Back from Ibiza
Mood:  happy

Block leave is for 30-days.  We knew we had the cruise to go on for the second half of the leave period, but as Sabrina is fond of pointing out, we didn’t want to wait on the cruise before we started enjoying our leave.  Kimberly did some internet work, and suddenly it was “off to Ibiza!”  We spent 12-days in a condo built on the high ground surrounding Cala Codilar (I may have spelled that correctly.  Really there’s no tellin’…)

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

First I’ll confirm the rumors.  VERY LITTLE IS OPEN on Ibiza during the winter months.  That meant that we spent a lot of time circling the island looking for something to eat and a lot of time walking through towns looking at closed stores.  That said, crowds were minimal, parking wasn’t too much of a problem, and it’s a small Island, so driving across it to go to a restaurant is only 30-45 minutes.

 

What a fantastic time!  We took roughly 375 pictures of the trip, which obviously I can’t post here.   Nice beaches, beautiful sunsets, warmer temperatures, it was everything that we were looking for.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

While there we drove around the Island (repeatedly), visited the caverns, went to the aquarium but couldn’t get in (closed, but it wasn’t supposed to be), raced go karts (always a favorite with me), had some fantastic Indian/Nepali food while enjoying live music, saw some spectacular scenery, and walked along sandy beaches while barefooted. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

We also studied a bit of calculus (not kidding here…Calculus has been an issue) and watched the Disney Channel since it was the only one in English.   Who knew there were so many “off-brand” Christmas specials!?!?? 

 

So now we are home, recovering from one trip while preparing for another.  Today is haircuts for everyone!  -Even Jacoby realizes that it is time…  -And trying to catch everyone up on events.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Thanksgiving Weekend
Mood:  happy

Well, I'm certianly not hungary!  -I'll tell you that!

Kimberly made a modest feast for three as we sat down to the table this year.  She made a turkey, but not a whole one.  It was a turkey roast which was the perfect size.  We had that, corn, purple potatoes (spelled in the Qualian style (no one will get that, but I did it for me...)), green beans, and home made apple pie.  It was fantastic!

Did I really say "purple potatos"?!?  No.  I said potatoes, but we'll move past that.  Yes, the potatos were purple.  Last weekend, we went on a last minute road trip to three of the coolest small towns ever.  First, we stopped in San Gimignano, which I wrote about originally several years ago.  It is a cool town, hundreds of years old, that still exists within it's old walls and towers.  We stopped in there simply because it's a great town and we were close.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

After San Gimignano, we headed out for Siena, which is the town sort-of central to Tuscany that hosts the famous horse race each year where all of the Tuscan villages bring forth their "Champion" and they race around the old town square.  You may have seen this in the last James Bond movie.  Whatever.  It's an annual event, NOT taking place while we were there, but we went to see the town anyway.  It's a neet town with some real upscale shopping opportunities...

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

After Sienna, we drove for a little while, found a hotel, luckily found dinner, and got some sleep. 

The next morning, we found Civita de Bagnoregio.  This is an ANCIENT township, several hundred years old.  The whole town has a population of 80 people, but only 14 of them live there, year-round.  There are no cars in the town.  It is built on top of a mountain top, and connected to the nearest village by a foot bridge.  It used to be a suspension bridge, but they got a new one.  This town is completely cool!  There's nothing there, no tourist stores or souvinier shops...Just a small town.  There was one small store open, and they had pasta and purple potatos.  I don't know why their potatos are purple, but they are are.  Naturally.  -And also they taste good...:) 

We found out while there that they also have a bed and breakfast in the town, but we didn't know that before we got there.  If we ever go back, we'll stay there.  It is a neat place, about an hour outside of Rome.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Anyway, a great weekend, followed by a great Thanksgiving.

Take care, everyone!

375 Days Later...
Mood:  happy

It's been almost a year since I've last wrote.  The reasoning is simple.  It was too hard to talk about life on deployment without including the details that I couldn't provide.  It's not that I was doing anything "secret squirell" or anything.  -Just normal day to day life, but everything is scrutinized and it was just easier to say nothing all.

But I am on my way home now!  I am currently sitting in a bar in Manas, Kyrgyzstan, awaiting my flight to somewhere in Europe (either Nurnberg or Aviano.  -Or maybe Venice...)  The bar is called Pete's Place, named after a fallen Firefighter here on the American Air Base.  In not sure if he was universally liked, or it he just dank a lot, but now "Pete" has a "Place" that serves beer and other ARBs (adult recreational beverages).  There's also pool, ping-pong, darts, popcorn, and loud music (sometimes live!).  War is hell, here in Manas.

It means nothing to me to be sitting here.  I don't drink.  Some of the guys I am here with are having serious issues with watching the alcohol being consumed by people that aren't them.  One of them actually said, "I'm going to sit by the bar, so at least I can smell it..."  I'd think he had a problem, but he's been dry for a year (minus R&R) so his problem can't be that pronounced...

A year in Afghanistan was certainly a challenge.  To quote another Staff Officer, also a Major, "I've never worked so hard at a jobh, day in and day out, and still felt EVERY DAY that I was on the verge of getting fired."  It was a demanding tour.  I didn't realize how tired I was until I arrived at Manas.  I slept 14-hours last night.  The guys came to get me for dinner, but apparently couldn't wake me up!

I am VERY happy to be returning home to Kimberly and Jacoby, and am looking forward to both of my next two leave periods.  The first is Block Leave, which I will take in January.  We are going on an Eastern Med. Cruise, which I'll write more about on some other post.  The second will be Kimberly and me going to Pennsylvania to watch Sabrina graduate from college.

That's about all for now.  The point behind this post is just to say that I am on the way home, that I'm no longer in Afghanistan, and that the posts should return to a somewhat normal schedule, whatever that means.

 Take care!

New Year's Day
Mood:  happy

I have received a few questions regarding how we spent our holidays in Afghanistan.  My gut reaction is to reply, “It’s just another day.”  -But that’s not entirely true.  There are differences.

Some of our regular meetings get canceled on holidays. 

We tend to “sleep in” to about 7:00am.

The DFAC serves special meals.  Christmas and Thanksgiving was as you would expect.  New Years was steak and fried shrimp.

The fact is I wasn’t even “home” for New Years.  Here’s the whole story…

SSG Howard and I were supposed to go to CAMP DUBS from the 1^st to the 3^rd of January.  The intent was to provide some communications support to help out the signal team out there.  SSG Howard would provide help with systems installation and I would do some site planning. 

Let me pause here to say this:  I love CAMP DUBS.  It’s a neat little place with comfortable living conditions, a good DFAC, and an awesome mission.  These are the guys that are “partnered” with the Afghan Army, proving daily training, mentoring, and assistance.  It’s very similar to my last “life” in the Baghdad International (“Green”) Zone.  I was looking forward to this trip, first because there was work to be done, and second, because it was CAMP DUBS!

On 31 DEC, I was standing near the Finance office when SSG Howard approached and said, “Sir, Did you hear that we are leaving in two hours?”

“Huh?”

“Roger.  There is a flight leaving in two hours for CAMP Dubs.”

Okay, so now it’s time to scramble a little bit.  The bags stay packed, so to speak, so this isn’t a problem.  I walked to the TOC and confirmed with the Aviators and the Brigade Executive Officer that yes, there is a flight today, I’m supposed to be on it, and it would come back and pick me up at 2030 (8:30p) tonight.

This is disappointing to me.  I thought I’d at least spend the night…

I spoke with the XO (Executive Officer) about how this was supposed to be a three-day trip.  His reply, “SSG Howard can stay.  You need to get back here.  If you get there and assess that you need more time, let me know.”

Okay, got it.  I’m coming back.

We scrambled a bit to get the parts and equipment SSG Howard would need in CAMP DUBS loaded onto the aircraft and got ourselves ready to go.  Then, armed with my “72-hour bag” (just in case! Never leave home without it!), we climbed aboard a couple of Blackhawks and departed for CAMP DUBS.

I got my job done in enough time to get some dinner prior to returning to the office area to gather my gear, back-brief SSG Howard on priorities of work, and head to the flight line.  The timing was about right as we had about 2-hrs prior to the aircraft arrival.  Time to go to “PZ Posture.” (PZ stands for pick-up zone.  It’s where the helicopter lands.  PZ Posture is just being in the right place ready to go…)

It’s as we were saying our good-byes that we started hearing rotary blades.  Blackhawks in-bound.  Two-hours early.  We are NOT ready.

The three of s that were going back exchanged a panicked look.  We confirmed with the CAMP DUBS personnel that they were NOT expecting any other flights.  We climbed into our gear, raced to the truck, and hurried our way through the 5-minute drive to the PZ.

…Just in time to swallow all of the dust the helicopter kicked up during takeoff.  Missed it.

We went back to the offices, called around to find out what went wrong.  Why was the flight 1hr and 40minutes early?  Why didn’t someone let us know?  Are they coming back?

All questions answered, we were told they would not be back until the next morning.  Officially, I was pretty upset.  I don’t like being left behind.  I knew the boss wanted me back.  The flight was 1hr and 40minutes early!  I knew I’d be teased for not making the flight.  Unofficially, I had finished my job on CAMP DUBS.  I now had nothing better to do but get some sleep.  Heck, I even have time to read some before I do!  Not a bad thing by any stretch!

I settled in to the office area to participate in a briefing that I was going to miss because of the flight.  Our gear was stored, our rooms for the night assigned.  After the briefing, I’d be done for the night.

Then 1SG Young’s cell phone went off.  1SG Young was one of the other two travelers with me.  It was a text message.  “Be there in 5-minutes.  Listen for blades.”

Crud!  They ARE coming back!

Again with the mad rush to secure our gear, pile into the truck and race for the PZ.  Again with the arrival just in time to see it leave.

A new text message arrived on 1SG Young’s phone.  “Need fuel.  30-minutes.”

No problem.  We’ll wait.

30-minutes later, “BINGO.  See you tomorrow.”  BINGO means they couldn’t get fuel and had to go.  We were spending the night.  Internal monologue:  ARE YOU KIDDING ME?!?!  TWICE IN ONE NIGHT?!?!?  I’M GOING TO CRUSH SOMEONE!   Next thought:  YES!  WHERE’S MY BOOK?

We settled in for the night, being told the flight would return at 1:30p the next day.  We woke up, got our gear together, and hit PZ Posture at 10:00a.  We weren’t taking chances. 

New Year’s day found me standing in the cold at a PZ in CAMP DUBS.  I read a few chapters the night before.  I slept well.  I ate breakfast.  I was in good company with 1SG Young, CPT Mecham, and MAJ Mizell.  I won’t say that spending New Years day in this manner was fun.  I will say that it was an Honor for me to spend it in this place, with these people.

The aircraft landed at 12:30p, an hour early.  We approached the aircraft.  Over the roaring engines, the crew chief shouts in my ear, “Where are you going?”

I yelled back “SHANK!”

He shakes his head, “Not going there!”

“Where are you going?”

“AIRBORNE!”

“Good enough!  I need to go there anyway!”

We climbed on board and arrived at FOB AIRBORNE shortly thereafter.

For me, this was basically the same trip.  Stop by the Battalions’ Tactical Operation Centers (TOCs).  Find out what their issues are.  Fix what I can, take notes for what I can’t.  Come home with a better understanding of what’s going on at FOB AIRBORNE.

We were told that we would be spending the night on AIRBORNE, since nothing else was landing that day.  (CRUD!  I’VE GOT TO GET BACK!  -Another night of reading, once I get my work done. )   Outside of freezing all night (the tent was frigid and my little sleeping bag WASN’T getting the job done), it was a good stay on AIRBORNE.

We flew back to SHANK the next morning, my 5-hour trip taking 3-days to complete.

There you go.  New Year’s day in Afghanistan.

Laundry

We don’t do our own laundry.  There is a “self help” laundry facility available to us with a few machines and soap and such, but few of us have the time to go get that done.   Most of us go to one of the several contracted laundry points and drop off our dirty clothes, then return sometime later and pick it up.  It’s sort of clean, sort of dry, sort of folded (usually inside out).  Good enough for field work.  War is hell…

The laundry guy has become my buddy over the last month.  It all started when I went in the first time to drop off my bag.  I said, “It’s my first time, so I’m not really sure what I’m supposed to do.”  The guy looks at me and says…..Something.  I stare at him. 

Nope.  Didn’t get it. 

He says it again.  Same result.

He says it a third time. 

I say, “Sorry.  I have no idea what you are saying.”

He says, “You don’t understand me?”

I say, “Nope.  Sorry.”

He takes a big breath and says “First time?”

Ahhhhhh!  I got it that time!  “First time!  Yes! Yes, it is.  First time.”

He smiles and says, “Welcome.”

I hand him my bag and fill out the paper.

He looks at the paper and tries to say my last 4 (SSN, it’s how the laundry is tracked…And taxes). He gets it wrong.  I correct him with a smile.  He gets it right.  Success!

He hands me the slip and I say, “How do I say this in your language?”

He says my last four in accented, but understandable English.

I say, “No, in YOUR language.”

He says it.

I say it, poorly.

He says it again.

I say it much better, but still horribly wrong.

He says it again.

I say it.  “Pa-CHA-li-may-ti-ta-lee”

He bursts out “Pa-CHA-li-may-ti-ta-lee!”

I say it again.  I’m rockin’ now.  I got it!

He smiles, hands me my slip and says “Tomorrow.  3 o’clock.”  Okay.  I’ll pick up my laundry after 3pm tomorrow.  At busy times it takes as long as three days.

This goes on for two weeks, or about four visits.  I’ve seen him in the DFAC a few times.  A few times walking around outside.  Every time I see him he gives me a big smile and says “Hello, Sir!  Pa-CHA-li-may-ta-ti-lee!”

I smile, say it back and drive on…

Last week, my first pickup, I showed up as I was told, 3pm the next day.  I sign for my bag and happen to look down the form.  I’m the only guy on the form who’s laundry is ready.  That’s odd, but okay.

I go back to my room.  Put away the clean clothes, pack up the dirty clothes and go back to drop off the load.  Now there are two soldiers ahead of me in the laundry line, finishing their paperwork.  For whatever reason, they stop and count out all of their clothes.  Re-stuff the bag, and then sign their forms.  The guy says to them “Three days.”  They acknowledge and walk away.

I hand the guy my bag.  He is noticeably “miffed”  He says “These people!  They count their things.  One sock.  Two sock.  It takes too long!  I am busy!  It’s just me here!  I wash, I dry, I fold.  I’m no thief!  Have you had any trouble?”

“Nooooooo.”

“They take too long!  -I tell them 3-days!”

He hands me back my paper and says, “Tomorrow, 3 o’clock.”

How we're living
Mood:  happy

I live in a B-hut.  I’m not entirely sure what that means.  In Kosovo, I lived in a C-hut.  It looked about the same.  I can’t help but wonder why, alphabetically speaking, I’m moving in the wrong direction.   Maybe it’s like a report card and ‘B’ is better than ‘C.’  Seriously, I have no idea.

 

I have seven roommates in my B-hut.  We each have a “room.”  “Room” is in quotes, because what it really is plywood and 2x4s nailed together to create privacy and boundaries.  It’s sort of like a cubical farm at a corporation or Government building.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Beside my B-hut is a portalet and a dumpster.  Behind it is a bunker.  There are other B-huts in the other two directions. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The truth is that I have a really nice room, compared to several.  When they built out the cubical walls, they started in the center of the building with the best of intentions.  However, they made the center rooms too big, so they get systematically smaller towards the building ends.  I was the first here from my Brigade, so I got EXACTLY the room I wanted…the one in the center.

 

My room is the size of a double-bed, with a trunk at the foot of it.  I actually have a twin-sized bed, which is much better than a cot!  Beside the bed is a bath mat functioning as a carpet.  Then the curtain “wall” that marks by boundary.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

On the wall, at the foot of the bed is the hanging clothes bar.  There is roughly two feet of space between the wall and the foot of the bed.  My trunk sits against the wall, under the handing clothes.  I sit on that (hunched forward) when I get dressed in the morning.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Really, it doesn’t sound like much, but we are living really well, here.  The building is adequate.  The bed is comfortable.  The room is better than most.  Things could be a lot worse.

 

Take care!

- Ryan

Let's talk about food!
Mood:  happy
The DFAC, short for Dining Facility, is a tent. Actually, it is several tents, all strung together and built over the top of a plywood/linoleum floor. It is heated. It has a main line, that serves most of your large meal items, and short order line, serving hamburgers, grilled ham and cheese, french fries, egg rolls, and onion rings. At lunch there is a wrap bar. The wrap bar has egg salad, tuna salad, BLTs, and a “main” meat that changes daily between beef, chicken, pastrami, and turkey. Beef seems to be the most common.

 

Which reminds me of something I heard the other day. It wasn't me, and I didn't verify, but I did hear it from someone and so it must be true, right? So this guy sees a picture of a goat. Under the goat was the word “Beef.” The guy asked about it, and was told that in Afghanistan, “Beef” doesn't just refer to “meat from a cow.” It is actually meat from any animal without a split hoof. Who knows what I'm eattin'?

 

They also have a salad-and-sides bar.

 

Anyway, that's how the DFAC is laid out and I have to say that I'm happy with it. I've only had one meal in three weeks that I wasn't too happy with, and that's because there was no healthy option.

 

Monday's are my “no rules” day. That's the day were I get to eat what I want without worrying about it. I chose Monday, because that's Taco Night. I look forward to Taco Night. Last Monday they also had macadamia nut cookies. It was a good night.

 

-And Fridays are Surf-and-Turf (steak and shrimp). They also have crab, but I'm scared of that. Afghanistan is land-locked, isn't it?

 

For breakfast I always have instant oatmeal, fresh fruit, and a cup of mixed nuts. They have real food like any DFAC (omelets, waffles, bacon, sausage, etc) but I don't really do that. I've had the wrap and salad every lunch so far. Dinner is sort of hit or miss, but I generally find the healthiest thing available. -Except for Mondays.

 

That's it for the food report! Enjoy your day.

 

- Ryan

Creatures of Habit
 

I'm a creature of habit. I don't mean to be and I don't think I'm obsessive about it, but whatever worked for me today will likely work for me tomorrow and I'm good with that. My routine so far in this deployment is pretty simple:

 

1. Wake up.

2. Clean up.

3. Go to the Gym.

4. Return to room, get shower stuff.

5. Go take a shower.

6. Return to room, put on uniform.

7. Go to DFAC. Eat Breakfast.

8. Go to work.

That's it. At some point I'll stop and eat lunch and dinner, but until about 10:00p, that's pretty much it.

 

Two mornings ago, things went horribly wrong. Somewhere between (4) and (5), I was headed to the shower tents thinking about what I need to get done today. Arriving at the tent, I immediately noticed “somsing is not right!” I need to explain something before I go further.

 

The shower tents are really just large tents with a couple of benches for you to put your stuff on. One side of the tent has a curtain serving as a doorway that leads to the water trailer/shower stalls. So the scheme is that you walk into the tent, drop your stuff, pass through the curtain with your towel, take your shower, dry off, then return to the outer tent to retrieve your stuff and carry on with your day.

 

I arrived at the tent, started to toss my stuff on the same bench I've used for days, but then realized it wasn't there. I look around the tent. It's empty, but the walls are different. Then I start to hear voices from the water trailer. “Hmmm. Those don't sound like men.” I am now acutely aware that I am NOT where I thought I was. This is followed by feelings of sheer panic. “Oh, crap! I'm THAT guy! I'm in the Women's Shower Tent!!!” My next thought was obvious. “Get out! Get out, now! No one has seen you. You haven't seen anyone else. For the love of God, GET OUT!”

 

I spun around in my shower shoes. I took three large steps and completely exited the tent. Looking over my shoulder, I confirmed that nobody saw me. -And walked right into the Brigade Commander of the unit we are relieving. O6. COL. The Boss.

 

He looks at me.

 

I look at him.

 

He looks at the tent.

 

I look at him and say, “I was...The tent...I wasn't...It was supposed to be...THAT'S THE GIRLS' TENT!”

 

He continues to look at me.

 

I snap to attention, salute, and say ”Good Morning, Sir!”

 

He is still looking at me. He looks at the tent again. He comes back to me, and says “I think the one you are looking for is right there.” pointing to the next tent over.

 

Yep...I'm That guy.

No More Excuses...

Since the JMRC in Hohenfels, I've had other things to worry about than eatting right and exercising.  While Kimberly does her best to make sure I get healthy food at home, let's just say that while some people "fall off the diet wagon," I more-or-less lept from it.  Several soldiers in my section have said things like, "The diet starts on SHANK" or "I'll get back in shape once we are on the ground." 

Here we are...No more excuses...

I woke up this morning at 5:30a.  Was in the gym by 6:00.  Done by 7:00.  Showered, dressed, and ate breakfast by 7:45.  Now I'm sending this update at 8:15a.  This is how "Day One" unfolds...

Ellipical gliders at 6500ft, at 6:00 in the morning when you are already out of shape can be tough.  Some of the guys went for a short run this morning.  Apparently that's tougher. :)

I do have pictures to share, but I don't have a means to transfer them to this BLOG, yet.  I will soon.

Take care.  Time to get to work...

- Ryan

Out the door, again...
Mood:  incredulous

Okay, so I haven't updated this BLOG since July.  That probably means that nobody is reading this anymore...

By the time you've realized that this post is...well... posted, I will be "boots on the ground" in Afghanistan.  It'll be my third deployment, if you count Kosovo.

My sincere apologies to everyone I've ignored the last few months.  Perhaps now you understand why.  Between preparations for deployment taking time/energy and Operational Security requiring discretion, there just wasn't much to update.  I will post regularly during the deployment, including pictures where possible.

Take care...