America the Beautiful

A month ago today, we arrived at Joint Base Lewis-McChord.  The road trip here was, by far, one of the most amazing experiences of my life.  A few stats:

- Drove 3983 miles with 3 dogs in 2 cars and 1 camper
- Crossed 11 state lines (GA, AL, MS, AR, OK, TX, NM, AZ, CA, OR, WA)
- Discovered 8 awesome new mountain bike trails (in GA, AL, MS, OK, TX, NM, AZ)
- Devoured one pound of red Twizzlers, 12 bottles of Diet Coke, and several bags of puppytreats. 

My view for 3,893 miles ... The FunFinder XTRA!!

The pups made themselves very comfortable in the camper.

Doug did a fantastic job of planning our route so that we could MTB in as many new places as possible along the way.  We rode awesome trails in the most unexpected places (bring it Mississippi!!), had rides we’d rather forget in others (WTF Oklahoma??), and put others on our Bucket List of Places to Ride Again (Gallup, NM and Palo Duro Canyon, TX).  If you’re really interested in the maps, stats and pictures of our rides, check out Doug’s ride blog. 

Unfortunately, Mother Nature cut the MTB portion of our road trip short after Sedona, AZ.  We had planned to ride in Reno, NV and Bend, OR before heading up to WA, but record early-season snows closed many of the mountain passes, forcing us to re-route through the Mohave Desert and head north through California.  Although it was sad that our MTB adventures had come to an end, I found the route through the Mohave to be absolutely spectacular (Doug thinks I’m weird).  Our reward for driving through the never-ending desert:  In & Out Burger!!!!!

We got re-routed again north of Sacramento by more news of closed mountain passes and Doomsday weather reports, so we decided to head further west and take the coastal route.  (The fact that there was an excellent brewery in Eureka didn’t sway that decision at all … honest!!).    Although it was raining sideways for the entire trip up the Northern California and Oregon coast, the scenery was absolutely spectacular.   

Snow forced us to spend an extra night in Waldport, OR, which is the cutest little seaside town (and just happens to be a few miles from the Rogue Brewing Co headquarters … darn the luck!!!).   After a long day of dutifully tasting all that Rogue had to offer, we took the pups for their first swim in the Pacific ocean (not sure they understood it was anything different than the Atlantic, but whatever). 

The sand seemed to smell better on the West Coast.

Sandy's sticks were bigger.

And Maggie swam like a puppy.

We finally made the final push on Thanksgiving Eve and made it to Ft. Lewis in just enough time to officially sign-in and stop burning leave.  (The Army gave me 8 “free” days to travel from GA to WA.  Anything more than that was leave/vacation time.)  

The trip across country was amazing on a few different levels.  First, the luxury of spending 14 days on an adventure with Doug and the pups – without having to think about work or any other commitments – was simply awesome.  That kind of uninterrupted family time is too rare and absolutely precious.   

Almost as luxurious was spending hours and hours driving my car, completely alone except for a snoring Maggie in the backseat.  I’ll be honest, most of that time was spent singing Nickelback and P!nk at the top of my lungs, or practicing on the steering wheel for my next career as the new drummer of Shinedown, but some of it was spent thinking about bigger world issues and life stuff.    

What sticks in my mind though was how amazing it was -- and how lucky I am -- to be able to see so much of the United States.  I found myself completely awestruck so many times – and in the most unexpected places – at just how beautiful this country is.  Everyone knows how much I love New England, and I always thought I had found heaven when I moved to the White Mountains …. but this trip taught me that there are other parts of the country that are just as beautiful (gasp!!!) as N.H.!  This sounds silly, I know, especially from someone who’s traveled as much as I have.  But the majority of my travels (outside of New England/New York anyway) have been via plane … it’s a totally different experience to watch the miles pass, one by one, through the swamps and the plains and the desert and the rainforest. If you’ve never driven across the country – or just to a new geographic region – think about treating yourself to that kind of adventure on your next vacation.  (Just make sure to update your iPod playlists, and pack plenty of Twizzlers & Diet Coke!). 

A lot has happened since we got here too, but I’ll save that for the next post.  For now I want to leave you with a song that I listened to at least 300 times during the drive -- “If Today Was Your Last Day” by Nickelback.  I’m usually not one for quoting song lyrics (uhhh … hello cheesy) but this one really triggers something for me.   Take a listen here, or read the lyrics here, and then tell me that doesn’t make you want to get up and do that one thing that you always wanted to do.  Just sayin'...

On to the Next Little Adventure!

Woo Hoooooo!  DCC is over!  I am officially done with my initial Army training and on the road to my first duty station: Fort Lewis, Washington.  

Not much to report from the final week of DCC.   The focus was on patrolling and reacting to contact.  In other words: what to do when the shit hits the fan.  We spent the first two days practicing moving as a team and as a squad around the PT field and in the woods behind the PT field.  The next two days we spent doing the same thing in different training areas, with the added fun of shooting blanks from our M-16s.  The last day at the training area, the cadre turned it up a notch and tried to make it as realistic as possible.  During the final exercise, our squad took heavy “fire” from the “enemy” and I was “shot” in both legs.  After the firefight was over, my squad-mates had to get me and one other “wounded” soldier out of the woods and to the central collection point for “casualties” about a kilometer away from the firefight.  Cadre told me I was not allowed to help at all – both of my legs were useless and my teammates had to figure out how to carry me out without the help of a litter/stretcher.  (I was also instructed to scream loudly the entire time, but I let that one slide).  I weigh 146 pounds, and was wearing about 35 in additional gear, but none of the guys in my squad could carry me more than 30- 40 yards at a time.  I don’t think any of us had any concept of how hard it is to carry dead weight through the woods, over uneven terrain, through deadfall and pricker-bushes.  After they dropped me for the fourth time, the cadre finally showed us how to do a buddy carry.  Staff Sergeant “BZ”, who is about my height and can’t weigh much more than me, threw me up over his shoulder in one swift motion and started running.  When we finally asked him how he made it look so easy, his answer was: “practice”.   Sobering thought.

The final week wrapped up with a full day of weapons maintenance and my final goodbye to weapon #1034 1297.  The last few days were just out-processing, cleaning the barracks, and rehearsing for the graduation ceremony.  (Only the Army could rehearse a one-hour graduation ceremony for 7 full hours).  By Wednesday at noon, I had my DCC “diploma” in hand and as released to begin the trek across country.   Tonight we’re in Oklahoma – tomorrow is Texas.  We are trying to hit as many mountain bike trails as we can (life’s too short to just drive across country without having fun along the way!) and so far we’ve ridden in Georgia, Alabama, Mississippi & Oklahoma.  If you’re interested in our rides, check out Doug’s blog (link to the right) – he’s been posting our Garmin routes and some pictures from our ride days. 

Finally, I’d be an idiot if I didn’t recognize how lucky I am to have had Doug with me throughout this adventure.  Sure, I could have gotten here by myself, but it wouldn’t have been half as much fun!  When the days were especially awful at DCC (e.g., the Land Nav debacle), being able to drive over to the campsite and share a cold beer with my best friend put everything in perspective.  This little adventure would be a whole lot less fun and a whole lot more suck if I didn’t have Doug and the pups here with me.  For that, I am eternally grateful.

 

Home on the Range

Thank my lucky stars, I survived five days of being surrounded by lawyers with loaded M16s.  Nobody got shot, and by the end of the week, all but one "qualified" by Army standards.  (Considering that during the prior DCC class, a 1LT shot herself in the foot, this was indeed an improvement).

I shot an M16A4 with a Close Combat Optic (CCO) that theoretically made it idiot-proof.

Simply point the little red dot on the thing you want to destroy and pull the trigger.  Theoretically, the bullet should whiz out of the rifle and fly straight downrange and destroy the target.  Theoretically.  Turns out there's a little bit more to it than that.....

The first morning, we spent several hours indoors, "zeroing" our weapons with a bore sight.  This tedious process just aligns the muzzle of the weapon with the sight.  Once we were aligned with the bore sight, we practiced dry firing (i.e., no bullets) in each of the four firing positions:  prone supported (lying on your belly with the barrel of the rifle resting on sandbags); prone unsupported (same thing, no sandbags); kneeling; and standing -- all while attempting to balance a dime on the muzzle of the rifle.  The trick is to keep your body absolutely still, time your breathing perfectly so that you are neither inhaling nor exhaling when you pull the trigger, and then pull the trigger slow and smooth.  I found firing a weapon a lot like golf ....... way too many things to remember before you get to have any fun!  Not to mention, the weapon weighs about 9 pounds, which gets really heavy to hold absolutely still, especially in the standing position.  By noon, we were out on the range for more "zeroing" -- this time by firing live bullets at a little piece of paper stapled to a target at 25 meters out.   Cadre told us that nobody was going to leave the range that day until everybody successfully zeroed their weapon.  No pressure.    No pressure at all.

Somehow, I managed to zero my weapon on my first try.  My first 5 shots clustered low on the silhouette, but just below the "bulls eye".  4 of my second 5 shots clustered in the bulls eye, with one stray shot up by his right shoulder.  The last of my 5 shots all clustered in the bulls eye.  The SSG assigned to my lane was surprised, to say the least.  He told me I had to take a picture of my target (below) and email it to Doug.  Of course, I eagerly complied.  :)

The next day, we went out to the LOMAH (Location of Miss And Hit) Range.  Each firing lane had a computer connected to it.  The targets were positioned at 50, 100, 150, 200 and 300 meters, and each had a series of microphones under them, which supposedly sent information back to the computer about where the bullet hit (or missed) the target.   Each firer had a partner who watched the computer screen and coached based on where the shots were landing (high, low, left, right, etc.).  My first two times up, I was 40 for 40 each time (i.e., 100% of my bullets hit the target).  Shocked the crap out of me, that's for sure.  The third time up, we changed from static targets to pop-up targets, which was MUCH harder because you had to move the weapon around, steady it, and fire, all before the target popped back down into hiding.  (Personally, I think in the middle of combat, I should be able to tell the bad guys to just "hold still damnit!!" while I line up my shot .... apparently that's not all that realistic, so the Army insists we learn to shoot these silly pop up targets).  I didn't do so well on the pop-ups, only hitting 21 of the 40, completely letting all the air out of my party balloon. 

Wednesday was qualification day.   We were at a new range, with 8 pop-up targets in each lane at 50, 100, 175, 250 and 300 meters.  To qualify (and pass the course) we had to shoot a minimum of 23 out of 40.  We were given 20 rounds in the prone supported position, 10 at the prone unsupported position, and 10 at the kneeling position.  All of this wearing full "battle rattle" including:  the IBA (Interceptor Body Armor - 29 pounds); FLC Vest (Fighting Load Carrier - 12 pounds loaded); ACH (Advanced Combat Helmet - 4 pounds); and full camelback (7.5 pounds full).  Oh, and did I mention it was 92 degrees that day with no shade?  

 

Despite waddling around like a penguin in all that gear, and sweating off at least 10 pounds, I managed to qualify on my first try.  Apparently, I not only qualified, but hit 31 out of 40, which technically makes me a "sharpshooter" by Army standards.  (Hey Dad - I guess firing at those bales of hay when I was a kid actually paid off!).  As soon as I finished shooting, I had 15 minutes off to hydrate and eat, and then was pulled by Cadre to coach other students who were having trouble.  All in all that day, I spent about 9 hours in full battle rattle, in the sun, on the range, either shooting or coaching .... by the end of the day, I was completely exhausted.  I honestly do NOT know how Infantry guys do this every single day in 120+ degree heat in Iraq/Afghanistan.  Again, I am humbled by how hard this really is. 

Thursday we started the day with an awesome pre-dawn "Combat PT" session.  Wearing our IBA (29 lbs), we had to run around the track in teams, carrying our buddies on field stretchers, then run relay races carrying two 5 gallon water cans (about 40 lbs each), then run a relay race doing a buddy carry with partners.  Fun way to start a day!  The rest of the day, we cleaned our weapons.  I had no idea it could really take that long (or that many toxic chemicals) to clean a weapon that hadn't even fired 500 rounds!  Friday started at 0330 with a six-mile ruck march, loaded down with 20% of our body weight, plus full camelback, FLC vest, and carrying our weapon.  We've been doing lots of ruck marches all summer, so this wasn't a big deal, except that carrying the weapon added a new challenge.   The rest of the day was spent learning patrolling techniques, which essentially meant running around the PT field, dropping to our knees, and dragging our bellies/faces on the ground for hours.  More of that fun next week. 

After that fun-filled week, I think it goes without saying that I slept a lot this weekend.   One quick note about two important things I've been hammered over the head with during the past few weeks: (1)  Its impossible to appreciate how mentally and physically difficult it is to keep this pace and meet these challenges every single day.  I cannot begin to imagine how difficult it really is in real combat, outside of the safety-net of the training environment.  (2) One of the most important things I've gotten out of being in the Army for this short amount of time is an amazing boost of my confidence.  If you had told me a month ago that I'd walk through a snake-infested swamp at 0400 in the dark and not have a meltdown, or fire an M16 and actually hit the target, I'd tell you you were crazy (using much more colorful language, of course).  

One more week left!

Lions and Tigers and Bears. Oh MY!

Week three of DCC:  Land Navigation.  Its been over since Friday, but I'm still having nightmares about being tangled up in thorny vines, unable to run from giant spiders and snakes.  Seriously.

Monday started with classroom instruction on using the UTM grid map system (i.e., military maps), plotting points, and identifying terrain features on a map.  Thanks to Doug's patient instruction over the past 10 months, this was all review for me.  Tuesday, we headed out to the Land Nav training area at Fort Benning.  First, the cadre broke us into teams of 3, provided each team 3 different 8-digit grid coordinates, a map & a compass and let us loose for 3 hours.  Using those grid-coordinates, we had to plot our points on the map, calculate the azimuth (direction) and distance from point-to-point, and go find them.  Each point was marked with a little metal orange & white box either nailed to a tree or on a post in the ground with a number on it.  After finding what you thought was your point, you had to record the number of the box and move on to your next point.  On the first round out, my team found all 3 points pretty quickly, and I was feeling good.  On our second round out, my team struggled a bit with our 2nd point, as there were two orange/white boxes within 30 meters of each other.  We argued a bit about which one was the right one. (Its critical to find the right one, not just to get credit for it, but also because if you measure your next azimuth off an incorrect point, you'll never find any of your subsequent points!).  Even after some arguing and backtracking, we were able to locate all 3 correct points and return to base camp with plenty of time to spare.

Wednesday got a little tougher.  We were on buses back out to the training area at 0300 and no longer working in teams.  Each individual was given 3 points to find, one little chem light, and sent off into the woods.  Earlier in the week, we had been briefed extensively on the Georgia wildlife, including poisonous snakes, poisonous spiders, and angry wild boars.  Now I was out, all by myself, in the pitch dark, wandering through the woods looking for a little orange & white box -- that I wasn't going to be able to see in the dark anyway -- praying that I wasn't going to step on any poisonous snakes.  A few times, I heard the snort of a boar, but didn't see any.  Spiders, now that's a different story.  Breaking through the brush, spider webs were everywhere and I was constantly spitting out thick webs.  A few times I turned my headlamp on for a second (technically against the rules, but hell, it was 0500 and I was in the middle of the freaking woods) and was staring straight at a spider the size of my palm.  The only way to get through night land-nav is to just plow forward and focus on getting where you need to go.  If I let my mind wander to the snakes underfoot or spiders overhead, I never would have gotten through it.  Anyway, my first nighttime point was 1900 meters from my start point, and the cadre imposed a "no roads" rule, which means that all 1900 meters had to be trekked straight through the woods (no trails) at night.  Its nearly impossible to stay on an azimuth (direction), or monitor pace count (distance) while breaking through brush, in the dark, for 1900 meters.  I spent about 2 hours looking for my point, and then finally continued on to the boundary road and headed back to base camp.  I felt like a failure until one-by-one my classmates started popping out of the woods along the same road, cursing and dejected.   Later I found out I was less than 10 meters from the point right before I popped out on the road - I just didn't see it in the dark!  At least I was close.  After a short break to eat and rest, we all set out again to find more individual points.  This time, I set a time-standard for myself - I wanted to see how quickly I could move through the course, because I knew that would be important for the test the next day.  I booked through the course and found all my points in just over an hour, which made me feel pretty good about the test. I only had one close encounter with wildlife - a GIANT black & grey snake stretched out in my path.  I jumped and let out a little scream, but was so focused on finding my point quickly that I just stepped around it and plowed forward (hard to believe, huh?).   Anyway, after two successful days on the Land Nav course, I was feeling good about the test on Thursday.

Thursday morning, we were on buses again at 0300, but this time headed to a different Land Nav course for our test.  Cadre told us this course is brand new, which means it hasn't had thousands of soldiers trekking through it every week, helping to break down some of the brush.  Its also called "Little Vietnam" because of how thick the vegetation is.  It crosses two swamps, and is littered with barbed wire and dummy ammo from its former life as a Ranger training area.   We were given 8 coordinates at 0500 and had 5 hours to find 5 of our 8 points.  This time, there was no prohibition on using roads, so I attacked my first point by walking the roads about 2.5 miles to get closer to the point.  This also gave the sun a little time to rise!!  I had no trouble finding my road intersections in the dark, and shot my first azimuth into the dark woods, plowed through, and found my first point exactly where it should have been.  I was pumped!   What I didn't know was that between me and my 2nd point was vegetation so thick that I literally would not be able to move forward.  In the past when I'd come across thick obstacles like that, I'd just go around them and adjust my pace count & azimuth accordingly.  But there was no "going around" this stuff.  It was just thick thick vines and deadfall and thornbushes.  I'm not talking about raspberry-bush sized thorns - I'm talking like thick thorns about an inch long.  There was absolutely no other option but to just plow through with some hope of finding my next point so I could go the hell home.  Unfortunately, I spent the next 3 hours tangled up in vines, walking around in circles, looking for that damned point I never did find.  I used all the tactics Doug taught me, like going out to the road and shooting a new azimuth from a different point, but the vines/thorns/deadfall/brush was so damned thick, it was just impossible to move.  I lost my eye protection, my ACU pants were shredded, I was wet and cold, and my hands and neck were covered in blood by the time I finally ran out of time and had to head back to base camp.  Out of 111 people in the class, only 20 found the requisite 5 points.  The rest of us looked like we had been to hell and back, and are probably still having nightmares about those damned vines.
Several people were injured pretty badly - some were really cut up by the barbed wire and a few had sprained ankles and knees from falling into ravines or holes.  We were told that we would all have to re-test the next morning, but that they would let us start an hour later to give us an hour less of darkness.  Unfortunately, the vines and swamps and the ravines and the holes are still there in the daylight!

Thankfully, I had my Secret Weapon -- Doug.  As soon as I was released for the day, I headed over to the campground for some intense Land Nav instruction.  After throwing a brief pity party for myself (which he very quickly put an end to, of course) we pulled out the map and got to work.  It turns out the strategy for a course like that is never ever ever to plow through the swamp/woods/brush.  I should have been running the roads, and then just traveling short distances through the brush to my points, like I did for the first point.  A few hours of strategy later, I headed back to the barracks for a few hours of sleep before the retest.

Friday morning, I was ready to go.  I got my points, figured out my strategy, and started running.  And it worked.  I found my first 5 points without getting wet, shredded, bloody, or frustrated.  I still had 90 minutes left, so I went for my 6th point, just to prove I could.  This time, 80 more people passed, so now there are less than 20 who need to retest again next week.  I am still amazed at the difference in my experience between Thursday morning, plowing through the vines/thorns/brush and Friday morning, running the roads and attacking short distances in the woods.  Obviously, that makes sense, I'm just not sure why they didn't teach us that in the first place.  Thank goodness for my Secret Weapon ..... he really earned his Best Husband in the World title this week!  :)

Next week:  Range week.  111 lawyers with loaded M16A4s.   Now that's some scary stuff.

Bruised and Broken (but still having fun!)

Happy to report I survived Week #2 of DCC.  I am bruised and still licking my wounds, but I'm still walking and going back for more tonight (as if I had a choice......).  

We started the week at 0400 on Tuesday for a run in formation.  That means all 115 of us run side by side, so there is no room for different paces or abilities.  The cadre leading the run started us off at a 6.2 minute/mile pace.  Crazy.  (My normal pace is about 9 - 9:30/mile and I usually fall right about in the middle of the class!)  People were dropping like flies.  I dropped like a fly.  The group that was able to keep up with the crazy pace took off and left all the wounded flies to fend for themselves.  We, of course, got lost and had no idea how to get back home.  Another LT and I rounded up the "wounded fly" group and did our best to keep them in formation and lead them home.  Four miles later, we were back at the barracks getting yelled at for being so slow.  Just another day with the Infantry.   After a sprint through the showers and quick chow, we had a few hours of individual time to take care of the "ash & trash" we each needed to do on post (e.g., forms at the transportation office, ID issues, finance issues, etc.)  The afternoon was spent learning combatives.  It was a blast.  I was paired with a 6'3" guy and thought I would be toast, but the methods they teach really work.  We were flipping each other over and around in the grass.  (OK, maybe he let me win a few, but I'm sticking with my story that I was able to flip him over my head and pin him on the ground!).  By the way, Georgia Red Ants are angry and have huge fangs .... more than a few crawled up my pant legs and attacked while I was pinned to the ground.

After combatives, we were finally issued our weapons - M16A4. Holy crap!  If this Army thing didn't feel real before, it sure as hell felt real with that thing in my hands!!  The rest of the week focused on getting familiar with the weapon, learning how load, aim & handle, as well as take apart & put back together.  No ammunition yet - just getting acquainted with our new "best friend" and practicing with dry fire.  Throughout the week, we carried our weapons and completed the first 4 stages of our Basic Rifle Marksmanship (BRM) training.  We learned how to disassemble & assemble; how to zero (i.e., adjust our rife to our optic so the bullet hits where the optic says its going to hit); and how to get comfortable in the three main firing positions:  prone (laying on your belly), kneeling, and standing.  By Friday I was pretty comfortable and am almost ready to hit the range with some real ammunition.   I'll get my chance to do that next week. 

Tuesday morning we tackled the Army Obstacle Course.  We were divided into squad teams and were racing for time against the other teams.  Each team had to complete the same 14 obstacles.  Some were easy (i.e., doing a low-crawl in sand underneath criss-crossing wires) and others were much more challenging.  My squad was fantastic - everyone cheered each other on and provided that little push of moral support to get through some of the scary ones.   I had a hard time physically on a few of them that required a lot of upper body strength, and froze for a few seconds on one really high one when I made the mistake of looking down, but in the end was able to complete all of the obstacles.  There were two obstacles that required running full force into a log to hoist yourself up and over it to the next part of the obstacle.  For those of us who are shorter, the log hit square-on in our sternum.  Today,  5 days later, it still hurts to breathe, twist, strain, reach, or otherwise move.  Its getting better as time goes by, but we were all beaten up pretty bad by that obstacle course.  

Also this week, I was Squad Leader, which means I was the leader of 17 other students, and 2nd in command for our Platoon.  While it was a lot of extra work, I loved every minute of it.  It brought me back to the old days of being an RD or RA in student affairs.  At the end of the week, the NCO (Non Commissioned Officer - a Staff Sergeant) assigned to my squad said "Ma'am, I'd work for you any day" That is one of the best compliments I think I've EVER received.  

By Friday evening, after a week of 0300 and 0400 wake-ups and late nights, I was ready to come over to the campground that Doug & the pups call home and just crash.  The only way I can describe the level of exhaustion is to compare it to the feeling I had the night after the 24-Hour of Great Glen mountain bike race each year.  Its that level of total exhaustion, but day after day after day.  I honestly do not know how these high-speed guys survive this level of training day in and day out, some for 20+ years.  I am humbled by how difficult -- both physically and mentally -- it really is.  

Next week:  Land Navigation.  I'm pysched.  Thanks to Doug and many hours of his patient instruction the past six months, this is one area in which I may actually be above the curve.  If there's no blog post from me next weekend, you'll know I was wrong and I'm still trying to find my way out of the pine forests of Ft. Benning.  :)

Let's Get This Party Started

Ahhhhh.....Fort Benning.  The final phase of my initial Army training!  Let's get this party started!

I signed into the Direct Commissioned Officer Course (DCC) last Sunday, 3 Oct.   The fantasy world in which I've been living the past 10 weeks is long gone.  No more maid service or wireless internet.   Hell, I do a happy dance when I can get enough of a cell signal to sneak in a static-filled call to Doug before bed.  (No, Mr. AT&T man, I cannot hear you now....).  I am, however, blessed to have four wonderful roommates -- nobody snores, nobody cries, and they were nice enough to give the old lady one of the bottom bunks.  At this stage of the game, you celebrate the little things!

The first two days were filled with painfully boring in-processing (i.e., filling in the same exact forms I filled in 12 weeks ago at Ft. Lee ..... although I'm pretty sure neither my husband's name or SSN has changed since then, I still had to write it on at least 35 DA forms anyway).   The saving grace of all this in-processing is that we had a few excellent early-morning PT sessions.   And when I say "early morning" I mean in formation at 0415.  These Infantry guys who run this course are freaking nocturnal.

Wednesday and Thursday we were bussed out to one of the training areas for our Combat Lifesaver Course.  It was a great course taught by retired Army medics, with one full day in a classroom (i.e., Death By Powerpoint) and one full day of hands-on instruction.  Combat Lifesaving techniques require you to disregard everything you've ever learned in any first aid or first responder course.  The only focus in saving someone's life in combat is to first control the bleeding, and second to fix a collapsed lung.  That's it.  No CPR, no checking for spinal injuries, no pain management.  Just slap a tourniquet on so they don't bleed to death and then get them the hell out of the line of fire.  The medics (hopefully) take care of the rest.  That was another one of those "holy crap .... I'm not in New Hampshire anymore" moments.  :)

After we were all given our shiny new "Combat Lifesaver" certification cards, we returned to post and rushed through all of our various cleaning details (yes, I'm cleaning bathrooms and mopping floors on a regular basis these days) and safety briefings before the long weekend.   Because Monday is a federal holiday, the Army gave almost everyone Friday off as well so we could have a four-day weekend.  The second I was released, I was in my car headed north of Atlanta, to the campground I left Doug & the pups in the week before.  I'm now on day 3 of the 4 day weekend and I think I might actually be caught up on sleep!  Next week, we start with radio communications, then learn modern combatives techniques (woohoooo!), then head to the range for the beginning of our Basic Rifle Marksmanship (BRM) training.  I am definitely looking forward to less paperwork and more time getting dirty next week!

So yeah, I realize there's like a 5 week gap between the last blog and getting here to DCC.   The final four weeks of class were split between the final topics of Legal Assistance (e.g., drafting wills, family law issues, consumer protection laws) and International/Operational Law (e.g., rules of engagement, Geneva Convention application).   Then the final PT Test and graduation.  Mom & Dad drove down to Charlottesville for graduation, so it was nice spending some time with them before I head clear across the country.

The obligatory Doug and Jen picture! 

Mom and Dad after JAOBC graduation

Graduation was short & sweet, and Mom and Dad were glad they came.  I was one of four Honor Graduates (top 5% of the class academically) and won the TJAGLCS Award for Excellence (highest grade in a particular subject) in both International/Operational Law and Administrative Law.  The final PT test was also a success, and I met my own personal goal.  (Scores range from 1 to 300.  My personal goal was to exceed 290.  I got a 291.   Goal met .... until the next one anyway!)

The day after graduation, we loaded up the RV, corralled the pups, and headed south toward Benning.  The Army gave us three days to get there, so Doug planned an excellent adventure for the trip (he earned his Best Husband in the World title for this one!).   Our first stop was in southern Virginia at Fairy Stone State Park, where we set up camp, took the pups swimming and did some hilly mountain biking.  Then the next morning, it was off to Croft State Park in Spartanburg, South Carolina where we set up camp, took the pups swimming and checked out some fun mountain bike trails.   The next day, we headed further south, to Fort Yargo State Park just northeast of Atlanta, where we set up camp, took the pups swimming, and rode some awesome mountain bike trails.  (Notice a pattern??).   I must admit I am amazed at how awesome the parks are down here, and how much we are loving the riding down here.  New Hampshire will always be home, but we are psyched to be able to explore all these new trails, all with such different terrain than we are used to.   We finally moved the RV and the whole pack down to the Uchee Creek Campground on Fort Benning today (we took the pups swimming today, and hope to check out the trails tomorrow!).  It's run by the Army's Morale, Welfare and Recreation Directorate (MWR) and is just 7 miles from my barracks room.  Doug will live here in the RV with the pups and I'll visit whenever I can (or whenever I want to use his high-speed internet connection or cable TV).  :)

That's it for now.  Hopefully the next 5 weeks here at DCC will be exciting enough to post more often, and I'll have time to do that on weekends.   A few of you have asked for my address here.  I supposedly can receive mail (although it is yet untested) until 10 November at:

1LT Jennifer Norvell
Direct Commission Course, 2-11 IN
BLDG 76, McVeigh Drive
Ft. Benning, GA 31905

Alive and Well in Charlottesville

Yes, I’m still alive.  Buried under a mountain of books and sweaty PT clothes, but alive!

It’s hard to believe we’ve been in Charlottesville for seven weeks.  Doug, the pups, and the staff of the Charlottesville Residence Inn have survived seven whole weeks of our furry little family living in a studio hotel room.  (Shhhh….don’t tell any of them there are still 3 ½ weeks left!)  Everybody is doing great, and we’ve actually managed to sneak in a little fun here and there. 

A typical weekday here starts at 0450 – time to get up, get ready, and walk up the hill (and 88 stairs) to the School for PT.  PT can be anything from a hilly five-mile run, to hundreds of pushups and shoulder taps, to a medicine-ball core workout and pull-ups.   The first few weeks, I was angry about the group PT program because I thought it paled in comparison to the running & gym workouts I put myself through before I sold my soul to the Army.  But, after 7 weeks, I’m in the best shape of my life (and weigh less – at age 39 -- than I did in high school).  On good days, they let us out of PT by 0700, which leaves 45 minutes to walk back to the Residence Inn, shower, shove an English muffin in my mouth, and walk back up the hill (and 88 stairs) to school for morning classes, which start at 0800.  (Class actually doesn’t start until 0810, but in the Army, you are required to be at least 10 minutes early for everything ….. finally, I understand Doug’s little obsession….).  Classes go straight through until they let us out for lunch at 1210.  Most days, I am able to go back to the hotel to have lunch with Doug & the pups – a true luxury that I will definitely miss when its gone – and then its back up the hill (and 88 stairs) for afternoon classes, which usually run until 1530 or 1630.  Most nights, there’s at least an hour or two of homework, and another hour or so of reading to prepare for classes the next day.    Somewhere in there, there’s dinner (I could have my own Food Network show:  “Creative & Healthy Microwave Meals in a Hotel Room”), puppy kisses, and a little bit of Doug time.  By Friday I’m definitely ready to get off the hamster wheel and take a break!

We have even managed to have some fun here on weekends.  Other than the ridiculous southern heat & humidity, Charlottesville is a beautiful area.  We’ve been able to ride together almost every weekend on some great trails that remind us a lot of New Hampshire (rooty, rocky, hilly, and mildly dangerous!).   There’s also a great little trail system right behind the hotel that circles the city – we usually just run on that, or bring the pups swimming in one of the many stream crossings.   And then, of course, there’s lots of local breweries to discovery.  We found South Street Brewery right away, and then a few weekends ago ventured out to the mountains for a beer & music festival at Devil’s Backbone Brewing (love that name!).   We’ve got 3 weeks left here and 2 more beer festivals (that I know of) on our calendar.  Can’t complain that it’s been all work and no play!  

Devil's Backbone Beer & Music Festival

As for the academics, it’s much more intense than I thought it would be.  Some if that is my fault – I still haven’t been able to stifle my inner perfectionist.  Each subject of instruction ends with an exam, which, of course, my inner perfectionist insists I study way too much for (and then beats me up for days when I miss one or two questions).  The instructors all use the phrase “drinking water through a fire hose” when they describe the style of learning/instruction at TJAGLCS, and I completely agree.  They’ve got to teach us – or at least expose us to – a LOT of information in only ten and a half weeks.   The instructors are also trying to teach to such a diverse group of students.  A few of us have been practicing for a long time, but the vast majority of students are only a few months out of law school and have never held a legal job in their lives.  There’s really no other way but to open up the fire hose and hope we absorb some of it. 

The first two weeks we focused on Administrative Law.  This is kind of the catch-all of all law in the Army that doesn’t fit into one of the other categories.  For example, there’s a very specific administrative discipline system for Soldiers who screw up, but stop short of committing a crime.  At each stage, it’s the Judge Advocate’s (JA) job to advise the Commander about what punishments are allowed and ensure the Soldier gets due process.  There was also a lot of instruction on the Army’s ratcheted-up version of professional responsibility rules, and the very dense ethics rules for the military  (never in ten years of private practice did I have to think twice about a client wanting to buy me a beer …. now I question how much it cost, whether the buyer outranks me, whether the buyer has bought me a beer in the past 12 months…yada yada yada).

Then it was on to two and a half very long weeks of Criminal Law.  The military has its own criminal code – called the Uniform Code of Military Justice (UCMJ) – and they prosecute their own crimes independent of the state/federal system.  Most of the UCMJ crimes are similar to state crimes, but many have a life of their own (only the military could take a relatively simple crime and turn it into an 8-way flow chart that only makes sense on a PowerPoint slide).  After suffering through a week in class on criminal law, and an extremely difficult exam, it was time to move on to the Advocacy Week portion of criminal law.  I have to give kudos to the faculty for pulling this together.  We were each given identical case files, in which two male soldiers were accused of raping a younger female soldier in the barracks.  Each student had an opportunity to play the role of either defense counsel or trial counsel (prosecutor) for the mock guilty plea of one of the men, and defense counsel or trial counsel for the mock Court Martial (trial) of the other man.  Both the students and the faculty really got into this exercise, bringing in evidence/props, preparing “witnesses”, drafting pre-trial motions, etc.  This was fun for me – especially knowing that nothing was really at stake (no client was going to lose $4 million) – so I could, and did, have some fun with it.   I doubt my opponent in the mock trial has forgiven me yet for all those hearsay objections – (sorry buddy, but when you’ve been doing this as long as I have, it just kinda happens…)

Finally the mock trials were done and we moved on to Contract & Fiscal Law.  I know, I rolled my eyes and groaned too …. but it actually turned out to be the best two weeks I’ve had, probably since becoming a lawyer.  I absolutely loved this stuff.  Do you have any idea how hard it is to buy a paperclip in the federal government??  Now add to that the complexities of a war (e.g., building a latrine in Afghanistan with contracted labor, buying & selling military equipment or ammunition, supplying bandages for the docs who give humanitarian aid in places like post-earthquake Haiti, and the rewards and incentives we pay to keep the locals “on our side” downrange).  One of my classmates summed it up the last day of class when he said:  “if I got deployed tomorrow, I feel confident I could stumble my way through a rape prosecution, but I’m absolutely terrified to buy a box of staples!”.  I wholeheartedly agree!  Amazingly complex – but also very real.  I can hardly believe I’m saying this out loud, but I really want to learn more about fiscal & contract law.  The day after the exam, I sought out one of the faculty to get advice on how to attend advanced fiscal & contract law classes at TJAGLCS.  I think that officially makes me the biggest dork in the class. 

Now, we’re slugging through the Client Services block of instruction.  Every Army installation has a “Legal Assistance Office” which is staffed with young military lawyers who provide free legal advice to Soldiers, Families and retirees on general legal issues including family law, consumer law, estate planning, tax, and SCRA/USERRA issues.  Most JA’s spend at least six months staffing the Legal Assistance Office as kind of a “right of passage”.  It’s definitely not the sexy job of being a prosecutor or advising commanders on operational law.  But in my mind (kind of like the Contract & Fiscal Law stuff) it’s the real Army.  The Legal Assistance Office helps Soldiers and their families with the most basic stuff – stuff that is probably the most important thing in the world to them at that very moment.  If I get to help one Soldier who lost custody of her kids because she was deployed, I’m all over it.  (I just have to remind myself of that the next week while I’m struggling to stay awake during class #6 on Estate Planning.  Ugh.)

Its hard to believe there are only three weeks left before graduation.  The only topic left to cover is Operational Law (e.g., rules of engagement, international laws and treaties, etc.) and I’m looking forward to that.  Graduation is on 29 Sep and then it’s off to Ft. Benning for the Direct Commissioned Officer Course (DCC).  More on that in the next post.  

And here are a few more pictures for those of you who still can't believe I'm actually in the Army!

Wearing my ACU's

Wearing the ASU
(yeah, I know, my hair looks funny - remind me not to cut it myself next time!)

Exiting the Gas Chamber at Ft. Lee

Capturing the cardboard terrorists!

Zero Day and the Agony of Defeat

I debated whether or not I would even share this little escapade here, but then decided that you all deserved a good chuckle at my expense.  Yesterday morning, I attempted to keep up with the 20-somethings.  Needless to say, this old girl got smoked.  

For each JAOBC class, the JAG school funds 10 slots at Airborne school and 5 slots at Air Assault school.   These are coveted slots because lots of people want to learn how to jump out of airplanes/helicopters and there just isn't enough money to send everyone who wants to go (especially lawyers, who don't really need to know how to jump out of airplanes or helicopters).  To even be considered for one of these slots in September, you have to do extra PT all summer long so that the cadre are confident that, if they spend the money to send you to school, you will actually be able to physically complete the school (and not embarrass the JAG Corps).  Over the years, cadre have come up with a few ways of eliminating the enthusiastic but weak.  The ominous-sounding Zero Day is the first step in that elimination process.  For some ungodly reason, I decided to compete for a slot.    

It all started at 0500 (yes, that's a.m. on a SATURDAY), and about 40 of us reported to the PT field wearing our ACU's, kevlar helmets, and boots, and carrying one small canteen of water.  The weather, even that early, was about 85 degrees with what felt like 100% humidity.....the air was so thick it felt like you could literally drink it.  And despite what they look like on TV, those ACU's are damned hot.  Long pants & long sleeves made entirely out of heavy, fire-retardant, non-breathable fabric.  Oh, and Kevlar helmets aren't all that "breathable" either.  I was seriously missing my fancy-schmancy technical North Face/EMS/REI gear and camelback!!

First Sergeant started barking the orders, and everyone was well aware that any appearance of taking a rest, or any deficiency in form, would get you an invitation to go back to bed.   I survived the muscle-stuff with no problem - 125 overhead arm claps (when counted in cadence is actually 250); push ups; small arm circles; more claps; more push ups.  I actually was lulled into thinking "hey, this isn't all that bad .... I can keep up with the young pups!".  Then the sprinting started.  Up the hill.  This body doesn't sprint, and it certainly does NOT sprint UP a hill wearing BOOTS.  But, hey, I kept up for the first two sprints and gladly returned to formation for more push ups.  Watched two guys get politely "invited to return to bed".  Then 1SGT turned it over to the Chief Warrant Officer, who was ruthless.  She made us do walking lunges to the bottom of the steep hill (about 50 meters away) and then sprint up the hill, back down the hill and back to formation, and do it again.  Never has the word "GO!" (shouted from a 5-ft tall really nice woman no less) ever sounded so awful.  I was completely soaked through and getting lightheaded.  I really needed water.  Unfortunately, the water "break" was 10-seconds long and if you were not one of the first few people to return from the sprint, you missed the water break.  I missed the water break.  Twice.  Then we dropped for flutter kicks and air cycles.  That felt fantastic ..... until Chief screamed "GO!" and it was sprinting up that damned hill again.  Coming down the hill that time, I got very wobbly and for the first time really felt fear that I was going to black out.  That's when my common sense kicked in and I tapped out.  (Some say I quit.  Whatever.  I simply made a choice to leave on my own two feet, not a stretcher).  My decision to tap out was met with a simple "hooah" from both 1SGT and Chief, and I walked (a little wobbly) back to the hotel room with my tail between my legs.  After a brief pity party, some kisses from the puppies, and a pep talk from Doug, we were on our way to go mountain biking.  Who needs to jump out of airplanes anyway?

I lasted only 30 minutes.  Zero Day continued on for an hour after I left, and continued with the relentless hill sprints, even after the sun came up.  I may be in pretty good shape for my age, but hell, I certainly cannot compete with the 20-somethings who finished Zero Day yesterday and earned a spot in the Airborne/Air Assault training program.  I'm glad I tried it, though - it was certainly a humbling experience and reminded me that I still have a lot of work to do before moving on to DCC at Benning.  

     

Phase II: Back to School

We wrapped up Phase I of JAOBC at Ft. Lee last Friday morning, and relocated to the University of Virginia campus in Charlottesville for Phase II  .... we'll be here until 29 September.  The JAG Corps operates its regimental home and school (The Judge Advocate General's Legal Center and School, or TJAGLCS) in a building leased from and located at UVA, so instead of being on a regular Army installation, we are on a college campus and living in a Residence Inn.  And the best part (other than all the Marriott points we're accruing) is that Doug and the pups get to live with me the next 3 months!!  Can't really complain about that.   

The first week has been busy, but not all that exciting.  PT every morning at 5:50 (which means leaving the hotel by 5:25), then rush back to the hotel to shower, swig some coffee and run back up to the school (including the 88 very steep stairs between the hotel and the school) to be seated in class by 8:00.   The classes are taught by more senior JAG officers (Majors and Lieutenant Colonels) with particular experience in the area in which they are teaching.  So far, they have all been great.  They know their stuff and are pretty sensitive to the fact that we've all been awake since 4:45, been through a hellish PT, and are seriously caffeine-deprived, so they give us lots of breaks and try to keep us awake.  All the classes this week and next are focused on Administrative & Civil law, so a little boring for me, but interesting to hear how it all fits together in the Army world.  Not much else to share about that - its really pretty mundane.

I am glad to report that PT is picking up a bit.  I was actually sore the other day after SFC's version of "circuit training" (its a good thing he's really likeable or I'd have some choice words about him after that hour!).  This morning, I took my diagnostic PT test and did fine.  (The Army's PT test is 2 minutes of push-ups, 2 minutes of sit-ups (not crunches, real full-on situps like you did in 8th grade), and a 2-mile run).  Even though I am in the best shape of my life right now, group PT still gives me serious anxiety .... I have very vivid flashbacks to being the fat kid in high school, trailing behind the group and feeling like a total loser.  Here, I'm smack in the middle of the pack, which is just fine by me.  Next week, the class gets divided into ability-groups based on how we performed in our diagnostic PT, so we'll be working out with other people with similar abilities.  After watching some of these guys run 2 miles in 12 minutes, I am very very happy that I will NOT be asked to keep up with them every morning in PT.

I probably won't be writing all that much the next few months.  Stuff here just really isn't exciting enough to justify a whole blog post (oh, and I'm happily filling the limited free time I have by spending time with Doug and the pups!!).  Feel free to shoot me an email or find me on facebook to say hello, though!

The Low Crawl and Other "Warrior Skills"

Tuesday was a really fun day.  We started with a very short "ruck march" (a/k/a/ hike with gear) through the woods to a training area on post.  We then spent the rest of the day in small groups, rotating through 8 different "warrior skills" training stations, all run by our peers with prior military experience.  The mission of the day was just to give us a taste of these skills.  Nobody was expected to become an expert in combat lifesaving or land navigation after a 50-minute field training exercise ("FTX").   We will have plenty of time to become proficient in these critical skills during our six week Direct Commissioned Officer Course ("DCC") at Ft. Benning this fall.

My first station was "React to Indirect Fire" station.  You've all seen this in the movies.  Essentially, there are soldiers on the ground and one of them hears a high-pitched whistling sound overhead.  He yells "INCOMING" and everyone drops to the ground on their bellies, waits for the sh*t to hit the fan, and then waits for the leader to tell them what to do, depending on where the artillery landed.  Too easy.

Our second station was the real fun one:  "Individual Movement Techniques".  This is basic infantryman stuff - essentially, how to move in order to minimize the risk of getting shot in the arse.  We all got fake weapons (as luck would have it, I got the M16 - the biggest, heaviest, most awkward weapon there was).  First we tried  clearing a building.  Now I've seen this on TV, but I never really appreciated how scary it was.  I was breathing heavy even though the guns were fake and the "bad guys" inside the building were just cadre.  Then we learned the "low crawl".   That's where you lay flat on the ground on your belly, with your face turned to the side so your cheek is in the dirt, and you use your knees & elbows to drag yourself forward along the ground.  If you lift your cheek or arse out of the dirt even an inch, the cadre yells "bang you're dead".  (Oh and did I mention that it rained a few inches the night before and we were doing this in an open field under powerlines??)  After 30 yards of that, I was spitting out rocks and grass, and had a really cool mud smear on my right cheek.  Then it was the "high crawl", which is essentially the same, except that you cradle your weapon in your arms as if you were carrying firewood and use your elbows to help you move forward.  Then we moved on to covering each other while trying to advance forward under direct fire.  So, we laid down on our bellies in a high crawl position, but with our weapons at the ready.  Then the rear guy had to shout "buddy I'm moving", to which his buddy would respond "buddy I've got you covered", the rear guy would then jump up, yell "I'm up", sprint forward past his buddy, and yell "they see me, I'm down" and fall straight down to the ground, breaking his fall with the butt of his weapon and resume the ready-to-kill-bad-guys position and yell "all set".  Then the other partner would do the same.  We did this for about 10 repetitions each, and all ended up with really bruised knees.  After only an hour of running these movements in 98-degree heat, I was exhausted.  I cannot imagine being an infantry guy doing this all day, in 120-degree heat, wearing full body armor, and, oh by the way, the guns are real and the bad guys are actually firing at you the whole time.  Whole new appreciation for what those guys go through every day.  Holy crap.

The next station was "Reacting to UXO" (Unexploded Ordnance, a/k/a/ IEDs).  That was interesting, but it was very much a classroom format.  Next up was "Performing Voice Communications" -- talking on a military radio.  There's a whole alphabet, numerous phrases that have to be used when transmitting on a radio frequency, and also a particular give-and-take and order to the conversation.  Interesting stuff.  We separated into two groups and practiced delivering messages.  Definitely useful stuff.

Then it was on to the Combat First Aid station.  "First Aid" seems to be a bit of an understatement - we're not talking about band-aids and splints here -- we got demonstrations on how to triage a chest wound and  collapsed lung;  gaping abdominal wounds (i.e., never put the organs that may have spilled out back into the body, just lay them on top); amputations; and severe burns.  Watching these demonstrations reinforced the gravity of the situation in which we may all find ourselves if we go downrange - we very likely could be the one who has to triage our buddy and save his life.  The other really interesting piece of this class was learning about the "Nine-Line Medevac" procedure.  If a convoy/unit comes under attack and there are casualties, somebody has to call the helicopters in to pick up the serious casualties.  There's a very specific code that all personnel must use when calling on the medevac frequency.  The report consists of nine-lines and all of the information must be delivered in 25 seconds or less.   The instructor told us that, in many cases, its actually the JAG who is actually responsible for calling in the medevac, so this is particularly important for us.  (Not because lawyers have any skill whatsoever in delivering brief and concise messages, but because the JAG is usually the one sitting in the comfy seat inside the MRAP when the sh*t hits the fan, so it frequently falls on the JAG to communicate with the medevac team while everyone else is dealing with the situation.)  Not your typical day at the lawyer office.  (Hey Mom - please focus on the "JAG sits in the comfy seat inside the MRAP", not the "gaping abdominal wounds" part, OK??)

Next was the exercise I had been waiting all day for:  Land Navigation.  Some of you know that I took this very seriously in my pre-Army preparations.   Doug did an awesome job of patiently teaching me the basics of land nav:  learning how to use the military grid map system, getting familiar with the lensatic compass, and learning terrain features both on a map and in the field.  So I was excited to test out whether everything I had learned had stuck with me.  But, it was only a 50 minute class, and most of the people in my group had never laid eyes on a grid map or held a compass.  So all we did was open the maps and find a grid square.  I guess I'll have to wait until we get to Benning to do some real land nav.

Finally, it was off to the Military Intelligence section.  We approached the student instructors at the treeline and were told that there were suspected hostiles in the woods, we needed to go in undetected and gather as much info about the situation as we could in 5 minutes, and report back to the cadre, using the radio communications we had learned earlier, and in the SALUTE format of reporting (Size, Activity, Location, Unit, Time, Equipment).   My buddy and I crawled in on our bellies, observed 5 cardboard cutouts:  two middle-eastern looking men, one with an AK-47, one with an RPG; seemingly holding hostage two women in burkas; and a small boy with an M4.  We noted all kinds of data about the patterns/colors on their headdresses, expressions, weapons, etc., and then called in the report.  Good stuff.

That was the end of our FTX for the day and we were all hot, exhausted and covered head-to-toe in dried mud and ticks.  At least we were able to go back to air conditioned hotel rooms and shower - a major luxury indeed!  This day reinforced two things for me:  (i) we really are in the Army, during a time of war, and we really need to master every single one of these tasks because we absolutely cannot be a liability when/if we go outside the wire; and (ii) I wouldn't want to be anywhere else at this point in my life but right here.

Hitting the Broadside of a Barn (or not)

I have a whole new appreciation for hunters, snipers, criminals, and even the Mariska Hargitay character from Law & Order.  They all make it look so easy - you just whip out the pistol and BAM! the bad guy is dead.   Its not that easy.  Definitely not that easy.

JAOBC Class 182 spent last Sunday on the firing range.  We had 7,000 live rounds and couldn't leave until every single one of them was used.  (The men were much more excited about that than the women).  Yes, 114 lawyers, who have a tendency to talk with their hands, were given loaded weapons and told to fire them all day.  This could be a Saturday Night Live skit, for crying out loud.

The cadre were definitely very focused on our safety.  We must have gone through the "two most important rules of the range" a gajillion times:  (i) NEVER point the weapon at anything you are not willing to kill or maim; and (ii) believe that EVERY weapon is loaded, ALL the time.   Got it.

Most of the class went through Preliminary Marksmanship Instruction ("PMI"), and had lengthy opportunities to fire in the simulator the day before.  Unfortunately, two days in a row, time ran out before my squad made it to either the PMI or the simulator.   About 10 minutes before they sent me up to the firing line, the PMI instructor gave my squad a quick demonstration of how to find  your dominant eye, line up the sights, put the safety on, pop the cartridge in, and how to pull the trigger.  That was it.  Holy crap!  I was TERRIFIED!!!  I was considering telling one of the cadre that I didn't feel ready and needed more instruction, but then I saw that each firing lane had its own range safety officer, who would be standing right by my side, so I sucked it up, picked up my ammunition, and headed up to my lane.  I immediately informed my safety officer that I was TERRIFIED and didn't have a freaking clue what I was doing.  He (a classmate with prior military experience) was awesome - he talked me through every step and really calmed me down.  I never thought I had small hands until I tried to hold an M9 properly and reach the trigger with enough finger to actually pull it.  Wow - really awkward.  Then BAM! it fired, and the recoil damn near knocked me over (pretty sure that would have been a range safety violation!!).  After firing the first 15 rounds, the safety officer asked if I was feeling OK, because apparently I was "sweatin hotter than a pig in pepper patch"  (yes, he really did say that .... in a long Georgia drawl).  NO I'M NOT OK.....I HAVE A LOADED FREAKING PISTOL IN MY HAND!!!!!!!  (I don't think I actually said that part out loud, though .... at least I hope I didn't!).  After firing 30 rounds, I was done and finally allowed to put the weapon down.  My safety officer told me I hit 3 of the targets, but I don't believe him.  (Did I mention the targets were these giant bright green Michelin-men?)

After I exited the line, I made a bee-line for the Major who had taught the PMI classes and told him I needed  a LOT more help.  He was fantastic - he spent about 30 minutes with me giving me all sorts of pointers about my stance, lining up the sites, positioning my hands, etc.  After that I felt completely ready for my second turn on the line.

I was hoping that sometime between my first turn and my second turn, they would have replaced the green Michelin-men with giant red barns (the broadside preferably), all positioned less than 10 yards away.  Alas, the stupid green men were still there mocking me from 25 yards.   I don't think I hit any of them, but I also didn't sweat "like a pig in a pepper patch" or have to bite through my lip to keep from bursting into tears.  That, my friends, is significant improvement!!

The day ended with range clean up.  Apparently, live rounds are inventoried, and you have to turn in the same amount of shells as the live rounds you signed out. (Or at least that's what cadre told us to motivate us to clean the range).  We formed police lines and scoured every millimeter of that range, picking up the discarded shells (a/k/a/ "brass").  We were even frisked before we could get on the bus to make sure nobody was trying to take their own little range souvenir!

The good news about the Range Day was that we were done and released by 3 pm, which meant I could go visit Doug & the pups for the first time in a week.  Doug was very amused by my stories of my first day on the range, and suggested that maybe next time I should just "pick up the bullets and throw them at the targets".  I suggested that he just get me another beer.  :)

Too Much Fun!

Yeah, yeah, yeah, I've gotten your "what the hell, when are you going to update the blog?" emails.  Seriously, I've just been having too much damned fun to sit down long enough to write about it.

First a few corrections from previous posts.  There are 114 members of the 182nd JAOBC class.  21 of those are women (~18%).   Less than half of the 114 are Regular Army/Active Duty (RA).  The rest are Reserve or National Guard.  Of the 114 total, probably 20 have prior service, both as enlisted personnel and officers, from all branches and services.  The class runs the entire spectrum:  from the 25 year old, just out of law school, deer-in-the-headlights types; to "Grandpa Rambo", a 51 year old former SF guy from the NM National Guard; and everything (and I mean everything) inbetween.  Stellar people-watching opportunities every day.

We spent the first few days starting at 0530 with PT, and then the rest of the day in the classroom. IMO, the classes were awesome (OK, maybe not so much the Composite Risk Management class ..... could have died happily having never lived those 60 minutes).  Not all of my comrades found things as interesting apparently, because there were quite a few sleepers who met the wrath of 1SGT.  As far as PT goes, two thoughts:  (i) who in their right mind shows up at OBC having never done a pushup and unable to run 2 miles?  Seriously??? (we actually had a puker on the very first day ..... after running less than a mile!); and (ii) if the PT intensity doesn't pick up, I'm going to be the first person on earth who gains weight after joining the Army.  I'm thinking/hoping the "least common denominator" school of thought will die a timely death once we move on to Charlottesville.

Now the fun stuff.  Saturday was the dreaded Gas Chamber event.  Every single person who joins the Army goes through this rite of passage (and they all live to tell about it.)  IMO, it is less about teaching a soldier how to handle gas exposure, and more of a psychological "you can do this thing that you never thought you could do" event.  Anyway, wee spent the morning learning all about CS gas (a/k/a tear gas), and the proper course of action if there was a gas attack in our area of operation (AO).  Then the scare tactics started.  Everybody had a story ("when I was enlisted, our commander made us drink milk for a whole week before the gas chamber and everybody threw up!" or "when I was cadre at Benning, one of the Privates tried to claw his way out of the chamber and I had to pull him back by his ankles, with his fingernails digging into the ground).
Blah blah blah.  Even the Commander said things like "you WILL cry.  It's OK.  You don't get any 'man points' for holding it in - just cry."  All morning, all we heard was how bad this was going to hurt, how scary it was going to be .... blah blah freaking blah.   I'm listening to this thinking:  (a.) nobody is going to get hurt -- none of the cadre is willing to risk their career by doing something to us during a training exercise that is going to cause permanent damage; (b.) this whole scare tactic thing is all part of the psychological game of the exercise .... and all these people are actually falling for it; and (c.) its not like I have a choice ... when the Army says I have to go into a gas chamber, I'm going into a gas chamber .... you can try to scare me all you want, but at the end of the day, I still have to go, so why should I waste energy getting scared about it?  The morning was entertaining, to say the least.

Then, group by eight-person group, we put on gas masks, got them checked by 2 different cadre to make sure they were functioning properly, and then sent into the chamber.  The Chief Warrant Officer ("Chief") was in there in a full chem suit, yelling PT commands at us.  We ran around, did pushups & jumping jacks - with the goal of getting us breathing heavy.  Then we were ordered to break the seal on our mask, letting some of the gas inside.  That was like swallowing fire.  Burned all the way down to my stomach.  Then we cleared & resealed the mask, did some more pushups (with burning lungs - fun stuff!) and then formed a line in front of Chief.  One by one, we had to completely remove our mask, state our full names and where we were from, and then we were allowed to exit the chamber.  (Where am I from?  "DC" of course ... short and sweet .... I was NOT going to try to spit out "New Hampshire").  Once you exited, everyone had a different reaction.  Some people had gobs of mucus spewing from every orafice.  (I just blew a double snot rocket and cleared it all in one shot .... just like mtn biking!).  There were the select few (men in their mid 20's) who exited the chamber screaming "hooah" at the top of their lungs and flexed their muscles in a bodybuilder pose. (really, I'm serious).  I just kinda walked out like, "checked that block, what's next?"   The worst of it set in about 20 seconds after exiting - eyes, nose, throat, all on fire (and for the brief moment when I thought I really might permanently loose my eyesight, I rememberd that cadre would never intentionally expose us to something in a training exercise that would cause permanent harm).  Gradually the burning stopped, I could breathe, I stopped sweating, my eyes opened, and all was right with the world again.  In the end, we all survived, nobody puked (not even the PT puker) and everyone has some great (likely exaggerated) stories to tell their friends at home.   I'm still stuck on the psychological process of the exercise - I'd love to know more about the effect the lead-up "scare tactics" have on individual reactions.

That's it for this post.  I still need to tell you about my first experience firing a weapon, and lots of other random thoughts rolling around in my head, but its time for bed.  0630 formation tomorrow for field training exercises all day.  Woo hoooo!