First day. And pie.

Hello world. I am Ricky.

I am a soldier in the US Army…Here sits my cursor, sitting, blinking at me, daring me to write something that would go against the very nature of what we like to call “Operational Security”. Alas, I cannot write about anything “cool” because it just simply is not there. Wiki Leaks would snub their nose at me. Except for one thing that happened today…

Being that I’m a soldier in the US Army, today is Halloween and I’m sitting in Iraq… I did not get to dress up as I usually do and drink to my liver’s content….Instead, I got to sit, in my office and watch soldiers as they worked. Every now and then I would ask, how far  they’ve gotten on something and crack a joke at my supervisor, who just happens to be short. Very short. So short, in fact, that I tease him about being short and have dubbed him, “The Hobbit.” It fits him. I even put a whole package of bits of beef jerky under his laptop. Hobbits like that, right? Either he’ll find them first, or the mice will.

As I finished out my work, I realized I had done nothing productive except go down to the official mail office and scare some soldiers when I walked in. “Oh, good afternoon Sergeant. How can I help you?” They seemed to tense up when I spoke to them about mailing a package off to Germany. Laboratory stuff. They groaned, “What kind of stuff? Is it a piss test?” “No, not a piss test…just water.” Ah, damn…there goes that blinking cursor again…

One of my main concerns today was to open a box a friend had sent to me. In that box were these little cups, filled with candy and masks. I handed out a bag to each member of the squad and the headquarters element. Nine in total. Suffice to say, they loved them. So much so in fact, that my bosses squealed in delight and just ABSOLUTELY had to thank my friend. Do I have his email? Um, of course I have his email. Sure, I’ll give it to you, just please stop squealing in my ear…

My other main concern today was to get pumpkin pie. Why? Traditionally, people like to think of pie as a Thanksgiving item to be shared, passed around and overeaten. Nay nay, I say. I’d like to have pie on the day when thousands, if not millions of pumpkins die. All just to decorate some person’s front porch for a few hours, shove a candle into it and think it’s just one of the greatest creations anyone has ever made. Hello, this is reality calling. It’s just a pumpkin. Therefore, make pie.

I finished out my day, hanging around with other soldiers and secretly fuming about the atrocities against my supervisor. The poor hobbit. He gets yelled at a lot, by his supervisor, who happens to wear her weave in the form of “Mufasa”, the evil uncle lion from “The Lion King.” Words like mutiny, coup d’etat and rebellion were secretly (and jokingly) tossed around in the office.  But, she did end up calming down, so we put aside our rebellion for another day.

When a soldier deploys into a combat zone, privacy is a concept that is seldom recognized and avoided at all costs…There are no bathrooms inside our rooms…instead, we have to move ourselves outside, walk around these giant concrete walls, meant to protect us from mortars that are blindly shot towards the base, and go pee  and shower in these tiny little trailers. Theses trailers are not currently working right…Meaning, water is constantly overflowing and the pipes seem to cry out in despair, begging for anyone to fix and unclog them. No one has answered that call. The showers are also a sad joke. Imagine six showers, inside a trailer, where the curtains are dangerously thin and see through. They’re also cut too short, so any burst of wind or large person walking by, will automatically lift that shower curtain into the air, spraying water all over the slippery floor and expose the person inside. Believe me, I’ve seen things not meant to be seen by other people’s eyes… Continue on to the bathrooms…

Did you know, it is only western civilizations that have come up with the idea of toilet paper? Therefore, when Third Country Nationals or TCNs use our bathrooms, they invariably do not use toilet paper. Instead, they wash their bums using water bottles, as a sort of bidet. That’s fine and dandy. Except when you must step in that water, wearing nothing but flip flops. Your toes cry out in anger and fright, praying that it’s clean water they just touched.

As this is my first attempt at this, I pray the “Writing Gods” look down upon me with favor…

I fear for my soldiers. I fear for my toes. But at least I had my pie.