Perpetuating Mediocrity

One of the reasons the motor platoon has such a high pass rate on the PT test is, oddly enough, that the training NCO for our unit is such a stickler for everyone meeting or exceeding the published standard on the test. He fails people who miss the run by ten seconds and who miss the minimum by one pushup or situp. We are a National Guard unit and many active units will allow more slack than we do. But by forcing everyone to meet the standard, eventually everyone really does--except one sergeant. But 98% is very high for any unit and beyond the moon for the National Guard.

But he is not in charge of all training and performance in other areas it is clear how our socialist group both forces us to conform and helps us when we don't. In February, many of us went to the rifle range for two days--one day to zero, one day for qualification. The qualification consists of firing 40 rounds at pop-up targets from 50 to 300 meters distance. To qualify as a marksman, you must hit 23 of 40 targets. To be a sharpshooter or expert requires 33 and 37 hits respectively the first time you fire. If you get less than 23 the first time, no matter how many hits you get the second time you score only as a marksman. But when we were on the range, one soldier scored less than 23 five times. At the end of the day when the people who run the range wanted to go home, this soldier went to position 11 with 40 rounds. At positions 10 and 12 were two range instructors. Miraculously, the soldier who failed to qualify five times hit 40 out of 40. That soldier should have been scored as a Marksman, and hopefully that soldier will have other people who can shoot nearby in a firefight. But the scoring system broke down when a sergeant major showed up. Hearing that a soldier shot 40 of 40, he presented the soldier with a commemorative coin (a standard token for a very good job). So our records indicate this soldier is our top expert marksman. Once the fudging starts, it is hard to stop. Those instructors could not admit they were nailing targets.

Remember Sgt. Oblivious? After he was relieved from his job as a squad leader, he was not formally removed, so he was still squad leader on his soldier's records. So he signed the awards that others rewrote. By putting an electronic signature on these documents, he has proof that he is competent at writing awards when he next comes up for promotion. If the awards were not rewritten his squad members would have suffered. Because they were rewritten, the Army suffers because a thoroughly incompetent soldier has proof he can write awards.

One thing I thought I would get a one-year break from in a war zone is all the gray areas of modern life. But the Army is part of modern life and it is as gray in here as it is on the outside--with an olive drab tinge.

A Letter on a New Yorker Poddcast

Today's Political Scene podcast by the New Yorker magazine has a short letter I wrote about Sarah Palin. You can listen here.  The letter is at about minute 14.
http://www.newyorker.com/online/2011/01/03/110103on_audio_politicalscene

Single Father Deployed to Afghanistan--Read to the End

Another great story about 87th Infantry deployment to Afghanistan and its effect on families.  Read the story to the end.

In NYC for Post Christmas Shopping

What a contrast from last Christmas.  In Iraq last year, Christmas was 90 degrees, sunny, dusty and an extravaganza of food.  Two days later I was on a flight to Al Kut, Baghdad and Balad.

This year Christmas was a calm day at my father-in-law's house near Washington DC.  Christmas night, four of my kids and I drove to Lancaster.  After Church we loaded the car and drove to New York City--actually Trenton, then the rest of the way by train.

The weather was clear for about 20 miles then more and more snow.  We passed six accidents and almost became one ourselves when some slowed to look at other accidents.  After two and a half hours of sliding, we made ti to Trenton station.  Another 90 minutes and we were in Penn Station and on the way to our hotel in Times Square.  The blizzard was howling when we left the subway.  We struggled two blocks to the hotel then checked in.  Even through the snow Times Square was pulsing bright with ads on two-story electronic billboards.  Jacari saw NYC for the first time stepping out of the subway staircase and said, "Awesome!  This is like Hollywood!"

The gym was closed by the time we arrived, but the Crown Plaza has 46 floors so we could run up the stairs and either walk back down (which Lisa did all three times) or take the elevator, which I did two of three times.

We changed and went three blocks to the Marriott Marquis so the kids could ride the glass elevators up to The View--the 60th floor restaurant.  We struggled another couple of blocks and had pizza for dinner.

Today, I am sitting in Starbucks while the kids shop the few vendors who opened on Canal Street.

Christmas at Home

Last year Christmas was warm, sunny and dusty.  This year I am back to the complicated travels that only  a Yours-Mine-Ours family has around the holidays.

Right now I am on the train to Philadelphia.  I will finish my overdue expense reports, have lunch in the city, then take a train to Washington DC at 330pm.  By 6pm, the Metro should have me in Silver Spring MD where my wife will pick me up at the station and take me to her Dad's house.  I will be with my wife, both sons, and step-daughter Iolanthe for Christmas Eve and Christmas Day.

Somewhere around 5pm, my daughters will drive down from Lancaster to Silver Spring.  We will exchange presents and have dinner together.  Then Lauren, Lisa, Jacari, Nigel and I will drive back to Lancaster around 9pm.

The next morning, we will go to Church in Lancaster.  I will go to the bike shop, Bike Line of Lancaster and pick up my latest bike, a break-apart frame Surley bike that is legal for riding on Amtrak--no more driving to New York.

Around 2pm the five of us will drive to New York City.  Every year I take my daughters and their friends to NYC to shop the day after Christmas.  This year we are delayed a day because Christmas was on Saturday.  We start at Century 21 Department Store at the World Trade Center and walk up Broadway to Times Square where we are staying at the Crown Plaza.

On Tuesday we drive back to Lebanon PA where Jacari and Nigel will spend the night and the next day with Jacari's foster mom Melissa.  I will work in Philadelphia the next day and Annalisa will return from Silver Spring and pick up Jacari.

Then we can start working on New Years Eve.

Merry Christmas.

Great Article About Ground Combat in Afghanistan

Jim Dao of NY Times on the war in Afghanistan
The story about the minefield is really sad.
Follow the link.

Today is the 41st Anniversary of My Driver's License

Many people tell me they don't celebrate their driver's license anniversary. That is SOOO strange.  What could be more important than driving?

Actually, the strange thing about this anniversary is that until this one, I had always owned more cars, trucks and motorcycles than years of driving.  I owned three cars by the time I had a license for a year, six by year two, ten by year four, fifteen cars and two motorcycles by my tenth driver's license anniversary.  A decade later, I owned my tenth motorcycle and was up to 20 cars.  It took 17 more years to add ten more vehicles and I just spent $788 on my current 2002 Malibu to keep from buying another car.

In that same period, I have owned somewhere between fifteen and twenty bicycles and currently own five since the Trek GT single speed got stolen on Veteran's Day this year.    Bicycles are not quite separate from each other the way cars are.  I am currently getting all the components from one of my race bikes switched to a new frame that breaks in two pieces in less than a minute.  When it is complete, I will have a spare frame.

When it is complete, I will have:

• A Trek Madone road bike
• A Surley travel bike (the new one)
• A Cannondale tandem
• A Dahon folding bike with 20-inch wheels
• A GT Peace 9-R single speed road bike.

How I Would Have Died--If I Lived 100 Years Ago: Broken Neck

This week's post on my work blog.  Click if you want to see it there, or just read it here.

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Last week, I described the bicycle racing crash that left me in a ditch bleeding with ten broken bones.

The worst of those ten broken bones—at least in terms of my short-term and long-term survival—was my seventh cervical vertebra, C-7. At the moment I crashed, I flipped into the air and landed on my head. My helmet saved my skull, but the impact cracked the first two vertebra in my neck and smashed my C-7.  

I was blessed/fortunate/lucky that one of the other racers was a police officer and knew to keep me flat on my back until help arrived. Officer Mike Whitaker also called 911 and let them know I was in very bad shape and needed a MEDEVAC helicopter to take me to the hospital. Because an off-duty Emergency Medical Technician lives in the neighborhood and was nearby in his car, there was an EMT taking care of me in three minutes and I was strapped in the MEDEVAC 20 minutes later.  

The MEDEVAC landed on the roof of Lancaster General Hospital in ten minutes. I was again blessed/fortunate/lucky that the neurosurgeon on duty was Lt. Col. William Monnachi, just back from a tour in Baghdad Hospital treating wounded soldiers.

Dr. Monnachi and his surgical team replaced my C-7 with a bone from a bone bank the next day. I could barely swallow for the next six weeks, but I could walk within three days. I was in a neck and chest brace for the next three months, but was walking at least three miles a day from the day I left the hospital. I resumed running a month later.  

Last week Bess Williamson, one of CHF's visiting scholars, mentioned during a presentation that 100 years ago people with spinal injuries died within a few months. She said the polio epidemic led to new treatments for spinal disease and injury, but recovering from spinal injury was rare until recent medical innovations like bone transplants.  

In the hospital, one of the first people I thought of was Joni Earackson Tada. She is a quadraplegic who is three years older than I am. She smashed her fifth cervical vertebra in a diving accident at age 17. The difference between us:  In 1967 there were no bone banks, MEDEVAC helicopters were rare, and neurosurgery did not have as many tools as it has today. Joni has done great things for the disabled over the last 40 years and is an inspiration to thousands of people. But it seems clear from her writings and presentations that she would trade her work and her wheelchair for the use of her arms and legs.  

Next week, I will talk about the nine ounces of high-tech plastics that kept me from smashing my skull in the 50 mph impact with the road.

Rotten Weekend Turns Out Great

When I came home last night from drill weekend, I thought I had lost both the camera the Army issued me and a video camera from my day job.

But on the train home from Philadelphia tonight, Master Sergeant Kirby Hoke of 2-104th called my cell phone to tell me they found the cameras. I had left them in the S-1 (admin) office.  I thought they had been stolen from my car.

It turns out I just left them in the admin office while I was waiting to talk to SFC Lori Burns.

WHAT A RELIEF!!!!

I did learn some useful things about losing Army.

One of the officers, I own't rat him out, said even if they charged me for losing the camera, they can't take more than one month's pay.  That's less than $300 for a weekend warrior like me.  And he said that they usually waive the penalty in cases of hardship.

I asked if it would help if I put water spots on my statement and said they were the tears of my children.

How I Would Have Died--If I Lived 100 Years Ago: Bicycle Racing

Latest post on my work blog:

On Wednesday, May 9, 2007, twelve riders (including me) started down a 3/4-mile winding descent known as Turkey Hill. If you live in the Northeast, you probably have eaten Turkey Hill ice cream. It's that Turkey Hill—a real place on the west side of Lancaster County, Pennsylvania.

Turkey Hill is a coasting race; no pedaling allowed. Riders sweep down the hill crouched as low as they can get on their bikes, passing each other using the momentum of the draft. On that lovely spring afternoon, I started at the back of the group and picked off the riders one or two at a time as we went faster and faster down the hill.

Just before nearing the finish line, I swept left to pass the lead rider. I timed it perfectly—except that the lead rider moved left. We touched wheels. I remember less than two minutes of the next three days.

When two-wheeled vehicles touch wheels, the back rider crashes. According to the ten riders behind me, I flipped through the air and landed on my head and right shoulder, sliding into the ditch at the base of the hill.

By my count,  I would have died four different ways 100 years ago. In order of severity:

1) I broke cervical vertebra 1 and 2 and smashed C-7. 100 years ago, spinal injury victims survived for weeks or months at best.

2) My high-tech bicycle helmet was crushed and covered with blood, but intact. Without it I might have been dead before I was done sliding without the bike.

3) Within 30 minutes after the accident I was in a MEDEVAC helicopter on the way to the Trauma Center at Lancaster General Hospital. With a smashed vertebra, I could have been quadraplegic or worse before I got the hospital by any slower means.

4) When I landed, my racing glasses dug into my forehead, peeling it up about two inches and ripping the skin from the bridge of my nose. Plastic surgery put me back together. Without it, infection could very well have been fatal.

This does not mean I got off scot-free. Stay tuned for next week's post, when I explain how modern medicine healed my spinal injuries.