Aedes from Hades

They're probably not Aedes at all, of course, but they surely are from Hades.

Culex doesn't even begin to rhyme with anything, nor does Anopheles (except, perhaps, with Mephistopheles, I suppose, but that wouldn't help much, though the allusion might be fun to pursue -- some other time).

So for argument's sake, we'll just leave them as Aedes.

I would just as soon leave them altogether.

There actually weren't many at Summer Camp - South, much to my surprise (and relief). There were none that I was aware of at Summer Camp - West, which is not a surprise, since that's an area that usually doesn't have them anyway.

But boy, are there a lot of them here!

Not so many (in fact, almost none) in the cantonment area, but once out on the ranges, look out!

The other day, for example, the Unit Ministry Teams (UMTs) were doing our UMT-specific training after having been told to show up in full battle-rattle. We piled into a van (no mean achievement, given our added girth and weight with the body armor on; SPC C certainly tips the scale at 350 pounds with his gear on) and were driven out to a range that was set up to resemble a village somewhere Down Range.

The training consisted of each UMT simulating a "Religious Leader Engagement" (RLE) --walking into the "village" to be greeted by the townspeople, who might or might not be friendly, and remaining alive through the course of meeting the local Mullah (Muslim religious leader).

The trainers would only let one UMT at a time participate in the RLE, so that meant that the rest of us had to wait in the midst of a field at some distance from the action. It was immediately apparent as soon as we opened the doors of the van (parked in that field) that the Aedes, or Anopheles, or Culex, or whatever, were flying in wait for us.

Since no one had told us we were going to a range, I'd not prepared myself for this eventuality. (We'd most recently been doing "Chaplain Ultimate Fighting" in the pugil pit in full battle rattle, and those infernal things were not an issue.)

They immediately started dive-bombing me, much to my chagrin. No matter what continent I happen to find myself on -- Europe, Asia, North America, South America (so far) -- if one of those beasties is around, it'll be on me in moments. I swear they're worse than sharks that can sniff out small quantities of blood in the water from far, far away.

It was almost a relief to go into the "village" and get attacked by humans, because I was pretty sure they would only simulate drawing blood.

Though, to be completely truthful, each time SPC C went through the Situational Training Exercise (STX) lane, he wound up bloodying one of the attackers or other. Not that he was trying to, mind you, but when he moves quickly, that's a *lot* of inertia, and anyone in his path is going to notice him! And lose a little bit of himself, as it turned out.

The morning was exhausting, but quite good training. Unfortunately for me, though, I came away covered in small welts, even under my clothing.

If I never see another mosquito again, it will be too soon.

Blessings and peace to one and all,


Fr. Tim, SJ

View My Milblogging.com Profile

What the Dell's going on here?

The computer technician who showed up here at Summer Camp - North to repair my computer, but was unable to do so, convinced me that the best thing to do with it would be to ship it back to Dell, as I wrote a couple of days ago.

He made a point of making sure he had the correct address for me here at Camp, so Dell could send out the shipping box for the computer. He told me the box should be here the next day, Thursday.

By close of business Friday there was still no box.

Yesterday I received an email from Dell saying they'd shipped the box for Thursday arrival in Burbank.

That's only a couple of thousand miles away from me.

Woohoo!

Now I'm beginning to wonder whether my computer will be repaired before I leave the country.

Talk about powerlessness.

We had a good crowd of Soldiers at Mass last night, so that's something to be grateful for, anyway.

Blessings and peace to one and all,


Fr. Tim, SJ

View My Milblogging.com Profile

All in a day's work

I spent more than four hours in the Troop Medical Clinic (TMC), making sure my incipient sore throat wasn't strep (it wasn't, but it's going around) and then having the MRI on my left knee interpreted by the rather gruff Medical Director of the place.

It turns out I have a ruptured popliteal cyst in the knee, which should self-correct, I'm told, but in the meantime has caused some inflammation. I also have some pretty awesome patellar tendonitis. Lucky me.

Fortunately, though, none of it is a show-stopper, so word of my being cleared for deployment (medically, at least) spread rapidly through the task force, and I had people I don't even know coming up to me in the chow hall to express their relief that I'll deploy with them.

Guess I've managed to pull the wool over their eyes, eh?

I hobbled on over to our Unit Ministry Team (UMT) training, where they were continuing their focus on combatives. I'd missed the first day of that instruction because I was off getting the MRI in the morning and visiting the podiatrist in the afternoon.

The other Chaplains (two) and Chaplain Assistants (four, total) had had a great time doing combatives (basically high-end wrestling and grappling; think "Chaplain ultimate fighting championship"), and were attacking and parrying and rolling around on the grass when I arrived. Given my rather less-than-robust musculoskeletal condition, I didn't go "all out" in that training!

After lunch, we had some PowerPoint slides to sit through, but I received word that one of our Soldiers had received a Red Cross message, so the trainers allowed me to return to the Battalion Headquarters. A loved one was hospitalized and near death, so I was present as this news was delivered to the Soldier.

He and I stayed and talked for quite a while afterward, and I slipped him some cash for his journey home (thanks, Dorothy B!), because he's just a Private, and hasn't got two cents to rub together. I called his cell phone from mine, so he'd have my number, and asked him to let me know what happens.

I went back to training, and was only in class for about an hour when I received another call that there was a situation requiring a Chaplain. I think the trainers were getting a bit annoyed, but off I went, again. The others went to the pugil pit to do more combatives, this time in full battle-rattle.

The second situation wound up keeping me busy for the better part of three hours. I spoke with the Soldier for a long time, and then asked if it would be OK if I asked the Soldier's Platoon Leader (PL) if we could have a meeting with all the parties involved, just to make sure everyone was on the same page. I told the Soldier I'd be there as support, and to do my best to make sure the Soldier didn't say or do anything unfortunate.

What started out as a very tense and confrontational situation eventually calmed down and became rather productive as people relaxed and misunderstandings were cleared up. The Soldier had felt that everyone else had prejudged the situation without finding out from the horse's mouth what had really happened. It became clear that what had seemed to be harshness and vindictiveness actually had been an attempt by the Chain of Command to help the Soldier succeed.

The Soldier recognized the areas that need improvement, and agreed to meet with someone regularly who can help bring about the changes that are necessary. I saw the Soldier the next day at the chow hall, smiling and cheery.

Nothing really had changed; the Soldier will have to endure the consequences of the behavior in question. And yet something significant and positive had taken place. I saw the Soldier's PL at the chow hall, too, who expressed his gratitude that the situation had turned out as it had.

All in a day's work.

Blessings and peace to one and all,


Fr. Tim, SJ

View My Milblogging.com Profile

Stuff and nonsense

Wednesday was not a fun day.

The Unisys computer technician showed up and worked on my computer for quite a long time, only to experience the same thing the other two technicians found: the monitor does not light up enough to see what's there. Now it looks as though I'm going to have to wait until Dell sends me a box so I can ship the laptop back to them to be worked on at the factory.

It will take them five business days to repair it -- once they get it.

So much for "Next Business Day, On-Site Service," eh?

Meanwhile, it's tough to get online even to do my official Chaplain stuff here, because there are so few computers available to us.

The budget crunch in California strikes again!

Blessings and peace to one and all,


Fr. Tim, SJ

View My Milblogging.com Profile

Higher-Powered for Service

When MSG McG and I were in Iraq, we had our own Guidon, about which I've written before, and we came up with a motto for our Chaplain Detachment: "Higher-Powered for Service." (To be perfectly honest, I think it was *he* who came up with the phrase....)

I think it works on a lot of levels, actually.

Our call signs, should we ever have needed to be 'on the net' (use the radio to communicate with others), were "Circuit Rider Six" (me) and "Circuit Rider Seven" (MSG McG). (For reasons that aren't clear to me, but I'm sure are common knowledge to probably everyone else in the Army, the Commander of a unit has a call sign of "six" and his NCOIC has a call sign of "seven".)

Chaplains can never be in command, because we're non-combatants, but some Army documents listed me as the "commander" of the 142d Chaplain Detachment, so we went with that.

As I'm here at Summer Camp - North (experiencing an uncomfortable amount of déjà vu concerning my time at Summer Camp - South last year), I'm missing MSG McG and our Guidon and especially the Soldiers we visited in our peripatesis. The Soldiers of my new unit are great, mind you, but I genuinely miss my first real Chaplain Assistant and our adventures Down Range. He just celebrated a birthday, too.

Happy Birthday, MSG McG.

He's definitely "Higher-Powered for Service"!

Blessings and peace to one and all,

Fr. Tim, SJ

View My Milblogging.com Profile

My Computer

In the continuing saga of my attempt to get my computer fixed, the computer technician showed up at the gates to Summer Camp - North yesterday, only to discover that he'd left his house without his wallet. There was no time to drive all the way home and then all the way back, given how far away this place is from where he lives. So as it was late in the day by that point, my computer did not get repaired -- again.

My repair request for this issue went in on Saturday, 08AUG09. Yesterday was 25AUG09. So much for "on-site, next business day" service, eh?

We'll see what happens today....

Blessings and peace to one and all,


Fr. Tim, SJ

View My Milblogging.com Profile

Drilled Unceremoniously

I'm a disaster at Drill and Ceremony. I suspect I constantly look a bit disheveled, too, though it's not for a lack of trying to be squared away. (My uniforms are over a year old, and saw Iraq with me, so they're a bit care-worn, to be sure.)

A number of the Soldiers in my unit have taken it upon themselves, it seems, to try to look after me, though I'm not sure their efforts will bear fruit that will last.

One Second Lieutenant, in particular, gets pretty exasperated with me because my patrol cap looks pretty goofy. Try as I might, it just never looks as good as almost everyone else's does.

He's a former Marine, which explains a lot.

With great regularity -- despite my having attempted to square it away -- my hat looks goofy, and he'll come up to me, sigh, and try to make it look the way it's supposed to.

It's pretty humiliating.

And pretty funny.

Blessings and peace to one and all,


Fr. Tim, SJ

View My Milblogging.com Profile

I love my job

I think I've mentioned this before, but I really love being a Chaplain. I have access to Soldiers (and others) that other Officers don't have, and get entrusted with the deepest dreams and fears and longings of people whose life stories amaze and humble me.

Junior Enlisted personnel who would never dream of speaking with their Company Commander (usually a Captain, as I am) readily approach me to bare their secrets, knowing that the Chaplain is a safe person in whom to confide.

Though I've only been with this unit a short time (a month yesterday), I've already had significant conversations and prayer with many of my comrades.

I suspect I've pointed out before that I'm constantly amazed by the burdens that human beings shoulder, often in silence and solitariness. These men and women are no different. Again and again I've already heard stories that break my heart or lift my spirits -- or both.

We're still on US soil, but we're already far from loved ones, and the pressures and griefs have settled in, early on, for some. I'm grateful that almost 30 years of hanging around with women and men who go to a lot of AA and Al-Anon meetings have given me inner resources that others my age (and certainly much younger!) don't seem to have.

As long as I'm reminded that 'messiah' is not part of *my* job description, and that I need to detach with love, seeing as no matter how much I love my Soldiers, I can have a God who loves them more -- so I need to get out of God's way and let that happen -- I'll be able to be of service to my guys and gals.

Being here with them is God's gift to me.

Blessings and peace to one and all,


Fr. Tim, SJ

View My Milblogging.com Profile

Cereal killers

One of the surprising and disturbing aspects of Army food has been the dearth of non-sugared cereals in the morning. Whatever happened to plain old Shredded Wheat, anyway?

Army chow halls have lots of cereals, and a cornucopia of different brands. But by and large, they're relatives of Count Chocula and Fruity Pebbles and Lucky Charms and Frosted Flakes -- every one of them chock full of sugar and frosting and colors not found in nature.

I guess my parents scarred me for life by forcing me to enjoy Shredded Wheat and Corn Flakes and Rice Krispies -- most of which have too much sugar anyway, but at least it's not lathered on to the point of needed an insulin injection immediately afterward.

The other morning we had to be up at 0345 in order to go be tested for illegal substances. This meant that we couldn't go to breakfast at the chow hall, so the Command provided us with breakfast-in-a-bag. The 'cereal' was frosted something or other and the 'milk' was some liquid which masqueraded as milk, but which was heavily sugared, and didn't need refrigeration.

I'm pretty leery of milk that doesn't need refrigeration.

I forced myself to eat what was provided to us, but it was not a gustatory delight, in my estimation. Others seemed to like it, but in the future, I'd rather take a pass.

One thing about the early-morning drug testing: seeing as I'm almost 30 years clean and sober, I've never had to fear the test, and have actually felt a sense of satisfaction when the test comes back, affirming the sobriety and abstinence that has come at such a price.

Hooray for the Higher Power!

Blessings and peace to one and all,


Fr. Tim, SJ

View My Milblogging.com Profile

Take a knee

While I was at Summer Camp - West I managed to screw up my left knee pretty badly, but by the time it was really goofed up, I did not want to have to deal with the O-5 who wouldn't put in an I.V. to hydrate me because "someone would have to stay after closing time."

So, as I was going through medical inprocessing, it was suggested I go see the orthopedic doc who's on post and have him look at my knee.

Turns out that he's a grad of a couple of Jesuit schools, and we wound up yakking about a lot of stuff other than just my knee and bad feet. Small world.

I've got an appointment on Tuesday to have an MRI, so we'll see what's going on (I hope!). It's been a bit frustrating to have significantly less mobility of late than usual. I'm really glad I've not been trying to climb up into an upper bunk, with my knee being the way it is, that's for sure!

I'll keep you posted.

Blessings and peace to one and all,


Fr. Tim, SJ

View My Milblogging.com Profile

Paperwork

It's like deja vu all over again.

I finished up medical, dental, finance, legal, chaplain, and eleventy-seven other briefings during redeployment (which ended in July), and now I'm repeating much of it in August.

Ah! The overwhelming commonsensical-ness of it all.

Fortunately, rather than having to wait in interminably long lines in order to get to some station or other, only to have to wait and wait and wait while whatever's supposed to be happening happens, I've generally only had to wait in interminably long lines in order to be told, "Wow. Why are you in this line, anyway?"

Blessings and peace to one and all,


Fr. Tim, SJ

View My Milblogging.com Profile

Clouds

Joni Mitchell wrote a song in March 1967 which has a lovely tune, not often heard these days, except in Muzak form I suppose. "Both Sides Now" came to mind yesterday as I was wandering around Summer Camp - North. Here are the lyrics:

Rows and flows of angel hair,
And ice cream castles in the air,
And feather canyons everywhere,
I've looked at clouds that way.
But now they only block the Sun,
They rain and snow on everyone.
So many things I would have done,
But clouds got in my way.

I've looked at clouds from both sides now,
From up and down, and still somehow,
It's cloud illusions I recall,
I really don't know clouds, at all.

Moons and Junes and ferris wheels,
The dizzy dancing way you feel
As every fairy tale comes real.
I've looked at love that way.

But now it's just another show,
You leave 'em laughing when you go.
And if you care, don't let them know.
Don't give yourself away.

I've looked at love from both sides now,
From give and take, and still somehow,
It's love's illusions I recall.
I really don't know love, at all.

Tears and fears and feeling proud,
To say I love you right out loud.
Dreams and schemes and circus crowds,
I've looked at life that way.

But now old friends are acting strange.
They shake their heads; they say I've changed.
Well something's lost but something's gained,
In living every day.

I've looked at life from both sides now,
From win and lose and still somehow,
It's life's illusions I recall.
I really don't know life, at all.

I've looked at life from both sides now,
From up and down and still somehow,
It's life's illusions I recall.
I really don't know life, at all.

Every so often in Iraq we'd have a cloudy sky (from real clouds, not from the dust), and even more infrequently, the clouds would be large fluffy cumulus and cumulonimbus clouds. I'd point them out to my friends and say, "Look! Michigan clouds!"

Here at Summer Camp - North we have lots of "Michigan clouds" though we're not in Michigan. Close enough, though.

The sky here is incredibly blue, compared to the sky out west, and when populated by these large and impressive cloud formations, it's strangely calming.

Despite the fact that it's been raining on us as we're walking to and fro, or just standing in formations, it's been really enjoyable, if a bit cold at times. The rains come and go, so the sky darkens and then clears and then darkens again. Much more interesting, generally speaking, than the skies in Iraq -- except at sunrise or sunset, which were usually quite breathtaking.

So I was reminded of Joni Mitchell's song, which I can't stop humming.

I really don't know clouds, at all.

Blessings and peace to one and all,


Fr. Tim, SJ

View My Milblogging.com Profile

Barracks

Wow.

Barracks life is still a novelty to me, as it turns out. While we were at Summer Camp - West, I was in a bay with only three other guys. The mattresses were old, but not too bad.

Here at Summer Camp - North I'm in a building with almost 90 guys in four bays. I lucked out, in that our bay only has 16 (eight sets of bunk beds, rather than twelve). However, by the time I got to the barracks, the only bunk left was an upper bunk, with springs that sag precariously.

My "dainty 305" Chaplain Assistant is on the lower bunk.

While I was in Iraq, I wound up in an upper bunk on two occasions while traveling, and each time, my arthritis made for a difficult ascent and descent. I decided to move my mattress onto the floor here at Summer Camp - North, since it would have the double effect of making it a lot easier to get into and out of bed, as well as providing much, much more back support than the really saggy springs would.

This, of course, horrified other officers and senior NCOs. Each suggested that SPC C take the upper bunk, but I demurred. Given how saggy the springs are already, I really didn't want to have to think about having all that mass directly above me.

Unfortunately, SPC C can give "The Snorer" from Iraq a run for his money, and that combined with the other snorers in the room made for an unquiet night for me. It didn't help that the lights in the bay weren't extinguished until after midnight, and then finally once they were out, people continued to talk on the phone, watch movies with the sound up pretty loud, and otherwise rattle around making noise.

SPC C was already sawing wood (like MSG McG, he appears to be able to sleep anytime, anywhere) long before the lights went out.

Somone's alarm went off at 0400 this morning, so I'm awake and my day has begun.

"This is the day that the Lord has made. Let us rejoice and be glad in it." (Ps 118:24)

Or something.

Blessings and peace to one and all,


Fr. Tim, SJ

View My Milblogging.com Profile

On the road again....

We're on the way to Summer Camp - North.

I spent most of yesterday at the Armory waiting for the computer technician to come to repair my laptop. He didn't arrive until almost 2:00 in the afternoon, and didn't finish until after 5:00. The replacement screen functioned the same way that the first replacement did last week -- it doesn't light up enough to be able to see what's on it.

The tech had spent so much time working on it, I didn't insist that he put the cracked one back in (he looked positively terrified when I mentioned it), so now my computer doesn't work at all, for all intents and purposes. Sigh.

By the time he finished, I was one of the last people in the Armory, and had no easy way to get back to the hotel. I wound up waiting another hour for a ride. Fortunately, I was able to get together with my brother and sister-in-law for dinner, though I'd hoped to be able to spend more time with them than what we wound up having. Oh well. It was great to see them this weekend!

So now it's the crack of dawn, and we're getting ready to load up and head out to the L.A. Airport for our flights. The unit has chartered some passenger jets, so at least we won't have to suffer through the indignities of airport security, and the need practically to disrobe completely in order to be admitted to the gate areas.

This adventure begins.

Blessings and peace to one and all,


Fr. Tim, SJ

View My Milblogging.com Profile

The Leave-taking

We had hundreds of Soldiers and family members and friends at the farewell ceremony yesterday at the Convention Center. It had been a long day at the Armory on Saturday, inventorying and packing duffel bags and rucksacks and loading crates to have equipment shipped to Summer Camp - North. The Armory was pretty warm, too.

Because I live so far away from Home Station, the Guard has put me up in a hotel until we leave for our next destination. I find it odd that a hotel as nice as where we're staying seems to feel the need to charge a rather exorbitant rate for an internet connection, especially when I've stayed in budget accommodations and internet access has been gratis.

I'm hoping to get my computer screen repaired today, if all goes as planned. I asked to have the technician come as early as possible, since it's not clear to me how long we'll be at the Armory today, and I'd like to spend some time with my brother and sister-in-law who live not far away from Home Station.

Watching families saying good-bye to one another reminds me of one of my latest soap-boxes: grief. I am more and more convinced that if we as a culture "did" grief in a healthier fashion, we'd have a lot less PTSD, since PTSD seems in large measure to be about unobserved, unrecognized, or otherwise ignored grief.

I'll be taking leave of my parents in just a few minutes, so this is a topic of importance to me at the moment.

Blessings and peace to one and all,


Fr. Tim, SJ

View My Milblogging.com Profile

Active Duty.... again

I'm now in Burbank, California at Home Station for my new unit. I decided to fly down here, rather than imposing on someone to drive me all the way here, and then have to drive all the way back home. Southwest Airlines had a pretty good deal on a one-way flight, and I was able to send several of my large bags back with the unit as they left after Annual Training. That made negotiating the airport a *lot* easier yesterday!

My Active Duty orders for Iraq ended officially on 22JUL09, and on 23JUL09 I was at Summer Camp - West for the past three weeks, on Title 32 active duty orders. Yesterday began my second long stint in the Active Duty Army, and today we have the official farewell for the unit, at the Convention Center across from the Burbank Airport.

It's a bit daunting to be on my way out of the country again (however long that winds up taking).

But the Soldiers in my new unit are great, and I've already been busy over the past three weeks listening to them and praying with and for them. Many of them are very young, while others are close to my own age (though they've all made something of themselves....).

That's one of the things I appreciate about the National Guard -- we've got true Citizen-Soldiers in our ranks, whose service to their Nation and their buddies involves all the same sacrifices as that of full-time Service Members, but which service often seems to be discounted as somehow "less-than" that of 'professional' Soldiers.

From what I can tell, we all bleed the same.

And the families of Reservists, so often at very long distances from the families of other Reservists (and therefore unable to form the kind of community possible for families living on or close to Active Duty posts) seem to bear the same burdens as the families of Active Duty Soldiers, but without the benefit of a community of fellow-sufferers.

I am in awe of their courage and commitment.

Blessings and peace to one and all,

Fr. Tim, SJ

View My Milblogging.com Profile

Screen screed

My computer made it through a year in Iraq without too much difficulty (though a USB port did self-destruct, necessitating a new motherboard upon my return to the States).

Recently, I noticed a crack in the lower left-hand corner of the LCD monitor. The computer did take a dive (inside my backpack) off a bus as someone was helping me off-load gear at the airport as I was leaving Summer Camp last month, so perhaps that might have contributed to the situation. But how this happened is really not very important.

Dell said they'd replace the screen on Tuesday of this week, but the day came and went with no new screen. Wednesday came and went with no new screen. Thursday came and went with no replacement, either.

Someone did finally show up late Thursday afternoon, and he did install a replacement monitor, but it was defective. He didn't find this out until it was too late to order a replacement which could be installed before I left town this morning. He very graciously put the old one back in before he left, well after 1800 hours.

I'm grateful he put the old screen back in, because it at least lights up!

However, it became harder and harder to use the computer, because this LCD monitor is actually a touchscreen, and the touchscreen aspect began to malfunction in such a way that it became almost impossible to do anything constructive with the computer.

After much patient effort on my part, I was finally able to disable the touchscreen and install a USB mouse.

Blessings and peace to one and all,

Fr. Tim, SJ

View My Milblogging.com Profile

There's no place like home....

It has been great to spend a little time at home before taking off for the next journey ahead of me.

One of the things I missed most about being in Iraq was Mass with my Community, followed by preprandials in the rec room, followed by dinner. (We have the world's best tapioca pudding for dessert, for example.) Our conversations in the rec room, and at supper, for that matter, often defy description. One really needs to be there to understand.

Yesterday I was up in the rec room in the Jesuit Community before dinner and the conversation was as I remembered it.

One of the guys was telling a story about my friend Tom, who's a hopeless alcoholic (about 35 years sober now, I think). He was working for a time at a Jesuit parish in a very urban area. One day a man showed up at the door, appearing to be very agitated.

"I've got the power to raise the dead," he told Tom, "but I don't know the words." "Do you know the words?" he demanded.

Without missing a beat, Tom replied, "I don't know the words, but I know who does. Here's his name and address."

Tom gave the man the name of another Jesuit who was living and working at a Jesuit institution in a different part of town.

Later that day, the guy demanded to see the other Jesuit at that other institution. When the priest came to the door, the man started shouting, "I've got the power! Give me the words! I've got the power! Give me the words!"

Imagine the Jesuit's surprise.

Ah, brotherly love! I missed my brothers while I was Down Range. It's good to be home.

Blessings and peace to one and all,

Fr. Tim, SJ

View My Milblogging.com Profile

The Hurt Locker

I went with a friend to see "The Hurt Locker" recently. I don't often go to movies. I go even more infrequently to war movies.

The people who were most surprised by my joining the Army at an advanced age know that I don't even like war movies.

That being said, I highly recommend "The Hurt Locker" to anyone who wants an insight into what some military personnel experience Down Range. I did not 'enjoy' the movie, but I appreciate its verisimilitude. It conveys well the kinds of internal and external struggles faced in this counterinsurgency.

I found it very stressful just sitting in the theater watching the screen. Much to my surprise, I caught myself taking exception to certain aspects of what was being depicted on screen. "Maybe that was possible in 2004 (the year the movie is set in), but it couldn't happen that way today," I told the friend who went with me, concerning a couple of points.

I would never have expected myself to be able to offer a critique of the military aspects of a war movie as a veteran of a combat zone. Go figure.

Go see the movie, and offer a prayer for all who are there now, have been there, or will wind up there in the future.

Blessings and peace to one and all,


Fr. Tim, SJ

View My Milblogging.com Profile

Family

Not long after I finished Chaplain Basic Training I was on Temporary Duty (TDY) helping process Soldiers for deployment to Afghanistan and Iraq, and I received word that a Soldier home on pass from an Army school had died in a motorcycle accident. I immediately went to visit his family, who live about a half-hour away from the installation where I was serving my TDY.

It's been almost two years now since SPC Justin Baldwin died, though it doesn't seem as though it can be that long. I had lunch with his parents and grandmother a few days ago as my training came to a close. They have become important people in my life.

We spoke of grieving and Iraq and their horses and how God is able to bring life in the midst of unspeakable loss and sadness and fear. I'm grateful for their prayerful support of me while I was Down Range.

It will be good to see them again when I return from Kosovo!

Blessings and peace to one and all,


Fr. Tim, SJ

View My Milblogging.com Profile

Bitten by the budget crunch

First Army requires that all deploying Unit Ministry Teams (UMTs) complete some training that's only offered a few times over the course of the year, in various parts of the country. I went to this training sixteen months ago, before I deployed to Iraq.

One of the last opportunities for this training is happening right now, and all the other UMTs going to Kosovo are at that training.

SPC C and I are not, however, in part because of California's budget woes.

Interesting, eh?

Blessings and peace to one and all,

Fr. Tim, SJ

View My Milblogging.com Profile

Combatives

Chaplains are non-combatants, meaning we can't pick up weapons under any circumstances. We can, however, practice self-defense techniques that don't involve the use of weapons.

Eighteen months ago as I was going through this training in preparation for the deployment to Iraq, we spent a morning learning the basics of Modern Army Combatives. It was a very strenuous workout and left me exhausted.

I promptly forgot just about everything about that training, as it happens. This became painfully clear the morning we were doing combatives training this time around.

Two other things also became quite clear:

1) I'm never going to be good at combatives because
2) my arthritic joints continue to worsen as I get older.

Last time I was just really sore and tired after the training. This time I can barely move!

Blessings and peace to one and all,

Fr. Tim, SJ

View My Milblogging.com Profile

Home Sweet Home

The place were SPC C and I are training served as a training site for military personnel during WWII, and used during the Korean Conflict as well. For years it fell into desuetude (look it up!), and many motorists who pass by it on the freeway have no clue that it's an operational base, used to ready military personnel for deployment to Iraq, Afghanistan, Kosovo, and elsewhere.

We've had Marines and Navy personnel training here just in the time since I arrived, for example.

The barracks and classrooms we live and train in were built almost 70 years ago. Now, to be fair, they've been improved (slightly), but still have asbestos tile floors and lead paint on the walls.

Here are some shots of the historic buildings here; the lower photos are both buildings in use, as it turns out. The structure on the left serves as our 'white cell' headquarters (the Soldiers who are performing administrative and other support functions for those of us who are deploying are located in that building.

The structure on the right is the medical clinic I went to when I was so dehydrated.

The sign outside usually says "closed" -- appropriate, eh?

Blessings and peace to one and all,

Fr. Tim, SJ

View My Milblogging.com Profile

I beg your pardon?

SPC C and I got back from LANDNAV on Thursday and I took him to one of the small eateries on post to get lunch. It took an hour to get our food, even though there weren't that many people in the place. The food wasn't even all that good.

About an hour later, the floodgates of my G.I. tract opened, and I was constantly on the move.

Besides being uncomfortable, and really annoying (especially having to leave class several times), that condition concerned me because of the fact that we were supposed to do IVs in Combat Lifesaver (CLS) class Thursday night. I didn't want to have collapsed veins to begin with, which would make it more difficult for a classmate to start an IV in my arm.

After having exerted myself significantly on the LANDNAV course that morning (it was pretty warm, we had lots of hills and valleys to traverse while wearing full battle-rattle, and so I perspired a lot), the added dehydration wasn't going to help the conditions of my veins. So I went to the Battalion Aid Station (BAS) to see if they'd stick me with an IV in my hand (more painful than in the arm, but wouldn't preclude a bag in the arm later).

They were sympathetic, but told me I really needed some loperamide (Imodium, I think) to stopper thing up first. Otherwise, the infusion of liquids really wouldn't help. They gave me a slip which would get me into the Troop Medical Clinic (TMC) on post.

I showed up at the TMC at 1550 (3:50 p.m.), and was welcomed by the NCO at the front who called out, "Hey! Who forgot to lock the front door? Oh, it's a Captain." The other three people there laughed.

I showed them my slip from the BAS and indicated I was concerned about dehydration, and asked if they'd give me some loperamide and stick me. At that point the O-5 (LTC nurse practitioner appeared) and explained that there were various foods I should be eating which would help.

"With all due respect, Ma'am, we're *here*, and the chances of me getting most of what you've mentioned are slim-to-none."

"Well, tell them up at the DFAC that the Nurse Practitioner from the TMC says you have to have a couple of bananas and some dry toast. Besides, we're not going to stick you because then someone would have to stay past closing time, which is right now."

No exam of any kind; no blood pressure or pulse rate measured; no loperamide, even.

The guy in the pharmacy offered me some Pepto-Bismol, which I gratefully accepted, and then I left because I needed to go again.

I was speechless, which doesn't happen often. Our unit had a difficult time out at the ranges with people suffering from dehydration, so one might have thought the TMC folks would be tuned into those kinds of concerns....

Oh well.

I had two Soldiers stick me during class that night (once in each arm; everybody was a first-time "GO" in our class), so I did get some fluids (which did help me to feel better).

Oh, and the DFAC was out of bananas that night.

Blessings and peace to one and all,

Fr. Tim, SJ

View My Milblogging.com Profile

Everything hurts

Yesterday SPC C and I did land navigation (LANDNAV), for which we were up and about not later than 0400, so we could all be at the range and ready to go for a 0530 start time. I'd not been feeling all that great the day before, so I was very much hoping to make it through the course with no problems.

Last time I did LANDNAV here at this place, I wound up injuring the same ankle I'd had surgery on just four months before (as the result of an injury sustained during Chaplain Basic Training). I was very much looking forward to getting through with no problems.

Fortunately, SPC C is a real stud when it comes to LANDNAV, and we did just fine. It was very hot, and the battle rattle is a bit bothersome, but we negotiated the seemingly endless hills and valleys without either of us getting hurt.

I found myself humming "Every Valley Shall Be Exalted" from Handel's Messiah, and appreciating anew just how wonderful such a feat could be for a people traveling by foot over difficult terrain!

Because the long, dry grasses were quite slick underfoot, I found an old tree branch to use as a staff during what turned out to be a three-hour experience. Many others got done much more quickly than we did, but seeing as three of our four points were almost three kilometers away from the start, I figure we did pretty well.

I also insisted that we find all four of our points, even though we only needed three to get a "GO" for the lane.

SPC C, as I mentioned above, is great at LANDNAV.

It's not one of my strongs suits, however -- seeing as it took us an hour to find our first point (I was in the lead), and and hour to find the next three (SPC C was in the lead).

Sigh.

There are many gifts but the same Spirit, I suppose.

This morning, after that workout yesterday, everything hurts.

Blessings and peace to one and all,

Fr. Tim, SJ

View My Milblogging.com Profile

More flowers

While we were negotiating the Individual Movement Techniques lane a couple of days ago, I noticed a number of flowers from my face-on-the-ground vantage point. I went back afterward and photographed them.






















Beauty can be found in the most surprising of circumstances.

Blessings and peace to one and all,

Fr. Tim, SJ

View My Milblogging.com Profile

Smoke gets in your eyes

The last time I was at this training installation (about eighteen months ago), going through this same instruction, it was winter here in California, and therefore cold and damp. The training lanes (as they're called) were muddy, so we all got really dirty, wet, and cold.

This time around it's very hot and dry, and we all wind up dirty, wet, and hot.

Amazing how that works.

Last time, for reasons that are no longer clear to me, the Cadre were prohibited from using pyrotechnics and smoke grenades, so while they fired a .50-caliber simulator and rifles with blanks, we had no smoke.

This time, they're using a lot of smoke.

On one of the lanes (operating a checkpoint), since it is pretty clear that *I* will never be searching civilians and vehicles, I hung out and watched, but did not participate. Several times during the other lanes we'd move through smoke, but seeing as I was otherwise occupied, I had no chance to photograph it.

All other things being equal, in a training environment, it's rather beautiful....


Blessings and peace to one and all,

Fr. Tim, SJ

View My Milblogging.com Profile

Sunset at the range

Shortly after I arrived here for training, I went out to the ranges to say Mass for Soldiers who were waiting for night qualification with their assigned weapons. This usually meant they'd be standing or sitting around in 100-degree-Fahrenheit heat (shades of Iraq!) in full battle-rattle for a couple of hours (or more) for the skies to darken sufficiently for the night firing to commence.

A couple of times I was at a range where there wasn't anything like a table to use as an altar, and vehicles were parked too far away to be able to use the hood as a platform, so I just spread out on the ground and made do.

The sunsets each night were lovely.

The contrast between the beauty of the day's end and the potential for violence represented by the actions of the Soldiers who were testing their marksmanship was rather stark.

I can safely report that until I joined the Army I'd never before had the experience of saying Mass while automatic weapons were being fired only a matter of less than 100 meters away.

Blessings and peace to one and all,

Fr. Tim, SJ

View My Milblogging.com Profile

Conversations I never expected to have.....

After being in Iraq a while I began to notice that I could distinguish among the various kinds of rotary-wing aircraft that were common in the skies above Baghdad without even seeing them. I'd never expected to be able to do that, as I wrote in this blog.

I've also found myself having conversations I'd never have dreamed of having.

F'rinstance:

A former Marine (there's no such thing as an "ex-Marine"!) was telling a group of us about his experiences with the Corps before he joined the Army.

"When we were in P.I., there were bamboo bats that lived there. There's a kind of bamboo that grows really tall and becomes very fat. The inner chambers of each stalk are sealed. These bats would chew a tiny hole into the bamboo and hang upside-down from the roof of the compartment, safe from most predators.

"Except us.

"We'd look for those holes, and during the day stuff leaves and twigs into them so the bat sleeping inside couldn't escape. Then we'd cut the bamboo above and below the margins of that chamber.

"Once the noise inside stopped after we threw the bamboo into the fire, we knew the bat was ready.

"There's not much meat on them -- you can really only eat the breast, rather like a chicken -- so it takes a fair number of them to make a meal."

A conversation I could probably rather have done without, all things considered.

Blessings and peace to one and all,

Fr. Tim, SJ

View My Milblogging.com Profile

Situational awareness

Recently, SPC C and I were out training, and once again I was practically face-down in the dirt with him almost on top of me. He told me to keep my head down, and that he'd let me know when I could move from my position.

He has a loaded weapon, and outweighs me by at least 140 pounds, so I tend not to argue much in those situations, I've noticed.

Soldiers are encouraged -- well, ordered, to be precise -- to maintain 360-degree situational awareness at all times. It's a pretty good plan, it would seem.

With my head down, and then rest of me in the dirt (or sand or mud -- or snow, I suppose, given where we're going), I don't have situational awareness of much except what's right in front of my eyes. That's a bit disconcerting, but mitigated by knowing that my right-hand man has clear vision and is a crack shot.

(As many of you have already pointed out to me, I'm a "crack pot", so there's no need to remind me of that fact at this point.)

So there I was on the ground, and next to me was a small bush with some rather lovely flowers blooming. I was a bit grateful for the distraction, actually, because I was very situationally aware of the myriad red ants that were swarming over me at the time.

I photographed the flowers later.

I did not photograph the ants.

Blessings and peace to one and all,

Fr. Tim, SJ

View My Milblogging.com Profile

A Clarification

It's August already; that seems hardly possible. Just ten days ago I began training for the mission to Kosovo, which also seems to defy comprehension, seeing as I was on Active Duty orders until eleven days ago.

Several correspondents have indicated that they're sad to have missed me while I was in the States and have wished me luck in Kosovo. I'm grateful for the good wishes!

But to be perfectly clear, I'm still in California for the moment. Kosovo is still a bit off in the future at this point, despite what the tag line at the top of this page says. (I just went ahead and changed it, figuring it was easier to do it sooner than later.)

From here, we all go to another training facility in another State, and then to another training facility in another country, and then finally to Kosovo.

So, for the time being, hang onto those cards and letters and boxes of goodies for the troops. I'll let you know when I have an address for you to use. In the meantime, wish us luck and good health as we prepare for what's ahead.

Many thanks, as ever!

Blessings and peace to one and all,

Fr. Tim, SJ

View My Milblogging.com Profile