Mungadai Part 3

For Part 1 click here. For Part 2 click here.

I was tired, I shivered, and I was belching up sardine-flavored rice as I staggered out of the tent-of-love. Not only was I convinced the remainder of the Mungadai was all-downhill, I welcomed it. After being stationary for the better part of 90 minutes my body had completely shut down which attributed to my current level of discomfort. The only way to regain feeling in my fingers and the rest of my body was to get the blood flowing, which is why I was happy to get back to work. Now the hardest part about leaving the tent and finding my ruck sack was strictly psychological. Even though I knew what was best for me a part of me, and I do not know why, did not want to move quickly. Believe me though when I say that those feelings were only temporary as the cold mountain air was a very good deterrent to sluggishness.

The next mission was a simple re-supply mission. We had to walk from Point A to Point B, pick up our “supplies” which come to find out were three filled five-gallon water jugs, and carry the water jugs back onto post. The final destination was where we initially hopped on the bus so many hours ago to begin our “staff ride”. I believe upon hearing we would be finishing very shortly gave everybody the last bit of encouragement needed.

The walk for the final mission had officially begun and within 10 minutes I had a nice sweat going once again which was quite comforting. The distance walked from Point A to Point B is unknown, at least to me; I believe we walked for about an hour although I could be wrong. Regardless of the distance, my squad and I arrived to our re-supply point to find the three (3) five-gallon water jugs, some cargo straps, and a litter (remember a stretcher).

Just for clarification: A litter has four points to it, with four handles, if you are not familiar to what one is. Four people then simultaneously lift the litter to distribute the weight amongst the four of them.

After strapping all three jugs to the litter, four of us began to walk as the rest of the squad walked alongside to take turns as fatigue set in. Initially I was thinking this was going to be easy. I thought, “How much can these three jugs really weigh? And with three other guys helping. Sweet!” I was wrong, really wrong. Carrying those three jugs sucked, a lot. My shoulders began to burn so badly that I felt like my body represented a plethora of red colors for a Bengay commercial. The distance we walked, again, I do not know. It didn’t matter because eventually I began to see the lights to the gate, or to be poetic, the light at the end of the tunnel.

We passed through the gate as the Battalion Commander and Sergeant Major greeted us. When it was all said and done, we had reached the end point of the Mungadai. Everybody congregated until it was time to leave in a warehouse. Some people joked with one another, many others slept, and some just sat down in silence. We covered a lot of ground from beginning to end and the most important part was that not a single person quit. We walked an estimated 30—35 miles over the course of the event; that was on limited sleep and an empty stomach. As everybody sat inside the warehouse, celebrating in their own way, the bus arrived with a destination of certainty, that being long overdue and much deserved sleep.

The bus took us back to where the beginning formation was held at sometime very early in the morning. By the time I got all of my equipment inside, my teeth brushed, and actually settled down to fall asleep it was close to 4:15 a.m. Every bone, muscle, and joint in my body ached – sleeping on the floor never felt so comfortable.

The lights came on around 8:00 a.m. to begin the day. The morning was simple: clean weapons, conduct an after action review with the Colonel, and have a formal dining in with all of the food everybody had been talking about for several hours. Much to my surprise, when it was actually time for the dining in, I did not have the appetite I envisioned.

I am not going to go into the specifics of the actual dining in. Believe me when I say that it was a lot of fun. There was a lot of food eaten, even more alcohol consumed, and even more laughs shared by everybody. Stories were shared that contained less than 10% true and skits were done. The skit my squad did reenacted the previous night when everybody was freezing and chose man on man contact to stay warm. I do not want to go into the specifics of the stories and the skits because I do not feel I could do either of them justice. Some things are better left in the mind, as that way they can never be tarnished, and the contents of our dining in most definitely fall under that category.

Once the festivities concluded there was one last bus ride to take us home. I called Celia to let her know I was on my way home and was in no shape to drive home. Around 5:15 p.m. the bus arrived on post as Celia, Jadon, and Hailey were there waiting. “Honey it’s Daddy! Honey it’s Daddy!” Jadon kept saying. It was great to be back.

The keys hit the door as I instantly went towards the shower. I put my sweat pants on, walked out to the living room to give Celia a kiss goodnight, and fell asleep before my head even hit my pillow.

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Mungadai Part 2

Once complete at the range a bus was standing by to transport us to our next destination which was guaranteed to be filled with fun. Following a brief 20 minute bus ride in which the majority of occupants fell asleep instantly the bus stopped. Speaking of the sleep on the bus, I’m not exaggerating when I say the sleep was instantaneous. I was wearing a fleece hat which I pulled over my eyes with the intent to block out as much light as possible; I then placed my face on the seat in front of me and was completely out.

Exiting the bus was painful. My body was beginning to ache due to the lack of movement and the temperature was steadily dropping. Once everybody was formed up and received the next block of instructions we once again strapped on our ruck sacks and began our movement. I do not know where we began although I do know it was not far away from Baumholder. What I do know is the location of where we began our movement was absolutely beautiful. We were on semi-high ground with the sun setting over the German countryside; even though we were supposed to be keeping an eye out for roadside bombs and enemy combatants I could not help but place one foot in front of the other as I got lost in natures beauty. Being poetic is not in my nature but there are certain things I see in Germany that I never see back in the States, and that was one of them.

We walked and walked, and then walked a little bit more. The sun set and we continued to walk. While the temperature continued to drop I did not seem to notice due to the continuous movement and work which was being done. We also were not carrying weapons with us; the weapons were turned in prior to leaving the range. I don’t know what the official policy is on having Americans walking through a German village strapped with machine guns but I can imagine it might make some people uncomfortable. Eventually a roadside bomb was simulated, and when I say simulated it is not as dramatic as it sounds. We were walking through the Germany countryside and were maybe a kilometer away from a small German village so our IED was simulated by a verbal, “BOOM!” The simulation was followed by placing individuals on a litter (imagine a stretcher) and evacuating them. That was basically the end of that training lane; I’m not sure what the end was supposed to be because a van of ours got stuck that needed pushed out.

We then hopped back onto a bus for more fun. I will be honest; I do not know what time this was. I do know it was dark and I do know that everybody was hungry. I even heard somebody on the bus say “Is it wrong I’m eating Tylenol?” Yeah, it was like that. We were taken to where we received our first brief and where weapons were drawn. Once the bus stopped LTC Oeschger let us know that we would be at this location for approximately one hour. At the time, where we were, was very windy and very cold. There were medics who were going to and from every person to inspect feet with the only drawback to that being they were located outside and not on the bus. Part of me, a very large part of me, wanted to say, “Ah to hell with it! My feet are fine!” however I knew better. The boss even told us before exiting the bus “Trust me guys. This next one is going to be difficult. You are going to want to make sure your feet are taken care of.”

I sat on a very large rock that was located just outside of the bus when the wind hit me. I was taking my boots and socks off when the wind was violently whipping me to my core. I sat there on the rock, both my feet bare, freezing. My fist and teeth were clenched and I got hit with a gust of wind so hard that I wanted to scream. My clothes were damp which made the wind all the more violent. What was only minutes felt like an eternity. Perhaps I’m soft for admitting this but I’ll be damned if all of that freezing did not produce some good news. After the medic was finished working on my feet it was announced there was soup near a tent for us.

Oh how morale was instantly boosted. As the members of my squad and I approached the soup line I immediately began laughing as we all looked like unfortunate saps during the great depression standing in line for soup. When it was my turn to get soup I then began thinking somehow it was all a cruel joke and the Soup Nazi from Seinfeld would appear. “No soup for you,” he would say. I was wrong; thank you God! I was given a Dixie Cup that was supposed to be filled with rice soup but it was missing the rice. Instead I was treated to a nice cup of broth. It was delicious. It was easily 7:30 p.m. by this time, far more than 24 hours since I had last eaten. I swallowed the broth and moved back to the bus to warm up for a few more minutes before our next mission began.

The next mission was simple, transport a Howitzer cannon, which weighed at least 1,000 lbs. from point A to point B. Of course though, before we could push the cannon we first had to get to the cannon. Once again we proceeded to walk and walk, and walk a bit further. We were now in the middle of the woods completely surrounded by trees. It was pitch black and I could not even see in front of me. The only illumination came from red chem. lights handed out to everybody. The worst part of walking in the dark was I did not know what I was up against. We began walking up a hill, I don’t know if it was as bad as the hill from earlier in the day but it could not have been much better. We easily marched up the hill for 30 minutes before reaching the top of the hill. If that was not bad enough there at the top waiting were two beautiful Howitzer’s that desperately needed moved.

Using cargo straps and ropes we began tying our ruck sacks to the cannon with the intent of lightening the load for those who had to push. Once the ruck sacks were secured to the Howitzer we began pushing, which much to my surprise, was much easier than anticipated. There were two logs strapped to the cannon which allowed 8 people to lift at the same time. While we had to rotate people in and out, due to the heavy weight, the mission was going great. Great until there was yet another hill. There seems to be a reoccurring theme there. In a collective effort, every person began pushing the Howitzer in some fashion. We did not stop until we got to the top of the hill and continued pushing, all of the way to our stop point. I could not breathe, my body ached, my muscles burned, and I was completely soaked with sweat. The hill was absolutely brutal but it was over.

By this time it was approximately 11:00 p.m. although I could be mistaken. It was still absolutely pitch black as the place where we were did not have any form of lighting. It didn’t matter though. We were told there was food waiting for us inside one of the tents. We all began to wonder what was being served. “God I hope there’s some sort of meat, I’m so hungry!” “I’ll eat anything they put in front of me, I do not care!” “I’m going to load my plate!” All of that was wishful thinking. While we indeed had food, and more than the cup of broth I had earlier, a steak dinner was the furthest thing from being served.

A bowl of chicken noodle soup, missing the chicken and the noodles was served along with a ball of rice wrapped up in plastic. I inhaled the chicken noodle soup faster than a college kid drinking beer from a funnel on spring break. Perhaps I should have savored it a bit, made it last longer than a microsecond, perhaps that is the logic of a rational human. That was not I at the time. Instead there was a large huddle of men standing enjoying a long overdue, succulent dinner. The ball of rice was not hot; hell it was not even warm, it was room temperature which was about 37 degrees. However, I took one bite into that ball of rice and said with a mouth full of food, “This is soooo good!” In the middle of my rice ball was a nice pleasant surprise, a sardine. I’m not much on sardines, or so I thought. I inhaled the entire ball of rice, sardine and all, and proceeded to lick my fingers and the plastic wrapper the rice came in. What happened next was, well it was, honestly I don’t know what it was.

We were all so cold, so very, very cold. A group of about 20 men were huddled inside of a very small tent with one thing in common, we were all freezing. It began by sitting on the floor, back to back in an attempt to stay as warm as possible. Some men were uneasy about getting that close to another man but echoing throughout the tent was, “Everybody knows the best way to stay warm is from somebody else’s body.” What started out in a few small huddles quickly turned into one massive huddle. What little tension there may have been in the beginning was quickly gone. I remember getting tired but I couldn’t get comfortable. I accidently placed my head on the back of a man for a brief moment only to remove it for a short time. I did this about two more times before he said, “Just go for it man. I’m freezing and your head is so warm.” As I rested my head and began to get comfortable somebody either fell asleep and then fell over or simply decided that sitting up was too much work. Either way, there was somebody lying on the ground. It was only a matter seconds before every man in that tent moved to the ground and that was when the situation began to get a little awkward.

I was spooning with another man. Our bodies were so close that I don’t even know if Celia and I cuddle so closely in bed. The funny thing is as I was playing to big spoon to one lucky individual I was also playing little spoon to an even luckier individual. I was in the middle of sandwich, or a manwich if you will. All around the tent guys were getting as close to one another as possible. Legs were kicked up in the air to wrap around other people; I had a head resting on my legs with my end eventually resting on another man’s chest. There was constant positioning for self improvement all in the name of getting warmer. In the midst of all the positioning and shivering somebody said, “We fit together like a puzzle.” This was followed by a few seconds of silence when somebody replied, “Yeah. A very gay puzzle.”

It was hands down the most heterosexual moment which could easily be misconstrued as something else. Had a picture been taken of that tent it would have been viewed completely out of context. Was it awkward, sure. Would I do it again if I was put in that position, without even hesitating. The ground was freezing, the wind was wicked, and temperature was in the mid 30’s. Unfortunately I was not allowed to get any quality rest. The side of my body that was on the ground was frozen to the bone. That is why I was more than thankful when we were told to get up because we still had more work to do.

It was late and everybody was cold but more importantly everybody remained positive and complied. That’s because we all could feel the end was near. There’s only one more part to go, stay tuned.

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Mungadai Part 1

It all started out so simple. It was supposed to be a staff ride to the Hurtgen Forest which consisted of every officer within the battalion, if only it were that simple. The original intent was to educate us (the battalion’s officers) on a historic WWII battle since we are stationed in a country where a large majority of fighting took place. However, about two weeks before the beginning of the staff ride things did not make sense, in particular, clarity, guidance, and the specifics of the trip. There were so many unknowns about the “staff ride” (Yes. It officially earned quotation symbols!) that practically every officer in the battalion began questioning what exactly we would be doing. The rumor mill was in full force as the days ticked away with a few details being leaked here and there, but the majority of the trip was virtually unknown. With all of the secrecy among our battalion’s top officers and NCO’s, even up to the minute we boarded the bus (Nov. 18), the full timeline of the next 48 hours were a mystery.

Upon boarding the bus, our battalion commander, LTC Oeschger, was still holding true to the belief we were taking a “staff ride” to the Hurtgen Forest. Individuals approached the front of the bus and gave a brief five minute presentation about various areas of the battle. Around midnight or so the presentation had concluded with everybody on the bus being told to get in what little sleep possible. I don’t know if any of you have tried getting a good night’s sleep on a bus, but if you can do so then you are a much better sleeper than I.

I believe it was a little before 4:00 a.m. when the bus had finally reached its final destination. Before exiting the bus, the silhouette of a man wearing a Drill Sergeant had presented itself; it would soon become clear that the rumor mill held more truth than fiction. Once everybody was consolidated and in formation, our battalion commander felt it was time to tell us the truth, or at least part of it. He proceeded to tell the formation that while we were asleep we had indeed driven by the Hurtgen Forest and had already conducted our “staff ride.” The entire trip time was approximately 5-6 hours, and when we had reached our final destination, we were a mere 15 kilometers away from Baumholder. What we were about to embark on was known as “Mungadai”, and to be perfectly honest I had never heard of the word before.

LTC Oeschger went on to briefly explain that the term "Mungadai's" began with Genghis Khan and military units of the Mongolian Empire during his exploits throughout central and northeast Asia. Khan used the "Mungadai" as a tool to test potential leaders by linking physical and combat readiness forcing them to perform under extreme duress. Khan's Mungadai-tested warriors were rumored to be the elite military units within the Mongolian Empire's army. Over time military units have held training exercises in which the subject Soldiers to extreme conditions to see how they respond. Our Mungadai was to be no different and the only thing our Commander requested is “nobody quits.”

It was 4:00 a.m. when we were broken up into four different groups and told to change into our PT uniform because we had to conduct a PT test. I didn’t view this as a big deal as most other people didn’t either. After the PT test I changed back into my uniform and prepared myself for what would turn into a very, very long day. I called Celia at 7:30 a.m. and to let her know that I wouldn’t have her cell phone on me (Remember from my previous blog that I do not have a cell phone) and gave her an emergency contact number of who I would be with. “Better than you than me” is what Celia told me, I paraphrased that of course. Shortly after I got off the phone with Celia a bus came to transport us to our next destination. It’s important to note that after the PT test we did not eat breakfast. I should also note that on a normal day, after I conclude my morning workout, I have an enormous appetite. That morning was no different, I was hungry and the day had just begun.

Following a 25 minute bus ride we stopped at one of the many training areas in the Baumholder area where we received further briefings. It was here where weapons were drawn for a qualification range that was to take place later in the day. The briefing that I, along with everybody else received, informed us that the first part of our day would be a road march to a weapons qualification range. Without wasting any of the daylight, we strapped our ruck sacks on and began walking to the range which was, I believe, at least 15 kilometers away. The first two hours of the walk were not that bad. I had decided to wear a pair of boots I used the majority of the time I was in Iraq, which were thoroughly broken in. I wanted to be for certain that I took care of my feet as well as I could. I knew if my feet fell apart, developed blisters early, or started bleeding from the excessive walking there would be no way I could complete the event. That is not a secret to anybody in the Army, in fact it’s common knowledge – take care of your feet. To take it a step further, there were medics embedded whose sole purpose was to check everybody’s feet.

It was roughly around the two and a half hour mark that there was a hill even a car would have a hard time climbing. Remember, in Germany, the hills are never-ending. Looking up, as far as the eye could see was a hill which made me want to cry. After about 15 minutes of walking I approached a curve in the road in which I believed to be the end of the hill, if only I were so lucky. The hill continued on and on. It took so long to get to the top of that hill a part of me believes I’m still walking up it but blacked out and am dreaming writing about it. It took that long to get to the top. What was even worse than going up was going down. That was when my body started ache and my hunger began to grow. By the time I got to the bottom of the hill I would have bet a dollar I needed hip surgery. An hour into the ruck march I felt like a strong, strapping 20 year old boy; by the bottom of that hill I felt like the recipient of a head on collision with a bus.

What lie waiting at the weapons range presented the biggest psychological test of the day, even surpassing the never-ending hill. It was roughly 1400 hrs (2:00 p.m. to you civilians) when we arrived at the range and my stomach began pestering me like Jadon does in the morning for Cinnamon Oatmeal. “Yo! Andrew! How ‘bout getting a little food down here, eh buddy?” While I was in the midst of negotiations with my belly we walked by the lunch which was still left out for the members running the weapons range. I’m not exaggerating when I say I saw an orange and began salivating like a dog. After everybody qualified their M4 the food discussions were being held by the vast majority of people. The “would you. . . for food” game was in full effect. Everybody knows that game. When really tired, hungry, thirsty, cold, etc. people get together and begin talking about ridiculous hypothetical’s in order to receive what they feel they desperately need. “Would you kiss a man right now if it meant you could eat?” “I absolutely hate bananas but I would eat a banana right now, and the peel!” The time we left the range was approximately 3:45 p.m. and other than a Power Bar I had eaten much earlier in the morning, the last time I had anything to eat was the previous day, around 5:30 p.m.

The Mungadai was still a long way from being complete with the worst still yet to come. Stay tuned.

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Cell Phone Dependency or Lack There Of

A few days ago I hit the six-month mark since I returned home from Iraq. I find this time to be significant but not for the reason you may think. The obvious reason is I have had six solid, uninterrupted months with the wife and kids; which has been great. As rewarding as being a family man once again has been there is another milestone that needs to be addressed. One that most of you will not believe considering the world we live in. What is the milestone? It has been six months now that I have not had a cell phone.

The obvious question is, "How do you not have a cell phone?" I’m glad you asked. The easy answer is to blame Jadon, who lost the cell phone I had two or three days after I returned home. But the truth is that since Celia and I moved to Germany the need for a cell phone is not there for me. By saying that I feel I should go back in time a little bit.

Back when I used to live in America (I don't know why I wanted to say that) my cell phone was part of my identity. It was my alarm clock, my watch, my calendar, my phone book, and my primary source of communication. When my dependence was that high my personal life and world shut down and severely suffered much the same way Wall Street did on 9/11. However strong my addiction to my cell phone was I knew that many other people used their cell phones much more than I. The addiction to a cell phone that I just described took place in the year 2007. With that, I continue to travel back in time.

I bought my first cell phone when I was 19 years old, in the year 2000. I was working full time at Pella Corporation and decided that I could afford the monthly payments. I believe I paid $50/month for 100 daytime minutes and 500 night and weekend minutes. I thought my plan was phenomenal. At that point there were only a handful of people I knew that had cell phones, and all of them were working full time. I never needed a cell phone in high school because I had a house phone. I never needed a cell phone in junior high, because again, I had a house phone. Also, who was I going to talk to on a cell phone that I couldn't talk to on a house phone? For the sake of argument, if I did have a cell phone in junior high what would I talk to my friends about that we didn't already talk about in school?

"Lunch sucked today," 12 year old Andrew complained.
"Yeah," friend on other line says.
"Do you think Mrs. Vande Wall's hot," I inquire.
"Yeah!"
"Me too!"

The point I'm making is junior high and high school students did not need cell phones when I was growing up but if you look hard enough you'll find kids in 2nd grade with cell phones. This is stupid. Shouldn't a line be drawn somewhere? Although I've heard the argument from parent, "Well this way I can get a hold of my kid." When I was in 4th grade and attended basketball game that my dad did not attend, do you know how we got in contact? Our house phone. I would use the school phone to call him and say, "Dad, the game's over." However, in the event of an emergency my dad would simply drive to the high school to get me. What happened to those days? Can you see how far we've come in such a short amount of time?

Back to when I first bought a cell phone in the year 2000; my phone was big, uncomfortable to carry, and had the game Snake on it. Does anybody remember that game? Cell phone technology has come so far in such a short amount of time but during that time the technology drifted away from one of the all time great games, Snake.

Within seven years (2007) I went from a condensed Zack Morris phone to a phone that had 4GB of memory, my phone could take pictures, access the internet, and be used as an MP3 player; and it wasn't even top of the line, i.e. the iPhone. My cell phone was my life and Celia was just as bad as I. We didn't have a house phone because we used our cell phones for everything. Every month more than $120 was paid to Sprint for our cell phone charges, and on many months Celia and I exceeded our minutes.

At the peak of our dependence we received orders which would move us to Baumholder, Germany. At the time I had no idea what type of lifestyle would be awaiting in Germany but would soon discover. Living in Germany can be a bit overwhelming at first. Many people we spoke with when we first arrived in Germany told us they used pre paid cell phones, for varying reasons. That was the route Celia and I took; we both bought some cheap, paperweight cell phones with absolutely no features. I figured it would only be a matter of time until I broke down and bought a cell phone that was more to what I had grown accustomed too. Before that could happen I received orders to deploy to Iraq, and suddenly, the need for a cell phone did not seem so necessary.

Some people had a cell phone in Iraq, I did not. I used Skype and talked to Celia for $.02/minute and that was fine by me. Although with about three months left in my deployment I did purchase a cell phone that I only used a handful of times. It was, again, a prepaid cell phone. For one reason or another having a cell phone in Iraq didn't appeal to me. I never carried it around, I never checked it, I often forgot to charge it, and before I knew it, I was back to talking to Celia via Skype. I have now reached the point where I redeployed back to Germany, six months ago.

I had grown so used to not relying on a cell phone that once I arrived back in Germany it never occurred to me to carry a cell phone with me. If I had to make a call, I used our house phone. If somebody asked for my phone number, I gave them my house number. At work, when somebody asked for a cell phone I would give them Celia's cell phone number. This would often raise discussions about the importance of cell phones and why I needed to get one. My typical argument sounded something like this.

"If you need to get a hold of me, call the house phone. If I'm not at work I'm most likely at home. If I'm not at home, I'm most likely with Celia, who has a cell phone. So why do I need a cell phone?"

That sound logical right? Honestly, I feel liberated now that I'm not always carrying a cell phone. In the morning when I have to wake up do you know what I do? I set an alarm clock. If I need to know what time it is, guess what I do? I wear a watch. As far as using my cell phone for a calendar, do you know what I use? A calendar, Google Calendar to be more specific. It's great not having a cell phone ring all the time or tearing the house apart looking for a cell phone.

I also think my age can be attributed to the fact I enjoy people not being able to reach me every second of the day. Think about this, when you don’t feel like talking to anybody what do you do? You look at the caller ID and ignore the call or simply put your ring tone on silent. Essentially I’m doing the same thing except I’m bypassing the monthly fee. It also makes matters easier that I’m not as cool as I used to be, so not as many people feel the need to talk to me.

Something happened to us, people I mean, in the last decade where we have grown so dependent upon our technology. Our patience have decreased and everything needs to be done immediately. It's only going to get worse too. Every day, new generations of children, continuing to get younger and younger are growing dependent on cell phones. Again, the question I ask, where do we draw the line?

In the midst of everybody constantly needing to make themselves available to the world I have done just the opposite. I have broken the chains and removed myself from the stronghold of technology, and I must admit, it feels great.

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"Just Try It"

“Just try it.” Those were the words Celia said when referencing her breast milk. For those of you who do not know, I have two children, Jadon, who is 2 ½ years old and Hailey, who is 9 months old. Jadon was not breast fed as a baby because Celia believed that I would not wake up in the middle of the night with him. When we learned Celia was pregnant with Hailey Celia expressed she really wanted Hailey to be breast fed. “I feel like I missed out on the bonding opportunity with Jadon,” Celia would often say as if she needed to justify her logic by me.

9 months later Hailey is still breast feeding but it will only be for a short time more. My little princess is pulling herself up onto anything she can get her hands on and absolutely loves to eat. To this date, Hailey has not met a food she doesn’t like. Cheerios, she loves them. Honey Nut Cheerios, even better. Banana’s, Gerber baby food, pizza crust, you name it and that little girl will eat until her stomach is protruding past her knees. But what Hailey likes most of all, after all this time, is good ole fashion “Mom Juice.”

When my grandparents were here they were able to witness first hand just how much Hailey loves “Mom Juice.” Anytime Hailey would see Celia, after a significant amount of time had passed, Hailey would smile from ear to ear and mumble, “Mmm!”

To further demonstrate Hailey’s adoration for her mother’s milk happens almost every morning. In the morning, after I get home from my morning workout (PT) session, Celia will leave to get an hour of gym time in before I leave for work. During that hour a routine has fallen into place. I’ll change Hailey’s diaper and begin to feed her. On some mornings she will eat 2-3 containers of baby food and a box size serving of Cheerios. The girl is not hungry! However, whenever Celia will get home from the gym Hailey will suffer from short term memory loss and go bonkers for boob.

What I find really funny is how Hailey maneuvers her way around our house. The shortest distance between two points is a straight line, no mystery there. But the shortest distance and the shortest amount of time don’t always coincide with one another. Case and point: Something that Hailey wants will be at point “A” and Hailey herself is point “B.” The only roadblock between what Hailey wants and Hailey are my legs. While a very successful and accomplished crawler she is, my legs are often too difficult of a task for Hailey to overcome.

The reason I say all of that is because the other night on our couch, point “A” was “Mom Juice” while Hailey was again point “B” with me in the middle. I could have been a good father and handed Hailey over to Celia, Celia could have been a good mother and reached for Hailey, or we both could laugh as Hailey grunted and crawled with all her might to reach Celia. Once Hailey finally got to the prize she didn’t cradle herself the way babies typically get fed. Hailey reinvented the wheel by eating and standing at the same time.

With Hailey coming completely unglued with every opportunity to get breast milk I think the curiosity was too great in Celia to be contained any longer. Celia tried her breast milk and much to her surprise she liked it. “Mmm. It’s sweet,” she said. After making similar comments for a few days I knew it was a matter of time until the offer was extended my way to sample some of her special home brewed breast milk.

“Just try it,” said Celia with her index finger extended my way.
“No thanks honey,” as I politely tried to sidestep the offer.
“It’s really not that bad. Hailey likes it.”

Well, I didn’t try the breast milk nor do I have any intentions on trying it anytime in the future. I love my wife and I love what makes Hailey’s milk but there is something very unappealing about breast milk.

“Just think. Years from now, when our kids are grown up you will be disappointed that you never tried any of my breast milk,” as Celia was resorting to a guilt trip as a final plea for me to try her milk.
“I’m quite comfortable that will never happen hon.”

I’ll leave the milk to Hailey because I know for the time being she cannot and will not turn down a swig of boob. Anytime or anyplace that girl can develop an appetite; as she so beautifully displayed inside of the Eiffel Tower.

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Fort Hood Massacre

I generally do not blog about current events. The way I see it, there are millions of other people on the internet that do so, in reality, how much more different will what I say be than other people? I woke up this morning to one headline that was dominating MSN and Yahoo; a mass killing spree that took place within the confines of Fort Hood, Texas. I read what USA Today and the NY Times had to offer and learned the gunman was a Soldier himself, Nidal Hasan.

Every news outlet was covering this story religiously and rightfully so. The latest reports were Nidal Hasan (I refuse to address him by his rank because he does not deserve even the slightest form of respect), who achieved the rank of Major and was a psychiatrist, was too scared to deploy. I was reading the NY Times aloud to Celia as the disbelief was steadily rising in both of us. The reason why I felt compelled to blurb a little something about this headline doesn’t have to do with the fact that I’m in the Army. It also doesn’t have anything to do with how awful it is a Soldier decided to slay fellow Soldiers, like so many of the media outlets are covering, and again, rightfully so. What I have to say regards the probability of Nidal Hasan’s deployment, had he deployed and not gone off the deep end.

For starters, like I said before, he was a psychiatrist and held the rank of Major to go along with his profession. He was not a lowly enlisted, 18 year old private fresh out of basic training specializing in combat arms. He was a field grade officer who counseled Soldiers for post traumatic stress. Once he arrived in Iraq the chance of him staying in a small, isolated JSS or COP would have been about as likely as me typing this blog in Chinese. This man most likely would have been located on a Super FOB like Camp Liberty; I never saw Camp Liberty but believe me when I say that a deployment to Liberty would not have been rough.

I also heard on the T.V. this morning that Nidal was scared about possibly squaring off with fellow Muslims in the Middle East. Ok, perhaps I need to reiterate the comment I’ve said about 3 times now. This man was a Psychiatrist and also a Major. He was not going to be leading dismounted patrols through Sadr City or Baghdad. In fact, I would venture to say the only time the man would be outside the wire would be on a helicopter ride from one Super FOB to the next. So anybody sympathizing with this man possibly having to kill fellow Muslims please, please do not buy into it. The closest he would come to combat would be providing therapy to Soldiers who actually saw action. I trust anybody reading this understands the kind of deployment this guy would have had.

The other piece that absolutely needs addressed is Nidal Hasan wanted out of the military for people slandering him for being Muslim. Who? Who made fun of his Muslim heritage? The rank he held was Major, am I really supposed to believe that? Your average Soldier is not poking fun at this man for being Muslim. The fallout for that Soldier would be disastrous. Although there were reports that Nidal had made some comments on the internet about being sympathetic towards suicide bombers.

Another thing, do not for one second believe this attack was carried out by a highly trained military officer. He’s in the Army, yes, but does that make him a prime candidate to offer realistic, professional advice on T.V. shows like The Unit? Of course not.

Look, the bottom line is this man is coward. He took full advantage of a system that would finance his way to an education. It’s an unfortunate and ugly day for the Army. It’s even more unfortunate that this parasite took 13 innocent people down during his meltdown. A lot will be made of this event but stop and ask yourself just what exactly was he scared of?


In closing, do take a moment out of your day for those individuals whose lives tragically came to an end.

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