in a deployed status is just peachy right now.
Here are some things I have neglected to mention for one reason or another in my past few entries...
My body armor is defective. Take a deep breath. Inhale through your nose. Hold it. Slow release. Close your eyes. Now let me repeat myself. MY BODY ARMOR IS DEFECTIVE! What!? How is that possible!? The Marine Corps is in a constant state of deployment cycles (since 2001) which means that I'm either deployed, recovering from a deployment, or getting ready to deploy again. Don't you think that sometime between deployments, like during the training of AN ENTIRE BATTALION, the manufacturers would NOTICE THAT THEIR ARMOR PLATES WERE DEFECTIVE!?
Wait, wouldn't they just friggin' notice this DURING THE DEVELOPMENT OF THE MATERIALS IN THE FIRST PLACE!? Isn't this something they're supposed to notice before they issue it to people WHO ARE GOING TO A FRIGGIN' WAR!?
I can't believe how people back home would receive this information. I feel like I need to have a 60 minute stand up routine every week for at least 6 months to explain how modern war really is over here. There's no way that after the constant bombardment of war movies and television in the U.S., the American people could ever imagine what war has become. They've got it engraved in their minds that it's a noble thing to keep the peace in some part of the world, and keep bad guys from getting to America.
Well, here I sit in the middle of a war, with plates that go into the sides of my flak jacket THAT ARE DEFECTIVE! Define defective? I can't. I'm not sure what it means. Does it mean that when the bullet hits me in the side, it goes through the SAPI plate? Does it mean the plate just shatters in a way it wasn't designed to? Does it mean...what else could it mean? Nothing is explained to me other than "If your side SAPIs have 'this serial number on them' then they're defective and they need to be replaced. Let us know if yours are defective."
Guess what? THAT WAS ALMOST A MONTH AGO! That means I've had defective body armor for almost a month, and it hasn't been replaced. A wise man once told me, "You gotta laugh, or you're gonna cry." That statement hasn't been more true in any other situation throughout my life. I'm in a war. My body armor doesn't work. They won't replace it. No one will help me. Rockets get shot at the base I live in. Unbelievable. Nearly a month later...no action taken. Who are these fucking IDIOTS supplying the USMC with defective armor? I'll have to check the SAPI plates for a URL advertisement or something.
So, now that I'm laughing to hold back the tears, I'm about to start laughing even harder for the same reason in relation to another development a couple days ago.
And you're thinking..."John...what could that possibly be?"
My helmet is defective. Take another deep breath. I'm taking another deep breath. My helmet is defective? Yes, my helmet is defective.
I'm trying to figure out how the civilian contractors who build this stuff discover (months, if not years later) that it's defective.
"Hey, let's test the helmet today!"
"Why? We already sold it!"
And so they test it for the first time...ever...and discover it doesn't work. Oh yeah, people are already in a war zone with the defective helmets. Then what do they say after they realize the stuff is defective?
"Oops?"
Maybe they discover it's defective after someone dies wearing it. I wouldn't rule out that possibility either. There isn't any way I can convey how frustrating life is here in text. I'd need to stand on a street corner and just scream at people. Then they'd take me for a lunatic, but that's what I'd become if I had to be here for any longer than what I'm anticipating. Apparently "The Colonel" is coming to this base to tell us what our flight dates are for our return home. Must be some juicy bit of information because he has to tell us in person. Does this mean he's coming in person to apologize because we have to stay longer?
"Oh, yeah, remember the 30,000 troops that were going to surge here? Well, they're all here now and you're a part of them, so you can't leave till 2011! Gotchya!"
In other news, every day now we have to have an "Accountability Formation" to make sure everyone one is accounted for and that no one has gone AWOL into Afghanistan where there are so many opportunities and reasons for a U.S. service member to do so.
By the way, this formation is at 18:00. I work from 00:00 to 12:00. So...now I basically have to wake up in the middle of my day's worth of sleep to stand around with a bunch of other idiots who aren't in my platoon and listen to the instructions they get for the next day's work. Of course, we work on a 12 hour cycle, and therefore my day is the same everyday, so I know no one in a Security, Motor Transportation, or Heavy Equipment platoon is going to tell me what I'm doing the next day. Why? Because I have my own platoon sergeant and platoon commander for that thing.
Nonetheless, I have to wake up before 18:00 (the equivalent of someone on a normal sleeping schedule waking up around...between 1:00-3:00AM) and stand there for ten minutes just to feel like shit while someone makes sure I'm still here and follows by saying a bunch of crap that doesn't apply to me.
Yesterday, we were threatened. Because our company gunnery sergeant, a staff sergeant, is tired of "cleaning up after us" in the heads, he is threatening to post SIX MARINES AT A TIME at all times outside of the bathrooms. They'll make sure all the paper towels are thrown away after people exit the bathroom.
Of course, you can't reason with a staff sergeant, who not surprisingly is an asshole former drill instructor. Incidentally, former DIs have a really hard time letting go of boot camp and persist in treating everyone below their level of authority like recruits, even though we're marines now.
Anyway, like I was saying, you can't reason with him. THERE ARE PEOPLE WHO ARE PAID TO CLEAN THE BATHROOMS TWICE A DAY! But it's our fault that it gets dirty in there! And, it MUST BE BRAVO COMPANY MARINES' FAULT that the bathrooms get dirty with Georgians, Afghan Interpreters, and MARINES FROM ANY OTHER UNIT ON THE BASE using the bathrooms. But no...we get threatened. I guess we needed 30,000 troops to come over here so we could spare enough at a time to post six at once to stand outside a couple bathrooms and have a continuous relief for 24 hours a day. If this actually happens, will I be surprised? No. If this actually happens and they pick LS marines to do it, will I be surprised? No. It doesn't matter that my platoon is the only platoon in the company who has a designated platoon commander that's an officer, we still get the shit slapped out of our face on a daily basis.
Now, the next time I get on facebook and see some peer of mine, some college student who has a bathroom in their apartment and has to only take a few steps to reach it, someone who can get drunk if they need to self medicate at the end of the weekend, someone who never has to worry about electricity, someone who never has to take fucking cover when bombs rain down on their neighborhood TYPE "FML" IN THEIR FACEBOOK STATUS...I'll probably lose it.
Fuck your life? Are you fucking kidding me?
And yes, I didn't get drafted. I wanted to enlist. And if I could go back in time, find myself, and beat the shit out of myself two years ago for even having the thought, I would.
Sunday, May 23, 2010
Going Live
May 24, 2010
Delaram 2, Afghanistan
03:44
Today marks the end of the "recorded" posting, hopefully. By recorded, I mean that I wrote them and posted them later, much like a TV show that is recorded and then aired after it has been filmed.
Now, I'm back to live posting. That is to say, when I make a post on this blog, the day I posted it is the day I've written it. This makes things more timely. I've edited the dates on the last five or six posts to reflect the days I wrote them, and not the days I posted them, so the timeframe makes more sense.
I just added the two last "recorded" posts today, so don't miss those. Tomorrow, I'll probably resume with another substantial entry about life in Operation Enduring Freedom.
Delaram 2, Afghanistan
03:44
Today marks the end of the "recorded" posting, hopefully. By recorded, I mean that I wrote them and posted them later, much like a TV show that is recorded and then aired after it has been filmed.
Now, I'm back to live posting. That is to say, when I make a post on this blog, the day I posted it is the day I've written it. This makes things more timely. I've edited the dates on the last five or six posts to reflect the days I wrote them, and not the days I posted them, so the timeframe makes more sense.
I just added the two last "recorded" posts today, so don't miss those. Tomorrow, I'll probably resume with another substantial entry about life in Operation Enduring Freedom.
Friday, May 7, 2010
John 8:12
May 7, 2010
Delaram 2, Afghanistan
17:05
(I really need to go to sleep right now, but I forgot to make this entry yesterday.)
At some point during my shift yesterday, my Platoon Sergeant radioed down to the A/DACG (Arrival/Departure Air Control Group) tent.
"Start heading up to the COC armory one at a time. They need to 'make a modification' to your ACOG. It'll take thirty seconds."
Okay, I thought. I left the tent and walked through the ECP, passing through the concertina wire into the compound. Ahead was the large "Twenty-Foot ISO" as we call them, just a big container like you'd see on a cargo ship. This one houses the armory.
I walked up to the marine working there.
"Uh, so what's going on?" I ask the guy.
"This'll only take a second," he says.
Aware that he really didn't answer my question, I asked him again and he held the rifle close to my face so I could see what was going on.
"There's a bible verse on the ACOG. The Marine Corps says it's not allowed anymore."
"What?" I ask and look at the ACOG scope. Sure enough, "JN8:12" is printed in small raised letters on the scope. How did I never notice this and why did no one ever point it out?
He scraped the letters off and painted black over the silvery area, blackening it again. A million ideas swam through my head when he handed the rifle back. They probably would've been more clear if I'd known offhand what verse John 8:12 was.
Just the basic idea that a bible verse was cited on my rifle scope brought questions to my mind. I find every aspect of this idea to be significant. It's even significant that neither me, nor anyone else I know had any idea it was even there. Was it there to merit some kind of blessing on my weapon? Why else would it be there?
I just don't get it, man. I don't understand.
See, after the year of college I went through prior to enlistment, particularly the first semester, I became incredibly fascinated by semiotics. I have to "over think" (if that's possible) everything now, because I realize there's a meaning and reason behind everything. Every little detail in every aspect of life has meaning behind it.
So, now, the moment I realize that the good book is quoted on the optic I use to see the person I'm meant to kill (warning shots are not allowed), it's gone. The USMC decided that about half an inch of English characters needed to be removed.
Why? Because it's more politically correct that way probably. I'm not saying I agree with my religion being stamped on a death machine. I don't think it should have been there (if it actually was indeed a verse). I just find it amusing that the military is so brazen in its new methods. It couldn't strike me as any more blatantly obvious that the military is no longer representing the interests of the American people. The military is unabashedly clear about this now, but most service members don't know the difference, or don't care. We no longer fight for the American people; we fight for the American government. Don't even think of telling me that they're one in the same. I love my country. It inspires me and it has inspired endless people for generations. The people governing the United States have lost sight of the important things.
I'm getting tired of real genuine American patriotism fading into darkness. Now, there's a group of people who stand up and shout for joy at anything with a U.S. flag stamped on it. Do they blindly support their country, or do they blindly support their government, possibly in spite of the people who question it? Are they cheering for the flag, or are they cheering for the politicians who freeze a smile when the public spotlight is on them? They don't even know the answer.
I'm not good at finding symbolism (even though I'm fascinated by it), but I feel there was something symbolic about that verse being chipped away and my rifle returning to me with a shiny black area freshly painted over.
"Take it easy," the armorer said.
"Alright," I answered, and left.
John 8:12 - New International Version
"When Jesus spoke to the people, he said, "I am the light of the world. Whoever follows me will never walk in darkness, but will have the light of life."
Delaram 2, Afghanistan
17:05
(I really need to go to sleep right now, but I forgot to make this entry yesterday.)
At some point during my shift yesterday, my Platoon Sergeant radioed down to the A/DACG (Arrival/Departure Air Control Group) tent.
"Start heading up to the COC armory one at a time. They need to 'make a modification' to your ACOG. It'll take thirty seconds."
Okay, I thought. I left the tent and walked through the ECP, passing through the concertina wire into the compound. Ahead was the large "Twenty-Foot ISO" as we call them, just a big container like you'd see on a cargo ship. This one houses the armory.
I walked up to the marine working there.
"Uh, so what's going on?" I ask the guy.
"This'll only take a second," he says.
Aware that he really didn't answer my question, I asked him again and he held the rifle close to my face so I could see what was going on.
"There's a bible verse on the ACOG. The Marine Corps says it's not allowed anymore."
"What?" I ask and look at the ACOG scope. Sure enough, "JN8:12" is printed in small raised letters on the scope. How did I never notice this and why did no one ever point it out?
He scraped the letters off and painted black over the silvery area, blackening it again. A million ideas swam through my head when he handed the rifle back. They probably would've been more clear if I'd known offhand what verse John 8:12 was.
Just the basic idea that a bible verse was cited on my rifle scope brought questions to my mind. I find every aspect of this idea to be significant. It's even significant that neither me, nor anyone else I know had any idea it was even there. Was it there to merit some kind of blessing on my weapon? Why else would it be there?
I just don't get it, man. I don't understand.
See, after the year of college I went through prior to enlistment, particularly the first semester, I became incredibly fascinated by semiotics. I have to "over think" (if that's possible) everything now, because I realize there's a meaning and reason behind everything. Every little detail in every aspect of life has meaning behind it.
So, now, the moment I realize that the good book is quoted on the optic I use to see the person I'm meant to kill (warning shots are not allowed), it's gone. The USMC decided that about half an inch of English characters needed to be removed.
Why? Because it's more politically correct that way probably. I'm not saying I agree with my religion being stamped on a death machine. I don't think it should have been there (if it actually was indeed a verse). I just find it amusing that the military is so brazen in its new methods. It couldn't strike me as any more blatantly obvious that the military is no longer representing the interests of the American people. The military is unabashedly clear about this now, but most service members don't know the difference, or don't care. We no longer fight for the American people; we fight for the American government. Don't even think of telling me that they're one in the same. I love my country. It inspires me and it has inspired endless people for generations. The people governing the United States have lost sight of the important things.
I'm getting tired of real genuine American patriotism fading into darkness. Now, there's a group of people who stand up and shout for joy at anything with a U.S. flag stamped on it. Do they blindly support their country, or do they blindly support their government, possibly in spite of the people who question it? Are they cheering for the flag, or are they cheering for the politicians who freeze a smile when the public spotlight is on them? They don't even know the answer.
I'm not good at finding symbolism (even though I'm fascinated by it), but I feel there was something symbolic about that verse being chipped away and my rifle returning to me with a shiny black area freshly painted over.
"Take it easy," the armorer said.
"Alright," I answered, and left.
John 8:12 - New International Version
"When Jesus spoke to the people, he said, "I am the light of the world. Whoever follows me will never walk in darkness, but will have the light of life."
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