My Post on a Novelist's Blog

I got an e-mail saying I should post what I wrote for the Mrs. Lieutenant blog here. So I will:

When I first enlisted in the Air Force in January of 1972, General David Petraeus was a sophomore at West Point. When he threw his hat in the air at graduation in 1974, I was a sergeant recovering from being blinded by shrapnel in a missile testing accident at Hill Air Force Base, Utah.


I got out of the Air Force that year, joined the Army the following year and served as a tank commander in Germany from 1976 to 1979. Our alert area was the Fulda Gap, right where the prophet of all things NATO, Tom Clancy, said World War Three would begin.

World War Three didn't happen on my watch, so I got out and went to college, and served in a reserve tank unit in Reading, Pennsylvania, until 1984. I got out for good then (I thought.) and got a job writing ad copy.

Last August, I re-enlisted after 23 years as a civilian. Writing this post I am 55 years old and have 196 days and a wake-up until my unit deploys to Iraq.

In the past year, a lot of people asked me why I joined. But the more fun question to answer is what is different about serving then and now. I can feel myself smile every time I answer that question.

What's different? I grew up in Boston. The difference is like being a Red Sox fan in the 1970s and being a Red Sox fan now. In fact joining now was the difference between playing for the 1972 Patriots (3-11) and the 2007 team (16-0).

In the mid-1970s, the sergeants who really had their shit together were in their late 20s. They were young, tough, motivated and were not combat veterans. The worst senior NCOs (not all, but a way more than there should have been) had combat patches on their right sleeves and had picked up a serious dope smoking or drinking habit in Vietnam.

I am currently in an Army National Guard aviation brigade. In the 1970s the National Guard was notorious for being badly trained. Today's National Guard is part of the total fighting force. On soldier skills, attitude, and combat readiness, my current Guard unit is better than the tank unit I served in on the East-West German border. The men and women with the combat patches on their sleeves in this army are leaders.

The difference certainly continues outside the gate. In the 70s no one wore their uniform home on leave--at least not those of us who were going home on leave to the Northeastern US. I was proud of my uniform, but the few times I wore that uniform outside the gate, I felt hostility, like I was a foreign soldier in someone else's country.

But today if I stop at Starbucks on the way home from a drill, someone might offer to buy my coffee or the clerk might just give it to me. People walk up to me in restaurants and thank me for my service. I really wish some of the other guys I served with in the 1970s could join up for just a month or two now and get the gratitude they missed out on back when long hair was in style and we were not.

Of course some things are exactly the same:


-- O-Dark-30 is wake up time for everything – even if all we do is stand around.


-- My weapon in 1972, the M-16 rifle. My weapon today, M16A4.


-- All through the 1970s if we went to the field for training, it was crammed in the back of a "Deuce-and a-half" 2 1/2 ton truck. My "ride" at pre-deployment training this year--the M35A2 Deuce-and-a-half truck.


-- The Army has all records on computer. So when I went to Aberdeen, Maryland, for two weeks of training, the e-mail said "Bring 10 copies of your orders." I couldn't believe it. I brought five. When I got there, I needed more. But all of the processing was in one room. Didn't matter. Every processing station needed a copy of my orders so they could collect all my records in one folder at the end of the day.

But even if I have to make 20 copies of my orders and hand them to a guy who has a PDF of my orders on a computer right in front of him, I am happy to be
back.

From My Day Job

If you looked at some of the links on the right side of the page, you'll see that I write about the history of chemistry, often about weird things in the history of the Central Science. Most recently I wrote the cover article for The Annals of Improbable Research.
I just left a meeting about a new museum of chemistry that will be opening in our building. During the three weeks of training we had in May, I would get on line in the evenings and keep in touch with work. With just over six months till we leave, I am starting to try to picture life without a suit-and-tie day job. You might be thinking "It's about time he woke up" but even with the weekends and two-or-three week training periods, I have not yet been more than 60 miles from home for Army training. It's 70 miles to where I work in Philadelphia.

Iraqi Translator at 30th Street Station

Today I got to the Philadelphia's 30th Street train station 40 minutes before my train home, so I sat on a bench and did some work. A young woman sat next to me for about ten minutes then got up. While she was putting her papers away she set a book down next to me on the bench. It was a book about the Iraq war. I looked at the cover. She started to walk away, turned back and said, "Have you been to the war." (She saw my ACU backpack. That and my haircut said soldier even in shorts and a t-shirt.) I told her I had not, but was going in February.

She said, "Iraq has many good people. My people are good people." She said she hoped I would respect her country when I was there, then she walked off. I got up a few minutes later to go to my train. I walked to the front car and there she was. I smiled and waved and walked to the far end of the car. I was thinking I would like to ask her more questions, but decided not to. I took out my computer and started to work, then she walked to my end of the car and said, "If you have questions about Iraq I will try to answer them." So we sat together for the next 20 minutes and she told me about her work in Iraq as a translator and how sad she is about the war. She also said that she and her family think of Saddam Hussein as having died bravely surrounded by men who were taunting him. Alyaa is working at the Science Center in Philadelphia as a translator for Arabic materials. She is also going to school and hopes to return home someday. She believes that the Surge has only moved the violence away from the big cities into the countryside and that when the Americans leave, "The Shi'a and Sunnis and Kurds will kill each other until they have had enough." She thinks the current government is a puppet of Iran and we will find that out when we leave.

When we talked about America she said, "Living here is hard. At home my family would take care of me until I was married. Here I need to pay for my education, pay for medical insurance, pay for everything." She also doesn't like, women marrying women and men kissing men on the street. (She made the gag motion at this point.)

But she is happy to be here for now and hopes she can live in a peaceful Iraq soemday in the future. She got off the train in Exton, so I had 40 minutes to Lancaster to write this post.

190 days and a wake up.

More PT and My Sister's Wedding

This weekend I switched my training from avoiding the heat 90+ heat to running and riding in the worst of it. The reason gos back to my sister's wedding in 1982. She got married on a Saturday in October near Boston. I had a drill weekend with the reserve tank unit I was in: 6th Battalion, 68th Armor, Reading PA. I got Satuday off, but I had to be at the firing range at Fort Indiantown Gap PA at 0700 on Sunday. I left my sister's wedding at 9pm, so I had to drive all night to get to the range. I made it a half-hour early, changed into my uniform, and went to the firing line. That Sunday we were firing the 45-caliber pistol and the M3 "Grease Gun" submachine gun, the personal weapons of armor crewmen. The M3 was a piece of cake. but the 45 is a moving range with weapons that were more than 40 years old with loose parts.

I just barely qualified marksman. The previous year I had fired expert. The company commander said, "Don't worry Sergeant Gussman. You drove all night. We know you can shoot." I said, "Sir. If I ever have to use that pistol, my tank will be out of commission and I will probably be a lot more tired than today. This is how I shoot."

So yesterday, I rode 55 miles between 0830 and 1230, then I ate lunch with my kids, did some chores, then ran 2 1/2 miles at 230pm. I ran on a track out in the sun when the air temp was 95. My time on the fast two miles was 15:51. At my age I need 19:30 to pass the PT test and 14:42 to max the run. I can do the 14:42 at 70 degrees, so I wanted to see what I could do under rotten conditions.

Today I was just going to watch my teammates race on a new course in New Holland PA. I watched the 50+ race and cheered for my teammates. But the course was so cool I drove home, changed, and came back to race with the 20 and 30 year olds (the Cat 3/4 race for those who know bike racing). I lasted just ten of the 27 laps. It was 95 degrees at 1 pm when the race started. After I dropped out, I took my son home and rode a dozen cool down miles then went to the gym. On Friday morning I did 56 push ups and 66 sit ups in two minutes each, what I need to max the PT test. Today, I took ten seconds too long on the sit ups and only did 35 push ups.

Next time I take the PT Test, I will, of course, try to be fully rested. I would love to max the test. But on my own, I am going to keep trying to see how fast and far I can go when I am tired and the weather is worst.

I am assuming next year the weather won't be perfect.

That's Sergeant Tool Bitch to You, Soldier

Fromm the FRS posts you know I am in charge of the tool crib for my maintenance unit. You need a 5-inch, 3/4-drive socket, you see me. Which makes me the unit Tool Bitch. I thought of getting a t-shirt with Tool Bitch on the front, but I have a friend, Ned, who designs books and also designs t-shirts on the side. Two of my co-workers, Sarah and Shelley, suggested that rather than just a t-shirt that says Tool Bitch I should have a t-shirt that says, "That's Sergeant Tool Bitch to You, Soldier." They also decided they should have t-shirts with the acronym FOSTB (Friends of Sergeant Tool Bitch).
The result, in a variety of sizes and colors, is here.

The PT Test

For those of you not following Staff Sergeant Big Tobacco as he gets his platoon ready for deployment, follow the link to his most recent post on Job Security then scroll down to the one on the PT Test. His posts are painfully clear about Army life. They also answer a question I got three times yesterday from people I have known for a long time professionally.
In different ways they asked, "How do you get along with the other guys in your unit?" It's not like we are going to hang out together. But in the Army everyone knows who flunked the most recent PT Test, so everyone also knows who passed. And everyone knows their own last and best PT Test score as well as they know their own social security number.
So I get along by a schedule of running, bicycling, walking fast, and working out in the gym an average of two hours per day. And even then, the soldiers that are really in shape in their 20s are MUCH stronger and faster than I am.

Guest on a Novelist's Blog

Today I wrote a "Guest Post" for a blog by Phyllis Zimbler Miller, the author of "Mrs. Lieutenent: A Sharon Gold Novel." She asked me to write about the difference between serving now and in the 70s. Check it out here.

She posted a new picture of me that was taken yesterday for an article I wrote on why I love plastics. The article is about MREs and bicycle helmets. I'll post the article when it's published.

196 days and a wake up.

Respirators and the Recovery Team

199 Days and a Wake-Up.

On Saturday we worked in the motor pool till 7 pm so by the time I went to the gym and rode my bike, I didn't get home until ten--and first formation this morning was 0700. Worse still the day began with five safety briefings--I was planning on standing through the whole thing to avoid my head crashi8ng into the desk in the briefing room. But the sergeant giving the first four lectures asked me to click the PowerPoint slides for him, so I was awake through the whole thing.

The final briefing was the longest. It was on wearing respirators in the shop. We don't get a lot of chemistry briefings, so I had no trouble staying awake for this one. The main point was that our new sergeant's major is getting all the mechanics effective disposable masks for use with paint and hazardous chemicals. While it is clear that we all need them, he made clear that the masks are particularly important for the smokers. If your lungs and respiratory system are already irritated, sniffing benzene and methyl ethyl ketone is just that much worse.

I thought this would be the weekend I would start training for the recovery team. Looks like that training will be during the August weekend.

Generator Maintenance

200 Days and a Wake Up until we deploy.

Today is the first of two days of our July drill. After formation we all went to the motor pool. This month, I drove like everyone else. I could have walked, but I wanted to go to the laundry at the east end of the Post and get a camo backpack and an Army t-shirt for my nephew Argus. He has an Isreali Defense Force t-shirt he got from his step-mom, so I thought a US Army t-shirt would give him some more variety in his wardrobe. I'll walk tomorrow.

Actually the walking is a strange thing. Because of the security gate getting to the airfield, it is a 8-kilometer drive from headquarters to the motor pool but only a 2-kilometer walk. I drove on my first weekend, but after that, I walked to the motor pool. Generally I arrive at the motor pool before the guys who stop at the PX and after the those who drive straight there. When I ride my bicycle I beat everybody. Everybody either thinks they need their car or wants their car at the motor pool, so no one walks with me. I walk or ride. Everybody else drives.

After formation, my squad leader said he had to do paperwork all day so I am in charge of generator maintenance. We have three generators that need to be check out and run under load to make sure they are OK. And I got two men to do the work with me. Three of us, three generators--no sweat. Except that I am also the Tool Bitch for the whole maintenance company so I was signing our torque wrenches and 3-inch sockets and air guns and welding equipment for everyone else in the company. And my big, fancy 70-hp diesel generator needed http://www.blogger.com/img/gl.link.giffuel. So I had to find a fuel truck driver willing to drive his fuel rig up to the ground-mounted tool/crane rig I call home. (FRS, see previous post).

And then one of the mechanics was gone for four hours for a change of Sergeant's Major ceremony. And the other guy had to help with trailer maintenance. So by mid-afternoon, I pulled all three of the 3kw and 5kw generators out of the maintenance building with a forklift, started them and tested them. Two work. One works but needs a new battery. The important thing for me is that things get done when there is no one aroudn to do them. I wanted to get a license for the all-terrain forklift, but everyone is busy and there is always someone around who has a license and is happy to drive it. Today, I drove the forklift and learned all its controls because I had to and could let the motor officer know after the fact that I can operate the vehicle no problem. So now I can get licensed without all the usual inertia.

On the Radio

In May I got a call from a radio show producer in Orlando, Florida, asking me to be a guest on their radio show: Growing Bolder. Two very enthusiastic guys named Marc and Bill interviewed me for 15 minutes on Monday, June 30. The show first aired on July 4 in Orlando and Miami. If you go to the site you'll see the other guests are a clinical psychologist, an NBC medical reporter and a comedian. So they got stuck in the same hour with a guy who was on for crashing his bicycle. If you want to listen to the interview, it's here.

Rumor Update

I called our Operations Sergeant this morning just to be get the best possible information. He says We report January 28 and pack up for three days then February 1 we go to our US training facility. After that we go to Iraq. I checked because a rather more nervous sergeant working with the next unit to go said I should be ready to leave November 1. The Ops Sgt says we are here for the holidays.

That means 204 days and a wake up till we go.

More Books for Deployment

Big Tobacco (see the blog roll down to the right) sent me a list for books for deployment and said I may need a book every two days instead of every two weeks. BT and a couple of other e-mails said I should post a wish list on Amazon.com and let people send them to me. That sounds like a great idea. So over the next few months, I will fill up my wish list and post an APO address as soon as I have it. I've gotten 50 great suggestions already. In the meantime, I'll keep reading.

By the way, this is post # 150. I am officially addictied to blogging.

4th of July Fireworks

I am on vacation with my wife's family in Ithaca, New York. The official fireworks were two nights ago--it saved the town money because the police and fire crews did not get holiday pay as they would when the fireworks are on the fourth. But up and down Lake Cayuga, as far as we can see from my sister-in-law's house on the western lake shore, there are flares and fireworks and rockets.

And there are bugs. So while the fireworks popped outside the window, I went indsdie and finished A Walker in the City by Alfred Kazin. It's a memoir of a Jewish boy growing up in a New York tenement in the 1920s and walking out of his Brownsville neighborhood into the wider world of New York City--and through the library to all of the world beyond. I love New York and its bridges (Although I love Paris and its bridges more, New York a close second and I could not pick third.)

This chronicle of life and hardship in the city also reminded me of the promise of growing up in America. This poor Jewish boy became a leading literary critic in America before he was 30. His parents worked with their hands, but he was free tofind his own way. My grandparents separately escaped the pogroms of the Cossacks in the 1890s and together made a life in America. My Dad, the fourth of their six sons, only got through the eighth grade in school, but became an Army officer in World War 2 and was a warehouse foreman after the war. The other Jews who escaped Russian persecution and ran only as far as Europe were among the victims of the Holocaust 40 years later.

It should be no surprise now that people from all over the world are still trying to get to America. I will always be grateful my grandparents didn't stay in Europe and made the journey all the way here.

26 Books for Deployment

Since I will be gone 52 weeks and there will be times I have loads of time to sit around with nothing to do, I decided to take 26 books with me--one every other week. If you have any suggestions, let me know.
Here's a few I will be taking.

200 Days and a Wake Up...Or Less

Up till now I have been planning with the assumption that we will go to our US training base in mid February. But now the latest date has been moved up to February 1. In addition we will be packing and confined to the base for the last several days of January. Then today I called my squad leader, a full-time National Guard worker. He said I should be packed and ready to go anytime from the beginning of our next training cycle in November. He is pretty sure we will be home for the holidays, but won't bet after that.

Until now the deployment has been so far off it seemed like halfway to forever. But now that we are close to 200 days to go (or maybe less) it seems much more real. I don't know why 200 seems so different than 300, but it does.

Motorcycles on Palomar Mountain

In the "blow out" post I mentioned I got a ride from a photographer. He was on the mountain taking pictures of sport bike riders dragging their knees--or trying to--through the 21 switchbacks up and down Palomar Mountain. In fact each of the half-dozen times I have cranked my bicycle up Palomar, my entertainment has been listening to the Ninjas, FZRs, Ducati twins and other crotch rockets roar up and down the mountain. And since I am climbing at 5 mph I can hear them coming five turns behind me and hear them going away five more turns up. The best is when I am in a left bend--the wider radius going up--and a really good ride goes through the turn. I hear them coming out of the last turn 2nd gear, third screaming to redline then down to 40 mph, smooth through the turn and for about 50 feet through the middle of the turn I hear the plastic puck on the riders left knee dragging along the ground. At the exit, the rider nails the throttle and rips to 80 mph in four seconds before braking into the next turn.

Of course, not all the sport bike riders rip through the turns--some brake hard and wobble, some think they are going a lot faster than they are, and others ride Harleys. Whatever the virtues of these La-Z-Boys on wheels, they look pathetic on Palomar. After watching the virtuosos rip through the hairpins at 40 and the not-so-skilled ride through the turn at 35, it is sad hear the 800-pound Harleys rumble up the mountain and idle through the turns at 20 mph. Any faster and they are scraping footboards, pegs, kickstands, etc. They look like Amish mules at the Kentucky Derby.

The Unbearable Lightness of Bacon

That's the title of a recent post by a blogger who identifies himself only as Big Tobacco. He is an infantry platoon sergeant in the new Jersey Army national Guard and is currently training for deployment to Iraq. Today's post was about continuing the mission with pepper spray in your eyes. He did on about the last night before deployment with everyone sleeping on a drill hall floor with wives and families making last goodbyes. Great stuff!!

California Friendliness

When the tire blew out I was riding in a straight line and down from 45 mph to about 20 mph. I got the bike stopped and pulled off the road to see if I could fix the tire. The sidewall had blown out. Within a couple of minutes another rider who was doing repeats up the Palomar Mountain stopped to see if he could help. We tried but 3 inches of the bead was separated from the tire. It blew out as soon as we aired it up. So this very nice guy, Michael Callahan, said he had one more hill repeat to do but if I did not get a ride in about an hour, text him and he would pick me up and take me to my car. He also knew the owner of Holland Bikes, Tyler, and said he would call and let Tyler know what happened to me.

Five minutes after Michael rolled down the hill, Rick Clemson, owner of Rick Clemson Sport Photography, stopped and picked me up. The bike wouldn't fit so we stashed it in the woods and he drove me the 12 miles back to my car. http://www.blogger.com/img/gl.link.gif Rick was on the mountain shooting picture of motorcycles making knee-dragging turns through the hairpins on Palomar so he took an hour out of his work to pick me up.

When I got back to Holland Bicycles, Tyler fixed the wheel and I rode 20 miles along the beach road in Coronado then turned in the bike. Tyler asked me how many days I rode the bike without trouble. I said one and he charged me for one day's rental rather than one week.

Maybe living in Paradise makes people nicer, but I don't think I would have had the same experience east of the Rockies.

Bike Rental Blow Out

One of the best things about my trip to San Diego was the chance to ride Palomar Mountain. The day after I arrived, rented a bike at Hollands Bicycles of Coronado. The plan was to ride an hour to two each evening, then after the show closed ride up the mountain on Saturday. The first day worked great. On Tuesday evening I rode 22 miles along the shore north to La Jolla and back. The next night rode inland. I got about 10 miles out and broke a front-wheel spoke. As soon as a spoke breaks, the wheel starts rubbing. In this case the wheel was rubbing the fork and the brakes. I got a good workout riding home. The next day I was in LA so I could not get the bike fixed or ride. Friday afternoon I took the bike to the shop. They replaced the spoke and I decided to ride up Palomar a day early. Four miles up the 12-mile climb a rear spoke broke. I rolled back down the hill and drove all the way back to San Diego to get the wheel fixed. Tyler, the owner put a different wheel with a new tire so I would have no hassles for the Saturday climb. The climb went great. I was 20 minutes slower (2 hours and five minutes) than when I climbed the mountain three years ago, but I was riding a lot more then.
At the top I ate at Mother's Kitchen--a vegetarian restaurant at the top of the mountain where both bicyclists and motorcyclists hang out. The glass-smooth road up Palomar with 21 switchbacks and some very fast esses draws motorcyclists from all over Southern California. In fact, my entertainment while slogging up that 8% grade at 5mph (it ascends 4600 feet from the valley floor) is listening to the motorcycles rip up the straights and knife through the turns--the best ones anyway.
After lunch at Mother's, I started down the hill through some fast esses on the way to 12 miles between 25 and 45 mph without turning a pedal stroke.
Then five miles down on a short straight going into a switchback, I heard an odd noise from the rear wheel. I slowed to take a look and BANG--the rear tire blew out.
More in the next post

San Diego or Beijing

While my camo pack helped me through the security line, once inside I was subject to all problems of air travel since the business downturn of 2000. I know, 9/11 had an effect, but air travel was really different when the airlines made lots of money. In 1999 I flew to a conference in Beijing. Back then Northwest Airlines flew direct to Beijing from Detroit. I left my house in Lancaster at 0830, 90 minutes before the flight from Harrisburg to Detroit. In 40 minutes I parked and was dragging my bicycle box (I always bring my bicycle on overseas trips, they don't charge for it.) and other luggage to check in. In 15 minutes I was boarding the 90-minute flight to Detroit. We had a 75-minuite layover, then off to Beijing. I took off at 1230 and landed 13 hours later in Beijing. Since Beijing is 12 hours ahead it was 1330 local time--the next day. It took an hour to get my bags and get my bike through Chinese customs, but by 1530 (3:30 am in PA) I was in my room assembling my bike. Total trip time from my home to Beijing with a bicycle--19 hours.

My flight out of Philadelphia to San Diego was delayed an hour. Then we sat on the runway for almost an hour. The connecting flight was also delayed. I did stop at work on the way to the airport so the comparison is not entirely valid, but I left my house at 0930 and was in my room in at 3am Eastern time in San Diego.
Total trip time WITHOUT the bike (it is cheaper to rent in America)--17 1/2 hours.

By the way, the trip distance to Beijing is about 10,000 miles--to San Diego is 3,000.

Escorted Around the Security Line

I had a good reason to fly to San Diego from Philadelphia on Monday afternoon, but I could not remember that reason when I walked halfway back to the parking garage to get in the Security Line for Terminal A. I had plenty of time--my flight was delayed one hour at that point and I arrived 90 minutes before the flight--but I did not want to spend an hour waiting to put my shoes in a gray plastic tub.

Ten minutes later I was in through security. One of the TSA guys walked along the line saw my ACU camo backpack and haircut and asked if I was military. I showed him the ID with the computer chip and he walked me to the air crew security line. I don't know if I will be flying anywhere else before I get deployed (that fight I won't have to take off my boots before boarding, but if I do my carry-on luggage will be camo.

Father's Day

My kids drove to Fort Indiantown Gap today to have lunch with Dad in an Army mess hall. Although my daughters were happy enough to eat Army food, my 8-year-old was was pumping his fist in the air at the possibility of eating lunch with 200 guys in camouflage. But he was not just looking for the chow-hall atmosphere, he wanted gravy. His mother is a former vegetarian and his youngest sister is a vegetarian and they do most of the cooking. So it is not often dinner includes gravy. And the menu today did not disappoint. We had beef stew over buttered noodles, vegetables, fruit, cole slaw and cake.

Before lunch, the kids met me at the motor pool so Nigel got to see the PLS and FRS (see Saturday post). Then we went to the mess hall. After lunch Nigel got to hold a SAW, an M-16A4 and a 9mm pistol. Guns and gravy--what could be better in the eyes of an 8-year-old?

My Vehicle M1075

Last year I wrote about being in charge of the FRS (Forward Repair System) for our unit. You might remember I am in charge of it because I am the only person in the motor pool, male or female, who does not work on his own car, truck, or motorcycle. This month we got a brand new M1075 PLS (Palletized Load System) 10 by 10, 500hp, five-axle, all-terrain semi-trailer to carry th FRS.

So now I will have to recall enough motor maintenance from my tank commander past to be in charge of the truck that hauls the FRS around.

Happy Father's Day

On the Road Again. . .

. . .In several ways. Tomorrow and Sunday is June drill. Since I will be spending Father's Day in green, my kids are coming to Ft. Indiantown Gap to eat lunch with me. My teenage daughters are happy to make the drive, but my 8-year-old son is really looking forward to Army food. He was pumping his fist in the air at the prospect of eating Army food.
Also, I am going to a conference in San Diego from Monday the 16th to Monday the 23rd, then to Boston the 24th to the 26th--all business meetings.
But today I road to work, the longest ride since 2006 actually--70 miles from the west side of Lancaster to the east side of Philadelphia. There was almost no traffic--considering it was Philadelphia and its suburbs. I ride US Rt 30 almost the whole way if you are curious about the route.

Lunch with Ivan Amato

For soldiers MREs (Meal Ready to Eat) is just victuals in a vinyl bag, but for Ivan Amato, author of the book Stuff and managing editor of Chemical and Engineering News Jambalaya in an aluminum bag was just the beginning of a banquet of materials: vinyl, polyethylene. Ivan's first comment on ripping open his MRE is "What a waste" looking at all the packaging. But then he quickly became fascinated with all the "Stuff" inside the sand-colored bag. First was the FRH--flameless ration heater. The FRH has magnesium metal powder inside a plastic bag. Add water and the magnesium oxidizes fast, heating the water and the Jambalaya. I was eating Cajun rice and beans. We both had a metal pouch of cheese spread--Ivan thought it could be used as adhesive. I had crackers and he had wheat bread. We ate the cheese and carbs while we waited for the main course to heat up.

WHERE: It would be completely inauthentic to eat MREs indoors, so we ate at the mostly empty outside tables at Caribou coffee shop at 15th and M St. in Washington DC. The temp was mid-90s and the humidity about 50%. The smart people ate inside.

After cheese and crackers/wheat bread and the main course, neither of us ate desert, so Ivan's kids will be eating a chocolate energy bars, Skittles, and carrot cake for dessert tonight.

Anyway, it was interesting to see Ivan's view of all the materials that go into a meal that can withstand rough handling and bad weather and still, according to Ivan, taste good.

Attention Span

As you can imagine, after three weeks of living in the same room, everyone has a pretty good assessment of other soldier's character. My favorite was this overheard moment. One of the sergeants is talking about a private who has some difficulty paying attention.
"I look this fool right in the eye and talk to him. Not five seconds later a bird flies by and BAM! He's gone. I say, 'CONCENTRATE!' He comes back to this world, but five seconds later he's gone again."
The speaker is a tall, fit impeccable soldier talking about a short, dumpy young man with no small resemblance to a rodent. It would make a great 10-second video.

Robert F. Kennedy

Today is the 40th Anniversary of the assassination of Bobby Kennedy. I grew up in a Boston suburb in the congressional district next to the one that sent John F. Kennedy to congress so as you can imagine the Kennedys and the tragedies the Kennedy family suffered were a big part of my childhood. I was ten when JFK was shot; 15 when RFK was shot--40 years ago today.

Although Bobby Kennedy is widely known for being against the Viet Nam War, he also spoke out against draft deferments. In 1968 he told college students from white middle-class families they were letting poor kids serve and die in their place. Kennedy got booed for telling that bit of the truth, but he said it.

Many of the college students who got deferments and let someone else serve in their place have remained consistently anti-war. I disagree with them, but I respect their position. But I can't understand how a man who let another man serve in his place, maybe die in his place (The draft, for those who don't remember, only called up men.) can be known as patriots today. A man who is a Chicken Hawk should not be on the radio or TV cheering as new generations go off to war. Rush Limbaugh and Bill O'Reilly, for example, could have served and did not. The draft was a zero-sum game. When someone got a deferment, the next kid got called up. Limbaugh and O'Reilly avoided the draft so someone else served in their place. Bobby Kennedy spoke out against draft dodgers when he lived. On this 40th anniversary of RFK's death, it is important to remember that RFK was against the war, but also was against those who would use the "Wrong War" justification to let someone else serve in their place.

Army Public Relations

At one of the many briefings I had at the end of Annual Training, the most interesting one for me was from the public affairs sergeant for our brigade. During my last enlistment--in the 70s--the Army communicated only through commanders and official spokespersons. But after 9/11 the Army did some market research and found the American soldier had among the highest credibility among all professions, above doctors, scientists, athletes, etc. So the policy became "Let the Soldier speak." There are restrictions. We are supposed to talk only about what we know and we are not, for obvious reasons, supposed to talk about future tactical operations. But the best line from the presentation: "The Army is an outdoor sport. Take the reporters out in the field." It makes sense. The old Army constantly sent out "Grip and Grin" pictures with soldiers receiving awards--indoors. The new policy is much better. For those who did not see the article I was in on May 18 on the front page--scroll down to the May 18 post.

Birth Control Glasses

As part of pre-deployment medical processing, I got an eye exam. The contract eye doctor determined the prescription I would need. I old him I mostly needed reading glasses and that I had several pairs. he siad the Army paid him to make me glasses. So a few days ago I received two pairs of BCGs, Birth Control Glasses, the only style the Army issues. Above is one photo from the Web.

I now have one pair of clear, bifocal BCGs like my current glasses for reading and using the computer. I have one pair of BCG sunglasses with the same prescription--assuming I want to read or work on the computer in direct sunlight--because with this prescription I can't drive or see more than 10 meters. Finally, I also received a pair of inserts for my gas mask. Putting these inserts in my gas mask will allow me to read or work on a computer during a gas attack. What they won't do is allow me to shoot or drive or see clearly 10 meters in front of myself. But if I am gassed while reading a novel--I am set!!

Memorial Sunday

I spoke for five minutes during both services at my Church last Sunday--Wheatland Presbyterian in Lancaster. Most of the people in the Church found out I was going to Iraq by reading the Lancaster Sunday News article, so I thought it might be good for me to give some sort of update about what is going on in my life and with my family, the Army, etc. I also talked about why I joined and about getting deployed what I might be doing after we return. In Presbyterian Churches, we write things out. Here's what I said:

Serving Our Country, Serving Our Lord

For those who know me and know my family, they know without a doubt that the last year has been quite exciting—way too exciting for most people, to say the least. The excitement began on May 9 when I had a very bad bicycle racing accident. Just 54 weeks ago, Pastor Bruce was asking you to pray for me because I was in Lancaster General with a broken neck and many other injuries. The following Sunday and for a dozen Sundays thereafter, I worshipped Our Lord in a neck brace. Then on August 16th, out of the neck brace for a full two weeks, I re-enlisted in the Army National Guard after being a civilian for 23 years. In October my wife Annalisa and I decided to start the process of adopting a brother for our son Nigel—a process that is going on now. Then last month, I found out for sure that next February I will be deployed to Iraq with the 28th Aviation Brigade, Fort Indiantown Gap, PA.

Before I go further, I want you to know that everything that has happened to me in the last year has, according to Our Lord’s faithful promises, worked together for my good.

Some of you right now may be thinking I really must have whacked my head pretty hard in that accident. How can ten broken bones and orders for Iraq be blessings? I’ll admit, it’s not for everybody, but I have had the opportunity in the last year to see the limits of my faith, to test my courage, to test my resolve, and to live in daily dependence on others: on my family and my brothers and sisters here.

Most of us are divorced from the reality that the next life is just a moment away. I live vividly with that knowledge. We can all get used to the blessings we have and take them for granted. Beginning on May 2nd, my 55th birthday, I went through three weeks of Army training and for that three weeks slept in the same room with 40 other guys. Beyond all the other sounds you can imagine 40 guys making, all soldiers now have personal electronics of various kinds. War movies, heavy metal music, wrestling and horror movies played simultaneously until, thank the Lord, lights out. Of all men in this sanctuary this morning, I imagine I most appreciate the comforts of sleeping at home just now.

Because serving in the military means devotion to a greater cause and a willingness to give up freedom, it is easy to confuse patriotism with serving Our Lord. And, of course, on this Memorial weekend we honor those who made the ultimate sacrifice of patriotism, those who gave their lives for our country. But there is a great difference. We are told to pray for our leaders, not to worship them. As citizens, we serve our country in various ways, but we are not to idolize it. As in so many other areas of life, the truth is clearest to those who actually do things, and dimmest to those who simply look on.

The forty guys in my training group certainly qualify as patriots, but that is not the first purpose any of them is training to go to Iraq. They need a job, want money for education, want the adventure of going to a combat zone, or just want to try something different. They all know the sacrifice they could be making, but that is almost never a topic of conversation.

I am looking at the time I am spending in the Army as time that will help to make me a better and more willing servant of the Lord. Each one of us, whether in the barracks I just left, or in this sanctuary, is to a very large extent the sum of our habits. Last year when I was in the hospital as soon as I recovered my wits between bouts of pain, I wanted my cell phone and I wanted a latte. The worst pain was in my right arm so the addiction to email actually had three weeks off. In Iraq we will have limited phone and email privileges—no round the clock access. And I think it is safe to say I will not be drinking lattes, racing bicycles, and traveling on an expense account to the world’s greatest cities.

By the time I retire from working full time, I want to be ready and willing to serve the Lord. I want to be able to help in disasters, live in bad climates and not be looking back at the world I frankly love too much. The real service will be then when I am able to live in this world without being of this world. And the Army will help to take the glitter off the world while giving me, among other things, the kind of fellowship most modern men are dying inside without.

CS Lewis says—you didn’t think I was going to go five minutes without quoting CS Lewis did you? Lewis says we are fools to think our lives are our own, even to think our time is our own. I have spent a long time becoming that sort of fool, but with Our Lord’s help I am on the fast track back to seeing my time as not my own.

I'm Back. . .

. . .In two senses of the word. I am back to posting after a week of catching up on work and workouts. May was my low month so far this year for workouts--especially riding. And I am back in the case of being really far back in the pack at today's bike race. It turns out (no surprise) that military training does not help with training for races. I hung in for three of the ten 2.7-mile laps. I rode five more laps then pulled off the road to watch the finish. One of my teammates took the win by about a second--so it was a good result even if I had no real part in it.

On the start line one of the officials called out my name then told the whole pack at the start (40 racers) that I had enlisted and was going to Iraq. It was quite a surprise. Usually only former national champions get introduced.

Done at 11

This morning we took everything out of the barracks at 545 am and cleaned until about 8 am. Then we went to the armory for formations at 845 and 9 am then one final formation at 1045 am. After that we all left. I got home in time to do the 1pm Friday training ride. It was clear early that I had not been training for bicycle racing for the last three weeks. I hung on until the coasting race then won by an inch or so--at least Scott Haverstick said I won and he was right behind me. It is great to be racing down Turkey Hill again just a year after the crash. Mike the Cop had us going 28mph to Columbia. I dropped off before the climb where we turn toward home and called my youngest daughter to come and get me. I was toast, but it felt good to go fast again.
I'll be racing again next Saturday at the Millport Road Race.

Battlemind

Today the best of the many PowerPoint presentations was on Battlemind. How to keep your head on straight in a combat zone. The course was taught by our battalion flight surgeon. He has a black belt, works out five times each week and says fitness is the secret to keeping a cool head in combat. He also said how important nutrition is to good health. Just before his presentation started we got today's box lunch. Instead of MREs, the box lunch is a cellophane wrapped box. We were eating these box lunches while the filght surgeon spoke. There were various ones but mine was typical: 2 Uncrustables peant butter and jelly sandwiches, a small can of Pringles sour cream and onion potato chips, a candy bar, a bottle of water. Oh well. Most everyone seemed to be paying attention while they ate their PBJs.

Army PowerPoint

For the last two full days of training, three hundred men filled the drill hall at the armory that serves as your headquarters and listened to a series of lectures on Rules of Engagement (when we can shoot), Army values, Sexual Harassment, surviving in hot climates and many more. The first lecture was on the culture and history of Iraq. Most everyone was working very hard to stay awake.

Combat Lifesaver Hands-On Training

Today we gave each other IVs. I lucked out. A young guy who calls me Grandpa G and has had this training three times before decided to be my partner. For the training one of us just had to get the IV and http://www.blogger.com/img/gl.link.gif and the other got the IV fluid. I went first and set up the line in my IV partner. Then he started and IV in my arm. I think I twisted the IV a couple of times judging by his face, but I got the IV in the vein on the first stick and had not trouble. My IV was done so well I barely felt it. Several other guys got stuck more than once. I think the most was four. The rest of the day was hands-on tests on tourniquets, splints, compress bandages, Heimlich manouver, and CPR.

At the end of the day, the whole company cleaned weapons until almost 9pm. Tomorrow we have a full day "Death by PowerPoint" class on Iraq.

M19 Grenade Launcher

In today's training we assembled, disassembled and worked on a the M19 belt-fed grenade launcher. This crew-served weapon fires at a rate of more than 300 40mm grenades per minute. We also operated the turret on a HUMVEE with an M19 mounted on it. We were finished with training by mid afternoon so I went to the motor pool to do some paperwork. After an hour of paperwork I had time to ride and go to the gym. Tomorrow we give each other IVs in the Combat Lifesaver hands-on training.

"Hollywood" -- Front Page of the Sunday News Again

This morning's Lancaster Sunday News had an article about me in Urban Assualt training that was half the front page and most of two inside pages. Here's the link. Today was the first of two days of automatic weapons training and the article got passed around the among the people waiting to be tested on field stripping M249 SAW and M2 .50 Caliber machine guns. I heard "Hollywood" a lot today.
The SAW is new to me. It was introduced in the 80s but not standard issue until the 90s. It is light for a full-auto machine gun and easy to maintain. The M2 50 Cal. is exactly the same gun I fired from M113 Armored Personnel Carriers in the 1970s and 80s. It was introduced in 1921 and last modified in 1968. It is a great weapon--reliable and powerful with a range of more than 500 meters.

Dinner with my Kids

I got as pass tonight after a short training day. I got home by 6pm, in time to take all four of my kids out to dinner and let my wife listen to Prairie Home Companion in peace. We ate at Isaac's, a local restaurant chain with very good sandwiches named after birds. Although the day was short, it was difficult. It was gas mask training. I was never very good at getting my helmet off and mask on and leak checked in 9 seconds. When the 100 soldiers in today's training started lining up to get tested, I went up front first, and failed. So I went off by myself to practice all the the steps--15 or 20 times. I finally got it and was the last one who passed--but I passed. I have to keep working on this one.

IED Training

Today we had training in the many kinds of IEDs (Improvised Explosive Devices) and how to react to them. I felt much better this morning. The forecast was rain and the forecast was, unfortunately correct. It rained all day. Steadily all morning, hard at noon and tapered off until it stopped just 15 minutes before we loaded into the trucks. All of us were wet and cold. I was less wet and cold than some of the guys because I got issued a full rain suit, some guys had just the jackets. The high temp never got over 55 so everyone was tired as well as dirty when we got back. The training area had churned into mud by the time we finished practicing identifying weapons hidden in the woods and searching vehicles for explosives. The line was so long for the shower, I decided to eat and get on line first, then shower later.

Sick Call

Last night after I signed off I felt strange, but thought I would be OK. At 2am I woke up with my digestive system about to go into reverse. After a half hour in the latrine, I got back to bed. I woke up and got dressed and went to the range for today's training, but I was a mess and thinking the symptoms were about to return. Our motor officer drove me to sick call. The doctor said I have a virus and sent me to the barracks. I slept from 0830 until about 1600. I went on bought some crackers then went back to bed. I tried eating dinner. I am not very hungry, but feeling better. Hopefully, I'll be OK tomorrow. I should certainly be well rested.

Land Navigation

Clearly I need more practice at finding my way in the woods. We went into a woods on a hillside singly and in pairs with a compass, a map, and four points to find in the a rock and fallen-tree strewn wood. We were looking for green target silhouettes. Luckily, my partner had better eyes than me for green objects in dark woods. He found our targets when I saw nothing. We walked about five miles over the rocks and trees and across streams for three hours. Later this summer I am supposed to be going to a two-week Warrior Leadership Course so I should get a lot more opportunity to practice map reading and land navigation in the woods. Tomorrow is squad tactics. We should be out in the woods until dark or later.

Map Reading

Today we were back in the classroom for a full day on map reading and land navigation. Tomorrow we crawl over logs and racks on the land navigation course. The class had a lot of practical exercises and a more difficult test than most Army classes. But the topic is very important. Getting lost in a war zone is very bad news.
The evaluator for today's course was an Iraq veteran with more than 20 years in the Army. In fact, at the end of the day he showed us his 20-year letter. He has a laminated copy he carries with him. The 20-year letter says he has 20 years active service and is eligible for paid retirement. He said he thought about retiring but he thinks that land navigation is so important that he stayed on active duty instructing and evaluating land navigation primarily for troops getting deployed. He was in Iraq twice and wants every soldier to know how to find his way home when all the electronics fail--he told several stories about soldiers who depended too much on the electronics and what happened to them. And about one of his own missions in which a new driver hit the wrong switch and destroyed ll the electronics in their vehicle. They got home using old fashioned land navigation.

Urban Combat

Today was Urban Combat training. We jumped through windows, moved along buildings, threw grappling hooks and built firing positions in a mockup village made mostly from Conex boxes, the 8 by 8 by 20 foot containers that cross the oceans on ships. It rained most of the day, not very hard, but steady. So when we crawled, it was in the mud.
Jon Rutter, the Lancaster Sunday News reporter who wrote a story about me joining the Army last September, came to today's training with a photographer and stayed most of the day. The article should be out soon, I would guess on Memorial Day weekend. Jon had never heard the Army motto "If it ain't rainin' it ain't trainin'" but he heard it many times today. Neither Jon nor the photographer had MREs (Meal Ready to Eat) before, and had a lot of fun eating the various things that come packed in Army field rations. Follow the link to see our lunch.
Today was another long, dirty day that was a lot of fun.

Eased Restriction for Mother's Day

I was home from 530 to 10pm this evening because the commander gave many soldiers passes for Mother's Day. So the restriction to post was eased to give soldiers a chance to see their mothers and wives. We did have to fill out a two-page request for a pass that included a virtual oath to drive carefully.
In the morning we had classes on communications and then one on health and sanitation. They picked the right guy to teach the class on health and sanitation. He is quiet and could get get through the entire presentation without making a single joke. The PowerPoint presentation that accompanied his talk included graphic reminders of how a soldier could get AIDS and other diseases, but our instructor left every joke unspoken.

Still Wearing a Borrowed Steel Helmet

Today we were supposed to get new field gear--two duffle bags full of it. But the Strykers went through the deployment processing facility the week before we did and the cupboard was bare. I got one duffle bag with a scarf and a ski mask and a canteen cup. I am still using a borrowed steel helmet--no kevlar helmet yet.http://www.blogger.com/img/gl.link.gif

Physical Today and the Square Needle in the Left Nut

I just got four vaccinations, which is the maximum, not 8 or 9 as yesterday's rumor had it. Speaking of rumors, I asked a couple of the older guys here but no one remembers the mythical vaccination of Air Force basic training I heard in 1972. The rumor at Lackland Air Force Base back then was that after the shots from the air gun on the tenth day of basic training we would get one more vaccination for venereal disease. The rumor was we would all get the vaccination through a square needle in our left testicle on the 19th day of training. Most everybody knew after a couple of days that the square needle was just a rumor, but there were a couple of guys who didn't sleep well the night before the 19th training day.

There is a Viet Nam memoir by a Navy veteran titled Scars of the Square Needle that has a direct reference to the "square needle in the left nut." So if that rumor never made it to the Army, it was alive and well in the Navy and the Air Force.

More paperwork

Today was paperwork all morning--wake up at 0430--and into the afternoon followed by two-hour break, then a class on promotions, dinner and medical paperwork until just after 9pm (2100).
Tomorrow is medical processing--fast tonight then 8 or 9 vaccinations tomorrow and lots of other tests.

Dramatic to Deadly Dull

After choke holds, claymore mines, and combatives today was the opposite. I spent the morning in a classroom with 250 other soldiers reviewing the combat lifesaver course and taking the written test. I know this is serious stuff, but the guy who put the title on this course does not think literally. When I hear combat lifesaver, I think I am going to get a pack of camouflage-colored round candy. Anyway, the class and exam lasted from 8 am to 1 pm. After that we had a one-hour break and then went to begin three days of pre-deployment. We begin at 0515 tomorrow morning, but today, the processing staff had to make sure we were ready to begin. We were picked up in buses at 1415 and driven to another area of the base four miles away. We then had two roll calls. Then we were done. But it was three pm and the schedule said we were supposed to eat dinner were we were and return at 1830. So we waited 2 hours to eat. I waited three because I fell asleep until 1800 (6pm). Then we waited until 630 pm and returned to our barracks. One day of excitement. One day less exciting than watching paint dry.

Combatives!!

Today we had three classes. The first was hand grenades. For that class, I was the left-handed demonstrator. The third was claymore mines. For that I was the instructor. The second, in the middle of the day was Army Combatives. In that course I was just another soldier in a choke hold in the mud. It was great.
The 2.5-hour course was instruction in six choke holds and several methods of breaking free or flipping your opponent while fighting hand to hand on the ground. We practiced the drills in pairs. We really flipped each other over and pushed the choke holds till the soldier in the choke hold tapped to say "That's enough." Once I waited to long and saw stars. After two hours of practicing on damp ground we were forty muddy soldiers. The instructors lined us up in a long row and paired us up for one-minute fights, four fights at a time, each with one of the class instructors keeping time and making sure no one got seriously hurt. We were not allowed to kick or punch, but the point of the drill is to get the other soldier into a choke hold or one of the arm, breaking holds we learned.
We started on the ground. I got paired up with a 21-year-old soldier who a little taller than I am. If we were scored on points he won, but I managed to break the choke holds before he could actually get me in one of the holds. At the end I had a cut lip and was really jazzed.
The fights I watched were fast and fierce. This was just phase one. Later this year or next year we will be doing more. I ran three miles slow after the final formation of today. I am expecting to be very sore tomorrow.

Recovering Remains

Today we had a short class on recovering remains from a crash site or other place where American soldiers were killed. We have a procedure for everything.

Through the middle of the day I had a three-hour on-line course on Survival, Escape and Evasion. It was interesting, but it also shows how much better the live classes are.

From late in the day through 9 pm (2100 hours) we practiced more for tomorrow's class.

Detainee Handling Training

Today we were out in a field between tree lines learning how to search prisoners and how to stop hostile civilians, armed and unarmed at our perimeter. We really got into this perimeter defense training. In groups of a half-dozen or so, the same guys I was joking with five minutes before lined up in combat gear and rifles and "hostiles" (other soldiers in civilian clothes acting) coming up to them with hidden weapons. The squad leader yelled Halt, the hostiles kept coming. The rifles had muzzle covers but when a half-dozen battle clad soldiers raise their rifles and start picking targets, the scene has real drama.
We also practiced searching prisoners both standing and on the ground. It was another long day out I the sun and after it was over five of us stayed out till dark practicing for a class on hand grenades, claymore mines and some battle drills. There is a lot to practice and we are spending a lot of time doing on the range practicing. In addition to teaching the claymore mine, I am the left-handed grenade throwing demonstrator--it's different than right handed. Lefties have to hold the grenade upside down to keep the safety lever pointed toward the throwers chest.

Combat Lifesaver Training

In this three-week cycle of pre-deployment training if you asked most soldiers what they were worried about more: Iraq or Combat Lifesaver Training (CLS), CLS wins by a landslide. Today we spent the morning in this very important course. In CLS we learn how to save lives of terribly injured soldiers through rapid treatment on site of the worst wounds. The course is taught for three days in total. The first day, today, was all classroom instruction--which the Army calls "Death by PowerPoint." Nobody was worried about this class, or the next one. It's the third class, near the end of the three weeks. In that class we will all start an IV in another soldier, and (drum roll please) another soldier will start an IV in each of US!! That's what most everyone is worried about. That we will all be pin cushions for someone learning to start an IV.
Worries aside, it is a really good course just for the information they have assembled. I think the hands-on part will be really good.

The Deuce and a Half

Every soldier who has been in the Army since the Korean War has ridden in the back of an M35 2-1/2 ton truck known as the "Deuce and a Half." This three-axle, all-terrain, multi-fuel vehicle seats 20 soldiers in the open air or under a canvas tarp and is the main mode of transportation for troops moving anywhere in training and in war. My first ride in a deuce and a half was in tank training in 1975 at Fort Knox. We were riding to a firing range, sitting sideways on wooden benches, bouncing along in the dark oblivion of green-clad men under a canvas cover. We sat still a lot an drove slowly. The conversation occured in bursts. No one said anything, then we would slow and someone would fart and for five minutes afterward came jokes about the whether something had died inside the guy who had just fouled the air, the state of his undergarments, and what sort of moral failing promotes this activity.
When I rode in Deuce and a Halfs in Colorado then Germany then Pennsylvania over the nine years after that first ride, new groups recycled the same jokes. This morning, in a Deuce and a Half full of guys not born when I had my first ride in one, made the same jokes I remembered from three decades before--almost verbatim!

55th Birthday, Part 2

Today at final formation, one of the senior sergeants whispered to our first sergeant that "yesterday was Gussman's 55th birthday." So he led Echo company in happy birthday. They don't usually sing happy birthday, but since most of the people in the formation are three decades younger than I am, they thought 55 was worth singing about. No cake though.

Claymore Mine Training

After our initial briefings, I was put in charge of training our company how to use an M18A1 Claymore Mine. The class is next Tuesday so the two of us who will be teaching the course will be able to practice each day. The Claymore is not what most people would think of as a mine. It as more like a one-shot shotgun--a very big shotgun. It is 4 by 8 by 2 inches, stands on small legs facing the enemy and blasts 700 shotgun pellets over a wide area. There are 8 pages of instructions in the Soldiers Manual on how to use it correctly. It should be an interesting class.

55th Birthday

I celebrated my 55th birthday today (May 2) with the briefings that begin three weeks of Annual Training. We are confined to base for the three weeks, but this first day was actually our May drill so there was leeway for people who forgot things--like me. I left my dogtags in my dresser and did not bring any bedding.

Deployment Date

It's now official. I'll be going to Iraq in 2009 sometime in the spring, although we will leave for pre-deployment training in the US in mid-winter. On Friday we begin a three weeks of pre-deployment training that will be our "Summer Camp." We will be doing some cool stuff, so I plan to write every day if possible.

Final Results

The spreadsheet reporting the results is a little screwed up at the back end of the pack, but I finished 34th in the Road Race, 30th in the Time Trial, 26th in the Criterium--which was last man riding in each event. But if the attrition kept up, I would be in the top ten if there four more events!!

Stage 3--Criterium

A Criterium is a race with a very short lap, usually less than a mile, often less than a half mile. It is my favorite kind of race because you make four 90-degree corners (or more) per lap and you can go fast. The road is closed. It's great fun. But accelerating out of those four corners every 1 minute 10 second lap means it is a lot of work to stay with the pack. It is easy to be lapped if you screw up in one corner, so my comeback goal of finishing on the lead lap was going to be hardest here.
And eight laps into the race I was sure I would not make it the 20-lap full distance. I wasn't sure I would make it to half way. Two or three times in the opening laps the pack surged and I barely caught back on going up one of the two short hills. But I made it. I remembered to do what I used to do when I was wanted to rest--I hang about ten meters of the back of the pack going into the turn then when they are braking, I coast into the pack and come out of the corner at pack speed with less effort. this works great until there is an attack between turns, then I am 10 meters back of a pack that just upped its cornering speed by 5 mph. that happened on lap 17--I rode the last three laps alone. but the pace car never caught me and I finished on the lead lap. Since at least one other guy dropped out, I was not last.

Stage 2--Mt. Pain Time Trail

This second stage is an individual time trail--a race against the clock. In Europe they call it the race of truth--and the truth is I have a long way to go to come back as a racer. The course is five miles rolling then three miles up. The riders go off every 30 seconds so the best people are catching the riders in front, and I was being caught. By the half-way point five riders caught up to me. On the way up the hill four more caught me. Then with less than one km. to go, a rider caught me, rode beside me, then dropped back. Then another rider with way to difficult a gear caught and passed me then dropped back. I stayed ahead of them to the finish. They both had better times than me because they started after me, but it was still fun to hold them off at the end.

Stage Race

Today was the first of three events in a two-day stage race around and in Ephrata PA:
Road Race today
Time Trail tomorrow morning
Downtown Race Sunday afternoon.
Today's race like last week, I was the last guy riding at the finish. Again, I stayed on the lead lap--mostly because the laps are 5 miles long. I was with the leaders until half-way round the 2nd lap, then riding with stragglers and people who had flats until the end. I was 34th which is enough to be able to start tomrrow morning's time trial.

Science Cheerleader

I have not added a blog roll to my blog yet. I should. High on the list will be Darlene Cavalier's Science Cheerleader site. She is a former Philadelphia 76ers cheerleader who studied the role of citizens in science and science policy in graduate school at the University of Pennsylvania and created her site to get involved. She organizes science events for Discover magazine and has a big family.

Summer Camp Starts on my Birthday!

Next Friday, May 2, I will be 55 and celebrating with a morning formation to begin a three-week summer camp. I don't have the schedule yet, but it is supposed to be three weeks of individual skills to get ready for deployment--things like throwing grenades, convoy training, and combat lifesaving. As with the two-week school I will try to post every day, mostly so I don't forget all the things that happen.

Comeback Athlete of the Year

Masters Athlete magazine put me in their nominations for Comeback Athlete of the Year. As you could see from my post two weeks ago, the nomination mostly depended on me getting back on the bike and into racing--my results didn't matter. I will be in a stage race this weekend: a road race, time trial and criterium--three events in two days. As with the last one, my big goal is to finish.

Gen. Petraeus and Poetry in my In Box

A couple of days ago I got two books in my In Box at work--a counterinsurgency manual by Gen. David Petraeus and a new book of poetry by guy who writes about the business of chemistry in his day job. I ordered only one--the poetry book. The counterinsurgency manual is a gift from a friend in Belgium (a mother of three and recently a grandmother) who is rather mystified by the whole Army thing and thought this book might be helpful for me. I haven't read the Petraeus book yet, but I read on the poetry book on my commute this morning--AMTRAK and SEPTA.
The other book, Aquinas Flinched by Rick Mullin, is bright, sharp, angular, and more than a little weird. Rick is also a painter and his the same description would work for his painting. To tell you the truth, it describes him pretty well also. I am guessing the manual won't be as much fun to read.

New Weapons

Formation this morning was in "full battle rattle," that is helmets, bullet-proof vest, load-bearing equipment, pack, etc. After formation we drew our new weapons and gas masks. We now have M16A4, an improved weapon with additional cooling which makes it heavier than the previous versions. We were also issued scopes. Body armor and equipment are fine on a 50-degree morning, the extra weight keeps you warm. I imagine it will be less comfortable in the summer.

New Review on Books and Culture

My review of the book Atoms and Alchemy in the latest issue of Books and Culture is now available on line. I have worked with Mary Ellen on other projects in the history of chemistry. In our last article we wrote about the history of isooctane and tetra-ethyl lead. She did the early history, I tied in Dale Earnhardt Junior's blown engine in the 2nd NASCAR race of 2007, World War 2 aircraft, and 60s Muscle Cars. We each have our own expertise. That article is part of an exhibit catalogue that has not yet been published.
My next article for B&C (assuming it is accepted) is a review of a book called Nylon and Bombs a book about the DuPont Company. The book was originally published in French and my co-author is Brigitte Van Tiggelen, a visiting scholar at CHF and presidente of the Memoscience, a history of science organization in Belgium. A lot changed when the book we reviewed was translated into English. Brigitte talked to the author so we could write about the many pitfalls of translation, even when the author speaks both languages.

Re-enlistment

I signed up for a year last August. I had planned to sign up for three but the recruiter said if I sign up for one, I can re-enlist for three then get a bonus. I could not get a bonus for enlisting because I had prior service and needed job training. So I wrote a note to the retention specialist (the person in charge of re-enlistment) in our brigade.
Here is her answer to my email:
Your entire email sounds like a test question! I love it...I will do some
research for you and then I will get back to you with an answer.
Have a great day!

And here's the test question:
I was at Aberdeen for training during the last drill, but wanted to contact
you before the next one April 18-20.
I am now an MOSQ 63J10. [Meaning I completed the training.]
My enlistment ends August 15, 2008.
I will be 55 years old on May 2.
At the time of my enlistment on August 16, 2007, I had 11 years, 2 months,
2 days of service including 6 years and 7 months active, three years active
reserve and the rest inactive.
SO
Can I re-enlist for six years just after June 15 getting me over 18 years at
the end of that enlistment at age 61 allowing me to retire because I will
be both over 60 and over 18 years?
Will I have to enlist in an active duty unit to get the retirement?
Let me know.

It does sort of sound like a word problem on a test.
I'll let you know what she says.

First Race. . .I Finished on the Lead Lap

One minute into this race I remembered why I love racing so much. I was at the back of the 40-rider pack hoping just to stay on. Several guys came up and welcomed me back on the start line. It felt strange to be there. But then the whistle blew and the pack rolled out slowly. As we picked up speed I stayed at the back, but I knew where to ride to stay on and as we turned into the wind I was looking for the best place to be, looking up the road to see who was at the front and feeling like I never took a year off. Halfway around the 5.7-mile lap is "The Hill." Halfway up I found myself in a group of guys who were getting dropped. I closed up to the back of the pack and managed to stay with the main pack all the way around the course the "The Hill" on the next lap. At that point I was off the main pack. I rode for a couple of laps with a guy who just turned 50 years old. I stayed ahead of the pack and rode the whole distance without getting lapped. As it turns out my result was no worse than the last two times I did this race. In 2006, I dropped out at the same point. In 2005 I did 32 races and was dropped in only two--Mt. Joy and the Road stage of the Fitchburg MA stage race. I have a Guard weekend next weekend, but the following weekend is the Ephrata Stage Race. The road race and the criterium are flat, so I may be able to hang in until the end. But I will be crawling up the hill in the Sunday morning time trial. It is four miles flat then four miles up--I should finish at the back of that one,

Eleven-Month Crash Anniversary

Today was eleven months exactly since I crashed. On Wednesday, May 9, 2007, I flipped to the road at 51 mph. Today, Wednesday, April 9, 2008, I rode down the hill I crashed on for maybe the 20th time since I got back on the bike and then rode over to the Wednesday night training race for the first time since the accident. I only did two of the seven 3-mile laps then rode toward home. Lisa picked me up about four miles from the training race course. By the time she picked me up I had ridden 44 miles so I was ready to stop.

First Race on Saturday

I just signed up for my first bicycle race since the crash last year--11 months ago today. I don't expect to do very well--my training miles are down by half from previous years--usually I would have close to 2000 miles by now, currently I am just short of 1,000. But it should be fun just to ride in a race pack again and see my teammates. This race is 29 miles on a hard, hilly course so I don't expect to finish in the same zip code as the leaders.

Radiation Training

Over the weekend I completed a long Army course on line about testing and maintaining equipment that uses radiation in its illumimation or operation. In the Army way, each instrument was covered in detail, but the bottom line on every one was: if anything is wrong, double bag the entire instrument, put it in a new box and ship it back to the people who are actually authorized to work on it. The introductory material on sources of radiation was very clear and easy to follow.

Good and Bad Press

The AP article about my wife being frugal is on more than 200 web sites so far. She got many emails from friends and strangers, most with congratulations, some with advice on how to be more frugal. One was nasty. It was also anonymous. The message ended with him saying the message had been routed through seven ISPs so don't try to trace it. So this coward went to all that trouble to say something ugly to a mother of four . CS Lewis said (following all the great Church leaders of the last 2000 years) that Pride is the worst sin. It is the sin that separates us from God, because a proud person is (in his or her own mind) God's equal. But in this life cowardice is the worst sin "horrible to anticipate, horrible in the act, horrible to remember" is how CS Lewis describes cowardice. And this particular coward uses the email address Jack_Ryan@lycos.com. Jack Ryan is the hero of the Tom Clancy novels. So this actual coward uses the name of a fictional hero to hide behind when threatening a woman who is a live organ donor (a kidney, 2002) and for several years a hospice volunteer. An illustrated dictionary could use a picture of this guy as the definition of a coward.

My Frugal Wife

Last week I got a message from an Associated Press reporter writing about frugal lifestyles. My wife Annalisa is in the lead of the article.

No Pass to San Antonio During Basic Training

While I was in San Antonio, I saw dozens of Air Force basic trainees walking around in their new, rather ill-fitting uniforms, some with family, some in groups taking pictures of each other at the Alamo and tourist traps. Seeing them reminded me I never got the one-day pass to San Antonio while I was in Basic training in 1972. Our flight (the Air Force equivalent of a platoon) got 7 days of KP--kitchen clean-up duty--during our six weeks of basic training. Most flights got one or two. The other three flights training with us got none. The reason was Ivan--a tiny little guy in our flight who refused to throw away his electric razor and shave with a blade like the rest of us. Why did this matter? When the inspectors from headquarters went through our barracks, ten demerits among 45 guys meant we were on KP. Ivan got 15 by himself because they counted hairs inside his electric razor. We got 2 days of KP for that in addition to the one we had just for being in the duty rotation. Two weeks later, Ivan flunked again and we got four days of KP--including the weekend we were scheduled for a day in San Antonio. Our drill sergeant let us know that if any harm came to Ivan we would all be serving our enlistments in Leavenworth Federal Prison. We did get Ivan back, but that's for a later post.

Randy's Parents Will Go Home Soon

Continuing from the last post, Randy's Mom and Dad, Debbie and Neil, will be returning home to West Virginia soon. Debbie said Randy is healing so well that he will be able to live on his own soon as he goes through Rehab for the next year or so. Debbie said she would like to stay with her son, but she will also be happy to be home. Debbie works for Coldwater Creek and said they have been "really great through all of this." They said they will hold her job as long as it takes. I will keep in touch with Debbie and Neil and post something when I hear news.

Center for the Intrepid

Today I saw the Center for the Intrepid, what is now the main rehab center for badly injured soldiers. Sandy, the receptionist, let me see the first floor public areas and told me about the facility. I had to sign up in advance for a tour so that will have to wait for another time. I talked to soldiers yesterday and today with Boston accents. I grew up in Boston and lost the accent in Basic training in 1972, but can still hear it in just 2 or 3 words. Both soldiers were from suburbs outside Boston. One was looking forward to going back home to stay, the other wanted to stay in San Antonio. I knew they were both real natives because they both talked about how expensive everything is in Massachusetts compared to the South. Real Boston-area natives far from home love to complain about prices back home and talk about how cheap things are everywhere else. Any mention of the Red Sox comes after the price complaints.

Randy's Parents

Today I visited the Powless guest housing located just across the road from the Center for the Intrepid. I met the parents of a soldier named Randy. He was in the family's room sleeping. Mom and Dad were outside in the smoker's gazebo. Randy stepped on an IED on January 13 of this year. His immediate prospects were grim. His left hand was gone and the rest of the arm was mangled and his legs were both mangled to the point that they were not sure the legs could be saved. Randy's Mom described the doctors from both Landstuhl where Randy was first Med-evaced and Brooke as "amazing." Randy is the sixth of seventh children of a blended family from West Virginia and the only soldier.
More later, they just closed the door on my flight so I have to sign off.

Fisher House at Brooke Army Medical Center

This weekend I am in San Antonio on business at a petrochemical conference that starts Sunday afternoon at 430pm. I arrived at 2am on a late flight from Newark and rented a bike at 11 this morning. I rode a north and east then back to the south to Brooke Army Medical Center. I had read several articles about the Center for the Intrepid at Brooke, the places where amputees and other severely wounded soldiers go through rehab. I arrived Saturday at 1pm to the sound of loud music. Crossroads, a local Texas rock band, was playing on the porch at Fisher House and a local group was serving barbeque to soldiers and their families. I talked to a volunteer named Pete Peterson who told me about the place then introduced me Inge Godfrey and Russell Fritz, the manager and assistant manager respectively. Russ gave me a tour. It turns out Inge and I lived in the same military housing area in 1976-77--her husband and I were assigned to the same base in Germany. I am going back tomorrow morning.

Back to Work

I have been catching up on work for the past few days and thinking about the contrast between the Army and my civilian job. At work I am a manager without a staff. A manager because I have a budget, but a "private soldier" when it comes to work. I write news releases, speeches, negotiate with video producers and photographers, talk to reporters who cover chemistry, and work on teams that are getting ready for events. The emphasis is on what I do. I work at home two days a week because I live 70 miles away and many of the things I do, I do alone. And if something comes up in a project I am working on that our president or a director should know about, I can drop in and talk to them, or send them an e-mail.
In the school at Aberdeen, my first responsibility was to be wherever the school staff said I was supposed to be. Even the tests and performance evaluations were essentially pass-fail. As soon as I met the standard on a performance test or got 70% on a written exam I was done with that art of the course and on to the next part. One member of our class was clearly the best at every hands-on performance measure in the course. If someone was stuck, he was the one they called. But he got a low (passing) grade on one test and so we did not have an honor grad. the first sergeant spoke to us every morning at formation before we went to class. In fact we could depend on him repeating everything at least once per formation then repeating a lot of the same warnings and information a half-dozen times more.
In my day job, time matters. Standing in front of our first sergeant all that mattered was that he believed that we understood the information he was passing to us.
Today I worked on 20 different things, and did no paperwork to prove I did any of it. I am a civilian again--at least until May.

Graduation

We got our DA form 1059s, the form saying we are now qualified in our military job (MOS or Military Occupational Specialty). There were four different groups and ours was last. We were all seated at tables and went up one at a time to receive our certificate from the course instructor then shake hands with the instructor, NCOIC (sergeant in charge) of the school and the school commander. At the end of the ceremony the NCOIC, an master sergeant with close to 30 years service who is younger than me, told the group he wanted to bring one of the students to their attention "Specialist Gussman who has a 23 year break in service and has the patriotism to return to duty after all these years." I got a round of applause and some very quizzical looks. In the hallway later a couple of guys from other classes said, "That's way cool what you did." I didn't really do anything, but it felt like I just won a race--and I didn't even sweat.

Last Class

This last class covered the 1500 gallon-per-minute water purification unit and finished up the smoke generator. We then took a test on the smoke generator and went to lunch. After lunch we presented plaques to our instructors. My roommate got them made at a local trophy shop for each of our instructors. Neither of the instructors had ever received a plaque from their students, so it is apparently an unusual gesture. Before presenting the plaques, the guy from Las Vegas whom our instructor had dropped for pushups on a half-dozen occasions took charge of the class and ordered all of us to the Front Leaning Rest (pushup) position. We then did ten pushups together yelling out "One sergeant, two sergeant. . ." as we did them. The instructor then said she would accept all of our pushups for the ones our class clown owed her. It was a great way to end the class. After we were dismissed, I rode my bike, went to the gym on Post and went running. The 20-somethings in the class got a case of Miller. All three of them can max the PT test without working out. Even the one of them who smokes can run two miles in under 13 minutes. Different ages have different workout schedules.

Last Supper

For those who follow the Church calendar, the Thursday before Easter is the night of the last supper. Without making too many Biblical references, our class had its last supper together on Maundy Thursday--at TGI Friday's. There were 11 of us, but that's pretty close. Anyway, we drove 20 miles west to get to TGI Friday's in the 15 passenger van that hauled us to meals for most of the two weeks. During our 30-minute wait for a table, I called my youngest daughter to ask her what was the best thing to order at TGIF (I have never been to TGI Fridays--that was part of how we picked this restaurant.) She told me about the top-chef menu they are featuring in their ads. she also asked why we didn't drive 15 miles further and go to Baltimore. Everyone had just one or two drinks. We all had to get up at 6am for the final class, so no one "got their party on." One of my classmates from Las Vegas talked about joining the Army in 2003. He was a sprinter and hurdler in high school running the 400 in just under a minute. His recruiter told him he could be on the army track team, just sign up for 11 Bravo (Combat Infantry). When he completed infantry training, he went to Iraq. He never joined the Army track team.

I Passed the Laundry Test This Time

Today we learned about the Laundry Advanced System LADS I mentioned in an earlier post. This amazing self-contained system on a semi-trailer can wash 2-tons of clothes operating 20 hours per day and use just 540 gallons of water for each ton of clothes.

Real Smoke

Today the active army class fired up an M56 smoke generator right outside the building where we work on our equipment. I was surprised because these billowing smoke clouds can only be generated for short periods under conditions of nearly no wind, but two classes sent big white clouds into the countryside. The building on the far side of the cloud all but disappeared after just seconds of smoke. It works very well at hiding a building and works much better obscuring smaller things-like vehicles.

Give Me 50!

This afternoon four of my classmates were told "Give Me 50!" at the beginning of an afternoon class session. The instructor relented somewhat and said they could do the 50 pushups in two sets of 25. The offense? The instructor said she would tell us her first name at the party at the end of class. The four guys pushing the earth down tried to figure out her first name by questioning the other instructor. Speculation about her name pretty much stopped after that.

Army Instruction

Today's class was on 600 gallon-per-hour and 3000-gallon-per-hour water purification units. These water purifiers can take in swamp water, sea water, even water contaminated with chemical agents and turn it into safe drinking water. Most of the day was on the 600gpm unit with troubleshooting of the electrical system, preventive maintennance checks and putting the system into operation. With the 3000 gpm, both of the units available for training had maintenance problems so we could only simulate. In another occurrence of what could have been the dullest method of instruction on the planet, we read aloud, in turn, 20 pages of the start up procedures in the Army Technical Manual. A sample follows:
a) With the raw water pump primed, the discharge hose will quickly fill and harden with pressure. Check the hose and the media inlet/outlet pressure gage
(1) to assure pressure has been established. NOTE If pressure is not observed check the raw water hose for kinks, sharp bends, or leaks. Check that control panel and valves are set up properly. (b) Push CHEMICAL PUMP START
(6). (c) When media inlet/outlet pressure gage
(1) reading steadies, push BOOSTER PUMP START
(3), and slowly close feed valve
(4) until feed flowmeter
(5) reads 100 gpm.
NOTE
If 100 gpm cannot be obtained check as follows: · Check discharge hose for kinks restricting the water flow. · Check valves for proper position. · Check suction hose connections to assure tightness. · Refer to Troubleshooting.
(d) Open media filter vent valve
(2), close, when a steady stream of water is seen.
(e) Hold steady condition (no control operations) for 10 minutes.

If you want more Enjoy!!!!

So the nine of us students and our teacher crammed ourselves in a 20-foot container that houses the control systems and filters and read 20 pages of the manual aloud in turn--sentence by sentence. After a few minutes the reading rate got almost to auctioneer speed and everyone yelled in unison when we read NOTE or CAUTION! By the time we were done everyone was laughing and making jokes on the way out the door.

Home for a Day

We were released from Saturday afternoon through Sunday evening. I lived close enough to go home. More than half the students in the class went to Washington DC with the instructors all day Sunday. I got to do half of the Sunday ride with my riding buddies, go to Palm Sunday service with my family, watch the F1 GP of Australia with Nigel and even sleep in past 9am. The guys who went on the DC field trip left at 8 am on Sunday. There's no sleeping in on Army time, even on a day off.

Berets are a Big Deal

Our unit wears patrol caps, but here at school berets are the uniform of the day for everything. My classmates have showed me how to make the beret fit my head. With time off this weekend I will be "shaving" my bhttp://www.blogger.com/img/gl.link.giferet so it will fit tighter on my head. Here's the official info on the beret.

Army School: Free Food or Fitness

For those of us who prefer to work out in the afternoon instead of 5 am, the Army school schedule means I have to choose between free food and fitness. We get an hour for lunch. I can go the chow hall in the van or ride for about 30 minutes and get fast food at a base concession. I have opted for fast food to take advantage of the 50-60 degree weather every day. Same thing for dinner. We are done with class by 6 pm and the gym closes at 8pm. So the last few days I have ridden or gone to the gym to work out and run, and missed the free food at the mess hall. Tonight I tried to have it all. I rode for an hour and 15 minutes, showed up at the mess hall at 1850--ten minutes before closing, left at 1910, gym at 1920, 20 minutes of upper body, 20 minutes on the treadmill and out the door at 1956. Next time I will wait until after the run to eat. Free food is not worth the feeling of running on a full stomach.

At Least They Have the SPEED Channel

It's 11:35 and I will be tired in class tomorrow because tonight is the beginning of the 2008 Formula 1 season. So even if our residence has some tendency to catch fire, they have the SPEED Channel. The F1 season is broadcast live on Speed, so that means Friday's 1pm practice in Australia airs at 11pm on Thursday on the US East Coast. For fans, Ferrari is back on top of the practice speed charts. Fernando Alonso is back at Renault and is mid pack.

My Training Unit

So who is training to be a chemical and quartermaster repairer? There are nine of us in the class from Army National Guard Units across the nation: 3 sergeants (SGT), 5 specialists (SPC) and 1 corporal (CPL). One of the SGTs is my roommate, he is from Kansas and another is from Michigan. Both of them are 50 years old. The other SGT and one SPC are brothers, both from Las Vegas. Strangely, all three of the SGTs are ex-Navy. There is an SPC from North Dakota, one from Virginia, and one from W. Virginia, besides yours truly from Pennsylvania. The CPL is from Long Island. All of the students are men, which our instructors tell us is unusual. Our instructors are both women, a sergeant from Pennsylvania and a staff sergeant from West Virginia.

Running To. . .or From

I have been writing for months about what I see and what I do. Many of the questions I get from friends and family are about what the Army is like for me. But partly they are asking what is the Army like at all. Most of my co-workers and friends don't know a serving soldier except as an acquaintance or a cousin from somewhere else.

But today when I was tired and miserable from being up late and then watching the smoke roll out of the hotel where we are sleeping, I thought, "What happens when I get deployed, and I am up all night with something more serious than a kitchen fire? Can I handle that?" I had opposing urges to let my one-year enlistment run out and leave and to see a regular Army recruiter and volunteer for a tank unit.

I am in this to both run to what I believe is my eternal future and run from the life I have been leading. I don't mean my family. I mean the guy who over the past two decades has transplanted himself from high-school-educated soldier and Teamster (four years on the dock at Yellow Freight) to "communications professional." I have a lovely family, a big house, and have made more than 40 trips overseas on business in the past decade.

To paraphrase CS Lewis, I am in the world, but more importantly, the world is in me. I do love the world in a way that I did not when the world was a big, hostile, mysterious place. I joined the Army to run away from the privilege that has become part of my life. Eventually we will say to Our Lord, "Thy Will Be Done" or He will say the same to us and we will be eternally undone. And the life I have been living is increasingly dominated by my will. But the Army is the opposite. On duty, I do what I am told by whomever is in charge. I do what they say, when they say. I eat when the chow is available, or not. But I don't choose meal times or menus.

So I am running away from my love of this life and running toward the next, but it is already difficult at one weekend per month and now a two-week school. I have enough money to skip the mess hall when I want to. So I do. I am already equivocating and I am three days in to some of the lightest duty the Army has--a school. Just two weeks of beign clean, well-fed and learning about equipment.

My long-term plan is to get the training I need, go on active duty for a year, then live a simpler life making less money. No more expensive clothes, no more expensive food whenever I want. I still think it is the right thing to do. But I have to keep running. If I stop, I will turn back.