Here I am with the oft promised update. A lot has transpired since I last checked in. The bitch of it is I really can’t say what’s been going on. It’s all a bunch of shit and it’s above my pay grade. Suffice it to say, there are people here that have no fucking clue. And it’s a wonder that we win wars with jackasses such as these at the helm of things waaay above their level of competence. All I can really do at my level is sit idly by and watch as things progress. Now, if they get out of hand and I or the guys from work are involved, that’s when I can raise the Bullshit flag. Other than that, my hands are tied. I sincerely hope after all this is over certain persons are 1) NEVER given control of a project that can save soldiers lives and 2) In a position to make decisions that will ultimately affect those soldiers in a negative way. There are far too many sanctimonious assholes making horribly bad decisions. But, as I said, I can do nothing…And that’s the hard part of it all. I had a lot more, but brevity is my objective here.
On a lighter note, I wanted to fill everyone in on my day to day existence while I’m here. My day begins around 4-5 in the morning, all depending if I feel like dragging my ass out of bed and go to the gym. After the inevitable and much needed shower, I go eat at the DFAC (read dining facility). I then head to work, which is gotten to over gravel and dirt roads Lewis and Clark would’ve had fun with. This brings us to about 7:30 in the morning. If we have anything to do that day, we actually begin around 8:30 or so. At the appropriate time I go to lunch, finish up work and stay till around 7:00 or so. In between all this, I go to the PX, Post Office, barber or whatever idle activities I need to partake in. And this brings me to the title of this edition of my blog. A little background is in order
Military personnel as well as civilian have enjoyed AAFES (Army and Air Force Exchange Service) for a great number of years. They provide you with an ever increasing number of interesting and creative ways to relieve you of your hard earned dollars. And this is done in the name of convenience to those in uniform. It’s all fine and dandy, BUT it seems like AAFES has turned into the Anti-Christ and no one knew when it happened. Allow me to elaborate. There are PX’s/ BX’s (Post Exchanges or Base Exchanges, same difference) of a sort on pretty much every FOB, COB, Camp or what have you in Iraq (at least that’s the rumor). They’re the only game in town. Well, you can be a vendor, BUT AAFES gets their cut too. ANYWAY, on to the meat of the act so to speak. There are no ATM’s here. In order to get cash, there are a few ways to get it. 1) Write a check at the PX/BX. If this is a no go, as is in my case. I don’t even have a checkbook., you have 2) Get an Eagle Cash card. It’s like a rechargeable gift card. Or, in lieu of all this, you have 3) Buy something with your debit card/ and or credit card and get cash back. I use the latter of the 3. It’s easier and I can better keep track of what I’m spending. Normally, this would not be a problem. Normally, I say. There is an affliction, a rampant disease that started small, but quickly took hold and became an epidemic. I’m talking about boredom spending. It’s not uncommon to get so fucking bored your only option is to go out and do something. And that something usually consists of going to the PX/BX and buying stuff. I and almost everyone I know that’s been here have done it time and time again. I can see a few of you nodding your heads…you’ve done it too .
This is where part 2 of the title comes into play. I had to go and get some cash a few weeks ago. After much deliberation, I came to the conclusion that I needed socks. Not just any old socks will do ,tho. I needed Thorlo Boot Socks. These are like the Cadillac of boot socks. I will only buy these. But, the drawback is, they’re obscenely expensive. Here they’re $9.99 a pair…yes, a pair. And it may seem like a waste, but they are sooo worth it. Try wearing boots and standing on concrete for 11 hours a day…right. Well, I got my socks. I went to the register and made my purchase. I also realized I needed money. So, I got cash back. $20.00 to be exact. So, when is all said and done, it cost me almost $30.00 for a pair of socks.
My point to all this?...AAFES IS THE ROOT OF ALL FUCKING EVIL. Thus Endeth the lesson. See ya..
Sunday, December 28, 2008
Wednesday, November 26, 2008
The Plot Thickens...
It’s Thanksgiving. Yes, there are some gaps in my blog, but not to worry. I’ll be relating the whole sad sorted tale quite shortly. Incidentally, I’m in Baghdad at Camp Victory. I’ve been here for a whopping two days. If you’ve been keeping up, I was stuck in Balad waaay too fucking long the last time I checked in. Allow me to recount the ordeal lol…
I got tasked to do escort duty. I was voluntold to escort an Indian dude we have working for us in Balad up to COB Speicher. A little background here. We have foreign nationals that work for contracted companies. These persons are known as TCNs or Third Country Nationals. They, in short, seem to do all the shit work. And believe me, there is a lot of it. Due to work requirements, this gentleman’s services were needed at Speicher. The workers in question cannot fly unless someone, such as me, babysits them. And this is why I as stuck in that fucking hell hole. Now, don’t get me wrong. I have no problem whatsoever doing what is asked of me. But, when the persons doing the asking have no bloody clue as to regulations, procedures and the like, I tend to take a dim view upon their person. Remember the 7 P’s? Proper Prior Planning Prevents Piss Poor Performance. Well, guess what? The GS-14 in charge of the program I’m involved in did none of the above. In fact, the Keystone Cops should’ve planned this all out. They would’ve done a far better job. Suffice it to say, because of all this, not to mention the higher up involved failed to relate the fact that airlift support would be difficult to obtain from Balad, I got stuck there for 5 days longer that I should’ve been. Did I tell you how much I hate Balad? (Yes, I know hate is a strong word, but it definitely applies in this case) I would rather go throught the Chinese Hell of a Million Paper Cuts and get doused in running alcohol than go back there. Yes, I drank my Haterade this morning.
When I actually did get to COB Speicher, things went pretty well. I got out of there the next day on a CH-47 Chinook down to BIAP (Baghdad International Airport) and after a short ride I was at my final destination…lemme rephrase that. Tha makes it sound like I’m going to meet a particularly gruesome demise. I FINALLY GOT TO MY PERMANENT ASSIGNMENT FOR MY DEPLOYMENT. There….aahhhhhhh. Now the fun begins.
I’ll get more of this done in a few hours. I need to do some boredom shopping. That having been said, there are a few observations I’d like to discuss next time. These were some things that I noticed my last time here, but never got around to actually writing them down. Until next time. Happy Thanksgiving. Hello and love to my family and friends. Miss you all.
I got tasked to do escort duty. I was voluntold to escort an Indian dude we have working for us in Balad up to COB Speicher. A little background here. We have foreign nationals that work for contracted companies. These persons are known as TCNs or Third Country Nationals. They, in short, seem to do all the shit work. And believe me, there is a lot of it. Due to work requirements, this gentleman’s services were needed at Speicher. The workers in question cannot fly unless someone, such as me, babysits them. And this is why I as stuck in that fucking hell hole. Now, don’t get me wrong. I have no problem whatsoever doing what is asked of me. But, when the persons doing the asking have no bloody clue as to regulations, procedures and the like, I tend to take a dim view upon their person. Remember the 7 P’s? Proper Prior Planning Prevents Piss Poor Performance. Well, guess what? The GS-14 in charge of the program I’m involved in did none of the above. In fact, the Keystone Cops should’ve planned this all out. They would’ve done a far better job. Suffice it to say, because of all this, not to mention the higher up involved failed to relate the fact that airlift support would be difficult to obtain from Balad, I got stuck there for 5 days longer that I should’ve been. Did I tell you how much I hate Balad? (Yes, I know hate is a strong word, but it definitely applies in this case) I would rather go throught the Chinese Hell of a Million Paper Cuts and get doused in running alcohol than go back there. Yes, I drank my Haterade this morning.
When I actually did get to COB Speicher, things went pretty well. I got out of there the next day on a CH-47 Chinook down to BIAP (Baghdad International Airport) and after a short ride I was at my final destination…lemme rephrase that. Tha makes it sound like I’m going to meet a particularly gruesome demise. I FINALLY GOT TO MY PERMANENT ASSIGNMENT FOR MY DEPLOYMENT. There….aahhhhhhh. Now the fun begins.
I’ll get more of this done in a few hours. I need to do some boredom shopping. That having been said, there are a few observations I’d like to discuss next time. These were some things that I noticed my last time here, but never got around to actually writing them down. Until next time. Happy Thanksgiving. Hello and love to my family and friends. Miss you all.
Curiouser and Curiouser…
In our last less than exciting episode, our intrepid hero had left the dreaded CRC and was winging his way to Ali Al Salem, Kuwait (I call it the Black Pit of the Middle East. Read on and you’ll find out why) This is the US gateway into theater, whether it be Iraq, Afghanistan, or any other country in SWA (Southwest Asia…yeah, I know…) This is where you are dumped off, get your bags and sent on your merry way to your final destination. It’s been my experience that the place is a fucking pit of despair and human drama. It’s almost like you get swallowed up by it when you get there. Allow me to explain. You are expected to get a flight to wherever you are going to. Now, this could mean you might have to wait only a few hours, or a few days or in the case of a contractor who was waiting for what’s called country clearance , a few weeks. Yes, I said weeks. Housing is in tents. It’s not bad by any stretch, they’re heated/ air conditioned…BUT…this is where the fun stops and the time warp begins. Because the way they’re designed, the tents also act as a real life Pitch Black (remember the movie? No light?) But in this case, no Vin Diesel or Claudia Black (drool…) All time comes to a screeching halt when some jackass decides to turn out the lights. I’m all for sleeping in total dark, it’s my preferred method. But, in transient housing at Ali Al Salem. It becomes hazardous to your health. Think bunk beds, think long fall to the concrete floor, think snapped limbs…yeah, not pleasant. Anyway, I’ve spent enough time on that. Suffice it to say, we spent almost 2 fun filled days in the Ninth Circle of Hell.
FINALLY…FINALLY…FINALLY…after, spending waaay too much moiney at Cyber Zone and at AT&T call center ( fucking rip off. 550 minute cards last about 120 minutes, WTF???) we got a flight to Balad Air Base and off we went
Ahhh Balad…the sights, the sounds, the burn pits. I knew I was on the ground at Balad when I got a whiff of that oh so pleasant smell of the burn pits (yeah, they’re all over theater). It reminds me of burning…think of something pungent. Regardless, it’s nasty. K, New York has NOTHING on Balad.
We got a lift from the airfield and dropped off at our shop. We found out we would be moving on to Baghdad (hooray…) in a few days, but in the mean time we would be staying put. We were given our choice of temporary housing. Either one was less than stellar. On the one hand, we had barracks like accommodations…not happening. Fuck squad bay living. The alternative was staying at the shop. We would have to walk to get a shower, but at least it wasn’t packed. Greg and I chose the latter of the two….let me make a uick suggestion. If you don’t have to live in a dusty warehouse…DON’T!!!! My chest and sinuses think that wheezing is the preferred method of breathing. Thankfully, I got to stay in a CHU (Containerized Housing Unit…don’t ask) for the last two days and my breathing is markedly better.
As if now, I’m waiting at the Catfish Air Terminal at Balad waiting to get a flight to COB Speicher. Hooray for escort duty. And it looks like I’ll be waiting for a while. Hopefully, my next installment will be from Baghdad. Hope springs eternal, but I think that’s a crock of shit at times like this.
Munk
FINALLY…FINALLY…FINALLY…after, spending waaay too much moiney at Cyber Zone and at AT&T call center ( fucking rip off. 550 minute cards last about 120 minutes, WTF???) we got a flight to Balad Air Base and off we went
Ahhh Balad…the sights, the sounds, the burn pits. I knew I was on the ground at Balad when I got a whiff of that oh so pleasant smell of the burn pits (yeah, they’re all over theater). It reminds me of burning…think of something pungent. Regardless, it’s nasty. K, New York has NOTHING on Balad.
We got a lift from the airfield and dropped off at our shop. We found out we would be moving on to Baghdad (hooray…) in a few days, but in the mean time we would be staying put. We were given our choice of temporary housing. Either one was less than stellar. On the one hand, we had barracks like accommodations…not happening. Fuck squad bay living. The alternative was staying at the shop. We would have to walk to get a shower, but at least it wasn’t packed. Greg and I chose the latter of the two….let me make a uick suggestion. If you don’t have to live in a dusty warehouse…DON’T!!!! My chest and sinuses think that wheezing is the preferred method of breathing. Thankfully, I got to stay in a CHU (Containerized Housing Unit…don’t ask) for the last two days and my breathing is markedly better.
As if now, I’m waiting at the Catfish Air Terminal at Balad waiting to get a flight to COB Speicher. Hooray for escort duty. And it looks like I’ll be waiting for a while. Hopefully, my next installment will be from Baghdad. Hope springs eternal, but I think that’s a crock of shit at times like this.
Munk
Sunday, November 16, 2008
CRC and the Pygmie Commies of Death
Well, well, well. It’s that time again. Yep, I went and got myself deployed again. I have to be honest, I volunteered my dumb ass to go to Iraq again. Yeah, a lot of you have a problem with me going. I know the concern is well placed. Iraq is one big combat zone and you’re all worried shitless about me. Thank you for worrying. It means more than I can express. But, that having been said, is for another time. Right now, I’d like to give you a quick overview of my last week here in the States. I went to Ft Benning, GA and had not so much fun at the hell that is CRC
CRC stands for CONUS (Continental US Replacement Center) It’s where all us government lackeys such as myself, US military (MAD respect for you all), and contractors (AKA money grubbing scum. In all fairness, not all of them are, just a select few bottom feeding pieces of shit) NOW THEN, this is the place anyone who is heading overseas goes to process so they can get over to the sandbox. I can’t and won’t go into any specifics, but I’ll give a somewhat quick overview.
My partner in crime for this deployment Greg and myself got to GA last Friday. After saying WE’RE HERE!! To the folks at CRC, we got to our hotel and vegetated until the next day. Dissolve to Saturday, our first day of processing. Well, it wasn’t all that involved. But, it did set us up for the rest of the week. I’m not going to go through every little piddly assed detail, but here’s some of the stuff we did: required deployment training (most of which is pointless as fuck. I now know how to traffic humans…lovely), medical and dental record review, equipment issue (who was the fucking ass clown at the Pentagon who decided I need enough gear to declare war on ____ ??? (insert appropriate third world country in the space provided) Oh well, regardless…and a lot of other stuff which is pretty much pointless. We also got familiar with the M9 pistol. Now, there are certain people in this world that I would be quite hesitant to give a weapon to. And I think most of them showed up at CRC when I did. These people have NO BUSINESS even looking at a weapon, much less a loaded one and then firing it at the range. I saw sooo much stupidity during classroom instruction as well as at the range I decided right then and there they needed to play a game I call Let’s Drink Stuff From Under the Sink. K, enough bitching. Anyway, I shot 9 out of 10. I still got it. Oh, almost forgot. There are these green and white targets shaped like the upper body of a human. Greg, my traveling partner, informed me when he was in the 82 Abn, they called said targets the Pygmie Commies of Death. Why? It was for various reasons: 1) They’re short, hence pygmies. 2) They all have a star on top of what passes for a helmet, i.e. Commie. 3) The death part comes from the fact that they are used for target as well as simulated enemy soldiers. And there ya have it.
After a LOT of hurry up and wait all week, the big day came. It was time to get out of Dodge and leave for our final destinations. (One quick note about the whole hurry up and wait thing; If you’ve been in the military, you know exactly what I’m talking about. If you haven’t, think of it this way. It reminds me of a Japanese game show where the object is to see how much torture on person can take. Yes, almost like MXC, but no Nards of Doom flying at you.) My day started at 0230. Yes, 0230. It’s fucking barbaric for ANYONE to have to be up that early, but Greg and I had a plan that we had to stick to due to the nature of what we had to do. Rental drop off, hotel checkout, fitting 40 pounds of gear into a duffel bag that had room for about 10 pounds…fun stuff. We waited awhat seemed like an eternity, but it wasn’t that bad. Which brings us to now. I’m at 35k feet flying to an undisclosed location on my way to the sandbox and watching Iron Man. At least the movies and the food are decent, can’t beat that with a stick. And wait until the next oh so thrilling episode. It’ll have all the elements of a great B-grade movie. Action, suspense, drama and the dreaded Camel Spider. (They’ll scare the living shit out of you. Think of a pissed off Alaskan King Crab on dry land. You’ll never eat at Red Lobster again.) Trust me, it’ll be the best 5 minutes of your life you’ll never get back.
Munk
CRC stands for CONUS (Continental US Replacement Center) It’s where all us government lackeys such as myself, US military (MAD respect for you all), and contractors (AKA money grubbing scum. In all fairness, not all of them are, just a select few bottom feeding pieces of shit) NOW THEN, this is the place anyone who is heading overseas goes to process so they can get over to the sandbox. I can’t and won’t go into any specifics, but I’ll give a somewhat quick overview.
My partner in crime for this deployment Greg and myself got to GA last Friday. After saying WE’RE HERE!! To the folks at CRC, we got to our hotel and vegetated until the next day. Dissolve to Saturday, our first day of processing. Well, it wasn’t all that involved. But, it did set us up for the rest of the week. I’m not going to go through every little piddly assed detail, but here’s some of the stuff we did: required deployment training (most of which is pointless as fuck. I now know how to traffic humans…lovely), medical and dental record review, equipment issue (who was the fucking ass clown at the Pentagon who decided I need enough gear to declare war on ____ ??? (insert appropriate third world country in the space provided) Oh well, regardless…and a lot of other stuff which is pretty much pointless. We also got familiar with the M9 pistol. Now, there are certain people in this world that I would be quite hesitant to give a weapon to. And I think most of them showed up at CRC when I did. These people have NO BUSINESS even looking at a weapon, much less a loaded one and then firing it at the range. I saw sooo much stupidity during classroom instruction as well as at the range I decided right then and there they needed to play a game I call Let’s Drink Stuff From Under the Sink. K, enough bitching. Anyway, I shot 9 out of 10. I still got it. Oh, almost forgot. There are these green and white targets shaped like the upper body of a human. Greg, my traveling partner, informed me when he was in the 82 Abn, they called said targets the Pygmie Commies of Death. Why? It was for various reasons: 1) They’re short, hence pygmies. 2) They all have a star on top of what passes for a helmet, i.e. Commie. 3) The death part comes from the fact that they are used for target as well as simulated enemy soldiers. And there ya have it.
After a LOT of hurry up and wait all week, the big day came. It was time to get out of Dodge and leave for our final destinations. (One quick note about the whole hurry up and wait thing; If you’ve been in the military, you know exactly what I’m talking about. If you haven’t, think of it this way. It reminds me of a Japanese game show where the object is to see how much torture on person can take. Yes, almost like MXC, but no Nards of Doom flying at you.) My day started at 0230. Yes, 0230. It’s fucking barbaric for ANYONE to have to be up that early, but Greg and I had a plan that we had to stick to due to the nature of what we had to do. Rental drop off, hotel checkout, fitting 40 pounds of gear into a duffel bag that had room for about 10 pounds…fun stuff. We waited awhat seemed like an eternity, but it wasn’t that bad. Which brings us to now. I’m at 35k feet flying to an undisclosed location on my way to the sandbox and watching Iron Man. At least the movies and the food are decent, can’t beat that with a stick. And wait until the next oh so thrilling episode. It’ll have all the elements of a great B-grade movie. Action, suspense, drama and the dreaded Camel Spider. (They’ll scare the living shit out of you. Think of a pissed off Alaskan King Crab on dry land. You’ll never eat at Red Lobster again.) Trust me, it’ll be the best 5 minutes of your life you’ll never get back.
Munk
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