It's been a long time....

since I've written on this thing....and a lot has happened. Mr. Mcdrunkendrivingandbeingwastedtwentyfourseven is finally out the door in a week...that was only a almost three month process. Red tape is ridiculously prevailant, especially when you are too busy to always keep checking up on shit. I've gotten a pair of lederhose, so watch out Bavaria...they'll be some pasty white legs hanging around soon.

Things I've learned during my second field exercise (MRX):

- Do not, under any circumstance, allow the acting platoon sergeant get his hands on the keys...holy shitze that massive keyring with every previously marked key now unmarked is ridiculous.
- It is not ok for my soldiers to drive 50kph down the tank trail, even if captain who yell at me about it are doing it are currently going 60kph down the very same tank trail.
- "Where the fuck is SGT _____?" ...if I had a quarter for every time I said that.
- The only time MILES vehicle gear works is when the OCs shoot it with their god guns.
- Don't put SPCs in charge of load out of ISU 90s...they'll load everyone they see.
- Don't put 1LTs in charge of load out of ISU 90s...they won't be able to find them.
- Don't let senior NCOs tell your soldiers to let a random dude on the FOB if they have searched him and he is clean...he will find out where the TOC, Aid station, and chow hall are located.
- You can never have enough tan tshirts.
- Apparantly the real land mines you find aren't in play...but the fake ones will kill you.
- If an IED goes off and no one is killed/vehicles disabled, you should stop in the enemy's kill zone so they can execute and complex attack on you...because if you keep rolling then the OC will just catastrophically kill and vehicle and give you two urg-surg casualties...and air is black...and those UH-60s spinning up on the PZ aren't actually there.
- You didn't give the pilots the PZ Control Freq...you must have been talking to the aliens on the DSN line last night.
- "S-3 says I cannot roll on this QRF mission due to mission requirements"--QRF commander
- Five hour TCPs will always turn in to nine hour TCPs
- OCs will sleep if you set up a nine hour TCP
- Slovenians will call you a fucking asswhole, piece of shit bastard fuckface....then shake your hand before saying goodbye...
- A male soldier will always get the spontaneous vaginal bleeding casualty card.
- Maintenance WILL shatter the replacement window for your LHS while installing it.
- Someone else will ALWAYS hope on your convoy.

I'm thinking there should a a revival of sorts...

Of the hand slap that is...say something that makes sense, put out your hand, and except your punishment, because we all know that sense has no place in the Army...Get with the program airborne.

Lessons I've Learned on My First Graf Rotation

1. A73 dead ends in Nurnburg
2. Don't listen to the Commander, follow the directions on the pyro.
3. Foxes don't like .50 cals.
4. 900 rounds of blank .50 cal fired in rapid succession will begin to weld the barrel to the blank adapter.
5. Get to the shoppette before 1600...thats when the hot lady leaves in here pimp ass BMW.
6. Range control doesn't think "Thriller" is cool, even if my PSG can do the dance.
7. QASAS man is lonely...seriously we can talk about anything, doesn't have to be ammo, seriously, is there anything you want to talk about.
8. ASP= most inefficient thing on earth.
9. Don't tell 1SG that he should have asked for a dope ass sign if he wanted on like yours.
10. G BTRY will be the last to know about everything.
11. Range paddles are no longer within the brigade standard......durka durka.

Well its been awhile

I thought blogspot was blocked by the Army for my computer but apparantly I was misinformed or just straight durka durka dumbass....so what better time to post then when in the field. Ah, lovely Graf...its beautiful of course, until it rains, gets cold, its 2300 and you're working on the following days trip tickets...f-ing SAWEET baby. Actually I'm loving it...for four days I worked from 0730-1900ish in a range. Me, the American, the dude running the laser engagement system, a Sweed (a Saab employee as well), and the rangemeister, a German, all jamming out to some good old Britney Spears, Lady GaGa, and AC/DC.

Schnitzel Weiner mit Pommes, bitte!

I guess you could classify this as my first, "Bamberg," experience...boy, this city is something out of a fairy tail, but very real and bustling as well. One moment I staring (because I can't read them) at adds for the Iphone in a T-mobile cell phone store window, and the next standing on the steps of a thousand year old church containing the body of the only Pope burried north of the Alps and a nail that pierce the body of Jesus Christ.
If I can survive my time here without getting run over by a person on a bicycle, or a smart car on a street/sidewalk (its hard to tell sometimes) I think I will claim myself victorious. I don't remember the name of the place I was taken to eat, but somehow my German skills, really lack of, got me some tender Wiener schnitzel and fries (pommes), as well as a pint of the famous Rauchbier I have been told about by many. It have to say the Rauchbier would be most offensive to most so called "beer-drinkers," but I found its smokey aromatic nature quite delicious, in a "I'd have one with a nice meal" kind of way. Definitely not a six pack type of beer. And, what was that on the drink menu....yes...an favorite of mine...Jacky Cock, gotta love it. I'm almost afraid that there's an extra ingredient over here.
Soon after placing the order...my wiener schnitzel, and my companion's Jaugerschnitzel, the walls in this tiny, but historic looking place are rattling to the beat of the chef pounding the everliving shit outta some pork. Hot and piping deliciousness arrive soon afterward and I almost licked my plate clean...so far that's two meals out of authentic German kitchens that have left my plate completely bare of any remnants... damn, its good food. Next time I'm trying the jaugerschnitzel, it looked and smelled great too!

oh...the px has massive bananas

Ein Bier Bitte!!

Seriously...was a 29 minute flight worth it from Richmond to Dulles...I've had shits that last longer than that....no kidding. I guess it was worth a bit, I made a friend...well, she could have easily been my mother but we were sitting next to each other, she had never flown alone, was a military mom, and was travellling to Germany as well...plus she was a MILF. And she was fun, we made fun of many people, including the steroid freak carrying the Victoria Secret bag, sans a woman. The pond hop was less than adventurous, except when we hit severe turbulance while my pants were around my ankles and I was trying to crap. (note to self: always poop before climbing to 37,000 ft, any and all gas expands and builds up and hurts) A little sleep helped, and soon enough we were on the ground in Pittsbur....I mean Frankfurt, but I wouldn't have known it wasn't Pittsburgh if it weren't for all the German, the weather was identical.) What a crazy airport scene though...I had to disembark via stairs directly onto the tarmac, walk about a 100 meters to a bus, ride the bus ten minutes to the terminal, go up one escalator, through Passport control, down an escalator, around a bend, down a 200 meter halway with pointless sets of doors, down another escalotor, and through another set of doors, all to get to baggage claim...thankfully no lost baggage. I then had a three hour ride on the Autobahn sandwiched between my sponsor and another soldier who drove him up in smallest bench seat of a European van you've ever seen. The Autobahn isn't nearly as sexy as people make it out to be, although the highlight of the drive was when we stopped to get some fuel and almost killed a man riding a chopper motorcylce with apehangers....in the pouring rain....crazy euros. Turns out tonight was also a battalion Hail & Fairwell, so I my first introduction to my chain of command was over some delicious hefeweizen at The Hotel Christel owned and operated by the most delightful middle aged lady who is a Austrian Ski Champion and the Governator's second cousin, I shit you not. Several people seemed concerned that I was drinking the hefeweizen after my over 24 hours of travelling...they've obviously never drank with me and my friends.

Hallo von Bamberg, Deutschland!

Those "Special" People In Life

No, I'm not talking about the mentally handicapped. Yes those are mentally handicapped are special people, don't get me wrong, I worked with them for several years as a Special Olympics volunteer. Those special people, although afflicted with a handicap that leaves them a few steps behind the Average Joe, still contribute positively to life. They inspire, overcome, and surprise you around every turn. The "special" people I'm referring to, on the other hand, do not.

Have you ever heard someone talk, and you just go...WTF Mate? Yes, I'm sure we all have. Now imagine that on the grand scale, on a constant basis. Most would rather run head first into a brick wall that have to listen to these special people, and some actually have.

Now I know its expected that in life we will come across people such as this...morons we call them I believe. Its just a fact of life that some people are stupid and annoying and will be hated at all. I would venture to say that a majority of non-military types perceive those in the military to be...not so fucking stupid. I mean, these are the Army Strong, Few and Proud, Crossed Into the Blue BAMFs who kick ass and take names later, right! Matter a fact, no...idiots exist everywhere, and the Army is probably the best representative of the cross section of the "American People" as any subsection you may find. And to further agravate the problem of the Special People...we give them power, authority, and rank.
You would think the cracks would be thin enough for them to be filtered out, but NOOOOOO. It doesn't matter which side of the fence you rank lies on, be it NCO or Commissioned Officer, the Special People survive...and boy do they shine.