New Layout for a New Year

In 2013 I turn 60.  It will be my a record of some of the highlights and oddities of my last two years as an American soldier.  I decided to switch formats for the two years ahead to one that better suits my life as it is.

For a few hours I had a format called Mosaic.  Friends and family agreed--NO!!!! I could not change back, but this is close. 

These pictures and a million more are my life.  So I will try the new format to chronicle my civilian/military/executive/enlisted/family/battalion life.

New Video on chemistry and War

The American Chemical Society has a chemistry ambassadors series.  They taped me for it in the summer.

35 Army Years Ago . . .

This is a photo of me taken near Fulda, Germany (then West Germany) in 1977.  I was on top of my M60A1 tank.  It was a beautiful day in the neighborhood of more than 200,000 Warsaw Pact troops we thought were going to roll over us like Patton though a Peace Rally.

They never attacked.  

We all came home.  And all of my 1st Battalion, 70th Armor homies are gathering in Wiesbaden Germany next year for a reunion.  I did not sign up because I thought I would have other plans--an all-expense-paid trip to another middle eastern nation.  But I did not go.  

I won't be going to the reunion because we are saving for a trip to Rwanda.  But maybe I'll catch their next reunion in the US.  All those guys look a lot older now!!!

So What Happened with General Petraeus. . .

Last week the election meant I stopped getting questions about Lance Armstrong's drug use.  For many people in my life, I am the only bicycle racer they know.  So they ask what I knew about Lance's drug use.

Not much.

And if they asked about my race results, they would be SURE I was not on drugs, or that I should switch to better drugs.

And now I am fielding questions on General David Petraeus.  "What is going on with Petraeus?" I heard from several people.

I answer by checking my iPhone to see if BFF Gen. P. has txted me abt wazzup!!!

No text.

Really, Gen. Petraeus does not regularly check in with Army National Guard sergeants.  Or colonels for that matter.  If the Army was the Empire State Building, the top generals are right up where King Kong was hanging on and I am on the second floor without a window.

But if David or Lance hits me up on the down low, fshizzle I will update my status.

Enjoying Veterans Day

My wife Annalisa and I both dressed up for Church on Sunday.  I dressed so my sons could say their Dad is in the Army.  My wife put on Peace signs.  

Many people said "Thanks for your service" to me.  I got a free latte at my local Starbucks on Columbia Ave.  I wore the uniform to work today and two of my colleagues took me out for lunch.  

So much better to be a soldier now than during Viet Nam.  

Sling Loading a Humvee with Trailer

Fueling Helicopters

This weekend I waited with the fuelers of Echo Company for aircraft to fly in for fueling.  There were few flights.  The two hours I was there no aircraft showed up.  So here are pictures from this Spring when a dozen aircraft showed up in a half hour.

Had a TRIing day Yesterday

Yesterday I was able to to do all three events of a very short triathlon before, during and after some business meetings.  I went to the gym early and increased my swim distance from 100 to 200 yards.  Just 4,024 yards to go for an Ironman!

After that I drove to NYC and went to a business meeting that ended on time and gave me the chance to ride 18miles before dinner--from 29th St up to the base of the George Washington Bridge and back.  Just 94 more miles for the Ironman bike.

After dinner the night was beautiful so I ran 4 miles along the Hudson.  Just 22.2 more and I am done with the Ironman run.

So I do have more training to get done.  But it's a start!  Over time, I hope to do a standard distance triathlon in a day, then all at once:  1k, 40k, 10k.

Same with the half Ironman maybe a year from now, or more.  Then the Ironman.

Every Time I Put My Helmet On. . .

. . . Shit Could Happen.

Yesterday, was a beautiful morning, 45 degrees, clear sunny.  What could go wrong? I rode with two friends, Bruce and Lois.

The seventh mile of the 35-mile route drops steeply down from a ridge for about a quarter of a mile to a 14-foot wide steel bridge that is 270 feet long.  I usually hit 35 mph going into the S-turn that leads onto the bridge.  When the road is dry I zip across the bridge at 50 feet per second then slow as I approach the stop sign at the other end.  When the road is wet, I slow to 10 to 12 mph and pedal gingerly across the bridge.  At full speed I cross the bridge in six seconds.  In the wet, the crossing takes a very long 12 - 15 seconds.

The type of bridge I am talking about is pictured below.  As you can imagine, falling on this kind of bridge can be horrible.  I knew a guy who broke all the fingers on his right hand on one of these and had some nasty gashes on the rest of his body.

Open steel span

Up close looking through the steel span at the water.

So yesterday I descended to the bridge braking lightly at the bottom going 30 mph when I rolled onto the span.

The road to the bridge was dry, but the night was cold and the bridge was WET.

As soon as I was on the bridge my tires started squirming on the steel squares.  The rear wheel wobbled under my seat and slid left.  I stayed as still as I could and just touched the brakes as the bike squirmed more and seemed to lose no speed.

Both sides of the bridge are steel girders.  I hoped I could get to the end of bridge before I slid into the side of the bridge. I knew if a car came on the bridge I would hit it because I could not steer or stop.

At the end of the bridge the road drops away steeply down to a stop sign 20 feet away.  I went off the bridge in the air and landed with my rear tire skidding and sliding left.

There were no cars on Conestoga Boulevard, so I swerved into the road and sat up.  Lois and Bruce crossed the bridge slowly so I had 30 seconds to calm down before they caught up to me.  Bruce said, "You flew over the bridge."  If he only knew.

I changed the subject.

But it reminded me that experience gives us a store of info to avoid big mistakes like this.  I haven't ridden on a steel bridge on a cold morning for years.  The road was dry so I rode fast.

The reason I wear a helmet on the bike and wore one in the Army was for that moment when a small mistake, or a big one, means my head is going to suffer a big hit.

My wife decided to train for an Ironman.  She is a good runner, a great swimmer and almost never rides.  She has a lot of training to do before she can ride 112 miles at speed after a 2.4-mile swim and before a marathon.  I know she can do it.  But I do worry about the many hazards that bicycling puts in the way of every rider.  Experience really helps, but the only way to get experience is to ride without until you have it.

So now we can worry about each other on the bike.

And the first thing we are buying for her together is a good helmet.

Ironman August 2015

Two weeks ago my wife announced she was going to do the Ironman in Kentucky in 2015. 

She swam on her college team, she ran a half marathon at the beginning of the month so she is good on two of three.  I am not sure of the exact number, but we think she has ridden more than ten but less than 20 miles last year.  So she will have to train a lot to look like the woman in the photo above.

BTW:  An Ironman is a 2.4-mile open water swim, followed by a 112-mile bike, then a marathon.

Naturally, I would like to do the event with her.  But she is way ahead of me.  I ran a bunch of half marathons last year.  I could ride 112 miles tomorrow, but I swim 50 meters in the pool and think I am going to die!

Yesterday, my wife started the day with a 6-mile hilly run.  I rode 32 miles.  In late afternoon we ran 5k together.  

Today, she rode 5 miles with my son Nigel.  She said she could feel it in her legs.  I swam 100 yards and was tired all over.  She is 4% of the way to 112 miles.  I am 2% of the way to a 4224-yard swim.

She is getting a new bike.  I am getting a swim coach.

Bitching About Computers--and Finding Out How Much I Mistrust Them

This morning I lost the treasured hour in the quiet car where I can read a book without interruption and not listen to 2nd-hand cell phone!  Ahhhhhhhh!!

The reason I lost that hour is partly that I am spending the last 15 minutes of that hour bitching to you.  But I lost the first 45 minutes when I got an email from Southwest Airlines saying the reservation for the flight bringing John Wilson to Philadelphia today was cancelled.

Cancelled!!  How?  By whom?

John emailed me yesterday about our plans for tonight.  He did not email, text, or call me, so it must be a computer glitch--at least that's what I thought.

So I called Southwest--leaving the quiet car and walking to the other end of the next car.  Did I ever say how much I despise people who talk on cell phones in the quiet car and worse, go to the end of the quiet car, still inside it, and talk.  If I am ever ejected from a train, it will be because I told one of those jerks to leave the car and they got mad enough to fight.  Hasn't happened yet, but not for lack of trying on my part.

Anyway. So I politely stick my head in the luggage rack of the next car and call Southwest.  I get on virtual hold where they call me back.  I read the newspaper while waiting, head where the top bags are:

When Southwest called me back, I talked to a very patient ticket agent who said the reservation was cancelled on line and I should call John.

I called.  His wife Wendy answered.  John was in the John very sick.  It turns out John is hoping to be better tomorrow, but cancelled the reservation and was planning to call me later.  

Sigh!

So I really do mistrust computers.  Which is silly.  I do not mistrust the navigation computers in Chinooks and Blackhawks and all airliners for that matter.  It's only the computers I interact with--like the ones that I use to take Army on line training.

End of bitching about computers.

For now.

Great Guy Gets Promoted--Chad Hummel to Sgt. 1st Class

Echo Company, 2-104th Aviation dumps water on newly promoted soldiers.  In the case of sergeants, the soaking occurs right as they finish reciting the NCO Creed.  This is Chad Hummel, the Echo Co. training NCO, just as he finished reciting the creed from memory.  The Army gets better every time someone like Chad gets promoted.

Staying in Shape at 59

Last week I missed the 4:45 train from Philadelphia to Lancaster by less than a minute.  The next train is at 5:35.  Fifty minutes.  What to do.  In my pack was running gear and the Red Caps at Philadelphia's 30th St. station will hold bags for the next train.  I changed in the men's room and ran 3 miles on the river trails right outside 30th Street Station along the Schuykill River.

On Tuesday I was in New York City to get some adoption paperwork validated by the Haitian Consulate.  I was done at 430pm.  My car was across the Hudson in cheap parking lot in Seacaucus NJ.  There was no sense starting the drive home before 630 pm, so I stored my bag at a hotel where i have occasionally stayed and changed into running clothes in the hotel.  So I ran 4 miles along the Hudson River trail.

Part of staying in shape at my age or any age is using an unexpected hour to work out whenever possible.  I really do take my bicycle with me whenever I take my car anywhere farther than the local grocery store.  Many gyms sell day passes or hour passes for $10--and then you get a shower.

When I get stuck or have time to kill, I could read a book or work on my computer.  I also carry a full-size battery-powered keyboard for my iPhone.  But for me missing a train or walking out of a meeting into a bright, sunny day makes me want to ride or run.

These impromptu workouts can be the best part of a very long day.

And mixing up workouts by activity, distance and intensity allows my 59-year-old body to keep going and going and going.

In a Video About Kevlar

The video is the life story of Stephanie Kwolek, inventor of Kevlar.  I am in for a minute beginning at 12:30 modeling Kevlar!

Family Groups at MEDEVAC Departure

Since September 28, I have been posting photos of the family groups of soldiers who left for pre-deployment training with the F/1-169th MEDEVAC.  The photos are on the 2-104th Aviation Facebook page.

You can see photos from the departure ceremony there.  Later this week I will be attending another departure ceremony.  This group is bigger, so it will mean more photos on the facebook page.

Here are the three MEDEVAC Blackhawks making a final pass around Muir Field before flying to Texas.

Waiting for Their Soldier to Deploy

Today this group of fathers, mothers, sons, daughters, brothers and sisters are watching their soldier pack their aircraft to deploy to Afghanistan. This first phase will be a trip to their training base in Texas. Later they will make the big trip across the ocean.

I will be posting family group pictures on facebook tonight and tomorrow. The pictures I took are one very strong indicator that this occasion is serious. When I take the camera to the unit Christmas party or other occasions, I get many people who don't want their picture taken or explain that they don't take good pictures.
On this occasion, the usual vanity and shyness is out the window. People either want their picture taken or they don't. Several soldiers said "No, don't want the picture." Most gathered their family around and no one in the group objected.

The families who come to this kind of event do their best to be brave. The mix of smiles and tears changes rapidly from family to family.

The brigade commander and the battalion command sergeant major just arrived for the final departure.

More later

Improbable Evening in Boston

Tonight was a vivid moment of an entirely different kind.  I am at the annual Ig Nobel Award ceremony in Sanders Theater on the campus of Harvard University in Boston.

One of the awardees talking about his prize.

Sanders Theater outside

. . .and inside

1200 people watch the ceremony every year.  I have watched on line before but never live at Harvard.  Lots of fun.

If you want to know more, here's the link.

Vivid Moments Coming Home

This morning I went out before sun up in Philadelphia riding my bike through the city and over the Ben Franklin Bridge to Camden and back.  Part of the riding was down the recently repaved Market Street.  This six-lane east-west boulevard is glass smooth where it used to be cracked and crumbling.  I flew down the middle of the street--no traffic, fast enough to make green light after green light.

As I rode up the BFB toward Camden, the sun sent shafts of light over the eastern horizon into what would soon be an robin's egg blue sky.  Just the occasional cloud bent the orange light.  When I turned back toward Philadelphia, the orange glow lit blue coated 50+ story towers that form the center of the Philadelphia sky line.

Moments like these will be remind me of Iraq for the rest of my life.  Certainly not because Iraq looks anything like this, but the contrast is so vivid.  When I served in Germany in the 1970s, Germany became like a second home.  From the North Sea to the Alps, Germany lacks nothing in natural beauty and the settled beauty of civilization.  Iraq is a dry, dusty, drab and dreadful.

Travel really does make home more beautiful--and the uglier the place I travel, the more beautiful home becomes.

Symposium in NYC on Service and Sacrifice Today, hosted by Pat Tillman Foundation

Today I had the chance to make a trip to NYC on 9-11 to hear a symposium on Service and Sacrifice.  I wanted to go partly because the moderator was Jim Dao, one of my bike-racer buddies and the National Military Correspondent for the New York Times.  I also wanted to hear Marie Tillman, widow of Pat Tillman who is helping veterans in many ways through the Pat Tillman Foundation.  Also on the panel was a New York firefighter Tim Brown who was at the World Trade Center on 9-11 2001 and two pilots, a Marine fixed-wing pilot and an Army Blackhawk pilot.

Marie Tillman talked about being a widow and how she has been helping military widows through the foundation because of the experience she went through.

Glad I got a chance to attend and hear people who are trying to do good speak on the anniversary of 9-11-2001.

Short Drill Weekend--Passed PT Test

Only one full day of drill this weekend.  I was (mostly) on Sunday so I could attend the farewell ceremony for the Medical Detachment later this month.  The first event of the weekend was the PT Test--what could be better than that?  I scored a 316 because I was over the maximum on both pushups and situps.  My official score is 300, but it is great to score "Superscale."  If I use my raw scores and apply them to the 27-31 year age group (the highest standards are for this group, both 17-21 and 22-26 are slightly easier) I would have scored 259.

When I was in my teens and 20s my first time around in the Army, I smoked.  I think my highest score was around 265.  I never got 270 and usually scored just over 200.  Always passed but not by much.

I know eventually getting old will catch up with me and I will walk slowly and yell at Liberals on CNN, but for now I am feeling good!

Not Going to Afghanistan!

This morning I found out I am not going to Afganistan in a very Army way.  I was driving back from a meeting in NYC.  I stopped for coffee and checked my email on my iPhone.  In the list of message were two emails canceling my reservation for two training courses I need to go on the deployment.

I knew it meant I was not going.  But I called a friend who is a full-time training NCO.  He said Yes, in fact he got a call to reassign the training school since I would not be needing it.

Paperwork is reality in the Army.  I read that message three hours ago.  No one has officially told me I am not going, but I am very sure I will be in Lancaster when the last plane is wheels up.

Second Deadline isYesterday

The original deadline for my waiver was yesterday, September 4.  So I expected to know one way or another by COB (Close of Business).  I didn't.

I just keep waiting because people way above my pay grade created the deadline, so they can also amend or renegotiate the deadline.

Waiting for War is Hell.

Another Day Older

It's 630pm and still no answer one way or the other.  My wife believes "Yes" is an answer, but "No" is not.  So I will have to wait till Tuesday for paperwork to resume.

Still Waiting

The deadline is tomorrow and Fort Indiantown Gap is closed today.  It looks like I will be waving good bye in November--to the soldiers who are deploying.

If I Only Have 50 Days. . .

. . .I should use them wisely.  Today I wrote an article that's due Friday and did some other work, then rode to my son Jacari's cross country meet in Hershey.  It was a beautiful day.  Hershey is about 30 miles away so I got in a 60-mile ride and got to watch Jacari improve his 2-mile time by more than a minute in his second meet.

Last week he ran the two-mile course in 14:11, finishing fourth out of 40 runners.  Today his time was 13:07.  He finished 26th out of 193 runners.  He has had essentially no training so he could improve again next week.

Tomorrow I will go to work and write a couple of urgent news releases and work on remarks for an event in two weeks.  I have a couple of important meetings also.  But the real event tomorrow just might be a phone call from the command sergeant major of our unit.  He thinks the decision whether I am deploying will be made by close of business Thursday.

If that's true, I have a one-month school beginning in mid-October and will be leaving for pre-deployment training just after Thanksgiving.  And I will have a lot of work to finish before I go.

Tick Tock.

Waiver Goes Forward

At noon yesterday I was telling a friend who has been to Afghanistan that there was no way I will be going.  All right, a 1% chance.  We made plans to ride together next week.

At 3pm I got a call from our administrative NCO saying that my waiver got endorsed by the Division Commander and is on the way to the Adjutant General's office.

Last night I went for a walk with my wife and told her about it.  All summer I had been thinking there was very little chance I would get the waiver to serve in Afghanistan over age 60.  My thinking was "Why would they sign it?"  Someone who never met me at the Pentagon would look at the paperwork and think--'a 60-year-old sergeant? WTF?'  Denied.

But if the paperwork goes forward with two generals endorsing it, then the next guy up the line is not saying Yes to me but is saying No to the generals.  That is different.

I was so sure I wasn't going.  Now the admin NCO said it's at least 50-50 I am going.  Later last night, my wife was asking whether I could cut off cable TV and keep the cable internet.  She thinks I am going, but she always did.  A month ago she said she thought I would be going despite all the evidence on the negative side.

Life remains exciting!

There's Always Room for Yellow

When the news broke Friday morning that Lance Armstrong was giving up his fight against doping allegations, I took off my Livestrong bracelet and tossed it in the yellow trash can in our downstairs bathroom.  I wore the yellow band since it first went on sale more than a decade ago--except in Iraq.  In Iraq we could only wear POW/MIA bracelets.  All the rest of the colored wrist bands for causes had to come off until we left Camp Adder.

I wore that bracelet because I used to travel overseas a lot and ride with racers in other countries--particularly in France where I got to ride in the Alps, the Pyrenees, and in the daily training rides at L'Hippodrome in Paris.  Wearing a Livestrong bracelet said I was proud of the accomplishments of America's greatest cyclist.

So when his titles were stripped from him, I tossed the bracelet.  I wore it as long as there was some doubt that he would be caught cheating.  Which also makes me guilty of having a double standard on cheaters.  After 20 years of watching every stage of the Tour de France, I quit watching after Stage 17 in 2006.  That was the stage in which Floyd Landis cheated so flagrantly that the commentators were talking about it during the stage.  I have tried to watch the Tour de France since, but I knew I was just watching dueling drugs.

After I left for work, my wife took my Livestrong bracelet out of the trash.  She had two reasons:
 1.  I like yellow.  shallow reason.

 2. It seems hypocritical to ditch him for the act of getting caught cheating, when we stood by him while he was getting away with cheating.  

Good points, but when Lance was riding, I still thought there was a chance he was simply training harder than everyone else.  I was wrong.  And my wife is right that I have known he was cheating for several years and kept it on.  Be that as it may, I will not put it on again.

Integrated Life, or Not

A few days ago I was talking to Anna.  She is a museum director and a mother of two sons, ages 16 and 20.  We talk occasionally about kids and being parents.  We were talking about Chalid and  how sad the whole situation is.  Anna read my wife's blog posts on Chalid and how my wife strives for integrity, including integrating all the parts of her complicated life.  I made an an off-hand remark about admiring that quality in her and not being close to emulating it.

Anna said, "Well, of course.  You are a man, she is a woman.  She will try to tie her life together.  You won't."

OK then.

She is right.  I sometimes imagine that when I retire from full-time work and am out of the Army that I will be able to integrate the pieces of my life.

But then again maybe not.

The workaholics were in Heaven in Iraq.  They worked for weeks without a day off.  No family, no household chores, no birthdays, no anniversaries.  Life was work--life was happy.

I am reading a biography of Dietrich Bonhoeffer, a German pastor who stood up against Hitler and was killed by the Nazis.  His life shows one way a man can have a fully integrated life.  He spoke against Hitler almost from the day Der Fuhrer took power and devoted his life from then on to protecting the Church in Germany against the Nazis.  Bonhoeffer integrated all of his life by having a single focus and bringing everything else he did in line with that goal.

Bonhoeffer certainly is a model for how a guy can live an integrated life.

By the way:

• I am writing this post on the train to work where I read or catch up on my blog.  This is the solitude part of my life.
• When I get to work I have many tasks that will promote the museum where I work.
• When I get home tonight, I will be a spouse:  my wife is hosting 25 freshmen for dinner, classes start next week.
• Toward then end of dinner I will switch from spouse to Dad and take the boys away from dinner and do something with them for a while.
• After dinner, I will send the boys upstairs with the iPods they get only in the evening while Annalisa and I watch "Mad Men."
• Tomorrow morning I will go on a 40-mile ride and from the time I leave the house, pretty much focus on riding.

I'll still be a disintegrated mess when I retire, but at least it will be closer to home.

Update on Chalid

My wife's blog post today on Miser Mom well describes all the drama we have been going through since our foster son left our home in handcuffs in a police car.

If you want an update, read her post.

Are You Going, Neil?

I changed the title of my blog.  I am definitely staying in the Army as long as I can, but the odds of my deployment are dwindling.  At last drill the commander revised the deadline for the waiver to September 1.

As to what other people think:  The admin NCO in our battalion cannot see any reason they would approve the waiver.  Nobody knows me in the Pentagon and, more importantly, it's not like I have any unique skills.  I would be going as a fueler or a ground mechanic.  Either way, I am replaceable by 20-year-olds who need no waivers.  But she does think I am likely to go.  Because she has worked for Command Sergeant Major Christine for a long time and believes he gets whatever he really wants.

My wife thinks I lead a charmed life and if I want to go, I will go.  I was laughing out loud when she said it, because most people would not consider going to Afghanistan the indication of a charmed life.  I have been hearing lately from people who think the same.  The editor of the magazine where I work said she thinks I will find some way to go.  Two other friends at work think the same--and want me to back out.  They think Afghanistan is going bad fast.  I work at a place with real historians on staff.  One of them even studies Middle Eastern early science.  They all think we are about to get the same treatment as the Russians, the British and everyone else who tried to fix Afghanistan.

One editor friend visiting from Washington was very direct, both about the Afghanistan trip and the recent trouble we had with the teenage boy we were going to adopt.  "You and your wife have done enough," she said.  "Take care of the kids you have.  You don't have to take in any more."  Later on the subject of deploying she said, "We'll I'm glad you're not going.  You should stay here."

I did not tell here our adoption of Xavier from Haiti just passed one of many paperwork hurdles.

Life remains interesting!

Mountain Crawl Run

On Sunday morning almost 100 soldiers in the 28th Combat Aviation Brigade (CAB) boarded buses and vans to do the first annual 28th CAB Mountain Crawl.  It's a 2.5 mile run from the fish hatchery on Fort Indiantown Gap up the mountain to the Hawk Sanctuary on post.  It climbs almost 700 feet most of the climb is the second mile which averages 13% and mostly dirt road.  The rest is rolling.

Group shot--first wave of runners.

I started running five minutes ahead of the group so I could take pictures of everyone finishing at the top.  The first six runners passed me on the way up including first finisher 1LT Brian Marquardt, 3rd LTC Joel Allmandinger and 4th SSG Matthew Kauffman.  I got pictures of them and the other fast folks at the top before they ran back down.

After taking about 40 photos at the top, I walked back down and snapped pictures of the rest of the runners in the second wave.

The last person to start up the hill was SFC Dale Shade on a mountain bike.  I saw him as he rode up then again as he flashed past on the way down.  We served together in Iraq.  When I got back to the start I asked him if I could ride his bike to the top.  He said "Sure."

It was soooooo much easier to ride up than to run.  And faster.  Especially coming back down.

On the SAW Range

Firing on the M249 Range (My best side!!!)

Part of this weekend's training--the best part--was a stop at the M249 SAW (Squad Automatic Weapon) range.  I was there to take pictures, but when we arrived, the last group of firers were finished and the next ones had not arrived.

So I got to fire 200 rounds at the large panel targets that serve as both zero and qualification targets.  The training plan called for firing at one of the ranges with pop-up targets, but a last-minute change meant the firing would all be done on what is usually the zero range.

At Fort Sill in 2009, the day I spent on the full-scale SAW range was one of the best days I spent in pre-deployment training.  At Sill we had pop-up targets out to 400 meters.  Today we just had the 10-meter panel.  But the thrill of putting accurate automatic fire on target is the same.

SAW with 200-round ammo box

On the paper panel are lines of silhouettes just few centimeters are set in lines.  To qualify the gunner fires a three-round burst at each target in the lines, going across or down depending on the target.  One firm pull on the trigger puts three rounds down range.  The iron sights on the weapon make it easy to engage a series of targets.  I moved across from target 7 to 8 and down from 5 to 6 on two sections of the panel and hit every silhouette in the line.  It was a lot of fun.

As soon as I got in a comfortable firing position, I remembered how important it is to have elbow pads when firing this weapon in the prone position.  My right elbow ached from minute two until I was done firing.

Later in the day we went to the last range on the west end of Fort Indiantown Gap to watch M2 .50 caliber machine gun qualification firing.  The pop-up targets on that range go out to 1500 meters, just short of a mile.  I know from firing an M85 .50 cal on an M60A1 tank that these heavy machine guns can put accurate fire on a target at a mile distance.

I did not get a chance to shoot the M2, but I was watching the crews get ready for firing and thinking this weapon is exactly right for an old guy.  I can see the man-sized silhouette at a mile distance.  And if the weapon has a problem, all of the parts of an M2 are so big, I could work on the weapon without reading glasses if I needed to.  With the SAW and the M16/M4 the parts are so small I needed reading glasses to do anything more than clear a simple jammed cartridge.

Planning for Wildly Different Futures

In my mind, the time has passed to prepare for Afghanistan.  If I get the waiver I will go, but somewhere in the events of the last week, I now am planning for a future with no deployment.  It is  definite in my mind that I am not deploying.

Time to move on.  The first thing I did was sign up for the qualifying races for the National Senior Games in 2013 in Cleveland, July 20 - August 1.

Tomorrow Nigel and I will leave Lancaster by 9am and drive to Pittsburgh for the qualifying races.  There will be two races tomorrow and two Sunday.  I have to finish 1st - 4th place in just one of the races to qualify for Cleveland.  It would be easiest if I qualify tomorrow, but if not we can stay over and I can try again Sunday.

At work, I stopped making plans to transfer what I do to my co-workers.  I am now planning on being at work in 2013--and racing in Cleveland in July.

AOL Video--Intro by Marlo Thomas

And if you do not know who Marlo Thomas is, you are too young for this blog !!
Watch it here.

Packing Bags for Another Person

Last night I took three of the kids out for dinner.  While we were gone, we got a message asking us to get some of our son's clothes packed up.  We decided to pack everything.  Three black trash bags, a backpack and a lot of clothes on hangers wait by the door for someone to come and pick them up.

While we packed I did three loads of laundry to be sure everything was out of the laundry room.  As we cleaned out the drawers, one of my daughters found cell phone chargers and other things she was missing during the past few months.  We thought stealing was a bigger problem before the violence.  Now it seems very small by comparison.

It is always sad to pack for someone else.  In Germany in the 70s I helped to pack up the gear and personal effects of a soldier who went home in a hospital plane.  We were starting an M60A1 tank with slave cables (REALLY heavy duty jumper cables).  To slave start a tank, you either pull the tanks close side by side or nose to nose.  The slave cables drop into the drivers hatch in the hull and plug into a connector just below the hatch.

The second tank approached the first straight on from a slight.  The young soldier--I'll call him Ed--was up on the hull of the dead tank next to the driver's hatch.  As the second tank approached he dropped the cable--and decided to pick it.  He jumped off the side of the tank out of the way, but then went between the tanks to retrieve the cable rather than just pulling it up.  He did not know why.  No one else did.  In a confusing moment he stood up and got caught between the tanks.

His pelvis was broken.  He screamed.

A week later, several of us packed his things.

I thought of Ed when I was packing last night.

My wife and I insist our kids pack their own bags for trips--especially the trip home.  I just thought it was a good skill for them to have.  It was pretty clear last night I do not have good memories of packing for someone else.

My wife Annalisa wrote very well about the sad last day our foster son spent in our home.  http://miser-mom.blogspot.com/2012/07/the-child-who-left-our-home.html

Failure is an Option

I am waiting for a waiver to serve in a combat zone over 60.  This waiver, unlike the one to extend my enlistment, must be approved in Washington.  It could fail.

But as of last night my wife is more at peace about the deployment--whichever way the waiver  decision goes.  

Last night her biggest worry for the deployment left our house in handcuffs.  The 15-year-old boy we took in our house in April became more and more angry over the last two weeks and finally became so enraged over being caught in a lie that he had a fit that included breaking things with a hammer and threatening himself and the rest of our family.

He had a troubled past, but we were assured by his social worker in Lehigh Valley that he simply had bad breaks.  My wife and I thought we would try to give him the "forever home" he said he wanted.  

But a forever home has rules and it is tough to give up what we know for something else--even if it is better.  C.S. Lewis says that after a religious conversion the convert will often find his former desires fill his mind.  And even if the convert manages to keep the desires from taking over, the voice of desire inside "will be up on an elbow. . .whining."  

Failure is an option in taking a child into a family--whether by adoption or birth.  C.S. Lewis writes in another place (in the 1940s before TV) about how difficult it is to convince a child in poverty in the city to give up playing in a puddle in the slums to travel to the sea shore.  We were not able to convince our new son that living as part of a family was actually better than the life he left in foster care--20 different foster homes.

Failure is an option in the military.  Not all military missions succeed.  

Failure is an option in bicycle racing.  Over the last decade I have lost 20 bicycle races for each victory.  

Failure is an option in running races.  I won just one running race in my life and in that I won my age group.  

Today we will receive a stack of paperwork that must be resubmitted to the Haitian embassy for another child we are hoping to adopt.  We are very sure he will do well in America, but we have much less confidence in our ability to navigate the paperwork through the Haitian system.  Failure is an option here also.

Tonight my wife and I are going out to dinner to celebrate our 15th anniversary.  We have three grown daughters who are doing very well and three more kids at home who seem on track to do well also.  We both know that risk can mean reward and that risk can mean failure.   

We will be taking more risks together and separately--and moving forward with our very complicated and interesting lives.

AOL in MY House

Today a video crew from AOL on line is filming me and my family at my home in Lancaster.  Later today we will go to Fort Indiantown Gap so I can join in some training.  The training shots will be set up by SSG Matt Jones at the Public Affairs Office.  He and I served together in Iraq.  He was the PAO for 28th Aviation, but he got promoted and moved to an Infantry Brigade earlier this year.

When the video goes on line, I will link to it on the blog.  In the meantime I will try to post some more pictures.

Waiting for the Next Waiver

At drill weekend this month I found I need yet another waiver if I am going to deploy.  As I had heard months ago, I not only needed a waiver from The Adjutant General of Pennsylvania to stay in for two more years, but I need a waiver from National Guard HQ in the Pentagon to serve in Afghanistan past my 60th birthday.

In case you are wondering, sending me over and then sending me home for my 60th birthday next May is not among my options.  

I would say there is a good reason why they won't let soldiers who are qualified serve past age 60, but the reason may not be good.  I have heard it is because some National Guard and Reserve soldiers served in Iraq and Afghanistan past age 60 and came home on a medical.  If that's true it would make sense to stop old soldiers from serving.  Why bother if they are going to go home early on some kind of medical.

If that's true, I don't have much of a chance.  In my own state the general officers approving the waiver  could ask my commander and their sergeant major about me.  

But at Army headquarters, I am just another packet of papers.  It means risk if they say yes, no risk if they say No.

So the most likely outcome is that I will serve my last two and a half years in the Army in Pennsylvania.  

I'll be happy either way.

Out the Window

We are flying back from Reading to Fort Indiantown Gap. Here's the view out my window. The picture is me just before take off.

Days like this I can't quite believe I get paid for this.

Reading Airport--Where my Dad Served In World War 2

After dropping off infantry soldiers at the Reading Armory, we flew to Reading Airport. This small municipal airport has very little passenger traffic. During World War 2, the place was bustling. The airport served as a transhipment point for P-47 and P-51 fighter aircraft and B-24 bombers going into combat.

According to the poster in the display case, the northeast corner of Reading Airport also served as a Prisoner of War camp. The last commandant of that camp during the war was 1st Lieutenant George Gussman. The POW camp housed 600 mostly Afrika Corps German prisoners captured in 1942 and 43.

Dad was the third commandant. In one of his many war stories about the camp, Dad said those prisoners had driven the last two commanders nuts with Geneva Convention complaints.

The previous commandants were young officers wounded and in charge of the camp while they recovered their health. Their heart was not in it and they got out of there as soon as they could. Dad came to command of the POW camp after commanding a black maintenance company. He was very old (almost 40!!!) so he was not goign to be sent overseas. He was Jewish, the son of Russian-Jewish immigrants who escaped the pogroms of late 19th century Russia.

He was a middleweight boxer before he joined the Army and not inclined to take crap from German prisoners.

At an early meeting with the prisoners, one of them made a remark about Dad being a Jew. Dad knew Yiddish and enough German to know understand the remark.

Dad laid him out and let them know this was his camp and would run by his rules. Elsewhere on this blog I have written about The Engagement Present--600 chocolate bars Dad confiscated from the prisoners and gave to his future bride--and my Mom.

I haven't been here for almost 30 years. There is not much evidence that the camp ever existed. But it was a big part of my Dad's life, and the subject of many stories I heard as a kid.

Picked up Troops

This is what carry-on bagge looks like in a Blackhawk.

Three Blackhawks Bringing Troops Home

We are just about to take off on a three-ship Blackhawk mission to pick up troops in a wooded training area. The doors are shut, so I can't take good pictures till we land and open the doors. I want to get video of the infantry boarding the aircraft. They will enter on the right side with 80 pounds of gear each--and no storage for carry-ons!!! I will have a couple of minutes to get pictures before I get squeezed against the door by the passengers.

Waiting to take off

On board on CH-47 Chinook on Muir Filed at Fort Indiantown Gap. Waiting to take off. We are flying to a training site. If all goes well, there will be an aircraft refueling site and aerial gunnery training.

Still Sore--and Can't Run for a While

Yesterday I went to the Lancaster Orthopedic Group, one of the places that has been repairing me from running and riding injuries for the last couple of decades.  The first team I raced for in the 90s had LOG as its main sponsor.  We made jokes about being great customers.  But actually, we were.

This visit was about my right knee.  It gets very painful when I sit with my leg bent.  And since I may be flying a very long way in a very cramped airplane, I thought I should get it checked out.  The doctor said my knee wasn't as bad as he expected and if I stop running and do physical therapy it should be fine.  I do not need an operation any time soon.

That was a pleasant surprise.

And I love Physical Therapy, especially at LOG.  Joe and Gretchen are the therapists I have been going to for the last several years.  They rehabilitated my shoulder after surgery five years ago and have helped me with minor hand and knee trouble before.

Every time I have PT I learn something about how my body works and how it recovers.  If the injury means I can get PT, I am happy.

Speaking of injury, my neck still hurts from the recent army training.  If it still hurts Tuesday, I will ask Joe for help with neck recovery also.

On days like these, I am very sure I am NOT a 20-year-old.