Artist's Revenge

All the years I worked at Godfrey Advertising in Lancaster I saw how frustrated artists would get when their clear, coherent designs came back from clients. Sometimes modified, sometimes all but ruined, almost always worse. Because it takes good taste to evaluate art, but clients usually just had money.

We must wear either ACU fatigues or PT uniforms. The one caveat is that we are allowed to wear a unit PT shirt. So one of the three members of our unit with artistic ability volunteered to design the t-shirt. He clearly drew the short straw. A woman in my squad designed the coin that our commander and first sergeant present for people who go beyond the norm. She was designing just for the command staff. The t-shirt will be worn by everyone. So when the design was complete, not just a pencil concept, the artist began to get lots of advice from people who outranked him.

The t-shirt falls under my control to some extent because I am the Morale, Welfare and Recreation NCO. So for $800 I got to do something I never could do at an ad agency. I told the specialist who was getting buried with advice that I would front the money for the first order and to go ahead with the design as is. We are only getting enough t-shirts for half the company with the initial order, so I am sure I will get my money back--hopefully in time to pay the credit card bill. But if not, I still got to move the process along and leave the artwork the way it was designed rather than let a committee change it. In three weeks or so we will be stylish at PT.

Photos from my Desktop

Today's post is photos that ended up on my desk top that I meant to post at various times.

This is the big cliff near our barracks back at For Sill OK. I still can't believe people wanted to be here instead of there.

Ahh the good old days when I could walk up to that cliff and talk on my cell phone.

A very good view of our tent in Kuwait--77 of us lived here. I was in the far corner to the right.

A photo of me before pacing the weekly 5k run at 0600 on Wednesdays. I still can't run, but I finish first in the running race!

Army Morality

The Army, like every socialist government, needs a moral consensus for its citizens. In the same way that the American government reflects the morals of its citizens, the Army can only be as moral as its leaders. I have mentioned in earlier posts that we are strictly forbidden from committing adultery and from having any sort of sexual relationship within our own chain of command. For the rest there are various restrictions, but, like the ban on pornography, the main result (for which I am very thankful) is that soldiers who watch porn or have a relationship with another soldier must be discrete about it. (Almost) no one is looking for those who violate the rules, but if it becomes public. . .

Its not like I expect the Army to adopt the moral code of any major religion, but for those of us who know the standards of Christianity and Judaism, the lectures we get seem very strange. We have received the "don't screw fellow soldiers, don't commit adultery lecture" from officers who have talked in the DFAC about fraternity exploits that involve many couples having sex in the same room "But not group sex." Glad he clarified that.

And although there are signs on public computers to remind us that General Order #1 forbids viewing pornography, the some of the No Sex lecturers encouraged soldiers to use the DVD and right (or left) hand method to relieve the frustration of lack of sex.

Those who are charged with enforcing the rules know their task is hopeless and mostly hope they will not be forced to enforce penalties on someone dumb enough to get caught. So the moral restrictions are not morally based. They are practical. Without restrictions on porn and sex among soldiers, those who don't participate will be battered by those who do. We live close together, work close together, and need more civility than many soldiers actually have in order to get along together.

But sometimes the lines of what is permitted get blurred--and really weird. Today I was in a meeting in which someone brought up their perception that the Department of Defense had conflicting standards--saying on the one hand they have zero tolerance for sexual assault and on the other hand selling magazines with nearly naked women in them in the PX.

For this person, the fact that nearly every DVD player is used for things a lot more explicit than Maxim magazine was not the same thing. That was a matter of privacy. The PX doesn't sell porn, so the DOD is not endorsing it, like selling Maxim.

Really? We are in Army barracks. Our computers could all be confiscated if a high-enough ranking officer decided that confiscation was necessary for good order and discipline. That means DOD allows us to have computers.

It can be very strange trying to figure these things out.

War is Hell--but Dinner is Good

If you say the Sunday Patriot-News article on the brigade I serve with, you might want to go back again and look at the comments with the article: 42 and counting. The writers of these anonymous comments are quite upset about the article, which portrays us as living in a Five-Star resort, in a very hot climate. One guy wrote 500 ALL CAPS WORDS complaining about, well, everything. Others complained that the article was not about them, their job, their difficulties.

Those who have asked me what they could send that would be useful could send me disposable razors because our seemingly endless supply has run out. Also packets of Propel or G2 for one drink bottle--they come in boxes of 10 or 20 packets. (Serious request)

And you could also send cases of Kleenex for the commenters on the article. (Just kidding) Wow. I don't remember hearing about a resumption of the draft. We all volunteered. This is a war.

I was discussing the comments on this article with a half-dozen sergeants, all in their 30s. They most described the comments as crying, but thought some of them were good. While we were discussing the comments we had the following for dinner:

Steak; boiled, split lobster tail; fried shrimp
Corn on the cob, green beans, corn bread, mashed potatoes
Salad, fruit salad, fresh-cut watermelon

Although we all had surf and turf, one could also get
Hamburgers, fried chicken, grilled chicken
fries, onion rings
wings bar, potato bar
Chinese bar--Lo Mein, sweet and sour chicken, fried rice

A dozen different pies and cakes
banana splits
yogurt
fruit juices, coffee, milk, soda, Gatorade

Right--a soup and sandwich bar. The sandwiches are made to order on a half-doen different breads and rolls and grilled if you want.
A Nacho bar
A fresh fruit bar

War is Hell--but Dinner is Good

More Dimensions. . .

In the past couple of days, I have had the chance to speak with two women who are sergeants and in their 30s. One is in a close combat support job, the other in an administrative job in a support battalion. I have known the first sergeant for almost two years, never speaking for more than five minutes at a time. She is, to go with initial impressions, a tough woman who keeps up with guys out on the flight line and partying. She has an acid wit. She and some of her sergeant buddies sometimes sit in the DFAC and rate people in the serving line--and speculate about their lives.

Then I talked with sergeant tough guy about her plans after deployment. It turns out they are all set up. She moved back home with her ailing parents and is planning to care for them. She never talked about work, but will have a steady job that allows her to care for Mom and Dad, whom she clearly loves and admires very much. I don't know when or if I will see that side of her again, but it was interesting to see her as a loving and devoted daughter.

Moving in the other direction, the woman in the support battalion is tall, intense single Mom who is carefully planning completing a bachelor's degree, Officer's Candidate School, and then completing her career as an officer. Unlike sergeant tough guy who always sits in a group in the DFAC, sergeant soon-to-be-an-officer eats alone and reads. The brief conversations we have had have been about books, raising daughters, etc.

Until a couple of days ago. We got on the subject of Afghanistan and she said, "We need to take some people out." I thought she would continue in her support-unit role as an officer, but she seems quite ready to get as close as women are allowed to the front lines.

A week ago, if someone asked me, I would have said sergeant tough guy would be back in Afghanistan within a year and the other sergeant would be locked into a five-year stateside assignment. The reverse is closer to the truth. Tough guy will most likely be caring for Mom and Dad in 2011, and the new lieutenant will be in Afghanistan--and I would not want to be one of our nation's enemies downrange of her weapon.

These Kids Today. . .

Last night I was reading in the Coffee Shop and when a national guard master sergeant walked over and talked to me. He is 57. He could see I am his age/generation and decided to be friendly by talking about "these kids today. . ." The subject on his mind was physical training. He said when his unit got activated they had a 31% pass rate on the fitness test (APFT). Right away I felt better. My unit had a 63% pass rate at the beginning of training--twice as good the Wisconson company. Right now we are at almost 90% overall and all but one soldier in the motor pool (Sergeant Rumpled if you remember him) has passed. I think his boys and girls haven't yet gotten to the level where we started.

I could quickly see we were not going to be friends. He did not think anyone should be doing PT in Iraq, especially running, and he, himself, thought PT was unnecessary at our age. He then told me he flunked his last PT test because he had to run at 4000 feet of altitude. (He needed to run two miles in 19:54!!!) Since the conversation was the standard old-guy lecture format of "I have an idea in my head just now and I am going to get it all out before I forget it" I mentioned that I do PT every day before he went any further.

He took a breath then said how he works very hard as a mechanic and then works at home and in his yard after his eight hours.

I told him I had to go to a meeting.

The Master Sergeant had no idea he is the problem. I listen to the old-school guys every day talking about how undisciplined the new generation is. But like master sergeant "world-revolves-around-me," the ones who see the younger generation as full of excuses are themselves shining example of excuse-makers. "These kids won't listen."
Are you kidding me? We are in Iraq. Where are they going to go? The trouble is that putting a soldier on extra duty means someone has to supervise it. Which is a huge pain in the butt for the NCO involved. But there is no problem doing it. People have extra duty for various infractions in our company because we have NCOs who are there to supervise it. Extra duty also has the great advantage of correcting conduct before the soldier screws up enough to get busted and have a permanent blot on their record. Extra duty is just that.

By the way, it's the 30-year-old NCOs in our unit--backed up by the first sergeant and commander--who keep discipline in the company as much as possible. In my world, the younger leaders are the clear about their duty. Some of the older ones, not so much.

Another Stateside Article

The front page of today's Harrisburg Patriot News has an article abut my unit and I am in it. Yes, Meredith, what a surprise!! The online version is here. If I get the print version with pictures I will try to post them.

When you follow the link, check out the comments. Two soldiers in among the 1100 in our brigade are really upset because the article is not about them. One goes on for several hundred words in ALL CAPS. It reminded of the copywriter in the Dorothy Sayers novel Murder Must Advertise who "From long habit of writing headlines could only think in capital letters."

Today I got some more good shots of mechanics doing a major service on a CH-47 Chinook helicopter. The ride to the maintenance hanger also made me think carefully about what constitutes good weather here. when I went to lunch it was 129 at 1230, but thankfully no wind. Three hours later I was riding to the maintenance hangar and the thermometer was a steady 124 the whole way. It was just 3.5 miles, but I drank a liter of water as soon as I arrived and another one while I was there. It was so nice to have just a 10mph wind that I enjoyed the ride, even with my hands cooking as I rode.

At 6pm I rode with around the perimeter with my Sunday night riding buddy. He runs 7 miles in the morning then rides 10 miles with me at night on Sundays. He's a tough guy. But he's still young. He's only 46.