Sunday, February 17, 2008
Welcome to the FOB, part #1
After leaving MOB station many of us were sent all over to start our one year of fun and fame. A few lucky sole's ended up at the FOB. With all the rumors and stories about the FOB we were unsure of what kind of year it was going to be.
With every Military move there is the mandatory in processing, a series of handing over paperwork that you are sure you will never see again. After handing over your whole military file you are confident that you are now in a system. In reality, some how everything is going to get misplaced and no one knows who or what you are. With all the on going automation this will never change, replacing the human factor is not in the equation.
Our introduction to the "FOB" included a guided (free) tour of our new home. We were introduced to the do's and don’ts of successful living in this austere environment. My first scare was when I noticed the elevated commodes; my next thought was who the unlucky bastard was going to be who had to clean the honey pots. Luckily it was a relic of several rotations ago; they actually have indoor plumbing here. To a common soldier this is a godsend, no "Porta Johns" for me. We were shown the Dining Facility, catered by civilians. Life doesn’t get any better than that, nothing against Military trained cooks but you get what you pay for. Contrary to our MOB station we actually sit to eat, what a novel concept. I mean who would have thought this would be so after several months of standing to eat. Mental note, I need to send a picture back to the MOB station with a note "I told you so!". Then we were introduced to our new living arrangements, a hardened wall, a roof, and a heater that works. I guess the guys at the MOB station were off again, I haven’t stayed in a tent since getting here. We are also told that there is WI-FI here; am I in heaven or what? We are given the grand tour of the place including what to do if something bad happens with all the scenarios too.
At the end of the first day after all this activity we head off to chow (military term for feeding our faces), its daylight when we head in to the Chow hall. After a belly full of decent food, any food I don’t have to make myself is a good meal. I head out of the DFAC (dining facility), while clearing the last door I step in to darkness (like a black hole). I am dumbfounded, who turned out the lights? Holy Sh*T!!!! Its darker then I don’t know what, my first thought was the generators went out. I then find out the hard way that we are on a blackout FOB, mental note always have a light handy. Lesson #1 for the first day with many more to follow.
Story by LT Frank
With every Military move there is the mandatory in processing, a series of handing over paperwork that you are sure you will never see again. After handing over your whole military file you are confident that you are now in a system. In reality, some how everything is going to get misplaced and no one knows who or what you are. With all the on going automation this will never change, replacing the human factor is not in the equation.
Our introduction to the "FOB" included a guided (free) tour of our new home. We were introduced to the do's and don’ts of successful living in this austere environment. My first scare was when I noticed the elevated commodes; my next thought was who the unlucky bastard was going to be who had to clean the honey pots. Luckily it was a relic of several rotations ago; they actually have indoor plumbing here. To a common soldier this is a godsend, no "Porta Johns" for me. We were shown the Dining Facility, catered by civilians. Life doesn’t get any better than that, nothing against Military trained cooks but you get what you pay for. Contrary to our MOB station we actually sit to eat, what a novel concept. I mean who would have thought this would be so after several months of standing to eat. Mental note, I need to send a picture back to the MOB station with a note "I told you so!". Then we were introduced to our new living arrangements, a hardened wall, a roof, and a heater that works. I guess the guys at the MOB station were off again, I haven’t stayed in a tent since getting here. We are also told that there is WI-FI here; am I in heaven or what? We are given the grand tour of the place including what to do if something bad happens with all the scenarios too.
At the end of the first day after all this activity we head off to chow (military term for feeding our faces), its daylight when we head in to the Chow hall. After a belly full of decent food, any food I don’t have to make myself is a good meal. I head out of the DFAC (dining facility), while clearing the last door I step in to darkness (like a black hole). I am dumbfounded, who turned out the lights? Holy Sh*T!!!! Its darker then I don’t know what, my first thought was the generators went out. I then find out the hard way that we are on a blackout FOB, mental note always have a light handy. Lesson #1 for the first day with many more to follow.
Story by LT Frank
Saturday, February 16, 2008
Episode I: Who Let The Dogs Out?
It was a late winter night in the middle of South Dakota, a lone humvee sits at the gate to the FOB. The ground is wet and slick from days of melting snow, much of the FOB was covered in watery lagoons where unknown creatures dwelled. Specialist Marx and Lieutenant Frank sit inside the humvee in silence, ever vigilant of their surroundings. They both know that any second the enemy could scale the walls and attack, a ferocious battle ever imminent. Both men have a tentative grip on their rifles, prepared for anything...
Waking from their slumber, Spc Marx and Lt Frank stretch and cover their eyes as the glaring sunlight filters into the humvee. Spc Marx leans forward in his seat, his eyes straining to see past the sunlight.
Lt Frank asks "What's wrong?"
... Silence...
"You okay?"
"Dogs sir... fucking dogs."
Lt Frank peers through the humvee window, spying a group of four dogs meandering about, searching for fresh meat no doubt. Suddenly, one of the dogs snap to attention and meets Lt Frank's gaze.
"We need to get out of here Marx..."
"Roger that sir."
Spc Marx says as he starts the humvee and slowly begins to pull off. Slowly moving through the FOB, Spc Marx glances into his sideview mirror.
"Sir, they're following us."
"Keep fucking going Marx, if we stop we're doomed."
Spc Marx speeds up, taking a corner sharply, sending out the tail end of the humvee. The humvee does a 360 degree spin and comes to a complete stop. Spc Marx looks over to ensure the Lt has survived their near disaster, seeing him moving, Spc Marx turns his attention outward. In front of the humvee stand the four dogs, gruff barks pierce the air as they descend on the vehicle.
"Marx, GO GO GO!"
Spc Marx slams his foot on the gas and the humvee takes off, the wheels churning dirt into the air as they roar past the dogs. Speeding down one of the narrow alleyways of the FOB, Spc Marx spys the dogs in pursuit of the vehicle in his sideview mirror.
"We can't outrun them sir."
"We have to run goddamn you, there's no other way!"
"I'm done running sir."
Spc Marx stops the vehicle and slams the shifter into reverse, watching the dogs in his sideview mirror, he begins to accelerate. Spc Marx draws closer to the dogs within seconds, one of them bounds out of Spc Marx's view. Aiming toward the one lone dog still in sight, Spc Marx comes within inches of the lone dog before he bounds out of view.
"They're gone sir."
"Go back to the gate..."
"Yes sir."
Arriving back at the gate, Lt Frank sports a large grin.
"Told you this job wasn't easy, THIS is where all the action is Marx."
"You're telling me sir."
Both men lean back and take a breath, reflecting on the events of the day. A brush with death will become their daily bread, mind shattering terror their water.
Written by Specialist Marx
Waking from their slumber, Spc Marx and Lt Frank stretch and cover their eyes as the glaring sunlight filters into the humvee. Spc Marx leans forward in his seat, his eyes straining to see past the sunlight.
Lt Frank asks "What's wrong?"
... Silence...
"You okay?"
"Dogs sir... fucking dogs."
Lt Frank peers through the humvee window, spying a group of four dogs meandering about, searching for fresh meat no doubt. Suddenly, one of the dogs snap to attention and meets Lt Frank's gaze.
"We need to get out of here Marx..."
"Roger that sir."
Spc Marx says as he starts the humvee and slowly begins to pull off. Slowly moving through the FOB, Spc Marx glances into his sideview mirror.
"Sir, they're following us."
"Keep fucking going Marx, if we stop we're doomed."
Spc Marx speeds up, taking a corner sharply, sending out the tail end of the humvee. The humvee does a 360 degree spin and comes to a complete stop. Spc Marx looks over to ensure the Lt has survived their near disaster, seeing him moving, Spc Marx turns his attention outward. In front of the humvee stand the four dogs, gruff barks pierce the air as they descend on the vehicle.
"Marx, GO GO GO!"
Spc Marx slams his foot on the gas and the humvee takes off, the wheels churning dirt into the air as they roar past the dogs. Speeding down one of the narrow alleyways of the FOB, Spc Marx spys the dogs in pursuit of the vehicle in his sideview mirror.
"We can't outrun them sir."
"We have to run goddamn you, there's no other way!"
"I'm done running sir."
Spc Marx stops the vehicle and slams the shifter into reverse, watching the dogs in his sideview mirror, he begins to accelerate. Spc Marx draws closer to the dogs within seconds, one of them bounds out of Spc Marx's view. Aiming toward the one lone dog still in sight, Spc Marx comes within inches of the lone dog before he bounds out of view.
"They're gone sir."
"Go back to the gate..."
"Yes sir."
Arriving back at the gate, Lt Frank sports a large grin.
"Told you this job wasn't easy, THIS is where all the action is Marx."
"You're telling me sir."
Both men lean back and take a breath, reflecting on the events of the day. A brush with death will become their daily bread, mind shattering terror their water.
Written by Specialist Marx
The Beginning
In a land far, far away a few weary soldiers stand vigilant in the face of terrorism. This is an ill-fated attempt to put together all the many pieces and stories that is now in our unforgettable past.
In every story there has to be a beginning, end, middle or something to paint the picture. Imagine a land far from your imagination, a landscape so desolate you would think you were on another planet. Actually we are stationed on a FOB (forward operating base) in western South Dakota. A land very desolate and far from civilization as we know it.
Our group of soldiers is led by LT Frank a veteran of ROTC and its many vast deployments to overnight camping trips. The second in command is SPC Jeffrey, he serves as the translator/mechanic/weapons expert/nutritional advisor and spiritual guru. He is seconded by SPC Money a self proclaimed financial expert who is aspiring to be a millionaire in the next three months. Next in the hierarchy is SPC John who was drafted from his civilian world and transported many miles away from normal sanity to a place better forgotten. At his side is SPC One-shot, by far the best slingshot in the entire west rivaling even the biblical David? And last but not least is the sometimes cranky SPC Marx who is the group’s resident comedian.
These are our adventures, this blog is purely fictional. The names have been changed to protect the innocent/ignorant/poor/ambiguous and depressed. Please enjoy our adventures.
In every story there has to be a beginning, end, middle or something to paint the picture. Imagine a land far from your imagination, a landscape so desolate you would think you were on another planet. Actually we are stationed on a FOB (forward operating base) in western South Dakota. A land very desolate and far from civilization as we know it.
Our group of soldiers is led by LT Frank a veteran of ROTC and its many vast deployments to overnight camping trips. The second in command is SPC Jeffrey, he serves as the translator/mechanic/weapons expert/nutritional advisor and spiritual guru. He is seconded by SPC Money a self proclaimed financial expert who is aspiring to be a millionaire in the next three months. Next in the hierarchy is SPC John who was drafted from his civilian world and transported many miles away from normal sanity to a place better forgotten. At his side is SPC One-shot, by far the best slingshot in the entire west rivaling even the biblical David? And last but not least is the sometimes cranky SPC Marx who is the group’s resident comedian.
These are our adventures, this blog is purely fictional. The names have been changed to protect the innocent/ignorant/poor/ambiguous and depressed. Please enjoy our adventures.
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