My Anniversary...

Yesterday marked my one month anniversary in country. We had another KIA, making five in as many days. Three were from our AOR (Area of Responsibility), but were down South helping in the 205th. I went thru training with one of the guys. Very depressing to think he’d been here less than a month. 26, married, 6 year old daughter; just tragic.

Hit 120 degrees today, very nice. Loved it. Not only was it scorching hot, like the third ring of Hell, but I got to make a journey out to our dirt runway to pick up mail. Not surprising, considering that it was so hot, the bird was only 45 F-ing minutes late.




Had it been a mere 100 or less, they probably would’ve been early – as getting out of the office and off the base is usually a reward. But of course, it strangely becomes a massive penance when the ole thermometer starts creeping up into the 1teens or 120s… Maybe that's why they call it "Murphy's Law."



I was just mentioning to my father, that my “battle rattle” as we so affectionately call it – that is, the body armor that I wear – has two large ballistic plates that weigh about 15 lbs apiece. I wear a Kevlar helmet, approx 5 lbs and damned good at keeping the heat in… My M-4 rifle weighs about 10 lbs, and along with my pistol and 9 clips (Ooops, magazines... we get in trouble for saying, “clip”) I’m wearing over 50 lbs of additional gear, while I’m standing around in the 120 degree heat waiting for a plane that is 45 minutes late, thank you very much... Did I mention how much I love it here?
Despite drinking a bottle and a half of water at the runway, a Gatorade and two more waters when I returned to the office I was still severely dehydrated and came down with a MASSIVE headache. Pretty sure this would make a migraine look like prom night. Now some of you may not have had the same prom night I did, but I assure you, I was “feeling NO pain…”

I had intended on going back to my hootch for my one month anniversary and celebrating THAT depressing milestone with a Cuban cigar and a shot of contraband Jameson. Of course, by the time I finished my 14 hour day, I was so exhausted that I crawled into bed and “passed out” – unassisted by my Irish nectar.