Life's a bitch..Then you die and it's not so bad.
8:00 AM
It's a beautiful morning. The sun has finally come out and the temperature has already climbed to around six degrees which is the highest it's been since I started fighting this "war." I reluctantly leave my salvation (sleeping bag) and briskly shower and shave from my canteen. I bundle up and prepare for another long day of humping simulated artillery rounds (boxes of concrete) which, I've learned, is the most common job for a low ranking private on his first field deployment. I'm quietly thankful that I'm in a 105mm battery, the smallest of the U.S. artillery guns, as I walk back and forth with my cargo. Still, I can't stop myself from thinking that no amount of college money is worth going through this bullshit. Unfortunately I have no one to share my feelings with since most of my original crew was "killed" by a sniper within fifteen minutes of our arrival. I'm now assigned to a gun crew where I don't know anyone.
9:45 AM
The call comes down for us to shoot our cannons in support of an infantry assault on a suspected enemy position. I'm now hauling rounds like a madman in support of our mission. We fire continually for about 10 minutes. The cannons aren't nearly as loud as normal because they aren't firing real rounds. Instead they are firing blank shotgun shells to simulate the sound. I found out later, that firing blanks into any weapon just makes a terrible mess. The barrel gets all gunked up with carbon. What a future pain in the ass I had to look forward to. Anyway, as I was dutifully hauling rounds with my new buddy Gonzo, another private on ammo duty, I heard a short "beep" emanate from my receiver. A short beep means that a weapon has been fired at you but missed closely. By the time I realized what happened my receiver was putting out the steady annoying tone that signifies you've been hit. Almost immediately after mine went off, Gonzos did as well. In compliance with the rules, we took our helmets off and sat down on the ground near the ammo bunker where we were storing our boxes of concrete.
10:15 AM
Yea it took thirty minutes before anyone noticed Gonzo and I were hit. A member of his gun crew came looking for him. If we had to depend on my crew to look for me, they wouldn't have missed me till it was time for me to pull guard duty at 4 AM. They called the medic over and we took our injury cards out of their envelopes. Mine simply said KIA (Killed In Action). Poor Gonzo had taken a chest hit with a large exit wound. On the card the prognosis was if Gonzo didn't receive medical attention within 10 minutes he was KIA. So we were both dead. It didn't take long for me to figure out that, since I was dead, I didn't have to haul rounds anymore. Death was good. They had to get some guys to haul us around. The rules of the game say that you aren't aloud to move yourself when you're dead. We now had guys getting our personal effects and bringing them to us so Gonzo and I (or our simulated dead bodies) could be hauled off later. They moved us to the tree line behind where our battery was set up. They gave us some MREs (Meals Ready to Eat) and told us that a helicopter would be there later in the day to "dispose" of us. When you "die" during the "war" you're hauled off to test the logistics of the operation. Lets face it, dead bodies are a product of any real war. Once you get done being processed as a dead soldier they run you through a staging area as fresh reinforcements and send you back to your unit.
2:30 PM
The weather had warmed up further and Gonzo and I were still along the tree line basking in the suns warm rays and getting much needed sleep. I was having my best day in a few weeks. Just as I was getting used to being dead, a Blackhawk came to pick us up. We were loaded up on the helicopter and took off to one of the wildest rides I've ever been on. Up to that point, I had never been on a helicopter flying NAP (Near As Possible) to the earth. Every time I had been in one it was hauling a cannon underneath. NAP was one of the most incredible rides I ever had. Them army flyboys are nuts. I have no idea how they manage to fly those things that close to obstacles and not take tips of the rotors off. I was sitting near the open door and watched one of the wheels spin after the pilot hit the top of a tree limb with it. It seemed way to close for me. After a ten minute thrill ride they dumped us off in the middle of a clearing and took off again.
2:45 PM
There we were, Gonzo and I, sitting in the middle of an open field. We had no Idea what was going on. All we knew was we weren't supposed to go anywhere or do anything because we were dead. Plus, we had no idea where to go or what to do anyway. We just decided to hang out for a while and enjoy our deaths. After all, we didn't have to haul concrete if we were dead.
4:15
No one in sight and nothing happened. We were starting to get worried. Especially since we ate our MREs at around noon and were starting to get hungry. Eventually I gave up on waiting and told Gonzo I was going to scout around and look for some signs of life. He stayed with our gear while I headed North to a tree line that looked like it had a clearing just beyond. When I reached the tree line I could see an expansive camp on the other side. It was an aviation unit. I retrieved Gonzo and my gear and we went into the camp. It was utopia compared to the crap we had to deal with on the front lines. There were tons of tents with heat, hot food, real showers, and (best of all) women everywhere. There are no women in artillery units, so this was a novel concept to us privates. We talked to a female lieutenant who said our ride dropped us off in the wrong field and the dead truck had hauled its last load for the day. She told us we could sleep next to the chow tent and help ourselves to some hot food until morning when the truck would be back. It was the best day of the entire month and Gonzo and I became great friends as a result of our deaths.
It's a beautiful morning. The sun has finally come out and the temperature has already climbed to around six degrees which is the highest it's been since I started fighting this "war." I reluctantly leave my salvation (sleeping bag) and briskly shower and shave from my canteen. I bundle up and prepare for another long day of humping simulated artillery rounds (boxes of concrete) which, I've learned, is the most common job for a low ranking private on his first field deployment. I'm quietly thankful that I'm in a 105mm battery, the smallest of the U.S. artillery guns, as I walk back and forth with my cargo. Still, I can't stop myself from thinking that no amount of college money is worth going through this bullshit. Unfortunately I have no one to share my feelings with since most of my original crew was "killed" by a sniper within fifteen minutes of our arrival. I'm now assigned to a gun crew where I don't know anyone.
9:45 AM
The call comes down for us to shoot our cannons in support of an infantry assault on a suspected enemy position. I'm now hauling rounds like a madman in support of our mission. We fire continually for about 10 minutes. The cannons aren't nearly as loud as normal because they aren't firing real rounds. Instead they are firing blank shotgun shells to simulate the sound. I found out later, that firing blanks into any weapon just makes a terrible mess. The barrel gets all gunked up with carbon. What a future pain in the ass I had to look forward to. Anyway, as I was dutifully hauling rounds with my new buddy Gonzo, another private on ammo duty, I heard a short "beep" emanate from my receiver. A short beep means that a weapon has been fired at you but missed closely. By the time I realized what happened my receiver was putting out the steady annoying tone that signifies you've been hit. Almost immediately after mine went off, Gonzos did as well. In compliance with the rules, we took our helmets off and sat down on the ground near the ammo bunker where we were storing our boxes of concrete.
10:15 AM
Yea it took thirty minutes before anyone noticed Gonzo and I were hit. A member of his gun crew came looking for him. If we had to depend on my crew to look for me, they wouldn't have missed me till it was time for me to pull guard duty at 4 AM. They called the medic over and we took our injury cards out of their envelopes. Mine simply said KIA (Killed In Action). Poor Gonzo had taken a chest hit with a large exit wound. On the card the prognosis was if Gonzo didn't receive medical attention within 10 minutes he was KIA. So we were both dead. It didn't take long for me to figure out that, since I was dead, I didn't have to haul rounds anymore. Death was good. They had to get some guys to haul us around. The rules of the game say that you aren't aloud to move yourself when you're dead. We now had guys getting our personal effects and bringing them to us so Gonzo and I (or our simulated dead bodies) could be hauled off later. They moved us to the tree line behind where our battery was set up. They gave us some MREs (Meals Ready to Eat) and told us that a helicopter would be there later in the day to "dispose" of us. When you "die" during the "war" you're hauled off to test the logistics of the operation. Lets face it, dead bodies are a product of any real war. Once you get done being processed as a dead soldier they run you through a staging area as fresh reinforcements and send you back to your unit.
2:30 PM
The weather had warmed up further and Gonzo and I were still along the tree line basking in the suns warm rays and getting much needed sleep. I was having my best day in a few weeks. Just as I was getting used to being dead, a Blackhawk came to pick us up. We were loaded up on the helicopter and took off to one of the wildest rides I've ever been on. Up to that point, I had never been on a helicopter flying NAP (Near As Possible) to the earth. Every time I had been in one it was hauling a cannon underneath. NAP was one of the most incredible rides I ever had. Them army flyboys are nuts. I have no idea how they manage to fly those things that close to obstacles and not take tips of the rotors off. I was sitting near the open door and watched one of the wheels spin after the pilot hit the top of a tree limb with it. It seemed way to close for me. After a ten minute thrill ride they dumped us off in the middle of a clearing and took off again.
2:45 PM
There we were, Gonzo and I, sitting in the middle of an open field. We had no Idea what was going on. All we knew was we weren't supposed to go anywhere or do anything because we were dead. Plus, we had no idea where to go or what to do anyway. We just decided to hang out for a while and enjoy our deaths. After all, we didn't have to haul concrete if we were dead.
4:15
No one in sight and nothing happened. We were starting to get worried. Especially since we ate our MREs at around noon and were starting to get hungry. Eventually I gave up on waiting and told Gonzo I was going to scout around and look for some signs of life. He stayed with our gear while I headed North to a tree line that looked like it had a clearing just beyond. When I reached the tree line I could see an expansive camp on the other side. It was an aviation unit. I retrieved Gonzo and my gear and we went into the camp. It was utopia compared to the crap we had to deal with on the front lines. There were tons of tents with heat, hot food, real showers, and (best of all) women everywhere. There are no women in artillery units, so this was a novel concept to us privates. We talked to a female lieutenant who said our ride dropped us off in the wrong field and the dead truck had hauled its last load for the day. She told us we could sleep next to the chow tent and help ourselves to some hot food until morning when the truck would be back. It was the best day of the entire month and Gonzo and I became great friends as a result of our deaths.
posted by Glenn at 11:22 PM
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