Meet My GREECE Peeps!

Posted on December 16, 2014 by Melissa M

In stark contrast to my disappointing experience in Portugal last spring, my September R&R to Greece was fantastic because of the people! The trip guides set an upbeat tone and wrangled 13 of us hikers from (and back to) Athens around four islands through four hotels via three ferries, a private boat, a flight, and countless busses on a tight schedule, all while remaining energetic, patient, and accommodating, and showing not a hint of exasperation or exhaustion!

I’d like to give a big shout out to my trip-mates, whose lively and delightful company made every day a party:

The group! front row L-R: Steve, Tami, George; second row: Noreen, D-, Sheri, Linda, Bill; third row seated: Arne, Jill, Kara, Toby; standing: guides Maria and Christos

Guides Christos and Maria give us the island overview for the day’s hiking

Guide Maria dressed for the city instead of the trail

Maria and hiker Kara take a pause on the trail

Kara being epic

Sheri on the trail

Bill takes a break on the trail into Oia, Santorini

Mom and son: Tami and Toby

Gotcha, Toby!

Tami checks out Kouros parts

Noreen and Steve

Steve kept the group in stitches most days!

Noreen strikes a pose

Jill and Noreen enjoy lunch al fresco

Jill at dinner

Sister and brother Jill and Arne at the summit

Arne on a through-town hike

Christos shopping in Santorini

George soaking up the Santorini sun

George on the town

Linda on the beach

Bill and me

Group dinner

The group on Santorini

After a rough summer at BAF I needed a really good R&R, and thanks to the beauty of Greece, the marvelous weather, and the company of these lovely people, I got one! I was thoroughly relaxed and re-energized upon my return. Whenever I need to de-stress, I look at my trip photos or even just reflect on one of our meals or hikes or other events and I get a great big smile on my face.

I miss you all! Take care, be safe, keep in touch, and I hope to see you again someday!

Meet My Peeps: Mr. Jim and Mr. Dave S.

Posted on September 28, 2014 by Melissa M

When I arrived at Bagram, Afghanistan, last November, a large proportion of the folks on staff in the Directorate of Public Works (DPW) had arrived within just a few weeks before me. Now they have started to leave as their one-year deployments are being completed or as other circumstances cause their departures to become necessary. Saying goodbye to these people is sad as their absence changes the whole atmosphere of the workplace.

Two recent redeployments (which sounds like people are deploying again – as in doing a second tour for Operation Enduring Freedom – but which really means they are ending their deployment and returning to home station) are Mr. Jim, Director of DPW for most of my tour, and Mr. Dave S., Master Planner. (We have lots of Daves here, so THE Mr. Dave is my old office-mate whom you met in this blog entry, and all other Daves are designated by a last initial.)

Mr. Jim:

Mr. Jim has departed BAF and his absence has left a gaping hole. He is a big man with a big, gregarious personality and booming laugh that echoed the hallways like nothing else. Everyone was met daily with hearty greetings, rock-and-roll music trivia, and the nicknames he bestowed on everyone regardless of sex or status: “bud”, “man”, and “dude”. From one of his trips back to Colorado for R&R, Mr. Jim brought back roach clips for everyone to hold their stogie stubs on cigar nights.

Mr. Jim (standing in for too-nervous me) doing an American Forces Network (AFN) interview about the expanded Solid Waste Management Complex and new incinerators:

Mr. Dave S. (far right) enjoying near-beer with some of his staff from at a recent recreational event:

Mr. Dave S., who left a couple weeks after Mr. Jim, is nearly his opposite: slight, pensive, understated, with a dry wit and a serious, becalming mien that provided a perfect counterpoint to the animated Mr. Jim. It was Mr. Dave S. who stood in for the Deputy Garrison Commander when he went on R&R, and who stepped in to become the O&M (Operations and Maintenance) Chief during a time of turmoil and frustration among the O&M staff following the unexpected loss of their previous chief. When Mr. Dave S. was in charge, everybody felt confident that all would be well.

Mr. Dave S. providing some thoughts and reflections at his going-away event (note all the medals for his outstanding service during deployment!):

Together, Mr. Jim and Mr. Dave S. made a super team that I enjoyed working for and with; being without them has been something of a dark cloud despite other excellent individuals who have stepped into their leadership positions.

You’d think I’d get tired of people I’m working 12-hour days with. Some I do, but others not. Here I am with Mr. Jim, Mr. Dave S., and some others from the DPW gang at the weekly USO cigar night:

I miss you guys! Take care!

Cruel Summer

Posted on September 15, 2014 by Melissa M

Or, If You Don’t Have Anything Nice to Say…

I’ve been avoiding my blog. My last two entries were about people getting killed and how I plan to have my legs reunited with the rest of me should we become traumatically separated. I thought my next post should be something happier, but it’s been rather difficult of late to find happy things to blog about. I’m in a funk.

Things were pretty great a couple of months ago. I had a nice R&R at home even though I discovered that the friend who was supposed to look after my house had killed several houseplants and had entertained her booty-calls there. (Friend, you knew when I was coming home. There’s really no excuse for not picking up that used condom off the bedroom floor.)

On the way back to Bagram from that R&R I had a wonderful Amazing-Race-style adventure with fellow Bagram civilian Ms. Wanda when we found ourselves stuck in Ali Al Salem, Kuwait, as flight after flight after flight got cancelled. We decided that if the military couldn’t get us back to Bagram we’d get ourselves there by taking a commercial flight. In the space of 36 hours we went from Ali Al Salem, Kuwait, to Arif Jan to Kuwait City to the wrong international airport in Dubai to the right international airport in Dubai to Bagram. Along the way we unnecessarily walked miles in temperatures well over 100 degrees F, argued extensively with the most unhelpful soliders in the U.S. Army, sprinted through airports all wild-eyed and panting, accosted innocent travelers who happened to have camo luggage with all kinds of questions when we were lost or confused (this happened a lot), were blessed to get help from the right people in the nick of time, saw lots of women with the most horrifying henna’d eyebrows ever, and took two taxi rides, one of which required the driver to break every traffic law in the Middle East and several laws of physics (he did it!). We had plenty of opportunities to get mad or mean or upset or very crabby, but we just laughed and laughed. It was great fun!

Back at Bagram, though, I just couldn’t keep up that happy, roll-with-it attitude. And it wasn’t just me. We had all kinds of scandal and accusations and firings in the Garrison, and a lot of other personnel upheaval. We have about 60 civilians. In the nine months I’ve been in Afghanistan, we’ve had five different Directors of Human Resources and five different O&M Chiefs. More people than I can count have curtailed their one-year deployments and left early — two after just 30 days, many before they made it to the half-way point. Two people were sent home after having heart attacks.

I don’t know if it’s the heat of summer, the new commands at all different levels with their new agendas, or the uncertainty of the Resolute Support Mission since the Afghan presidential election results and inauguration have been delayed yet again. Whatever it is, everybody’s going a little crazy these days and being way less nice than they should be, and it’s really getting me down.

So, I’m trying to concentrate on the positive. My extension got denied, so instead of staying on an extra six months (for a total of 18 months) I’m leaving after 12 months. That’s a good thing: my home station wants me back which is why they denied my extension, and I’m glad to be wanted there as much as I’m wanted here.

The environmental folks I work with at Garrison, in the military units, and at the various contractor companies are really great. This keeps me from going completely out of my mind when dealing with fairly egregious amount of disrespect I’m subjected to on a daily basis. Whether people think that what a woman says isn’t credible, or that environmental management is easy and doesn’t require real expertise, I do spend an inordinate amount of time and energy fighting to be taken seriously. It wears me out, but there are other environmental professionals here who have my back and do excellent work. Thank Heavens!

I’ve been avoiding my blog not only because of unhappiness at BAF, but also because the drawdown of troops, materiel, and services has resulted in my personal internet getting slower and slower and slower, to the point where I can’t even open emails anymore (I dare not abuse my work computer to do personal internet stuff).

So here I am on my final R&R and I finally have working internet! I will catch up on my blogs and upload photos at long last. I’m in Athens, Greece, on my way to the island of Hydra where they have no cars but do have internet (I checked!). More soon…

Operation Enduring Freedom Cosplay

Posted on July 29, 2014 by Melissa M

The interwebs are all abuzz with news from Comic-Con, where it seems everybody gets to have fun dressing up as their favorite character. I play dress-up every day here at Bagram Airfield, Afghanistan, but my costume isn’t much fun.

Let’s work from the feet on up:

These are my summer-weight boots. If you’ve followed me from the beginning, you know how fussy I am about my boots! Although this footwear is feather-light with lots of breathable fabric, it still feels like I’m wearing ovens on my feet.

That thing tucked into the laces on my left boot? One of my dog tags (I wear the other around my neck). I’ve had several people ask me why I put the tag in my left boot. Picking a tag foot was something I actually spent some time pondering. I have a small red birthmark on the third toe of my right foot (which you can see in this blog post), so if my right foot/leg gets blown off the chances are good it can be identified as mine by the birthmark. That’s why the tag is in the left boot — I want that dismembered limb reunited with the rest of me. These are the things you have to think about in a war zone that would never cross your mind anyplace else.

Boots are a big deal here, and having ill-fitting boots can make you miserable. My coworker Darryl is 6’5″ and a mountain of a man, and he’s on his feet all day doing construction management and inspections. He wears out boots quickly and he’s had a devil of a time finding big enough boots that fit right. Finally, after months of limping around in uniform boots that fit all wrong, he got himself an exception to policy so he could wear boots that fit, even though they don’t match his uniform:

Those big red boats are lumberjack boots, and Darryl is in heaven! He jokes that somewhere out there Ronald McDonald is going barefoot…

My trousers have cargo pockets all over the place, and I’ve learned how to pack those pockets in the most optimal way for myself. The pocket on my right calf contains my tourniquet:

Almost everybody carries one, and many people carry two (one in a leg pocket, one in a sleeve pocket). Most people also write their blood type on the red tab, but I don’t. My hope is that if I ever have to use it, it will be on somebody else and I don’t want my blood type confusing the medical staff. With all the Indirect Fire (IDF) attacks here, there is a lot of shrapnel flying around and several people have been seriously injured, so I always carry my tourniquet.

The pocket on my right thigh is where I keep my camera, sunglasses, cell phone, pedometer and fan. I have several fans and I’m not shy about fanning my sweaty, broiling self when the air conditioning is not adequate to keep me comfortable. Seriously, check out this forecast:

Totally uncalled-for.

I don’t put anything in my left-side cargo pockets except my hat. I’ve learned that sometimes you are in a crowded place and the IDF alarm goes off (INCOMING-INCOMING-INCOMING), and when you hit the floor there might not be enough room to lay flat on your belly among all the other people, so you have to lay on your side. I leave my left side pockets clear so I can lay on my left side comfortably (without hard, pointy things poking into me) in crowded places under attack. Again, things you don’t think about except when you’re in a war zone.

On my upper body I wear a plain Desert Sand colored t-shirt, on top of which I wear this rather heavy blouse:

The patch with my last name and the patch identifying me as a Department of Defense civilian are stitched in brown, which means I work for the Air Force (even though I’m assigned to the Army Garrison here). If the stitching on those patches were black, that would mean I’m an Army employee.

The triangle that says “US” is a placeholder — if I were military, that spot would show my rank. When I first got here, I noticed a lot of people approaching me on the walkways were staring at my chest all the time and it was creepy and uncomfortable. Then I realized they were trying to figure out my rank. Military members walking around outside have to salute higher-ranking personnel, and it’s sometimes difficult to tell the rank until you’re very close. It didn’t help that my lanyard often hung in the way and obscured my “rank”. Now I try to make it as obvious as possible from as far away as possible that I don’t need to be saluted.

Like the trousers, the blouse is very layer-y with lots of pockets and double-fabric reinforced areas. These garments are not very breathable, so I’m roasting most of the time wearing this uniform in the heat of summer.

The patches you wear on your sleeves identify your nationality, unit(s), and mission. On my right arm, the flag shows that I’m an American (click here to find out why it’s “backwards”) and the round patch identifies me as falling under the 966th Air Expeditionary Squadron (the Air Force unit charged with keeping tabs on all us Air Force personnel regardless of the unit to which we’re assigned):

On my left sleeve, the International Security Assistance Force (ISAF) patch says I’m here for their mission, and the patch with the mountains, guns, and sword tells people I work for the US Army Garrison:

I wear a lanyard around my neck with a pouch that carries my ID card, emergency phone list, and debit card:

Like I mentioned above, I tuck the pouch into my blouse pocket so the troops approaching me on the sidewalk can tell I’m not someone to salute. To top everything off, I get my choice of patrol cap or boonie hat (neither of which does my hairdo any favors):

I wear the boonie hat in the summer not only because of the sun protection but because summer is the season for the “100 Days of Wind”. It’s very dusty and gusty, and the boonie hat has a strap so I have some hope of keeping it on my head when the winds start howling.

So, that’s how I get into costume for my job here in Afghanistan. I call it “my costume” not to mock the military members who serve in uniform, but because I’m a civilian and I really do feel like I’m playing dress-up. Wearing the uniform causes people to show me respect I feel I haven’t earned because I haven’t made the commitment the military members have made, nor am I expected to make the sacrifices that may be required of them.

On the other hand, the IDFs don’t discriminate when they come flying in. I have to hit the deck and make my way to the bunkers with everybody else, military and civilian alike. We’ve had a lot of IDF action over the last couple of days due to Eid al-Fitr: apparently one way insurgents like to celebrate the end of Ramadan is to shoot rockets at Bagram Airfield. I can think of better party games than that, just like I can think of more comfortable clothes to wear to work — but nobody is asking for my opinion.

Eid Mubarak!

Giving Blood

Posted on July 13, 2014 by Melissa M

The Holy Month of Ramadan is about half-over. This is the time of year when Muslims fast during daylight hours. With few exceptions (pregnant women, the sick, small children, etc.), they take nothing by mouth until the sun sets each day, including food and water. It’s also the middle of summer, so days can be hot with temperatures approaching 100 degrees F. As you might imagine, being hungry and thirsty and hot doesn’t inspire one to go out and put in a hard day’s work. Too bad the Taliban doesn’t take this time off: rocket attacks tend to increase during Ramadan.

We had a very terrible incident earlier this week. About 5:30 in the morning, the alert system woke us up with INCOMING-INCOMING-INCOMING. Then the defensive gun system that detects incoming rockets and mortars activated, shooting the projectiles out of the sky. A couple hundred people were gathered at one of our event venues getting ready to start a footrace (we always have runs and races in the early morning to beat the heat and avoid interfering with work hours). The runners were showered with shrapnel, but there were no injuries more severe than a few cuts. Believe it or not, this sort of thing is pretty ordinary. But things got really bad a little later.

When the sun was up, a patrol of Czech soldiers (one of our NATO Coalition partners) armored-up and went outside the base to investigate the point of origin for the rocket attack. The area was populated and busy. The Czechs were met by Afghan police who were assisting them. While doing their investigation, a guy on a bicycle or motorbike (accounts vary) rode up and detonated a suicide vest.

The general population here on Bagram Airfield didn’t find this out until much later. What we did know is that base-wide calls went out over email and loudspeaker asking for persons with particular blood types to report to the hospital immediately to donate. The call was repeated over a two-hour period. When the hospital is asking for immediate donations over a period that long, you know something very bad has happened. We all felt sick with dread.

When a call for blood is made, people stop what they are doing and literally run to the hospital. I was in a training meeting when the first call came out. Those with the requested blood types, including a training instructor in the middle of a presentation, just got up and went — no asking permission of the ranking officers in the room, no “please excuse me”. They just went. People respond here like they’re saving a family member. It’s remarkable and humbling to be among so many selfless volunteers.

I heard from another person in Garrison who ran to the hospital at the first call that she was one of the first people to arrive. A few moments after getting in line, she turned around and saw about 150 people lined up behind her, military and civilian, with more running to the scene every minute. She got tears in her eyes recalling that sight. I know the feeling.

Despite heroic efforts by the medical staff, four Czech soldiers died from that attack. So did ten Afghan civilians (mostly children) and two Afghan policemen. Unknown numbers of others were injured. Sixteen dead because the Taliban are determined to terrorize their way into control of this country, even if it means killing their own countrymen. This madness has no rational explanation.

I saw a brief article about this attack in the Wall Street Journal. The final line in the piece was this:

“The Taliban frequently make inflated claims about their attacks.”

I find this statement dismissive and offensive, as if the tragedy reported in the article may have been so much Taliban smack-talk. What an insult to the soldiers who have given their lives to defeat insurgent terrorists and provide the people of Afghanistan with the tools to defend themselves against these tyrants acting in the name of religion.

My thoughts and prayers go out to our Czech brothers and sisters in arms, the families of the brave soldiers lost and injured, everyone who has fought against the Taliban, and the good people of Afghanistan who will soon face murderous Islamic extremists with less support from NATO. May God be with you all.

Ramadan Kareem,

POTUS, SECDEF, and Me

Posted on June 3, 2014 by Melissa M

It’s been a few weeks since I’ve visited the blogosphere, but it’s been a very busy month at Bagram Airfield, Afghanistan. I need to take a little time to catch up on all that’s happened. Working backward:

The Honorable Katherine Hammack came to visit BAF yesterday. She’s the Assistant Secretary of the Army for Installations, Energy & Environment and is the civilian rank equivalent of a 4-star general. We all spent a couple weeks working furiously on talking point papers and facility tour preparations in anticipation of her arrival. I was ready to take her on a Waste Management Dream Tour including municipal refuse handling and recycling, hazardous waste management, and the sewage plant expansion project — then my tour got cancelled due to schedule time limits and the evidently more glamorous and interesting tour of mold issues in some concrete structures. All that prep just to get preempted by moldy concrete. Harrumph!

But that’s ok, because day before yesterday I got to meet the 24th Secretary of Defense himself, Chuck Hagel!

This was the biggest honor of my career to date. Out of 25,000+ people on BAF, I was one of 200 selected to be recognized by the SECDEF (Secretary of Defense) for my contributions to the Operation Enduring Freedom mission. It’s not often that a person who manages solid waste gets kudos from a Cabinet member, so I was really thrilled to be nominated by my Garrison leadership.

Mr. Hagel “coined” me. Being coined in the military means being presented with a unit’s or individual’s medallion as a form of recognition and reward. Here’s Chuck Hagel’s coin, both sides:

Saturday we got the good news that Sgt Bowe Bergdahl, a prisoner of the Taliban for 4 years and 11 months, was freed. I know there’s a lot of controversy about the circumstances of his disappearance and the terms of his return in exchange for five Taliban prisoners from Guantanamo Bay, but I don’t care about that right now. In America you’re innocent until proven guilty in a court of law, so I’ll just be happy that he’s not a Prisoner of War anymore and let the lawyers sort out the rest.

Memorial Day week was eventful at the Garrison as we saw the departure of two employees who created more drama, controversy, and personnel turnover than any two people have a right to conjure up. Morale has improved considerably now that the generators of workplace hostilities have been removed, and we are all ready to face the coming challenges as a team instead of wasting energy on internal struggles.

The coming challenges are many: also this week the White House announced the plan for America’s presence in Afghanistan after 2014. We’ll be drawing down to 9800 troops. At Garrison we were planning for everything from Zero Option to a population of over 20,000. Now we finally know what we’re aiming for, but we have more work than ever to make it happen as the military manpower upon whom we rely for all kinds of tasks around base are thinning out in a big hurry.

On the afternoon of Memorial Day Eve we got a message from the Deputy Garrison Commander to gather at 1800 (6 pm), in uniform and without any weapons. Once assembled, we were told that an event was happening in the C-130 hangar and that attendance was mandatory for military but optional for civilians. We knew a VIP was coming, and we suspected either the President or the Vice President. Of course I opted in, and I wasn’t disappointed. First to appear was country star Brad Paisley:

He sang for about an hour. Then a Secret Service guy ran up on stage and stuck the Presidential Seal on the front of the podium and the whole place went bananas. The 10th Mountain Band struck up “Hail to the Chief” and POTUS (President of the United States) took the stage. He gave a great speech and then stuck around to shake everybody’s hand. It was an amazing event that I’ll never forget — I never expected to get that close to a sitting president in my life.

My days are crammed full as I run from meeting to meeting, respond to emails and phone calls, and try to keep my program from breaking down under the sheer weight of everything we have going on. Getting to spend time with guys who go by titles like SECDEF and POTUS was a fun distraction but I’ve just about reached my limit of excitement and could really use some boredom or at least a little slower going for a while.

I’ll be leaving in a week for Rest & Relaxation (R&R), which I sorely need. But if Obama or Hagel needs me for anything at the White House or Pentagon, I’ll be happy to serve.

God Bless America!

You Can’t Make This Stuff Up

Posted on May 9, 2014 by Melissa M

It’s springtime in Bagram, Afghanistan, when young men’s fancies turn to… erm… lube. And making money.

This instant classic comes from Nakslist, our local e-commerce source. You may recall a Nakslist employment opportunity for an Egg Peeler shared in a previous blog post. I don’t even know where to begin with this, so I’m just going to free-associate:

Restricted lube sales by the Dixie-cup: crazy or genius? I don’t know which way to go.

Swiss Navy? Never heard of it. Do the Swiss even have a navy? Last time I checked, Switzerland was land-locked.

“Bacon bazooka”: I have no words.

Lube for everyone!

Insider Threat Countermeasures

Posted on April 29, 2014 by Melissa M

Over 6,000 local nationals enter Bagram Air Field, Afghanistan, every day to provide services ranging from food service to water delivery to facility repairs. These men are accounted for through entry and exit points, badged, screened, searched, biometrically cataloged and tracked, and subject to random checks at any time. Despite the military’s efforts to keep nefarious troublemakers away from BAF, we are always aware of the potential for “insider threats”.

Insider threats are the people who appear like the good guys, but intend to do damage. News stories of military and civilian workers and trainers being shot by their own Afghan body guards remind us that anybody can be an insider threat. So, we don’t let our guard down, and we don’t give people the opportunity to create trouble.

Case in point: bag bans.

Pretty much every building on BAF enforces a bag ban. No backpacks, laptop totes, laundry duffles, gym bags, shopping bags, purses, fanny packs, briefcases, or packages of any kind are permitted because a bomb, biological weapon, or other implement of mass injury or destruction could be hidden inside. This rule applies to everybody (military and civilian), not just local nationals, because anybody can be an insider threat.

Bag bans explain why our uniforms have so many roomy cargo pockets, which you just can’t fully appreciate until you’re not allowed to carry any bags, boxes, or packages with you into any building.

Bag bans force you to plan your day carefully. Shopping at the PX (Post Exchange), then want to stop off at the Green Bean for a smoothie? No, get your smoothie first or plan to drop off your purchases back at your room (not your office) before you enter the Green Bean. Bringing your laundry bag to work so you can drop it off on the way to lunch? Think again: no laundry bags are coming into the office building. Heading to a meeting with your laptop and a bunch of handouts? Pile those loose-leaf papers on your naked computer and haul it to the conference room with a bungee cord around the stack because you’re not packing a bag.

It takes a little getting used to, but once you get the hang of it you find it’s really great to get around hands-free.

Passover at Bagram

Posted on April 22, 2014 by Melissa M

Many faiths are represented at Bagram Air Field. The diverse, combined Chaplaincy of the various branches of service and Coalition forces means you will find a celebration for every holiday, including my favorite: Passover.

We are fortunate to have an enthusiastic Rabbi (Captain Heather), a core group of dedicated regulars at Shabbat services each week, and countless boxes of donations from stateside volunteers and sponsors who ensure that we have everything we need to conduct services, eat Kosher, and put on two fantastic Pesach Seders.

Captain Heather gets things started:

Where the mission could spare the troops, the military released Jewish service members from duty and flew them to Bagram from outlying bases and camps to celebrate Passover with our Rabbi. How awesome is that?

We had quite a crowd — over 30 people the first night:

Bagram Air Field is officially “dry”, but wine is allowed for religious services and holidays. On Passover we each drink four cups of wine during the Seder, and we had plenty on hand. No leftovers, though.

Looking for the Afikomen:

The winner claims his prize (amongst other things, Afghani cash and cans of matzo ball soup!):

In addition to all the wonderful edible goodies sent to us by Kosher Troops (a Jewish-oriented offshoot of Operation Gratitude, source of many Love Notes From Strangers), we got packets of hand-written Passover greetings to take with us:

Handwritten notes and pictures (especially from kids) are one of my favorite things to get here, so I thought my packet was an absolute treasure trove! And check out the awesome artwork on this hand-colored matzah cover I scored:

Thanks to everyone here at Bagram, those who traveled from afar, and those who sent us love, good wishes, and treats from home for making this Passover one I will remember warmly for the rest of my life!

Chag Sameach!

In Case You Weren’t Aware of Our Bad-Assery…

Posted on April 16, 2014 by Melissa M

On a military base in Afghanistan, when you don’t carry a gun or wear unit insignia that identifies you as a stone cold killing machine, you have to find some other way to communicate to the world that you are no one to be trifled with. So, you make up a wicked scary patch:

I can neither confirm nor deny that we Department of Public Works (DPW) employees are trained to kill the enemy using a Number 2 pencil. That’s classified.

Believe me when I tell you that we can put the hurt on anybody in ways you don’t even want to think about. Just a few of the areas we control in full or in part: food service; access to non-tactical vehicles, electrical power and water supply; trash removal and wastewater services; housing and office space assignments; placement of defensive T-walls and bunkers; fire and emergency services; entry to and exit from the base; roads and facilities operations and maintenance; service contract oversight.

So, yeah, you probably don’t want to mess with the people who provide your meals, living quarters, and hot showers. Regardless of whether we’re wearing a patch featuring a black skull with glowing red eyes or just the bone-tired expression of people working 12+ hour days trying to keep this base from falling apart.

Tactical Underwear

one civilian woman's deployment to Afghanistan