Well, it's another beautiful day down here in the state of Oklahoma, and things are pretty crazy, but as usual, survivable. Makes me wish for the old days back at Fort Benning, when life was simple, and the hardest thing I needed to worry about was heatstroke. This morning was a good run, tackling the three-mile track, which, as the name suggests, is in fact three miles long. I spent most of the time hauling ass and looking at the wildflowers growing here and there, and shooting the breeze with my platoon members. I'm actually losing weight and improving my run time, though I'm still a poky old bastard. Oh well, to each his own. Apart from that, not much new has been happening here, things are pretty much the same as always. Recently we finished up a 10-day field exercise, which meant basically we hauled everything to the field- electricity, water and shelter, fuel for the vehicles, and set up shop. Day two was a massive dust storm (anyone from the plains states will be able to tell you exactly what a dust storm is- wind+dusty ground=chaos). So there we were, the tent fell down once due to wind, and apart from that things went pretty well. We came back in one piece, and lived to tell the tale. Lots of exciting training, and as corny as it probably sounds, a chance to get to know my fellow soldiers better. We laughed and joked, messed around when there was time to mess around, and all pulled together when we needed to work together.
Work goes well, though I'd like to be promoted a little faster. Of course, I can change my MOS (that is, my job) to Special Forces and get promoted much faster, but also get shot at, blown up and generally find myself in nasty situations a good deal more. Personally, I could care less, although there are those people who would like to see me come home in as many pieces as I left in.
I've actually been thinking a good deal about the Army lately, and why exactly I joined. At first, it was just a job. After that, I learned it was much more, and readily accepted the new responsibility of it, in fact grew proud to wear the uniform that I did. And now, well, it's somewhere in between. I'm not exactly what you would call gung-ho, but the Army is my home, and it's here I'll stay. Well, the future is there, neither optimistic nor pessimistic, though I'll admit I'm curious to see where this long strange trip will lead me next.
And regarding Herman- Herman is a 93 Ford Escort with a couple bald spots, a five-speed manual transmission, and no back bumper. Needless to say, me and old Herman hit it off right away. Herman likes to complain in second gear, but he's just as hardcore as I am- scratch the paint, you find steel- just like me.
