Red Platoon got hit again today with another grenade attack. This accident from yesterday is really hurting our efforts at developing a positive relationship in our battle space; little wonder, really. They took no casualties. We immediately jumped to the site to see if we could locate anything to chase after, but we were unable to capture anyone even with the assistance of a (severely delayed) report from our drone assets about suspicious activity on a neighboring rooftop. We cleared that rooftop with a quickness and saw… absolutely no one and nothing. Again. We just stood around the attack site for a while, chatting people up and trying to get a grasp on what happened, hoping the enemy would try their luck a second time with us; nothing happened. Nothing seems to happen to us. We go to the same place Red Platoon gets hit, and they just don’t make an effort to kill us. We rolled over an IED yesterday and didn’t even know it; the enemy didn’t detonate it until the National Police drove over it. Nice buried sucker, too.
Today we rolled with Combat Camera. What this means is that two sergeants, both female, got in our trucks with their cameras and followed us around all day. And while my ego eagerly awaits all this footage of me being undeniably awesome (what a wonderful world I build for myself), what this effectively meant was that two soldiers without any weapons of consequence were in the middle of all the action today, making us very, very nervous. Fortunately, the only casualty was our mission: I had to return to base (RTB) sooner than I anticipated because one of them needed to tinkle around hour 3.5.
Did you know that female soldiers aren’t allowed to urinate in sector?
Neither did I.
The conversation went a little like this:
All Blue elements, this is Blue 1. We will proceed south along route…
Blue 1, this is Blue 5. Before you put out any more crazy schemes of maneuver, be aware that one of my camera sergeants needs to tinkle.
Huh. I hadn’t really made a plan for that one, 5. All right, we’ll pull over here and secure an alley for her.
1, this is 5. I don’t think you get it. They aren’t allowed to urinate in sector.
Really?! I mean, really? All right, I guess we can work with it. COP (blank) isn’t too far away. We’ll push over there.
No, 1. COP (blank) is in sector. They can’t piss in sector, AT ALL.
(Pause)
(Pause)
Blue 1, this is Blue 5. Did you copy last?
(Pause)
ARE YOU SAYING I HAVE TO RTB SO SOMEONE CAN URINATE?
(Pause)
Roger, Blue 1. That’s what that means.
(Pause)
Blue 1, Blue 5… what are we going to do?
(subdued whisper of defeat): This is Blue 1. We are prep to RTB time now. Blue 1 out.
I don’t get it. Who made that rule? I can’t really blame the camera crew, since you gotta go when you gotta go, but who made that rule? Ridiculous! That essentially means that women cannot be outside the wire. They must stay in the FOB or be returned to the FOB once every two hours. I almost asked if they were allowed to piss themselves in sector and whether they could just go ahead and do that for me. But I want to keep my job. So we just returned to base.
I also don’t understand the appeal of Army-owned latrines. Some of the worst atrocities committed by mankind have been in or around Army latrines. I remember a period at the Infantry Officer Basic Course where I stumbled one morning, drowsy and naïve, into a port-a-john in the field. There were ten of these port-a-johns standing side by side in the middle of a clearing where we mustered and ate chow. I opened the door and stepped inside, still not opening my eyes from sleep… and then, as I blinked myself awake, I beheld the apparition. The most monstrous mountain ever made by man (go team alliteration!). I didn’t move. I didn’t blink. I just stared—not shocked, not disgusted, but in deep contemplation. How had this come to happen? Obviously the last few people to utilize this particular latrine had been forced to squat or stand in order to allow the mountain to actually peak above the seat. By a good foot. I contemplated the intent of my predecessors. I contemplated gravity and how it had been defeated once more. I turned and saw the warning written in small font on a poster by the door: This unit is intended to maintain ten people for twelve days or twelve people for ten days. Exceeding the intended use may result in unsatisfactory conditions. I contemplated the meaning of “unsatisfactory” and whether or not, in a morally objective sense, I could judge
“Someone shat on the floor!” he yelled, to no one in particular, just to help himself come to terms with the unfathomable. “How can you even shit on the floor in here? How can you even position your body to shit on the floor?”
Good question, I conceded. How would one even go about that? You’d have to lift one leg here, brace your arms up there… I think I spent another ten minutes contemplating that before I decided to just go out and try my luck in the woods.
The point I am making here is that sometimes the wide open public is preferable to Army latrines. So don’t make your host unit RTB in order to rush you to one of them. COP (blank) has a perfectly functional toilet. Well, kind of. Really it’s just a hole in the ground… but isn’t that effectively the same as a port-a-john? I mean, in the end, aren’t they basically the same?
I’ve begun to find porcelain latrines a wanton extravagance. When I get back Stateside, I will have to make a conscious effort not to just stop my car in public, get out, and urinate on my tires. I don’t know how more people don’t talk about this. I mean, it isn’t as if we’re going to knock on neighborhood doors and ask if Coalition Forces can borrow their restroom. So we just get out, have someone pull guard on us, and piss. It works. It’s normal. And I’ll believe this until the Arkansas State Police arrest me for indecent exposure. The difference, I feel, between this and the man we observed urinating that night, is that we know everyone can see us. We aren’t hiding anything. That feels normal. He thought he was being secretive. That just makes it feel somehow naughty. Thus, the crime is in the intent and not the action, Officer.
That was basically my whole day. I had meetings, did random administrative nonsense, and now I’m going to sleep early. I’m getting promoted to 1st Lieutenant tomorrow, and I’m hoping to be coherent and well-rested. So good night to you all.
