mychai's Diaryland Diary ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- And the End Draws Near... Dear Mike, Warrior Week wasn�t all it was cracked up to be, although it did have its high points. But for the sake of trying to keep awake pulling a dorm guard shift at 2:30 a.m. (yes, getting caught writing this letter could get me recycled), I will list the crappy parts about Warrior Week first. First off, it was HOT! When we first got there, the temperature in our tent was 115 degrees. Yes, we did have air conditioning in our tent, but it only made the temperature fall down to survivable levels. Except at night, when it would have gotten cold enough in the tent to � umm � hang meat. Sorry. My wit is nonexistent at 2:30 in the morning. So, I would go to bed hot � it is hard to get to sleep when you are lying in your own pool of sweat � then wake up a few times over the night because I was so cold. It�s no wonder I have a sore throat and nasty cough right now. Second, it was like a bad fantasy camp for people who like to pretend they are Navy SEAL types. We had to always carry around a fake M16 gun with us wherever we went, and we had to don a Kevlar helmet if we weren�t inside the tent (which we weren�t from 4 a.m. to 9 p.m.) It was heavy, not too cool, and it made your head aches. One the up side about the helmet, it made me look a lot like Darth Helmet from the movie Space Balls. The creepy-crawly creatures out in the Texas bush suck more than your average sucky, creepy-crawly creatures. Texas has scorpions. Lots of them. Big ones. And you ain�t never had the heebie-jeebies over a bug until you have to knock one of these suckers off the back of your buddy�s collar. Remember those huge rabbits I was telling you about? Well, out in the woods, their growth obviously goes unchecked by cars and really hungry people. I woke up one night to one of those rabbits standing over me with a look of bloodlust in his eyes. I would have knocked it on its head, but it was too tall. I don�t know for sure, but I bet the whole Easter Bunny tale started in Texas. Where else do you find six-foot-tall bunnies hippity-hoppity-ing their little furry asses down the bunny trail (the sidewalk)? I tell ya. These bunnies freak me out. The food at Warrior Week wasn�t nearly as good as here in the squadron. It wasn�t bad, but it just wasn�t as good. We got to eat MREs for lunch every day, which was fun. Opening an MRE was always fun because you never knew what all you were getting. And the meter for how your day was came down to the dessert. Some MREs had chocolate-mint brownies with chocolate chips. Some had M&Ms, Skittles and/or Tootsie Rolls. Every now and then, you�d find some cookies. But for some reason, out of eight MREs (five for each day we were out there, plus three more when we did a two-day field training exercise), I got pound cake in six of them. It went from �Woo-hoo! Pound cake!� to �Dammit pound cake again!� Life is harsh. The good things: We got to spend a whole day learning about � and eventually shooting � an M16-2A. That�s a big gun that lets out a loud �POW� when you pull the trigger. It was fun shooting it, even though I pretty much couldn�t defend myself against a herd of angry elephants. I suck at aiming. Out of 40 shots, I hit the mark only 21 times. Thankfully, the bare minimum to pass (although failing would have made zero impact on my life) was 17. So, at least I passed. Shooting was somewhat relaxing, even though my shoulder hurt by the end of the day. We got to lay on our stomachs while we shot most of the rounds. There isn�t much you can do at BMT while laying down. So, that was nice. The gas chamber was also a neat day. We learned how to correctly put on all of the NBC (nuclear, biological, chemical) gear. The mask made you sound just like Darth Vader from Star Wars. When we got in the actual chamber, we had to do some exercises to make sure our mask wasn�t leaking and wouldn�t fall off. Then, one at a time, we had to take off our mask, say a sentence or two, and walk out the door. From personal experience, lemme tell ya that nerve gas doesn�t feel like a spa treatment. In fact, it downright hurts. It hurts even more when you are all sweaty and all of your pores are good and opened. Why was this fun? I can�t really explain it. The experience of all of us voluntarily doing something that feels scary and dangerous but is really pretty safe. It was like a funhouse at an amusement park � kinda. Not really. But you know what I�m saying. On Friday, the 4th of July, we finished Warrior Week and officially became Airmen. They had a really nice ceremony for us, and they played �God Bless the USA� while they presented us with our Airman�s Coin. And, once again, I cried. But so did about 75% of my flight, so I didn�t feel like such a wuss�this time. I am writing you on a Sunday. Today is the last full day that we wear our camouflage uniforms. We put our blues on tomorrow. I know this is clich�, but I make that uniform look good. My dad sent me a letter and told me that he bought a new car. He bought a Chevy El Camino. My dad�s so cool. For some reason, when I think of El Caminos, I think of Cheech and Chong driving around, getting high, coughing, etc. And now, my dad is connected to that image. I�ll say it again. My dad is so cool. I�m counting the days until I am out of here. I leave for Keesler Air Force Base in Biloxi, MS (1.5 hours away from Picayune) at 12:01 a.m. on Monday, July 14. I�m hoping that I�ll have Internet access while there. I�m really hoping I can get access in my room. That would be sweetness. My bud Reisner and I are going to try our hardest to room together. Another guy that I�ve come to really like is also going to Keesler. He is over 21, so he�s going to be my drinking buddy. And Reisner has agreed to be the DD. I�m so set. That�s it for this issue. In fact, this could be the last letter I send from BMT. It has taken me three days to finish this letter, and I don�t have many days left. I can�t believe this ride is over. It seems like we just got here, yet it feels like we�ve been here forever. I�m about to take my blues down to the cleaners to get my stripes sewn on. I just went down a few minutes ago to make a �financial phone call.� (I called my mom to tell her to bring my CDs). And earlier today, I sat around with my TI joking, laughing, and remembering the past six point five weeks. I really do like our TI. He said if we come through San Antonio that we should call him if we want to go out for a beer. I hope I get that chance. So, I�m going to sign off � potentially one last time � from Air Force BMT. Who knows when and from where you�ll hear from me again. JP 11:18 p.m. - Sunday, Jul. 13, 2003 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
||||||
|
||||||