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.