Going Legit on Facebook

Some of you know I have a Facebook page for my unit.  The Pa. National Guard does not authorize Facebook pages below the brigade level, so this battalion page is not an official Army page--it is a fan page connected to my personal Facebook page.

This weekend I will be meeting with an Air National Guard sergeant in the Public Affairs Office to make my page legal!  The battalion page will officially become the page of the 28th Combat Aviation Brigade, with the approval of the brigade commander.  So I will be legal as of next week.

Mostly it is a matter of me getting Facebook training and filling out paperwork--it's the Army, nothing exists without paperwork.

So I will be maintaining the brigade page until they put someone in the brigade PAO slot who can keep the page running, or move me to that slot.  There is some possibility that I will officially or unofficially move to brigade.

An Assassin??

Ten years ago, I was an assassin.  Not actually, but according to my daughters' friends I was.  

My daughters were Lifers at Lancaster Country Day School, kindergarten through high school.  LCDS is a small, private school that graduates about 40 or 50 students per year.   the girls were two years apart, played on the same sports teams in middle and high school and had friends in common so they sometimes attended the same parties.

A lot of the girls on the teams had been to sleepovers at our house and knew me as they Dad who sometimes rode to sports games.  They also knew I had a job that took me overseas every month. So the girls would sometimes get calls from Hong Kong or Australia or Argentina.  I was also one of the only parents who had served in the military.  

So at one of the sleepover parties, my older daughter told one of her friends that I was an assassin--that's why I was overseas all the time.  The company I worked for had an office in Paris and often the round-the-world trips I took began in Paris, then continued to Singapore, Beijing, Perth, Hong Kong and other mysterious sounding places.

My daughter told the other girl not to tell anyone which meant within a week every girl and many boys in the school had heard Lauren and Lisa's Dad was an assassin.  It was month's later when I heard about, when the story had been pretty well debunked.  But for a while I was the coolest Dad  at LCDS!  There were a lot of cool Dads--heart surgeons, lawyers, and CEOs, but only one assassin. 

 

Army Sizes Run Small. . .Or NOT

Last weekend during drill I was on a list to go to the Inaugural Ball.  So I needed a dress blue uniform.  I told the supply sergeant my sizes.  He got a uniform in the sizes I specified, but I could not fit in the pants!!!

The new Dress Blue Uniform

Since my supply sergeant could not get the next size of pants, I went to the clothing sales store and bought a pair.  When I went to try them on, the sales clerk said "Army sizes run small."  

Actually, the Army might be the last place with reality sizing.  My Army dress pants are size 36, just like the pants of my older suits.  The pants fight tightly in the winter and loosely in the summer.  

But my Gap jeans are another story.  Six years ago I bought a pair of Gap jeans.  I tried on the 36 waist pair.  I could take them off zipped up.  The 34s fit.  I bought them.  

Last year I wanted to replace those jeans after rips that were beyond repair.  I picked up a 34 waist pair.  When I tried them on it was like the 36s five years before.  So bought 32s.

I have not shrunk.  But most retailers are flattering their customers with waist sizes disconnected from reality.  The Army is in pants reality.  

Not Going to the Ball

No pumpkin is turning into a coach for me.  My First Sergeant called me up to say they are taking a lot fewer soldiers than he first heard and I am one of the many not going to the Inaugural Ball.

Oh well.

Low Rank Might Mean High Life

I might be going to President Obama's inaugural ball!!!  

Is it because I am such an important link in the chain of command in the defense of our nation?  

Not a chance.

It's actually the reverse.  PA National Guard has a few slots for soldiers and their wives to attend the Inagural Ball, but they are mostly for soldiers who are staff sergeants and below.  I am low ranking enough for an evening of very high life.

Of course, nothing is for sure.  I got the email an hour after the very short deadline (my fault, not the army).  But my first sergeant was kind enough to forward my name anyway.  

If we get to go it will be January 21.  I will need a dress blue uniform.  I currently have the old dress greens which are OK for the National Guard for another year, but not OK in Washington DC.

Today I will get the new uniform and start getting it ready--just in case I get the call!

Happy New Year

As this new year begins, the flight companies of my unit are on the way to or are already in Afghanistan.  If you follow me and my unit on facebook you have seen now photos going up in both places.  Several soldiers are posting and sending photos from training and from Afghanistan. Our MEDEVAC unit was in a feature story on army.mil about a new program they are testing to save more soldiers.  Here's the link to the story.

Wish I was along for the ride, but not this trip.  I will continue to write about life in the National Guard until May of 2015 when my enlistment extension is up.

Here a picture from the army.mil story:

Happy New Year!!!

Stewie Caldwell and the Magic Roach Clip

One of my best friends when I was stationed at Hill Air Force Base in Utah was Stewart "Stewie" Caldwell.  He was a smart, funny kid from San Francisco with a bright yellow Superbeetle who smoked a lot of weed.  We worked in live fire munitions testing.  I worked connecting the missiles to the testing equipment, Stewie was one of the ammo handlers who brought the missiles to the test-firing range.

Stewie and I would hang out together in the barracks and went to Salt Lake City almost every weekend so he could resupply his stash and we could meet girls who were possibly more interested in Stewie's stash than in us.

On one of these trips, a sudden Rocky Mountain blizzard blew out of the west turning I-15 white with zero visibility.  Then the gas pedal broke.

The pedal!!!

It came apart and we were idling downhill trying to think of what to do and how to get off the road so we would not be crushed by a semi.  I am not sure which one of us came up with the idea, but the throttle was operated by a cable that went all the way back to the engine in the rear.  There was a bit of cable sticking out of the floor with a crimped piece of metal on it.  Stewie kept his Roach Clip hanging on the dash.  A minute later I was upside down under the dash.  I put the roach clip on the throttle cable and became Stewie's throttle.  This was tricky in the snow with a stick shift, but he would ask for more or less gas and after a while, I could get the throttle in about the right place.

The next challenge was going through the gate.  Stewie showed the air policeman the broken gas pedal and said it was my turn to be head first under the dash.  They let us in the base!

Stewie would never go anywhere without a roach clip before it saved our lives.  Now he also bragged about his roach clip to every girl he tried to impress.