New Job

Well, this marks the end of my first week at the new job. For the last year+ I have been serving as a platoon leader in the 82nd ABN Division. Throughout that time I have learned more than I ever thought possible. It has been tough and not always rewarding, but looking back on it, I now know that I will remember the experience as one of the best of my life.

At present I am serving with an infantry battalion in the 82nd. I'm still interested to see how I am received by the other officers since I am not combat arms. So far, however, I have been treated extremely well. We have been working long hours on training exercises, but I look forward to this job more with each passing day. I already feel like what we do makes a difference. As time goes, I hope I grow to love it more. We will see.

Egyptian protests? Tunisia? Yemen? They say there is nothing so powerful as an idea whose time has come.

It's about time . . .

Well, I have allowed more than a year to go by without posting. I'm sure that all the millions of people out there that read this have been anxiously awaiting for my return. Well, wait no longer. The glorious day of your liberation has arrived. I am sitting here in Fayetteville on the end of a four day weekend, or a 96 to some of you. I have thoroughly enoyed my three and a half days off, and I think I will prob spend the rest of this day dreading tomorrow. That seems to be my new schedule: anticipate the coming weekend and, once it arrives, dread the coming week.

With that being said, I am spending my last two weeks in my current job before switching. I am actually swapping job positions with a good friend. He will be coming to take my job, and I will take his. Unfortunately, we will do this on the exact same day so there will be no time to pass of any knowledge. It's not the end of the world, but I'm certain that a day or two together would help pass quite a bit of instiutional knowledge on.

The stressor in this job change lies in the fact that I will report to an infantry battalion. They generally push their officers to go to RANGER school, and I am gearing up for the pressure that will no doubt be laid on me as soon as I enter the door. I have spent the last several days trying to drum up in the internal stamina and intestinal fortitude to convince myself that I want to go to Ranger School. I know it would suck to do, but I'm sure the reward and fulfillment at the end is worth the hunger, lack of sleep, loss of energy, loss of massive amounts of weight, teeth falling out, hair falling out by the roots, general loss of will to live and co-exist in a meaningful manner on the planet, and so on. A piece of cloth with RANGER on it has got to be worth that doesn't it?

I haven't figured it out yet. I'll try and post more and keep on top of things here.

Das Abzeichen für Leistungen im Truppendienst in Gold

While attending the Military Intelligence Officer's Course, I have had the opportunity to pursue the German Armed Forces Proficiency Badge (GAFPB). This is one of the few foreign awards that U.S. personnel are allowed to wear on their dress uniforms. To acquire the badge you must participate in several different events performing to a particular standard. Your reward is the badge to the left in either Gold, Silver, or Bronze depending on your level of performance. To win Gold you must complete the following events:

200m swim-6:00 minutes

3000m run-13:00 minutes

100m sprint-13.6 seconds

High Jump-1.35m

Shot Put-8m

25m Marksmanship- Shoot 5/5

18.7 mile ruck march- 5:00 hours

What did I manage to get you might ask? Well, it came down to the ruck march and the swim. I failed the swim twice before finally coming in 30 seconds under time. Go figure! And for the grand finale, I finished the ruck march seven minutes early with a whopping 4 hours and 53 minutes. Nothing like coming in at the last minute. Somehow I managed to get the Gold GAFPB, or as they say in Germany, "Das Abzeichen für Leistungen im Truppendienst in Gold."

I'm quite pleased.

For the Fallen (Sept. 21, 1914), September 21, 1914

With proud thanksgiving, a mother for her children,
England mourns for her dead across the sea.
Flesh of her flesh they were, spirit of spirit,
Fallen in the cause of the free.
Solemn the drums thrill: Death august and royal
Sings sorrow up into immortal spheres.
There is music in the midst of desolation
And a glory that shines upon our tears.
They went with songs to the battle, they were young,
Straight of limb, true of eye, steady and aglow.
They were staunch to the end against odds uncounted,
They fell with their faces to the foe.
They shall grow not old, as we that are left grow old;
Age shall not weary them, nor the years condemn.
At the going down of the sun and in the morning
We will remember them.
They mingle not with laughing comrades again;
They sit no more at familiar tables of home;
They have no lot in our labour of the day-time;
They sleep beyond England's foam.
But where our desires are and our hopes profound,
Felt as a well-spring that is hidden from sight,
To the innermost heart of their own land they are known
As the stars are known to the Night;
As the stars that shall be bright when we are dust,
Moving in marches upon the heavenly plain,
As the stars that are starry in the time of our darkness,
To the end, to the end, they remain.

Written as a reaction to the high casualty rates of the British Expeditionary Force at Mons and Le Cateau
-Laurence Robert Binyon

1-12-1985/09-10-2009

They are more than a name . . . please remember.

Thoughts from Over There

I used to believe we had lost command of the English language, but it seems that grammar is not everything. Some retain the ability to write simply and with great feeling. I stand corrected.

Army Staff Sgt. Dale Panchot, 26, of Northome, Minn., in a letter to his family.

“I was reading my Bible the other night and in the book of Genesis ... it said when God created the heavens and earth, he made four rivers, two of which are here in Iraq, the Tigris and the Euphrates. So after I found that out, I had to go down by the river and touch the water. I tell you, it was something else. Pretty cool, huh?”

The final journal entry of Army National Guard Chief Warrant Officer Bruce Smith, 41, of West Liberty, Iowa. His wife, Oliva, received the necklace in the mail two days after his funeral, with a short note:

“Oliva, Happy Birthday Early. Love Bruce.”“I sent Oliva a b-day present yesterday. A nice necklace. She will get it a couple of weeks early but that is good.”

Army National Guard Sgt. Roger Rowe, 54, of Bon Aqua, Tenn., in his last letter to his wife, Shirley.

“Love has always gotten us through and it will do so again.”

Army Pfc. Diego Rincon, 19, of Conyers, Ga., in his last letter home.

“Whether I make it or not, it’s all part of the plan. It can’t be changed, only completed. Mother will be the last word I’ll say. Your face will be the last picture that goes through my eyes. ... I just hope that you’re proud of what I’m doing and have faith in my decisions. I will try hard and not give up. I just want to say sorry for anything I have ever done wrong. And I’m doing it all for you mom. I love you.”