Saturday, June 6, 2009

Preface - A New Story...

"If you have nothing good to say, and feel you should say it
anyway, then atleast wait untill all the cowards with soft skin leave the
immediate area first."

Now, this story from the top...

It's been atleast one year since The Book Of Blood, and I've learned alot. This particular entry is a small back-track for those who wasn't there to experience it all with me. (You can visit my MySpace page blog: For The full entries)

In the time since I've been away, I've gone on two missions, met the like of my life, met what I think could be the love of my life, figured out that only in the army, you will find people who stick their chests out, when regularly they would tuck their tails between their legs at the first sign of unrest, experienced the iraqi climate for two months, and made an addition to my training checklist, so now it is as follows;

How to train a Drill Sergeant
How to train the CIA
How to train acting 1SG
How to train the 10th Mountain Infantry

And now I'm soon to deploy, being one of the last out of my old IET group to go in-theatre to see what it's like for myself.

Keep the blog page frosty for me... I'll be back.
-Young Omen (Ollie)

Friday, June 20, 2008

[ReCap] Book Of Blood: Episode III - Q-Tip Combat

"The fall of man will be not from the extinction
of the human race by an extra-terrestrial opposition, but from our own
Part II: Test Your Might

Today was the day of reckoning... headaches, stomach aches, and profiles... more profiles (An advisory statement from a doctor about changing your training, to make it easier on whatever is hurt until you heal, like if you got pain in your shins, you're given a profile that says you can't run, or you can only run at your own pace for a certain ammount of time). The day of pugil fighting, where we'd wear big pads that only helped us from getting concussions and use Thor's Q-tips to fight for our lives... and concioussness. I won't list all of the one-on-one battles, but there was atleast ten or eleven.

Okay, so we're gotten up alittle late today, suprising as hell, but no biggie. We're then sent to the drill pad for first formation where we'd be breifed on beating the shit out of each other, right before we're allowed to do just that... and man, because of the breif that sound like "So don't kill anyone. Remimber, that's still your battle buddy", we didn't expect the fight to be so violent. But anyway, on to the battles. We had a farily-large sand pit (big square sandbox-type thing full of sand... this of course has enough sand in it to low-crawl in without scraping ground) where we'd split in half so we could have two battles goin on at one time, to speed the process. They started out letting us choose our opponents, until the fights started getting personal, like two girls calling each other out, then ending up dropping the pugils to street fight. After three of those, the Drill Sergeants decided to do all the choosing for us. I was paired up with a good friend of mine, hence-forth named Mickey D's. Before our fight, there was atleast two other interesting ones. We had one where Father Time(our Bay leader) and Stumpy(the midget of the platoon, and the most annoying reject on Fort Jackson) faced off, and after all the hype Stumpy got going, he went down in one hit. Then you've got Dora the Explorer (Cute little mexicano girl that happened to be the second-most shy person in the platoon), and Superwoman (little asian woman that looked 19, but was like 25 that was of course, the most shy person in the platoon) fought, and Dora won in one hit, almost entirely putting Superwoman to sleep with a single blow... litterally.

Then it was my turn. I wasn't so ready to fight with these giant objects of non-incapacitatable, desasterous fun, but I decided to join in anyway, especially since i just watched Dora and Superwoman fight, and if they could do it, then why the hell not me, right? So I'd got in the ring with Mickey just after we gave our friendly salutations, and started up. I swore I was as ready as I could be untill the DS said "Go". Once he did, my body temperature dropped, and I did the one thing I shouldn't have-- backed up. I took three steps back and cought my bracings just as he impacted me with ...his entire body. I fell backward, and he turned his pugil over to push me off at an angle. I tipped over, and almost fell, but held on to my balance with dear life. I came back with a hit to his shoulder, hard enough to push him back, and since I hit him with the pugil instead of my body armor, I won by default... this of course, I didn't like but hell, a win is a win, right?

Second round, he tried it again, and I ducked, but apparently, I lost my heading when he ironing-boarded me to the ground, similar to a '92 Mustang running in 5th gear toward gumby, and not stopping. He actually had to help me up, but I was ready to go again. Once I got back up, the DS said go again, apparently he didn't win because he hit me with his body again, so he rushed me with an attempted flurry of hits. I jumped and turned, and apparently my leg sprawled outward at him in what was seen as a rear-ward kick like Ken on steroids seeing as I was told afterwards that I flew into the air and kicked backward at him like Lu Kang or something, and after the turn, I drew the pugil straight down into he head, but missed because be backed up, and hit me square in the head with his, knocking me to the side and causing me to stumble. He won that round, and I had to tell the ring to stop spinning so I could see Mickey before they said go again.

Once I was clear, he called go again, and I was pumped. He'd already won two, and I wasn't letting him get that third. I jumped right past his obvious rush, and swong my pugil leftward to hit him in the back, then turned around and tried to poke at him with it, but it didn't work. We then pressed our pugils against each other a couple of times to try and throw each other off balance, but neither of us was going down and I didn't wanna take fifteen minutes to finish a round like some fights did before, so instead of clashing, I half-way did to give him extra lee-way, and he reacted just as I expected-- he overshot, and I hit him in the top of the head. I won that.

We were tied, and could only fight one more round before a winner was decided. Two an two, with a single round left, I was going cold because my adrenaline was failing quickly, and Mickey seemed so normal that it was like he was draining my energy by just looking at me, like he was the male Rogue, and I just so happened to be shaking his hand. I lost my train of thought, or atleast what was left after that head hit. So we went blow for blow in the last round for a couple of seconds before I lost myself, and tripped back. He took the opportunity to put his weight on me, and strike me in the chest, knocking me clean off my feet and into the air. I knew I was done before I hit the ground, and when I finally did, I hit the ground laughing because I gained my train of thought back completely after I got hit. Odd, huh?

Well afterward, we were hearded back to the average routine of marching from the company to the DFAC, then back to the company, doing something stupid along the way to get smoked, and then cleaning weapons, and going to sleep.

Guess we'll see what happens next time, huh?
~Sayin (Ollie)

Wednesday, March 26, 2008

[ReCap]Book Of Blood: Episode III - Q-Tip Combat

"Lead me, Sergeant, for there is no heart more loyal than that of a true American Soldier."
-Para. 1,Line 2; Soldier's Prayer

Part I: What Makes The Green Grass Grow?
Pugil training, the most brutal, violent, non-destructive training exercise we'd participated in since we started BCT. Pugil stick fighting is an event where soldiers bout in pairs, one against another with heavy padding, and large sticks with padded rounds on either end, very smilier to Q-tips worthy of Thor's ears. Today however, we wouldn't be using actual pugils, instead ...we'd use something a little more dangerous, something which was what the pugil training was for in the first place-- Bayonet-fitted M16s. We'd attach real life bayonets to our rifles, and parade around, brandishing the rifles in the organized manner of barbaric combat we'd come to know so well as strike-range combat, one of the three engagement ranges.
After being assembled on the drill pad, issued our Bayonets, and instructed on how to fit them to the rifles (simple process... so simple, a caveman can ...oh wait, wrong subject.), we where spread out, and given repeated lessons on the various strike "series" types and moves which we'd stand with our rifles up like Roman warriors, and re-iterate for hours until it was either burned into our brains, or our muscles burned like no other, at least. Me personally, I had no real problem with playing air warrior until my muscles could take no more, because I wanted to make sure I was going to beat whoever it was I was going to be fighting the next day until they couldn't stand, I just wasn't too sure that exact place of events was going to happen. Anyway, I still got my PT out of it, and I got to know the many strike maneuvers which I also knew I'd forget within the next couple of months.
...I just hope Thor doesn't own the next pugil I see. Not really sure why though.
~Ollie (Sayin)

Sunday, March 23, 2008

[ReCap} Book Of Blood: Sub-Episode I

"Flight was a remarkable feat. Sustainment was another. Recovery
over love? ...a feat not yet accomplished."

"Rock Dirt"

Today was the first, and best sunday we had ever seen-- the first sunday of Area Beautification. By now, I had gained a couple of friends, one in particular I will call Gecci. Now, Gecci is an Americanized Jamacan, living in South Carolina, somewhere south-east of Camden. This particular area I know quite well because my aunt lives somewhere near there-- it's ghetto, and country as hell. This fact now being obviously said, you would notice he and myself find alot in common, me being born of this kind of neiborhood, and he living there most of his life. Personally I find him hillarious in many ways because he's a joker in all manner of ways including when he's being serious. Today, we were tossing jokes after being released from formation to re-dress into our PTs and work gloves... this of course we do every day because we have nothing better to do with our lives 80% of the day that's left when we aren't getting smoked or taught something, so he comes up with the grand idea to bring his shovel (aka E-Tool) along with him.

Personally, I could've cared less what he did or why he bought it to this nice little trek back to the drill pad for our brefing, but it did interest me that he was the only one with an E-tool but I didn't bother to mention it because it seemed the Cadre cared as much as everyone else did-- very little or none at all. So we got brefied on what would be known as Area Beautification, the process of doing demenial tasks to include but are not limited to; picking up tall grass and laying it with small grass, seperating rocks from the sand, raking the PT field (sand and grass with no trees, so we were just raking straight lines the entire length of the field), and even moving pebbles from one spot to another ...far across to the other side of the company area, oh and don't let me forget our favorite one, picking up any and every peice of trash, big or small, all around the company. So, being this the one sunday of many more later on which we'd get our hands full of sand, trash, grass, and rocks, Gecci and I start conversing about how sucky our current mission was, and just so happens our DS walks by. Usually, when an NCO or something of high enough rank over you to gain your immediate respect passes, you'd show the proper respects, and sound off with something, be it a "hoah", or your motto, ours being "Rock Force". So when he passes, we both snap to attention, then parade rest, and sound off... sounding something like this;

DS walks by...
Me: Hoah Drill Sergeant!
Gecci: Rock Dirt, Drill Sergeant, rock dirt!
Me: ...(thinking "what the fuck?") *tries to hold on to dear life, avoiding busting out laughing*
Drill Sergeant: Ah shutup.
Me: Hoah Drill Sergeant! (thinking "had to get that last word... had to get that last word...")

By the time he'd passed, I could no longer hold it, I was damned near on the ground laughing at Gecci in disbelief that he'd just said what he'd said and I wouldn't have belived it had I not been standing right beside him when he did. Somehow, after I started BCT, the most simplistic stuff caught my attention, and the smallest things entertained me, maybe it was the showing of my dangerously-lowered standards, or maybe it was just because I had alot of unknown stress built up from BCT alone to cause me to exert it in any way possible, this I wasn't sure of, but I could assure you it was funny as shit to me and from then on, every sunday until graduation, I'd sounded off with "Rock Dirt" after the brefing formation after lunch before we started our detail of area beautification.

So what of this nice little phrase he'd created for a reason which I never really asked? never really know, I guess... but then again, who knows what may happen next time, huh?

~Sayin (Ollie)

Thursday, March 13, 2008

[ReCap] Book Of Blood: Episode II

"No matter what people think, everyone has a weakness... wether it's been found, or waiting to find them."

Part II: Idolism

It had been atleast two weeks since Part I, and honestly I was starting to get the hang of the random smoke sessions, the unfair treatment, and most of the bullshit the Drill Sergeants were feeding us as a way to "thicken our skin". Now today was an interesting day, specifically the most interesting Tuesday that I'd seen since I left home. Why? because I'd caught a glimpse of that one DS, you know, the ghost that was supposed to be our Senior Drill Sergeant? Yeah, well I'd seen him around the company area, so I figured he was on his way back, and with our other cadre telling us some stories about him, I couldn't wait to see what he had to bring to the table. Later on, after standing in formation in the hellish sun for at least an hour with the rest of the company for no real reason, he, which I will refer to as DS BlackOps showed up, calling us into the barracks for a more in depth introduction. So we passed the torch after he gave his intro, introducing ourselves to him possibly giving everyone a more easy feeling about him, but not taking too much away from it seeing as he still had his DS hat sitting right beside him, and the DoD emblem on the front of it attracted more attention than he himself did. There he proceeded to tell us stories about the group before us, adding details which called most to gawk in awe and amazement at the kind of stuff he does, but only causing me to aim to out-do him. I'm not sure why I felt this way, but the more he spoke of, the more I felt I had to find something to do better.

There was still a high percentage of civilians in the company of basic trainees that plagued Alpha 3-34 for at least two and a half weeks now, but they were more hardened, though still looking to the drill sergeant for everything, only two days after this ghost of a Drill Sergeant showed up. Suddenly, the DS' bring up the idea of a “PG”, or "Platoon Guide" (One responsible for taking the place of the acting platoon sergeant/drill sergeant as a student rank), drawing question marks to the entire 1st platoon, which I’d been previously assigned and sure I could get the job. Sadly, I had one thing standing in my way of being “all I could be”, and it’s name is to be known as Ms. Applesauce. The one E4 with enough skill at kissing ass to make three people feel it at once, she easily became the one female that stood above the rest, and the one soldier to stand above the platoon in DS BlackOps' eyes.

This female in particular, aside from the rest, had the inept habit of nit-picking with anyone she could about whatever they could possibly be doing wrong, or out of her own standard, and ran to the Cadre about it, this of course causing a multitude of issues with the rest of A 3-34. Not only was her persuasive methods working on the Drill Sergeants, apparently they were working on some of the civilians-now-turned-military, me personally giving their little clan the title of "Ms. Applesauce, and the Fuzzy Patch Brigade" simply because of their need to be "Fuzzy Patch E5s" and above (PV1s who try to act far above their ranks). It only took probably three days before she was all over the PNN, (Only those who went through BCT know what the PNN is) and being appointed PG, due to an incident she alerted higher about, which accumulated with all the useless stuff she'd been transmitting from the barracks to the CQ office where they made their stead, among other places. Next thing I knew, she was appointed as our PG, the day we got smoked nearly to death for something I can't even remember, simply because she held up longer than two of the people nearby her...

Anyway, it led to more complicated days, and less un-eventful nights when girls started trying to do very dangerous things to themselves and each other because they couldn't take listening to her, and weren't being allowed to do anything about it.

Sayonara, until next time.


Saturday, February 9, 2008

[ReCap] Book Of Blood: Episode II: Crawl Before You Walk

"Since the beginning of time, there has been only two things you
can trust-- your own two feet. You will need to get far in this world, and
damnit you'll need them to do it."

Part I: A Drill Sergeant, By Any Other Name...

It had been nearly a week of no sleep as we went from one thing to another, as per our inprocessing sequence, and frankly, I was tired as hell. I was mad at the fact that no matter what we did, there was always one of us who screwed something up, causing us to get in trouble, and with our temporary drill sergeant being a female, she kept a case of the ass all the time, and ruthlessly smoked us for anything done that wasn't directly by her standards (No, she did not inform us of these ...invisable standards, but yes she got us for not being within them), we easilly lost morale, causing us to sometimes even cause ourselves collectively to be smoked, and laxly doing the corrective training, or not sounding off in general, as if it just didn't matter anymore. Personally, I didn't really loose my morale or nerve, I just enjoyed watching the morale of our platoon change so fast as the soon-to-be soldiers began to realize what they now thought to be what they signed up for, which was apparently something they really didn't want. Anyway, today, we were standing in formation after an interesting day of sparce smoke sessions in the gravel road to and from the DFAC which sat on, not a hill but a slope, we stood at the company area, at attention, extremely quiet (For the first time since we got to BCT), so quiet, we actually looked like we knew what we were doing. Then out of no where (yes, everyone's facing front, so noone could see around them, and since none of us were even worrying about peripheral vision, as we'd been standing there for atleast twenty minutes prior, and was pretty sure nothing would change, noone bothered to do anything but look at the grass in front of the concrete drill pad) walks a drill sergeant hat, the first one we'd seen in alittle while, drawing people's attention (after seeing DS' for every minute of the day for the last week and change, it was abit odd to go more than ten minutes without one), this hat sat on top of a lankey man which stood every bit of five foot, eight inches... my height, but thinner, wearing ACUs that practically swallowed him. He had, not the classic stiff, "I am the shit" walk that most of the other DS' mantained, but more of a chillaxed stride, similar to my own as a civilian. This immediately caught my eye, almost giving me nothing to make of him, I wasn't sure wether to under-estimate him or to cower in fear at the fact that he'd be one of those seemingly-calm people that randomly bursted out into anger and utter hatred for the army and the rest of the world, including it's inhabitants. So he strides up to post infront of the platoon, and introduced himself as the senior DS of our platoon, but that he'd also been in a class for most of the time we'd been inpro, so he couldn't be here for the introduction, and that he wouldn't be here for another week or two. The calmest voice we've heard in nine days, it almost put us at ease, right before he called "Half-right, ...Face!". After days of playing around with our temporary DS, we already knew what was about to take place, but what we didn't know was that he was slightly different from the rest of the DS', more ...creative.

"Front-leanin' rest position, ...Move!" and with the command of execution, we tirelessly moved into the pushup position. as we did, he'd began talking... more like egging us on... "Ohh, so you don't wanna get down when I tell you to? you wanna do it on your own time huh? okay, that's okay, ...we can square that away... no big deal at all, just do it whenever you want..." even though he was all calm and stuff, and he kept saying that, we all knew he was being a synical little prick, and therefore attempted to motivate the rest of our platoon to move quicker, but he wasn't trying to see that, he would've rathered do it his way. "Position of attention, ...move!" at this point, I'd actually thought he wasn't going to make us push, then he called us into the pushup position again, and back and forth between attention and the pushup position untill we'd all decided within ourselves that it was enough arm, shoulder, thigh, and foot work for the day... but as if it wasn't, he'd got us down, and then made us push... diamond pushups. Then afew staggered pushups, which noone knew what they were untill that little session which tired us out abit. Oddly he didn't exactly smoke us, but more like poked us abit, then called us back to attention and told us that he doesn't take shit. Then, just as calmly and collectively as he walked up to post, he called a half-left, putting us back at our original position, and walked away... it was so questionable, that people was still wondering what they did wrong that time, and I'd already figured it was supposedly the classic DS introduction, a premable to more DS' on our asses.

...But this one was different.

Guess we'll see what happens, till next time;