So it's finally come time for me to bid a fond farewell to the folks here at CJTF-101. Not quite yet, but soon enough. That being said, I've decided to go ahead and make my post-deployment (and thus, final) entry on this here deal.
Over the past few months, I've had a lot of things happen. Some positive, some negative, and some neutral. That being said, I really don't have much to say on all of it. Yeah, it was definitely the worst deployment I've been on of the three (including this one), and yeah, I never want to go on another IA for the rest of my time in the Navy, but I fully understand and respect the fact that I'll probably have to, anyway. So, I went and made an order for a Dell XPS m1530, one of the top gaming laptops.
Aside from that, these past couple of months have been one instance of Army drama after another. They've tried taking me from night shift to put me on days, where I wouldn't have done one bit of good. They've tried taking other people from night shift, and doing the same with them. Then they tossed around the idea of completely swapping personnel around from the days to the nights, and then changing people around in terms of what they do in the Helpdesk.
Yes, it's been a hectic couple of months.
But, that's alright, because it's all almost over. I've got a new place to stay lined up, the electricity and cable set to turn on before I get there, and everything else is all taken care of. What's more, I was able to reduce the number of seabags I'm taking with me from the four I came with down to two.
In the end, if I could impart only a couple things on anyone for this whole thing, it would be to come with plenty of entertainment, brace yourselves for a culture shock, and don't expect the worst, because this place, despite my initial (and current) complaints, could be a lot worse than it really is.
No, it's no Qatar, but it's definitely better than other places out there.
Wednesday, August 6, 2008
Monday, June 2, 2008
Anchors Aweigh
It's been a while since I've posted anything here, and my views have somewhat radically changed since the last entry, so I figure that I'd go ahead and post some more updates on how life is out here.
First off, I've gotten another e-mail from another individual (not entirely sure if I spoke of this in my last entry, because it was, after all, so long ago) who, as it turns out, is my real replacement. I've decided to go ahead and uphold the virtues of the OPSEC program and all that good stuff, and to that end, I won't say exactly when he's getting here, but I will say this: because of that date, my stay here has been truncated by a significant amount. Why is that, you ask? Well, my friends, let me bring you up to speed.
I was outside, sitting in the guard shack for my weekly dose of guard duty (most of those in the building where I work stand maybe one or two nights per month... I stand about one or two nights per week of it), when all of a sudden a Master Chief walks by, does a double-take when he sees that it's a Navy guy in the window, and comes back to say a few words.
This Master Chief, as it turns out, is the Command Master Chief for the entire country, as it turns out. And I have the distinct pleasure to have him come by and decide to talk with me. This, for whatever reason, lifted my spirits significantly. As we're talking, he asks me where I'm from, where I'm going, and how much longer I have here. So I tell him, "Well, Master Chief, I've heard from a couple different sources that the Navy has a regulation out saying that two people can't occupy the same Noble Eagle number for more than fourteen days?"
To my ultimate satisfaction, he replies, "That's correct."
Furthermore, he goes and tells me that as the Command Master Chief for the entire country, he can work where he wants, when he wants, and doing generally whatever he wants. And that one of the benefits of this is that he can tell me exactly who my replacement is, when he's getting here, and when I can expect to leave.
"I already know who my replacement is," I told him, "And he sent me his itinerary of when he should be here, so... how do I go about getting the wheels turning to get out of here?"
So he refers me to a YN2 at the NAVCENT detachment down the road. Says to get in touch with her, and ask for the Warrior Transition package. So when I go inside for my two hours of roving guard duty, I write up a quick e-mail and send it her way.
The next day, I check my e-mail, and lo and behold, I have not just one, not just two, but five different e-mails from five different people! So I look through, and it turns out that forty-five days before you plan on getting underway from this place, you start the outprocessing... process.
Since that day, not a lot has happened, really. The birds outside of the building where I work are picking up in how loud and how long they go nuts with their chirping. And unfortunately, over the past few weeks, it seems to me that I've been a lot more susceptible to insanity from all that noise. Or growing a bit less patient with it. Or something.
Anyway, turns out the Navy was never my enemy. My views were just a bit too narrow and hateful to discern that. The Navy might not be perfect, but in relation to what the Army has going on, the Navy is perfection incarnate.
And now, back to the last two days of my four-day liberty.
First off, I've gotten another e-mail from another individual (not entirely sure if I spoke of this in my last entry, because it was, after all, so long ago) who, as it turns out, is my real replacement. I've decided to go ahead and uphold the virtues of the OPSEC program and all that good stuff, and to that end, I won't say exactly when he's getting here, but I will say this: because of that date, my stay here has been truncated by a significant amount. Why is that, you ask? Well, my friends, let me bring you up to speed.
I was outside, sitting in the guard shack for my weekly dose of guard duty (most of those in the building where I work stand maybe one or two nights per month... I stand about one or two nights per week of it), when all of a sudden a Master Chief walks by, does a double-take when he sees that it's a Navy guy in the window, and comes back to say a few words.
This Master Chief, as it turns out, is the Command Master Chief for the entire country, as it turns out. And I have the distinct pleasure to have him come by and decide to talk with me. This, for whatever reason, lifted my spirits significantly. As we're talking, he asks me where I'm from, where I'm going, and how much longer I have here. So I tell him, "Well, Master Chief, I've heard from a couple different sources that the Navy has a regulation out saying that two people can't occupy the same Noble Eagle number for more than fourteen days?"
To my ultimate satisfaction, he replies, "That's correct."
Furthermore, he goes and tells me that as the Command Master Chief for the entire country, he can work where he wants, when he wants, and doing generally whatever he wants. And that one of the benefits of this is that he can tell me exactly who my replacement is, when he's getting here, and when I can expect to leave.
"I already know who my replacement is," I told him, "And he sent me his itinerary of when he should be here, so... how do I go about getting the wheels turning to get out of here?"
So he refers me to a YN2 at the NAVCENT detachment down the road. Says to get in touch with her, and ask for the Warrior Transition package. So when I go inside for my two hours of roving guard duty, I write up a quick e-mail and send it her way.
The next day, I check my e-mail, and lo and behold, I have not just one, not just two, but five different e-mails from five different people! So I look through, and it turns out that forty-five days before you plan on getting underway from this place, you start the outprocessing... process.
Since that day, not a lot has happened, really. The birds outside of the building where I work are picking up in how loud and how long they go nuts with their chirping. And unfortunately, over the past few weeks, it seems to me that I've been a lot more susceptible to insanity from all that noise. Or growing a bit less patient with it. Or something.
Anyway, turns out the Navy was never my enemy. My views were just a bit too narrow and hateful to discern that. The Navy might not be perfect, but in relation to what the Army has going on, the Navy is perfection incarnate.
And now, back to the last two days of my four-day liberty.
Thursday, May 1, 2008
Tempus fugit
"I can't believe the kind of stuff that's being allowed to happen during the dayshift," I said with a bit of a frown on my face.
"Yeah well," he replied, "I just don't give a damn anymore."
So it's been a month or so since my last post, and I can't say that it really matters. At this point, I believe my complaints have been taken as nothing more than mere bitching, and people have decided that it's really not worth all the anti-Navy propaganda that I've been spewing from it. Anyway, I shall forge on with this particular post, and who knows, we might get a bit more as time goes on as well.
The conversation above is actually the tail end from a conversation that I had with one of the E-6's at work a few days ago. The sad thing is that with two months under my belt, I can honestly say that I'm actually starting to care about this place, and how the Helpdesk looks to outsiders. The somewhat bright part of this is that when your superiors don't care, you're free to do what you will. Free to make up your mind as to how you go about doing things.
It's kind of like choosing between the light side and the dark side of the force. Personally, I choose to make myself stand out from the clods that just do the bare minimum, if that. I keep my workspace clean, I address officers and senior enlisted types with the respect that's due to them. Even if I don't particularly care for them for one reason or another.
But I digress.
I got an e-mail from another individual that's turned out to be my real replacement. The female I'd gotten the e-mail from before is actually the replacement for one of the individuals on dayshift, much to my dismay. At first, I wasn't concerned about it because I felt secure in the knowledge that I'd be getting an E-4 to replace me, and I'd have a bit of leeway to decide how things proceeded. Instead, I'm getting an E-6 to replace me, and if dayshift has anything to say about it, he really will be coming to nightshift to replace me. This sucks because the one E-6 that we have on nightshift is a junior one, and he's probably one of the cooler bosses I've had in the entire time I've had in the Navy.
He's been in for seven years, and has an air about him that reaks of "I don't care". This isn't to say that he's not professional about work. Quite the contrary, as a matter of fact. It's just that it's been my experience that the senior enlisted types in the Navy typically tend to be hardasses that have their own set way of doing things, and bend as much as a piece of raw pasta to the notion of doing things the lax way. Fortunately, however, he'll be getting here late enough in the deployment to where it won't matter what he does. If he turns out to be cool, so much the better, but we'll see.
In the meantime, I'll just keep on keepin' on. I'll answer questions that the two of them send to me to the best of my ability, and make sure that they're better prepared for this than I was when I was sent out here. I'm not much into charity, but I can't and won't let other people suffer the same problems I did. Not when it can be helped.
Also, I finally got in touch with the detailer last night and got my follow-on orders from this place. And I gotta say: it's a beautiful thing to know what's happening with me in four months.
That said, there's nothing else to say. The Army is continuing to be cool in some ways, retarded in others. But I'll leave it at that for now. ADD taking hold and all that jazz.
"Yeah well," he replied, "I just don't give a damn anymore."
So it's been a month or so since my last post, and I can't say that it really matters. At this point, I believe my complaints have been taken as nothing more than mere bitching, and people have decided that it's really not worth all the anti-Navy propaganda that I've been spewing from it. Anyway, I shall forge on with this particular post, and who knows, we might get a bit more as time goes on as well.
The conversation above is actually the tail end from a conversation that I had with one of the E-6's at work a few days ago. The sad thing is that with two months under my belt, I can honestly say that I'm actually starting to care about this place, and how the Helpdesk looks to outsiders. The somewhat bright part of this is that when your superiors don't care, you're free to do what you will. Free to make up your mind as to how you go about doing things.
It's kind of like choosing between the light side and the dark side of the force. Personally, I choose to make myself stand out from the clods that just do the bare minimum, if that. I keep my workspace clean, I address officers and senior enlisted types with the respect that's due to them. Even if I don't particularly care for them for one reason or another.
But I digress.
I got an e-mail from another individual that's turned out to be my real replacement. The female I'd gotten the e-mail from before is actually the replacement for one of the individuals on dayshift, much to my dismay. At first, I wasn't concerned about it because I felt secure in the knowledge that I'd be getting an E-4 to replace me, and I'd have a bit of leeway to decide how things proceeded. Instead, I'm getting an E-6 to replace me, and if dayshift has anything to say about it, he really will be coming to nightshift to replace me. This sucks because the one E-6 that we have on nightshift is a junior one, and he's probably one of the cooler bosses I've had in the entire time I've had in the Navy.
He's been in for seven years, and has an air about him that reaks of "I don't care". This isn't to say that he's not professional about work. Quite the contrary, as a matter of fact. It's just that it's been my experience that the senior enlisted types in the Navy typically tend to be hardasses that have their own set way of doing things, and bend as much as a piece of raw pasta to the notion of doing things the lax way. Fortunately, however, he'll be getting here late enough in the deployment to where it won't matter what he does. If he turns out to be cool, so much the better, but we'll see.
In the meantime, I'll just keep on keepin' on. I'll answer questions that the two of them send to me to the best of my ability, and make sure that they're better prepared for this than I was when I was sent out here. I'm not much into charity, but I can't and won't let other people suffer the same problems I did. Not when it can be helped.
Also, I finally got in touch with the detailer last night and got my follow-on orders from this place. And I gotta say: it's a beautiful thing to know what's happening with me in four months.
That said, there's nothing else to say. The Army is continuing to be cool in some ways, retarded in others. But I'll leave it at that for now. ADD taking hold and all that jazz.
Tuesday, April 1, 2008
FTN
It has been a couple weeks since I last posted, I guess. I dunno, really. The days blend seamlessly in with each other down here. I wake up around 7:00 PM and walk to work, and then get off at 7:30 AM and walk back to my room and talk with friends and loved ones back home, and then go to sleep, only to repeat the cycle the next day. But I do apologize, anonymous commenter, I'll try to keep things a bit more up to date. It's been hard lately to keep the motivational juices flowing. I find it hard to wake up and roll out of bed early enough on that one day per week I feel like showering.
Oh yes, I only shower once per week.
It's not because they're enforcing water rations, or because I'm uncomfortable in communal showers. No, it's because I just don't feel like it. I don't feel like a whole lot anymore. Ever since I've gotten here, I've fallen into somewhat of a rut. A depressive rut. But on the bright side, this rut has within it, a schedule. A set series of events that all I need to do is repeat every single day with little or no deviation, and things go by relatively uneventfully.
This past week and a half or so has been pretty humdrum, to be honest.
Yet it's been stressful.
And relieving.
Relieving in that I got an e-mail from my replacement a few days ago. I won't divulge the name, rank, gender, or any other information. But I will say this: seeing that e-mail was the highlight of my time here. Knowing that I've got one foot out the door of this... this hell on earth.
Stressful in that I deal with some of the most incompetent boobs in the history of incompetent boobs. I've had semi-high-ranking Army officers yelling at me to fix their keyboards. But it can't be just any keyboard. It has to be a keyboard with a "translator matrix" installed for Farsi. Upon further inspection, this matrix looks to be nothing more than Arabic lettering painted on the keys in white out. And the solution to the problem? After all this yelling... after all this self-important bullshit he throws at me, it turns out the moron is plugging the keyboard into the wrong computer.
There've been other issues like this since I've been here, and I've come to look forward to those types of issues, to be honest. Usually, the people are more than willing to admit they're computer illiterate, and treat me with the respect that someone that's there to help deserves. But just as prevalent are the "keyboard douches", constantly thinking they know more about what's wrong than I do.
Throwing technical terms like "matrix" and "drivers" and "incompatible" at me.
Too bad they're using them in completely incorrect contexts. I might not be the brightest male in existence, but by no stretch of the imagination am I a moron.
I don't have to help them. I really don't. What are they gonna do to me? Punish me for an Article 92? Who gives a flying fuck? The Navy obviously doesn't. I e-mailed as many Navy people as I could when I first got the chance in regards to getting my follow-on orders for where I'm supposed to go beyond Afghanistan, and they blew me off for two weeks.
Deciding that I don't care what happens to me anymore in terms of the Navy, I contacted my detailer, my old career counselor, and another detailer. I figure although they're pretty likely to blow me off if I just contact any one of them, they have to prove to the others that they "legitimately care" about my issues.
And low and behold, I get a response.
A few of them.
My old career counselor tells me they were "just working" the problem, and that it's in the process of being finalized.
My old senior chief tells me that I should watch how I talk in them e-mails, lest I piss off the detailer, and get fucked further.
And my detailer finally grows a pair and decides that he'll talk to me. He tells me that I've got plenty of time to get orders elsewhere, and we'll cross that bridge when we get to it (in a nutshell).
But what really gets me is that the career counselor went so far as to say, and I quote, "The detailer recommends you go to a ship for twelve months to get your ESWS pin. He says it'll really help your career in the long run, but you can go to a shore command if you want to..."
Go to a fucking ship? To get my fucking ESWS pin?
What's an ESWS pin you ask? The ESWS pin, or Enlisted Surface Warfare Specialist pin, is a soon-to-be-mandatory uniform device that you can get to further show how "shit hot" you are. But wait, what's this?
My title... what's that say? Does it say... IT2(SW) Shaw?
Why yes, I do believe it fucking does.
That's because I already have my fucking ESWS pin, and have had it for nearly two fucking years, if not two years on the nose.
Pardon the vulgarity, but it pains me to realize that the people who are supposed to know all about me don't know much at all beyond that fucking 2.0 evaluation I got for being a fatbody.
Yes, I'm obsessing.
It's my right.
The Navy is going to fuck me over somehow or another before this is all over.
But I digress.
This post is a bit too long, right now. I'll post more later on or more likely tomorrow.
Oh yes, I only shower once per week.
It's not because they're enforcing water rations, or because I'm uncomfortable in communal showers. No, it's because I just don't feel like it. I don't feel like a whole lot anymore. Ever since I've gotten here, I've fallen into somewhat of a rut. A depressive rut. But on the bright side, this rut has within it, a schedule. A set series of events that all I need to do is repeat every single day with little or no deviation, and things go by relatively uneventfully.
This past week and a half or so has been pretty humdrum, to be honest.
Yet it's been stressful.
And relieving.
Relieving in that I got an e-mail from my replacement a few days ago. I won't divulge the name, rank, gender, or any other information. But I will say this: seeing that e-mail was the highlight of my time here. Knowing that I've got one foot out the door of this... this hell on earth.
Stressful in that I deal with some of the most incompetent boobs in the history of incompetent boobs. I've had semi-high-ranking Army officers yelling at me to fix their keyboards. But it can't be just any keyboard. It has to be a keyboard with a "translator matrix" installed for Farsi. Upon further inspection, this matrix looks to be nothing more than Arabic lettering painted on the keys in white out. And the solution to the problem? After all this yelling... after all this self-important bullshit he throws at me, it turns out the moron is plugging the keyboard into the wrong computer.
There've been other issues like this since I've been here, and I've come to look forward to those types of issues, to be honest. Usually, the people are more than willing to admit they're computer illiterate, and treat me with the respect that someone that's there to help deserves. But just as prevalent are the "keyboard douches", constantly thinking they know more about what's wrong than I do.
Throwing technical terms like "matrix" and "drivers" and "incompatible" at me.
Too bad they're using them in completely incorrect contexts. I might not be the brightest male in existence, but by no stretch of the imagination am I a moron.
I don't have to help them. I really don't. What are they gonna do to me? Punish me for an Article 92? Who gives a flying fuck? The Navy obviously doesn't. I e-mailed as many Navy people as I could when I first got the chance in regards to getting my follow-on orders for where I'm supposed to go beyond Afghanistan, and they blew me off for two weeks.
Deciding that I don't care what happens to me anymore in terms of the Navy, I contacted my detailer, my old career counselor, and another detailer. I figure although they're pretty likely to blow me off if I just contact any one of them, they have to prove to the others that they "legitimately care" about my issues.
And low and behold, I get a response.
A few of them.
My old career counselor tells me they were "just working" the problem, and that it's in the process of being finalized.
My old senior chief tells me that I should watch how I talk in them e-mails, lest I piss off the detailer, and get fucked further.
And my detailer finally grows a pair and decides that he'll talk to me. He tells me that I've got plenty of time to get orders elsewhere, and we'll cross that bridge when we get to it (in a nutshell).
But what really gets me is that the career counselor went so far as to say, and I quote, "The detailer recommends you go to a ship for twelve months to get your ESWS pin. He says it'll really help your career in the long run, but you can go to a shore command if you want to..."
Go to a fucking ship? To get my fucking ESWS pin?
What's an ESWS pin you ask? The ESWS pin, or Enlisted Surface Warfare Specialist pin, is a soon-to-be-mandatory uniform device that you can get to further show how "shit hot" you are. But wait, what's this?
My title... what's that say? Does it say... IT2(SW) Shaw?
Why yes, I do believe it fucking does.
That's because I already have my fucking ESWS pin, and have had it for nearly two fucking years, if not two years on the nose.
Pardon the vulgarity, but it pains me to realize that the people who are supposed to know all about me don't know much at all beyond that fucking 2.0 evaluation I got for being a fatbody.
Yes, I'm obsessing.
It's my right.
The Navy is going to fuck me over somehow or another before this is all over.
But I digress.
This post is a bit too long, right now. I'll post more later on or more likely tomorrow.
Friday, March 21, 2008
Whiskey Tango Foxtrot
So it's been a while since my last update. Although I doubt that there's many people out there who actually read this on a regular basis, I figure I'll go ahead and make at least this last update here to let those of you who actually are reading this know what the skinny of the situation is. There may be more entries later on down the road, but I can't say for sure, as my attention span is rather limited, and I don't feel like committing myself to anything.
Anyway.
I got to Kuwait at the very end of the night on the 29th of February, much to everyone's joy (for tax-free pay). And that began my actual countdown of time to get back to the USA. Over the next ten days, we'd be sitting in Kuwait, listening to people ask their stupid questions, which led to other stupid questions. I saw MA1 get more heated than I'd ever seen him get, and I really didn't care at all. As far as I was concerned, we could stay in Kuwait for the rest of the time I needed to serve, doing nothing.
But alas, we were finally able to get out and do the last bit of training we needed to do, and then we were flown out a day later.
So I got here to Afghanistan on the 11th or so, and it's been relatively painless.
The people from the other branches that I work with are laid back, but man there's a lot of drama between the day and night shifts.
But I've got closure to the question of where I work and what I do.
I work at a helpdesk, doing actual IT-related work. As it's the first time in the four years I've been in the military that I'm actually doing my job, I'm actually quite shaken by the whole thing. Fortunately, the vast majority of the job is stuff I already know (reinstalling software over and over, maintaining accounts, and so on), but there's also other random issues that I have to deal with.
I've also had no further luck in the orders department. The detailer told me I'm a dirtbag because I failed two physical readiness tests (funny, I never thought my ability to run was directly related to my level of professionalism... live and learn, I guess), so my choice of duty stations is very limited, and I'm probably looking at serving my last three years in the Navy in Hawaii.
...Which I don't want to do.
But since when has the Navy cared about what I do or don't want?
One more hour of this shift left.
Anyway.
I got to Kuwait at the very end of the night on the 29th of February, much to everyone's joy (for tax-free pay). And that began my actual countdown of time to get back to the USA. Over the next ten days, we'd be sitting in Kuwait, listening to people ask their stupid questions, which led to other stupid questions. I saw MA1 get more heated than I'd ever seen him get, and I really didn't care at all. As far as I was concerned, we could stay in Kuwait for the rest of the time I needed to serve, doing nothing.
But alas, we were finally able to get out and do the last bit of training we needed to do, and then we were flown out a day later.
So I got here to Afghanistan on the 11th or so, and it's been relatively painless.
The people from the other branches that I work with are laid back, but man there's a lot of drama between the day and night shifts.
But I've got closure to the question of where I work and what I do.
I work at a helpdesk, doing actual IT-related work. As it's the first time in the four years I've been in the military that I'm actually doing my job, I'm actually quite shaken by the whole thing. Fortunately, the vast majority of the job is stuff I already know (reinstalling software over and over, maintaining accounts, and so on), but there's also other random issues that I have to deal with.
I've also had no further luck in the orders department. The detailer told me I'm a dirtbag because I failed two physical readiness tests (funny, I never thought my ability to run was directly related to my level of professionalism... live and learn, I guess), so my choice of duty stations is very limited, and I'm probably looking at serving my last three years in the Navy in Hawaii.
...Which I don't want to do.
But since when has the Navy cared about what I do or don't want?
One more hour of this shift left.
Wednesday, February 27, 2008
Grand Finale
So I lost my legs today.
Both of them.
And what was remaining of my patience.
Alright, so I didn't really lose my legs, but in the training scenario I did, because of a grenade that wasn't originally there when I went to clear a room, but whatever. The entire day was a bust, having only had two real things to do: the convoy exercise and the land nav course, where we had to find our way to various points using nothing more than a compass and a map. The convoy exercise was relatively straightforward, but it was frigid outside, and that aggravated my illness. It made it hard to breathe, and I could feel my fever flaring.
Oh, and as it turns out, it's a good thing I didn't go to medical about this: all they do is give you an IV or three and some motrin. lawl, what a ridiculous regimen. And yeah, they would've held me back for three weeks, since they only have flights into Kuwait when a class completes.
But anyway, yeah. At one point in the convoy exercise, I was standing up in the back of the humvee when we came to a stop to get better fire coverage of our area. And without warning, the driver (a Drill Sergeant) gunned it, and I nearly fell out of the truck. Which, with an additional 70 lbs of body armour on, would've been especially bad. I'm thinking smashed nose at best, broken neck at worst.
The land nav course was of little consequence, so I won't talk about it here.
But from there, Jarvis decided to take advantage of that time and give us some "opportune training", in the form of a "wedge formation" in marching.
And what made me lol about this is that I'll probably use the wedge formation as often as I use the Pythagorean theorem. My math teacher told me I'd use it on a constant basis, but in the end, I never have since I graduated from high school.
So yes, more busy work. Followed by cleaning our weapons, which I'd already cleaned days before, and since then only fired two blanks through. Needless to say, there wasn't much for me to clean.
From there, we were let loose to the barracks to get into our wet weather gear to go and wash the humvees that the southern Drill Sergeants had dirtied up with their reckless mudding. One last muster of the day, and I was back in my berthing on my bed, gasping for air.
Let it be known that I can't stand the Navy anymore, because of a certain lack of self-accountability and condescending people. And I've lost some respect for the Army as well, because it's more or less just like the Navy in all the ways I can't stand.
My patience is shot. My health is shot for the moment (thanks to the Navy's countless and doubtlessly useless immunizations). And I'm hating this.
A little over six months to go.
Gonna be without the internet for the next two weeks or so, and even then I probably won't post much here anymore, anyway. But know this: unless you volunteered for an IA, you're in for a potentially terrible experience, and maybe even if you did volunteer.
My thoughts on the Navy at this point? Don't join if you haven't already and are considering it.
Is it a family tradition? Be a trend-setter.
Do you need money for college? Rob a bank.
Do you want to see the world? Get off your lazy ass and get going, you don't need the Navy to do that.
Over and oot.
Both of them.
And what was remaining of my patience.
Alright, so I didn't really lose my legs, but in the training scenario I did, because of a grenade that wasn't originally there when I went to clear a room, but whatever. The entire day was a bust, having only had two real things to do: the convoy exercise and the land nav course, where we had to find our way to various points using nothing more than a compass and a map. The convoy exercise was relatively straightforward, but it was frigid outside, and that aggravated my illness. It made it hard to breathe, and I could feel my fever flaring.
Oh, and as it turns out, it's a good thing I didn't go to medical about this: all they do is give you an IV or three and some motrin. lawl, what a ridiculous regimen. And yeah, they would've held me back for three weeks, since they only have flights into Kuwait when a class completes.
But anyway, yeah. At one point in the convoy exercise, I was standing up in the back of the humvee when we came to a stop to get better fire coverage of our area. And without warning, the driver (a Drill Sergeant) gunned it, and I nearly fell out of the truck. Which, with an additional 70 lbs of body armour on, would've been especially bad. I'm thinking smashed nose at best, broken neck at worst.
The land nav course was of little consequence, so I won't talk about it here.
But from there, Jarvis decided to take advantage of that time and give us some "opportune training", in the form of a "wedge formation" in marching.
And what made me lol about this is that I'll probably use the wedge formation as often as I use the Pythagorean theorem. My math teacher told me I'd use it on a constant basis, but in the end, I never have since I graduated from high school.
So yes, more busy work. Followed by cleaning our weapons, which I'd already cleaned days before, and since then only fired two blanks through. Needless to say, there wasn't much for me to clean.
From there, we were let loose to the barracks to get into our wet weather gear to go and wash the humvees that the southern Drill Sergeants had dirtied up with their reckless mudding. One last muster of the day, and I was back in my berthing on my bed, gasping for air.
Let it be known that I can't stand the Navy anymore, because of a certain lack of self-accountability and condescending people. And I've lost some respect for the Army as well, because it's more or less just like the Navy in all the ways I can't stand.
My patience is shot. My health is shot for the moment (thanks to the Navy's countless and doubtlessly useless immunizations). And I'm hating this.
A little over six months to go.
Gonna be without the internet for the next two weeks or so, and even then I probably won't post much here anymore, anyway. But know this: unless you volunteered for an IA, you're in for a potentially terrible experience, and maybe even if you did volunteer.
My thoughts on the Navy at this point? Don't join if you haven't already and are considering it.
Is it a family tradition? Be a trend-setter.
Do you need money for college? Rob a bank.
Do you want to see the world? Get off your lazy ass and get going, you don't need the Navy to do that.
Over and oot.
Tuesday, February 26, 2008
Full Metal Jacket
The title isn't what you guys think, really. It's kinda funny, but... lemme explain.
Today started off on the wrong foot entirely. The douche Senior Chief that sleeps opposite from me decided that he needs to take it upon himself each morning to wake up everyone in the berthing at the time he deems necessary to get everyone out to the grinder by muster time set by the First Sergeant. That's all well and good, but...
a) He's not in charge of everyone in the barracks, just his side (that's his platoon).
b) Our muster time was set for 8:00 AM, and he felt I needed to be awake at 7:11 AM to make it on time.
In light of the second one up there, I did get out of bed when he started barking out reveille crap, but I went as slow as I could possibly move in order to prove a point; to myself if to nobody else. Sure enough, even moving as slow as I was, it only took me ten minutes to take care of the morning routine, including bathroom crap, making my bed, and getting dressed.
7:21 AM.
So that gave me roughly half an hour to just lay there on my bed, fuming at this idiot's behaviour. What ever happened to self-accountability? I mean, really. I've never been late to muster. If anything, I've been early to the vast majority of them. So why the hell does this guy feel he needs to take it upon himself to rouse me from sleep that, in my sickened state, I desperately need before I need to be?
Whatever.
And as I lay there, another one of the Senior Chiefs (this one, the only one I actually like) comes by and asks me if I'm gonna get ready to go. I hold up my watch, he laughs and keeps walking.
Five minutes to eight, and I finish throwing on the rest of my gear, and walk out to the grinder.
And I make it there at 7:57 AM.
The First Sergeant makes it there at 8:07 AM, and almost all of fourth platoon is late as well.
Even more fodder against that jerk.
But I digress.
From here, we went and marched to a training site where we learned how to check people and vehicles entering the base. I got volunteered to be the guy to check the vehicles/people at the tier 2 portion of the whole deal, and man, did I suck big time. Of course, it didn't help that Drill Sergeant Watson, the one playing the part of potential friend/foe, had one of the most deadpan expressions ever, throughout the entire thing. The first mistake I made was to let him reach into the vehicle and grab a Pepsi can, which he threw at all three of us security people.
"Your entire team is dead, high speed," Drill Sergeant Jarvis said.
"Roger," I replied, "Lesson learned."
"And I've got an idea for you, high speed," he continued, "You're gonna transfer into the United States Army, and you're gonna become a mighty fine Drill Sergeant. But first, you gotta speak up like you got a pair, hooah?"
It's funny: no matter how derogatory he can be, I just can't help but be amused by it. His nickname of "high speed" is roughly on par with "shipmate" for dirtiness, but it's just... it's funny.
Anyway, I went around the van with Drill Sergeant Watson, telling him to open different parts of the vehicle so that I could inspect it. When he opened the rear passenger door, and I saw a few rolls of toilet paper, and some paper towels, I had to assume that in the imaginary world, these represented more than what they were at face value.
"Drill Sergeant," I started, "What would be considered as 'suspicious' in this simulation?"
"Anything you think would be suspicious, high speed," he replied.
"So... like these rolls of toilet paper, then?"
"I don't see what's so suspicious about toilet paper."
"Well no," I replied, "But then, I didn't see what was so suspicious about a can of Pepsi, either."
Finally, Drill Sergeant Watson laughed and broke the illusion.
"Alright, well it's your call," Drill Sergeant Jarvis laughed, "If you feel uncomfortable, give the call."
I shrugged it off and went around and finished inspecting the vehicle with Watson.
"Alright," Jarvis started, "How's the vehicle?"
"Good to go," I replied.
"Good to go," he repeated, "And what about our individual?"
"Still not good to go."
"Alright, so what do we do next?"
"I inspect him?"
"You inspect him?" he asked, "Why you?"
"Because I have the capability to do so, and my other security guys have their paws full of M16's."
"Yes, you do have the capability to do so, but don't you think that you should put your other security team to use?"
And then he motioned to the other guys I'd failed to notice behind the concertina wire.
"Ahhhh," I replied, "Right."
"Ahhhh," he repeated.
"Follow me, sir," I told Watson.
He didn't move. I started walking toward the concertina wire, and he picked up a good solid stride right behind me.
"He's gonna do exactly what you tell him to do," Jarvis said.
I eyed Watson over my shoulder for a few steps, but ultimately smirked it off and kept walking toward my destination.
And seconds later, I had his arms around my neck, giving me a good squeeze.
"You're dead," he said.
He let go and I turned to face him and Jarvis. Fortunately, they were both smiling, so it wasn't too big a failure.
"Never take your eye off the guy," Jarvis said, "Always maintain complete control."
"Roger," I replied, and ushered Watson the rest of the way into the inspection area.
And that was it for that particular run of failures. At that point, the sky was threatening to open up on us, so we got taken back in groups to grab some rain gear. And wouldn't you know it, right when I got safely back in the van with my gear on, the sky literally did open up, and let loose one hell of a downpour. The others in the van made jokes about how everyone back at the site were gonna be soaked, and Watson laughed and laughed.
And when we got there, everyone was just standing in the rain with the most miserable expressions on their faces.
We joined them pretty quick.
Fortunately, my platoon had headed for cover in one of the buildings we were using for practicing breaching and the like. And I got to shine once again with my level of suck for this crap. I was standing in front and off to the left of the door, and Jarvis came and more or less kicked it in to get in.
"Whoops, my bad," he said, "But that's why you don't stand in front of the door, high speed. Violence in action."
Yet another lesson learned!
Aside from there, the only lesson I'd learn is that I excel at kicking down doors. After that, we had lunch, and then one final lesson before being taken back to the barracks via bus. After a bit more training there, we were let go until our final muster of the day at 4:50 PM. Which would later be canceled, and we'd be set free for the day at 4:00 PM on the dot.
Score.
Aside from that, not much else to report. Went to the exchange and got me a copy of the Military Appreciation Edition of Microsoft Office 2007 for $80.00, and an 8Gb iPod Touch for $240. And this is where the title of this post comes in:
Throughout the entire day, I had several people come up to me and ask, "Are you okay there, Shaw? You're not gonna go all crazy and kill us, are you? Because if you are, just remember... I'm your friend... right? Just asking, because you have that 'Full Metal Jacket' look on your face."
Yes, well... stress and sickness will do that.
Out.
Today started off on the wrong foot entirely. The douche Senior Chief that sleeps opposite from me decided that he needs to take it upon himself each morning to wake up everyone in the berthing at the time he deems necessary to get everyone out to the grinder by muster time set by the First Sergeant. That's all well and good, but...
a) He's not in charge of everyone in the barracks, just his side (that's his platoon).
b) Our muster time was set for 8:00 AM, and he felt I needed to be awake at 7:11 AM to make it on time.
In light of the second one up there, I did get out of bed when he started barking out reveille crap, but I went as slow as I could possibly move in order to prove a point; to myself if to nobody else. Sure enough, even moving as slow as I was, it only took me ten minutes to take care of the morning routine, including bathroom crap, making my bed, and getting dressed.
7:21 AM.
So that gave me roughly half an hour to just lay there on my bed, fuming at this idiot's behaviour. What ever happened to self-accountability? I mean, really. I've never been late to muster. If anything, I've been early to the vast majority of them. So why the hell does this guy feel he needs to take it upon himself to rouse me from sleep that, in my sickened state, I desperately need before I need to be?
Whatever.
And as I lay there, another one of the Senior Chiefs (this one, the only one I actually like) comes by and asks me if I'm gonna get ready to go. I hold up my watch, he laughs and keeps walking.
Five minutes to eight, and I finish throwing on the rest of my gear, and walk out to the grinder.
And I make it there at 7:57 AM.
The First Sergeant makes it there at 8:07 AM, and almost all of fourth platoon is late as well.
Even more fodder against that jerk.
But I digress.
From here, we went and marched to a training site where we learned how to check people and vehicles entering the base. I got volunteered to be the guy to check the vehicles/people at the tier 2 portion of the whole deal, and man, did I suck big time. Of course, it didn't help that Drill Sergeant Watson, the one playing the part of potential friend/foe, had one of the most deadpan expressions ever, throughout the entire thing. The first mistake I made was to let him reach into the vehicle and grab a Pepsi can, which he threw at all three of us security people.
"Your entire team is dead, high speed," Drill Sergeant Jarvis said.
"Roger," I replied, "Lesson learned."
"And I've got an idea for you, high speed," he continued, "You're gonna transfer into the United States Army, and you're gonna become a mighty fine Drill Sergeant. But first, you gotta speak up like you got a pair, hooah?"
It's funny: no matter how derogatory he can be, I just can't help but be amused by it. His nickname of "high speed" is roughly on par with "shipmate" for dirtiness, but it's just... it's funny.
Anyway, I went around the van with Drill Sergeant Watson, telling him to open different parts of the vehicle so that I could inspect it. When he opened the rear passenger door, and I saw a few rolls of toilet paper, and some paper towels, I had to assume that in the imaginary world, these represented more than what they were at face value.
"Drill Sergeant," I started, "What would be considered as 'suspicious' in this simulation?"
"Anything you think would be suspicious, high speed," he replied.
"So... like these rolls of toilet paper, then?"
"I don't see what's so suspicious about toilet paper."
"Well no," I replied, "But then, I didn't see what was so suspicious about a can of Pepsi, either."
Finally, Drill Sergeant Watson laughed and broke the illusion.
"Alright, well it's your call," Drill Sergeant Jarvis laughed, "If you feel uncomfortable, give the call."
I shrugged it off and went around and finished inspecting the vehicle with Watson.
"Alright," Jarvis started, "How's the vehicle?"
"Good to go," I replied.
"Good to go," he repeated, "And what about our individual?"
"Still not good to go."
"Alright, so what do we do next?"
"I inspect him?"
"You inspect him?" he asked, "Why you?"
"Because I have the capability to do so, and my other security guys have their paws full of M16's."
"Yes, you do have the capability to do so, but don't you think that you should put your other security team to use?"
And then he motioned to the other guys I'd failed to notice behind the concertina wire.
"Ahhhh," I replied, "Right."
"Ahhhh," he repeated.
"Follow me, sir," I told Watson.
He didn't move. I started walking toward the concertina wire, and he picked up a good solid stride right behind me.
"He's gonna do exactly what you tell him to do," Jarvis said.
I eyed Watson over my shoulder for a few steps, but ultimately smirked it off and kept walking toward my destination.
And seconds later, I had his arms around my neck, giving me a good squeeze.
"You're dead," he said.
He let go and I turned to face him and Jarvis. Fortunately, they were both smiling, so it wasn't too big a failure.
"Never take your eye off the guy," Jarvis said, "Always maintain complete control."
"Roger," I replied, and ushered Watson the rest of the way into the inspection area.
And that was it for that particular run of failures. At that point, the sky was threatening to open up on us, so we got taken back in groups to grab some rain gear. And wouldn't you know it, right when I got safely back in the van with my gear on, the sky literally did open up, and let loose one hell of a downpour. The others in the van made jokes about how everyone back at the site were gonna be soaked, and Watson laughed and laughed.
And when we got there, everyone was just standing in the rain with the most miserable expressions on their faces.
We joined them pretty quick.
Fortunately, my platoon had headed for cover in one of the buildings we were using for practicing breaching and the like. And I got to shine once again with my level of suck for this crap. I was standing in front and off to the left of the door, and Jarvis came and more or less kicked it in to get in.
"Whoops, my bad," he said, "But that's why you don't stand in front of the door, high speed. Violence in action."
Yet another lesson learned!
Aside from there, the only lesson I'd learn is that I excel at kicking down doors. After that, we had lunch, and then one final lesson before being taken back to the barracks via bus. After a bit more training there, we were let go until our final muster of the day at 4:50 PM. Which would later be canceled, and we'd be set free for the day at 4:00 PM on the dot.
Score.
Aside from that, not much else to report. Went to the exchange and got me a copy of the Military Appreciation Edition of Microsoft Office 2007 for $80.00, and an 8Gb iPod Touch for $240. And this is where the title of this post comes in:
Throughout the entire day, I had several people come up to me and ask, "Are you okay there, Shaw? You're not gonna go all crazy and kill us, are you? Because if you are, just remember... I'm your friend... right? Just asking, because you have that 'Full Metal Jacket' look on your face."
Yes, well... stress and sickness will do that.
Out.
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