aadler | Day 1 at NTC

So, eight days ago I was finishing a school at Fort McCoy in Wisconsin. Today I’m on a bus (starting off from McCarran International Airport in Las Vegas), headed for Fort Irwin, California. At a rest stop fifteen minutes ago, the temperature was 109°, but nobody was sweating: the dry air just sucked perspiration right off us before we ever felt it. Glad I brought a strong sunscreen.

Seventeen other guys are along on this (no females in this crew, just how it worked out), plus another who’ll be joining us an undetermined time later. Most of them are new to me, but several were with us in Iraq and/or Afghanistan. We’ll be working primarily to help an Iraq-bound unit train up for deployment, but it will also allow us to reacquaint ourselves with (or in some cases, learn) the skills and habits we’ll need for our own deployment next year.

Assuming, of course, that Iraq is where we go when the time comes. That country is increasingly quieter (not that you ever hear about surge success unless you watch FoxNews), Afghanistan is heating up, Iran pushes ever harder to make it impossible to NOT take military action against it, and a major presidential candidate (the dovish one) has made noises about sending American troops into Pakistan if that country doesn’t clean up its act. Or Darfur. Or Burma. And those are just the flashpoints, actual or potential, that we know about now.

When the Soviet Union fell apart, we were supposed to be able to disband all our armies and embrace each other in a worldwide love-in. Funny how reality declined to cooperate with the euphoria. Even funnier — except that there’s nothing funny about it — is that the euphoriacs didn’t learn a damn thing from that; their glorious dreams always count for more than the facts on the ground.

* * *

Okay, installed now at Fort Irwin, and a wonderful little slice of heaven that is.

Not that bad, actually. Not great, but not bad. We’re in a huge tent with cool air pumped in through canvas tubes. Porta-johns are out back, chow hall ten minutes’ walk away, all our gear and equipment in place and secured. A couple of hours till bedtime, then wait till word of what comes tomorrow.

I have two men under my authority, one of whom performed poorly in Afghanistan but who has since shown a willingness to work and an apparent desire to measure up. My duties will rotate: sometimes I’ll be a team chief, sometimes I’ll do admin support at the brigade level, sometimes I’ll act as a translator. We have three weeks here, and much to do.

This area has something like Afghanistan’s heat and aridity, though the surrounding mountains are lower and rounder, and the vegetation more sparse. Practically everyone I’ve seen wears a Camelbak for walking around on base, and I suspect it’s a standing regulation. We have weapons, radios and sensitive equipment that must be kept under watch at all times. A few of us were ordered here, but most came as volunteers. Again, like Afghanistan.

It may be different out in the field, but here on base I have cell phone reception, so I can stay in touch with Susan. I didn’t attempt any ficcing at Fort McCoy, suspecting (correctly) that I would be too busy to afford any distractions, but I brought the draft-so-far of “Queen’s Gambit” with me, and I’ll try to manage 300 to 500 words a day. Starting tomorrow.

I’m under orders again, doing a job I like with people I like, and so far it feels pretty good.