Pending A Two Step Journey

The journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step. When deploying that single step is saying good bye to kids, spouses, and even dogs. For even the hardest among us, the hours leading up to those last few moments are an emotional ride on a generally bumpy road. So with that in mind, I and approximately 100 of my closest friends arrived at the appointed time, in the appointed place, wearing the appointed uniform, with the appointed stuff. This initial gathering was early enough in the day so as to allow maximum lack of sleep the night before as well as ensure we had the required 26 minutes to check in and draw more required gear before spending the next 3 hours taking that first, painful, awkward step. This is not a random occurrence but a carefully calculated huddle designed to ensure that everyone begins their thousand mile journey as asleep deprived, emotional cripple. Final good-byes were said and final kisses bestowed as kids cried and spouses cried and warriors stoically walked to deny crying because I got something in my eye. At last, with a final glance we loaded busses and pulled away, bound for the airport and a quick flight to the bowels of the Middle East.

Once at the airport the fun began in earnest, starting with a lecture from the lecture guy (that's his official title) about how it's ok to take rifles and pistols on board our pending aircraft, but knives, nail clippers, and shivs would be promptly confiscated. Safety third, after all. Finally we were weighed with our gear and ushered into a large, hollow, very echoey hanger like concrete room for a brief wait before boarding our pending plane. Soon thereafter a delicious stake lunch (the term "steak" would be a misnomer) with a side of something resembling extraterrestrial life was provided as we stared at our pending plane blithely staring back at us from the taxiway 300 meters away. A mere 8 hours into our brief wait before boarding our pending plane, we were again loaded into busses to drive the last 300 yards to our pending plane (safety third, after all) followed my more blithe staring.

At long last the moment arrived. Have reported to the family torture chamber at 0700 we were ready to board the pending plane at 1830. Which would have been great. Instead we were informed that an unknown part was broken, or damage, or working fine, and that the crew were mandated a certain amount of rest before they could fly our pending plane anywhere (insert wild cursing and breathless groans here). So instead of boarding our pending plane we went back to the family torture chamber and told to go home until 0300 the next morning. At which time we would cautiously attempt to again board our pending plane, but not until we took a second first step on our thousand mile journey.

At War With Groundhogs

The official count is 37 months. Officially! The real count is probably much less than that. It works like this...when calculating months deployed, the Army counts a day in country as a calendar month deployed. So when they say, officially, that I have been deployed for a grand total of 37 months, they mean that I've been deployed for some portion of 37 different calendar months. The real count is probably much less than that.

What is certain (a better word would be "accurate") is that my last deployment ended 3,209 days ago. That's 8 years, 9 months, and 14 days. So it's probably about time I got back in the game and paid my dues. The problem is that during those 3,209 days this war (if it can still be called that) has turned into Groundhog Day...again. Each day nearly identical to the last. So, today I begin 9 months...real months...calendar months...back in the game. My job will be to coordinate Religious Support throughout our Area of Responsibility (AOR), to ensure American men and women have a hope that someday this war (if it can still be called that) will come to an end and we will get to enjoy the day after Groundhog Day.

Prologue

Providence would dictate that the relaying of events be done in as close a proximity, time wise, as practicable to the actual occurrence of aforementioned events, given the propensity of human memory to delete or insert details as may evince a greater appreciation in the reader of the accuracy of the writing insofar as the writer pens his thoughts with minimal delay...to whit...