The next day, waking up sucked (AIRHORN DELTA IN THE BAY!), but sucked especially because we had to rush to the mess hall. We had KP. For breakfast I was washing pans stained with grease from the sausage and bacon. The water burnt the like hell, but didn't leave a mark, so it wasn't that bad. After ten minutes of scrubbing, I finally stole some steel wool from the other sink and was much more successful. In the end, we had missed our activity: seeing the Coast Guard. Instead, we stayed in the barracks and had some personal time. The first thing we did was take a shower longer than twenty seconds.
At MAWG encampment, we could have the entire hall showered in ten to fifteen minutes. We'd get in a line and file into the latrine after PT. There we'd stand in our bathing suits with a wash cloth in our hand. Benton would then pour some soap onto the wash cloth, and Echo's flight commander would throw a bucket of cold water at us. Then we'd file into the ice cold shower, scrub for 15-20 seconds, and then get out. After grabbing our towels from the window sill, Benton would be yelling "Get out of my latrine! You're making a mess!" and we'd go back to our rooms and get dressed in our BDU's.
That one time the other Delta guys took their time in the shower, feeling the heat. I didn't want to get used to it. I jumped in, jumped out, was yelled at by the other guys for not taking my time, and got dressed.
Lunch KP was awesome. I sat behind the trash with Gura and Silva, took out two trash bags, and sat and ate cookies. It was sweet.
After dinner KP, where I was doing dishes again, we rushed and went to PAVE PAWS, a surveillance station that watched for Soviet missiles during the Cold War. It was huge, with antennas all up and down the side. Later that week we went to Army Aviation (I didn't have my camera) and crawl around inside a Black Hawk Helicopter. We also took a flight on a C-130 (I fell asleep in a web seat, but it was still awesome) and went to a virtual firing range, where Johanson was dubbed the 'Angel of Death' and the range NCO went on about Truman and heart pills.
The best activity for encampment, however, is no contest. One day they drove us to the reserve depot, where they keep acres of machines ranging from small jeeps to howitzers, and tanks that have a minimum (that's right, minimum) firing range of 5 miles. (Oh, really? - Ed.) Crawling around in those was a kick. They took us for a ride in the APC. An APC is essentially a tank without the gun on top of it, able to go through just about anything. The back compartment had two benches in it lining the walls. During the ride, which was bumpy and loud despite our ear plugs, we'd take turns and stand up two by two and look around. We were kicking up dust like mad; every now and again branches would get stuck in the hatch and tear off from the trees. When Provost was standing up we hit a bump and he fell on Gura and poor Oles, a girl who had been in my group at the LRC.
The ride went for quite some time, and was a blast. The Soldier in charge was huge, built like a bear. After the ride, when he was showing us the howitzers, he talked about the desert and how hot it was. He said that When they were issued water it was warm. To cool it a little, they'd take a bottle of water and stuff it into a sock and soak the sock with water. After the sock was dry, the water would be cooler from the evaporation. Another little nugget to keep for future reference.
Surprise inspections were never good. When we had KP duty in the morning, they inspected my room. Of course, they didn't know whose stuff was whose, so they just grouped us all together and said the team sucked.
At one inspection, inspector asked me to pull up my shirt to show them my belt. I did, but they marked me off for not having one. After that, I followed the old rule of thumb: "It takes forty-five minutes to iron a uniform and two minutes for a butt chewing. I just figured I'd save myself forty-three minutes..."
When we were waiting our turn at the firing range, a surprise inspection found me with the most gigs in our flight. I tried to lose sleep over failing inspections, but I failed that too...
Saturday was the last full day there. Staff decided to take the PT up a notch, involving the Cadet commander in addition to Esturban. There's no telling how many pushups, flutter kicks, and jumping jacks we did that morning. When we ran, it was probably a little more than a mile, which isn't too bad even with my lack of running that summer. We sang cadences with Capt Imbriale while the formation slowly disappeared. In the end, it was just me and five other guys. As we finished someone said , "Congratulation, you are the cream of encampment 2005!" or something like that. I really couldn't hear over my panting.
The rest of Saturday is a blur. We practiced the pass and review in BDUs to be sure everyone knew what was going on. During practice someone announced the Christian church service. Well, I had been to one the previous night; but no point in risking my good standing with God because I went to Catholic mass instead of Protestant service. Better safe than sorry! I ran inside to get ready.
Encampment was starting to get to me at this point, but I didn't want to chicken out and see a TAC officer. A little bit of religion could fix anything. The church services at Encampment were held by Chaplain Giunta, whom I liked. The services, which were nearly identical, were led from an LCD projector on the wall of the common room. Pretty cut and dry and no communion, but not bad. There were about ten or fifteen of us the previous night, but fewer now.
The sermon was about the fourth nail on the cross, which was used to nail the sign above Jesus' head. The moral behind that lesson? I though it made sense at the time, but in retrospect it doesn't make any sense, even though I stood through it twice. I still keep one of the nails that chaplain gave us in my wallet. It might make sense some day.
Afterwards I rejoined my flight for lunch and then back to the barracks to get into our blues. We again stood at the foot of our cots for two hours waiting for inspection, me grabbing my canteen every two minutes to give my arm a rest. Captain Imbriale was going through with Lieutenant Massi and the SET team, asking us questions from our OI's. After that whole ordeal, where I was reminded that I have no command voice, it was time for the Social.
The social was a barbecue, and we were in civies and wearing our new T-shirts: brown for cadets and black for staff, so we were still in our groups. And that's the part I hated the most: I barely got to see any of my friends who were on staff; even at the social.
After burgers and hotdogs and a ton of soda, the party moved inside. There was a DJ, some lights, a dance floor, and a couple barrels of soda. Since I didn't know my OI, I spent the first half rewriting my chain of command trying to get it in my head. Then Jonathan Spanks came along and made me put it away. (I know you sent him, Erica.) For the second half, I was draining cans of diet caffeine-free Sprite and talking with Palombo. Even though it was the social, he only scared me more. Plus, all the good soda was gone.
By ten, most Cadets were either on the dance floor or aimlessley roaming outside, and Staff was off looking at the 'staff only' computer. It was time to go back to the barracks. We got back and laid down, groggy and tired.
