Meeting the President

Last week, prior to my departure out to the beloved CP 3-C, I was approached while enjoying dinner at the dining hall by SSG Atkinson. It was Thursday, I believe. He interrupted one of the ever so intellectual conversations us Specialists have at dinner, and asked me to come see him as soon as I was finished eating. My brain scanned through all of the mischievous deeds I had done in the recent past and couldn't determine what I could possibly be getting in trouble for this time. Laughing it off, I finished my food quickly, and met him at a table across the hall, where he was eating. My team leader asked me to sit down, and told me upfront not to worry, it was a 'good' thing. Whew, guess I still haven't been caught. He then proceeded to hand me a printed sheet of paper, most of which included obscure details of everything about me, with a few pieces of information left blank. I inquired as to the origin of the information, and he simply said that I had the opportunity to meet with "a dignitary" and that first I must complete the form to have my background information processed by the Federal Bureau of Investigation.
I had been hearing a lot of talk on the television CNN World News channel that President George Bush was visiting the region, so of course my first thought was that I might get to meet our Nation's 43rd President. Anxious as I was, I had no idea about when, where, how, or what I would be doing, or for that matter, if it was even the President that I would be meeting.
Shortly upon completing and returning the form to my team leader, I was in my room, when a few people knocked and said how cool it was that I was meeting the President. Funny how word travels around here. My assumption correct, I definitely was interested in the details of my meeting. In the mean time, I put a fresh, never before worn uniform in the dry cleaners on post, pulled out and laced up some new boots, and gathered some new patches, so as to look "squared away" as the Army likes to put it.

I ended up traveling out to the Observation Post, and was told that I'd be coming back in on the weekend for my meeting with the "dignitary". They gave me a day to get my uniform together, then told me to meet up at the Squadron Tactical Operations Center (TOC) in the morning. Of course I was not advised to bring my beret, as we've been wearing our MFO boonie hats, but luckily I brought mine anyway. I give myself credit for forward thinking and not looking like an idiot on this one. Anyway, we loaded up into vans, and headed out.

The following is the account I wrote just after returning from my trip: "I just got back a few minutes ago from my trip to meet President Bush.
What an experience! 14 of us (two Colonels, our Command Sergeant Major
myself and 10 other enlisted men, plus a driver) drove 5km down the
road from our base, to the Hyatt Hotel. We went in the lobby, through
loads of security, and sat among the hundreds of secret service
members, all laden with ear pieces and hand mics, just like the
movies... although they were wearing everything you could imagine,
suits of all colors, down to regular clothes. Some were more obvious
than others, and everyone seemed to know eachother, regardless of how
awkward they looked next to each other. Most had ID badges, others
lapel pins. We waited around for an hour or so, then went down the
back side of the hotel terrace to a secluded building. We had to be
very quiet, and on the walk down, the man in charge (some sort of
organizer/ planner) told everyone to hurry up and get a move on.
There were Embassy workers, hotel staff, a few Marines in suits, among
other people. We went out back, where Bush and Mubarak were having
their interview. After it was over, Bush walked over towards us,
wiping his face of sweat, and made a joke about having to take his
makeup off to talk to us. It was surreal, seeing him face to face. He
appeared tall (I guess his 6' looks short on TV, but on the contrary
in person). We were in a group, the Colonel called us to attention,
saluted the Commander in Chief, and presented him one of our
terracotta colored MFO berets. He spoke with us, not too long, nor
too brief, but asked us how we were, and talked about our mission, how
we liked the country, where we were from, made sure to shake all of
our hands and spoke directly to all of us. Was a GREAT experience.
Unfortunately there were no cameras allowed, however, the white house
photographer took a bunch of shots and said we would receive official
photos in the mail in like six weeks. The picture is basically of the
13 of us, plus the President standing on the lawn next to where his
interview took place. I'm in the front row, President Bush is in the
middle, and i'm the second person to his right. CSM Zeangle and LTC
Langol obviously got to stand next to him... I'm not complaining. He
shook our hands again, patted me on the back, embraced my shoulder,
and said "Tell your family I said thank you," and of course I replied
"Will do, Sir." So there you go, President Bush wanted me to thank
all of you for supporting me and my endeavors across the world. Upon
leaving, we went our the side entrance, and walked along the ocean
pathway, with members of the Embassy. I talked to one gentleman the
whole way, pretty interesting. On the walk back to the lobby, we
passed Condelleeza Rice and two diplomatic aids having coffee on their
balcony. She waved. We also were passed by Secret Service Police...
now these guys weren't hiding who they were. They had enough weaponry
to take out the Egyptian Army. They said hello to us and kept moving
along. We also saw many snipers and Secret Operations officers
walking around... lets just say there was more gov't employees in the
hotel than actual guests. We went out to the trucks we came in on,
and had to wait for the president to leave for departure on AF1. The
convoy was nearly 50 cars long, in the middle being the two
presidential Cadillacs, and was mostly consisting of Chevy Suburbans,
many of which had the back window open and assault rifles protruding.
I have to get back to work out at the checkpoint, so I'll leave it at
that... definitely a worthwhile experience. Hopefully I'll get
emailed copies of the pictures before i get them in the mail in 6
weeks. Anyway, just wanted to let everyone know! Have a good week!
Talk to you all as soon as possible."

I feel no need to rewrite that, as it sums up my trip fairly well. I must, however, reiterate the coolness of the Secret Service Police. I wish I had a picture of them guys. Anyway, it was a great experience and I had tons of fun.

Update: my hometown newspaper ended up printing an article and color picture about my meeting with the President, way cool!

Gone Again.

I am headed back out to the Observation Posts again, so count on me not being around for a few weeks. I'll attempt to keep writing thoughts down as I go, so I can update this upon my return.

On a side note, I believe I have mastered the art of packing. While many members of my squad have trouble fitting their "necessary" equipment into 3-4 full sized bags, I've managed to fit everything I need into our ironically named 'three-day assault packs'. No, I don't intend on wearing the same uniform every day, I actually packed 7 sets of everything, along with books, my computer, and mission essential gear. I think they wrongly issued me a 'three-week assault pack' but I'm not complaining. Less for me to carry. I'm the assistant gunner for the machine gun, so I have to tote the spare barrel and tripod mount, so the less, the better.

Picture today: the long, barren road to the field.

No longer a Private.

I've reached yet another milestone in my Army career: I have, for the third time since joining the Army, been promoted, this time to the rank of Specialist. I was eligible for promotion based on my fulfillment of the promotion criteria, having achieved the required amount of time in military service and time in the grade of Private First Class. Turns out I was actually eligible as of December 23, 2007, but it took them a while to file the paperwork.
The Specialist rank is the fourth enlisted ranking, just ahead of Private First Class, and just behind Sergeant. Today I was 'pinned' with my new rank. The 1SG and Commander held a formation, ripped off my PFC Velcro rank and put on my new rank. After some applause, the formation was called to attention, and dismissed to carry on our duties.
As per tradition (one of those weird Army-only kinds of traditions), the eight guys in my squad lined up and were each afforded one punch at the new square rank patch. I don't make up these kinds of things, and I've never punched a newly promoted soldier, but I still play along with the traditions. Some of the guys were easy with their punches, but my new fellow Specialist buddies weren't so kind in welcoming me to the new rank. I guess it's their way of "breaking in" the new guy... quite literally. It wasn't all too bad, just got the wind knocked out of me a bit. I retired from the formation, bruised, but in great spirits. It's always nice to advance in your career, and it's even nicer to get a pay raise! Luckily, I'll get back-pay for the months before my promotion that I was eligible for SPC.

Today's picture is of me in the Quick Reactionary Force cage, wearing my new rank on my uniform and patrol cap.

Short Posts

I'm terrible at keeping up with this, so I'm resorting to shorter posts in hopes of getting some kind of updates in. Don't count on me to maintain this much, I really am quite busy, and it seems whenever I have free time, the internet is being uncooperative. Hmm, maybe the internet's the reason I'm always busy. I'll also admit that I'm hesitant to post anything that I'm not 100% pleased with, which is why you're not getting many updates. Perfectionism is the demise of efficiency. As always, I'll try to write more lengthy pieces about the important stuff.

As for today, just another day in the Sinai.

Picture today: my apology for being a slacker on the posts.

Morale, Welfare, and Recreation...

This week is our 'MWR' week here on south camp. As the title of the post indicates, it is a time of recuperation; a bit of down time from the busyness of the deployment. I have decided to spend my free time this week doing as little as possible. I am scheduled to take a long weekend trip in the next few weeks to drive to Cairo and sight-see, so I don't feel bad about wasting this opportunity to survey the locality. My plans for the week? Sleep in as late as I can, lay in bed until my stomach forces me to eat, watch movies, listen to music, and read... if i feel like it. I'm going to pretend I'm back in high school during summer vacation... better yet, with my notoriety for being absent from school all together, it's like I'm back in high school. I'll add on to the post later this week, letting you know how it goes.


4/10/08
Alright, it's been three days, and I must say, quoting Office Space "I did absolutely nothing, and it was everything I thought it could be." Laziness is the best and worst thing in the world. I've come to learn that if you can conquer boredom, you can take on anything. Perhaps tomorrow I'll go to the beach, the guys are talking about getting together for a game of beach volleyball. Talk about mixing it up.

Picture today: Totally unrelated to the post, but contrary to world belief, Americans aren't the only egotistical human beings who think that they own planet earth and can pollute the environment with excessive luxury vehicles. Unfortunately CO2 pollution is the least of our worries these days; we'll be lucky to see the light of day when the polar ice caps melt, in the wake of global terrorism and massive world conflicts happening now. Until we can solve the issues we face now, drive safely everybody.

My First Taste of Freedom.

Last week, while still out at the Observation Post, we were informed by the Non-Commissioned Officers in charge of the weekly logistical deliveries that upon return to South Camp, we were authorized to leave the base on our personal time. Man, was that great news. Finally a chance to experience something profoundly new. Today, I decided to take advantage of my new freedom and enjoyed my first true immersion in Egyptian culture. While the area we're located in is dominated by tourism and exists solely based on an exclusively foreign consumer basis, it's still teeming with local, very poor, Egyptian citizens and the nomadic Bedouin villagers. Of course, it's obvious who the tourists are, and most everything is overpriced and lacks quality. The USD is widely accepted over the nation's Egyptian Pounds, which, at time of writing, are worth roughly 5.5 to 1 USD; the merchants like to round off that figure to make it 5:1. Seeing as there are many European tourists, the Euro is also very widely used here.
Anyway, we left camp and caught a cab (in this country they're all white Hyundai's with blue fenders) to Na'ama Bay. It's like a mile drive, but I guess we're lazy. It cost 2 USD for the ride. We headed to the main tourist center, affectionately named the Na'ama Center, and checked out the hundreds of shops. It is amazing how Americanized these places become. Coca-Cola and Pepsi signs are the most prominent of all American products advertised. There's also a KFC, a Pizza Hut, a TGI Friday's, a Hard Rock Cafe, a McDonald's and a Starbucks. Awesome, but I have no doubt that the quality of the food is terrible compared to back home. Of course we joked about the probability of the beef patties at McDonald's actually being camel meat, and I don't think I'll take any chances. Aside from the chain establishments, the rest were shops owned by locals, selling cheesy souvenirs, and mass produced junk.
We walked around for a while, and eventually found ourselves talking to a few shop owners who knew some english. They offered us tea, and I gladly accepted. The man asked how much sugar I would like and seemed confused when I told him none. I guess they like their tea sweet. While preparing the tea, we talked about sports, and they asked us about George W. Bush, after finding out we were Americans. They insisted upon loving American, but thought the war in Iraq was all bad. They didn't know we were soldiers, but thought we were simply tourists. They had a copy of the International Edition of USA Today, so I read through it while enjoying the tea. Nothing going on back home. The tea was hot, and the glass they serve it in had to be held by the top and bottom so as not to burn yourself. Also, they don't have tea bags, they simply pour the grounds in the bottom of the glass and add hot water. Interesting, and a bit odd to me, but definitely some good tea. We hanged out for a while, they were good people. It's nice to see how people from other countries live. It's a totally different society from anything I know.
Afterwards, we shopped around, bought some cokes for $2 a piece (yes, $2 for a 12 ounce can) and got some food. All in all, a good day, just hanging out and discovering our new surroundings. Later on, we met up with a few other guys, and just walked around some more. We made our way down to the beach front. Reminded me of something you'd see in Mexico, aside from there being a lot of old European people around. I wore a Ralph Lauren Polo, and found out it was a good choice, as most every single British couple I saw was wearing the same brand. I'd rather fit in, then to stand out as an American. We walked down the strip of hotels, the Marriot, the Hilton, the Days Inn, among others to the end of the strip, then made our way back to the street to head back. On the street we passed the Ghazala Gardens Hotel, the site of the 2005 suicide bombings here. The reception area is newly repaired, but the pock-marks on the adjacent buildings are still very noticeable. There's still many areas scarred by the attacks, serving as a constant reminder of the necessity to always be prepared.
Shortly after, we caught a cab back to base. Nothing too exciting, but a new adventure in and of itself.

Picture today is of a alley of shops in Na'ama Bay under the moonlight.

Back at last!

Hello to all,
It's been nearly a month since my last post, but rest assured, I haven't given up on the blog just yet. We recently returned back to camp after a long month of work. I managed to write a few posts (by hand, as we didn't really have access to the internet) which I will shortly be working on adding to my blog. I will post them in chronological order so as to have better documentation of the events which surround my adventures here, so make sure to look back in the forthcoming days to read about a few of my observations while away from Camp.

In a transient and very unsophisticated, and perhaps very jumbled update, I've been busy readjusting to life on south camp, where I am thoroughly enjoying the fact that I need not cook my own meals, and now can return to a normal human's sleep schedule. I have further elaborated on these points in my previous (but still unpublished) post, so gimme a few days to work it all out.

Also, upon return from our control point we were informed of Command's decision to allow us to venture off Camp during our free time, indeed a very pleasant surprise. I spent a majority of my free Saturday roaming around the local tourist hub of Naama Bay, which is another story (and another post) all in itself. Aside from all of the newfound fun, we've also gotten back to business. We have been busy, back on the training trail, doing more combat water survival training and weapons re-qualification. I managed to survive swimming in the Red Sea fully clothed, combat boots and all as part of our training on Sunday, and was equally successful in my re-qualification today with my M4 Carbine. I shot 35/40 targets ranging from 50 to 300 meters on both my familiarization and record fires. I felt very comfortable with my weapon and my sharpshooter score, which in turn is indeed very reassuring. As for the current moment, I'm scheduled to take the Army Physical Fitness Test at 0430 tomorrow, meaning I need to get my rest now.

Expect MUCH more frequent updates in the near future. Oh, and I've recently been informed that I will be taking a Duty Tour in the coming weeks to visit the little towns of Giza and Cairo... so expect pictures and posts about my trip there! Today's picture is of my roommate (PFC Rudolph... like the reindeer) and I in Naama Bay on Saturday, next to a domesticated camel (it's sitting down and measures in at about 9-10 feet when standing) and a local Egyptian, with SPC Detample, SPC Pashley, and PFC Johnson behind us. Note the KFC in the background... yes, this place is very Americanized, as I had previously acknowledged the first night we arrived in country over 2 months ago. Adding on to the list of things I was warned of prior to arriving here that I've discovered on my own is the fact that camels smell... very bad. And, no sorry, it didn't spit.

The Clouds Do Weep.

I stood with my back against the railing, on the platform of the ladder well on the observation tower, my head casually glancing around the perimeter. The snake of streetlights winding their way through the mountainous terrain glow heavily in the heavy desert night's air. Tomorrow's going to be a hot one. The warm windy breeze that flows towards the sea is a telltale sign, one that I've learned in just a few days. The drastic increase in temperature foretells our fate come the summer months. Around me every is still, aside from the constant flow of solitary cars passing every couple minutes. Merely 40 minutes into my day, and my eye lids are heavy, though coffee is on its way. The shift is long, the hours are tough, but vital to our success. Again consummated by the thickness of the air, I notice that unlike most nights in the desert, the luminous rays of moonlight that normally splash the nearby mountains are absent. Instead dark clouds invaded the peninsula, like waves of Crusaders making bountiful charges, across this same land, toward their objective. The air was most definitely different tonight, and although lacking the pre-rain smell I so vividly recall from my younger days, the change of speed and coolness of the breeze made me venture to guess that rain was on the way... but quickly refuted the assertion because, well, I was sitting in the middle of the desert. Focused on the stillness of the land I observe around me, and partially lost in thought, I hear what sounds like the march of an army poised in the distance, the crackling of drums, and the stomp of trained feet.

Certainly going crazy, dehydrated perhaps.

Then it hit me, quite literally: a solitary drop of rain on my nose. Snapping back to reality, I look at the cement walkway on our fortified outpost and notice drops of water everywhere, from out of nowhere. The pounding of rain on the aluminum roofs of our improvised living quarters provides for the army in my thoughts. Loud, quick, and hard, then suddenly... gone. As quickly as it came, it disappeared. The thirsty air of the desert appeared again instantly and dried all evidence of rain from the earth. I sat there blankly looking at the arid tundra around me, the dusty sand around me as dry as it was at mid-day. Maybe I imagined it all. Minutes later, my team leader exited the Tactical Operations Center and entered the kitchen to fetch me a cup of coffee. After pouring me a cup, he made his way up the steep ladder well below me, passing off the freshly brewed, black coffee. Finally, some caffeine to wake me up. On his way back down, he asked me if a loud truck had bellowed it's way past our location recently. The sound of the rain on the roof, my only proof. I'm not crazy after all.

Disclaimer: No, I'm not losing it. This is my true recollection of events, and is fun to write about, because it's out of the ordinary for me, in my current situation. It was just rain, and it does rain here, but very rarely. More extraordinary than the rain itself is how bewildered I was because of it. Like a kid in a candy store. I find it amazing how the human mind works, and like sharing experiences of mine like this, no matter how insignificant it actually is. The rain lasted probably 15 seconds in all, but observations as acute and meaningless as this will hopefully be helpful in future experiences... let's just hope a little rain is the most dramatic of my future experiences.

Picture today is of the Main Supply Route running past my outpost on the night it rained. Nothing too exciting else wise.

Mohawkin' It.

In a somewhat rebellious and amusing decision, we decided before arriving at the OP that now was the time; the time to have some semblance of fun on a deployment where we've yet to enjoy good old American freedom. Ignoring the Army Regulation for Wear and Appearance of Army Uniforms and Insignia (AR 670-1), which subsequently governs hair and grooming practices, we (the entire squad) packed hair clippers in our rucks and join the ranks of our indigenous North American warriors and native countrymen of the Eastern Iroquois League in the warrior tradition of the Mohawk. It is said that only Mohawk warriors cut their hair off, leaving solely the narrow strip in the middle just before going to war. Because hair was seen as a strong connection to their Creator, the use of the "mohawk" hairstyle provided functionality while maintaining this connection. We're using it as a tribute to them, bearing the same concept, only we're not really at war, just deployed.

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Update: We were visited by our command during our stay at the OP, where we attempted to conceal our mischievous new haircuts. With our boonie hats on, it was unnoticeable, until you turned your back and the tail end of the mohawk protruded from beneath the brim of the hat. Needless to say, we were caught red handed and ended up being ordered to take our hats off. Surprisingly, they just laughed it off and ordered us to shave our heads before returning to South Camp at the end of our mission. Woo!

Picture today is of me posing with my rifle and my new hair cut.

A New Adventure

Today marks Day 3 of our first twenty-some-odd day field mission on the Sinai. So far, things have been stressful. Am I surprised? Certainly not. Just another day in the MFO. It has now been over 3 months since our mobilization, and subsequently over 100 days, not that I'm counting. In fact, I've come to realize that while countdowns sound great, they ultimately just remind me of how far I've to go. Optimistic thinking also reminds me that I'm getting closer to coming home!
As initially inferred, the days spent out in the field here go by rather quickly, but are no easier than the slow days on South Camp. I'd much prefer solid lines of communication with back home and slow days over weeks of non-contact, but the variety sure is nice. I always welcome a change of scenery. At least now we're able to put all of our hard training to use.
I have been afforded the opportunity to select when I want to work. I picked night shift. I enjoy doing my job, even if the nights are slow and often tedious. I usually take the time during my shift to reflect on anything and everything. It's relatively peaceful, and aside from cars streaming by regularly, it's pretty quiet.
Our Observation Post, pictured above from a distance, is surrounded by a 1/4 mile security barrier consisting of sand filled blast walls and concertina wire (razor wire). Though well suited for the mission, it is surrounded by mountains, offering very little to observe, other than the Egyptian tank battalion base across the Zone A and Zone C border. We stay in Zone C, as per the Peace Treaty, and ensure they stay in Zone A, among other thing we're tasked to do while out there.

New Month, New Mission.

Ah, the beginning of month numero dos here on the lovely Sinai Peninsula.

I am very much so settled in, and preparing for the months of work ahead of me. I'm getting readjusted to daily army life. Nothing new or exciting to note right now, so I'll leave you with my thoughts on life here:

The laundry service takes three days, sure beats waiting in line for a washer and dryer.

Tipping the laundry guys will definitely guarantee faster service.

The Force Exchange (FX) is terrible at keeping stuff in stock, perhaps we're just over-eating like all other Americans.

The perimeter road on camp is exactly two miles, should make for a good workout, especially with the steep hills.

The food is, eh, just like all other Army dining facilities.

Contrary to prior belief, mail does not take nine weeks to arrive. It seems as though by weeks, they meant days. The cookies are still stale after 9 days in the hands of the USPS.

I don't think I'll spend a day here not missing her.

I need sheets, I'm tired of sleeping in my sleeping bag.

The weather is perfect right now and I enjoy living on a bluff overlooking the sea. Sure beats the weather in Washington.

I'm looking forward to going on duty tours to see the pyramids et al.

That's all the thoughts currently running through my head. Picture today: from training in the Winter at Yakima Training Center, Washington to mission in the Winter at South Sinai, Arab Republic of Egypt.

Excuses.

Good morning, day, afternoon, evening, or night, whichever it may be for you reading this right now. I apologize for falling behind in my posting, but numerous outdated posts are in the works to be published. Also, the old pictures that didn't load properly will be reloaded for your viewing enjoyment.

In testament as to why I haven't posted in nearly two weeks, I will expel an explanation. With the current mission frenzy and the chaos of a new mission looming on the horizon, I am working hard and keeping busy with all the stuff that I do here. I've also suffered numerous technological difficulties in even trying to update regarding a pending update. This blog serves as a reminder of how great and also how poor our technology can be. I'll remain optimistic, to say the least, I'm grateful I have personal access to internet of this capacity. Whether it be the network acting up, or the blogger site refusing to accept my new posts for unexplained reasons, I have been unable to keep adding new posts. I equate my current internet spectacle to that of a kinked hose; once the first kink (internet connection) is worked out other kinks (unruly web servers) find their way to prevent you from watering (updating) the flowers (readers). Hey, I thought that was a good analogy, so enough snickering. Moral of the story: good things come to those who wait, and maybe if you wait long enough I'll write enough quality posts to win a The Pulitzer Prize in Web Journalism (don't count your chickens, I can't afford an editor).

Today was my first real down time, with nothing to do, and rather than sit inside on my computer, I indulged in some beach relaxation time. It was well worth it. I'm also working on replying to some e-mails, as that's something I'm also behind on. Add in some tidying up of the my billets and give me two hours until I go back on duty and you have one busy Mr. Nace.

Again I apologize for the delay in posts, back to work I go. Mom, don't worry, I'm still doing well and enjoying life each and every day. Hang in there, I'll make sure to post the new updates ASAP. I managed to get one new one in today thus far, and I'm working on filling in the gargantuan 2 weeks span of post-less-ness (a new word perhaps) before I depart to save the world by preserving the peace.

Post appended: Last night I got my coffee pot and a bag of Wawa coffee, among other great goodies in a parcel from my Mom. Definitely perfect timing, looks like Mr. Coffee will be joining the ranks of 3rd squad for the upcoming mission. I intend on drinking unequivocal amounts of coffee and editing and revising as many posts as possible tonight before hitting the gym.

Picture today: My alternative girlfriend and I reunited thanks to the United States Parcel Service and my Mother. Thank you all.

Horseshoes.

In today's post I am going to aurate the dramatic tale of a legendary game of horseshoes as I saw it, today in the QRF cage. The events of this story are true, and although a story, it is one of non-fiction type. It was similarily as exciting as the previous softball games I joined in on, but in this story, I was the hero.

It all started on a lovely February afternoon. With a slight breeze and a comfortable 80 degrees, the work all done and time to spare, the QRF cage was teeming with a competitiveness unlike anything B Troop has ever seen. A challenge... the game? Horseshoes. Teaming up with SPC Clegg to take on SPC Pashley and SGT Atkinson, we took our places behind the posts, and started throwing. The throws were on, on all accounts, and four games went even, forcing the challenge into a 5th game tie breaker. I'm throwing against Pashley, and he's pretty consistent.

With time running low on our shift in the cage, and the evening relief on it's way, we seemed to have out-thrown ourselves. Falling wide right, landing short, then too long and wide left, rolling the 'shoes to a halt 5 meters from the post. The game slowly developed and was nearing the end, with SPC Clegg and I in the lead 20-17. It's Clegg's throw against SGT Atkinson's. Clegg misses short on both shoes, while SGT Atkinson manages to slide one in and against the stake on his second throw for a point. 20-18, with Pashley throwing first.

Whatever mistakes he was making in the previous throws seemed to have been corrected. His first throw lands dead on, a perfect ringer. Not a chance in the world I can knock it away from the post. The game seemingly so over, hoots and hollers echo from the opposition. I throw, keeping in mind the imminent defeat. I throw short, but it manages to slide against his ringer. Too bad I hadn't been so fortunate on a throw during the former volley. His second shoe is released quickly, landing directly next to my first throw, close enough for another point. Accepting the defeat, I throw the shoe up lazily, in a higher arc than I usually throw. The shoe seems to hang in the air, just feet above the stake. Landing with a loud clanking of metal, I see Clegg begin to celebrate. Laying right on top of Pashley's first throw, my shoe matches his, negating the points! Not so fast, the game's no longer theirs.

SPC Clegg and SGT Atkinson both manage no points on their throws, sending the shoes back to SPC Pashley and I to determine a potential winner. He throws first again and lands his shoes both out of point distance to the stake. My second throw is much closer than my first, and luckily so, right in front of the stake, claiming SPC Clegg and I the victors! I equate it to a walk-off homer, making me the hero.

We can't all save the world, and we sure can't all be world-class heroes, but today I claim myself the hero of the greatest game of horseshoes I've ever experienced. I claim the belt, perhaps I should retire now and save the likely defeats to come. The excitement on the Sinai is overbearing, we have too much fun. (Sarcasm, for the record) The desert is bound to bring more games of horseshoes and other things to entertain us, I'm sure, when we're not busy working, that is. I've resorted to movies, music, reading and learning as much as I can on the internet as a means of passing the time here.

Today's pictures are of SPC Pashley and Clegg, and SGT Atkinson and I in the middle of game 3 of our very exciting series of horseshoes.

Quick update.

Today is my off day from the dreaded QRF cage. I woke up early and went to the beach. Actually got to go swimming this time, and went out quite far. Snorkeling was amazing, saw stingrays and huge schools of fish. Caught some sun, no speedo this time.

Now for a quick story, about my obvious physical resemblance to Tobey Maguire. I've decided to add this in my blog, because, well, it's become a daily fixture in my life here. On a regular basis, certain individuals throughout the troop call me "Spidey," in tribute of me - allegedly - looking like Tobey Maguire. Confused? Me too. But I'll give background to the story to better communicate the reason.

You see, on the plane ride from Shannon, Ireland to Sharm el-Sheikh, Egypt, Air Transit Airlines (our chartered flight) showed Spiderman 3 for our viewing entertainment. I slept through it, I had seen it in theaters, and thus has no interest in seeing it again. However, when I got off the plane and boarded the bus that took us to South Camp, one Specialist called me Peter Parker, followed by two Sergeants who both, individually, called me Tobey. Confused, I ignored them and took to observing my new surrounds, as described in A Room With a View post. It wasn't until the late night dinner at the dining hall on South Camp that first night that I finally understood. I was sitting across from a Specialist who shifted his eyes from his food to my face, as he silently ate. Just before I was done, he stopped eating and asked me if I had watched Spiderman 3 while on the plane. I replied with an honest no, but told him I had seen it already. His second question was "Has anyone ever told you that you look like Tobey Maguire?" I was dumbfounded, indeed, but also curious. I, myself, see no personal resemblance to the 32 year old actor. Now, I really wish I had watched the movie again, so I could better understand what they were talking about. Sure, one person might be hugely mistaken on a matter of identity, but how can FOUR people all insist upon the same ridiculous assertion without conference? Who knows, but you can be the judge. This isn't the first time I've been mistaken for another person, or told I looked like some random celebrity.

In my early years of highschool, I occasionally was approached about my identity. It wasn't until later that I realized how common it was becoming. People asked me CONSTANTLY! Come to think of it, I started noticing shortly after I met Paige. After many people started regularly saying I look like various random celebrities or movie characters, I decided to make a list in the note section of my cell phone (which I unfortunately lost as a result of phone plan suspension for active duty deployment) with the names of all of my alien-proclaimed alter egos. In the early days of dating Paige we made the list jokingly after she told me I looked like someone she knew... but people never yield to comment on my characteristic similarities to famous people. Among the list is a young Vince Vaughn, Tobey Maguire, Sam from Lord of the Rings (Sean Astin) and my all-time favorite is when people ask "Peter or Bobby Brady?" Consensus says: Bobby (I take this as a compliment, maybe people will still think I look like the youngest Brady boy when I'm 70)! Also on the list is Clark Kent... maybe I'm just destined to be a super hero, or I have that nerdy, astute look. I have never claimed to look like anyone besides myself, but seemingly enough everyone thinks I resemble someone famous... it may have something to do with me always looking different in all of my pictures. I guess I just have a familiar face.

Our unit's armorer, the Specialist in charge of guarding our weapons while we're off duty, is consistent with upholding my "Spidey" nickname, so every time I draw or turn in my weapon I hear it. Unimportant, but still a routine part of my life these days, so why not share, right?

Today's picture is totally unrelated... camels under an electric suspension tower, in the vast nothingness of this countries land.

Update (1 July 2008): Today on my way to the dining hall for breakfast, a guy stopped me and asked where I went to basic training. I had seen the man before, but only as recent as this deployment. I told him I went to Knox, and he quickly asked when I was there, as though he knew me. I told him it was the summer of '06, and he looked at me with a confused look on his face. He told me I looked EXACTLY like a guy he attended Knox with... 9 years ago. I laughed, and told him I was in fourth grade then. He apologized and I continued on to breakfast.

I've come to the conclusion that I am a really ordinary, plain individual by appearance, which is why I look like everybody and nobody all at the same time. It's always fun, and definitely a great conversation starter! All for now, farewell.

Relationships.

Today marks a great milestone in my young adult life. Although an insignificant deal to some, to me today is a joyous day. A year ago today, I began dating the most amazing girl I have ever met. Yes, I may be young and naive, but stupid and ungrateful I am not. I am by no means an expert at relationships, but this one I've found myself in is a very special one, one definitely worth holding on to. Some may say that love is hard to find, that I may not know what I'm talking about at the age of 19, but I've found an amazing person, a best friend, someone who knows me for me. I'm one of the few people who are fortunate enough to meet such an amazing person so early in life. Already, in a year's time, I've learned more about myself just being around her, than I have in my lifetime.

I'm by no means going to rant on about my happiness and the importance of today, as this, again, is not a blog about my relationships, but a blog about various factors in the life of a young man (or so I like to consider myself nowadays) and their impact and effect as it pertains to my life on deployment. But before I do all of that, I would like to thank one Miss Paige Nicole Whitmire for an amazing year, and suggest to my readers who don't know her (preferably the ones who personally know me) to share a conversation with her over lunch (if she can pencil you in to her busy schedule). She's a great person, and you can learn a lot from her, I certainly have. Hopefully I made her blush on that one.

Enough of the mushy sweet talk. A year might not seem so long to some, but military deployments do a wonderful job of putting time into perspective... it's an eternity, or certainly seems that way. In the year Paige and I have been dating, we've endured quite a few trying times, and even more great memories resulting in a bond of friendship comparable to none of a year's endurance (Ok, now it's out of my system). While we've only been physically together for about eight of the twelve months as a result of my military commitments, we've definitely been together in thoughts for all twelve months. The memories we made in the months we were together definitely outweigh the emotional stress of being apart, but unfortunately doesn't make it any easier to be away. Her unwaivering support, and frank but caring distaste towards my current occupation has only made us stronger as friends. This is not to say that our relationship is flawless; I may be conveyed as a celebrity look-alike of various actors (see future post "Quick Update", where I'll explain this further), but I certainly wouldn't pass as a Ward Cleaver archetype. I'm a real human, with real problems, making real mistakes and hopefully learning from and counteracting my flaws. It's an evolutionary process.

I've come to learn that spending time apart from friends, family, girlfriends, and wives is the undisputed hardest part of serving in the military for many soldiers. This grief is all the more rampant during holidays, birthdays, anniversaries, etc. where family celebration was once commonplace. While everyone hides it well, separation is a huge factor in morale decline, and the reality of loneliness is inevitable. I've had a few conversations, even with guys who have been deployed two or three times prior to this deployment tell me how hard it is to leave home. This deployment, certainly different than one to Iraq or Afghanistan, still has it's hardships, and for many, those hardships cast gray clouds over the "paradise vacation" many think we are enjoying.

I can try to explain it in as many or few words as I want, but the experience is incomprehensible except to the guys here. The closest comparison is the emotional struggle of the families and friends back home, or even the mourning of the loss of a loved one: the separation often does leave me feeling as though I'm missing a part of me. Even with constant communication back home, everyone knows relationships truly aren't the same over the phone. Irregardless of how strong a relationship was in late November, keeping the sails of the relationship vessel full of wind can be a daunting and perpetually stressful test of emotion and heart. Our job here is important, and by no means are we undermining the mission when we ask, "Is it November yet?" Most of us aren't so blunt, but the frustration can be overwhelming. A casual observer would never know how much being away weighs on our thoughts and hearts.

We all hide it all too well.

For some, the struggle of not knowing what's going on back home, I'm sure, is unbearable. For me, I'm fortunate enough to be in a relationship with a great friend. The best part is knowing that we'll always be friends, irregardless of how much we disagree on anything. No matter how hard it is, or will get, I am grateful for the memories I have, and want nothing more than to have plenty more good memories. Deployments aren't easy, but the payoff of a much stronger relationship, and the time apart, will make our time together all the more special. I try to talk to the other guys about these sort of issues, it seems to help. Maybe it does, maybe it doesn't, but hey, we've got 9 more months of this mission to go, maybe I'll learn a thing or two about relationships from them along the way.

All for now, picture today is of a sailboat on the sea, with Old Sharm in the background. You can see where the reef ends and the sea shelf starts.

Gizmo.

Tonight we assumed command of the QRF mission. We took all of our battle gear to the QRF cage and organized a radio watch roster. We have two hour shifts watching the radio, while the rest of us await a call that may never come. My squad is in charge of the QRF mission for 24 hours, followed by 24 hours of down time while our fourth squad assumes the mission. We will continue this rotation for the next few weeks.

A supplemental duty of the QRF mission is to care for the QRF dog. The dog is a mutt named Gizmo. Nobody really knows who's dog it is, how long it has been here, or what its real purpose is, but its a very friendly dog. It doesn't bark, except for every night at the same time... I'm guessing it was trained to part at a quarter to eight every day. It sleep outside and leaves the cage only to go for walks. Walking the dog is a daily duty for us, along with feeding, and brushing the dog too.

When we're not on duty during our 24 hour missions, we're required to stay inside the QRF cage. There's a day room for us to hang out in, equipped with sofas, a television and a refrigerator filled with soda and water. Aside from the day room, there's also a small pavilion with weight lifting equipment under it, and a horseshoe pit. We just finished a game of horseshoes in the dark while awaiting our first shifts of duty. We were surprisingly accurate with our throws for having no light, but I still lost to Pashley.

--

I just completed my first duty shift, from 0000-0200. I sat in the TOC (Tactical Operations Center) and drank 5 cups of disgusting bold French roast coffee from the cheap Egyptian coffee pot inside the TOC. I'd die for a good cup of Wawa coffee right now. Just black, no cream or sugar. Or a 16 ounce Wawa Iced Tea... either one. I really miss Wawa. Besides the hourly radio check with the Sector Control Center, nothing happened. It's a reoccurring theme for our observation reports.

Anyways, time to sleep. I have 8 hours until my next duty shift. Tomorrow I have to PMCS the HMMWV's and wash/walk the dog.

--

Talk about a broken post. It's now the afternoon, and we're about to handoff the mission to fourth squad. It's been a crazy day. A few duty shifts and a couple hours of cleaning later, I've completed day 1 of the QRF mission.

Today I experienced my first sand storm. I was inside when the storm began. A raucous noise bellows from outside the day room as I break to watch a history channel special on the lost city of Atlantis. It's still rather warm outside, yet the whipping wind is chilly. The wind picks up and slams against the side of the remodeled connex freight container while the fence rattles as its shaken from and slams back against the foundation poles. I dare not go outside, for fear of losing my hat to the wind. Opening the door is a losing battle anyway, while sand invades the cracks of the doorframe, coating the tile floor. Sweeping the sand out is pointless; more enters than I am capable of brushing out. As the sun sets, the haze coming from the west resembles a mist. The coarse, fine, needle-like sand stings as it bombards your face, unforgiving and unyielding. The wind responsible for the storm is the same culprit who has sent what seems like a landfill of trash tumbling and crashing into the western fence of our internal OP. The old newspapers and food wrappers cling to the fence like a child clings to his mother's leg. I have to shield my eyes from the sand while plucking the trash from the fence. If only I had brought my ballistic glasses. After finishing my final detail for the day, I become a refugee to the wind and seek shelter. Closing the door is an even harder battle than opening it. From inside it sounds like the wind has calmed, but the light sound of sand tinkering against the steel container wields the truth. It was quite an unforgettable experience.

Picture today is of SPC Clegg, the gremlin doggie, and SPC Pashley in the day room watching tv.

Cheerleaders come to visit.

Yesterday was the beginning of our weekend. It was an overall pretty calm day: I slept in until 10, ate some brunch, went back to sleep, was woken to play racquetball and basketball for 4 hours, watched a movie, ate a light dinner and headed straight back to the gym for another intense workout. Walking back from the gym I heard music coming from the O'Deuce amphitheater. The outdoor theatre was named in remembrance of the 1985 plane crash in New Foundland which claimed the lives of 245 101st Airborne soldiers returning home from their MFO deployment.

The music coming from the speakers at the corners of the brightly lit stage illuminated the 75 or so people sitting on the stone benches of the Romanesque-style theatre. Armed Forces Entertainment company, who hires performers and musicians to entertain soldiers deployed to various locations, unbeknownest to me, had organized a song and dance performance by the Atlanta Falcons cheerleaders for our entertainment at the O'Deuce. I arrived just before the start of the performance and found a few guys in my platoon to sit with. The show included crowd participation events, solo singing performances, baton twirling, as well as gymnastic dance and traditional cheerleading routines. It was nice to do something else besides watch movies or go to the gym. The hour long show was over by 8:30.

I walked back to my room while talking to Miss Paige, and fell asleep around 9:30. I slept for twelve hours straight, waking up this morning at a quarter to ten. It felt great to sleep so long, doing a whole lot of nothing but busy work all week wore my out.

Today I plan on returning to the beach, if possible, not in my Speedo this time. I think they're having a pick-up softball game today [Update: I never made it to the beach, and they did have a pickup game today, my team won 7-3, I went 3/4 at the plate and had 2 doubles and a single] which I'll definitely be joining in on. The gym and watching a few movies I rented from the South Camp library are also on the agenda for tonight. Tomorrow we go back to work.

Picture today is of the Atlanta Falcons cheerleader's performance.

Business time.

Now that we're all settled in, we're starting to be tasked with various tasks on a daily basis. Our rotation for duty is approaching, so we are in the preparation phase. This week has been especially busy, doing driver's training hosted by the New Zealand Contingent Force, Combat Water Survival Training for our federal tax-exemption duty, and unfortunate daily police calls of the entire Camp. Picking up trash hardly seems like a soldierly duty, but at least our Camp looks nice and pretty.

Today we received our second installment of the Anthrax vaccination. I'm not afraid of needles, but I really hate having knots in my shoulder for a week, every time they decide I need to be protected from miscellaneous organisms. It didn't burn as much as last time, I guess that means the first vaccination is working.

Every day this week, we've also held Squad-based classes on our Rules of Engagement, how to draw range cards, pre-marksmanship instruction, inspection outlines, among other various topics. They're all review training courses, but we are constantly tested to ensure we know the in's and out's of our job. Aside from training, those already possessing a MFO driver's license have been tasked out regularly to escort VIP's to the airport, take supplies to our Observation Posts, and perform other duties outside of our Camp's perimeter.

Since our first mission has my squad set to be the Quick Reactionary Force, we're required to sleep in a different building, directly across the street from my current room. The building is surrounded by fence and concertina wire (similar to barb wire). Our QRF vehicles (two uparmored HMMWV's) are also contained within the wire. We will sleep there for a few weeks and have constant watch over the radios in case of an emergency. Our job, obvious by the title of our mission, is to react to situations in a timely manner. I'll be sure to write more about this once we start the mission.

I continue to go to the gym on a daily basis; hopefully I'll start to see progress in numbers. I weighed myself and currently weigh 183 pounds. My goal is to get down to 175 pounds at a maximum by the time I get home, but preferably I'd like to be closer to 165 pounds. I doubt that'll happen.

Picture today is of Herb's Gym. It's a pretty inclusive gym, including a full weight room, exercise bikes, 3 heavy-bags, a basketball court, 3 climbing ropes, and 2 racquetball courts, among other equipment available for rental.

Herb's Beach

The second day of my weekend off consisted of more exciting, fun times. After my daily morning rituals of eating and showering, a group of us decided to check out the beach. We put on our trunks and walked to the opposite side of the camp to the permanent breach in the fence that acted as an entrance to Herb's Beach. Herb is a former U.S. Army Command Sergeant Major who allegedly was part of an Elite Special Forces unit. The 80 year old veteran has been on the Multinational Force and Observer's South Camp since its inception in 1982. Although he owns a house in Florida, he lives here year round, and can be seen in the camp's gym, which also is named in his honor, on the beach, or in the dining facility.

We got to the beach by descending the large flight of steep stairs leading to the break in the rocky coast which houses Herb's Beach. Donning the all black, snuggly fitting Speedo I was given as more of a joke on Christmas morning by my wonderful girlfriend, I found a reclining beach chair and lathered up the sun screen as I laid under the warm Sinai sun. After numerous failed prods at humility and a storm of pictures as evidence, the guys in my squad took to hiking up their swim suits to better tan their thighs. Dozing off, I was startled awake by an unfamiliar voice: "Hey Soldier, you're gonna burn wearing that," was enough to catch my hazy attention. Opening my eyes to the bright sun filled beach, after seconds of confusion and adjustment of my eyes, I found myself looking at my own Command Sergeant Major. I replied with a confused, "Oh, hey Sergeant Major." The seasoned leader deemed it a valiant effort and me a brave soul for wearing the Speedo, then asked if I had been briefed on the swim wear policy... I was dumbfounded, and replied with a no. Obviously if I knew Speedo's were prohibited, I wouldn't have worn it in the first place. It confused me as to why I wasn't allowed to wear it, but at least I can say I wore a Speedo to the beach. Other contingent forces continue to wear their Speedo's or worse on the beach, but from now on I'll be in Speedo swim shorts.

It was all in good fun, and makes for a great story; plus we all got laughs out of it. After Sergeant Major left, I decided to go in the water, since I was disrupted from my sleep. The water was chilly, but nice once I was in. The clarity of the water far surpasses any natural water body I've seen thus far in my life. It was full of wild life. As close as 3 meters from shore I found a school of blue and yellow fish, as well as a few jellyfish and other sea creatures. Because of my smallpox infection (which is almost healed by the way!) I wasn't allowe to submerge that shoulder into the water. Others were enjoying the creature-filled water with the aid of snorkeling equipment; I've decided to add that to my list of things to do. From the coast, about 30 meters from shore, the sandy and stony Sea floor dissipates into an eerie blue hue. This is the shelf, which is reported to drop to a depth of 300 meters. We're allowed to swim well out past the shelf, but only with an escort from a lifeguarding waiting nearby in a sea-kayak.

The "chilly" water we are swimming in is roughly 65 degrees during the winter months, and should reach the mid 80's by late august. The chill is a result of the warm air we are constantly exposed to. Because the water is fairly warm, especially near the coast, we have four sharks that like to congregate near our shoreline. It's because of these creatures that our escort is mandatory.

From the shore, Tiran Island (see image on a Room With a View post) is like 4 miles away. After running into Herb on the beach, I inquired about a fact I had read that was painted on the walkway to the beach. The walkway had stated that Herb's career at South Camp has seen 1,500 miles worth of swimming. Impressive to say the least. I asked him how far he swims out. His reply was that up until a year ago, when a young man was attacked by a shark, he swam to Tiran Island and back (a fourteen hour swim) every other month. Being able to only swim roughly 100 meters before dying myself, I find this to be an amazing feat.

After losing all confidence in my water abilities because of the 80 year old's iron-man swimming abilities, I retreated to land where I joined in a game of beach volleyball. Having enough sun for one day, I returned to my room and showered and changed out of my swim wear.

I then participated in a fantasy baseball mock draft in preparation for the March 22nd seasonal draft. My squad member, Specialist Clegg, has started a Fantasy Baseball League, where other members of Bravo Troop will all draft players to assemble a team for the upcoming season; the individual player's real-game stats will be used to award points to the owner of the team to which the individual has been drafted. At the end of the real MLB season, the owner with the most points will receive the $300 grand prize, followed by $125 and $75 for the 2nd and 3rd place finishers, respectively. It's a great alternative for us baseball fans to keep up on the news of the MLB season with our unfortunate in-opportunity to watch any games this season.

I think that's enough for today's post. I'll add this one as soon as the internet comes back online.

Picture today is a panoramic view of Herb's Beach. Right-click and click view image to get a better view of the picture.

The Sandlot

Today was a good day.

Weekends in this particular region are enjoyed Friday and Saturday rather than the western Saturday and Sunday weekend. Because we are still in the training and MWR (Morale, Welfare, and Recreation) cycle of our rotation, we were afforded the day off. Undoubtedly after reading my previous posts, I'm sure one would ask when I've had a day when I wasn't off; let me clarify. Any day where I can wake up and lay in bed as long as I want is a real day off. Ironically, I was up and about at 0730 this morning. It seems like it's only the days where I'm required to rise with the sun that I really want to lay in bed all day.

Because Friday is their "holy day" each week, everything is closed, and instead of 3 meals, the dining facility only offers a brunch and dinner. Brunch at 1000 hours is an amazing thing, plenty of time to wake and build up an appetite.

After eating brunch, everyone seemed to find their own thing to do. We hanged out on the porch and talked, while some took naps, some read books, others hit the gym. A few hours later, we decided to corral some troopers and see if we could get a pick up softball game going. We got nearly 22 guys to play. We rented out equipment from the gym and made our way to the alleged baseball field that none of us had seen.

Walking over the crest of the hill on the far side of camp, we arrived at our new home stadium, which I now call the Sandlot. With the foul lines and batters boxes freshly painted, and the infield recently dragged (come to think of it, the outfield was too) it was begging to be used. We warmed up some, then divided ourselves into teams and got right into it. Yes, we were a few weeks early, but spring training officially started for the Bravo Troop softball team.

I elected myself lead-off batter and center fielder. Twenty minutes into playing I was sweating profusely. It may only be February, but 76 degrees is a major difference from the chill we had experienced while in Washington State. The sun beat down on us and felt great, until I started running around the bases and the beads of sweat started dripping from my brow.

As soon as I returned to my position in center field at the commencement of the third inning, like a cockroach in the light, I scattered to the darkness of the shadow of the guard tower that looms just beyond the center field fence. From the cool, sunless shade of the tower I watched as the opposition's inning lead-off tripled to deep right, as I littered the outfield with sunflower seed shells. He rounded the bases quickly, as his shadow imitated his movements, the sun-casted mimic dancing in the warm, coarse sand. The ball was relayed in, and game continued. The second batter grounded out to 2nd, holding the runner at 3rd. The next two batters pop-flyed to me. Catching a softball is not easy, I'd rather use a baseball. The inning ended and I made my way in to bat.

The waning sun still warmed the skin, and managed to become more of a nuisance as it descended towards the horizon, blinding the batter on every pitch. Even with the handicap from the sun, we batted around this inning, knowing it was our final chance before dusk to come back from the 17-13 deficit. We managed 14 runs before it got dark, making the final score 27-17. We weren't really keeping score, but it was fun to claim to be the winners. It was a very enjoyable afternoon, surely beat sitting in the barracks.

We headed straight for the dining facility, coated in a layer of sweat and dusty sand, and more importantly, victorious. It might have been a scrimmage, but we still have bragging rights. Today reminded me that memories you make and experiences that you take with you are way more valuable than any tangible item the world could possess. Getting away from the structure of the military and bringing back old memories was a great way to spend my day off. Add in a long hot shower and a movie before bed, and a phone call with my girlfriend... there's no denying that there's no better way of spending a day on the Sinai Peninsula.

The stories have already spread about our intense game of softball, and people are interested. Now that we have a lot of guys that want to play, we can build a team for competition against the other troops. There is an upcoming softball tournament sponsored by the gym that we're destined to win; just call us the Green Sox, Bravo Troop's bringing this one home to Philadelphia. Definitely a silly post, not as serious as the previous, but hey, it's my blog, right? Enjoy =]

Self-explanatory picture today, the true Sandlot, deserted after the huge victory, being overlooked from the ridge.

Stress and Strife

I apologize for the postponement of my blog entries, our internet here on South Camp is about as reliable as McNabb on any given Sunday. They're working on fixing it, all the while I'm writing so as to give everyone a nice long post to read once the internet comes back online.

Today's entry is more of a soapbox address, or rant if you will, regarding my personal take on the difficulties of life on deployment instead of my typical day-in-review. Please note this isn't a college thesis, merely thoughts and feelings I wish to share. Without further adieu:

Whether it be someone pounding on your door 15 minutes before you're required to wake up, being sleep deprived and pushed to physical limits, or being in constant altercations and confrontations with testosterone driven coworkers, the overbearing complications of stress are nonparallel to any other factor I have faced thus far. I've decided that the two nouns which claim today's post's title embody the definition of life in the military; although these two constant factors are almost implied and expected, the reality of the matter is that stress plays a huge part in realizing and accomplishing our mission. It is the ultimate test of discipline and for many, a daunting, perpetual thing. I also added strife, or struggle, to the title, which ultimately is a bi-product of stress. In my opinion, it is the individual's reaction to the stress which causes this discord, creating a proportional impacting effect on daily life here, even on a peacekeeping mission.

It doesn't take a scientist to discover why there is so much conflict between the soldiers here. Although generally from the same state and/or region back home, we've all grown up in different neighborhoods, with different lifestyles and our own stories to tell. It is our backgrounds and ultimately our upbringings that make us who we are. You can train anyone to be a soldier, but the ways of their past will always remain. No one likes to be wrong. Pride is a big part of a soldier's life, and goes along with our value of honor. Competition and the desire to be right are a result of this pride, stemming from the machismo "tough guy" attitude. None of this is news to anyone, it's a fact of life, but catching someone on a bad day and making the wrong comment or jest in this environment often ends in argument and hostility.

While it's almost proven that people in the armed forces are drawn toward confrontations and would prefer to escalate a situation before defusing it, I still find it interesting how the many straining situations that we endure in this line of work, ultimately affect morale and well being. Going from a heated argument one moment to laughing all together the next makes me realize that it's necessary, no matter how frustrating it all can be. This is equally true in all relationships that man endures. Even more interesting than this is the effect these two factors, stress and strife, have on work efficiency and mission success. I have seen first hand that when it comes down to the wire and something needs to get done, that stress pushes everyone to achieve the objective at hand; in serious times we realize our wrongs and work together. It's ironic how stress works both way.

Now that I've made the individuals surrounding me sound like barbaric brutes, I must clarify. To rebut my own view of the atrocities of my new society, I will say, in defense of my own, that it is not as bad as I make it seem. The extreme perspective I take on these issues may very well be exaggerated, but sometimes it really does seem that bad. Being entrusted the duties we share should be enough to convince us to keep our cool, but often times we don't.

Another major problem I notice already, just weeks into the deployment is as a whole, the organization to which I belong has an abuse problem in the form of tobacco and alcohol consumption. Seeing as I am only 19 years old, I guess it is more of an eye-opener to me because I, as an American citizen, am still under U.S. jurisdictional drinking age laws even in Egypt. I'm sure if I was to partake in that endeavor I'd see it differently. I understand the novelty in drinking alcohol, but have never understood why people drink so much of it. Maybe something happens differently after the 11th beverage that doesn't happen after 4 or 5... oh, that's right, you become extra dehydrated. I don't think drinking alcohol is wrong, but it's plain stupid to drink excessively. It's a problem I'm sure I'll continue to observe, in some (not all) individuals, throughout my military career.

I am by no means berating or degrading the military man of today, doing so would be doltish and unbecoming of my own self-esteem, I am merely observing and exposing the flaws and drawbacks of our great nation's military; barring the detrimental issues we face, servicemen and women across the military world are debatably some of the most well-minded intellects of the 21st century, mind you poor judgment and indolence aside. The respect I have for anyone in uniform is great. To consider any human being will to sacrifice his or her own life for the better of the entire country a brute barbaric savage is outlandish to say the least. Case and point, think back to the '04 Presidential Race. Ask Senator John Kerry how far he got after calling our troops in Iraq stupid and lazy. One good thing that came from that statement was a wave of support for our troops overseas; thanks Mr. Kerry. Regardless of our flaws, we do our job with attentive detail and discipline and so long as these habits don't hinder or interfere with our work, I guess it's really just a personal choice. As we have great minds among us, we also have individuals at the other end of the spectrum.

As with all jobs, there are certain individuals that you avoid like the black plague and look upon as coworkers and only that. Ironically, for me, some of these individuals are the same individuals who cannot control themselves and their abusive habits. When dealing with powerful weapons and dangerous equipment, one often wakes up wondering whether or not today will be the day that that coworker will find himself cleaning off his desk and emptying his drawers. If only it were so easy. Getting fired from this job entails harsh consequences, so it's better for even the least-apt to wait it out the 8 years. Transversely, there are some people you would be willing to entrust with your families lives with and those are the guys that you wish could cover your back every day, unfortunately this is never the case. These are the people you develop friendships with. I try to be one of the latter types of coworker, but I guess that's a subjective matter.

The same issues I propose in this blog are true in all organizations, including sports teams, social groups, and even religious groups. Some people dismiss these struggles within the best of groups as the "politics" behind the endeavor, the same is true in the military, but rather than to allow adversity to hinder and obstruct progress, our adversity is a natural thing and allows us to operate smoothly. There's no solution to all of the problems, but at least I'm aware of them. It's life, my life, and every chapter to my book is an insightful and educational approach towards my future. I'm definitely learning from this experience.

Picture today is of the mountains at the opposite side of our camp and some of the city of Nabq.

Settled In

Although I haven't really slept, null a few cat naps, since I arrived in Egypt, I have quickly become acclimated to both the slight cultural differences and lifestyle of a middle eastern society, as well as having adjusted to military life in a hostile environment. Our seriousness towards the mission hasn't changed, but the reality of danger is finally viable. I'm sure some of you may read this and automatically worry... there is no imminent danger, merely environmental danger resulting from the volatile region I am in. Preparedness is the best protection you can afford yourself in such an occupation. Precautions are taken to ensure nothing happens to any of our soldiers.

I've been here now for just about 3 days... feels a bit longer, obviously because of my lack of sleep. Aside from being jet lagged, I am fairly well situated. My belongings have found their way into place and I've already developed a routine. I've dedicated a lot of time to working out these past few days, hopefully something I continue as the year progresses. Yesterday was a fairly relaxed day, aside from the occasional detail to do some small tasks in the area of operation, it was spent relaxing on the patio in the sun and listening to music. Afterwards I played some horseshoes with the squad members, and of course my team always won. I guess all the practice at Nace family parties was good for something. A few of the NCO's jested about my throwing stance, guess I throw like my Dad... but the jabs quickly dissipated once I got back to back to back ringers. After my conquest at 'shoes, my roommate and neighbors and I went to the gym to play racquetball. I'm not so fair at this game, but it's quite a workout, so I enjoy it. After a break for dinner I went back to the gym to work on the heavy bag some, it feels great to work out again. My main motivation and inspiration to continue exercising comes from my mom; she's an amazing person with infinite determination, and I love her for that. Thanks again, mom, for all that you do for me, and Ken and Shannon, we really do appreciate it.

As far as my experience with the new culture, it's actually pretty neat. While I have had minimal contact with locals of any kind, the interactions I have had with civilian (Egyptian) contractors on the Camp has been quite an experience. Most of them speak English, but they usually reply in Arabic. I have already learned a few words, mainly greetings. They are very open to greeting and like when we reply (or try at least) in Arabic. Most everything is written in Arabic and annotated in English. Even my new cell phone has Arabic characters on the keypad, i get texts from my service provider in Arabic, and all of the customer support is in Arabic... not so easy. Remembering how to say words is difficult, but the difficulty of learning to read or write Arabic is a whole different challenge. I really hope to start learning more while I am over here.

I've updated my blog more often than I thought I'd be able to. Our internet is finally up and running at full speed, so expect to see e-mails from me eventually. The pace of our duties is bound to pick up sooner or later, but so long as I am afforded the opportunity to relax and enjoy my new environment, I'm planning on using what resources I have. There's still so much to see and do here, but so far, I'm having a great time. Today is another off day, so I'll undoubtedly hit the gym and just stay busy. Also, I need to take care of my laundry... luckily theres only one option, and that's a laundry service... $2-$3 depending on whichever circumstance they decide for as large of a bag of laundry as you desire; folding and shrink wrapping included... not a bad deal. Alright, it's nearly lunchtime already, and you all back home are still asleep. Bizarre to say the least.

I included a picture of my room, which fits the title of the post quite well, and also was able to update my Room with a View Post, check out the pictures. My living accommodations are pretty good. Enjoy, and have a wonderful day. I love and miss you all.

A Room with a View

From the window seat of row 37 on our very own DC-10, I felt as though I was flying over an American city. There were street lights by the thousands, covering every inch of improved road that the ancient city of Cairo offered; for the lack of a better description, it looked like a child's failed attempt at connecting the dots. The lights went on in all directions as far as I could see. The city was huge; then the lights stopped, and darkness ensued, only yielding when we reached the other side of the Sinai Peninsula, where the resort city of Sharm el-Sheikh is located. Once we approached our final destination, the cloudless sky of the region offered a beautiful view of the city. I easily could have mistaken night for day with the intense light breaking through the darkness.

Wheels touched down in Egypt at 2030 hours local last night. 20 some hours on a plane was rough, but aside from the lengthy flight, the trip was excellent. After going through customs we boarded charter buses for movement to the Camp. The ride was exciting, my first glimpse at a whole new culture. As expected, everything was sand colored, including the buildings. I saw some obelisks, but wasn't impressed; they were mere dwarfs to our Washington Monument. The one's here are for astetic tourism purposes, I'm sure the the real obelisks will rebute this once I make my way into the Valley of the Kings. I also got my first glimpse at a Mosque; by far the most detailed and extravagent buildings here.

Making our way down the brightly lit local route, I noticed quite a few things that I was briefed on while in Washington that I for some reason still found quite interesting: 1) Egyptians use the street lights to see the road while driving, making headlights obsolete for them; 2) They drive more recklessly than the French; 3) All street curbs are painted in striped colors, each color with a distinct meaning (black and white means no parking, I think) 4) There IS grass in egypt, it's all just stuck in the island median beds of the highway. The palm trees also were a fun effect. While I was surprised to see all of the street signs in both english and arabic, my surprise quickly faded as we drove past the Hilton, Marriot, and Days Inn, followed by TGI Friday's and McDonalds and numerous night clubs and casinos. Whoever told me that Sharm el-Sheikh is the Las Vegas of the Middle East wasn't joking. It's comparable to our Cancun, but for Europeans and Russians. It would be nice to visit this place on holiday, I'm sure we will not be using the Resorts during our year stay here.

We entered our Camp and began to get settled in. We were assigned our rooms, issued orange boonie caps to replace our orange berets and claimed our bags from the drop point. I was wide awake because of my nap on the plane, so I unpacked my gear and explored the Camp. I found the Force Exchange, Post Office, the NCO Club, the Dining Facility, the Chapel, the Emergency Room, the Fire Station, the Phone Center (where I was fortunate enough to talk to my 2 favorite girls in the entire world) and the Gym. I plan on spending a majority of my time in the latter building. I kept busy until 0515 hours, then took a refreshing shower, changed and made it outside by 0530. Through the rear exit of our building I went, making it just out the door when I was struck. The darkness of the night before had concealed my surroundings to my unaware eyes. There in front of me, for as far as I could see was the great Red Sea, with a view that anyone would pay to see. The view was literally breathtaking. I've included a picture, but I don't think it does the justice. Absolutely stunning. No, it's not red, but as far as the color jokes go and as far as I'm concerned, it should be called the Blue Sea. I will not mind waking up to this view for the next year.

After enjoying the sunrise over the horizon of the Red Sea, I went to the Dining Facility to see how the food was. I was thoroughly pleased with the selection... a major upgrade from the food at Fort Lewis. People always ask what the food is like so I'll tell you what I ate today. Breakfast: One egg scrambled with portebello mushrooms, 2 slices of bacon, a bowl of Raisin Bran with skim milk, and some Passionfruit and a Banana, and a glass of OJ. Lunch: Gourmet flatbread pizza, barbeque wings, salad with raspberry vinegarette dressing and a glass of unsweetened iced tea. Dinner: Grilled chicken, salad with ranch dressing, and some cooked carrots and a glass of unsweetened iced tea. I'm eating healthy, and skipping the burgers and fries :) Between meals I continued to improve my living area, and set up my electronics, then fell asleep laying in the sun on the back porch of my building... it was amazing.

Ok, enough from me for today, I'm going to the gym... I love that it's open 24/7. Check back later this week. Feel free to email me with questions if you want me to answer them!

Note: Picture will be uploaded asap! Had some trouble today.

Just another day...

I've decided to add another entry to my blog today, as my second post of the week in assumption that the forth coming days will become very chaotic. Final preparations are in order, as well as the struggle of cramming loads of gear into 3 bags. The difficulty is comparable to that of fitting a blue whale in a sardine can... ok, maybe that's a bit exaggerated, but to think our personal combat gear alone weighs in excess of 85 lbs, then add in 6 uniforms, socks, shirts, extra boots, civilian attire and all of your personal equipment, including laptop, camera and other gear and packing turns out to be a week long process. Talk about a tight squeeze.

I digress. Today was a typical day... I woke up at 0600, got dressed and ate breakfast, then made my way to the arms storage room to help load m4 carrying racks onto a truck that unfortunately never showed up. After that I went to the military i.d. processing center, where there was a 2 hour line. I got starbucks instead and waited for my ride to come back.

While waiting I was approached by a sergeant major who asked me if I was in the french army because I was wearing my peacekeeping beret. I laughed at that, but nearly died when a sergeant asked if we were a new special forces group... umm no. everyone was rather curious about our odd burnt-orange berets (look for a picture of me wearing my beret in the near future). Then I came back to the billets and continued packing and went to lunch.
That brings me to now, where i am sitting on my bed typing away on my new blog. I'll probably take a nap.

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I fell asleep in the middle of typing my blog, as expected. The wait is starting to become tedious, but at least I still have solid means of communcation with certain people back home. Tonight I plan on finishing my packing, making a few phone calls, and laying down to watch a movie. I just got a package from home with Wawa Iced Tea and my favorite Phillies t-shirt... talk about an amazing package. I'm thoroughly excited to drink my Wawa beverage. Ok, time to beat someone in online checkers are head to the gym. Boring post, yes I know. Picture today is from way back at the beginning of december... That's Specialist Pashley and I during Nuclear, Biological, and Chemical Warfare training... never a fun day in the army.