Guest Post: CPT Chris Myers from Afghanistan!

This is a guest post from a friend I made while mobilizing. CPT Myers and I trained together at Ft. Gordon Signal school. This....is a great post! When I saw it, I had to share it with those 2 or 3 of you that read my blog. :) I asked and Chris agreed to be a guest blogger for us today. CPT Chris Myers is an Army Reserve IRR soldier like myself. In civilian life, he's an English teacher in San Fransico. Enjoy!

10 July 2009Kabul, Afghanistan

Greetings, all, from beautiful downtown Kabul. Yes, after over three months of inprocessing, integration and training in Georgia and Indiana, my deployment proper has finally begun. I am stationed here at Camp Phoenix, which (at the moment, anyways) will be my home for the next nine months or so. Phoenix, as some of you may know, is a mythical bird that self-immolates and then regenerates itself from the ashes—in a sense continually rebuilding itself out of dust. In a secondary sense, Phoenix also refers to a city in Arizona, best known for its scorching dry heat and population of displaced, disgruntled Republicans. Under either definition, the Camp Phoenix designator is appropriate.

In the limited communications I’ve had with some of you since my arrival, one word keeps resurfacing as a descriptor: surreal. Despite being in a warzone, I cannot write that I miss the honkytonks, Dairy Queens and Seven-Elevens, considering there is a Pizza Hut, Dairy Queen and faux-Starbucks here on base—the latter serving a mean spiced chai triple espresso. Surreal. There are salsa lessons offered every Thursday night, sandwiched between karaoke Wednesdays and Hip-Hop Fridays. Surreal. I am living in a wooden hut with five other officers, across the street from the Romanians and next to the French contingent, which has built a small windmill amidst their barracks. Surreal. I currently have a job title for a position that does not officially exist. Surreal. The on-base, bi-weekly, local national bazaar offers gold lame Aladdin slippers with curled toes for three dollars. I am un chien Andalusia. As the time slowly melts away, here’s the latest from this edge of the world.

> You may find yourself living in a shotgun shack / You may find yourself in another part of the worldThe first leg of our journey to the East began as we left Camp Atterbury, flying out of Indianapolis International Airport. Our transportation was a commercial jet, serviced by Omni Air International (the Wal-Mart brand of international carriers). Given that the flight was not full to capacity, I was sharing a row of three with only one other person. The center seat of our row was reserved for our excess gear, to include our M9 pistols, while our M4 rifles lay on the floor beneath the seats—“with muzzles pointed toward the aisle” as the attendant casually announced over the speaker (Surreal.) Sharing my row was a fellow IRR captain who I work with regularly out here, and who has crafted his bitterness into something of an art form (he was called back a mere six months after getting out). As we taxied the runway out of Indianapolis, he mentioned to me that he was going to get up mid-flight, start waving around his pistol and screaming madly, eventually busting a window and sending us all to a fiery death. I told him it would be something to be part of an international incident like that, and to wake me up before he did it so, on the off chance I survived, I could attest to the tortured souls of the IRR recalls on Larry King Live. Alas, he chickened out and I spent most of the 23 hours in flight sleeping, waking up only for our mandatory fuel stops and a breakfast meal that resembled cat food on a sponge and tasted much the same. We had layovers at airports in Shannon, Ireland (pleasant) and Bucharest, Romania (less so) before finally landing at Manas Air Base in Bishkek, Kyrgyzstan.

We stayed at Manas for three days before completing our final leg into Afghanistan. Kyrgyzstan grabbed some headline space last month, when its president was threatening to force out the U.S., unhappy with our continued presence in using the country as a staging base for the escalating conflict in Afghanistan. This threat dissipated after the U.S. renegotiated our land lease with the Kyrgyz government, agreeing to pay more than three times our current $17 million annual rent, as well as an additional $60+ million for other Kyrgyz projects, illustrating that at least the government’s stimulus package is working in places like Kyrgyzstan.

Other than that recent turn in the news cycle spotlight, the only other claim to fame that Kyrgyzstan holds is, of course, The Great Vowel Pogrom. Back in the late 12th-Century, the Mongol Invasion led to a mass exodus of vowels from the country, resulting in a hostile, consonant-led dictatorship that is still firmly entrenched today. Threatened with violence that included the flogging of their serifs and amputation of their ligatures, the vowels fled the country en masse during the 1180s, seeking sanctuary in the remote mountains of neighboring Kazakhstan and Tajikistan. The traitorous Ys overran the country, burning entire villages of Es, Is and, occasionally the wayward Js, who were sometimes accused of being pro-vowel sympathizers. Numerous vowels relocated to Scandinavia, where they flourished after cleverly disguising themselves with umlauts, breves and other diacritical camouflage. Another sect of Kyrgyz Vowel refugees established themselves in Great Britain, where then blended in seamlessly (if needlessly) in words like colour, humour and cheque. Still others can be found in the United States, where a pocket of vowels with Kyrgyz decent settled in Fon du Lac, Wisconsin. They frequently visit the Wisconsin Dells, enjoying the fried cheese curd, as well as matinee performances of Tommy Bartlett’s Ski and Sky Show.

> You may find yourself in a beautiful house with a beautiful wife. On Tuesday, June 16, we departed Manas via military aircraft (a C-17, for those who know military aircraft…or who like to make SnapTite models) and flew into Afghanistan, arriving to Camp Phoenix that night. It did not go unnoticed that, as I was aboard the aircraft, proceedings were taking place a few time zones west of me and, by the time I landed in Kabul, I had gained a brother-in-law. (Yes, I know this may be the least romantic, least poetic way ever to describe a wedding. One should note, however, that there’s a reason there has never been a film or poem called “Honeymoon in Afghanistan.” Regardless, congratulations Melissa and Tom. You are now obligated to build a small wooden house in the woods of Northern California, so that if I ever have kids, I can take them to Uncle Tom’s Cabin).

Enroute to the camp from the airport, our driver shared this bit of trivia. This could be fact, legend or an over-embellished truth, but it has been repeated since my arrival here and, even if it’s complete BS, it still makes a good story: Apparently Camp Phoenix is “one of the safest bases in Afghanistan,” according to the driver, having gone almost two years without an attack. It seems that in 2007, the camp was attacked with indirect mortar fire. The local warlord—a supporter of the troops here—was incensed at the attack and ordered the perpetrators to be found. They were, and when they were, they were skinned alive and their families slaughtered. Since then, there has not been an attack on Camp Phoenix. Fact or fiction, it’s fair to assume that, right now, every death penalty proponent is licking his or her lips, wondering where the Tim Robbins/Sean Penn movie is dramatizing that account.

Our first few days at Camp Phoenix were filled with the joys of the ever-ubiquitous PowerPoint briefings, proving that if the world ever ends, only the cockroach and the Army PowerPoint brief will survive the Armageddon. Most of these briefings were tedious and repetitive, but one bears special mention as the most-discussed of the lot, as it featured the Army’s official policy on sex while deployed in theater. Usually, when the Army is against something, they put out the information in no uncertain terms. For example, General Order Number One whilst deployed can be summarized simply as “Don’t drink any alcohol,” followed by a litany of “or else” punishments that make mandated sobriety seem a rather obvious choice. Sex, on the other hand, isn’t quite as verboten, though the Powers That Be have found a way to make sure you can’t enjoy the otherwise pleasurable act of copulation without first wading through a morass of governmental litigious red tape. So I don’t misrepresent the policy, here is a summary, courtesy of Military Times:

“The new regulation warns that sex in a combat zone 'can have an adverse impact on unit cohesion, morale, good order and discipline.'

But sexual relations and physical intimacy between men and women not married to each other are no longer banned outright. They're only 'highly discouraged,' and that's as long as they're 'not otherwise prohibited' by the Uniform Code of Military Justice, according to the new order.

Single men and women can now also visit each other's living quarters, as long as everyone else who lives there agrees, and as long as visitors of the opposite sex remain in the open 'and not behind closed doors, partitions or other isolated or segregated areas,' according to the new regulation.”

Now, note that it doesn’t simply say “No sex while deployed,” so there’s a loophole there that absolutely no one could miss. Rereading the policy, however, more than implies that, Yes, you can have sex in your room, so long as you keep the door open and no one in the room minds watching you get it on. Essentially, you can read this as the Army endorsing exhibitionism and voyeurism, and considering what is NOT explicitly stated in the policy, that may be just the tip of the…uh, iceberg. Frankly, this is the kinkiest thing the Army has done since Lyndie England’s pyramid of naked detainees. The only downside to this pseudo Free Love doctrine is that the pool of people you could potentially couple with all look like they are deployed in a warzone in the middle of Afghanistan. To paraphrase an earlier reference, you don’t see many pornos titled “Army MILFs: The Afghanistan Mission.” Sex may be permissible, but—much like seeing a Dane Cook movie—just because you can, doesn’t mean you have to.

> You may ask yourself, “How do I work this?” / You may ask yourself, “Where is my beautiful house?”As a base that I will be calling home for the foreseeable future, Camp Phoenix is not bad. Comparable in many ways to Camp Victory in Iraq (albeit on a much smaller scale), Camp Phoenix has its share of creature comforts to remind us all of home (though, ironically, these touches also amplify how far from home we really are). Geographically, the camp is rather small, though it is in the process of expanding to accommodate the influx of troops. Much like a city that branches toward suburban sprawl, each section of the camp has its own urbane nickname. When we first got here, I was staying in a 20-man tent in part of the camp’s nascent “Northern Expansion,” a part of the camp that is being developed to house upwards of 1,000 troops. I have since moved to the East Side, located between the French compound—which they have christened Quartier Layfayette—and the Romanian section—which, to my knowledge, does not have a chic name, though does have a makeshift tavern that serves beer. (*Not to American soldiers, though. See General Order Number One.) My eventual goal is to get into LegoLand, a series of hardened single rooms, structured in such a way that they resemble a geometric block of Lego-like housing. As noted, my current living situation is not bad, as I have only five roommates, all of whom are senior officers and easy to get along with. It is a wooden building (a shack, really) with air conditioning and electricity. Ventilation leaves something to be desired, however, and I note this only because at the end of each day as we settle into our beds, the entire room assumes the unpleasant aroma of dust and feet. For good reason, the Glade people don’t market a “Dust & Feet” potpourri spray (“At last--the fresh scent of foot fungus and Middle East dirt!”), so if you are jonesing for care package ideas, a cardboard tree air freshener would be welcome. Like, REALLY welcome.

Not to digress into bathroom humor, but inevitably someone asks about our bathroom accommodations here in the middle of nowhere. There are trailers set up all around the base that house flushing toilets, sinks and showers. This may disappoint those expecting a collapsing shower tent a la Sally Kellerman in “M*A*S*H,” but I’m not going to complain about indoor plumbing and hot water showers (It is worth noting, however, that KBR—the contracting firm that installs and maintains the shower trailers—made headlines last year when it was reported that deployed service members were electrocuted in their shower trailers due to faulty wiring. I don’t know if you get a Purple Heart for that, though I imagine other body parts may indeed change to that hue.) Of course, like any dust covered construction site, you also have an assortment of portalets that litter the landscape, which—while fully functional as latrines—serve as mini private art galleries for military graffiti. Ninety-nine percent of this bathroom poetry is lame jokes about various Army units sucking, somebody's mothers blowing, or illustrations of penises with inordinately large balls. I did, however, happen upon one portalet that featured a chain of graffiti that Sacha Baron Cohen would have been proud of: Someone had started by writing “Foxtrot Uniform Charlie Kilo Yankee Oscar Uniform.” Aside from demonstrating a perfunctory knowledge of the phonetic alphabet, with the words vertically stacked, they spell-out the acronym “f--- Hardly the most novel message for a bathroom wall, but whatever. Apparently, though, another person was particularly underwhelmed and decided to write “Foxtrot Alpha Golf” next to it (get it?) along with a little arrow indicating who the homosexual in question was. Not to be outdone, a third man of letters continued the chain, writing next to “fag,” “Romeo Echo Alpha Lima Lima Yankee Alpha Foxtrot Alpha Golf,” or “really a fag.” This is where things turn a corner, though, since the last writer put his first Alpha before the Echo, so it wound up spelling “Raelly a fag.” What brought all this nonsense to my attention in the first place (aside from the fact that it was all at eye-level while I was taking a leak) was that someone actually took the time to correct the spelling mistake by writing “switch these” next to the misplaced letters, adding the editorial comment “dumbass” as well. As an English teacher, I felt a pang of relief. Sure, we might be crass, grammatically-challenged homophobes, but the recognition of proper vowel patterns is always a welcome sight.

Having reached the point of copy-editing bathroom scrawl, you would think this last addition would have would ended things and we could return to cartoon genitals, but no, the chain continued thanks to a huge black arrow that pointed to the aforementioned graffiti. Affixed to said arrow was the message “Your all fags.” Alas, you see the problem here. Well, so did another English-savvy urinator, who made the astute correction—almost—writing “You Are Is Your’e.” Damn those pesky apostrophes, but this faux pas did not go unnoticed by the final vandal, who set everyone straight with “It’s You’re Dumbass” (circling the placement of the apostrophe for added emphasis). Alas, not every portalet so thoroughly illustrates this open-minded, literary side of the American military, and one hopes that future generations will have a better understanding of appositives, but keep in mind that the government decided my services were needed more as a soldier than an English teacher.

Outside of the well-decorated facilities, there are many other sources of entertainment here at Camp Phoenix. I mentioned the Pizza Hut, Dairy Queen and coffee shop, but there is also an Orange Julius, a barber shop, massage parlor (sans happy endings), along with Morale Welfare Recreation (MWR) facilities like the gym, gameroom, computer/phone lounge and reading room. Most notable about Camp Phoenix is the weekly bazaar that comes on base every Friday. Run by local nationals, the event features everything from rugs and hand-carved chess sets, to antique rifles, pirated DVDs and high-end personal sundries like sunglasses and watches whose brand names are curiously misspelled (you are all getting a Roolex for the holidays). There are also bizarre curiosities, like the Aladdin slippers, a six-foot, hand-carved wooden giraffe and glass-encased scorpions with “USA-Afghanistan!” painted over them (you’re getting these, too). I have yet to fully immerse myself into the bartering madness, but I did succumb to purchasing a native hat (“Just like [Hamid] Karzai wear!”) and scarf for four dollars. When worn in conjunction with my sunglasses, I look like a thug terrorist. It’s not quite as goofy as the picture of me in the flying taco sandwich board, but it’s close.

> Carry the water / Remove the water. l this is background noise amidst the daily grind of my job—which, as I mentioned, technically does not exist. Without getting into all the details, I was deployed as the Brigade S6 (signal/communications/computer guy). The only problem is that, once we got here, we were told that there was not going to be a Brigade staff. The decision came from a two-star general. Our one-star general fought it. I was not involved in any of this, though I imagine the back-and-forth involved a lot of desk-pounding, cigar-chomping, the yelling of the phrase “No, YOU stand down, good sir!” and possibly a duel to the death with pistols at sundown. However it went down, I am a man with a title, but no job. At the moment, I may become a signal guy for the Task Force Staff, which—in layman’s terms—is akin to having worked as the manager of the Chic-Fil-A at the mall and then being told that you have been promoted to managing all the Chic-Fil-A’s in the tri-county area. Until official word comes down, I have anointed myself as “Task Force J6 Ambassador,” since my role is now going to the other bases in country and visiting with my signal counterparts to find out how their actual, truly-existing jobs are going. Lest you worry, my traveling is on a limited basis and mainly by air, not convoy. Seriously, mom, I'm okay.

I did this last weekend, when I visited a nearby base. At said base, there was a contingent of Afghan workers who were helping in the construction of the base’s expansion. Part of the base was being used for our troops to train the Afghan Army, which is really our overall mission out here. You always hear about the bombings and kicking-down of doors, but our primary goal is to train the Afghan National Army and Police Force to take control of their own country. Our soldiers are working with them, training them, living with them and helping them to develop infrastructure (wells, schools, etc.) And while the mission has met with a fair share of challenges and setbacks, most of the Afghans want this to succeed (as do our soldiers, so we can get the f---out of here). You can imagine, however, that the challenges—large and small—are unique, which brings me back to the construction workers. As they were working, two of the workers began getting into a rather heated argument. It escalated and—despite the supervisor and interpreter attempting to calm things down—things got physical. One of the workers lunged toward the other and, in a defensive maneuver, the second worker picked up a full bottle of water and chucked it at the other guy’s face from about two feet away. The bottle made contact right on the guy’s eye, producing a massive shiner that swelled nicely (the water bottle defense did, however, work. The initiator was startled enough that he never made contact with the water guy). The scene eventually calmed, everyone went back to work, and the workday was otherwise uneventful. Still, you've got to hand it to the Afghanis, who already seem to have our American version of civil discourse down pat.

> Letting the days go by / Letting the days go by. I don’t know what else to tell you right now. The weather is fine here. It gets pretty hot in the afternoon, but mornings and evenings are cool and, actually, pleasant. An annoyance is when the winds pick up, creating dust storms that make breathing all but impossible, not to mention covering you in a fine coating of grit. When the dust settles long enough, you can look around the base and see a picturesque view of snow-capped mountaintops. If it wasn’t for the occasional barbed wire or machine-gun-mounted watch tower, the view of the horizon is worthy of a postcard or, for that matter, a Coors Light ad. Time-wise, Kabul is eight-and-a-half hours ahead of the East Coast, and 11.5-hours ahead of San Francisco. I’m not sure where the wayward half-hour went to, or even how the 30-minute shift makes sense, but I suspect this odd half-hour time warp has something to do with the daily 4:15 a.m. sunrise. The food here is quite good—we have a full-service, 24-hour dining facility that has all the trimmings: Salad bar, short-order grill, sandwich bar, dessert bar, vegetarian selections, and the occasional theme night (every Friday is surf and turf—who-hoo!). Things get into a pretty regular grind with no days off and nowhere outside of our rather modest base to go, so there are special events and morale boosters (i.e.—co-ed sports tournaments; movie nights, etc.) to keep spirits up.

And they occasionally need the boost. It would be unfair and ultimately untruthful to not acknowledge the harsher realities of what is going on over here. While I may complain about the smell of a crowded room or joke about the four-dollar coffee, the truth is that I am quite fortunate. Most soldiers in the unit are spread out all over the country, with many living in far more austere conditions. We have some teams that are working to train the Afghan Army in desolate parts of the country. They are sleeping on the ground outside in more extreme weather; they are without showers or toilets and have no internet or phones, let alone hot meals or gourmet coffee. Many soldiers are on bases that do not have the benefit of a real or imagined warlord protector, and are fired upon on a daily (and nightly) basis. A number of our soldiers are out on the roads every day, driving convoys through crowded villages in less-welcoming areas, or worse, travelling along dangerous roads that are easily ambushed. And, as always, there is the constant threat of IED attacks—an unfortunate fate that has already claimed the lives of seven of our unit’s soldiers since we arrived in theater this April. I may gently mock the creature comforts and relative safety of Camp Phoenix, but I do not take these aspects for granted. According to the Associated Press, we are on pace for a record month of violence in Afghanistan. It will be a rough summer, that is for sure. Please know that I am as safe as one can possibly be in such a situation, but there are many who are not.

Today was a microcosm of all that is good, bad and otherwise about the whole deployment thusfar.
The sun was in full blast at 5:00 a.m.; it was 70-degrees.
I grabbed a morning coffee and reported to my non-existent job.
With nothing to do today, I spent much of the day typing this e-mail.
At 5:00 p.m., hundreds of soldiers on base assembled outside for a memorial ceremony.
We honored two of our unit’s soldiers that were killed by an IED last week. One was the brother of my roommate.
It was the third memorial service I’ve been to since June.

Despite being in the middle of Afghanistan, tonight they serve crab legs and shrimp for dinner.
A helicopter lands in the middle of the half-mile track that I’m running on.
The Romanians are drinking beer by their outdoor barbeque.
It’s Hip-Hop Night.
Surreal.


Peace.

--chris

June Update from Camp Arifjan

I wanted to say very quickly...Thank You, Thank You, Thank You to all that have sent me packages. It seems like a small thing, but believe me I look forward to opening the smallest piece of mail. My admin section is amazed by the amount of mail I get. SFC Moore, who handles the mail for our G3 section gets tickled. I've developed a nice relationship with her because of all of you guys. It's good to have your admin people know who you are! They handle my mail, finance, leave requests, etc.

I've had 30+ days now to get a better feel for the things I need month in and month out here. Many of you have asked, so here's the newest list. Nothing is every expected. A simple card, letter, or postcard (Thanks Brad) is enough to brighten my day. However, many has asked what they can send, so here goes.

- Irish Spring (blue) soap
- Colgate toothpaste
- 30 SPF sun screen
- Gold Bond body powder
- Dental floss
- iTunes gift cards
- AAFES gift cards
- Any candy in individual wrappers so I can share
- T-shirts (Yes, I didn't bring enough civilian t-shirts to work out in. You want to advertise, I'll wear your shirt while I run or work-out. Nothing "questionable" please.)

That's all for now. BTW, if anyone would like to send a care package to another soldier here, let me know. I've got some good friends sprinkled throughout Afghanistan, Kuwait, and Iraq, who I know would love contact from home.

I'll have an update on the last 30 days out before long. For now, I'm wanted to share my work-out schedule. With not much to do but work, most all of us work-out at least once a day. I've created a work-out schedule for myself 6 days a week. So far, so good. I usually work out every day during lunch. I'm actually starting to see results. Imagine that....no alcohol and working out every day. Guess what happens? :) I'll have pictures out in another month or so when the results really begin to show.

A work-out week in the life of a deployed soldier.

DAY #1: Chest & Triceps [45min – 1hr 15min]
Notes: Do 3 sets of each weight training exercise 10-15 reps per set. Gradually increase weight each time to increase resistance. Try to use free weights as much as possible, but the machines are just fine.
- bench press
- triceps press
- incline beach press
- dumbbell or curl bar triceps press
- decline bench press
- dips
[2 Mile Run]

DAY #2: Shoulders & Abs [45min – 1hr 15min]
Notes: Do 3 sets of each weight training exercise 10-15 reps per set. Gradually increase weight each time to increase resistance. Try to use free weights as much as possible, but the machines are just fine.
- shoulder press
- incline sit-ups (as many as possible in one try)
- shoulder pull-downs
- ab machine or crunches with weight on chest
- single arm dumbbell shoulder lifts
- 3 sets of crunches (75+ per set)
[15+ min on Elliptical]

DAY #3: Back & Biceps [45min – 1hr 15min]
Notes: Do 3 sets of each weight training exercise 10-15 reps per set. Gradually increase weight each time to increase resistance. Try to use free weights as much as possible, but the machines are just fine.
- upper back press
- bicep curl machine
- lower back press or rows
- bicep pull-down
- lower back exercise (3 reps. Inverted, right side, left side
- single arm dumbbell curls
[1.5 Mile Sprint Run]

DAY #4: Kegs & Abs [45min – 1hr 15min]
Notes: Do 3 sets of each weight training exercise 10-15 reps per set. Gradually increase weight each time to increase resistance. Try to use free weights as much as possible, but the machines are just fine.
- squats or leg presses
- sit-ups (simulate the PT test)
- leg curls
- 3 sets of crunches (75+ per set)
- hamstring curls
- groin press
[15+ min on Bike]

DAY #5: Joints – Neck, Wrists, Ankles 45min – 1hr 15min]
Notes: Do 3 sets of each weight training exercise 10-15 reps per set. Gradually increase weight each time to increase resistance. Try to use free weights as much as possible, but the machines are just fine.
- push-ups
- neck press
- single wrist dumbbell curl
- shrugs
- calf raises
[5K Run]

DAY #6: Sport / Aerobic Activity [1hr]
Notes: The goal is to get the heart rate up while doing something fun!
- swim
- basketball
- etc.

DAY#7: Rest

I'm also going back to my refereeing roots. I'm refereeing intramurals here on Camp Arifjan. Right now we're doing volleyball. I've got a basketball tournament coming up this weekend, which I'm excited about. Thanks Ang for sending me my referee stuff!

That's it for now. Thanks for reading and I'll see you all next time.

June - July Continuing Update w/ Pictures :)

OK. I’ve been gone a little longer than I intended. Today is Monday, July 6th. It’s a little over a week after my 40th birthday. I’ve been here in Kuwait with US ARCENT for 37 days. I’ve now been on active duty for 120 days! Only 280 days to go!

I’ll start my catch up here with the 1st week in country. We went right to work on that first day. MAJ Phil Speth is the guy Jim Schultz and I are replacing and our trainer. Still struggling from jet lag, Jim and I staggered into our first day on the Command Operations and Intelligence Center (COIC) floor. We definitely could have used a day or so to at least try to get our bodies somewhat on track. Oh well.

Now, I have to be very careful here as I speak about my job and where I work. To gain entry to the floor, you have to at least have a secret clearance. About everything that happens where I work is secret / need to know. However, I can give some overviews. (To put it in perspective, there are no cell phones, Blackerrys, iPhones, cameras, recording devices, etc. allowed on the floor.) You have to go through two levels of security to even get in. We working a desk area at the front of the command center close to the projection screens. When we go there, we had 3 computer screens with programs we monitor.


That first week Phil Speth turned the fire hose on us again. He jumped right in and went at us with all the things space soldiers due for current operations here on the floor. We rolled on Friday, Saturday, Sunday afternoon, and Monday from 7am to 6-7pm each day. This is also when we found out that we’re going to work 24 hours a day 7 days a week, 12 hours shifts. Jim volunteered for the night shift, so I’m working 6am-6pm. Not thrilled about working 12 hours a day for the next 10 straight months. I fear that burn-out will happen much quicker working this kind of schedule. However, we were given Sunday morning off to sleep in a little and go to church. I needed just to try and catch up to the time change a little.

The following week we continued training on Monday and then started our shifts on Tuesday. My entire concentration right now is on learning the job and trying to get into a battle rhythm. Survival deployed is dependent upon developing a schedule, a system, a rhythm to each day. It’s the only way you can get over the “suck” and get the days clicking by. Here’s a look at a typical day I’m trying to organize for myself.


0500 Wake-up
0500-0530 Personal Hygiene
0530-0600 Breakfast
0600 Report for Shift
1130-1230 Physical Training
1230-1300 Personal Hygiene
1300-1330 Lunch
1800 Off Duty
1800-1900 Dinner
1900-2000 Return Emails, Write Letters, Blog
2000-2200 Personal Time (Wash clothes, watch movie, phone calls, etc.)2200-0550 Sleep

The rub is that any deviation to the schedule like a long day at work because of a significant event, or I miss my lunch time work-out because of a meeting and I’m off. I’ve got to make it up. I’m told that we’re not going to get Sunday mornings off, but that’s BS. I’ve got to work on that. I need at least one sleep in day to recharge for the next week.

I actually took this scheduling issue to my network of Army friends that I’ve made over the last few months. Every person that replied said that no soldier could maintain 12 hours a day 7 days a week and mentally survive the deployment. From the infantry soldier that walks patrols every day to the commander to the support folks, all take a break. You have to have rest, even a short one, to maintain any focus.

I took the issue to my boss. He didn’t agree with me on a better way to sustain ourselves during this tour, but he agreed to sit down with me after the 1st quarter (3 months) to re-evaluate. That’s something at least.

The first week in addition to trying in our job, we in-processed. We had to go by the STB to get a checklist. (The military loves checklists.) Here’s where we go to the armorer to get assigned a weapon. Because we in Kuwait and not Iraq or Afghanistan, and because we don’t carry a weapon here, I got assigned a 9mm pistol. Yay! We go to the transportation office and get our driver’s license. You have to sit through a class about how bad a place Kuwait is to drive in. I’d already seen that first hand. We have to hit the admin folks, the supply folks, and the security folks. One of the things that has always drive me crazy about the military is you have to give the same paperwork to different people (and many times the same people after they loose it) each time. Everybody wants a copy of the same orders. You’d think we’d be able to give one copy and they could share it, but not in the military. Anyway, it’s a lot of trudging around in the heat.

I’m definitely not getting climatized quickly. It’s hot and I sweat. My undershirt is usually sopping wet a couple of times a day. It’s amazing to, because the humidity is only like 10%

I had one of those random events happen to me. My big brother in my fraternity, Lambda Chi Alpha, at the University of Kentucky’s name is Derek Duncan. He’s the guy that convinced me to join LXA. I later also become very good friends with his brother Jon Duncan, who was my brother John’s roommate in the fraternity house. Many, many years ago I’d met most all of Derek and Jon’s extended family. One of their nieces was Meena. She was quite a bit younger than me, cut I remember that she was a college cheerleader. Anyway….she’d found me through Derek and Jon on Facebook. She’s now living in California and a cheerleader with the Oakland Raiders. We started chatting, because she’d read that I was being deployed in support of Operation Iraqi Freedom and she’d been to Iraq on a moral trip with a group from the Raiders. We agreed to stay in touch and try to link up if we could. There are 130,000+ troops in Iraq and about another 25,000+ in Kuwait. What are the chances? Well I was sitting at my desk doing my usual stuff one day when I get a phone call. She and her group were on Arifjan. She’d used the information I’d posted on Facebook and asked the LTC escorting them if he could find me. He said no problem, and he did. She and the other Oakland Raider cheerleaders were staying in the very same building I was staying in! We agreed to meet for lunch. I got to sit and catch up with her among the rest of the cheerleading squad who’d come on the trip at the mess hall. It’s not every day that 5-6 beautiful women sit down in a military mess hall.  It’s was a nice little break in the day.

We got another nice break in the training and in-processing that same day. The Space team from Atlanta is in for an big exercise the unit’s doing. MAJ Speth, SSG Holscher, and myself drove up to Camp Buehring to check out the exercise and meet everyone. MAJ Jim Schultz wasn’t able to catch a ride with us, so he got to catch the Blackhawk helicopter up. It just do happened that Meena and her group were going to Camp Buehring to perform that night. Small world! However, I didn’t get to watch the performance. My unit’s base camp was set up a good distance from the center of Buehring out in their own tent city.

It’s interesting driving through Kuwait during the day time. I took my camera and got a good handful of pictures. The whole country’s a desert. Even close to the Arabian Sea it’s arid. You know how you drive through certain parts of the US and each has a color signature? You go through Georgia and you see green trees mixed with colors like from the azaleas and the dogwoods. You go through Florida and you get the light green of the palm and pine trees mixed with the blue skies. You drive through the mid-west and you get either the combination of colors from the leaves in the fall or the new buds in the spring. Even in the winter, you’ve got the drab gray, but you’ve still either got white or green. In Kuwait, it’s just brown. It’s sandy, dusty brown and it’s everywhere. Even the few trees and bushes they have are brown, because they’re usually covered with a layer of dust. I’m was just struck by all encompassing the brown layer of dust was.

It was neat to get to see some of the architecture. They build everything out of concrete. Even the water towers are made of concrete. You’ll notice from the picture that they look like martini glasses. That’s because they’re concrete instead of steel like the ones we build. Heck, we’ve got a regular round steel one at Camp Arifjan, but when you leave they’re all these martini glasses.

We drove north towards Iraq for a good part of the trip, but then turned west from the coast. We stopped by Ali Al Saleem AFB so that I could pick up a 9mm holster from RFI. I was carrying my pistol with a clip of ammo in my pocket. RFI is you get new equipment from. I’d gotten everything but a holster issued from the RFI at Camp Shelby.

From there, we headed north again for Camp Buehring. This post is located right on the border of Kuwait and Iraq. This is where all Army personnel that go into Iraq start from. Here they go to the range for more weapons training and prepare to move into Iraq. CPT Rob Disney and CPT Warren Read are just a couple of my friends who’d already been through here. One of our landmarks was a dead camel. I’m serious. Apparently, camels lay down and die in the desert. Folks here just let them lay and let the desert claim them. This one had been dead a couple of weeks according to Phil and you could only see about half of it. It won’t be a land mark much longer! Our “turn left just past the dead camel” will only work for a short time!

We got to Camp Buehring, jumped through hoops to get on the post (which is standard practice), and then headed to the airfield to pick-up Jim. He’s just made it in time to catch the chopper. He wasn’t to happy, because he’d had to wear his body armor and helmet. We then headed over to the tent city. It’s amazing what the Army can do on just a patch of dessert. They’d set-up this huge command center. Absolutely amazing! COL Henderson, LTC Zellmann, and the rest of the Space team were there. We also got to meet the ARSST team. They’re a group of reservists from Colorado. MAJ Brett Garner was the team leader. Really nice guy. So, we got the group together to take a picture. COL Henderson wanted an entire group picture. Realize that’s this is not easy to pull off. You have to get special permission from the Public Affairs Officer (PAO) to take a picture inside a classified area, but we got one. We’re all right outside the command post. Pretty cool group pick, except Jim forgot to take off his reflector belt, which we all have to wear at night, and the flash lit it up like a light bulb. That was about it for our trip to see the exercise. We had dinner with the group, and then the four of us headed back to Camp Arifjan. We got back around 2300.

That's what I've got for now. I'll be back shortly with more on getting settled in, my birthday, getting a private room, and the 4th weekend.

The First Two Weeks in Camp Arifjan, Kuwait

(Sorry for some of the redunancy. I wrote this at work and then uploaded it at my bunk.)

Quick note: I’m back in the Army now, so I’ve got used to talking in “Military Time” or using the 24 hour clock.

Convert Military Time: http://www.spacearchive.info/military.htm

We arrived in Kuwait City late on Thursday the 21st of May. 8 hours of a day gone just like that! We loaded up on buses for the trip to Ali Al Saleem. It was interesting because we were told no personal electronic devices and we had to keep the curtains closed on the bus. Most of the soldiers (as soldiers do) just went to sleep, but I’m the curious type, so I peeked. Airport, desert…..not much to see. It was dark by this time. What I did notice was that everything was so lit up. They have artificial light all over the place.

Kuwait City Info: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Kuwait_City

We had a sort of strange stop mid-way through the trip. They had an area in the middle of no where secured with concrete barriers. We stopped here just for a break. It was simply a gravel area with lines of porta johns and stacks and stacks of bottled water. We spent about 30 minutes here and then headed on.We arrived at the Ali Al Saleem Air Force base around 2000hrs. We went thru formation and then a quick in-processing. My first experience on a desert post. Big warehouse type buildings and lots and lots of tents. We were starving, so MAJ Jim Schultz and I went to find dinner. We just had missed chow, which closed at 1930hrs, but guess what we found on this little dessert Air Force base? McDonalds! They really are everywhere. Quick dinner and then it was time to find our bags and look to catch the bus to Camp Arifjan. We were told that one of our guys was supposed to meet us to help us get to Arifjan.

Ali Al Saleem Air Base Info: http://www.globalsecurity.org/military/facility/ali-al-salem.htm

We found our bags and then we found MAJ Phil Speth waiting for us in the MWR tent.

What is MWR? http://www.armymwr.com/

Phil had a nice surprise for us. He’d been able to get an SUV with a co-pilot to take us and our gear to Camp Arifjan. Very nice! I had not been looking forward to lugging 4 very heavy bags on a bus to another post. We policed up our gear and headed out about 2200hrs.This ride was my introduction to Kuwaiti highways and Kuwaiti drivers. We wound our way out of the security gates at Ali Al Saleem and jumped on the highway. What struck me at first was how well lit the roads are here. You seriously don’t need head lights. They have very bright street lights that line up and down the center of these 3-4 land highways. The second thing that struck me was how everyone drives here. It’s like driving in Atlanta only faster and they pass you any way they can. Phil was giving us the low down as people were flying past us, and we were riding with the flow. They pass on the shoulders. If they can’t pass, they get right up on you and blink their lights until you get over or they find a way to pass. On top of all that, driving down the road and we go from three lanes to zero lanes. There were no lane lines! That’s when everyone decided that 4-5 wide was OK. It was like being in a Daytona 500.

Kuwait Info: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Kuwait

It took us about 1 ½ hours to get from Ali to Camp Arifjan. Ali is on the northern border close to Iraq. Camp Arifjan is on the south western border near Saudi Arabia. The entire country is about the size of Rhode Island, so you blink your eyes (or miss and exit) and you could be at the border. We rolled into Camp Arifjan about 0030hrs. It took us about 15 minutes to get through the gates. We had to check our IDs and paperwork 3 different times. Being a combat zone there are some pretty stringent rules, even though this is an allied country. You have to have two people in the vehicle to leave post and both have to be armed with ammo. You have to have a signed letter. You have to have a risk assessment and you have to document all leave time, mileage, etc. every time you leave and enter a post. Finally, you have to get out and clear your weapon before you drive on to post.Anyway, we finally got to the housing office late that night. It’s called the “I” building simply because it’s shaped like an I. We checked in and of course they could find none of the paperwork that had been turned in on us, but they found us nice little bunks in the open bays. Apparently, t his is the transition barracks where everyone stays before the deploy into Iraq, re-deploy, or for short stays. We’re told that we get on a waiting list and we’ll get to move into Bldg 507, and residential building for ARCENT folks staying here for the long haul. They have two person rooms w/ TVs and fridges in this building. So, for now we’re in the open bays. We moved in to our bunks in the dark of course. Thank goodness for Phil and MSG Stewart who road along as Phil’s TC. They helped us haul all our gear.I was given an upper bunk, but there were a lot of bunks available, so I went back down to the desk and had them switch me to a lower bunk. I wasn’t to interested in jumping up and down out of bed each day. We each one locker…..picture this….we have all the gear the Army’s issued us since we mobilized. I have 4 large bags. No way this’ll all fit in a wall locker. They have these cages for extra stuff going up and down the middle of the bay, but they were all full. I was too tired to worry about it. I just laid down and crashed. (Even with the snoring and people moving around at all hours.)

The next morning Jim snagged a cage and we threw all our stuff in. One less thing to worry about…your stuff disappearing. (BTW, they logisticians estimate they issue soldiers deploying today about $17,000 worth of stuff. American tax dollars!) We cleaned up and headed right to work for the 0800hrs morning shift change brief. No chance to fight off the jet lag! Phil jumped right in and started training us. Again…just like in Atlanta…put the fire hose in my mouth and turn it on. Neither of us had every done this job before, so everything but how to use the computers was brand new. These are the points where my stories get very vague. Jim and I are going to work at US ARCENT’s forward command center. It’s highly secure and most everything we look at every day is classified SECRET. (This is already driving my Dad crazy.  I can’t give him many details.) I leave this part with it’s a desk job, and I look at a lot of screens all day until something happens in my area and I have to spring into action.Anyway, this was the next couple of weeks. Sleep (fitfully), eat (good chow), work, and work-out.

They have fantastic facilities here. They’re as good or better as any post I’ve been on since mobilized. That includes Ft. Jackson, Camp McCrady, Ft. Gordon, and Camp Shelby. The gyms are equipped with every piece of equipment you could want. They have flat screen TVs all over the place to include the gyms and mess halls. They’ve got fast food joints like Taco Bell, Burger King, and Pizza Inn. (I’ve avoided them so far.) The chow halls have salad bars, specialty bars, tons of fruit, and Baskin Robbins ice cream (which I’ve also avoided so far). That part is as bad as Camp McCrady from the beginning.

And I digress back to the parts that are no fun.....you have not privacy. Someone always snores. People work on different shifts. You have no space for your stuff. And, lights don’t go out until 2200hrs. I really can’t wait to get a room. How long will we have to wait is the question….I’m just trying to settle into a rhythm. We’re working 12 hours shifts 6.5 days a week. Jim volunteered to take nights, so I’m working 0600hrs – 1800hrs.

I’m trying to work into a system where I work out and shower at lunch. I then have my time after shift change and chow for laundry, phone calls, checking e-mails, and ultimately sleep. We’ll see. They say the first 30 days is the toughest part.

It is hot, hot, hot here! The average temperature since I’ve been here has been about 115 degrees. When I walk across post at lunch time (about a 15 minute walk) it feels like I’m cooking. The thing is…there is 0 humidity. I sweat, but just from the heat. You carry a drink around or lay it on a desk and there never is a ring. That freaked me out the first time I saw it. I’d forgotten about a fountain drink that I got from the mess hall and when I remember I was like, oh damn, I’m going to get paperwork wet. No condensation!

Items to Send in Care Packages

Many of you have asked what items you can send to me while I'm deployed. I want to first say thank you in advance. I would never presume that anyone would send me anything other than their love and support (except for Ang and the kids...you guys have to send me stuff:)), but know that if you chose to anything you send is always appreciated and shared with other soldiers I live and work with.

I'll share a quick story about a gift I received that moved me more than anything (except maybe those wonderful pieces of artwork that Trey and Audrey like to send me LOL). For those of you that don't know, Derek Duncan is my big brother from my fraternity at the University of Kentucky. He's the one that recruited me into Lambda Chi Alpha and recruited me into officiating basketball (which I still do today!). We spoke for the first time in many years on the phone while I was mobilizing. Wonderful conversation and baseball and politics the two topics that we both love so much. Well, a couple of weeks later I received a small package. It was filled with individual cards written my the youth volleyball team coached by Derek's wife Jenny. Each was inidividually written and signed by about 8 players. I'm sitting here with tears in my eye even thinking about those little notes right now. I pull each of those notes out one by one and read them at night and my spirits soar each time. Amazing stuff....

Anyway, little things like that are many times what a soldier needs to remember why we're here and what we're fighting for. The future of freedom for young children. However.....if you would like to send other nice goodies, here's the kinds of things that I need or would enjoy.

First, the don'ts...... no magazines with "suggestive" material and no alcohol. These are stricly prohibited "in theater" (war zones).

The Do's.....

- colgate toothpaste travel size
- gel shaving creem travel size
- sun screen
- enery bars/breakfast bars
- iPod gift cards (I can get music and rent movies.)
- paperback books
- hard candy
- any homemade goodies wrapped or ziplocked very well
- phone cards (Domestic cards are fine. I can call through a US switch to use them.)
- other than that's the rest is up to your imagination :)

One more....many of you have probably heard of the PX. The full name is AAFES Post Exchange. It's about the only place we spend money. :) We buy snacks, drinks, esstentials, stuff like that. You can buy gift cards at https://thor.aafes.com/gcs/default.aspx . These are great to include in care packages. It's interesting here on post that they don't have any change. They have bills, but no coins. You get these silly little AAFES card board pieces for coins. They look like play money. I've found it better to shop with gift cards or my credit card to avoid these things that I'll never use.

Don't worry about sending DVDs. I snagged about 600 movies from another soldier and put them on an external hard drive, and we get to see all new releases for free at our theater.

Please do me a favor and should you read this and send something, post what you sent on this blog. This could be a wonderful way to share and for all of us to talk about the wonderful ideas you guys have to help soldiers like me.

Thanks again to any and all. I look forward to conversing with you in some shape or form over the next year.

(BTW, I'm limited on what pictures I can take, but less load up. They're pretty weird about taking pictures here. However, should I go into Iraq at all, apparently you can take all the pictures you want there.)

My First Week at Camp Arifjan

My trip began by reporting to Atlanta Airport at 12.00pm to check in on Wednesday, May 20th. 8 hours later we climbed in a plane. Thank goodness for the USO and WiFi. :)

http://www.uso.org/

We flew on a DC-10 charter flight with Omni an airline I'd never heard of till then. The nickname of the flight is the "Freedom Bird". It's the flight that takes soldiers to and from the states for leave/RR. I was lucky enough to get a first class seat. These seats were based on first come first serve by rank. They started at Colonel (O-6) and had seats all the way down to O-2 (LT), E-8 (Master SGT), and W-3 (Chief Warrant Officer). I fall about in the middle as an O-4. We flew 6 hours to Shannon, Ireland, took a break to refuel and change crews for 2 hours, and then flew 5.5 more hours to Kuwait City, Kuwait. Combine that with the 7 hours we lost from Atlanta and that's a 18.5 hour trip. Not to bad. :)

We loaded up on buses at the Kuwait International Airport and headed over to Al Al Salem Air Base for our initial inprocessing.

http://www.globalsecurity.org/military/facility/ali-al-salem.htm

It was a strange ride in that we weren't allowed to open the shades on the bus or listen to personal music players. Strange rules in a much, much different country.

We unloaded at Ali Al Salem Air Base and grabbed a bite to eat at McDonalds. (Yes, they had McD's even in the middle of the desert.) Here we caught a really nice break. We were supposed to take a bus from the Air Base to Camp Arifjan. Each of us had 3+ bags filled with all the wonderfully heavy equipment the Army had issued us. Our compadre with Space Ops, Major Phil Speth, acquired an SUV to pick us up. No small feat when you consider he had to borrow the vehicle (not easy), get someone to come with him as VC (vehicle commander), come armed with ammo (you can't leave post without being armed), and get a mission letter from a LTC (O-5) or above. Great job Phil!

The trip to Camp Arifjan was about 1 1/2 hours. Crazy trip. No real speed limits. Kuwaits pass on shoulders and many times there were 3-4 lanes of traffice doing 120K (about 90 mph I believe) with no lines.

We arrived a Arifjan about 0030 (12.30am) Kuwait time. Now keep in mind that this is 7 hours ahead of est and 8 hours ahead of cst. We checked into the open bay transition barracks in the dark. Thanks to Phil again and to MSG Stewart (VC) for travelling with us and helping us lug our stuff to our bunks (2nd floor). I finally crashed about 0130.

That was the trip. I'll be back to talk about the 1st week later. :)