I woke up on the morning of Day 3 drier and quite a bit warmer. I draped my sleeping bag on the stabilator of our aircraft and let the wind dry it out. By the time we had breakfasted and gotten ready for our day of missions, it was completely dry. One advantage of living in the desert: if you hang your clothes out to dry it doesn't take that long.
We were set to leapfrog our missions with our platoon's other aircraft just as we did the previous day. I don't recall if we had been officially told at this point, but I do remember having the feeling that a cease fire would be called sometime soon. Reports from our leadership as well as the BBC confirmed the war was progressing quite steadily and Saddam's forces were well on their way to defeat. "Auntie Beeb" seemed to know everything that was going on.
We flew what turned out to be our only mission of the day first thing in the morning. It was rather uneventful for the most part.
During the first hour or so, one of us spotted a bright orange piece of cloth lying on the ground next to what appeared to be a box. When we approached and hovered over the object, we found it was an ejector seat from an plane. There didn't appear to be anyone nearby, so we landed nearby to investigate. My fellow crew member jumped out and confirmed the seat was empty and there was, again, no sign of anyone hiding nearby. So, up we went and we reported the location to our headquarters just in case.
A little while later, something else caught our attention which caused us to land again. Once on the ground, I jumped out to see whatever it was up close. We noticed somewhat quickly that we were in an area surrounded by yellow plastic tape - similar to crime scene tape you might see on one of the "CSI" shows. We never figured out if we were in a mine field, a contaminated area or something else. It didn't really matter, whatever we were in the middle of, we certainly didn't want to be there! I hopped back into my seat and we took off, thankful we weren't blown up.
Towards the end of our flight, we flew near a building out of which poured a half-dozen or so Iraqi soldiers with their hands up looking to surrender. We certainly weren't prepared for that, so we radioed the location back to the headquarters. As the Scrounger said, and I quite agreed, "We don't have enough people to take that many prisoners. Besides, it only takes one idiot to change his mind and start shooting to take us down." Collecting POWs was certainly best left to ground units.
The Squadron's refuel points weren't moving around nearly as quickly as they were the day before. As we wrapped up our flight, we found the one closest to the headquarters and spent the rest of the day listening to the war play out on the radio. We mostly tuned into the BBC World Service, though we did catch some news via Saudi and Kuwaiti Radio stations which Ahmad translated for us.
One of my favorite lines from that day was from one of the BBC news readers. Before the war, Saddam kept promising in his propaganda broadcasts that if coalition forces attacked there would be the "mother of all battles" that would mimic the battle of Armageddon told about in the Bible. As the BBC man talked about the utter defeat and mass surrender of Iraqi forces, he said Saddam "has painted himself into the mother of all corners ... ." I still laugh at that line today.
As the day drew to a close, we set up camp in the middle of nowhere - again. We listened in as President Bush announced the cease fire and spelled out the details of getting the formal Iraqi surrender. Needless to say, we were all quite happy to hear that news. Our joy soon turned to panic, though.
As were making coffee and digging into some of the goodies we had from home, to the east we saw a tremendous flash, which was followed by a fireball floating up into the sky into a mushroom-shaped cloud that resembled a nuclear blast. Of course, none of us had ever seen a nuclear blast up close and for real, but we were convinced that this was one. After a few minutes came the tremendous "BA-BOOM" of the blast along with a concussion wave that staggered me.
I don't remember who yelled, "Let's get the hell out of here, mount up we're leaving," but I think it was the Old Dog. It was like a bunch of kids running around with their hair on fire. We were struggling to put on our protective masks while running in a blind panic towards our aircraft. Jed, one of our augmentees, just before the blast, was relieving himself behind a sand dune. We later learned he had to change his flight suit because in the panic of being mid, well let's say, business, he pulled his clothing back on and ran for his assigned bird. (Not to be out-done, I had my own similar embarrassing moment once a few years previous to this.) Someone in the darkened night after the glow burned out yelled, "Shit! Someone nuked the bastards before we had a chance to leave!"
We got into our assigned aircraft and cranked up in preparation to leave. Later, the Old Dog told us he was trying to tell T-Bird to get into the cockpit because our Lieutenant was nowhere to be found and someone needed to be his co-pilot. In an emergency, a crew chief is better than no one according to the logic he was processing at the time. The Lieutenant wasn't really missing, though. He was at a meeting at the Squadron operations center when the explosion went off and was out of contact as we were prepping to leave in a hurry. Just as we were ready to pull pitch and head out of the area, someone spotted our platoon leader running towards us waving his arms. He put on his flight helmet and plugged into the intercom cable of the first helicopter he came to and told us to stand down. I think it was Digger who passed the word via radio that we didn't need to leave because the blast was "one of ours."
"One of ours?" I thought to myself. Something didn't see right.
Well, everything was right, and the blast was one of ours. It wasn't, however, a nuclear device at all. The explosion resulted from a Fuel-Air bomb being dropped in order to clear out a mine field which had been discovered earlier in the day. The Lieutenant was supposed to get out of his meeting in time to come tell us to expect the blast so we wouldn't panic thinking it was something it wasn't. In typical Army SNAFU fashion, that didn't work out very well since he was delayed getting out of the meeting. Another minute or so and we would have been gone!
Once we shut everything down and climbed out of the aircraft, he told us the whole story and let us know there would be another dropped soon. After we had a chance to calm down, we set up the coffee pot again and made ready for more celebration. The atmosphere became more like that of a Fourth of July evening with everyone sitting around waiting for a fireworks show. Only we were sitting around the Coleman stove waiting for a single explosion.
When the second fuel-air blast came, it was a lot more fun to watch. Still, when the shock wave came I was not expecting the concussion to be as strong as it was. This was another time I was glad to be on the delivering side of this kind of weapon and not on the receiving side.
That night, we learned that some of the Iraqi forces had either not heard about the cease fire or chose to ignore it. We watched from a distance as the Regiment's Second Squadron was in a pitched battle with some Iraqi Republican Guard armored forces. It was quite spectacular to watch the muzzle blasts from a distance as the battle went on for a couple of hours.
We spent the night in the new-found peace in the Middle East. The next day, we'd get to see the resulting destruction of the war first hand.
This is part 15 in a series. Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14 | Part 15 | Part 16 | Part 17 | Part 18 | Part 19
Monday, March 21, 2011
Friday, March 04, 2011
Ground War Day 2 - Another One of Those Days
We woke up on the morning of Day 2 to learn that the war was progressing much faster than had been anticipated. The pre-war predictions indicated the Regiment should have advanced a certain distance into Iraq by the morning of Day 2. In reality, they had gone about twice as far as planned. Not that you ever really can follow a plan in a real war, if you could we would have been a week ahead of schedule.
We turned on the radio to hear reports on the BBC World Service of entire Iraqi units trying to surrender to their reporters. So many Iraqis were surrendering that the biggest problem the Coalition Forces had was keeping up with the influx of prisoners of war. The second biggest problem was extending supply lines to keep up with the rapidly advancing forces - a problem which affected us in a quite personal way.
Our mission became to one of observation and radio relay. Since things were moving so quickly, it was thought an airborne radio-relay would be a good idea. We were also to act as spotters and report any enemy activity in the rear area. The three aircraft in our platoon were going to "leap frog" the missions. Each of the three aircraft would take turns flying a 2-hour mission. At the end of the 2 hours, the next aircraft would take off, the mission would be "passed on" to them and the first aircraft would go to the Squadron area to wait until their next turn.
Ah, but the plans of mice and men ...
We took off from our camp in Saudi Arabia and headed north. If you remember from a previous installment, we weren't allowed to tell Ahmad what was going on until it actually happened. He was a pretty smart guy, though, and I figure he had to know something was up. Still, as we flew over the berm marking the border and crossed into Iraqi airspace, I told Ahmad "officially" that the war had started and we were in the process of liberating his homeland. He was quite excited and mentioned he was happy to be a part of kicking Saddam out of Kuwait.
We spend the next two hours flying around Iraq looking for suspicious activity. Most of what we found were U.S. Army vehicles which had broken down during the advance's first day and night. We didn't see any Iraqis, but we did see a lot of Americans. There were dozens of broken down vehicles ranging from small to large all over the place.
We passed over a 155mm self-propelled Howitzer and the crew burst out of the gun's rear hatch and waved frantically at us. Thinking someone might need medical attention or there might be some other emergency, we landed nearby and I hopped out to assess the situation. It turned out that the gun's engine died and they were merely stuck. Their battery commander left them with 1 round for the main gun, 20 gallons of water, 3 boxes of MREs and enough small-arms ammunition to hold off a wave or two of enemy troops. They hadn't heard anything about what was going on and were merely curious as to how the war was going. When I told them how far I heard we'd advanced they were all quite surprised at our success and equally disappointed to have missed the action. They were also afraid of enemy forces sneaking up on them. I reassured them that most of the Iraqis were surrendering and they had little to fear. This lightened their mood quite a bit. After our exchange, I ran back to the aircraft and we took off again.
We flew around reporting positions of the broken down vehicles we spotted. It really wasn't all that exciting, but we were helping the overall effort so it wasn't totally useless. After about two hours the next aircraft met up with us. I radioed the other crew what we were doing and let them take over. Once that was done, The Scounger pointed the aircraft in the direction of the Squadron's nearest refuel point.
Last Chance For Gas Next 100 MilesWhen we arrived where the fueler was supposed to be, there was no one to be found. To be sure, they had been there. There were telltale signs of garbage and tire tracks all over the area. The pilots radioed the Squadron Headquarters reporting the missing fuel point only to be informed that they had, indeed, moved and were now located elsewhere.
We flew to "elsewhere" and found no one there, either. Again, there were sure signs someone had been there, but they were gone by the time we arrived. Another radio conversation took place, this time with The Scrounger getting a bit impatient as we were quickly running out of fuel. The location was relayed to us, and off we went again.
But, again, there was no one to be found. The war was progressing so rapidly, that the fuelers had to move quickly to be in position to take care of the Squadron's Cobra attack helicopters, which got priority over other aircraft. Since they were miles north of us at the forward edge of the Squadron's area and we were at the very back, we were running way behind them.
Another location was relayed to us and off we went. Meanwhile, we were in contact with our partner aircraft letting them know what was going on. As we approached where the next fuel point was supposed to be, the low fuel signal started beeping. For obvious reasons, this alert is very loud and comes with a very bright flashing light in the cockpit area.
At this point, I was starting to get a little nervous. The loud alarm had the desired effect to get our attention and it wasn't very reassuring that no one seemed to know that the fuelers were moving around so quickly. Someone must have known, but in the chaos of everything in the Squadron's headquarters the word wasn't getting to us quickly enough.
Scrounger called back to us over the intercom. "Guys, we're low on fuel and I don't want to risk trying to make it to the next refuel point. We're going to land here. Elmer, radio the other guys, tell them where we are and ask them to contact HQ to send a fuel truck out to us." As we descended, I did as I was asked. The other crew acknowledged the location and flew over to us to make visual confirmation of our place in the desert.
Just as the wheels hit the ground, the engine above me stopped. I got on the intercom and mentioned to Scrounger, "Hey, that was a good trick shutting off the engine just as we touched the ground." His reply: "I didn't turn it off, it flamed out on its own." I guess we really were that low on fuel.
We climbed out of the aircraft and started to assess our situation:
We turned on the radio to hear reports on the BBC World Service of entire Iraqi units trying to surrender to their reporters. So many Iraqis were surrendering that the biggest problem the Coalition Forces had was keeping up with the influx of prisoners of war. The second biggest problem was extending supply lines to keep up with the rapidly advancing forces - a problem which affected us in a quite personal way.
Our mission became to one of observation and radio relay. Since things were moving so quickly, it was thought an airborne radio-relay would be a good idea. We were also to act as spotters and report any enemy activity in the rear area. The three aircraft in our platoon were going to "leap frog" the missions. Each of the three aircraft would take turns flying a 2-hour mission. At the end of the 2 hours, the next aircraft would take off, the mission would be "passed on" to them and the first aircraft would go to the Squadron area to wait until their next turn.
Ah, but the plans of mice and men ...
We took off from our camp in Saudi Arabia and headed north. If you remember from a previous installment, we weren't allowed to tell Ahmad what was going on until it actually happened. He was a pretty smart guy, though, and I figure he had to know something was up. Still, as we flew over the berm marking the border and crossed into Iraqi airspace, I told Ahmad "officially" that the war had started and we were in the process of liberating his homeland. He was quite excited and mentioned he was happy to be a part of kicking Saddam out of Kuwait.
We spend the next two hours flying around Iraq looking for suspicious activity. Most of what we found were U.S. Army vehicles which had broken down during the advance's first day and night. We didn't see any Iraqis, but we did see a lot of Americans. There were dozens of broken down vehicles ranging from small to large all over the place.
We passed over a 155mm self-propelled Howitzer and the crew burst out of the gun's rear hatch and waved frantically at us. Thinking someone might need medical attention or there might be some other emergency, we landed nearby and I hopped out to assess the situation. It turned out that the gun's engine died and they were merely stuck. Their battery commander left them with 1 round for the main gun, 20 gallons of water, 3 boxes of MREs and enough small-arms ammunition to hold off a wave or two of enemy troops. They hadn't heard anything about what was going on and were merely curious as to how the war was going. When I told them how far I heard we'd advanced they were all quite surprised at our success and equally disappointed to have missed the action. They were also afraid of enemy forces sneaking up on them. I reassured them that most of the Iraqis were surrendering and they had little to fear. This lightened their mood quite a bit. After our exchange, I ran back to the aircraft and we took off again.
We flew around reporting positions of the broken down vehicles we spotted. It really wasn't all that exciting, but we were helping the overall effort so it wasn't totally useless. After about two hours the next aircraft met up with us. I radioed the other crew what we were doing and let them take over. Once that was done, The Scounger pointed the aircraft in the direction of the Squadron's nearest refuel point.
Last Chance For Gas Next 100 MilesWhen we arrived where the fueler was supposed to be, there was no one to be found. To be sure, they had been there. There were telltale signs of garbage and tire tracks all over the area. The pilots radioed the Squadron Headquarters reporting the missing fuel point only to be informed that they had, indeed, moved and were now located elsewhere.
We flew to "elsewhere" and found no one there, either. Again, there were sure signs someone had been there, but they were gone by the time we arrived. Another radio conversation took place, this time with The Scrounger getting a bit impatient as we were quickly running out of fuel. The location was relayed to us, and off we went again.
But, again, there was no one to be found. The war was progressing so rapidly, that the fuelers had to move quickly to be in position to take care of the Squadron's Cobra attack helicopters, which got priority over other aircraft. Since they were miles north of us at the forward edge of the Squadron's area and we were at the very back, we were running way behind them.
Another location was relayed to us and off we went. Meanwhile, we were in contact with our partner aircraft letting them know what was going on. As we approached where the next fuel point was supposed to be, the low fuel signal started beeping. For obvious reasons, this alert is very loud and comes with a very bright flashing light in the cockpit area.
At this point, I was starting to get a little nervous. The loud alarm had the desired effect to get our attention and it wasn't very reassuring that no one seemed to know that the fuelers were moving around so quickly. Someone must have known, but in the chaos of everything in the Squadron's headquarters the word wasn't getting to us quickly enough.
Scrounger called back to us over the intercom. "Guys, we're low on fuel and I don't want to risk trying to make it to the next refuel point. We're going to land here. Elmer, radio the other guys, tell them where we are and ask them to contact HQ to send a fuel truck out to us." As we descended, I did as I was asked. The other crew acknowledged the location and flew over to us to make visual confirmation of our place in the desert.
Just as the wheels hit the ground, the engine above me stopped. I got on the intercom and mentioned to Scrounger, "Hey, that was a good trick shutting off the engine just as we touched the ground." His reply: "I didn't turn it off, it flamed out on its own." I guess we really were that low on fuel.
We climbed out of the aircraft and started to assess our situation:
- We had plenty of food and water to last us at least one day.
- We had weapons and ammunition to defend ourselves if necessary. Though with the dearth of Iraqi soldiers around and the fact that most were giving up, we weren't too concerned about that.
- Someone knew where we were and they would relay our position to the headquarters.
- But, we didn't know how long it would take for someone to rescue us.
So we waited. I remember in the distance on a short rise we saw a large, black bird. Even Ahmad didn't recognize what kind it was. I guessed it might be a vulture and thought it rather ironic that we were stuck in the desert with an operational multi-million-dollar aircraft which only needed gas and we were in a scene like one in an old western movie.
We decided to eat lunch, each of us looking out in a different direction watching for anyone approaching. After a time, an OH-58 helicopter from our squadron landed nearby. Scounger went over to talk to them. He had a hard time convincing them that we'd merely run out of gas and only needed fuel. Once they were convinced of this, they took off with the promise they would relay our position to the headquarters. That was good - now two groups of people knew where we were.
Sugar Ray is Born
I made a joke about the bird and how we were in the odd position to be stuck in the middle of Iraq because we ran out of gas. When I said this, Ahmad looked over at me and his mouth dropped wide open.
I made a joke about the bird and how we were in the odd position to be stuck in the middle of Iraq because we ran out of gas. When I said this, Ahmad looked over at me and his mouth dropped wide open.
"You mean, we're in Iraq? I thought we were in Saudi Arabia."
"No," I replied, "Don't you remember, I told you when we flew over the berm at the border that we were going into Iraq to liberate your homeland?"
"Yes, I do. But I thought we were going to fly to Iraq, do our mission, then return to Saudi Arabia. I didn't know we were going to stay in Iraq. This is very, very bad."
He started pacing back and forth along the tail boom of the aircraft, muttering to himself in Arabic.
"Ahmad, Dude, you have nothing to worry about. People know where we are and help will come soon."
"I'm not worried about being stuck in the desert. My father and I used to camp in the desert all the time. No, I am worried about being captured by Iraqis."
"But there probably isn't an Iraqi soldier around for miles. You saw all the broken down American vehicles. The Iraqis have either run away or have surrendered. I don't think you need to worry about that."
"You don't understand! You are Americans, they will let you live. But I am Kuwaiti, they will kill me!"
He paced back and forth a bit more. I could see from the look on his face he was very concerned. My words were not reassuring to him at all. I was pondering how best to help him when he stopped suddenly and pointed his finger in the air as an idea came to him.
"I have a great idea. If we are captured, you will tell them I am 'Sugar Ray' Ahmad from Bronx, New York. Then, they will let me live."
I tried not to laugh, because I could see he had been genuinely concerned, but "Sugar Ray" was pretty funny. Although I felt that, given the situation, capture was probably the remotest possibility, creating the persona of the guy from the Bronx brought him a bit of comfort.
My main concern was getting stuck out there for days and running out of food and water.
To put his plan into action, Ahmad took the plain, green "hook and pile" patch off the front of his flight suit and wrote on it "Sugar Ray Ahmad, U.S. Army, Bronx, New York." He even drew some wings to make it look "official." He visibly relaxed after he showed us his handy work.
My main concern was getting stuck out there for days and running out of food and water.
To put his plan into action, Ahmad took the plain, green "hook and pile" patch off the front of his flight suit and wrote on it "Sugar Ray Ahmad, U.S. Army, Bronx, New York." He even drew some wings to make it look "official." He visibly relaxed after he showed us his handy work.
Just as I was considering starting to dig defensive positions, just in case, a fuel truck came lumbering over the rise where we'd seen the large bird. Our rescue was at hand.
As the fueler crew filled our tanks, they made sure to let us know we were the morale booster for the day. Apparently it was quite humorous to everyone else that we'd run out of gas. We didn't find it nearly as funny considering it was more their fault than ours for not keeping track of where the fuelers were. At any rate, we were glad to be rescued.
Once we got the aircraft fueled up we flew to the location the Squadron command picked to bed down for the night. We weren't allowed to fly after dark, so our day was done.
And The Hits Just Keep On Comin'
It looked cloudy and threatened rain, so Spiff and I set up a nice lean-to type shelter over our cots. On the one hand, it was good we did because it did rain very hard during the night. Unfortunately, my foot was touching the bottom part of my shelter and the water soaked through and was absorbed by my sleeping bag. By the time I noticed, the sleeping bag was wringing wet up to my chest.
I was freezing. It wasn't all that cold outside, perhaps in the mid 40s. But the water pulled the heat from my body to the point where I had hypothermia. How ironic was this? A few weeks ago I was flat on my back with heat exhaustion and IVs poked in my arm and now I was suffering from hypothermia. I climbed into the helicopter and sat in my crew seat with my head leaning on the radio rack. I shivered uncontrollably for at least two hours. My crew mate, TD, loaned me his nylon blanket (a nice, soft, quilted thing issued to each of us before we left El Paso which we dubbed the "Woobie" after the kid's blanket in the movie "Mr. Mom").
That was a night to remember - and possibly to forget.
Next ... Day 3, the final day of the ground war.
This is part 14 in a series. Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14 | Part 15 | Part 16 | Part 17 | Part 18 | Part 19
Once we got the aircraft fueled up we flew to the location the Squadron command picked to bed down for the night. We weren't allowed to fly after dark, so our day was done.
And The Hits Just Keep On Comin'
It looked cloudy and threatened rain, so Spiff and I set up a nice lean-to type shelter over our cots. On the one hand, it was good we did because it did rain very hard during the night. Unfortunately, my foot was touching the bottom part of my shelter and the water soaked through and was absorbed by my sleeping bag. By the time I noticed, the sleeping bag was wringing wet up to my chest.
I was freezing. It wasn't all that cold outside, perhaps in the mid 40s. But the water pulled the heat from my body to the point where I had hypothermia. How ironic was this? A few weeks ago I was flat on my back with heat exhaustion and IVs poked in my arm and now I was suffering from hypothermia. I climbed into the helicopter and sat in my crew seat with my head leaning on the radio rack. I shivered uncontrollably for at least two hours. My crew mate, TD, loaned me his nylon blanket (a nice, soft, quilted thing issued to each of us before we left El Paso which we dubbed the "Woobie" after the kid's blanket in the movie "Mr. Mom").
That was a night to remember - and possibly to forget.
Next ... Day 3, the final day of the ground war.
This is part 14 in a series. Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14 | Part 15 | Part 16 | Part 17 | Part 18 | Part 19
Tuesday, February 22, 2011
Ground War Day 1
As the time drew close for the start of the Ground War portion of Desert Storm we started to get some details about our part in the whole operation. Ahmad, our Kuwaiti augmentee, was assigned to my team at this point. As we started to get briefings on the expected happenings we were told we weren't allowed to tell Ahmad anything. I felt bad not telling him what was going on because I thought he might be more helpful if he was clued in. However, I did understand that from an operations security viewpoint that he was a foreigner about whom we knew very little.
Ahmad was great for giving us background information about the countries in the area. As we dialed around the radio dial he was able to tell us what languages we were listening to as well as what their country of origin was. For instance, the Persian Language programming by the BBC sounded very different to him than the Persian Language broadcast originating in Iran.
We weren't supposed to sleep on the ground and each one of us was assigned a cot to lie on. The regimental leadership had this as a policy dating back to when I had been a part of the 3rd ACR in the mid-80s. Ahmad preferred to sleep on a blanket rolled out on the sand. When we offered him a cot, he was almost insulted. "I used to sleep in the desert with my father like this as a child. I do not need a cot." He thought it silly.
As I mentioned in a previous installment, we were at the far western part of the operational area. General Schwartzkopf came up with what I describe as a variation of the Von Schlieffen Plan in order to drive the Iraqi forces out of Kuwait. The idea was to drive an attack into Kuwait to overwhelm the Iraqi forces there while other coalition forces ran around from the west in order to cut them off from retreating back into Baghdad. Our part of this was to be part of the force to surround the retreating forces.
This plan was almost messed up. We understood that the Iraqis weren't supposed to know we were there. Colonel Starr, the 63rd Colonel (Commanders of the 3rd ACR are numbered in order of their command) engaged some Iraqi forces who had attacked a Saudi Army unit over the berm the Iraqis had piled up on the border. The Saudis called for help while the 63rd was out on a patrol with an armored platoon from I Troop, 3rd Squadron. According to the rumors we heard, General Schwartzkopf flew to the Regimental Headquarters to personally chew out the Colonel for possibly giving away our positions so far west. I don't know if that's true, but it was an interesting rumor.
Squadron Muster
Just before the ground was was to start, we had a Squadron Muster so the 63rd Colonel could come and give us a pep talk. Personally, I was just looking forward to getting the thing started. I wasn't so much looking forward to going into battle as I was to just getting started so we could get it over with. After sitting around for six months, I doubt I was the only one who felt that way.
Back at Fort Bliss, when we had a Squadron Muster, it was usually held at one of the theaters on post. We would sit and wait for the Squadron or Regimental Commander to arrive and he would give us a talk about one thing or another. When I was in the 66th MI Company, which was assigned to 3rd Squadron, the musters were usually somewhat interesting. In those days, in the mid-80s, it was rare to have women assigned to a combat unit. Because of that, the 66th MI was the only unit in 3rd Squadron to have women assigned to it. When the Squadron Commander would come into the theater, everyone would stand at attention until he reached the stage. He would always yell out, "Gentlemen," and then continue a little more quietly, "and ladies of the 66th Military Intelligence Company," and then yell again, "take your seats!" I always found that to be quite humorous.
This particular muster was a bit less formal. The 63rd stood in a big clearing in the middle of the Squadron's encampment, and we all gathered around. He delivered his speech:
Now, I may not have remembered the whole thing exactly word for word - except for that last line. I will never forget that part.
Anticlimax
And so the ground war began. Well, at least for the rest of the units. On the day everything kicked off we were stuck all day in a sand storm. We were grounded and left once again listening to the war on the radio.
It was heartening to listen to the stories of Iraqi soldiers lining up to surrender to anyone who wasn't on their site. One BBC crew was credited with capturing over 100 prisoners of war. We were quite happy things were going well. Night came and the sand storm abated. We knew the next day we would be in the thick of things.
This is part 13 in a series. Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14 | Part 15 | Part 16 | Part 17 | Part 18 | Part 19
Ahmad was great for giving us background information about the countries in the area. As we dialed around the radio dial he was able to tell us what languages we were listening to as well as what their country of origin was. For instance, the Persian Language programming by the BBC sounded very different to him than the Persian Language broadcast originating in Iran.
We weren't supposed to sleep on the ground and each one of us was assigned a cot to lie on. The regimental leadership had this as a policy dating back to when I had been a part of the 3rd ACR in the mid-80s. Ahmad preferred to sleep on a blanket rolled out on the sand. When we offered him a cot, he was almost insulted. "I used to sleep in the desert with my father like this as a child. I do not need a cot." He thought it silly.
As I mentioned in a previous installment, we were at the far western part of the operational area. General Schwartzkopf came up with what I describe as a variation of the Von Schlieffen Plan in order to drive the Iraqi forces out of Kuwait. The idea was to drive an attack into Kuwait to overwhelm the Iraqi forces there while other coalition forces ran around from the west in order to cut them off from retreating back into Baghdad. Our part of this was to be part of the force to surround the retreating forces.
This plan was almost messed up. We understood that the Iraqis weren't supposed to know we were there. Colonel Starr, the 63rd Colonel (Commanders of the 3rd ACR are numbered in order of their command) engaged some Iraqi forces who had attacked a Saudi Army unit over the berm the Iraqis had piled up on the border. The Saudis called for help while the 63rd was out on a patrol with an armored platoon from I Troop, 3rd Squadron. According to the rumors we heard, General Schwartzkopf flew to the Regimental Headquarters to personally chew out the Colonel for possibly giving away our positions so far west. I don't know if that's true, but it was an interesting rumor.
Squadron Muster
Just before the ground was was to start, we had a Squadron Muster so the 63rd Colonel could come and give us a pep talk. Personally, I was just looking forward to getting the thing started. I wasn't so much looking forward to going into battle as I was to just getting started so we could get it over with. After sitting around for six months, I doubt I was the only one who felt that way.
Back at Fort Bliss, when we had a Squadron Muster, it was usually held at one of the theaters on post. We would sit and wait for the Squadron or Regimental Commander to arrive and he would give us a talk about one thing or another. When I was in the 66th MI Company, which was assigned to 3rd Squadron, the musters were usually somewhat interesting. In those days, in the mid-80s, it was rare to have women assigned to a combat unit. Because of that, the 66th MI was the only unit in 3rd Squadron to have women assigned to it. When the Squadron Commander would come into the theater, everyone would stand at attention until he reached the stage. He would always yell out, "Gentlemen," and then continue a little more quietly, "and ladies of the 66th Military Intelligence Company," and then yell again, "take your seats!" I always found that to be quite humorous.
This particular muster was a bit less formal. The 63rd stood in a big clearing in the middle of the Squadron's encampment, and we all gathered around. He delivered his speech:
Gentlemen, we are about to engage an enemy who has invaded a peaceful neighbor. We are going to oust him from that land according to the directives of the United Nations and the orders from our Commander and Chief.
I cannot tell you how this battle will go. I am sure that some of us will not be here when it's all over. However, keep this in mind: We have the best equipped and best trained army in the entire world. Our tanks can see and shoot at their tanks before they can even see us. So this is my battle plan, and it's simple:
We are going to get close enough and poke holes in their shit before they can get close enough to poke holes in our shit.And, after we all shouted the Regimental Accolade, he left.
Now, I may not have remembered the whole thing exactly word for word - except for that last line. I will never forget that part.
Anticlimax
And so the ground war began. Well, at least for the rest of the units. On the day everything kicked off we were stuck all day in a sand storm. We were grounded and left once again listening to the war on the radio.
It was heartening to listen to the stories of Iraqi soldiers lining up to surrender to anyone who wasn't on their site. One BBC crew was credited with capturing over 100 prisoners of war. We were quite happy things were going well. Night came and the sand storm abated. We knew the next day we would be in the thick of things.
This is part 13 in a series. Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14 | Part 15 | Part 16 | Part 17 | Part 18 | Part 19
Thursday, February 17, 2011
Leaning Forward In The Saddle
When we moved north, near the border, our camp was pretty much prepared for us. Before we arrived, engineers plowed up the soil and made some three-sided bunkers where we could park our aircraft. Each of the three walls was about 7 or 8 feet high. I recall seeing just the rotors poking out over the tops.
Since we knew we wouldn't be staying there very long, we didn't set up as sophisticated a camp as we did down south. We did set up our large tents (GP Large for those who know the Army lingo) and squeezed over twelve people in each of them. That wasn't terribly crowded, but certainly not as spacious as the setup we had before with some folks sleeping in hootches instead of the tents.
The (In)famous Saudi Flood
While we were there in the Middle East it rained a lot. I don't know if this was a verified fact, but we were told more rain fell during those months than in the previous several years combined. When it rained hard enough, areas which consisted of lose, powdery sand turned into quagmires something like quicksand. That muck hardened into a concrete-like state when the sun came out again and baked it dry. Vehicles stuck in that mess required extrication with heavy equipment.
The rain got us one fateful night.
Little did we realize, at this new camp we had put up one of our tents in a dry stream bed. Unfortunately, this happened to be the tent I was sleeping in. Something we should have known being stationed in the desert near El Paso and most of us having experience in the Mojave Desert near Barstow, California is what a dry steam bed looked like. Somehow we missed this one. We also didn't notice that the great bunkers set up by the engineers to protect our aircraft also acted as earthen dams blocking the dry steam bed in which we had set up our tent.
One night it started raining like crazy. Sometime around Midnight a flash flood hit our camp, and specifically our tent. We were asleep and didn't realize the water was rising, and pooling, until someone, probably whoever was on guard duty, came and woke us up.
While we in the one tent were rushing around in the dark trying to figure out what to do, the guys in the other tent were having a party. I distinctly remember hearing "Break On Through" by The Doors playing loudly on a boom box. At one point I stuck my head through the flaps of their tent and saw Flickster spraying glow stick juice all over the inside of the tent. He cut the top off the plastic stick, which allowed the glowing liquid to shoot out the end and stick to the inside of the tent. It looked like a psychedelic concert going on in there with glowing yellow, blue and red liquid lighting up the canvas ceiling.
After a while of us panicking at the rising water, Sergeant T figured out the problem of the sand bunker blocking the stream bed. We grabbed out our entrenching tools and shovels and broke out a hole in the berm to let the water out. Once that was accomplished, the water level quickly fell and all was well. All except for Sergeant T, that is; he lost some of his stuff which was washed away in the flood.
The Night Sky
Doing guard duty at night out there in the middle of the desert offered some of the best views of the sky I've ever seen. You can't imagine the number of stars you can see when there is no ambient light pollution from city lights. It made me wonder how our ancient ancestors were able to pick out constellations. It's easy to pick out Orion, Cassiopeia or the bears in a city, but the stars which make up those formations were almost lost in the endless myriad of stars visible out in the Saudi desert.
Another thing which really struck me was the brightness of the moon. During a full moon, not only did it cast a very visible shadow you could just about read by its light. The desert has a beauty all its own, and that particular desert has a unique beauty at night.
Carpet Bombing
Something else you could see quite well at night were the fighters and bombers headed over to Iraq on their missions.
The in-flight refuel aircraft were seen as bright, flashing lights flying back and forth to the south. Other flashing lights would come join them for a time. Then they would drop away and fly in our direction. When they were just about over our camp, the flashing lights would turn off and only the sound of the jet engines would indicate they were still there.
One night, I was lying in bed listening to the B-52s flying over the camp. As I lie there reflecting on things, I remember feeling the ground shake accompanied by a low rumbling sound. I lived in California for a time, so when I describe the sensation as a small tremor, folks who have experienced that will understand what I mean. Of course, the rumbling was not from natural means; it was the result of tons of explosives being dropped on some unsuspecting Iraqi soldiers.
I remember pausing in my thoughts. Part of me really felt sorry for those guys getting pummeled. Many of those people weren't really trained soldiers, but were regular guys grabbed off the streets, handed a rifle and stuck out in the desert somewhere. At least someone with proper military training might know what to do in an air raid to increase their chance of survival. On the other hand, perhaps a bit selfishly, I was VERY grateful to be on the side delivering those bombs instead of the receiving side.
Not Again?
Another one of "those flights" happened during this time. It wasn't a border trace mission like I described in an earlier installment. I don't remember why, but we were just flying around the desert.
All of a sudden we found ourselves enveloped by a sand storm. It seemed to come out of nowhere and we were flying just about completely blind. After about fifteen minutes, The Scrounger decided to slowly descend so we could land and wait for the storm to blow over. When we got on the ground we found ourselves on a road. So, thinking it safer to troll along the ground rather than try to fly blind, we headed down the road. We weren't going too fast, but we were at least making some progress.
Sandstorms like those in the Middle East desert are something like fog. When you're in a fog bank you go through parts which are thicker than others. There are parts where visibility is better than others. It's the same in a sandstorm, there are places where visibility is better than others.
We moved into one of those areas. It cleared up enough for us to see, coming from the opposite direction along the road, a convoy of four or five Hummers. I could see looking out the front window as we did one of those high-performance takeoffs, this was a Stinger team. As we pulled up we pitched nose down just enough and long enough that I could see the faces of the two guys in the front seat of the lead vehicle. Their eyes were as big as saucers and their jaws were hanging down in their laps. That must have been quite a site to see a helicopter looming in the fog/sand and just missing them. Ironic, too, because they were an anti-aircraft team.
The ground war was looming. We'll hit that next time.
This is part 12 in a series. Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14 | Part 15 | Part 16 | Part 17 | Part 18 | Part 19
Since we knew we wouldn't be staying there very long, we didn't set up as sophisticated a camp as we did down south. We did set up our large tents (GP Large for those who know the Army lingo) and squeezed over twelve people in each of them. That wasn't terribly crowded, but certainly not as spacious as the setup we had before with some folks sleeping in hootches instead of the tents.
The (In)famous Saudi Flood
While we were there in the Middle East it rained a lot. I don't know if this was a verified fact, but we were told more rain fell during those months than in the previous several years combined. When it rained hard enough, areas which consisted of lose, powdery sand turned into quagmires something like quicksand. That muck hardened into a concrete-like state when the sun came out again and baked it dry. Vehicles stuck in that mess required extrication with heavy equipment.
The rain got us one fateful night.
Little did we realize, at this new camp we had put up one of our tents in a dry stream bed. Unfortunately, this happened to be the tent I was sleeping in. Something we should have known being stationed in the desert near El Paso and most of us having experience in the Mojave Desert near Barstow, California is what a dry steam bed looked like. Somehow we missed this one. We also didn't notice that the great bunkers set up by the engineers to protect our aircraft also acted as earthen dams blocking the dry steam bed in which we had set up our tent.
One night it started raining like crazy. Sometime around Midnight a flash flood hit our camp, and specifically our tent. We were asleep and didn't realize the water was rising, and pooling, until someone, probably whoever was on guard duty, came and woke us up.
While we in the one tent were rushing around in the dark trying to figure out what to do, the guys in the other tent were having a party. I distinctly remember hearing "Break On Through" by The Doors playing loudly on a boom box. At one point I stuck my head through the flaps of their tent and saw Flickster spraying glow stick juice all over the inside of the tent. He cut the top off the plastic stick, which allowed the glowing liquid to shoot out the end and stick to the inside of the tent. It looked like a psychedelic concert going on in there with glowing yellow, blue and red liquid lighting up the canvas ceiling.
After a while of us panicking at the rising water, Sergeant T figured out the problem of the sand bunker blocking the stream bed. We grabbed out our entrenching tools and shovels and broke out a hole in the berm to let the water out. Once that was accomplished, the water level quickly fell and all was well. All except for Sergeant T, that is; he lost some of his stuff which was washed away in the flood.
The Night Sky
Doing guard duty at night out there in the middle of the desert offered some of the best views of the sky I've ever seen. You can't imagine the number of stars you can see when there is no ambient light pollution from city lights. It made me wonder how our ancient ancestors were able to pick out constellations. It's easy to pick out Orion, Cassiopeia or the bears in a city, but the stars which make up those formations were almost lost in the endless myriad of stars visible out in the Saudi desert.
Another thing which really struck me was the brightness of the moon. During a full moon, not only did it cast a very visible shadow you could just about read by its light. The desert has a beauty all its own, and that particular desert has a unique beauty at night.
Carpet Bombing
Something else you could see quite well at night were the fighters and bombers headed over to Iraq on their missions.
The in-flight refuel aircraft were seen as bright, flashing lights flying back and forth to the south. Other flashing lights would come join them for a time. Then they would drop away and fly in our direction. When they were just about over our camp, the flashing lights would turn off and only the sound of the jet engines would indicate they were still there.
One night, I was lying in bed listening to the B-52s flying over the camp. As I lie there reflecting on things, I remember feeling the ground shake accompanied by a low rumbling sound. I lived in California for a time, so when I describe the sensation as a small tremor, folks who have experienced that will understand what I mean. Of course, the rumbling was not from natural means; it was the result of tons of explosives being dropped on some unsuspecting Iraqi soldiers.
I remember pausing in my thoughts. Part of me really felt sorry for those guys getting pummeled. Many of those people weren't really trained soldiers, but were regular guys grabbed off the streets, handed a rifle and stuck out in the desert somewhere. At least someone with proper military training might know what to do in an air raid to increase their chance of survival. On the other hand, perhaps a bit selfishly, I was VERY grateful to be on the side delivering those bombs instead of the receiving side.
Not Again?
Another one of "those flights" happened during this time. It wasn't a border trace mission like I described in an earlier installment. I don't remember why, but we were just flying around the desert.
All of a sudden we found ourselves enveloped by a sand storm. It seemed to come out of nowhere and we were flying just about completely blind. After about fifteen minutes, The Scrounger decided to slowly descend so we could land and wait for the storm to blow over. When we got on the ground we found ourselves on a road. So, thinking it safer to troll along the ground rather than try to fly blind, we headed down the road. We weren't going too fast, but we were at least making some progress.
Sandstorms like those in the Middle East desert are something like fog. When you're in a fog bank you go through parts which are thicker than others. There are parts where visibility is better than others. It's the same in a sandstorm, there are places where visibility is better than others.
We moved into one of those areas. It cleared up enough for us to see, coming from the opposite direction along the road, a convoy of four or five Hummers. I could see looking out the front window as we did one of those high-performance takeoffs, this was a Stinger team. As we pulled up we pitched nose down just enough and long enough that I could see the faces of the two guys in the front seat of the lead vehicle. Their eyes were as big as saucers and their jaws were hanging down in their laps. That must have been quite a site to see a helicopter looming in the fog/sand and just missing them. Ironic, too, because they were an anti-aircraft team.
The ground war was looming. We'll hit that next time.
This is part 12 in a series. Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14 | Part 15 | Part 16 | Part 17 | Part 18 | Part 19
Sunday, February 13, 2011
Gearing Up For the Ground War
The Air War Begins
On the morning the "Air War" phase of Desert Storm started, we were sitting in our tent listening to the audio feed from one of the major networks on Armed Forces Radio. We were all a bit frustrated listening to the announcer describe what was happening on the screen. It was something like, "... now watch the camera on the bomb as it leaves the plane and flies down. Look at the precision as it goes through the window and then explodes." Of course, we couldn't see it. I remember watching similar scenes years later and thinking to myself, "Oh, that's what we missed that morning."
Burning Down The Town
When we received the warning that we would be moving up to the Saudi/Iraqi border, we started to dismantle the town we built. We tore down the "hootches," the goody locker, the shower, the laundry, everything that could be burned was put into the large pit where our ill-fated bunker project had started.
Oh, I forgot about the bunker ...
The Bunker
At some point after we arrived, we were tasked to build fighting positions or bunker space where we could hide in case of an air raid or ground attack. Digging in the soft sand where we were situation was easier said than done. For every shovel full of sand you threw out of a hole, another would fall back in. We filled as many sandbags as we could get hold of and tried various methods of shoring up the walls while we dug. It was no use.
To make matters worse, a certain captain ("Lenoch" we called him) loved to drive around the encampment and look for troopers wearing "dew rags." Basically, anything wrapped around the head to keep the sweat out of your eyes was forbidden. It didn't help morale that we were working on a seemingly endless and doomed task, but to add the ban on "sweat in the eye protection" was too much.
To solve the problem, Scounger and a couple other of the more handy of us got together and drew up plans for a bunker.
He arranged for some engineers to come and excavate a large hole for us. Bulldozers and backhoes made the work easy and we had a hold about 100 feet long by 50 feet wide and about 10 feet deep in a matter of a couple hours.
Once the hole was done, we started building the bunker. Basically, it was a three-room building, much like a storage shed one might build in their back yard. There was room for twenty people to be inside without it being too cramped. There were 2 doorways and slots up towards where the walls met the roof so we could shoot out if needed. It was quite a nice little building. It took a week or so to get it all done. The plan was to "shingle" the roof with sandbags to protect the top from blast and shrapnel.
Once it was done, Scrounger called his engineer friends to come and backfill the hole so the bunker would be mostly underground. The bulldozer came and started pushing sand back into the hole. Everything was working just fine until at one point the the entire structure twisted and collapsed under the weight of the sand pushing on the walls. The building was very sturdy as far as free-standing structures went. Unfortunately, it was not designed to withstand the weight of tons of sand pushing in on two or three sides.
In our "After Action Review" of the collapse, we all agreed it was a good thing no one was standing inside the bunker when the backfilling was being done. We also agree that, perhaps, if we'd had the engineer push smaller amounts of sand at a time and made three or four trips around the hole as it was filled in, the structure might have stood up. Too much weight on one side or another was too much.
Back To The Burning
As we dismantled the "town" we threw everything we couldn't carry into the pit. That included (unfortunately) a lot of stuff people from home sent us as well as a lot of other stuff. I remember commenting that we should have at least left the lumber for the Bedouins in the area as they might have found it handy to use. No, I was told it all had to either go with us or be destroyed.
We packed up our stuff, loaded it up into trucks, made sure everyone had a ride (or a seat in an aircraft) and headed to the border.
We temporarily added an extra person to our group during this time. The guy who handled the squadron's mail was also a Blackhawk crew chief. He technically worked for the headquarters, directly for Lenoch. This knucklehead didn't have enough room for all his people. When the mail guy headed up to the headquarters to catch a ride north, he was told to hitch a ride because they didn't have room for him. As an NCO this incensed me. #1 Rule: Take care of your soldiers! We had room so we grabbed him up. It took a week or two before anyone in his group noticed he was missing. Terrible.
Moving North
Here's a nice map from Wikipedia showing the locations of the units before and after the ground war:
I'm not sure if this is completely accurate. As I understood we were the last U.S. unit to the west with only the French contingent being further west.
And there we sat for another month or so. We weren't totally idle, but we really weren't in any action either ... yet.
This is part 11 in a series. Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14 | Part 15 | Part 16 | Part 17 | Part 18 | Part 19
On the morning the "Air War" phase of Desert Storm started, we were sitting in our tent listening to the audio feed from one of the major networks on Armed Forces Radio. We were all a bit frustrated listening to the announcer describe what was happening on the screen. It was something like, "... now watch the camera on the bomb as it leaves the plane and flies down. Look at the precision as it goes through the window and then explodes." Of course, we couldn't see it. I remember watching similar scenes years later and thinking to myself, "Oh, that's what we missed that morning."
Burning Down The Town
When we received the warning that we would be moving up to the Saudi/Iraqi border, we started to dismantle the town we built. We tore down the "hootches," the goody locker, the shower, the laundry, everything that could be burned was put into the large pit where our ill-fated bunker project had started.
Oh, I forgot about the bunker ...
The Bunker
At some point after we arrived, we were tasked to build fighting positions or bunker space where we could hide in case of an air raid or ground attack. Digging in the soft sand where we were situation was easier said than done. For every shovel full of sand you threw out of a hole, another would fall back in. We filled as many sandbags as we could get hold of and tried various methods of shoring up the walls while we dug. It was no use.
To make matters worse, a certain captain ("Lenoch" we called him) loved to drive around the encampment and look for troopers wearing "dew rags." Basically, anything wrapped around the head to keep the sweat out of your eyes was forbidden. It didn't help morale that we were working on a seemingly endless and doomed task, but to add the ban on "sweat in the eye protection" was too much.
To solve the problem, Scounger and a couple other of the more handy of us got together and drew up plans for a bunker.
He arranged for some engineers to come and excavate a large hole for us. Bulldozers and backhoes made the work easy and we had a hold about 100 feet long by 50 feet wide and about 10 feet deep in a matter of a couple hours.
Once the hole was done, we started building the bunker. Basically, it was a three-room building, much like a storage shed one might build in their back yard. There was room for twenty people to be inside without it being too cramped. There were 2 doorways and slots up towards where the walls met the roof so we could shoot out if needed. It was quite a nice little building. It took a week or so to get it all done. The plan was to "shingle" the roof with sandbags to protect the top from blast and shrapnel.
Once it was done, Scrounger called his engineer friends to come and backfill the hole so the bunker would be mostly underground. The bulldozer came and started pushing sand back into the hole. Everything was working just fine until at one point the the entire structure twisted and collapsed under the weight of the sand pushing on the walls. The building was very sturdy as far as free-standing structures went. Unfortunately, it was not designed to withstand the weight of tons of sand pushing in on two or three sides.
In our "After Action Review" of the collapse, we all agreed it was a good thing no one was standing inside the bunker when the backfilling was being done. We also agree that, perhaps, if we'd had the engineer push smaller amounts of sand at a time and made three or four trips around the hole as it was filled in, the structure might have stood up. Too much weight on one side or another was too much.
Back To The Burning
As we dismantled the "town" we threw everything we couldn't carry into the pit. That included (unfortunately) a lot of stuff people from home sent us as well as a lot of other stuff. I remember commenting that we should have at least left the lumber for the Bedouins in the area as they might have found it handy to use. No, I was told it all had to either go with us or be destroyed.
We packed up our stuff, loaded it up into trucks, made sure everyone had a ride (or a seat in an aircraft) and headed to the border.
We temporarily added an extra person to our group during this time. The guy who handled the squadron's mail was also a Blackhawk crew chief. He technically worked for the headquarters, directly for Lenoch. This knucklehead didn't have enough room for all his people. When the mail guy headed up to the headquarters to catch a ride north, he was told to hitch a ride because they didn't have room for him. As an NCO this incensed me. #1 Rule: Take care of your soldiers! We had room so we grabbed him up. It took a week or two before anyone in his group noticed he was missing. Terrible.
Moving North
Here's a nice map from Wikipedia showing the locations of the units before and after the ground war:
I'm not sure if this is completely accurate. As I understood we were the last U.S. unit to the west with only the French contingent being further west.
And there we sat for another month or so. We weren't totally idle, but we really weren't in any action either ... yet.
This is part 11 in a series. Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14 | Part 15 | Part 16 | Part 17 | Part 18 | Part 19
Monday, February 07, 2011
The Scary Orientation Flight
Just before the start of Desert Storm itself, three additional team members were assigned to our platoon. One of the new guys was a Kuwaiti (I'll call him Ahmad) who was going to school at a university in The States when the Iraqi Army invaded his country. The other two were Arabic linguists from Fort Stewart, Georgia.
One of the two from Fort Stewart was called "Jed" because he was the oldest guy in his unit and "Jed" was similar to the Arabic word for "grandpa." He carried around a hollow body Gibson guitar, which he played rather well if memory serves. The other I'll call "Slim." he was a nice enough guy, but seemed a little skittish when he first came around.
One of the first things the three needed to do was take an orientation flight in the aircraft. First we gave them some instruction on the workings of the aircraft itself, then the equipment, safety procedures, routine flight procedures and other appropriate information. Once they were issued the flight equipment, we took them up for a ride.
The one my team was assigned to take up was Slim. We took him out to the flight line and showed him all the pre-flight procedures. We pulled a fuel sample (which was saved to burn in our Coleman stove), checked over the mission equipment inside the aircraft and helped the pilots check over the outside of the bird.
As we walked around the helicopter checking this and that, Slim kept mentioned a couple times that he was nervous about flying. I tried to reassure him that there wasn't anything to be nervous about and that he'd enjoy the experience. As I was showing him how to properly put on his survival vest, he flat out told me, "Sergeant, I'm really afraid of flying." I was looking away when he said this, and as I turned to try to again reassure him, I saw The Scrounger standing behind him with a big smile on his face. The only thing I could stammer out at that point was, "You really shouldn't have said that." I don't remember what Scrounger said, but I think it was something like, "Oh, don't worry, you'll love what we have in store for you."
After we ran up the aircraft and went through the check list, the first thing we did is what's called a "High Performance Takeoff." To to this, the pilot pulls the pitch lever and the aircraft goes straight up. It's not an acrobatic maneuver, but you're nervous about flying, it might take you aback. After we gained some altitude, we did some tail spins. Again, this isn't much of an acrobatic (or aerobatic) thing, but you're not used to it, the maneuver can be a little nerve wracking. After the tail spins, we did flying around, turning here and there and going up and down. I could hear Slim moan every once in a while and ask over the intercom, "Are we done yet?"
I could tell this wasn't going well. At best Slim was getting so scared he'd never want to fly again. At worst, I figured he might hurl, which would cause others to do likewise and make a huge mess. Neither scenario was good.
After a few more minutes of scaring Slim to death, The Scrounger came over the intercom. He said something like, "I know you're nervous about flying, but you really shouldn't be. All of the maneuvers we've done so far have been strictly by the book. Now, I want you to unbuckle your harness and come up here to the front and let us walk you though some of the controls and shown you what we're doing."
"Ah, good," I thought, "The Scrounger is showing he has a heart and is going to help calm Slim down."
One of the two from Fort Stewart was called "Jed" because he was the oldest guy in his unit and "Jed" was similar to the Arabic word for "grandpa." He carried around a hollow body Gibson guitar, which he played rather well if memory serves. The other I'll call "Slim." he was a nice enough guy, but seemed a little skittish when he first came around.
One of the first things the three needed to do was take an orientation flight in the aircraft. First we gave them some instruction on the workings of the aircraft itself, then the equipment, safety procedures, routine flight procedures and other appropriate information. Once they were issued the flight equipment, we took them up for a ride.
The one my team was assigned to take up was Slim. We took him out to the flight line and showed him all the pre-flight procedures. We pulled a fuel sample (which was saved to burn in our Coleman stove), checked over the mission equipment inside the aircraft and helped the pilots check over the outside of the bird.
As we walked around the helicopter checking this and that, Slim kept mentioned a couple times that he was nervous about flying. I tried to reassure him that there wasn't anything to be nervous about and that he'd enjoy the experience. As I was showing him how to properly put on his survival vest, he flat out told me, "Sergeant, I'm really afraid of flying." I was looking away when he said this, and as I turned to try to again reassure him, I saw The Scrounger standing behind him with a big smile on his face. The only thing I could stammer out at that point was, "You really shouldn't have said that." I don't remember what Scrounger said, but I think it was something like, "Oh, don't worry, you'll love what we have in store for you."
After we ran up the aircraft and went through the check list, the first thing we did is what's called a "High Performance Takeoff." To to this, the pilot pulls the pitch lever and the aircraft goes straight up. It's not an acrobatic maneuver, but you're nervous about flying, it might take you aback. After we gained some altitude, we did some tail spins. Again, this isn't much of an acrobatic (or aerobatic) thing, but you're not used to it, the maneuver can be a little nerve wracking. After the tail spins, we did flying around, turning here and there and going up and down. I could hear Slim moan every once in a while and ask over the intercom, "Are we done yet?"
I could tell this wasn't going well. At best Slim was getting so scared he'd never want to fly again. At worst, I figured he might hurl, which would cause others to do likewise and make a huge mess. Neither scenario was good.
After a few more minutes of scaring Slim to death, The Scrounger came over the intercom. He said something like, "I know you're nervous about flying, but you really shouldn't be. All of the maneuvers we've done so far have been strictly by the book. Now, I want you to unbuckle your harness and come up here to the front and let us walk you though some of the controls and shown you what we're doing."
"Ah, good," I thought, "The Scrounger is showing he has a heart and is going to help calm Slim down."
But, I was wrong.
No sooner than Slim had unbuckled and crawled up to the cockpit, he started screaming so loud I could hear him over the engine noise, "They're not holding on to the controls! They're not holding on to the controls" He scrambled back to his seat and frantically tried to rebuckle his harness.
Now, the pilots weren't doing anything terribly dangerous. The aircraft we were in had a computer-assisted attitude control. This wasn't an autopilot, but rather an aid to help keep the aircraft straight and level. If no one was holding the controls, the computer would keep the helicopter in level flight going in whatever direction it happened to be pointed.
At this point, Scrounger finally picked up that Slim was really quite terrified. When Slim calmed down a little, Scrounger came back over the intercom and explained what was going on. He explained that he was trying to show Slim that the aircraft was built to be very safe. He explained the computer control assist and how it worked. He then explained that all the maneuvers done during the flight were all easy "peacetime" ones. He explained the limits to turns, climbing and diving. He then went and called out the maneuvers before he did them so Slim could see there was nothing to be afraid of. "Here's X degrees to the left. Now were going X degrees to the right. Now were going up X degrees. Now we're going down X degrees.
The interesting thing when you're looking out the window and the aircraft does a turn at, it does sometimes appear that you're looking straight down. Next time you're taking a plane ride somewhere, look out the window as the plane banks during takeoff or approach and you'll see what I mean.
Slim finally calmed down after a short time of calling out maneuvers. As the flight wrapped up, we headed over to the hot refuel point. A hot refuel is when the aircraft is fueled while running. Part of the crew responsibility is to stand outside near where the fuel hose is with a fire extinguisher. Slim and I manned the extinguisher while the fueler topped off the bird.
When the fueling was finished, Slim wanted to walk back to the camp. He didn't realize we were over a mile away. When I told him he didn't seem to care, either. I equated this situation with the old saying which tells us if you fall off the horse, you need to get right back on so you don't lose your nerve. It turned out to be a great idea to make Slim get back in the bird and fly back to the camp.
The happy ending to this story was that he got over his fear of flying at least enough that he was able to do missions while he was assigned to our unit.
This is part 10 in a series. Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14 | Part 15 | Part 16 | Part 17 | Part 18 | Part 19
No sooner than Slim had unbuckled and crawled up to the cockpit, he started screaming so loud I could hear him over the engine noise, "They're not holding on to the controls! They're not holding on to the controls" He scrambled back to his seat and frantically tried to rebuckle his harness.
Now, the pilots weren't doing anything terribly dangerous. The aircraft we were in had a computer-assisted attitude control. This wasn't an autopilot, but rather an aid to help keep the aircraft straight and level. If no one was holding the controls, the computer would keep the helicopter in level flight going in whatever direction it happened to be pointed.
At this point, Scrounger finally picked up that Slim was really quite terrified. When Slim calmed down a little, Scrounger came back over the intercom and explained what was going on. He explained that he was trying to show Slim that the aircraft was built to be very safe. He explained the computer control assist and how it worked. He then explained that all the maneuvers done during the flight were all easy "peacetime" ones. He explained the limits to turns, climbing and diving. He then went and called out the maneuvers before he did them so Slim could see there was nothing to be afraid of. "Here's X degrees to the left. Now were going X degrees to the right. Now were going up X degrees. Now we're going down X degrees.
The interesting thing when you're looking out the window and the aircraft does a turn at, it does sometimes appear that you're looking straight down. Next time you're taking a plane ride somewhere, look out the window as the plane banks during takeoff or approach and you'll see what I mean.
Slim finally calmed down after a short time of calling out maneuvers. As the flight wrapped up, we headed over to the hot refuel point. A hot refuel is when the aircraft is fueled while running. Part of the crew responsibility is to stand outside near where the fuel hose is with a fire extinguisher. Slim and I manned the extinguisher while the fueler topped off the bird.
When the fueling was finished, Slim wanted to walk back to the camp. He didn't realize we were over a mile away. When I told him he didn't seem to care, either. I equated this situation with the old saying which tells us if you fall off the horse, you need to get right back on so you don't lose your nerve. It turned out to be a great idea to make Slim get back in the bird and fly back to the camp.
The happy ending to this story was that he got over his fear of flying at least enough that he was able to do missions while he was assigned to our unit.
This is part 10 in a series. Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14 | Part 15 | Part 16 | Part 17 | Part 18 | Part 19
Saturday, January 08, 2011
Observations In Southeast Asia
Other than flying the missions I mentioned in Part 7 (link above), I really didn't get out much. We were in our camp in the middle of Saudi Arabia somewhere with nothing but desert all around us as far as they eye could see. It was a desolate place with not even as much vegetation as there was in the desert near Fort Bliss nor even in the Mojave Desert at the National Training Center near Barstow, California.
Still, there was a lot of life. Not much of is was very pleasant.
There were the dung beetles. Those guys were like ants in their work ethic. The would find a spherical piece of dung and push it across the desert to their hole. There was no stopping them (except, maybe, to squash them under foot).
The flies were relentless. Because of the dearth of moisture, they would fly around the nose, mouth and eyes seeking water and salt to consume. I joked that they were "Union" flies because they would only come out after the sun rose and they disappeared at sundown.
There were a number of different kinds of spiders, too. Although I don't remember having spider fights like depicted in the movie "Jarhead," I do remember once someone captured a spider and cut it in half. Before it died it turned and the "head" part attacked its own back end like it was another spider. It was aggressive to the end.
We heard stories about cobras and other kinds of snakes. I don't remember ever seeing one and was glad for it.
Now, my observations of the cultural aspects of the area aren't meant to be judgmental. They are merely my thoughts on the differences there compared to the U.S.
One of the few times I was able to leave the camp I was asked to accompany the supply sergeant to a nearby town to get some batteries. We drove to the town in one of our modified Chevy Blazers (called a CUCV). Much of the way was through the desert on a dirt road, much like the tank trails in the northern part of Fort Bliss. The rest was along a 2-lane highway. I was very surprised at poor condition of many of the more rural roads in Saudi Arabia. I remember thinking that a country with that much money coming in could certainly afford to have paved shoulders and filled-in potholes.
It was interesting to watch the truck drivers as sunset approached. Every truck pulled off the road and took a tea break before evening pray time. They would spread out blankets, join up in groups, stoke up fires for their tea pots and talk.
For us who didn't observe this Muslim custom, that was really the best time to drive around because no one was on the road.
The town we went to was rather plain. We were told that because most Saudis spend most of their time indoors, they don't spend much effort making the outsides of their homes beautiful, favoring spending most of their efforts on the insides. That made sense to me considering the climate.
The store we went to was one of those the front of the store was rather small, dominated by the counter where you told the shopkeeper what you wanted and he went into the back room to get it. No self-service in this place. It was a nice setup, though, as it encouraged conversation and interaction between those running the store and their customers. Of course, that would be more enjoyable without the language barrier.
I remember going outside to have a smoke and watching the traffic go by. At one point, a very small Toyota pickup truck drove by. That wasn't unusual in itself, though. Was was very different than what you might see in America was the one woman, dressed up in her burka, sitting in the bed of the truck while four men were crammed into the small cab. While that made sense to me as a student of the culture of the land, it still struck me as funny because there's no way those four guys could have been comfortable stuffed into the cab they way they were. I don't think it was really safe, either. It's hard enough trying to drive our Ford Ranger with me, my wife and my 14-year-old son in the cab. That Toyota was much smaller and there were four adult men in there. I wonder how the guy steered.
All of us got to take four days off at a camp set up somewhere near the coast in the eastern part of the country. It was nice to be able to relax and take it easy. There was a PX, vendors hawking everything from Saudi clothes to bootleg cassettes, and food that didn't come out of a pouch or a can. Oh, and hot showers. That was probably the best part of the experience.
As 1990 turned into 1991 things started to come to a head. Saddam refused to pull his army out of Kuwait and Desert Storm was about to kick off.
This is part 9 in a series. Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14 | Part 15 | Part 16 | Part 17 | Part 18 | Part 19
Still, there was a lot of life. Not much of is was very pleasant.
There were the dung beetles. Those guys were like ants in their work ethic. The would find a spherical piece of dung and push it across the desert to their hole. There was no stopping them (except, maybe, to squash them under foot).
The flies were relentless. Because of the dearth of moisture, they would fly around the nose, mouth and eyes seeking water and salt to consume. I joked that they were "Union" flies because they would only come out after the sun rose and they disappeared at sundown.
There were a number of different kinds of spiders, too. Although I don't remember having spider fights like depicted in the movie "Jarhead," I do remember once someone captured a spider and cut it in half. Before it died it turned and the "head" part attacked its own back end like it was another spider. It was aggressive to the end.
We heard stories about cobras and other kinds of snakes. I don't remember ever seeing one and was glad for it.
Now, my observations of the cultural aspects of the area aren't meant to be judgmental. They are merely my thoughts on the differences there compared to the U.S.
One of the few times I was able to leave the camp I was asked to accompany the supply sergeant to a nearby town to get some batteries. We drove to the town in one of our modified Chevy Blazers (called a CUCV). Much of the way was through the desert on a dirt road, much like the tank trails in the northern part of Fort Bliss. The rest was along a 2-lane highway. I was very surprised at poor condition of many of the more rural roads in Saudi Arabia. I remember thinking that a country with that much money coming in could certainly afford to have paved shoulders and filled-in potholes.
It was interesting to watch the truck drivers as sunset approached. Every truck pulled off the road and took a tea break before evening pray time. They would spread out blankets, join up in groups, stoke up fires for their tea pots and talk.
For us who didn't observe this Muslim custom, that was really the best time to drive around because no one was on the road.
The town we went to was rather plain. We were told that because most Saudis spend most of their time indoors, they don't spend much effort making the outsides of their homes beautiful, favoring spending most of their efforts on the insides. That made sense to me considering the climate.
The store we went to was one of those the front of the store was rather small, dominated by the counter where you told the shopkeeper what you wanted and he went into the back room to get it. No self-service in this place. It was a nice setup, though, as it encouraged conversation and interaction between those running the store and their customers. Of course, that would be more enjoyable without the language barrier.
I remember going outside to have a smoke and watching the traffic go by. At one point, a very small Toyota pickup truck drove by. That wasn't unusual in itself, though. Was was very different than what you might see in America was the one woman, dressed up in her burka, sitting in the bed of the truck while four men were crammed into the small cab. While that made sense to me as a student of the culture of the land, it still struck me as funny because there's no way those four guys could have been comfortable stuffed into the cab they way they were. I don't think it was really safe, either. It's hard enough trying to drive our Ford Ranger with me, my wife and my 14-year-old son in the cab. That Toyota was much smaller and there were four adult men in there. I wonder how the guy steered.
All of us got to take four days off at a camp set up somewhere near the coast in the eastern part of the country. It was nice to be able to relax and take it easy. There was a PX, vendors hawking everything from Saudi clothes to bootleg cassettes, and food that didn't come out of a pouch or a can. Oh, and hot showers. That was probably the best part of the experience.
As 1990 turned into 1991 things started to come to a head. Saddam refused to pull his army out of Kuwait and Desert Storm was about to kick off.
This is part 9 in a series. Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14 | Part 15 | Part 16 | Part 17 | Part 18 | Part 19
Thursday, November 25, 2010
Desert Storm - Holidays
By the time 1990 rolled around, I was certainly no stranger to being away from relatives on holidays. Note, I didn't write "loved ones" or "family." Those with whom I served were often like brothers or sisters to me; and, in many cases they were (and remain) closer than family to me. Those who have served understand what I'm talking about.
Still, there is a sense of loneliness when one is separated from familiar traditions, away from those with whom one grew up. This was especially so for me as I spent those holidays in Saudi Arabia.
I don't remember if it was Thanksgiving or Christmas, but I remember eating one holiday meal in the middle of a raging sand storm. We had goggles over our eyes and "dew rags" covering our noses and mouths as we made our way to where the mess folks were serving the turkey, ham and trimmings. I remember sitting in the large tent feeling rather glum as I ate my sandy food. It probably wasn't as bad as I remember, it being somewhat of a fleeting memory now.
One thing I do remember with great fondness is the camaraderie the twenty of us shared during our time leading up to the ground war. There were no secrets among us, as is often the case when people live together in close quarters spending just about every waking (and sleeping) moment together. We told stories about our misspent youths (some of those guys were wild men in their younger days), secrets we never told anyone else, our feelings (which is something men rarely talk about) and other things.
Our senior warrant officer pilot, who was dubbed "The Old Dog" by one of the crew chiefs, told us about some of his experiences as a CH-47 Chinook crew chief in Vietnam. They were personal, heart-felt stories about his own fears and triumphs during that time. He would often end the stories with something like, "I don't know why I'm telling you guys this, I've never told anyone about that." I think it was very good for him to get it out after so long.
I won't share any of his stories, as they are his, except for one. I remember one morning we were all discussing the great support we were getting from home. I've mentioned this a couple times in previous installments of this series. The Old Dog stopped us and related his story of returning home from Vietnam after his first tour. He told us how he landed at an Air Force base near Seattle, happy to be home and ready to be with family and friends. As he was going through the return processing, he was advised that he should change into civilian clothes before leaving the base to avoid confrontations with protesters.
He thought at the time it was their right to protest a war they found unjust, and he felt he was fighting for their right to do so. However, it was the more personal expressions of protest, the "Baby Killer" and "Murderer" signs that really hurt him. As I recall, he said he felt betrayed as the bus he was on left the base and people hurled insults, eggs and even a few rocks at the bus full of servicemen. I can't say I blame him for feeling that way.
He told us something like, "Yeah, everything is fine now. But, wait until the body bags start going home and people start getting hurt. All this support could dry up very quickly." I could sense the hurt in his voice as he related this to us. It was quite sobering. (You'll be glad to know there is a happy ending to this particular thread which I will relate in a later installment.)
To wrap things up, please remember our service men and women always - but especially during the holidays. My old unit, the 3rd ACR is in Iraq right now helping the people there establish their post-Saddam way of life. Check them out on Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/3dACR. They're over there working hard doing things most of us wouldn't dream of doing.
This is part 8 in a series. Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14 | Part 15 | Part 16 | Part 17 | Part 18 | Part 19
Still, there is a sense of loneliness when one is separated from familiar traditions, away from those with whom one grew up. This was especially so for me as I spent those holidays in Saudi Arabia.
I don't remember if it was Thanksgiving or Christmas, but I remember eating one holiday meal in the middle of a raging sand storm. We had goggles over our eyes and "dew rags" covering our noses and mouths as we made our way to where the mess folks were serving the turkey, ham and trimmings. I remember sitting in the large tent feeling rather glum as I ate my sandy food. It probably wasn't as bad as I remember, it being somewhat of a fleeting memory now.
One thing I do remember with great fondness is the camaraderie the twenty of us shared during our time leading up to the ground war. There were no secrets among us, as is often the case when people live together in close quarters spending just about every waking (and sleeping) moment together. We told stories about our misspent youths (some of those guys were wild men in their younger days), secrets we never told anyone else, our feelings (which is something men rarely talk about) and other things.
Our senior warrant officer pilot, who was dubbed "The Old Dog" by one of the crew chiefs, told us about some of his experiences as a CH-47 Chinook crew chief in Vietnam. They were personal, heart-felt stories about his own fears and triumphs during that time. He would often end the stories with something like, "I don't know why I'm telling you guys this, I've never told anyone about that." I think it was very good for him to get it out after so long.
I won't share any of his stories, as they are his, except for one. I remember one morning we were all discussing the great support we were getting from home. I've mentioned this a couple times in previous installments of this series. The Old Dog stopped us and related his story of returning home from Vietnam after his first tour. He told us how he landed at an Air Force base near Seattle, happy to be home and ready to be with family and friends. As he was going through the return processing, he was advised that he should change into civilian clothes before leaving the base to avoid confrontations with protesters.
He thought at the time it was their right to protest a war they found unjust, and he felt he was fighting for their right to do so. However, it was the more personal expressions of protest, the "Baby Killer" and "Murderer" signs that really hurt him. As I recall, he said he felt betrayed as the bus he was on left the base and people hurled insults, eggs and even a few rocks at the bus full of servicemen. I can't say I blame him for feeling that way.
He told us something like, "Yeah, everything is fine now. But, wait until the body bags start going home and people start getting hurt. All this support could dry up very quickly." I could sense the hurt in his voice as he related this to us. It was quite sobering. (You'll be glad to know there is a happy ending to this particular thread which I will relate in a later installment.)
To wrap things up, please remember our service men and women always - but especially during the holidays. My old unit, the 3rd ACR is in Iraq right now helping the people there establish their post-Saddam way of life. Check them out on Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/3dACR. They're over there working hard doing things most of us wouldn't dream of doing.
This is part 8 in a series. Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14 | Part 15 | Part 16 | Part 17 | Part 18 | Part 19
Sunday, November 14, 2010
Blue Man Group
Jen and I recently visited Las Vegas for the PubCon Web Marketing Conference. The week before, the organizer of the conference sent out a tweet telling he had some tickets to Blue Man Group for the first people to respond. I responded quickly enough and got tickets to see Blue Man Group at the Venetian Hotel.
I thought it was way cool we won the tickets, and I was happy to be able to go to the show. When we showed up at the Will Call window to collect our tickets, I checked them out. Near the top was printed "PONCHO." "What the heck does 'poncho' mean?" I asked. "Oh, you're right up front." Yes, we were in the third row and right in the middle - great seats.
The show was energetic, engaging, funny and fun. There was lots of bass and percussion music going on, but it wasn't like techno dance music. Of course, the PVC pipe instruments were played quite a bit. It wasn't all music, though; there were some quite skits where the group pulled someone out of the audience to participate.
At one point towards the end of the show, the three blue men led the entire audience in unrolling and pushing about a ton of paper from the back of the theater to the front. That was fun and quite different.
If you have a chance, check out a Blue Man Group show. They have regular shows in New York, Boston, Chicago, Las Vegas, Orlando and they tour around the country. Check out the web site (linked above) for a schedule. It's a fun, kid-friendly show (at the Venetian venue, they even brought out booster seats for kids).
I thought it was way cool we won the tickets, and I was happy to be able to go to the show. When we showed up at the Will Call window to collect our tickets, I checked them out. Near the top was printed "PONCHO." "What the heck does 'poncho' mean?" I asked. "Oh, you're right up front." Yes, we were in the third row and right in the middle - great seats.
The show was energetic, engaging, funny and fun. There was lots of bass and percussion music going on, but it wasn't like techno dance music. Of course, the PVC pipe instruments were played quite a bit. It wasn't all music, though; there were some quite skits where the group pulled someone out of the audience to participate.
At one point towards the end of the show, the three blue men led the entire audience in unrolling and pushing about a ton of paper from the back of the theater to the front. That was fun and quite different.
If you have a chance, check out a Blue Man Group show. They have regular shows in New York, Boston, Chicago, Las Vegas, Orlando and they tour around the country. Check out the web site (linked above) for a schedule. It's a fun, kid-friendly show (at the Venetian venue, they even brought out booster seats for kids).
Monday, November 01, 2010
Desert Storm - THAT Day
During our time in Saudi Arabia we would, from time to time, be tasked to fly back and forth along the Saudi/Kuwait border. Although these missions became somewhat routine, they were just a little nerve wracking.
The reason they were nerve wracking was because we were flying along the border, between two opposing armies lined up, arrayed in preparation for battle. We flew over the Saudi side of the border, closer to our guys than theirs. Even so, when the pre-mission briefings included the phrase "keep an eye out the window and yell out if you see a missile headed our way" it made me just a little nervous.
This particular day started off routinely enough. My fellow crew member and I went out with the crew chief and did our part of the pre-flight maintenance check. We pulled a fuel sample, checked the mission equipment, made sure everything that was supposed to be there was there and stuff that wasn't supposed to be there wasn't.
On this particular day, the crew chief didn't fly the mission with us, so I took the role of standing outside while the pilots started the engines. This was always interesting to me. One of the crew members would stand outside with a little fire extinguisher and watch to make sure nothing was blocking the engine intakes while the engines started and ran up. What was with that little fire extinguisher? That was the question. I guess if something really went bad we could put out the fire on one person. I often thought one of those gigantic extinguishers with wheels would be more appropriate to have handy if there ever was a real fire. Thankfully that never happened.
We started up, took off and flew to the Regimental Headquarters to get the mission briefing. Our mission was to fly back and forth along the border for four hours. We went out to the helipad, fired up the bird and took off to do the mission.
Two things went wrong right away. First, I forgot the chock blocks on the helipad. I was supposed to grab them and put them on the floor behind my seat when I got in when the engines were started up and we were ready to go. It wasn't a terrible mistake since we would return there when our mission was complete, but it wasn't good. I didn't pay attention to detail - and it was rather embarrassing to have the folks tasking us to do the mission call to tell me I forgot them. Thankfully I had a radio in the back so the pilots didn't hear about it when they called.
Second the local Stinger team decided to use us to test their equipment. A Stinger was a small, vehicle mounted or shoulder fired antiaircraft missile. There were a few Stinger teams assigned to the regiment to protect against any enemy aircraft which might happen by.
I'm sure they didn't think they were doing anything wrong when they turned on their tracking devices and lit up the cockpit warning panel. The Scounger was the Pilot on Command on that mission. He started yelling and cussing over the intercom and hollered at me to call back to the headquarters and tell the Stinger guys to cut it out. He rarely raised his voice under normal circumstances, so I could tell he was very angry about it.
Off we went to the border and started flying back and forth. Normally, on this type of mission, we would fly along a preplanned path in more or less a straight line, turn around and follow basically the same path back and turn around again. The pilots called this flying "idiot circles."
During this particular mission, about an hour into it and just a little bit before we came to the turn around point, the aircraft dumped over to the left and we started spiraling downward very rapidly. Now, sometimes the pilots got a little bored doing "idiot circles" and would do some fun maneuvers while turning around. Part of me thought that was why we were dropping and spinning, but part of me thought something else was up.
My fellow crew member, Tom, liked the more, shall we say, aerobatic maneuvers. While we were spinning and diving, I could hear him yelling at the top of his voice "YEAH! GET SOME!" He was yelling so loud I could hear him over all the noise in the aircraft - and that was pretty loud.
We leveled off and flew straight for just a few seconds and then we dumped over to the right and started diving and spinning again. This time the thoughts that something wasn't quite right started winning out over the thoughts that the pilots were merely bored. Those thoughts were confirmed when the copilot, "Digger," came over the intercom in a very calm and level voice: "Hey guys. In case you're wondering why we're doing this. We got a missile warning and we're trying to shake it."
The first thing through my mind after he said that was, "Hey, don't stop on my account!"
Looking back on it, what really gets me is Digger's calm and cool tone. This was, obviously, a very stressful situation and he sounded as cool and collected as if we were sitting around and talking about the weather.
The Scrounger, however, didn't take it so calmly. Once we got close to the ground, we started heading back to the Regimental Headquarters. He came over the intercom cussing and swearing again telling us we were headed home for the day. I can't say I blame him too much. By this time I pretty much had it that day myself.
When we got the the headquarters we went in to talk to the people they wondered and why we came home early. After we explained to them what happened they seemed to understand and let us be done for the day. We headed back to the airfield without further incident.
It was THAT kind of day.
This is part 7 in a series. Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14 | Part 15 | Part 16 | Part 17 | Part 18 | Part 19
The reason they were nerve wracking was because we were flying along the border, between two opposing armies lined up, arrayed in preparation for battle. We flew over the Saudi side of the border, closer to our guys than theirs. Even so, when the pre-mission briefings included the phrase "keep an eye out the window and yell out if you see a missile headed our way" it made me just a little nervous.
This particular day started off routinely enough. My fellow crew member and I went out with the crew chief and did our part of the pre-flight maintenance check. We pulled a fuel sample, checked the mission equipment, made sure everything that was supposed to be there was there and stuff that wasn't supposed to be there wasn't.
On this particular day, the crew chief didn't fly the mission with us, so I took the role of standing outside while the pilots started the engines. This was always interesting to me. One of the crew members would stand outside with a little fire extinguisher and watch to make sure nothing was blocking the engine intakes while the engines started and ran up. What was with that little fire extinguisher? That was the question. I guess if something really went bad we could put out the fire on one person. I often thought one of those gigantic extinguishers with wheels would be more appropriate to have handy if there ever was a real fire. Thankfully that never happened.
We started up, took off and flew to the Regimental Headquarters to get the mission briefing. Our mission was to fly back and forth along the border for four hours. We went out to the helipad, fired up the bird and took off to do the mission.
Two things went wrong right away. First, I forgot the chock blocks on the helipad. I was supposed to grab them and put them on the floor behind my seat when I got in when the engines were started up and we were ready to go. It wasn't a terrible mistake since we would return there when our mission was complete, but it wasn't good. I didn't pay attention to detail - and it was rather embarrassing to have the folks tasking us to do the mission call to tell me I forgot them. Thankfully I had a radio in the back so the pilots didn't hear about it when they called.
Second the local Stinger team decided to use us to test their equipment. A Stinger was a small, vehicle mounted or shoulder fired antiaircraft missile. There were a few Stinger teams assigned to the regiment to protect against any enemy aircraft which might happen by.
I'm sure they didn't think they were doing anything wrong when they turned on their tracking devices and lit up the cockpit warning panel. The Scounger was the Pilot on Command on that mission. He started yelling and cussing over the intercom and hollered at me to call back to the headquarters and tell the Stinger guys to cut it out. He rarely raised his voice under normal circumstances, so I could tell he was very angry about it.
Off we went to the border and started flying back and forth. Normally, on this type of mission, we would fly along a preplanned path in more or less a straight line, turn around and follow basically the same path back and turn around again. The pilots called this flying "idiot circles."
During this particular mission, about an hour into it and just a little bit before we came to the turn around point, the aircraft dumped over to the left and we started spiraling downward very rapidly. Now, sometimes the pilots got a little bored doing "idiot circles" and would do some fun maneuvers while turning around. Part of me thought that was why we were dropping and spinning, but part of me thought something else was up.
My fellow crew member, Tom, liked the more, shall we say, aerobatic maneuvers. While we were spinning and diving, I could hear him yelling at the top of his voice "YEAH! GET SOME!" He was yelling so loud I could hear him over all the noise in the aircraft - and that was pretty loud.
We leveled off and flew straight for just a few seconds and then we dumped over to the right and started diving and spinning again. This time the thoughts that something wasn't quite right started winning out over the thoughts that the pilots were merely bored. Those thoughts were confirmed when the copilot, "Digger," came over the intercom in a very calm and level voice: "Hey guys. In case you're wondering why we're doing this. We got a missile warning and we're trying to shake it."
The first thing through my mind after he said that was, "Hey, don't stop on my account!"
Looking back on it, what really gets me is Digger's calm and cool tone. This was, obviously, a very stressful situation and he sounded as cool and collected as if we were sitting around and talking about the weather.
The Scrounger, however, didn't take it so calmly. Once we got close to the ground, we started heading back to the Regimental Headquarters. He came over the intercom cussing and swearing again telling us we were headed home for the day. I can't say I blame him too much. By this time I pretty much had it that day myself.
When we got the the headquarters we went in to talk to the people they wondered and why we came home early. After we explained to them what happened they seemed to understand and let us be done for the day. We headed back to the airfield without further incident.
It was THAT kind of day.
This is part 7 in a series. Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14 | Part 15 | Part 16 | Part 17 | Part 18 | Part 19
Thursday, October 28, 2010
Why It's Movember To Me
Right now I have two aunts fighting breast and lung cancer, a cousin fighting lung cancer, my dad fought prostate cancer, numerous friends are fighting or have fought off cancers of various kinds. I've lost a grandmother, an uncle and a more than a few friends to this scourge.
Enough!
That's why I'm raising funds during the month now known as Movember, to help the Movember Foundation fund organizations such as the Prostate Cancer Foundation and Lance ArmstrongsLIVESTRONG so they can continue their work in helping educate and research in the fight against cancer.
Please go to my Movember Mo Space page and donate a buck or two or five or a hundred. It goes to a good cause in helping fight against cancer.
If you're in Michigan, please also consider dropping by and donating a buck or two to my friend Scott's Southwest Michigan Movember team. This is his first year joining in and I'd like to see his team do well, too.
Check back throughout Movember and I'll post pics of my mustachioed self.
This post is cross-posted on my other blog The Crossing of Marketing and IT.
Saturday, October 23, 2010
Bavarian Dream Vacation - Day 3, Augsburg
This is part 3 of a series. Check out Part 1 and Part 2
For reference, here's the map:
View Bavaria Things To See in a larger map
Day 3 - Augsburg
Most people I know who travel to Germany hit the larger cities and the popular tourist spots. One place which is often overlooked is the beautiful, ancient city of Augsburg. Founded by Caesar Augustus over 2000 years ago, Augsburg has been an important central stop on major trade routes since that time. There are many interesting and historic sites to see there. Augsburg is a convenient day trip from Munich, being only about an hour one-way by train from the Munich Main Tran Station. Ask about special one-day round trip fares (Sonderrueckfahrkarte) when you purchase your tickets.
I have to add a little disclaimer here - one of the reasons I love Augsburg so much is because I lived there for three years. I know it rather well and it holds a special place in me. With that, here are my must-see suggestions for Augsburg:
For reference, here's the map:
View Bavaria Things To See in a larger map
Day 3 - Augsburg
Most people I know who travel to Germany hit the larger cities and the popular tourist spots. One place which is often overlooked is the beautiful, ancient city of Augsburg. Founded by Caesar Augustus over 2000 years ago, Augsburg has been an important central stop on major trade routes since that time. There are many interesting and historic sites to see there. Augsburg is a convenient day trip from Munich, being only about an hour one-way by train from the Munich Main Tran Station. Ask about special one-day round trip fares (Sonderrueckfahrkarte) when you purchase your tickets.
I have to add a little disclaimer here - one of the reasons I love Augsburg so much is because I lived there for three years. I know it rather well and it holds a special place in me. With that, here are my must-see suggestions for Augsburg:
- Transportation Around Augsburg - From the Augsburg Hauptbahnhof, take the 3 or 4 streetcar to Konigsplatz, then change to the 2 line which will take you to the first suggested stop ...
- Mozarthaus Augsburg - This was not the home of Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart, but rather was the home of his father, Leopold Mozart. The elder Mozart was born in Augsburg. It's an interesting historical site. Stop at the Mozarthaus stop on the 2 streetcar line.
- The Cathedral - The Dom Unserer Lieben Frau in Augsburg is a site to behold. From the outside you can see the different architectural styles which were common as each part was built over the centuries. Inside, under the main altar, you can climb down the stairs and see the original catacombs where early Christians met. Another interesting feature is just to the south of the site. An ancient Roman bath was discovered while workers were digging trenches to lay steam pipes under that part of the city. There are many examples of Augustine-era statues and artwork displayed in a shelter near the bath.
- The Perlach Tower - The Perlachturm sits across from the Rathausplatz and next to the City Hall (Rathaus). It's a bit of a climb, but the tower offers one of the best vistas of Augsburg and the surrounding area.
- Augsburg City Hall - The Augsburger Rathaus is right next to the Perlachturm. While most of the building houses the official city offices, the highlight of the building is the Goldenen Hall on the top floor. The Hall was painstakingly restored after World War II, even down to repainting the trim in 14k gold leaf paint. The hall is open to tourists during normal business hours unless there is an official function taking place.
- St. Ann Church - The St. Anna Kirche has an interesting place in history. It was one of the places Martin Luther hid while he translated the Bible from Latin to German. You can visit the attic room which served as his home and work room. The church itself is set up to be half Lutheran and half Catholic. On one end of the building is the Lutheran alter where those services are held. On the other end is the Catholic altar where mass is done. The Sunday services alternate and the backs of the benches flip over to allow one to comfortably sit and face the desired altar. It's really quite interesting.
- Fuggerei - The Fuggers were an important merchant family based in Augsburg. As one of their charitable efforts, Jakob Fugger built a home where the poor could live for a nominal fee so long as they agreed to pray for the souls of the Fugger family each day. The community still exists, and people still live there for an annual fee of 0.88 Euros. The Fuggers are an interesting historical family and the Fuggerei is an interesting place to visit.
- The Roman Museum - As I mentioned above, Augsburg was founded by Caesar Augustus. Because of that, building projects in and around the city quite often also end up being archeological sites. The Römisches Museum Augsburg is where many of the uncovered historical articles are on display. It is filled with everything from statues of Roman gods to sewing needles. This is a "can't miss" visit for the history buff.
- Basilica of St. Ulrich and Afra - Although, perhaps, not as historical as the Cathedral, the Basilika St. Ulrich und Afra is, nonetheless, a great place to visit. An ornate and beautiful building, St. Ulrich is entombed in the basement.
Unfortunately, it appears that my favorite places to eat, however I suggest the Sieben Schwaben Stuben as a place to catch lunch. It's between St. Anne's and the Rathausplatz.
That wraps up my 3-Day Bavarian dream trip. I hope you found it helpful.
Please feel free to drop your Augsburg tour tips in the comments.
That wraps up my 3-Day Bavarian dream trip. I hope you found it helpful.
Please feel free to drop your Augsburg tour tips in the comments.
Bavarian Dream Vacation - Day 2, Schwangau
This is part 2 of a series. Check out Part 1 and Part 3.
For reference, here's the map:
View Bavaria Things To See in a larger map
Day 2: The Beautiful Castles in Schwangau.
Georgette mentioned her son already had in mind to visit the Neuschwanstein Castle in Schwangau near Füssen in far Southern Bavaria. This is the beautiful castle Walt Disney used as the model for Cinderella's Castle at his theme parks. I thought that an excellent idea; and, while they are there I also suggested they visit the Hohenschwangau Castle, which is right across the valley from its more famous companion.
The history of these castles is quite interesting. King Ludwig II of Bavaria (who is known as "Mad King Ludwig") just about bankrupted the kingdom building beautiful castles - none of which he actually lived in.
Neuschwanstein Castle - Perhaps the most famous is the Schloss Neuschwanstein. This beautiful, white, towered creation was built right across the valley from Ludwig's home. It took many years to build and is a magnificent structure, both inside and out. It is well worth the time to take the guided tour so you can learn more of the history and see some behind the scenes things. One of these is the grand ballroom floor, a large section of which could be lowered into the kitchen below. A large table and place settings could be set up on the floor and raised back up for the banquet portion of a party. When the food was done, it could be lowered, cleared and raised again to make a large dance floor.
Hohenschwangau Castle - Opposite the Neuschwanstein is the boyhood home of King Ludwig, the Hohenschwangau. Don't let the somewhat plain exterior fool you, the inside is a sight to behold. Situated on Swan Lake (the same Lake of ballet fame), this site if often overshadowed and overlooked by a great many tourists. The rooms inside are spectacular. The furnishings and artwork are spectacular. One room features a full mural on one wall depicting the life of Charlemagne, who the Bavarians believe was born in Munich.
Pilgrimage Church of Wies - Georgette's son mentioned visiting the Pilgrimage Church of Wies in Steingaden, which is just north of Schwangau. I never visited that place, but from the history I read online it seems like a very interesting place. Steingaden can be easily reached by bus from the train station in Füssen.
For reference, here's the map:
View Bavaria Things To See in a larger map
Day 2: The Beautiful Castles in Schwangau.
Georgette mentioned her son already had in mind to visit the Neuschwanstein Castle in Schwangau near Füssen in far Southern Bavaria. This is the beautiful castle Walt Disney used as the model for Cinderella's Castle at his theme parks. I thought that an excellent idea; and, while they are there I also suggested they visit the Hohenschwangau Castle, which is right across the valley from its more famous companion.
The history of these castles is quite interesting. King Ludwig II of Bavaria (who is known as "Mad King Ludwig") just about bankrupted the kingdom building beautiful castles - none of which he actually lived in.
Neuschwanstein Castle - Perhaps the most famous is the Schloss Neuschwanstein. This beautiful, white, towered creation was built right across the valley from Ludwig's home. It took many years to build and is a magnificent structure, both inside and out. It is well worth the time to take the guided tour so you can learn more of the history and see some behind the scenes things. One of these is the grand ballroom floor, a large section of which could be lowered into the kitchen below. A large table and place settings could be set up on the floor and raised back up for the banquet portion of a party. When the food was done, it could be lowered, cleared and raised again to make a large dance floor.
Hohenschwangau Castle - Opposite the Neuschwanstein is the boyhood home of King Ludwig, the Hohenschwangau. Don't let the somewhat plain exterior fool you, the inside is a sight to behold. Situated on Swan Lake (the same Lake of ballet fame), this site if often overshadowed and overlooked by a great many tourists. The rooms inside are spectacular. The furnishings and artwork are spectacular. One room features a full mural on one wall depicting the life of Charlemagne, who the Bavarians believe was born in Munich.
Pilgrimage Church of Wies - Georgette's son mentioned visiting the Pilgrimage Church of Wies in Steingaden, which is just north of Schwangau. I never visited that place, but from the history I read online it seems like a very interesting place. Steingaden can be easily reached by bus from the train station in Füssen.
Schwangau is easy to get to via train from Munich. Take the train to Füssen and then a bus to Hohenschwangau. Mike's Bike Tours of Munich also offer a charter bus tour, which might be more convenient.
This trip will take up the whole day, so I wouldn't recommend doing much more than a having a relaxing dinner upon return to Munich.
Thus ends day 2. Next up is day 3 in Augsburg.
Please feel free to leave your Schwangau tour tips in the comments.
Please feel free to leave your Schwangau tour tips in the comments.
Bavarian Dream Vacation - Day 1, Munich
My friend, Georgette, mentioned to me she was going to spend a few days in Southern Germany with her son during their trip to Europe next year. She asked me what I what I would recommend they see in Munich if I were going (and how I wish I was). I started to put together a Google Map for them with recommendations, and thought I'd just go ahead and share my suggestions with all of you, too.
They only have three days to spend in Germany since they are on a schedule. So, here's how I would break it down. For reference, here's the map:
View Bavaria Things To See in a larger map
Day 1: Munich
Georgette told me once her and her son took a guided Segway tour of Austin, Texas and thoroughly enjoyed it. They plan to do the same in Munich. This is a great idea. There are two I found:
They only have three days to spend in Germany since they are on a schedule. So, here's how I would break it down. For reference, here's the map:
View Bavaria Things To See in a larger map
Day 1: Munich
Georgette told me once her and her son took a guided Segway tour of Austin, Texas and thoroughly enjoyed it. They plan to do the same in Munich. This is a great idea. There are two I found:
- Mike's Bike Tours of Munich offers Segway and other tours in Bavaria. They are conveniently located near the Hofbrauhaus (a popular tourist attraction) and are highly rated by previous customers.
- City Segway Tours is located close to the Main Train Station (Hauptbahnhof), also a convenient location.
Here are my München must-see suggestions for:
- Frauenkirche - The twin-domed Cathedral of Our Lady is a prominent Munich landmark. Just a short distance from the Marienplatz, it's easy to see and find from just about anywhere in the central part of the city. It's a beautiful, old church and well worth taking an hour or so to walk through.
- Asamkirche Dominikanerinnen - Georgette mentioned wanted to visit a couple of churches. One I think they should see is the Asamkirche, which is just south of the Marienplatz on Sendlinger Strasse. This old, dark church is a great representation of Gothic-style churches. It's very interesting and takes just a few minutes to walk through.
- Marienplatz and The Rathaus Glockenspiel - The Marienplatz is the heart of touristy Munich. There are shops and restaurants all around the perimeter ranging from old-style Gasthauses to American fast food. The highlight of the area is the Glockenspiel atop the city hall. Every day at 11 AM (also at Noon and 5 PM in the summer) the clock strikes and a play begins depicting the 1568 Wedding of Duke Wilhelm V of Bavaria and Renata of Lorraine as well as the "Cooper Dance" which marked the end of a plague of that era. The show lasts around 15 minutes. Take the U3 or U6 and get off at the Marienplatz station.
- For The History Buff - There is a display atop on of the buildings on the south-east part of the Marienplatz with photos of what the area looked like before World War II and at the end of that war. You can compare it with how it looks now and see that great pains were taken to restore the buildings just as they were. I can't remember exactly where it is, but I'll bet the Segway tour guides or the locals know where it is.
- Beyrischer Donisl - After seeing the Glockenspiel show at 11 AM, a great place to stop for lunch is the Bayrischer Donisl. This was always my favorite place to lunch in Munich. Check out the Bavarian specialties and (of course) the excellent beer. I would recommend a sausage sampler platter including some Bavarian Weisswurst (White Sausage) - it can't be beat. It's located on the Marienplatz to the left as you're looking at the Glockenspiel.
- BMW Museum - I'm a car buff, so I would be remiss if I didn't mention the BMW Museum located near the Olympic Park in the northern part of the city. The museum covers the history of the car maker from the beginning to modern times. Take the U3 to the Olympiazentrum station.
- Dachau Concentration Camp Memorial Site - While this may not be a "happy tourist" place to go, while you're in the area it's certainly something to see. "Never Again" is the phrase you hear echoed over and over as you go through the museum and walk the grounds. It's certainly a heavy place, but important. Take the S2 from Munich to the Dachau station.
- Beer Halls - There are a number of beer halls in Munich. The most famous (and arguably more for tourists) is the Hofbräuhaus. The food is great and the music is festive. And, of course, the beer is pretty good, too. I spent many a good time hanging around with friends and meeting people from all over the world there. Another nice place to visit, and less "touristy" is the Löwenbräukeller. Either spot would be great for dinner and a good time to wind up a great day.
Also mention: The Beer And Oktoberfest Museum. I've never been there and I don't even know if it existed when I last visited Munich, but it look like it might be interesting.
Thus ends day 1. Next up is day 2 in Schwangau.
Please feel free to leave your Munich tour tips in the comments.
Please feel free to leave your Munich tour tips in the comments.
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