Onward to the Forward Assembly Area

We finally arrived at the staging camp at al Jubail. The 2^nd Armored Cavalry Regiment had not fully cleared the camp and there were no tents available for us. That first evening we slept on cots out in the open. Most rolled out their sleeping bags and slept in their clothes. Some put their ponchos over themselves. You could tell in the morning which soldiers had slept under their ponchos by the wet sleeping bags. Their breath had condensed under the ponchos and soaked their sleeping bags. Humans exude a pretty good amount of moisture in their breath. Around noon we were assigned to tents and attempted to settle into camp life.

The ship with our vehicles had not yet arrived at the port. We waited a few days at the camp. There were attempts to make some sort of a military encampment with camp chores and assigned tasks. This brief stay in AL Jubail was one of the worst experiences of our time in SWATO. Elements of our company were scattered and keeping order was a challenge. Everyone longed to get away from the camp as they knew it would be a temporary thing. I don’t recall if there was a phone center at the camp.

Within two days the commander and a small contingent deployed to the Forward Assembly Area south of the small town of Al Qaisumah. This town, located near the Waddi al Batin is just north of the Trans Arabia Pipe (TAP) Line Road. Al Qaisumah is really not much of a town as it is a collection of adobe buildings arrayed with roads. During our time here we were told it was filled with Iraqi sympathizers, I don’t know, I never went to town. The TAP Line Road is a service road running parallel to the oil line which is buried under sand.

The third day the rest of the Battalion Headquarters and some of Alpha Company left the camp under the command of the Alpha Company commander. Within 10 kilometers, the driver of my vehicle fell asleep, and we flew off the road into the ditch, whereupon we were axle deep in fine sand. Our vehicle was transporting crew served weapons, fortunately none of them were lost or damaged. A group of Military Police pulled us free using their spiffy new High Mobility Multiple Wheeled Vehicles (HMMWV). These were the first HMMWVs I’d ever seen.

The trip from the camp in Al Jubail to Al Qaisumah was around 490 kilometers. In a car, following the speed limit it should take five hours. The average driver in Saudi Arabia can probably complete it in around three and a half hours, they seem to disregard every rule of the road. In our military vehicles, we are significantly slower. At some point in the journey, we must have taken a turn at the wrong landmark, a burnt-out fuel tanker, and were just driving around in a large circle in the desert. I can never forget this. A Blackhawk helicopter flew over the huge dust cloud we were creating. The pilot flew over, banked to the left, and landed in the approximate middle of our large moving circle of vehicles. As the helicopter landed, we got a radio call telling us to stop and assemble in formation near where the helicopter had landed.

The passenger had disembarked. We had the fortune of meeting one of the 1^st Armored Division Deputy Commanders, a Brigadier General. He had a short animated and loud conversation with the Alpha Company Commander, after which they consulted a map. We were dressed down by the Alpha Company commander and ordered back into our vehicles. We resumed our journey, traveling back to the TAP Line Road, and eventually arriving at the FAA at dusk.

We arrive at our destination, an epic nine-hour caravan replete with a classic ass chewing. We had also collected a strange chaotic story.

The Southwest Asia Theater of Operations

The Southwest Asia Theater of Operations (SWATO) is the official area of the location we landed in Saudi Arabia. It is under the control of Central Command (CENTCOM) commanded by General H. Norman Schwartzkopf. The campaign is called Operation Desert Shield when we arrive. Several light units are already on the ground, and this means there are logistic streams already in place as we set down at King Fahad Military City (KFMC) near Riyadh, Saudi Arabia.

As we form up to conduct the in briefing, I spot a familiar face. While I was in Vilseck I was partnered with Captain Davis who was taking the Company Commanders course. What a great surprise to see a friend and get the low down from him. The in briefing helps orient us to the things we can expect over the next couple of days. One of the bits of information the in briefing team gave out was the need to drink water. There was a stack of 1.5-liter water bottles available and we were encouraged to drink at least one bottle of water before leaving the area. People are rather predictable and if one bottle is good why shouldn’t I outperform and drink more.

It was a short stay at KFMC and we were soon loaded onto busses and began the journey to the port in Dhahran to collect our vehicles. Once on the busses, biology began to take over, water in, waste out. But, we’re all captives on a bus. Fate. I was in the last of four busses and our driver began to shout and slowdown, pulling over to the side of the road as the other busses drove off. I asked him if he spoke English, he did not. I asked if he spoke German, Ja! I asked what the problem was and he told me the other busses had missed the turn and he would wait for them. The soldiers on the bus see an opportunity to get out and relieve themselves along the side of the road. After a considerable amount of door pounding the driver relented and the male soldiers on the bus stream out to “stream out.” The passing motorists where not amused by this behavior.

Now the other busses are returning and the soldiers on those busses are eager for a break. What a mess and what to do for the female soldiers? We had plenty of water bottles and we created a screen using ponchos and the females were able to get relief.

The rest of the trip was quiet, especially when we passed a traffic accident with dead bodies laid out on the road surface. This may have been the first time many of the soldiers had seen such a scene. While they initially had a desire to see the carnage, they soon got quiet and sat in silence for the rest of the trip. This was a very sobering moment.

Deployment – Desert Shield/Desert Storm

Iraq invaded Kuwait in August of 1990. In early November of 1990 I was in Vilseck, West Germany at Rose Barracks attending First Sergeant School. The Union of Soviet Socialist Republics (USSR) had collapsed and we in the U.S. Army’s, VII Corps were beginning the process of trying to figure out the new relationship we had with our former foes in the Warsaw Pact. On November 8, 1990, President George H. W. Bush, in a nationally televised address announced that the VII Corps was being ordered to deploy from its forward position in Europe to the Southwest Asia Theater as the heavy armored fist General Schwartzkopf would need to begin an offensive against Iraq.

So many questions roiled through my mind. Most prominent and persistent was the question of whether I was personally (emotionally and professionally) up to the tasks I would be responsible for as a senior Non-Commissioned Officer. War games and training were one thing, but now this was the real deal. The potential of being shot at and/or of shooting at enemy soldiers has just been ratcheted up a tic or three or seven.

I was assigned to a Combat Service Support unit of the 1st Armored Division, but the nature of war is that a combatant is a combatant and in my mind the location of the combatant on the battlefield does not preclude risk.

We had a few weeks to prepare our unit for movement to the theater and that time was spent refining vehicle and personal readiness. We convoyed vehicles from Nurnberg to Bremerhaven as they would be shipped to the gulf where we would connect back up with them and move out to our Forward Assembly Area (FAA). This was a two-day convoy and we spent a night on a German kaserne in Kassel at the midpoint. All went off without a hitch, although SSG Sprigle and I had a brief and terse conversation about the possible consequences of his not being in his vehicle and ready to go. Once we dropped off our vehicles in Bremerhaven it was a long bus ride back to Nurnberg.

The entire Battalion had a memorable Thanksgiving with our families at the Dining Facility. It is hard to describe that meal, so many conflicting emotions and thoughts. We were going to war and leaving our families in Europe. But duties demand responsibility. I recall the sendoff gathering with families the week before Christmas in the post gymnasium. Those of us on the initial lift were gathered with our families and there was a great deal of sadness. As the unit first sergeant I had to send Kim and the boys away early to begin the task of disengaging my soldiers from their family members and get everyone on the bus for the initial checkpoint stop in Herzogenaurach on the way to our departure from the Nurnberg airport.

We boarded the plane with our weapons, which by the way do not fit in the overhead bins, and we were off to Saudi Arabia with a refueling stop in Italy. The inflight movie was “Major League”. We had been insanely busy and now as we sat on the plane, finally moving the atmosphere was almost one of excitement and exploration with a healthy splash of apprehension.

Stuck in the Middle With You

Gerry Rafferty and Joe Egan were band mates in a little British band named “Stealers Wheel.” In 1973 they released a song titled, “Stuck in the Middle With You.” It was catchy, the hook was especially clever; “Clowns to the left of me, Jokers to the right, here I am stuck in the middle with you..”

What inspired this line? The lyric was born out of a business meeting with record label executives. Gerry Rafferty long held a belief that the recording industry was not at all interested in the talent. He and Joe Egan had been invited to a contract negotiation and it quickly became obvious the record label execs were clueless. Not just about the artists, but business and promotion in general. Gerry and Joe were surrounded by men in expensive suits and while they initially felt out of place, they quickly realized clowns and jokers attempting to control their lives. “Clowns to the left of me, Jokers to the right, here I am stuck in the middle with you.”

While listening to the song, the line “Stuck in the middle with you,” sounds like a lament, I prefer to think it is more a statement of fact. Not only is it a statement of fact, but it is an acknowledgement that we’re here together. We need to be aware of the clowns to our left and the jokers to the right, the Jokers to the left and the clowns to the right. And, honestly we need to actively work on not being jokers and clowns ourselves.

At the risk of over simplification and massive aggravation, I think we should also consider our current political and societal climate here in the United States when we think about being stuck in the middle with you. What brought this to mind for me was a recent discussion I had with a neighbor who was upset over the lack of respect and general decline of civility in our culture. I didn’t mention it to him at the time, but the bumper sticker on his SUV seemed at odds with his spoken words. That bumper sticker read, “Lets Go Brandon.” If you are unaware this is a coded way of expressing the following: “F*ck Joe Biden.”

The cognitive dissonance was amazing. Here was a person participating in the degradation of our shared civility bemoaning the degradation of our shared civility. Yet, completely unaware of the impact and confusing nature of his sticker and words.

Why is it so hard to see our convoluted struggle with truth?

Lebkuchen

Nuremberg-style lebkuchen, known as Nürnberger Lebkuchen in Germany, is the crème de la crème of lebkuchen, having the highest nut content (typically comprised of almonds and hazelnuts, but also walnuts and cashews) of all types of lebkuchen. By definition, Nürnberger Lebkuchen must contain a minimum of 25% nuts and less than 10% wheat flour.

Some people think of it like a gingerbread cookie, but it is more than that. It is more cake like than a gingerbread cookie. It is often referred to as a honey cake. In fact, the Nurnberg Square Dance Club was called the Honeycake Squares.

There are two “industrial” lebkuchen bakeries in Nurnberg. Haeberlein Metzger and Schmidt. I like both, but prefer Schmidt because a friend of ours was a childhood friend of the Schmidt family.

Once while stationed in Germany, the unit I was assigned to was put “on alert.” This is just a readiness test and typically the unit would deploy to a training area we called Sand Canyon. This particular time we had road construction to contend with and I proposed an alternate route. I offered to ride in the first vehicle out. Then position myself at a turn to point the way to the other vehicles. The last vehicle was supposed to stop and pick me up and take me to Sand Canyon.

I’m in full battle rattle. Load Bearing Equipment (LBE), combat helmet, and M16. It is an alert after all. Of course it’s also winter so I’m wearing all the heavy clothing. I also have no money, there is nothing to buy at Sand Canyon.

We head out, I’m placed at the strategic turn and I’m now watching for the trailing jeep. Here it comes, I begin to wave they begin to wave back. They make the turn where they are supposed to turn and they keep right on going. I’m now standing on the corner of a major thoroughfare in Nurnberg. I’m near the two lebkuchen bakeries, I can smell them. It’s really close to lunch time and I’m stranded by myself while the unit has gone out to Sand Canyon for lunch.

That was quite a challenge. I have a new apparently permanent post that is close enough to smell and see the Schmidt bakery. But I have all of my field gear and a rifle and have no money. I set out to retrace the 2 and a half mile route back to the kaserne. I was almost back to the rear gate when the lead vehicle of the convoy pulled up behind me and asked if I’d like to ride the last 200 yards into the kaserne. What an alert. Was anyone really alert?

A Recent Morning Coffee and Lebkuchen

I really love lebkuchen. It is perhaps my favorite Christmas cookie. Not just because of this incident although this does make it much more enjoyable. If you get a chance and there is an Aldi supermarket near you, give lebkuchen a try.

Customer Service

I have to take a minute to write about Customer Service. It may be a function of the times or it may be unique to the RV industry, but customer service is a bit of a misnomer. Unfortunately the use of these two words together like this and the predominant application of the practice has me thinking way too much about my time on a dairy farm – we used a service.

The Midwest Breeders Service and the American Breeders Service were both Artificial Insemination (AI – think about it) services. We’d identify the cow in ‘need’ and call one of the two AI reps and they’d show up to service the cows.

Why that little bit of information? Well we’ve had the occasion to use a few RV service places for various things and most of them subscribe to a Customer Service policy that reminds me of that poor cow. In fact all but one facility seems to have a practice that is implemented that goes something like this: “I care deeply about you as a customer. You are high on my priority list. But, calling you to keep you informed about the work on your home is just a little bit more than I can realistically be expected to do. Oh, and the more you call me the more I despise and plan to ignore you.”

In fact one such nationwide RV sales and service company employs a device that I contend is meant to keep customers in the dark and distance them from the service department. This is the nationwide switchboard. You need to call us, first use the internet. You find the service center you plan to visit, you call the number provided, you get the nationwide switchboard which will force you to go through a series of selections to finally reach a recording machine. Let’s just pick a name out of a hat and call this chain: Lazydays. They have two service centers in Minnesota, one in Monticello, MN which they from here on out will call Minneapolis. You finally make an appointment and even get a business card from the service representative with (what you think is) a direct number. Nope that’s a dupe, this number like any other number you collect sends you to the nationwide switchboard and the requisite select a number and possibly speak to a recording lottery. Congratulations, we might call you back, most likely we won’t though.

I hesitate to talk about my new friend Terry in Northwest Arkansas. We met him and corresponded and spoke via text and cell phone calls. Terry is a wizard and is clearly not meant to be in the RV service industry. We took our coach to him for some service before we went to that fictional place ‘Lazydays’. Terry used his phone to call us! the horror! He kept us in the loop three times a day with observations and suggestions and simply progress reports about the work being done on our home. It is my hope that the RV service industry does not find out about Terry. I fear they may physically cause him harm if they find out he is actually providing customer service.

We visited Terry before we went to that fictional business located at 3939 Chelsea Road, Monticello, MN. Before landing at the fictional place I almost thought Terry was mildly intrusive. Thank goodness, I now know he cares about me and my coach and just wanted to make sure I was happy with his shop and the work they do. That fictional company ‘Lazydays’, not so much.

But dale, this is a small sample of just two RV service facilities. I’ve been to more that function like the fictional ‘Lazydays’ (www.lazydays.com) and only one that strives to keep customers, my new best friend Terry. I wish it weren’t so.

It’s possible I’m ranting. But, the number of service actions requested and expected at the facility in MN were vast and I ended up with only an oil change. So I drove 2,000 miles for an oil change. When I made the appointment I disclosed all of the maintenance and repairs I needed. Oh well we got to visit with family, and got to set up with Terry as our new all time and future RV shop.

I hope your customer service interactions are more pleasing than the one I experienced.

If you are in a customer service industry – be more like Terry and less like the AI guys of the nationwide switchboard organizations.

Let’s Move

Until February 2022 we had been fairly stationary. Living entirely in the two RV parks located on Redstone Arsenal since late August of 2021. We had sorted through several maintenance issues on the RV. We had quite a few practice moves to shakedown our pack – displace – emplace – restore, better known as our moving process.

This was comfortable, but not exactly the plan. In February we traveled to North Carolina. Stopped to spend two nights in north east Georgia, then two nights near Fayetteville, North Carolina. Finally to spend a week at Cherry Point Marine Corps Air Station. We were in North Carolina to dip our toes into the Reach Global Crisis Response world. We had fun and most definitely solidified our goal to become part of that team. Serving with people who love Jesus and have compassion for people was where we wanted to be.

We returned back to Redstone and sat until early March. We then set our sights on Florida. We meandered south to have some windows replaced. We also did a little bit of sightseeing. If you’ve never been to Weeki Wachee, FL to see the mermaid show… well you need to go.

We returned to Redstone near the end of March. Then Dale went back to work. Well part-time and only during April and May. It’s a long story and hardly worth this space.

The month of June was spent planning for our first 2,000 plus mile trip to Minnesota via Mississippi, Tennessee, Arkansas, Missouri, and Iowa. Other than hanging with family the time in Minnesota was a bust. I’ll probably write about that in another post. We zipped back to Alabama and began planning the next trip out for September.

We’re currently in Southeastern Kentucky. Our RV is located at Camp Nathanael, Emmalena, KY. We are in the ‘holler’ as they call these numerous small valleys and draws here.

I have so many details, so plan to get a few blogs out this week.

What a Cute Little Flirt

What a Cute Little Flirt

Please Give Blood

Yesterday Kim and I both had appointments to donate platelets. I know the title says. “Please Give Blood.” Platelets are how we do that.

Our culture has a bunch of pithy little sayings about giving. “Better to give than to receive.” “No one has ever become poor by giving.” – Anne Frank “We must give more in order to get more. It is the generous giving of ourselves that produces the generous harvest.” Orison Swett Marden “We make a living by what we get, we make a life by what we give.” – Winston Churchill “Give until it hurts.”

The minor effects, post donation.

Yesterday Kim was unable to give due to a high temperature that we both attributed to sitting in the hot car as we waited for our appointment. The staff was so caring and when they discovered Kim has a knee replacement surgery coming in the next 10 days, they told her it was best she not give.

I on the other hand was fully qualified and set my sights on the donation. In the past two years I’ve donated a bit over 5 gallons. only two of those donations have been whole blood. The rest of my donations have been platelets. Donating platelets is a 2+ hour event. Why am I telling you this? Why am I showing you the minor effects of a donation? Does the donation process cause pain?

I’m telling you about the process of donating, because I want to encourage you to donate. Is there pain? Yes, there is a minor amount, an extremely minor amount of pain. I have incurred some pretty inconvenient and an unsightly amount of bruising (as has Kim) from a donation. Mine was caused by my own actions, when they tell you not to move your arms, they mean don’t move them. Kim suffered a bad needle placement, that was corrected, but the bruising resulted.

But the pain and any discomfort is extremely minor. Especially when you consider what the whole blood or platelets mean to someone who actually needs those products. Whole blood and platelets are used to treat people in serious need. Whole blood and platelets are used to save lives. Yur simple donation of a product that will not be missed will, positively alter someone else’s life. And while that is the case, your donation will also positively alter the lives of the people around that recipient.

Please take a small amount of time to rest and relax while you give the gift of life. I truly doubt that you will miss it. And, I whole heartedly know that you will not regret it. You will even get a snack once your donation is complete.

Welcome Back!

This is not a day I anticipated or expected. Am I actually standing in line at the One-Stop? Didn’t I retire?

Welcome back? Yes, to all of the glory of working as a government contractor. I have been asked to come back to work by my previous employer. This will be a short-term, part-time gig. I started April 1 and will finish no later than May 31. I’ll work no more than five hours a day, four days a week. My task is to help acclimate the newest replacement for my previous position. Some writing may also be part of the task.

So, here I stand at the Redstone Arsenal One-Stop. What can I say nice about the One-Stop? Well, as an entity, it is the perfected epitome of a government agency. There, that’s a nice eloquent-sounding statement that describes it well. I must note that the people inside are warm engaging people and I have much empathy for them. However, I’m certain they rarely disclose the exact nature of their employment outside of the building.

There are things that cause me to shudder about returning to work, even part time. I have to get up early, this is quite stressful. But I will get to return to all of the joy of the acronym. to find out more about this exciting little word trick, see https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Acronym. I recognize their usefulness, but have come to loath them and their use. I have divined that the word acronym is actually an acronym: All Clarity Removed for Obtuse, Nebulous, and foggY Minds.

Looking forward, while thinking backward.