AT08--Day 5

Me in a truck

Okay, first off I am going to do something I should have done several days ago: give my mailing address for Summer Camp that I got when we arrived. So if you want to send me (or another soldier down here) mail, here's how!

Rank Last Name, First Name
1344th Transportation Company
Building 1440
Fort Chaffee MTC, AR 72905

Today I ran my first mission of this camp: a mission we got fairly late last night (when we KNEW they knew they were going to need it yesterday morning! Grrr) to haul some more ammo from the ASP to the AHA (often when someone mentions the AHA, which is pronounced aha, someone will return 'aaah haaaa'. Why? 'Cause the name sounds funny).

--
Okay, that was like a week ago. I never finished it, and I have mostly forgotten what happened that day or many of the days after.

I've realized that after things get rolling at AT, I really don't have the time or energy to write every day. After you've gotten five hours of sleep a night for three nights in a row, when the choice on the fourth night is blog or sleep, guess which is going to win? Add that to the fact that after a day or two of this I've fallen behind on the blogging and feel I have to do two posts a day on things that happened a day or two ago, and it's no longer fun. Add to THAT the fact that I promised myself that I would use this camp to think and work out some problems I've been having (if you're a close friend, details are on my LiveJournal blog—and that's another thing; this isn't the only place I'm blogging), when downtime is never too plentiful in the first place—we're here to work, after all; this is no 9 to 5 job—plus the email I'm writing, all adds up to precious little time for blogging. So I've decided to give up trying to blog every day, and I'm definitely not going to try to go back and make up for missed days. Instead, I'm going to blog as I feel like it and have time, conveying what anecdotes, thoughts and happenings I feel like relaying at the time. This should keep it less work and more fun for me, and will keep up the posts (and possibly make them more interesting) for you.

AT08--Day 4

Barracks at Ft. Chaffee

The big event today was picking up a bunch of ammo on several tractor trailers and hauling it about a mile. We went out to the motor pool at 0520 (wakeup was at 0500, but I was smart and set my alarm for 0450 so I could have a little time to wake up before I had to get going), PMCSed, did 626 inspections, then drove to the ASP checkpoint to get our trucks inspected. They also inspected all of our paperwork: our military IDs, civilian driver's licenses, military driver's licenses, and HAZMAT (Hazardous Materials) certification cards. A couple of people had military licenses that, even though they had been issued the night before, were expired. All our military licenses were issued in a rush last night to put the Hazmat certification on them for today's mission, but then the inspectors said that all we needed was the certification card. Oops.

I was tasked to check each and every fire extinguisher to make sure each truck had two good ones. I sent one back because it was very slightly overcharged...no big deal, only an eagle-eyed inspector would have rejected it. But one truck didn't even HAVE two extinguishers! How does that work? You're told that the inspections are rigorous, that one failed item means you can't load ammo on your truck, given time to check over the trucks, a form that tells you what to check, told several times that each truck needs two 10:BC extinguishers, and you don't actually bother to check to see if you have them! How does that happen? And it wasn't enen two green privates; one was an E-5 Sergeant. I jus don't understand the motivation behind that kind of sloppiness.

Anyway, the problems were fixed, and we drove into the actual Ammo Supply Point proper. It's a fairly new, very secure set of bunkers with grass growing on top of them, set close together (this is a little odd; usually they are set far apart to reduce the risk of sympathetic explosions. I guess they've found a better way. The Army doesn't screw around with explosives safety, on that level at least; it's been burned too many times before). I would post a picture here, but I didn't take one as I presume it would be a no-no; don't want to provide intel to someone who might want to break in and steal some ammo.

Anyway, it took forever to coordinate with the people who knew what we needed and start loading, but once it started it went fairly steadily. They would forklift pallets of ammo of various kinds onto our trailer, and we had to strap them down and then placard the vehicle with the proper warning labels for the most dangerous class of explosives on the truck. My assistant driver (A-driver) amused herself (and impressed a couple of people) by figuring out, from the codes on the boxes and the book we got from our hazmat class, what the class and compatibility codes for each type of ammo (bullets, blanks, flares, smpke, etc.) was. You can't just throw ammo on a truck; for various safety reasons, certain types can't be loaded with certain other types. She didn't need to, as the ASP guys knew all that, but she wanted the practice.

Once we finally all loaded and strapped, we drove to the AHA to drop off the trailers, which was about a mile or less from the ASP. The whole process took about eight hours. So, as I told Jenn, we drove a mile in eight hours.

AT08--Day 3

A-10 Warthog overhead

Early wakeup tomorrow; I should really already be asleep, so I'll try to keep this short.

Hot night last night; took a while to get to sleep, tho' not as long as the night before. We theoretically had A/C, as I think I said, but it just trickled out. The blower was out; fuse blown or something. They fixed it today, and while it's not exactly cold tonight, it's a lot better.

Today we rearranged our motor pool, moving trucks and trailers around, did PMCS, and a few of us went on a mission to haul MREs out to the FOBs (Forward Operating Bases, where the combat troops will be oerating out of, set up as in Iraq or Afghanistan. The word is that the air conditioning in their huge circus-tent-looking things is better than ours). It was a little wierd...I got told I was going on a mission, and to continue working on the truck until the mission briefing. Then later I got told I had better get going, the other trucks are rolling out. In fact I lost them and had to have help finding where to go. Not sure what happened with the briefing; some wires crossed there.

While on the mission waiting for another truck to be unloaded (by our own guys; something went wrong there too--we're truck drivers, not stevedores. I hope we're not going to be expected to load and unload all this stuff ourselves; that's the supported unit's job) I saw two A-10 warthog attack airplanes droping flares and firing their Vulcan cannon (2000 rounds a minute, IIRC). Cool. I tried to post a video of one above; we'll see if it works.

When we got back we did 626 inspections of our trucks, which are safety inspections for hauling ammo. If, for instance, a single reflector is cracked, or a wiper blade doesn't work, the ASP (Ammunition Supply Point) won't let you load the ammo, and you can't do your mission. So we make sure the trucks are good to go before we get there. Unfortunately, the only one of us who has done this before is me, and it's been seven years, and they've changed the form in the meantime, so I'm sure we won't get right the first time. We'll learn tomorrow.

Well, that's all for today; I need sleep. The only silly story I have today involves obscene material, so I won't be relating it here.

AT08--Day 2

My rack last night

We're down in Chaffee now, which so far (in contonment anyway) looks a lot like Ft. McCoy, except not as nice. And hotter. We're staying in double-story WWII barracks identical to those at McCoy. At least these have walls between the toilets (but no doors on the stalls). And two, count them two, shower heads per 40-man floor. I think I'll forgo showering in the morning. The air conditioning doesn't work very well; it sort of trickles out. But at least there IS air conditioning. The rest of garrison so far looks like Ft. McCoy 20 years ago with a new paint job. McCoy's been modernized with a new PX, refurbished barracks, a NICE club, etc. Not so here. The barracks do have these neat closet deals that two people can share but lock separately. Much better than the usual footlockers, especially for 3 weeks.

The bus ride down here took maybe 9-10 hours. It was alright; it was a charter bus, so it was more comfortable than the Army school bus I was afraid we'd be in. The only bad thing about it is that it has video screens for in-flight movies. Sounds great, only I'd usually rather listen to music and read, and the guys turn it up too loud for either one to be feasable. Oh, well, I got to watch Mr. and Mrs. Smith and most of Transformers again. Besides, my CD player (yes, CD player...my iPod died, the headphone jack on my smartphone is busted, and so I'm back to the 20th century. Hopefully by next year I'll have an iPhone and my problems will be over) kept quitting on me; I felt like throwing it through a window until I realized that it was a battery issue; it uses about half the battery capacity and quits. New batteries made it all better, but still, annoying.

After we got here, we inprocessed by getting our ID cards swiped (it's getting a little creepy how everything you have to do in the Army nowadays is starting to require putting your ID card into a computer) and watching a little movie of big brass from Illinois talking to deploying soldiers (which we're not, but everybody else here is). I recognized one General as a guy I drove around Ft. McCoy one year to the club and other places, many Summer Camps ago. He gave me a mug which he signed and I have since broken. Then we ate; I had forgotten how bad Army chow was; having no cooks, all our meals are catered nowadays. But not here. Then we went to the barracks and got settled in until tomorrow.

I realized I didn't mention what we actually did yesterday: not much. The major highlight of the day, besides drawing new uniforms and making sure everyone was packed, was going to Scott AFB to get new ID cards and go to the BX. I didn't need either, but I was sent along to ride herd. Well, we sat for 3 hours at the ID card office and got exactly 2 (out of 10) cards done. Computer problems, apparently (damned Air Force ;-). We watched Disney's Tarzan while we waited, which prompted me to download the original novel to my Treo and start reading it. It's actually surrisingly interesting and readable.

Last night was HOT. I took forever getting to sleep--not til 1 or 2, I would guess, with an 0500 wakeup. Some horrible rotten person had closed the bay doors, so there was no fresh air on the drill floor, I didn't dare reopen them for fear they were closed by 1SG for security or something. The overhead fans were inoperative, and the single exhaust fan I could find was also broken. Ugh. Fortunately all we had the next day (today) was a long bus ride, so I slept on the bus.

Stupid trick of the day: apparently I didn't screw the top of my laundry detergent on tightly enough, and it came open during the trip. Fortunately, it only came open a little, and the worst damage it did was to wet the corner of my copy of The Federalist Papers. I'm lucky; it could have been a LOTworse.

AT08--Day 1

Baggage waiting to be loaded

Here we are...another Summer Camp. I'll try not to crap out again before the end like I did last year (and at Katrina, for that matter, but I claim extenuating circumstances for that). You missed hearing about some good stuff, too, like me firing a sniper rifle and hearing artillery shells flying over my head. Well, maybe I'll get bored sometime and fill in the missing bits.

Anyway, this year we'll be at Ft. Chaffee, Arkansas, which apparently used to be the home of JRTC (hopefully I'll come back later and add links to confusing words and initials--check back after Camp), a big Regular Army training center, but that moved to Ft. Polk, LA during BRAC, and now it's a Reserve training post. I hear it's hot and primitive, but at least it's not Ft. McCoy again! It'll be refreshing to go somewhere new for once.

We're going for about 3 weeks this time, which is also new. Usually it's 15 days, but this time we're supporting a huge training maneuver for an Illinois BCT that's on the road to war. We aren't going to be involved in the training--our mission is only to support them by hauling their troops, supplies and ammo so they can focus on training. We're not going to be doing any training ourselves that I'm aware of. But hauling ammo is something few of us have much experience with (I did it once for a couple of weeks in 2001), so that part should be a good learning experience for those of us in the ammo platoon. The training (it's called an XCTC for some reason) is actually going on all month, but another unit is going to take over for us on the last week.

Silly story of the day: I was at lunch, and I asked a soldier if she had gotten her boots taken care of. However, my mouth was half full at the time, and the commander, who was sitting next to me, thought that instead of "boots," I had said...something else. It was both awfully embarrasing and really funny. I turned pink, I'm sure.

Also...somebody was nice and got us all extra nametags for our new uniforms. Mine, however, read "Sysler." Anybody named "Sysler" out there that wants two new ACU nametags?

Currently listening: Seal, ~Human Being~

Chinook Flight

I had promised that I would post the pictures and videos I took from our Chinook flight. Well, I’ve finally done so. The pictures and videos are at http://zarquon.staticcling.org/1344/Drill/Chinook/. If anybody has additional pictures, please email them to me.

I’m hoping to pretty up the website these are on, add titles and descriptions to the photos, and make a blog post on that drill, but don’t hold your breath.

AT07-Day 6

Trucks in the field


I didn’t post yesterday, so this post is about the day before yesterday. Fortunately for me, we didn’t do much, so it should be easy to remember.

We went out into the field “today” (I’m having trouble with tenses now that I’m not posting the day of—help?) for the first time. The company we are supporting (who are themselves supporting the Cavalry (note Cavalry, not Calvary; Calvary was where Jesus died)) has established a TOC in the training area in South Post. So our mission changed from hanging out in a parking lot waiting for missions to hanging out in a tree-lined clearing (pictured) waiting for missions.

I may have to retract what I said earlier about going to the field needlessly. It’s nice out here. Pretty. Quiet, as always, except when a vehicle is going by. Nice as it is to go back to a bed and the option of a shower every night, I wouldn’t cry too hard if we had to stay in tents out here.

We didn’t do too much today; the only mission I remember was to replace the water in the water buffalo. Apparently someone was under the impression that it had to be emptied and refilled every day, which I thought wasteful and silly. Fortunately, that got straightened out, but not before we did it the first day.

We had a bit of a problem with it; we couldn't open the drain plug on the back of the thing; the nut was bigger than any wrench we could find, including the extra-large crescent wrench every truck is supposed to carry. So we propped open the spigots and drove down the road, not sure how long it would take to drain at that rate; the thing was half full. Well, when we got to the water point, we found the ACTUAL drain plug UNDERNEATH the tank, which of course makes much more sense. This one was small enough for our wrench, so we didn't have to stand at the water point for half an hour waiting for it to drain. I wonder what the thing on the back is for? Bakos climbed up on the tank to direct the 4-inch hose into the hole. I turned on the pump, and Bakos only sprayed himself once. We had a moment of panic when he told me to turn off the pump. I did, but the water kept going. It got all the way up the neck before stopping. We were afraid we were going to have a mess on our hands.

Since that’s the most interesting thing that happened to me all day, I have room to hold forth on the trucks we're driving (apparently MMS messages have a character limit, which is why yesterday’s post is broken into two parts). The manual is marked “approved for public release,” so I won't feel bad mentioning some technical details (when did THAT happen? Last I remember, truck TMs were marked with a destruction notice to avoid falling into enemy hands. Now they read “distribution unlimited” instead. I was all ready to say I was NOT giving technical details).

The trucks we’re driving this camp have been loaned to us from the 1544th Trans Co. out of Paris, Ill. They got them from the old artillery units that had switched to infantry and didn't need them anymore, to replace the nice new trucks that they took to Iraq a few years ago but some other unit (probably a deploying one) needed them more. The 1544th got nice new FMTVs to replace their old trucks which were of the exact same type as the ones they have now, but were not the actual same trucks; I don’t know where those went. No, the trucks the artillery got were the ones the 1244th TC gave up when they transitioned to Det. 1, 1344th, which used a different type of truck. The 1244th got these trucks when they (we) deployed to Saudi/Iraq for Desert Storm.

So are we getting this? I'm currently driving trucks (called M923A2s) on loan to the 1344th (part of which was formerly the 1244th) that I drove in Desert Storm that were then given to the artillery, then to the 1544th to replace their FMTVs, which replaced THEIR M923A2s that THEY took to Desert Storm. Yeesh.

Anyway, they’re pretty nice trucks, at least when well maintained, which these aren’t, really. The arty beat the hell out of them. They’re not as nice as the FMTVs, which have air conditioning and such, but they're a lot nicer than the deuce-and-a-halfs they replaced. The picture for today shows one of them: our desert tan one in the background (they got painted before we deployed in 1990). The other two are also 5-ton cargos, but different; the one in the foreground is an older model (M923—no “A”, which means revision or update, number) of the same truck, with an identical body, different engine, and old-style tires The one in the middle is an older type, an 800-series Vietnam-era truck with roughly the same capabilities as the others.

They’re 5-ton trucks, which means that that’s their hauling capacity over cross-country terrain. Their carrying capacity over roads is double that. They’re cargo trucks, which means that they’re general-purpose; they can haul ammo, troops, or general goods (there’s another phrase for that I can’t remember), but not containers or (without special equipment) fuel or (non-bottled) water. They've got tarps that can be put on or off by a couple of troops in five or so minutes, and a pintle for towing small trailers (like a water buffalo) or disabled trucks, and on-the-fly three-axle drive.

The version we have (A2) has three major differences from older models: A more powerful, turbocharged, Cummings engine; large, single tires (older trucks had smaller duals on the rear two axles); and CTIS. The Central Tire Inflation System is what made these trucks unique when they were new. What it means is that you can change the tire pressure from the cab. This is much more useful than it may sound. On the highway, you gain nothing from it. But off-road or on gravel or dirt roads, it’s great. Not only is the ride smoother, but you gain a lot more traction, especially in sand. I challenge anyone to get a fully functional, unloaded 923A2 stuck where the tires can get purchase. I don’t think it can be done. Put that b!@*# into 6x6 low transfer Emergency mode and she’ll pull out of almost anything. Unfortunately, the CTIS has a lot of fragile parts and electronics, and breaks easily. And since it isn’t necessary for driving, the mechanics are never in a rush to get it fixed. But it’s awesome when it works. It even has a Run Flat mode where it will constantly keep pressure in any tire that has a leak.

Well, that’s all for now. Toodles until tomorrow.

AT07-Day 5

Aah, what boredom does to you (waiting to load with meals at the TISA—Day 4)


Reading through my old posts, I realized that I’ve never really explained what’s going on here. That’s probably confusing for those who don’t know what “AT07” means.

I am on National Guard Annual Training (usually called AT or Summer Camp)—two weeks every year spent with our unit at some Army base (nearly always Fort McCoy, Wisconsin, for Illinois guardsmen) doing combat training in our job field, in my case truck driving. That's the theory, anyway. In practice, the two weeks always remains the same, but everything else can change. Some years we do “Golden Cargo” missions where we haul loads over the road for the Army and never see a tent (that’s FUN). Some years we stay home and come in a few at a time and drive missions for the State out of the armory, or do “home station” AT where a few of us stay at the Armory and do whatever odd jobs the full-timers have for us. Sometimes (like this year) we get tasked out to support other units going to the field without actually doing much field training ourselves. And sometimes, sometimes, we actually go out as a company, set up our tents, establish a defensive perimeter, get attacked occasionally, and run combat-style missions or LANES training. But that’s rare. I can count the number of times we’ve actually done that as a company since I’ve been in on the fingers of one hand (well, there may have been a few times that that happened that I couldn’t go for some reason).

Those two weeks, plus one weekend every month, constitutes the obligations of the National Guardsman, barring getting called up for State or Federal active duty.

A little about Fort McCoy: First, I’m sick of Fort McCoy. I’ve come here, for one reason or another, probably more times than the number of years I’ve been in the Guard. Several times it’s looked like we were going to go to Honduras, or Germany, or even Egypt, but it always turns out to be Ft. McCoy. Well, we went to Camp Ripley, Minnesota, once. When I first joined, some guys talked about a winter camp they had been on in Alaska. Brr.

Don’t get me wrong; I’ve been other places (barring activations, of course): California for NTC twice (fun!), Fort Campbell, Kentucky. But those were on my own, attached to other units. The only time I can remember that the unit went anywhere other than Fort McCoy or Camp Ripley (or stayed home and ran sporadic missions for year-round AT) for AT was Golden Cargo in Utah. Well, they did a Golden Cargo in New York once, but I wasn't with that time. Still, I've seen much more of Fort McCoy than I'd like.

Nonetheless, there’s good reason why we come here so often: it’s a nice, big (and I mean big; check a map), wooded training area, it has tons of temporary housing, with headquarters buildings and mess halls in each housing area, it’s a Reserve post, so coordination with the Regular Army is not necessary, and it’s not far from Chicago, where many of our units are. It’s a very good, convenient place to bring most or all of the Illinois Guard to train together.

The place has changed a bit in the last few years; besides the ongoing modernization of the barracks (this has been going on for nearly ten years, and I saw them working on one the other day), Fort McCoy has become a major mobilization site (the only site? I heard units from Texas mob from here) for Reserve and Guard units deploying to and from Iraq. They have set up FOBs (Forward Operating Bases) around post to simulate being in Iraq, complete with road signs in Engish and Arabic, simulated roadside bombs (IEDs), minarets broadcasting prayers in Arabic five times a day, and “civilians” walking around in Arabic garb. None of this was here four or five years ago.

It’s pretty here, too: This part of Wisconsin is heavily forested, with a mix of deciduous and coniferous trees, but mainly pine and fir. There's a lake on post that some years we have been allowed to have a company party/picnic at. And they have seriously modernized the facilities in the last 5-10 years: The PX is now almost a shopping center, and the club has gone from an old Enlisted club with a bar and a few pool tables to a real nightclub with dance floors, beer gardens, and loud music called McCoys (which it looks like we won't be allowed to go to this year—darn).

The main thing we did yesterday was pick up dunnage from a Mark 19 range, which took a lot longer than we thought; we were almost ready to leave when the Sergeant Major said, “You’re not leaving, are you?” When we told him that we were going to, he told us that he still had people that had to fire. When we asked how long that would take, he told us fifteen minutes. An hour and a half later, we got loaded and moved out. Then the NCO in charge of us and I dropped the dunnage off at the ASP. We got the Cav boys to load it all on the truck, but there was only the SFC and I to UNload it (well, alright, we had a forklift to help us, but we had to load all the ammo boxes onto the forklift). That’s okay, they had Schwan’s ice cream bars for sale at the ASP for 50¢. I had a caramel cream. Mmmmm.

I’m trying to arrange the ability to go to the gym after duty hours, but it doesn’t look likely. Apparently, we’ve got it fairly easy compared to some of the others; they were out until 2200, whereas we got off at about 18. So they need us in the area in case something comes up. Understandable, but annoying. I could probably get away with running around the Company area, but it’s just not the same. I wish I had that iPod Nano and Nike+ kit; that would probably make running down the street fun. But that's $250 I Just Don't Have.

RUMOR: There are 50,000 troops on Fort McCoy: 25,000 mobilizing, 22,000 demobilizing, and 3,000 at Annual Training like us. I don't believe it; the post seems even less crowded than usual at this time of year, if anything. But it’s a big post; they could easily be hiding somewhere I haven’t seen.

AT07-Day 4

Day 1—driving to Wisconsin


We'll see how long posting on the next day lasts; it’s convenient, and I don’t cut into my sleep, but the days all run together, and I forget what we did the day before.

I’m trying a new method of posting: Blogger Mobile, which allows me to post pictures I take with my phone, which the last two posts show. Unfortunately, there's no way to post HTML from my phone, so there's no formatting or links possible. I’ll update the formatting when I get home.

I’m going to get fat out here. My goal was to lose weight this summer camp, but I’m bored so often (like right now, waiting for them to finish firing the Mk19 so they can load their dunnage, although watching them fire is pretty cool) that I’m eating a lot, just for something else to do.

The main mission we went on yesterday was a “one hour” mission to get MRE’s and heater meals for our chow hall. This turned into more like three hours making three trips to pick up several pallets of meals, then ice, bringing them back to our chow hall, and unloading them by hand—with help, of course. Normally we aren’t supposed to help with loading and unloading—as I like to say, we’re truck drivers, not stevedores. But when it’s your own unit you’re supporting, all bets are off, since you’re fair game for a detail in the first place. I had intended to work out yesterday, but I considered that my workout, seeing as we were throwing and catching a couple hundred thirty-pound boxes.

Units will sometimes get miffed at us for not helping to load or offload stuff. But what they don't realize is that they have to do that once in a while; if we could be counted on to load and unload their equipment from our trucks, we would be doing nothing else. It's Not Our Job. Now, that doesn't mean we’re not allowed to help; if I’m asked nicely as a favor, if they don’t have enough people and I feel bad for them, or, particularly, if I’m in a hurry, I might lend a hand.

Regardless, it’s nice to work for the chow hall; we got two plates full of freshly baked peanut butter chip & M&M cookies, plus milk, for our efforts. Yum. Not having had lunch yet, I essentially had a lunch of cookies.

I got a chance to go to the PX yesterday for the first time since we got here. Good thing, too, as I was almost out of socks. You’d think that, after almost 20 years in the Army, I'd have more boot socks than I knew what to do with. Well, that’s true of brown T-shirts and underwear, but for some reason I only managed to find five pairs of Army socks, total. I’m hoping to buy a lot more stuff later to go with the new uniforms we have, but I’m broke at the moment, so that will have to wait.

We didn’t do much after that; after our shift was over, we chilled in the barracks for the rest of the evening. Or at least I did; my co-driver volunteered to go on another mission that lasted quite a while. I tried to get to sleep early, but was fairly restless and not sleepy. After I got to sleep, I was woken up by a meeting in progress. Apparently, they decided to be nice and not wake people up for it if they didn't absolutely have to be there. I got up and joined in. It took another while to get to sleep after that, so I’m pretty sleepy today.

I’ve pretty much stopped explaining military terminology in these posts; if you don't know what a word or phrase means (either in a new post or an old one), leave a comment and I’ll make a glossary entry.

AT07-Day 3

I had the great idea of using my copious downtime between missions to write my posts instead of trying to do it when I’m dead tired and
ought to be sleeping. And it was a great idea…except for the fact that I can now barely remember what happened yesterday.

Let’s see…my co-driver (Bakos) and I got tasked to support Delta company of the battalion we’re supporting, along with two other trucks with drivers. This involved a lot of sitting around in our trucks, their office, or their barracks waiting for missions, getting a mission, doing it, then coming back and waiting some more. Apparently, this is what we’ll be doing for the rest of AT. This leaves a lot of time for reading, resting or blogging.

Most of the missions are to take the Cavalry (who the Forward Support Battalion we are attached to is supporting) out to ranges: M16, .50 cal (that’s what’s in the picture), MK19 (an automatic genade launcher I would love to see fire), SAW (the smaller successor to the M60 “pig”). The main thing we did yesterday was to pick up some dunnage from the range and keep it in the truck (a 5-ton M923A2) overnight to deliver it to the ASP this morning. There’s another team that falls in on our trucks at night; apparently they want to be able to send missions out at a moment's notice.

The rest of the company (well, platoon, really; we’ve only got a platoon's amount of people) is doing similar missions, but out of our own area and possibly at a faster pace.

The current word is that we (the 1344th element) won’t be moving out to the field, partially because we didn’t bring any tents. Everybody’s pretty happy about this, myself included. Of course, nobody really likes going out to the field, but I don’t mind it if we’re going to really play the game and do some serious field training. But going to the field for the sake of the experience of staying in tents and running missions from there instead of the barracks—which has happened before and what this would almost certainly be—is just silly, and I’m glad that we’re (hopefully) not doing it.

Don’t get me wrong; I’m not running down good field training. What we did in 2005, running real combat style missions out of a FOB, was great, and I wish we could do it again (minus all the heat casualties, of course). But this would not be like that.

The rest of the day was uneventful; I was pretty tired (I live a fairly sedentary life out of uniform), so I went to sleep early only to be woken up for a meeting (of course). I still got a decent amount of sleep.

I’ve got a little time (I’ve been writing on this as time permitted all day), so I’ll write a couple of things that have been rattling around my head.

First, an important admin note: if you are subscribed to this blog via Changedetection, I strongly recommend unsubscribing from that and resubscribing using one of the methods on the right. It’s a lot better.

Second, on cell phones, particularly mine: I didn’t bring my laptop this time, and mostly haven’t missed it. I can do nearly everything I need from my Trēo: check email, send email, check the Web, check manuals, take notes, play games, listen to music. I can’t watch movies or play really cool games, but that’s a fairly small sacrifice for not risking damaging my PowerBook.

The only problem—especially the first night—is that the network gets slammed by all the soldiers doing exactly what I'm doing (making phone calls and using the Internet), making it nearly impossible to make calls and the Internet extremely slow.

Well, that’s enough for one day; more tomorrow.

AT07-Day 2

Well, I didn’t last the night in my cot; I finally realized that that cold breeze was going to keep me awake all night, so I gave up and moved my sleeping bag and poncho liner into the cab of the truck, which turned out to be an excellent idea. The cushions made a nice bed, there was barely enough room, and with no breeze, it was plenty warm enough to sleep. About 5 a.m., I had a bit of a panic; it started to rain. I jumped up to see if I had left anything important out; I shoved my bags under the cot (which my co-driver had since occupied), grabbed my weapon, and went back to the cab and to sleep for two more hours. Thank goodness; I hadn’t heard the wakeup time and was afraid it was going to be 0400 or something. But as it turned out, it was forever before we moved out, for some reason.

We eventually continued to Ft. McCoy without incident (unlike yesterday, with three breakdowns including one blown steering tire), found our barracks, unloaded our gear, parked the trucks, ate dinner (not as good as last night's catered serve-yourself), and chilled in the barracks for the rest of the evening.

The barracks. Ugh. These are World War II-era wooden two- story buildings, with each floor being a large bay filled with bunks. Think Biloxi Blues. I had thought that these had all been renovated and modernized, but apparently not. They are clean and in decent repair, but not only do they lack a water fountain or air conditioning, the toilets have no partitions of any kind between them. Apparently privacy was not valued in the 1940s.

Sorry these posts aren’t as detailed as my Katrina ones; I had my computer then and typing was easier. I’ll try to do better.

Until tomorrow,

Jim

AT07-Day 1

Much to write but won’t; late & need sleep.

What a day. We start out an hour late, which is neither unusual nor surprising, seeing as we are driving trucks loaned to us from another company with unknown maintenance issues. For instance, my truck developed an air leak in the tire inflation system that had to be fixed.

But no major issues; got on the road and arrived at where we were to meet up with the Co. we will be supporting at Camp. But they were quite late, so we didn't leave there til late, resulting in us getting to our RON (Remain Over Night) until about 2330, and bed only just now. Bed is on our trucks as best we can make it; cots are available to those who want them. I took one, put it in the open bed of our cargo truck, and am sleeping under the stars on a sleeping bag for a mattress (and to crawl into if it gets cold, which it probably will) under a poncho liner and a poncho. Only problem is there’s a breeze on my head that might keep me awake. It’s pretty though. I saw the Milky Way and a satellite.

Dinner was odd; a chow line set up outside in the dark to serve ourselves. I had eaten Subway earlier and was not hungry, so of course I ate some. It was good, but probably a bad idea. I’m trying to lose weight, and will now probably have to use the latrine in the middle of the night now, presuming I can find the porta-potties in the dark. Why do we do things we know to be bad ideas?

Forgotten item: my extra battery for this phone. No way to charge it up tonight, and it's almost out of juice.

Family & friends back home: I love you and miss you.

Nite.

U2

Alright, I’m just incensed at this point. I’m hugely in favor of free speech. I normally don’t get angry at the fact that people sometimes spew the rankest idiocy; it’s their sovereign American right, and I usually confine myself to arguing with their viewpoints, not with the fact that they presented them.

But this has gone too far.

This strikes at me personally, and everyone else who participated in the effort described in this blog. The new U2 and Green Day music video, The Saints are Coming, presents a huge lie (for some reason, the video on YouTube is slightly different from the one MTV is showing). Now, one argument that they seem to be making, that so many of our troops and resources are overseas fighting in Iraq, leaving us vulnerable to disaster at home, has merit: Earlier in this blog, I mentioned a sign we saw on the way into New Orleans reading “Screw IRAQ, troops come home and clean your own yard.” Certainly Louisiana was harmed by having so many (40%, I heard) of their National Guard soldiers and airmen deployed to Iraq. It cost them—in money, in speed, and in pride, for having to rely so heavily on troops from other states. So far, so good, and if that was the point of the video, I might even approve.

But it’s not.

The video shows fictional news footage of dozens of Apaches airlifting refugees, B2s dropping supplies, Navy jets helping to fill broken levees, and (my personal favorite) tanks patrolling the streets of New Orleans in support of Katrina relief efforts, with subtitles like “U.S. IRAQ TROOPS REDEPLOYED TO NEW ORLEANS” and “AIRFORCE LAUNCHES AID DROPS.” Then the video ends with a sign reading “NOT AS SEEN ON TV.”

Well, Bono, or “milk,” or whoever produced this idiotic video, I’m sorry you weren’t watching your TV very closely. The Army, Air Force, and Coast Guard were out in droves doing exactly the sort of things portrayed as never happening in your video. At one point, I was told by a Coast Guard pilot, there were actually more military helicopters flying over New Orleans than over the entire countries of Iraq or Afghanistan. No, they weren’t Apaches—what idiot would send an Apache on a rescue mission, if any other aircraft was available? No, we didn’t rescue people trapped in flood-surrounded buildings using tanks—we used 5-ton trucks, which hold a lot more people.

Or is the problem that’s being lamented the fact that it was National Guard Army and Air Force troops that were called on to help in this disaster? Are they insinuating that the National Guard wasn’t good enough, the States can’t handle it, and the whole thing should have been Federalized? That’s even more insulting. It was FEMA—a Federal agency—which handled things worse than anyone. True, it would have been nice to have troops on the ground earlier, and it’s possible that if so many of Louisiana’s units hadn’t been deployed, that would have happened. But the video is clear that regular troops and equipment are the ones who should have been redeployed to New Orleans. Can you imagine if that happened? How many more people would have died, and suffered, and remained stranded? We, driving from Illinois, were there in about 5 days from the first notice; can you imagine how long it would have taken to get a significant number of servicemen and equipment (including tons of tanks and Apaches, if you go by the video) from Iraq to New Orleans? Weeks.

No, Green Day and U2, we did not need the troops to redeploy from Iraq to help us in New Orleans. We had it handled just fine, thanks. The last thing we want is for the Federal Government and its active military to take over domestic disaster relief too. If you think it’s a good idea that all the troops come home from Iraq, fine. but—except for the fact that the National Guard is overdeployed (which the video didn’t address at all)—that has nothing to do with Katrina relief.

If you’re as angry as I am over this, make some noise! Write letters, post comments on websites, write MTV and ask them to stop showing the video. Free speech means that the Government has no right to censor what people say—it does not mean that we the people have to like or accept any garbage that people choose to spout; only that we may not use government power to silence them. But there are other ways. Speak up. And if you want to see thousands of pictures of actual soldiers actually helping with relief efforts after Hurricane Katrina, well, take a look at the Katrina Pictures I collected.

There, I’ve said my piece.

Strong Words

“If the truth is admitted, it would appear that the lives lost and the money spent have been in vain.  Instead, more casualties must be sustained to prove a false premise.  What a tragedy!  If the truth is admitted, imagine the anger of all the families that already have suffered such a burden.  That burden is softened when the families and the wounded are told their great sacrifice was worthy, and required to preserve our freedoms and our Constitution.

But no one is allowed to ask the obvious.  How have the 2,500 plus deaths, and the 18,500 wounded, made us more free?  What in the world does Iraq have to do with protecting our civil liberties here at home?  What national security threat prompted America’s first pre-emptive war?  How does our unilateral enforcement of UN resolutions enhance our freedoms?

These questions aren’t permitted.  They are not politically correct.  I agree that the truth hurts, and these questions are terribly hurtful to the families that have suffered so much.  What a horrible thought it would be to find out the cause for which we fight is not quite so noble.” --Ron Paul

Blog reposted

I’ve put back all of the completed blog entries. I don’t know if I’ll fill in the rest of the story; that will probably depend on whether there’s interest. So let me know.

Lots and lots and lots of pictures from our deployment are now up at http://zarquon.staticcling.org/1344. Hopefully, the picture site will improve over time.

Address

We have an address!

232CSB (1344TC)
Soldier's Name
P.O. Box 3150
Gretna, LA 70054-3150

P.S. Comments explaining what happened to this blog have been added to the post below.

Blog Ends

The military has asked me to stop blogging on this site.

Instead, here are some pictures.

Sayonara,

Jim

Day 10

Today I stayed back in the rear, while others went on missions. It was an interesting day nonetheless.

Today is September 11, 2005. My Commander (CPT Belsha) had a formation in the dark this morning (we have one every morning at about 6) in which she said that every day she wakes up and asks herself if she could be doing more for her fellow man, and that right now she couldn’t think of anything more that she could be doing than what we are doing right now. I have to agree. Then we had a minute of silence in remembrance of the events of 9/11/01.

I went on sick call for my finger this morning—it had become stiff and swollen during the night. It was more to document the injury in case complications developed later than because I was worried about it. The doctor said that it had probably been hyperextended, gave me Motrin, and sent me back to duty.

The base is starting to come together. Showers, laundry, a mess hall, a PX (alright, NEX), some order established on the airfield where we’re living (one way in, one way out)...even an Internet café that I discovered today. I’m starting to feel like a soldier again. I got a haircut (finally! I’ve needed one since we moved out), I have clean clothes, a reasonably clean body, hot chow, a permanent place to sleep, electricity to the tent...all I need now are shined boots, which I will have as soon as I find my shoeshine kit. I may have to buy another one.

My haircut was paid for by an Air Force Colonel who needed to jump in front of me (and others) for a quick hair fix. I told him not to bother, but he paid for me and four others.

I finally broke down and bought a digital camera from the NEX (Naval EXchange) today, for about $200. It’s pretty nice. I’ll post pictures soon.

Our camp is really shaping up as well. We’ve put out camouflage netting as porches for our tents. It’s amazing how much cooler it is under there—cooler even than in the tent. A Wal-Mart run was made today, and people went all out. This evening people were sitting around in their new camp chairs, playing their new CDs on their new stereos while being protected from bugs by their new bug zappers, being cooled by their new fans, and lighted by their new tiki torches (tiki torches!!), while others threw footballs or frisbees with their new...you get the idea. I’m sure that once we get everything set up the way we like it, we’ll have to move.

Fire ants are from the devil. I and another soldier are convinced that, under a microscope, they reveal little horns and cloven heels. Thank God for ant spray. Holy water would probably work just as well.

The mosquitoes, on the other hand, are surprisingly benevolent. They’re large, slow, easy to kill, and kind of politely bite you and flutter away, leaving a bite that itches (a lot, I admit) for only about five minutes. A light coat of bug spray, reapplied occasionally, keeps them off nicely.

This evening I got tasked to go out on a mission to deliver water to the police base camp. This mission has already been aborted several times, and the trucks have been sitting in our motor pool, full of water and unavailable for other missions, for several days. Well, we finally got in the trucks to take them (weapons in hand), drove out of the motor pool, around the giant concrete pad where a lot of people and equipment are, to the gate—and turned right and went back to our motor pool. And parked. That was it. The mission was over. Apparently it had been cancelled before we got out of the gate. We have a military photographer from Illinois Public Affairs with us (sometimes), and she was hanging around after almost everyone had gone back to the tents. I asked her what she was doing, and she said she was waiting for the mission to go out again. It took a bit of convincing for her to believe I wasn’t pulling her leg when I told her it wasn’t going out again; that was the extent of the mission for the night.

The Commander came up and asked what happened. I told her that we had simply driven around the parking lot and she just keeled over. She literally doubled over with laughter, tears coming out of her eyes. It’s been a long time since I’ve seen someone laugh that hard. I think she’s getting a little frustrated with the disorganization around here; like I said, that mission has been canceled several times now.

It’s funny—Soldiers in the field never know what day it is. The day of the week just has no meaning for us. We don’t get weekends off. Someone said they tried to call their wife at work yesterday, only to realize that it was closed; it was Saturday. I’ve done the same thing. The only time we know what day it is is when they announce when Chaplain services will be—then we realize that it must be Sunday.

My accent is coming back. Well, sometimes. See, I grew up in the South, principally in Alabama, where I spent four years, from 4-8 years old. So I have a latent Southern accent that comes out whenever I’m around southerners. It started to emerge when I spent that day in the back of a truck with the Georgia DNR cops, but it’s going away again now, around our own Illinois soldiers. It’s amusing—I don’t pick up the accent of the people I’m with; I simply revert to my old Alabama accent. Georgians talk a little differently.

I’ve made a deal (somehow, the phrase “drug deal” has become current when any sort of unofficial or off-the-record (but not illegal) deal is being made) with the photographer I mentioned to get all the pictures she has so far. Hopefully, I’ll get lots of good shots.

UNEXPECTED PACKING NEED: Camp Chair

RUMORS:
• There are more military aircraft flying over New Orleans than over Iraq or Afghanistan.
• There are 50,000 military servicemembers either on the ground or on their way.

Day 9

New Orleans is very slowly coming back to life. It’s good to see. The electrical workers are busy constantly, trying to bet the power lines disentangled from trees, righting tilting electric poles, and replacing poles that have been broken in two. Today I saw a McDonald’s sign on, announcing what specials were going on. There was no one in the store, so I presumed it was not opened yet (obviously they never turned the sign off when they evacuated), but it was an improvement. In those areas (such as those close to the base I’m at) where people have been allowed to return, I’ve seen people with chainsaws trying to clear their property, and here and there businesses open. There’s a bar with “thank you Guardsmen” painted on the wood over its windows. Of course we all want to go there, but no drinking is allowed. The roads, even in the restricted areas, are much more crowded now than when we first got here, mostly (if not entirely; it’s sometimes hard to tell) with rescue vehicles.

I had a very interesting day today. It started with injuring myself. As I believe I mentioned, I used to drive the old deuce-and-a-halves when I was a Private, so I know them pretty well. Well, I was climbing around on one today, checking the oil and such, and in the process of lowering the hood, I went to put my foot on the bumper—and it wasn’t there. Apparently they shortened the bumper on the A3s by about three inches, but I hadn’t really noticed, and wasn’t thinking—I know this truck by heart, right? So the edge of my foot just caught the bumper and I slipped to the ground, barely hanging on by one hand. In the process I managed to pull or twist the middle finger of my right hand. It’s been stiff and sore all day.

But the day got better. We went out on the same mission we’ve been doing for several days now—hauling police around to check for stragglers who haven’t left yet. This time we were working for the California Highway Patrol. Apparently riding around in our trucks is too much work for them—all they used our trucks for was to haul (potential) evacuees; they themselves drove around in their nice air conditioned SUVs, clogging up the roads. At first we drove around trying to find where we were supposed to be (every truck has a Louisiana State Policeman in the cab directing us, because obviously the CHP has no more idea of where to go than we do). I have a feeling that coordination between everyone could be greatly improved. I wonder how much a) duplication of effort and b) missed areas there have been. I have no way of knowing. Anyway, eventually we found some streets to clear (same process as before—leave comments if you want to know more detail about anything I say), then went back to the base camp. After waiting for a while there, we went out again—but this time to an area of town I hadn’t seen before. We crossed a bridge, and then—wow. Mud. Everywhere. Obviously, this was a place that the floodwaters had hit pretty hard. The floodlines on the buildings were about 5 feet up, and every car had dried mud on its roof. The streets and lawns were all covered with either wet or dried-out mud, depending on how close to the levee you were (closer to the levee was uphill, and dried quicker). It was very, very messy. While we found no people (though apparently one dead body was found), there were several dogs running around. They were quite tame, and looked in good shape—so far at least. I was amazed that they had survived, but dogs can be pretty resourceful.

I don’t think I’ve mentioned how the police are marking homes they’ve checked. They have red marking paint in spray cans that they draw big X’s on the house somewhere (nice policemen do it on boarded up windows or sidewalks or window glass; uncaring ones do it on doors and walls) with the date in the top “V” of the X and a 0 in the bottom one. The 0, I presume, refers to how many refugees or bodies they found within the home. The paint is marked “temporary,” so perhaps it washes off, but I’m going to come down Cadiz street five years from now and see how much of that paint is still left.

On the way back, we went through the French Quarter. New Orleans is absolutely amazing. Have I said that yet? If so, it bears repeating. Downtown is awesome, but the French Quarter is absolutely astounding. Bourbon Street is much narrower and more built-up than I had pictured it. I’m not going to try to describe it to you, except to say that there were tons of vehicles of all types around; it was tough weaving through them. Traffic laws of all sorts are void in New Orleans right now—at least for relief vehicles. We ignore stop lights, stop signs, one-way streets; we pretty much go wherever we want. There was plenty of trash in the French Quarter, too, but some people were beginning to clean things up. I must come back here after they’ve had a chance to move back in and get things running again.

Downtown Canal Street is being used as a command center for just about every civilian organization—Federal agencies, television networks, you name it. I have never seen so many RVs with satellite dishes on them.

I will try to get pictures of all of this posted, but all I have is film—no digital. I’m trying to beg digital photos from other people.

New Orleans doesn’t believe in boring street names. Most cities name their streets after trees, States or Presidents. Not New Orleans. One of the least interesting street names I’ve seen is Annunciation. There’s also Magazine, Melponemes, and—get this—Tchoupitoulas. I had to pass by several street signs to ensure I got the spelling on that one right. I think I’ve got the pronunciation down, too: “Chopitoolas.”

We got weapons today! And ammo! Thank goodness. Not that I’m worried about violence; I’m not. It’s just that it’s downright embarrassing to have a cop stay back from their job to guard our truck and us. We’re the Army, for cripes’ sake.

I’m a little surprised that I’m not getting more comments—isn’t there anything you want more info/detail on? Less? Let me know.

Day 8

The major event of the day was missions similar to the ones we’ve been doing for a few days now; hauling police around. Today I hauled Georgia Department of Natural Resources cops. We went on the same kind of house-clearing detail that we did yesterday. These guys were a lot less well-armed and professional than the Michigan guys we hauled yesterday. The Georgia boys were pretty laid back.

It’s interesting to see the different cultures and attitudes different groups of policemen have. The Georgia DNR cops were good ol’ boys with pistols and bulletproof vests they wore about half the time. The Michigan police were all carrying automatic weapons or shotguns, never took off their vests, and had a much more agressive approach. The California Highway Patrol (Yes, we’re working with CHiPs) are allegedly pretty stuck up and standoffish. This is evidenced tby the fact that they started driving around in a convoy of their police cars instead of using our trucks. This, in everyone’s opinion, is silly and wasteful, but the cars have air conditioning. And look cool. And also take up a whole lot of room on the roads.

I got to drive through some water today looking for any remining residents. It didn’t quite get up to the bumper, but was fairly deep in spots. It would have been foolish to get out and manually check the houses by knocking on doors (the water is contaminated with God knows what), so we drove slowly down the street, honking the horn while the police called out “Police!” occasionally. We came to a T-intersection on one street where the water had subsided somewhat and there was whole lot of mud. So much that there was a car up to its left front fender, tilted over into the mud. I decided it wasn’t safe, and we turned around. The truck could probably have made it, but I didn’t want to risk it, especially since the automatic tire-deflation system in my deuce doesn’t work.

This is a good time for a sidebar I’ve been wanting to do: The new deuces. A deuce-and-a-half, for those that don’t know, is a 2 1/2 ton cargo truck, model M35A2, made famous in many Vietnam-era military movies (Good Morning Vietnam is a good example). Well, some of us are driving the same trucks. And by the same trucks, I don’t mean the same model but a later year. I mean the exact same trucks as were in use in the Vietnam era. I don’t think I’ve run into one that was manufactured after 1971. But they’re good old trucks; they’re simple, durable, have no electronics at all, run on almost any fuel, and are fairly powerful. But they’re also rough, extremely loud, have a manual transmission (the Army has switched to automatic transmission because they found the costs from decreased fuel milage is offset by the savings of not having to replace clutches), and have the old-style tires, with dual tires on each side of the two back axles, and no automatic tire inflation. And they’re usually pretty slow. I was amazed that I got one up to 60 MPH on the way down. In other words, they’re outclassed by every other cargo truck in the current military inventory. Well, someone in the military somewhere came up with a brilliant idea: Instead of getting rid of all of our old deuces, why not upgrade them to put them on a footing with newer machines? And that’s exactly what they’ve done: Completely rebuilt the old trucks into the new, improved M35A3. The A3 version has an automatic transmission, a new, more powerful and much quieter engine, 6 large single tires (instead of smaller singles on the front and four sets of duals on the back) with Central Tire Inflation System (which allows the driver to reduce the tire pressure in order to more easily travel through rough terrain, sand, snow or mud), windshield washers (only wipers before), shoulder seat belts, and other improvements. They didn’t add power steering though. All in all, they’ve brought the old crappy deuces up to par with the much newer 5-tons we have, except for the reduced carrying capacity, and turned trucks destined for the junkyard into deployable, combat-ready vehicles. Cool.

Anyway, after we got out of the water we moved on to much nicer and richer neighborhoods—there are some absolutely beautiful houses here. We made it as far as Loyola University before calling it a day.

Like yesterday, the Lieutenant sent several trucks back after it was time to shut down without waiting for all of them to come in. Smart man. When we first got back, it was announced that it was time for chow, so we all piled into the back of a truck and went to the mess hall. It was open today, but the line was long. It didn’t take too long, though, and soon we were eating. The facility had obviously just reopened; there was only milk to drink, for instance, and the ice cream machine was not working (sob). But the food was good (spaghetti), and I had a slice of delicious pecan pie. There was one odd thing about dinner, though; we had an armed guard watching us eat. When we first got into the building, he was standing at the door, telling people where to go just like a traffic cop. Later (I suppose he got replaced) he was standing in the “mess deck” as the Navy calls it, hand on the butt of his pistol (which was tucked behind the front of his belt) (okay, so I later learned that that was his truncheon/nightstick (no jokes please); his sidearm was where sidearms go; on his side), standing very straight with a grim look on his face, watching us eat and politely asking anyone who had finished eating to leave because there were a lot of people waiting to sit down. While I suppose this might have been a useful function, it did seem that he was taking his job awful seriously. Then some soldiers in our unit who had been in the Navy explained: He was a Navy Master-at-Arms. This cleared things up immediately. He wasn’t just some Joe picked to guard the mess deck who got a bit overzealous; it was his job to be a jerk. Fine. But it was still weird to eat under an armed proctor.

After we got back from chow, it was looking for a while like I would have several hours to rest, polish my boots, work on the blog, etc. Well, it didn’t work out that way. Just when I was about to change into my PT (Physical Training—workout) clothes and start on personal business, the call came that we had to move gear off of working trucks and onto deadlined trucks in order to free the working trucks for missions. This was a perfectly reasonable idea, but no one person was really put in charge and it turned into a cluster (military folks know what word comes after that one). Eventually we got it sorted out and the job done, but by that time it was after dark and time for bed. I was going to blog then, as someone actually ran lights and power to our tent during the day, but by the time I was ready, they had turned off the generator for the night, and I had not been charging my PowerBook for long enough to finish the entry. So I didn’t get very far before it died.

FACT: They have a PX (well, I suppose it’s actually a NAVX—Navy Exchange) set up here. Excellent! I hear they have alcohol from floor to ceiling—all roped off with a sign reading “off limits.”

RUMOR: The Governor (who today I found out was female) has ordered forced clearings of all residents.

INTERESTING SIGHT OF THE DAY: I saw an explicit porn magazine laying open, soaked with water, in the middle of one of the streets.