Riding to Do My Army Job

Part of my Army job is taking pictures of Army training, Army living and sometimes Army relaxing.  To get to these various places I ride my bike when I can.  Today I was shooting photos at the extreme ends of the ten-mile long Fort Indiantown Gap training area.  In the course of riding to and from both events I put 31 miles on my single-speed mountain bike.  Since the terrain here is hilly, it was a good ride on rolling hills.

In the middle of the day I took pictures and videos of teams of soldiers on the Leadership Reaction Course.  This is a team obstacle course.  Later I rode to the other end of the base to take pictures of a field kitchen.

I don't have those pictures downloaded yet, but I have a few from Land Navigation the day before:

In Back of an LMTV (Army Truck)

Today I went to a land navigation course in the back of an LMTV--a big Army truck.  Very much like the one below.

Here is the view from inside:

The ride was short and pretty smooth for the back of a truck.  When former soldiers and retired soldiers talk about why they would never want to be back in the Army at my age, riding in the back of trucks and sleeping in open-bay barracks are among the things they never want to do again.

Ever!!!

Not to mention my recent meals.  Like these hot meals served in the field:

Or for that matter, the MRE I had for lunch:

Even if people of my age mostly don't like this kind of living, I am having a lot of fun.

At least for one more year.

Getting Around. . . With a Little Help from My Friends

Since early May I have been driving a 1996 Mazda Miata!  I did not buy a new car.  We are officially a one-car household.  We have one old car, a 2001 Toyota Prius, and ten bicycles as described here by my wife Miser Mom.  It looks like one below.

But for Annual Training this year I am driving a Miata loaned to me by Kristine Chin and Rick Chu.  I loaned them my tandem in 2009 when I went to Iraq, so they loaned me their two-seat vehicle this year.  Having the Miata allowed me to have a car at Annual training, which will allow me to go home once or twice during the two weeks.

Like sooooooo many other parts of my life, I am different than my Army surroundings.  The Prius is not the average soldier's car.  The Miata less so.  As you can see above, the Miata is MUCH smaller than the typical vehicle in the Army Parking lot.

It has been fun to drive a car so small I sort of fall back into it.  My sons were delighted.  They just like the idea that their family has a really cool car, even if it's temporary.  The kids at their (Lancaster) school brag about their family's vehicle--and especially when the family vehicle is a big, red crew cab Dodge Ram or Chevy Silverado pickup truck.

But the Miata is a two-seat convertible so it has real cache.  Unlike when I was a kid, the five-speed stick shift is irrelevant.  Few modern kids are serious motorheads.  A car is just designer jeans with wheels.

It is convenient to have a car, and fun to have such an interesting car.  Thanks Rick and Kristine!!!

Taxi, Take Off and Hover Videos of Chinook Helicopters

Every time I take photos and videos of Chinook helicopters, I am too close and getting buffeted by the amazing wind from their blades.  A reasonable distance from an Apache or Blackhawk helicopter is just too close to the big double-main-rotor Chinook.

Four Chinooks just after starting their engines on the flight line.

The moment of take off.  I am behind a metal emergency equipment container so I don't get blown over.

Another takeoff.  You can see the flattened grass from the wind.

Army vs. Civilian View of Human Nature

During the last week my co-workers, former co-workers and I said good bye to my supervisor Mary Ellen.  She is great at her job, going to a better job, and a really great person to work with.  Because most of those lauding her are also smart, funny and ironic, the praise was effusive but never maudlin.
My co-workers are librarians, archivists, writers, editors and historians.  Just the kind of people you would expect to think the best of others.  And Mary Ellen showed confirms their belief in the inherent goodness of people.  Most of them are much too ironic for a Patron Saint, but if they have a chosen philosopher it is Rosseau--people are good, only circumstances make us evil.

In a coincidence known only to me, Mary Ellen's last day of work was my first day of Army Annual Training.  So while I occasionally glanced at warm and sincere messages about Mary Ellen on my phone, I moved into the world green and camouflage world where everyone is a shit-bag unless proven otherwise.  Machiavelli is the Patron Saint here.

I had a brief hallway conversation with a guy I served with Iraq.  We were discussing some soldiers I had to supervise the following week and what I should do on the two days I would be going Michigan.

Without changing his tone at all he said, "There should be at least one of them who is not a total drooling idiot.  Leave that one in charge."

I admired the non-sexist way in which he left possibility that the one who could meet his very low standard could be a man or a woman.  I really do love both worlds, but the transitions are always strange.

Photos from Boalsburg 2015 Memorial Ceremony

Here are some of my favorite photos from the annual 28th Division Memorial Ceremony on the site of the Pennsylvania Military History Museum in Boalsburg PA.

Leaving My Day Job at the End of June

The Othmer Library at Chemical Heritage Foundation

Last July 1 I began working two days per week to spend more time at home.  I tried to do my job in two days per week, but the growing museum and library I work for decided they need a full-time person in my job.  Since that's not me any more, I will be leaving at the end of June.  I have worked here since March 2002--tied with the longest I worked anywhere.  I worked at Godfrey Advertising in Lancaster PA from 1985 to 1998.

Here's the message to the staff from my boss:

Dear colleagues,

Last July Neil Gussman shifted from working full time to working two days per week in order to spend more time with his family. But as CHF continues to grow and evolve, so do our communications needs. It’s become clear that we need a full-time, on-site public relations manager, and Neil has decided to move on. His last day at CHF will be June 30.

Neil began working for CHF as a consultant in 2002 and was hired as a staff member in 2005. He has persuaded editors and reporters far and wide to feature CHF’s work, from a 2006 CHF conference on alchemy that was covered by the New York Times and Marketplace, to the recent review of Books of Secrets in Nature, to repeated coverage in chemical-industry trades such as Chemical & Engineering News and Chemistry International.

As Neil plans his next adventures, please join me in wishing him the very best. CHF will feel a profound lack of puns when he leaves, and holiday parties will never be the same.

The Army Made Me a Writer, Then a Professional Writer

The Army made me a writer.  Last year I wrote here about how six versions of letters home taught me to write and rewrite and helped to make me writer.

By the end of 1977 with 14 months in Germany, I had become a writer, but not a professional writer.  Then the Army gave me that too.  Specifically, Command Sergeant Major Cubbins gave me the chance to become a professional writer.

Cubbins was one of those Top Sergeants for whom his part of the United States Army was HIS Army.  The 4th Brigade, 4th Infantry Division went to Wiesbaden, West Germany, en masse in October 1976 as Brigade '76.  Cubbins took over as Brigade Sgt. Major in the fall of 1977.

Cubbins was a tall, rail thin, leathery-skinned, wrinkled veteran of both the Korean and Vietnam Wars.  He was over 50 years old which we 20-year-olds thought just amazing.  He had 33 years of enlisted service when he came to our unit--11 service stripes on the left sleeve of his dress uniform and a half-dozen combat stripes on the right.

At the time Cubbins joined the Brigade, we were doing regular 4-mile runs on the airstrip at Wiesbaden.  These were brigade runs with dozens of company formations running in a long procession.  As soon as he took over the brigade, Cubbins started leading those runs.  We were amazed.  In the 70s, men in their 50s did not exercise.  But here was this old guy running in front, calling cadence too.  The world was very different then.

It was Cubbins' Army.  So just before Christmas he gathered all of the sergeants in the Brigade for an NCO meeting in the Weisbaden Air Base Theater.  I don't remember most of the meeting, but I do remember one subject he covered.  Cubbins said 4th Brigade was being ignored by The Stars and Stripes, but Armed Forces Radio, even by the Wiesbaden Post.  He wanted a combat arms sergeant to volunteer to work to get 4th Brigade in the local and regional news.

He wanted a "real soldier" who could write about training.  He did not want a "goddamned sissy journalist who could not tell a muzzle brake from a parking brake."

I noticed that Cubbins wrote with a blue pen on a yellow pad.  As soon as that meeting ended, I went to the PX and got a new blue pen.  I already had a yellow pad.  And I walked out onto the airstrip to look for something to write about.

There on the edge of the airstrip were a dozen German soldiers and as many American soldiers planning to have a partnership event that weekend.  I had my story.  Before lunch was over, the story was on the sergeant major's desk along with a biography noting that I loved to write and that I fired Distinguished as a tank commander my first time out the previous year.

I found out later Cubbins liked that I had something written the same day.  The other entries came in a few days later.  I got the job.  I was a paid journalist from then until I left the Army nearly two years later.

Big Day for Russia--Bad Date for Me

The biggest holiday on the calendar in Russia and many other former Soviet States is May 9.  These countries celebrate the Soviet victory over Nazi Germany on the day the Nazis surrendered to the Russians, May 9, 1945.

The soldiers in the photo above are fighting at the Battle of Kursk in 1943.  This was and is the largest armored battle ever fought and the Soviet Army won, turning the the tide against Germany.

While this day is great for the Soviet Union, Russia and the free world, it is a bad date for me.  Eight years ago today, I had the most and worst injuries I have had on one day in my life.  If you don't know the story it is here and here.

Because there are only 365 days in a year, many days will have multiple meanings.  So the coincidence that my worst wreck and the greatest Russian victory are on the same day is just a coincidence.

So in the spirit of this day, I will practice my recently learned Russian language skills and race my bicycle at Smoketown Airport this morning.  What else would someone do on a sunny Spring Saturday morning?

Silly Punk Mother F**ker: 1st Sgt. Robert V. Baker

When Bravo Company, 1-70th Armor went to Germany in 1976, our First Sergeant was Robert V. Baker.  Top Baker was a veteran of both Vietnam and the Korean War.  He was not old enough to serve during World War 2, but none of us believed it.  Top Baker to us was REALLY old.  Nearly 50 according to the unit clerk who peeked at his records and told everyone just how old Top Baker was.

Top Baker was a very sharp guy and a very good tanker.  But this tall, thin, graying soldier had a wandering indirect way of speaking that drove us crazy on several occasions.  Once in the Spring of 1977 we were in formation on a cold morning in short sleeves because the Army said it was summer.  Top Baker told us one of the washing machines in the barracks was broken and could not be repaired any time soon.  With great gestures, but without actually looking at us, Top went on for almost 20 minutes talking about washing clothes in Viet Nam which led him to remember that the maintenance people responsible for that field laundry facility were a bunch of "Silly Punk Mother F**kers."  Once he wound himself up to using SPMF we knew he would be talking for another ten minutes at least.

I personally got the SPMF treatment once when during major maintenance of my tank.  We turned in all 63 rounds of main gun ammo.  It was during this part of my life that I started signing documents with an "N" followed by a wiggly line.  The Army required 63 signatures of the tank commander for ammo turn in and 63 signatures to reload the tank.

The trouble this particular time was one of the rounds was missing.  I was signed for that SABOT service round.  I was an SPMF and Top Baker was going to make sure that I was busted right down to SPMF Private!!!

It was a clerical error so I did not get "busted right down to Private."  I noticed to my great relief that during the period in which my sergeant stripes and my future in the Army were in jeopardy, Top Baker never referred to me as a "Non-Tanker."  Anyone could make a mistake and be an SPMF until the mistake was corrected, but a Non-Tanker was a fundamental flaw.

Whew!!!

I heard at the 70th Armor reunion that Top Baker passed away not long after he returned to America in the early 80s.

Even when I was shivering in the cold, waiting for Top Baker to wrap a 20-minute digression on washing machines in the Army, Top Baker was one of my favorite first sergeants.

Who Fights Our Wars? Southern Men

I don't know the soldiers in this photo, but I do know that if we could find the home address of every one of them, two out of three would be from the eleven states of the Old South or from the West--between the Rockies and the Sierras.

At the reunion dinner of the 1-70th Armor last Saturday night, those who attended were mostly officers plus a few senior enlisted men.  We served together from 1975 to 1979, the first years of the all-volunteer Army following the end of the draft.

Military service has always been more honored in the South than in the rest of our country, but until the Vietnam War, the draft meant that soldiers, sailors, airmen and Marines came from all over the country.  I enlisted in 1972, during the last year of the draft.  Already, anti-war sentiment was so strong in the Northeast where I am from, that I seldom heard a Boston accent on a military base.

By the time the draft was over and I was a tank commander in the 1-70th Armor, the military had become a very Southern organization.  More so among the officers than among the enlisted men.

In 1980, 1407 students graduated from Harvard University.  Two of them joined the military.  Five of them took blue collar jobs.  One of them was an apprentice to a some who hand-built chairs.

But in the same year, more than 40% of the male graduates of Baylor were in ROTC and joining a branch of the military.  I served with guys from Alabama and Georgia who said almost half the boys in their graduating class joined the military.

A total of 371 students graduated with me from Stoneham High School near Boston in 1971.  A total of 12 of us ever served in the military.  Two of us enlisted during the Vietnam War.

As I met and reconnected with people at the 1-70th Armor reunion on Saturday night, everyone I spoke to was from the South or the West.  Many of them served in Vietnam.  All of them began their training to become military officers during the Vietnam War even if the war ended by the time they were commissioned.

On Sunday morning when the reunion ended, I rode northeast from Gettysburg back home to Lancaster.  As far as I know, I was the only one who would be North of the Mason-Dixon Line by the next day.  Many of the men at that reunion survived jungle warfare in Vietnam, then we all waited together for the Soviet tanks just over the East-West German border to fire the first shots of World War 3 right at us.  Some of them went on to serve in the Gulf War.  A few of us even went to the wars in Iraq and Afghanistan.

But as much as I am Yankee and would live in New York or Paris if I could live anywhere, I have spent more than 40 years admiring the way the American South has supplied our nation with soldiers and leaders, especially since the end of the draft.

I have even developed a taste for grits and gravy--but I am NOT going to go as far as eating chitterlings, trotters or listeners.  To me, pigs are ham and bacon--that's it!

One Year at a Time--Now I'm in till 2016

My friend Barry Free joined me for what turned out to be a 100-mile re-enlistment ride.  Barry enlisted in the Army Reserve in 1968 and served till 1975.  He decided to accompany a younger guy on the trip to stay in the Army one more year.

We rode together from Mt. Gretna on some back roads onto Fort Indiantown Gap, then to the Aviation Armory where I signed the re-enlistment paperwork.  Sgt. 1st Class Dale Shade, who got the paperwork ready, was in charge of Public Affairs for 28th CAB when I was in Iraq.  He said he will help me to submit the paperwork for yet another extension next year.

As we rode west on Range Road, we passed several rifle and pistol ranges.  We were talking about how the rifle ranges and the weapons we use are the same as when he was in during the Viet Nam War.  Back then, Barry and I fired the M16 or M16A2.  Now my weapon is the M16A4.  Not a big difference.

We then rode to the Public Affairs Office on Fort Indiantown Gap where I introduced Barry to the folks who do the same work I do.  He met SSG Matt Jones, who I worked with for most of the time I was in Iraq, Air Force Tech. Sgt. Ted Nichols, and Majors Ed Shank and Angela King-Sweigart.

It was a great way to celebrate signing up for another year.

Army Bike Week! Riding to Re-Enistment!

This week will be Army bicycle week.  Last week, I thought I might be riding to the Pentagon tomorrow to ask them to reconsider turning down my re-enlistment.

No need for that trip.  Re-enlistment got approved.  And I need to re-enlist quickly so I can volunteer for a second annual training this summer.

So tomorrow I am going to ride to Fort Indiantown Gap and reenlist. Riding to Fort Indiantown Gap is 40 miles each way. I am going to leave it at nine in the morning and reenlist at noon. That should get me back to Lancaster in time to ride home from school with my son Nigel.

This weekend the 1st Battalion 70th Armor is having a reunion in Gettysburg, Pennsylvania, about 70 miles away. On Saturday I will ride to Gettysburg, go to the reunion dinner, then ride home the next morning. With the other writing I will be doing this week I will ride more than 300 miles. I don't often get to ride that much and I don't usually have an army reason to ride so it will be fun to ride to stay in the army longer and then to see the guys I served with 40 years ago. I served with 70th armor in Colorado and in Germany between 1975 and 1979.

I'll try to get some reenlistment pictures tomorrow and reunion pictures on Saturday.

 

One More Year! In the Army Till I'm 63!

Today at 2pm I got a voice mail from SSG Steinmetz in the Admin section of 28th CAB to call her.  When I called she read me a line from a message from National Guard Bureau in the Pentagon saying that "SGT Gussman's request for extension for one year has been approved."  

With that I am staying one more year.  The journey that began January 31, 1972, with the guy in the picture below getting drunk in a bar in Kenmore Square, Boston. . . 

Saw the same guy straighten up, make sergeant and become an Army tank commander.  In the photo below I am on a field training exercise in Germany in 1977.

The guy in the photo above left the Army and went to college in 1980, then re-enlisted in 2007 and in 2009 deployed to Iraq--with a bicycle.

 And ended that tour with the guys below and "The best job I ever had."

One more year.  Thirteen more weekend drills.  I am hoping to do Annual Training twice this summer. 

Jackie Chan Saved Mother's Day for Me

Is Jackie Chan one of your heroes?  He's one of mine.  And I have never seen one of his movies.  But he rescued me in real life--at least in the sense of getting me home on time for Mother's Day instead of three days late.

How did he do that?

When I was flying to Asia regularly I flew Cathay Pacific whenever I could.  This Hong Kong based airline had the best service of the many airlines I flew during the three years I went overseas every month on business.

I was in Singapore in May of 2000 and was flying home through Hong Kong to Los Angeles.  The flights from Singapore to Hong Kong and then to America were Cathay Pacific.  When we boarded in Hong Kong there was a big commotion because Jackie Chan was in first class flying to the premiere of one of his movies in L.A.

The flight was uneventful until two hours past Japan when the plane turned around.

It was heading back to Japan.  It turns out an old woman who was going to LA to see her family died on the plane.  The 747 was headed back to Japan for the standard quarantine.  That meant 417 passengers would be looking for flights.  It could mean a three-day delay and I would miss Mother's Day the year we adopted our son Nigel.

But when we landed, Jackie Chan went out to talk to the Tokyo Airport officials.  Jackie Chan is as big in Japan as everywhere else in Asia.  He started signing personalized photos for all the officials.  When the deceased woman was taken off the plane, they refueled us and let us go!!!

No way that would happen without a real life Superhero.  I never got a chance to thank Jackie Chan for getting me home for Mother's Day.

He will always be a Superhero for me!!

Who Fights Our Wars? Pamela Allen Bleuel

On the left in this photo is the subject of a blog post I wrote in 2009 in Iraq.  She is Pamela Allen Bleuel, a tough, funny woman who ran convoy training at Camp Adder.  She is shown here in Afghanistan in 2012.  Follow this link to the 2009 post.  I changed her name at the time, so you will see Sgt. Beaufort.

Enjoy!  

No Answer--What Goes Up Must Come Down the Same Way

No answer yet on whether I can re-enlist or not.  I thought that meant no answer at all.  The administrative NCO in my unit thinks the decision is made but it is held up at the state headquarters in Harrisburg.  She reminded me that things which go up the chain of command also come down that same chain of command.

So I will keep waiting.

A Soldier When I'm 64? I am Supposed to Get the Answer Today

Wednesday I talked to the Admin. Sergeant who submitted the paperwork for me to stay in the Army two more years.  She said we are supposed to get an answer today about whether I will will be allowed to extend my enlistment again, or not.

Last week I got an email from our training NCO asking for volunteers with my job skill to go to the Baltic Republics in the next few months.  Whether I can go or not of course depends on whether I can stay in.  I was supposed to go to one of the Baltic republics last fall, but we had a problem to solve with the boy we tried to adopt in Haiti and I had to un-volunteer myself.

For now, I will go back to work doing my homework for Russian class.  If I do get answer, I will post right away!

Field Guide to Flying Death: Going Fu#king Ballistic

Today on the bicycle ride, one of the faster riders I know was describing an even faster rider and how he won a race.  "He was f#cking ballistic," my friend said.

Actually he was not ballistic.  He was the opposite.  The picture below is a two Hellfire missiles under power launched by a Predator drone.  The rocket fuel is burning.

The next picture (below) is of a missile in its ballistic trajectory:  after the main rocket motor has fully burned.  Guidance motors still operate, but the missile is not under power, it is slowing down although it is traveling very fast.  From the time the main motor fully burns, the speed of the rocket is slowing and is determined by momentum, gravity, and wind resistance--by the laws of physics. It is flying in a "ballistic" path.

Ballistic means unpowered.  A bullet is ballistic AFTER it leaves the gun.

A missile is ballistic when it's flying toward its target after all the propellant has burned.  It is coasting.

My friend was describing quite the opposite.  The fast rider was under power and had more power than any other rider in the race.  If he were actually "ballistic" he would be coasting.

In terms of missiles, a ballistic missile is one that is launched then travels to by coasting at speed over 4,000 mph. It is no longer under power. It's course is corrected by guidance systems.

A car can't be described as ballistic since it is in contact with the ground. It's path is determined by that contact.  But if someone took a car trip that was like a missile flight, the car would accelerate to say 500 mph and then coast trip it arrived.  That trip would require very level, very straight roads. Both wind resistance and rolling resistance would limit the distance, but it would be possible. The steering wheel would be the guidance system.

Science words, for reasons I don't understand, can enter Pop culture with meanings opposite their scientific meaning.

The most well-known opposite word is Theory.  In science, a theory is the BEST possible summary description of a body of research.  So the Theory of Universal Gravitation describes the motion of all objects including missiles, both under power and in ballistic flight.  

But in Pop Culture, "My Theory" describes nothing more than an opinion with no necessary connection to fact or reality.  My Theory could cover things like believing fluoride is a communist plot or that Stanley Kubrik faked the moon landing.

Eight Years Ago Today I Started the Re-Enlistment Process

Eight years ago today, on Maundy Thursday in 2007, I started the process of re-enlisting in the Army.  The last time I was in I looked like the guy in the picture above.

Her is the brief post I made on calling the recruiter.http://armynow.blogspot.com/2007/09/first-call-to-my-recruiter.html 

Several months later I became the much older, lower ranking guy in the picture above.
But this adventure began with a phone call.
Yesterday I got an email from Command Sergeant Major Dell Christine, the guy who has been my top sergeant for all of the last eight years, either at battalion or brigade.  He said we will know by April 18 whether or not the National Guard Bureau will approve me staying in the Army for two more years.
Otherwise, I am a civilian at the end of May this year.
It is very odd to think about that.  With so many other things in my life possibly changing in the near future--we may be moving to Virginia for a year because of my wife's job--not being a soldier will be a big change for me.
I will definitely keep you all posted.

Keeping Up With Conspiracies in Space

I just read the book Omon Ra by Victor Pelevin.  This tragic and very funny book says Russia also faked a moon landing.  Before reading this book I did not know there is a documentary that accuses Stanley Kubrik of faking the moon landings for the US government.

The documentary says Kubrik felt guilty about deceiving the world and confessed in the movie "The Shining."

Both times I was in Army, the 1970s and now, I have heard earnest young soldiers tell me how President Obama is going to take away their guns, the FBI introduced AIDS and crack into inner city America, 9-11 was an inside job, fluoride is a Commie plot, and many others.

So how did I miss this one?  I knew from several sources that the moon landings were faked, but the confession, Wow!!

'Murica!!

Bitching About Fitness-Optional Soldiers

Recently I was on the phone for about a half hour with a reporter from Deseret News.  The topic was soldiers and fitness.  She is writing about how soldiers and sailors pork up after they leave active duty.  Here's the article.

Well that is their right and privilege as Americans.

We were talking because I sent her an email about how going on active duty for training causes me to work out LESS, not more.  She said I was the only soldier she spoke to with that experience.

If there is one vast difference between the military in the Viet Nam Era and now, it is the fat, out-of-shape soldiers.  There was the occasional fat supply sergeant or cook in the 1970s Army, but when our Brigade did 4-mile runs in Germany, the vast majority of the soldiers, including us smokers, stayed in formation.

The information the reporter had said that half of the men in women in Guard and Reserve units could not pass the fitness test for their branch of the military.  And every active duty unit has soldiers hanging on by a thread trying to pass the fitness test or just giving up because they are too short (of time left on their enlistment) to worry about their lack of fitness.

Currently the Army is forcing out soldiers who are out of shape.  At least they are forcing out younger soldiers who are out of shape.  The Guard still has master sergeants and warrant officers who are 50 pounds past meeting the height and weight standards, but are untouchable because they know their jobs so well and know how to get around the fitness standards.

And, of course, the vast majority of soldiers who are out of shape have as their first excuse, "I am good at my job."  Great.  Work for Boeing or Ford then.  Soldiers should be able to Move, Shoot and Communicate.  A soldier who is out-of-breath after running a mile in shorts and sneakers will never shoot straight after running three miles with full battle gear.

And because we are in the Guard, the high-ranking fat guys make of the PT Test.  I have gone to official functions with fat guys performing a skit making fun of the PT Test.  During the same month I saw the fat guys yuck it up about the PT Test, I talked to a sergeant I knew.  He was getting out because he could not pass the PT Test the next month.  He was a good armorer and supply sergeant, had 15 years in and will not be able to retire.  He did not want to stay in the Army enough to lose the weight and he was not blaming anyone.

But the porcine performers making fun of the PT Test will retire with huge pensions and a Meritorious Service Medal.

And that is sad.

Here is the Duffel blog view.

Screwtape in Iraq

This post is a repost from Iraq.  I haven't seen this post in years.  It was fun to write and mimic Screwtape.  But if you want to hear Screwtape at his best, the Audiobook is read by John Cleese!!!  No one could be a better mid-level bureaucrat in Hell than John Cleese.  The book is no longer available with Cleese as the narrator, but the letters are collected at the link above.


CLICK here for Screwtape in Iraq.

CLICK here for the book.

Who Writes About Our Wars: Matt Jones

28th CAB PAO at Camp Adder:

Me, SGT Matt Jones, SFC Dale Shade, SGT Andy Mehler

In September of 2009, I moved from the Echo Company motor pool at Camp Adder, Iraq, to Battalion Headquarters of Task Force Diablo.  I took the job of writing, laying out and shooting the pictures for a monthly newsletter for the remainder of the deployment.  But I knew that a monthly for four of five months would not get any attention.

So I asked to produce a weekly 8-12-page newsletter.  The commander and my supervisor agreed.  I had a job—and a half.  But I got it done.

One big reason I could write that newsletter and shoot the pictures was SGT Matt Jones at 28^th Combat Aviation Brigade with an office just 100 meters from mine.  Over the next several months I spent a lot of time with Matt.  I had not shot pictures since the late 1970s.  I got a Nikon digital camera and Matt showed me how to use.  And gave me feedback on the photos I took.  He also edited my stories—quickly and accurately. 

Matt had his own weekly newsletter to produce.  And he worked in a much different environment than I did.  Everyone in my office worked together really well.  Better than most places I have ever worked. 

To say that Matt worked in a hostile environment is like the temperature in Hell, if you have to ask. . .

So in between writing stories, shooting photos and producing a weekly newsletter, had to deal with more shit than a dairy farmer from a brigade command staff that did not understand or care to understand how public affairs worked. 

But he kept going, quietly producing a great newsletter every week and shooting some award-winning photos along the way.  Clearly, some of my best photos were the ones I shot just after Matt showed me something else I could do with shutter speed, ISO, lighting, or angle. 

After we returned from Iraq, I worked with Matt while he was with 28^th CAB and I still see him on drill weekends sometimes.  And he still helps me shoot better pictures. 

Most people I know in public affairs, military or civilian, are loud people that laugh, make jokes and are irrepressible gossips.  Matt has the flattest affect of anyone I know in public affairs.  After a few weeks of working with him he said, “Nice!” about a story I wrote.  That was it.  He went back to work.  If I got that from Matt, I knew the Nobel in Literature was a possibility in the future. 

Last summer, in what might be my last summer camp, I got to spend several days writing and editing in the Public Affairs Office at Fort Indiantown Gap.  I wrote about how much I enjoyed that time last summer.  I did not use any names in that post, but I can now say that part of the fun of the week was Matt laughing when I retold some of the same jokes I told in Iraq for a new group of people.  And I am pretty sure Matt said “Nice!” about one of my photos.

Baby Killers, Climate Change and Conspiracy Theories

In the past week, I spoke with people who remember the Viet Nam War and what many Americans thought of soldiers back then.  Many soldiers serving now don't like being thanked for their service.  They think of it as insincere or shallow.  They take for granted that the public loves us.  That just shows how fast public opinion can change.  When the young men in the photo below came home, they might have been greeted with "Baby Killer" instead of "Thank you for your service."  I have heard both.  I like the Thank You.

I enlisted in 1972, during Viet Nam, but never got closer to Viet Nam than Nevada.  Even though I never went to Viet Nam, I was part of the military, so I was a "Baby Killer" in the eyes of many.  It is certainly true that Lt. Cali and some others killed civilians, but the people who thought of the military as "Baby Killers" had to believe that more than two million Americans enlisted and suddenly became murderers of children.  And they had to accept the word of Jane Fonda and others who were not soldiers about the character of soldiers.  

In retrospect, it seems crazy that millions of Americans could have believed that about soldiers from their own towns and neighborhoods and that anyone could have accepted the word of Jane Fonda on military matters.  But they did.  Could anything be more ridiculous than thinking the children of World War 2 veterans were suddenly transformed to monsters?

As a matter of fact, yes.  

People who deny man-made climate change must believe that more than a million people with advanced degrees in science are involved in a conspiracy to defraud America and the world.  And on top of that, they have to accept the word of Senator James Inhofe, who knows as much about science as Jane Fonda knows about the military, on the science of climate change.   

The other expert climate science deniers on Fox News are lawyers, not scientists.  Like Inhofe they receive millions from oil-industry-backed groups, most notably Koch-brothers-sponored organizations.

I know many Americans accept the most idiotic conspiracies.  They believe that the same government that lost the Iraq War by saying we "Would be greeted as liberators" and the war would "Pay for itself" is somehow involved in staging 9-11.  Some Americans think fluoride is a Soviet Plot and have not noticed the fall of the Soviet Union.  Others fight vaccination.  

And in the late 60s and early 70s they accepted Jane Fonda's evaluation of our military.  

James Inhofe believes he is smarter than all those striving, high achieving people who earn doctorate degrees in chemistry, physics, math, geology and related sciences.  

Many members of my family have advanced degrees in physics, math and other fields.  They all accept the work of people who work in climate science.  

In the Army, I serve with many people who think Fox News is credible.  

When Jane Fonda called American Soldiers Baby Killers, I was in High School and my Uncle Jack was on his second of three tours flying close air support in Viet Nam.  Anyone who believed her was talking shit about a man I admired more than anyone else in the world except my Dad.

When someone says sincerely that all scientists are involved in a conspiracy, they are talking about my wife, my in-laws, one of my daughters and many of my friends.  

I despise conspiracy theories for that reason.  They are an excuse to dismiss or hate an entire groups.  And like prejudice, they are an excuse to lump people together instead of dealing with them as they are.   

Movie Review: "Burnt by the Sun"

Tonight my sons and I went to see the 1994 Russian movie "Burnt by the Sun" on campus.  Like a Greek Tragedy all the action happens during one fateful day.  The movie is based on the real lives of a hero of the Russian Revolution, a colonel, who was betrayed and murdered.  The movie is set in the Colonel Kotov's country house (Dacha in Russian).  

From beginning to its very sad end, the movie simmers with menace, but most of the time is a story of a happy family at their summer home.  

At the beginning, tanks on maneuvers line up for an assault along the tree line next to a wheat field just abut ready to harvest.  I knew this scene from the time I spent in Germany moving tanks across fields and farms.  Sometimes, the tactics we were ordered to use required us to tear up a farm field.  We had a German-American team following us who paid farmers for the damage, but the farmers were still upset when we tore up their land.

At the opening the movie, ten tanks line up side-by-side to attack a hill through a wheat field.  The farmers yell and bang on the tanks with pitchforks.  Colonel Kotov convinces the tank unit to move around the field.  

Kotov is a hero.  As the day progresses, Kotov becomes more and more vulnerable until a black car takes him away to his death.  

As Nigel and I walked home from the movie I asked why he liked it.  First we talked about the tanks.  They were actually BMP Armored Personnel Carriers with turrets stuck on them.  

But then he said he liked the family doing things together.  We adopted Nigel several weeks after he was born.  From the first day in our home, he had three doting sisters who were 9 to 11 years older.   Until Nigel was seven he was surrounded by a big family a dog named Lucky and two cats:  Athos and Porthos.  

Then when he was almost eight, his two older sisters went off to college.  A few months after his ninth birthday, I went to Iraq for a year.  Then that fall, his third sister went to college.  During the year I was in Iraq, it was just Nigel, his Mom and Porthos--by this time Athos and Lucky had died.

Nigel clearly misses the big family that he spent his first seven years in.  Since then we adopted another son about Nigel's age, had another woman move in for a few year's who was about the age of Nigel's sisters, and we have another big dog.  

It was clear when I got back that Nigel was very proud of me for going to Iraq, but not very happy that I left.  This movie which I saw as wrenching tragedy he saw as a really nice family.  

Photos of 28th Combat Aviation Brigade for Fort Rucker

During the February drill weekend, our Command Sergeant Major asked for a disc of 200 or so phots to send to the Army Aviation Training Facility at Fort Rucker, Alabama.  We regularly send pilots and other aircrew there for training and the flight school asked for photos of 28th CAB.

Here are some I picked out of the 10,000 or so photos I have taken over the last six years.  Now that I have actually looked through then, a large percentage are of ceremonies, mostly changes of command.  None of those photos are included:

Gun Trucks in the Vietnam and Iraq Wars: Why Lessons Aren't Learned

Yesterday I went to a presentation at Franklin and Marshall College about Gun Trucks in Vietnam and in Iraq.  I knew about the many variations of gun trucks assembled by soldiers in the Iraq War, especially before up-armor kits were available for Humvees and other vehicles.

But I had no idea of the extent of the Gun Truck culture during the Vietnam War.  Nina Kollars, Assistant Professor of Government at F&M, talked for about 40 minutes about the origin of the gun trucks in Vietnam and how they grew and spread among transport units until there were hundred of 5-ton and "Deuce-and-a-Half" trucks rolling on the roads in Vietnam with various kinds of armor plate and heavy machine guns.

In Iraq, the chaos after Saddam was defeated left American soldiers vulnerable to IEDs and snipers--just like their brothers from the Vietnam war 40 years earlier.  In both wars, soldiers welded armor on the vehicles they and mounted heavy machine guns.

One of my favorite images from the presentation was the truck above with a palletized gun platform made from a Conex box.  It has shade, armor and if the M1074 PLS truck breaks down, the gun platform can be dropped and picked up on another PLS.

One big difference between the two wars was that during Iraq, the Army centralized training and upgrading vehicles with armor.  In that way, the lessons learned in Iraq were not lost as in Vietnam, but passed along to soldiers as they arrived.  I never got to see the Skunk Werks at Camp Anaconda, but I went through convoy training at Camp Udairi in Kuwait before going to Iraq.  By the time I went, the lessons learned had become a curriculum with classes and manuals and a lot of on-the-road training.

Nina will be presenting her research at a meeting of military historians in the UK in a couple of weeks.

One question that came up in the research was why the lessons learned in Vietnam had to be re-learned in Iraq.  that question I had an answer for.  The U.S. Army was only too happy to turn its back on everything Vietnam after that war ended.  We trained to fight the big war in Europe against the Soviets.  No more un-winnable wars for us!!

So when we got in another un-winnable war, we had to learn the up-armor lessons all over again.