Being a fully qualified parachutist in the U.S. Army, I can safely that I haven’t experienced every type of airborne jump there is. I still have yet to jump a C-5, C-17, UH-60, a combat equipment (day or night) in division, or several others that I can’t think of. I have, however, have had enough of the basic jumps to be able to compare a jump to what type of day (or week) I am having. Some days are real smooth, I had a proper equipment check, good exit, nice tight body position, no fellow jumpers impeding my descent, and a nice landing. Other days, its is like running out of the door into 30 m.p.h winds, being all over the place with my body position, pulling slips to avoid fellow jumpers, and hitting like a ton of bricks. The first jump would constitute a fairly normal and smooth day. The second….well….you can imagine what the second would be like.
Wait, seeing as not everybody has been in the Army I’ll break it down. I had a 30 m.p.h jump week, not just day, but week. It started with a break down in communication between myself and a couple of other soldiers. In the office I work in, I have been tasked with keeping it relatively clean. That is kind of a difficult task when there are people constantly coming in and out. I do my best to keep it swept up and the trash taken out (I am more than a glorified janitor, despite what it sounds like). I thought I had something worked out with some other soldiers on a different shift to see if they could come in and sweep up a little better when nobody was around. I thought it was getting done, but when it turns out it wasn’t, the heat fell on me.
Okay, I can roll with that. Maybe I was getting a little ahead of myself in the amount leadership I could dish out. I don’t have those corporal stripes yet. The shining moment of my week occurred on Saturday morning. This was a moonless night jump into 50 m.p.h. wind, combat FIST equipment (which is far from light; most combat equipment jumps around 50-60 lbs. FISTers jump with 80-90 lbs) with Anti-Aircraft fire all around, over the water, with a stumble out the door and bad body position. Yeah, it was that type of day. I got out of bed and headed to the latrine to shower and shave for the day. I walked out and sort of realized that I was still in my civilian basketball shorts and a fleece jacket. According to TF Fury standards, that is a no go. As I walked in, I was met by the glare of the Sgt. Major of our unit, the one who put together the standard. Oops. Dual Purpose Improved Conventional Munitions with a side of White Phosphorus Fire for Effect on my ass. To make matters worse, he knew whom my section NCO was, who happened to walk in right after I went into the shower. I stayed in the shower a little bit longer than usual, thinking that somehow it would go away. No Dice.
At the first of five formations we had that day to remind us what the TF Fury standards, the entire section was told that there would be some homework due in a week. For the rest of the section, a 820 word essay on a topic selected by our NCO. For the offender (this guy), a 1800 on a pre-selected topic. At one of the later formations, our NCO read off a excerpt from a Wikipedia describing Army FO’s. As he read the list of things on there, each was followed with a “Not in this section”. Where is the nearest hole? I need to crawl in it and die. At a later formation, without naming names, another NCO expressed his frustration that the soldier who is supposed to be setting an example (me, again) is the one that got the entire section in trouble. Screw finding the hole, I’ll just grab a shovel and start digging right now.
After our forth formation, I bit the bullet and explained to my NCO that I should be the only one punished for my screw-up. Guys who worked on the night shift were getting woken up every few hours or so and I could tell that they weren’t pleased. I would accept extra duty and anything else thrown at me. My NCO accepted my offer, but said that the section was on a short leash. And we still had essays. Hey, I’ll take it.
While the day had gone horribly wrong, it was made better my a few sentences from one of my buddies. After I got back to the tent, I informed everybody that there were no more formations and they essay due date had changed. Sensing that I had been down all day, one of my buddies stood up and said, “Hey, what happened today, in the big picture of things, wasn’t really a big deal. It happens. Dykstra is about to be an NCO and they were testing him. From now, he is our first line supervisor and we have to stand behind him and support him. From now on, we have to watch out for each other”. Right then and there, everything that happened was no longer a big deal and it was something I could laugh at. Hell, I even make jokes about it. Before I went to bed, I showed everybody that I was wearing the proper PT uniform and when I saw my NCO in the latrine the next morning, I made it a point of emphasis to show him I was in the proper uniform. “Its about time” was his reply.
Okay, enough about the bad stuff. Lets see. I am getting those care packages every now and then. The weather has slowed down the mail service a little bit. It is kind of a tricky situation to land a C-130 on a muddy runway. Don’t worry about sending too much food or personal hygiene products. I am pretty well covered on that. Magazines, letters, and DVD’s are always welcome, however. Pictures are good, too. I haven’t been gone too long, but it is still to have a nice picture of home like things. Hey, even if you don’t know me, I can pass you off as a relative, lol. I’ll try and get some pics out. It is kind of tough to upload pictures without a consistent Internet connection. Oh, one more thing. If anybody knows anybody who has been keeping track of this season’s 24 and would like to burn those onto DVD’s for me I would be greatly appreciate that.
All the Way.
Monday, February 26, 2007
Friday, February 23, 2007
I sleep around.
I’m buying a comfy bed when I get back.
In the midst of a move from one tent to another over here, I thought about my sleeping situation since I have joined the Army. I calculated that in the 9 months I have been in the Army, I have changed bedding assignments 15 times. Lets do the math. Two beds at reception at Ft. Benning and one bed at basic, the last time I consistently slept in a bed for more than a month. From Ft. Benning it was four different beds in the 8 weeks I was at Ft. Sill. Two beds in 3 weeks at Airborne school back at Ft. Benning and then two beds in the 6 weeks I as Ft. Bragg. Tally so far: 11. Lets get to deployment. Two days in Kuwait waiting for a ride to Afghanistan, that’s 12. To top it off, there are the three different beds/cots I have slept on since I’ve gotten to Salerno. In this period, I am not counting the nights spent sleeping in the field, at home on R&R, in airport lobbies, or on a friend’s (shout out to Brooke and Carrie Jo) floor after a long night at the bar. I am not complaining by any means. I am just showing that the life of a 13 Fox is somewhat nomadic. I just want some consistency and a place where I can call home for more than 3 weeks.
I’ve learned a few things since I have been in. First, if you want something done right, you have to do it yourself. That is a different story for a different day and I am just writing out of frustration right now. Second, they lie to you at MEPS when you go to choose your job. I was told I would be sneaking into enemy areas and calling in artillery fire. The only sneaking around I do right now is trying to get out of my tent in the middle of the night to go to the latrine without waking any of the other 12 guys that live in there. Third, the Army, as a structure, not necessarily in its mission, is fairly similar to most jobs out there. Small differences being that we carry guns to work and have to wear camouflage uniform and we have people that try to kill us. (Of course, if you work in corporate cut-throat America, they same could be said).You have to have a working infrastructure to make sure that things go smoothly. You need your I.T. people so that all the tech stuff runs smoothly (Dear God do I know about that right now). You have to have your human relations people so that you can get others involved in what you are doing. You have you upper management (officers) and your middle management (sergeants) and your workers (E-4s and below). Some of things that each entity is doing may not make one bit of sense to the other but in the long run they each make it seem like they are working towards the same goal (at least that is what we are told).
You also have people who have been in the job for long enough to tell you what is a good opportunity or where is a good place to take a job or when there is a prime opportunity for rapid advancement and the possibility to do some really cool stuff (I am in a situation like that right now; there is a volunteer assignment that would be a real kick-in-the-ass for my career once I get back from Afghanistan. I am giving some serious thought to it right now. Luckily, I’ve got nothing but time). You also have management who may bust your butt on stuff that may seem minor, but they are simply trying to teach you how things are supposed to run and look and not to overlook even the smallest of details. I run into that situation a lot and while my first thought may be to get defensive and be pissed off, but I know that my NCO’s are trying to teach me the right way and hey, at least they are taking the time to make sure I am learning it.
Going in a completely different direction, some people out there are actually fighting the enemy. Some are fighting for the hearts and minds. Some are fighting to keep people alive. I am fighting the mud. Since I don’t have a consistent day-to-day project to work on, some of my responsibilities have been to make sure that the work area looks clean. I can keep things straight and tidy, but I can’t seem to get a step ahead of the dust and mud that is constantly tracked into our office. I am fighting a no-win battle. I can only throw so much broom power and Pine Sol at a situation before I say screw it. Sorry, random ranting strikes again.
Lets see, we had a rocket attack last week at 0200L (that would be 2130 Dublin Pub time for those that like to working off Greenwich Mean time or Zulu time) in the morning. I sat in a bunker for about two hours, that was special (voice dripping with sarcasm right now). So Hajji disrupted my sleep pattern for one night (I was passed out, didn’t even hear the first 4 rounds land; definitely heard the sirens though). Scoreboard: Hajji-1, Soon-to-be-promoted-Corporal-Kyle-0. However, our Conex made it here unscathed, so I got my tough box full of goodies and my nice comfortable boots bought at Commandos in Columbus, GA during Airborne school. So, Soon-to-be-promoted-Corporal-Kyle-1, Hajji-1. Tied up sucker, HAAA. When I got my tough box and B Bag, it was like Christmas because I packed it so long ago, I forgot what I had in there. Pitchers and catchers reported this week. This is the Cubs’ year and I won’t let anybody forget it. I figure if the Bears made it to the Super Bowl, it stands to be a good year for teams in Chicago that feature large furry animals as mascots. If only the pitching rotation can stay healthy….
“The 82nd Airborne Division provides the enemy the maximum opportunity to die for his country or cause, night or day.”
All the Way.
In the midst of a move from one tent to another over here, I thought about my sleeping situation since I have joined the Army. I calculated that in the 9 months I have been in the Army, I have changed bedding assignments 15 times. Lets do the math. Two beds at reception at Ft. Benning and one bed at basic, the last time I consistently slept in a bed for more than a month. From Ft. Benning it was four different beds in the 8 weeks I was at Ft. Sill. Two beds in 3 weeks at Airborne school back at Ft. Benning and then two beds in the 6 weeks I as Ft. Bragg. Tally so far: 11. Lets get to deployment. Two days in Kuwait waiting for a ride to Afghanistan, that’s 12. To top it off, there are the three different beds/cots I have slept on since I’ve gotten to Salerno. In this period, I am not counting the nights spent sleeping in the field, at home on R&R, in airport lobbies, or on a friend’s (shout out to Brooke and Carrie Jo) floor after a long night at the bar. I am not complaining by any means. I am just showing that the life of a 13 Fox is somewhat nomadic. I just want some consistency and a place where I can call home for more than 3 weeks.
I’ve learned a few things since I have been in. First, if you want something done right, you have to do it yourself. That is a different story for a different day and I am just writing out of frustration right now. Second, they lie to you at MEPS when you go to choose your job. I was told I would be sneaking into enemy areas and calling in artillery fire. The only sneaking around I do right now is trying to get out of my tent in the middle of the night to go to the latrine without waking any of the other 12 guys that live in there. Third, the Army, as a structure, not necessarily in its mission, is fairly similar to most jobs out there. Small differences being that we carry guns to work and have to wear camouflage uniform and we have people that try to kill us. (Of course, if you work in corporate cut-throat America, they same could be said).You have to have a working infrastructure to make sure that things go smoothly. You need your I.T. people so that all the tech stuff runs smoothly (Dear God do I know about that right now). You have to have your human relations people so that you can get others involved in what you are doing. You have you upper management (officers) and your middle management (sergeants) and your workers (E-4s and below). Some of things that each entity is doing may not make one bit of sense to the other but in the long run they each make it seem like they are working towards the same goal (at least that is what we are told).
You also have people who have been in the job for long enough to tell you what is a good opportunity or where is a good place to take a job or when there is a prime opportunity for rapid advancement and the possibility to do some really cool stuff (I am in a situation like that right now; there is a volunteer assignment that would be a real kick-in-the-ass for my career once I get back from Afghanistan. I am giving some serious thought to it right now. Luckily, I’ve got nothing but time). You also have management who may bust your butt on stuff that may seem minor, but they are simply trying to teach you how things are supposed to run and look and not to overlook even the smallest of details. I run into that situation a lot and while my first thought may be to get defensive and be pissed off, but I know that my NCO’s are trying to teach me the right way and hey, at least they are taking the time to make sure I am learning it.
Going in a completely different direction, some people out there are actually fighting the enemy. Some are fighting for the hearts and minds. Some are fighting to keep people alive. I am fighting the mud. Since I don’t have a consistent day-to-day project to work on, some of my responsibilities have been to make sure that the work area looks clean. I can keep things straight and tidy, but I can’t seem to get a step ahead of the dust and mud that is constantly tracked into our office. I am fighting a no-win battle. I can only throw so much broom power and Pine Sol at a situation before I say screw it. Sorry, random ranting strikes again.
Lets see, we had a rocket attack last week at 0200L (that would be 2130 Dublin Pub time for those that like to working off Greenwich Mean time or Zulu time) in the morning. I sat in a bunker for about two hours, that was special (voice dripping with sarcasm right now). So Hajji disrupted my sleep pattern for one night (I was passed out, didn’t even hear the first 4 rounds land; definitely heard the sirens though). Scoreboard: Hajji-1, Soon-to-be-promoted-Corporal-Kyle-0. However, our Conex made it here unscathed, so I got my tough box full of goodies and my nice comfortable boots bought at Commandos in Columbus, GA during Airborne school. So, Soon-to-be-promoted-Corporal-Kyle-1, Hajji-1. Tied up sucker, HAAA. When I got my tough box and B Bag, it was like Christmas because I packed it so long ago, I forgot what I had in there. Pitchers and catchers reported this week. This is the Cubs’ year and I won’t let anybody forget it. I figure if the Bears made it to the Super Bowl, it stands to be a good year for teams in Chicago that feature large furry animals as mascots. If only the pitching rotation can stay healthy….
“The 82nd Airborne Division provides the enemy the maximum opportunity to die for his country or cause, night or day.”
All the Way.
Saturday, February 10, 2007
Things not to say part II.
There is a rumor/legend/tale that when an 82nd brigade first came to Afghanistan that there was a unit out on patrol and they approached a local village. Somewhere during the visit, one of the maneuver commanders began talking with one of the village elders and the elder wondered how soldiers became part of the “square and circle” tribe. (For those that are unfamiliar with the 82nd patch, it is a square with a circle in the middle of it with double AA’s in the middle of the circle. Above it there is a tab that says “Airborne”). Seizing on an opportunity to build a myth and possibly discourage local fighters from fighting, the maneuver commander told the elder that in order to get into the “tribe”, you had to kill someone you knew, thus proving your allegiance to the “tribe”. Somewhere along the way, the allegiance story built into that you had to kill a member of your family and then soak your beret in their blood in order to have the red beret that is synonymous of the 82nd. Perhaps that would explain why when future 82nd brigades came to the country\, all the people in the village would put their hands in the hair and begin crying when a patrol came through. They thought the members of the “square and circle” tribe were going to kill them, when all they wanted to do is make sure that they were safe this told to me by a member of one of those patrols). I would have hated to be the PSYOPS or Civil Affairs officer that had to deal with that little debacle. This might also explain why the members of the “cross swords” tribe (10th Mountain) have had a relatively peaceful and rocket free year and since the “square and circle” tribe, yes that’s me, the rocket attacks have come more frequently.
To the citizens of the Upper Washington state area, I know fully understand what type of weather you put up with for a majority of the year. It has been raining for about 3 days straight now. Of course, this is all fine and dandy if you are living in a six-person billet (yes, I am still bitter). However, when you are living in a tent, the tent tends to leak a little. Oh yes, housing update. I moved out of the lets-fit-as-many-joes-as-possible-into-one-tent tent into a lets-fit-as-many-FISTers-as-possible 12 man tent. The accommodations are a little bit better and more central to everything. I damn near had to cross into Pakistan to get to my old tent. One ironic thing about the weather. As much as it sucks have mud and puddles everywhere, strangely, I like it. It is a very soothing sound when you are trying to go to sleep and you feel like kind of a badass walking around in the mud with no waterproof jacket unlike the legs (paratrooper language for non-airborne personal) who scurry about in their jackets trying not to get wet. Of course it could be much worse. Our counterparts from 10th Mountain are hearing stories from home about 10 feet of snow on the ground. My God, I hope I never get stationed at Ft. Drum.
And in other news, I am getting promoted to Corporal. My section is in need of another NCO and apparently I hold some quality (what it is, I am still wondering) that is worthy of me earning my hard stripes. Ever NCO who I have talked to tells me it is the best job in the Army. Soldiers have to listen to you because you are a junior NCO and if you screw up you can go, “Sir, I haven’t learned that yet, I am a just a Corporal!”. I look at as a really good opportunity to grow and learn as an NCO instead of just getting thrown to the sharks if I went straight from Specialist to Sergeant. Plus, you don’t see too many Corporals around, so I’ll stand out a little bit. Also, I get exclusive benefits in the infamous Corporal mafia, which I can’t talk about or else I’ll get whacked. I’ve said too much already.
Other than that, things are going good. We may or may not have located our Conex. Details to follow. Only 60 something more steak nights to go, although that is really gonna suck during Lent. I think I’ll give up alcohol for Lent (I know, I am cheating). Oh yeah, if you want to send some chocolate goodies (thanx Aunt Lynne) be sure to send a lot. Some people don’t get mail too often and you would be surprised what a Reece’s Pieces or Kit-Kat can do for someone’s day.
Fury from the Sky.
All the Way.
To the citizens of the Upper Washington state area, I know fully understand what type of weather you put up with for a majority of the year. It has been raining for about 3 days straight now. Of course, this is all fine and dandy if you are living in a six-person billet (yes, I am still bitter). However, when you are living in a tent, the tent tends to leak a little. Oh yes, housing update. I moved out of the lets-fit-as-many-joes-as-possible-into-one-tent tent into a lets-fit-as-many-FISTers-as-possible 12 man tent. The accommodations are a little bit better and more central to everything. I damn near had to cross into Pakistan to get to my old tent. One ironic thing about the weather. As much as it sucks have mud and puddles everywhere, strangely, I like it. It is a very soothing sound when you are trying to go to sleep and you feel like kind of a badass walking around in the mud with no waterproof jacket unlike the legs (paratrooper language for non-airborne personal) who scurry about in their jackets trying not to get wet. Of course it could be much worse. Our counterparts from 10th Mountain are hearing stories from home about 10 feet of snow on the ground. My God, I hope I never get stationed at Ft. Drum.
And in other news, I am getting promoted to Corporal. My section is in need of another NCO and apparently I hold some quality (what it is, I am still wondering) that is worthy of me earning my hard stripes. Ever NCO who I have talked to tells me it is the best job in the Army. Soldiers have to listen to you because you are a junior NCO and if you screw up you can go, “Sir, I haven’t learned that yet, I am a just a Corporal!”. I look at as a really good opportunity to grow and learn as an NCO instead of just getting thrown to the sharks if I went straight from Specialist to Sergeant. Plus, you don’t see too many Corporals around, so I’ll stand out a little bit. Also, I get exclusive benefits in the infamous Corporal mafia, which I can’t talk about or else I’ll get whacked. I’ve said too much already.
Other than that, things are going good. We may or may not have located our Conex. Details to follow. Only 60 something more steak nights to go, although that is really gonna suck during Lent. I think I’ll give up alcohol for Lent (I know, I am cheating). Oh yeah, if you want to send some chocolate goodies (thanx Aunt Lynne) be sure to send a lot. Some people don’t get mail too often and you would be surprised what a Reece’s Pieces or Kit-Kat can do for someone’s day.
Fury from the Sky.
All the Way.
Saturday, February 3, 2007
The Sad Paratrooper
Salerno is a depressing place to be a paratrooper. Its not the fact that we are 9,000 miles away from home or any semblance of an alcoholic beverage. Its not the fact that we measure the amount of time we have left here in the number of Friday night steak nights we have left (if I am calculating, it is somewhere around 70). Its not the fact that there is so much brass around here that I think I have a torn rotator cuff from saluting so much. Its not the fact that I sleep in a large tent outside in which one well placed round could be all she wrote (but Hajji can’t hit anything) or the fact that I have to trek to India to find a latrine (try doing that on a night with low visibility and you can’t find your flashlight).
It is the fact that there are C-130s, Ch-47 Chinooks, and UH-60 Blackhawks constantly flying around and I can’t jump out of any of them. None. No chutes here or anything. When we were flying around the border, I spotted numerous areas that would be perfect dropzones. I’m a brand new paratrooper, young and dumb, three months out of Airborne school and now I can’t jump for 12-18 months. Hell, SFC Heib, my section sergeant and NCO teacher, his sidearm has more jumps than I do.
More thoughts and musings. The day to day routine of getting up and doing PT and personal hygiene and going to work and going to chow and going to bed and repeating, I often catch myself going “Am I at Bragg or Afghanistan?” Then you step outside and see the mountains and people carrying a fully loaded weapon every where you go and you go, “Oh, I am just in West Virginia.” Just kidding. But there are times where I just go, where am I? And then I snap back to reality when the Apaches roar overhead to the live arms range and I hear the 30mm cannon and 2.75mm rockets and I go, “Oh, yes, combat.” Somehow I am strangely comfortable here. It is a different sense of combat than my predecessors in the 82nd though. Here, I have worldwide communications at my fingertips. My predecessors just hoped that their fingertips weren’t too cold to write a letter home, more or less have paper. Here, I can just take a shower whenever or have a fresh uniform everyday. My predecessors were lucky to get a shower once a month. ? Here, we face a technologically inferior enemy who is content with irritating attacks here and there. My predecessors had to fight a professional army with equal capabilities and manpower. Here, if we are injured, we can be Medevac’d out. My predecessors had to rely on the ingenuity of their buddies and a field medic to keep them alive. Now, this doesn’t the fact that we are both fighting a war against a determined enemy and their will be casualties, it is just a different type of battlefield now.
Why the sudden nostalgia? We keep seeing commercials for a “Battle of the Bulge” website and I have been reading an NCO manual about some of the conditions soldiers faced in previous wars. One of the things the manual says is to take time to stop your day, sit back and reflect. So that’s what I am doing. Stopping my day.
To Uncle Bob, the altitude doesn’t have much effect up here. We are located in the Khowst Bowl, so we are surrounded by mountains on all sides, which keeps some of the crappier weather out, although it is raining today. This is a complete 180 from Bagram Air Field, where we initially flew into. When we got in there, it was about 5 degrees with a foot of snow and fog. Try pulling guard duty on bags outside with those elements. It sucked. I had to dig out my neck gaitor to keep my nose from freezing. Anticipating the same when we flew into Salerno (the same flight where I slept through the combat landing), I didn’t change my attire at all. Imagine my surprise when I stepped off the plane to see blue skies and temperatures in the high 40s. Of course, it is all-nice and dandy now but once late spring and summer roll around, I am gonna be one hot paratrooper (hopefully one tanned paratrooper too). It shouldn’t be too bad assuming that we get moved back into the billets, which are air-conditioned. This, however, is reliant on the fact that the two officers occupying my room get off their ass and find a new place to live….
Drive On, Airborne.
All the Way.
It is the fact that there are C-130s, Ch-47 Chinooks, and UH-60 Blackhawks constantly flying around and I can’t jump out of any of them. None. No chutes here or anything. When we were flying around the border, I spotted numerous areas that would be perfect dropzones. I’m a brand new paratrooper, young and dumb, three months out of Airborne school and now I can’t jump for 12-18 months. Hell, SFC Heib, my section sergeant and NCO teacher, his sidearm has more jumps than I do.
More thoughts and musings. The day to day routine of getting up and doing PT and personal hygiene and going to work and going to chow and going to bed and repeating, I often catch myself going “Am I at Bragg or Afghanistan?” Then you step outside and see the mountains and people carrying a fully loaded weapon every where you go and you go, “Oh, I am just in West Virginia.” Just kidding. But there are times where I just go, where am I? And then I snap back to reality when the Apaches roar overhead to the live arms range and I hear the 30mm cannon and 2.75mm rockets and I go, “Oh, yes, combat.” Somehow I am strangely comfortable here. It is a different sense of combat than my predecessors in the 82nd though. Here, I have worldwide communications at my fingertips. My predecessors just hoped that their fingertips weren’t too cold to write a letter home, more or less have paper. Here, I can just take a shower whenever or have a fresh uniform everyday. My predecessors were lucky to get a shower once a month. ? Here, we face a technologically inferior enemy who is content with irritating attacks here and there. My predecessors had to fight a professional army with equal capabilities and manpower. Here, if we are injured, we can be Medevac’d out. My predecessors had to rely on the ingenuity of their buddies and a field medic to keep them alive. Now, this doesn’t the fact that we are both fighting a war against a determined enemy and their will be casualties, it is just a different type of battlefield now.
Why the sudden nostalgia? We keep seeing commercials for a “Battle of the Bulge” website and I have been reading an NCO manual about some of the conditions soldiers faced in previous wars. One of the things the manual says is to take time to stop your day, sit back and reflect. So that’s what I am doing. Stopping my day.
To Uncle Bob, the altitude doesn’t have much effect up here. We are located in the Khowst Bowl, so we are surrounded by mountains on all sides, which keeps some of the crappier weather out, although it is raining today. This is a complete 180 from Bagram Air Field, where we initially flew into. When we got in there, it was about 5 degrees with a foot of snow and fog. Try pulling guard duty on bags outside with those elements. It sucked. I had to dig out my neck gaitor to keep my nose from freezing. Anticipating the same when we flew into Salerno (the same flight where I slept through the combat landing), I didn’t change my attire at all. Imagine my surprise when I stepped off the plane to see blue skies and temperatures in the high 40s. Of course, it is all-nice and dandy now but once late spring and summer roll around, I am gonna be one hot paratrooper (hopefully one tanned paratrooper too). It shouldn’t be too bad assuming that we get moved back into the billets, which are air-conditioned. This, however, is reliant on the fact that the two officers occupying my room get off their ass and find a new place to live….
Drive On, Airborne.
All the Way.
Another fine week in the Fightin' 508th
Okay, after one suicide bomber, two rocket attacks, one move out of the barracks and into a massive tent, and one trip outside the wire, I’m updating what is going on in my world. Since I last wrote, it has been a interesting few weeks. On 21 Jan, there was an attack on the main gate by a suicide bomber. It was the first attack of its kind in a while, so it came as a surprise the entire FOB. I heard the boom and poked my head out of my room. Someone else thought it was a controlled demolition, but sure enough the sirens went off and we chilled in our rooms until we were given the all clear. The rest of the week consisted of studying and getting to know my counterparts from 10th Mountain, and what they do. Oh yeah, we had a rocket attack one night but I slept right through it.
Adding to the excitement, I got to take a trip outside the wire with two of my NCO’s and another soldier. We took a Blackhawk around to view some of the border control points that are set up to stop the flow of fighters from Pakistan. On a not-so-secret note, Pakistan isn’t exactly helping us here. Virtually no border exists between the two countries and Pakistani military forces are supposedly helping some of fighters. So next time you do a tally count of our GWOT allies, maybe put Pakistan on a undecided roster. We finished up the trip by meeting up with some other soldiers at FOB Chapman, which is located right outside of Khowst. Since Salerno is the major base of the area, Chapman is somewhat of a secondary base through which the border control points report to. We had a chance to see their facilities, how they run things, and then met with some of the Afghani National Police commanders stationed on the base. It was a pretty good visit, as we were able to sit down and have tea with the regional Colonel of the ANP. The tea over here is delicious. Just the right amount of milk and sugar. And the pistachios, mmmm.
This week was slightly annoying in the sense that I was informed that I had to move out of my nice, comfy already-moved-into-rocket-proof billets. And I had to do it now. Now, why did I have to move out you ask? Apparently, being an officer in the U.S. Army entitles you to kick 6 enlisted soldiers, who had been there a week and half already, out of a building so you and another officer can have the comfy rocket proof billets. Where do the joes move? Why to the already crammed 25ftx65ft FEST tent (I have no idea what FEST stands for)! 6 joes for 2 O’s. The irony of it all? We are more than likely moving right back into our same rooms once the officers get room in the officer’s quarters. Oh yeah, I did notice that there were two officers from 10th Mountain and Chief Warrant Officer 5 living in our FEST tent, so apparently officers can hack it in a tent.
Oh yes, how can I forget the other rocket attack we had this week. We were just about finished with dinner, when we heard the boom and everyone moved out in an orderly manner to secure our protective equipment and move to a bunker. If I were still in my rocket proof room, I could have gone there and just popped in a movie. Really, I’m not bitter. The Apaches went up and we didn’t hear any more rockets for the rest of the night. More than likely there were just 4 or 5 tubes linked together and then tied to a timer set to fire at a specific time. Hajji has figured out that we can capture their point of origin pretty quickly when they fire, so they pull this maneuver. They still couldn’t hit water even if they were on an island.
Our counterparts from 10th Mountain received some depressing news last week. In all its glory and wisdom, the Department of the Army decided to extended the 3rd Brigade for another 4 months. There were soldiers who were already home or on their way from Afghanistan. And what happened to them? The planes were loaded up or turned around and they are right back here. Most of us in the 82nd have seen the writing on the wall. The people we are replacing have been extended and our replacements for next year have been extended. We are just waiting for the paperwork to make it official for ours. That, however, is just joe rumors.
One little letter to the Taliban. I would like my CONEX back. There are a lot of good personal hygiene items, boots (if anyone from Altima is reading this, I wear size 11.5W, and I purchased the boots that are really good for rucking, the ones with the tennis shoe like sole), Kool-Aid, fruit snacks, and other important stuff in my Tough box that I went all over Fayetteville, NC to purchase. If it and the other items in the CONEX are not returned, I am gonna go straight Rambo on you. I have a standard of living I need to maintain, dammit!! (Supposedly the reason why our unit’s CONEX is not here yet is because the Taliban hijacked it. Not cool, not cool).
So that’s how things are here. I got my camera now, so I will be able to take some pictures of what things are like. Right now have I just settled into my routine of trying to make it to the gym and going to work everyday. I’m my NCOIC’s right hand man, so if he needs anything done. I take care of it. I basically am being groomed to be an NCO. Mostly I just read field manuals and study weapons assets so I can do my job better. Oh, for the record, my address is :
SPC Kyle Dykstra
HHC 4th BCT (FECC)
FOB Salerno, 82nd ABN DIV
APO AE, 09314
“I’m the 82nd Airborne, and this is as far as the bastards are going!”
All the way.
Adding to the excitement, I got to take a trip outside the wire with two of my NCO’s and another soldier. We took a Blackhawk around to view some of the border control points that are set up to stop the flow of fighters from Pakistan. On a not-so-secret note, Pakistan isn’t exactly helping us here. Virtually no border exists between the two countries and Pakistani military forces are supposedly helping some of fighters. So next time you do a tally count of our GWOT allies, maybe put Pakistan on a undecided roster. We finished up the trip by meeting up with some other soldiers at FOB Chapman, which is located right outside of Khowst. Since Salerno is the major base of the area, Chapman is somewhat of a secondary base through which the border control points report to. We had a chance to see their facilities, how they run things, and then met with some of the Afghani National Police commanders stationed on the base. It was a pretty good visit, as we were able to sit down and have tea with the regional Colonel of the ANP. The tea over here is delicious. Just the right amount of milk and sugar. And the pistachios, mmmm.
This week was slightly annoying in the sense that I was informed that I had to move out of my nice, comfy already-moved-into-rocket-proof billets. And I had to do it now. Now, why did I have to move out you ask? Apparently, being an officer in the U.S. Army entitles you to kick 6 enlisted soldiers, who had been there a week and half already, out of a building so you and another officer can have the comfy rocket proof billets. Where do the joes move? Why to the already crammed 25ftx65ft FEST tent (I have no idea what FEST stands for)! 6 joes for 2 O’s. The irony of it all? We are more than likely moving right back into our same rooms once the officers get room in the officer’s quarters. Oh yeah, I did notice that there were two officers from 10th Mountain and Chief Warrant Officer 5 living in our FEST tent, so apparently officers can hack it in a tent.
Oh yes, how can I forget the other rocket attack we had this week. We were just about finished with dinner, when we heard the boom and everyone moved out in an orderly manner to secure our protective equipment and move to a bunker. If I were still in my rocket proof room, I could have gone there and just popped in a movie. Really, I’m not bitter. The Apaches went up and we didn’t hear any more rockets for the rest of the night. More than likely there were just 4 or 5 tubes linked together and then tied to a timer set to fire at a specific time. Hajji has figured out that we can capture their point of origin pretty quickly when they fire, so they pull this maneuver. They still couldn’t hit water even if they were on an island.
Our counterparts from 10th Mountain received some depressing news last week. In all its glory and wisdom, the Department of the Army decided to extended the 3rd Brigade for another 4 months. There were soldiers who were already home or on their way from Afghanistan. And what happened to them? The planes were loaded up or turned around and they are right back here. Most of us in the 82nd have seen the writing on the wall. The people we are replacing have been extended and our replacements for next year have been extended. We are just waiting for the paperwork to make it official for ours. That, however, is just joe rumors.
One little letter to the Taliban. I would like my CONEX back. There are a lot of good personal hygiene items, boots (if anyone from Altima is reading this, I wear size 11.5W, and I purchased the boots that are really good for rucking, the ones with the tennis shoe like sole), Kool-Aid, fruit snacks, and other important stuff in my Tough box that I went all over Fayetteville, NC to purchase. If it and the other items in the CONEX are not returned, I am gonna go straight Rambo on you. I have a standard of living I need to maintain, dammit!! (Supposedly the reason why our unit’s CONEX is not here yet is because the Taliban hijacked it. Not cool, not cool).
So that’s how things are here. I got my camera now, so I will be able to take some pictures of what things are like. Right now have I just settled into my routine of trying to make it to the gym and going to work everyday. I’m my NCOIC’s right hand man, so if he needs anything done. I take care of it. I basically am being groomed to be an NCO. Mostly I just read field manuals and study weapons assets so I can do my job better. Oh, for the record, my address is :
SPC Kyle Dykstra
HHC 4th BCT (FECC)
FOB Salerno, 82nd ABN DIV
APO AE, 09314
“I’m the 82nd Airborne, and this is as far as the bastards are going!”
All the way.
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