Hello again

Its been a whole year since my last post. A lot has happened. I lost a girlfriend, tried to be celibate met, someone I hadn't seen since High School and now we're dating (LOOONNNG story) I'm now a full member of Kappa Alpha (yeah I know a frat. Get over yourself). But, as ever my money issues fallow me. As if getting my $500 a month from the VA (FINALLY) would have eased things up? NOPE back to square one. Apparently there was a form I knew not of, which should have been filled out many moons ago. Hence I am yet again waiting for that post 9/11 GI Bill to pay up that stipend, wondering how long i can hold off from getting a job.

As if that weren't enough stress right there, I am also a shitty student apparently. Well actually anyone that knows me knows how intelligent I am, buuuuttt well lets just say there's issues with school work. so I got a nasty gram from the University saying in essence "we are gonna kick you out" JOY! I managed to finagle my way back, but, well its a long story. So for now, I'm back. More to come I'm sure but what the hell

I've been published. . . sort of

Well I wouldn't have believed it, but indeed I am in a book. Not me as a charictor. ME. The person. I'm even quoted. This strange moment of celebrity is not without some doubt. I'm almost affraid to see what is written about me. See when I was deployed LTC Kauzralich or however you spell his name (we just called him "Killer K") always had this reporter at his hip. Almost always. Some said that he was writting a book to make the col look good so he could get his chickens. Fat chance I thought till I saw in army times that the SOB had actually managed to get promoted. I guess they'll promote anyone in the Army these days.

It's so weird though. There are the words. There is the scene. I remember them. It was a distant memory, long forgotten, and yet reading what David wrote, the words I said came right back to me. Dear God did I really say that? Yes, yes I did. Did I really talk about that? Yes, I did. What do you say to that? There are your words. "I feel sick all the time when we go out. I know we're going to get hit." Its weird. And reading what March said. . . It made me realize that I wasn't the only one that was suffering inside. I especially liked the end of the chapter about us.

"Phill went back to his ambien

Lt Hammel went back to his furnature

Bailey went back to his long loops around the FOB

Wheeler went back to his 'what ifs'

and March went back to his slideshow."

It seems strangly fitting. In the end he didn't talk about chargin down hundreds of insurgents, or saving babies. In the end he seems to suggest that the ultimate act of heroism was simply putting the vest on again and going outside the wire. Does that make me a hero? Does that make me brave? or stupid?

It inspired me to do something to aleviate some guilt. I called the New Haven register. Its time to set the record strait. His family has a right to know. He didn't die becuase he was tired or because he was given a bad mission. He died because he was in the wrong place at the wrong time. He died because you never see an IED till its too late. Never. I hope that I can convey the sense of loss, that he was loved, and that his loss hurt us too. That we hold on to him each day in our dreams.

8 years later

Now we stand. 8 years after the face. There have been tributes, and people have largely moved on. Kids now in college, too young often to remember or understand the events of September 11th 2001. Few are the people as directly affected by it. The families will always remember, as will the soldiers. But the public, in time will forget the horror the pain and the fear.

I can not, at this time tell you what i feel about that fact. Perhaps it is good in someway. Perhaps it is good that the public is not constantly tearing at the scab trying to relive the pain, but to me, the lack of somber attitude or, worse, awareness, is grating to the worst degree. I can not help but feel disheartened. The world saw the best, and the worst in humanity that day, things that ought not to be forgotten so easily.

I find that listening to women gossip about what clothes are worn or who goes out with who, on a day like today to be nearly intolerable. And yet, this is the very innocence I've fought to protect. Hearing one friend was going on a "Fascist America" bike ride nearly sent me through the roof. Such fools would allow such tragedies to happen based on narrow views that are far more intolerant than those they claim to oppose. That a dear friend, and one time lover, was doing it. . . really hurts. How? How can anyone think such things? If they had seen what I'd seen would they call Jihadis freedom fighters? NO! They would call them what they are, except I have yet to find one word in the English language filled with enough contempt and scorn for honorless thieves, murders rapists and cowards.

I've spent two 9/11's in a war zone, and 6 in the Army. I've been on staff Duty, and even went to a church service that day. and where, in all of this does the peace come? Where does the peace of mind come from knowing AT LAST this tragedy has been avenged and prevented from ever happening again? It doesn't come. It probably won't ever come, because sadly it is just as likely today as it was on 9/10 save the one key factor, we're aware of it now.

I know this war won't last much longer. It can't, but the thought of losing is just heart breaking. Especially when so much was sacrificed to get it done. Islamofascism can not be allowed to win or the next thing you will hear is "allah huakbar" on the city streets of New York itself.

Wish I knew someone here. . .

I think I can safely say that the biggest problem with college is simply put, THERE ARE SO MANY PEOPLE!!! How anyone can make "lifelong" friends in an institution this size is beyond me. I suspect that it has a lot to do with Fraternities and Sororities (the "Greek" societies) but even then, how the HELL does a person make friends with classes that take place in small amphitheaters!

This is no doubt the "culture shock" that I was expecting, but still. I'm surrounded by people and I feel pretty alone. I think that's just odd! Still, I do not feel empty. Not like I did a few short months ago. Is it because this is not Kansas? Or is it because I have a sense of purpose? I wouldn't know which. Still, it is good to get out from under the heel of oppressive PA's and giant not so there PSG's.

Classes are difficult, and my old friends heartburn and insomnia have returned with a vengeance. I was strangely asymptomatic before I got here, now my rhythm is all sorts of wacky. Some days I go to bed at 8 (2000) others I don't close my eyes till 0400. It really is in-freaking-sane. Something I wish I could fix.

The good news to come out of that though, I have begun hand writing (because my computer is broken ARG) one of the many stories that have been bouncing around in my head. I hope i can fill up the journal i bought before I lose interest again, but I'm sure I'll not be that lucky. Hopefully I can send it to Niki who can edit and type it, so i can add in other things send back to her proof read and whatever. End goal. I publish. I get PAID THIS TIME!!! (I'm still simmering about "Don't Quit" I can kind of see why Napster caused so many artists grief) and hey maybe my financial woes will be over. . . not likely but we've all got to have dreams don't we?

A New Day in A New Place

Well sports fans, I'm out of the army. Ironically my last day was the 29th of april exactly 6 years 3 months after I joined. I'd like to say i did all I could to fight it but by that point I was tired of arguing with the Army. I kind of got steam rolled by the great beuracratic machine that is Uncle Sam. I'm also not going to lie and say that i wasn't a little glad to be out. Lets face it Ronny "I'm a Captain in the United States Army" Brock, for all his psudo concern made my life a living hell. I'm glad to be away from it. Now if I go back i go back on MY terms. Not theirs.

So what, you ask have I been doing with my life? Simple I've started college. Now this suave 25 year ols Freshmen is starting where? why West Virgina. WVU isn't the most prestigious college eever, nor is it the biggest, smnallest or a lot of other things. In ints own way however it is great. Only two weeks in WVU has welcomed me with open arms and for that they have earned my loyalty. (perhaps thats whty alumni are so proud)

What am i studying you ask? well. . . that's a matter of debate. See I wish I could say that I kne wbut the truth is I just pain don't. I haven't the foggiest on what the hell i want a degree in. But at the end of the day I know I need that degree. So get it I shall. More to come but for right now I've got to get to class.

Women. . . *sigh*

I find myself in the enviable position of being able to "choose" women, and yet it really means nothing at all to me. I have tried again and again to reconsile my feelings, but the truth is that after both Jessi and Lisa, I'm not even sure if I can feel anything despite the fact that everywhere I turn it seems I am eliciting strong emotional responses from women. I have most of my adult life a serries of relationships of what could have been and what should have been. I do not have contact with my first girlfriend but from Martha right up to Andrea, pretty much all of my ex's are married and have kids, the only exception (that I know of) is Lisa, and really, I don't expect that to last long.

And then there's me. Standing here feeling intensely alone trying not to actually notice just how isolated I am. Saturday I had a woman (who was drunk at the time) tell me she loved me, and . . . nothing. I didn't feel a damn thing! In fact if anything it made me feel even more alone. Adoration I don't deserve. Affection I can't return. I'm always seen as this great awesome guy in the beginning, but in the end they all hate me, and then as time passes the hate turns into pity. I'm left with a vague sense of what *should* happen, and I know I am nowhere near that.

I asked Lisa about it yesterday, and she was thankful that she wasn't the cause of it. I didn't have the heart to tell her that this feeling of emptiness started when i found out about her boyfriend, Shane. I don't really have the heart to tell her about the hell I went through after the break up. I put on a brave face, but God alone knows how I tore myself apart inside.

Then there's Jessi. I've tried to engage her in even "hello". I await the day the restraining order comes in the mail. In one of those rare moments when you realize how badly you've screwed up, and are willing to do anything to undo the damage done, those moments usually come right before the restraining order. In my case when I fall over backwards trying to apolagize I come off as a stalker. Just my luck. The woman who was everything I could have possibly wanted, booted out of my life because I am a freaking moron. Now I can't even get her to acknowlege my existance as more than an annoyance. Dear God its depressing.

When I went with Robinette and Rice to the pool, there was some good natured horse play, but I saw how those two interacted. I know Rice has a boyfriend but body language doesn't lie. She was doing a lot more than innocent horse play with him. I sat and watched them, certain to give them their space, but in my own heart I felt more like a sniper, or an observer then, than an actual participant. I felt like a watcher, a vouyer, and the theought at once left me disgusted and feeling ever so lonely. Is this how my life is going to be? Will I be forced to watch others live their lives? Shouldn't this thought fill me with dread?

Then there's Nicole. Truley, aside from Smitty (SSG Smith to all youse bozos) and Jessica (but less so) she is the only friend that I've kept in touch with throughout my military career, and tonight she said simply that she felt she failed me. I said to her that it's not her responsibility, that the only way she could have helped me is if she had married me. Honestly there is no she could have helped me in any meaningful way other than as a supporting role unless she wayhad married me. I get the feeling from her response that the thought had crossed her mind, and indeed there was a breif period where we had "dated" but it was more one of those "the road not taken" type of things. I think that she would have married me in a heartbeat except that i had been a staple of her life and she didn't want to lose me. Isn't that weird?

Finally there is Laura. Sitting somewhere on Ft Bragg with a marriage that probably won't survive her deployment. She to has feelings for me, and I find myself walking a dangerous tight rope. I never want to be a Jodi (dude who steals wives) but the more I offer support the more it is clear that I might become just that. What's funny is she's got just as many hang ups as me. Her history reads like a case study for a psychology paper, and she has medical conditions I didn't even know were possible before I "met" her (thanks to the wonderful Facebook). There's enough in common (Both medics, both with a signifigant history, both with relationship problems) and a few common interests that there is potential. That's even more dangerous because as her marrage starts to fail she might look to me, and thats not good.

So what the hell happened to me? there once was a point that I would not date women on moral grounds. Now any ol thing and it A-ok. I feel like my life is spinning out of control, and whatever there is of me that is the concious mind (the part that says "I think therefore I am") seems like a passenger on this ride. I feel like I'm someone else when I'm with a woman. I want so desperatly to feel and mean what I say, but I just don't anymore. What happened to the hopless romantic? The poet that belived that love would conqure all things? I'm starting to question if love is even real, or worse as more and more of my friends find happieness and get married, that I was never meant to love or to be loved. I fear that I am some wreched creature that I'm only beginning to comprehend.

Hard work, and a well earned rest.

This last week was absoulutly insane. There was not a single day that we did not get released late. Worse than that, *most of* the platoon busted it's collective ass, right up till we were released. It did not help that the higher ups constantly had something to say about things. Lt was good about staying out of things for the most part (Gotta love an Lt that doesn't micro manage things). But SFC Hall. . . not so much. Every time his name was uttered I shuddered inside, for it usually meant more work for the poor souls that remained.

If it wasn't already painfully obvious, Wednesday was an absolute disaster despite the fact that, for the most part we managed to get the Conex packed, there was a lot of waiting that was beyond unnecessary. At every chance I got I tried to hurry the process along, but towards the end when the big heads got together to "figure things out" things slowed up, it was like a train wreck, once the front car stopped, every subsequent car would leap off the rails. First it was the inventory, then it was the insert boxes, then it was the spare Class VIII, then finally it was all the extra stuff laying around.

Thursday was worse but for other reasons. First off we were minus Sgt Sutton, and well for the first half of the day we were pretty much sitting around looking at each other like a bunch of idiots. There were some videos that we had to watch, about Blue on Blue fire, UXO, and things of that nature. They were made at the height of the 80's and it was kinda clear that someone had put a lot of effort to make it look cool, but was horribly out of touch then, now it was just plain laughable. Now it wasn't until the later afternoon that something was comming down the pipe. The FLAs were all stripped except for three, one was on mission and two were in the shop, and it looked like we were going to get out of there on time.

Then there were radios. Any time a high dollar or sensitive item hand recipt is being signed you know you're in for at least *some* pain. But this. . . this was insane. After he personally inventoried the radios and equipment SFC Hall and the Lt were signing for, he had us take it up to the aid station were we did it again!!! The worst part was that he was slow as hell, and he'd constantly miscount menaing everything had to be counted again and again. But that wasn't the end of the day. I had to go out to the AHA to drop off a weapon for AGT Sutton, and off. the day ended at 1810. Just in time to get to the DFAC before it closed.

Of my four day weekend I pretty much burned my first day with just sleeping. Now I've got Saturday, Sunday, and Monday. I'm growing more and more desperate to escape this insainity. Why is it so hard for me to walk away again?

Why am I doing this?

Today is part of a short week, only three days long, but its one of those short weeks where they're trying to pack at least 7+ working days of work into three days. There are so many moving peices right now its not even funny. Now I'm *somewhat* exempt from this, seeing as I am chaptering. I'm pretty much detatched, and I've gotten short timer's syndrome pretty bad. But even though I'm somewhat insulated from the stupidity I am not Imune to it.

Today i had an appointment at 0900, which was good because I missed out on the initial handing out of details. But not so good because I was sitting there a prime target for a particularly boring detail, where I had to highlight names all freaking day for people going through the "brain scan". It was some kind of test for people that sounded suspiciously like a TBI test.

I really might have been fine with it had it not, in fact been a COMPLETE WASTE OF MY TIME!!! I men despite the fact that I was getting people to highlight their names all day I wasn't there for the first two groups that went through, so the list was inaccurate. The best part, at the end of the day I simply took the list from the people running it and photo copied it so that the acting 1SG could have a copy. Essentially I wasted a whole day up at Battalion, annoying the shit out of people for something that I could have gotten at the end of the day!

I think even more important than that is the question of why on Earth I would be involved with packing a conex that I will absolutely not have anything to do with for a rotation to NTC which I won't even be here for, and I'm finding it hard not to ask "Why should I care?" Truth is that no matter what I do, no matter what I say this is going to be a hundred times more painful than it needs to be. SFC Hall has a nasty nack of getting involved and making things far harder than they need to be, and I can already see it now. I'm sure half the Connex will be packed and he will have forgotten one critical detail or have miscomunicated it to the junior NCOs, and we'll have to stop what we're doing, rearange it . . . really why should I give a crap.

I ask, in all honesty, what is the point of my assistance, seeing as I'm not trusted to do anything. This chapter, is, well Bull. I know DJ down at the hospital could have gotten me a Med board, and if they'd let me do my job I might actually be less mopey. I mean really, you take away my purpose for being in the army and wonder why it is that I act all down? really? and the Sleepwalking thing, you know its a common side affect of Ambien.

Its getting harder and harder for me not to find a shamtasctic reason to just skip out for the week, and not be involved period. If they think I'm not worth keeping around, why do I care about them? I can't answer it. I keep doing what they ask even though I want to bitch and moan more than ever. What really scares me is that, now at the end of this crazy ride, part of me, a quiet but large part of me, doesn't want to give it up. That thought is, somehow terrifying

Operation Homecomming

There is a documentary called Operation Homecoming. It is a a collection of OIF, Vietnam, Korea, and even WWII veterans talking about their experiences and, perhaps more importantly what it means to write about those experiences. There were stories narrated by Hollywood legends, and something of a photo essay describing the events talked about. Every single one of these stories are powerful, as powerful as if I had said them.

I found myself crying as people I don't even know talked about what it ment to talk about their experiences. How can I explain how I feel? How can I respect myslef if I do not tell my tale? There are things that people need to know, and yet, no one will listen.

I think the story of "Taking Chance" and the one about the MedEvac flight, well there were things that touched a nerve deep in my soul. I know people will not listen to me now, but I can not hope to quiet my soul if I do not at lest try to tell something.

I highly advise, if anyone wants to know about war, or what its like to be a soldier at war, get this movie. Watch it, and learn what it means .

Oakland shooting, a sad sign of the times.

Any Cop will tell you, its usually the routine trafic stops that turn nasty quick. From disgruntled socer moms angry that the police are making them even more late for whatever pressing engagement, to the drunk that is just plain pissed off and doesn't want to go to jail, a routine traffic stop can be anything from just that: routine, to out and out deadly.

Today in Oakland 4 police learned how deadly it can get. One man, an ex-con wanted for parole violation in regards to a Assault with a Deadly weapon charge was stopped by to bike cops. He then opened fire killing one and wounding the other. Immediately after that Police went on a manhunt for the man and in the process two SWAT members were killed in the attempt to arrest him. The suspect died of a fatal dose of hot lead. In all four officers were injured three died and one may not live very long.

Now some important parts to take from this story first, the two motorcycle cops were probably wounded by a pistol, second it is quite clear that the SWAT team was dealing with nothing less than an assault weapon. I'd be willing to bet it's our old friend the Kalashnikov, which is powerful enough to take down a lot of things at close range. Even if SWAT had the same body armor I wore, and even if the suspect were going to "spray and pray" chances are that he probably got the three wounded SWAT officers at the door to whatever room he was holed up in. That's the pure tactical situation as I read it.

But I have to say this. IT SHOULD NOT HAVE HAPPENED! Doesn't matter which part, this whole thing can be broken down into a few parts.

1). the suspect didn't want to follow the rules and though he was above the law. He did things that society does not tollerate, and didn't want to pay the price for his actions. Worse, when given a second chance, his parole, he couldn't follow simple instructions, which, while a hastle would have prevented a need to run.

2). the suspect should never have been released if he were that much of a threat. "Good behavior" doesn't mean you don't just get into fights, it means you attempt to change your life. California has a soft spot for criminals and it cost four policemen their lives

3). while hardly mentioned in the article I read on Fox News (you can bet CNN or MSNBC didn't run it) the idea of 20 or so onlookers sticking around and jeering the police as they struck a manhunt for an obviously dangerous criminal is disconcerting. Even more disconcerting is the idea that some of these people were probably in some small way happy to see the cops injured. For every mistake the Police make there is a bunch of media attention, and with an ROE that's more confusing then the new Stimulus Package, its really no wonder that cops will draw a bead on "unarmed" kids. the simple fact is that it's dangerous to be a cop, and sometimes if the "innocent" harass the cop enough that he feels a threat to his life, or to the lives of others, is he not then justified in his or her actions. What bothers me the most about the "Police Brutality" issue is that its almost always blacks that are the focus and the "innocent victims" but we never see or hear what happens before the cameras start rolling. Even worse, because the suspects are almost always black and the cops are almost always white, it almost ALWAYS gets turned into a racial issue.

4). Obviously if I read the tactical situation right, then why weren't other urban pascification methods afailable? Flashbangs, and the like. hell they used Tear gas for the Embassy crissis durring the Tet offensive. If this target truly was a threat then why weren't other measures used to avoid choke points and prevent him from being able to think see or shoot clearly being utalized. It's not like we don't have the means.

5). Finally, while I don't know the situation, we need a quicker way to acess threats. Are they or aren't they threats? Before they even walk up to a vehicle they need to know who it's registered to and if any of the first tier (ie: Mother brother sister father etc) ascociations with the regristry are known/suspected offenders. Before the cops even get out of their car, before the walk even begins there should be a way to tag, querry and ascertain this information so the Police officer knows whether to go "hot" or "cold". I honestly think that if the public has a "right to know" how a soldier died a gruesome death and gleefully put that all over the news for the family to see, then a police officer has the "right to know" if someone in the car might be a bad guy!

I am sad to say but I feel a certain despair at the certainty that someone in the respectable news organizations will try to paint the dead shooter as the "victim" in all of this. I don't care how you spin it four people who were good are now dead for one low life sleeze ball. I count that as a loss any day. I fear matters will only get worse.