Roam if you want to, Roam around the world

Roam if you want to.... Roam, The B-52's


Well consider it official, for the most part. Hanging out with the baby Bro tonight, and he informs me that it is all but official. He is headed out AGAIN, for the desert. Couple of months left in the civilized world, and then back to the "Sandbox" for he and his unit. This time he will likely head out as an E-5 Sergeant. He is headed for the promotion board, and then to class. Expected to rejoin his unit in a "leadership" position, especially since there has been a literal "75-80%" turnover since their return in all positions. Literally, 4 in 5 guys, leader or private are gone since the units return from Iraq. What do they face?

Though it is nearly impossible to find it anymore, (I will have to find out how from the baby-bro) there are many excerpts from his worst day in Iraq last year still out there on the Internet.) Maybe he may one day let me mirror all of his crap that the Army has had him take down.

A tiny excerpt:

The army started a training system, a system to try and back up the combat medic. They call it the Combat Life Saver, or CLS. A line soldier given just that extra bit of first aid training, so that if the situation calls, and there is no medic handy they can leap into action, and administer the most desperately needed care. ...
My day started off so normal. ...
Very rarely does any shit go down in this town. It is quiet and we like it that way. ...
You want to know the most terrible moment of a disaster? It is that split second when it begins. When all of a sudden there is a bright flash, that is nothing special except that it is the big break with reality to the fucked up world you are about to begin. A split second of bright light, and for the briefest second, there is no thought in your head, everything in you braces for....for what?
[...]
Glass and sound rain down on me...I know it was bad, I have NEVER heard anything so loud and light debris is falling all around me. I get off the stairs, and get my fucking helmet on. wouldn't it fucking figure, walk around ALL THE FUCKING TIME WITH THAT THING ON AND THE ONE TIME I MIGHT REALLY HAVE NEEDED IT, I WAS RELAXING.
What happened?
IED? VBED? Mortar? Rocket?
The local leaders are in a rush to get out that door. Everyone is trying to run for safety. Above it all, I hear my CO say, "It is safer inside than out".
"GET INSIDE" I scream, I am shocked to see everyone pause at this...look at me...the CA chief takes up the call and begins shouting directions and we get everyone directed to a safe spot under the stairs...now we have to move out.
What the fuck happened?
We begin to move out, doing the infantry thing, moving betweens buildings and along walls to get back to our vehicles...everyone falls into sync as we try to get back to our vehicles, roll out and react. I make the dash for the humvee I am gunning off...no one is firing all the vehicles look to be where we left them...no one is rushing to attack.
What the FUCK happened?
VBED goes around in shouts around our perimeter, Casualties go around. Then MY name goes around. Our convoy has no medics and 3 CLS. 2 of those CLS are on the CO's Bradley crew. I'm the third. FUCK. My name is being screamed. Someone is hurt. You're on kiddo. FUUUUUCK.
I'm running...I'm trying to remember my training...and even as I move, some piece of me is awake and thinking without me. Some piece of me sees that I am going to a Bradley's drivers hatch. Some piece of me knows that Cowboy was driving one of these Bradleys. FUCK. My mind feels like it can't grasp anything. This is a very shitty day.
What the FUCK happened?VBED goes around in shouts around our perimeter, Casualties go around. Then MY name goes around.
[...]
WHERE THE FUCK IS THE CHOPPER?
[...]
CHOPPERS! FUCKING THANK GOD!
[...]
I ride the gun, because I want some time to think. I ride the gun so no one can look directly at me if I break. I ride the gun, so if the opportunity presents itself, if there is call, then I can cause the absolute maximum damage possible. I want to cleanse myself in fire. ...
[...]
UPDATE: Well, my buddy is still under serious observation. The swelling is too bad to accurately assess damage, but he can see apparently. They can't move him until they are sure. ...Also, he had a bruise on his chest. I didn't notice it at the time, but apparently a large chunk of metal from the VBED nailed him in the chest as well. But thank God I didn't have to treat a sucking chest wound. He like all of us out here has the trauma plate to our IBAs.What happened to him puts into perspective something I've been seeing all along. That fucking vest we wear has proved it's fucking worth. The damn thing adds like 10 degrees to every hot day, the plates limit your range of motion and add like 20 fucking pounds to your regular load. Those things are horrid, and they are killing my back, giving me pains I never had before. All sorts of soreness in our lower backs. If you watch the movie Black Hawk Down, you see a Ranger pull the plate out of his back saying he didn't want the extra weight. All I can say is that I am keeping mine in.
[...]
The only parts hurt on this kid were parts not covered by his IBA. That shit works, I'd buy stock in it. I will gladly continue to wear my plates and stop complaining.This shit has me so freaked out. I'm not scared for me; I'm scared of what could have happened. I am so glad this kid had his plates. Long before any of us got there, those things saved his ass. They save lives all over Iraq.

My Baby-bro and I have "roamed" all over many countries in the infantry/Army fashion. Luckily, most of my roaming has been sans live ammo. Baby Bros...not so much...Headed back there, I think! I will keep everyone updated as I can.