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Wednesday, March 29th, 2006 - Deployment Day 4

Baghdad International Airport, Iraq

Today has been a travel day, and that means it has been stressful. I'm sitting in a dusty and dingy terminal of BIAP (aka "Baghdad International AirPort", also called "Bye-Op" phonetically by military types). My travels north occurred sooner than I would have believed, and I found myself up at 4:30 am this morning getting my things together again for another move. We took a bus to a nearby air force base - the same one I first flew into. Then we offloaded our stuff and waited around in a terminal for the flight up to Baghdad. I saw Perk-dog at the airport again. We had been separated several days prior at Camp Buehring. I chatted with him a few hours while awaiting the flight - we were on the same plane up north and each to a separate destination from there.

When it was time to board, I gathered my laptop bag, body armor, and helmet (aka kevlar) and headed onto another bus which took us to the tarmac. Today's flight was on a military plane - a C-130 I believe. The vessel was a large open plane with an open cabin that was about two stories. There were about 30 rows of 5 seats, with two large aisles on either side, and jumpseats all along the walls of the plane. The oddest thing about flying on this thing were that there were no windows. You could feel all the usual motions, but had no sense of what was going on outside the plane. As we took off and headed to Iraq, into the lion's den, I'm not sure if the lack of visibility was a blessing or a curse. The plane was also ridiculously loud and all were encouraged/required to wear earplugs.

After about an hour in the air, we landed in Baghdad and strolled down the steps and onto another tarmac. What an odd and crazy feeling it was to say "Hey - I'm in Iraq today!" Isn't this the kind of place that only hard-core military types and Wolf Blitzer go to? Again, I'm at a loss for words - with "surreal" and its variants being the only terms I can really think of do this sort of thing justice. And the feeling this time was even stranger than the one when I landed in Kuwait, because subconsciously I knew that the danger level had just jumped several notches, even in a place (the airport) that is considered relatively safe.

There are several small posts in the larger area of the airport, all of which are fairly secure. So I hopped on a bus to the nearest eating area. I had my laptop bag, which I refuse to leave anywhere, and thus I wasn't allowed into the D-FAC (aka Dining Facility). So instead I went to a Burger King, which was staffed by local nationals and offered souvenir purchases like hats and mugs with the slogan, "Burger King - Iraq!" The guys working inside had some old school Michael Jackson pumping on their stereo and I thought again how odd it was to order a cheeseburger in Iraq, from an American fast food franchise, with "Thriller" blaring in the background. All the soft drinks are written in English on one side and Arabic on the other.

I sat down to eat and put my iPOD on to shut out the world for a while. I've had the song, "Bombs over Baghdad" by Outkast in my head all day - can't imagine why. (At one one point in the day, I even heard two very large explosions off in the distance. Funny, but that's just not the sort of thing I'm used to...) After lunch, I was going to roll to the internet cafe to check email, but an internet and phone blackout had been established earlier in the day. That means that someone in the nearby area or post had been seriously hurt or killed in the past 24-48 hours, and all outside communications are shut off untli the person's family can be notified by the Department of Defense. A grim thought, to say the least.

So I continued wandering around the airport and the nearby base, eventually taking a shuttle back to the terminal section over here. Baghdad's weather seems a little nicer than Kuwait, and aside from some ugly construction smells, the day was quite pleasant, in the low 70's. There is construction everywhere, and huge concrete barriers are seemingly omnipresent. I think it is a combination of the remnants of "Shock and Awe" as well as a lot of rebuilding going on. (At this point, and with several hours to kill, I debated taking a taxi out into downtown Baghdad, and certainly out of the "culturally devoid" green zone to see the local sights, but something held me back. Maybe, just maybe it was my intense fear of being blown up at a cafe or being taking hostage by insurgents. Not sure, I guess, but that might be it. Anyway, I didn't end up going.)

Back at the terminal, I saw Rob one last time as he and the other docs from the CASH prepared to get together and go over to the hospital. Apparently they were told they would fly there, on helicopters, but instead, because of a vehicle shortage, they have to convoy tonight at 2 am. Convoys are scary, to say the least, and neither Rob nor the other docs with that group were too thrilled by the prospect of a midnight convoy through IED country on what's literally dubbed "the most dangerous highway in the world" at this point. It didn't sound like fun. Rob and I said good bye, handshake and big hug style, and reminded each other to stay safe, and then he want on his way over to some other part of the post to prepare to leave. Best of luck, I thought, as he walked off and boarded a shuttle. And that seems to be the way people come and go during these deployments. Ah, war.

And here I sit, back in the terminal, typing way. I'm pretty stressed today. I'm told that tonight I will be flying out on a blackhawk over to my battalion's current location at FOB Falcon, which is south of Baghdad a little ways. We have to fly at night because things are reportedly "too hot" to go during the day. So this little piece of news succeeds in both making me a fan of flying at night yet keeps me from feeling fully comfortable. Odd to think that as I sit here I'm about to embark on possibly the most predicably dangerous and life-threatening event in my life until this point. And only a few hours away. The thought is...unsettling at best. But if you read this on the blog, then everything went OK and it was just one more sphinchter-tightening experience to chock up on the old life resume.

I have been dealing with the stress of deployment through various diversions. The PSP has been awesome. I play Hot Shots Golf a lot, and for hours at a time I seem to focus intensely on the little game, and that focus is what helps me get through this difficult time without having a mental breakdown. Things will be better once I'm in a secure, stable area, and no longer moving around. I'm really hoping our entire Task Force goes back down to Kuwait, and soon.

Thursday, March 30th, 2006, Deployment Day 5

FOB Falcon, Iraq

Well, I made it. The blackhawk flight came and went and it was definitely stressful and mentally intense. (The concept of fear out here is a funny thing. I certainly have a profound courage for the line grunts who roll out on the ground on patrols day in and day out - literally in harms way every second. There are all these 18-22 year olds and the NCO's above them who are doing these patrols daily, sometimes twice daily, on little sleep. At any second an IED could make their lives miserable - or end them. Sometimes, they have to man checkpoints where anyone, any time, could have pounds and pounds of explosives ready to detonate at any second. And then that's it. It's absolutely crazy, I'm telling you. And here I am, all worked up for a simple helicopter flight, and feeling like a puss for it. Yet I'll admit it - I was outwardly calm but legitimately freaked out when that chopper lifted off and began its course into the greater unsafe realm of the Baghdad night skies.)

Our group boarded the blackhawks, which I had remembered so vividly from pictures on my boy "Rowdy" Roddy's desk from residency. Rowdy also used to have pics of Blackhawks as his computer wallpaper. In person, I must say, these things are impressive. We had been at the airport all day, and I had seen multiple Chinooks (the two-bladed choppers) coming and going. When the Blackhawks finally came, they were lean and mean, flying in quickly and hard to spot. (That was good). So we got dolled up in our "full battle rattle" (aka helmet and body-armor) and marched out to the flight line - there were two choppers for the group I was in. I was in the second. We crammed into the thing with all our gear, put our earplugs in, and then sat on the helipad for about 5-10 minutes while the rotors idled, other bags were loaded and some flight checks were performed.

When it was time to roll, the lights dimmed and up front I could see the cockpit lit up all green and high-tech looking. Night ops, baby. Before we took off, all I could think of was that scene in Predator where a pre-political Jesse "The Body" Ventura was offering dip to everyone and then perturbedly called them all a bunch of slack-jawed faggots when they declined him. My smile faded, though, when we took off and it was go time. We sort of hovered in place about 30 meters in the air for about a minute. Then, we started whisking forward.

I think the flight was about 10-20 minutes, but it felt like an hour. The pilots were good - they would zig and zag and I couldn't even see the first helicopter in front of us - that's how dark it was. We definitely took an indirect, serpentine course over the city of Baghdad and ended up slightly south. The flight of the 'Hawk itself was like a subdued roller coaster, rolling and pitching intermittently. Being in the air was trippy, however. (And shockingly no amusement park glee and general carnival atmosphere to go along with the motion.) As we weaved to and fro toward our destination, I kept remembering the guy telling us, "The area's too hot during the day" and it was incredibly difficult to suppress morbid thoughts along the lines of "Well, I guess that right this second I'm one well placed rocket away from an early death." (I have played too much Battlefield Vietnam on my computer - I could picture it exactly.) The night air was cool, and when we landed in the FOB I was both very relieved and I had a new appreciation for my own mortality to boot. (Sometimes I wonder if it would be easier to be out here at age 19, when everyone thinks they are invincible.)

We disembarked from the chopper and then started sauntering up to an in-processing point. Before we were fifty meters away another gaggle of people from this FOB had loaded on and the two birds were in flight once again, staying low, and disappearing very quickly. Kudos to those pilots, man, I thought, as I continued on and signed in and was taken to a different building on the FOB and to my new room. I thought that was it for the night, but while I was awaiting my bags to arrive so I could lie down (it was about 12:30 am at this point), I was greeted by an unexpected but wonderful sight. Pete Henning. That gum-chewing bastard strolled up smiling like we were walking to the beach in Cabo. He had some sweet John Wayne looking shoulder holster on and by the time the bearhug was completed, the helicopter ride was almost forgotten and I was all smiles. (It reminded me of the scene in "Return of the King" where Frodo wakes up in Rivendale after destroying the ring and sees Gandalf standing over him and then quietly says his name in disbelief. "Peeete...?")

Pete, and our Physician's Assistant (a guy named Jeff - who is a great guy - and who I had met before in Hohenfels field training back in August in Germany) helped me carry our bags over to their barracks and the three of us are currently sharing a room. I can't describe how much relief it brings to see a friendly and familiar face, even in an enviroment like this. Good old Pete - the guy hasn't changed a bit.

We went to sleep for the night. This morning Pete and I rolled to breakfast and then he showed me our current FOB ("Forward Operating Base"). We are currently on FOB Falcon, south of Baghdad. I won't reveal too many details, for fear of not doing my part to control "Op Sec" (aka Operations Security). I have no idea how long we'll be here at this FOB. I do know its not that great a place. I saw smoke billowing up from somewhere from beyond the walls in the distance today. There have been multiple IEDs in the area and the nearby town is a mixed Sunni/Shite population and sounds tenuous. People told me that they hear gunfire frequently and that our dining facility was mortared back in January. So we have that going for us, which is nice...

I think I'll leave off there for now. More in the future, of course. Once again, its good to see Pete. After dinner this evening, Pete, Jeff and I smoked cigars out in the moonlight and shot the shit a little bit. Maybe this place isn't too much unlike Cabo after all.


I took a few pics in the past week. Not too many - there are lots of signs about, especially at the airport, stating that picture taking is off limits, so mine are vague at best. But here's a smattering.



Not your average plane sight


Waiting to board the plane in El Paso


Me and Rob Perk-Dog - Texas Style


The Long Walk


"Oh Stewardess, I'll have that coffee now....Right now."



Diet Coke - Iraq Style


Good Friends in Shitty Places


Me in Baghdad at sunset - See how thrilled I look?

I've been on better trips....

Tuesday, March 28th, 2006 - Deployment, Day 3

Camp Buehring, Kuwait

Well, I'm here. And 'here', I'm sorry to say, is not that sweet. Kuwait is a desolate, sandy, and dusty little shit hole of a place. I've spent the last 48 hours trying to simply grasp the fact that I'm literally in the middle east - a thought that still makes me shake my head in disbelief every time I go outside, look at the swirling dust, and feel the arid heat of the desert while walking around. I can't lie - this place is depressing. It's no wonder this part of the world is so volatile. If I lived here full time, I would probably find an extremist religion, get angry at the drop of a hat, and start blowing shit up as well. And the fact that I've come to this conclusion so quickly is as depressing as this place itself.

Gwendolyn warned me of these conditions, of course, but I'm finding out that the difference between hearing a description and living it is immense.

My journey here was no picnic either. It started back in El Paso, Texas, of course, last Friday. Mama and Papa Stup came out to visit me in El Paso, and I was able to have dinner with them on Thursday night and then have lunch and do some errands early Friday. It was good to see my parents, as always, and simply having them around made me forget my situation, at least for a few hours during the dinner Thursday night. My last drink of alcohol for the foreseeable future was a glass of red wine from a bottle that I shared with my mom. I could use another glass right about now.

My parents dropped me off about a half hour prior to my "formation" at 16:00 that Friday. And then the long and painful (and did I mention long?) journey to Kuwait began. It started, as all military things do, with a formation and a line. We had to line up all our checked bags (I carried 3 duffels and my laptop bag carry on) in a parking lot. After that, we had a formation. Then we formed a line, and walked through testing the size of our carry on bag in a yellow crate. If it didn't fit, you couldn't take it, no exceptions. Then, after that line kept moving, we had another formation on the other side of the same damn parking lot, still facing our bags. This all took at least 2 hours. It was maddening, and only the beginning.

Then the powers that be unleashed the hounds (the bomb-sniffing kind) on our bags. And while the German sheppards ran through the rows sniffing away, my friend Rob and I joked that it would be hilarious if they just started ripping into bags, ripping out underwear and clothes, and basically started scattering things everywhere while the handlers fought to get them under control. We also thought it would be funny if the dogs lifted their legs over some poor bastard's bag and let loose. Alas, neither happened, but these are the sorts of things one does to occupy one's mind while standing in endless formations. We just stood and waited while the dogs ran down the rows. And nothing really came of it.

After THAT formation, the bags were loaded onto a huge truck and we had to do a "police call" around the entire area, picking up trash. Then we had to do the same inside of the CRC building. After that, we lined up and got our weapons - M16's for the enlisted folks and 9mm's for the officers. I received my trusty "nine" (still trying to find a name for it), realizing it would need to be more or less at my side for likely the next 6 months like a literal modern-day ball and chain.

After that, we loaded onto buses and tracked over to the airport. The level of surreality was increasing the entire time. My friend Rob was also getting ill with some sort of pneumonia, and was feeling worse by the minute. It was when we got to the airport (which was an army air field, not the El Paso airport) that I first saw the massive plane that was to carry some 300 of us to the desert. It sat alone on the tarmac, just an ominous sight beyond words. At that point, we offloaded the buses and had to go through a mini-security of sorts. First, our carry on bags were dropped off and then surveyed by the dogs. (In my head, all I could keep singing was, "Who let the bomb dogs out...who...who...."). After that, we lined up and were told to empty our pockets and everything else metal into a little basket. Then we carried said basket to a row of guys who had little electronic wands. We were searched and the wands waved over us. The whole time I was thinking, "Uh, there's a 9-mm and a 3 inch knife in my basket, and the guy next to me has an M-16 on the floor - what the hell else could you possibly be looking for?" But instead, I just stood there quietly. Surprising, and despite my thoughts, no individuals were actually sniffed by the dogs.

After we were searched, we were given a "last meal" of sorts, which was a crappy cafeteria style steak, despite the NCO cadre having told us it would be "really good." (Those guys need to get out more.) Then we sat around talking for a bit, and not so eagerly awaiting the next formation, line, or briefing. Turns out it was a briefing up next. We sat in a gym-style bleachers while we were addressed by some hard-assed female SGT. We learned about our flight pattern and layover routine (which was classified informationat the time, apparently). Then some one-star general came out and gave a propaganda-laced pep talk that sounded rehearsed, passionless, and more than a little condescending to anyone with half a brain.

Then came the final roll call to begin boarding the plane. We were a combined group of civilian contractors and military personnel - all individual replacements to scattered units throughout the theater. My name, being near the end of the alphabet, was hence called near the end. When it was called, I gathered my things and walked outside. There were a few people shaking everyone's hand as we walked out and saying "Come back safe" and the like. After that, it was a good quarter-mile hike out to the plane itself. By this time it was about midnight in Texas. The air was cool, and the there was something very eerie about that long walk to the plane. Near the end, there were others waiting to shake our hands, including the aforementioned General Pep-talk. After shaking more hands, I went up the ramp and boarded the plane.

The plane belonged to a civilian carrier called "Omni Airlines", which I'm told holds the government contract on most of these flights. (Can you say lowest bidder?) It was, as I said, a large plane. There were no first class seats. I was placed into a window seat, for which I was thankful given my anticipated needs for sleep. There was an empty seat between me and the guy in the aisle, something again I was thankful for. I decided that sitting on a plane for countless hours with a 9-mm handgun strapped to my leg was going to be uncomfortable, so I took it off and tossed it in the middle seat. My friend John mentioned this, but I must re-iterate that in this anti-terrorism day and age, it was more than a little jacked up to see a plane full of countless guns lying everywhere. The flight crew were all civilians, and seemed friendly enough, as if nothing was amiss about a group of 300 heavily armed people who were about to take off and fly the friendly skies.

We took off from El Paso about 1 am or so. Our travel itinerary was like this.:El Paso to Maine - a 4 hour flight. Then a 2 hour layover. Then over to Germany (what a slap in the face) - an 8 hour flight. Then a 2 hour layover. Boarding the plane that last time in Germany was something else. That was the last leg - next stop - Kuwait. Ugh. It was before that 5 hour flight (about midnight, Kuwait time, by that point) that I decided to pop an ambien to help myself get to sleep and also to fight the increasing waves of depression. We ended up flying due south from Europe. When I woke up, we had about 45 minutes left of the flight. The captain took us directly over Iraq and I could see the lights of the country while we headed downward. When we landed in Kuwait City, the sun was just creeping up. We stepped off the plane. And there I was - smack dab in the fucking middle east.

Of course, the Army adventures didn't stop there. We were first bused to a rest area, still in the airport (which is a combined military and civilian airport - we were on the military side of course), where we were allowed to walk about, use the restroom (port-a-potties), and stretch our legs. At this point, most people, including myself, were ridiculously jet lagged and also a little depressed. And also by this point, my friend Rob was coughing uncontrollably and having full chills with rigors. He basically said it was the worst 48 hours of his life. Oh, and his daughter was about 2 weeks old that day. Awesome.

So Rob, and two other docs and I just sat at this table, adjusting our sunglasses, and staring about at the dank dusthole that is Kuwait. After that, we loaded up the buses again, and we were off to some Air Force Camp about an hour from the airport. I was staring out the window of the bus, on the dusty and bumpy ride. I must have been in stage 3 or 4 of the full grief cycle by that point - and certainly a part of it was fatigue. Wow, did that suck. I remember seeing a herd of camels off the side of the road as we drove past. Then I fell asleep again. Ironically, or perhaps fittingly, "Highway to Hell" came randomly onto my iPOD.

When we arrived at Camp Airforce (I forget the name), it was about 10:00 am, and we had yet another damn formation, out in the blazing sun at this point (its already about 85 degrees here during the day - on its way up to the legendary 140 degrees (no shit) which will happen later this summer), while the in-processing people tried to get their act together. After getting my neck sun-burned, we walked in a large tent, got "swiped in" to country, and then sat around and had another hour of briefings while trying to pound water. Following that, we had some lunch, and the local Army personnel tried to figure out where everybody was going. By 13:00, I had my 3 duffles from the plane back in my possession, and I was on aonther bus, driving another hour, out here to Camp Buehring.

Upon arrival, we got briefed (again) and were left to our own devices. By this point, I was only with a few of my original crew, and my friend Rob and several other docs were already on their way somewhere else. I couldn't convey to the in-processing guy here in the transition area that I was actually stationed here, so when he gave us some down time I began exploring the post. Eventually, I found the doc I was replacing, and he snapped his fingers and then we were picking up my stuff from the transitional area (lots of people are staged here prior to going up to Iraq) and brought it over here to my quarters. That night, the doc took me around and showed me the post. He was about as happy to see me as I was miserable to be here. (I'm his ticket out of here, of course.) Then, exhausted, I went to sleep for about 15 hours. I woke up the next day and it wasn't all a bad dream. No, I was still here.

And here I am. But, as it turns out, not for our long. Several weeks ago the actual battalion I'm assigned to pushed forward into Iraq for additional security in some region near Baghdad. My boy Pete went with them, as did my the physician's assistant who I will be working with (and sharing a room with) during my time here. I'm to meet up with them in the near future. So now I'm exploring this post, and awaiting my travels up north, which should occur in the next week or so.

I'm not particularly pumped to go into Iraq, obviously, because it's a lot more dangerous than Kuwait. And traveling itself represents the biggest danger. So here we go again. I'm not sure how long I'll be up there - I've heard anything from 1 week to 60 days. Hopefully not too long. And because of this transitioning I'll be doing, i have no real address as of yet, so stay tuned for that.

And with that, I'm tired of typing, for now. More to follow. I think that writing this will keep me sane. I've got a "nine" strapped to my leg, and my dog tags are perpetually on. Wow, how things in my life have changed...

To be continued.

PS - Forgot to bring my camera to load up my pictures. Next time, I guess.

CRC Music Factory - Day 6

It's gonna make me sweat till I bleed. Is that dope enough? Indeed.

Anyway, the sun is setting on my time in El Paso and at CRC. The busy schedule has prevented frequent posting. I have survived this painful week at the ironically named "Fort Bliss" for precisely two reasons. My friend Rob Perkins and my Sony PSP. It's been good to have Rob (aka Perk-dog) around, and I think we've managed to cheer each other up through the dreary army deployment readiness factory over here by constantly making smart ass remarks and being generally amused by the concept of "pistol whipping" while carrying 9-mm handguns everywhere. (There's no situation a quick pistol-whip to someone's teeth can't fix, we've discovered.)

This past week has been crammed with the usual array of painful army crap - a lot of lines, a lot of late nights and early wake ups, lots of yelling seargents with hideous haircuts, and a lot of "hurry up and wait". I've now re-qualified on the M9 hand-gun, this time on a range that required me to gun down several pop targets at different distances and occasionally while moving forward. (For some reason, i did much better on this, qualifying as 'expert'.) I fired an M-16 for shits and giggles. One of the instructors here had the mutant power of taking 10 minutes of material and expanding it into an hour lecture. He proved consistent on this, doing it time and time again and also succeeded in leaving at least half the audience in a quaking fetal position after each power-point presentation in the process. I sat through a two hour lecture on 'first aid' that made me want to stick my leatherman into my eye. I have been issued all of the latest US Army gear, as well as all the 1960 re-hash that goes with it. I have a new helmet, new body armor, and of course the new army ACU, which I now dub "Atari Combat Uniform" because that's what I've decided the camoflauge pattern looks like most. I've had to endure countless "Hooahs" and generalized meat-headedness for a full week. I sat through a 3 hour lecture on IED's and saw disturbing footage of men getting killed by explosives, 50-caliber machine guns, and even tank cannons. I've listened to gun nuts thrilled at the prospect of "smoking some Haji ass". I've sat in auditoriums and endured several propaganda films while many around me laughed and cheered to my dismayed horror. I ran around in the dirt, low crawled, high crawled, crawled under barbed-wire, and jumped over a wall with a dummy M-16. (I'm a doctor, by the way). I declined an anthrax vaccine. I sat through lectures on Arab culture, Rules of Engagement, and combat stress. I've been fitted for a gas mask and now have my very own. I received a Geneva Conventions card this week. I've signed my name a thouasand times. I've heard way too many southern accents this week.

And now its time to go. Soon, I will board a plane and fly out of the United States and head "over there", most likely and ironically stopping briefly in Germany during the process. And then, it's desert time.

More later as I get the chance.

CRC Day One

Sunday March 19th, 2006 20:00 (El Paso time).

I'm in El Paso. Just finished a moderately long day of inprocessing at Army (Tm). (From here on out, I think I'm going to call 'the Army' simply 'Army', a la Buster Bluth of Arrested Development fame. He says it like you would say "Karate" or "Yoga" - as in "I have to go to Army today." This resonates with me, for some reason.)

Before I talk about my fun times at Army (Tm) today, however, I must say that on top of everything else, there was a solid mix of good feelings upon returning back to the United States yesterday. I didn't really realize until I got back here, but I've now been away for a good chunk of time, since late August. I really like living in Europe, but I must say, it was pretty cool to come "home". I got off the plane in Chicago and just walking through the terminal I felt pretty good. I also instantly noticed two quick things.

First, I noticed all sorts of people were gathered around TV's, crowding in to watch the NCAA tournament. And damn was it reassuring to find people a) watching sports I care about, b) watching sports live and at the right time of day/night, and c) watching anything other than goddam soccer. (For the record, I have nothing too much against soccer. Its best feature is that is such a worldwide equalizer of a sport - and that is cool because the international stage of soccer as well as the worldwide cultural ramifications are unsurpassable anywhere else in sports. That said, soccer is clearly over-exposed in Europe (as its really the only sport they care about signficantly) and that fact leaves me starved for other sports, and certainly those that are more beloved by me. Also, and I know saying this will make soccer purists slam a fist on a table in rage, but I've decided that I hate the off-sides rule. It absolutely kills the game, and its so damn arbitrary based on the refs - the crowd of the team that the call goes against is always pissed like the call was wrong, and it slows the game way down. And if there's one thing soccer does not need, it is to be slowed down. Between that and the constant flopping to the point where it seems like every player on both teams is trying to out-act Manu Ginobli, I fear soccer will never enter my upper echelon of sports loves. But all THAT said, my relationship with soccer is a work in progress, and is constantly evolving. So we'll see where it settles out. That is, when I get back from the desert, of course.)

Second, Americans as a whole and as observed in large numbers in a setting such as an airport, are really, really fat. Much fatter, it would seem, than any similar gathering in Europe, and possibly anywhere else in the world. I suppose this is no surprise of an observation to anybody. But the fact that I sort of subconsciously perceived a sense of the overall largeness of the people around me, without really thinking about it - and then suddenly started looking around and verifying it to my horror - was sort of alarming. After being in Europe for six months, this fact just really jumped out at me. Odd.

Finally, it is good to be back stateside. If for no other reason than I was all fired up when my transaction at the airport Starbucks went off without a hitch. By that I mean no language barrier, no sounding like a dumbass to a local, and no fear of a cultural faux-pas. I went to Starbucks, ordered my coffee, communicated effectively with the barista, payed for the drink, and walked off. You could say I straight up schooled the entire encounter. And being able to do that again rocked.

Now, regarding Army (Tm) today. My little hotel here on-post offers a continental breakfast, so I went and checked that out this morning. I couldn't help but notice FOX News on the TV. Settling in with my coffee and cereal, and having nothing else to do at the moment, I watched a tad. Boy, was that a mistake. Now, I know Fox News has sort of become a parody of itself in recent years, and I haven't personally seen it in at least a year or so to any extent, but damn. I couldn't believe it. At one point they had a crossfire-style discussion about Iraq, with a conservative vs. a liberal. The liberal was a fluppy sort of spineless guy, clearly groomed to look like an idiot (he did), and the republican, though disturbing in his viewpoint (to me), at least had some semblance of self-respect about him. And the show's moderator was clearly on the conservative's side of the debate, as evidenced by her comments and affirmative responses to his supposed-to-be-rhetorical questions. It was completely ridiculous and one sided in a way I thought could only be possible in a parody. In another segment, they had a retired Army Colonel (who was their Uber War Analyst EXTREME!, or something) come on and go over the good and the bad at the three year point of the Iraq war. One of his summations of "the good", and this was typed up on the screen, was that "we killed a lot of bad guys." No shit - right there on the screen for all to read. His other analysis (and further points, which were lost in the fog of that particular one i must admit) was, um, equally "trenchant." And, in classic FOX news style, the "bad" points of the war were relegated to a small, vague list crammed into the absolute last minute of a 10-minute segment. All I could do was shake my head and look around to see if the other breakfast-goers were having a similar reaction to the on-screen tripe. Sadly, they weren't.

Anyway, after the riveting breakfast television, I walked over to CRC and checked in. And after that was sweet, sweet in-processing. Walking around, signing in rosters, giving copies of my orders to people, standing in lines, checking boxes, etc. A lot of the usual Army stuff. I also had to do some sweet computer-based powerpoint training on "what to do if you get captured" for about an hour, which more or less succeeded in totally freaking me out. Apparently, I'm supposed to "attempt to remain psychologically strong" and "remember my warrior ethos" should I be captured. The problem with these things, especially in the setting of imminent deployment, is that my imagination just runs wild and the next thing I know I'm sitting there blankly staring at the screen picturing Mama Stup crying while I'm beheaded by terrorists on CNN or something. Um, yeah, not good times. And trust me, any thoughts I would have after being captured would have nothing to do with any warrior ethos. In fact, they would probably center more on some dark and bleak variation of, "wow, this really, really sucks".

I got my new ACU's (Army Combat Uniform) issued to me today. I'm a medium long jacket, and a medium long pants, if anybody cares. Got a new 'patrol cap', and even a new sun hat. The new ACU's have all this digitized tan/gray/olive camoflauge which up close doesn't seem to have any practical concealment unless you're trying to elude someone in a pile of vomit. Perhaps I'm going to be tasked to infiltrate a frat party.

This evening, we were bused to an auditorium to have a little greeting from some battalion commander or another. There was a short little video which was chock full of propaganda to boot. (This seems to be a requirement at every little official Army thing I ever do.) This one wasn't as bad as most - basically just showed a lot of soldiers running around and threw the ever-lovable warrior ethos in our faces a couple more times. Then the commander came out and talked for a bit. He had a weird pseudo-Texas accent, complete with pronouncing the word coyote as "Kye-Oat", which didn't exactly put forth an air of overwhelming intelligence.

I was both excited and sad to see an old friend here at CRC. It appears that one Rob Perkins, who was a third year resident at Madigan when I was an intern, has also been tasked to go "down range". Rob is a nephrologist at Walter Reed in DC these days. I saw him and we started talking, kind of lamenting deployment together, etc. Then he told me that his wife gave birth exactly one week ago. And I was floored. What followed was the most awkward and bitter-sweet "Congratulations" I have ever offered a new father. Rob, who reminds me a fair bit of the legendary Jon Yarris, for those in the know, is another true liberal trapped in the army, and a great guy. It was good to see him, but I could tell he was clearly bummed about his present situation, which just utterly sucks. New baby, one week old, and then you have to go to Iraq. Suddenly my own situation doesn't seem so bad.

And there it is. There's a full day of fun planned for tomorrow as well. Complete with a formation at 4:30. (That's not a typo). I'm off to bed.

Dashing to CRC

For several reasons, and mostly for keeping my own sanity this week, I'm going to do a little running journal of events, as best I can. Here are Saturday's entries (I'm already in El Paso as I type this little portion) - all from the plane. By the end of the day, I was too tired and jet-lagged to keep typing much. My 3 hour flight from Chicago to El Paso was a blur of sleep with only the briefest moments of coherent wakefulness.



Saturday, March 18th, 2006 - 15:30 (German Time)

Blogging at 32,000 feet. I've said good bye to the Fatherland and am now hurtling towards "home" on a crowded American Airlines 767. Next stop, Chicago. After that - El Paso, Texas. Within 10 days I'll almost assuredly be in Kuwait. Maybe Iraq thereafter. The thought trips me out - I still can't quite wrap my head around it.

Last week is now a blur. I spent it running around like a madman, completing an immense list of tasks encompassing many fronts. The further the week progressed, the more tasks seemed to emerge. It all culminated in this morning, when I was behind schedule and literally running around the house trying to finish up every last little odd and end prior to taking off.

After leaving the house, I went to Landstuhl. There I gassed up the car and then picked up my good friend Eryn's ex-girlfriend's dad (yes, you read that right - not sure why it matters - I only know that its amusing in a Spaceball's kind of way), who now works as a reservist nephrologist at Landstuhl, who will be taking care of my car in my absence, and who also accompanied me to the airport. Irv is a good guy with a passion for conversation. He did most of the talking while I drove my BMW at somewhat unsafe speeds on the autobahn towards Frankfurt, trying to make up for lost time. We hit traffic at the very end, and I spent thirty grueling minutes glancing nervously between the road and the clock while we trudged ever-so-slowly towards the airport. All the while Irv calmly discussed everything from his latest cell phone plan to his favorite vacation spots in France and Italy. I also vagulely remember an anecdote about a 100 dollar omelette he once ate in France.
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My thoughts have been all over the road this week and its all been quite stressful. Several times during the week I had to pause, gather myself, and take about 10 sequential deep breaths to simply calm down prior to resuming an activity. The peculiarlity of my situation hit home most when I was pulling my bags from the car at the airport, clearly rushed. Irv, a veteran of both Vietnam and Iraq, paused, offered me his hand and calmly and deliberately said, "Don't worry about anything back here. And, look, if you have to go into Iraq and do any convoying around, just realize that our guys are all very well trained. That said, they can have mental lapses at times, so keep your head about you and keep an eye out. If something seems out of place, say something, because it probably is." Then he nodded slowly, and looked at the ground briefly, the wheels in his own head clearly turning while he seemed to scan his own memories. Then he looked back up at me, "Have a safe trip." And then I shook his hand and walked into the airport.

I have a feeling life is about to get very surreal.

March 18th, 2006 - 16:34

This flight is whack. I'm sitting in the very last row of a huge plane that seems filled with a disproportionate amount overweight, teenage girls. I'm guessing they're coming back from a spring break in Europe or something, probably as part of some huge tour group. They are decked out in sweats (and nothing but sweats), are giggily, are constantly snapping photos left and right, and are basically being teenage girls. Not wanting to be mean, I think I'll stop there.

The controls to the call lights, audio jacks, and reading lights don't work in my section of the plane. My reading light is stuck "on", and is beaming down at me relentlessly. I can feel the heat from it. Several people are rightfully annoyed about these malfunctions. I might be as well, but luckily I brought an arsenal of electronics with me to get through any manner of tedium. Between the iPOD, laptop (with 2 batteries), PSP, and several books, I'm pretty set.

I just ate probably the worst meal I've ever had on an 'international' flight. On the way to the airport, Irv warned me that American Airlines food would be bad. And you know what? He was right. That guy apparently has sage advice on all sorts of things.

Hoochie Mama just came on the iPOD. I have to go now.

March 18, 2006 20:35

An hour and a half left. The guy (jerk) in front of me is all reclined back, which is cramming my laptop into into my stomach and my elbows are shoved back into the seats. I can barely see the screen given the angle. Which is why I haven't been typing much. I just spent two hours playing Hot Shots Golf on my PSP. Great game. "Too Legit to Quit" is now playing on my iPOD. I probably shouldn't have just typed that for all to see. But there it is. The teenage chicks have thankfully settled down. There's a 1-year old in the seat next to me staring at this screen as I type this. He's been incredibly well behaved throughout the flight and I intend on complementing his mother when we land. Nice work, kid. Nice work, indeed. Its funny how concentrating on the mundane details of this plane ride and recording them here is taking my mind off the bigger picture. My head is still spinning, but I'm starting to relax. We'll see how I am in a week.


March 18th, 2006 23:30 (El Paso time)

Arrived. Exhausted. Must sleep. Hotel room has internet - yay for that. More later.

Left Turn at Albuquerque?

(I'm not sure if this sign indicates that dogs in this area aren't allowed to "make waste" at all, or rather if they're just not allowed to be so damn fired up about it.)

Well, despite the prior potential of not having to go to Texas, I officially leave for El Paso on Saturday. And in doing so, I must say that I will feel honored to be a part of yet another brazen display of brilliantly masterminded military logistics.

Distance from Frankfurt to Kuwait: 2326 miles

Distance from Frankfurt to El Paso: 5631 miles

Distance from El Paso to Kuwait: 7900 miles


Hooah.


Things are getting steadily crazier around here as the time to departure nears. I'm in charge of 2 houses, 2 mailboxes (at work), 3 cars, and of course on top of that have to get all my army shit ready to go "downrange" as well as tuck in about 5,000 little things at work prior to leaving. And without Gwendolyn around - the highly refined engine of task-mastery that she is - I'm definitely feeling a little overwhelmed with all the little labors that need doing prior to my departure. But I'm getting there, slowly.

More to come as the week progresses. I'm glad I got a chance to spend my last free Saturday night doing something fun here in Germany. Through some colleagues at work, and their local German neighbors, I went "Kegeling" (pronounced "Kay-gull-ing" - and unforntunately having nothing to do with female pelvic strengthening exercises), which is the German equivalent of bowling, only a lot more varied and fun - and involving lots of betting. I took some pics, and will post about that soon enough. But it was definitely a good time.


And for the record, I still don't have a future address in Kuwait, yet. When I get it - I'll post it. More to follow.

All Hail Cobra

It's been awhile now, but I figure I'd best recount the Cobra Mini-Reunion Tour that happened several weeks back. By that, I mean that my med school friends Chris Vinnard and John Lesher visited me here in Germany. Now, its important to realized that Chris, John, and I, and others, revealed ourselves to the world as Cobra - Terrorist Organization Supreme - back in late October of 2000. Some might say it was merely a "Halloween Costume" in New Orleans, but we know better. As far as I recall, when we stepped out into the French Quarter that dark and cool night, in full regalia, and announced our plans to dominate the globe, well, the world was trembling. As they should have been.

And though their meeting me here was under the guise of a "vacation in Europe", at least according to their public personas, it was really and truly a secret meeting to discuss the past, present, and future of Cobra. Other members of Cobra, including James Martin (Major Bludd), his wife Amy (the Baroness), and Jim Kim (Stormshadow), were off about the globe on their own missions, and unable to attend - each doing their part to help the big "C" take over the globe - which has really been our goal all along.

So for the meeting, it left Chris (Zartan), John (Destro), and myself (Cobra Commander) to take stock of Cobra's current situation and formulate a new and improved plan for world domination. Which we did, of course. Oh, and we designed a new HISS tank which we're all excited about, too.

Or something like that. OR, they came out, we went skiing in Austria, hung out, went to Heidelberg, went to Koln, and played a lot of "James Bond - Rogue Agent" (which is about 4 years out of date, but reminds me fondly of medical school) on the PS2. But either way...

(Its important to keep in mind. I have an almost unhealthy fascination with my childhood loves, including, and perhaps above all, GI Joe and Transformers. So it will come as no surprise to those who know me (and I'm glad John and Chris humored me, I might add) that much of the time this week was spent "pretending to be Cobra" as we did, oh, while doing just about anything. Like sitting at the bar with our drinks and lamenting about how tough it was to be the world's best terrorist organization these days - what with competition like Al Qaeda and Hamas. Or, talking about how Duke is so goddamned full of himself and really isn't all that sweet. (I mean, really.) Or about how we all think Dr. Mindbender is gay. Or that Serpentor really sucks. Or whatever. Between that, and all the homo-erotic talk (which accompanies me on ANY vacation, of course), we basically filled up the entire week. Everything else, including the traveling and multiple sweet locales, was purely gravy.)


So here goes, a quick recap:


The first part of our trip centered around driving down to St. Anton, Austria, and skiing/boarding there. I must say, I was quite impressed with the place. It was a great ski town, a great mountain (or really a collection of multiple mountains), and our hotel (the Hotel Kertess) was really top notch. Every morning there was a ridiculously good continental breakfast. Every night there was a splendid four-course dinner - all included with the hotel. And all drinks were fresh draft beers and easily charged to the room - not too shabby.


The first day there was some good snow from the last fresh fall, and it was a beautiful blue bird of a day. Given how scenic the Alps are, it was an absurdly breathtaking day - the pictures hardly do it justice. We cruised around the mountain and enjoyed the sun, suppressing the urge, sometimes unsuccessfully, to scream "COBRAAAAA!" at the start of every run. At the end of the ski day, about 3:30 pm or so, we hit up the Krazy Kangaroo, a mid-mountain bar, and started having some beers in the sun, which was incredibly therapeutic. I will say this for Euros - they really know how to enjoy their vacations. I was never a big beer drinker on the slopes in the States, but here in Europe its different. You roll into lunch, see those beautiful draft beers straight out of the tap, and basically say, "I'm in Europe - these Alps are sick - why the hell not?" And beer at lunch on boarding days, for some reason, tastes so good (when it hits the lips). And at the end of the day, its time for "Apres Ski", and that's just the way it is. (You are in the minority if you leave the mountain/town right after skiing. You're also called a "dummkopf" by local funboys, so beware.) Anyway, after downing a few in the "KK", we had to re-navigate the mountain, from about the middle down to the bottom. I did this, more or less, with a stiff buzz, which made every turn on my snowboard a giggly delight. (I'm not kidding - I was literally giggling.) Back at the hotel, John and I hit the spa area of the hotel, which had showers, a pool, and a sauna. Europeans love their saunas - in fact this picture, from the web site, was one of the key drawing points of the hotel. (Talk about nailing your funboy demographic with your web page layout.) What Europeans do NOT love, unfortunately, are jacuzzis, which I have found are incredibly hard to find over here. So in lieu of the hot tub, I've discovered a shower, pool, sauna, shower combo which does quite nicely at the end of a long day on the slopes.

The second day was a little bit of a let down. Most of the fresh snow was gone, the sky was very overcast, and I was physically limited by what can only be described as a nagging pain in "a bad place" which I was worried was a small hernia (turns out it wasn't). So I only boarded the morning, and then took it easy, but still managed to fit in a brat and a beer at lunch. Chris and John continued to cruise the afternoon, and then we all met up again near dinner time. Then we proceed to get quite sloshed, talk to the locals (one of the bartenders was from Sweden, and he was a pretty cool guy), and then had a sweet dinner, had more drinks, told medical school stories, lamented the fall of New Orleans to Katrina, and then went back to the room, watched "Raiders of the Lost Ark", gushed drunken nonsense about how sweet that movie is. And then I passed out.

John must have donned his Destro-mask and activated his infamous weather-dominator some time in the middle of that night. Because when we woke up the third day, we were greeted by about 10-14 inches of powder, indicating that it had snowed heavily overnight. We all got fired up. The "bad place" pain magically disappeared, and we charged off to the lifts to rip it up. What followed was one of those brilliant and magical days that can only happen in powder. Many runs, fresh tracks, heavy powder, NOT many people - it was insane. Giggles, high fives, and more giggles. Just a great day - nothing else can be said.

That night, we drove out of there and headed back home to K-town. Here's some pics.



St. Anton (town) by Gondola


Zartan is only photographed when he wants to be photographed...


Ugly, heinous-looking Alps


Powder Day!












No one could believe just how much Chris schooled that fry...





Beer, Brat, Fries, and Chocolate - and it all went right to my thighs


The next day, we hit up Heidelberg, another city about an hour away from K-town, and famous for an old-school castle. (It wasn't as sweet as Destro's castle in southern Bavaria, of course, and as John was quick to point out, but it wasn't bad...) We drove in, checked out said castle, then walked around the town a little, and then headed home once more.



Heidelberg Castle
















Heidelberg City, viewed from Castle





Local Sculpture showed amazing anatomic detail - even Pete would be proud


Excellent Shopping abounds in Heidelberg - these are now Cobra issue


The next morning, I dropped Chris off at the airport, and he picked up his fiancee Marion (hope I spelled that right). Then those two rented a car, while John and I continued on north. We all met up in Koln, which was a suprisingly great city in Northwest Germany along the Rhine. We stayed in a cool hotel, found some great restaurants, and saw the local sights.

On the Sunday, we rolled around, saw the largest cathedral (Dom) in Germany, and even walked up its 520+ steps to the top. Following that, we hit up a local museum of socialism. This was located in a building that the SS had commandeered in the late 1930's and used as its Koln headquarters for most of World War II. As a result, the lower levels of the building had lots of "cells"where "enemies of the state" were kept. There was lots of graffiti on the walls, from prisoners, detailing the horrors of being a prisoner of the Nazis. Luckily, there was a pamphlet available which translated some of the things written. Not surprisingly, a lot of what was scrawled was at once disturbing and incredibly sad. On the upper level, there was an impressive exhibit dedicated to the history of German Socialism. Unfortunately, this part of the exhibit was more or less entirely in German, so we were relegated to looking at menacing pictures of Hitler, his dark and pointed stare, his generals, and other generic Nazis doing stuff. There was a even a picture which featured a guy who looked chillingly like Toht. The exhibit also detailed how the immense cathedral improbably survived the massive allied bombing of the city, which was remarkable given how big that place was. All around it was a great exhibit, but difficult at times, as these Nazi things tend to be.

In need of a good 'pick me up', we decided to head next to a Chocolate Museum located in the city, which was pretty neat, as well. Not quite the "Chocolate Factory" of Wonka fame we mayhaps were expecting, but a pretty neat place. And of course, they gave out free chocolate.

One of the most impressive things about Koln was the food. The first night we went to a middle eastern place which was excellent. On the second night, we went to some place called "Fischerman's". The food there was probably the best I've had in Europe to date. The place was tended by an uncharacteristically (for Germany) friendly and what seemed to be an exclusively gay and multi-lingual wait staff - the result of which was a line by line translation of the entire menu for us (this NEVER happens in Germany), all while the waiter was sitting on Chris's lap.

The other highlight of Koln was a small bar decorated in the style of 1930's Russia, complete with Lenin stuff, Stalin stuff, hammers, sickles, and all other sorts of retro-commie crap. The drinks all had names like "Sputnik" and the like. The bar also came with a local 70-year old alcoholic lady who made it her mission to invade our table and talk AT us for hours, in broken english, and with absolutely hideous breath. Good stuff.

On Sunday night, John and I rolled home after dinner. The next morning I took him to the airport. Chris and Marion stayed in town another week, traveling around on their own and "doing wine country" or something.


In a very small hotel elevator


Chocolate Fountain


Nice of this guy to strike a pose for me






Destro and Cobra Commander, um, are very close


Sweet Gothic Dom with not-so-sweet scaffolding


View from top of Dom

All in all a great vacation. Other fond memories of this week: (I write these mostly so I remember these things when I look back at this post several years from now.)

1)John, Chris, and I split a huge "beer tower" at the Brauhaus, here in K-town, while telling stories about med school. Talked about, about all, the infamous "Kyle Poetry" which I shall post here one day.

2)During our multiple drives this week, Chris, who was often stuck (or "crammed" when the ski stuff was involved) in the back seat, would routinely don his iPOD and more or less totally ignore John and I, who would be talking, or listening to music up front. What a jerk.

3)I think all three of us were in agreement that German rest stops and the associated restaurants are pretty sweet. I think they're state sponsored, with hot meals and good food, often self serve style. During our trip, these never ceased to impress, especially when compared to the shady US road stop counterparts.

4)I must reiterate that driving on the Autobahn, in a good car, is awesome. My BMW, can handle speeds of 120 mph without any problem, all the while seeming like its only going 70 mph. John and I made a trip from Koln to K-town in about 100 minutes. This is a 150 mile drive or so.

5)Given all the talk of Cobra that occurred during the week, I thought John and Chris might be impressed with the Transformers Soundtrack, which is conveniently kept in my car for times when I need to drive really fast. Surprisingly, they were not impressed. In fact, 'horrified' would be a better word. And yes, they are no longer my friends.

6)At one point John pointed out there are no billboards along German roads, which turned out to be 99% true. And that rocks.

7)Med School, and all that came with it, can never be re-lived. But for Cobra, well, we'll always have that one magical night in the French Quarter.

Best Wishes,

Cobra Commander

Can't Hardly Kuwait

Much has happened in the past few weeks. And, curse me, I've let my blogging fall behind. As I've mentioned before, writing on this thing occasionally feels like a chore. And in some weeks, I just don't have the strength to keep "my baby" updated.

There are several reasons for this. At work, my life revolves around seeing patients and then typing annoyingly tedious notes to document every piece of the encounter, all while feeling generally "behind" in the day. On top of that, life in a military hospital is saddled with inordinate amounts of additional administrative annoyances, much of it revolving around computer crap, and including taxing emails about schedules, committees, and all sorts of other bullshit. So when I get home, sitting down at my computer to write something concise is almost never on the top of my list*. And since I DO take a little pride in delivering at least a little bit of meaningful prose every time I bust out a post, it means that the right elements (mostly mood, energy, star alignment, and a lack of yearning to say 'eff it' and simply play more Madden) have to be in place for me to actually sit down and write something. Additionally, the more time I let slip by, the more of a burden I feel for having to deliver a monster post to catch up on everything. And the more time that goes by, the harder the task becomes, at least in my mind. So the further I let it go, the higher the energy it takes for me to sit down and slap out a decent post. The inertia is always building. But there are days when such strength exists, or I've made my coffee too strong, or a little bit of both.

(* - This is also why I suck at returning emails lately. I have enough email energy for about one person, Gwendolyn, and that's it. So my apologies to those who have empty inboxes for weeks on end after emailing me.)


And it appears today is such a day. There is a lot to catch up on, but only SO much will be revealed in this here post. Look for more frequent posts in the next two weeks. For starters, several weeks ago, friends John and Chris (of Tulane Med School heritage) visited for a week and we traveled about Euroland, having a blast. This visit will be addressed in another post, perhaps even later today. I also attended a soccer game (or 'match', as they call it) between the US and Poland here in Kaiserslautern last week, which was fun, even though I'm often convinced that I hate soccer. This will be addressed in another post, as well.

Today, I will focus on one thing, prior to hitting the gym (and getting absolutely HUGE, by the way), which is the most important thing, for now. It turns out that I am officially being deployed to Kuwait, to meet up with old Pete. I received paper work last week, and now its simply a matter of time. As of right now, I'm set to leave in about two weeks. At that time, as it stands right now, I will head to El Paso Texas for a "train up" of sorts, which will be similar to the thing that Gwen did prior to her leaving. (As many of you will recall, Gwen found the training and education she received to be very useful, informative, and even a little fun.)

I now hear that some of the local higher ups are trying to get it changed so that I don't have to go to El Paso first, but we'll see. If I do go to El Paso, then I would deploy directly to Kuwait from there - which unfortunately would mean that when I came back, I would have to come back to Germany THROUGH El Paso, which is so retarded that it makes perfect military sense and will probably end up happening.


(Side note. Everybody should read "Catch 22", by Joseph Heller. It is the only way to truly understand the unbelievable paradox of military planning, military strategy, military life, and everything else military. A brilliant piece of work. I recommend it to all, especially those who have spent ANY time in the military, or is close to anyone who has.)


This deployment comes as mixed news. I've been expecting it for a while now, so its certainly no big shock. And though I don't' want to be deployed all that much, this should (note the nervous italics) be a pretty cushy deployment, all things considered. I will be going in the spot that I was originally supposed to go to WAY back in September. Back then, some may recall, I was switched out (or un-switched out, which makes both more and less sense) with another doc because of administrative roadblocks at higher command levels. Well, it turns out that the other doc is now retiring (called "ETS-ing" - say the letters) from military service in June, so he needs to get his ass back here to start that process. And thus he needs a replacement. He doesn't REALLY need a replacement, though, because there is an entire brigade sitting uselessly in Kuwait, which is chock full of doctors (at least 5, who sit around and work an hour "sick call" like once every five days, with the rest being down time). But of course, by Army policy, this other doc actually DOES need a replacement. And that person - is me. Clear enough?

And so off I go. I will join this "Ready Reserve" Brigade and sit around in Kuwait, working like two days a week, spending the rest of the time hanging with my boy Pete and his taint, and catching up on pleasure reading, DVD's, and the like all the while.

So its not that bad. Its certainly not as bad as poor Gwendolyn has it. It's not Iraq. There are no IED's, mortars, or bullets firing in Kuwait. Now, as "ready reserve" (which sounds like a kind title for a scrub third-stringer on some football team), we could potentially get pushed forward into Iraq if the shit hit the fan. This worries me a little, given how frequently the words "civil war" have been mentioned in the past few weeks. But only a little. I have more faith in the army's complete inability to mobilize an entire brigade in any timely fashion than I do in the notion that this civil war issue will continue long enough to amount to anything substantial.

The amount of time I will spend in Kuwait is unclear. It appears no one knows exactly what the future plans are for this brigade. There are options and rumors floating about. One is that the ENTIRE brigade (including me) comes home in mid to late April. That would mean my actual "boots on ground" time would be less than one month. This is the most inane option, and hence the most likely in many respects.

Another option is that the entire brigade stays the entire year. (Until October or November). This option is the least likely, if the rumor mill is to be believed. On a related note, my orders are only good until Oct 2006, so this is supposedly the latest I would be deployed until. (Though orders can be changed...)

A third option, and honestly the most likely one (again courtesy of the rumor mill), is that the Brigade mostly goes home, but leaves one battalion (there are 4-5 battalions in a brigade, including the one I'm going to be a part of) behind at a time, and they rotate out every 2-3 months. As such, I will likely get 3-4 months of "boots on ground" (love that phrase) time. Its unclear when my particular battalion's turn would be, but from the rumors I've heard about THAT, we would likely go first, which would be best, in some ways, because it minimizes traveling in and out of the middle east theater. (Although in another way, it would be worst, because I would miss Gwendolyn's vacation time from her own deployment, which is in May.)

So several things are still up in the air, but it is clear that I WILL be going to Kuwait, for at least some amount of time, and in the near future.

Overall, it should work out relatively well. Its deployment, but its Kuwait. Its time away, but its not a full year, and could even be very little time at all. And being "downrange" for any time gets me to the bottom of the long and frightening doctor deployment list, which supposedly states that "everybody goes once before anybody goes twice". Plus, its almost July, which means a whole another gaggle of "fodder" docs is about to graduate residency and bend over for the needs of the US Army.

Once I leave, it will mean that five out ten of my fellow graduating internists from Madigan last year will see sand prior to even a full year going by. This is nuts. One of my friends, the esteemed John Rinard, is about to leave for Afghanistan. John is not exactly pro-military, either. And he's created a blog. (I've also linked to it on the side). So if Gwen's happy-go-lucky posts about deployment aren't enough, you can read his as well, which I encourage.

Anyway, more to come.