Where Is the Decorum? : Coach Heal Thyself

So I don't normally whine about things that I know I don't have control over. I also know that this subject has been discussed ad naseum by many many people, generally complaining about the younger generation. I however am not going to complain about young people, the people I am going to complain about are older and should definitely know better. The people I am talking about are so called youth sports "coaches." As I have related in the blog before I officiate sports from high school down to the elementary school level. Officiating is generally an enjoyable experience and the State High School Sports Associations keeps a pretty tight rein on unsportsmanlike behavior of coaches,players and fans.

Youth sports or those sports for younger individuals that are generally played outside the auspices of an official organization, however are a different story. Different leagues have wildly different standards  between them as to who can be a coach and how that coach should act. This is fine, I am all for free enterprise and letting the market decide on the best process. However, what generally happens is the process is no process and if your kid or kids participates in the sport you're a "coach." There is where the problem lies, none of these so called coaches have any idea how to be a coach. They think because they watch a sport on TV that they know everything about it and their coaching technique amounts to browbeating the kids and yelling at the officials. Few if any of these Vince Lombardi want-a-be's actually take the time to study the rules or any coaching techniques that involve positive reinforcement. Oh they may throw the occasional " Have fun" when they are talking to their minions but the say it halfheartedly in an attempt to be politically correct.

Youth sports in my opinion is the time to positively model the good aspects of competition and being a member of a team. This is the opportunity to give the children involved good character traits before they grow up and the sport becomes more about winning conference championships than building character. Unfortunately rather than acting as a team in concert with the officiating staff to promote good game play and good sportsmanship too often coaches at these lower levels try to prove they're the next Bill Bellicek or Dan Gable and they run up the score, continue passing when ahead by 35 points, or just plain humiliate an opponent. This is bush league at its finest.Coaches should be modeling the good sportsmanship that they expect from others.

Coaches at all levels should be required to pass a knowledge based rules test, and pay a fee to get the privilege to coach our young people. Where are your manners, shame on you Coaches, heal thyself

Operation Display Determination 1985

In 1985 I was a salty know it all member of the "Spec 4" Mafia assigned to Weapons Platoon B Company 1st Battalion 325th Airborne Infantry Regiment 82nd Airborne Division Ft. Bragg NC. I was assigned as the gunner for the main gun of our 81 mm mortar section, a somewhat prestigious position given to the lower enlisted guy who had managed to stick around the longest without getting chaptered out. The All American Division as the 82nd is known, was and is the only Division size paratroop unit left in the US Army. The army of the 1980's was different than today's military. It was struggling to make a cohesive professional force as it also transitioned from the draftee army of the 1970's to an all volunteer army. Times were a little turbulent, like the summer we had to walk to every training exercise closer than 12 miles because the military had run out of money for fuel.
Some of my good friends were Roger, Richard, Don (Duck), B.J., Bobby (The Ragin Cajun) , Mark,and Ernest T. All of these guys were awesome friends, some got out of the military and I lost touch, some like Duck who proceeded me into Special Forces made the military a career like I did.They say you never forget your first and Weapons platoon was my first military unit and I will never forget the characters that belonged to it.

In 1985 our unit was deployed to the European part of Turkey in an Emergency Deployment Readiness exercise called "Display Determination 85." Every platoon provided two soldiers to act as an advance party and I was chosen to be one of those two for our platoon. The other soldier accompanying me was a "newbie" to our platoon named David. Dave had come over from the 4/325 stationed in Vicenza Italy so he was familiar with Europe where my only trip overseas at the time had been to the Sinai Peninsula. The 4/325 would be redesignated the 173rd Airborne Brigade some years later. We departed North Carolina via C141 cargo plane on our way to Turkey and after a long and very boring flight we landed in Istanbul and unloaded our CONEX containers and vehicles for the move farther west. We convoyed west along the highway until we entered a tent city built next to a Turkish Commando base. The Commandos would be participating in our exercise but I never really saw them during our time there. We spent the next two days reconning the drop zone and preparing for the arrival of the rest of our battalion who would make a night mass parachute drop after flying straight from North Carolina.

I was tasked to be the jeep driver for the Drop Zone Safety Officer (DZSO) so at the appointed time and place I was dozing off in the sparsely cushioned seat of an M151 jeep when I heard the unmistakable sound of low flying aircraft. The DZSO was taking wind readings and talking to the lead aircraft via the radio that was on the other seat of the vehicle. The wind reading was 10 knots gusting to 13 knots which was the maximum limit for a static line parachute jump such as the one being attempted. Either way it was a little windy and pitch black. By straining my eyes I could make out the darker outlines of the aircraft against the night sky. Suddenly I saw little green chem lights shooting out the tail of  multiple aircraft as the heavy drop of vehicles and equipment was released prior to the jumpers. These chem lights were attached to the cargo parachutes rigged on this equipment. Heavy drops were normally released at the leading edge of the drop zone so as not to clutter the rest of the landing area for the personnel.

However on this particular night after flying thousands of miles in total darkness and conducting nape of the earth low level flight for 2 hours prior to the jump the Air Force got it a little wrong. The lead sortie of aircraft released their equipment in the center of the drop zone which did two things. Number one it pushed their troops off the edge of the drop zone forcing many of them to land in a water filled canal that was 500 meters from te trailing edge. Number two when the trailing birds adjusted for the error they dropped their troops smack dab on the equipment that had been previously dropped. Factor pitch blackness and high winds into the equation and you had a recipe for disaster. After all jumpers where away we started driving across the drop zone using blackout lights trying to estimate the number of injured and confused paratroopers. Along the way I happened to find a few members of my platoon and they hitched a ride to our platoon assembly area. A few of them like my friend Roger had actually been dragged by their parachutes down the shallow canal like bobsledders on their back. He told me how he struggled to release one of his canopy risers as the water kept flowing over his helmet and into his mouth and nose. After finally releasing the riser he stopped being dragged but he had to retrieve his soaked rucksack and sodden parachute and start navigating to the assembly area. He was especially upset because the disposable camera he had in his ruck was ruined. He was very glad to see us. As dawn approached all individuals were accounted for and we started hearing the war stories and rumors of injuries, things like our battalion commander slamming full force into a large truck that was on the drop zone (this one was true he was sent back home and spent 3 weeks in the hospital) or the guy who landed in some village and was arrested by the local police ( not true).

We moved out on foot and for the next two weeks we walked and walked and walked all over the Turkish countryside lugging our heavy mortar equipment with us. Occasionally we would get a fire mission and we would run some dry fire drills dropping imaginary mortar rounds onto imaginary reference points or objectives. The whole time we conducted the exercise I never knew where we were on the map and it was all I could do to slog through the muddy freshly plowed fields. It was 3 years later when I attended Ranger School when I was taught the importance of keeping all members of your unit informed. I give our platoon leader an F on that little skill. Every night we would set up the guns and sleep beside them, waiting with one ear next to the field telephone for the sound of "Section!!!" which indicated an incoming fire mission.

Eventually we made it back to the tent city for some R and R prior to leaving to go back to the States. The first night in the tents we managed to obtain some Turkish Arak, which is a liquor similar to Sambuka or Raki. If you have never had any of those they are all clear and taste like black licorice and will kick you butt. We mixed this liquor with the dried fruit we pilfered from our first generation Meals Ready to Eat to make a jungle juice par excellance'. After about 2 hours we where howling at the moon and rolling through the bonfire outside the tent. Bobby burned his hand in the fire but we told him to quit his whining and have another canteen cup full of the juice. The next day we all had heads the size of fresh watermelons but we were told we would be getting a cultural tour of Istanbul. This was actually pretty cool, we visited the Grand Mosque and other attractions. I bought a little ivory jewelry box for some reason. I kept the box and 2 years later I gave it to my wife who at the time I hadn't even met. She still has it. Later on that evening we went to the Kervan Seray night club and were treated with a show featuring traditional dancers. We drank a bunch of beer and things were going along well until we reached the beer limit established by the chain of command and also discovered we had been locked into the night club. I guess the muckety mucks didn't want any drunk and testosterone filled paratroops invading downtown Istanbul. Disheartened and half sloshed we used all the money we had left to bribe one of the waiters to provide us with some alcohol. He delivered us ten bottles of the most god awful red house wine I have ever drank. Of course we proceeded to polish those off and the night ended with us doing jump commands and Parachute Landing Falls off the tables of the night club.

The next day we poured ourselves into the planes taking us back home and lifted off for our refuel stop in Madrid Spain. The flight back was no picnic as this was still the Cold War. Our route took us close to the airspace of some Eastern Block countries and our pilot did some pretty nifty evasive manuevers when he reported we where being shadowed by two unknown MIG Aircraft. I expected a air to air missle to come through the fuselage at any moment. Eventually we landed in Madrid however and had a 4 hour layover that was prolonged when after takeoff our landing gear woudl not retract and we had to make an emergency landing back at the airport. Rumor had it the Security Police had the bomb sniffing dogs out giving the plane a once over.Finally we landed back at Pope Air Force Base and Fort Bragg. I was happy to be back in the States.

Post Script: As I write this blog entry it has been one year since my good friend Roger was killed in a bicycle accident. Airborne All the way

Quad Cities Marathon 2010

So last Sunday had disaster written all over it. I had registered and committed to doing the Quad Cities Marathon, that however was not the disastrous part since this was my 5th marathon the experience was not new to me. But several things did make it a gamble. This was my first marathon in the two years since I had knee surgery, I had originally planned to do the Des Moines Marathon but had cut my training short by 3 weeks because frankly I was pressed for time to get the long runs in. Speaking of long runs it turned out the longest training run I did was 16 miles and I walked part of that, I had also only ran three days a week to try and keep my knee in good shape. I had been mountain biking the other days. So although I knew I would finish, when and how tired I would be was a big old question mark.

So I got up at about 0430 Sunday morning and drove the 100 miles to Moline Il. I arrived at 0630 for a 0730 start. I found the check-in table and grabbed my swag bag, which included my number,timing chip, and coveted t-shirt. I continued to hydrate with one of the two 32 ounce Gatorades I had purchused at a convenience store on the way down. I had finished the other on the drive. The Quad Cities for those that don't know consists of Moline, IL.,Rock Island, Il., Davenport, Ia. and Bettendorf, Ia. The start line of the marathon would be in Moline but the race itself would go through all 4 cities.

Because of my apprehension about my training I decided to hang with a pace group something I had never really done before. I found the guy holding the sign indicating he would be running a 10:52 per mile pace which equated to a 4hr and 45 min marathon. I thought I could handle that pace. The gentleman acting as Pacer was named Paul W.  Paul had completed 26 other marathons and 3 ultra-marathons and was 54 years old. A good pacer must be congenial, conversational and above all stay on pace. Paul was all of these. Before the race started I hit the Porto Potty again and removed my hat for our national anthem. The race with started with the firing of a civil war cannon and off we went. Our pace group had about 10 people to start but more on that later.

The first two miles of the race were flat through the downtown area of Moline, we then turned north and crossed the mighty Mississippi river for the first time crossing over on the interstate bridge which the authorities had blocked one north bound lane. Paul kept up a constant stream of banter as we crossed over the river. It was a very eerie feeling when the bridge started to sway and bounce in rhythm with the thousands of pounding feet. Coming off the bridge we were in Bettendorf, Iowa and we encountered the first of a few hills on the route this started about mile 5 and continued for a mile or so then we took a right and made a 3 mile circuit of Bettendorf. I marveled how fast the first 5 miles had flown by as we talked and kept our steady pace. Paul was very good and announced our splits every mile, he would announce our actual time versus our goal time and we were generally no more than 3-4 seconds one way or the other. At about the 10 mile mark we started heading west along the river as we crossed into Davenport, Iowa, we had gained a little on our pace and Paul was actually disappointed that we were now averaging 37 seconds faster than out goal. He vowed to slow the pace down and keep that 37 second cushion for the rest of the race. He managed to do this by the way.

At mile 12 we once again crossed the Mississippi this time heading south, we had lost about 1/2 our pace group with 2 forging ahead and 3 falling behind. This time we were in Rock Island IL. and in no time we crossed back over half the river and we were on the US Army Rock Island Arsenal, which was actually on an island. This is were I first noticed I was starting to get fatigued but it wasn't an overwhelming fatigue and I was still keeping up with Paul no problem. It was on this island between miles 13 and 19 where we just ground out the miles and got into the rhythm of the race. I got a little nostalgic as I passed the officers quarters and saw the same style nameplates,quarters and street names I had seen on a dozen other military posts. Paul was an engineer by trade and was doing math in his head as he calculated how much time we had left and what our splits would be. Me being me I started to tease him and called him the "numbers guy."
 Here are some Paulism's that were uttered during the race:

"Age is a moving target." "Connect your head to your heart." and "One time I pissed blood when I finished a race."

That last one is funny I don't care who you are. So anyway as we left the Island we crossed the 20 mile mark and the real second half of the race began. It is after mile twenty when it becomes mind over matter. As luck would have it mile 20-23 were along a deserted bike trail between the river and some warehouses. No scenery and all the bands and spectators from earlier in the race had decided to congregate elsewhere. This was the loneliest part of the race for me as we were down to myself, two other guys and Paul in our pace groups. No one was doing much talking. At mile 23 we emerged back onto the street we had started on in Moline but we had to run away from the finish at first. The last 3.1 miles were an out and back course along this road and as I saw the faster runners heading my way towards the finish I kept reminding myself there was only a 5K left to the end. So we slogged along and as we rounded the turn to run the last 1.5 miles or so back to the finish I noticed I was the only runner from our original pace group that was still hanging with Paul. As we made the turn he said" If you have any energy it won't hurt my feelings if you want to go ahead." I told him " I am already using it." In reality I had decided that I had begun the race with Paul and I would finish with him.

So we made it back downtown to the cheering crowds with myself and Paul crossed the finish line together in 4 hours 44 minutes and 17 seconds about a perfect a race as could have been run. I discovered when I got back home and looked at my logs that this qualified as my third fastest marathon time. I want to thank Paul though because of his course management, steady pace, forcing us to walk at water breaks, forcing us to take water, I finished this race feeling better than I ever had at the finish of a marathon. Following a pace group was definitely worth it.

Wrong Place Wrong Time

            We pulled up below the military crest of the small hillock and dismounted our vehicles as quietly as possible. It was just before end evening nautical twilight (EENT) and we were switching out split teams at our hide location. My half of the Special Forces team had arrived to relieve our compadres who had been on site the last 24 hours harassing Iraqi armored forces with airstrikes and relaying back intelligence to the Joint Special Operations Task Force (JSOTF). Once our in-brief was over and we took over security, my junior Weapons Sergeant relayed to me a funny story about how earlier in the day a B2 bomber had requested to deploy some unexpended ordinance (bombs) and was wondering if anyone in the area had a target of opportunity. The Air Force Combat Controller that was attached to our team had already plotted the coordinates of one of the larger bunkers that were occupying the ridgeline across the valley from our location. He gave the coordinates to the aircraft and told them to have at it. To everyone’s surprise and amusement shortly after that, what looked like an entire platoon of Iraqi soldiers exited the bunker and lined up dress right dress on the hillside beside the bunker. Well it wasn’t to long before that hillside was lit up like the Fourth of July with the ground shaking concussions and shrapnel of some 1000 pound bombs. After the dust cleared my junior Weapon’s Sergeant told me all they could see was a red stain on the side of the hill. Bad day to take a smoke break!!! Morbid but still funny.

He also told me that they had observed what appeared to be a small pickup truck moving around the valley and in and out of the Iraqi lines unimpeded all day. At one point the guys thought the occupants of this vehicle might have taken a few shots at them but they couldn’t confirm as it was too far away for effective fire. Just as the other half of the team was loading their gear into the vehicle to head back to our patrol base one of the guys whispered that they had spotted the pickup again and it was heading our way. We watched through our optics for awhile to see if it would turn but it was obvious that its current route would take it right directly through our location. Instantly a hasty plan was formulated, the split team members that had been leaving would conduct a hasty ambush while I and the other half of the team would remain where we were and support by fire.

Quickly they grabbed the squad automatic weapon and their rifles and moved perpendicular to the projected route of the pickup. Watching through binoculars in the fading light I saw them emplace the ambush and as the truck drew nearer I trained my own M4 on the cab. Everyone was at a high state of alertness when the vehicle suddenly stopped and one of the occupants got out to relieve himself. He was followed shortly by two of his buddies. They about shit themselves when our senior Weapons Sergeant and our interpreter popped up from the side of  the road and told them to drop their weapons and get face down on the ground. They were quickly flex cuffed using the flex cuffs we all carried in our gear and frog marched over to my position. The three were dressed in typical Iraqi Kurd garments and where armed with AK-47 rifles. After a few questions from our interpreter that mainly resulted in denials from the prisoners we blindfolded them with cravats from the M5 medical bag and loaded them in one of our vehicles. It was decided I would take them back to base camp and one of the Peshmerga that was accompanying us would drive their vehicle.

Myself and the split team we had relieved made the bumpy ten kilometer trip back to Klaw Kut with the prisoners in the back of our vehicle, blindfolded and eating the dust kicked up by the back tires. Once we arrived at the patrol base about midnight we rousted our Team Leader and briefed him on the situation. Our Communications Sergeant sent a situation report back to the AOB (Company HQ) informing them we had captured some prisoners, meanwhile our Team Leader conducted a hasty field interrogation with the help of our interpreter. He individually brought the prisoners into a small room, unblind folded them, and gave them food and water as he asked them what they had been doing. They were obviously scared shitless and once the blind folds were off they gave one word answers and kept their eyes glued to the M4 rifles we carried loosely in our hands.

Not getting much out of them the decision was made to transport them back to the AOB and eventually to turn them over to the Military Police. Unfortunately the closest MP was somewhere south close to Baghdad but that wasn’t our problem. As we exited the small room we heard a commotion and some yelling. We saw that in the darkness a small crowd had gathered around our team and the other two prisoners who had been standing outside. Word travels fast, (telephone, telegraph, tell a Kurd) and what looked like all the village elders had surrounded our prisoners and were yelling at them and shaking their fists and shoes in their faces. My guys were trying to calm them down but not speaking much Kurdish they were having no luck.

Our interpreter finally figured out that these individuals were known to the villagers, and in fact in it was alleged they were former Peshmerga that had defected a few weeks before. Peshmerga or not we were very suspicious at their ability to drive freely through the Iraqi lines. The prisoners claimed it was all a mistake and they were just some poor Peshmerga that had gotten separated from their unit in no man’s land. Discretion the better part of valor we replaced the blindfolds and loaded them in the vehicles once again. The last I saw of them as our Team Leader drove them away to the AOB, they were sitting in the back of the Land Rover being chased by children who were hurling small rocks and shoes at them. Deserters,defectors, or just plain bad navigators these guys had definitely showed up at the wrong place at the wrong time.

Extracurricular Activities #2: High School Sports Official

A few weeks ago I posted about how sometimes in addition to my regular job I also volunteer as an Emergency Medical Technician at a rural ambulance service. In addition to this activity I also do another quite regularly. I am a High School Sports Official for the Iowa High School Athletic Association. I officiate 3 sports pretty much keeping me busy year round. I officiate Football, Wrestling, and Baseball. To become a registered official in Iowa you have to pass a written rules test and pay your dues. Most officials also belong to some kind of officials association. I belong to the Cedar Rapids Area Officials Association (Football), The Iowa City Area Officials Association ( Baseball, Football), and the Eastern Iowa Wrestling Officials Association (Wrestling). These associations mentor officials, provide training, and generally assign lower level contests Junior Varsity and below. Varsity contests are arranged between the official and the host school and an official needs to get a reputation and get his or her name out there for a few years to get these contests..

Wrestling was the sport I started officiating first and it is my favorite sport. Not really a surprise but it is also the only sport in High School that I participated in at the Varsity level. The state I grew up in and currently live in is one of the hotbeds of Collegiate style (Folkstyle) Wrestling. The University of Iowa Hawkeyes have won the last 3 NCAA Wrestling Championships and are second all time in number of national championships won. People in this state take their wrestling serious and it is as popular as any of the "revenue" sports like football or basketball. I started officiating wrestling shortly after I got out of the military. I was attending the state AAU youth championships as a spectator and I approached one of the officials and asked how I could become one. He gave me a phone number and the rest is history. Wrestling is unique among the sports I officiate. It is the only sport where the official is solo. An official has to live and die with his call, there is no one to confer with and no one to blame but himself if a call is blown. Officiating wrestling can be exciting but the pressure is incredible. Alone on the mat in a crowded gymnasium with the crowd almost on top of you, an official must be quick, athletic and knowledgeable if he is expecting to do a good job. The nuances of the sport and the changes in control can be quite intimidating at first. I have been officiating wrestling for 6 years from Varsity level to youth.

Football is the sport I started officiating second. One of the guys who mentored me as a wrestling official suggested I give it a try. I did and I liked it. I started out my first year doing Junior Varsity contests and below working all the positions on 3,4, and occasionally 5 man crews. My second year I was invited to join a Varsity crew as a Back Judge. I really enjoy the camaraderie of football officiating. It is sometimes like your officiating crew is the 3rd team on the field. We really work together as a unit to get the call right and to look sharp. Our goal is to administer the game fairly by the rules but to go unnoticed while doing it. It is a great compliment to be told you did a good job even by the losing coach. Football Friday nights in Iowa are electric as they are in all parts of the country. Marching bands are playing, the crowd is in to it, and the kids are hustling on the field. Officiating a well played football game can be very satisfying, on the other hand a bad game or one with a lot of poor sportsmanship can be very tedious. As a Back Judge on my varsity crew I don't throw a lot of flags but when I have to they are generally game changers. Pass interference calls mostly and the penalties for that infraction both ways are very punitive. 15 yards and a loss of down or an automatic first down depending on who committed the foul. You have to make sure those calls are correct. I have been officiating football for 5 years from Varsity level to youth.

Baseball is the johhny come lately. I started umpiring baseball to round out the year and because I really like watching baseball. Baseball has a culture all its own, it is the only sport where it is acceptable for the coach to come on the field of play and argue a call with the umpire.They tone it down quite a bit in High School but a certain amount of showmanship is still tolerated. I like behind the plate but working the bases is all right as well. Nothing beats being behind the plate on a nice summer evening calling balls and strikes. Baseball is the sport I really have to study both because the rules are very complicated and because I actually never really played baseball beyond little league. I believe I have made myself into a pretty decent umpire however and I pride myself that my strike zone is consistent. I have been officiating Baseball for 4 years from Varsity to youth.

I like officiating and like anything else I would like to be the best I can be. I want to possibly " white hat" at the Varsity level in football someday and I would love to officiate at the college level in all sports. Both of those things are going to require hard work and a little luck. being at the right place at the right time helps. At the end of the day I just enjoy being involved in the competition, and hope in some small way I am contributing to the positive development of the student-athlete.

New Bo Fest Half Marathon 2010

The Inaugural New Bo Fest Half Marathon was the first half marathon held in my hometown in about 15 years I think. Despite just finishing a mountain bike race the weekend before I wasn't going to miss a chance to be in on the first running of a race right here in the local area. So the race as the name suggests started in the New Bohemia area of Cedar Rapids. This area is still struggling mightily to recover from the flood of 2008 and almost every building except the one we started at, which happened to be a bar, was boarded up or closed. It is sad really, the point of the festival is to showcase the area and maybe get people to visit but it may take a few more years to make that happen. The race had about 300 entrants so it was small, I expect it will grow larger as the word gets out. This first year was pretty minimalist, entrants got a t-shirt and a goodie bag which is normal but the t-shirt was the same for finishers and volunteers and no finishers medals were handed out. I did like the fact though that the t-shirt was a cotton blend and not one of those tech shirts most races are found of handing out. When I run a race I want to wear the shirt and those tech shirts just don't really lend themselves to everyday wear, I much prefer a cotton shirt.

I met a fellow wrestling official who was also running the race and we chatted before the start, he mentioned this was his first half marathon and he was shooting for under 2 hours. I mentioned that I felt like crap from working outside the whole day prior and was using this as a training run for my upcoming marathon. Just prior to the start we told each other good luck and I moved to my normal place at the back of the starting pack. A local news personality started the race with a rather quick "ready, set, go" and we were off!!! I started out at an easy jog fully intending to get the most out of my money and run the race at training pace or slower.

The first mile was easy along city streets then we headed out of town along the river, it was shortly after this first mile that I saw my friend just ahead so I got up beside him and we talked a little more, it was about then when I remembered that I had been gabbing and forgot to hit the porto potty pre-race. So when I saw an inviting group of trees I headed into the bush to do my business. He kept running of course. When I was done I happened to be at the base of what was the start of a group of fairly steep but short hills between miles 2 and 4. Something I have noticed is that when I run I usually pass a lot of people on hills. They catch up later but I guess all that road marching just made me strong on uphills. So I powered up this hill and eventually caught up with my friend and with a wave and a few words I passed him. I was feeling pretty good and holding a steady pace through mile 4.

Mile 5-7 was fairly flat and along a country road, I continued to hold a steady pace but I could feel the heat start to rise as the day progressed. At race start it had been overcast and fairly cool but now the sun was out. Water stops were about every mile or mile and a half and the even had a GU station at mile 6. I had to stop somewhere in this stretch and tighten my knee brace up as the velcro was coming loose. At mile 7 we got off the hard surface road and hit the Sac and Fox trail as the course started turning back towards the start.

The trail was a little rough at first, it was showing the effects of the heavy rains we had experienced a few days before and rocks and sticks were everywhere. I turned my ankle slightly on one of the rocks but for the most part the sandy/dirt surface of the trail felt better than the pavement had. This part of the race was the most tedious and it is also where I think I lost some time. It was harder to run in the sandy soil and also running through the woods along the river it was hard to see ahead and behind. It felt unlike a race and more like I was running on my own. I could see people up ahead but no one behind. This went on for 3-4 miles while I tried to maintain a pace with really no references. Miles were not marked and there were no water stops on the trail.

At mile 10 we popped out of the woods and hit the pavement back into town, back along the first 3 miles of the course. Up one more very steep hill ( thanks music guy that was the perfect place for your motivational tunes) and it was fairly flat until the end. I continued to try and maintain a steady pace even with all the jack rabbits behind me speeding up and passing me in the last mile. It is a personal point of pride with me I don't sprint at the end to beat someone, people who do irritate me because it means they have to much energy left. At least that is what I think. Turning the corner I saw the finish line ahead and steadily ran on through.

I looked at my time and I had missed my PR by about 6 minutes. I had lost a lot of time on the trail but still it was a good steady pace and I was satisfied with my time. I grabbed a Kolache, banana, and some Gatorade and went back to the finish to see if my buddy was coming in. I waited about 30 minutes and never saw him. When I got to my car his truck was gone. Since I know he didn't pass me I must have missed him when I got my food and drink. All in all it was a good race, they will be posting results later today.

http://www.newbohemia.org/BoFest_Half%20MarathonDiv_Report.HTM

Sugar Bottom Scramble 2010

OK, so again I entered the fray and tried my second mountain bike race of the year. My first attempt at mountain bike racing did not go very well at all as I wrote about in this post : http://mikemac356.blogspot.com/2010/04/decorah-time-trials-aka-suck-fest-2010.html

Normally I run, I am not much of a mountain biker although I do enjoy it, I was pretty apprehensive about this race but having said I would do it by God I was going to do it. The Sugar Bottom Scramble was billed as the Iowa State Mountain Bike Championships and the race was held 23 miles south of where I currently live so it was definitely convenient. The course would be run on the mountain bike trails in the Sugar Bottom recreation area around the Coralville Reservoir.

Things didn't start out the best as I was on call at the ambulance service the night prior to the race and as luck would have it we got a couple calls that were spaced out so I really didn't get much rest. I also could not find my bike tools, extra tube or chain lube in my newly cleaned garage. I did try to hydrate though and I definitely succeeded as I had to use the porto potty several times before the race started. Myself and Jessie arrived about 0900 for the 1000 start of the Cat 3(beginner) category. We had to walk about 400 meters to the sign in point where I filled out the necessary waivers, then Jessie stayed there while I went back to the car to get my bike and equipment. The first thing I noticed about this race as compared to the time trials earlier in the year was everyone didn't look like Lance Armstrong. There actually looked like there was a few guys I could beat and everyone was not wearing spandex. The atmosphere was much friendlier and less cliquish.

At 1000 we all lined up on the gravel round headed east for the mass start, there was 27 of us Cat 3 riders as well as 3 Collegiate Division guys that had decided to race with us. I stayed to the back of the pack not really knowing what to expect with the mass start. After a few words of  encouragement the race organizer blew a whistle and I hit the start button on my GPS and away I went. I was at the back of the pack as we pedaled down the road and up a steep hill, as we climbed the hill the first rider fell out as he was having chain issues. I passed him and took a right into the woods. 

The first thing I noticed was that the trails were not as difficult as the ones at Decorah as well as being dry. Decorah had been brutal as well as muddy. The course went generally downhill for the first two miles and I was keeping one of the collegiate riders in my field of vision as I shifted gears into the second chain ring and concentrated on keeping my pedals spinning over the roots and around the turns. Somewhere in the first two miles the rider with the chain problem passed me on a turn and I was dead last. No problem I thought I just need to finish. The chain guy had issues two more times and we passed each other twice in the next two miles until he must have resolved the problem and he pulled away and I never saw him for the rest of the race.

Approximately mile 4 I passed the collegiate rider who had been slowing down since we entered the uphill section, at mile 4.6 I passed two more riders on a hairpin turn, they were stopped and looked like they had some medical issues. I resolved to keep a steady pace. 5 miles into the race we popped back out onto the gravel road this time heading west, I knew that we were about half way but I also knew the most technical part of the course was to come. My legs were starting to fell the burn from all the climbing in the first 5 miles.  As we entered the woods again we paralleled the lake for about .5 miles and the cool breeze and the boats on the water made me glad I had entered this race. As we crossed the road again I saw a long uphill section of single track and slipped down into the easiest gears.

I was alone, I could see no one ahead nor hear anyone behind. I kept pedaling telling myself no matter how slow I went I needed to keep pedaling and not to coast. We were hitting intermediate and expert level trails at this point and there were several places were I had to push the bike uphill when I lost momentum on an obstacle. We crossed and recrossed a little creek on wooden plank bridges that were usually followed by steep rocky uphill climbs. It was at mile 6.8 as I was going down hill on a particular steep and rooted section of the course that I got too far over my handle bars and went ass over teakettle. Bike going one way and me the other. Unlike Decorah this was my only crash and I recovered quickly jumping back on the bike and heading down the trail. I heard voices ahead and saw an incredibly steep hill with people standing at the top. From pre race recon I knew this must be the double black diamond "Cyclocross Hill." Discretion being the better part of valor at this point, I just hopped off my bike and ran and pushed my bike up the hill. I waved to the spectators as I  hammered it ( for me anyway) towards the finish line, which I knew was less than a mile ahead. I rode passed the finish line as Jessie clapped for me. This race was much better than my previous experience. For one thing I didn't finish dead last and I actually enjoyed myself. I will definitely be doing this race again next year.

Addendum: GO Mikey GO!!http://www.flickr.com/photos/13292076@N08/4944210486/in/set-72157624721249001/lightbox/

What a Great Day

Today was great day, for a 12 hour period I was back in the fold. I was once again an Action Guy if only for a day. My employer asked me a few months ago if I would be interested in becoming certified as an Oleoresin Capsicum Aerosol Projector Instructor, or as they say on COPS good old pepper spray. Never being in the habit of turning down free training I agreed. So as luck would have it at O'dark thirty this morning I was headed north to the land of Cheeseheads. Arriving in plenty of time at the Dane County (WI) Law Enforcement training center I took a short nap in the parking lot waiting for the rest of the class to arrive.About 0745 I walked into the class room and immediately I felt comfortable and self conscious at the same time. I was happy because I hadn't seen that many weapons, black shirts and velcro since I left Special Forces, these were my people, however I was a little uneasy because I had no law enforcement background and the majority of these guys were SWAT team members from various agencies. I did what I always do in a situation like this, I took a seat in the back and shut my mouth.

At 0800 our instructor started talking,he was from Georgia and a former Chief of Police and SWAT team leader of 20+ years. His southern accent and good old boy attitude took me back to almost every class I ever took at the Infantry Center. For the next 5 hours he regaled us with the nomenclature, effects, deployment options, and tactical employment of Pepper Spray. Right after lunch we took a written test and once the formalities were out of the way we went to the range to spray and be sprayed. I felt the old familiar nervous energy mount as we practiced. Spraying inert OC Spray we moved laterally and subdued imaginary attackers. Soon enough playtime was over and it was time for the final exercise. The final evolution would involve getting a one second spray of live Pepper Spray to the eyes immediately followed by a "fight through drill." The drill was designed to give the student confidence they could handle being sprayed and still accomplish their mission as well giving them credibility when they discussed the effects. This was similar to what I did as a high altitude parachutist each time we re-qualled in the hyperbaric chamber.

So it was my turn, the instructor told me to close my eyes and hold my breathe, he then gave me a good shot of spray in the eyes. The next command was "blink" to make sure it got in the old eyeballs. I then ran about 30 feet to the first station where I delivered 5 right elbow strikes and 5 left to the pad being held by a fellow student. It was burning a little but no big deal, it was between the first and second stations where the spray kicked in. It started burning so bad I lost my breathe and stumbled slightly, I could feel some trickle into the corner of my mouth and my mustache was on fire. I got to the next pad and delivered a set of 10 knee strikes 5 on each side, at this point my adrenaline had kicked in and between the intense burning and my concentration I had developed tunnel vision on the task at hand. I grabbed the training baton for the next station and sprinted over to the pad delivering 5 forward and 5 backhand strikes. Last but not least I was handed a training pistol and approached my last classmate in the toe/heel fashion of walking I had learned in countless shoot house hours. I was yelling at him to get down as my weapon was trained on him. He was instructed not to comply until I identified the number of fingers he was holding over his head. "Get down, Get down, Three fingers, Get your hands behind your back!!!!!" I simulated handcuffing him and went into the officer distress position as we had been briefed.

At that point the instructor instructed the the safety officer to lead me to the decontamination station, this process required a lot of water and baby shampoo. Flush,Flush,Flush the eyes with water and soap. Blot with a paper towel, rinse and repeat. At this point I was losing my adrenaline rush and almost felt nauseous. Eventually though the pain was manageable and we went inside for a critique, 2 hours after being sprayed I was allowed to drive the 3 hours back home. As I type this 6 hours later my  hand that was grasping the weapons and my cheeks are still burning. But what a great day.

Kraut Route 5K and other nonsense

So last weekend was a very busy one although unintended, I had scheduled myself to be on duty at the Lisbon Mt Vernon Ambulance Service on Saturday morning and too late I realized it was the same day as the St. Jude's Sweet Corn 5K which I run every year, not wanting to leave the service hanging without coverage I registered instead for the Lisbon Sauerkraut days 5K which I had never run before. My intention was to run about 10 miles before the race and use the race as part of my training for my upcoming marathon. This was not to be as a all hell broke loose at work Friday night and I ended up getting somewhere between 1 and 3 hours of sleep and not all at once.

Since no plan survives first contact I adapted and decided just to run the 5K. This 5K was a small local race in a small community. There were 200 registered runners and it had none of the fanfare of some of the other races I have participated in. As usual I started off at the back of the pack and worked my way through the crowd. My intention was to just jog and that is what I did for most of the first part. The course started out flat but then after about a mile we encountered some rather large hills. The last hill to the turn around was pretty steep and probably about 3/4 to one mile long. It was while I was motoring steadily up this hill that I saw a guy I knew coming downhill after turning around. Lets just say he and I do not see eye to eye.

Me being me it then became my Ranger mission to run this guy down and beat him in the race. Don't worry that we are both over 40 and our fastest days are well behind us, rivalry and male ego do not have a age limit. So I picked it up making the turnaround and lengthening my stride as I went downhill. I could see him in the distance cresting the next hill and as I hit the bottom of that hill I tried to keep my pace the same. I steadily gained ground on him until I was close enough to see hear his labored breathing (between my own breathes). On the next uphill he slowed and I did not and I went running past him not even looking to give him the satisfaction of eye contact. He ate my dust, my mission then became to put as much distance between myself and him as possible. I kept up the pace feeling pretty good about myself until up ahead who should I see but the same 8 or 9 year old kid that just beat me at the 5K I ran on July 4th. I decided to run him down as well and get the old double play. So I picked it up again and caught up to him, as I was pulling even he slowed to a walk.

Right then and there my thinking changed, I went from super-competitive Former Action Guy to a guy who admires effort and heart. I looked that young man in the eye and said " You beat me on the 4th, are you going to let an old fat guy beat you today?" He looked at me and without so much as a word he took off on a dead sprint as only the young can do. I tried to keep up with him but the hills had taken the kick right out of me and he ended up beating me by 20 seconds or so. After the race he disappeared and I didn't get a chance to tell him he had run a good race. I beat my last 5k race time by almost a minute and beat Mr. Attitude by over two minutes,put that in your pipe and smoke it.

http://results.active.com/pages/displayNonGru.jsp?rsID=97655
When I got back to the ambulance garage I ended up driving the ambulance in the festival parade and throwing out candy, later that day as I was finally trying to take a nap we got a page for medical assistance at a fire which ended up involving 6 fire departments and our ambulance service. We were on scene about 5 hours. Needless to say when I got home I went to bed early that evening

Former Action Guy Top Ten Greatest Sports Moments

Like most people I am not a professional athlete, nor have I ever been one. I am not even an amateur athlete as I don't consider that my primary occupation. I do however consider myself an athlete as I define it. I define an athlete as someone that is athletic, that plays sports or participates in them. Level of skill or competition not withstanding. That being said I was thinking the other day on a run how I am always trying to compete and what some of my greatest sports accomplishments might have been. Below is my personal ten greatest sports moments, you will never see these on ESPN. They are also ranked not as much by accomplishment but how much they meant to me. Enjoy

10. Most Improved Wrestler Kennedy High School 1981- At the time I didn't realize the impact of this accomplishment, in fact I was pissed and angry I didn't get a Varsity letter and instead received a JV letter ( which I burned in retaliation). However what my adolescent brain should have realized is that all my hard work, weight lifting sessions, early morning runs etc.. had indeed been noticed. I also credit this hard work in the wrestling room with forming the character and never quit attitude I would rely on heavily in my military career.

09. NAUI Scuba Certification 1984- On a deployment to the Sinai Peninsula Egypt, I managed to get certified as a NAUI Scuba diver. I was always a strong swimmer but to overcome the fear of being deep underwater for long periods required some getting used to. It was something I only did for a few years but I enjoyed every dive and now when I see someone diving I can say.. Hey I did that!!

08. Madison (Mad City) ,WI Marathon 2005- I have run hundreds of races, 5 km,10km, 10 milers, 20 Km, you name it. Running has been a hobby of mine over the last 20 years even though my speedster days are long gone. I have run 4 Marathons (26.2 miles) and plan on doing another in October. On this one day in May 2005 everything came together, I had trained through a long cold winter for this spring marathon. My goal was to break a personal best under 4 hours. I started off strong and held my pace steady the entire way, I never hit the wall the entire race like I had and would in past and future marathons. I finished in 3 hrs 59 minutes making a personal record I have not equaled since. This race also finished up at the World's Greatest Bratwurst Festival which was an awesome post race event.

07. Des Moines, IA Marathon 2007- This is not my best marathon or my worst as far as finish time, but it was the absolute hardest to finish. I never have had much luck in Des Moines, my first experience there resulted in my all time slowest marathon time. This one wasn't any more pleasant. I had been training for an ultra-marathon (longer than 26.2 miles) earlier that previous winter and noticed that my left knee was starting to ache horribly and swell after running. Being a Former Action Guy I pretty much ignored the pain but decided maybe I should just run a regular marathon instead. I also cut down on my training miles prior to the race topping out at about 18 miles as my longest training run. I was icing my knee and eating handfuls of Motrin in the weeks leading to the marathon but was still not going for any medical advice. Self medicating is what Former Action Guy's do. The day of the marathon I felt pretty good and actually the first 15 miles went along as planned. I was even on pace to have a decent time. Then things went bad, my knee started to ache so bad I had to start walking, first every mile or so and then eventually I was walking more than running. The last 2 miles I was in excruciating pain and was literally holding back tears as I crossed the finish line. The next day I went to the doctor and discovered I had torn my meniscus and would require surgery. Although I was a dumb ass for ignoring the pain, I was still proud that I didn't quit.

06. Eagle Airport National Golf Course 2009- I like playing golf, some years I play more than others and in 2009 I played exactly one time. This time happened to a best shot golf tournament I was playing with my Dad and some of my brothers. In my family I am definitely the weak link in golf, I don't practice enough and taught myself how to play which promoted bad habits. My Dad and my brothers can actually be very good when they are on their game. So what usually happens on these tournaments is I hit the ball, they give me crap, and I drive the cart. We rarely use my ball unless everyone has a truly horrible lie. On this particular hole #23(yes this course has 27 holes) I teed off first as usual so I could get out of the way. I hit a good tee shot which is not that unusual because I usually drive ok, it is my short game that sucks. What happened next was the great part. I had out driven everyone and my second shot miracle of miracles landed on the edge of the sloping two tiered green. This was a par 5 and I had about a 30-40 foot putt for eagle sideways and down hill. So when it was my turn to putt I just aimed to get it close. The putt rolled slowly then picked up speed and curled perfectly into the cup. I had just eagled the hole and no one else had even used their ball. My best golfing moment ever and my only eagle.

05. Honor Graduate Special Operations Target Interdiction Course (Sniper School) 1994- I attended sniper school at Fort Devens MA, and we spent hours shooting thousands of rounds out of our M24 rifles. We learned field craft, stalking exercises etc.. Going into the final graded shoot I was tied with another soldier for Honor Graduate, the final stalk and shoot would decide. The night prior to the shoot we parachuted into a drop zone via Black hawk helicopter and made our way over terrain for 10 miles our so to the range we would be doing the shoot.  The range was 1000 meters long and surrounded on three sides by large berms to stop bullets, we would be entering on our stalk from the south and heading towards the berm that terminated the range, on this berm where man sized targets. Also on this berm was an instructor with binoculars and a radio. There where other instructors walking around the range with radios. The way the drill went was each student would begin his stalk using all available cover and concealment and establish a shooting position that we hoped we could shoot from and avoid detection.. We would then fire the first of two blank cartridges. The instructor on the berm would guide one of the other instructors into your position based on the noise or any other signs of movement. If they couldn't find you then you fired your next blank round. Again they would try to pinpoint you. If they were unsuccessful you then fired two live rounds into a designated target, one of these had to be a head shot. This was to determine if you could actually hit anything from your position. I did all this and escaped undetected. Back at the classroom during the critique I discovered I had out shot my rival by a mere 3 inches. I had scored my second shot 3 inches closer to the kill zone then he had, I won Honor Graduate by inches.

04. Military Free Fall Instructor/Accelerated Free Fall Instructor 1995-98- Military Free fall is skydiving and MFF instructors teaches these skills, Accelerated Free fall is the civilian equivalent of an MFF instructor. I added this three year period because I can say during this time when I instructed at the US Army Military Free fall school and also got certified as a civiliann skydiving instructor I was an expert at something. My skills as a skydiver were peaked I merely had to think about what I wanted to do in the air and it would happen, my body was a reactive, proactive and well oiled machine. Over the course of those 3 years I taught hundreds of students how to skydive from the ground up and saved many of them from killing themselves in their first few jumps. My designation as MFFI356 is still one of my proudest moments.

03. Decorah Time Trials 2010- I detailed this suck fest extensively in this post earlier this year http://mikemac356.blogspot.com/2010/04/decorah-time-trials-aka-suck-fest-2010.html

02. Special Forces Selection and Assessment 1990- SFAS is by far the hardest thing I have ever accomplished. It is a grueling test of manhood that one must pass to even get the chance to become a Green Beret. It sucks and the Discovery Channel did a pretty good job documenting the suckiness http://dsc.discovery.com/videos/two-weeks-in-hell/

01. Grand Slam Noelridge Park 1973- Ok I love baseball, I love watching it, I umpire baseball at the High School level I just love it. Behind wrestling (real wrestling not WWE) it is my second favorite sport. I however was not very good at baseball, I never competed beyond the Little League level growing up. On this one day however I was a star.  I will never forget, it was the bottom of the 5th in a 6 inning game and I was up to bat with two outs and bases loaded. I was not a very confident batter and I had already struck out once. This pitcher was getting tired however and I remember thinking his windup was slow and he looked like a stork. He threw me a ball, then a strike. I spit on my hands tapped the bat on the plate and got ready for his next pitch. It seemed liked he delivered it in slow motion a big lollipop pitch right over the heart of the plate. I swung the bat and it connected, the ball shoot out over the center fielder's head and kept rolling. This park had no fences so it was a race between me and the outfielder on whether myself or the ball would arrive at home first. I ran as fast as my short little legs could carry me around the bases and beat the ball home. I had just hit the only Grand Slam and only home run I would ever hit in my life. After the game I raced my bike to the Tastee Freeze and treated myself to a foot long hot dog and ice cream cone. By the time my parents got home from work, they were tired and just nodded when I excitedly told them all about it. I will never forget my greatest sports moment thought not even almost 40 years later.

Honorable Mention: 5 Pound Bass caught,Rockford 1/2 Marathon, Every call I have ever made as an official

No Man's Land

We had established our patrol base in the Iraqi village of Klaw Kut. After dusk myself and my A team had moved out in our Land Rover Defenders accompanied by some Kurdish Peshmerga in a rusty Suburban. We had recently moved from the larger village of Taq Taq through the former Iraqi lines and into our current place of residence. Some of the ODA remained at the patrol base while we conducted a leader’s recon, attempting to pinpoint the Iraqi lines and identify a good observation post from which to call for fire and report back intelligence on the Iraqis.

The Peshmerga took the lead driving along the rutted dirt road by the light of the moon, utilizing no headlights or markers for fear of an Iraqi ambush. We drove with night vision goggles mounted to our helmets and I wondered how the Kurds could see at all without the aid of technology as the moon was half full at best and often covered with clouds. Great night for concealment, poor night for driving, we were spaced out in tactical convoy formation the Pershmerga followed by our two vehicles.

Eventually we left the road and started driving straight across the Iraqi countryside generally heading southeast through terrain littered with large rocks and short stubby grass. The terrain was gently rolling hills whose shadows hid many small villages that lay in ruins. These were the product of Saddam Hussein’s Kurdish eradication policy and had been abandoned for some time. Knowing this did not keep me from peering through and around every tumbled down wall with my night vision goggles as if they would grant me x-ray vision to see the ambush that I felt was lurking in every corner.

At the start of the war the Iraqi’s had pulled back from their original defensive line and consolidated just north of the oilfields surrounding Kirkuk. My unit the 10^th Special Forces Group along with elements of 3rd Special Forces Group, A Marine Expeditionary Unit, the 173^rd Airborne Brigade, and the Kurds had filled this gap and were pressing south trying to keep the Iraqis engaged in the north of the country so they could not reinforce Baghdad and cause trouble for the main Allied thrust which was coming from the south. Our main mission was to pinpoint where the Iraqi’s had their defensive perimeter so we could reengage them.

As we crept forward at approximately 15-20 kilometers per hour we were constantly stopping to dismount and check the terrain ahead for any signs of the enemy. Our dismounts would clear the area to our front and then we would move ahead, in a modified bounding overwatch technique.  This area we were driving through belonged to no one, it had become a buffer, a no man’s land between the autonomous Kurdish region of Iraq and the readjusted Iraqi lines. It was inhabited by wandering Iraqi units, Pershmerga, American Special Forces, and bandits. It was what I imagined the Wild West must have been like, no boundaries no definite good guy/bad guy; just a lot of guys with guns and everyone had an agenda.

Suddenly my vehicle came to a silent halt and my driver motioned that the Kurds up ahead had stopped their vehicle and dismounted. They were moving slowly forward in the Kurdish version of a patrol formation, what I might have called a gaggle, towards where the valley we had been following intersected with a small ridgeline. After we dismounted we could hear some faint noises ahead and see the barely present glow of what looked like tail lights about 200 meters ahead. We all trained our weapons on those glowing lights in anticipation of a night about to go badly.

Our Team Leader took a few of our guys and moved off in the darkness towards the Kurdish gaggle in an attempt to identify what lay ahead. After what seemed like forever the word was passed back “Peshmerga!! Bring the vehicles forward.” Believe it our not we had run across another vehicle full of Peshmerga that was roaming the battlefield and they had managed to run themselves axle deep into a small pond. After a security perimeter was established, as quietly as we could and using our night vision equipment we towed their vehicle out of the pond using the winch on the front of one of our Defenders.

These Pesh were so happy we had helped them out they decided to become our personal body guards and followed along behind our vehicles like baby ducks following their Mom. As we inched closer towards Kirkuk the skies overhead were being lit up by flashes of flares and chaff being dropped from U.S. fighter aircraft towards the Iraqi lines as the Iraqi anti-aircraft artillery shot red and green tracers into the sky in random patterns. We could hear the muffled thuds of explosions, and the budda-budda like sounds of the DSHK machine guns, however our immediate surroundings were so quiet you could hear a pin drop and it all seemed very surreal. The thought kept crossing my mind that I had seen the same sort of scene on the news during the first Gulf War but know here I was living it.

We continued to skirt the Iraqi positions with our little convoy stopping, watching, listening, and reconnoitering possible observation post positions. As the night wore on and turned into morning we headed back to the northeast meandering our way to our patrol base by another route. Arriving just as dawn was breaking, we enjoyed a breakfast of flat bread, chai, chicken-rice. We laid out the map and prepared our patrol order for the upcoming evening’s activities. Based on our recon we would be establishing an observation post along the edge of a fairly deep and wide ravine with a good view of the Iraqi positions. The ravine was about a mile wide and cut through the countryside like a mini Grand Canyon right up to the huge ridgeline the Iraqis had set up shop on. We conducted the patrol order, rehearsals and gear preparation, and then the majority of us took an afternoon siesta after our long night and day in no man’s land.

Extracurricular Activities #1: Emergency Medical Technician

As many of you know and many do not I spend a lot of time doing "jobs" that aren't really jobs. My wife claims I am a workaholic and can't sit still, my kids say I have OCD. Bottom line is I try to keep myself busy because honestly ever since I retired from the military I get bored just sitting at home. I have several things I do on a regular basis and I thought I would write about each one of them.

When I was on a Special Forces ODA we did cross training on medical treatment procedures. This was out of necessity since there was twelve of us and we only had two medics. We often broke down into even smaller units so not every group got there own medic. However we still needed to manage any situation that may happen in training or combat, so our medics trained us. Special Forces medics are some of the most highly trained medical personnel in the military as far as trauma management and all around general medical practices. I trusted these men with my life, I even let one of them operate on my dog. That is how much I respected their skills. So long story short I spent a lot of time in the military training on medical issues even though I was not a medic. When I retired from the military I got this wild idea that I should get qualified as an Emergency Medical Technician both because it interested me and because I had this vague idea of applying to a fire department somewhere.

The fire department idea never happened but I did get qualified as an EMT-B. The course was ten weeks long, two nights a week, four hours a night. We started out with over thirty students and about 11 of us finished our national registry. Not that the training was all that hard but it took discipline to study around work etc... and as I discovered then and since outside of the military there is a lot of lazy floating around. Many of the "students" thought the instructor was being unreasonable when he/she asked them to produce results on a weekly basis. The class I took was fast paced, we went through two chapters of the text a night, followed by an hour of practical skills and every class ended with a must pass test on the material from the class before. The national registry exam consisted of a proctored written exam and a practical where you had to assess and treat a patient in three different scenarios either medical or trauma related. Reminded me of about every school I attended in the military, but like I said many couldn't and didn't make it through the training mostly due to lack of effort.

After graduating I used my skills sparsely for a few years, life took over and my idea to be an EMT went on the back burner. I did work part time at the local Minor League Baseball park for one season as an EMT which mostly consisted of me watching the game and putting ice packs on people who got hit with foul balls. Was a pretty sweet gig but it only lasted a few months. Eventually my certification was coming up for renewal and I discovered since I wasn't employed by any medical service ie.. a ambulance service, hospital, or fire department. I would have to attend a 24 hour EMT refresher if I chose to remain certified. After attending the refresher and getting re certified, I decided I better get on the stick and use my skills or give the idea up. I searched around the internet and found an ambulance service 15 miles from the town I live in that took volunteers, I applied and they accepted me.

The service I run with covers a rural area of over 150 square miles and services a population of a little over 6000. There are about 20-25 volunteers, we have 3-4 paramedics, most of the rest of us are EMT-B and we have a few volunteers that aren't certified, here is our website http://www.lmvas.org/. The service will send you to EMT-B class if you agree to volunteer for a year. The State of Iowa rates us as a Paramedic-minimal staffing service. That means we are a Paramedic level service but if one is not available we can leave the garage with an EMT-B as crew chief. If that EMT encounters a situation where advanced level skills are needed they can call for a mutual aid from the County Sheriff Paramedic or the paid service in the large town where I actually live. This doesn't happen too often as our Paramedics are some of the most dedicated volunteers I have ever seen and they volunteer hundreds of hours a month and go on dozens of calls all for volunteer wages and while holding down their own full time jobs. I and a few other EMT-B's are training currently to become future crew chiefs to re leave some of this workload however.

Since I live out of town and we are required to respond within seven minutes of a page I have to stay at the ambulance garage when I am on call. They have a little bunk room there with TV and internet access so it isn't too bad. My wife is awesome as usual and doesn't say one word about the 7-10 nights a month I sleep away from home. She is used to me being deployed anyway after 23 years of marriage the first 17 in the military.

Over 80% of the EMS services in Iowa are covered by volunteer services most of them rural. Iowa is also heavily geriatric so we get a lot of calls for older patients.  I actually attended a class this winter on GEMs (Geriatric Emergency Medicine) just because of this demographic. That is not the only type of call we get however. Since I have been on the service I have responded to unexpected home births, car accidents, serious trauma, hypothermia, motorcycle accidents, and a multitude of medical calls. Others on our service have responded to gunshots, suicides, and heart attacks. We pretty much run the gambit. I have learned a lot and I really enjoy the opportunity to use my medical training helping people. So next time you see a ambulance go by say a prayer for those inside and thank the volunteer who is in the back and driving the rig. They save lives for no or little pay so a thank you is always appreciated.Better yet hook up with a service and volunteer yourselves. If you're ever close to Highways 30 and 1 in Northeastern Iowa stop by and say hi.

4th of July 5K

 
Ran in the Alliant Energy 5K again this year as I have done every year for the last 10, unless I was deployed. Ran 4 minutes faster than last year but was still beaten by an 8 year old. I think he was from Krypton or someplace.
http://www.fifthseasonrace.com/results/images/results/96525th%205k%20overall.htm

Recon Patrol

On my second deployment to Kosovo in 2000, I was the acting Team Sergeant of an ODA out of 1^st Bn 10^th SFG (A) in Boeblingen, Germany. I was “acting” Team Sergeant for the ODA due to the fact that I had just been made a promotable E7 or Sergeant First Class. Promotable meant I was on the list for promotion to Master Sergeant but it wouldn’t happen until my number came up. This was all new to me, I had never been a Team Sergeant before and I was taken off the Military Freefall ODA I had been on for the last two years and put on an ODA that had just lost a very good Team Sergeant to his own promotion. There was some initial suspicion among the other team members due to the fact that I was a “new” guy and also I was perceived as somewhat of a “HALO GOD” due to my long time spent on Military Freefall detachments. There is even professional jealousy among special operators but I had never felt any of it towards others. Eventually this suspicion went away and a few years later a few of these same guys asked to be on the Military Freefall ODA I was Team Sergeant of. It’s hard to live up to a legend though and I don’t think I ever did measure up to their previous Team Sergeant in their eyes. We were different people and they had been an extremely tight unit, but the mission got accomplished and that is all that mattered.

My second tour in Kosovo was very different from the first. The first time around we were all geared towards winning hearts and minds and stabilizing the country. We were staying out in the countryside and doing presence patrols trying to meet the people and showing the American Flag. This time, a year into U.S. operations in the region, we were deployed to conduct special reconnaissance missions against selected targets. This meant instead of trying to be seen we were trying to remain undiscovered. We ran all of our patrols out of a compound on the northern end of the main U.S. base Camp Bondsteel. Our compound was a base within a base, our headquarters building, isolation /planning area, barracks, and recreation area were all surrounded by a double thick wall of HESCO barriers that separated us from the “regular” Army guys. My team was attached to a company from 2^nd Bn 10^th SFG(A) who were running their own very different operations across the countryside. Also conducting reconnaissance with us was a platoon of Navy Seals, our two units would trade responsibilities during these missions. Part of one unit would conduct the actual recon while the rest of that unit and the other unit would team up and act as a quick reaction force in case there was any trouble. This QRF could also extract the recon team on short notice if needed. We spent our entire tour in this manner, flip flopping responsibilities. In between missions, as most Special Forces teams do, we conducted weapons and equipment maintenance and trained and trained some more.

A typical mission happened about half way through our tour. There was suspicion that a Kosavar Albanian terrorist group was conducting planning meetings for some future bad acts at a village located in a mountain valley in north eastern Kosovo. Our ODA was tasked to conduct surveillance on this village and report back to the Joint Special Operations Task Force (JSOTF) any pertinent intelligence we may gather. Once we got the initial briefing from JSOTF we initiated the mission planning cycle in our isolation bay. Once in “isolation” for a mission SF teams do not interact with anyone but their own team mates and are totally focused on the mission and the planning for it. The 72 hour planning cycle included conducting METT-T analysis, developing courses of action, choosing the most feasible one, developing the plan of action and contingency upon contingency. Finally rehearse, rehearse, rehearse. One of the rehearsals developed by our Engineer Sergeant involved crawling through a pitch black bomb shelter with full gear and night vision goggles on. This bomb shelter was also fiendishly booby trapped as only an SF demolition man knows how. We went through it one after the other until we could move through without blowing ourselves up. Then we went through as buddy teams and finally as a entire team. As we were to infiltrate by Blackhawk helicopter we went out to the airstrip and practiced loading and unloading the aircraft until we could do it with our eyes closed and in the dark. Finally we conducted our brief back to the JSOTF commander and were given the green light for the mission.

The night we were to infiltrate we packed and inspected all our mission essential equipment and personal gear. Stripper clips, time fuze and det cord were laying every where as we loaded bullets into our magazines and primed our claymores with 10 second delays. These Claymore anti-personnel mines were to be used at the tail end of one of our immediate action drills. This particular drill involved breaking contact using the “Australian Peel.” If heavy contact was made our lead man would empty his magazine and then peel back down our “ranger” file while the next man emptied his magazine and then did the same. So on and so on until we had broken contact with the enemy. Then the claymores would be emplaced to discourage any further pursuit by hostiles. Once we were geared up and ready to go we loaded into our vehicles for the ride to the airstrip.

Upon arrival we loaded in to the helicopter and listened to the whine of the blades as they changed pitch and we lifted off. Our flight route followed a well known supply route for U.S. Forces. It was our hope that with this and several false insertions along the route our target would be tricked into thinking our helicopter was just another mail run up to the main Kosovo Force (KFOR) headquarters. We conducted several false insertions until the crew chief told me over my headset that we were one minute out from the mountain meadow we had chosen as our infiltration landing zone. The Blackhawk came to a hover a few feet off the ground and the static electricity coming off the blades swirled likes shooting stars as we piled out of the bird and set up a hasty 360 degree defensive perimeter. As soon as they were satisfied all of my team had un-assed the bird the helicopter took off suddenly leaving us in silence. As we moved into the tree line we could hear it moving off in the distance conducting one more of our planned false insertions before they made their way back to base.  Once we were in the cover of the trees we set up another perimeter and remained absolutely quiet and alert. We stayed there for almost 20 minutes satisfying ourselves we had not been compromised and adjusting our eyes and ears to the sights and sounds of the battle field. From that point on conversation, if at all, would be in very low whispers and an elaborate system of hand and arms signals. We would move in single file through the woods and darkness spaced out enough to react to an ambush. Our point man would be first, our compass man second, and as the Patrol leader I would be third in line. The rest of the patrol members would be trailing out behind us.

Combat Patrols at night are an elaborate ballet of movement, security, and navigation. Patrol members needs to remain alert for ambush while at the same time navigating through unfamiliar terrain using a map and compass in pitch darkness. All the while they need to avoid the dreaded “break in contact” where part of the team gets spread out and loses track of the rest of the team’s location. As per our standard operating procedure we had infiltrated our objective area at least one terrain feature away from our objective. And since this part of Kosovo was mountainous that terrain feature was a huge ridgeline. We picked up our rucksacks and started silently moving on azimuth towards the objective. Our movement would consist of five kilometers of up a mountain down a mountain, along with the occasional stream crossing and navigational readjustment. As dawn approached we were within 500 meters of our planned patrol base and myself and two of my other team members conducted a leaders recon to determine the best position to set up shop.

Unfortunately the best area for cover, concealment and observation was the side of another huge ridge that faced the valley in which the village was located. This location gave us great line of sight for our optics and digital cameras; it also allowed us a good satellite communication shot for our SATCOM radio. It was defensible and gave us several good escape routes. Bade news was the pitch on the slope was so steep that you could not sit or stand straight without tying yourself off to a tree. We had thought of that contingency however and we were each carrying a section of one inch tubular webbing and a snap link that we could fashion into a safety harness. We quickly moved in before the sun was up and set up our spotting scopes and communication equipment. We camouflaged our positions with some hide material (camo nets) we had packed in our rucksacks. We stayed at 50% security during the whole patrol; while half the team rested the other half conducted observation and pulled security. Every morning before dawn and just before dusk we would conduct stand to and stand down where the entire team was on 100% alert.

We conducted surveillance for three days and nights, taking dozens of digital pictures and transmitting them via SATCOM radio back to the JSOTF. We took pictures of vehicles, license plates and individuals entering and exiting houses in the village. The JSOTF would compare this information to a data base to see if any of the individuals were known terrorists. We also transmitted situation reports or SITREPS twice daily on any suspicious movement or activity. We discovered a few large gatherings conducted at a particular house and we forwarded this information on, the most suspicious thing we discovered was that whenever a KFOR helicopter flew down the valley on its way somewhere the residents of the valley would sound their vehicle horns in a crude early warning system. You could hear these horns long before the sound of the helicopter rotor blades.

After three days of sleeping tied to a tree we packed up our gear and prepared to exfiltrate. Exfiltration was essentially the reverse of the infiltration, we moved silently towards our link up point under cover of darkness. Just as dawn was breaking we linked up with our QRF at a road intersection. We exchanged bonafides and they gave us a ride back to Camp Bondsteel in the back of our Hummvees. Once we debriefed the JSOTF Commander on our findings we all headed off for a shower and some much needed sleep. I myself was looking forward to grabbing a macchiato at the cappuccino bar and seeing if the mess hall had any new flavors of ice cream. It is the little things that make life tolerable.