Hello All,
As I said in my last dispatch, I'll make every attempt to include some humor and / or wit into my dispatches. I realize I just sent out the last one, but I've got a few dispatches sitting on my laptop waiting to be sent out. Due to a slight stomach bug, I've spent the majority of my downtime either sleeping, puking, or wishing to die. I'm feeling a lot better, so here are the works of brillance my virus-deluded mind created while lying in my bunk, wondering "is this what it feels like to be shot in the stomach?"
Also, attached are a few pics of the area, including some of the neighbors we've befriended...
29 APR 2004
Camp Bucca, Iraq
So it has been right around two months since we got “in-country.” Two down, ten to go… or 13 to go, should we some of the poor bastards selected for involuntary extensions at the end of our term. The honeymoon was over before we left Ft. Dix and most of us have come to terms with our brothers-in-arms and roommates for the next year or so of our lives. Nonetheless, as there always is in large groups, there are those who see fit to continue living in Iraq as if they were at home, living on their own, without thirty-something roommates sharing a rather crowded double-wide trailer. There are multiple ways of dealing with these urchins of barracks life. One can meet them head-on, and deal with the inevitable shouting matches, grudges, and petty BS that follows. One could wage a silent war against them, slowly gaining support in other platoon members slower to anger or more tolerant of others. Or, one can simply ignore them entirely. Now, this may not be the most aggressive of the tactics available, but it is by far the most entertaining. By first completely divorcing any attachment to said individuals, you can objectify and “televisonize” them. By viewing them more as a prolonged sit-com than the thorn in your side, their exploits can be rather comical.
Take for instance, the “
yea-yea,” or
Homo surpassus. This interesting creature can be seen hovering around conversations among other members of the platoon, always on the prowl. The have a tendency to strike after particularly amusing or inspired anecdotes, and their “battle cry” is typically initiated with an opening “yeah, yeah… that reminds me of the time when I…” Normally, whatever follows is either (A) completely fabricated, solely to gain acceptance of others, (B) dismissive, used to subjugate the teller of the previous tale, or (C) positively mind-numbing and pointless, usually told simply for the yea-yea to hear his own voice.
Another barracks beast to keep an eye out for is the
Angry Dude, or
Homo Enrageous. Angry Dudes are characteristically full of seething rage over no discernable wrongdoing. Prone to frequent innocuous, but loud, outbursts, Angry Dudes will rant and/or rave to anyone within a three building radius about how he got screwed by (A) his team leader, (B) his squad leader, (C) the deployment in general, or (D) all of the above, plus more. Extreme care should be exercised not to provoke Angry Dudes, for the mere question “how are you?” can set off an hour-long tirade. Warning: Do not, under any circumstances, attempt to reason with Angry Dudes. Not amount of logic will make sense to this creature. They are simply angry. Efforts to diffuse said anger will only yield more.
A particularly interesting species of the barracks kingdom, the
Awkwardly Honest Guy (
Homo veritas) will provide the most brutally honest assessment of any situation, whether or not it pertains to him, regardless, even, if he was asked. In a recent conversation between two soldiers regarding an incident at the IF, an AHG took it upon himself to walk back three rows on the transport bus to tell one soldier the detainee he was dealing with could have easily beaten him in hand to hand combat, had it not been for the presence of the second soldier. Not only was this comment unsolicited, it was also extraneous, for the first soldier was thanking the second soldier for backing him up. While such comments, when delivered with tact and compassion, can actually augment conversations and open them up to more participants, when delivered derisively and bluntly, they do nothing more than breed contempt and awkward silence from those at which such comments are directed. Effective defense against AHGs involves foresight – one must be aware of an AHGs presence and crop conversation to topical, light conversation until they leave the AO (Area of Operations).
The bane of casual-pay doorways everywhere, the
Perpetually Poor Guy (
Homo pauperis), is known to skulk about the AO near the Casual Pay office of finance units. Quick to latch onto anyone nearby, PPGs employ tactics of attrition and occasional pity to talk their victims into submission by constantly reminding them of the five hundred mouths he needs to fill back home, how he has no cash available, but will have some soon and just needs a floater to get him by, etc. Said individuals will often be seen making large purchases (Xbox’s, DVD players, etc.) but will never have enough to cover expenses such as toiletries and sundry items. The best way to deal with PPGs is to assume their own visage. Should one be caught in their line of sight, walk directly to them, smiling confidently, as if greeting a long-lost friend. Patting them on the back denotes a further sense of intimacy and camaraderie. Once the trifling matters of petty conversations is dispensed with, ask the PPG for a five-dollar loan until you can make a run over the PX. The actual dollar amount is not vital to the scheme. In some cases, the need for a lesser amount of money will indicate to the PPG that the defender is really hard off if even such a pittance is needed. Once “cornered,” a PPG will awkwardly fidget as he explains how he’d really like to loan the money, but he left his wallet in the barracks, HUMMV, or how someone else owes him money and he’s short until he collects.
Similar to
Homo enrageous,
Homo vendettas, commonly known as “
The Victim,” is another barracks creature that will launch into seemingly endless tirades over nothing at all. Rather than displaying blinding anger towards anyone in his line of sight, The Victim will instead proceed to explain to anyone and everyone about how he is getting screwed over by any combination of people, places, and things. In this individual’s mind, the Army is out to get him, his leadership is definitely out to get him, and his wife or significant other is without a doubt doing god-knows-what-with-god-knows-who and he must get emergency leave immediately to rectify a situation with someone who screwed him over in the private sector. As with enrageous, it is best to give vendettas wide berth, lest he latch onto your side to explain to you how the food-service operators must hate him because he only got twenty French fries when everyone else got easily twice that.
Perhaps the most threatening, or at least, troublesome, of all barracks bastions, the
Super Sergeant, a.k.a.
THE NCO, or
Homo bossus, is one individual to avoid at all costs. Typically a junior non-commissioned officer, this individual clings to his rank as if it was handed down by Divine intercession itself. While a certain amount of tact and respect must be displayed to said individual (in most cases, he does outrank his prey), it must be understood that in the grand scheme of things, the most notable difference between his prey and himself is a rung or two on the pay scale ladder. Quick to join in the festivities and bravado of the enlisted men, he will quickly revert to a defensive posture should he become the target of good-natured ribbing. Displaying a natural aversion to any real work, delegation is his most effective tactic. During a recent trip into the field, a bossus was spotted nearby a group of soldiers carrying boxes of water into trailer. An E6 was leading the crew and asked for any other available soldiers to help. When troops rose to help, bossus grudgingly rose, then walked into the barracks, avoiding all work. When later confronted, he explained that he was a Sergeant (E5) and that the detail was “enlisted” work. The presence of the E6, he explained, was simply because the Staff Sergeant did not know how to effectively delegate tasks. Defense against bossus is limited in its scope, as when he outranks his prey, there is virtually nothing short of outright defiance of an order that the enlisted man can do. The best survival tactic is simply to grin and bear it. Without griping, explain to other NCOs, when asked why you’re the only one doing a hands-and-knees police call across a gravel pit looking for any small bits of trash, that you were ordered by SGT So-and-so and were just wrapping up, but wanted to make sure the area was satisfactory to avoid more wall-to-wall counseling. This will usually yield an inquiry into the legitimacy of the original order. Great care must be afforded to insure such inquiries are made in enough of a round-about fashion to avoid retribution.
Perhaps the most vexing of all creatures is the final beast we will study today. With an apparent aversion to personal hygiene,
Homo odiferus, commonly known as
The Stinky Guy, is a creature who has decided that in lieu of good old soap and water, dust and sweat are an appropriate cleaning combo. Mimicking the sparrows, that take dust baths to rid themselves of minute sand fleas, odiferus will complete several days of duty rotations without visiting the shower trailers. Perhaps it is their connection with nature, or an environmental effort to conserve water, that compels these individuals to not bath. Now, while such hygiene habits (or, more appropriately, lack thereof) would be construed as abnormal at home, consider the ramifications of an environment comprised solely of dust, driving wind, and greater-than-one-hundred-degree weather. A good way to spot said creature is for a simple glancing inspection of their toiletry kit. Should the lettering carved into their bar of soap remain legible for more than two days, it is safe to assume an odiferus is in your midst, as if the distinct “musk” would not be indication enough. There is little than can be done to deal with such a creature. Perhaps the overwhelming odor affects their brain patterns, but overt hints such as “hey, man, you STINK! And we’re not talking ‘a long day in the field stink…” we’re talkin’ ‘what the died in your uniform?’ STINK!” do nothing to remind them to shower and in some cases, causes a longer lapse between cleanings. Hold your breath and move to locales upwind.
The above delineation of barracks beasts is in no way to be construed as a comprehensive catalogue of unsavory characters found in your barracks. In many cases, one individual may display a propensity towards any combination of the aforementioned disorders. The combinatrix is virtually unlimited. There are species yet to be discovered. The creatures found above are the most prominent and in some cases, most dangerous individuals to be encountered. By maintaining the proper distance and at times the proper “ask-me-if-I-really-give-a-good-god-damn” attitude, they can also be the most entertaining. For added enjoyment, once adept in interpersonal dealings with said creatures, pit one against another to discover the subtle nuances of each character and what it takes to truly set one off. Tears, shouting matches, and the occasional idle threat indicate progress.
Miss You All!
D
