News from Kabul.

As Bravo Company waited in full gear in the darkness and cold of pre-dawn Saturday morning to board busses to Fort Jackson's main training sites, we hadn't yet heard the news. Our lesson for the day was to continue with our convoy training in preparation for our final event: the Convoy Battle Scenario. In this scenario, each platoon of about 30 sailors is required to plan, organize, and conduct a convoy of six vehicles through about a seven mile course rife with ambush points, IEDs, and land obstacles and mock villages, police stations, and a hospital. The mission will be to bring a diplomat to meet with a village elder and provide security once arrived. At the conclusion of the meeting, the convoy will depart and return the same route. There will be upwards of twenty actors playing locals is full dress; explosions will be simulated by smoke, blank rounds will simulate live, but the rest is real. Real doors will be kicked in, real buildings and cars will be searched, and real people will be treated during medivac situations. I was named as the assistant convoy commander, so I will be busy in the next upcoming days planning and briefing.

Just as we were making our initial preparations, a real convoy in Kabul, Afghanistan was attacked by a VBIED, killing seventeen, including about ten US servicemen. The convoy was traveling to complete an ISAF (International Security and Assistance Force Afghanistan) mission on behalf of NATO. Many of the members of Bravo platoon are headed to Camp Edgers to work that very same mission just a few weeks from now. It is unknown if and how many Navy personnel were involved-but if there were-it is likely they would have attended the same NICAT class in Fort Jackson before deploying. Because it was the weekend; most headed separate ways and only a murmur of discussion was held amongst the students.

We've been taught many of the current tactics of IED use, but they are still deadly and still continue to be a threat. Practicing the final convoy exercise begins to get you hyper-aware of the possibility that every pieces of garbage by the side of the road, every sign post, every unusual rock or pothole could potentially conceal a deadly bomb. If you stopped at each bend in the road or each telephone pole to call EOD (explosive ordnance disposal) teams, the mission you were sent to do never would be completed. Trust in other members of your team to watch out for the things you don't see, trust in the equipment you ride in and wear to protect you, and trust in your training to spot danger from a safe distance are all you have to rely on-even then, bad things still happen.

Location:Camp McCrady, Fort Jackson, SC

Convoy.

Following our rifle qualifications, the last graded hurdle between our NIACT class graduating and marksmanship remediation-or worse, being rolled back to repeat the class again until standards can be met; we've now moved headlong into the more distinctive nuances of Afghan military operations and our likely missions, rather than the more general curriculum all students here must take. Our company of 70 sailors is mostly headed to Afghanistan; some were going to Iraq initially, but within the last week, many have gotten word their orders have been shifted, canceled, or re-assigned with the deadline for the drawdown of US forces. The requirements driving the orders to send sailors through this program are anywhere from 6-12 months old, so funding and necessity may have shifted since. The other company in our class is made up of those headed for Individual Augmentee assignments to places like Qatar, Kuwait, Germany, Tampa (yes, Tampa, Florida-home of MacDill Air Force Base and US Central Command, known warmly as "Tampastan").

We've been discussing basics of convoy operations; everything from mission planning, equipment, tactics, threats, and emergency procedures like medevacs, ambushes, and IEDs. We've been introduced on the up-armored humvee as well as the newer MRAP (mine resistant, ambush protected) vehicles and the pros and cons of each vehicle.

Yesterday, after some time on the rifle range, we stopped by the mobile IED exhibit trailers they have at Fort Jackson provided by the Joint IED Defeat Organization (JIEDDO), an inter-service task force chartered to lessen IED damages from attacks in Iraq and Afghanistan. The trailers had displays of examples of different types of IED components, and the three most common suicide explosive vest examples-even a complete mock up of what one would expect to see in the kitchen, living room and workshop of a bomb maker in Iraq/Afghanistan to help visually identify what the tools of the trade of the home-made explosives maker are: pressure cookers, gloves, chemicals, timers, wires, saws, mixers, etc.

Location:Camp McCrady, Fort Jackson, SC

Range days.

These last few days, we've spent some serious time on the range. Completing our pistol qualifications on Saturday, we've moved very quickly on to the M-4 rifle qualifications. For those unfamiliar with the weapon, its a smaller, more compact version of the venerable M-16, which has been in service with the US military since about 1964. The M-4 shares about 80% of the parts with the M-16, with the exception of a small collapsable butt stock and a shorter barrel, designed to lighten the weight and allow for close quarters, urban combat. The first step was to complete grouping and zeroing with live ammunition, a procedure where the sights are adjusted on each rifle, customized for the eye-sight plane and body characteristics of the individual shooter. The next step was to spend some time in the dark scenario based video trainers, simulating a checkpoint on a busy road in an Iraqi village where decisions had to be made to shoot at all, and if so, when and whom to shoot in an escalation of force scenario. This morning, we spent from sunrise until about noon on the LOMAH (Location of Miss and Hit) range, an outdoor facility with pop-up targets at 75m, 125m, and 300m ranges-about the maximum effective range with the M4 and non-telescopic iron sights. This range is pictured above. The LOMAH system works using a type of high frequency sonar that will give instant feedback via a computer LCD screen at the shooter's position on where specifically the round impacted the target; or if a miss-how far and in which direction. This was also the first time we've shot our rifles in full body armor and it certainly makes a difference; being able to hold the rifle steady and get in proper shooting position is restricted by the heavy armor and limited range of motion. As you can see from the picture, the 300m targets are nearly impossible to see laying down in the prone position, and a hit on a dark target silhouette in the shadows of a sand berm might as well be pure luck. Our full rifle qualification course will be completed in the next day or two.

Location:Camp McCrady, Fort Jackson, SC

Rollover, Rollover, Rollover.

This morning, Bravo platoon mustered in our full gear and took a bus trip to the training centers on the far side of the post. At one station, we practiced on a computerized simulator correct point of aim and sight picture for our upcoming Army rifle qualification. The Engagement Skills Trainer (EST) can be configured to run a few different programs, but our class ran through the basics of grouping and zeroing an M4 rifle under the close supervision of the drill sergeants and civilian contractor running the simulator. The range is a projected display screen and the facility is equipped with M4s rigged to a laser system in the muzzle, with accelerometers, pressure sensors, and a pneumatic hose hooked to a compressor to create a recoil and cycle the action just as the weapon would fire on the real range. Speakers simulate the sound of gunfire. Using a computer system to analyze 3-axis motion of the rifle as well as trigger pressure and muzzle point-of-aim, the instructor can review, replay, and correct a shooter's form.


Following the EST, we made our way over to the tactical vehicle roll-over simulator. Yesterday, we had a period of instruction in the classroom about the reasons for and the dangers of a HMMWV and Mine Resistant Ambush Protected (MRAP) roll-over. These are both top heavy vehicles that have caused many injuries and deaths due to roll-overs. There is a particular danger of trapping and drowning the occupants when operating near water, so special precautions must be made if the potential for roll and immersion exists. I found it difficult to get out during the exercise, but was able to; some were not able to make it out without assistance. The cab of a HMMWV is crammed full of armor, radios, weapons, ammunition, and supplies, and wearing body armory and helmets on top of it makes it even tighter. If you can imagine what it looks like to flip a turtle on its back and watch it try and flip itself right side up: that's about how it felt. Making it tougher still was the disorientation of having to release yourself from your seat and seat belt, and having to come crashing down onto your head onto what used to be the roof of the cab but has now become the floor-then trying to find the door lock release handles and open the door.






The simulator was the body of a HMMWV cab, and was able to spin 360-degrees. We were rolled 90-degrees to one side, 90-degrees to the other before finally flipping and going for the live drill.

Location:Camp McCrady, Fort Jackson, SC

Corporate Culture.

Yesterday, we were issued our weapons and a piece of Army corporate culture very different from the Navy's, for me: a very new M4 carbine and a very old, beat up M9 pistol. I will be returning the M4 to the armory at Camp McCrady at the end of the training, but I will be carrying my M9 with me every day until I am I ready to return home. Now that we've got weapons; we're required to carry them everywhere with the exception of PT and the bathroom; during those times, they've got to be locked up next to our rack and someone else, our "Battle Buddy," is required to watch them at all times. We carry them to class in the morning, we carry them to formation, we carry them to meals, and we carry them to get a haircut or pick something up at small convenience store on base. We load, unload, clear and sling these weapons no less than twenty times a day. I'm familiar with the weapons already and I've already qualified as a Navy expert marksman on each, so I'm not particularly concerned with managing them.


The Army has a bit of a different philosophy on weapons than the Navy. In the Navy, we're taught that weapons are very dangerous and only specific people are allowed to carry, maintain, or use weapons, and even then, only for a very specific reason. The average sailor never gets to put his hands on a weapon other than standing watch, and even then, it never gets un-holstered other than to turn it back into the armory. The Army believes that weapons aren't a burden, nor something to cause fear to the user. Just as a professional carpenter wouldn't leave his hammer locked in his toolbox all day and have to request permission from three people to use it, sign it out, and then have to write a written report about each nail driven with it before signing it back in; the Army allows its personnel to be comfortable and familiar with their personal weapons, and all are not only welcome, but encouraged, and even required to carry while living in a forward operating base. This is a culture change I'm going to get used to as a former Navy weapons and ordnance officer.



This afternoon, we were broken into separate groups for cultural awareness classes for the first time, while there were many in the Afghan class, so far I haven't met anyone else headed to Bagram with me and the Joint Special Operations Task Force (JSOTF). Most seem to be headed to Kabul's International Security Assistance Force (ISAF) headquarters to work with the NATO mission. Today has been our first official introduction to the weapons culture of the Army and the Pashtunwali code of Afghanis.

Location:Camp McCrady, Fort Jackson, SC

Ripcords.

After some downtime to figure out the basics of Maslow's Hierarchy of needs , answering the eternal questions of survival such as, "Where do I sleep, eat, use the bathroom, and put all this stuff in my seabag," we've now made it through the very basics-including how to dress ourselves in Army uniforms. They've broken our training class of about 150 sailors into two separate companies, each with three platoons; doing the math would mean each platoon is about 25 sailors strong. After the Navy staff meet-and-greet yesterday, today we were introduced to our Army staff, all drill instructors, but now reservists. Between all of the Army staff, they have a tremendous amount of relevant combat experience as well as a good sense of humor, which makes them a truly valuable resource for us to learn from their example. After breakfast this morning, we took a fifteen minute bus trip down the road from Camp McCrady to the main area of the military reservation. There, we were issued another two bags worth of gear, another 70 pounds. Some of this gear we won't use while we're here-like our rucksacks, sleeping bags, etc; other stuff, like our newly issued body armor, the IOTV (Improved Outer Tactical Vest), and our ACHs (Advanced Combat Helmet). These two items came with an instruction book, as some assembly was required.

Returning to Camp McCrady, around 1400, we continued for another two hours with instruction on how to actually assemble the body armor. The version we have is the latest and greatest, designed in response to some recent vehicle accidents in Iraq and Afghanistan where humvees have rolled over in drainage ditches or near reservoirs and the occupants have drowned because they were trapped in their vests and the seatbelts. Our version has an emergency egress strap about three inches down from the neck where a firm pull rips a wire out and magically, the vest falls off you into no less than seven distinct pieces, with armor plates and all dropping off. This is quite an impressive piece of gear, with obviously a clear objective goal and reason for its creation. The assembly part becomes interesting, as the first thing we did in the class was pull the rip cord, and then spending two hours to learn how to successfully put it back together. I hope I never need to use that rip cord because: 1). It means my vehicle has flipped over in water and is sinking quickly. 2). There isn't a chance in hell I'll be able to successfully put it all back together again when safe on dry land.

Location:Camp McCrady, Fort Jackson, SC

Deployment is Underway: Shift Colors.

If you follow Amanda's blog ( www.mrsterranaut.blogspot.com ), you already know these last few days have been particularly eventful. Friday was my last day at NMPS; really just for check out, transportation brief, and uniform issue. I was issued about 60 pounds of winter and summer Army uniforms, all crammed into a seabag. This essentially filled the bag and didn't leave much space, not enough for my gas mask, not enough for my overflowing medical records; swollen due to the quantity of dental x-rays (see previous post, "Sorry Sir, we don't see that in your records"). Realizing I was also required to bring three sets of the Navy's issue physical training (PT) uniform, which no one really wears in the Navy, with the exception of the chief select's conducting fundraiser car washes, as well as shoes, toiletries, my iPad, underwear, and a few nice to have personal items, such as a travel humidor for Montecristo cigars left in my humidor at home, or my Savinelli briar pipe. It lead to a a few tough decisions; packing for 8 months of a great unknown with only the items I could fit into a pocket of a backpack. Once I finally get to where I'm going, I can always mail stuff to myself further down the road, but for now, I'm living off what I can carry on my back.


One of the events Friday I wasn't looking forward to was my appointment with the local Nissan dealership to turn my leased car in. The car was my Ensign-mobile, my Nogaro red, two seat 350z convertible that I got in San Diego in the spring of 2008 after completing my first deployment aboard USS PORT ROYAL. It was a great car for a single man in his early 20's living by the beach in San Diego, it was the car Amanda and I drove cross country in when we moved to Virginia Beach when we first started living together, it was the car that represented to me what a single, young officer should be able to enjoy; but those days and that car belong to a different man, in a different place, with a time stamp and a passed expiration. Sliding the keys across the desk at the dealership was tough. Watching them take my license plate off and hand it back to me was tougher still. Watching the lot attendant drive away in my car and park it in the dirt and gravel lot behind the building with ugly, rusted old cars was even tougher. There were some tears.

The lease was due to run out while I'm away on deployment, and I won't be renewing it, or purchasing. While I loved that car, it simply won't work for the winters on the east coast, nor is it a practical car for a family. The money I save on the car payments, if all goes to plan, will be used for the down payment on a new BMW 335d, purchased through the factory's military sales program-which will build the car to specification and ship to the US, saving the buyer about 15-20% off the MSRP. Hopefully there will be a shiny new car waiting for me in the driveway when I get home.


After the dealership, neither Amanda or I felt like cooking. We went out to a local BBQ restaurant where I won a hot-wings challenge at a year prior. The owner told me they were out of habanero peppers, so there wasn't going to be a repeat attempt, but the restaurant provided a welcome distraction for Amanda and I none-the-less, even if only for an hour. The family counseling folks who give the required pre-deployment briefs refer to a common experience they call, 'The Wall.' For those who haven't experienced a long period of separation from loved ones, 'The Wall' describes the emotional barrier people will create leading up to the departure as a self-defense. A couple will have an increasingly hard time communicating, lesson physical contact, often avoid eye contact, and this phenomena will escalate until the departure, making the last week or so unbearably tense. The reason behind this behavior, so they say, is as a way to brace oneself for the shock of a major loss, and to pre-cognitively self induce the separation, so that at least, in a way, you have some sort of control over the situation. There comes a point leading up to the day you've been dreading most where you can't wait for the actual moment to come, just to get it over with. When separation anxiety comes, most people respond with some sort of compulsive behavior. Some people drink a lot, others bury themselves for hours a day in a hobby, some people, like me, spend money. I can always tell outwardly when its weighing on my mind, because I tend to spend money very freely: weekend trips, dinners out, new camera equipment for myself, buying lots of gifts for my wife. I think its because I feel guilty about leaving her. After dinner, for the rest of the night, I really began to pack in earnest, making trips back and forth from one room to another gathering belongings to be assembled for cramming into my backpack. With each trip passing the living room and Amanda, I could feel the wall between she and I getting bigger. I already felt bad I couldn't spend my last hours home with her, rather than packing, but then I also couldn't make eye contact with her for fear of seeing her tears, nor could I speak to ask her how she was for fear of what the truth might sound like. The night was spent silently packing by myself. Finally finishing around 0230 Saturday morning, I crept into bed. I laid there for two hours, without a chance of falling asleep, and then rose from my own bed one last time. I don't know if Amanda was asleep, or if she simply was silent too. The wall was there, and it was stronger than I'd ever felt before. As this is my first deployment married, this is probably going to be the new normal.


Saturday morning, I packed my issued gear seabag in Amanda's car, and put on my backpack, made one last trip around the house to make sure I hadn't forgotten anything and then said my goodbye to Amanda. We've always agreed to say our goodbyes at home, in private, rather than the drawn out public display some sailors will do. These are the types that bring their whole family, including their crying children, making it awkward for all around them. Amanda placed my wedding band on my finger and slipped my dog tags over my head. I gave Amanda the Troll Bead charm bracelet I had begun for her the previous week.

The trip to Norfolk was quick, no cars were on the road that early and we arrived way too fast. Their were still puddles on the ground from rain the night before and the puddles reflected the yellow light of the industrial sulfur gas street lamps. With a quick kiss, we separated; Amanda drove off into the still early morning darkness and I was left at the front of the NMPS building with bags in hand. As I was one of the first there, I witnessed the rest of the group arrive in much the same fashion, though some brought their families with them into the building. Inside the building: a very short accountability muster and a send off-prayer from the command chaplain asking God for protection for warriors and their families. Just as the sun was rising, we boarded the busses for the Navy Individual Augmentee Combat Training (NIACT) in Fort Jackson, SC, passing through rows of staff members from the USO, elderly veterans from the local American Legion post shaking our hands and two large, bearded, leather clad bikers from the Patriot Guard Riders Motorcycle Club, adorned with many ribbons and pins from the Vietnam era. The two busses departed to crying wives, children, saluting old veterans and drove through an arch created by two waving American flags held by the Patriot Guard Riders on either side of the street approaching the gate. It was actually a pleasant and quite moving send-off. I especially appreciated it following the indignant homecoming in May from my last deployment to the Persian Gulf. It felt fitting and appropriate without any excess. As soon as the busses left, while it still sad to be leaving home, I fell asleep-something I haven't been able to do in a long while. Leaving is tough, perhaps only matched by the stress of re-adjusting and coming home; but it also has a silver lining of a much needed catharsis, the culmination of a lot of building stress. The deployment counter has started, every day passed is a day closer to home, now is the time to focus on work and relax my mind, now is the time to laugh again with Amanda, even if only through email and phone calls. This deployment is now underway: Shift Colors.

Location:Virginia Beach, Norfolk VA - Fort Jackson, SC

A question of religion.

With our last day at NMPS tomorrow, and the prospect of splitting up to travel to different training sites all over the country before deploying to different conflicts and locations around the world, the last of the medical checks were conducted today, including the now famous ANAM cognitive test; a battery of computerized reaction and mental-spacial processing tests to establish a baseline to compare against results following potential traumatic brain injury after exposure to an IED or other pressure/concussive event.


Yesterday, we were given new sets of dog tags, stamped from aluminum blanks with data collected at the start of the week. My tags came back with my religion printed across the bottom. This isn't my first deployment to a Muslim country, rather, it's my fifth, but I've never had an issue pair of tags before where I've actually been required to wear the dog tags daily. I haven't practiced my religion in almost fourteen years, and I don't think it's appropriate that I be potentially singled out, tortured, and possibly killed by Islamic terrorists in the name of clerical accuracy on a small tag on a necklace.

After receiving those original tags, I brought them back to the NMPS staffer who dropped them on my desk and requested a new set be printed. This is what I'll be wearing for the next year. May the force be with with me.

Location:Norfolk, VA, USA

"Sorry Sir, we don't see that in your records...."

Today was day 2 of 4 of administrative preparations at the Naval Mobilization Processing Site (NMPS) in Norfolk. The focus of today was mostly medical check-ups. I took the time to get my records screened and most of the lab work and immunizations updated prior to arriving at NMPS, but of course, just an in every other Navy command, the records never seem to transfer correctly. Every Naval medical or dental clinic I've ever been ordered to go for treatment or for periodic exams always say they can't find the previous records, but then assure me that they've now, "...Gone to a computerized system, so the records will be there, right after they re-do all the work previously done." I swear, I've had more blood draws for HIV screening, more Yellow Fever shots, and at least twice as many Anthrax shots than I'm supposed to have. Throw that on top of the seemingly insatiable requirement for skin PPD-tuberculin tests and the hundreds of dental x-rays to check up on bite-wings, and I'm likely to be one of the most medicated, most periodontally studied people you've ever met. Also, rest assured, none of my seemingly weekly HIV or PPD tests have ever come back positive-but they continue to do the tests and then lose the record. They say they're going to start me on anti-malarial medication tomorrow; when combined with my most recent Typhoid and Yellow Fever immunizations, I should be all set to travel back in time to 1900's Panama and dig the canal... or deploy to Afghanistan, whichever comes first.






Spending hours and hours on line waiting for people to review my records, re-do medical tests and immunizations I've already recently had, and of course, surely they will lose the new records right before I transfer.

Location:Norfolk, VA, USA

Check-in: Mobilization and Processing

I spent this morning at the Naval Mobilization and Processing Site (NMPS), co-located with ECRC in Norfolk. Our group, made of about 120 personnel, will only spend the next four days or so together before going our separate ways to different training locations throughout the country. The purpose of this center is to review the medical and administrative readiness paperwork for sailors about to deploy in IA or GSA roles. The sailors are quite a professionally diverse group. Rank wise, they range from very junior enlisted Petty Officers to senior Commanders and Captains. Just by estimates from a class-welcoming show-of-hands poll, I'd say about a third are reservists called up for active duty. As Lieutenants in the Navy tend to stick together (partly out of a similar cohort attraction, partly for defense in numbers against more senior officers), I sat in a row in the briefing room with about eight other active Lieutenants. There was one other Surface Warfare Officer, three helicopter pilots, one Medical Corps Officer, two Supply Officers, and one Submariner. Not all were headed to Afghanistan; some were headed to Iraq, others to Dijibouti, and others still to places like Bahrain, Qatar, Germany, Ecuador, and yes-even being deployed to places as familiar as Tampa, Florida. Why people 'deploying' to Tampa are required to put on Army uniforms and get trained on how to kick down doors and take detainees, I haven't figured out yet. NMPS is really just the clearing house for IA sailors passing through and returning home, I won't really know until Saturday who will be coming down to Ft. Jackson for training for deployment to Afghanistan with me.

The day was filled with briefs on legal readiness (wills and powers of attorney), transportation and travel claims, standing orders and business rules while at NMPS, contact information for next of kin, and the uniform fittings. Aside from the estimated 110 pounds of gear and weapons I'll be issued in Ft. Jackson, I'll be issued 32 pounds of new uniform items while still at NMPS in Norfolk-which allows me only 8 pounds of personal items not issued to take with me. The staff recommended having Amanda mail the rest of my stuff to me in Afghanistan once I get there. I'm being outfitted in the Army's newest uniforms the FRACU (Fire Retardant Army Combat Uniform). The thought process behind issuing Army uniforms is for the sake of friendly force identification and to not stand out to enemy forces looking to take a cheap shot at something different; that its better to be a zebra in a herd of other zebras when there are lions around. They'll have my embroidered name tags and all my issued uniforms ready to go by the end of the week. At least I get a new pair of comfortable desert boots out of this deal.

Location:Norfolk, Virginia

Night Before Reporting to ECRC

Columbus Day

Tomorrow I report to the Expeditionary Combat Readiness Center (ECRC) in Norfolk. I never want to make big plans my last days home or my first days after returning. Really, sleeping late, and having few time commitments are my preferred wishes. Today, Amanda and I spent the afternoon locally, visiting the recently refurbished Virginia Aquarium-only about a ten minute drive away. We concluded the day with sushi at our local restaurant (she and I had sushi on our first date, back in Annapolis, a few years back and have managed to always have sushi before being apart for a long while, and as a first meal when reuniting). We also stopped by one of the local jewelry stores and got Amanda a new silver chain for her Troll Bead charm bracelet collection. Her last bracelet is nearly full, and that bracelet had an ocean theme, but now she's got a 'deployment' bracelet started, with relevant beads to this deployment. Her first three beads: Stars and Stripes, a Silver Archer, and a green and gold bead, for my new uniform colors for the next eight months. I plan to fill it with more beads as gifts during the duration of the deployment as I pass each major milestone on the way from start to finish. When her new bracelet is full, it will be time for me to come home.





A very early start is expected tomorrow, I haven't an idea where the building is I'm supposed to report, or how bad the traffic will be getting to the base. If I'm due to report no later than 0730, I've got to be out the door and on the road by 0515.

Location:Virginia Beach, USA

TerraNaut: Voyage of a Land Sailor

Friends, family, and well-wishers, welcome to my blog! In just a few short days, I'll be starting an adventure like I've never had before. I'm headed for Afghanistan, with orders in hand to report as Protocol Officer to the Commander of the Joint Special Operations Task Force. This is a unique type of a assignment that requires special training. I'll be working with the U.S. Army, referred to by the Navy as an "Individual Augmentee" (IA). The particular type of IA assignment I'll be participating is further classified as a Global War on Terrorism Support Assignment (GSA). Suffering a loss of words to further explain this these types of orders, I borrow from Wikipedia:

"...An Individual Augmentee is a United States military member assigned to a unit in a TAD/TDY status. Individual Augmentees can be used to fill shortages or can be used when an individual with specialized knowledge or skill sets is required. As a result, Individual Augmentees can include members from an entirely different branch of service. The system has been used extensively in the current Iraq/Afghan War, though with some criticism. Currently, there are approximately 12,000 Navy and Air Force personnel filling Army jobs in the United States, Iraq, Afghanistan, Cuba and the Horn of Africa at any one time..."


I detached from my last command, based out of Little Creek, Virginia Beach, VA about a week ago after two long years and two deployments to the Persian Gulf. Since then, I've spent some time cleaning up around the house, doing some landscaping and gardening, re-writing my Will and Powers of Attorney, talking to moving companies for price quotes for an eventual move to my next assignment, completing medical requirements for all my immunizations and of course, spending time with my wife, Amanda. All of my pre-requisites are complete; every box is checked off on my check-list and on paper, I'm ready to go. That doesn't mean mentally it makes it any easier to leave. With only a day left before reporting to the Navy's Mobilization and Processing Center (NMPS) in Norfolk, reality creeps in and I'm starting to feel a bit anxious for the first day.

Location:Virginia Beach, United States