First day back

I arrived at Camp Pendleton late Sunday night (April 4th) and snagged a temporary room for the night. The headquarters unit was already expecting me at 0730 so I only had a few hours to kill. Sleep didn't come easy, I was too excited about returning to the Corps after a year and a half away. Unfortunately, I hadn't even spent a day back in the Corps yet, and would describe myself as 5% back into "Marine mode".

The next morning was a great example of how much prior planning can avert headaches. I think I spent less than three hours running around base and managed to: 1) check in to the 1st Marine Division, 2) get my orders to 11th Marines, 3) get an ID card made, 4) register my vehicle, 5) start my financial paperwork, and 6) get issued all my field gear.

11th Marines is located at Las Pulgas (AKA Area 43) about twenty minutes from the main southern gate at Pendleton. I pulled up with my Buick full to bursting with all kinds of junk and reported in to my unit, Civil Affairs. My Lieutenant (from here on out known simply as "LT") met me and cheerfully informed me I had about fifteen minutes to assemble my Flak Jacket and find a Kevlar Combat Helmet--I was going to be a vehicle commander in our convoy to another Marine base out in the desert called 29 Palms.

Less than an hour later I stood equipped with most of my gear assembled, a borrowed helmet, an M4 rifle, and an armored Humvee with three Marines I had never met and a large M240B medium machine gun. "Welcome back", the Detachment Gunnery Sergeant told me, "You're now responsible for these guys and that vehicle. Make sure everything is good to go."

We left shortly after our convoy brief. It was a jumble of route names I didn't recognize, acronyms that had been created since my last tour, and a passenger list with only one familiar name: Treseder. I felt lost and completely unready. I wanted to raise my hand and call a timeout so I could review a few of my old notes on radio protocol and vehicle inspections. No one heard my mental request, and I tried to look like I was completely at ease. Unfortunately, it worked.

As the convoy commander gave the signal to head out, I steeled my resolve and tugged on the armored Humvee door; it's 350 lb weight a reminder I was not in the civilian world anymore. The vehicles (called "Vicks" in military radio jargon) rumbled to life and pulled out of the parking lot.

Besides my driver not remembering to switch the transfer case to 4-low on our drive (and thus slowing the entire convoy to a crawl on several inclines) nothing too crazy happened. LA traffic, which is not anymore fun in a military convoy, turned our 4-hour movement into a 6 and a half hour ordeal. We arrived in one piece and I silently congratulated myself on not doing anything stupid.

After finding our housing (a large building resembling half of a 150 foot soda can on its side) and fueling up the Humvees, we turned to the all-important tasks of hygiene and hitting the rack (AKA sleeping). Everyone was bone tired and just threw their gear down, but I was now 15% back into Marine mode and remembered enough to make all the guys from my team (#1, of course) put their cots together.

I spoke briefly with the LT about how the day went, our training schedule, and even swapped a few personal stories. He and I immediately hit it off--this was going to be a great deployment. Up to 20% Marine, my thoughts rested squarely on whether I would live up to his expectations of me as a college-educated and experience Sergeant.

When I was in Iraq I always brushed my teeth by the moonlight for some reason and I immediately slid back into this habit. Something about not having lights, I guess. As I stood in the darkened desert with a full starry sky sitting patiently over my head, I shook my head slowly and a smile half appeared.

Welcome back, indeed.