Teeth ‘n Dollars
Tuesday, November 22nd, 2005Dental! Eighty some guys milling about to get the inside of their faces looked at. The process was pretty much painless, once we got started. Communication before we got started was still not all that great, though. On the bus at 0600, at the clinic by 0630 only to find that it’s not open yet. (The clinic doesn’t open until 0730 in the first place.) So we arrived to a closed clinic but fortunately had a gym next door to wait in. It’s been raining since yesterday about noon.
Since Reservists VERY seldom have their military dental records updated, we nearly all needed x-rays and an exam. I had x-rays done back in August with my civilian dentist but there was no indication that I’d need a copy. My unit did have me get my dentist to fill out a form stating just what, if anything, was not up to par, in an attempt to take care of this. Didn’t work. Everything was up to par but I was still required to be examinated. They found out that I was, hah! up to par!
Dental really didn’t take very long and wasn’t much trouble, once we got started. Dental was the only thing scheduled for the day, though, which was about to lead to an afternoon of languor and boredom.
In yet another display of brilliant military tap dancing, (and the modern miracle of cell phones) our supply Sergeant contacted me with the information that we’d use the afternoon to draw our field gear.
Efficiency at last? Not quite. We did go down to the Central Issue Facility and draw gear. Gear for Ft. Bragg, though, not gear for Afghanistan. Hmmmm. Is this stuff just going along for the ride? I mean, I can use the GoreTex jacket to keep the rain off while I’m here but the rest of the stuff is staying in the duffel bag. Absolutely no use. I think they issued it as a reflex just because soldiers are supposed to get gear, right? Riiiiiight! We’ll worry about getting them the right gear later.
Oh, and now that you have your issue in hand, JUMP through the hoop formed by your arms tearing your hair out and get over to finance RIGHT NOW! Don’t have your records? Don’t sweat it. We can’t process your pay but you can listen to the briefings. AAAAAAAHHHHHHHH! THEY’RE MESSING WITH MY PAY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Well, no, possibly they’re not. Since most of us didn’t have our pay documents with us, they couldn’t get our allowances put in yet but, they could, using only our orders, get us established with just base pay. Thank goodness. The cats won’t have to go back to eating dry food. They get so cranky when that happens.
I also managed to score a new ID card. My old card not only still showed me to be a member of the National Guard, (two years out of date) it was also the old format. The new card, of which I am now the proud owner, is called a ‘smart’ card. Besides the old bar code, this one also has a memory chip that can be read by the appropriate machine. So, if you get hit in a crosswalk, the medics can roll up, scan your card, find you really don’t have any insurance at all and save lots of time by leaving you there and finding an INSURED accident.
Oh, not really. Like all digital wonders, the card can apparently store a lot of information. I just haven’t bothered to find out what all is actually on it. And the medics usually don’t bother about insurance, anyway.
Day 11
SRP today. Don’t ask me what it stands for. It could mean Soldier Readiness Process but I never remember acronyms. They make life very difficult.
Anyway, we go over, early (though not as early as for Dental) to the SRC (or, SR whatever, CENTER) to make sure that all our paperwork, shots, eyes, ears, and pay is in order.
My ears are rapidly going down hill, I’m legally blind at any distance less than twenty four inches they felt obliged to stab me not only once each for flu and anthrax but, fifteen pokes for smallpox. (Remember smallpox, eradicated throughout the world in the last century, except for a little bit in various labs for research purposes? Guess what kind of research that was? And guess what paid the bills in the decade after the Berlin Wall came down? THANKS Ivan Getthedoughvitch! ‘Preciate ya!
The paperwork side is, tentatively, good to go. And pay? The young lady at that station had to pick my jaw up off the ground after she told my I was not only properly loaded in the system for base pay but all my allowances are there, too! The only things missing, in fact, were the Family Separation Allowance and the Uniform Allowance, which are only allowed because of the deployment. She whipped out the proper forms, got me to scribble on them and put them in a stack she promised to hand deliver to Finance.
Oh, yeah. I not only had Dental done at home station, the Army had me take a day off from work and drive an hour to have my physical done back in September. Has to be done every five years and I was legitimately due.
It’s bad enough that the results aren’t in my records. What’s really aggravating is that SOME results ARE in the records but, not in the ‘right’ records. The clerk can pull them up on the computer but they ‘don’t count.’ Get. that. needle. away. from. my. ARM! Too late.
Back in the barracks by 1030. Nothing else planned for the rest of the day. The ‘Training Brigade’ which I shall not name in the hopes it goes away, is not working out. It’s an experiment. Traditionally, when a unit mobilizes, it sends an advance, or ‘push’ team to get everything ready and make all the coordination at the mobilization station. This means that every ‘push team’ coming through has to learn all the contacts and requirements fresh. The idea with this ‘training Brigade’ is that they learn it once and just keep getting better as more units come through.
I’d have to say the experiment’s a failure. Training standards say that schedules are locked in (barring emergency) thirty days before the event. These folks are busily changing schedules right up to the moment of execution. If I were the commander, I’d be REALLY upset. Since I’m not the commander and don’t have any way to affect the situation, I just take a deep breath and have fantasies about idiots and accidents.
Our commander IS upset and he’s doing all he can to force some changes. He’s worked his way up to the General Staff level and they seem to be listening to him. We’ll see how long it takes to actually see some changes. He’s over at a meeting right now, to discuss tomorrow’s training. (That’s twenty nine days too late, by the way.) The only thing listed on the training schedule is the acronym PTR. We’ve been bashing that one around because no one here has any idea what it means. The only thing we can come up with is Pre Thanksgiving Release, letting us go at 1300 for the holiday!
Naaah, I don’t think that’s it.
Continued……………………
Day 12
Apparently, the act of figuring out what the acronym stood for did away with the need for that particular training, at least for now, because it didn’t happen today. Instead, we got to spend the morning watching SERE video tapes. Survival, Evasion, Resistance and Escape is the mode you go into if you’re trapped behind enemy lines or captured. The tapes are designed to prepare you for that eventuality by showing what may be done to you, etc. What they don’t say is that one of the worst tortures would be to make you sit through showings of these steeeenking tapes for like, the fifth time this freekin’ year! Do the tapes have good info? Oh, yeah. Are they logically laid out and designed to hold your interest? Oh, no. Is watching them for anything more than the second time roughly equivalent to making Beethoven listen to punk rock for eternity in hell? Oooooooh, yes. These are worse than the old VD tapes they showed us in boot camp way back in the ‘70s. At least those were honestly disgusting………………..
Then, in the afternoon we went through the process of fingerprints and photos and etc for the identification process if captured. If you want to see something funny, watch someone taking fingerprints who hasn’t ever been trained properly. First finger, second, third, DANG ruined that one, gotta start a new card. You have to get all ten fingers clearly printed in order to have a valid card and it was going r e a l l y slow. Fortunately, we have a couple of Sheriff’s deputies in our group, so they took over and really sped up the process. Nice to deal with professionals.
And finally, time for release. People are flying or driving some ridiculous distances to get home for Thanksgiving, so it was nice to get them on their way before it got too late.
Went over in the early evening to one of the gyms and committed the sin of exercise. I’m definitely going to have to build up slow. Given a month of working out, maybe I can advance from sinning to evil but neccessary…………………. It’s never going to become a good thing.
Day 13
Thanksgiving Day. The place is nearly a ghost town since so many people have gone home. Went out for a walk/run when I got up and it didn’t kill me.
I’ve mentioned before the barrack that we’re staying in. They don’t meet any modern building code, of course. Some of the differences are enlightening.
I’m six feet tall. Not all that big in this day and age but, noticeably taller than our forebears. When I go in to shave in the morning, I have to bend down to see myself in the mirror. If I’m standing up straight, I’m staring over the top of the mirror and straight into the light fixture. The guys that originally inhabited these barracks were either much shorter, on average, or the carpenters had downed too much moonshine and couldn’t read their tape measures.
One of the nice things about this location is that we’re just off the end of the main runway of Pope AFB. They have Warthogs! Almost every day, we get to see the A-10s playing around up above us and for a former infantryman, those flying guns are truly beautiful. Catch the whine of their turbines out the corner of your ear and just cast your eyes upwards. Neat.
Just about lunch time so I think I’ll close and go eat, then head for the internet.
Hah! Ho! Aaaack! LOL! The commander’s window just fell in! He was standing in his room, talking with one of our captains who was at the door, when came a gust of wind and the entire lower (sliding) portion of the window just calmly tipped inward and crashed on the floor. We discovered that it isn’t safety glass……………………..
So I guess we’ll have to go over to one of the ‘slated to be destroyed’ buildings when the boss gets back on Sunday, and steal a replacement. If they don’t get around to tearing the buildings down around our ears, maybe they’ll just fall down by themselves! Hah!
Day 14-16
The long weekend continues. Taking a pass would have been much preferable to staying here, but trying to get to the West Coast and back in the space of four days, over a holiday, just doesn’t strike me as sane. Better to bunker in, catch up on my reading, (I’m on Churchill’s last volume of WW II, “Triumph and Tragedy”), and be in a rested condition when training starts again on Monday.
Besides, you’re not supposed to be around kids, if possible, after you’ve had your small pox vaccination. This booger itches like nettles held in place by swarming ladybugs. How I managed to avoid scratching my arm off when I got this as a kid, I’ll never know. It’s VERY entertaining this time around.
Weather has mostly been pretty nice. Just a little nip in the air, only occasional frost, raining lightly today but we have had several days of sunny weather. I’m sure the weather gods are holding the real nasties for whenever we go to the field.
Now that Thanksgiving is past, the troops are maintaining the traditions of our great country, i.e.; we have a string of Christmas lights up around each of the doors into the barracks. Some people just refuse to be depressed. Terrible, just terrible.
It may be awhile until I can post again. It’s Sunday, so the library is closed. The rec center (another old barracks with some cast off computers and a TV) is closed until further notice because the heat system failed and the Soldier Center down the street has become disconnected from the network. I may have to buy a wireless card and find a shuttle that goes by an internet cafe………
I will now hold my breath until I discover exciting training for tomorrow.
Turning blue …………..
Room’s ……. going …….. hazy………
THUMP!
Deployment Over the Years
Deployments have changed. Maybe it’s just the difference between the Army and the Coast Guard but, I don’t think that’s all of it.
My first deployment in the Coast Guard was to the Cutter Southwind (WAGB 283) in 1973. About 45 days before we headed off for the ship, we started our training. Flight crew refreshers, handling the helicopters on deck, packing the repair parts and other gear we’d be needing, etc. Of course, all the paperwork was already done because we were on active duty, so that didn’t take any time.
As the day for movement arrived, we packed up all our gear on a semi trailer and sent it off from Mobile, Alabama to Milwaukee, Wisconsin. The helicopters flew out a day later, and the rest of us went by commercial airline the next day. We all came together in Milwaukee, loaded our gear aboard the icebreaker and were ‘on duty’.
Probably the biggest change is in the attitude towards alcohol. Because of the areas that we’re deploying to today, in sensitivity to local traditions, alcohol is forbidden while deployed. Indeed, some units take it further. One battalion coming back home through here is STILL forbidden to have alcohol during their stay at Ft. Bragg, even though it’s legal for everyone else around them. I would guess this is some sort of over reaction within the chain of command and is certainly not making any of the soldiers happy.
Thirty years ago, alcohol was also ‘forbidden’ on board ship. Actually, it was limited. After a certain number of days at sea, each man was allowed two beers per week. (For a 200 man crew, maybe eight weeks of beer eligibility, that’s 3200 cans of beer.) It had to be stored someplace secure, so the brig was full of canned beer.
It seemed like EVERYbody had their own ideas about what should actually be allowed. Lots of the guys smuggled a bottle or two of their favorite libation aboard. Whenever some of it was found by the Chief Petty Officers, it was simply confiscated. (We never really heard how it was ‘destroyed’.) Very little excitement ensued.
This semi tolerant attitude set the stage for the more experienced guys in my aviation detachment to provide for their own lubrication.
The semi trailer full of gear included all of our personal luggage, plus everything needed to keep the helicopters flying. A little gas powered ‘mini-mule’ for towing the helos around on deck was one of the bulkiest pieces. We had a spare engine and a couple of extra main rotor blades. There were ladders and other oddments but, the bulk of the cargo was repair parts; all the nuts, bolts, servos, tools, and etc that we might need when things broke, as they inevitably would. All of this stuff was packed into large metal footlockers, maybe 36 inches long by 24 inches wide by 16 inches deep. We had space in the storage rack at the front of the hangar for 30 of these boxes but we didn’t need that many, because the load list had been refined over the years. There was room for maybe five or six boxes for use with personal gear or …….. whatever.
One of those boxes came aboard packed full of hard liquor. Nobody inspected our stuff; that was the responsibility of our CPO, who was, I think, part of the plot. Of the dozen enlisted in our detachment, I may have been the only one who didn’t drink. (Not at that time, anyway. That came much later.) There had to be plenty of people taking part because that box was empty by the time we reached Thule, Greenland about two weeks later.
Fortunately, the PX on the Air Force base at Thule had dark Danish beer available. The price was 49 cents per CASE. I never was sure how many cases came aboard but I know it was a lot. Toss a bucket over the side for ice water to cool your beer and relax for the evening………
The only time they came close to being caught was when, while at the pier at Thule and relaxing in the hangar one afternoon, the hatch popped open unexpectedly to reveal the Captain. He had the Captain of a merchant ship with him, giving him a tour of our ship. We all jumped to attention and our AD2 made a frenzied to stay between the Captain(s) and the several bottles of booze that were sitting on the deck in plain sight. Apparently that was good enough for the Captain, as nothing was said, then or afterwards.
Nowadays, that would be material for Court Martial ………….
Day 17
Uncle Sugar brought Christmas today! We went down to CIF again, except this was a different facility. They actually issued some gear that may be useful. They TRIED to issue four sets of DCUs to everyone but the commander said NO!; because they were going to issue those, then turn around and issue the ACU (new style uniform) next week and have us turn the DCUs back in. Dodged that bullet, anyway.
So, they did issue; another GoreTex parka, another duffel bag, our body armor with SAPI plates, 3 sets of poly pro underwear, one set of glove shells with two sets of liners, one set of the new tan boots, goggles, a rucksack cover, a scarf and a cover for a two quart canteen, but no canteen to put in it.
The reason that it’s Christmas is that much of this stuff doesn’t have to be turned back in. And for good reason. NO one is going to buy that underwear surplus now that I’ve had it. The same reasoning applies to many of the other items.
I was one of the last ones through the line; by that time I had been at the issue facility for eight hours, in which time they had only managed to issue gear to about 120 of us. It could have gone slower, I suppose but only if the workers had brought in their own toe tags. Maybe we should contract that operation out to Wal-Mart.
Day 18
More ‘training’. Oh. My. Sainted. Aunt. The morning was Powerpoint City to start. (”Here’s a picture of a truck. Here are the places you would search for bombs, except that won’t be your job. Here’s another picture of a different type of truck. Here are the places you would search for bombs, except that won’t be your job. Here’s another picture of ……….) Do you know how many different types of trucks there are in the world? I do now.
Then the medic came in to talk about the new way of conducting assessments in the field. He stated that he only had two Powerpoint slides; he actually only had one. (”How many fingers am I holding up?” “I don’t know, I’m a medic and can’t count.”)
Actually, he did a good job, once we got him away from the math intensive beginning of the class. Lots of good information. He showed us the new Individual First Aid Kit, which has some pretty spiffy stuff in it. One handed tourniquets, battle dressings you can put on with one hand, the new fast clotting battle dressings, and more. Not at all like the battle dressing I was issued when I first enlisted in the National Guard in 1979. That one came in a little tin, kind of like a can of sardines, complete with key to open it. The date, stamped on the lid read, ‘Manufactured, April 1918′. The new IFAK is quite and advance (finally) over that old bandage.
Then came the afternoon. We had PMI or Primary Marksmanship Instruction.
For those of you with a military background, think back to your entry and the PMI classes you had. Get a firm picture in your mind. Hooold it…….. Now, …… chuck it out, this wasn’t anything like that.
Do you remember when you could go down to the Armory and use the learning center to watch some sort of proprietary format video? They seemed to cover every subject under the sun and weren’t too bad for someone who wanted to learn a little more on his own time. If the tape was on some kind of weapon, you could often check the weapon out of the arms room and follow along with the tape.
Well, that was our PMI. Only now, it’s internet based, so you can watch it in the comfort of your own home. ‘Cept, we aren’t IN our own homes, we’re on an Army base where there should be some sort of standards. No. The instructor had one of our NCOs pull this site up off the internet and then click through the lesson. The first hour was Maintenance, cleaning and clearing of the M-9 pistol. Slow download times, possibly because of the extremely wet weather, added to the frustration. No actual weapons available to fondle. That may have been wise, though; it may have prevented a pistol whipping. The class was somewhat agitated at this incredible nincompoopery, and there was much grumbling about lack of standards, whereupon the instructor, a SGT (E-5) came back and told one of the chief gripers, our CSM (E-9), that “it’s really your job to train yourselves, we’re just doing this as a favor.” That didn’t go over well.
So the instructor took the first ten minutes of the next hour to explain in excruciating detail how this training was the Army standard. That’s when people started turning around and just ignoring the whole thing. So, we then clicked through the same class on the M-4 Carbine, only the CSM had it clicked through REALLY fast. He got turned in to the training company commander by the instructor. Not a problem, really. That commander is only a Major; they don’t win many arguments with CSMs…………
All in all, I suppose this is just the modern equivalent of the pre WW II broomsticks for rifles type of training…….
Ah, well. One more class tonight. Reputed to be actually interesting …… We’ll see ……….
Day 19
Today is communications training. There is some improvement here. They actually have 4-6 radios to conduct the training with! Of course, that means that they can’t get everyone through it today but that’s not really a problem. All the enlisted are going, and most officers up through Captain. That leaves primarily the ‘staff’ who usually aren’t trusted to touch a radio except to use the ‘push to talk’ thingy.
So I had time to go for a nice four mile run. Since running IS a sin, though, I didn’t go real fast. It only took three hours…………….. Hey, if I go much faster than that, I’ll trip over my cane.
Then I did laundry. No problems until I noticed a clanking noise from the dryer. That’s odd, I checked all the pockets.
Apparently not. There was my thumb drive, thoroughly washed and mostly dried. Wonderful. Just wonder…… hey, the thing works! What a deal! It’s me proof.