Surgery or Else

On Saturday at the end of drill, I was worried. My squad leader was back from Camp Shelby with stories of people pulled from deployment units for medical reasons and sent home. If this sounds good to some of you, it sounded terrible to me. I want to go when my unit deploys for many good, positive reasons and one great, big negative reason: Those who are left behind stay with their unit as the full time cadre during the deployment. That would mean I would be assigned to Fort Indiantown Gap for the entire year maintaining vehicles, filling out paperwork and doing whatever is necessary to keep the unit equipment operational while the soldiers are overseas.

Even that wouldn't be so bad, but the other thing I have heard that the "Left Behind" people do is listen to complaints from the dependent family members of soldiers on deployment. This is a sad and mostly hopeless activity because there is usually a specific place in the Army hierarchy for these complaints and the soldiers in the unit can't do anything to help.

When I told my best friend about this on Saturday evening he laughed. We served together in the 1970s and have been in ouch ever since, though we we live on different sides of the country. Anyway, he knows I enlisted partly for spiritual reasons, to live less at my own will and serve a greater cause. He said, "If you were looking for humility, listening to an angry woman with three kids bitch is a good way to get humble."

He might be right. But I am going to do everything the surgeon says and be sure as I can that I am on a flight away from Fort Indiantown Gap in January.

Surgery on the 29th

On Monday I will be calling to take the 29th for arthroscopic surgery on my right shoulder. My first sergeant said the most important thing is getting the three-month recovery time out of the way before we go to Fort Sill for pre-deployment training. Assuming everything goes well, I will be on something like bed rest for a week to ten days after the surgery--my upper arm will be taped to my side. Maybe the bed rest is because of how bad I will smell after a week without a shower. After the stitches come out I will spend a month in a sling, then six weeks of rehab and I should be pretty well recovered, just in time.

I will post more details when I get a surgery date. The image above something like what is wrong with my shoulder, plus I tore the trapezoidal ligament--the one between my shoulder and my collarbone.

Old Shoulder

I got the MRI results today: torn rotator cuff and deltoid ligament in my right shoulder. I need surgery--ligaments don't heal. The doctor said the recovery time is three to six months. After I left the doctor's office I started adding up days and figuring out how I could get a three month recovery period. I spoke to my first sergeant tonight and went over the possibilities. I can get surgery either October 29 or November 5. The first date would give me another week to heal before January 28. The second date would allow me to qualify with the M-16 on November 4. I'll find out tomorrow if I should hold off till the 5th or not.

I should have a surgery date by tomorrow.

The Language of War

As the Presidential candidates trade slurs, lies and videotape in their effort to prove they are qualified for moral leadership, they should know that use of language can be more significant than words themselves. One of the men I went through the Shot House training with is a history buff. When we talked he reminded me how America speaks of wars we are winning versus stalemates and losses. In World War One, we sailed to "Fight the Hun." Twenty-five years later, our soldiers were going "to kill Krauts and Japs." Popular usage also had us beating the Kaiser, Hitler, Mussolini and Tojo. We didn't "go to Germany, Guam and Tarawa." We went to fight armies (or leaders personifying armies) and win.

But when I enlisted at the end of Viet Nam, those who fought "went to Viet Nam." The sons of candidates McCain, Biden and Palin are "going to Iraq." Others are "going to Afghanistan." In 2001 and 2002 American soldiers were going to "fight the Taliban" or "fight Al-Qaeda" and "get Bin Laden." In 2003 we were going to "fight the Republican Guard" or "beat Saddam."

If I lived 150 years ago, I would be "fighting the Rebs" and people who lived less than 100 miles from me would be going to "fight the Yanks."

The candidates can talk about war plans, but when we are collectively talking about fighting an enemy rather than going to an inhospitable place, that's when we'll know that victory is in sight. Those of us who have been dumb enough to take a swing at the wrong guy in a parking lot or a bar were fighting a particular "loud-mouth @#$%."
When things turned out badly we "went to the hospital" or "went to jail."

As of now, I am "going to Iraq." I was glad to hear in the debate that Senator Obama is planning to send someone to "kill Bin Laden" crossing the Pakistani frontier if necessary. I want to win.

Modern Marvels Tomorrow Night

Part of my day job is getting chemistry experts on "geek" TV. Tomorrow night is the first airing of a new Modern Marvels episode on Lead. Three members of the Chemical Heritage Foundation staff will be talk about the history and chemistry of lead. It is on at 9pm eastern and Pacific time.

MRI Monday Night--Reading Tomorrow

Monday night I got an MRI for my right shoulder. It gets read by the doctor tomorrow so I should know then whether I need therapy, cortisone shots, surgery or just different exercise. I never had an MRI because of the bits of shrapnel in my eyes from a missile testing accident in 1973. Before the MRI they did an orbital xray of my eyes and determined whatever is left is not metal, so the MRI would not make me go blind. I should have known this from organic chemistry class, but if any other metal in my upper body was made of iron or nickel, it would get hot in a magnetic field. So now I know positively I am not magnetic.

After the Live Fire Shoot House last week, I assumed the two week rest for my shoulder was over so I went back to the gym and started doing pushups and pullups again on Saturday. Not a lot, just to get started again.

Stay tuned. MRI results tomorrow.

Live Fire Shoot House Day Three

My right shoulder is aching as we ride out to the range in the back of a HumVee.

At 8 am we jump out of the back of the HumVee--except me. I get out out rather more slowly than the other five sergeants in the truck who range in age from 25 to 31.

Frist, we get a half-hour briefing on all the electronic capabilities of the shoot house. We can add noises of gunfire, babies crying, women screaming, explosions and shouting. Today we will fire at the man-sized three-dimensional targets--a dozen plastic mannequins that bullets pass through. The technicians explain that the dummies will fall over when shot, but they can be set to fall down with between one and five hits.

Next we move to the shoot house and Phil starts the briefing telling us that we will be the instructors today. Teams of three will run the exercises as we go through. Also on this final day of live fire we begin in small teams but quickly switch to a full ten-man team for each assault. And the exercises can use the entire building.

Up till this point everything we did was new to me--or so old that it seemed new. But today two parts of the training were things I had recently practiced. During the night, I realized that walking steadily and smoothly forward, rifle on my shoulder aimed forward, finger over the trigger guard, thumb on the safety was a lot like riding a bike fast through city traffic.

Riding in city traffic--cities like New York, Philadelphia, Boston and Paris--you ride between lines of traffic pedaling steady but scanning in every direction looking for the movement that betrays an unsignaled lane changed, a door opening, a guy who hesitates then runs a light. Your hands are on the brake/shift levers, but lightly, only shifting or braking in the split second when something changes. And a mistake can be a disaster. So going into the shoot house is like riding Storrow Drive in Boston or riding the cobblestone traffic circle around the Arc de Triomphe in Friday rush hour traffic.

Now I am jazzed.

After the first team of three instructors runs us through the shoot house I get another boost. The guys on these teams know their weapons inside and out and have practiced the tactics of moving and communicating under fire. But they don't speak in public that often.

As instructors we had to make up a scenario for an assault, explain it to the team, and then put ourselves in the line with the team so we can monitor movements and give them feedback. In some cases, the instructor becomes part of the exercise.

Speaking to groups and putting together events is part of my day job. This was looking good for me--or at least a lot better than the rest of the exercise.

My big revelation about the bike made me more comfortable. It wasn't a big difference because I am still out of practice with the weapon and team movements, but I could concentrate more on the mission and less on my own movements.

After six assaults I got the orange vest. Just two of us made up the scenario. The third member of our instructor team was part of the range staff and on the radio with range control. Sgt. M2 (I don't use soldier's names) and I dreamed up the first scenario to use the entire house. Up to this point the instructors had only used half of the upper floor because there is a non-ballistic door in the middle of the house--bullets go through it. So for safety's sake we went down one side or the other.

M2 & I decided to send the team through the entire house, upper floor to lower, but knock down all the targets on the upper floor. That way there would be no reason to shoot on the upper floor and no danger of bullets passing through the door in the middle. All of the "Live" targets would be on the lower floor, but the 10-man team would not know in advance there would be no firing on the upper floor as they passed through it.

Also on each exercise up to this point, the first man in the assault saw targets as soon as he opened the door. Everyone was ready to fire on entry. In our scenario the team would walk over "bodies" and clear a half-dozen rooms before they fire a shot.

Our scenario: "You are entering a building that was cleared of terrorists two hours ago. The team was pulled away and another group of terrorists was seen entering the building. You must re-secure the building. . ."

It went great. I volunteered to be an instructor three more times. My team members were always happy to have me give the briefing before the assault. On the second one I took a cue from Phil as to where to monitor the operation. He stood on the stairway inside the building as we entered on the lower floor. That meant the first men in the building were scanning in his direction before they turned toward the doors. It was a rush to watch the assault from the business end of the weapons instead of from the middle of the line. Since I was up the staircase and the teams were very good, there was little danger and it gave me a great perspective on the action.

The best assault to watch was another one Sgt. M2 and I set up. The major in charge of the range was serving as commander of two fire teams on this exercise. M2 and I set up a "capture the flag" scenario where the team had to find a book with valuable information in it. The teams cleared the lower rooms then the upper room of all terrorists but did not find the book. The team regrouped and covered each other as they went back through the rooms to find the book. I was in the back then the middle of the group and watched the operation move from room to room, then regroup and complete the objective.

On the final mission of the day, I was the last in line in a complex scenario, so I was the first man through the door in the last room we cleared. I went in that room looking over my sights with both eyes open, moving smoothly, weapon on my shoulder, ready to fire. As I went through the door, I turned right. In front of me was a hostage with a terrorist behind him. I was six feet away. All I could see was the terrorist's head. I flipped the safety to semi-automatic and fired two rounds. I hit the terrorist in the forehead and the nose then stood over him, my weapon on him until we were given the signal to withdraw. My partner in the assault pretended to carry the hostage out.

I really learned a lot in three days.

After all that excitement, we cleaned weapons, cleaned the shoot house, got in the HumVee and went back to range control. My skin was tingling and my head buzzing from the excitement of the last three days. I drove home slowly and steadily.

Live Fire Shoot House Day Two

I woke up three times before the alarm rang a 5:20 am. By 715 I was at range control ready to go. At 8 am we were back at the Shoot House. Our briefing from Phil was fast, blindingly fast for an Army briefing. He did take a few minutes to tell us the objective of all of his Shoot House training, whether for law enforcement or military groups.

"Something, maybe everything will go wrong in these operations. My goal in every mission is that at the end of the day we all go home."

He then added what must be an old joke but I never heard it before. "When I get home if I can get in the shower and count to 21, that's a good day."

Then we split into teams of four and started drills securing the lower floor of the building. There were no dress rehersals. We got an order; made a plan; lined up at the door and went in firing.

I went through twice, then was put on ammo guard for an hour at 10 am. this was more like usual Army training--watching someone else shoot while I stood by the ammo.

By 11 am I was back on a team and doing more complicated drills. By Noon Phil added the room at the top of the stairs to the training.

The Shoot House we are training in is a building with two floors connected by a staircase, somewhat resembling an Afghan house built on the side of a hill--common rooms and main entrance upstairs, small bedrooms on the lower floor. The rooms and hallways are made so the building floor plan can be changed with barricades to limit the area of attack.

Since we are the first group through and the building is brand new, the rooms are mostly empty, though Phil set up some barricades and trash for us to move around.

If you have seen a SWAT unit assualt a building, you will get some idea what we were doing. I also recommend looking at the videos on You Tube--just search Live Fire Shoot House. With a four-man team, one man opens the door and the next three move in a line and begin going through the doors, clearing the rooms of hostiles and rescuing the hostages if they are part of the scenario.

By midday I started to get brain fade. I was not moving smoothly. I was dragging my feet as I walked through rooms with my weapon at ready. During lunch I tried to figure out what was wrong. It turns out in the tension of the rapid movement and gunfire, I forgot to walk with both eyes open looking over the sight of the M-4. I closed my left eye and was looking only ahead instead of scanning 180 degrees. This also kept me from picking up both hostile targets when there were two targets in a room.

I walked back and forth during the break with both eyes open looking across my sights to get the proper technique fixed in my head.

By the end of the day my shoulder was aching from holding a ten-pound assault rifle at ready, sometimes with one hand and firing more than 200 rounds in a dozen practice assaults.

I was exhausted at the end of the day.

But Day Three was awesome. More later.

REAL Live Fire!!!!

I was OK until the opening briefing for the Live Fire Shoot House began. Well actually I wasn't. As the 20 students filled the seats I started noticing half the class was wearing "Governor's Twenty" tabs on their shoulders. As I learned the day before, this patch is for the top marksmen in each state.

We are the first class to go through the new Live Fire Shoot House in Pennsylvania. I thought I was one of 20 guinea pigs.

Then the briefing started. A consultant/instructor named Phil flew in to teach the class. Phil gave us his resume. He is my age: 55. He enlisted at age 15 in the British Army. At 17-1/2 he became a paratrooper. At 24 he joined the SAS, the UK Special Forces. This affable veteran of liberating hostages and fighting terrorists in Northern Ireland and around the world then said, "You (meaning us in the chairs) are the best of the best. You will be the trainers who will run the Live Fire Shoot House."

Oh Shit.

I volunteered for this training because it the last time I fired an M-16 on a range was basic training in 1972. During most of my military career I was in tanks. I fired a 45 cal. pistol and submachine gun and the the machine guns and cannon on a tank each year, but not an M-16. So I thought this course would reacquaint me with the rifle.

After a 30-minute briefing, including the range safety briefing (the fastest range safety briefing I ever sat through because half the class is range control) we went straight to an outdoor qualification range. The instructor set up targets while we signed for M-4 Carbines and filled two 30-round magazines.

Ten minutes later we were firing full automatic in three-round bursts emptying both magazines. This was NOT going to be the usual all-day boredom of live fire qualification ranges.

Minutes later we were firing on the move, firing moving around obstacles, firing stepping over obstacles. We emptied almost a dozen 30-round magazines before lunch.

One of things Phil taught us was how to fire an M-4 on automatic with one hand. This is a very neat trick. I did it. But last Friday I was at the doctor for a shoulder injury. I am scheduled for an MRI next Monday. My shoulder was killing me while I did this.

And then we moved forward for another live fire exercise. I was paired up with a "Governor's 20" guy. After we completed the exercise, I was supposed to clear the weapon. I could not latch the bolt. After three tries I did it. So the guy I was paired with was understandably nervous and I am feeling more out of place than a Nun at a Frat party.

I talked to two other sergeant's from my unit. I told them I thought between my shoulder and my bad recall of weapon's procedure, I should quit the class. They said I should hang in.

After lunch we went to the shoot house. Again "You are all professionals" almost no preamble and we were clearing rooms in pairs. By the end of the day I was worn out. It was a very long drive home, 40 miles seemed more like 100. I started this post last night, but couldn't finish it.

As of now I completed the second day of training. I needed a lot of help, but ended the day on a high note, having cleared the building as part of a 10-man team--just like a camouflage SWAT unit. I'll write more about that as soon as I can.

First Day of Training

We go to a range tomorrow to zero our weapons. As it turns out, the first day of our five-day training session is officially a travel day. Since the three sergeants attending the course from our unit are local, we arrived at 8 am to sign in. There was no training today, but there were barracks to turn in and ammo and spent brass to return to the Ammo Supply Point (ASP).

So the first day of the exciting live-fire exercise began with picking up trash around a couple of barracks used by another training group. Which lead to the joke "How many sergeants does it take to pick up a cigarette butt?" Three--because that's how many of us showed up.

Then we removed many cases of 5.56mm, 7.62mm and 9mm ammo, plus several hundred pounds of brass from the range and brought it to the ASP.

Tomorrow we will actually be out on a range. I should have more to write then. I have been running, riding or both for 20 years, but I haven't fired a weapon since the last time I was in--February or March of 1984. So things should get exciting in 24 hours.

Packing Up for the Live Fire Shoot House

I got together my field gear and extra equipment for the Live Fire Shoot House training that starts tomorrow. I've got my new helmet and Kevlar Vest and several different options for gloves and eye protection. It turns out we are the first class through this new training facility. I report at 0800. They are issuing us ceramic insert plates for our body armor. It should be exciting.

And I will be bringing an electronic camera to this and future training. So Iwill have pictures from the event--not the internet stuff I usually use.

Chicken Hawks

When I first enlisted there was a draft, and there were draft dodgers. Many people avoided the draft including a large segment who became conscientious objectors or pacifists during the draft and then flipped to become pro-military conservatives during the Reagan presidency and beyond. In the late 80s these past-service-age patriots came to be known as Chicken Hawks. Among their number are some current icons of patriotism like Rush Limbaugh and Bill O'Reilly. I know a lot of people who listen to these guys. It seems to me that a draft dodger's opinion on patriotism should carry the same weight as Gene Simmons views on abstinence.

So I reread my favorite writer CS Lewis. In particular, his essay "Why I am not a Pacifist." Lewis wrote the essay during World War 2. He was a twice wounded veteran of World War 1. He served in the trenches as an infantry lieutenant. Here's the end of his essay (He is speaking to a pacifist):

"Let us make no mistake. All that we fear from all the kinds of adversity, severally, is collected together in the life of a soldier on active service. Like sickness, it threatens pain and death. Like poverty, it threatens ill lodging, cold, heat, thirst, and hunger. Like slavery, it threatens toil, humiliation, injustice, and arbitrary rule. Like exile, it separates you form all you love. Like [jail], it imprisons you at close quarters with uncongenial companions. It threatens every temporal evil--every evil except dishonor and final perdition, and those who bear it like it no better than you would like it.

On the other side, though it may not be your fault, it is certainly a fact that Pacifism threatens you with almost nothing. Some public opprobrium, yes, from people whose opinion you discount and whose society you do not frequent, soon recompensed by the warm mutual approval which exists, inevitably, in any minority group. For the rest it offers you a continuance of the life you know and love, among the people and in the surroundings you know and love. It offers you time to lay the foundations of a career; for whether you will or no, you can hardly getting the jobs for which the discharged soldiers will one day look in vain. You do not even have to fear, as pacifists may have had to fear [during World War 1], that public opinion will punish you when the peace comes."

And in today's America, you can have your own talk show and declare yourself a patriot.

I liked John McCain's speech at the Republican National Convention, but I could not help wondering as the camera swept the crowd how this courageous survivor of five years in communist captivity felt looking out an the audience in front of him. The cameras lingered on veterans and famous people and young people, but that crowd is and has been for a couple of decades, the largest gathering of Chicken Hawks on the planet. So many men in that audience--rich, white, conservative men--between my age (55) and McCain's age (72) thought Viet Nam was the "wrong war." And they avoided it. Because of the draft, that meant a poor man--black, white, or hispanic--served in their place.

My Uncle Jack served from 1958 to 1982 in the Air Force. From the time I was five until the war ended he was flying over Viet Nam in a refueling plane or in an F-4 fighter jet. And when he wasn't in Viet Nam, it seemed like he was either home for a short visit or stuck in another garden spot like Thule, Greenland.

I have nothing against the consistent pacifists I know. They were against Viet Nam and are against the current war on principle. I disagree, but I respect their views.

But I cannot understand why the blustering buffoons of talk radio should be identified as patriots and even admired by conservatives.

One More. . .

My youngest daughter Lisa, captain of the Girls Cross Country Team at McCaskey High School (Her school, Lancaster country Day, does not have a cross country team), finished first overall in her most recent cross country meet. She has finished first twice and fourth twice in her four meets so far this season. For those who know cross country, there is a complex scoring system I won't even try to deal with, but she is having a great season.

And More Family in the News

My oldest daughter has played 227 minutes as goalkeeper on the Juniata College women's soccer team this season without letting in a single goal. Her game last Saturday was a 2-0 shutout against a team in a higher ranked conference. She was named player of the week here and Landmark Conference Defensive Player of the Week (Story below) And this is the game story.

Auster-Gussman and Albert named Landmark Players of the Week

(Posted on September 15, 2008)

HUNTINGDON, Pa. -- Juniata College sophomore keeper Lauren Auster-Gussman (Lancaster, Pa./Lancaster Country Day) has been named Landmark Conference Women's Soccer Defensive Player of the Week, and senior middle hitter Erin Albert (Philipsburg, Pa./Philipsburg-Osceola) earned Landmark Conference Women's Volleyball Player of the Week, when weekly conference honors were announced on Monday.

Albert helped the Eagles earn a pair of wins over nationally ranked foes while improving to 7-0 with three victories at this weekend's Teri Clemens Invitational, hosted by Washington University in St. Louis, Mo. Albert amassed 33 kills over 11 sets with a .286 hitting percentage, with a high of 13 kills in a three-set win over Bethel University (Minn.). She also recorded 11 kills in the four-set victory against Wisconsin-Whitewater. For the week, Albert also tallied 10 blocks, eight digs, and four aces.

The Eagle women's volleyball team opens Landmark Conference play this Saturday, Sept. 20, with a conference round-robin weekend at Susquehanna University.
Auster-Gussman stretched her shutout streak to 225 minutes this season while leading the Eagles to a 2-0 win over Gettysburg College. Auster-Gussman recorded seven saves to lead the Eagles to the win over Gettysburg; she has not allowed a goal since the 88th minute of a 5-0 loss at home to Dickinson College on Oct. 4, 2007, a span of 279:59 minutes.

The win over the Bullets, who entered the contest ranked 10th in the adidas/NSCAA Middle Atlantic Region poll, improved Juniata's record to 4-0-0 for the season while giving the Eagles their first win over a regionally ranked opponent.

This week, Juniata will host Lycoming College on Tuesday, Sept. 16, at 4:30 p.m. at Winton Hill Field, followed by a road contest at Penn State-Altoona on Saturday, Sept. 20.

My Wife in the NY Times Magazine

Today's New York Times magazine is the Campus Issue. Beginning on page 88 is a section on professors with style. My wife, Annalisa Crannell, is on page 90. They dressed her in $5000 worth of designer clothes including $2500 Gucci boots which did not show in the shot they used. The irony of this is that my wife has not bought any new clothes in this millennium. She only gets clothes from her friends and yard sales. She even considers Goodwill stores overpriced. The clothes she was wearing may have have cost more than all the clothes she has bought in her life.

No Pushups for Two Weeks

I went to the doctor last night. I have tendonitis in my right shoulder and right wrist and the doctor said rest would fix it--maybe. So I will skip the pushups and pullups for the rest of this week and go to physical therapy next week. PT helps the injury heal faster. I also am taking it easy because I don't want to go to the Live Fire Shoot House having any trouble holding a weapon.

So now I am adding my right arm to the balancing act I go though with running--I try to run far enough and fast enough to do well on the APFT but have to back off when my knees and ankles start to hurt. 20-year-olds can beat the crap out of themselves, get a good night's sleep and completely recover. Those of us who are chronologically enhanced have to be a lot more careful.

Got my Helmet!!!

Today I woke up and drove back to Fort Indiantown Gap to go to the supply office with our supply clerk to get a helmet. I got a brand-new extra-large kevlar helmet. As it turns out it feels big, but our supply sergeant says the XL fits right and the large sits too high on my head--I wear a size 7 1/2 hat. The supply clerk put i some extra pads, so it should be fine. It certainly fits better than the old-style helmet I was borrowing.

Recovery Training Today

This afternoon I had my first session of Recovery Team training. The recovery teams will use M984E1 HEMMT vehicles to go and rescue broken down and wrecked vehicles. The training was tough and realistic. The instructor handed me the operator's manual and said he would be back in a half hour and I should be ready to set up the M984E1 and go recovery a Humvee. My training partner and I set up the boom and tow chains. Lucky for me, the guy who was tested with me is a fan of "Wrecked" on SpeedTV. He knew how to set up for the recovery.

After the set up, we drove a couple of miles to a dirt road in the trees where the Humvee was off the side of the road. I drove. He guided me in. We had to reposition the M984 once, but got the Humvee chained on the first try and pulled it back to the motor pool. I don't know if I will be on the actual recovery team when we are deployed, but I learned a lot about rescuing vehicles today.

Who's Reading Blogs?

When I first created this blog, it was a simply to give friends and family updates on the weird stuff that happens to a 55-year-old guy who re-enlists in the Army. All of my family and many of my friends live in the eastern half of the US. Add in Belgium, France, Germany, Singapore and the UK and you have got most all of my friends locations.

A couple of months ago I added Site Meter to my blog just to see was looking at the blog. Since I don't get a lot comments I started to wonder if Meredith Gould, my sister, and Burt Friggin' Hoovis were my main reader base. I checked site meter when I woke this morning the first four locations that came up were
Adelaide, Australia
Jakarta Indonesia
Wurzburg, Germany
Taipei, Taiwan
The next 20 on the list were from the US, but mostly form the West Coast. On top of that, a couple of days ago 80 people visited my blog.
It got me wondering 'Who are these people?' But I guess America is nothing if it is not a nation of odd characters. I don't suppose there are any 50-year-old bloggers in the Russian or Iranian armies. Actually, I doubt there are any bloggers at all.

Helmet Tomorrow--Maybe

I have been back in the Army just short of 13 months. Most things are going well, but I still don't have a helmet. I have a lot of other field gear, including every authorized piece of long underwear, but no helmet. One of the squad leaders in my unit loaned me a helmet for annual training, but it doesn't quite fit.

So tomorrow I am leaving New York at 7 am after a late dinner meeting, going to Philadelphia for a couple of hours, taking a train to Lancaster, then driving another 40 miles to Fort Indiantown Gap because our supply sergeant said if I show up in person, he can take me to the folks that issue field gear and I can finally get an Extra Large Kevlar Helmet after 13 months on back order.

I am not sure how much use I will get out of my high tech long underwear in Iraq, but I am betting that helmet will be handy to have.

Speaking of Crashes

One of my favorite bloggers, Meredith Gould, send me a link to the home page of the Wounded Warrior Project. I support their work. It's a great cause. There was nothing like this during Viet Nam.

Another Crash, I missed it by 3 Laps

Yesterday I was at Lancaster General Hospital one floor down from my old room visiting Bruce Olney. He crashed on the sixth lap of the weekly training race last Wednesday. He broke and displaced six ribs, punctured a lung, broke his collarbone and had a mild concussion. Similar crash to mine--touched wheels and slammed into the road. Lucky for him it was at 27mph instead of 51mph.

I was at the training race on the tandem with my youngest daughter Lisa. We rode nine miles to the race and after three 3.25-mile laps I was tired and I thought the riders at the back were getting squirrelly, so Lisa and I turned off and went home. Bruce crashed on Lap 6.

Bruce's painkillers were working well, he showed no signs of bad pain. And his family was lots of fun. When I arrived, his wife, two children and in-laws were in the room. Bruce is about my age. His in-laws are Mennonite and wearing the plain clothes of their generation. We were joking around about bicycle riding and recovering until Bruce's parents left.

After the in-laws left, Bruce's kids, age 17 and 19 started talking about joining the FBI and using Army ROTC to get on the fast track in. Lois, Bruce's wife said is a nurse. She said she was thinking about joining the Army. I told them they are the first Combat Mennonite family I ever met. I have known Bruce a long time, but we talked more in his hospital room than the last ten years put together. When you only see people in helmets and out of breath you don't know how interesting they are.

Another Post About My Day Job

In the Spring Books and Culture published a review I wrote with the historian Mary Ellen Bowden of the book Atoms and Alchemy by Bill Newman. I wrote the parts about the misconceptions about alchemy and Mary Ellen wrote about how Newman corrects the historical record.
John Wilson, the editor of Books & Culture, said I should have one more review published in his magazine before I head for the Sandbox. This review will be of a book titled Nylons and Bombs. It is a history of engineering at DuPont that was first published in French and was quite a different book in English. John let Brigitte Van Tiggelen and I tell just how different the books are and why.

Science Cheerleader Published My View on Science and the Election

One of the sites I follow (listed in the blog roll to the right of this post--scroll down) is the Science Cheerleader, a former Philadelphia 76ers Cheerleader who now works for Discover magazine and blogs about science.

The Science Cheerleader and I talked last week about the Sarah Palin nomination and what it meant to science. I sent her what I thought was just notes, but she published the whole message. If you are curious, it's here.

Life, The Universe and The Fiscal Year

On September 29, the 2nd to the last day of Army Fiscal Year 2008 I will be going to a one-week course in a Live Fire Shoot House. My course will be the same as every other course, but the paperwork will not. The first two days of the course are in budget year 2008, the last three in budget year 2009. So yesterday I received orders for the first two days of the course. I will receive travel from my home to the training area plus two days pay on those orders. Sometime after October 1, maybe three or four weeks later, I will receive orders to be at the final three days of the same course. And by those orders I will be paid for three more days of active duty and the drive home. The Army may not stop for holidays, but the biggest day on the calendar is October 1: New Years Day of the Fiscal Year.

Speaking of Broken Necks. . .

An article I wrote last year about the history of anesthesia, including my own use of those wonderful chemicals to get through the surgery for my own broken neck, was just posted on the Web site where I work at Chemical Heritage Foundation. The articles in this series were first published in Chemical Engineering Progress magazine in a back page column every other month called "We're History." The column started running in October of 2002 when the editor of the magazine, Kristine Chin, asked me to write something informative and off beat for her magazine. When Kristine became an events manager last year, Cindy Mascone asked me to continue the column. I am scheduled to write one more column for the series in December before I get deployed. I am going to try to continue writing the column in Iraq, but I am not sure I can pull that off.

Another Broken Neck--Not Mine

I got a call from a mutual friend about visiting a guy who broke his neck. He flipped his 4-wheeler ATV on a race track. He broke the C-5 vertebra in his neck in two places, but it is not displaced, so he should be fine after wearing a neck brace for two months. No surgery needed. I don't know Crash very well, but it is more than ironic that this happened to him. Mr. Crash is 44, owns a big farm and a cabin in the mountains of central PA where he was racing his 4-wheeler.

The last time I talked to Crash was the on Memorial Day. He said he thought about joining the Army, but never did it. He wondered if he was too old to join. I told him 42 is the limit without prior service, but there are waivers, he should call and ask a recruiter. This wasn't just an idle comment. Crash is a big, strong guy who rides a 4-wheeler like a wild man and loves the woods, but he didn't call.

I went to see him shortly after the accident. He is bored and wants to go places. He can't and he knows it. He was close to becoming a paraplegic the other night, and a random fender bender on the way to K-Mart could displace his already broken vertebra and put him in the wheelchair he just missed on Monday. Near death experiences sometimes make people insane safety nuts, and some people join the Army after they get out of the neck brace. Crash seems to be thinking very hard about Life, the Universe and Everything right now. It will be interesting to see where he goes in eight weeks when his neck heals up.

I saw him just two days ago. He's looking good for a guy in a neck brace.

Live Fire Shoot House

For one week beginning September 29 I will be getting Urban Assault training in a Live Fire Shoot House. What's that? Here's the Army video news.

And a first run through for a rifle squad.

And a six-second version.

Juniata College Women's Soccer to Wear Flags in 2009

My oldest daughter Lauren is the goalkeeper for the Juniata College Women's Soccer Team. they are in the midst of pre-season training. Lauren called yesterday to say that her head coach told her that her team will get new uniforms next year with American flags on the shoulder. Coach McKenzie told Lauren that the team will wear American flags during the season I am Iraq.

I thanked Coach McKenzie, but hardly knew what to say. It's quite an honor.

Go Eagles!!

Last Race, Best Race

Since my Army training for the weekend was on hold, I could enter a race right in my neighborhood. Beginning with the end,
--Joe Manacchio, my teammate, won the 50+ race,
--Scott Haverstick, the guy I have ridden with more than anyone else for the past five years, won the 60+ race,
--I stayed with the lead pack for the full 24-lap distance for the first time this year (previously I stayed on the lead lap in most races, but not with the main pack)
--Because no one attacked early, I got to lead lap 2. I haven't done that for a couple of years.
--My wife Annalisa and my son Nigel cheered for me in the middle of the uphill front straight which helped--it was the worst part of the course for me, especially when there were attacks.

There are a few more races this year, but with Army training and other commitments, I won't be able to enter them. So if this is going to be my last race before getting deployed, it's a good one. Definitely my best since my 2007 crash.

Nigel, who is 8, entered the 8&9 year old race, which is just 300 meters, and the 10-12 year old race, one full lap. He was somewhere in the middle of the 18 kids in the 8&9 year old race at the finish. The short distance meant a lot of swerving and Nigel is careful in a pack. In the 10-12 year old race he started at the back and finished sixth. He was very happy because he passed so many other kids.

Course Full

This weekend I was supposed to be in an ammo handlers course--learning how to properly load and store ammunition. I volunteered for the course, because I thought ammo handling might be a skill I could use next year. But I just got a message that the course is full.
So I'll be racing a half-block from my home at the Race Avenue Criterium. Like every other race I did this year, I will be trying to stay with the pack as long as possible, but eventually get dropped. This is one of the first races I ever rode in back in the 90s. Rich Ruoff, the promoter, is reviving it after more than 15 years.

And a Word About Pain

I am sitting on Amtrak train 600 in the middle of my 2-hour-each-way commute to Philadelphia. Yesterday someone asked me about pain. I thought it was obvious that a guy my age exercising an average of two hours each day would be sore somewhere most of the time. This person was surprised to find my exercise program is designed around training that will get me stronger without pushing to the point of injury. I try to run one day and ride the next so I won't run on consecutive days and hurt myself. It doesn't always work. I ran a 5k race and Monday morning and did a fast 4-mile run on Tuesday. My left knee started hurting on Wednesday. I ran three miles slow last night and this morning I am moving my feet every couple of minutes to keep my knee from hurting.
The change in my push ups bothers my right shoulder, so I added a couple of exercises every other day to strengthen my shoulders. On some days I skip the sit ups because my lower back hurts. On some running days I ride and walk because my ankles hurt.
I am not complaining. I know that various pains are part of any serious training. My main goal is not to get an overuse injury that will have me otherwise healthy and sitting on my butt. Worse still, I do not want an Army profile--a paper that excuses a soldier from duty. When we are assigned training, I do not want to be sitting on a log with a profile.

Nature Update

And following my last post, here's Katharine Sanderson's view of running in Philadelphia on the blog at Nature magazine.

You're Going Where?

I haven't been home since my last post. I am in Philadelphia for a meeting of the American Chemical Society. Almost 20,000 chemists from all over the world are here for several days. Even though I live just 70 miles away, I have meetings as early as 0630 and dinners that run as late as midnight so I just stayed in town. In fact, I just finished running across the Ben Franklin Bridge and back with a Katharine Sanderson, a science writer from the UK. She is here reporting on the Convention for Nature magazine and writing about Trees That Eat Pollution among other things.
We covered the 4-mile distance from where I work across the bridge and back in 35 minutes. Katharine actually ran six miles, because her hotel in on the other side of Center City so she ran a mile each way to and from the run.

Several times during this meeting events on next year's calendar came up and I said I would be gone from work in 2009. When I said where I would be I going I got stunned looks and versions of "You're going where?!" After they recover from the initial shock, they are supportive, but there are just not that many people who work in my field that take a year off for an all-expense paid trip to Iraq. Tomorrow night I go home for the evening, then back to work on Thursday.

Promotion Picture

Here's a picture of Lisa, my youngest daughter, pinning on my sergeant stripes. This is a simulated photo since we did not take one from the actual ceremony. The twisted collar is just to simulate an action shot!
Photo by Lauren Auster-Gussman

PT Reality Check

At drill this weekend one of the guys on my parking lot detail was a specialist in line for sergeant who just completed the Warrior Leadership Course. The PT is part of that course and I expected this very fit soldier to tell me he maxed the test. He didn't. He ran 2 miles in 13 minutes, 76 situps in 2 minutes and 75 pushups which should have put this 35-year-old Greek God at 300 points. But he said you have to do all exercises in correct form. They did not count five of his pushups and he scored 295.
My form is right for the situps but wrong for the pushups. I either need to keep my head up or drop my body a lot lower. In either case when I do the pushups right I can't get near 56 in 2 minutes. But I have till November, so I will practice a lot more. When I do the correct pushups, it's clear I did not entirely work out all the kinks from the crash last year, so these pushups should work out the last problems in my right shoulder.

First Job as a Sergeant

On Sunday morning our platoon sergeant said I should go and see the first sergeant after formation--he had a special job for me. From the smirk, I expected something ugly. As it turned out, my first official job as a sergeant was to be in charge of four soldiers directing cars to parking spaces at the ceremony for the new battalion sergeant's major. That made me HMFIC of the parking lot (Head MF In Charge--a very old Army acronym, maybe as old as FUBAR). The ceremony was at 1400 Sunday.

Before going to the motor pool that morning, I got 20 orange traffic cones from supply and marked 20 spaces for the ceremony. Then the first sergeant decided the parking lot "looked ragged" because of a half dozen pallets in a crooked line which had not been picked up by the line companies. So I sent the two biggest guys on the detail to get a pallet jack and straighten up the unclaimed freight. Then we went to the motor pool.

Later in the the morning, my three men and I left the motor pool to go to a briefing for everyone involved in the ceremony. My fourth soldier was getting his wisdom teeth pulled.

As is the Army way, we joined the color guard and the men who were in the parade for each company for a briefing and practice at 1100--we didn't have anything to do, but we were part of the event so we showed up.

At 1230 I made sure each soldier had water and sent them to their parking lot posts. For the next 90 minutes I walked from the parking lot out to the entrances on either side of the building to make jokes with the three soldiers.

Seven cars showed up for the ceremony 90 minutes. After the ceremony started, we picked up the cones, returned them to supply and went back to the motor pool.

In my day job I am supposed to make every moment count. When I was a consultant, I had to account for my time and bill for what I did. The Army works on a completely different system. Four of us waiting 90 minutes to direct seven cars to parking spaces is not the way to make money if you are paying by the hour. But we are paid by the day so as long as we are where we are supposed to be we are doing our jobs--directing (on average) one car every 15 minutes to a parking space.

Promotion Ceremony

After we got our sergeant stripes, the two of us who got promoted read the NCO Creed passing a framed copy back and forth. I had never read it out loud before. Last drill I read the Declaration of Independence before morning formation. It's not very long and it makes clear how strange the whole idea of starting this country was. It also make clear how much compromise there was. America should have been the first country to free the slaves, not be the last western country to free the slaves, then add to the shame with a century of Jim Crow laws. Despite all the problems--like the British Army--America became a country that never had a monarch and always had peaceful transitions from one government to the next. No country bigger than Switzerland can say that.

Promotion Yes--PT Test No

This morning at 0800 formation two of us got promoted to sergeant. That was the good news. Just before formation, I found out there would be no PT Test today. That was the bad news. At the end of the formation, our First Sergeant announced he is retiring. But overall, it was a great day. Since I went back, a lot of people have asked me what my rank is. I had to explain that Specialist is a rank between private soldiers and sergeants. Their eyes would glaze about four words in. But Sergeant they can understand. Sgt. Rock, Sgt. Fury, Sgt. Bilko, Sgt. Schultze, whoever. A sergeant wears a uniform and is in charge of some people. For the many civilians who don't have a clue about military rank, a sergeant is something like a captain or a colonel or a general or an admiral. They are all people who wear uniforms and are in charge of people.

On Sunday afternoon there will be a change of command ceremony. I am in charge of the usher detail. My four soldiers will lead people to their seats. I won't be one of the generals in the front-row seats, but I will be a soldier in a uniform who is in charge of people.

I'll post a picture of my daughter pinning on the stripes in a few days.

Beijing Food

The Olympics are starting tomorrow. Some friends reminded me of what those attending could be eating. From 1998 to 2000 I traveled overseas every month to every continent except Africa. On my first trip to Beijing, I flew direct from Detroit, leaving at 1230 and arriving at 1330 the next day after a 13-hour flight. I went to work then the local rep took us to dinner at the Peking Duck restaurant in Beijing. We began dinner with a Lazy Susan with every part of the duck cooked separately. I ate liver, gizzard, duck tongue and cow face soup, etc until the feet came around to me. I was next to an Australian who said he loved this stuff and ate feet with gusto. Next to the feet were scorpions. I skipped the feet unnoticed because I ate two big scorpions hoping they would be like crawfish. They were. I was fine.

But we had rice wine with dinner and by the time I collapsed in my bed in my clothes near midnight I had been up for 36 hours. At 3 am I woke up because I heard a man yelling—it was me. I was soaked with sweat and convinced those two scorpions had reassembled themselves and were marching up my throat to kill me.

I actually liked the scorpions, but have not eaten them since.

A Bike for Iraq

I asked my local Bike Line shop about getting wheels that would stand up to sand. Instead they showed me a bike on close-out that costs less than a pair of good wheels and will be a great bike for Iraq. It's a Trek T1 track bike, one speed, huge chain, no gear changing. It's the kind of bike people ride in Velodromes, (the indoor bike race tracks with 42-degree banked turns you'll see in the Olympics next week) and on beach vacations because they need so little maintenance. When we are in Iraq there is a chance I will be able to ride a bike inside the wire at the air base. If so, this is the bike.

A Sex Book for my Daughters

Last week I read a new book by the science writer for the Philadelphia Inquirer called The Score: How the Quest for Sex Has Shaped the Modern Man by Faye Flam.
The next day I ordered a second copy so each of my daughters could have one. They are 17 and 19 one in college and one on the way. They each have boyfriends who are good guys--I have met them and liked them. But I am going to be gone next year and this book is an entertaining look at the biology that led to males and females from dividing amoebas and how that biology helped to make guys what they are today--for better and for worse. The recurring theme in the book is Flam talking about a seminar she attended in New York where men pay $2150 for a 9-step program on how to pick up women. From flatworms to giant squids to gorillas, we see males fighting to mate with females, but not staying around to set up household. The book alternates between science and mating rituals among modern humans. The book is definitely for readers as interested in learning about science as about sex, but for that kind of reader the book is a lot of fun.

Extra Drill Weekend

I volunteered for an extra drill weekend on August 23-24. I am going to learn how to load and drive an ammo truck. The unit needed volunteers and it seemed like a good thing for me to know how to do safely. A lot of ammo gets moved around an air base getting helicopters ready for missions, and it seemed like one of those jobs for which there are never enough people properly trained.

PT Test in One Week

Unless the schedule changes, I will be taking the PT Test next Friday right after morning formation. Because I work out regularly, many people assume the test will be easy. It's not. In fact, I changed my workout schedule a lot since I joined. It's not that I am worried about passing, but if things go well next week, I have a good change of scoring 290 out of 300, or maybe even 300. To do that, I work out an average of two hours a day. In July that meant walking 94 miles--about half of that with a 25-pound pack; running 54 miles, usually 2.5 to 3 miles at a time; 440 miles on the bike, 960 pushups, 798 situps, 218 pull ups, 7 hours in the gym and three hours of yoga. To score 300 I need to do 56 pushups and 66 situps in 2 minutes each and run two miles in 14:42. To pass I need 21 pushups, 31 situps and 19:30 on the run.
I won't do any exercise next Wednesday and Thursday.
Want to see what the standards are for you? Click here.

Are you going to miss your family?

I get that question at least weekly, often from very earnest people who must think I have not considered that getting deployed might involve being separated from the people I love. With 181 days to go till we go on active duty, and at least 35 of those days in training, I do think about being separated from my family--a lot.
Our motor officer has been deployed twice--once with 48 hours notice, once with almost a year's notice. He prefers 48 hours. "You don't have to keep thinking about it," he said. "Just pack your shit and go." Our motor officer is a warrant officer, the rank between enlisted soldiers (like me) and commissioned officers (captains and generals and so forth). Warrant officers are like consultants in the business world--experts, but not managers. So people turn to them for advice about everything--in the same way kids expect teachers to know everything.
In this case, I'll disagree with Mr. Consultant. (Male Warrant Officers are called Mister as opposed to Sir for commissioned officers.) I like having time to spend with my friends and family, to get things in order at home and at work before I go, and I like being aware of the clock ticking.

Making Sergeant for the Third Time

On Friday morning, August 8, at 8 am, my youngest daughter will pin sergeant stripes on me at morning formation. This will be the third time I have been promoted to sergeant.The first time I was promoted to sergeant was in the Air Force in 1974. At the time the pay grade of E-4 was called sergeant. In 1976 it split into sergeant and senior airman--the Army equivalent of Corporal and Specialist--same money, but corporal is supervisory, specialist is not.

The second promotion was in 1976 when I was promoted to Sergeant E-5, the Army rank I will return to in two weeks. At the time I was a new tank commander on the way to three years in Germany. I left the Army the first time in 1984, a Staff Sergeant (E-6). Maybe in 2010 or 2011, I will be able to get back to where I was in 1984. At the last drill, one of my friends said at the rate I am going (Sergeant at 55) I should make Master Sergeant by the time I am 82.

My Post on a Novelist's Blog

I got an e-mail saying I should post what I wrote for the Mrs. Lieutenant blog here. So I will:

When I first enlisted in the Air Force in January of 1972, General David Petraeus was a sophomore at West Point. When he threw his hat in the air at graduation in 1974, I was a sergeant recovering from being blinded by shrapnel in a missile testing accident at Hill Air Force Base, Utah.


I got out of the Air Force that year, joined the Army the following year and served as a tank commander in Germany from 1976 to 1979. Our alert area was the Fulda Gap, right where the prophet of all things NATO, Tom Clancy, said World War Three would begin.

World War Three didn't happen on my watch, so I got out and went to college, and served in a reserve tank unit in Reading, Pennsylvania, until 1984. I got out for good then (I thought.) and got a job writing ad copy.

Last August, I re-enlisted after 23 years as a civilian. Writing this post I am 55 years old and have 196 days and a wake-up until my unit deploys to Iraq.

In the past year, a lot of people asked me why I joined. But the more fun question to answer is what is different about serving then and now. I can feel myself smile every time I answer that question.

What's different? I grew up in Boston. The difference is like being a Red Sox fan in the 1970s and being a Red Sox fan now. In fact joining now was the difference between playing for the 1972 Patriots (3-11) and the 2007 team (16-0).

In the mid-1970s, the sergeants who really had their shit together were in their late 20s. They were young, tough, motivated and were not combat veterans. The worst senior NCOs (not all, but a way more than there should have been) had combat patches on their right sleeves and had picked up a serious dope smoking or drinking habit in Vietnam.

I am currently in an Army National Guard aviation brigade. In the 1970s the National Guard was notorious for being badly trained. Today's National Guard is part of the total fighting force. On soldier skills, attitude, and combat readiness, my current Guard unit is better than the tank unit I served in on the East-West German border. The men and women with the combat patches on their sleeves in this army are leaders.

The difference certainly continues outside the gate. In the 70s no one wore their uniform home on leave--at least not those of us who were going home on leave to the Northeastern US. I was proud of my uniform, but the few times I wore that uniform outside the gate, I felt hostility, like I was a foreign soldier in someone else's country.

But today if I stop at Starbucks on the way home from a drill, someone might offer to buy my coffee or the clerk might just give it to me. People walk up to me in restaurants and thank me for my service. I really wish some of the other guys I served with in the 1970s could join up for just a month or two now and get the gratitude they missed out on back when long hair was in style and we were not.

Of course some things are exactly the same:


-- O-Dark-30 is wake up time for everything – even if all we do is stand around.


-- My weapon in 1972, the M-16 rifle. My weapon today, M16A4.


-- All through the 1970s if we went to the field for training, it was crammed in the back of a "Deuce-and a-half" 2 1/2 ton truck. My "ride" at pre-deployment training this year--the M35A2 Deuce-and-a-half truck.


-- The Army has all records on computer. So when I went to Aberdeen, Maryland, for two weeks of training, the e-mail said "Bring 10 copies of your orders." I couldn't believe it. I brought five. When I got there, I needed more. But all of the processing was in one room. Didn't matter. Every processing station needed a copy of my orders so they could collect all my records in one folder at the end of the day.

But even if I have to make 20 copies of my orders and hand them to a guy who has a PDF of my orders on a computer right in front of him, I am happy to be
back.

From My Day Job

If you looked at some of the links on the right side of the page, you'll see that I write about the history of chemistry, often about weird things in the history of the Central Science. Most recently I wrote the cover article for The Annals of Improbable Research.
I just left a meeting about a new museum of chemistry that will be opening in our building. During the three weeks of training we had in May, I would get on line in the evenings and keep in touch with work. With just over six months till we leave, I am starting to try to picture life without a suit-and-tie day job. You might be thinking "It's about time he woke up" but even with the weekends and two-or-three week training periods, I have not yet been more than 60 miles from home for Army training. It's 70 miles to where I work in Philadelphia.

Iraqi Translator at 30th Street Station

Today I got to the Philadelphia's 30th Street train station 40 minutes before my train home, so I sat on a bench and did some work. A young woman sat next to me for about ten minutes then got up. While she was putting her papers away she set a book down next to me on the bench. It was a book about the Iraq war. I looked at the cover. She started to walk away, turned back and said, "Have you been to the war." (She saw my ACU backpack. That and my haircut said soldier even in shorts and a t-shirt.) I told her I had not, but was going in February.

She said, "Iraq has many good people. My people are good people." She said she hoped I would respect her country when I was there, then she walked off. I got up a few minutes later to go to my train. I walked to the front car and there she was. I smiled and waved and walked to the far end of the car. I was thinking I would like to ask her more questions, but decided not to. I took out my computer and started to work, then she walked to my end of the car and said, "If you have questions about Iraq I will try to answer them." So we sat together for the next 20 minutes and she told me about her work in Iraq as a translator and how sad she is about the war. She also said that she and her family think of Saddam Hussein as having died bravely surrounded by men who were taunting him. Alyaa is working at the Science Center in Philadelphia as a translator for Arabic materials. She is also going to school and hopes to return home someday. She believes that the Surge has only moved the violence away from the big cities into the countryside and that when the Americans leave, "The Shi'a and Sunnis and Kurds will kill each other until they have had enough." She thinks the current government is a puppet of Iran and we will find that out when we leave.

When we talked about America she said, "Living here is hard. At home my family would take care of me until I was married. Here I need to pay for my education, pay for medical insurance, pay for everything." She also doesn't like, women marrying women and men kissing men on the street. (She made the gag motion at this point.)

But she is happy to be here for now and hopes she can live in a peaceful Iraq soemday in the future. She got off the train in Exton, so I had 40 minutes to Lancaster to write this post.

190 days and a wake up.

More PT and My Sister's Wedding

This weekend I switched my training from avoiding the heat 90+ heat to running and riding in the worst of it. The reason gos back to my sister's wedding in 1982. She got married on a Saturday in October near Boston. I had a drill weekend with the reserve tank unit I was in: 6th Battalion, 68th Armor, Reading PA. I got Satuday off, but I had to be at the firing range at Fort Indiantown Gap PA at 0700 on Sunday. I left my sister's wedding at 9pm, so I had to drive all night to get to the range. I made it a half-hour early, changed into my uniform, and went to the firing line. That Sunday we were firing the 45-caliber pistol and the M3 "Grease Gun" submachine gun, the personal weapons of armor crewmen. The M3 was a piece of cake. but the 45 is a moving range with weapons that were more than 40 years old with loose parts.

I just barely qualified marksman. The previous year I had fired expert. The company commander said, "Don't worry Sergeant Gussman. You drove all night. We know you can shoot." I said, "Sir. If I ever have to use that pistol, my tank will be out of commission and I will probably be a lot more tired than today. This is how I shoot."

So yesterday, I rode 55 miles between 0830 and 1230, then I ate lunch with my kids, did some chores, then ran 2 1/2 miles at 230pm. I ran on a track out in the sun when the air temp was 95. My time on the fast two miles was 15:51. At my age I need 19:30 to pass the PT test and 14:42 to max the run. I can do the 14:42 at 70 degrees, so I wanted to see what I could do under rotten conditions.

Today I was just going to watch my teammates race on a new course in New Holland PA. I watched the 50+ race and cheered for my teammates. But the course was so cool I drove home, changed, and came back to race with the 20 and 30 year olds (the Cat 3/4 race for those who know bike racing). I lasted just ten of the 27 laps. It was 95 degrees at 1 pm when the race started. After I dropped out, I took my son home and rode a dozen cool down miles then went to the gym. On Friday morning I did 56 push ups and 66 sit ups in two minutes each, what I need to max the PT test. Today, I took ten seconds too long on the sit ups and only did 35 push ups.

Next time I take the PT Test, I will, of course, try to be fully rested. I would love to max the test. But on my own, I am going to keep trying to see how fast and far I can go when I am tired and the weather is worst.

I am assuming next year the weather won't be perfect.

That's Sergeant Tool Bitch to You, Soldier

Fromm the FRS posts you know I am in charge of the tool crib for my maintenance unit. You need a 5-inch, 3/4-drive socket, you see me. Which makes me the unit Tool Bitch. I thought of getting a t-shirt with Tool Bitch on the front, but I have a friend, Ned, who designs books and also designs t-shirts on the side. Two of my co-workers, Sarah and Shelley, suggested that rather than just a t-shirt that says Tool Bitch I should have a t-shirt that says, "That's Sergeant Tool Bitch to You, Soldier." They also decided they should have t-shirts with the acronym FOSTB (Friends of Sergeant Tool Bitch).
The result, in a variety of sizes and colors, is here.

The PT Test

For those of you not following Staff Sergeant Big Tobacco as he gets his platoon ready for deployment, follow the link to his most recent post on Job Security then scroll down to the one on the PT Test. His posts are painfully clear about Army life. They also answer a question I got three times yesterday from people I have known for a long time professionally.
In different ways they asked, "How do you get along with the other guys in your unit?" It's not like we are going to hang out together. But in the Army everyone knows who flunked the most recent PT Test, so everyone also knows who passed. And everyone knows their own last and best PT Test score as well as they know their own social security number.
So I get along by a schedule of running, bicycling, walking fast, and working out in the gym an average of two hours per day. And even then, the soldiers that are really in shape in their 20s are MUCH stronger and faster than I am.

Guest on a Novelist's Blog

Today I wrote a "Guest Post" for a blog by Phyllis Zimbler Miller, the author of "Mrs. Lieutenent: A Sharon Gold Novel." She asked me to write about the difference between serving now and in the 70s. Check it out here.

She posted a new picture of me that was taken yesterday for an article I wrote on why I love plastics. The article is about MREs and bicycle helmets. I'll post the article when it's published.

196 days and a wake up.

Respirators and the Recovery Team

199 Days and a Wake-Up.

On Saturday we worked in the motor pool till 7 pm so by the time I went to the gym and rode my bike, I didn't get home until ten--and first formation this morning was 0700. Worse still the day began with five safety briefings--I was planning on standing through the whole thing to avoid my head crashi8ng into the desk in the briefing room. But the sergeant giving the first four lectures asked me to click the PowerPoint slides for him, so I was awake through the whole thing.

The final briefing was the longest. It was on wearing respirators in the shop. We don't get a lot of chemistry briefings, so I had no trouble staying awake for this one. The main point was that our new sergeant's major is getting all the mechanics effective disposable masks for use with paint and hazardous chemicals. While it is clear that we all need them, he made clear that the masks are particularly important for the smokers. If your lungs and respiratory system are already irritated, sniffing benzene and methyl ethyl ketone is just that much worse.

I thought this would be the weekend I would start training for the recovery team. Looks like that training will be during the August weekend.

Generator Maintenance

200 Days and a Wake Up until we deploy.

Today is the first of two days of our July drill. After formation we all went to the motor pool. This month, I drove like everyone else. I could have walked, but I wanted to go to the laundry at the east end of the Post and get a camo backpack and an Army t-shirt for my nephew Argus. He has an Isreali Defense Force t-shirt he got from his step-mom, so I thought a US Army t-shirt would give him some more variety in his wardrobe. I'll walk tomorrow.

Actually the walking is a strange thing. Because of the security gate getting to the airfield, it is a 8-kilometer drive from headquarters to the motor pool but only a 2-kilometer walk. I drove on my first weekend, but after that, I walked to the motor pool. Generally I arrive at the motor pool before the guys who stop at the PX and after the those who drive straight there. When I ride my bicycle I beat everybody. Everybody either thinks they need their car or wants their car at the motor pool, so no one walks with me. I walk or ride. Everybody else drives.

After formation, my squad leader said he had to do paperwork all day so I am in charge of generator maintenance. We have three generators that need to be check out and run under load to make sure they are OK. And I got two men to do the work with me. Three of us, three generators--no sweat. Except that I am also the Tool Bitch for the whole maintenance company so I was signing our torque wrenches and 3-inch sockets and air guns and welding equipment for everyone else in the company. And my big, fancy 70-hp diesel generator needed http://www.blogger.com/img/gl.link.giffuel. So I had to find a fuel truck driver willing to drive his fuel rig up to the ground-mounted tool/crane rig I call home. (FRS, see previous post).

And then one of the mechanics was gone for four hours for a change of Sergeant's Major ceremony. And the other guy had to help with trailer maintenance. So by mid-afternoon, I pulled all three of the 3kw and 5kw generators out of the maintenance building with a forklift, started them and tested them. Two work. One works but needs a new battery. The important thing for me is that things get done when there is no one aroudn to do them. I wanted to get a license for the all-terrain forklift, but everyone is busy and there is always someone around who has a license and is happy to drive it. Today, I drove the forklift and learned all its controls because I had to and could let the motor officer know after the fact that I can operate the vehicle no problem. So now I can get licensed without all the usual inertia.

On the Radio

In May I got a call from a radio show producer in Orlando, Florida, asking me to be a guest on their radio show: Growing Bolder. Two very enthusiastic guys named Marc and Bill interviewed me for 15 minutes on Monday, June 30. The show first aired on July 4 in Orlando and Miami. If you go to the site you'll see the other guests are a clinical psychologist, an NBC medical reporter and a comedian. So they got stuck in the same hour with a guy who was on for crashing his bicycle. If you want to listen to the interview, it's here.

Rumor Update

I called our Operations Sergeant this morning just to be get the best possible information. He says We report January 28 and pack up for three days then February 1 we go to our US training facility. After that we go to Iraq. I checked because a rather more nervous sergeant working with the next unit to go said I should be ready to leave November 1. The Ops Sgt says we are here for the holidays.

That means 204 days and a wake up till we go.

More Books for Deployment

Big Tobacco (see the blog roll down to the right) sent me a list for books for deployment and said I may need a book every two days instead of every two weeks. BT and a couple of other e-mails said I should post a wish list on Amazon.com and let people send them to me. That sounds like a great idea. So over the next few months, I will fill up my wish list and post an APO address as soon as I have it. I've gotten 50 great suggestions already. In the meantime, I'll keep reading.

By the way, this is post # 150. I am officially addictied to blogging.

4th of July Fireworks

I am on vacation with my wife's family in Ithaca, New York. The official fireworks were two nights ago--it saved the town money because the police and fire crews did not get holiday pay as they would when the fireworks are on the fourth. But up and down Lake Cayuga, as far as we can see from my sister-in-law's house on the western lake shore, there are flares and fireworks and rockets.

And there are bugs. So while the fireworks popped outside the window, I went indsdie and finished A Walker in the City by Alfred Kazin. It's a memoir of a Jewish boy growing up in a New York tenement in the 1920s and walking out of his Brownsville neighborhood into the wider world of New York City--and through the library to all of the world beyond. I love New York and its bridges (Although I love Paris and its bridges more, New York a close second and I could not pick third.)

This chronicle of life and hardship in the city also reminded me of the promise of growing up in America. This poor Jewish boy became a leading literary critic in America before he was 30. His parents worked with their hands, but he was free tofind his own way. My grandparents separately escaped the pogroms of the Cossacks in the 1890s and together made a life in America. My Dad, the fourth of their six sons, only got through the eighth grade in school, but became an Army officer in World War 2 and was a warehouse foreman after the war. The other Jews who escaped Russian persecution and ran only as far as Europe were among the victims of the Holocaust 40 years later.

It should be no surprise now that people from all over the world are still trying to get to America. I will always be grateful my grandparents didn't stay in Europe and made the journey all the way here.

26 Books for Deployment

Since I will be gone 52 weeks and there will be times I have loads of time to sit around with nothing to do, I decided to take 26 books with me--one every other week. If you have any suggestions, let me know.
Here's a few I will be taking.

200 Days and a Wake Up...Or Less

Up till now I have been planning with the assumption that we will go to our US training base in mid February. But now the latest date has been moved up to February 1. In addition we will be packing and confined to the base for the last several days of January. Then today I called my squad leader, a full-time National Guard worker. He said I should be packed and ready to go anytime from the beginning of our next training cycle in November. He is pretty sure we will be home for the holidays, but won't bet after that.

Until now the deployment has been so far off it seemed like halfway to forever. But now that we are close to 200 days to go (or maybe less) it seems much more real. I don't know why 200 seems so different than 300, but it does.

Motorcycles on Palomar Mountain

In the "blow out" post I mentioned I got a ride from a photographer. He was on the mountain taking pictures of sport bike riders dragging their knees--or trying to--through the 21 switchbacks up and down Palomar Mountain. In fact each of the half-dozen times I have cranked my bicycle up Palomar, my entertainment has been listening to the Ninjas, FZRs, Ducati twins and other crotch rockets roar up and down the mountain. And since I am climbing at 5 mph I can hear them coming five turns behind me and hear them going away five more turns up. The best is when I am in a left bend--the wider radius going up--and a really good ride goes through the turn. I hear them coming out of the last turn 2nd gear, third screaming to redline then down to 40 mph, smooth through the turn and for about 50 feet through the middle of the turn I hear the plastic puck on the riders left knee dragging along the ground. At the exit, the rider nails the throttle and rips to 80 mph in four seconds before braking into the next turn.

Of course, not all the sport bike riders rip through the turns--some brake hard and wobble, some think they are going a lot faster than they are, and others ride Harleys. Whatever the virtues of these La-Z-Boys on wheels, they look pathetic on Palomar. After watching the virtuosos rip through the hairpins at 40 and the not-so-skilled ride through the turn at 35, it is sad hear the 800-pound Harleys rumble up the mountain and idle through the turns at 20 mph. Any faster and they are scraping footboards, pegs, kickstands, etc. They look like Amish mules at the Kentucky Derby.

The Unbearable Lightness of Bacon

That's the title of a recent post by a blogger who identifies himself only as Big Tobacco. He is an infantry platoon sergeant in the new Jersey Army national Guard and is currently training for deployment to Iraq. Today's post was about continuing the mission with pepper spray in your eyes. He did on about the last night before deployment with everyone sleeping on a drill hall floor with wives and families making last goodbyes. Great stuff!!

California Friendliness

When the tire blew out I was riding in a straight line and down from 45 mph to about 20 mph. I got the bike stopped and pulled off the road to see if I could fix the tire. The sidewall had blown out. Within a couple of minutes another rider who was doing repeats up the Palomar Mountain stopped to see if he could help. We tried but 3 inches of the bead was separated from the tire. It blew out as soon as we aired it up. So this very nice guy, Michael Callahan, said he had one more hill repeat to do but if I did not get a ride in about an hour, text him and he would pick me up and take me to my car. He also knew the owner of Holland Bikes, Tyler, and said he would call and let Tyler know what happened to me.

Five minutes after Michael rolled down the hill, Rick Clemson, owner of Rick Clemson Sport Photography, stopped and picked me up. The bike wouldn't fit so we stashed it in the woods and he drove me the 12 miles back to my car. http://www.blogger.com/img/gl.link.gif Rick was on the mountain shooting picture of motorcycles making knee-dragging turns through the hairpins on Palomar so he took an hour out of his work to pick me up.

When I got back to Holland Bicycles, Tyler fixed the wheel and I rode 20 miles along the beach road in Coronado then turned in the bike. Tyler asked me how many days I rode the bike without trouble. I said one and he charged me for one day's rental rather than one week.

Maybe living in Paradise makes people nicer, but I don't think I would have had the same experience east of the Rockies.

Bike Rental Blow Out

One of the best things about my trip to San Diego was the chance to ride Palomar Mountain. The day after I arrived, rented a bike at Hollands Bicycles of Coronado. The plan was to ride an hour to two each evening, then after the show closed ride up the mountain on Saturday. The first day worked great. On Tuesday evening I rode 22 miles along the shore north to La Jolla and back. The next night rode inland. I got about 10 miles out and broke a front-wheel spoke. As soon as a spoke breaks, the wheel starts rubbing. In this case the wheel was rubbing the fork and the brakes. I got a good workout riding home. The next day I was in LA so I could not get the bike fixed or ride. Friday afternoon I took the bike to the shop. They replaced the spoke and I decided to ride up Palomar a day early. Four miles up the 12-mile climb a rear spoke broke. I rolled back down the hill and drove all the way back to San Diego to get the wheel fixed. Tyler, the owner put a different wheel with a new tire so I would have no hassles for the Saturday climb. The climb went great. I was 20 minutes slower (2 hours and five minutes) than when I climbed the mountain three years ago, but I was riding a lot more then.
At the top I ate at Mother's Kitchen--a vegetarian restaurant at the top of the mountain where both bicyclists and motorcyclists hang out. The glass-smooth road up Palomar with 21 switchbacks and some very fast esses draws motorcyclists from all over Southern California. In fact, my entertainment while slogging up that 8% grade at 5mph (it ascends 4600 feet from the valley floor) is listening to the motorcycles rip up the straights and knife through the turns--the best ones anyway.
After lunch at Mother's, I started down the hill through some fast esses on the way to 12 miles between 25 and 45 mph without turning a pedal stroke.
Then five miles down on a short straight going into a switchback, I heard an odd noise from the rear wheel. I slowed to take a look and BANG--the rear tire blew out.
More in the next post

San Diego or Beijing

While my camo pack helped me through the security line, once inside I was subject to all problems of air travel since the business downturn of 2000. I know, 9/11 had an effect, but air travel was really different when the airlines made lots of money. In 1999 I flew to a conference in Beijing. Back then Northwest Airlines flew direct to Beijing from Detroit. I left my house in Lancaster at 0830, 90 minutes before the flight from Harrisburg to Detroit. In 40 minutes I parked and was dragging my bicycle box (I always bring my bicycle on overseas trips, they don't charge for it.) and other luggage to check in. In 15 minutes I was boarding the 90-minute flight to Detroit. We had a 75-minuite layover, then off to Beijing. I took off at 1230 and landed 13 hours later in Beijing. Since Beijing is 12 hours ahead it was 1330 local time--the next day. It took an hour to get my bags and get my bike through Chinese customs, but by 1530 (3:30 am in PA) I was in my room assembling my bike. Total trip time from my home to Beijing with a bicycle--19 hours.

My flight out of Philadelphia to San Diego was delayed an hour. Then we sat on the runway for almost an hour. The connecting flight was also delayed. I did stop at work on the way to the airport so the comparison is not entirely valid, but I left my house at 0930 and was in my room in at 3am Eastern time in San Diego.
Total trip time WITHOUT the bike (it is cheaper to rent in America)--17 1/2 hours.

By the way, the trip distance to Beijing is about 10,000 miles--to San Diego is 3,000.

Escorted Around the Security Line

I had a good reason to fly to San Diego from Philadelphia on Monday afternoon, but I could not remember that reason when I walked halfway back to the parking garage to get in the Security Line for Terminal A. I had plenty of time--my flight was delayed one hour at that point and I arrived 90 minutes before the flight--but I did not want to spend an hour waiting to put my shoes in a gray plastic tub.

Ten minutes later I was in through security. One of the TSA guys walked along the line saw my ACU camo backpack and haircut and asked if I was military. I showed him the ID with the computer chip and he walked me to the air crew security line. I don't know if I will be flying anywhere else before I get deployed (that fight I won't have to take off my boots before boarding, but if I do my carry-on luggage will be camo.

Father's Day

My kids drove to Fort Indiantown Gap today to have lunch with Dad in an Army mess hall. Although my daughters were happy enough to eat Army food, my 8-year-old was was pumping his fist in the air at the possibility of eating lunch with 200 guys in camouflage. But he was not just looking for the chow-hall atmosphere, he wanted gravy. His mother is a former vegetarian and his youngest sister is a vegetarian and they do most of the cooking. So it is not often dinner includes gravy. And the menu today did not disappoint. We had beef stew over buttered noodles, vegetables, fruit, cole slaw and cake.

Before lunch, the kids met me at the motor pool so Nigel got to see the PLS and FRS (see Saturday post). Then we went to the mess hall. After lunch Nigel got to hold a SAW, an M-16A4 and a 9mm pistol. Guns and gravy--what could be better in the eyes of an 8-year-old?

My Vehicle M1075

Last year I wrote about being in charge of the FRS (Forward Repair System) for our unit. You might remember I am in charge of it because I am the only person in the motor pool, male or female, who does not work on his own car, truck, or motorcycle. This month we got a brand new M1075 PLS (Palletized Load System) 10 by 10, 500hp, five-axle, all-terrain semi-trailer to carry th FRS.

So now I will have to recall enough motor maintenance from my tank commander past to be in charge of the truck that hauls the FRS around.

Happy Father's Day

On the Road Again. . .

. . .In several ways. Tomorrow and Sunday is June drill. Since I will be spending Father's Day in green, my kids are coming to Ft. Indiantown Gap to eat lunch with me. My teenage daughters are happy to make the drive, but my 8-year-old son is really looking forward to Army food. He was pumping his fist in the air at the prospect of eating Army food.
Also, I am going to a conference in San Diego from Monday the 16th to Monday the 23rd, then to Boston the 24th to the 26th--all business meetings.
But today I road to work, the longest ride since 2006 actually--70 miles from the west side of Lancaster to the east side of Philadelphia. There was almost no traffic--considering it was Philadelphia and its suburbs. I ride US Rt 30 almost the whole way if you are curious about the route.

Lunch with Ivan Amato

For soldiers MREs (Meal Ready to Eat) is just victuals in a vinyl bag, but for Ivan Amato, author of the book Stuff and managing editor of Chemical and Engineering News Jambalaya in an aluminum bag was just the beginning of a banquet of materials: vinyl, polyethylene. Ivan's first comment on ripping open his MRE is "What a waste" looking at all the packaging. But then he quickly became fascinated with all the "Stuff" inside the sand-colored bag. First was the FRH--flameless ration heater. The FRH has magnesium metal powder inside a plastic bag. Add water and the magnesium oxidizes fast, heating the water and the Jambalaya. I was eating Cajun rice and beans. We both had a metal pouch of cheese spread--Ivan thought it could be used as adhesive. I had crackers and he had wheat bread. We ate the cheese and carbs while we waited for the main course to heat up.

WHERE: It would be completely inauthentic to eat MREs indoors, so we ate at the mostly empty outside tables at Caribou coffee shop at 15th and M St. in Washington DC. The temp was mid-90s and the humidity about 50%. The smart people ate inside.

After cheese and crackers/wheat bread and the main course, neither of us ate desert, so Ivan's kids will be eating a chocolate energy bars, Skittles, and carrot cake for dessert tonight.

Anyway, it was interesting to see Ivan's view of all the materials that go into a meal that can withstand rough handling and bad weather and still, according to Ivan, taste good.

Attention Span

As you can imagine, after three weeks of living in the same room, everyone has a pretty good assessment of other soldier's character. My favorite was this overheard moment. One of the sergeants is talking about a private who has some difficulty paying attention.
"I look this fool right in the eye and talk to him. Not five seconds later a bird flies by and BAM! He's gone. I say, 'CONCENTRATE!' He comes back to this world, but five seconds later he's gone again."
The speaker is a tall, fit impeccable soldier talking about a short, dumpy young man with no small resemblance to a rodent. It would make a great 10-second video.