Week Nineteen
Murphy was right.
It
amazing; once you really begin to understand the true significance of his
rules.
Murphy struck
again.
What can go wrong,
will go wrong.
For
both sides.
We started out in
the middle of nowhere.
Sitting…waiting. A mission
without details was unfolding. Our
command was preparing for all outcomes. All but Murphy.
Basically,
military intelligence (an oxymoron, I agree) had information about some
potential VBIEDs (Vehicle Borne Improvised Explosive
Devices) and we were going to intercept them.
So there we
sat----“Hurry up, it’s time to wait”
Now that last part
I understand. It really makes the most
sense. Perhaps I can explain.
You see, if you
have to mobilize two hundred men in a matter of minutes, including all of their
equipment, it’s a lot easier if you go ahead and get them ready before
hand. Then you move them to a location
where they can’t disperse (walk off) on their own and waste time.
Also, the mission
had critical pieces of information that would require precise timing. We had a large window (potential time frame)
that we were working in. The enemy isn’t
polite enough to publish their time-line and inform us. So there we were, waiting for a critical
event to mobilize us. Hence the reason
we had hurried up to wait.
That didn’t bother
me. Actually, the entire mission from my
perspective was quite fun. I got to hang
out with my friends. I smoked a cigar
with my buddy the Sergeant Major, and no one got hurt, so I didn’t have to do
anything.
Interesting
thing. I’m the only soldier in this Battalion that
the command would be excited about if I didn’t work a minute the whole year.
It was a comedy of
errors however.
During the waiting
part, we found out that the enemy was having problems of his own.
Funny
thing. In order for our part to go
smoothly, so needed the enemy to as well. When something went wrong for the enemy (I
can’t tell you what) it meant that his plans changed. Which in turn, meant that
we had to adopt a new plan. I
think commanders hate that part…I saw the sweat on the forehead of our
Commander. (Who knows, maybe it was just
hot)
So we
re-calculated, re-evaluated, re-grouped, and moved out.
Fun,
Fun, Fun.
I sat in the back
seat of the XO’s (Executive Officers) HUMVEE and
listened to the show unfold over the radio.
What sucked, was in order to hear the radio, we had to turn off the
air-conditioner. Up-armored military
vehicles can slow cook a whole pig in about four hours. My belly began to smell like bacon.
Rolling through
the tightest part of the city, in single file, one of our Bradley’s decided to
break down. Of course it had to be one of
the first in line as well. 30+ vehicles, and Murphy strikes number two or three. Good aim.
Back up, turn
around, find an alternate route…
Did I mention the
part about precise timing?
Moving again, we
eventually find our destination.
Now we had to look
for our enemy.
I didn’t play a
part in this, so I stood guard at my vehicle.
We had parked in
an abandoned playground. In the poor
moonlight and halogen streetlights, the derelict swing sets, slides, and
carousels had an eerie
appearance. I tried to
take a picture, but the photographic requirements to pull of a worthy shot
would have called for significantly greater equipment. It looked like the scene from a horror
movie. “Something Wicked This Way Comes” was close. I
could just imagine a few headless dolls strewn about, and a cut scene to a
small child being murdered.
The wind started
to blow, and as the swings started moving on their own, the whole image got
that more intense.
Oh yeah, then the
wind started to blow.
And blow
And blow
We were in the
middle of a figgen sand-storm!
Remember the scene
from “Hildago”.
Yup, that’s a sand storm. In a
matter of minutes my visibility went from a few hundred meters to about five
feet. And that was if I could keep my
eyes open. The sand pelted so hard it
stung.
Then we got the
call. No more air-support. The helicopters were grounded. Which also meant that we
couldn’t Medevac by air if we incurred casualties. Murphy, Murphy, Murphy…
He was on a
roll. He sent the enemy home, leaving
only a few useless and scared locals for us to interrogate. He screwed up our time line further, had us
sit around and wait longer, and then delivered us home empty-handed.
All-in-all it was
quite fun. There’s about a pound of sand
in my underwear, a strange rash on the inside of my thighs, a cough, and my
weapon is clogged. My breath smells like
smoke, I haven’t slept in 24 hours, I have a headache, and if I wasn’t a real
soldier before, I am now. Welcome to the
Tusker Doc “Out”