Extreme Dinner Make-Over

I won a contest.

A couple weeks before I left for Southwest Asia, I was walking out of Chick-Fil-A in Cranberry, and my wife pointed to an ad Tee-Pee by the door. It was announcing a contest to have a dinner hosted in your neighborhood for you and 99 of your friends. My wife suggested off-hand that I should enter since I like to write. You had to write a quick essay; 100 words or less on why you would want to have a neighborhood dinner party. For me, this was too easy.

I quickly jotted down that I've been deployed several times and was going again this summer, and would really enjoy hosting a party for all my neighbors and friends thanking them for all their support for both me and my family over the the years.

Sure enough, about two weeks later I received a phone call from a girl named Rose who worked in the marketing department of the local Chick-Fil-A telling me I was selected as a winner! All I had to do was name the place and the date, some week night during the summer from 6:30 to 8:30. Chick-Fil-A would handle everything else.


After some discussions with Laura, we decided to hold it after I got back, as a kind of celebration. We had to give them a date, so I looked at when I was SUPPOSED to be back and added ten days.. just to be sure... (good thing, eh?)

So on Monday, the 25th, we held the party at the local park in one of the pavillions. Chick-Fil-A showed up at 5:30 and set up a tent next to the pavillion, laid out the food, and set up music and speakers. They even had a slate of games for people to play, but I think we kind of disappointed them when we came up with 80 names and only six of them were under the age of 10. I think they were used to much younger crowds.

Laura actually sent out invitations to something like 140 people. We garnered about 80 positive replies, and about 75 people showed, so it was a nice crowd. One of my neighbors, Jim Shantz, had won the services of a classical guitarist for two hours and wondered if he might bring him to the party since he didn't know when else he'd use him. I said bring him on over, what the heck! So we were serenaded by classical guitar as we ate our sandwiches and fries!

I invited my son's Boy Scout troop, since they typically meet on Monday nights, and the Chaplain's Aid led us in an opening prayer before we lined up for the food and drink. There was plenty to eat: I think pretty much everyone had seconds, and some of the boys even went back for thirds! Dinner even included some killer brownies.. so it was quite a feast.

As it turned out we all had so much fun sitting and talking that we never did get around to the fun and games.. and actually that was okay. I felt bad about the Chick-Fil-A folks getting all geared up for it, but they had assessed the mood and activities of the crowd and decided to just let us sit, eat and talk to our hearts content. It was just a gorgeous evening and so much fun seeing all our friends and family enjoying themselves.

The beauty of it was, when it was all over, our caterers packed up, cleaned up and departed, leaving nothing for us to do except say our goodbyes. It was a great evening, and my hat is off to Ron Trout and the Cranberry Township Chick-Fil-A for making it all happen so smoothly.

Tying the knot

On Saturday we went to a family wedding. They've gotten few and far between of late, as only now are the next generation of cousins getting to be of marrying age. This time it was my wife's cousin, Rachel, who as a four or five year old, danced at our wedding...just a couple of years ago... Now it's her turn, and the chance once again to get members of the extended family together sharing in life's continuing pagent.

Rachel and Joe are both Chiropractors, having just finished school in Iowa, and are now headed to the very remote wilds of Kentucky, taking over part of an established practice that grew so big the current Doctor can't handle the workload of two offices. They are an interesting couple; a bit older than most newly-weds, down-to-earth, pragmatic, and very self-sufficient. They chose Zelienople as their wedding location not out of any love of the place, but because it was centrally located between his home in West Virginia, and hers in east/central Pennsylvania.

The couple selected a spot on a local lake with a picnic pavilion, and access to a cruising house-boat called "Nautical Nature" that is a floating classroom, but can be converted to an event boat very easily. The weather was fantastic, and people came from all over to share in their special day: guys he went to school with at Marshall University, girls she roomed with in two colleges; relatives from as far away as Idaho and a bunch of us who just happened to live nearby.

The whole affair was put together beautifully, and on what I would think was a rather spartan butdget, for which I give them nothing but accolades and applause. Wild flowers decorated everything and were everywhere. The cake was baked by someone in Philadelphia and carted cross country in a van loaded down with dishes and food, but looked magnificent. Rachel's Dad roasted a pig for the occasion, bringing both the roaster and the pig from central PA. There was more food (all of it incredibly delicious) than twice as many of us could have eaten. Laura remarked when we sat down to eat that it looked like the two of us had attended separate parties, as both our plates, though piled high with food, were completely different menus. Even the Marshall boys got in the act, concocting one of the best RUM punches I've had in quite awhile. I think there was even some punch in there.

The bride was gorgeous in a stunning white dress, and the groom solemn and proud, waiting for his future wife to be walked to the alter by her father, resplendent in T-shirt and yellow ball-cap. The official wedding had taken place a few days before, conducted by a Catholic priest, who was so taken by their love and level-headedness, that he waived the usual pre-cana classes most parishes demand these days. So our ceremony was an exchange of public vows before family and friends, and one of the most relaxed, enjoyable weddings I've been too.

Good luck Rachel and Joe! Congratulations on your new life together, and may all your dreams come true!

Visiting some of my money

On my first day back, I took Kara to see Jill at College. Jill moved into her dorm about a week early because she volunteered to work with incoming Freshmen. It happened while I was gone, so I missed the move-in, but since Kara starts school after Labor Day, she wanted to get out of the house and go spend the night with Jill.

Jill's apartment is huge! It's on campus, but it's one of the biggest places I've seen. Bigger than the dorm rooms I stayed in in College, and at least twice the size of the Commander's quarters I was living in over in the desert.

It's two bedrooms for three people, so two people share a HUGE bedroom, and the third person gets a nice size single. There's a nice size kitchen, a very large open dining/sitting area, and a single bath... the only drawback with three girls. Three guys - no problem... three girls - Ugh!

The view is tremendous too. it overlooks the main campus, including the Cathedral of Learning and Heinz Chapel. The weather was beautiful the afternoon we were there, so you could see almost all of Oakland. Just gorgeous!

Dinner was Chinese from the House of Chen, one of our favorites. It was really fun to see Jill in her independent element. She really seems to be liking her college experience this year!

The Tuesday that would not end

Well, I'm home! There was a point when it seemed it was never going to come, but eventually it did, and we rolled into the base around 10:50 pm, some 23 hours after leaving our base in Southwest Asia.

Ahhhhh, but the story goes farther back than that...

We checked into the Passenger Terminal about 10:45 pm. What exactly was going to happen wasn't really explained in detail, so since we had to be there by 11:45, we thought we ought to show up a bit early in case you got some type of seating preference. Alas, no such luck. It was open seating, so getting there early just meant you had more time to sit around and wait.

There were actually two rotators leaving this night, one heading to Baltimore, which is a typical stateside destination, and the other, the flight we were on, was heading to Omaha, Nebraska. So where the Terminal holding area typically held about 300 people at a time, ours was quickly surpassing that as two plane loads totaling over 500 steadily packed the waiting area.

Suddenly, the Passenger agent came over to me, asked me if I was the Senior guy on our flight. I shrugged my shoulders and did some quick math in my head, and figured that unless there was a full Colonel on board, I would most likely be the Senior Ranking Officer. I said, "Sure," and suddenly I was the designated Troop Commander for our flight. (This comes into play a bit later...)

My first duty was to find 30 bodies to act as baggage loaders. Apparently, while they have contracted everything else, they have NOT contracted out baggage loaders. They are expected to come from the passengers of the flights. So, faced with this task, I went around to all my guys and asked them if they would like to toss bags. The incentive was that I was directing all those who volunteered to be able to board first, and get their choice of seating. I quickly came up with 22 volunteers from my unit, and turned it over to the passenger agent to come up with the other 8 out of the remaining 190 people on the plane, which she had no problem doing.

So, after about another hour of sitting around, they called for the baggage handlers, processed through the immigration routine and took us out to another holding area that was now much cooler and much more quiet. We hung out there another 45 minutes and then marched out to the DC-10 aircraft that was to be our ride home. Even though it was now 3 am, it was still 95 degrees out, so we stripped to our waists, and as the baggage boxes came up, we started transfering the bags to the conveyor and up into the airplane, where other guys filled two cargo holds. I figure that most people had 3 checked bags, so we pretty much loaded close to 1ooo bags, none of them very light. It was hot, sweaty work, but with 30 of us and only one conveyor belt, only about half of us could work at at time, so we took breaks on every other box. Luckily the Cargo supervisors brought plenty of water, so it really wasn't too bad, and after about 45 minutes we were finished.

Turns out the plane wasn't fueled yet, so we had to march back over to our holding tent for another hour wait while they loaded about 80,000 pounds of fuel. FINALLY, our passenger agent made his appearance again, and led us out to the airplane, the rest of the passengers filing in behind us as we went by. We climbed the stairs at the front end of the aircraft, went through the door and immediately turned left into the front section of the airplane. It wasn't business class, but the Flight Attendents would only allow 45 people up there, so no one had to sit three across. It wasn't business class, but we weren't crowded either. Loading the baggage, though a bit of sweaty pain, turned out to be well worth the effort!

By now it was one hour past take-off, and you could tell there was still a lot of paperwork for the crew to complete, so we sat there until all the i's were dotted and all the t's crossed. When it was all said and done, we were two hours late taking off. I half expected to hear a cheer as the plane lifted off, but it was 7 am, and we'd been up all night already, so most everyone was already asleep, and probably didn't even realize we were airborne.

It was a great feeling to put the base and desert behind us as we climbed up over the Persian gulf, heading north over Iraq, then Turkey, Romania, Germany, England and eventually into Ireland. I wish I could say it was a short flight, but 7 hours seemed a pretty long time after all the activities we'd gone through to get on the plane. I slept a little, but I think I was too keyed up to get any good rest. I was wide awake when we made our decent into Shannon Ireland, though, ready for green, trees and cool weather.

The airport at Shannon is remarkably small and old, considering the history of the place. It has always been a major stopping point for transatlantic flights, though in recent years, bypassed by the big jets able to fly directly to London, Paris, and Frankfurt. For us, however, it was an oasis after the sand and sun and endless heat of the desert. Upon landing, but before debarkation, I met with the Station Agent, the lead Flight Attendant, and the US Embassy representative and discussed the Rules of Engagement for our layover. We agreed upon SOME alcholol at the local pub, and the fact that there would not be any drinking allowed on the flight to the States, even if folks bought booze in the duty free, which they were surely to do. And the Station Agent then briefed that policy over the PA system before letting everyone off the plane.

Inside we found free wifi, a huge duty-free shop that gave an automatic 10% discount to anyone using US Dollars, and a bar that was quickly swarmed by thirsty soldiers who acted like they hadn't had anything to drink in three months, when in fact they had been privy to three adult beverages of their choice every day of their deployment, one of the few bases with that privilege.

Like everyone else, I grabbed a beer, tasted a couple of free samples of single-malt scotch (heaven!) and bought some travel treasures for the folks back home. After about an hour, we herded everyone back on the plane and the Flight Attendant repeatedly made the announcement that all alcohol must be put away for the duration of the flight, and that drinking during the flight was prohibited. Repeatedly.

So it was with some surprise that I found myself being woken up by the lead Flight Attendant about 3 hours into the flight. (Remember I was named the "Troop Commander?") There was a kid in the rear lavatory that was sick and not doing well. I made my way to the back where I found a guy sitting in the Lav with his head in his hands, unable to keep his eyes open. A Doctor and Nurse had been found and were treating him. I asked what was going on, and they informed me this brain surgeon had taken a pill he called Ambien that someone had given him, then chased it with several alcoholic drinks. The Doctor wanted to know who gave him the pill, 1) because the wanted to know what it really was and what effects it would have, and 2) because if it WAS Ambien, it was a controlled substance and someone was passing them out to people untested and unauthorized to have it. I talked to him but he wouldn't give me a straight answer. I finally asked him what unit he was from. Wouldn't you know.. he was a Reservist from my base. Great.

The Doc said about the only thing they could do was keep an eye on him and let him sleep it off. I told them I'd check back later, and made my way back to my seat, shaking my head.

About the time I made it back to my seat, one of our crewmembers came up to me and told me I had to go to the back again... he kept saying "she's out!" over and over. Finally I got him to explain himself, and he told me that one of our admin girls was passed out in the galley. Now this was a surprise to me, since I was just back there, but I shrugged and made my way BACK to to the rear of the aircraft. Sure enough, there on the floor, curled up in a fetal position right in the middle of the galley, was our girl. The medical team was hovering over her now, trying to talk to her, but all she wanted to do was sleep. They told me she had just come back, sat down hard, then rolled on her side and tried to go to sleep. Apparently someone had been plying her with drinks since we took off, and the poor girl hadn't had any sleep for about 24 hours, with probably little food to go with it. She was toast. We pulled her up, sat her upright in a seat, and they took her vital signs, which weren't all that good. She had an elevated blood pressure AND heart rate, and they feared that she was now severely dehydrated. Again, all we could do was let her sleep it off. Only 4 hours till landing...

About an hour later.... another tap on the shoulder rousing me from a fitful sleep. This time the lead Flight Attendant wanted to talk to be at the back of the front seating area. Turns out she suspected someone of drinking, and he would not give her his glass. I asked her to point this guy out... and guess what? Yep, one of mine! He was sitting in the last row, right next to the lav, and he reeked of rum. I asked him for his drink, telling him it was against the rules to consume alcohol inflight. He started arguing with me about it, claiming he didn't have a drink, and that no one told him of the rule. Unfortunately for him, a guy across the aisle tugged on my sleeve and told me that he had seen him down his drink and pass his cup off to someone else. That really made me angry because the guy was straight-faced lying. The Flight Attendant was mad, and now I was too. She had contacted the Captain, who was now out of the flight deck and discussing the issue with the F/A. I went and talked to him and pretty much got a nice lecture on how the rules were clear, and that he wasn't running any booze-cruise, and if I couldn't keep my people in line, he would have no problem calling for security police to meet us upon landing. Great.

So I went back to my criminal, who was now farther back in the airplane, and told him I wanted him to sit in his seat, to shut his mouth and stay there till the plane landed. I also told him he had violated several FAA regulations and if he didn't do as I said, he was going to get taken off the plane in handcuffs. You would think that would make an impression...

At some point in the next two hours, I went back to the rear galley to check on the two sickies. The guy was dead asleep and seemed to be doing okay, and the girl was slowly waking up, but not taking any water...probably because of an upset stomache. The Doctor was concerned still as her vitals were still way out of wack, and he was considering having her hospitalized upon landing, needing an IV to get fluids into her. This of course would have created all kinds of problems with us still needing to fly from Omaha to Pittsburgh, so we left it at monitoring for now, and told the girl she either started drinking water or she was going to be left behind in Nebraska when we landed. She suddenly became interested in at least attempting to drink something...

Unbeknowst to me at this time, while I was in the back of the plane, our criminal mastermind who thinks he's a lawyer, got up out of his seat, followed the F/A up to the front of the plane and confronted her about "the trouble she was causing him." Apparently it got a bit animated until another Lt Col from our group noticed what was going on, and physically pulled him out of her face and back to his seat (I heard about this later). Apparently that little stunt broke the camel's back.

The plane finally started it's descent into Omaha, and landed to a nice sunny day. The vast majority of the people on the airplane were from that base, so there were busses and dignitaries from the base lined up to greet them. As we taxiied in, we saw two of our airplanes, and standing on the tarmac next to the Nebraska Wing Commander, was our Wing Commander, our Squadron Commander, and most of our unit's leadership, who had flown the two planes out to get us.

As the engines wound down and the air stairs moved up to the doorway, about four or five police cars pulled up on either side of the stairs, and eight big beefy security forces people got out and marched up the gangway. I'm thinking to myself, "I hope this is just a normal customs inspection...." but I didn't hold out much hope.

There was a long conference in low tones at the front of the airplane, and then a guy walked over to me, asked me if I was the Troop Commander, and then handed me a piece of paper with three names on it.. all my guys. I admitted which unit they were with, and the guy told me I needed to get all three of those people to the back of the plane until the rest of the passengers had unloaded. Obviously two were already back there, so I went over to the last guy who was sitting very quietly in his seat looking straight ahead, and tapped him on the shoulder, telling him he had to get his gear and head to the back of the plane. He started to argue and question why he was being singled out. I just put up my hand and said something like, "Stop. You know what you did. I told you this was going to happen, now get your stuff and go to the back of the airplane."

I then went back to my seat and watched out the window as first the Nebraska Wing Commander (a general) was told what was going on, and then as he walked over to my Wing Commander and gave him the list of names... it was classic. Couldn't hear the words, but boy was he pissed!

I felt bad about the young guy and girl who were now being treated as criminals, but I thought it was poetic justice when they marched the stupid Captain down the stairs in front of both his Wing and Squadron Commanders, handcuffed him and put him in a squad car, and drove away.

Meanwhile, we loaded up buses, drove over to where the bags where, spent about 45 minutes sorting all the bags and loading them back onto trucks, then going back out to our airplanes, where we transfered our bags and gear for the ride home.

As it turned out, booking these guys and getting their blood alcohol tests complete took just a bit longer than it took us to get ready to take-off, because as we were starting engines, they suddenly appeared. We loaded them up on the plane and took off, headed home at long last.

As it turns out the two young kids were not charged with anything, but will probably incur some form of military discipline. The Captain blew a blood alcohol content over 0.1, and would have charges and paperwork following him back to home station. It should be interesting to watch how that plays out. He's been a problem child for the unit for years, and always seems to get one more chance. Hopefully this will be the last straw; it is as far as I'm concerned.

The flight took 2-1/2 hours, and cumlinated with us landing about 11 pm. Laura, Kurt and Kara were standing on the side of the parking ramp, waving, as we taxiied in. It was so nice stepping out into the cool Pennsylvania evening.. no heat, no humidity... nice and refreshing. It had been a long, long day, and I was more than ready to be home with my family.

Putting sand in the rear view mirror

Just hours away now! Today we've been packing up, cleaning the dorm rooms, and getting ready for the move back to the States. Everyone has a look of cautious optimism and excitement about leaving this place.

At about 4:30 pm a couple of big trucks pulled up outside our doors, and we loaded them up with the big bags and footlockers that will be our "checked" baggage. We're only allowed one bag on the plane, so most people carry a backpack with a change of clothes. You get used to getting stranded overnight in the military, so we tend to pack a little more pessimistically than most travelers.

Ran around the base doing the last minute outprocessing... tried to pick up my laundry, but am still a day short (see the earlier entry on Laundry), so I guess I'm leaving those things behind. I told you this was a science! Guess I failed!

Picked up medical records, turned my dorm room key. Ate some dinner. All that's left now is to take a shower and head over to the passenger terminal for check-in. Our plane leaves at 11 pm Pittsburgh time. We fly about 5 hours to Shannon, Ireland, get fuel, and then another 8 hours or so to Omaha, Nebraska. There, two planes from our home unit will be waiting to meet us. We'll go through customs, then transload all our bags onto those planes and fly 3-1/2 hours back home, getting in (hopefully around 8:30 - 9:00 pm Tuesday.

Can't wait to sleep in a real bed again and take a 10 minute shower!!! See ya soon!!!

Change 5: Plan C

So we're delayed, only now not as long.

In some late night manuevering and complaining, a flurry of e-mails resulted in our invoking the "Reservists!" clause in re-deployment planning process, thereby creating a huge movement to get us out of here sooner than the 21st.

There actually is a Policy letter out there that says, basically, Reservists must be returned as soon as possible from a deployment, in most cases within 48 hours of the end of their scheduled duty. Measures include bumping Active Duty folks from their seats, all the way to having someone pay for commercial travel from the deployed location to home station.

There is actually good reason for this policy, though on the surface it seems a bit selfish. The biggest reason is that the government doesn't need to be paying double for the same services. Everyday we are here, and so are our replacements, Uncle Sam is paying bucks, to pay, house and feed us. For taxpayers, that means military money is going to waste. While it may appear to be a drop in the budget bucket, it all adds up. It's money that can't be spent on something else.

Another reason is that Reservists (and Guardsmen) are on a defined set of orders, and if they expire while you are still in the combat zone, suddenly you have a whole bunch of civilians to deal with that legally no one in the military has any control over. From the Reservists' standpoint, they are also without benefit coverage and not getting paid, so they are cut-off from TWO jobs.

Finally, most Reservists have arranged with their civilian jobs to be away for a specific time. When we start showing up late over and over again, it damages the fragile support that employers give to the military, allowing their employees to continue to be part of the Guard and Reserve, serving their country. Destroy that and volunteerism would wither up and die, and the Guard and Reserve would cease to exist.

So, we were giving permission to find alternate and earlier means of transportation to leave the theater. Our Unit Deployment Monitor scoured all the flights in and out of here for the next couple of days and found a rotator leaving in two days with 100 seats on it. After a series of phone calls and frantic e-mails (this is on a Saturday when no one is at work) we eventually got permission to use that flight, and the change was made.

So now we are leaving here on the 19th, and flying to Omaha, Nebraska. It's not home, but it's out of the desert. I was able to secure a promise of our home unit to send two planes out to meet us when we land and haul us all back home to Pittsburgh. It will add a couple of more hours to our journey, but come Tuesday night, most of us will be back home with our family and friends!

Can't wait! Hopefully this will be the last change, because I'm about changed out, at this point. Unfortunately, I gambled and put in a load of laundry that will not return in time... but that is a small price to pay for getting out of here. Stick a fork in me, I'm done!

Best laid plans...

We've been delayed.

Before we left home station we were told we would get here on July 12th, start flying on the 15th, our replacements would arrive by August 12th, and we would depart on a rotator home on the 15th to fly right into PIT. Sound too good to be true??? It was.

As soon as we got here, we found that NO arrangements had been made for our return. None. The interesting thing about that is that you have to make all such arrangments 30 days out, or suffer of being an afterthought in the aircraft rotation planning. So we hit the ground with almost exactly 30 days to go, and no plans or reservations had been submitted. It took our orderly room people about two days to get up to speed on the maze of buearacracy that goes into Transportation managment in the Air Force, and by the time we got all our info in and verified, we were slipped to the 18th.

Naturally that caused a bit of heartburn with that always present 10% who always have to have something to complain about, and the 1 % who have legitimate gripes. However, the 18th was covered by a plane that would take us from here directly to Pittsburgh with only a fuel stop, no intermediate stops to unload and load passengers. Quick and dirty. Much better than getting dumped off in Baltimore and having to get all our gear slepped though a commercial airport twice..

Then yesterday we got the word that the 18th was slipped to the 21st! Oh my, the screaming and howling that arose???!! All from one guy!! Incredible. It sucks, but c'mon.. you have to expect that things are not gonna go smoothly and be ready for it. He has no real reason or need to get home, other than he's tired of being here (who isn't?). The poor active duty guys are here for three or four months... how can we complain too loudly after one?

Anyway, so the bad news is we're leaving here on the 21st, instead of the 15th. The good news is we'll be flying directly into PIT, something that is almost unheard of. Almost all rotators go to Baltimore or Norfolk, VA, and dump their passengers there. We'll get into Pittsburgh at 2:30 pm. and be home for dinner, with just one fuel stop. Most of the time the rotators take 24 hours to get to the States, then you still have to do a commercial flight to your home. Ours will take 15 hours. I don't think we can get home faster than that.

So... we have to find things to do for three extra days. Most guys have a lot of time to kill. My replacement comes in on the 16th, will be ready to take over for me on the 18th, so I'll have about 4 days to kill. Not ideal, but then there's a pool here I've never visited.....

The Good Lord provideth, the Good Lord taketh away….

It’s taken about five years, but someone somewhere finally came up with the idea to install a non-military internet wifi set-up on base. Pretty amazing considering the Air Force has decided IT is the protector of the cybersphere, even setting up a unified command to do just that (Cyber Command… I kid you not!). Unfortunately, they are antediluvian when it comes to providing computer and internet access to their own people.

Anyway, about 5 days ago, the non-restricted wifi access went live here on base. Suddenly every kid with a computer was crammed into the Bra and the Community Center where the only hotspots exist, free at last to check their Facebook pages, and send IM’s to their loved ones back home. I think it was a great move.. people came out of their rooms and sat around in droves… chatting and connecting with the folks back home.

Today the internet dried up. For some reason the base network when into conservation mode, and as a by-product, the live internet which was SUPPOSED to be supplied by an outside source un-related to the military, dried up too. I’m sitting in the rec area composing this, and at least 15 people have come up to me and asked if the internet is up (it’s not). Everyone has the DTs right now…. They’ve had a taste of freedom and it’s been suddenly taken away… Very disorientating… Hope it ends soon. (Of course, when you see this, you’ll know it obviously has!)

You've Got Mail!

Getting mail is a huge event! Guys line up outside the door of the orderly room daily to check to see if they’ve received a card or a letter. After a 16 hour flying day, the first stop is the mail room. The Second is chow. The third is the beer tent.

Since our address is the squadron, all mail comes to the unit, and the girls in the orderly room sort it alphabetically and post it in some shelves in their office. We have one shelf for packages, and another for cards and letters.

We’re only gone for 30 days, but we have guys coming in every day looking for a card or a letter… anything that connects them to their loved ones back home. I sometimes feel for the poor orderly room folks. There are guys who come in (usually very old, crotchety Reservists) complaining their card or letter hasn’t shown up yet, as if the orderly room has any control over who sends what to whom, and how fast it arrives 6800 miles away.

I actually got a package in the mail the other day!!! Unbelievable! And from the most unexpected source: one of the Nav’s in the squadron sent a Cinco de Mayo package complete with salsa, chips and Margarita mix! He had these funny sayings all over the package, decorate by his kids, and in the side he tapped the opening over and over with a placard to the local inspectors telling them to lay off and get their own chips and salsa… except he used a bit more colorful language…

We’ll stop flying in two days, so I’ll keep it till then and then share it with the guys. We’ve got to find some things to do to kill time. A Cinco de Mayo party should be fun! The local “BX” has chips, so we can get a lot more people involved. Sure was a thrill to get the e-mail telling me a package had arrived!

Cleanliness is all in the timing.…

Laundry is a huge deal here. Obviously you need clean clothes everyday, but here it takes on a whole new dimension. Most places you have control over your laundry. If you get oreally desperate, you can take it to a Laundromat and throw in a ton of quarters to do your clothes yourself. Some bases I’ve been to, they have washers and dryers either in the dorms or nearby. Most hotels either offer a next-day service or offer a couple of washers and dryers for their customer’s use. Here you are pretty much tied into the laundry schedule.

The laundry schedule is the three-day cycle it takes to send out your clothes to be cleaned and returned. We are limited on water here (remember there is no potable water available, and we conserve water by championing the 3-min showers…). So, instead of providing washers and dryers for somewhere around 8,000 people here, they have contracted out with the local Marriott to do our laundry.

Now the process is quite simple, and the cost is great: free for you, the customer. The uniforms are pretty simple here, you have underwear, Air Force approved logo’d physical fitness gear, and your work clothes, either battle dress (cammies) or flight suits for the aviators. Most of us have a change of civilian clothes in case we get stranded off-station, but you can’t wear them around the base.

Anyway, timing is everything. You accumulate enough dirty clothes to leave you about three day’s worth left, then you take the dirty ones to the turn-in point. You fill out your slip, take them to the counter, and the nice Haji counts them up and drops them in a plastic bag, ties it off, and gives you the receipt..

Three days later, when you reach the end of your clothes, you go back to the pick-up point, present your slip, and they bring you out your freshly cleaned and pressed clothes! Great system if you plan right. Plan wrong and you either end up wearing dirty clothes, or leaving clothes behind when you head home.

When you get back to your room, you’re not finished yet. You have to go through all your clothes and try and find where they put the ID tapes that they use to mark your clothes and find them after they’ve all been washed. Sounds simple, but every sock, shirt, shorts, and article of underwear has a little sticker on it somewhere, sometimes where you can’t see it, and if you don’t take the time to remove it, the next time you put the clothes on, you’ll suddenly feel this irritating thing sticking into you in the most uncomfortable places… your side, the bottom of your foot, the small of your back, the back of your neck, etc… I pulled out my desert flight suits to pack for this deployment, and they still had their tags in the collar, three years after my last visit! Kind of like the stickers they put on furniture when you move. Years later you are still finding them. My Dad used to pay us a nickel for each tag we found after we unpacked and moved in a new house. We still missed some of them and would find stickers getting prep’ed for the NEXT move…

Airborne Again

Flew to Afghanistan yesterday. Boy is it a long haul! 4.9 hours each way. That's about like flying from Pittsburgh to Salt Lake for us. Not sure the economy for us to fly all that way, but I guess if you don't have enough cargo to fill a C-17, why send it?

I lucked into the flight because the crew's normal Navigator was tagged for Supervisor of Flying duty, and I saw the opportunity to fly with that crew in his place, keeping them on the schedule, instead of missing a day. It was great to get out of the office. I had been working the midnight to 8 am shift for a couple days covering for one of the other ADOs while he flew with a crew getting the pilot back on flying status. First those hours don't really allow for dong the six mile walk during the night.. I guess you could do that before work, but then I'd be so beat afterwards, I'd be falling asleep. Second, nothing much happens during that time of night. Most of the planes launch during the day; the early lines will come back before midnight, and the later ones will land after sunrise. So the graveyard shift is pretty much that. I was able to get 5 episodes of The West Wing watched one night, but I was pretty sick of it by the end of the shift.

We loaded the airplane around 7 am. It was already 98 degrees and 65% relative humidity. In an ideal world you could get an air conditioning cart to blow cool into the plane while you preflighted and loaded the cargo. Not here. They have two available, and the J-model, the newest version of the C-130, gets one all the time, and the other was cooling off an airplane where 1 guy was inside working in long sleeves and still shivering. Meanwhile we were absolutely drenched in sweat. The perspireation just pours out of you and pretty soon you feel like you jumped into the pool fully clothed. You can't change clothes at this point so you just press on and hope that you dry out quickly during the flight.

Our cargo to Afghanistan included some of the self-loading kind, including 4 losers from the various seasons of American Idol. My family have watched on and off most seasons, but I only recognized one guy. He was Justin from the year with Kelly Clarkson. Very personable young man, easy to talk to and genuinely interested in what we were doing as we flew along. The others were eliminated 5 or 6 weeks into the respective seasons they perfromed on. They were on a USO tour of the middle east and it really seemed like they didn't know what they were doing or where they were going. I didn't see handlers, but I suppose someone was keepng track of them. It just wasn't very evident when we were with them.

We got a couple of pictures and then they were herded off to catch the next plane or helicopter downrange to meet folks who could really use a taste of home.

We were in Bagram Air Base in Northeast Afghanistan, the weather was summery but not humid like our home station. It is in a high desert valley, much like living in Tucson or southern Utah. We had been orginally tasked to go to Kahndahar, but apparently there was no cargo needng movment, and all our outbount people just needed to get to our base to either relax or catch a rotator home, and none needed nor desired to spend an extra second in any location in Afghanistan if they could help it.

While we put on fuel, a couple of us walked over to the Pat Tillman USO center that was erected in memory of the NFL Cardinals football star who, after 9-11, gave up professional football in the prime of his career and joined the Army Rangers. Unfortuntely, he was later killed in an Afghanistan firefight while on patrol hunting Talliban, tragically a victim of misidentification and friendly-fire. You can read more about him here: http://www.pattillmanfoundation.org/pat_about.php

To honor him, a USO center was erected and is filled with memorabilia from his college and professional careers. Jerseys and photos hang on the walls. Photos and art prints abound. When we were there, the place was packed with guys making phone calls and using computers to send e-mails to their families back home. A more fitting tribute could not be found…it is just what every deployment-weary soldier needs: a place to relax and unwind, if only for a couple minutes or hours.

The flight back was not nearly as entertaining, but not without interesting events. Halfway out of Afghanistan we were informed of an airplane approaching on our airway going the opposite direction. The controllers in this part of the world don't have radar, they just get reports from planes every time they cross certain landmarks, and then base their control on these "position reports." We have a system called TCAS (Tactical Collision Avoidance System) that sees the different planes' radio transponder codes and can determine what altitude the various planes are, and if they are headed towards you, away, or just going by and are not a factor. Ours showed the approaching traffic, NOT the required 2,000 feet below us, but ony about 300'! I typically offset our course by about a mile whenever we fly in "unmonitored" airspace, just to be safe, and we found that this guy was dead on centerline, passing by us about that one mile away. Got some good views and a picture of what we think was a Russian AN-124!

The worst night of my life (but I was glad I was there)

“It is not tolerable, it is not possible, that from so much death, so much sacrifice and ruin, so much heroism, a greater and better humanity shall not emerge.”
--- Charles de Gaulle

I wrote this letter back in 2004 when I was on my first deployment in this conflict. The war was young and so were we, but the things I experienced this night stay with me still, and go on today, four years later. We are now up to 4600+ casualties with no end in sight.

=====================================================

Dear Friends:

I want to share with you an experience that was probably one of the most significant of my life.

This week, the war in Iraq became very real and very close. Despite the booming economy, Michael Jackson, the New Hampshire Primary, and Super Bowl hype, people are still dying over here, and a few people are doing their best to increase the body count by making car bombs, sniping at patrolling soldiers, and shooting at our aircraft with guns, missiles and RPGs. My flights have all been uneventful, and for that I am extremely thankful. Hopefully we are reading the tealeaves correctly and avoiding the rough spots out there.

As you may or may not know, I am a Navigator in an Air Force Reserve C-130 unit. Our job here in Southwest Asia is to carry troops and supplies back and forth into places like Baghdad, or where ever the Army is that particular day. Lately the attacks on US troops have intensified and casualties have increased. On the night of January 24th and early morning of the 25th, my crew had the distinct honor to carry the remains of FIVE fellow soldiers out of Baghdad on the first leg of their journey home.

Below is part of a news article that details these young soldiers' fate:

Car bomb, roadside blast kill 5 GIs
4 Iraqis die in separate truck bomb explosion

The Associated Press
Updated: 12:00 p.m. ET Jan. 24, 2004
BAGHDAD, Iraq - A car bomb in a town west of Baghdad killed three American soldiers and injured six in addition to several Iraqi civilians, the military said. Earlier on Saturday, two American soldiers were killed by a roadside blast near Fallujah and four Iraqis were killed when a truck bomb exploded in Samarra.

The attack took place near a U.S. military checkpoint in Khaldiyah city, 70 miles west of Baghdad, witnesses said, speaking on condition of anonymity.

A U.S. military spokesman would not give details of the bombing except to say: "Three Task Force All American soldiers were killed and six were wounded when a vehicle based improvised explosive device detonated at 4.15 p.m. (8:15 a.m. ET) this afternoon."

The spokesman, who spoke on condition of anonymity, said several Iraqi civilians were also wounded in the attack, and one of them was evacuated to a military base for treatment.

He said two of the wounded soldiers were evacuated to a combat support hospital and four are being treated at a local military base.

Witnesses said an explosion, apparently caused by a car bomb, took place near a U.S. checkpoint at the foot of the Siddiqin bridge in Khaldiyah city. The account could not be independently confirmed.

Eight injured Iraqis were admitted to the hospital in the nearby town of Ramadi, including six women and two men, said Dr. Ahmed Nasrat Jabouri. He said one of them is in a serious condition.

Two other American soldiers were killed earlier Saturday in a roadside bomb near Fallujah town.

The latest deaths raised to 512 the number of American service members who have died since the United States and its allies launched the Iraq war March 20. Most of the deaths have occurred since President George W. Bush declared an end to major combat May 1.

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I can not adequately describe the feelings conjured up by the sight of two caskets being loaded on my plane, and then a few hours later being told there were three more. I physically hurt as we worked silently to configure the back of the airplane to accommodate the placement of the big metal boxes.

My crew and the ground personnel at the airfield formed an honor guard as the caskets were unloaded from a large refrigerator truck and carried up a ramp and onto our plane. We carry flags aboard our airplane to drape over the caskets because the Army does not provide any; the blue field of stars placed in the upper left hand corner to cover each hero's heart.

When the last casket was loaded, draped with a flag and secured, a Chaplain who accompanied the troops to the plane gathered us around the caskets and conducted a short, poignant service.

Psalm 23
A Psalm of David.

1 The LORD is my shepherd, I shall not want;
2 he makes me lie down in green pastures. He leads me beside still waters;
3 he restores my soul. He leads me in paths of righteousness for his name's sake.
4 Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I fear no evil; for thou art with me; thy rod and thy staff, they comfort me.
5 Thou preparest a table before me in the presence of my enemies; thou anointest my head with oil, my cup overflows.
6 Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life; and I shall dwell in the house of the LORD for ever.

----------------------

An hour and a half later, in Kuwait City, we reversed the process: We formed an honor guard at the rear of the airplane and stood at silent attention, saluting as the flag-draped caskets with our fallen comrades were slowly carried, one by one, down the ramp and slid into the back of another refrigerator truck for transfer to a second aircraft heading home to the United States later that morning.

We did this twice in one long, chill night. By the time we landed back at our base I was wrought with countless emotions: pride that I could be a small part in these heroes' journey home, sorrow for their families' loss, sadness at the sudden end to lives cut much too short, anger towards the people who did this.

It has taken three days to sort this experience out in my mind. It was very emotional and sad, but I'm glad I was there to be a part of it. I would like to think my aircrew made those soldiers' journey a dignified one, in keeping with their sacrifice for their country, and the land where they died.

Since that day we've been back into Baghdad two more times. This evening we brought out the body of a Spanish national, killed somewhere in Iraq. Though we don't render the same customs and courtesies to foreign nationals as we do to our own soldiers, we treat each charge with the utmost care and respect, and it is a distinct honor to carry each one closer to home.

Please pray for these brave men and women who have answered the call of their country and traveled so far only to fall in battle. And pray for the soldiers that are here, alive and well, doing their best to bring peace and security to a land that has been bereft of it for so long the people don't realize life without misery is even possible. All these folks are truly heroes.

Family Reunion

It's a family reunion weekend. Not here of course… back home. Laura and the kids are heading up to the Finger Lakes to visit her cousins for what has become a Platt or Maxwell (sorry, but I forget which! Forgive me, I'm just the enabler!!!) family gathering. We went last year and had an absolutely great time. The kids met some cousins (a couple of times removed, but cousins none the less) that were close to their ages and seemed to quickly establish some ties. That's one thing that they have really missed out on: having cousins to share growing up with.

My sister Susan is the only one with kids, but hers are quite a bit younger than mine, and a continent away. We try to keep in touch, but it's hard living so far away, and while her kids are just starting school, mine are already finishing up, so there will never be those really strong ties that only come with shared summers and secrets.

I grew up in a military family who moved around the world most of the time I was growing up. Up until I went to college, the longest we ever spent in one place was maybe 3-1/2 years in Italy, and rarely were we around family. We did tend to gravitate towards my Mom's family in Washington State whenever my Dad went on a remote assignment, so I got to know the cousins on that side of the family extremely well. My Mom is one of 6 girls, so there were lots of kids around, especially since at one point four families lived within about 4 miles of each other, most within a block or two. The great part about where we lived was it was on a beach on one of the San Juan Islands north of Seattle. Summers days were long and the weather was incredible. On the beach the tide went out for hundreds of yards. We had cookouts among the driftwood, built tree houses in the forest, dug for clams, pulled crab pots, rode bikes to Foote's Market, rowed out to uninhabited islands… it was just a great place to hang out with tons of things to do. And with nine cousins and three siblings, there was always someone to do it with.

My Dad's side of the family has always been a mystery to us. When we were in the States, we lived on the west coast, primarily in Southern California, Nevada and Arizona where there was good flying weather for military training. My Dad's family is from Minneasota, which is quite a haul. We only stopped in couple of times, but those trips have never been forgotten.

When I was 8 or 9 we were assigned to a base in North Africa, and before we left, Dad wanted us to visit his family because we would be gone for several years. So we drove across the northern half of the country from Washington to Minneapolis. Dad is the youngest of six, and they ALL have several kids, so I remember meeting just a boatload of kids, all pretty much my age or a little older. It was pretty much chaos the whole time we were there. Lot's of fun, but way too short to making any lasting bonds.

Later in high school we were living in Phoenix and my cousin Dawn came and stayed with us for a week or so during her Easter break. She is the same age as I am and we immediately hit it off as if we'd known each other all our lives. It is sad we only had that little time together, though we stay in touch quite a bit now, especially in this electonic age of e-mail.

When I graduated College, I had a month of leave to use before reporting to Nav school, and for some reason I had started corresponding with my cousin Kristy, another of my Dad's nieces who also was the same I was. After graduation, I drove from Colorado to Washington via Frazee, Minneasota, to meet my Dad's next older brother's family and get to know them. I spent about a week and a half living with them on their farm, helping with the haying (discovering I had incredible hay fever!), getting to know Kristy and her older brothers, and small town life. I mean REALLY small town…. It was a blast! I really hated to leave after establishing those ties with my "long-lost" cousins…

Now we're grown, our kids are all heading to college or have graduated… and a couple of my cousins have died, way too early. There's a circle of life there, but the one thing that makes it all work is the feeling of family, connection and shared experiences. We all have stories about Grandma, Grandpa, or Uncle Don... (Do you remember when Uncle John had one or five too many and called the Pope???) Some are the same and some are from vastly different viewpoints, but all are fun to share and enjoy. It's fun to get together, to catch up, and enjoy each other's company after so long apart.

I hope my family makes some great memories this weeknd. May the steaks be juicy, the drinks tall and frosty, and the stories unending and full of (enhanced) details. The good lord willing and lake don't rise…it should be a blast. I'm already looking forward to next year!

--- Father, son, brother, grandson, cousin... and third tier enabler

Cigars and Coronas

Interesting night tonight. You just never know what fate will toss in your path when you least expect it. Kind of neat that way, isn't it?

I got off work and wandered over to the BRA, the rec area people hang out in when not working. It's a big tent people sit under during the day. At night, they grab the table and chairs and move out from under the lights and set up in the pea gravel under the stars and sit and drink and unwind from the day's labors. I was hoping to meet up with some of the guys from work, but due to various circumstances, I got there late and ended up grabbing a table on my own, sipping a Corona, and listening to my iPod.

I noticed a Marine, still in uniform, sit down at an empty table nearby, light up a cigar and kick back. After a while he got up, approached me and asked if he could join me, saying he hated sitting by himself. Naturally I welcomed him. Chief Warrant Officer Gary Moore is on his way home from somewhere in Afghanistan on emergency leave. His wife's father has been in a hospice for the last year, and they've given him about a week to live, so Gary is flying back to the states to be with his family as they go through this trying time. He is going to get 10 days at home with his wife and children, and most likely will spend most of it at vigils, vistitations and a funeral.

We spent about two hours together talking about the military, family, jobs… he offered me a cigar and I accepted, though I am NOT a cigar guy. It was his "I'm safe" cigar… something he's been saving since his wife sent them to him. It was vanilla flavored and actually quite smooth and enjoyable… We talked about our kids.. His are 9 and 10, mine much older at 20, 18 and 14. I assured him he was really going to enjoy them as they grew older… 13 and 14 was gonna be hard, but after that it would really be fun.

Gary's on the 4th month of his 5th combat tour in Iraq and Afghanistan. Amazing. I asked how long he gets back home, and he said it has been averaging six months, then back over here for up to a year at a time. Then he asked me a question out of the blue: He asked me if I had the chance to make 5 times what I'm making now, on the outside, but I only had six years to go till a military retirement, what would I do?

That is such a hard question…. Our country needs men like this to go in harms way and protect our way of life from the threats that lurk in the twighlight where most people are afraid to look, and don't really want to think about. On the other hand, how much can we ask of these people? Five combat tours with no end in sight, and not much hope of a respite. I got the sense that he is seriously afraid his marriage will end if things continue as they are, and I can tell he's torn about it. He loves the military and what he does, but he questions the price it requires. I think that is a question we all face sooner or later in this line of work. How much is enough? When does the job and the benefits equal what you have invested in a marriage and family? How many significant events in your kids lives can you miss and still be part of them? What amount of load can you shed onto your spouse before it is too much to take back? How long can you be gone before you become an afterthought?

In the end, we parted ways with a handshake and directions to chow and the phone banks so he could call home and let them know he's on his way. I sat for awhile afterwards thinking about our time together, appreciating some of the choices I've made (NOT being career Army or Marines!) and pondering others… wondering if I have done enough, for surely there are so many that do so much more.