Pink Running Shoes and Combat Boots

The hallway next to the one I live in is where the women live. We pass through their hallway on the way to the laundry room or the B Stairwell dayroom. Today when I can back from chow I saw this ten-foot line of shoes outside a room where six women live. If my roommates and I lined our shoes up in the hall, it would look different--except for the boots.

Non-Sexist Zombies

This morning I got a note asking if it is just guys who watch Zombie movies for breakfast or do women watch horror flicks also. I didn't know. An hour later I left my room and walked to the dayroom while my roommates watched another Zombie movie. When I walked in the dayroom the only soldiers inside were two young women watching Sponge Bob and eating cereal. One said, "Good morning sergeant. How are you?" I answered that I was good and I was going to sit in the back of the dayroom because my roommates were watching a Zombie. One of the women turned from Sponge Bob and said, "Which one?"

So young soldiers are fans of Zombie movies without regard to gender.

BEER

Today was the battalion party. Six hundred of us went to a recreation area on post just after lunch. Each soldier was allowed two beers. The lines were long long enough that it took an hour between beers so no one could drink two beers in the same hour. And then the keg ran out before many soldiers could get a second beer. They bought more, but that spaced the two beers out even further. For many, they got an idea just how fast they can get a buzz on after six weeks without alcohol.

I promised not to drink and rode my bike to the picnic--8 miles out, 21 miles the long way back. So I had a great time. Some of us hiked up the bike trail near the picnic area. We were at Lake Elmer Thomas Recreation Area where the bike race was held. We saw the bikes go up the hill, but did not see the trail down the other side. The trail is steep and covered with loose rocks leading down into a dry stream bed--and that was just the first mile.

Zombies for Breakfast

It's Friday morning. I am back in the room behind the stairwell. My roommates are watching a Zombie movie this morning. Lawton, Oklahoma, is on the western edge of the Central Time Zone, so when we went on daylight savings time, sunrise moved to 0745. This morning sunrise was just past 0730. We got up at 0450 to run. One roommate early training so he did not have to do the run. He went back to the room and got changed for training. When the rest of us got back from the run he was watching an anime Zombie movie based on a video game. I was laughing about Zombies for breakfast and another of my roommates said, "It's dark outside, that's when you watch horror movies." Makes sense. I got showered and went to the hidden room without TV or video games.

Do You Remember in that Movie When. . .

I am soooo 20th century. Actually so early 20th century. I did no notice how culturally backward I was when I first rejoined the Army. Without knowing it, I surrounded myself with backwards people just like me who use books as cultural references. Not here. Everyone, and I mean EVERYONE, uses movies as the shared culture of their lives.

For the first month people tried to include me. They would say, "Sergeant G, do you remember in Wedding Crashers when. . ." Or "That's just like in that Jim Carey movie when they watched his whole life. Yo G, remember. . ." And I don't. No it's just a joke. Someone will start to say, "Do you remember. . ." then look at me and say "Right. Never mind."

I don't watch sitcoms, I don't watch comedy movies, I watch one or two movies per year. These guys go from room to room sharing gigabytes of DVDs on thumb drives and plug-in hard drives. One of my roommates has a terabyte drive full of movies and music. He is still mourning the loss of a second terabyte hard drive that crashed a few days after we arrived.

At home, my friends, co-workers and family all read books. Two nights ago I got an email from a friend, a college prof who had never been in the military. He was commenting on a post I wrote that the military is a meritocracy where everyone knows who is the best at everything, and the most competent people tend to take over whatever their rank.

My friend Ray said the military is a hierarchy and he couldn't believe what I wrote. So I called him and could remind him to read CS Lewis' essay "The Inner Ring" which begins quoting Tolstoy's "War and Peace" on the real rank structure of the military and the actual way things get done. With Ray, I can use books and essays to illustrate a point. I read to my own kids till they graduated high school and knew many of the books they read for classes, so even though I could not share movie culture with them, we had a lot of literature in common.

I brought some movies with me because everyone said I should. I haven't watched one yet. Maybe when we get to Iraq I will. In the meantime, it's seems OK for me to remain a cultural illiterate. I am old enough to get a pass. Right now I am in the back of the C Stairwell dayroom and a small room people forget about. I can sort of hear the drone of a TV movie through the walls, but I don't have to look at it.

Riding in Battle Gear

Yesterday I returned to the FARP (Forward Area Refueling Point) to see both Blackhawks and Chinooks refueling and rearming. Today when the Blackhawks took off they flew to a nearby machine gun range and circled at steep angles firing their door guns. Yesterday I watched the fueling from the other side of the range road because I did not bring battle gear.

We had no scheduled training in the afternoon so I rode to the FARP on my borrowed bike. Since I wanted to get close to the birds and talk to the fuelers, I wore my bulletproof vest and carried the Kevlar helmet in a backpack. When I left it was 87 degrees and sunny. So I got a small preview of my future by riding in my full uniform and bulletproof vest with a pack. I wore a bicycle helmet on the road because Army helmets aren't approved for road use. I got some strange looks even on an Army range road. The ride was longer than in bike clothes--I climb a lot slower with 30 pounds of battle gear and pedaling in combat boots.

I got to the FARP just in time to see two Chinooks take off and within a minute two Blackhawks zoomed in from the south. When the Chinooks came back I called my son Nigel and held the phone up while the big helicopters refueled and rearmed. When Nigel and Annalisa got home, they looked up Chinook on the web. Then Nigel got his geography lesson for the day about where Daddy and Chinooks are and where they are going.

Pit Stops for Blackhawks

Today I rode out to the Forward Area Refueling Point (FARP) on the edge of the gunnery range area of Fort Sill and saw two Blackhawks get refueled and rearmed. It was beautiful to watch.

Like NASCAR teammates dropping from the high banks of Daytona for a green-flag pit stop, two Blackhawks flew hard out of the south then wheeled 180 degrees and seemed to stop as they settled into the Echo Company "pits."

The Echo Company "pit area" can be any field with enough room for rotary-wing aircraft to safely land, re-fuel, re-arm and continue the mission. In this Fort Sill training area, two HEMMT 2500-gallon fueling vehicles wait at opposite edges of an open field. The crews, like their NASCAR counterparts, waited in the sun, suited up with protective clothing and helmets. They check their equipment, watch the sky and wait for the sound of approaching helicopters.

The first birds this afternoon fly straight past the FARP (Forward Area Refueling Point). Then just at 1500 (3pm) the Blackhawks circle in. While both NASCAR and Army Aviation pit crews fuel their high-performance vehicles, the cars get new tires, the Blackhawks get guns and ammo.

In nine minutes the two Blackhawks faced into the south wind and flew up and off to the east, re-armed and re-fueled. The Echo Company FARP got ready for the next pair of Blackhawks already visible on the horizon.