Coming Down the Home Stretch

The relentless heat that I wrote about last week continues to persist - today D said that it had been between 105 and 110 (F) all week.  Add the soupy Oklahoma humidity to that, and misery is guaranteed.  As a precaution for heat-related injuries, D's platoon has been transported by vehicle to most of their training sessions this week.

Also from last week, D found out for certain that some range activities have been canceled - like NIC-at-Night.  But, he did get to throw two live grenades this week, which I know he enjoyed.  They qualified on Saturday with hand grenades, but D wasn't sure of his level since their session was cut short with only 6 tosses instead of 7.  Regardless, he hit all 6! 

The last PT test is in two weeks, and D still has to cut about 40 seconds from his run, although he's been scoring well on sit-ups and push-ups in the practice runs.  The physical expectations have been D's challenge from the beginning - he did lose about 50 pounds to get in, remember - but he's been doing great at gradually progressing.  Today when I told him, "You can do it, honey - run like the wind!" He replied, "I'm running home to you, baby."

This coming week will involve more Advanced Marksman activities, including a rush simulation where the soldiers will carry their weapons (in full battle armor) through an "under-fire" scenario, running from cover to cover with others covering.  It should be interesting, since the last run is done with live ammunition in their rifles (although no ammo is fired - theoretically - as long as everyone remembers to keep the safety on!) for the weight.

We're getting so close to graduation, I can hardly stand it.  I thought that the last half of the summer would be easier to handle since I've (we've) muscled through 6+ week like champs, but it being so close and yet so far is rough.  The days are flowing like molasses - or that could just be me in the 100+ degree heat.

We're almost there!

Sharpshooting Specialist

This week was devoted to the shooting range.  The soldiers had a few days of practice shooting before their bivouac, which is a French-originating word that means camping.  For some reason, going "camping" isn't allowed, so instead you go bivouacking.  Is it just me, or does bivouacking sound like a disease you definitely don't want to catch?

On Friday, the soldiers of 1-31 FA BN had to qualify with their weapons.  D was a little worried about qualifying, since their day of practice right before was canceled due to the extreme heat (more about the heat later), but today when he called me I found out he did great!  He scored as Sharpshooter, which is the middle level (Marksman, Sharpshooter, Expert), with 32 targets out of 40.  Eighty percent isn't bad, especially considering my husband had never shot a gun until two weeks ago!

So, back to the extreme heat.  I don't know how many of you are aware, but Oklahoma is experiencing somewhat of a dry, hot spell.  As in, it hasn't been under 100F in days.  Weeks, it seems like.  And also, Southwestern Oklahoma, where Ft. Sill is located, has been in extreme drought conditions since practically the beginning of summer.  Check this out:

Ft. Sill is right outside of Lawton, OK -- 112F

Drought Monitor.  You  might say it's a little dry around these here parts.

So, due to these rather extreme conditions we're experiencing, the Army is concerned about a few of the normal training activities.  Particularly, NIC-at-Night (Night Infiltration Course), which is a simulated firefight - basically, the soldiers low crawl while guns are being fired overhead, explosions are going off to the sides and flares are shot into the air.  As you can imagine, with the Oklahoma countryside as dry as kindling, there might be interesting consequences for an activity involving so many incendiary objects.  

I know D was really looking forward to this exercise, but he said today that a memo was sent out that informed the soldiers that activities involving ammunition of any kind were to be limited to graduation requirements.  I imagine the Army doesn't want to set all of Western Oklahoma on fire.  They do, though, still get to throw grenades this week since that area is rather barren because grenades are thrown in it practically every week.

I think D must have moved on to White Phase (goes from Red, to White, to Blue) this week, but I forgot to ask.  Anyway, he got an hour for phone time this afternoon, which was really nice.  Right before we got off the phone, we were celebrating the fact that ONE MONTH FROM TOMORROW we'll be seeing each other again.

Thirty-two measly days.  Pssh.  That's nothing!

Halfway There!

Sorry this post is a couple days late - with the Holiday Weekend it was difficult to talk myself into sitting down at the computer.  The last week has flown by, thanks to taking on a couple of house projects that were desperately needing to be done. 

The folks at BCT with D this week all hit the firearm range to work on sighting and shooting their beloved M16s.  D reported that he did relatively well, although he had been selected to shoot first, which meant that after he finished he got to sit around and wait for everyone else to finish.  This potential boredom had him volunteering for every job that needed to be done until he was scolded by a DS for not letting anyone else work!

He was able to call on Sunday, his normal calling day, when I was, of course, in Wal-Mart.  It's strange how my whole world stands still when he calls.  If I was driving, I would pull over.  If I was at a friend's house, I would begin acting very rudely by ignoring everyone else.  And if I'm in Wal-Mart, I stop dead in my tracks (in this case I was in the craft aisle) and stand still for 20 minutes.

Then, on Monday, while I was at his parents' house eating lunch, I got a text message:  "I love you."  My in-laws were laughing at me because I was grinning and squealing and bouncing in my seat - D's platoon had gotten phone privileges for the entire afternoon!  He had to wait until their cleaning was finished to call, but I got about an hour and a half of talk-time in between calling and texts.

I know that last week I had mentioned that it was weirdly hard to talk to him on the phone for 20 minutes a week, but I was glad that particular phenomenon seemed to vanish in yesterday's call.  He was still a somewhat subdued version of the D I know and love, but we were able to really talk, like we hadn't been able to in weeks.  It was so nice.

Monday also marked our halfway point - he's been gone for 5 weeks, and we've got 5 more weeks to go.  It was also a milestone for D in another way - the last training event is taking place one month from Monday, marking the end of the training portion of BCT.  The rest of the time is cleaning up and getting ready to come home (in D's case, anyway.  Most soldiers move directly on to AIT - I'm so thankful we're not doing that).

We've made it halfway, folks!  Five weeks to go - I can do it!

Pink Eye, Attack!

Last Sunday, I waited several hours for my phone to ring with a call from D, but it never did.  At first, I was sad.  Then, indignant.  Finally, a calm overtook me.  If he didn't call on the day he said he would be able to call every week, surely there was a good reason.  There better be, a part of my brain said.

After a couple of letters that were dated for Friday and Saturday, and finally receiving my Welcome Letter (might as well have called it, Oh Yeah, They've Been Here 2 Weeks Letter, but I'm not one to argue trivialities), I finally got a letter on Thursday about it.  In fact, it was three letters in one, and the first page said in all caps:  USE HAND SANITIZER AFTER READING.
 
An epidemic of Pink Eye had broken out in Fox Battery, 2nd battalion (maybe the 1st too, I don't know for sure) and my D had fallen victim.  He was put in quarantine Sunday morning, and then made to sit with nothing to do until Tuesday, when he was finally released.  In "Quarters" (the place for contagious people, D said), all they could do was go eat chow, use the latrine, and sit.  

Unfortunately, his bout with Pink Eye also meant that he missed a day of vital training - the Gas Chamber.  He was worried about being recycled, which basically means they dump you into the next graduating class, and would result in his return being delayed at least a week.  Fortunately, though, after talking to a DS it seems they are working on arranging a make-up session for those who missed.  D said there were 10 from his bay alone with him in Quarters with the dreaded Pink Eye.

So, of course, when he called tonight, after we talked about a few things, I said, "Please tell me you're washing your hands every chance you get!"  To which my husband replied, "Yes.  And I'm carrying hand sanitizer with me everywhere."

Just a few observations from my stance:  First - I despise being (at least) two days behind news.  I found myself thinking after I got D's letter about his fear of being recycled, If ONLY I could call him.  I'd know exactly what's going on!  This frustration, I am sure, comes from my innate sense as a planner.  I like to know what's happening and be planning for consequences.

Second:  It's hard to talk on the phone with D.  I don't know which letters he's read and he doesn't know which ones I've gotten.  You talk around the big stuff so as not to ruin your letters.  It's odd; I mean, I'm talking on the phone with the man I've spent the better part of five years sharing every detail of my life and I don't know what to say.  So, we ended up talking about meaningless stuff just to hear each others' voices.  Because that's one of the thing I dearly miss.

And I had to miss 20 minutes of it last week to Pink Eye.  Ridiculous!

PSA:  WASH YOUR HANDS, PEOPLE!

7(ish) weeks to go.

So, after I wrote last week about D's ultra-quick call on Saturday morning to give me his address, I also got to talk to him on Sunday.  "I don't know what we did right," he said when I answered the phone, "but we have 30 minutes for phone privileges today."

It was so amazing to get to hear his voice, even if it was only for 25 minutes or so since he had to get back to formation within the 30 minutes.  We talked about little things, mostly - the workshop I was participating in, what training was coming up for him.  He could have been speaking jibberish, for all I care; listening to him helps hold me over.

I've continued to get letters almost daily from him, outlining small things that he's up to.  They were issued weapons this week and assigned to Ability Groups for PT.  He mentioned that he got to run with the Battalion Commander this week, which he found very motivating, and he was proud of himself for being one of the only ones in his group to hold out till the end.  He let me know that his schedule had Family Day as 8/11 and Graduation as 8/12, but I hadn't had any "official" confirmation until Friday.

Finally, on Friday, his cadre updated their website.  Even though I (still) haven't received a Welcome Letter, there was one posted and it listed graduation as 8/12.  I'm supposed to be getting "more" information later, but I haven't even gotten my initial info in the mail, so we'll see.  Nonetheless, I've already splurged on two nights at a nice hotel in Lawton for our reunion, and I can begin a(n official) countdown!

Meanwhile, with my workshop (and 12+ hour days) over for the summer, I'm trying to come up with activities to keep myself busy.  If you have any suggestions, let me know!

Let the countdown commence!

Reception Week - Check!

D's first week of BCT was, of course, the dreaded Reception Week.  Why is it dreaded, you ask?  Well, because it mostly involves sitting around, then running somewhere, and sitting some more, then running somewhere else, and sitting around, and - you get the picture.  Something I was pleasantly surprised by, though, is the amount of communication D and I were able to keep up during this week.

He was allowed to use his cell phone in the evening every night around 7:00 until lights out.  The length of time varied, of course because he occasionally had stuff to do - shower, latrine duty, etc - but was pretty consistent.  We texted and sent photo messages like mad all through the week.  One night, I was out with friends for dinner when he texted; I apologized profusely, but said something like, "I'm going to be extremely anti-social until 2100, erm, I mean 9:00."  They understood. 

D was also able to send me several letters this week, but I was unable to send him any because I didn't have his address.  I actually talked to him on Wednesday evening, because he had gotten the word that he would be moving "down-range" on Thursday afternoon - to actually begin the work of BCT.  We had been told (from several reliable sources) that he would not be able to access his cell phone after shipping to his BCT Battalion, and they were right.  There was no happy ding of my cell phone with a message from my husband on Thursday or Friday.  I had also gotten quite accustomed to seeing a hand-addressed envelope in my mailbox everyday, but there were none on Friday.

This morning (Saturday), I was getting ready for an appointment - painstakingly coating my eyelashes with mascara - when my phone stopped playing my Glee playlist and rang.  I looked down, thinking for certain that I was misreading, but sure enough, it was my D. 

I answered the phone with an excited, "Hey babe!" to which he replied, "Get paper and something to write with, fast!"  I threw my mascara down on the counter and ran to the living room, where I sat down at my desk.  "Ready!"  He read off his address to me, and I read it back to make sure I had transcribed it correctly.  He then explained to me that he had been given phone privileges to inform me that he had arrived safely and provide me with his address.  "I may just hang up," he said, "We only get so much time and there's a DS watching."

We had a few spare moments, so he told me that he's doing fine and that the stress of BCT has mostly been intellectual - mind games and whatnot - rather than physical, which he had been worried about.  "I've only gotten yelled at once," he informed me, "and that was only because I don't have the endurance I need yet."  D said that the people in his platoon are not very good direction-followers, causing them extra PT repeatedly already today.  For his sake I hope they figure it out soon.

Then, our time was over.  "I love you so much," he said softly.  "I'll see you soon."

Nine.  More.  Weeks.

And He's Off!

We've had a whirlwind of a last couple of weeks.

Two weekends ago, we had D's Going Away BBQ.  It was a relatively quiet affair, with only family and close friends in attendance.  We had burgers and dogs and all the fixings, and most importantly, a good visit with friends who were and continue to be our support system.

After that, were the last few days of the school year for myself (D finished earlier, since he works at the local community college and I teach secondary school) and a 3-day weekend of (mostly) alone time.

In this last weekend, we saw 2 movies (Kung Fu Panda 2 and the nine millionth latest Pirates of the Caribbean installment), went to the local Zoo (there's a baby elephant!), ate a few meals with family, increased the stocking of our family aquarium (they're all still alive!), and enjoyed every single minute of each others' company.  Every.  Single.  Minute.

On Tuesday (since Monday was Memorial Day we got an extra day), we rolled up to the recruiter's office at 8:10.  We sat in the driveway for a bit, but then it was 8:24 and time for us to say our good-byes.  It was hard.  For the past 4 (almost 5) years, I have spent practically every moment of my life with D; being without him for 10 weeks to me is like losing your appendix - you can go without it, but you just don't want to.  

So, at 8:30, I pushed him into the recruitment office and I drove away in tears.  I had planned on going home, but decided that if I did I would just spend the next free hour I had crying on our bed.  Instead, I drove to my eye doctor's office, where I sat in the parking lot for 5 more minutes with my head on my steering wheel bawling my eyes out.  Then, I used a napkin to wipe my face, gave myself a mental shake, and took a few breaths.

Because him being at BCT is not like losing my appendix.  He'll be back in 10 weeks and I will not just have stories about sitting on my posterior being sad to tell him when he gets back.  I'm not saying that it won't still be hard, because I'm sure it will be, but for now I'm doing fine.  I'm keeping myself busy and not thinking about sleeping alone in our gigantic bed every night.

D spent the day at RTI (I still don't know what that stands for), which is basically a holding facility for people shipping out to various training sessions.  He was able to text during the day intermittently, then - to my surprise and excitement - able to call when they were released to their rooms for the evening.  We probably talked for two hours and mostly about absolutely nothing important, but it was nice to talk to him.  Like I'm weaning myself off!

Today, I had to clean out my classroom, and he was getting ready to really ship to BCT, but he could still text/call some.  He called me this afternoon after he was dropped off at the airport, where the buses from Ft. Sill were picking up all the soldiers headed that way - a whopping 3 hours before the first bus was scheduled to arrive.  He was lucky enough to get on the first one (the second and third would have been 5 and 7 hours after drop-off), and could text me till he got to base.

He sent me one more message:  Turning off phone now...  To which I promptly responded:  LOVE  YOU!!  Write me as soon as you can!!!!  Muses

Yes.  That said Muses.  Because, apparently, that's what your iPhone auto-corrects the word "kisses" to when you miss an "s."  Oops.

He sent me a snapshot of a sad face and "Love you."

Now we'll be awaiting the mail with bated breath.  I've got the stamp ready, all I need is an address.