March drill was about the VCOT for our half of the company. The other half went to the range and qualified with M16's.
I'm writing this entry weeks later, and just days before I ship out to WTC.
So here's how drill went.
We were scheduled to show up at 1800 Friday. Private P called me at about 1400 claiming he was sick. He had talked to the 1SG about it, but was told he needed to call me, his section chief.
I arrived about 1730, to get my gear in order. I packed according to the list sent out with the monthly Company Newsletter. Big mistake.
One full duffel from home of uniforms, boots, underwear, socks, toiletry kit, towel....
One backpack with civvies, personal gear like CD player, books I didn't read, and snacks.
One duffel from my locker at the unit, with rucksack and sleeping bag.
Another duffel with, well, all the crap. Goggles, rubber boots, load-carrying vest, knee and elbow pads, camelback. Basically everything except the chem warfare suit. I could have simplified a bit, but most of the bulk was on the packing list.
We also were issued M16's and gas masks, and we had our helmets. I had to get help carrying my bags to the bus. And off. And on again Sunday, and off again at the end. I won't make the mistake of following instructions again.
I was supposed to get some HMMWV time. Sergeant K was going to drive, and I was going to ride shotgun, then get some time driving "down-range" during the weekend. But the vehicle was "deadlined" which means it was not working. So I joined the other two Chaplain's assistants ("my privates") on the chartered bus following the convoy. We sat, with rifles, masks and helmets all wedged in together. The movie wasn't interesting. The speakers were loud and the one over my head rattled. We stopped for Taco Bell, then continued.
At Ft. Whatzerface we were billeted in a barracks. Steam heat. Bunkbeds with mattresses, no linen. The three Chaplain Assistants (my two privates and I) selected a nice area with wall lockers in between the bunks and the hall. It was close to the entrance. Between the three of us we had 11 total bags. Private S asked me which bunk I wanted, top or bottom. I said "gee, the choice between piss-stained and lumpy, I'll take piss stained." I put my poncho liner down on the mattress and put my sleeping bag on top of that.
The First Sergeant wandered by to check on us and called me "Sergeant B" in a very magnanimous tone. He kept doing it all weekend. I asked him about it and he said "Every time I see you, you remind me of an E-5." Back at the Armory, before we left, he introduced me to a Lieutenant. He described me as "He's one of our Chaplain Assistants, but I think he's too high-speed for that." Army compliments are weird.
Anyway, he asked why we had so many bags. I told him I had packed according to the list in the newsletter. I told him I wouldn't do it again. That seemed to please him.
Later, the admin NCO poked his head into our area and said we needed to provide one guy for kp duty. He was looking straight at me. Private D had volunteered for the last one, at last drill, and I couldn't look SSG B in the eye and point at Private S (with a straight face) so I threw my hand in the air. Later, Private D was added to the detail anyway. He was okay with that - he likes to eat, and kp's get to eat first, before the chow hall opens, and last, picking over whatever is left on the line. Like steaks. And cake.
We were scheduled for wakeup at 0530. The first cellphone alarm clock went off at 0455. Several followed in next few minutes. Nobody got up. Jerks. I lay there wishing for sleep until the 1SG came through flipping on lights. Breakfast was HeaterMeals pancakes. Lunch was MRE - grab one now, carry it with you. I tore my MRE apart and left all the packaging and stuff I wasn't gonna eat behind, packed the entree, cocoa powder and crackers in my pockets for easy carry.
Eventually we left for the VCOT. Essentially a multi-player video game installed in a tractor trailer. Windows based, with all that that implies.
It was run like a real mission - prebrief, execute, after-action review. Repeat. I was the gunner on the convoy commander's truck, running the .50 cal for the first iteration. The picture above is the controller for the gunner, mounted into an actual truck. You can kinda see the three monitors provided for the driver. Virtual reality goggles were provided for the gunner positions, so we could look one way, point the weapon another, and be moving down the road in a third. Disorienting, as there was lag between moving your head and the view changing. Most disorienting after, when the real world didn't do that. We were told during the pre-pre-briefing "If you feel like you're gonna barf, don't hit the equipment. Go outside."
Graphics were fairly crude, low polygon representation of Baghdad with gun trucks, random busses and other civilians, RPG guys on rooftops, and AK-wielding bad guys. We got lost in almost every iteration. People died. Trucks flipped over. Things caught fire. Civilians got shot by mistake. I did the last, but I had a lot of kills on bad guys, too. I spent a lot of quality time playing Medal of Honor a few years ago, so I was able to overcome some of the interface learning curve pretty quickly. MoH has better graphics.... but then, PlayStations aren't running Windows.
Next iteration I participated in, I got to drive a Humvee. Accelerated like a cow. Stopped on a dime. Confusing, being part of a group trying to accomplish a task in an unfamiliar environment, while people shoot at you. But I didn't die, I kept the convoy commander safe, and when I realized the convoy was scattered, I went back to let the gunner give cover and the commander see what was going on.
Then I ran radios on the cargo truck. That was a waste. I didn't know what to say, the guys ahead of us got lost and led us into a bad neighborhood, and eventually my truck got shot up by seven guys standing on a street corner with AK's that apparently the rest of the convoy ahead of me had not noticed.
Between iterations, I was trained on the use of my gas mask. I was signed off for M16 Maintenance training and Land Navigation, but the forms were just pencil-whipped during lunch without doing the training sessions for everyone.
During some of the standing-around time I learned that SGT G is leaving the Army. He has some kind of PTSD issues from his time in Iraq. "I can get more money from the VA than the Army" was how he put it. Later, I sat on the bench near him in the briefing area in the front section of the VCOT trailer. I scooted closer to him, to make room for someone else to sit on the bench, and he quickly stood up, and sat on a stack of boxes in the corner a few feet away. I said "Those boxes a bit softer than the maple bench?" He said "Until they tell me to get off." I don't think that's why he moved away. When he moved it reminded me of startling a bird.
Also between iterations, the conversation turned, naturally, to the war in Iraq. Sergeant K said something about "Weapons of mass destruction," and said something about a "big stash" that's been found that's "never been reported in the mainstream media." I didn't ask how he knows about it if it hasn't been reported.
Lunch. We were told that hot soup was available at firing range 51. Okay. . . "Over there, by those hills," was the best directions. I said "Eff this, I'm eating my MRE," and went back inside. My privates followed. Conversation in the lunchroom included: an episode of Jackass (or maybe from the movie - not sure) in which a guy shoves a Hotwheels car up his ass and then goes to the emergency room to get an xray, just to get the reaction of the tech. Corvette? Fire truck? Did he lube the condom? Yeah, that's dining conversation in the Army. No, there were no women present. About 30 guys.
Later I was going to drive the cargo truck but the Blue Screen of Death ended the day early for us. While we were waiting around to find out if the iteration was going to run or not, I noticed the time on the monitor said "5 am"and commented that maybe we were on Baghdad time. MSG H was looking over my shoulder, and we discussed for several minutes what time it would be in Baghdad at that time of day. He was convinced that France is 3 or 4 time zones east of Greenwich, England, and that Baghdad is at least 8 hours east of that. I was convinced that it's more like 4 time zones from GMT to Baghdad. Turns out it's three. Not sure if he was magifying the distance from here to Baghdad in his head, or if he managed to get to Master Sergeant with that poor of a sense of geography.
Eventually Private D and I went to the "d-fac" (dining facility) for our kp duty. We had to give our weapons to others, as we were not allowed to have them in the GSA van. I gave mine to SGT K. Private D gave his to Private S.
Turns out the cook in our unit really takes pride in his job. Damn good steaks. Salad, canned corn, instant mashed potatoes that were pretty good, two kinds of cake, (one from scratch) and even some ice cream. I helped rinse a few dishes (Private D scrubbed). The container of soup that was supposed to be taken to the VCOT showed up. We dumped it and hosed it out.
We paused to eat our meal. Then I served ice cream. Half a tub of Oreo cookies-and-cream, and half a tub of strawberry. People were thrilled. We used it all up, cookies and cream first. I could tell who had been at the firing range that day. They were burned-out tired. Some seemed confused by the question "Ice cream?" and had to figure out how to answer. Many just skipped it. Sergeant K came by with my weapon and his slung over his shoulder, and felt a need to grouse at me about it. After dinner we cleaned the kitchen, and swept and mopped the dining area. There were four of us, so the work went pretty quick.
I liked kp. It wasn't hard work, I ate twice, everyone saw me on task, and whatever I do in uniform is a novelty at this point. Eventually we got a ride back to the barracks.
I asked the guy who pencilwhipped the training list if he could give me the M16 training. So he did. Never got the land navigation training.
Next morning I skipped the HeaterMeal pancakes, and packed that and my MRE lunch to take home for show-and-tell with the kids. Packed my multitude of bags, and went down to wait for the bus. During morning formation, the sun came up. Bunnies hopped around near us. The sky was clear, except for a few clouds hanging on the peaks visible over the barracks. First Sergeant, in his formation briefing, wanted to talk about marijuana.
"Not compatable with Army values," he said. "I think it's stupid, it should be just as legal as drinking, but it isn't so don't do it. In 998 days when I retire, I'm gonna smoke the biggest spliff you ever saw. But I'm in uniform now, so I'm not going to. Don't you do it either."
Then we waited for the bus. It was scheduled for 0730 arrival, so we could depart at 0800. Around 0750 the 1SG got a call on his cell phone - the driver was having trouble finding the right exit to get into the post. A man who lived in the adjoining city was sent off to go find the bus and guide him in. Then we waited. At about 0830 the 1ST got another call - the driver had scraped the bus coming through the gates, so the Military Police were going to have to do paperwork. At 0900 the 1ST left to go find out what was going on. He came back half an hour later, and informed us that the driver had hit a pylon at the gate entrance with the bus. The bus was okay, but the driver blew .o49 on a breathalizer. So the charter bus company was sending a new driver out. Her name, no kidding, was "Burgundy." So the 1ST organized us into vehicles and we moved the party to Burger King.
You know you're on an Army post when 30 guys with M16's don't fluster the BK manager. She just put one guy on our order, and the other kid on any other customers, while she handled the drive-thru. Captain paid for us. Then we waited some more. Then we were told the driver was on post, and checking out the bus, so we went outside, and waited some more. I think the bus finally rolled out at about noon.
When we finally arrived back at the armory, it was time to do a bunch of cleaning details. I tracked down Private P and learned that he had been transferred to the kitchen, so now it's just 3 of us (plus one scheduled to start Basic training this week) filling a one-man job slot. Then I put myself and Private D to work picking up trash around the fenceline.
At final formation, the company was supposed to come up with a new motto - something to shout out in unison when we're called to attention. Private D said "Hey, B, what was your idea?" and I said "Where's the bus." Private C, next to me on the other side, really liked it. It spread through the formation as we stood there waiting for the first sergeant.
So the 1SG shows up, and calls us to attention "Company - ten HUT!"
"WHERE'S THE BUS!" we all say in unison, echoing off the walls of the buildings.
"At ease," he says, looking sideways, with a puzzled look. "Company, ten HUT!"
"WHERE'S THE BUS!" He's caught it this time, and now he's grinning.
"At ease. Company - ten HUT!"
"WHERE'S THE BUS!" This time was even louder.
"At ease. I like it. I don't think the commander will go for it permanently, but today, it's good. Company - ten HUT!"
"WHERE'S THE BUS!" and this time, I think the neighborhood could hear us.
Another exciting weekend in the National Guard.
