A rather intersting week. We went out to the field to dig freaking holes while the rest of the troop had the day off, and that was all magic and delicious and holy. With e-tools in hand, we played in rivers of chocolate, and we all had gumdrop smiles. Basically, we were setting up a live fire range with pop-up targets. While everyone else had the day off. I just want you to know that.
On to the next day, and you will all simply loooove this. Yeah, prepare to laugh long and hard at my expense. Finish sipping your drink and set it down on a solid surface and prepare your pointing finger, so you can point and cackle with glee at my misfortune. You ready? Ok.
We had a sudden room inspection that morning. And as the fates would have it, it was ALSO on the morning that our room was the most ate up that it has ever been, in the history of our awesomehood in the U.S. Army of A. It looked like Hurricane Wilma made a pit stop in our barracks. "Well geez, dude, what was your punishment?"
Step one: Remove absolutely EVERYTHING from the room, including the army issue furniture.
Step two: Clean everything. A lot.
Step three: Sweep, mop, strip, and wax the floor.
Step four: Wait and wait and wait for your platoon sergeant to return from the field (which wasn't until dinner time, and yes, we got to eat breakfast, lunch and dinner, don't worry America, we're doing swell!).
Step five: Attain approval of aforementioned Sergeant of Platoon, and commence returning everything in the room.
Step six: Rearrange the entire room setup just for the hell of it.
Step seven: Reorganize all personal effects.
Step eight: Grab your sleeping bag and sleep outside for the night, to learn to appreciate how wonderful the barracks are.
It didn't rain very much, so that was a plus. Aside from that, the sleeping bags that the army issues are the bomb diggety and then some. I don't have one solitary complaint about it, and that's saying something. We (my roommate and I) didn't have much trouble falling asleep, despite Blackhawks and Chinooks (both helicopters) flying overhead. It wasn't restful sleep though. Not like it was on Mount Rainier.
Since then, we have once again been allowed to exist in our wonderful hovel, and for some reason, we feel the urge to keep it tidy, but I'm not really sure why. Must be a midlife crisis thing. The past couple days, we've been returning to the field, where our job is to:
1) Load ammunition, both blank and live, into their respective magazines and give them to the guys from the other platoons to go play with.
2) Eat MREs (Meal Ready to Eat, the military rations
3) Sleep in the tent, trying your hardest to keep warm.
I probably only loaded a total of six magazines, 30 rounds each, this week. Other than that, I've been doing nothing. We DID learn how to make a tear gas-like "MRE Bomb". That's always good fun. I won't bother to explain how to make one, though its really simple, and really fun. As a hint, it involves the tobasco sauce that comes in little bottles in an MRE. Just imagine that converted into fumes.