The TAG

One of my colleagues at work end her official three-sentence bio saying she "hates people who confuse their, there and they're."  

I hate acronyms.

Make your own case for why the helmet everyone wears should be referred to as an ACH, but it's a freakin' helmet.  But every formation at which we were required to wear our combat gear we were told to fall out in ACH and IOTV.  Why not fall out in your helmet and body armor?  Is there any chance someone would be confused and show up for formation in some other helmet and body armor?  

Last drill weekend someone mentioned the commanding general of the Pennsylvania National Guard.  Major General Jessica Wright, our commander, is officially The Adjutant General of PA.  Hence she is referred to by the acronym TAG.

Actually, and here is the grammatical problem, she is referred to as The TAG.  So if one were to spell out what is being abbreviated, Maj. Gen. Wright would be called The The Adjutant General.

Which makes acronyms exasperating if you care at all about language and proper usage.  Even if you say you don't care about grammar and proper usage, you do.  Grammar is the traffic lights and lines in the road of our spoken and written communication.  

Most of us have enough faith in our fellow citizens to drive through green lights.  It takes no faith to stop at red lights of course, the faith comes when passing through the green lights, even more with yellows.  

Using "The TAG" is definitely driving with one your right wheels off the pavement kicking up dust.  Acronyms allow an informed group to communicate quickly and serve to exclude everyone else from that group.  If you knew nothing about the Army, I would convey more information by saying that I was wearing my camouflage uniform with helmet, armored vest and my weapon instead of:

"I fell out in ACUs, with my ACH, IOTV and my SAW."

ACU=Army combat Uniform

SAW=M249 Squad Automatic Weapon

ACH and IOTV, see above.

Last drill when we had our gear inspected it was an OCIE (Organizational Clothing & Individual Equipment) inspection.  

I am going to stop now.  Time to eat some MREs and chill out.

So I Called the Chaplain. . .

If I told another soldier the stuff I wrote in yesterday's blog post, he would say, "Call the Chaplain."

So I did.

I called Chaplain (Lt. Col.) Kevin Cramm, one of the senior chaplains at Fort Sill.  He loaned me a Cannondale road bike to ride during my two-month train-up at Fort Sill.  He is an avid cyclist himself, currently riding about 100 miles per week.  

We talked for about half an hour this morning.  He is going to Afghanistan or Iraq soon and asked me how I was adjusting to civilian life.  I told him life seems a whole lot more complicated now that I am back than it did when I left.  

Chaplain Cramm is Regular Army and a few years from retirement.  He said he was reserve at the beginning of his service but had 100 days of active duty as a reservist and decided he might as well go full time.  

I told him him how clear priorities seemed in Iraq compared to here.  He laughed a lot when I told him about the day I had five different things to do, but the battalion commander wanted me on a flight to Al Kut and Baghdad.  I asked the BC if I had to go given the other stuff I had to get done.  He said, "Suck it up Gussman, this is a war."  So I went.

Chaplain Cramm said he likes the military for that reason--people are direct about what they need and he can be direct.  

It was fun to talk to him.  Now I can be thankful that I had a year of the clarity of focus on the mission and keep trying to sort out all the conflicting priorities in the complicated world back home.

Simple Life Gets Complicated

One of the best things about life in Iraq was the schedule.  I worked, ate, slept, worked out worked till midnight, squeezed in phone calls home, and did the same thing over and over again.

My life was as unbalanced as a drunk in a tilted room.  All work and no play made Jack a dull boy in the old proverb, but I know now that Jack was probably a very happy workaholic who liked working.  Life in Iraq was anything but simple when I was trying to work for Chief Shawn McCurdy and Staff Sgt. Dave Wentzel in the motor pool, and write the Echo Newsletter, and do some kind of public affairs work for the battalion.  That was a mess from May to September, then Command Sgt Maj Dell Christine decided the battalion needed someone full time in public affairs.  From that mid-September day forward I was in 16-hour-a-day Heaven.  Mostly.

While I was away, the museum I work for, like many other business, had its first layoff ever.  I came back to a new boss and ambitious plans for reaching new audiences and new support--and fewer people.  I have been busier at work than ever before since I came back.  Before we left for Iraq, I worked in the motor pool.  I did not bring work home from drill weekends.  But now I am the unofficial public affairs sergeant for the battalion, so I bring work home from drill weekends.  I talke pictures during drill weekends and write the stories on the train to and from Philadelphia--the same place I write blog posts.

At home, we are in the process of adopting Jacari, who will be the 5th child in our yours-mine-ours family.  I want to spend time with my family and friends, ride, workout and do all the things I did before I left.

Luckily (I think) I can't lose sleep for long without falling apart and catching up on my sleep.  People who can really go with little sleep for weeks on end often end up sick.

But then cool stuff happens right out of nowhere.  Like the 1-70th Armor reunion I am going to in two weeks.  The unit i served with in Germany from 76-79 is having a reunion in Chattanooga TN July 23 - 26.  I am going to drive down with my oldest and youngest children--Lauren and Nigel.

Before the deployment I tried using a program called Life Balance.  Last month I erased it.  There were so many things I was trying to balance that I would need 300-hour weeks to do it all.  So I'll just do the best I can.

Old Bastards in the Hallway

Today the drill started early with a PT test at 0700.  I arrived at 0645.  I have a lot of PT test photos which I will post on FLICKR by next Tuesday.  After the PT Test, the over-40 soldiers from our unit went to the medical facility for annual health screening.  We all fasted since last night which was especially difficult for the soldiers who took the PT Test.  No food before or after.  I brought a bag of food with me and ate it as soon as I got the blood test.

At every Army medical event with multiple stations, one station ends up with a three-hour line.  I got blood, dental, eyes, ears, ekg all done in an hour and a half.  I am now in my second hour of the checkout line.  The doctor just came out of his office and said the computer is down.  So we have been waiting, are waiting and will be waiting in a line that won't move.

While we are waiting, some of the 40 yr olds got into one of those "Good old days" conversations which start out with the Old Soldiers in question bragging about who had the meanest mother and how much they got beat when they were kids.  Then as they keep speaking, it begins to be clear that despite their love of the old days, their actual techniques for discipline are as squishy as fresh marshmallows.

They "count to ten" while the disobedient child continues his disobedience until the count of nine.  One of the two parents is not sure about spanking.  They think talking back is normal.  They give 7-year-olds video games.  They may be paragons of an orderly family in their heads, but their actions say nothing matters but individual happiness and rights--which makes them Liberals by any traditional definition.  If actions speak louder than their (very loud) words, then they are to Left of the San Francisco city council.

And my wife, who allows no back talk, requires good behavior without exception, and thinks community is more important than individuality, turns out to be more Conservative in practice than all of the "Good old days" group put together.

Got a Tattoo--1st Armored Division Patch on my Right Calf

Today at 4pm I went to Transcending Flesh on Chestnut St. in Lancaster to get my first tattoo!  I got the 1st Armored Division unit patch on my right calf.  It is very visible in a group of bicycles and invisible in a suit.  Just right for me.

It took about an hour after 30 minutes of prep.  Ben, the artist who did the tattoo, said it was going to itch like crazy and I am not supposed to scratch it.

When we were in Iraq, the commander of 1st AD put in orders to award the combat patch to the pilots who flew him on missions, mostly in Alpha Company and me for some things I did for 1AD.  Then the orders were revised to include all of 2-104th Aviation.  But so far the orders have not been finalized.

All the years I served in tanks (1975-84) I was in infantry divisions, so I never wore an armored patch.  With the 1AD patch I finally got to wear an armored patch, but now it is on hold, maybe forever.  So in the absence of orders, I can wear my 1AD patch where my bike buddies can see it.

Here's the actual patch:

A Small Slice of Life

Two weeks or so ago I got a bug bite on my right hip right at my waist.  It was red and itchy like any bug bite.  It also would not go away.  On the July 4th weekend it kept getting more and more sore.

When I came home Tuesday night the 1-inch red mark was three inches across and turning black and dripping.  I called my doctor and made an appt. for Wednesday.  At 10pm I called back and asked if I should be worried.  One of my co-workers said she got blood poisoning from something like this.  the doctor said not to worry, but get into the office the next day.

When I got to the office the sore was swollen.  The family practice I go to has many interns and nurse practitioners pass through.  The nurse who treated me was a young woman who seemed delighted to have something to work on that she could fix.  She said she would have to drain the sore then start me on antibiotics.

First I got the lidocaine shots to numb the area.  Then she made the scalpel cuts and started cleanup.  After a few minutes she said there was a place she did not see was not numb.  She said it would not hurt much--it hurt a lot more than the numb area.  After more cutting and squeezing she was done.  "Take a look," she said.  "We got lots of bad stuff out."

I remember from my other various injuries how much medical people like to have patients that get better.  I have a follow up vist next Friday, but probably won't need it.  The antibiotic is working already.

Next Drill

We are really going to have a fun-filled weekend this coming drill weekend on July 10-11.  I just got a note from Echo's training NCO, Staff Sgt. Chad Hummel, that I and the other 40+ year old soldiers have to get a blood test Saturday morning at 0900.  That means fasting from 2100 (9pm) Friday night.

That will not be a big deal for me since I am just a grader on the PT test at 0700.  But for the old guys who have o take the test at 0700 then wait till after the blood test before they eat, they are going to be grumpy old men waiting for their turn to get blood drawn.

I called Chad up and made the futile gesture of saying that I just got a blood test as part of an annual physical from my civilian doctor.  I have complete blood work dated June 25.  That, of course, is meaningless.  I need and Army blood test.

After the 0700 PT Test and the 0900 blood test, I will be laying out all my field gear for inventory.  We will also be turning in outdated items.  This means during the next two days I will fill two or three duffel bags and a rucksack with field gear and uniforms for inventory.

Once the inventory is complete, I hope to meet with the Command Sgt. Maj. and the battalion commander about what I will be doing for the next three years.  For the present I am training with Echo.