True Colors

Today has been a very busy day of erranding. Seeing as I have spent the majority of my days off in the last month out of town, I have had many things that I have needed to get caught up on. So, off I went today to deal with a lot of that. Well, midway through my errands, I made a much-needed stop at Starbucks for some caffeinated refreshment. When I pulled in, I noticed that the line for the drive-thru was wrapped entirely around the building, so I decided that I would park and go in for my Venti Iced Caramel Latte (aka my lifeblood). Our Starbucks here in town has a rather congested parking lot not especially designed for larger vehicles, and not large enough for the amount of business they do. So, when I rounded the building and saw that the only spot available was between a maxi-van and a Toyota Prius, I knew it was going to be my only option. So, I swung wide and pulled in the parking spot, completely filling the space with my F-150 (seriously, Starbucks... not all of your customers drive compacts. What's with the ooober-tiny spaces??). There were about 3 inches on either side of my truck inside the white lines of the parking space, and when I got out, I couldn't open my door all the way, or it would have smacked the bright blue Prius. So, I slid out of the driver's seat, closed my door and headed in the direction of the wonderfully strong aroma of delightful coffee goodness.

While I stood in line in Starbucks, in my blue jeans and Red Sox cap, I was amused by the family a few customers ahead of me. They were dressed in that conservatively eco-friendly style of linen shorts, polo shirts and Teva sandals, and were chatting about a recent family camping adventure. I was thinking how the style suited the family, and how nice it was that while their style was certainly nothing I would ever choose for myself, it was refreshing to see an entire family so clearly comfortable in their own skin. They ordered their array of herbal teas and chai lattes, and left the store, leaving me smiling to myself.

A few minutes later, I too left the store, triumphant with my own latte in hand. I took the first sip and smiled, tasting the strong espresso and sweet caramel, and anticipating the caffeine kick that would hit momentarily. As I walked to my truck, I noticed the neo-hippie family standing in front of the bright blue Prius. Again, I smiled. The little hybrid fit them to a tee. But, my smile quickly faded when I heard the conversation that was dripping with what I call eco-arrogance.

"...They should be outlawed! Look how obnoxious it is! It takes up the whole damn lot. We can't even get our passenger side doors all the way open!" The woman that I assumed to be the mother of stood angrily with one hand on her hip, and the other waving wildly in the direction of my truck. Oh boy.

"Excuse me," I said politely as I slid past the family and unlocked my truck.

"Oh my God. She's driving this? I would think a woman would have more sense." I just shook my head, and opened my truck door, and would have left. But then the son of the family opened his oober-liberal idealist mouth.

"Damn redneck. Probably eats meat, too." I froze. Seriously?? I couldn't resist.

"Yup. Damn right I do, I was raised on a cattle farm. I also carry a gun, vote Republican, and believe in the death penalty. I think people should be allowed to do as they wish with their property without the EPA having a headfit, think Welfare should be outlawed, and happily drive my 'gas-guzzling' truck with the windows down and the air-conditioner on, without any thought or care as the what freon might do to the ozone. Oh, and I go to war to protect your right to stand there in your eco-hippie clothes, with your liberal mindset, and tree-hugging hybrid and judge me for doing what the majority of hard-working Americans do, and protect your right to say stupid shit." With that, I got in my truck and left the family with their eyes wide and mouths agape, as I blasted country music from my stereo speakers.

Sometimes, you just can't hide your true colors.

Past to Present

God, this summer is flying by…

Vacation was madness. Total madness. With the stress that family can bring into my life, being home brought a solid reminder of why I live away. I just don’t have the patience to plan my life according to other people’s needs. I’m too selfish. I can admit that. But when you’re looking down the line to deployment to a war zone, feeling selfish about your last few weeks of freedom seems perfectly reasonable to me. But, being that I’m selfish, my viewpoint is probably more than slightly skewed, lol.

While I was home I was able to have one very relaxing day at the beach with my mother. The weather was perfect. It was 85 degrees and breezy, with bright blue sky and sunshine. Short Sands at York Beach, Maine was crowded – but not in the unbearable sort of way. The water was cold as it always is along the southern Maine coast, and even the hearty beachgoers weren’t staying in the water that long. I was able to get in to waist-deep surf before my teeth started chattering. Then I was making a bee-line back to my beach blanket for some sun-bathing to warm my cold bones. Mom and I enjoyed lunch from a sea-side takeout, and ate under our beach umbrella while the waves rolled in. My lobster roll was awesome, and just what the doctor ordered for my first New England meal – after all, I’d only gotten into town the night before. Might was well jump into Yankee cuisine with both feet J

My niece is quite possibly the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. At nine-months old, she’s a happy, healthy child, with a big smile and bright blue eyes. She looks like her daddy, and he is clearly the center of her little universe. Her whole face lights up when he walks into the room, and watching him with her made me realize that he really is all grown up – we both are, I guess. I wonder if it’s as odd a feeling for my parents as it is for me. Charlotte has four teeth, right up front, and when she grins, it’s infectious. She’s crawling – and clearly going to be a mischievous little thing – but with my brother’s looks, its only fitting that she have some of his temperament, too. I can’t believe how big she’s gotten since I was home at Christmas. It makes my heart hurt for the time I will miss with her while I’m away. A year is a long time when they’re that tiny, and when I return I doubt she’ll remember me. But, that comes with the path I’ve chosen, I suppose.

I also was able to make it up to Addison, Maine to see my grandmother. It was the first time I had made the trip in almost 8 years. I let life get in the way. But it was a great – albeit whirlwind – visit. I was able to spend time with my Aunt Tracy and Uncle Bunn and their three kids – though again “kids” is certainly a loose term. Drew will be 20 this fall, Taylor’s 18, and Anna is 16. Hell, Anna is taking her driving test this week. God, did that make me feel ancient. But I was able to steal her away for a few hours – she seems to have been bitten by the photography bug like her cousin, and we went on a short little adventure. There wasn’t time for more. Nana looks great – she and Aunt Debbie both look fantastic, actually. With my mother, they’ve all done the South Beach Diet and have lost ridiculous amounts of weight. My cousin, Matthew, stopped over with Candy and their new little baby Leigha. She’s precious, and looks so very tiny in Matthew’s big hands. He seems so happy – like some invisible weight has been lifted. I can’t recall a time in all our growing up that I’ve ever seen him so perfectly content. Candy is good for him. It was a good visit, and one that when I get back from deployment I will be making an effort to make more often.

On the way out of town, Mom and I stopped at Gramp’s grave. It was the first time I’d been there. When he passed away, I had just started working at the prison, and couldn’t get away for the funeral. As I knelt by his grave and picked the dead blossoms off the pink geraniums my grandmother had planted there, I couldn’t help but wonder what he would think of the choices I’ve made. When my gaze came to rest on the small flag in its Veteran stake at his headstone, I hoped I have made him proud.

I went to work with my dad one day – it was supposed to be for two days, but there was a little hiccup in the planning. The one day we did get out was full of its own hiccups as well – the first breakdown happened two hours into our workday, and we spent equal time working the land as turning wrenches for the rest of the day. We didn’t get a whole lot accomplished, needless to say. But it was time well-spent with my father, doing what he loves, so it certainly receives no complaint from me – even if I was so caked with black grease and oil and dust when I got home that my mother made me strip in the entry-way so as not to track it in through her house, lol. The whole day brought back memories of summers long-past when that whole scenario was a day-to-day routine. It seems hard to believe that those days were so long ago.

I also had the joy of meeting two people that were very old friends of my parents – Willie and Ellen. They drove in from Nebraska to visit with my family, and I could tell just by the brief interaction I had with them that they were very close to the young couple my parents used to be. Dad and Willie drove truck together back then, and before that, Willie worked in the garage in the same truck stop my mamma bartended in. The stories were colorful, and told in that rambling old Yankee sort of way that makes you want to sit and listen, even when you have more pressing matters you should be attending to. As the stories were woven on the back porch – with quite an audience that evening – my father’s laughter rang out in that booming way that I miss so often when I’m gone. I wonder if he knows he’s one of those men that are larger than life.

My Uncle Billy and Aunt Debbie were coincidentally also up from Virginia while I was home, and staying down at the lake. As always, the lake was a hub of activity, from the crew my uncle has working on the little camp doing some much needed structural support, to my cousin Cindy, with her three kids, and little John, my cousin Ann’s son visiting, and the two dogs running around – it was chaotic. It’s not a wonder my Uncle had to return to Virginia for a couple weeks to get some work done, lol. But I was able to get some quality time visiting with them. Christian is 13, and quietly polite, with a good sense of humor. The twins, Cara and Carter are fun, energetic polar opposites of one another. Carter seems a little afraid of everything, while Cara is afraid of nothing. They were both swimming without their life-jackets – always a milestone in a water-friendly family. Little John is… a handful, albeit an adorable one. He is also swimming without his life-jacket, though I had to fish him out of the lake by his swim trunks at one point. Cindy is beautiful, as always, and somehow very put-together, despite chasing three energetic children. Since my last visit to their home two Thanksgivings ago, nothing has changed really, and I still marvel at her ability to juggle it all. Aunt Debbie is the same sweet woman that she always is. Always warm and happy to see you, she’s the kind of woman that evokes a smile from people, just by being around. In watching Uncle Billy on this last visit, I couldn’t help but see how alike he and my father are. Strong, dedicated men, always with a project of some sort going, with a tale to tell along the way. I helped my Uncle get the big green canoe out of storage in the rafters on the shed, and repair the seats on it, with Christian doing a fine job of supervising the operation. Most of the talk was of the Army – Christian had a lot of questions, and Uncle Billy and I took turns answering them. I think Uncle Billy was a little relieved to have another Soldier present to field the questions to, and I think we were both surprised by how different the Army is now than it was when he was in.

My Grandmother, God Bless her, is as colorful as ever. I went down and spent a few hours with her when I could. She’s getting along well for 89, but I know her health isn’t what it used to be. I have a feeling I’ll be hearing from the Red Cross before I return from Afghanistan. But her energy is good, so long as she gets her nap in the afternoon. He garden looks good, and she made me a strawberry-rhubarb pie – I had a slice for breakfast every morning, even if I didn’t need the calories. After-all, what’s vacation without a little indulgence??

While most of my vacation was spent with family, I was able to get away for some much-needed play time with friends. I had two awesome nights with Suzie – one involved short-skirts, high heels, and copious amounts of alcohol. The other involved aimless driving, trespassing, and a camera. And a swim in the Atlantic, fully clothed. It was the kind of night that has come to mark my friendship with Suzanne. She looks good, and seems happy with Dave – even if there’s some drama that needs to be worked through. I’m keeping my fingers crossed that she gets what she wants from this relationship – she certainly deserves it.

A visit home for me wouldn’t be complete without seeing Randy, my oldest friend. We were in diapers together. His grandfather and my father joined the Navy together, back in 1963 on the Buddy System, and somehow over the years, Randy and I have managed to salvage a solid friendship – even if he’s made some less-than-stellar decisions along the way. So, a night was had by the riverside, with a campfire and beer and more laughter than I’ve had in a long time. I’ll miss him while I’m away.

Admittedly, vacation wasn’t all laughter and merriment – some serious things were discussed. My parents are struggling with the news of my upcoming deployment, and what parent wouldn’t really? It’s odd at almost 26 to have to discuss things like wills and funeral arrangements and such, and have the subject of the issue be you. But again, it comes with the choices I’ve made.

Falling back into rhythm at work has been a bit of a struggle after 10 days off, but I’m getting there. Tomorrow I go back to the gym for the first time, and I’m looking forward to it – even if it’s going to kill me after so much time off. I mean, sure, I ran while I was home, but that was pretty much it. So this week I’m going to be pretty sore and miserable, but it needs to be done, seeing as I know I’m looking at a PT test at the end of next month. It’s time to stop being a slacker. I think I’m going to try doing two-a-days for the next couple weeks – run at night after work, as well as do my pushups and situps, and do CrossFit during the day. I’m also buying my kayak this week, so I’m going to try to fit some time on it in there, too. So, the next month is going to be crazy-busy… just how I like it J

So, that’s life in a – well, I’d like to say “a nutshell” but this is far too lengthy for that, lol. I’ll try to update more often and avoid the book-length posts. I hope the summer is finding you all doing well and enjoying the sunshine J

Adjusting and Pushing Ahead

Wow, it’s been awhile. A very long while, and so very much has happened…

I’ve settled back into a rhythm, and it’s suits me more than I thought it could. While living with Mel and Scott isn’t ideal, I’m making the best of it, and just trying to remind myself that it’s only short-term. This has helped keep the world in perspective for me, as I adjust to this shocking change in lifestyle that roommates can be. Some days I feel like I’ve given up so much, but there are other days when I know I am blessed to have friends that would take me in – even if it’s less than convenient for them.

I bought a new truck. Brand new. 2011 Ford F-150, SuperCab, 4x4. Gunmetal gray metallic with a gray interior. I love it – granted the monthly payment every month makes me cringe, but it’s worth it. Her name is Betty.

I also joined a new gym. It is by far the best thing I’ve ever done. CrossFit is the best workout I’ve ever had – it’s like an entire day of Basic Training physical misery crammed into a 1hour class. I’ve been doing it for over two weeks, and I’m still sore every day. And the results are great. In those two weeks, I’ve already dropped the eight pounds I’ve gained since I got home from Fort Leonardwood. Its wonderful. I’m going to miss it the next two weeks while I’m on vacation.

But, I’m going on vacation, so I’m not that crushed about missing the gym, LOL… I leave Tuesday, and I’m driving home to see family. I can’t wait to see my 9-month old baby niece, Charlotte, and the rest of my colorful family.

And, the biggest news – or what I consider to be the biggest news, at any rate – I got a tattoo J I got it done at Good and Evil in State College. Tony did an awesome job on it. It’s a Celtic knot –the Trinity - with a sunflower blossom above it, with the stem of the sunflower woven in as part of the knot. He did all the outline and shading, and in about a month I’ll go back and have the color added. The knot is going to stay in grayscale, but the flower is going to be in color. It already looks awesome… but when he adds the color it, it’s going to look even better.

My parents are a little distressed about the ink. Well, that’s probably putting it mildly. They see it as defiling my body. I clearly don’t agree with them, or I wouldn’t have gotten it done. It means something to me – more than just a pretty piece of art. You see, the knot is for my Celtic roots – the Scotch-Irish heritage I hold so dear. The Trinity has many meanings, depending on what area you happen to be in, but on my skin, it represents strength. The Sunflower is my favorite flower, but in addition to that, it has a great deal of symbolism as well. In the 60’s it stood for happiness. The Native Americans used it as a symbol of friendship. The Mayans used it as a symbol of growth and agricultural prosperity. So… what do these two things together symbolize for me? The tattoo is to remind me where I came from -- rich Celtic heritage and country roots – but to have the strength to always reach for more – like the sunflower reaches for the sun.

I’m already designing my next tattoo. I won’t get it until after I get back from deployment, but it will be something to represent my time away. It took me two years to design the one I have, so I’m sure it will take at least that long to design my next one. It will give me something to do to keep my mind occupied while I’m over playing in the sandbox.

In other news, work is the same as always. Nothing really changes there in the grand scheme. I’m ready to find something else. But with this deployment coming up, my hands are sort of tied in that department. So, I wait. I’ll find start filling out applications a few months before I return stateside, and hopefully will have something better to come back to. I want out of prison. I’ll apply at the State Police, and some of the townships. Maybe drop a few federal apps if I can make some connections while I’m abroad. Time will tell…

Routines

This week I have realized that there are some routines that are a joy to fall back into.

A few days ago I finally made it back to the gym for the first time since before I left for the Army. I was pleased to see many familiar faces, and was happy to be greeted by Don at the desk, who later stopped to chat with me while I was kicking my own ass on the elliptical. I fell into my normal gym circuit without really having to think about it. Forty minutes on the elliptical, mat work consisting of ab and core work, and some body-weight resistance work on the upper body. And the next morning, I groaned as I sat up in bed... my sore abs a testament to my work. It was the first time I'd really been sore since I left Ft. Leonard Wood, and oddly, I'd missed that too.

And work... I've been awarded my new bid spot, and as Relief Officer I'm busy all night long. It makes the shifts fly by, and when I get home, I'm pleasantly tired. And as a Relief Officer, I'm too busy to get caught up in the drama that plagues my co-workers. It's nice to just focus on the job -- to do my eight and hit the gate, so to speak.

And last night, I got home, changed, and met Scott at the bar... another pleasant routine of bullshitting with the group of regulars that I had forgotten I was a part of, dancing and shaking my ass (which last night was cutely clad in a denim mini skirt, navy blue tank top and my Sox cap... and my plaid heels, of course), and enjoying the music of some of my favorite boys in the business, Emily's Toybox. It was a good night.

So... routines... before I left they were the bane of my existence. But the Army has made me appreciate them far more than I ever expected. It really is good to be home.

Sparked a Memory

Fire, as my roommate Scott so adeptly pointed out this evening, makes me thoughtful. So, as I sit here on the patio swing in front of the fire pit, I find it fitting that I indulge the desire to write.

I have successfully resumed work at the prison, and this last week has been... well, it's been interesting. On the one hand, it's so nice to start falling back into a routine. I missed these people. Well, most of them at any rate, lol. And the work I missed. Doing the Army detainee training reminded me of that. I like my job. I had forgotten that before I left. I got so caught up in the bullshit and drama that I had forgotten that I liked what I did for a living. But, my return to the prison reminded me that I hate who I work for. The manipulative, hypocritical administration is... well, it didn't take me long to remember why I was so anxious for a break, lol.

Life outside of work has been crazy as well. I've been trying to no avail to get a loan to buy a new truck. It seems that someone under the age of 30 that doesn't have a huge mortgage is considered a high-risk loan candidate, even if they have decent credit. Asinine. I'm not giving up on it yet. But it's still frustrating the hell out of me.

But, despite the madness that is my life of late, I find myself completely in awe of how lucky I am. And that, will be the focus of my writing tonight.

Scott joined me for fire time and wine earlier, and as we enjoyed being outside in what has turned out to be a perfect night for a fire, we talked about our lives and the people in them... specifically family. And as always in such conversations, my mind drifted to memories of home.


I was ten, and I was excited. Camping was a huge adventure, and I was getting to go -- without my parents, or my brother, who at that age was the total bane of my existence. My maternal grandparents were taking me to Wells, Maine to spend a few weeks in their old pop-up camper, in a campground just minutes from the beach.

When we arrived at the campground, we settled in, and made it to the beach in time to watch the sunset. As the sun went down, I played catch with my grandfather on the sand, while the surf rolled in, and my Nana watched from her beach chair, laughing. I can remember thinking then that they would be around forever, and that we would spend every summer for eternity playing catch on the beach. It would be several years before I would understand mortality.

A few days later, Gramp started the evening tradition of building the camp fire after dinner. I had watched this process every night, and thought I had it pretty well figured out.

"Gramp, can I help?" He stopped crinkling up newspaper and smiled.

"Well, I guess you can, dear. Come on over here." So, I crouched on the ground next to the fire pit, and meticulously made the log teepee that I'd watched him make every night. It wasn't perfect, but he didn't touch it. Instead, he handed me some newspaper, and together we crinkled it up into little balls and tucked it inside the teepee, and placed a few slivers of kindling on top of it. When we were done, we sat back and looked at our handiwork.

"Well, I think that's a mighty fine looking setup we've got here. What'dya think?" Downeast Maine was thick in his voice. Looking back it's one of the things I remember most distinctly about him. And one of the things I miss most.

I smiled. "It's great!" As his laugh rang out into the twilight, he handed me the matches.

"Well, do the honors, then." As I struck the match off the stone of the pit like I'd seen him do dozens of times, and would see him do countless more, I felt a tangle of emotions that at ten years old I had no hope of understanding. But as the fire lit, and the flames rose, I knew that moment was special, but I had no idea that it would be a memory that would stick with me well into adulthood. Nor did I care, as I was handed my skewer for marshmallow roasting. A young girl had to have her priorities, after all...


My summers that I spent camping at the beach with my grandparents are some of my favorite memories from my youth. As I got older, though, and life took over, I grew apart from my grandparents, and two years ago, my grandfather passed away. With his death, I found myself remembering more of the little things about him, and regretting the loss of the closeness we had shared in my childhood. Hindsight truly is 20/20.

Tonight, as I meticulously set up my teepee of firewood, I smiled, and thought of Gramp. I can't recall a time when I haven't made my fires the way I learned from him. Some lessons stick with you, even without realizing it, and those lessons keep the people that imparted them with you long after they're gone. So, tonight as I sit here, I think of Gramp and the other colorful characters that have imparted lessons in my life, I realize how truly blessed I am to have so many wonderful people that have shaped the person I am -- and how blessed I am that they stick with me, even when I'm unintentionally neglectful because life gets in the way.

Training's a Whirlwind... Literally

::Whew:: This AT is flying by.

I couldn't believe it was already Monday today. We've got practicals all week... then we're done. Then its home to weather that makes sense to me... though im kinda getting into the swing of this desert thing.

But God, its windy here... and wind + sand = ouch. Sandstorms are definitely a new experience, and we're supposed to have them for the next like 36 hours. It certainly makes things interesting. Your visibility is cut down to just a few feet in front of you, and the sand particles pelt your skin and leave it raw. Not so much fun.

I happily survived OC... and was told by all the training NCOs that I was the most motivated person they'd ever seen go through the OC course. I guess I smiled when they sprayed me, and went through the task course without incident. I was also told that I was still smiling while I was getting deconned... and doing my happy dance all over the place. Why? Because I love this shit :)

So... AT is fun. Im loving it. Tomorrow is STX running the detention facility... looking forward to it :)

"But it's a dry heat!!"

And while that statement is true, the sentiment is total bullshit, lol.

Here in the New Mexico desert, it hit 101 degree... that's hot no matter how you cut it. And when you're wearig full body armor, its borderline miserable. BUT... when you add shooting fun toys at the less-than-lethal firing range, its all worthwhile. Have I mentioned how much I love things that go "boom"?

Tomorrow we get sprayed with OC. Oleoresin Capsicum. Pepper Spray. That, with your pores open in 101 degree heat is totally going to suck. How twisted is it that I can't wait?? EMBRACE THE SUCK!

Hey, my sinuses and lungs might finally clear up from the sickness I've had for over two weeks :)

BRING IT :p

Getting Back to It

WOW. To think I've been out of training for almost a month. And no blog post?!?! Time to set that to rights :)

My time home since graduation has been... colorful. Tumultuous. Inspiring. Heartbreaking. I've crammed a lot into the last month, really. Let's start at the beginning...

My graduation was marked with a much needed weekend to Myrtle Beach. Scott and Dustin and I tore it up down there, and it was the perfect transition to civilian life for me. I ran the beach every morning, and God did it feel good.to.feel the sand under my bare feet :) There was much drinking at night... good God did we drink, lol. And there was catching up with my boys that I'd missed so much while I was away.

The night before we were to drive home, as I was truly relaxing for the first time in 20 weeks and vegging out in front of the TV, my phone lit up. I had a new text message. I smiled when I saw it was from Josh. I hadn't had much opportunity to talk to him that weekend, and I was so excited to go home and see him the next day. I stepped into the next room to read the message, and had to read it several times before it sank in.

He dumped me. By text message. The night before I was coming home to him.

My heart broke. And as I paced the beach that night in the dark, tears running down my face, it was my battles I called first... those wonderful ladies that I had endured the last several months of hardship with... and they saw me through the hardship that night too. I'm a lucky woman.

The next few weeks were... rough. Josh and I got together for drinks and to talk a couple times. He apologized. I couldn't forgive. The trust was gone for me. I still don't understand how I can love someone I don't trust.

To get my mind off of Josh I did a number of things over the next couple weeks. I went out and danced my tail off. I ran. I went truck shopping. I spent a lot of time getting my civilian life back in order. And then... then I left for the Army again.

And that's where Im at now. I'm going through Guardian Justice training at a sub-camp of Camp McGregor, inthe middle of the New Mexico desert.

AND I'M HAVING A BLAST.

Life is good. My new battles are the bomb. Yeah... Im still a lucky woman :)

Winding Down

We all have seemed to reach that point where we just want to be left alone. Thankfully, 6 days from now we can do just that.

The field went well. It was tiring, dirty, and often times frustrating, but it was also the most fun I think I've had since I arrived at Ft. Leonard Wood. We ran missions, beat the snot out of the humvees, and learned a lot. Im much more confident in my combat skills now, and feel like I have a good base to build on when I get downrange. All-in-all, it was a success.

But, as with any major event in my life, there is a story.

The planning was complete. We had been briefed, and knew our objective. Assault the building, apprehend the Person of Interest, get out. All under cover of darkness. The convoy rolled in, and the gunners and team leaders dashed from the vehicle to their assigned entry points while the drivers pulled around back and waited. It was chaos from the time the first foot hit the ground. Shots rang out. Smoke grenades were set to give more cover. My breach team's entry point was a basement window on the west side of the building. As I crouch-ran through the darkness and smoke, my heart pounded. I rounded the corner of the building, M-4 at the low ready, and then, my boot struck something. Crouch run + full battle rattle + foriegn object in path = bad. I was going down... 30 seconds into the damn mission.

I did the only thing I could: prepare to tuck and roll. But before I could get my arms tucked under me, I was being struck from behind. My battle buddy tripped, on the same object. She fell on me. So, rather than roll, I fell on the ground.

I landed hard. Hard enough that even in full battle rattle I knocked the wind out of myself. And my left hand was scuffed up pretty good. I couldn't see it in the dark, but I could feel wetness on my glove that could only be blood. I pushed myself up and winced at the pain in my hand. I couldn't tell if I had gotten it wedged between my body armour and my weapon, or my weapon and the ground, but it was hurting pretty good. I put it aside and fell in on the stack to breach the building.

"I got you, you're right there." Grard said, as he reached up to help me into the basement window. I trusted my training, and trusted my team, as I threw my legs over the ledge, and jumped into the inky blackness.

I was expecting a 3-4ft fall. So, when my feet didn't hit the ground when I expected them to, it threw me off balance. So, after the 6-ft drop, I had to roll or risk breaking and ankle, and of course I rolled right onto my left hand. I cursed under my breath, winced at the pain, and got back on my feet. As I stacked on the door to.go up the basement steps, my heart pounded, and the adrenaline kicked in. All I felt after that was an awareness of my surroundings and my teammates, and an urgency to accomplish the objective.

We cleared the building, but suffered many casualties. The Person of Interest wasn't on scene. Bad intel. But the mission was still deemed a success as there were lots of dead terrorists.

So then it was time to do an After Action Review. My Drill Sergeant was looking at me as I took off my gloves. As I tried to pull off my left one, it was stuck. I looked at it in confusion and tugged again. This time I got screaming pain in my hand, as the glove came free. In the streetlight glow, it looked grotesque: it was already bruising, and had swollen to nearly double the size. I couldn't really move my fingers.

I looked up at Drill Sergeant. "Blackwood, what the fuck did you do?"
I looked back down at my hand. "Um, well... I think I broke my hand, Drill Sergeant."
"You did not break your hand..." She trailed off as I held it up for her to see. "Well maybe you DID break your hand..."

Well, we don't know if it was broken. The ER xrays were inconclusive, as my hand was too swollen to get a good image. No cast. But plenty of pain.

Some of that as subsided now. The swelling has improved dramatically was well. The bruising, after a week now, has finally started to dull -- but not after spreading down all my fingers, and well up over my wrist. And there's a bump. I had a Sergeant look at it... he's a medic that has been training with us. He says I've got a boxer's fracture. When I get home, I will probably have to have it re-broken and set. Its gonna hurt like a bitch.

But in 6 days I'll be done. If I let the Army toy with it anymore, they'll put me on a training profile that wont let me graduate. Or go home. So, for another week, I can live with it.

Trainig is done. Rites of Passage tomorrow, Gear Turn-In on Monday, Family Day Wednesday, Graduation on Thursday. Then Im out. THANK GOD.

Time's Ticking

Well... check another training requirement off the list! Shot the MK-19 Grenade Machine Gun today... way fun! There's just something about making things go "boom" that gives me warm fuzzies and a cheshire grin :)

Tomorrow is our last PT test... thank God. My very broken body needs a serious break. Not that its going to get a very long one, seeing as we go to the field next week, but even the weekend off will be a welcome event. We have. Our End of Cycle Cumulative Testing on Saturday... that, our PT test and the field are all that's left of training. Then we just do gear turn-in and administrative BS. THEN I COME HOME. 21 days and a wakeup. I'll make it. Looking back I can remeber a time when I didn't think I would.

So... wish me luck... can't wait to get home...

I used to wear my faded jeans...

.... but now im wearing Army Greens. Its certainly an experience worth a few words.

It will be a very few, seeing as I'm blogging from my Droid in the barracks and only have 15 minutes until lights out. Im currently in week 16 out of 19 of training, and its been tough, I wont lie. Physically demanding, emotionally tiring, and mentally exhausting. But its almost done. This week I have my last PT test, and my End of Cycle final practial testing. Then next week I go to the field for a week... should be warmer than our last trip, when it was literally like 8 degrees. Yeah... those three days of misery deserve their own post when I have time. But after our trip to the field, we lean our gear, turn it in, and then I graduate and come home. Thank friggin' God because Missouri sucks.

So, for those of you that have been cheering me on, I thank you. Keep the good karma headed my way... I could use the encouragement :)

I'll write soon!