CONTACT INFO

OK, for those of you kind enough to ask, here is my contact info...

For US Postal Service:

LCDR Dennis Faix
TF62 Medical Brigade
Camp Victory Base
APO AE 09342

e-mail:
dennis.faix@iraq.centcom.mil
dennis.faix@gmail.com

phone:
DSN: 318 822 3837

Catch-22

I was given some second-hand (possibly third-hand) advice upon my receipt of deployment orders to Iraq. The advice was to read the classic American novel Catch-22 and was meant to prepare the deployer for the Iraqi Theater of Operations (ITO, another new acronym-I seem to learn a new one every hour here).

How prescient!! I am about two-thirds through, but there are multiple catch-22 dilemmas in the book... The dilemmas are, I think, anti-quantum in that instead of embracing the strange quantum state of being two things at once, the characters are forced into NOT being two things at once... The dead man in Yossarian's tent is the pilot that arrived at the unit, dropped his belongings in Yossarian's tent and went on his first (fatal) mission before he ever officially checked into the unit... The unit cannot get rid of the things in Yossarian's tent by checking the guy out because he never checked in...

My first full day at my new unit is spent meeting folks, familiarizing myself with the lay of the land and "checking in"... Problem-my Navy issued orders simply say "report to Iraq"; they don't indicate that I should join the unit that everyone says I am supposed to join. And the unit I am supposed to join cannot "check me in" because I don't have orders to the unit. For a brief moment I think this could be great-maybe they will just send me home!!! But, my dreams are shattered by the next revelation: no one can leave theater without a letter of release, which can only be written by a commanding officer that "owns" the individual leaving... that is, I cannot leave theater without a letter of release written by the commanding officer of a unit that I have checked into... and I cannot check into a unit... aaack! I could be stuck here interminably!!?!??! Panicking!!!

Thankfully, a smart admin officer simply typed up a memo that said I am now officially assigned to the unit and I was able to "check in"... life goes on...

I need to go back and read that chapter of the book again!

Baghdad!!

Ahhh, the sweet smell of burning trash mixed with the fine-grained powder that lets you feel the air-like when the humidity is so high that your have to push your way through the ether, only there is no humidity, just dust. So, burning trash smell, lots of dust, and the heady aroma of jet fuel... I can be no place but Iraq--actually, I could probably be several other places, but as soon as I stepped off the plane I am instantly transported back to 2005 and the good old days in Iraq. Only it is 2008 and the reality (and enormity) of where I am and what I am doing gob-smack me upside the head!

Holy Moki!?!?

I am spending the night (and perhaps the next few days or weeks) in transient tent/billeting while await the assignment of my trailer. Good news: the Army seems to think that my being selected for promotion is as good as being promoted as far as getting housing goes (so O5 housing vice O4 housing), this is a good thing because it means I will get my own room. Bad News: the O5 wait list for housing seems to be significantly longer and slower-moving than the O4 list...

muddy feet

From the bottom of the shower trailer stairs to the flap of my tent is exactly 195 steps. It is exactly 195 steps from my tent to the shower trailer stairs. The issue is that all of these steps occur in sand, very dry sand. Shower shoes (slippers, flip flops, etc) are necessary in the shower (between the public showers and wearing boots all day one cannot have too much of a preventive posture towards one's feet! anti-fungal foot powder and frequent sock changes are de rigor) and hence required for the waling back and forth, unless you want to carry an extra pair of shoes around, which I don't.

So walking back from the shower is the time where I play a little game--how many steps can I go before sand mud coats the top of my slipper and the bottom of my feet. So far, the record is 23 steps. But, I may be making it too hard on myself because my current slippers are worn fairly thin, placing me a good 50-75% closer to the ground than a new pair of standard slippers. I happen to have a near new pair of slippers in my gear that I have ben saving for a special occasion--perhaps tomorrow I will make an investigation into the matter... stand by!

200 days

time to go....

Back from Udairi Range, all of our boxes checked and tasks completed... simply waiting on some buses to take us to the airport and fly to Iraq.

We had our standard 0900 muster where we were told to muster at 1300 so that we could put our baggage on a truck and board the buses for departure at 1330. Of course, the guy in charge of our little group decides that to make sure everyone is there at 1300 HE wants us all to show up at 1230 just to make sure. As this meeting is going on the wind (and sand) is picking up ominously, just like it did the day we were supposed to go to Udairi and didn't.

So, at 1230 I amble out to the muster site--no baggage because it is obvious that the wind and sand are even worse than a few days ago when the buses weren't allowed to leave the base. But, many others did bring their luggage (perhaps I need to work on following orders better). We wait until 1300 and they tell us that, indeed, the buses cannot move, but things could change rapidly and they will brief us every hour on the hour. You guessed it, our leader wants us to muster on the half-hour so that he can make sure we are all there for the on the hour brief--what a bunch of hooey! The mutiny was swift, definitive and bloodless...

Amazingly enough, we didn't need briefings every hour to find out if the weather had changed seeing as we live in a tent where the the sides are continuously billowing and bouncing and threatening collapse under the onslaught of the wind and dust...

Long story short, we set up a laptop and speakers in our cozy little 10-man tent and watched three movies (16 blocks, Live Free or Die Hard, and Charlie Wilson's War). Another day, another delay... but the BOG counter continues...

Udairi Range

The sandstorm abated enough after 24 hours that we finally made it up to Udairi Range for our close quarter marksmanship (CQM) and convoy training...

Close quarter marksmanship training is exciting simply because they put 50-60 people on the firing line at one time and have them walk in different directions and turn in different directions (quarter turns both ways and half turns one way) and fire live ammo... exciting because who knows if the bozo next to you is really going to be as safe as you hope they are! In the pre-range safety brief the range safety officer noted that this was his last range because he was going home after 9 months here and he had never had a medevac from the range... in the ER or the hospital one NEVER says words to that effect: "my goodness it is a quiet night in the ER..." or "gosh, I haven't seen a heart attack come through the door in days..." These things only bring BAD luck. So, my level of apprehension on the range was higher than normal--I don't like blood! Turns out that no one got shot--thank goodness. However, someone did develop breathing problems (peri-tonsillar abscess) that required medevac... Lesson learned (again)... don't say things like that!

BTW, the CQM was fun even though I only had my 9mm pistol and most were shooting their M-16 rifles. A bit of fire power envy I guess. But, once I am safely ensconced in Baghdad and have to carry my weapon with me everywhere I go, I will be thankful that the 9mm is much lighter and more compact... Of course, if one actually needs a self-defense weapon (medical--self-defense only thank you very much!), then the M-16 makes a significantly more powerful defense!

But, if you hear me say "gosh, it's been a long time since I actually needed to use my weapon in self-defense" then, please, shoot me!

Sand Storm!!

Recall how in 2005 I was stuck in Balad for four days waiting for a sand storm to clear so that I could fly back to Al Asad?? Well, here we go again... The big check in the box that we have to get prior to moving on to Iraq is convoy training on the Udairi Range. The Udairi training area consists of the majority of the land area of Kuwait--mostly in the North and West... but there is a special range where we learn how to operate in a convoy (don't ask what we learned that last three weeks in Fort Jackson--same damn thing!?!?!?!)

Yesterday we were to get on a bus and convoy up there for 48 hours of high-speed, intense convoy training which consists of a bit of class room work, sleeping on the floor, eating MREs, getting up early, shooting stuff a close quarters (CQM---close quarter marksmanship), driving around and getting blown up by training IEDs.

Problem was that we didn't get on the bus because a sand storm blew in and cut visibility down to damn near nothing--walking about felt like a sand-blaster in the face. Evidently convoys cannot operate in such conditions--surprise! so, our training has been slid back by 24 hours... as of today the sand storm has slacked off a bit and we will find out within the hour if we go... I will let you know!!!

But, whether we go or not--another day down in the count!! 4 down; 206 to go!!!

Boots On Ground!!

So, we eventually made it from Columbia, SC to Shannon, Ireland to Kuwait despite baggage trucks hitting the plane, a rodent infestation, AND a leaky fuel line--we were only 36 hours late leaving Columbia, SC. Why those delays couldn't happen in Ireland vice South Carolina is beyond me--would have been much more pleasant, or at the very least, much more interesting.

So, when the plane lands in Shannon the first thing everyone does is line up at the pub--last chance to have a beer (any alcohol for the next 6-12 months depending on the length of your orders)--the Guinness was quite popular!

pic of the line at the bar

About 6 and a half hours later we land at Kuwait International Airport, an airport with an unfortunate acronym--KIA--for those of us about to enter a war zone--even if it is a war of liberation vice occupation...

We land at 0230--early in the morning... take a bus to the middle of nowhere and then get off and stand around for an hour and a half... odd, but it turns out OK because one of my PMO buddies that is working in Kuwait happens to be meeting someone else (new XO) from the plane, so we get to chat for a few minutes--what a small Navy... Now we convoy up to Camp Virginia for "acclimatization and convoy training". We pull in as the sun is coming up and damn if the place doesn't look like every other base in theater--flat, brown, rocky, dirty... entirely uninspiring... I didn't exactly expect the desert to have bloomed in the last two years since I left Iraq, but he desolation deja vu was intense... I won't even mention the port-o-potty and chow-hall deja vu--you will just have to read the previous (2005) posts because they are the exact same too--down to the same toilet paper and the same cabbage (one of the few vegetables that wasn't over-cooked--perhpas because it was/is served raw as a nice cabbage salad).

the good news is this: my orders say that I will spend 210 days with "boots on ground"... BOG time starts when you land in theater--FEB 12th... so, even though I am only in Kuwait, my timer is already going (never mind the last month I just spent away from friends and family, that doesn't count for anything except that you have to do it to get in theater).

209 days left!

The Adventure Continues...

So, the truck undergoes de-wedgification (apologies to the Baathists)... someone comes out at 0400 and inspects the plane for damage--good to go... a sleep-deprived technician inspecting the wing and its moving parts in the dark seems suspect to me, but I am not an expert at such things. We all get on the plane and then spend the next hour being re-arranged about the cabin--the thing is that the plane seems to have its main storage bays in front of the wings and we have a lot of baggage... So, even though the plane is big enough for us all to sit comfortably, they need most everybody to crowd in the back to compensate for the weight of the baggage up front--great!!

We are all settled in, when on a sudden, someone in the back spies a mouse scurrying about and they point it out to the flight crew... Everyone now gets off the plane, leaving their bags in their seats or in the overhead compartment--the better to catch the rodent stowaway... Two hours later we all get back on the plane to get our stuff and permanently leave the plane as they cannot find the little bugger. Evidently they need to take the plane to Atlanta where their are more expert mouse catchers... Now, I am a public health proponent and understand the long-standing need for ships and vessels to not transport vermin from port to port carrying such things as plague and ebola... But the fact tat a single small rodent can stop the movement of 300 military members on their way to war is, in some respects, disheartening... I thought about going tot he pet store to get another mouse for tomorrow's attempt at flying!

Alas, at least the plane is now having a post-truck collision test flight before we get on and fly across the North Atlantic--that seems a good thing.

So, we try again tomorrow.... Stay tuned!

The Adventure Begins...

Well, it turns out I have a little time this morning to let you know how things are going... or, rather, not going...

First, we started out the evening by turning in our linen and receiving a "shelf stable meal" to eat--a little something to hold us over until we got on the bus at midnight for the 45 minute trip to the airport. I had never heard of, let alone seen, a shelf-stable meal... but it looks like this:



The chips were good.


Here's the exciting part. We had five busloads of people and 4 stake-bed trucks filled with the bags of 5 busloads worth of people. The plan is to pull up directly to the aircraft (A310), load the gear, load the people, and off we go...

Unfortunately one of the drivers got a little close with a truck full of bags and got the truck wedged under the plane... yes, that's right! Our baggage truck got wedged under the body and wing of our plane--they cannot get it unstuck! (This is live blogging--too bad most people that might reasonably read this are asleep right now.) I imagine they will get the two vehicles unstuck soon (let the air out of the tires and move the truck that way), but then we have to wait for an inspector to come check out the plane and approve it for flying--a good idea since their are 300 of us, no parachutes, and we will be going over the North Atlantic...

I couldn't get close enough for a great picture, and it is quite dark, but you can make out the truck under the back of the plane (from this angle):



I'll let you know what happened...

Aarrrmmmyyy Training!!!

Well, the last two weeks and a half here at Fort Jackson have been interesting to say the least... and we all know brevity is my middle name, so the least is what I will say...

Training has progressed at breakneck speed (think of your neck being broken really, really, really slowly--that's just what it is like). We have covered all the appropriate "going to war" topics: basic rifle marksmanship, first aid (at least that is what they called the class... I think it may have been a not so subtle attempt at disinformation), road marching (yippee!), physical fitness (I have never seen so many smokers as in the Army... maybe it's just the Army in South Carolina), the Code of Conduct (so that in the case of capture by signatories to the Geneva convention we know how to behave--that'll happen), land navigation and convoy operations (neither of which are things one--at least myself--plans on doing in Iraq, but one never knows; all the convoy drivers/gunners could get hurt and they might call on a PM doc to "man up". In which case, we are all in a world of hurt).

However, there are a couple of valuable tidbits that I have learned here that are worth sharing with you:

*A Navy individual augmentee (IA) to the Army is said to be in the Narmy... cute...

*Brown Gravy--seems that anything even remotely resembling food can be made tastier and "nutritionier" by the addition of this wonderful sauce--elixir of the gods (note, even better with a dash of hot pepper sauce)

*Some colors of MREs are worse than others: I had heard tell of "cheap" MREs but had no idea... Normal MREs come with a little heater to warm up the unpalatable food and a small bottle of Tabasco Sauce to mask the unpalatableness. The MREs that the Navy bought us in order to indoctrinate us to the Army have less; less food (that's OK), no heater, and no Tabasco! And the flavors/choices are truly remarkable; to wit, "Imitation Pork Rib, Boneless, Chunked, Formed with imitation Caramel and Smoke Flavor"--who wouldn't want to eat that!?!?! The Mexican Enchilada with Beef and Textured Vegetable Protein was exceptionally memorable--I didn't feel right for days... Needless to say, we cannot wait to get to Iraq where the food will be significantly better...

*the GAO is everywhere, making sure our tax dollars are well spent. Two young ladies (from the GAO--"that nice man from the government said he would help us" is now the "that nice lady from the government") came to ask us if our training was what we "needed to get our jobs done in Iraq or Afghanistan?" Of course, the answer for all of the IAs, most selected for deployment because of special skills was "No, that's not what this training is for. It is useless for my highly skilled day to day job in Iraq, but it is good to know just in case I find myself in a convoy in the middle of nowhere that comes under attack and I get separated from everyone else." That's a pretty big IF. (note: I didn't get a chance to mention the tax dollars wasted on he MREs mentioned above--drat!!)

*practice does help with shooting--after innumerable attempts over many years I am finally an EXPERT with my M9 pistol--will wonders never cease (or is that will wonders ever cease? I think the question is "will wonders ever cease?" and the answer is "wonders will never cease." but that's just my shoot-from-the-hip [something else we learned to do with a rifle!] opinion).

OK, I fly to Kuwait on Saturday morning (0400!?!?! aaack!?!?). A week of training with little/no internet access. Then onto Iraq. So, I will catch you all on the flip side.