Getting to know you

I've been with my new unit for almost two full months now.

There are over 300 of us in the Battalion, quite a number of whom came to us from an Infantry unit not long before I arrived.

So we're getting to know one another.

I don't often forget faces, but I have a difficult time with names. Thus I'm very happy the Army has the custom of placing Soldiers' last names on the front of their uniforms!

Except for the physical training (PT) uniform. Then I'm in trouble, especially with some of the Junior Enlisted Soldiers (Private, Private First Class, and Specialist) from the Line Companies, whom I don't always see every day.

But as time marches on, and we march from here to there, I'm slowly learning to put names to faces, and then to remember the correct rank with the correct name and the correct face.

No wonder I'm tired a lot!

(Of course, not being able to sleep well in the barracks might have something to do with that, too, I suppose....)

Blessings and peace to one and all,

Fr. Tim, SJ

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Once upon a time.... pt. 3

Upon my return home, I was upbraided once again for "jumping the Chain [of Command]," but by that point, it was old-hat. Not long after my return, I went on Temporary Duty to a two-week course in Texas, and life returned to normal.

I went to Chaplain School shortly thereafter, and less than a month after those 90 days (of hell) were over I learned that my name was on the top of the list of Chaplains from my State to go to Iraq.

Over a year ago I alluded to the fact that I had initially been slated to go to what I call the "Readers' Digest" training course for Iraq, but someone had a change of heart and decided to send me to Summer Camp - South instead.

Gak.

This was not good news for Tim.

I'd not left Summer Camp - South on particularly good terms the year before (and it was only slightly more than a year since all that transpired).

Sigh.

About ten days before I was to report in, I was on the phone with someone there, and when I mentioned that I'd been there before and what had happened, he audibly caught his breath and said, "So *you're* the one!"

Great.

This was off to a good start, I thought.

Once on the ground again at Summer Camp - South, each of the Chaplains assigned to the place said the exact same thing to me.

Even better.

What I'd not realized in the year that had passed is that the person ultimately responsible for the training program at Summer Camp - South (and many other posts, as it turns out) had heard about my shenanigans, and before he retired, put out a directive that Soldiers be given a three-hour block of time once per week, during which no training was to go on so they could attend Services if they wished.

Upon being told of this fact, I was then upbraided by the person who told me this for "jumping the Chain."

The more things change, the more they stay the same, I guess!

Blessings and peace to one and all,

Fr. Tim, SJ

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Once upon a time.... pt. 2

Two days after my encounter with the General, the other shoe dropped.

Someone important from Summer Camp - South paid a visit to the FOB where we were staying, and before we all had sat down, someone else from the unit deploying to Iraq (whom I'd thought would have been an advocate) told this guy, "Sir! I've got to tell you that *I'm* not the one who went outside the chain here!"

That sound you just heard and the bump you felt was the wheels of the bus rolling over my lifeless corpse.

Thanks, Sir. You really know how to support a guy.

(I found out later that he was concerned that he might not come out on the promotion list to be published shortly thereafter, and I guess he wanted to make sure that some upstart Chaplain wannabe didn't upset his apple cart.)

If that weren't bad enough, my comrade said exactly the same thing twice more during the rather strained and awkward conversation that followed.

A thousand thanks for each of those, Sir! May I have another?

Making the encounter even more surreal and uncomfortable was the fact that the visitor had a smile that never changed shape (think: Joker from the Batman franchise). It was odd and disquieting. In excelsis.

I basically couldn't sit down for a week after the verbal barrage finished. (Anyone from the military will infer the technical phrase to describe this experience.)

Oh well. This is not a career for me; I knew that from before Day One.

As difficult as the prior experience and its aftermath proved to be, I surprised myself by plunging forward into the barrage. I didn't know I had it in me.

My goal in joining the military at such an old age was to try to be of service to Soldiers. Despite not being able to sit down figuratively, and the incredible heat and humidity of the non-air-conditioned tents notwithstanding, the night after the second visitor showed up, I slept really well.

But wait, there's more!

Blessings and peace to one and all,

Fr. Tim, SJ

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Once upon a time.... pt. 1

Back at Summer Camp - South a couple of months ago, I had occasion to speak with a number of Chaplains who were on the ground at the time. It seems as though some of the problems which led to my having really, really, really annoyed a two-star General there back a couple of years ago now, have returned.

At the time of the annoyance, I'd been sent to Summer Camp - South to provide religious support to a unit from my State that was mobilized and on its way Down Range. In the ten weeks they'd been there at Summer Camp - South, Soldiers had only been able to make it to one Catholic Mass. (Easter had occurred within the time frame I'm talking about.)

Moreover, few others were going to religious service, as well.

It seems as though those who were running the training at Summer Camp - South were telling Soldiers, "You're welcome to go to services, but just remember this: While you're away, your buddies will be training, and when you return THEY WILL REPEAT THAT SAME TRAINING WITH YOU."

(How do you spell 'unconstitutional'?)

On top of lots of other things that were amiss (I won't even mention the fact that for two of the five days I was there, I could not find a single sheet of toilet tissue in any of the portable toilets at the FOB (forward operating base) the Soldiers had been sent to....), the "suggestion" that Soldiers not exercise their Constitutionally-guaranteed right to practice religion according to their conscience seemed too much for those guys.

Soldiers in that unit were massively demoralized, and I was beset by individuals (most of whom I'd never met before) asking me to "tell someone when you get home, PLEASE."

It was highly disconcerting. Especially upsetting to me was seeing the Soldiers I had known from my own unit who volunteered to go on that deployment appearing so listless and disspirited.

So there I was one evening in the DFAC -- one of the only three air-conditioned structures on the FOB there in the hot, humid Deep South -- standing around having dinner. (As another example of "we train as we fight," the people running the training at Summer Camp - South had set up the DFAC at the FOB in such a way that all the tabletops were at chest height -- with no chairs or stools. This meant, then, that Soldiers had to eat all of their meals standing up. They were out at that FOB for weeks at a time... Do the math to calculate their morale.)

I'd sidled up to two NCOs having dinner, neither of whom I'd met before. After asking if I could join them, I asked them how they'd rate their morale, and that of their fellow Infantrymen. The junior of the two (a Staff Sergeant) replied, in a heavy voice, "Well, Sir, when we got here it was about eight out of ten. Now it's zero. They've pile-drived it out of us."

The other NCO, a Sergeant First Class (as was SFC McG when he and I were Down Range), said to me, "Sir, I'll have sixteen good years of Active Service at the end of this deployment. That's four years out from Active Duty retirement. My enlistment is up shortly after I get back, and I'm not going to re-enlist. This mobilization has completely soured me on the military."

I was completely taken aback.

Shortly after this brief interchange, I noticed a Soldier walk into the DFAC who had two stars on his chest. I had no idea who he was, but I figured that there aren't all that many Major Generals out there, so he was probably somebody.

I had been promising Soldiers that I'd "tell somebody," figuring that I'd report what I'd seen and heard and experienced at Summer Camp - South to Chaplains back in California. But here was an opportunity to put my money where my mouth was.

When I was in school I was pretty good at math, and found myself performing a little mental calculus rapidly in my head.

I said to myself, "Self? What's the worst they can do to me? Take away my retirement? (I'm too old to get it.) Not promote me? (I have a big mouth; I'm not going to get promoted.) Send me to Iraq?" (How prescient, eh?)

My Dad was in Field Artillery, and I'd been hanging around with Tankers (of the M1A1 Abrams tank variety), so I figured I could probably acquire a target and send a round down range. The guy looked as though he wasn't there to eat (probably a good choice, considering), so I threw caution to the wind and engaged him in a conversation as he passed by our table.

I have a somewhat interesting story, I'm told, and the General was quickly intrigued and we had a pleasant conversation.

Until I let him have it.

Boy, did he get annoyed! (There are other, more descriptive words, but they're probably not very polite or appropriate to this medium.) He tried to tell me that Infantry aren't happy unless they're complaining (true, up to a point, but my Tankers were not Infantry). He parried and I countered. I had a response to each of his points, and he became even more annoyed.

I knew I was in real trouble when he asked for, and wrote down, my first name. That's when I noticed that he had already written down my last name.

Sigh.

I found out later that he was a *very* important person in terms of the unit conducting the training at Summer Camp - South. Clearly he was such an important person, no one had wanted to tell him the truth of what was going on there.

He left in a huff, and I waited for the boom to fall, which it eventually did.

More on that later.

(By the way, in the realm of "we train as we fight," never once in my movement around the MND-Baghdad battlespace for eleven months (more than thirty posts of varying sizes) did I encounter a DFAC in which military personnel had to stand at tables to eat their meals....)

Blessings and peace to one and all,

Fr. Tim, SJ

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It's back!

My laptop got back from Dell yesterday afternoon, but I had so much going on with the "peace-keeping game" going one here, and a trip off-post last night, that I was only able to put the hard drive back in late last night.

Looks good!

Thanks for your assistance, Mr. Bernier!!

After a rather long day, a friend of mine who works here on Post came by the barracks and picked me up so he and his wife could take me out to dinner to celebrate my 30 years of being clean and sober. Both of them go to a lot of AA meetings, and it sounds as though Pete might be going to start going to some Al-Anon meetings as well.

Some friends of mine insist that Al-Anon is "advanced recovery" for alcoholics....

Anyway, before we went out for dinner, I wound up meeting a bunch of their friends who also go to a lot of AA meetings, and they seemed pretty excited for me that I've been sober a while now.

It's funny how I wind up meeting all these people in recovery programs wherever I go, isn't it?

Even though I only met Pete and Brandi for the first time when I arrived here at Summer Camp - North, I feel as though i've known them for years. Dinner was great (it was a delight to be away from Post!), and Pete even went to the trouble of getting me a really nice medallion with a Roman numeral "30" on it -- pretty thoughtful, eh?

My friend Stan was celebrating 30 years sober last night -- he goes to a *lot* of AA and Al-Anon meetings -- and miracle of miracles, he actually answered the phone when I called expecting to leave him a message (as happens 99% of the times I call him). Stan actually knew me when I was drinking, and he reminded me of some situations I'm grateful I never have to repeat again, one day at a time, as long as I don't pick up that first drink.

Hooray for the Higher Power!

Blessings and peace to one and all,

Fr. Tim, SJ

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Peace-keeping games

We're going to Kosovo to help foster a safe and secure environment for the locals, as well as their freedom of movement. This means that our training here is supposed to be preparing us for that kind of mission.

One constantly hears people saying "we train as we fight," and while that's a laudable sentiment, I suppose, I'm finding it's taking more than a modicum of "willing suspension of disbelief" to buy into it.

The folks running the training here seem to be making it up as they go along, which could strike a person as odd, seeing as we'll be the twelfth iteration of US personnel going to Kosovo.

They'll be running a "game" meant to simulate our being over there running missions, with the goal that it be as realistic as possible. However, they've only given us four laptop computers (for our whole Headquarters Company) to use for the duration of this "game". This means that as Chaplain, I'm sharing a computer with three other -- very busy -- Staff sections.

Having worked out of a Division Headquarters when MSG McG and I were Down Range (when he and I had four laptops between us), I rather doubt I'll be sharing one computer with three other Staff sections when we get where we're going.

When I attempted to point this out to the powers that be, I was promptly shot down for "not playing the game."

There's a lot of truth to the adage, "There's the right way, and the wrong way, and the Army way to do things," I guess!

We train as we peace-keep.

Blessings and peace to one and all,

Fr. Tim, SJ

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"Home" again...

We got back to the barracks here at Summer Camp - North, and back to the awful beds and crowded living space. Ah! Home sweet home.

While it was nice having some measure of privacy, and a *much* better bed to sleep on, not to mention individual showers, it's actually good to be back.

Go figure.

Blessings and peace to one and all,

Fr. Tim, SJ

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Casper

One of the Company Commanders had been amused by his Soldiers' concerns over the supposed haunting of our training site, and realized that a number of his troops were in the old hospital/research building (which was simply vacated as if everyone present had all gone out for a cigarette and had never come back) snooping around.

He grabbed a white sheet from his bed, and snatched up his flashlight with a red lens and sprang into action.

CPT G entered the building from the ground floor in the back, and stealthily crept down corridors until he came to the elevator. He got in, threw the sheet over his head, and punched all the buttons.

As the elevator stopped at each floor, he held the door open until he could hear noises being made by his less-than-stealthy underlings. Finding the floor they were on, he left the elevator, and made his way toward the sounds.

Carefully rounding a corner, he saw them a few yards ahead. He flicked on the flashlight under the sheet, and let out a low and rather sinister cackle.

The Soldiers screamed bloody murder and high-tailed it down the stairs and out of the building.

CPT G couldn't stop laughing.

I wish I'd thought of doing that!

Blessings and peace to one and all,

Fr. Tim, SJ

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9/11

Eight years ago this morning I was in the car on the way from Livermore, CA back to the Bay Area, having done the funeral the day before for a good friend who had gone to a lot of AA and Al-Anon meetings. She'd managed to stay sober through the death of her husband, and the suicide of her son, whom she'd found dead in her home.

I promised her a month or so earlier, that I'd do her funeral, even though I was living in the midwest at the time.

That Tuesday morning, as my friend Brian drove me to town so our friend Mary could take me to the airport while he was at work, the Bay Area NPR station interrupted its broadcast to mention that word was coming over the wires about some problem with the World Trade Center in New York, and the on-air announcer made the decision to switch the broadcasting to the live feed from D.C.

It was surreal and disturbing.

Mary hadn't been listening to the news, and thought we were kidding when we told her to turn on the TV when we got there. Shortly thereafter, when the first building collapsed, I remember my complete inability to believe what I was seeing, which was then compounded as the second tower pancaked.

I'd broken a tooth the night before, so Mary called her dentist, who was able to squeeze me in. The TVs in the dental office were all tuned to what was happening in New York and DC and Pennsylvania, and so distracted me from the present moment that I completely forgot I had gotten a temporary filling until it broke while I was in Thailand in the summer of 2004.

If anyone had told me on 11SEP01 that I'd be wearing the uniform of the United States Army with a combat deployment patch on my right shoulder by 11SEP08, and that a year later I'd be into a second deployment with the Army, I'd have thought the person completely insane.

Let's pray that the fear that inspired the cowardly actions of a few on 11SEP01, and the fear inspired in so many as a result of those actions might be outshone by truth and tolerance based in love: "There is no fear in love, but perfect love casts out fear...." (1 Jn 4:18)

Blessings and peace to one and all,

Fr. Tim, SJ
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Oleoresin capsicum

Tuesday afternoon the Soldiers in Headqaurters and Bravo Companies experienced the 'joys' of O.C. Thursday the Soldiers in Alpha and Charlie Companies suffered the same fate. Whereas Soldiers were given an option as to whether to be tazed, there was no element of choice involved in the O.C. training.

Oleoresin capsicum.

Pepper spray.

"An Appraisal of Technologies of Political Control," published in 1998 by the European Parliament Scientific and Technological Options Assessment (STOA) had this to say about pepper spray:

"The effects of peppergas are far more severe, including temporary blindness which last from 15-30 minutes, a burning sensation of the skin which last from 45 to 60 minutes, upper body spasms which force a person to bend forward and uncontrollable coughing making it difficult to breathe or speak for between 3 to 15 minutes. For those with asthma, taking other drugs, or subject to restraining techniques which restrict the breathing passages, there is a risk of death. The Los Angeles Times has reported at least 61 deaths associated with police use of pepper spray since 1990 in the USA, and the American Civil Liberties Union (ACLU) documented 27 deaths in custody of people sprayed with peppergas in California alone, since 1993."

Wow. That was published over 10 years ago now. Lovely stuff, O.C., eh?

And it wasn't just as if people were sprayed in the face with this stuff (they were), each person had to run an obstacle course -- blinded or semi-blind -- which included having to fight off and/or subdue attackers or other unruly persons.

Since this obstacle course involved the use of a riot baton, which is a weapon (albeit less-than-lethal, usually), I did not participate in the training. As a consequence, then, I didn't get O.C.'d, either. There was only one other person in the whole Battalion down here at Summer Camp - The Haunting who didn't get sprayed (he'd had Lasik surgery on his eyes less than a month ago).

I have taken some grief already for not participating, but I'm very grateful I managed to avoid the experience.

Everyone who went through it appeared to be in agony, if not during the obstacle course itself, then certainly when they got to the decontamination station (chest-height shower heads spraying cool water). The water activated and spread the contamination even as it diluted the water-based pepper spray.

I positioned myself at the end of the obstacle course, equipped with many bottles of Johnson's Baby Shampoo (the only stuff that works, evidently because of its 'no more tears' formula) and lots of tri-fold paper towels. As each victim came off the course, I gave him or her a towel soaked in the shampoo to lay across the eyes (no rubbing!), in the attempt to get the shampoo into the eyes themselves.

It was awful, watching people I've grown to care about suffer like that.

Some had a fairly easy time of it, to be honest, but the vast majority of the hundreds who went through the training, looked awful as they came off the course, and got worse, briefly, as they went through the decon process. A few became highly agitated and needed to be physically restrained by other Soldiers as they were at the water station. Some convinced themselves they couldn't breathe.

One Soldier got into the course and ran from the area to the water station before finishing. He was forced to go back through the course after everyone else had finished; this meant he again got sprayed. Poor guy.

He again got part-way through the obstacle course, and again did not finish.

It was brutal training.

A couple of guys who got O.C.'d on Tuesday were still having problems with their eyes more than 24 hours later.

Because I was around so many people who were in so much pain, and there was so little I could do to make the situation better, I found myself once again very grateful for all the people in my life over the past 30 years who've gone to lots of Al-Anon meetings, and who have taught me that "messiah" is not part of *my* job description.

The O.C. obstacle course lasted three hours on Tuesday, and more than four on Thursday.

I was completely wiped out after each session.

Blessings and peace to one and all,

Fr. Tim, SJ

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The Tazing

We're going to Kosovo to help ensure a "Safe and Secure Environment" for that neck of the woods. This means that my Field Artillery unit is not taking any of its big guns (literally), so no "pull string, go boom" this time around.

Instead, the line units will pretty much be functioning as Military Police -- without being able to wear the MP brassard on their uniform (except for the MP Company that's coming from a territory off the continental United States). Therefore, instead of blowing things up, my Soldiers will be doing their best to keep things (and people!) quiet.

To that end, during this training, they're learning non-lethal crowd control methods.

One aspect of the training this week was learning how to deploy a Tazer. Since the Tazer is a weapon -- supposedly non-lethal, but a weapon none the less -- I'm not allowed (nor do I want) to carry one. I'll never be in a circumstance where I deploy one, as a consequence, but I went to the training anyway.

Part of the training involved the instructors tazing the students.

This did not fill me with the kind of anticipation a small child feels on Christmas morning as he or she sees the tree with the presents underneath for the first time.

About half the Headquarters Company -- including the Battalion Commander and Command Sergeant Major -- were tazed. Those two were in the first group of four to get hit with the current.

Did you know that the initial jolt from the tazer is 50,000 Volts?

That's right, 50,000.

There are 15 pulses of electricity per second for either three or five seconds. After the initial 50,000 V charge, the subsequent shocks are less than 10% of that, I think, but it hardly makes a difference, to my mind, anyway.

Four Soldiers with their ACU (uniform) shirt removed (just in their undershirts), and sans any electronic devices or metal objects were instructed to sit on the floor, on the wrestling mats which occupied about a third of the room. Legs were interlocked, and then arms were interlocked, and subjects were instructed to clasp their hands into a fist, and then to relax.

Yeah. Right. Relax.

The instructor would say, "Tazer, tazer, tazer" and then hit them with the juice.

All four fell back onto the mats, and writhed. Some shouted. It seemed to go on for a lot longer than three seconds. Many cameras recorded the experience for posterity. Or at least, YouTube.

The second group of four then readied themselves. Again the instructor said he'd say "Tazer, tazer, tazer" before shocking them. Of course, he'd barely gotten the first word out of his mouth when they were hit.

Again there was weeping and gnashing of teeth.

Finally, PFC M and I interlocked legs, then arms, and when the current started I thought my left leg (the one to which the electrode was attached) was going to be torn unceremoniously from my body.

I believe the video has been posted to YouTube.

One of my "friends" said to me afterward, "Sir. It was great! You screamed like a schoolgirl."

Sigh.

Blessings and peace to one and all,

Fr. Tim, SJ

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Life in the morgue

SPC C and I hitched a ride with the Command Sergeant Major and his driver down to Summer Camp - The Haunting on Monday morning. We'd been told we could travel down on the Commanding General's helicopters early Monday afternoon, but the sky was still very cloudy Monday morning, and I didn't want to get stranded, again, at Post when all my Soldiers were down at the Urban Operations Training Center.

I'd not slept well Sunday night, so I snoozed in the back seat as we drove to the other base.

It's a former Pediatric Psychatric Hospital that became notorious for highly-publicized abuse cases (horrific in the telling), and was ultimately ordered to be closed in 2002 or 2003, I think.

The National Guard took over the place (1000 acres, 70 buildings, more than a mile of tunnels under the complex) a year or so after it closed, and turned it into an urban operations training center. It's reputed (by them, anyway!) to be one of the premier training sites in the world for that sort of military operation.

It's also reputed to be haunted, which I've mentioned before.

Some of the Soldiers are really wigged out about this hype, and by the time my Chaplain Assistant and I arrived there Monday, quite a few Soldiers had gone "ghost hunting" Saturday and Sunday nights.

The barracks in which SPC C and I were given a room is a building that has a very large morgue in its basement.

Soldiers told me they had photos of themselves taken as they were lying on the slabs in the morgue, and even in the once-refrigerated wall lockers.

I declined the invitation to partake in the festivities.

I may be a bit macabre in my humor, but I do have limits.

I really do.

Blessings and peace to one and all,

Fr. Tim, SJ

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Summer Camp -- The Haunting

SPC C, my trustworthy Chaplain Assistant, and I were supposed to be driven down to Summer Camp -- The Haunting late in the afternoon on Sunday, well after the other troops from our Battalion arrived there on Saturday. I was scheduled to do Mass on Saturday night and then again Sunday afternoon in the Post Chapel here at Summer Camp - North, so SPC C and I just stayed behind as everyone else left.

After Mass on Sunday, as we were waiting for our ride, the Chapel staff discovered that SPC C had his rifle with him, which they'd somehow managed not to figure into the equation, and this presented a huge problem. The Post won't transport a weapon without an armed escort; no escort had been requested, and as it was a holiday weekend (for everyone else, not for us!), there was no one who could carry a loaded M9 (pistol).

I suggested to the Brigade Chaplain, who covers down on the Aviation unit assigned to our Task Force going to Kosovo, that perhaps he could check with his flyboys to see if there were a helicopter mission Sunday night.

There was!

After calls to Fort Knox (really!) and elsewhere, we were told to show up at the flight deck at 2100 hours (9 p.m.) to await our airborne transportation. SPC C had not yet flown on a helicopter, so I was pumped that he was going to get a chance to experience that kind of flying. Granted, there wouldn't be much to see, as it's very dark by 2100 in these parts, but flying in the dark over desolate areas in the Iraqi battlespace where MSG McG and I served was still a blast.

I made sure we got to the flight deck by 2040, just to be on time. We had a lot of gear with us (we'd be gone almost a week), in addition to our battle rattle, which we were wearing.

The aviation trainers were going to send the birds out on a simulated casualty evacuation, and upon the return of the aircraft to base they'd immediately be tasked with an emergency medical transfer: SPC C would be the patient, and I'd be the Chaplain, traveling with him.

It sounded fun, and we were encouraged to "act".

Just my kind of thing!

We heard the "9-line" (highly-scripted formula for communicating information about the medevac situation) broadcast over the communications equipment in the flight ops building at 2130. The mission was expected to take about 45 - 50 minutes in total, with the helicopters landing to refuel before returning to base. Then we'd be collected, and our gear loaded onto the aircraft for the 15-minute jaunt to Summer Camp - The Haunting.

Except that ten minutes before the birds returned I saw lightning streak across the sky. Bad omen.

Especially since the planes in Iraq would not fly during an electrical storm.

More lightning. And wind. And then thunder in the distance.

I told SPC C that he'd not be getting his plane flight, unfortunately. I tried to find someone by phone on Post who could come pick us up, since it was now pretty late, and the guy who'd dropped us off had certainly gone to bed.

I roused the Executive Officer (my boss; XO) and he said he'd find someone who could come get us if we needed to be picked up. As I was on the phone with the XO, the mission was officially scrubbed, so I was grateful we wouldn't have to wait long to get back to the barracks and get to bed.

Shortly after we arrived back "home," it started to rain cats and dogs, and we were treated to a good old-fashioned midwestern thunderstorm that rattled walls and windows and drummed noisily on the roof. The storm continued for hours, because every time I woke up (I do that a lot, unfortunately) it was still storming.

It's 0600 now, and still raining, though there seems to be no more lightning and thunder.

We never had a storm like this while I was in Iraq, and it hardly ever rains in this manner in California where I live, so it's been a long time since I've been in a storm of this ferocity.

Nothing like a raging storm to give one perspective on one's place in the universe, eh?

Blessings and peace to one and all,

Fr. Tim, SJ

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Happy Birthday, Sis!

Today is my sister's birthday.

Happy birthday, Sis! I'm glad you were born.

Blessings and peace to one and all,

Fr. Tim, SJ

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The latest....

So FedEx twice claims to have come to our headquarters to pick up my computer so that Dell can repair it at their factory, and twice no one here saw them, so my computer was not picked up.

Can you believe it?

One of my friends who's been reading the blog evidently forwarded a couple of my blog posts to someone who's big at Dell, so after the second time FedEx missed picking up the computer, that individual sent me an airbill so the computer can go overnight express right to the person's desk at Dell.

I'm off to Summer Camp - The Haunting in a little while, so I'm hoping that while I'm gone the computer will wend its way 'home' to Dell and then back to me. We'll see!

In the meantime, since I won't have internet access for the next six days (most probably), I may not be able to post updates about life on our way to Kosovo until we get back.

The weather report indicates it's supposed to rain every day, so I guess the Army adage, "If it ain't rainin', we ain't trainin'" will apply.

I'll let you know how haunted the place really is; I'm amused that a number of the Soldiers are actually concerned about that! I just tell them, "you can put your ghost up against my God anyday!"

Blessings and peace to one and all,

Fr. Tim, SJ

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Earning my keep

For being a unit that hasn't had a Chaplain in quite some years, the Soldiers in my Battalion certainly seem to know what a Chaplain is for, because I've been busy since I arrived at Summer Camp - West last month.

If it's not a Soldier or his/her buddy coming to me to ask for some time, it's someone in a Soldier's Chain of Command who hits me up about talking with that Soldier. I'm loving it.

Especially when I find myself in the presence of someone who's carrying an incredible emotional burden of one sort or another, I'm very grateful to my friends over the years who have gone to lots and lots of Al-Anon meetings.

For almost three decades now they've been reminding me that "messiah" is not part of *my* job description, and that's a crucial piece of information to retain in the forefront of my consciousness when I'm faced with the life situations some of my Soldiers find themselves in.

Were it not for that truth -- "messiah" is NOT my job description -- it would be easy to get overwhelmed (or at least grandiose) as a result of others' pain. My friends who go to a lot of Al-Anon meetings talk about "detaching with love," something that sounds simple in the abstract, but can be quite tricky in the execution. Absolutely necessary, though.

"As much as you love them, Tim," my friends have told me for so long, "you can have a God who loves them even more. So get out of God's way, and let that happen!"

Their experience, strength, and hope have sustained me through a lot thus far, and continue to nourish my spirit in this latest adventure.

Good thing, too, because you'd be amazed at the situations my Soldiers find themselves in -- even before we've gone overseas.

Blessings and peace to one and all,

Fr. Tim, SJ

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Dell Update

The wayward FedEx box from Dell was eventually found (it had gone to another unit on Post because part of the address had been left off), but much to my chagrin, the box will be going via ground rather than via next-day delivery.

The clock is ticking, and with each passing day, given all the mishaps thus far, the chances of my leaving the country without my computer continue to mount.

Take yesterday, for example.

FedEx claims to have stopped by our TOC (tactical operations center = headquarters) and found no box to be picked up. This seems a bit odd, since someone was in the building at all times, and no one saw or spoke to anyone from FedEx.

Sigh.

We'll see if FedEx collects the box with my computer in it today!

If not, since we're going to the field for a week, there will be no way to get the computer fixed before we leave for Europe....

Life is nothing if not interesting, nicht Wahr?

Blessings and peace to one and all,

Fr. Tim, SJ

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Sheesh!

Dell sent a FedEx box to the Armory in California, as I wrote previously, and then sent another to me here, which arrived Tuesday, but then promptly disappeared. The folks at the Mail Center signed for it, and then other folks from our higher Task Force signed for it, and then it went AWOL.

How do you spell "frustrating"?

I eventually got the box yesterday evening, and was able to pack up my computer, call FedEx and arrange for pick-up today. I was very surprised to find out that I'll be shipping the thing back to them via ground, but at least it should be on its way sometime today.

Meanwhile, we're gearing up for our Command Post Exercise (CPX) and various Situational Training Exercise (STX) lanes down at the Haunted Forest. Some members of the Headquarters Company will be staying here at Summer Camp - North while the rest of us go down south to the other site.

I found out that some of us going down there can do so via helicopter (yay!), but that I won't be one of them (boo!) since I'm staying around to say Mass here on Post Saturday night, and then will bus down there with the other stragglers. I'll be back on Sunday to say Mass again up here, and then return down there afterward, Sunday evening.

Could it be more confusing? Or gasoline-intensive?

It's all good.

Blessings and peace to one and all,

Fr. Tim, SJ

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31

Thirty-one years ago tomorrow I joined the Society of Jesus.

Last year on this date I was in Iraq wearing the uniform of the United States Army -- something I'd never imagined myself doing, as I've previously mentioned -- and today I find myself on Active Duty again (still?) and on my way to Kosovo, ultimately.

God's providence and sense of humor continue to surprise and delight and often flummox me....

Ad Maiorem Dei Gloriam.

Blessings and peace to one and all,

Fr. Tim, SJ

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Over the river and through the woods....

It looks as though we'll be going off for about a week to train at a place that's reputed to be haunted, so that could be something a bit different from my usual routine.

If indeed that comes to pass this weekend, I'll be off-line during all that time (and may not even have phone access), so please be patient, and I'll catch you up when I'm able.

In the meantime, Happy September!

Blessings and peace to one and all,

Fr. Tim, SJ

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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

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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

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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

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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

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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

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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

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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

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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

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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

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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

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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

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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

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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

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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

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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

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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

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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

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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

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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

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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

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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

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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

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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

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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

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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

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