Horny, Hungry, and Hateful

For the average infantry soldier to be effective he must be horny, hungry, and hateful. Soldiers are much like guard dogs - too much petting spoils them. The shocking truth is that the average soldier is a powder keg of testosterone (male and female), physical energy, and unfocused malice. The idea is to not stand too close when we explode. The Army has known this for time immemorial but lately leadership seems to be taking a different tack.
I made a day trip to Seoul today (HAPPY EASTER everybody!) and visited Yongsan Army Garrison. I left in disgust. The soldiers there are fat, happy, and satiated. Cascades of pink blossoms showered soldiers driving (they had cars) down the tree lined avenues. I hope the North Koreans hit them first.

Weapons of Mass Destruction

Even google can't seem to locate them.
This is what one would see if one were to type "weapons of mass destruction" into the google search box and click "I'm feeling lucky".

Missing

I really miss some of the friends I made in basic training and AIT. I don't want to mention them by name, but I'd give the world to see them all again. That can't happen, so the best I can do is try to track them down myself. If they're reading I'd like to say: I miss you David, David, (there are two who don't know each other but both were great battle buddies) Katie (she's real chummy with the first David), Jennifer (how are my people in Georgia?), Deborah, Rachel, Kristin (I hear Kill Bill: Vol. 2 is coming out soon; want to go see it with me?), Paul, Jill, Jessica (Georgia again), and the OG (the important people know who the OG is).
There are more but I'll have to leave them out. They are not any less important but time and my need to sleep will not allow me to list them. I really, really miss them right now. I had a lot of fun training with them and I could have had a whole lot more fun if I'd realized what I was missing.

I am the inevitable sum of my forebear's parts

I hate talking on the phone to my Dad. I love him beyond my capability to use hyperbole to describe, but talking to him on the telephone is a chore. Every conversation, since conversations between us are rare, must include a lecture lasting no less than twenty minutes on how I must take care off myself and how I must succeed by doing the right things and not trusting anyone. Dad does have a way of dropping interesting tidbits. I am very sad to report that my great-uncle died recently. I didn't know him, had never even heard his name mentioned until today. He lived comfortably in London but died alone. He had some spat with the rest of the family and had moved to London to separate himself. My Dad is currently making arrangements to retrieve the body. His death prompted my Dad to tell me that he thought I might not see him again before he died. Long separations seem to be a pattern in my family. My Dad was separated from his father 23 years and didn't see him again before he died. I confess that I didn't plan to visit very often.
Even more surprising was my father's query: "Who told you that your grandfather was a medic in the army?" My answer was "No one". I didn't know. Yet, now I am a medic in the Army. Everything I am, everything I do, down to the very way, I walk, I smell, I talk, I think, is only a recreation of what my Dad and his father are and have done before. It's as if my fate is inevitable. I could know my future by learning my father's past. I am so much like my Dad I'd almost swear that I am his clone. My mother could predict my Dad's taste by asking me first. I look so much like my Dad that people would see my Dad and swear it was me driving around only older.
I have some strange or maybe not so strange ideas about time. I believe that time is a math problem. The solution is difficult perhaps but inevitable. People are just variables moving irresistibly toward a solution that is not yet known. The implication is that the problem can be solved. I don't know if the solution is constant or variable but I know the solution exists. What this all means or matters I don't know, but I know the solution exists.
Wow that was such complete BS.

Recent AIM Conversation

Here's a snippet from a recent instant message conversation with a friend:

me: but my life is busy busy
friend: savin the world and what not
me: actually yeah kind of
me: as part of a collective effort I actually do believe I am saving the world

Have you been reading this blog lately?

I haven't! I fear my writing output has been sporadic lately and I also haven't been editing very carefully. I can't get stats on who has been reading due to technical difficulties but I know readership has been down. What am I going to do to fix the problem? Nothing! I have other business to attend to.

Big Guns

So I got into a fight Sunday. Its not clear if there were any real winners or losers in this fight. The truth is that there never are, but in the court of public opinion I whupped some serious ass and looked cool doing it. My squad leader (? It's actually not clear what his professional relationship is to me, he's really just another NCO in the platoon) was leading the morning run and mentioned how he saw some "big guns go off Sunday. Some artillery rounds landed, but I didn't see any jabs... Throw some jabs". I replied with a "Hooah Sergeant!" I will next time.
I am actually angry at myself for being drawn into a fight, but the other party pretty clearly provoked me and everybody knows he doesn't like me, since I told them before. He doesn't have any real reason I can think of for not liking me; at least not any reasons I can think of that I can mention without opening a huge can of worms. I am willing and prepared to open the can though and I wish he knew that. I can make just as much trouble as him only I prefer to go about it in a different way.
I want desperately to ask him some questions. "Why for someone who is obviously not stupid are you so unswervingly belligerent?" "What good reason do you have to be angry with me?" I've done some things that could make a reasonable person angry, but I've also done everything I could to make them right. "Why don't any of your friends seem to be angry with me?" If I really was such a bad person someone else would probably come out and say so? I don't know maybe I am just a stellar politician. I do know that I am more popular than he is. I am hoping that no one is on his side, naturally.
I even went and knocked on his door today to give his roommate something. When he answered the door my natural reaction was to kill him but my entire life has been about suppressing my animal urges and my natural reactions. I believe in self-control. Even he showed some measure of self control and didn't try to strangle me.
In the meantime, I am a little sore but my pride is intact. I was already planning on taking martial arts classes, I'll just begin tomorrow. (Which is what I have been saying for weeks, but I mean it now. Seriously...)

Brain Rot

I think the Army is making me stupid. Really. I may be losing the capability for independent thought and simple reasoning capacity. I don't think my brain rot is the fault of my superiors. I think it is due to the level of entertainment available to the average soldier. Pornography and video games have minimal brain growth potential. It also doesn't help that soldiers massacre their brain cells with massive doses of alcohol. Do I even have to mention, the soldiers favorite playmate, the drinky girl? It isn't anybody's fault that I can pinpoint really. The things I mentioned are just what is popular.
The second thing I want to touch on is sexual harassment. Not that I am getting sexually harassed, with as few women as there are in 2ID I rather welcome any and all sexual advances - at the very least I can laugh about them later. The Army has recently had some unwanted publicity involving sexual harassment, but the issue isn't anywhere near as simple as the headlines might lead you to believe. For instance, I believe there are far more women misbehaving than men simply because men are confused and scared by the issue. Honestly, if any woman had been treated by a man the way women have treated me, they would have likely filed sexual harassment cases with the Inspector General already. Granted, since I am male I tend to think that it is wonderful that women take an intense enough interest in me to pat my buttocks and touch my genitalia. Women are more likely to be offended when someone actually does touch them inappropriately. The biggest problem I have seen in cases of alleged sexual misconduct in the military is that inconsistent behavior by the woman makes it difficult to prosecute. The heart of the matter is that military women engage in sexual activity and don't want to look like sluts when many are, in fact, sluts (I mean this in the most salutary and benign way possible). Men in the military should know better but most are testosterone driven individuals who aren't about to let a little thing like good sense get in the way of great sex. And there lies the rub.

Legalized Narcotics

You thought I was finished? When I write a political rant you can be sure I always have more to say. I just watched the movie "Traffic" on DVD and you know what pisses me off? It's all very well and good to criticize a government initiative as futile - i.e. the "War on Drugs" and the "War on Terrorism". Yet the critics answers as to what we should do instead border on ludicrous. The critics of the "War on Terror" suggest that we essentially just lay down and die. The critics of the "War on Drugs" suggest that we legalize narcotics.
Suppose for a minute that we did smoke crack and we were seriously considering legalizing popular controlled substances. Is there any realistic way the United States could effectively regulate production and sales? What are the unintended consequences? Alcohol and cigarettes are already legalized controlled substances sold in the United States and honestly the negative impact of both is significant. Are we prepared to treat the addicts if we allow cheap, easily available, and worst of all legal narcotics on the street? Who in good conscience sell these products? What are you thinking?

Why can't People See this?

Believe it or not, the fate of the free world hangs in the balance as we speak. Terrorism has touched our lives in ways we could never have imagined September 10th 2001. Terrorists have shown us that nothing is sacred and nothing is safe. Many have characterized the current situation as being "at war". Our enemy is amorphous and scattered. They have no formal chain of command - no head to cut off. The only intelligible communication they attempt to make is the language of violence - They open their mouths and mayhem pours out.
Given the situation, I amazed that their are people so foolish as to suggest we should capitulate to their demands. People who want to bring our troops back from Iraq, who want to blame the policies of the United States for inciting men to terrorism, who believe that there was no justification for military forces to attack Iraq, and who believe there is no reason for them to be there now. I'd like to ask: "What the f**k are you thinking?"
Whether are not Saddam Hussein had any connection with terrorists before his regime was toppled like so many stacks of so many cards, there are terrorists in Iraq now and they want us gone. What we are doing to them is effective. The US Army is hitting them where it hurts. Really. Leaving would allow them to declare victory just like they did in Mogadishu, Somalia. Leaving now would cost innocent lives (their is no more cliche phrase than the phrase "innocent lives" but well for lack of a better one) in the future. The election of a government in Spain that does not support the war in Iraq is dangerous. It's capitulation. People will die.
Why can't people see this?

Friday Night in the Barracks

I can't decide if I am socially inept or just lazy. When do normal people make plans to go out on Friday or Saturday nights? I make plans like 5 minutes before. Is there something wrong with that? I think my problem is due to irregular circadian rhythms. No really, just bear with me - I am most active around noon and late at night. When other people are busily planning their weekend activities I am struggling to stay awake. Around 2200 hrs when I am finally awake and raring to go everybody has already made their plans and left without me. That's my best guess anyway.
The truth is that I like to have a crew or really one very good friend with whom I hang out with all the time. Somebody smart and different - someone like me (only I am not that smart). I've been in country 4 months and I have yet to find a kindred spirit. This important too, a kindred spirit (mine at least) must be male since...
I'll finish this later my roommate just got back and I have to go out.

2nd Brigade Late Night Taxi Service

Have I ever mentioned what a huger sucker I am? I just got screwed like a prostitute at a bachelor party. My battalion just got back from the field and everybody is tired and badly in need of a day off. Our acting platoon sergeant needed someone to take brigade staff duty driver, a job which consists of shuttling an officer around base and running various errands for 24 hours. I volunteered, eager beaver-like. In return for helping out, my platoon sergeant offered me a day off while he remained in charge - two weeks. After filling me in on the details of what he needed from me he casually mentioned that no one should go to Seoul this weekend.
Of course, I discovered that the South Korean Parliament had voted to impeach President Roh (pronounced "Noh" incidentally) and because of the ensuing protests throughout South Korea, all soldiers were restricted from entering Seoul except for official business. Realizing that partying in Itaewon most likely was not official business, I could see my plans for a three day weekend in Seoul were most likely have to go on hold.
Meanwhile, the rest of 2nd ID was busily drinking like sailors on leave, or in this case like soldiers who just came back from nearly 30 days of field time. I was privileged to witness the carnage firsthand, since I had to shuttle drunken soldiers and their harried first sergeants back and forth from the MP station. At one point, I made three consecutive trips to the MP station to pick up various law breakers and one soldier who was stranded after she came home on leave. I started stopping and offering random people I saw on the road rides since it began to seem that they were all on their cell phones begging staff duty to pick their drunken selves up.
I am still a little annoyed, mostly since I've barely slept since then and I was awoken at 6:30 by a thunderous banging on my door. Yeah I think I am going to sleep since I am getting angry at the memory.

Sudden Insight

I had an epiphany while sitting in a tent in a field the other day. One has a lot of time to sit and think in the field, since when infantry soldiers aren't wreaking havoc or preparing to wreak havoc, infantry soldiers relax. It is a liberating concept and lifestyle. Getting back to my illuminating insight, I made an important self-discovery. I am sucker for a smart girl. No really! I could never date an unintelligent woman. Dumb girls leave me cold. Any time I think there is even the least spark of intelligence in a woman's eyes I am intrigued. I could be perfectly happy with smart girl with average looks. Wow... I can't believe I just said that. Maybe I should join MENSA to find a date. Not that they would accept me since I am as dumb as a brick.

Movement to Daylight

I just returned from the latest leg of 2ID's (2nd Infantry Division) field exercise, and we did something called a "movement to daylight". The idea is that instead of sleeping at night a rifle platoon stays up walking till the sun comes up or engaging the enemy. We did both. My platoon is populated by young American super men so we crushed the enemy everywhere we saw him. I am completely serious. One young man single-handedly destroyed 6 enemy tanks. Especially remarkable, since he is considered to be the weakest member of the platoon. Granted, he cannot even carry his weapon, the Javelin missile launcher, into battle; but once there he is deadly.
To be perfectly honest, I haven't been myself lately. I feel as if I have been ill since I set foot in Korea and my body is showing signs of wear and tear. Walking for eight hours in sub-freezing weather and not sleeping was a particularly cruel thing to do my body. My body returned the favor by giving me excruciating cramps in both my inner thighs. I was nearly completely debilitated since I could not extend my legs and thus could not rise off the ground. Believing myself to be dehydrated, I ripped my shirt off and administered an IV to myself with the help of three NCO's in my rifle platoon. After some consideration, I realized that dehydration wasn't likely since I'd been guzzling fluids all day. The pain was just from disuse and not stretching my muscles at all. Fun.

Dispatch From the Field

There are few things more fearsome or effective than an American soldier arrayed in full battle uniform, humanity obscured by various gadgets and weapons, vaguely futuristic in appearance, and bristling with anonymous malevolence. Living with the infantry in the field reveals that the soldiers behind the intimidating facade are barely more than teenagers. The younger soldiers' superiors, the non-commissioned officers, are usually sophomoric 20-somethings who derive enormous amounts entertainment from the antics of the 19 year olds they supervise. I estimate that 95% of infantry soldiers below the E-4 pay grade cannot drink legally in America. Even the senior enlisted soldiers tend to be in their early to mid-thirties or younger. I even lost some of my awe of the company XO when I realized he was younger than I was.
By no means does the youth of my colleagues make me feel superior in any way. I know next to nothing about the military, about the infantry, and especially medicine. Lately, I haven't even been able to initiate IV's, in my opinion one of the most important skills a medic needs to get the confidence of the soldiers he works with. I am really overwhelmed by the amount of responsibility given to me and how little I really know about what I am doing.
I had fun getting dirty with the "Joes" this field problem. I even participated in several raids, much to the discomfort of a nearby aviation brigade. I test fired a 50 caliber machine gun before a mission that involved loading the gun on the back of a civilian cargo truck and unleashing the weapon "A-Team" style on the hapless gate guards. I assure you that the expressions on their faces were priceless.
I am going to cut this post short as I need to clean my gear and sleep.

What Do I want to Be When I Grow Up?

I was standing in line behind a captain who happened to be an Army helicopter pilot. We struck up a conversation about his job and he gave me some career advice. The incident made me think. I will be a citizen soon and thus eligible for a wide range of opportunities in the Army. I could go to Ranger school, Special Forces Selection, Officer Candidate School, Green to Gold (commissioned officer program for college grads), or Warrant Officer School. I am eligible for a security clearance so I could conceivable get involved in the intelligence community. Really, I could do almost anything. The two most compelling choices to me seem to be Green to Gold (most likely resulting in becoming an infantry officer), and Warrant Officer School to become a helicopter pilot. Being a helicopter pilot seems like it would be the most fun, but being an Infantry officer is most likely to advance me to other things I want to do.
So what do I want to be when I grow up?

Searching for Something

There is a song, a fragment of which keeps repeating in my head because it strikes a chord within me:
"All my life I've been searching for something..." The song continues: "...Done, done and on to the next one! Done, done and on to the next one!" It's silly how powerful those words are to me. I have a goal. I know that. I have a dream. I have a plan. Sometimes, though I feel like I am looking for something and I don't quite know what. I have lots of intermediate goals, big plans, important things I want do with my life. Yet if you asked me what is the single most important thing I want to do "when I grow up", the only thing I could tell you is "Succeed!" The thing that gives me focus, the thing that keeps me awake at night in bed, that thing which gives me the drive to succeed, is that I know I must.
So I am "done, done and on to the next one!"

I am never Looking

How did Janet Jackson flash her breasts on television and get away with it? How did I miss this event? Easy, I never watch the Super Bowl. Before, I was usually at church, and now I wasn't interested in either team. It's ok though. I am sure enough innocent 6 yr olds were watching to make up for me not seeing it.
What have I been doing lately? I am not sure, but whatever it was has been important enough to keep me off the internet.

Call me Doc

That's what my line company calls me. I think I like it. I may or may not deserve it, but they think I do and I am disinclined to argue. Being a line medic for an infantry platoon is everything I thought it would be and I am pleased I got the chance. I do admit to spending a lot of time laughing at the "joes" I serve; but they laugh too so I am really laughing with them.
I don't know were to start describing my week. I spent the majority of the week covering A Co.'s squad competition and I actually participated in many of the events. When they marched I marched. When they shot, I shot. When they wrestled, I stood to the side and giggled like a school girl. (I am medic because I am prudent. I long ago decided that my brains were a better asset than my brawn) When they did pugil bouts I again stood to the side, but this time I cringed. Pugil bouts are kind of like boxing but with pugil sticks - approximately rifle length padded sticks. Despite the pads, pugil bouts tend to draw a lot of blood. At least they do when you have men with inhuman blood lust in their hearts beating each other like rented mules. The officers and senior NCO's officiated and laughed at the antics of the junior enlisted men battling like gladiators in a ring constructed of plywood, rope, and sandbags. I did my best to deal with the wounded. I try to make the joes think I know what I am talking about. At the same time, I am usually desperately consulting the other medics about what I should do next. It makes my job interesting.

Whoa...

I am doing something wrong. This query brings up my blog: "my brother walked in on me shaving pubic".