Graduation Tomorrow!

Posted on November 19, 2013 by Melissa M

My Combat Airman Skills Training (CAST) is coming to an end an it appears I’ve lived to tell about it.

We completed our Field Training Exercise (FTX) today, bringing together what we learned in the previous days. I’ve been too busy to write about all the training modules we’ve completed, and I missed taking photos at many of them due to the types of activities we were doing and the amount of equipment we were handling. Here’s a brief rundown of our classroom and field training:

Active Shooter
Escalation of Force/Rules of Engagement
Weapons and Firing Range exercises, including rapid fire and shooting at targets up to 300 meters away that would fall and pop back up, providing instant feedback on your performance (I’m not a bad shot!)
Land Navigation using both map/compass and DAGR (Defense Advanced GPS Receiver)
HMMWV (Humvee) Egress Assistance Training (HEAT)
Small Unit Tactics (SMUT)
Urban Tactical Movement
Communications, including tactical voice and radio equipment and transmissions
Tactical Combat Casualty Care (TCCC) including using Individual First Aid Kits (IFAK) to provide care under fire and tactical field care (The exercise associated with this was my favorite of the whole CAST: we extracted and cared for simulated casualties from various scenarios in the “Box of Death” while the Cadre fired man-marker rounds — what I called “paintballs” in previous posts — at us.)
Counter-Improvised Explosive Device (C-IED) operations including Vehicle-Borne IED training. The coolest part of this training was the Petting Zoo where the Cadre set up various IEDs along a path in the woods and we walked the path learning how each device works and how to look for it on foot patrol or while in a vehicle.
Mounted Operations including how to move in a Humvee convoy, transfer personnel and equipment from one Humvee to another under fire, extract and transfer casualties, and recover disabled vehicles

Here’s me in my ICE (Individual Combat Equipment) at the beginning of training (note my incorrectly slung M4 carbine):

I felt like a fake, somebody playing dress-up. I didn’t know what the heck I was doing.

Here’s me at the end of the course:

It’s hard to see much difference. Under all that gear, I’m covered with bruises and my knees are killing me, but I know a lot more about combat skills. Compared to the other students who I got to admire in action I still feel like a fake, but my M4 is slung correctly and I can comfortably operate it. I can even take it apart, clean it, and reassemble it all by myself — a milestone for me.

I can’t say this has been fun. It’s been hard, but it was worth it. I’m glad to be done, and I’m looking forward to my deployment to Afghanistan where I hope to never have to use most of what I learned at CAST.

Camp Anderson Peters Photo Tour

Posted on November 17, 2013 by Melissa M

It was a beautiful sunny day here at Camp Anderson Peters, so I took a stroll and got some photos of the camp…

Standing at the edge of the PT (physical training) pad looking toward the classroom buildings:

Classroom Delta is on the left behind the “water buffalo” trailers beneath the shade cover. Classroom Alpha, which holds the gym, is on the right. This is the monument beneath the tree, marking where one of the builders of Camp Anderson Peters died during construction:

Gun clearing stations stand at all the classroom entrances. We have to clear our guns under supervision whenever we enter the classrooms unless we’re returning from a short (<15 minutes) break:

The interior of my classroom:

Here’s the gym:

One half of the tent pad where we all live; the tents have electricity and are heated and air-conditioned:

The interior of my tent the night we moved in; the tents can sleep up to eight but there are only five women in the class and these are my tent-mates:

L-R: Senior Airman Desiree Moye, Senior Master Sergeant Joey Williams, Staff Sergeant Michelle Gillette, and Staff Sergeant Courtnie Johnson.

The shaded lounge area adjacent to our tent pad:

Latrine trailer exterior and interior:

Shower trailer exterior and interior:

Laundry tent exterior and interior:

MWR (Morale, Welfare, and Recreation) tent exterior and interior:

Gun cleaning station:

Water station; there are no wells or sewers here, so all potable water must be trucked in and all waste water trucked out:

Monument at the far end of the PT pad:

There are lots of monuments around the PT pad:

Guns, Anxiety, Miracles, and Wingmen

Posted on November 17, 2013 by Melissa M

Or: How to Have a Very Rough Tuesday That Turns Out Not So Bad

It’s Sunday, our full day off from training, and I’m so grateful for this opportunity to rest and reflect on the past week. The majority of the other Combat Airman Skills Training (CAST) students have boarded the bus and departed for a few hours at Lackland Air Force Base where they can attend church services, shop, take long showers (we’re limited to 3 minutes here), see movies, and eat something other than the boring institutional meals and Meals Ready to Eat (MREs) we get at camp.

I’m staying at camp to RICE (rest, ice, compression wrap, and elevate) my sore and sorry arthritic knees, and catch up on phone calls and online stuff. I’m used to spending a lot of time each week on my own, so it’s nice to finally have some quiet time to process all the things that have happened since I arrived at camp last Sunday afternoon.

Tuesday was, by far, my most difficult training day. You may recall from previous posts that I qualified on the M9 pistol and the M4 carbine. Those qualifications were a few weeks ago, and I hadn’t handled those firearms since then. We were issued our training M9s and M4s on Monday afternoon, and Tuesday was a brief classroom firearms refresher right after breakfast followed by a trip directly to the firing range for various firing exercises.

Things started going bad for me during the classroom lecture. Our instructors are called the Cadre and there are about a dozen of them here each specializing in different technical/tactical subjects. Our firearms refresher Cadre warned us all upfront that this refresher would move quickly as we were expected to come into this training already possessing weapons expertise (uh-oh) and that he liked to crack jokes and be sarcastic.

The refresher training did indeed go very quickly — too quickly for me. About a third of the material presented was substantially similar to what I recalled from my previous M9 and M4 qualification training. Another third was somewhat similar to my previous training. The rest of it was brand new to me. I quickly became confused.

I was near my “new” limit early into class that morning. Wearing a 40-pound flak vest with armor plates and ammunition magazines attached was new to me. Having a sling on the M4 was new to me. Carrying both the M9 and the M4 together was new to me. My head was already spinning from all the other stuff that was new to me since I arrived, and the new/different refresher information caused me to question and ultimately lose all confidence in anything I thought I knew from my firearms qualification training. I got very, very nervous.

Then there were the safety warnings and jokes.

The rational side of me understood that what I was hearing were standard safety messages, rare worst-case-scenario warnings, jokes, sarcasm, hyperbole, and the stereotypical testosterone-soaked macho bullshit guys fling around when they are getting psyched up to go shooting. Despite understanding this and telling myself over and over not to freak myself out, the more primitive parts of my brain got the upper hand and by the end of the lecture I was awash in the fight-flight-or-freeze chemicals that afflict those who are facing an immediate and substantial threat.

I was numb getting on the bus. On the ride over, I started shaking and I felt like I couldn’t breathe. I kept telling myself everything would all come back to me and I’d be just fine, but by the time we got off the bus I couldn’t feel my hands or feet. No matter how loudly I mentally shouted — screamed — that everything would be fine, I could not drown out the fear that I was going to injure myself or shoot one of my classmates or Cadre.

Our first exercise was using dummy ammo magazines to fire our M9s and M4s. The Cadre were shouting at us to increase the stress level and get us to perform despite the commotion (the type of situation we could expect if we had to perform in a real world shooting scenario). As I stood on the firing line fumbling with my equipment, a Cadre came up behind me and informed me that my M4 was slung incorrectly; I was shooting right handed and the sling was on my left shoulder. He rearranged the sling so it sat on my right shoulder, but when I held the gun correctly it was awkward and unfamiliar (I had spent the last several hours getting used to the sling in a different configuration). Additionally, a buckle on the sling now bit painfully into my shoulder so I could hardly keep the gun up.

That was it. Any hope I had of holding myself together was gone.

We went back to the area behind the tower to await instructions to approach the firing line for our next exercise. The other students were milling around, but I stood glued to the ground. I was shaking and hyperventilating. I was lightheaded and had tunnel vision. Tears were running down my face. I didn’t realize it at the time, but I was having a full-on anxiety attack. More unwelcome new stuff I didn’t know how to process.

The Cadre were standing about 30 feet away up on a berm. I don’t know if they saw shaking or hyperventilating or waterworks from that distance in a person wearing a helmet, flak vest, gloves, and black wraparound shooting glasses. Maybe they noticed the other students edging away from me because they either saw or sensed that I was a hot mess. Whatever it was, the top ranking Cadre pulled me out of the group when everyone else went to the shooting line and asked me what was going on.

I did my best to be coherent between sobs. Clearly I could not be issued real ammunition in this state, and in retrospect I’m a little surprised they didn’t take my weapons away on the spot. Perhaps I came across as only pathetic and not dangerous. Regardless, as the Cadre explained how I would fail the course and have to be sent home if I could not complete the firing exercise, a miracle occurred.

A meteorological miracle.

No, I was not hit by a meteor, though I wished very hard for it in that moment.

It was a cloudy day, and the ceiling had been getting lower throughout the morning. Suddenly, the clouds dropped below 1200 feet. No shooting is allowed if the ceiling is below 1200 feet due to the range’s proximity to flightpaths at a nearby airfield. The range exercise had to be cancelled. No shooting for the rest of the day. A reprieve! I nearly fainted with relief.

A few students noticed I had been pulled off the line. On the bus going back, one of my classmates invited me to sit next to him and engaged me in light conversation. Blessedly, he did not ask me what went wrong, he just offered some friendly talk. By the time we got back to camp I could feel my extremities and was able to put whole sentences together. By the time we finished our MRE lunch, I was almost normal.

At this point, the easy thing to do would be to just pretend nothing happened, practice like heck with my weapons to get comfortable before the next trip to the range, and move on. But a couple little things stuck in the back of my mind that I couldn’t ignore. 35 classmates and a dozen Cadre had watched me walking around the previous afternoon/evening and that morning slinging my M4 incorrectly, and none of them had mentioned it to me. I was struggling at the firing range and several other students noticed but turned away instead of approaching me to help. My meltdown on the range that morning was nobody’s responsibility but mine; however, I wasn’t going to make it through the rest of the course without Wingman support, and I wasn’t going to get that support unless I asked for it.

I got permission to speak to the class before the afternoon lesson began. I stood at the front of the room and briefly explained what had happened that morning, apologizing for causing the Cadre to have to pull me off the line. Then I explained that downrange, everyone was going to have to deal with civilians because civilians are deployed, too, and not all of them are prior military (like all the civilians in this class but me). I described how inexperienced I am with the weapons and other things military (I’m still bad at donning and doffing cover), and asked that people please approach me and correct me if they see me doing something that isn’t right. I told them that everyone at some point will need Wingman support, and it was everyone’s responsibility to look out for each other and to ask for help. Which I needed. Now.

After that, several classmates reached out to offer me help, and others to admit that they were very nervous on the range, also. A Marine helped me reconfigure my M4 sling so the buckle doesn’t bite me anymore. Shooting instructors showed me tricks for different gun handling to maximize my capabilities and minimize my weaknesses. My tent-mates joined me in reviewing and practicing firing and clearing procedures until we were all feeling more comfortable and proficient. I went to bed that night knowing I had the skills I needed to do ok, and that I wasn’t alone in feeling anxious about the exercise.

The next day on the range I did great.

Best of all, as the course goes on, the other students are comfortable approaching me and offering corrections or assistance, or just asking how I’m doing. I’m so grateful. I’m a fish out of water here, but a fish with lots of Wingmen which is making all the difference.

Bruised and Battered, But Not Beaten

Posted on November 16, 2013 by Melissa M

There are plenty of opportunities to bash yourself into hard objects here at CAST, and I’ve availed myself of every single one of them.

Here are a few examples of the evidence left behind after my close encounters of the “ouch” kind with guns, gear, the interiors of Humvees, rocks, tree roots, and “paintball” rounds:

Most of these I don’t remember getting, just finding a bruise at some point and wondering what left it. That red mark on my thigh with the bruise ringed around it was from an exercise where the instructors fired wax rounds with dye markers (what I call “paintballs”) at us while we were practicing how to extract injured personnel from hostile fire scenarios. I remember that one quite clearly, and I expect I’ll have this memento for a good long time as a reminder.

Soiled Underwear

Posted on November 14, 2013 by Melissa M

Well, not really, but some people came pretty close.

Yesterday morning was HEAT: HMMWV Egress Assistance Training. HMMWV is an acronym for High Mobility Multipurpose Wheeled Vehicle, aka Humvee. There are many different types, but here’s one model for reference (photo credit: http://www.americanspecialops.com/photos/marsoc/marsoc-hmmwv.php):

The HEAT exercise took the class to the “rotisseries”, two Humvee body mock-ups mounted to motors that rotate them to simulate vehicle rollover:

Four-man teams of students in “battle rattle” (about 40-50 pounds of gear each including helmets, knee and elbow pads, flak vests with armor plates, several ammunition magazines in pouches, M9 pistols in holsters, and fake foam M4 rifles since real ones would have knocked out a lot of teeth) were strapped in, spun around, and then instructed to get out from the vehicle-upside-down and vehicle-on-its-side positions. This was insanely difficult.

Humvees look huge, but four people and all their gear seem to shrink the interior of the vehicle to tiny proportions. Plus you can’t really see seat belt releases or door handles because you can’t move your head around with all your gear restricting your range of motion and line of sight to things nearby and up against your body. And this is before you roll over. After the rolling begins, things just get crazy. The space seems to shrink, your adrenaline skyrockets, your gear gets caught on everything, and it’s a big struggle to find and release your seatbelt, reach and open a door, and get out without breaking your neck.

We did some practice rolling first, including completely upside down, which was scary and painful (it’s nearly impossible to hold yourself and all your gear up even with seat belts (since they’re so slack) so I got to spend some quality time supporting a lot of my body/gear weight on my head). After the practice rolling, we did two egress exercises.

In the first exercise, we were completely upside down and had to locate a door or doors that were not “jammed” (locked from the outside by the instructors) and escape through them. Going out the wide open gun turret was not an option as it was “on the ground”. I was seated in the right rear, and my door opened so I could get out through it which saved me from having to find another door. Others had to climb from their seats to seats with opening doors, making it that much more difficult and time-consuming for them.

In the second exercise, however, I was in the driver’s seat and we did a 90 degree rollover onto the driver’s side. We were to escape through the gun turret opening. This was much more difficult for me because the steering wheel and other obstructions restricted my movement severely and caught everything that could be caught as I was trying to get out: ammo magazines, buttons on my trousers, shoelaces, etc. I was able to keep moving, keep un-catching and detangling, and eventually fight my way out. It was only a minute or two, but it seemed like it took half an hour!

I’m glad to say that although I was frustrated by the difficulty of the experience, I did not feel claustrophobic, get panicky, have difficulty breathing, freeze up, or freak out. A few others did have to fight off panic and took quite a while to calm down, which I can empathize with since I had an anxiety attack the previous day at the shooting range (I’ll write about it in a future post).

We are all bruised and battered, but very happy to have HEAT behind us.

Non-Tactical Underwear

Posted on November 11, 2013 by Melissa M

You’re lookin’ at it!

That is my lap and those are my non-tactical pink underpants peeking out. And, yes, I’m on the potty.

Now that that’s out of the way, please direct your attention to the M4 rifle sitting on my lap and the M9 pistol at my side. Here at Combat Airman Skills Training (CAST), we have to carry both our weapons everywhere at all times. The only exceptions are when we are doing PT (physical training) and showering.

Carrying our weapons does not mean having the rifle on our backs with the slings across our chests. We have to carry our M4s at “low ready” meaning finger near the trigger and barrel supported pointing down but ready to lift and fire. So, two hands. This makes carrying anything else in your hands next to impossible. And you still have to don and doff your cover as required. It’s times like this when I think it would be very handy to have a prehensile tail.

Handling all this gear is awkward, but after 10 days of CAST I should be a pro, no matter how narrow the latrine stalls.

PS – that yellow gizmo on the end of the rifle is a device that identifies it as a training weapon and also provides enough back-pressure to move the bolt so we can continuously fire blanks.

Greetings from War Games Sleep-Away Camp!

Posted on November 11, 2013 by Melissa M

… also known as Combat Airman Skills Training (CAST)

I arrived last night at Camp Anderson Peters located in the Camp Bullis training area north of San Antonio, Texas, for 10 days of training with other civilians and military personnel deploying to combat areas. We are deep in the heart of Texas Hill Country, and it was dusk as we drove in so deer were leaping everywhere and huge flocks of wild turkeys scampered as we bumped along the dirt road to the camp.

A typical CAST class averages about 90 students, but our group is only 36 (including 5 civilians). There are five women, but I’m the only civilian woman. The class includes officers and enlisted, active duty and reserves, young and old. It’s a diverse mix.

We reported at 0600 to the classroom for breakfast. Here’s the chow line:

We have been divided into three groups called Chalks (I’m in Chalk 2). Each Chalk has a daily camp duty, and Chalk 3 is manning the chow line (food service is the only time you can wear a hat [aka cover] indoors). The whole cover thing is new for me since this is the first time I’ve had to wear a military uniform. I keep going outside and forgetting to put my cover on, or coming in and forgetting to take it off. I predict this is going to be an issue for me going forward.

Here’s my breakfast (they offer three times as much variety as you see here, so there’s something for everyone):

Here is the inside of our classroom:

Glamorous it ain’t, but the idea of CAST is to simulate the rough conditions we’ll face on deployment so I feel lucky to have desks and air conditioning. Here’s the entrance to the classroom:

I’m standing on the Physical Training (PT) pad facing the front of Classroom Delta (the building with the big garage door). The covered area in the foreground shades the water buffaloes, mobile water tank trailers we take to training areas away from the classroom. The container to the left of the classroom building is a latrine trailer. The covered area in the background is the gun-cleaning area.

As you can see in the photo, it’s a beautiful day. Daytime temperatures should be in the 60s and 70s for the duration of training, with nights in the 40s. It’s been fairly comfortable so far; I can’t imagine how awful it would be to have to wear all the uniform pieces and protective gear in the summer with temperatures in the 90s. People who do CAST in the summer have my respect and admiration.

Happy Veterans’ Day! And thanks to all the vets who fought to give me the freedom and opportunities I enjoy today!

How Do You Say “Depressing” in Dari?

Posted on November 5, 2013 by Melissa M

Nothing like a walloping pop in the chops to get your attention, is there?

I’ve been through an awful lot of training preparing for this deployment, most of it (so far) online. I made a plan to do the routine, tedious, less-fun training first so I could save the more interesting/entertaining for last (sort of as a reward for getting through the not-so-fun stuff). Here’s a list of the online trainings I did:

What I thought would be less fun and/or interesting:

Policy on human relations, equal opportunity, prevention of sexual harassment, sexual assault prevention and response, free exercise of religion, suicide prevention, and professional and unprofessional relationships,
Security procedures for computers and various types of information, Operations Security (OPSEC), Force Protection, and Law of Armed Conflict
Biometrics and collection/reporting of information
Chemical, biological, radiation, and nuclear (CBRN) weapons defense and awareness
Self Aid and Buddy Care (SABC) (complete with very graphic videos of spurting arteries and sucking chest wounds)
Survival, Evasion, Resistance, and Escape (SERE)
Explosive Ordnance Reconnaissance (EOR), Counter-Improvised Explosive Device (C-IED) awareness, counterinsurgency

What I saved for last since I thought it would be more fun:

General and specific Afghan culture
Dari language

I did the counterinsurgency training right before culture and language. Counterinsurgency training concentrated heavily on the International Security Assistance Force (ISAF) mission:

In support of the Government of the Islamic Republic of Afghanistan, ISAF conducts operations in Afghanistan to reduce the capability and will of the insurgency, support the growth in capacity and capability of the Afghan National Security Forces (ANSF), and facilitate improvements in governance and socio-economic development in order to provide a secure environment for sustainable stability that is observable to the population.

Other ISAF goals include assisting the Afghan government in establishing a secure and stable environment, supporting reconstruction and development, and helping Afghan Authorities establish good governance and rule of law. This is the ISAF patch I’ll wear on my uniform:

After this inspirational ISAF training, the cultural training that stressed the importance of relationship-building and the Afghans’s world-famous hospitality, and this introduction to the language lessons: “Language training helps deployed Airman [sic] establish bonds and build positive relationships with local nationals by extending and understanding greetings, courtesies, and social customs in the local languages,” imagine my surprise when the first language lesson consisted of learning the following 15 words and phrases in Dari (the language spoken in the Bagram area):

Stop!
Hands up!
Do you have weapons?
Drop your weapon!
Put your weapon down
Stop the vehicle
We will search your car
What is your name?
Show me your identification
Do you understand?
Do you need help?
Do you need medical attention?
What direction?
Excuse me/I’m sorry
You can leave

These are greetings and courtesies?

I had expected something along the lines of “Hello” or “Nice to meet you” or some other message that would intone “We come in peace” rather than the hostile phrases presented. After all that ISAF propaganda, this language lesson was a slap in the face. I admit, it upset me and made me angry. Insulted, even. I was all geared up to be culturally sensitive and respectful, not to man a checkpoint and screen local nationals to see who might be a bad guy.

But after thinking about it for a while, I realized that this was exactly the right language lesson for me to see first…

As I prepare for this deployment, wonderfully well-meaning friends and coworkers keep telling me how much fun I’ll have and what a great adventure this will be, while reminding me in a footnote to “be careful” and “be safe”. My rude Dari language lesson puts the Be Careful message right up front, where it needs to be: I’m not going on vacation or on a cultural exchange trip, I’m going to a combat zone to support American and Coalition warfighters in an environment where murderers are disguised as the local guy on the street (or worse, in the uniforms of Afghan police). I damn well better never forget this fact, for my own safety and the safety of everyone around me.

Well done, language training module organizers, well done. I get it. It makes me sad that I needed this lesson, but I’m glad I got it and I won’t forget it.

PS — Later language modules included the hellos and pleases and thank yous I was expecting, but none of them will stick with me like that emotional first lesson.

My Deadly New BFF

Posted on October 29, 2013 by Melissa M

I have found my favored weapon!

What the Military Issue Rifle Is in Each Country of the World

Isn’t she pretty?

After last week’s difficult M9 pistol training, I was concerned about my M4 training this week. The M9 was awkward and unnatural in my hands, so I expected the M4 rifle to be more so as it is a significantly larger, heavier, and more complicated weapon. I couldn’t have been more wrong!

Unlike M9 training, M4 training occurs over two days, with the first day taking place mostly in a classroom and the second day mostly on the firing range. On day one, we “zeroed” our weapons, meaning we calibrated the sights for accurate shooting.

The primary and preferred sight is the M68 Close Combat Optic (different from a “scope” because it does not magnify the target) which shows a red dot inside it that you put on the target for aim. The back-up sight consists of front and back iron sights, where you put the tip of the front bar in the center of the back circle to aim.

We began by zeroing our iron sights, which entails firing three shots at a time toward a target silhouette simulated to be 300 meters distant. The combat arms instructors then inspect the targets and make adjustments to the sights until your shots land in the tiny target circle in the silhouette’s center of mass.

By pure, dumb luck, my iron sights just happened to already be in the perfect calibration for my stock length and shooting position. So, I was able to hit the target circle with tight groupings every time starting from the first shot. Let’s be clear, we were firing from the supported prone position which is absolutely the most stable firing position you can get, and we were allowed to take as much time as possible so time pressure was not a factor. Still, after last week’s performance, looking like a superstar right from the beginning felt great and was a huge confidence-builder.

I wasn’t quite so lucky with the M68 sight, but I still got it zeroed pretty well and had some impressively holey-looking target circles by the time we wrapped up for the day.

The next morning, we took our zeroed weapons to the firing line for practice and qualification. Unlike the M9 test where we had just a few firing positions, the M4 required many more firing positions using both the semi-automatic and three-round burst settings on the weapon. We fired and tested from supported (supporting hand resting on a fixed object) and unsupported (supporting hand not resting on anything) prone positions, standing, moving left, moving right, moving forward left, moving forward left, barricaded, supported kneeling (elbow on knee), and standing-transition-to-kneeling positions. We also did a few rounds wearing full-face chemical masks in addition to our flak vests and helmets. And those are just the ones I can remember.

Supported prone is a luxury position. Not only are both your elbows and your supporting hand planted on fixed objects, but because you are stable and so low to the ground there just isn’t anyplace for you to go to get out of position. It’s very easy to achieve accuracy and keep it as you continue to shoot. As soon as you start losing support points and moving into more upright positions, the magnitude of swaying and bobbing you experience is astonishing, even when you are trying to keep as steady as possible.

In spite of what seemed like wild movement, I fired surprisingly well throughout the practice and test rounds. Bizarrely, I got better (tighter groupings) with distance from the target. A friend told me after class that she’d heard people do better as targets get smaller because they focus better when they have a teeny target. Evidently, this is true for me and I don’t mind a bit.

After several hours of timed firing drills, I’m delighted to say that I qualified easily on the M4. My lessons learned from last week’s M9 qualification helped: I really toughened up my fingers and I was a lot more comfortable. I am covered with sore spots and bruises of mystery origin, but success certainly takes the edge off the discomfort. In fact, it feels good. Also, not to gloat, but I was the only civilian in the training (and therefore the only person who had not had previous M4 training), older than the other students by at least 15 years, and a much better shot than at least half the class. That feels good, too, even though I understand that this was not a competition.

Here are a few more tips in addition to the helpful hints from last week:

Long sleeves and helmets and ballistic goggles are not enough protection from hot shell casings being ejected from the weapon to your left. Several people in the training got hit repeatedly in the face with hot brass and got minor burns. Make sure your shirt has a collar you can turn up and that you bring a kerchief you can add to your ensemble for extra protection.
You spend a lot of time on your knees and elbows on concrete. Wearing a heavy vest and helmet and holding a heavy weapon makes it that much harder on your joints. Bring the tactical (of course!) knee and elbow pads you were issued with the rest of your gear and don’t be shy about using them.
The M4 weighs a little under five pounds without ammo, which is remarkably heavy when you are holding it up, unsupported, for hours. Your supporting side is also your weak side, so work on your endurance by holding weighty objects out in front of you with that arm. You’ll shoot better if you’re not fatigued so quickly.

I’d like to give a shout out to the Combat Arms Instructors at the Lackland AFB Medina Training Annex. These guys were so professional and patient with everyone, even though I’m sure I looked like a bumbling moron plenty of times. It was nerve-wracking trying to become comfortable and proficient on these weapons, and I very much appreciated that these instructors did not add to the pressure by showing any irritation or exasperation with anybody. Thanks, guys!

Tactical Underwear

one civilian woman's deployment to Afghanistan

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