The deployment cometh. Soon, and very soon, we are going to finally get the hell out of Kansas. Every time I hear about how MiTT teams are 'elite' and that we have 'rigorous training', I think I lose a little bit of my soul. With the exception of the extended 'class' a couple of us got after the bolt in our M-2 ate itself, everything here has been familiarization, not training. I'm not saying we're not ready, just that the Big Green Machine is more concerned with checking boxes than actually training. Camp Funston sucks, no if's, ands, or buts.
An aside: I will have to officially register this blog with the S-6 when I get over in country, and as such, have been leaving out details pertaining to operational readiness, team make-up information, etc, etc. I will follow policy to the letter, but don't expect that I'll lick the boots of some techno-lackey to satisfy their ego. I know my rights, I know the policies, and given my job am actually more qualified to determine what is and isn't operationally sensitive than some fobbit at Warrior, Anaconda, or the like. Your affected contempt of the exercise of my rights is duly noted, and will promptly be ignored. Bite me.
As for the Camp Funston thing, I re-wrote the lyrics to Johnny Cash's "Folsom Prison Blues" and recorded a video of me playing it on my new guitar. The dayroom was a bit too 'live' for good sound, so I may have another go at it once we get in theater, but may post the crappy version in the interim anyway. Stay tuned. For now, here's a final pic from Kansas, snow and all.
