Communion and the Lack Thereof

This morning in the Anthrax Chapel we had a communion service. It is the first Sunday in Lent and our first communion service in our mobilization training. One of the lieutenants plays the guitar at our services and the music was especially good this morning.

So now it's 9pm (2100), we have to get up at 0450 for PT at 0520. It will be 21 degrees with a 10 mph wind. We got a new roommate so there are now four of us in the room. In the Army of the 1970s, we would all be trying to go to sleep and bitching about PT in the cold and asking why we have to get up so early and complaining in general. But our room is almost silent. I am typing. Another guy is taking to his family on a vid phone on his computer, but he has his headphones on so we only hear when he talks. The other two guys are surfing the net or doing something else that makes no more sound than a mouse click.

None of us is talking to each other. We are four individuals on laptops. But at 0500 we will be bitching together, then at 0520 we will be freezing together, so we do have more interaction than most people.

Tried Out the Chaplain's Bike and Broke It!

I rode the chaplain's bike today to try it out. I was going to change to my pedals--Shimano Dura Ace for those who wonder what kind--and noticed the pedals on the chaplain's Cannondale R400 were on crooked. He said his daughter rode the bike so I thought I should try to ride it as is. Bad decision. The pedals actually were stripped and on of them came off. So one week before the race my one-speed bike will be gone before the end of the week and my borrowed bike has one pedal.

I told some of my friends the position I was was in. There advice: (paraphrased) "Gussman you are [screwed]."

I called the chaplain and he couldn't have been nicer. Although I offered to pay for a new set of cranks, he said his son put the pedals on crooked and he will try to get the bike fixed for next Sunday. So despite the stripped pedals, I may still be able to race. I guess if the bike can't be fixed I can try to rent one from the one bike shop in Lawton. Otherwise, I can only ride the clown bike. And the shifter is broken on it, so I don't think I'll do very well on a one-speed clown bike.

Stay tuned.

Got My HEMMT License; Rode in Oklahoma Winds

Today I had a 20+ mile ride in a large Army vehicle in the morning and a one-speed bike in the afternoon. After safety videos, classes, written tests, hands-on tests and driving in the motor pool, I drove the HEMMT in traffic and out on the ranges on both tank trails and paved roads. So now I have a license to drive yet another vehicle that did not exist during my first enlistment.

Actually, the only vehicle the Army still uses from my first enlistment is the M35A2 2-1/2-ton "Deuce and a Half" truck. And that is used only by the National Guard. I understand that by the time we get back they will all be retired from active service and replaced by the LMTV (Light Medium Tactical Vehicle).

LMTV


Fort Sill
We had most of the afternoon off so I rode around next Sunday's Race course backward. The wind was 20-30 mph steady with a high of 50 degrees. The terrain here is almost all rolling hills. Never flat. I was riding all of 5mph up some of the hills. But it was great to be out on the bike. I might be riding tomorrow afternoon with one of the pilots.

Borrowed Bike for the Race

Just before Noon I went to the Post Chapel and picked up a Cannondale road bike from one of the post chaplains. He offered to loan me one of his bikes for the race next Sunday. He is not a racer, but an avid rider. How avid a rider you ask? When I was getting ready to take the bike outside he said he needed to pump up the rear tire. He pulled a floor pump with a pressure gauge from behind the door in his office. A guy who keeps a floor pump in his office is somebody who loves to ride.

I will be going out to ride on Saturday. I did not ride or do any PT on Friday. My shoulder is bothering me and my right foot still hurts from the plantar fasciitis that was bothering me from last October. Joe and Gretchen, the physical therapists who treated me before I left told me to listen to my shoulder. I am trying, but my shoulder never says anything I want to hear.

One More Race Before Deployment

On March 8 at 0930, Fort Sill is hosting a 17-mile bike race through the middle of one of the ranges. They won't be firing that day. I registered last night on Bikereg.com. It looks like a citizen race from the registration. I called and they have a 55+ age group, which will be my first race in that category. It is a great course, rolling with several long and short 4-6% climbs and one 40+mph descent. I rode the course on the one-speed today and am hoping to borrow a bike with gears from the post chaplain tomorrow--he's an avid rider.

Drugs in the Army--Then and Now

This drug testing class is not very much fun. Forty hours of how to fill out paperwork and supervise urinalysis drug tests. This program started in 1971 and continues with more and more emphasis for nearly 40 years.

From the perspective of someone who served at both ends of the program, the class never addresses the really important difference 38 years of drug testing has made in the military. For me, the primary difference is that people inclined to use drugs know they are going to be hassled for all of their career and, thankfully, they mostly decide to get out.

Back in the 70s, that was not the case.

When our unit got a new platoon sergeant in the 1970s, everybody hoped it was one of the young guys with only one tour in Viet Nam, or better yet, none. Because you never knew back then if the guy running the tank platoon was going to be an experienced NCO who knew tanks and soldiering really well, or a burnout who was just trying to get to 20. The great thing that continuous testing does it make it hard for addicts to stay in. Most soldiers who really want to do drugs end up getting out before they are in charge of anything.

Most, not all. The bind the Army is in is that they instill pride in us. But pride is a sword that cuts in two directions. Once you make a soldier proud in a positive sense, you have given that soldier everything he needs to believe he can do anything. So there will always be a few cases of the senior sergeants and officers who take the pride that got them the rank and let it convince them they are smarter than everybody else.

Wrong End of the Digestive System

All this week--Monday through Friday from 0830 to 1630--I am in a class with 40 other sergeants on how to monitor drug tests--specifically how to fill out al the paperwork necessary to properly conduct a drug test. All of us were assigned this job as an additional duty. There are people from the unit I am in, various units around Fort Sill, drill sergeants and recruiters. Unfortunately, this testing is necessary because no one wants to give soldier on drugs a loaded weapon.

But I really feel bad for three people in that class. One is a cook, the other two are the instructors. First the cook. For various reasons, the Army does not have cooks cook our food. When my friend the cook gets deployed, he will be filling out papers about food service, but will not be baking, roasting or frying. Although the Army won't officially let him put our buns in the oven, he will be putting his initials on bottles of urine. I would rather see my friend the cook be a cook. But he's a good soldier, so he will be working the Exit of the digestive system rather than the entrance.

Maybe a worse situation than the cook is the instructors. These two must face a class of 40 or so men and women who have taught many classes and present information that dull hardly begins to describe. Both of the instructors are good natured and resist the temptation to make any of the jokes that are being whispered in various corners of the room. And since they are experienced teachers in this subject, they have heard all of these jokes over and over.