Clown Warriors

I have finally caught up on all the lost sleep incurred during the trip from FT Dix to Baghdad. The last week in FT Dix fully completed our transformation into Clown Warriors. We conducted both mounted and unmounted land navigation. All our training prepared us for the culminating event, more convoy escort. I am still trying to figure out why we learned this stuff when we will not be doing it. We will ride in a convoy every now and then but I will never be in charge of one. If an Army guy was going flying with us would we send him through a month of flight school, or ship driving school, no that is ridiculous, I have just done the ridiculous!! I will say the shooting and life saving course were good and appropriate, the rest of the training was a waste of my time. Sorry I was rambling for a second, back to the convoy maneuvers. We actually improved and successfully drove our humvees much faster than below walking speed, I think we maintained a blazing average speed of 15 miles per hour. Our one weak spot was navigation, even after the navigation training and a recon mission the day before the lead vehicle had no idea where they were going, they missed every turn. I did learn that it is nearly impossible to back up after a missed turn, and almost as difficult to turn around. During the debrief or after action report as the Army calls it, they told us we were one of the best Navy classes they have seen, now either they were just trying to make us feel good or the other classes were incredibly bad, either way I was ready to leave FT Dix.

FT Dix had many issues one was the shortage of toilet paper, it was on ongoing problem that became a crisis during the last week. It all started after the DFAC (dining facility) served some food that either did not agree with us or it contained a little food poisoning. Normally there was toilet paper, but with the increased demand it was quickly used up. I went into the bathroom with a sense of urgency, I didn’t even have time to grab a magazine, no magazine normally would have bothered me however I knew in this case there really wasn’t any need for a magazine I would make short work of this job, upon completion I reached for the TP, and to my dismay there was none. After about five minutes of contemplation on the situation and with no help in the room I carefully pulled my underwear and ACU trousers on as low as possible, trying to keep them as clean as possible. Stepping into the hallway I asked a passing Chief, with as much dignity as I could muster, if he knew where any toilet paper was. He did not but suggested I walk to the other head which was located at the far end of the barracks, I thought for a second wondering if I should tell this guy I really didn’t want to walk that far due to the fact that I had a mess in my pants, I decided against saying anything and walked to the other bathroom, luckily it had some toilet paper, I cleaned up as well as I could, and took a roll putting it in our bathroom. The next day I was still infected with whatever the DFAC had contaminated me with, and again a sudden and urgent need to use the facilities occurred, now you would think that after the prior days experience I would have the sense to check the toilet paper before use, normally I would have but due to complete concentration on not shitting in my pants before getting them off I did not have time to properly preflight the shitter. Two days in a row I had to walk to the far bathroom to clean myself up, it also meant I had doubled my underwear usage which affected my carefully planned laundry cycle, the whole house of cards was crumbling. Needless to say I was pissed and walked into my cell cussing and bitching, after my caring roommates stopped laughing at me more stories started to emerge. Earlier in the day one of my roommates went to the bathroom and ended up in my exact predicament, his solution was to strip down and jump in the shower, he was already enroute to the shower when the urge hit so he had the advantage of having his towel with him, my other roommate then recounted his near miss at the base Exchange, apparently he was within seconds of an accident but made it to the bathroom barely averting disaster. Things were really getting shitty around FT Dix literally, since my departure all symptoms have cleared up and I make it a habit to check the toilet paper religiously.

Quote of the day, Miss America 1981 at Camp Liberty Tony Orlando show, "Where's my Seaman, I need some Seaman."