Name-droppage, Army buddy makes good, and a new project

I'm still foundering in the depths of uninspiration, but I thought I ought to drop by this old place and provide an update of sorts.

First, my old buddy-turned-NCO Josh Salmons has been interviewed over at CK's Blog. He was kind enough to give me a credit for getting his blogging career going. If you haven't been by there yet, definitely check out Talking Salmons. He's doing some great writing from Taji, Iraq.

Unlike the good sergeant, I've somehow managed to avoid deployment. And now that I'm about at the "year left" mark, it looks doubtful that I'll go. I joined the Army, and missed the war. I can't really say I'm that upset.

So now that I'm heading into the home stretch, I'm looking toward the next phase. I've settled, I think (at least for now), on going to graduate school, and Ohio State University seems to have the best program for journalism. I haven't made any firm decisions yet, but the general idea of going back to an academic environment is very appealing.

Anyway, that's it from me at this point. Maybe inspiration will strike this week.

-30-

Time is relative

It was noon, today, and I was pushing the intercom button at the entrance to the post airfield. My first attempt hadn't raised a response, so I held the bastard down for a healthy spell the second time.

"Yeah?" a voice crackled. It was surely one of the civilians in the Ops hangar.

"I'm here for the Autocross event," I said. I ran my hand through my hair. It was too long, and greasy, since I hadn't showered since the day before.

"Not here," the Ops guy said. "You've got to go through the museum park."

"Great, thanks," I said.

I was heading to the airfield to cover the SCCA Autocross race. It's a low-key amateur racing event where anyone with a car and twenty bucks can strap into their vehicle and try winding around a slalom course at high speeds. Normally, this kind of thing would be exciting, but I'd been on 12-hour Charge of Quarters duty until six in the morning, and I was feeling a bit punchy.

The good -- and bad -- thing about CQ is that there's literally nothing to do other than watch television or read. I'd picked up a couple books this week, and at the beginning of the shift I cracked open J.D. Salinger's The Catcher In The Rye. I'd never read it in high school, because back then I'd been reading Greek and Roman stuff primarily -- Homer, Virgil, Caesar, Thucydides, Herodotus, Xenophon. The great books courses I took in college petered out after Communist Manifesto and Origin of Species.

I didn't know what to expect from Salinger. I was only really aware that his seminal work was apparently a favorite among assassins and conspiracy theorists.

I was immediately struck by the tone and language, which reminded me of some of Steinbeck's stuff. But the more resonant element was Holden Caulfield's general disgust for everything in his life, including, to a certain extent, himself. Considering the time it was written, I suppose Salinger published the first book about the modern angry teenage punk.

I'd finished it by 3 a.m. It's one of those books that ends somewhat abruptly, and it's difficult to put my initial reaction into words. I had several, I suppose -- including, "Damn, what a time to pick to read a book like this."

When it comes to the Army, I'd say it's safe to say I have a bit of a Holden Caulfield streak.

Back at the airfield, I turned the truck around and headed for Keyes Park. It was overcast, but still bright for my eyes. I found a narrow dirt access road onto the side of the airfield and turned in, heading eventually onto the tarmac where a guy with a clipboard was standing. He smiled and asked me to sign a waiver.

"I'm here with the paper," I said. He smiled again and handed me the clipboard. Waiver it was, I guessed.

I headed down the landing strip after taping on the paper SCCA bracelet. There were cars of all description lined up along the sides of the tarmac -- lots of Nissan Zs, late-model Mazdas, a few Acuras. There were kit cars with their tiny slicks, some dropped Hondas with loosened suspensions, even a Lotus. Toward the end of the parking area, near the coned-off course, several Corvettes, Cobras, and even a Dodge Viper or two sat waiting their turn to race.

The course headed down a side strip heading south, then veered north-west to the end of the runway I was standing on. Racers made another sharp right and headed straight back toward the beginning. The post commanding general was sitting there in a folding chair next to his wife, wearing civilian clothes and a stern-looking pair of aviators. By the time I'd noticed it was him, he'd noticed me, too, with my large tan Domke camera bag.

"Afternoon, sir," I said as he stood up to turn around.

"Oh, hey there," he said. I was surprised when he reached out to shake my hand. "How are ya?"

"Not bad, sir," I said. "Are you going to be taking your Viper out today?" I'd seen what he had parked in his garage at Quarters 1 during the cricket match several weeks before.

"No," he said. "But my son's taking his Mini-Cooper out."

The CG's kid wasn't driving one of those new Coopers you see everywhere these days... his was vintage, probably 1968 or 69, complete with steering column on the right-hand side for use on the streets of London.

I wished them good luck and headed off on my own. I snapped a few frames of drivers heading into the finish line. It seemed most of them were making it around the course in under 60 seconds... the timer's booth was announcing 58s, 57s, and 56s pretty regularly.

The parking side of the airstrip was littered with people. Some were looking into their engine compartments, others were wandering around looking for refreshments, while others sat under awnings, watching what they could see of the race. The Family Readiness Group from our new Engineer Battalion had set up a concession stand of sorts near where everyone was sitting and watching, and they were handing out Gatorades and candy bars to anyone with a sweaty dollar bill.

Eventually, a volunteer appeared and offered to hook me up with a spotter so I could get some pictures from the sidelines of the course. The spotter wound up knowing who I was -- he was a sergeant who'd sent in some nice words a few weeks ago about a vicious dog story I'd done. We chatted a bit on our way out along the side of the course. As we walked, a newcomer in a red BMW screamed past us, but cranked the steering wheel too hard going into his second turn. His car screeched into a donut and came to a halt.

"We can't all be 'Fast and the Furious,'" I said, trying to crack a lame joke.

"That's 'Too Fast, Too Furious,'" the sergeant said, completely outdoing me in corniness.

We stood a bit back from the first major turn, and I shot about 400 frames of drivers negotiating the curve with varying levels of skill. Some of them, you could tell, were old hands at autocross, while others, despite their flashy rides, stunk at it. Someone in a Mazda RX-8 wound his way around the turn as if he was driving Miss Daisy to church.

"Don't hurt yourself," I said to the back of his car as he meandered down the second leg of the track.

One of the fastest drivers around the track was in a silver Acura. His wasn't the most powerful car out there, but he was beating just about all the rest of the drivers in his division by at least five seconds. He was an 84-year-old dude named Charlie, the sergeant told me.

"Wow," I said. "And they say old people can't drive worth shit."

We watched Charlie hug the cones as his Acura rocketed around the turn and into the slalom section. He wove back and forth effortlessly, without once touching the brakes until he entered the next big turn.

Eventually I headed home. I'd gotten all the shots I needed -- hell, out of about 500, there ought to be a couple good ones. It's a crutch for sub-standard photographers like myself who are lucky enough to have a digital to work with -- pros call it "spray and pray," which is apt, and they thumb their noses at the practice. I didn't care, though. I was sleepy and just wanted a chance to lay down and nap the afternoon away.

-30-

Yes, it's Wednesday

Belated happy Independence Day to everyone, and a hearty congratulations to my old buddy Seth, who got hitched in Nashville this weekend past. I was fortunate enough to attend, and there were multiple episodes of craziness that preceeded the actual wedding.

For the sake of everyone involved, I've been sworn to absolute secrecy on some aspects of what happened. And as for the rest, it'll be a story for another time (which, if my past track record of following up stories is any indication, will probably never arrive).

I'm still pretty fed up with the daily newsreels and the color commentary that seems to go along with all of them, so I'm not in the mood to come up with any topical content.

So yeah -- basically what I'm saying is that I had an awesome weekend, but I'm not going to tell the story; and that I'm good and pissed about a lot of separate issues, but I'm not going to write anything about them. I'm the best, huh?

Anyhow, the suggestion box is open, so if anyone wants to step in and substitute for my erstwhile muse, please feel free. In the meantime, I'll be listening to Opie and Anthony.

-30-

The blogmuse has left the building

It seems that periods of blog inspiration come in waves, and I'm currently sitting in a valley.

It's not that there's nothing to talk or write about -- quite the contrary, really -- but getting into any news-related subject matter these days makes me far too angry to be of any use.

On the way in to work today, I noticed a headline in the local paper, which proclaimed that Elizabethtown had enacted a ban on pit bulls and Rottweilers following a dog attack incident.

"Just another example of the media over-hyping a story and ruining it for everybody," my roommate said.

I looked at him.

"That's about the stupidest thing I've ever heard," I said.

The ban, he seemed to feel, could be blamed on the media for their having reported on the dog bite story. The paper hyped it up and caused an outrage, which led to the city council passing the new ordinance.

I'm still working on a piece on this whole "shoot the messenger" phenomenon. It's ridiculous.

-30-

Update: Conservatives are so full of humor. I just never quit laughing at their constant comedy gold!

Light blogging apology and photos explaining why

I haven't blogged much, lately. Here's why.

I spent Monday riding around in this:



Why? Well, note the red plaque on the sides. It was with the guy on the right:



That's Maj. Gen. Robert Williams, the Army's chief of armor. While up in the Blackhawk, I took pictures of stuff. Like this unidentified Fort Knox structure, which I shot as per the direction of our new chief of staff (who I got to know while he was the G3):



What could that be? I have no idea. I think it's just a large, white, stone building guarded by guys from the Treasury Department.

Anyway, here's a shot of my company headquarters, as well as the godawful track we have to run around for our 2-mile run. The company is the low, white building that comes close to the right side of the frame:



Anyway, I've been busy. I've got three major stories in this week's edition, and I need to go finish the last one. Adios, muchachos.

-30-

Monkeys in bars

Okay, I don't have anything spectacular at the moment. But watch this video, and then tell me the "jury's still out" on evolution.



-30-

Workplace stress

Sometimes, it gets a little tense at work. You just don't know who to trust.

-30-

Eight troops charged in death of Iraqi

From today's Early Bird...

Washington Post
June 22, Pg. 1

8 Troops Charged
In Death Of Iraqi

All Are Accused of
Murdering Civilian

By Josh White and Sonya Geis,
Washington Post Staff Writers

Seven Marines and one Navy corpsman have been charged with murder and kidnapping in connection with the April death of an Iraqi man in a small village west of Baghdad, Marine Corps officials announced yesterday.

The corps said that the eight sought out Hashim Ibrahim Awad in his Hamdaniyah home, dragged him into the street, bound his hands and feet, and shot him during a late-night operation, according to Marine criminal-charge sheets released yesterday. The troops are members of a fire team with Kilo Company, 3rd Battalion, 5th Marine Regiment. It is unclear what motivated the incident.

The announcement marked the second time this week that the U.S. military has charged troops with murder in Iraq. Army officials announced Monday that three soldiers had been accused of killing three men their unit had captured near Samarra last month, and a fourth soldier was charged yesterday. The cases come as another investigation continues into allegations that a Marine unit gunned down as many as 24 civilians last November in Haditha.

The incidents have drawn widespread international criticism of the way U.S. troops are treating Iraqi civilians as they fight insurgents, and have caused the military to redouble efforts to remind troops of their moral and legal obligations on the battlefield. In announcing the murder charges yesterday, Col. Stewart Navarre said Marines are trained in the law of armed conflict and are expected to fully comply with it.

"The Marine Corps takes allegations of wrongdoing by Marines very seriously and is committed to thoroughly investigating such allegations," Stewart said at an afternoon news conference at Camp Pendleton, a Marine base north of San Diego. "The Marine Corps also prides itself on holding its members accountable for their actions."

Lawyers for several of the Marines and family members of the troops said yesterday that the men are innocent.

Gary Solis, a professor of the law of war at Georgetown University, said it is unfortunate that the cases have surfaced at the same time, because they provide an impression of a military run amok in Iraq. He said that fatal mistakes are common in war, and that the key to these investigations will probably be to determine whether the troops planned the alleged attacks.

"Where is the line? The line is premeditation," Solis said of wartime killings. "If you make a mistake, you're not going to be investigated. The only guys that have to be worried are those that have thought about doing it and then do it."

The eight service members charged in the Hamdaniyah incident are confined at Camp Pendleton. Stewart said four other Marines connected to the investigation are under no restrictions but could face charges in the future.

The Marine Corps identified the eight as Sgt. Lawrence G. Hutchins III, Cpl. Marshall L. Magincalda, Cpl. Trent D. Thomas, Lance Cpl. Tyler A. Jackson, Lance Cpl. Robert B. Pennington, Lance Cpl. Jerry E. Shumate Jr., Pfc. John J. Jodka and Navy Hospitalman 3rd Class Melson J. Bacos, who was attached to the Marines' unit as its medic. The four other Marines were not identified. The soldier charged yesterday in the killings near Samarra was identified as Spc. Juston R. Graber, 20.

Lawyers for the service members in the Hamdaniyah incident said yesterday that they have not had the opportunity to review much, if any, of the evidence against their clients.

"He's an all-American boy," said retired Marine Brig. Gen. David Brahms, who is representing Pennington, 21, of Washington state. "It's hard to imagine him conspiring with others to commit the dastardly deed."

Joseph Casas, a civilian lawyer representing Jodka, 20, of California, said his client believes he was taking part in a "legitimate, command-sanctioned ambush" in a location where insurgents are known to plant roadside bombs. Jodka, who was on his first tour in Iraq, was months out of boot camp.

"He does not believe that anything that happened that night was inappropriate, illegal or in contravention to Marine Corps rules," Casas said in an interview. "I will adamantly say that what the government believes happened did not happen on that night."

While the Marines have released few details about Awad's death, Iraqis who live in his neighborhood have told Washington Post reporters that the Marines shot him four times in the face before planting an AK-47 rifle and a shovel near his body to make it appear as though he had been trying to bury a roadside bomb.

He was known in the village as Awad the Lame because a metal bar was inserted in his leg several years ago.

An investigative statement obtained by The Post that appears to be signed by Hutchins says that the unit "spotted a man digging on the side of the road from our ambush site." It continues: "I made the call and engaged. He was pronounced dead at the scene with only a shovel and an AK-47."

It was unclear who shot Awad. All eight service members were charged with conspiracy, murder, assault and larceny -- the last count for allegedly stealing the rifle and the shovel before using them as props. Some of the men also were charged with lying to investigators and with obstruction of justice.

Navarre declined to discuss details of the incident and stressed that the accused are presumed innocent. All could face the death penalty if convicted.

Casas, Jodka's attorney, said his client was forced to sign a statement about the events that he knew to be incorrect after Naval Criminal Investigative Service agents kept him in a room at Camp Fallujah last month for more than seven hours without food, water or breaks. He said the agents threatened Jodka with the death penalty and scared him into signing the statement.

Ed Buice, an NCIS spokesman in Washington, said that such statements are voluntary and that suspects are "given the opportunity to review the statement and make any changes to it before signing."

Reached by telephone in Massachusetts yesterday, a woman who identified herself as Hutchins's fiancee said she is standing by the sergeant, the highest-ranking member of the unit charged.

"We are heartbroken about the situation and we love him very much," she said. "We believe he is innocent."

Geis reported from Camp Pendleton. Researcher Julie Tate contributed to this report.

Who's to blame here? Clearly, it's Josh White and Sonya Geis, and their anti-U.S., terrorist-hugging employer, the Washington Post. They're the ones to hold responsible for this.

-30-

Fun with firearms

Photo post today. I shot these out at a reflexive fire exercise the tankers and Cav scouts of Troop A, 1st Squadron, 16th Cavalry Regiment were conducting at Browns Range. If you're familiar with Knox's "Misery, Agony, and Heartache" hills, this range is near there. Enjoy.



A dry-fire run through.



Bang...



Bang...



Bang. Notice the brass being ejected, and the position of the slide. He's not out of ammo, I'm just quick. And lucky.

-30-

Update: Open posting at The Castle.

References?

I'm working on a post on informed dissent, and how it's becoming increasingly unwelcome in America's internal political debate. I'm trying to keep this one high-brow, so any citations you handful of faithfuls have that could help would be terrific.

Specifically, I'm looking for examples of blogs that attack the very idea of dissent, instead of taking a particular stance and supporting it rationally.

Thanks,

BG

-30-

Thoughts while running

I don't understand people who enjoy running. To me, it's an activity you do when required to -- for instance, when you need to escape from something, or catch something... or, when some over-eager NCO tells you that's what you will be doing for an hour on Monday morning.

I'm not much good at it. I chug along while wiry-limbed privates lope by, seemingly immune from the rising burn in the lungs, calves, and hamstrings. I am the tortoise, but I have yet to win any races.

This morning we headed up a usually-desolate stretch of road near the company building. There was a damp mist hanging in the air that made me think of all the earth science books I'd leafed through while I was a kid. It was like running through what I imaagine rainclouds are like at altitude -- dust particles clinging to the air while moisture condenses on them until they're heavy enough to fall.

Despite the cool, damp air, I was hot, sweaty, and aggravated to be once again slogging my way down some pockmarked Kentucky road. If it weren't for the Army, I thought, I wouldn't be doing this. I'd still be in bed, maybe clicking on "Imus in the Morning" on MSNBC and cursing the old buzzard for trying to get by on three minutes of air time surrounded by 10-minute commercial segments.

I've been in the Army for just shy of four years, and I realized suddenly that most of the people who'd signed up around the same time were probably getting ready to get out, if they hadn't reenlisted. Four years is the average sentence, it seems. I know now that if I'd held out a little longer, the recruiter up in Syracuse would probably have cut my contract down to four years, and maybe even agreed to pay off my college loans. Alas, at the time I'd had no experience in dealing with used car salesmen, horse traders, or loan sharks, and I took the man at his word. So I have another year to go.

"Sorry, that's the shortest contract we've got available for that job," he told me.

Six months later I was sitting in public affairs classes at Fort Meade, Maryland, next to more wordly-wise soldiers who'd shaved their active-duty time down to four years by haggling with their recruiter. If that had been me, I'd be packing bags right now.

But as it stands, I'll be in for another year. It should be time to get some savings together and line up whatever the next Big Step is for old Brother Gonzo. So hey, maybe one more year isn't all that bad.

-30-

Traffic boom

See if you can tell from this Sitemeter graph which day it was that it was announced I was quitting MilBlogs:



Things have pretty much levelled off since then, as you can see.

-30-

New links, stuff to see

I've made a couple additions to the old Blogroll to make up for the cuts I made last week.

First, check out Spc. Freeman's "Calm Before the Sand." He's got a very interesting take on Army life, and thoughts on Haditha that don't involve jumping on any bandwagons. (Hat tip goes to Dr. Kenneth Noisewater.)

New York Hack is a female cabbie working the beat in the Big Apple. The nature of her job mandates that she runs into more than her fair share of asshats, who she dutifully photographs. However, sometimes they're not asshats at all...

Go over to my brother's place and harass him for not updating in more than a month.

As for me, I'm at work, but still suffering from acute headboogeritis, and when I cough it sounds like the death ward in a tuberculosis sanatorium. I've usually got a strong constitution, so it's weird that a bug like this is sticking around so long.

Frustrated earlier this week with the lack of results from the drugs I got from the hospital, I added a bracing dose of bourbon to the regimen. So far, it has only helped temporarily. Maybe I need to increase the dosage?

-30-

Update: A friend of mine, Jan Korda, does not work on the starship Enterprise, despite his moniker. He does, however, write messed-up short fiction when he's not too hung over.

Update: Go read this post over at Talking Salmons, right now.

Update: Because he whined in the comments box, here's another former coworker/NCO of mine, Sgt. Atticus "Longhorns" Finch, with a roundup of international sports action. Show him some love, Korean-style. Because he's in Korea.

Dixie Chicks still being punished by fans?

Probably, yes. Joe Scarborough just asked:

"The Dixie Chicks... do slow sales mean the country trio should rethink their anti-Bush stance?"

Hmmm... it's a possibility. The other option would be to make music that doesn't suck.

-30-

Update: Oh lord, I'm watching "Scarborough Country" on MSNBC, and I'm almost to the point of tears of laughter. Joe's got two lawyers screaming at each other over the the following issue -- Some pervert in California is making "cheerleader videos" by going to high school football games and videotaping the cheerleaders, with special emphasis placed on their private areas. This guy's then selling the videos on eBay for around $70 a pop.

This one guy with a fake tan is yelling about how this guy should be made to pay -- pay, I tell you! -- for the damages he's inflicting on the girls and their families. He'd want triple damages, he said, if he was to prosecute the case.

Scarborough played a clip of one of the girls' families watching one of the videos. They were, shall we say, uncomfortable. Freeze frames during certain moves had to be blurred out for cable television.

"I'll never feel comfortable wearing my uniform again!" the suddenly-famous cheerleader sobbed.

Guess what, jackass: these videos were taken from the stands, where a couple thousand fans were sitting and watching. If you're upset with anonymous people seeing your underwear, quit doing the splits. If you've been around here for a while, you already know what I think of cheerleading. Quit pretending it's a sport -- it's just a titillation for the crowd, and a symbol for the rewards of athletic prowess for the team on the field. To the victor go the spoils, and that's got one hell of a historical precedent to back it up. Cheerleaders, I think it's safe to say, represent the spoils.

And if you don't like cheerleading being sexualized, quit cheerleading. Short skirts and shiny underpants aren't there to make you better at your job.

-30-

Another Update: If videotape of a varsity event can be construed as child pornography or child erotica, maybe it isn't the videotape parents should be worried about... maybe it's the varsity "event."

WHY GOD, WHY?

From Sports Illustrated, via Newsmap:

Steelers quarterback Ben Roethlisberger injured in motorcycle accident.

PITTSBURGH (AP) -- Steelers quarterback Ben Roethlisberger, who has said he dislikes wearing a motorcycle helmet, was seriously injured in a motorcycle crash and taken to a hospital Monday.

Dr. Larry Jones, chief of trauma at Mercy Hospital, said Roethlisberger was in serious but stable condition in an operating room Monday afternoon. Roethlisberger was undergoing surgery, but Jones would not say for what.

"He was talking to me before he left for the operating room," Jones said. "He's coherent. He's making sense. He knows what happened. He knows where he is. From that standpoint, he's very stable."

What did Pittsburgh do to deserve this?

-30-