USARMY

Last Edit August 25, 1999

We are back at Red Lobster. Our Monday night home. My son's graduation suit has not yet made it to the dry cleaners. But is about to.
The Epson printer needs to go back. They forgot the packing instructions. I have to call them. Boo! Hiss! I want to stop tripping over it. The new one sits in his bedroom. The return is probably charged on my credit card. And will have to be refunded.
More hassle.
I am reminded that Fetch The Mousie is not yet on-line. Nor is the Let'em Eat Dirt! Recipe. I have been negligent. (Still am. Although the Dirt file is up.)
At least I got the ruffle onto the neck of the Regency dress. Ready for a hem.
And someone, a fan, a graphic artist, (Ellenie) is helping give the Fabio site a facelift. I haven't had time. Hard to work for nothing when things that might pay pop up.
She is so good that I got a quote for the cook book cover. E-mail lets you form partnerships and do business sight unseen! Interesting! Anyway, keep the business in the family.
Fabio should be very grateful to all the ladies who contribute to the fan club web project. He couldn't have afforded it or found the talent! So there!
Of course, when she's done, I have to run DreamWeaver and stitch it in. All those links to weave (we are going to a site map). All those photos! All those covers. And I am sooo far behind in scanning covers!
Romantic Times magazine is running an article on Fabio next month - with luck, the website will get a mention. It's supposed to be referenced. Just in time for a sign-in Table in Toronto at the Romance Writer's convention and writing seminar. Which I am not ready for.
I ordered business cards for the website/fan club. A big red rose on white paper. But I only ordered 1500 - someone tells me that is not enough. I will order more.
I have index cards to fill in membership requests just in case the computer battery (s) give out - no power to the table. Floating database.
And a British independent is trying to film a session on Fabio for its interesting people series and they have been in touch.
My son has spent the day with me in tow at the Ohlone Campus. It's a community college - $12/unit. No SAT scores. Just sign up. Momma has to help - I drive, he leads, I give out the credit card number.
Actually, you must be a resident (I have paid taxes here since 1964!) and take an assessment test (to see what level English and Math you are at) so they can advise you.
Right.
48 hours before the semester starts is a bit late for advise. All the sessions are closed that count. Like English. Math. Etc.
And my son wants no hassle. He is tired. He just got out of high school and he wants to do as little as possible. I had a husband like that. I divorced him. No relation.
He still has no Learner's Permit. So he will carpool with me. Oh joy! I get to toss him out early and pick him up late. Should motivate him to seek a bus. OR a more convenient carpool.
The books he will carry are heavy - that should motivate him to seek to drive. I have a van ready for him. Where's the pressing "I want to drive?! gone?
Anyway, he doesn't have to work full time and not even part time except I think he needs 10 hours a week for practice. Moot point at the moment.
However, while at Red Lobster, he was only signed up for 2 classes and the army was discussed as an option.
Oh no!
Knowing that I had been out one day (upset stomach while he was registering) I committed myself to tomorrow morning. We will succeed.
(By Tuesday we had him in three ART classes and one C programming course - 13 units - 5 days a week. If basket weaving was available, he would have signed up!)
Even sick and tired after trailing him around, I spent the afternoon doing a presentation for a class I am to teach. A version of "Fatal Hunt". I love those words. Descriptive. Actually they are usually used to describe the process of tracking down the cause of a fatal error in software. I prefer to think of them as a fruitless search for information on the internal web. Our internal web that is.
But now at Red Lobster, we are a quiet group tonight - part comatose. Six of them are eating - but are relatively subdued. Crabs are disappearing - but not too fast. I haven't been hit by any crab shells. (But right after I mentioned that, they took turns seeing that I was. Hit by crab shells.)
And there are two young men at the table. No, make that three. No, four. The manager's husband has joined us. We settle in.
The guys are discussing exercise - how to build up their chests. They describe the inverted hand stand. You stand on your head and lean against the wall and slowly raise your arms up and down. You get to support your own weight.
And the wheelbarrow. Someone holds your feet up at the bottom of a staircase and you walk up on your hands.
It doesn't work too well going down.
"J" says he tried it.
"FITT" - Frequency, Intensity, Time and Training - we think that's what it stands for. No one could remember.
"J", the army guy, wussed out on the crab - he is not pulling his share. Something about a flat abdomen. (Ha! Even with metal and sutures, mine is not flat!)
My son charges forward. The others begin to fall by the wayside.
I am drinking diet coke - to settle my stomach - and snitching my son's mashed potatoes which he never eats, which also help calm the stomach. I hate these attacks.
I have been eating things because I am cooking. Seed cake. Muffins. Corn bread.
And today I tried Laura Scudder's low-fat natural peanut butter - 90% peanuts. I stirred it with a knife and licked the blade (table knife). Not a lot on the blade. Still stuck the tongue to the roof of the mouth. Which my son found amusing. (Actually, it is interesting to taste when you have been raised on peanut butter made from sugar, oil and peanuts.)
Kathy's son is sporting a USARMY shirt (read backwards, this stands for: Yes, My Retarded Ass Signed Up). He's quick to tell me.
He's looking for recruits.
Not here.
I would shoot my son in the knee first. (He told a recruiter at school I had said that. The man laughed. Ho! Ho! Little did he know...Never underestimate a determined, protective Mother.)
Kathy's nails are chewed to the quick - you see, "J" just returned from Bosnia. He does stuff with mines. Like remove theml.
"J" has a few army stories to tell us for desert.
He gives us a few acronyms. (DAT - Dumb Ass Tanker) Oh good. Just what I needed to hear. The military grunts evidently have a pecking order.
And there was a star of the show:

Cobra Commander

On training in Howen's Field, Germany, prior to going to Bosnia, Company C, 1st Platoon, 3rd squad, 82nd Engineer Battalion (call sign ROCK), was attached to Charlie Company 163 armored (call sign COBRA).
His team was marking a mine field (training mine field) when they ran out of candy stripe tape used to mark the field. They left two men in position and went back to get more tape. They were emplacing a volcano mine field - "volcano" mines have one anti-personnel mine and 11 anti-tank mines clustered in them.
The two men left behind were the Platoon Leader and the volcano operator.
"J" took his track and went to rendezvous with the Platoon Sargent to get more candy stripe tape.( No, you do not substitute duct tape.)
He had crossed the forward line into friendly territory, the Abram M1A1s were lined up, when Cobra commander radioed a "Red Indirect".
(Artillery incoming.)
Ooops.
Two poor guys were sitting in the training field in enemy territory waiting for the tape.
The Red Indirect signaled live artillery rounds.
"J" radioed back that he had two soldiers on the ground in the DZ (DZ - Danger Zone).
The call was acknowledged.
Then the commander called red indirect again.
There were five calls made to warn them off. All acknowledged.
It's now too late.
"J" dropped everything and "hauled ass" back into the DZ to pick up the two stranded soldiers who were now under fire. Real fire.
He got them out and then had to change his shorts.
It was one of those "I'm sorry to tell you your son was killed by friendly fire" situations - almost.
"J" pulled back behind Cobra commander's tank, dismounted (note the old Calvary term) and chewed out the commander.
His Platoon Leader had him get back in his track and calm down.
"J" did.
Get back in the track. And into the TC hole and calmly turned the coupalas hatch so that the .50 caliber machine gun at the top of the track was now aimed at Cobra Commander's person. He was shooting blanks. It was a war game.
They were all equipped with the little loud alarm units (Miles Gear) that went off when you were "killed".
"J" fired two hundred blank rounds at Cobra commander. (With all that noise, he couldn't hear the "cease fire" commands!)
Cobra's MILES gear transmitter - which you cannot remove - went off.
These things go off in your ear so there is no way you don't know you've been "killed".
Cobra was now "dead" and had to travel 3 hours back to base to get "rejuvenated".
MILES gear transmits until you are back at base - a constant loud beep for three hours. THREE HOURS.
Right next to your ear.
"J" felt better.
But he had a counseling statement - "Don't shoot your friendlies at close range".
Nope. Next time go for distance.
Three days later......
There was a call for assistance. One of the Cobra Commander's tanks was stuck in a simulated mine field. Another M1A1. TC (Cobra Commander - yep, him) radioed for an engineering unit.
Every other unit was busy. Second platoon was out doing "stuff". "J"'s was not.
So "J" rolls out in his track, shows up to assess the situation.
TC wants the tanks out. (TC is safe outside the mine field. The tank leader never takes the lead.)
TC wants to know how long?
"J" says, "I don't know."
"How come I can't see you?" says TC.
"Because I stopped 100 meters behind you," says "J".
"J" dismounted his troops with mine detectors and probes and they make it out across the mine field about 100 meters - in about 45 minutes. (remember, this is a fake mine field).
The track moves up. Once it is "clear".
TC wants to know why it is taking so long. He wants to meet his rescuer.
TC has no idea.
"J" pulled up to the left side of TC's tank - another hold over from the Calvary is that you always approach a horse from the right side. So too a tank.
TC was, of course, PO'd about this.
"J" popped out of the track and hopped over to the tank.
You never stand on someone else's "land" - it's a tank thing.
TC was therefore really pissed by now.
And by now "J" had removed his CVC helmet so he could be recognized.
TC couldn't do anything because "J" would just leave - and TC would still have the stuck tank in the mine field. So he asks "how long". He wants to drive the tank straight out. Not back it up.
"J" said he would have to back it out after they "found" the mines. They would have to check the back, the sides and the front of the tank. (You never look under because there isn't any clearance - so the "mine" would have gone off once the tank ran over it. It's also hard to get recruits to get under a tank. In the mud. In a mine field. They don't cooperate too well.)
The two tanks are now in a line (the leader was still safe - behind the stuck tank. And the Track was on the side, safe.
TC was not happy.
"J" said it would take up to four hours.
TC said go ahead.
"J" pokes out the field, guides the stuck tank back out, in something under 1 hour and 50 minutes.
Then he prepped the MICLIC (a rocket with a cable attached with C4 strapped to the cable). Fake C4. Blanks. It is a fake mine field.
He then rolled off to stand off distance.
TC's tank was in front of the track (APC) now, acting as a plow tank.
"J" called in for permission to fire his rocket. The rocket "clears" the mine field. (In real life use, the rocket sends the cable with C-4 out into the mine field)
"J" fired his rocket. Which somehow wasn't set quite right. It kind of dropped nose first into the mine field, dropping charges. All over TC's tank.
"J" called Cobra commander, TC, and asked if the charges were clear.
He said negative - the charges had somehow dropped onto the tank.
"J" called in to higher and asked for permission to detonate charge. On a different radio band than he was using with TC. Of course.
He got permission.
The OC drove up (Battle GOD), and, seeing the charges on the tank, fired his Goop gun at TC's tank, tagging it "k-kill" and setting off the tank's and everyone else's MILES gear - TC was now dead again.
A "dead" tank shuts down. All the electrical goes off.
The rescued tank had already vectored off and is out of the picture.
"J" disconnected the MICLIC cable, backed out, called for rendezvous to get a new MICLIC, and called for an 88 to "tow obstacle" (TC's tank is now an obstacle since it is dead).
Then "J" cleared the mine field. While TC sat in the noise and waited for the 88 (a tow tank).
Of course the original MICLIC wasn't fully erect - something about premature detonation.......
And this is a good thing......
Another counseling statement.
Second of several.
A 30 day field exercise.
Fifteen statements in all.
Somehow all of them involved Cobra Commander.
Can't imagine why!