My time in the sandbox draws closer. I have it in writing now that I will be spending up to 540 days on active duty. Our Guard unit is severely understrength, and we’re told that additional troops will be brought in from other states’ Guard units to fill out the empty slots. This means that as we prepare for the reality of life on the ground in Iraq, we’ll also be getting to know strangers and redefining our roles and individual duties. It should prove to be interesting.
As I blog my life during the upcoming year, I’ll be using nicknames to identify my fellow troops, to protect their privacy and to try and add some humor to a situation that may present me with a more than fair share of days that will be less than fun filled.
My nickname in the unit, which I did not come up with, is Sgt. Gadget. I received this name because I carry around a backpack filled with electronic gear which I am constantly whipping out for various uses during training. I have a gadget for almost every type of event.
My moniker was a gift from Sgt. Sour. Sgt. Sour is a lanky 40ish guy with an incredibly dour look permenently etched on his face. He does not tolerate pointless bureaucracy well. Since our unit is also home to Sgt. Stressball, who loves pointless bureaucracy, Sgt. Sour is often very dour indeed. He carries a set of brass balls around with him and is prone to hurling office supplies through the air while achieving an incredible torrent of verbal spew about once a month, depending how active Sgt. Stressball is in the general vicinity at any given time.
Stressball and Sour get along fine when the day’s assignments have been completed, which is good. Unit cohesion will be hugely important once we’re actually in Iraq, and it is my hope that Sour and Stressball will both fall into routines that allow them to accomodate one another’s vastly different ways of getting the job done.
If left alone to do his thing, Sgt. Sour does it very well. I think Sgt. Stressball knows this, but it is in his nature to micromanage things because he is a perfectionist. To be fair, Stressball demands perfection of himself too. His heart is in the right place – if he can learn not to hover things will be OK – at least between Stressball and Sour.
There are other characters to introduce in the near future, and each of the vibrates at a wholly different frequency. It should be an interesting year, to say the least.
Tommorrow, I will present my employer with a letter informing them officially that I will be whisked off to a place halfway around the world in the very near future.