No Trumpets

The citizens of Mushada, Iraq kindly ask you to refrain from sounding your trumpet while you are within city limits.

Refrigerator Bandit

There is a community refrigerator in the EVAC shack. It's a nice place to put cold drinks that have been swiped from the chow hall, or a packet of ketchup to be used at a later meal when one has been forgotten. It's not huge, it doesn't hold much, but it's better than nothing.

We all politely write our names on the items so no one else takes what has rightfully been stolen by someone else. I made the mistake of writing my name on a box of chocolate milk in dry erase marker a week ago and someone rubbed it off and wrote their name over it in permanent marker. I would have been pissed if it hadn't have been a genious move.

But, of course, there has to be one Refrigerator Bandit that disregards people's names and takes any item for themselves. For a while that person has been unnamed. And everyone cursed them.

Nothing sucks more than knowing you had placed a delicious blue Gatorade in the refrigerator hours earlier, anticipating it while you're doing some kind of awful manual labor in the 120 degree heat, just to open the fridge and to find it long gone.

SPC Lewis went so far as to write a cryptic message on the front of the refrigerator:

We made fun of him unmercifully for his lack of English skills when he wrote in on the front in permanent marker. If you didn't put it in here. That was a sentence he argued with us for quite some time as being a complete thought. Ah, sometimes my Soldier is special. And speaking of special, after he scrawled that message on there, I discovered he is, in fact, the Refrigerator Bandit! I think the message was an omission of guilt.

Hate & Dust

Everyone's nerves are wearing thin over here. We've been together too long and we can't get away from one another. We're picking petty fights and complaining about nothing serious. We're like toddlers that need a nap so bad but refuse to close our eyes.

There was a patient today that needed to be ground evac'd to Balad because of the awful dust storm (no, I did not get to go on the trip because I was at a redeployment brief all morning and missed the action, damn!). It was a total mess getting it organized. Everyone was being hateful and short tempered with each other.

These bad attitudes are a tell tale sign that we are nearing the end of the deployment. Only 6 more weeks, and holy crap, I couldn't be more ready to get back to Fort Lewis and back to my fabulous life. Far away from all this dust and hate.

I need a beer.

Let's look at pics of the dust storm while I was out on mission yesterday (it's the same dust storm today, too, by the way)...

Red Air

On days like today, when dust storms make being outside completely miserable (not to mention gritty in your mouth) I like to hole up in the EVAC shack and wait. What am I waiting for? The patients, that's who. For some reason, there is an unwritten law in Iraq that if the air is red, and medevac birds cannot land on our helipad to evacuate to a higher echelon of care, there will be many, many patients.

And that's great! Well, I digress, that's awful. But in my line of work, at least it's eventful. This deployment has really been lacking the fireworks of past combat tours. You can only sit in a trailer watching AFN for so long with boys who constantly have egg farts before you crave some actual work. And I'm not talking about all that motorpool work I do, I mean medical work. Real work that I was trained to do.

Most of the time I am a slick talker and I can convince a medevac bird to fly in bad weather. But on the off chance I fail, we get to load up the patient into our MRAPs and drive them to Balad, Iraq, to the level 3 hospital.

I have yet to go on one of these field trips to Balad with an actual patient. That is why I sit and wait when air is red now. I'm waiting for my turn with the action! I always manage to miss out! Even when air is super crappy when I'm already out on a mission, nothing happens if I'm along. I'm begining to think I am the Anti-Combat-Medical-Badge. Of course, it makes me a good luck charm for the convoy I'm part of. But damn, I have 6 weeks left on this deployment-- this is my second deployment-- and I still haven't gotten to be part of BIG action.

I still have 15 years left in the Army, so I suppose BIG action has a good chance of coming my way eventually. I can't wait to reenlist for a flight medic position so I can do more good for the most amount of people. EVAC in a brigade support battalion setting just isn't exciting to me.

SimMan Fun

We unloaded five Sim Men out of the connex today. The Sim Man is a simulation manikin that medics get to play with as learning tools. They have injuries we can practice treating. They can be hooked to computers and programmed to have a heart rate and breath sounds. Their chests will rise and fall and they can even scream in pain. But before they can do any of that cool stuff, they have to be put together.

There was a lot of laughter in the EVAC shack today.

NCO Of The Quarter; Results

I took second place at the NCO of the Quarter competition. I wasn't expecting to place so high, so I think my near death experience may have been justified... a little... maybe. Anyway, I'm proud of myself.

NCO Of The Quarter; Part Deux

Holy crap, I almost died today. Let me give you a run down on the day's events.

The NCO of the Quarter competition began at 0400 this morning with a PT test. Push ups, sit ups and a 2 mile run. It was already so hot at 0400, that while I was running the second mile I had thoughts of closing my eyes and hoping I would fall off the side of the track into the drainage ditch and break my arm or leg to get out of continuing the run. I didn't, of course, because it's really hard to will yourself to hurt yourself.

Second on the list of horrors was to put on my 35+ pounds of protective gear and go qualify with my M4 rifle at the firing range. Lying on my belly in the sand with the sun cooking me from above is how I like to spend my breakfast hour instead of eating. Not only was it throwing 40 rounds downrange into paper targets, we did a stress shoot too. Doesn't that just sound fun? Our stress shoot was running down the firing lane to pick up a 9 round magazine, running back to the starting point to take a knee and load the weapon, then you walking back towards the targets while firing. Oh yeah, you only get 60 seconds to do this.

Next up was "Warrior Tasks": Loading and transmitting messages on an FBCB2, clearing and functions checks on a 50 caliber machine gun, M240 machine gun, M4 rifle and a M249 machine gun. It was coming up on noon by then, and what would be better than dealing with weapons that had been baking in 120 degree heat in the gravel than to deal with them while wearing the 35+ pounds of protective gear! For no purpose other than to "look hard core".

By lunch, when I finally got to drop my gear, I was soaked with sweat. So soaked that even the suede on my boots had sweat stains. I couldn't stop sweating and my skin was bright red. My stomach started to cramp and I was getting dizzy. I threw up water twice. Typical heat exhaustion. I had to get an IV and sit in the air conditioning for a while. I should have gotten to go home and take a nap and drink lots of water, but I still had the main event to attend: The Board.

Luckily, I was not alphabet fucked (stupid Williams for a last name) at the board and got to go first for a change. It went well. I was confident. I knew most of the answers. And my Battalion Command Sergeant Major is buddies with my Brigade Command Sergeant Major: it's always good to network with people in high places.

I do not know the outcome of the NCO of the Quarter competition yet. I don't think I won by any means because the heat was seriously effecting me all day. All I can take away from this experience is that this was my lame near death experience in a combat zone.

NCO Of The Quarter; Part One

I am down at VBC (Victory Base Camp) to participate in the NCO of the Quarter Board. It's a dog and pony show, basically. Cco chose me to represent their NCOs in a series of stupid tasks to prove how awesome we are. I'm ecstatic to be that physical manifestation of awesomeness. If you can't taste the sarcasm, you should get your mouth checked out by a medical professional.

The board isn't for 2 more days, so I should be spending my down time studying. This competition includes a PT test, weapon qualification with an M4, "Soldier Tasks" i.e. loading a radio, simple medical tasks, function checks and clearing several different kinds of weapons... that kind of nonsense, and then the actual board where I can wow a board of senior enlisted folks with my knowledge of the Army.

It's so damn hot out that I have no interest to run around and play Army for "fun".

I have successfully found anything, if not everything, to do instead of study. I don't want to compete at this board. I'm not competitive by nature. I'll only have 3 other opponents, all NCOs, obviously. Hopefully none of them are taking this too seriously either, or else I'm about to embarrass the crap out of myself in 2 days. Wish me luck!

Not A Bus Stop

Camp Taji is not the biggest FOB I've ever been on, nor is it the smallest. It's sizeable enough to require a bus system. However, I do not ride the bus. Even in Iraq, I'm too cool to ride a bus for public transportation. I'd rather walk to the chow hall or to the gym in 115 degree weather than board a bus full of weirdos who are too lazy to walk to the chow hall or the gym in 115 degree weather. I think of the walk as a super awesome cleanse-your-body-by-sweating-your-ass-off work out.

Bus stops and bus schedules on Camp Taji are very similar to how they look and work back in the States. At least I assume they are because I won't be caught dead on a bus. EVER. Even if I was missing a foot... well maybe if I was footless.

Everyday I pass this seemingly normal bus stop:

But today I noticed this:

Why? It looks like a bus stop. There is a road beside it looks like it could use a bus stop. I don't understand the purpose of a random enclosure with benches that looks like a bus stop, yet is not a bus stop. And to go so far to post a sign that it is not, in fact, a bus stop? Craziness! If it's not a bus stop, like the sign says, then what is it? Besides another charming example of government money wasted.

Achy Breaky Jaw

The left side of my jaw has been killing me for the past week and a half. It aches all day long and it hurts to open my mouth wide. It's causing difficulty while I eat, and I won't stand for that. The pain actually forced me to go to sick call. (That's a funny thing about medics, we don't like to be the patient.)

I learned from my PA that my face is asymmetrical (!?!?) and I am stressed out (duh!). Those two things together are causing me to clench and grind my jaw while I sleep. I was given a low dose anti-depressant that has benificial side effects: mild muscle relaxation and drowsiness. It basically knocks me on my ass 30 minutes after I take it. It's awesome!

I also went to the dentist and had an ultra sexy bite block made up to wear while I sleep so I can't cause further damage to my teeth. I'm pretty sure I'm not going to be able to keep the boys away from me with this thing on. It's clear plastic and is molded exactly to my teeth. Spit gets stuck in it. It smells awful. But the best part is, the dentist gave me the plaster mold it was made from.


Now I have a plaster mold of my upper teeth! Who wouldn't want such an awesome thing!?

Hopefully this bite block and the meds help ease the pain because my PA wants me to come back in 2 weeks for a check up. If there is no change, I'm going to have to get a CT scan of my skull to check out the damage I've done to the cartiledge in my jaw and get a steroid shot in the joint. Something about big needles being wedged between bones in my face does not excite me in the least.

P.S. Happy Birthday, Dad! I love you!

Cat Assault

The job we do in EVAC is simple. We evacuate Soldiers to higher echelons of care. We keep a very detailed log of every Soldier that comes through us, and we post the days events on a white board in the office so everyone knows who, what, where and when evacs happened in case someone calls inquiring about their Soldier.

So when I walked into work last night and looked at the white board, I was shocked when this is what I saw:

Cat Head? Erm?

Turns out that adorable Combat Stress Kitty I recently blogged about should have been seen as a patient at Combat Stress, not just a mascot! She totally flipped her shit yesterday and attacked a Soldier. I wasn't there, but first hand accounts say she launched out of a garbage can at a passing Soldier. And when I say "launched", I mean torpedoed out of a garbage can head first, legs back, with destiny in mind. She attacked, scratched and bit the Soldier, he in turn dropped the food he was carrying and ran. She stopped and ate the food.

Well, Combat Stress Kitty was easily caught (because she's generally very friendly) and someone killed her and cut off her head. I'm glossing over the details of her demise because I'd really rather not know much about it. Long story short, the cat's head needed to go to the hospital in Balad, Iraq to have it's brains tested to see if she had rabies. The only way to get biological waste transported is to call in a medevac helicopter to pick it up and take it there.

So the cat's head was treated like a patient. It was logged and transported like anyone else we take care of. I'm not really sure why it was #17. Were there 16 other cat heads transported earlier?

I was really sad because I had fond memories of Combat Stress Kitty. But if she was in the habit of jumping people for their dinners, it's probably best she was removed from the situation. Rest in Peace, Combat Stress Kitty. You will be missed (but not by the guy you assaulted).

SGT Williams

SGT Williams... oh that sounds so sexy. And it happened! Finally!

I got promoted outside the clinic at 1400 this afternoon. I had a special guest come up from brigade to do the honors of stripping my Corporal rank and affixing my new Sergeant rank: Command Sergeant Major Huggins. It was a super big honor to have the highest ranking enlisted person in the entire brigade (that's like 2,000 people) to promote me. I used to work directly for him while I worked at brigade and we kind of bonded. I always jokingly refer to him as my dad because he's overprotective, he pushes me to be the best I can, he's a teacher and my mentor.

Also, he is absolutely terrifying and the definition evil. He can strike fear in my very soul like no other person can. But that comes with the role he has to play as the Brigade Command Sergeant Major. But today he was all smiles, and very proud of me.

It's Army tradition to punch a newly promoted person right in the rank-- which is located right in the middle of my chest. I took a few blows to the sternum today that made me fall back. I wasn't expecting some of the blows to be so hard! I'm a chick! Don't hit me in the boobs! That hurts! Damn all that 'equality' and 'fairness' the Army tries to enforce between the sexes.

I'm really happy I finally got promoted. I'm always proud to wear this uniform, but this makes me beam.