Saturday Morning Cartoons

That's pretty much my Saturday morning- watch cartoons, chill out and relax. I'm making an effort to take better care of myself, and nail that PT test coming up. Besides, the gym is relaxing. Last night we were at loose ends for what to do for dinner, so it was Korean barbecue time! I never had ginger root prepared like that, and the food was good and spicy. These are the thrilling chronicles of my life. At any rate, I'm hoping to get over to the gym today and do some lifting. Yesterday was a company run, which went well but was kind of a pain in the ass as some dumb officer decided to come with us and lead the run- good pace, good course, but he insisted on breaking pace every five minutes- drove me nuts, along with everyone else. Apart from that, I finally got an opportunity to clean my rifle, although like most things in the Army, there's procedure and then there's the way you actually do it. Procedure in this case just doesn't work as well as practical experience taught. In basic, we had to get our rifles clean enough to eat out of (don't try this at home, I'm not even sure how you would attempt it), so I said hell with the procedure and got the darn thing clean. Whoever had it prior to me must have followed procedure, because I felt like I dug out about a pound and a half of carbon buildup out of it. But it came back cleaner than it went in, and hopefully will operate a little smoother now.
In other news, the Battle of the Lost Paperwork continues- I know perfectly well where the lost paperwork is, although no one else seems to. Where it is is the inprocessing office. Where it should be is back at my office. Trying to convince anyone that it actually is at the inprocessing department is like trying to squeeze blood from a turnip. So it looks like we start from ground zero and have to do everything all over again. And unfortunately, without orders in triplicate to state that I do in fact exist, I don't. Although not existing could have its advantages, especially when crappy details come up. The problem is primarily that one department doesn't know what the other is doing, unless there is... paperwork. And therein lies the problem. Once again, I find myself saying, gosh, I can't wait to get out there and get into combat. There, most of the paperwork is useful in covering your own ass, or getting supplies to cover your own ass and the asses of your team. But next week is some infantry training, like clearing rooms, fire teams and the like. A standard fire team has five members, each with a different role, and one of several weapons, such as a machine gun or rifle. And these teams are used to engage other troops in ground combat. It's actually surprisingly effective when done properly. Just watch out for fire ants.
In Georgia, where I did my basic training, there are fire ants. Fire ants are aggressive stinging ants that attack in hordes that would make Ghengis Khan green with envy. And they are everywhere on the ground. At several points we were also on the ground, moving as a fire team. When an enemy opens fire or is spotted, we hit the ground under cover- usually a tree, ditch or something like that. On occasion this cover would be the same spot a nest of fire ants was located on. Fire ants, we learned, do not like having people on top of them, and will tend to swarm all over you. More than one of us spent a few days in training covered in red marks from the neck down, although nothing that serious. Hurts like hell while you're getting stung, though. There were also spiders, most notably the brown recluse. The injuries were much rarer, although much more severe. One soldier had a bite on the side, which proceeded to swell, until his entire side had an infection. Apparently necrosis sets in very quickly with spider bites, and the results are never pleasant. A second person, actually in my platoon, got bit on the arm, and again, some necrosis resulted, although in both cases it had not spread enough to cause anything but local damage. The result on this poor bastard was two holes in his forearm, about an inch across and an inch deep, as the affected tissue had to be removed. I actually recall sitting on the side of a dirt road waiting for a training exercise to begin, and looking at an enormous brown spider- I was later to learn that this was in fact a brown recluse, although it didn't seem particularly interested in me, and since we all knew it was there, the day passed without incident.
What does all this have to do with Saturday morning cartoons? Well, nothing, except that's where I'm headed now- I figure it's time to give the brain a rest, let it cool down before my next brilliant idea, whatever that may be.