ACE Report: Green, Green, Green

Part of my mobilization paperwork was delayed last week because there apparently was a red flag in my medical file pertaining to panic attacks related to PTSD. No big deal. In the vast majority of cases, this is certainly not a show-stopper. Thousands of soldiers deploy and re-deploy with associated PTSD diagnoses on their records. As a consequence of the flag, however, I was designated a “no go” until I had found my way across base to the behavior health clinic and been given a clean bill of health. The next day I found myself in a small office being interviewed by a full-bird colonel who was hunched over a computer battling in vain to keep it from randomly powering down. She asked questions, I answered questions, and she punched those answers into her temperamental computer. It was all very mundane, and she spent more time and attention focused on that computer than on me. Until, that is, she asked me what triggered the last panic attack. I told her that in May of last year I had seen a headline from a news article about a shooting that had taken place on Camp Liberty in Baghdad, where I had been stationed. (On May 11, 2009 a troubled sergeant had stolen a weapon and killed five soldiers at a counseling clinic on the base.) The headline and the first couple of sentences triggered the attack. At that point, the colonel stopped typing, slowly pushed herself away from her computer, and took off her glasses. She turned to me and said, “That was my clinic.” She hadn’t been there at the time, but was intimately familiar with everything about it. She said that she had trouble dealing with it at the time as well, and had to call upon her own colleagues to help her through that period.

I got my paperwork signed off, and we're good-to-go.

OEF: A New Adventure Begins

It has been over two and a half years since my last post to this blog, and I've received numerous inquiries as to whether or not I would resurrect the venue for the purposes of documenting my current...adventure. I've decided to do so, but an important couple of caveats must be acknowledged: The nature of my job necessitates far more circumspection on my part with regard to the nature of what I will be able to post in a public forum. Also, all previous posting related to our activities in support of Operation Iraqi Freedom. As of today, we embark upon a journey in support of Operation Enduring Freedom. Many of you are already aware of our ultimate destination. Those of you who are not, please be patient. I will discuss this topic more as we approach actually having boots on the ground.

I bid an emotional farewell to my family this morning at the airport. I had nearly forgotten that realization of the reality of departure can come as a shock to the system like a splash of ice water to the face. Months of preparation, planning and anticipation fade in comparison to the momentousness of a family torn apart at the gate of an airport concourse. With the exception of a few days of R&R some unknown number of months down the road, I will not see my family again for at least a year. It seems such a very long way away...

The flight to our MOB (mobilization) station was uneventful. Unfortunately, we deplaned to a disturbing discovery: Every one of our team's footlockers and duffel bags had the locks cut off by TSA, and the contents rifled. At baggage claim, one soldier's belongings tumbled onto the conveyor in bits and pieces; loose 30 round 5.56mm magazines had to be collected from amongst the arriving luggage of other passengers. The entire experience cemented the impression in the minds of the soldiers that TSA is riddled with thieves and other life forms that populate the lower strata of modern society. Nothing critical appears to have been pilfered, but we are still taking stock of missing inventory. Interestingly enough, mine appears to have been the only luggage untouched! There is no accounting for this, as nothing distinguishes mine from anyone else's belongings.

So, now we are engaged in getting settled into our new home for the next few weeks: scenic Fort Dix nestled in the heat and humidity of a late New Jersey summer. As is the case on almost every other Army post, the quarters are old, dirty, crowded, and a little odoriferous. Still, it could always be worse.