The Long Haul

Frequently in Scouting there comes a time when the effort gets hard and the reward is difficult to see. For me, when I was the Cubmaster, it would happen sometime around March or April, when the Cub Scout program was starting to wind down for the year and the boys started to drop off for softball or soccer. Admittedly, it gets hard to stay motivated at times like this and I have struggled with it. I sometimes refer to it as getting “scouted out”. However, when I get this way, I try to remember a time in my life where the days were long, the work was hard, tedious, even dangerous, and the rewards were very difficult to see or understand. I’m talking about my time in the Army during the First Gulf War. I served as a Military Policeman whose job it was to carry a machine gun, keep it clean, watch out for my fellow team mates, other soldiers and the occasional civilian. I did this in Saudi Arabia and eventually in Kuwait after we liberated it. I got to see a great deal of Saudi Arabia and I spent many a night stealing glimpses at the night sky during my scant down time, when I wasn’t dead asleep. The routine on paper was 13 hours on, 11 hours off. But in reality it was more like 15 hours on and maybe 9 off. When we were on day shift we would get up at about 6:00am as the sun was coming up,shuffle over to the mess tent get some warmed up food and cold Army coffee. We would then proceed back to the tent gather up our weapons and gear, put them on and once again shuffle out to the hummer. There we would prep the vehicle for the day, load up some food and water, check the gas, oil and air filter. We would then wait for our team leader to arrive with the challenge, password and radio frequencies for the day. This grind went on for months without end, to the point where when we would find a phone to call home on, we would ask our loved ones “What day of the week is it?” On and on this went with no time off, or break in the monotony, until it came time to switch from days to night and vice versa. The switch from day to night was great as it meant that we got about 24 hours off to catch upon letter writing, phone calls, showers and sleep. By contrast the switch to day time from night time was a 24 hour grueling slog through a seemingly never ending shift. It was on one of those shift changes that I nearly shot a fellow soldier who had come over to check on us when our team leader had fallen asleep at the radio and hadn’t checked in with the battalion. The poor guy had walked up on us while I was looking in another direction and set off a trip flare at 3:00 am making me think that we were under attack. Thankfully, I noticed as I sighted in on my target that they guy was carrying his weapon at sling-arms and no one else was shooting at us, so I relaxed my finger and put the machine gun back on safe, woke my team mate to fetch the wayward soldier, who was just as freaked out as I was. It was things like that, that would wear on you and after nearly four months without a day off, one of the most difficult moments of self motivation and yet a truly rewarding experience of my life came about. We had moved up to the town of Khafji just south of the Kuwaiti border, where a major battle had been fought and the area was littered with landmines, burned out tanks, and unexploded ordinance such as cluster bomblets, grenades and the like, it was a surreal scene. We had been on patrol there for several days when it came time for us to do a shift change from night to day. After a 24+ hour shift we were tired, worn out, just absolutely stark raving exhausted. Our relief came just as the sun was setting and it took us a while to get back to the camp, clean our weapons and prepare for the next day. Just as my head hit the pillow, the Platoon sergeant came in to our tent and said “Everybody up! You have a mission! You have five minutes to get ready.” I remember hearing several muffled complaints and grunts to which I added my own. But we were so exhausted that none of us moved. The Platoon sergeant returned and this time stayed until he had kicked, pulled and yelled at us to get moving as the mission was apparently very important and the other teams could not perform it as they had to stay on patrol. We had to go back out, drive up to the border check and wait for a convoy to be handed off to us for escort. Tired, worn out and very grumpy, we made it to the check point with some time to spare. Sucking down what coffee and soda we had scrounged up, we did what we could to prepare for this “important” mission that had us upset. Then we saw the first vehicle of the convoy, it was a fellow MP hummer from another platoon. We waited for them to pass, then got up to speed with them, and took their place in the convoy while they peeled off. The convoy consisted of a squad of three MP hummers which we replaced, and 20 or so ambulance Hummers, all headed south. I remember waving to the machine gunner of the hummer we relived and him waving back. I even remember waking up even more at that point and becoming very alert to our surroundings and looking out for trouble again. For about an hour we escorted that convoy of ambulances down to the end of our territory handing them off to the next company of MPs down the road from us. When we got back to our camp the Platoon sergeant greeted us and let us know what it was that we had escorted. Those ambulances had carried the American prisoners of war that had recently been released by the Iraqis and we had escorted them through the town and battlefield of Khafji, and to safety. I smiled at what it was that I had just done even though none of the escortees would ever know my name, and I instantly fell asleep in my bunk. So no matter how difficult it may be to carry on scouting at times, remember that its about service to others and they will usually see the benefit. For me that’s the greatest reward in and of itself.

Johnny Quest Stop Action Video Opening Sequence

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Jobehr’s Folly

During basic training Uncle Sam likes to give all of his privates a couple of shots in the arm so that they can go fight anywhere in the world. I remember that day fondly as the day of the “twenty mile” gauntlet.  The drill sergeants had us line up single file with our service jacket off and handed us our medical files. We then walked down this corridor at the medical facility and as we came to an open door, a latex gloved medic would grab the arm closest to their door and give us his assigned inoculation.  Some of the shots were done with an air gun like contraption that the medic would press up against your arm and then pull the trigger.  It even felt like getting shot.  They would usually tell us not to move but sometimes the warning came as we moved.  This would cause the simple injection sight to become a bloody gash on the arm of the unfortunate soldier.   Other doors had the normal needle injection and then there was one that they dipped a piece of sharpened tubular glass into a vile of purple fluid and the medic would jab us several times in the arm and told us not to touch that spot.  
 As each of us completed the gauntlet we gathered outside in formation, tending to our injuries and painfully putting our service jackets back on.  Finally, the drill sergeant came out, gathered up our medical forms, and for good measure had us do 20, 4 four count pushups.  Once we were done the drill sergeant then gave us a warning not to touch our arms but that if we did so by accident, we needed to immediately go and wash our hands.

The next morning, our arms were showing the effects of our many inoculations to include the small pox inoculation which had created a large purple pimple on our arms.  However, one of the guys in the platoon had during the night scratched his purple pimple and then being tired, decided not to wash his hands as he drifted off to sleep.  So when he got up and looked in the mirror he had a small purple pimple on his face next to his nose, but he thought nothing of it. The following day when he woke up his face was a swollen purple mass of puss and pimples.  He had managed to spread his inoculation for small pox all over his face and had become almost unrecognizable.

As the morning formation started, the Drill sergeant called out our names and each of us responded as present or here.  However, when Jobehr’s name was called and he responded, the drill sergeant took notice of his face and proceeded to yell asking him “What on God’s green Earth have you done to your face private?”

Jobehr replied “I think I scratched my arm and then scratched my face Dill Sergeant!” ,

“Son didn’t I tell you not too scratch your arm?”

“Yes Drill Sergeant!”

“Didn’t I tell you that if you did, you needed to immediately wash your hands and face?”

“Yes Drill Sergeant! I’m sorry Drill Sergeant!”

“Soldier, don’t apologize to me.  You’re the one who’s gonna have to spend the next couple of days in the hospital!”

Dejectedly Jobehr replied, “Yes Drill Sergeant…”

The rest of the company laughed out loud, not so much at Jobehr’s misfortune, but rather as a relief at the thought of “Wow that could have been me”.

The Token

A year or so after Desert Storm, when I was back with my home unit the 88th MP CO, I was having a problem with my platoon leader. The guy was inept and an absolute jerk.  On top of that I didn’t have any of my close friends in the platoon with me.  So one morning as we were forming up I decided to ask my platoon sergeant if it would be possible to get transferred to another platoon.  She looked at me kind of funny and said, “Sorry Rich but other than the LT. you’re the only white guy in the platoon and we need you to stay.”  Puzzled, I turned around, looked at the platoon, and for the first time,  I saw the truth of her statement. It had been that way for several months and I hadn’t even noticed.  I busted out laughing, and suddenly the whole platoon was laughing as well.  By the time I did leave the platoon the ratio had reached about 50/50 and that LT had been booted out.

Kickstarting Traveller 5th Edition

If you have encountered the Kickstarter.com website then you know of a novel new way that projects are getting funded.  Marc Miller, the creator of Traveler has started up a kickstarter project for the latest version of Traveller dubbed T5.  I have been in on the play test for this project since 2009 and have enjoyed looking at the new rules and discovering all the enhancements that it offers to the Traveller Universe.  Yes $100 dollars for just a book is a bit hard to swallow but consider this; T5 is more fun that a text book, Comes with some awesome swag and a PDF version on CD, if you preorder it on Kickstarter, this will likely be cheaper to buy all at once than if you wait to buy T5 when it gets broken up in to smaller books and sold in the stores.
Now if you compare T5 to the latest Sci-Fi Offering from Fantasy Flight Games: "Black Crusade" with its hardcover, 400 pages that originally cost ~$60.00 when it came out. Then add to it the game master's Kit for $20 and you still do not come close to the page count that T5 has racked up of ~600 pages. Also as the stretch goals are met, the extra stuff you get for your money like possibly a free deck plan of a scout courier done in full color and 1inch grid squares…

The extra stuff in T5 compared to earlier version of Traveller:

• A sophont generation process that includes basic culture as well as body shape and genders.
• Improved world and system generation processes.
• A new and improved character generation process.
• Clones, Chimera's, and Robots as characters.
• An improved UCP that will handle aliens better than before.
• Oh the list just goes on and on....
• And backwards compatibility with most of the earlier Traveller versions!

 So get to the site and become a backer of T5.  Besides the more of you that join up and back this project the better the extra stuff you get is.

You have Until July 1, 2012 to back this project.

Learning to Swim

              I recently attempted to figure out what was the best scouting experience I have ever had.  It’s easy for me to remember the more recent times as a Den leader, Cubmaster, Wood Badge Trainee, or Commissioner.  Thankfully, I was recently reminded of one of the positive driving experiences of my life as a Boy Scout.  The summer before my father passed, I spent two weeks at summer camp earning the BSA lifeguard certification.  It was hard work for a thirteen year old, and each day when my time at the lake was finished I would walk back to the campsite and collapse completely worn out.

    The second week was my chance to put my skills to work and I thought I was simply going to be watching over the other boys while they swam keeping them safe.  But I was given a different task that was much harder, but also a greater experience.  A young boy from another troop was one of the few scouts that did not know how to swim; I was tasked with teaching him how.  When I was first given the task I didn’t have a clue where to start. So I spent my time trying to figure out how to explain how to swim and learning how to motivate him to learn.  Thankfully, he wanted to learn, and once I explained to him how proud his mother would be of him I had his full attention.  For three days I worked with him figuring out how to explain the things that I had learned to do by second nature, stuff that I took for granted and could do without thinking.  After two days working with him on basic skills and asking the staff for advice, I managed to teach him how to do the crawl, float on his back and do the back stroke.  His form was bad his muscles were weak but he did it.

    Then it came time for the swim test on the third day.  I told him to relax do your best, and have fun.  Nervous and excited he walked up to the staff lifeguard and told him he was ready to take his test. The test began and I watched from the dock with my fingers crossed, hoping that he would pass, that his fear of the deeper water would not overwhelm him, and that yes, I could have an extra hour free for the remaining couple of days of summer camp.

    He passed the test, ran up to me with a really big smile and his swimmer’s tag with a strip of red on it indicating that he was now a beginner swimmer.  I gave him a high five, congratulations, and probably had a big smile on my face as well.  He ran off to show his scoutmaster and friends.   I then walked back to the Campsite, told my scoutmaster about the experience, and probably could not shut up about it for a long time.

    The next day at around the time that the young scout’s troop was at free swim, I walked down to the lake, sat on the beach and watched him swimming and playing with his buds in the Beginners Area.  I can remember no other Scouting experience as great as that one.

An act of compassion.

What I am about to write does not do the situation justice but I will make an attempt...

 This afternoon my son's cub scout pack had a show and sale for our annual popcorn fund raiser at Game's Farmer's Market on Harpersville road.  While I was taking my lunch break I was called back to my station.  As I walked up I was asked if I knew CPR.  Stunned, I looked over to see an elderly woman on the ground in a near fetal position.  Beside her with his head next to her’s was one of the scout’s fathers, and another scout parent calling 911 on her cell phone.  I took a moment to study the situation, saw that the woman was breathing and that the father was talking to her.  Realizing that CPS was not necessary but that the lady was in pain because she had tripped and fallen. I walked over to assist, but  my assistance really only amounted to ensuring she did not hit her head on the ground and making sure the boys and other passerby’s stayed clear.  Meanwhile the 911 dispatcher started asking the scout mother a string of questions about the victim, she then handed the phone to the scout father, who then acted as a relay between the injured and the dispatcher.  After the dispatcher hung up, the father then stayed with the woman holding her hand.  As we tried to make her comfortable, he engaged her in conversation.  This helped her take her mind off her pain and pass the time while we waited for the ambulance to arrive.  He then asked her if there was someone he could call for her, which she then asked him to do.  As he was doing so the ambulance arrived and the paramedics took over the situation.  I stayed with them until they had the elderly woman on the gurney, at which point they turned to me and thanked me for helping.  I had to tell them that I really did nothing and that the guy they should thank was the scout’s father.   This they did but at this point he asked the paramedics where they were taking the woman. After they told him, he again called her relative and told them where they were taking her.   I turned to him and said good job!  But of course he shrugged it off as though it was nothing.  While what he did was not life saving or heroic, it was an incredibly powerful act of compassion for a stranger, and I am as glad to have witnessed it as I am to have this man and his son in my pack.