Salutations from the land of sand! And I mean that, this place is a barren
wasteland of dust and sand. We landed Thursday at approximately 200am local,
about 600pm your time. I walked off the plane and was greeted with a blast
of hot air that was not unlike stepping in front of a giant convective oven
on full crank (Right now as I type, its 118 outside). Even in the middle of
the night, its about 100 degrees. Then we (the MC-12 crew) got to inprocess
with the other 200 people that came with us, which was a demonstration of AF
inefficiency the likes of which I've never seen. If I wasn't tired from
traveling for a full day, cranky from not sleeping (despite ambien's best
efforts), and already sweating through my flight suit from the oppressive
heat, I might have actually been impressed with how poorly organized it all
was. After getting inprocessed through immigration we then stood around
until we could get our chem gear and body armor. All of this took, no joke,
3 hours. By the time we could even attempt to find our bags, it was 530 in
the morning and the sun was already climbing rapidly, the temperature with
it. In that amount of time, I drank 6 bottles of water and was sweating like
a whore in church. Now recall, I've been traveling for 30 hours at this time
and slept maybe 5 hours, and eaten once. We were all exhausted and grouchy,
and we hadn't even seen a bed yet.
We finally catch a ride to billeting and we get to wait around for another
30 minutes while they figure out where to stash us. We get our tent
assignment and get to walk the 1/2 mile to our billeting. It looks like a
soft sided aircraft hanger with about 20 bunk beds (So much more room for
ACTIVITIES!!!!) in it and a huge air conditioner in the corner. We drop our
gear, and immediately hike back across base to the chow hall. After eating
half my body weight in omelets and french toast, we staggered back to our
tents to pass out. The idea is sleep when you can and eat when you can,
because we don't know when we might head to Balad. I crawled into my bed
around 800am local, midnight your time. I immediately woke up thirty minutes
later SWEATING. The tent was suddenly over 100 degrees. You know its hot
when you flip your pillow over and it's so hot it burns your face. So at
this point I'm miserable, pouring sweat, tired and groggy and as
uncomfortable as can be. I grab all of my gear (no easy task yet) and get
dressed and prepare to walk 4 tents down to where Jammer was thrown,
apparently his tent was almost empty. I walk outside, and IMMEDIATELY go
blind in my left eye! In my haste, I forgot to put sunglasses on and my eyes
were fully dilated from sleeping and walking around a dark tent. DAMNIT, OW.
It is unbelievably bright here and my left eye took the brunt of it.
So I stagger into Jammer's tent, find an empty bunk using only my right eye,
drop my gear, grab my sunglasses, and start back across to billeting. I'm so
grouchy at this point, all I can see is torch fire and mob violence in my
mind. Fortunately the guy working at billeting was really nice, and confused
why a Captain was put in the enlisted tent (!@%#^#&). So I make it back to
my new tent only moderately soaked in sweat, try and cool down, and fall
asleep around 1100am. I slept until 530pm local, woke up disoriented, and decided to stagger across base to eat some dinner.
At this point, we ventured over to the Fox Sports Bar. Let me take a moment
and explain how surreal this experience was. I walk in around 2200 and I see
a bar nicer than anything in Enid, or North Oklahoma for that matter.
Everyone is drinking beer and having a damn good time. My first thought was,
"Holy shit! They call this deployment?" My next thought was, "Is that Ben
Peterson?" In fact, it was. BEN F-ING PETERSON. So I spent the evening
drinking with BP, Alisa Fellhauer, and about 5 of my former students.
The Air Force is indeed a small force, even smaller
for pilots. Luckily all of the former Vance students were happy to see me,
despite me having shit down a few of their necks for being awful. We had the
three beers allotted to us, and took off for the night. We then had to get
ready to possibly catch a C-130 to Balad, show time around 0030 with a T/O
of 0430. We pack all of our gear up, turn in our linens and head to the pax
terminal. The ensuing bullshit that these tards dragged us through was
almost impressive.
So we checked in to try and get a C-130 flight, and Jammer (Maj Smith),
Stecker and myself are "Space R" on the flight. I thought space R meant we
were some level of priority, but apparently space R means "slightly more
important than the unicycle tires and rubber dog shit we were gonna haul,
but that means reconfiguring the plane so maybe you won't make this flight."
I missed that memo I suppose. So tomorrow we get to check out of billeting,
drag all of our gear to the passenger terminal, see if there are seats
available (there probably won't be) and then either proceed with the flight,
or more likely, drag all of our gear back to billeting, check BACK in (we've
done that twice already), and go pass out again. It's annoying because all
we want to do is call and see if seats are available and THEN check out if
the seats are there. When we asked the A1C (very young enlisted airman) if
we could do this he acted as though we had asked if we could go dig up his
grandma's grave and steal her jewelry. I told Maj Smith that we should pull
rank and get that to happen. I guarantee if it happens on the third day, I'm
gonna go in there with a mexican wrestling mask on (of course I brought one,
never leave home without it) and put the guy working the counter in a
sleeper hold until he consents to our "ludicrous" request to call ahead for
the OK to check out of lodging. It's getting kinda old. But not all is dark
in the land of infinite sun. Other than the bull that the self-licking
ice cream cones of the Air Force are dragging us through, I'm enjoying the
vampiric lifestyle. Go to sleep at 0500, wake up at 1400 (or later, who
cares?) and then go to the gym, the dining facility, check email, and wander
around like the neglected recalcitrant that I really am at this base. I've
been chiefed about three times already for my apparent lack of regard for
the garbage these losers call OPSEC. Just this morning I was in the DFAC
and walking to the door and took my sunglasses off of my food tray and put
them on my head. That lasted about 3 seconds before this trunk
monkey chief jumps around the corner like a damned jack-in-the-box and
literally bellows at me to take my sunglasses off of my head. The seventh
circle of hell is reserved for these douches.
Today should be another adventure --I'm hanging out at the pool
(Mantanistan...thanks Reutter!) with the C-17 crews until the bag-drag-n-back that is bound to happen takes
place. I hope I get to Balad soon, mainly because my 72 hour pack is running
out of clean clothes...and by clean clothes I mean clean sides to my
underwear. Take care guys, hit me back!
Hello again everyone, I have finally arrived...somewhere. They tell me
this is Balad, but for all I know I could be in the Sahara. It would
fit: flat, sandy, windy, and hotter than even the Deid. Today was a
record high of 124 degrees and it certainly felt that way. But I
digress, let me explain how we got here.
My last day in Al Udeid was nice actually, a little gym, a little
fooseball, and a little pool time with my C-17 buddies. But all good
things have to come to an end. What we had to do was pack all of our
stuff up and check out of lodging --why do I need to check out of a
tent?!?!-- and head to the terminal, AGAIN. We show up and check in
for Space R and they tell us there are 14 seats available and we are
numbers 10-13 for the flight. So I guess we get to go, right? "Well
not if someone shows up in the next two hours that has higher priority
than you" is what the guy at the counter says. My response was
dignified: "Who in God's perfect name could be more important than
four mission essential officers who are late for there duty report
date?!?!?!" Jammer recognizes the murder in my eye before this guy
does and reigns me in just before violent thoughts became actions. So
we then got to wait around for another hour and a half to see if the
President was going to show up and kick us off of the flight. He in
fact didn't so we were set to press! We just had to drag all of our
bags, get em tagged and prepostioned for palletizing. Then we had to
wait for another hour for the C-130 to show up, then wait for an hour
for them to get the pallets ready...etc. etc. I swear it felt like the
army was running this thing. We had a 1530 show time for a 2100
takeoff. It was insane.
So we get loaded onto this C-130 and proceed to lose approximately 10
pounds sweating in the back of the jet before we took off. Once we
finally got airborne, we were in for a nice inflight meal, a decent
movie, and maybe a hot towel before we landed! Not really, we were
sitting on web seats getting violently shaken around. I swear some of
our guys lost fillings, it was like a flying paint mixer. 3 long hours
later, we landed in Balad. After grabbing our gear and dragging it to
the terminal, we were greeted by a female Senior Airman who was
practicing being a Chief. The first words out of her mouth were, no
shit, "Welcome to Balad, please roll your sleeves down." It was still
over 100 out and we just dragged all of our bags in from the eaves of
a C-130, just before midnight, and this 22 year old is going to Chief
me?!?!? My planned response was, "Ma'am while I appreciate your fervor
for the AFI 36-2903, I assure you that my sleeves are rolled up not in
an attempt to spark a flash of blue and silver indignation in you, but
merely to cool my furry arms off as I have been dragging bags for the
last 20 minutes helping my enlisted troops who couldn't drag their own
bags due to an all consuming nicotine addiction. In addition, I shall
inform you, I AM A PILOT AND I WILL DAMN WELL DO AS I PLEASE WITH MY
SLEEVES AND THERE IS NOT ONE DAMN THING YOU CAN DO ABOUT IT." Luckily
for her, I was sweating and out of breath -- not to mention so
completely shocked at her lack of respect or kindness-- that I
couldn't say anything, I just stared at her like she was growing an
extra head. So I let this go, unwillingly, and we get settled in for a
number of angry briefings from her. Finally, she's all done, and we
call the 362nd to come pick us up.
The first sergeant and a couple of pilots show up to help us load up
and move all of our gear to our billets. Unfortunately, there aren't
any rooms available!!!! So it's back to transient aircrew (another
tent) for us. $&%*^!! We're thoroughly pissed, because it might be for
about a week! We go check out our squadron and a little bit of base
(around 200am, not much to see, just dust and concrete barriers) and
grab some food, then head back to our tent around 300am. Today was a
bunch of inprocessing: getting checklists, turning in paperwork,
getting weapons issued -- I'm now packing heat -- and trying to get
ready to fly. We did learn that we will be moving the squadron in
about 6 weeks. Can't say where to because its still undisclosed, but
it's gonna happen. The post office is shutting down here in two weeks
so I can't even get care packages, which is truly disappointing.
Anyway, I need to be heading in. I'm terribly tired and we have more
inprocessing to do tomorrow. But I did just find out a room should be
available in a day or so which is much better. Hope you all are well.
I'll update as soon as I can.
wasteland of dust and sand. We landed Thursday at approximately 200am local,
about 600pm your time. I walked off the plane and was greeted with a blast
of hot air that was not unlike stepping in front of a giant convective oven
on full crank (Right now as I type, its 118 outside). Even in the middle of
the night, its about 100 degrees. Then we (the MC-12 crew) got to inprocess
with the other 200 people that came with us, which was a demonstration of AF
inefficiency the likes of which I've never seen. If I wasn't tired from
traveling for a full day, cranky from not sleeping (despite ambien's best
efforts), and already sweating through my flight suit from the oppressive
heat, I might have actually been impressed with how poorly organized it all
was. After getting inprocessed through immigration we then stood around
until we could get our chem gear and body armor. All of this took, no joke,
3 hours. By the time we could even attempt to find our bags, it was 530 in
the morning and the sun was already climbing rapidly, the temperature with
it. In that amount of time, I drank 6 bottles of water and was sweating like
a whore in church. Now recall, I've been traveling for 30 hours at this time
and slept maybe 5 hours, and eaten once. We were all exhausted and grouchy,
and we hadn't even seen a bed yet.
We finally catch a ride to billeting and we get to wait around for another
30 minutes while they figure out where to stash us. We get our tent
assignment and get to walk the 1/2 mile to our billeting. It looks like a
soft sided aircraft hanger with about 20 bunk beds (So much more room for
ACTIVITIES!!!!) in it and a huge air conditioner in the corner. We drop our
gear, and immediately hike back across base to the chow hall. After eating
half my body weight in omelets and french toast, we staggered back to our
tents to pass out. The idea is sleep when you can and eat when you can,
because we don't know when we might head to Balad. I crawled into my bed
around 800am local, midnight your time. I immediately woke up thirty minutes
later SWEATING. The tent was suddenly over 100 degrees. You know its hot
when you flip your pillow over and it's so hot it burns your face. So at
this point I'm miserable, pouring sweat, tired and groggy and as
uncomfortable as can be. I grab all of my gear (no easy task yet) and get
dressed and prepare to walk 4 tents down to where Jammer was thrown,
apparently his tent was almost empty. I walk outside, and IMMEDIATELY go
blind in my left eye! In my haste, I forgot to put sunglasses on and my eyes
were fully dilated from sleeping and walking around a dark tent. DAMNIT, OW.
It is unbelievably bright here and my left eye took the brunt of it.
So I stagger into Jammer's tent, find an empty bunk using only my right eye,
drop my gear, grab my sunglasses, and start back across to billeting. I'm so
grouchy at this point, all I can see is torch fire and mob violence in my
mind. Fortunately the guy working at billeting was really nice, and confused
why a Captain was put in the enlisted tent (!@%#^#&). So I make it back to
my new tent only moderately soaked in sweat, try and cool down, and fall
asleep around 1100am. I slept until 530pm local, woke up disoriented, and decided to stagger across base to eat some dinner.
At this point, we ventured over to the Fox Sports Bar. Let me take a moment
and explain how surreal this experience was. I walk in around 2200 and I see
a bar nicer than anything in Enid, or North Oklahoma for that matter.
Everyone is drinking beer and having a damn good time. My first thought was,
"Holy shit! They call this deployment?" My next thought was, "Is that Ben
Peterson?" In fact, it was. BEN F-ING PETERSON. So I spent the evening
drinking with BP, Alisa Fellhauer, and about 5 of my former students.
The Air Force is indeed a small force, even smaller
for pilots. Luckily all of the former Vance students were happy to see me,
despite me having shit down a few of their necks for being awful. We had the
three beers allotted to us, and took off for the night. We then had to get
ready to possibly catch a C-130 to Balad, show time around 0030 with a T/O
of 0430. We pack all of our gear up, turn in our linens and head to the pax
terminal. The ensuing bullshit that these tards dragged us through was
almost impressive.
So we checked in to try and get a C-130 flight, and Jammer (Maj Smith),
Stecker and myself are "Space R" on the flight. I thought space R meant we
were some level of priority, but apparently space R means "slightly more
important than the unicycle tires and rubber dog shit we were gonna haul,
but that means reconfiguring the plane so maybe you won't make this flight."
I missed that memo I suppose. So tomorrow we get to check out of billeting,
drag all of our gear to the passenger terminal, see if there are seats
available (there probably won't be) and then either proceed with the flight,
or more likely, drag all of our gear back to billeting, check BACK in (we've
done that twice already), and go pass out again. It's annoying because all
we want to do is call and see if seats are available and THEN check out if
the seats are there. When we asked the A1C (very young enlisted airman) if
we could do this he acted as though we had asked if we could go dig up his
grandma's grave and steal her jewelry. I told Maj Smith that we should pull
rank and get that to happen. I guarantee if it happens on the third day, I'm
gonna go in there with a mexican wrestling mask on (of course I brought one,
never leave home without it) and put the guy working the counter in a
sleeper hold until he consents to our "ludicrous" request to call ahead for
the OK to check out of lodging. It's getting kinda old. But not all is dark
in the land of infinite sun. Other than the bull that the self-licking
ice cream cones of the Air Force are dragging us through, I'm enjoying the
vampiric lifestyle. Go to sleep at 0500, wake up at 1400 (or later, who
cares?) and then go to the gym, the dining facility, check email, and wander
around like the neglected recalcitrant that I really am at this base. I've
been chiefed about three times already for my apparent lack of regard for
the garbage these losers call OPSEC. Just this morning I was in the DFAC
and walking to the door and took my sunglasses off of my food tray and put
them on my head. That lasted about 3 seconds before this trunk
monkey chief jumps around the corner like a damned jack-in-the-box and
literally bellows at me to take my sunglasses off of my head. The seventh
circle of hell is reserved for these douches.
Today should be another adventure --I'm hanging out at the pool
(Mantanistan...thanks Reutter!) with the C-17 crews until the bag-drag-n-back that is bound to happen takes
place. I hope I get to Balad soon, mainly because my 72 hour pack is running
out of clean clothes...and by clean clothes I mean clean sides to my
underwear. Take care guys, hit me back!
Hello again everyone, I have finally arrived...somewhere. They tell me
this is Balad, but for all I know I could be in the Sahara. It would
fit: flat, sandy, windy, and hotter than even the Deid. Today was a
record high of 124 degrees and it certainly felt that way. But I
digress, let me explain how we got here.
My last day in Al Udeid was nice actually, a little gym, a little
fooseball, and a little pool time with my C-17 buddies. But all good
things have to come to an end. What we had to do was pack all of our
stuff up and check out of lodging --why do I need to check out of a
tent?!?!-- and head to the terminal, AGAIN. We show up and check in
for Space R and they tell us there are 14 seats available and we are
numbers 10-13 for the flight. So I guess we get to go, right? "Well
not if someone shows up in the next two hours that has higher priority
than you" is what the guy at the counter says. My response was
dignified: "Who in God's perfect name could be more important than
four mission essential officers who are late for there duty report
date?!?!?!" Jammer recognizes the murder in my eye before this guy
does and reigns me in just before violent thoughts became actions. So
we then got to wait around for another hour and a half to see if the
President was going to show up and kick us off of the flight. He in
fact didn't so we were set to press! We just had to drag all of our
bags, get em tagged and prepostioned for palletizing. Then we had to
wait for another hour for the C-130 to show up, then wait for an hour
for them to get the pallets ready...etc. etc. I swear it felt like the
army was running this thing. We had a 1530 show time for a 2100
takeoff. It was insane.
So we get loaded onto this C-130 and proceed to lose approximately 10
pounds sweating in the back of the jet before we took off. Once we
finally got airborne, we were in for a nice inflight meal, a decent
movie, and maybe a hot towel before we landed! Not really, we were
sitting on web seats getting violently shaken around. I swear some of
our guys lost fillings, it was like a flying paint mixer. 3 long hours
later, we landed in Balad. After grabbing our gear and dragging it to
the terminal, we were greeted by a female Senior Airman who was
practicing being a Chief. The first words out of her mouth were, no
shit, "Welcome to Balad, please roll your sleeves down." It was still
over 100 out and we just dragged all of our bags in from the eaves of
a C-130, just before midnight, and this 22 year old is going to Chief
me?!?!? My planned response was, "Ma'am while I appreciate your fervor
for the AFI 36-2903, I assure you that my sleeves are rolled up not in
an attempt to spark a flash of blue and silver indignation in you, but
merely to cool my furry arms off as I have been dragging bags for the
last 20 minutes helping my enlisted troops who couldn't drag their own
bags due to an all consuming nicotine addiction. In addition, I shall
inform you, I AM A PILOT AND I WILL DAMN WELL DO AS I PLEASE WITH MY
SLEEVES AND THERE IS NOT ONE DAMN THING YOU CAN DO ABOUT IT." Luckily
for her, I was sweating and out of breath -- not to mention so
completely shocked at her lack of respect or kindness-- that I
couldn't say anything, I just stared at her like she was growing an
extra head. So I let this go, unwillingly, and we get settled in for a
number of angry briefings from her. Finally, she's all done, and we
call the 362nd to come pick us up.
The first sergeant and a couple of pilots show up to help us load up
and move all of our gear to our billets. Unfortunately, there aren't
any rooms available!!!! So it's back to transient aircrew (another
tent) for us. $&%*^!! We're thoroughly pissed, because it might be for
about a week! We go check out our squadron and a little bit of base
(around 200am, not much to see, just dust and concrete barriers) and
grab some food, then head back to our tent around 300am. Today was a
bunch of inprocessing: getting checklists, turning in paperwork,
getting weapons issued -- I'm now packing heat -- and trying to get
ready to fly. We did learn that we will be moving the squadron in
about 6 weeks. Can't say where to because its still undisclosed, but
it's gonna happen. The post office is shutting down here in two weeks
so I can't even get care packages, which is truly disappointing.
Anyway, I need to be heading in. I'm terribly tired and we have more
inprocessing to do tomorrow. But I did just find out a room should be
available in a day or so which is much better. Hope you all are well.
I'll update as soon as I can.
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