Pain, like Envy, is Relative

At the risk of being gross, for the past several days I have had two painful bug bites in my hairline that won't go away--although they are finally getting somewhat better. They are in my hair, above my ear right where the helmet covers them. So every time I ride, they get bumped. And then I got a very painful swelling inside my nose. So it's hard to breath and it hurts.

So I was riding along thinking 'You broke all those bones and now you are bitching about what is essentially three zits. What a baby.'

The trouble really bad pain leads to really good drugs. But you don't take morphine for injuries. So I just get aggravated by the pain and swelling. My head hurts. My nose hurts. My heel hurts because I ran today. These small pains bother me more than I think they should. I suppose that is what is ultimately so difficult about getting old--there is always something wrong with a body that is not growing any more.

The Smell of Diesel Brings Back Army Memories

"Deuce and a Half" trucks spewed black clouds of diesel.

During the 23 years I was a civilian before I re-enlisted in the Army, the unexpected smell of diesel that would take me back to the Army in a flash of memory.

In the 70s and 80s, the primary vehicle--the Jeep--had a gasoline engine. but most everything we drove had diesel engines. Tanks, Personnel Carriers, Howitzers and trucks all had diesel engines. Now the Humvees are diesel just like all the other trucks. On all of bases in this barren land of Iraq, power comes from generators. Huge generators, small generators, in-between generators.

Last month in the motor pool one of the mechanics grabbed a 110V drill to work on a 5-ton truck. He had to drill a few holes while he worked on the truck. He fired up a 150hp 6-cylinder diesel generator that happened to be close to his work site. It ran continuously for the entire time he worked on the truck.

On this morning's 5k run, I ran past several howling generators in containers outside the housing areas. Every time I turn on a light, charge a computer battery or go the chow hall, one of those generators is making power for me.

A diesel generator sitting in a Conex roaring day and night is not the most efficient way to provide power, but it is what we have here on Camp Adder, Iraq.

Just a whiff of diesel from a passing bus would remind me of eating on the back deck of our M60A1 tank or the driving in long convoys on the Autobahn that spewed black clouds of diesel from tanks and trucks.

When I get home I will smell diesel and think about those huge generators outside every facility, puffing clouds of smoke and keeping me well-fed and on line.

No Night Flight till Thursday or Friday

I did not go on the Chinook flight last night. It will have to wait until the end of the week. As it turns out it was the best move. I had to replace a picture in the battalion (weekly) newsletter at the very last minute. It was a group shot of about 20 pilots on the last day they were allowed to were the one-piece flight suit. It is being retired. The Chaplain wrote an excellent speech about it. The problem with the picture is some of the pilots wore their Task Force Diablo patches on the flight suit--very bad. Luckily I had a shot with no patches.

A photographer came to the C.S. Lewis book group tonight to take pictures. Last week I talked to a reporter from USA Today about the CSL group and the Dead Poets Society, so the groups may be in his article about what people do when the war is not so busy.

The PT Belt page on Facebook is up to 1600 fans. It was featured in my newsletter today as well as the brigade newsletter. He might got to 5000 fans before we come home.

Last week I went over 5000 miles for the year. They are talking about not packing our stuff for shipment home till early January. If so, I might be able to ride 5000 miles this year in Iraq--more than 350 hamster laps.

View from the Window

I sat behind the left door gunner on the Blackhawk I rode on yesterday. Here's some of the view I had.

First Flight in a Blackhawk

Today at a little after 10am I was a passenger on a routine flight to two small forward operating bases where our MEDEVAC Company flies. It's fun taking off and landing in a Blackhawk. They life straight up for a couple of seconds then bank away. When they reach about a thousand feet they level off and fly straight. No more excitement till we bank in to land.
Blackhawks are loud, but really smooth in flight. Here's a picture of me in front of the Blackhawk I flew on. It was the second of a pair of Blackhawks. The first was an unarmed MEDEVAC bird. I was in the chase bird with the door guns.
The computer system will be down all day tomorrow, but I will try to put some photos of the flight up before the computers go down.

Flights are on Again, Maybe

I thought I could not write this post because I can't say anything about where troops are going. So I won't. The main news is I am scheduled to fly in a Blackhawk tomorrow and a Chinook on Sunday night. I actually don't much care where I am going and if I told you, you probably would not know any more than I do. So I'll let you know where I was when I get back.

I am charging up my camera batteries. Tomorrow is a daylight flight so I should be able to take loads of pictures. Sunday is a night flight and the point of the trip for me is to see how well I can take pictures through night vision goggles.

Everything is happening so fast lately. Three weeks ago I was still figuring out how to get the time to write one or two good stories a week and had just made a to do list of important things for me to do in the motor pool: sort nuts and bolts and washers in the spare parts Conex (a container about half the size of an over-the-road semi trailer), make inventory sheets of hundreds of special tools, most of which are still in paper and plastic wrappers because we never use them, coordinate schedules of the people who will sign out the tools when I am on other duties, etc.

Now I am writing and taking pictures and getting stories published all over southern Iraq. Three weeks ago, I was trying to decide what to use for the lead story for the Echo Company newsletter.

In My Pockets

In civilian life I wear many different kinds of clothes with many different pockets--several in the same day. So I may wear shorts and a t-shirt for the walk and train ride to work, change to a suit, change to bike clothes for a late day ride in Philadelphia, then back to shorts and a t-shirt for the train home. I am often searching for keys, my wallet or something in my pocket because I don't have a specific pocket for specific items in civilian life.

That will change when I get back. I only have two outfits here--pt clothes and the uniform. But because I have to find things in a hurry, I have the stuff I carry in specific pockets all the time. I always know where things are or know something is missing in a second. Right now my keys are in my left front pants pocket, my ID is in my left cargo pocket in the middle of my thigh, my wallet is in my left shirt pocket and my glasses are on the right. In civilian life I won't have to carry the tourniquet in my right lower leg pants pocket or the reflective (PT) belt in the left. But I always know where they are.

If this deployment has made any mental change in me--besides a strong wish to go home--it is in seeing the value of keeping things organized. My priority before was always in getting the task in front of me done and cleaning up the mess later. But since I have to live in later, I am much more aware that it is worth slowing the work down to make sure that I stay organized. It may not seem like much, but it's a big change after almost 20,000 days of living happily with disorganization.