Book Review: 'Afghan Post'

Review: 'Afghan Post' by Adrian Bonenberger

Distilling e-mails, journal entries, and letters he wrote home into new content, former U.S. Army Infantry officer Adrian Bonenberger has crafted a memoir of his journey from unfocused East Coast adolescent, to American warrior in the Middle East, to veteran returning home. The 414-page book is presented as a series of letters—the technical term is an "epistolary"—through which Bonenberger addresses with family and friends his evolving experiences and opinions about military service.

The result should be required reading for any future U.S. Army leader—junior officers and senior enlisted soldiers—as well as Army family members. In addition to illuminating the challenges of maintaining long-distance relationships, Bonenberger's meandering map of Army life illustrates the vagaries of military training, careers, and missions.

As such, it deserves a place alongside other titles often recommended to junior leaders, such as James R. McDonough's Vietnam-era combat memoir, "Platoon Leader." (Coincidentally, McDonough and Bonenberger each served in the 173rd Airborne Brigade. This is also the unit whose Afghan experiences were partially documented in 2010's "Restrepo.")

After graduating prep school in 1996, Bonenberger attended Yale University as an English major. He graduated college in 2002, then spent a short stint as an instructor of conversational English in Japan. He joined the U.S. Army in late 2004, and gained his commission through Officer Candidate School (O.C.S.). After branching Infantry, he graduated in succession the Army's Basic Airborne Course, the grueling 61-day Ranger school, and the 5-week Reconnaissance and Surveillance Leaders Course (R.S.L.C.).

In 2007 and 2008, Bonenberger deployed to Eastern Afghanistan's Paktika Province with 1st Battalion, 503rd Inf. Reg., 173rd Airborne Brigade Combat Team. He was a platoon leader and a company executive officer. In 2010 and 2011, he deployed to Northern Afghanistan with 1st Battalion, 87th Infantry, 1st Brigade Combat Team, 10th Mountain Division. There, he was a company executive officer and later, a company commander. (Readers of the Red Bull Rising blog may remember that 2nd Brigade Combat Team, 34th Infantry "Red Bull" Division deployed to Eastern Afghanistan in 2010-2011—the times in-country overlap slightly.)

The letter-writing leitmotif is useful to non-military readers, in that the form requires Bonenberger to tailor both his language and his logic to specific audiences, one at a time. In a letter to a girlfriend or Army buddy, for example, he opens up emotionally. With his grandfather, he begins to compare military experiences. To his parents, he presents an indefatigable optimism.

Helpfully, throughout his prose, Bonenberger also air-drops thoughtful moments of plainspoken paragraphs. He consistently avoids sounding preachy or one-sided. Consider, for example, his clear-eyed take on how Army leaders have to toe the line in expressing their personal opinions:

You can't talk about how nobody knows why we're still in Afghanistan or if things continue on the way they are now well will certainly lose and the Taliban will win or Pakistan is Afghanistan's enemy. This is all heresy. So instead, now that we lack an official department of the censor, I consign it to personal correspondence. It's what everyone's going to be asking me when I get home for leave, right? [...] And I'll have to trot out the same tired smile, talk about the rights of women, educating little girls, blue jeans, bubble gun, and how most Muslims are just good ordinary everyday people, just like you and me. [p. 234; italics in original.]

Or, regarding service in an all-volunteer military:

In Vietnam you tried to avoid volunteering for anything; it was probably going to get you killed. We've kept the Vietnam idea—I suppose our fathers handed it down to us—so that volunteering for a task is a bad thing, even within the military, common sense says don't volunteer—but there's the fact that volunteering is what got you here, and is wrapped up in our idea of what it means to be a motivated or good soldier. [p. 140]

The letter-form and plain-prose aside, however, one other writing tactic proves less than successful for Bonenberger. Before each of the "Afghan Post's" four major narrative sections—those covering the author's civilian experiences in Japan, joining the Army, and his first and second deployments—Bonenberger presents a non-alphabetized "glossary" of acronyms, concepts, and jargon. The tone is conversational and informal. ("I don't know the difference between MEDEVAC and CASEVAC, but ..." is how one entry starts.) Many entries seem extraneous to their corresponding sections. Worse still, the information provided is often downright wrong.

The overall effect diminishes the author's implied expertise. Readers with military experiences of their own may find themselves cringing at factual errors. "Dust-off," for example, is not what soldiers call "brown-out" conditions of zero-visibility during helicopter landings. It's not the "101st Air Assault," it's the "101st Airborne Division." It's not "Bagram Air Force Base," it's "Bagram Airfield." That's why it's called "BAF."

The resulting impression is that Bonenberger's wonderfully personable, plainspoken correspondent may not only be an "unreliable narrator" (that, after all, is to be expected, given the epistolary form), but an inaccurate one, to boot.

Bottom line: Despite its technical shortcomings, Army leaders, families, and future recruits would be well-served by reading this book. In broad brushstrokes, it paints a picture of what a young active-duty officer's career and social life could look like. Civilians without military connections will likewise be rewarded with nicely framed and articulated insights into military life, and, specifically, observations of the United States' involvement in Afghanistan. A persistent lack of attention to military details, however, unnecessarily diminishes what could have been a definitive work.

In trade paperback, "Afghan Post" can be purchased via local booksellers near you, via Amazon, or directly from community-supported Philadelphia publisher The Heart & the Hand here.

Editor's note: A copy of this book was provided to Red Bull Rising for purposes of review.

The Constant State-by-State of War

When I started the Red Bull Rising blog in late 2009, I was preparing to deploy as a member of the Iowa Army National Guard. My buddies and I kept a digital ear out for news of Vermont's 86th Brigade Combat Team (B.C.T.), the unit we planned to replace. We sifted and scanned Vermont newspaper and television reports, U.S. Army public affairs releases from Afghanistan, and posts from mil-bloggers and Facebookers.

The 1,500-member 86th BCT had originally deployed as the command-and-control headquarters for Combined Joint Task Force Phoenix, a U.S. and coalition training mission that had been in place since 2003. (A quick review: In Army speak, the term "combined" means "U.S. plus allies." The term "joint" means one or more branches of the armed forces: Army, Air Force, Marines, Navy, Coast Guard. A "task force" is an group of disparate units organized around a specific mission.)

The CJTF Phoenix mission was to advise and assist the Afghan National Security Forces (A.N.S.F.), including various forms of Afghan police and military units. It controlled 8- or 16-person Embedded Training Teams (E.T.T.). Coalition partners call their ETT personnel "Operational Mentor Liaison Teams" (OMLT, pronounced "omelette").

An additional irony? Such Foreign Internal Defense ("FID") training missions have traditionally been considered a core mission of U.S. Special Forces. The National Guard, on the other hand, often has to battle "second-string" stereotypes when encountering active-duty soldiers in the field. Even after more than 10 years of deployments, and transformation into an operational reserve.

That U.S. National Guard soldiers tend to have civilian-acquired work experiences and skills is often touted as an advantage in the advise-and-assist context. Citizen-soldiers who are law enforcement professionals back home can be used to mentor Afghan National Police, for example. Teachers and coaches, business owners and managers can be more familiar with non-military mentorship models. With the possible exception of the National Guard’s joint Agribusiness Development Teams (A.D.T.), however, in which citizen-soldiers and -airmen are deployed based upon their civilian-acquired agricultural skills, it’s hard to move such assumptions and assertions beyond the anecdotal.

In 2009, in the middle of a foreign country, a deployment, and a war, Vermont's 86th BCT reconfigured to a mission in which they would act as "battlespace owners" for the provinces of Parwan, Panjshir, and Bamiyan Provinces. Two more U.S. National Guard brigades—each approximately 3,000 personnel each—would follow. Rather than being sliced up into smaller companies and battalions, and assigned to support active-duty brigades, the National Guard brigades were kept relatively whole.

Iowa's 2nd BCT, 34th Infantry "Red Bull" Division (2-34th BCT) deployed to Afghanistan from October 2010 to July 2011. It took over the mission in Parwan (where Bagram Airfield is located), Panjshir, and Laghman Provinces. One Red Bull battalion, the 1st Battalion, 168th Infantry Regiment (1-168th Inf.) was attached to active-duty brigade in Paktiya Province. A 400-member Nebraska Army National Guard unit with historical ties to the Red Bull, the 1st Squadron, 134th Cavalry (1-134th Cav.), deployed alongside the 2-34th BCT. Based at Camp Phoenix in Kabul, the 1-134th Cav. deployed as mentors and trainers for Afghan National Police.

Oklahoma's 45th BCT ("Thunderbird") took over the Red Bull's mission in July 2012, maintaining responsibility for Laghman Province and other areas. After the Thunderbird took over, my Red Bull buddies and I again took to the Internet, this time watching for Oklahoma newspaper and television reports, U.S. Army public affairs releases, and posts from mil-bloggers and Facebookers. As of this week, nearly all of the Thunderbird units have returned home to Oklahoma. Rather than hand-off to another U.S. National Guard unit, in February the Thunderbird transferred authority to an active-duty unit.

Watching a war through the lens of brigade-sized deployments, state by state, is an accessible way to perceive the ebb and flow of the past 10 years. In the beginning, it was team after 16-person mentor team. Occasionally, a state would get tapped for the CJTF Phoenix mission—a brigade's worth of headquarters staff, plus yet more advise-and-assist teams. Then, for a grand and glorious moment, the states were asked to muster fully trained, fully resourced fighting brigades. Newspaper reporters wrote sentences like, "the largest deployment of Iowa troops since World War II."

Now, with American resolve, purpose, and troop numbers waning in Afghanistan, U.S. political and military leaders have taken to describing a "new" mission of advising and assisting Afghan forces, and withdrawing troops by 2014. Given that the advise-and-assist mission started in 2003 and never stopped, this latest language seems like rhetorical repackaging. Meet the new mission, same as the old mission.

During mobilization in 2011, Ohio's 37th BCT ("Buckeye")—was re-configured to fulfill an advise-and-assist mission in Northern Afghanistan. It arrived Afghanistan in February 2012.

The Red Bull Rising crystal ball is currently in for servicing and recalibration, but it seems as if the moment of brigade-sized deployments might be over. Perhaps National Guard units will be more likely to deploy piecemeal as companies and battalions, or as 16-person mentor-and-trainer teams. Even the National Guard-specific Agribusiness Development Teams (A.D.T.) may be winding down. In a recent ceremony in Paktya Province, for example, the outgoing Nebraska ADT transferred its responsibilities to the co-located Provincial Reconstruction Team (P.R.T.).

During the Association of the United States Army (A.U.S.A.) annual convention and trial-balloon festival last fall, there was much talk of assigning the advise-and-assist mission to the Reserve Component. (Other, contradictory balloons: Assign to the U.S. Army National Guard and U.S. Army Reserve most or all of the heavy/armored and field artillery forces.) Proposals to create and train specific advise-and-assist capability, whether in the active- or reserve-components, seem to have stalled. The consensus seems to be that the military will continue to take such teams ad hoc and out of hide, rather than create specific organizations or structure. Every soldier wants to grow up to be Patton or Schwarzkopf; few aspire to be Lawrence of Arabia.

That's not to say that operational deployments are over, or that war isn't still a dangerous business. While 70 headquarters soldiers of the Indiana National Guard's 76th BCT ("Night Hawks") were engaged in send-off ceremonies to Afghanistan last January, the Hoosier state simultaneously learned of the loss of four Indiana combat engineers assigned to the 713th Engineer Company, Valaparaiso, Ind.

Sobering times.

War beats on.

*****

For additional insights into the history of the advise-and-assist mission, see Jeffrey Courter's "Afghan Journal" and Benjamin Tupper's "Greetings from Afghanistan" and "Dudes of War." Also, check out former U.S. Marine officer Jonathan Rue's "Build a House and Burn it Down," in which he reflects on his experiences training Iraqi soldiers. And Joseph Trevithick's insightful attempt on Tom Ricks' "Best Defense" blog to untangle the historically convoluted U.S./coalition command structures in Afghanistan.

The Sherpatudes

Here is a list of epigrammatic tips inspired by the most recent Red Bull Rising post. It's a mix of maxims regarding organizational analysis, knowledge management, and working in a tactical operations center ("TOC").

Behold, the "Sherpatudes":

1. Continually ask: "Who else needs to know what I know?"

2. Continually ask: "Who else knows what I need to know?"

3. Never speak with complete authority regarding that which you lack direct knowledge, observation, and/or suppressive fires.

4. Never pull rank over a radio net.

5. Let the boss decide how he/she wants to learn.

6. Let the boss decide how he/she wants to communicate.

7. "I am responsible for everything my commander's organization knows and fails to know, learns and fails to learn."

8. Know when to wake up the Old Man. Also, know how to wake him up without getting punched, shot, or fired.

9. The three most important things in the TOC are: Track the battle. Track the battle. Track the battle.

10. Digital trumps analog, until you run out of batteries.

11. Always have ready at least two methods of communication to any point or person on the map.

12. Rank has its privileges. It also has its limitations.

13. Let Joe surprise you.

14. Don't let Joe surprise you.

15. The first report is always wrong. Except when it isn't.

16. The problem is always at the distant end. Except when it isn't.

17. Exercise digital/tactical patience. Communications works at the speed of light. People do not.

18. Your trigger finger is your safety. Keep it away from the CAPS LOCK, reply-all, and flash-override buttons.

19. The warfighter is your customer, and the customer is always right.

20. Bullets don't kill people. Logistics kills people.

21. Knowing how it works is more powerful than knowing how it's supposed to work.

22. Cite sources on demand. State opinions when asked.

23. Work by, with, and through others. It's all about empowerment.

24. Do not seek the spotlight, Ranger. Let the spotlight find you. Then, make sure to share it with others.

25. Both the Bible and "The Art of War" make this point: It's never a mistake to put oneself in someone else's boots.

26. Humor is a combat multiplier. Except when it isn't.

Iowa Red Bull Soldier Killed in Kapisa Province

Staff Sgt. James A. Justice, 32, of Grimes, Iowa, was killed approximately 10 a.m. Sat., April 23 when the helicopter-borne Quick Reaction Force (Q.R.F.) of which he was a member came under small-arms fire in Afghanistan's Kapisa Province. The small force had been attempting to secure the crash site of a 2-person OH-58 "Kiowa" scout helicopter assigned to another U.S. Army unit. Also injured in the attack was Spc. Zachary H. Durham, 21, of Des Moines. Both are members to Alpha Troop, 1st Squadron, 113th Cavalry Regiment (1-113th Cav.), an Iowa National Guard unit headquartered in Camp Dodge, Johnston, Iowa.

The 1-113th Cav. is part of the 3,000-soldier deployment to Afghanistan of the Iowa National Guard's 2nd Brigade Combat Team (B.C.T.), 34th Infantry "Red Bull" Division (2-34th BCT). As "Task Force Red Bulls," most of the 2-34th BCT is responsible for helping the Afghan government, military, and police secure the provinces of Parwan, Panjshir, and Laghman, as well as portions of others. Some units deployed with 2-34th BCT deployed have been assigned under other task forces and other provinces, but Kapisa is not one of them.

Coalition forces operating in Eastern Afghanistan, to include Task Force Red Bulls, are assigned under the active-duty Army's 101st Airborne Division, which operates as "Combined Joint Task Force-101" (C.J.T.F.-101). According to the CJTF-101 website, Kapisa Province is the responsibility of Task Force La Fayette, comprising French coalition forces.

According to Iowa National Guard officials at a Sunday night press conference at Camp Dodge, the Alpha Troop soldiers had earlier conducted a patrol in the Parwan security zone surrounding Bagram Air Field ("BAF"), when CJTF-101 requested soldiers to immediately secure a Kiowa scout helicopter that had made a "hard landing" in Kapisa Province. The cause of that landing is still under investigation. The Iowa soldiers were assigned the QRF mission because they were "readily available" at Bagram Air Field, said Iowa National Guard spokesman Col. Greg Hapgood.

While guard officials were unable to characterize either the type of weapons or the intensity of the attack that killed Justice and injured Durham, they did say that Justice died at the scene. After the QRF traveled from Bagram to the crash site via UH-60 "Blackhawk" helicopters, landed, and came under attack, "pathfinders" trained in establishing landing zones were dispatched from 101st Airborne Division and inserted into an area south of the crash site. Air Force pararescuemen were also dispatched and inserted near or onto the site.

According to Iowa guard officials, a U.S. Air Force A-10 "Warthog" and additional armed U.S. Army Kiowa helicopters arrived to eliminate the immediate enemy threat. Justice was reportedly killed and Durham wounded while moving off their landing zone, which at the time was considered "hot" and still under fire. Durham has since been evacuated to Craig Joint Theater Hospital, Bagram Air Field. His injuries were not specified by officials.

Justice is a 13-year veteran of the Iowa National Guard, and deployed to Afghanistan with the 2-34th BCT only last February. "One of his goals was to get on this deployment," said Sgt. 1st Class Kevin Schaefer at Sunday evening's press conference. "He wanted to get into the fight." Prior to mobilization, he was employed full-time by the Iowa National Guard, and Schaefer had been his supervisor. Schaefer described Justice as level-headed, hard-working, and easy to talk with. "He had an ability to lead soldiers and have them follow."

Justice had previously deployed to Kuwait (2001), Egypt's Sinai Peninsula (2003-2004), and Iraq (2005-2006).

Justice is survived by his wife, Amanda Jo, and a 3-year-old daughter Caydence Lillian, of Grimes; his father and mother, Larry and Lillian Justice, brother Kenny Justice, sisters Denise Christensen and Christy (Kevin) Lingle of Manilla.

A family statement released via the Iowa National Guard reads in part:

James Alan Justice meant many things to every person he encountered. He was the funny best friend named "Juice" that could be counted on when needing to be cheered up; the uncle who always knew just what to say and when to hand out hugs; the son who was his parents' pride and joy; the father who loved his little girl more than anything in the world and couldn't wait to have more children; and the husband who loved to put a smile on his wife's face.

Funeral arrangements for Justice are pending.

Earlier this month, two other Iowa National Guard "Red Bull" soldiers were killed and others wounded in separate combat incidents, and in different Afghan provinces.

Two Vets Walk into a Car Dealership ...

A couple of weeks ago, Household-6 and I decided to go shopping for a new car. By coincidence, an Army buddy happened to walk into the same dealership at the same time. My wife and I ended up buying a car that day. Our randomly selected salesperson was helpful, courteous, and observant. My buddy wasn't as lucky.

Household-6 and I had walked in cold, and taken our chances as to what kind of Sales Guy might be walking the dealership floor. My buddy, as we were to later learn throughout an excruciating afternoon, seemed to have made multiple mistakes: He called ahead, he let a salesperson know what the make and model in which he was interested, and asked "his" Sales Guy (let's call him "Sales Guy II") to prepare some facts and figures prior to his arrival.

Sales Guy II didn't do his homework.

Like most citizen-soldiers, my buddy is a straight-shooter. He was disappointed that Sales Guy II hadn't prepared for their discussion. He ended up walking out. Later on that afternoon, he called Sales Guy II to discuss the matter further. He ended up talking to Sales Guy II's manager. Call him "Sales Boss Guy."

I know this, because my spouse and I were still at the dealership when he called.

Note to Sales Guys and Managers everywhere: Your cubes do not have doors. Other customers can hear you. We can hear you making fun of soldiers and veterans, puffing up like it was a post-game locker room mating dance, after you get off the phone. "Sure you're a soldier--I've got the bullet holes to prove it!" We can hear you tell your potential customers: "The customer is not always right. That's what I tell my sales people."

These conversations went on for more than an hour.

The only thing that kept us in our seats was that "our" Sales Guy was helpful, courteous, and observant. I've worked in sales a little myself, and I know it's a tough gig. I wasn't going to take bread off one guy's table just because his boss and co-workers are louts.

I got to meet that boss when I inquired as to the dealer's advertised $500 discount for military personnel. Sales Boss Guy wanted to put his grubby mitts on my military ID, to "make sure it was real."

He was the same guy who told my buddy that the customer isn't always right.

I called my buddy and told him what we'd overheard, and that he should probably take his business elsewhere. He ended up going to a different dealership just down the road. In retrospect, maybe I should've done the same.

*****

During a previous purchase of a new American-made car, Household-6 and I thought the whole experience was somewhat hokey. We'd purchased a Saturn, back when that company was still in business. When we went to pick it up, our new car was ready and waiting for us, positioned in a room labelled as a "launch pad." The staff stood by to deliver applause, if we so desired. It was cheesy and a little goofy, but it worked. From the start, we felt great about our purchase.

This time, we find the whole car-purchase process devoid of joy. We're still buying American, but we're given little reason to celebrate it. Because we had to special-order our new vehicle, we wait six weeks for delivery of our new vehicle. We get pushed off to a rainy Friday afternoon. Household-6 and I each take a half-day off work to complete the transaction.

After we arrive at the dealership, we are herded into a "customer lounge," one so crowded and hot that we could do nothing but stand and wait. We are waiting on Finance Guy.

While we wait, Household-6 points to the shadow box display hanging on the wall next to where we're standing. It's a folded American flag, with a "Red Bull" certificate stating that it had been flown by Task Force 168 during its 2004-05 deployment to Afghanistan. It's a thank-you to the dealership for their patriotic support.

Sure they're patriots. They've got the bullet holes to prove it, don't they?

After we're finally stuffed into Finance Guy's little office, he suddenly balks at taking a loan check from USAA. (I mention USAA by name here, because it's an insurance and finance company with origins in the U.S. armed forces.) He says it's the dealership's policy "not to release a vehicle until a loan-check clears the next business day."

It is Friday afternoon. I have taken a half-day of work off, and so has my wife. Now, he wants me to come back tomorrow. I could write a personal check, and Finance Guy would apparently take it with no question--but he's got problems with a USAA check?!

I calmly tell him to talk to his boss, to ask for a waiver to the alleged policy. He tells me that demanding things is no way to get things done. I begin to take offense. He takes offense. Among other things, he complains that I have requested the dealership's logo not be affixed in any way to our new car. I tell him that, given his dealership's earlier attitude toward citizen-soldiers, his organization is on probation with me. I imply that I might be doing him a favor in not having his business logo on my car.

From zero to 60 seconds, he weaves and speeds from "there are a few bad apples in every organization" to "I'll personally stomp anyone here who says bad things about soldiers" to "See this tie-tack? It's a National Rifle Association emblem. I'm a patriot." He ends up leaving his office for a few minutes, allegedly to talk to a boss. After he returns, my wife and I buy a new car.

Right before we sign the papers, Household-6 asks about that $500 military discount we were promised by Sales Boss Guy. Finance Guy calls and checks. "I saw the photocopy of your military ID in your folder, but I didn't know what it was there for." The discount had never been applied to the purchase price.

*****

What my wife and I don't tell Finance Guy? That Mr. "The Customer is Not Always Right" Sales Boss was also the same person who, after our first visit, appeared on our television doing a car commercial. According to the commercial, "Sales Boss Guy" is actually the dealership's General Manager.

A few bad apples, indeed.

In a military unit, the Head Apple is responsible for everything his or her organization does and fails to do. That goes for maneuvering, supporting, and provisioning troops in combat, and that goes for training them to be effective and professional in their jobs.

The latter includes unsexy tasks such as eliminating discriminatory practices and attitudes within the ranks.

I'm quite pleased with our new car, and not at all pleased with the attitudes we encountered during its purchase. This particular dealership has reportedly spent thousands of dollars to provide teddy bears to the children of deployed Iowa National Guard soldiers. I'd be happier if, in the future, they spent a little money and attention on customer service and diversity training for their management, sales, and support staffs.

In other words, when 3,000 Red Bull troops come home to Iowa later this summer, armed with a year's worth of tax-free income and combat pay, looking for a square deal on a new American-built car or truck, I'd recommend this simple sales strategy:

Put your mouth where your money is.

The 'Leaning on the Butterfly' Effect

FORT IRWIN, Calif., Sept. 26--It's the second full day in the National Training Center (N.T.C.), and a majority of the battalions comprising 2nd Brigade Combat Team, 34th Infantry "Red Bull" Division has reported at least one negligent discharge of a weapon each.

In other words, in just two-plus days in the desert, a handful of friendly weapons have gone off when they weren't supposed to. A couple have been M4 carbines, the smaller, not-too-distant cousin of the M16 rifle. At least one was an M249 Squad Automatic Weapon ("SAW"), which fires the same pinkie-finger-sized ammunition as used in the M4. Rather than shooting one or three rounds at a time, however, the SAW is a light machine gun. It belches belt-fulls of the stuff.

All that pales, however, to the damage potentailly caused by the hot-dog-sized round launched by a vehicle-mounted .50-cal. M2 Browning machine gun. The "ma-deuce" fires is classic killer, a design mostly untouched and unrefined since its invention in the 1920s. The machine gun is fired by depressing with two thumbs a wing-shaped switch at the rear of the weapon. The switch is called the "butterfly."

Because the Red Bull units are only using blank ammunition at NTC, no one has yet been injured. That doesn't offer much relief to soldiers and their leaders, however, who treat every incident like the real deal. "Train like you fight, fight like you train."

The Army doesn't talk about "accidents." Rather, it speaks of "incidents." The circumstances surrounding the unplanned or unintentional firing of any weapon are formally investigated by an officer, and reported through safety representatives, to determine the what can be done to prevent similar incidents in the future. Safety is deadly serious business.

The brigade commander--"Ryder-6"--has called in his staff to attend the evening's teleconference with his battalion commanders. Red Bull staff are typically supposed to be seen and not heard, but such sessions are one of the only ways a brigade staffer can hear directly from their customers out in the field. Logistics guys listen out for logistics problems, communications guys listen out for communications problems, and so on. If you hear the same things from more than one commander, you know you've got a problem that potentially affects more than 3,000 of your fellow soldiers.

The brigade has been in the field for three days and nine meals, and battalions are only now beginning to feed on hot "Class-A" rations. There have been problems throughout the supply chain, pushing goods from unit to unit, breaking them down into smaller amounts along the way. The NTC, after all, is a realistic simulation of real-world challenges. "Time and distance is going to be a factor," observes the brigade commander, "and it's going to be that way."

In some cases, however, the lack of hot chow may have been self-inflicted. One unit, recognizing that it required live ammunition in order to conduct live-fire exercises the next day, reprioritized and requested the next supply convoy deliver less food than ammo. With limited cargo space, it's either "guns or butter." This time, the guns won.

Of course, the same listening technique of "three times briefed makes a trend" also works for those in command. And tonight, the brigade commander is hearing the continuation of a couple of trends that date all the way back to June, when the unit was conducting pre-mobilization training at Camp Ripley, Minn.

It's routine and it's basic stuff, but that doesn't make any of it acceptable to the commander: Soldiers are losing stuff, they're getting careless, and they're needlessly getting hurt.

In a few cases, soldiers are losing track of what the Army calls "sensitive items"--high-dollar and low-level-classified equipments. Things like the M68 Close Combat Optic (C.C.O.), an aiming device that attaches to a rail on a soldier's M4 carbine. The device isn't considered "secret," but is supposed to be accounted for on the twice-daily sensitive-item inventories. Once installed, there's little reason to take it off. Soldiers were instructed to safety-wire such equipment to their rifles, months ago.

"What did we say back at Camp Ripley? 'Dummy-cord your stuff,'" says Ryder-6. "Tie your s--- down. No excuses. That's the order." The commander keeps his anger in reserve, but his frustration still heats up the room a little.

He urges his commanders to emphasize the fundamentals--"mission first, but safety always"--and tries to keep the messages positive. One commander reports a soldier has twisted an ankle while walking around in the darkness on a Forward Operating Base ("FOB"). "We're doing some great training out here, and I realize that soldiers are going to get hurt," says Ryder-6. "But walking out of a TOC and into a water drainage ditch? That one hurts."

"Heat injuries are going to be next," he observes, noting the lack of hot meals and the daily desert highs in the 100-plus-degrees Fahrenheit. Troops have to eat, as well as drink, in order to hydrate and stay healthy. Some troops don't like to eat in the heat, however, particularly when it's a never-ending menu of "Meals, Ready-to-Eat." They start skipping meals.

The most troubling trend for commanders, however--indeed, for anyone who works with or around a weapon--are negligent discharges. Each battalion commander takes his turn in the telephonic hot seat, and rattles off the high- and low-points of the day. Four out of six commanders has at least one negligent discharge on which to report.

The commander whose unit had the negligent discharge of the .50-cal. machine gun says that it occurred when a soldier accidentally "leaned on the butterfly." An awfully small action, resulting with in an awfully big mistake with an even bigger bullet.

The Army's own "butterfly effect."

Before walking onto any FOB, each soldier dismounts and points his or her weapon into a sand-filled "clearing barrel." (There are similar procedures for vehicle-mounted weapons, ones that don't use the barrel.) Soldiers pull the charging handles of their individual weapons, and have an observer confirm there is no ammunition present in the chamber. Then, the soldier pulls the trigger of the weapon while it's pointed into the clearing barrel. If the weapon goes off the clearing barrel will catch or direct the round. It still counts as a negligent discharge, but it's arguably safer than having a still-loaded weapon go off in a barracks or dining facility.

"Buddy-clear your weapons," Ryder-6 says, figuratively footstomping his point. "We have hired junior leaders--NCOs and platoon leaders--to make sure that happens. Make sure they do their jobs."

"It's easy," he says. "It's too easy ..."

The View from Here

FORT IRWIN, Calif., Sept. 26--Regardless of size or type of unit, the Tactical Operations Center ("TOC") is the nerve-center, the hub of activity, the reptilian brain of the organization. Working in "current operations," the staff tracks where people and equipment are, what they're doing, and to whom they're doing it.

Twenty-four-hours-a-day, seven-days-a-week, working in the TOC is simultaneously thrilling, infuriating, and boring beyond belief. The TOC is like a casino, in that there are no windows. "The sun never sets in the TOC," the brigade executive officer likes to say.

Reports constantly go up, down, and sideways through the TOC. Calls and contacts go out seeking more information, more detail, more ground truth. "We're driving the war from this building," the S3 Operations officer reminds his crew. "But it's the battalions that own the battlespace."

It's like playing a party game of "telephone" while simultaneously assembling a jigsaw puzzle and juggling parrots.

And at least one parrot is always on fire.

Some people love this TOC stuff. Others hate it. The latter are the guys who would be out there doing it, taking it to the streets and to the bad guys, rather than working in the air-conditioned dome, sorting through problems and moving pins around on a map.

It takes all kinds to run an Army, of course. We're all pins, one way or another.

For the next 14 days, the operations staff of the 2nd Brigade Combat Team (B.C.T.), 34th Infantry "Red Bull" Division (2-34th BCT) has set up shop on the first floor of the two-story "Igloo"--a newly constructed, dome-shaped permanent building at the National Training Center (N.T.C.). The layout resembles something like the bridge of Star Trek's Starship Enterprise. There are three or four video screens across the front, depicting maps and real-time video feeds and message traffic.

A battle "captain"--the position is rank-immaterial, and can be held by a captain, major, or seasoned non-commissioned officer (N.C.O.)--keeps an eye and ear on what's happening. Located up close to the video screens, multitasking "radio-telephone operators" (R.T.O.) send and receive communications via radio, telephone, e-mail, Blue Force Tracker (B.F.T.), instant- or text-messaging.

The battle captain sits on a raised platform one step up and back from the "battle desk," in order to be able to take it all in at once. Around and behind him, there is a constantly changing collection of people from other organizations and staff functions, a combination "peanut gallery" and "Greek chorus."

Even in a digital age, technology can't replace the value of embedding a knowledgeable inter-organizational liaison, someone who can answer quick questions about unit status, capability, and location. The same time, these liaisons listen in on TOC traffic, and call their respective organizations with the latest news and heads-ups.

Like a fisherman floating on a favorite lake, if you sit in the right place and watch the water, you can see the physical ripple and flow of communications throughout the TOC. The report comes in here, it should go there and there. Now, watch to see where--and if--it goes. Sitting in the back of the room is where I do most of my "knowledge management" mojo, eavesdropping on multiple conversations, making connections, putting the question over here together with the answers over there. People in the TOC ask themselves a never-ending question: "Who else needs to know what we know?"

Sometimes, I am hindered in my eavesdropping efforts. The operations sergeant major attempts to keep the TOC as quiet as a library, and periodically yells at everyone, regardless of rank, to shut the heck up and take all conversations outside of his TOC. Lucky for me, he is stymied by the igloo's poor acoustics and the staff's chatty good humor.

For example, a bulletin board on which "significant actions" ("SIGACTS") are to be listed goes missing. Spartacus starts asking loudly, "Where is the SIGACT board? Somebody took the SIGACT board!"

Pilz, for some reason, is hanging around the battle desk. "We'll need to log that as an incident on the SIGACT board," he tells Spart, "after we find it, of course."

In another corner of the room, one of the wargame referees is whining about the brigade's prohibition on civilian "gut-truck" food vendors in the training area. "That's kind of jacked-up," he says. "Because, No. 1, you're simulating being on a FOB, and you'll have that kind of stuff available in-country. And, No. 2, that's how these guys make their money. They come out every rotation."

Man up, sir. Embrace the suck. The 2-34th is an infantry brigade combat team, not a tasty stimulus package. We're the "Red Bull," not the "Red Burrito!"

There's real lessons-learned stuff to be had, trolling around the conversational airwaves. One battalion, for example, repeatedly calls in emergency medical-evacuation ("MEDEVAC," pronouced "med-evak") request, specifying "red smoke" will be used to mark the landing zone for the helicopter. The TOC staff repeatedly have to validate whether or not the mission is a real emergency, or one that's occurring within the NTC's wargame simulation. "Someone tell them that red smoke is for real-world emergencies only," says the Battle NCO.

Immediately below my perch, a young liaison officer (L.N.O.) from one of the infantry units is schooling the brigade S4 (Logistics) staff on how to use its computer systems to track supplies and equipment. Granted, the kid is some sort of quartermaster savant, but it's a little bit like having a 6th-grader fix daddy's computer. Daddy should keep up with the 21st century, if he doesn't want to get left in the dust.

Just then, the Army laser-tag sensing equipment worn by the brigade information officer starts beeping--indicating he's now a simulated casualty. It's an obvious malfunction--no one has fired a weapon in the TOC, but he looks around, bewildered. Maybe it's a simulated heart-attack. Or spontaneous human combustion.

Another wargame adminstrator walks over with a God-gun to reset the officer's system. "It's all these fluorescent lights," he says. "Working in the TOC will kill you."

Who's Who in the Red Bull Zoo

Friends and family (and media) who are less familiar with military organizations are often puzzled as to how the various pieces and parts of the Red Bull fit together. With more than 3,000 soldiers, the 2nd Brigade Combat Team (B.C.T.), 34th Infantry "Red Bull" Division (2-34th BCT) is a large, multi-faceted and multi-functional organization.

While I plan someday to discuss individual unit histories in more detail (to include the meanings behind all the pretty colored flags), what follows is a quick primer on each of the battalions comprising the brigade.

The 2-34th BCT is typically composed of three battalion-sized "maneuver" or "warfighting" units, and three supporting units. The maneuver units are:

1st Battalion, 133rd Infantry Regiment (1/133rd Inf.). Headquartered in Waterloo, Iowa, with subordinate units located throughout the eastern portions of the state.

1st Battalion, 168th Infantry Regiment (1/168th Inf.). Headquartered in Council Bluffs, Iowa, with subordinate units located throughout the western portions of the state.

1st Squadron, 113 Cavalry Regiment (RSTA) (1/113th Cav.), Headquartered in Sioux City, Iowa, with company-level units in western and central portions of the state. Cavalry units, by the way, call their company-size units "troops," and their battalion-size units "squadrons."

In addition to its maneuver battalions normally assigned to the brigade, the Nebraska Army National Guard's 1st Squadron, 134th Cavalry Regiment (1/134 Cav.) has been attached to Task Force Red Bulls. This unit is headquartered in Hastings, Neb.

Under the modular brigade concept, a brigade combat team also controls units capable of providing the artillery, communications, logistics, and other functions required to keep maneuver units "shooting, moving, and communicating."

In the 2-34th B.C.T., these roles are fulfilled by:

1st Battalion, 194th Field Artillery (1/194th F.A.), headquartered in Fort Dodge, Iowa. While the Field Artillery branch of the U.S. Army is considered a combat arms ("warfighting") function, its role on the battlefield is always in support. After all, one does not take and hold territory with artillery, one pulverizes it. Company-size artillery units are called "batteries," by the way.

While sufficient numbers of 1/194th FA soldiers are deploying to Afghanistan to consider much of the unit deployed, at least as far as Army historians are concerned, its officers and soldiers were spread throughout the remainder of the brigade task force.

2nd Brigade Special Troops Battalion, 34th Infantry Division (2/34th B.S.T.B.). Headquartered in Cedar Rapids, this battalion is a collection of technically specialized companies, including engineering, intelligence, and communications. In a unique wrinkle, the 2-34th BCT headquarters company is also administratively and logistically supported by the 2/34th BSTB.

334th Brigade Support Battalion (334th B.S.B.). Headquartered in Johnston, Iowa, is a collection of units specializing in logistics, maintenance, and medical services.

BONUS ROUND: I often field questions from Red Bull families about how to "decode" their soldiers' mailing addresses. ("I thought my soldier was a member of X unit," for example, "what's all this other stuff mean?" Or "Is this the right Facebook page for Y unit? I thought my soldier was in the Red Bulls, but now I'm not sure.") Though multiple attempts at explanation, I've come across this as a helpful way of thinking out things:

A military organization is like a mailing address, starting with house number, and then on to street, town, state, country, etc.

Using this analogy, "A CO, 1/168 IN, 2-34 BCT" can be thought of (and decoded) as "Alpha Company [house], 1st Battalion [street], 168th Infantry Regiment [town], 2nd Brigade Combat Team [state], 34th Infantry Division [country]."

It also explains why saying "my soldier is in Charlie Company" might be a little like saying "I live at 123 Anystreet." People won't know where you live until they get more information--a more detailed "address."

All this military-address stuff might still look like gobbledegook, of course, but perhaps it makes it easier to understand?

Dressing Right for the Fight

If you haven't gotten the idea yet--remember "floppy socks"?--the commander and command sergeant major of the 2nd Brigade Combat Team (B.C.T.), 34th Infantry "Red Bull" Division are each sticklers for uniform standards.

"I get a little emotional about it," the decidedly unemotional commander told his staff recently here in Camp Shelby, Miss. "It will save lives. It shows discipline in our unit. If we show [the bad guys] any weakness, we're going to get it."

I remember hearing that, after Operation Desert Storm, the Army determined units that slung their M16 rifles over a shoulder were 80 percent more likely to be engaged by the enemy than units who kept their weapons in front of them at all times. And that was with the old slings--with newer "combat" slings, shorter M4 rifles, and collapsible butt stocks, the Army has made it much easier for soldiers to keep their weapons handy.

Last week, a Cavalry trooper friend of mine was driving his up-armored Humvee out to Camp Shelby training areas. "I was headed out the gate," he says, "and guess who's there, checking uniforms?" It was the brigade commander. My friend suddenly realized he wasn't wearing his gloves, or his ballistic eye-protection--goggles that will stop bits of gravel and shrapnel.

Since he was the first vehicle in line, my buddy got busted. To his credit, however, he also had the right equipment with him, and quickly made the correction.

"Soldiers know what 'right' looks like," I had overheard the brigade commander say later that same day. "If you see something that isn't right, correct it."

It might sound a little silly to civilians, but enforcing what and how uniforms are to be worn is Army Leadership 101. At Basic Training drill sergeants often put out small, arbitrary changes in the day's uniform. It can range from "tomorrow, wear only your helmet liner" to "tomorrow, lace your boots left-over-right."

Why? To see if individual soldiers display enough attention-to-detail to properly execute even the smallest change. To see if buddies look out for other buddies--"hey, dude, your uniform is wrong." And to see if peer-leaders get the word out throughout their respective fire teams, squads, and platoons.

See, soldier? There is a method to the Army madness. Your drill sergeant wasn't as crazy as you thought she was.

A couple of other random notes on uniformity:

When Red Bull soldiers are in the Camp Shelby barracks areas--an environment variously described as "in garrison," "on cantonment," and "on the FOB"--they're either to be dressed in Army fatigues or the Army Physical Fitness Uniform (A.P.F.U.). If they're in APFU, they're also supposed to wear a reflective belt for visibility--even in daylight hours.

Wearing the APFU also standardizes off-duty appearance across genders, as much as the Army can. While still more revealing than the Army Combat Uniform (A.C.U.), no one would ever describe the APFU as provocative or alluring. The Army simply doesn't want soldiers ogling other soldiers.

Civilian clothes are not authorized. You're supposed to pack at least one set of civvies for going on pass--but that's about it. Oh, and civilian clothes have to be nice enough for your chaplain to see you in. No tube-tops and Daisy Mae shorts, or "F--- the Army" T-shirts.

Finally, of course, there's the issue of the new MultiCam fatigues. The 2-34 BCT was the first Army unit to receive the Afghanistan-specific uniforms and equipment. Red Bull soldiers have been instructed to wear the new mountain boots enough to break them in, but to pack the MultiCam uniforms away until after their National Training Center rotation. After all, we wouldn't want soldiers to get the mud-colored uniforms dirty.

In the meantime, the Public Affairs team has been working on a poster that depicts "what 'Right' looks like" while wearing the new uniforms. As they say, a picture is worth a thousand uniform corrections.

More on MultiCam madness tomorrow!

Convoy Communications 2.0

The bus ride from the middle of Iowa to Camp Shelby apparently takes about 16 hours, judging by this week's "radio traffic" on Facebook. The brigade has been moving out, piece by piece, unit by unit, on a nearly daily schedule.

Watching the Facebook news feeds has been a little like eavesdropping on the radio, with my fellow soldiers conversing between buses. Sometimes, they're even on the same bus.

Messages such as "I'm so glad that dog-and-pony send-off ceremony is over" to "Welcome to Camp Shelby, where there is no gravity, but everything sucks," clued me in to where people are on the map. Time between "dog-and-pony" to "Camp Shelby" message? Approximately 16 hours.

When I first learned how to do stateside convoy operations, we maintained communications via our FM radios. We were lucky to get a few miles out of them, from front of our first serial (or "stick) of vehicles, to the middle of our convoy. To talk from the front to the rear of our entire battalion, we'd have to relay messages, like a big game of tactical "telephone."

"Bravo-Tree-Six, THIS IS Bravo-Four-One. I have contact with Bravo-Two-Four. I will relay your message, OVER."

"ROGER, Bravo-Four-One, THIS Bravo-Tree-Six. What is Bravo-Two-Four's location and rate-of-march, OVER?"

And so on.

It helped pass the time, I guess. And the miles.

Some 20 years ago, on my first convoy move, our battalion had three sticks moving eastbound through my old stomping grounds in Eastern Iowa. There is/was a confusing split between Interstates 74 and 80. The unit was supposed to stay on Interstate 80.

Suddenly, some convoy-leading lieutenant--yes, I still remember his name; no, I'm not going to tell it right now--gets on the horn. His message over the radio sounds like something out of an old M.A.S.H. TV episode: "My location is ... I am passing a Red Lobster ... right ... NOW!"

As most of the radio net was laughing at the young officer's inappropriate choice of landmarks--identifying a mile marker or intersection would have been more useful--I realized something else. For many years, I lived in this particularly part of Eastern Iowa, and I knew this:

There is no Red Lobster located on Interstate 80.

The lieutenant, in other words, was mis-oriented and headed south, both figuratively and literally.

I tell that story not only because is sounds like Maj. Frank Burns fiasco, but because those days are pretty much over. During our travel up to Camp Ripley, Minn., for this year's Annual Training, most of our vehicles did not have FM radios installed. Instead, our company commander and his lieutenants tried to communicate via civilian civilian cell phones, because that's all they had. The problem was, no phone is loud enough to hear or talk over the noise of a Humvee engine. And putting your phone on "vibrate" doesn't work, either, because--believe me--the Humvee vibrates way more than your phone.

Downrange and in country, most of our vehicles will have Blue Force Tracker (B.F.T.) devices installed. We use a dismounted BFT device in the Tactical Operations Center ("TOC") in order to track the whereabouts of each vehicle in near-real-time. The position of each BFT-capable vehicle updates via Global Positioning System (G.P.S.) refreshes every few minutes, and is displayed on a map as a little blue dot or square. In Army terms, "Blue Force" is friendly; "Red Force" is bad guys.

We can also use BFT to text-message among vehicles and the TOC. It's great technology: Great for putting your finger on nearly everyone's location on the battlefield. Great for reaching out and touching people: "Hey, you're turning your convoy the wrong way!"

Then again, troops using Blue Force Tracker will never land a war story like the "Great Red Lobster Turnaround."

Death to Floppy Socks!

I'm 0 for 2, with as many on-the-spot corrections made on yours truly in as many days. Yesterday, I made the mistake of assuming that officers would not want to be saluted outside our the Entry Control Point (E.C.P.) of our big circus tent of a Tactical Operations Center ("TOC").

Once, in my experience, officers avoided being saluted "in the field," fearing observation by enemy soldiers with long-distance rifle scopes. Soldiers would darkly joke about "sniper checks" when forced to salute under field conditions.

Our TOC tent complex is surrounded by three strands of Concertina--looping strands of flesh-and-uniform-stripping razor wire. To enter the complex, one has to clear one's weapon, present security badge, and proceed along a hard-plastic walkway into the TOC. Again, I figured that the ECP is a choke-point for larger groups of people. A suicide bomber need only wait until observing a flurry of salutes outside the ECP, before going for it. They wouldn't even have to get into the wire.

It seems I was wrong. Already seated in the chow hall, the operations sergeant major waited until I was juggling my Styrofoam tray and my fruit punch and my rifle, before calling me over to ask about why I wasn't saluting around the TOC.

I was busted, I guess, but I thought I was just following procedure.

He was right, of course, but it pretty much ruined my evening. I had been hurrying to get back to the TOC to work extra hours. After the sandpaper-napkin treatment, I opted to take my time getting back.

Tonight, I was rushing to dinner chow again, when I passed the new brigade commander and command sergeant major. As I may have mentioned, I've deployed with them before, and I appreciate their calm-and-quiet command styles. (OK, the sergeant major can get a little loud when he wants, but that's a sergeant-major thing.) I popped off the new greeting, "Red Bull, Sir!"

Instead of answering with "Attack," however, the commander pulled me off to the side of the road I was walking. "Let's see here," he says, only half-smiling. "Look at my sergeant major. Look how he is holding his weapon to the front. Look how he has positive muzzle control, with both hands on the weapon. You're holding your weapon slung off to side. It looks like floppy socks. No more floppy socks!"

You know the quote about how diplomacy is the art of telling someone to go jump in a lake and have them like it? I think the commander's got a bit of that blarney-kiss, too. I'm not crazy about keeping my weapon at the "modified low-ready" at all times, but I sure as heck didn't mind being corrected. Given the high ranks involved, I would've predicted otherwise. I guess it's all in the delivery.

After I'd had my meal, and returned to the TOC, I asked the operations sergeant major about the apparently new policy. He told me it was all about positive trigger, muzzle, and safety control. How are the troops supposed to know about this, I asked?

"It was in that FRAGO [a written "fragmentary order"] you helped push out this morning," he replied. "You should really read them sometime, when you're delivering them."

Bring Your Units to Attention!

Later today, the 2-34 Brigade Combat Team (B.C.T.) colors will officially pass to Col. Ben Corell and Command Sgt. Maj. Joel Arnold in a small ceremony. The unit's headquarters and subordinate battalions continue to conduct Annual Training at Camp Ripley, Minn.

Earlier this week, the colors have been posted outside the brigade Tactical Operations Center ("TOC"). It was a windy day, and I managed to capture a decent picture.

According to U.S. Army Regulation 840-10, which regards "Flags, Guidons, Streamers, Tabards and Automobile and Aircraft Plates," the ceremonial flag that traditionally marks the position of the brigade commander on the battlefield is described as follows:

The flag has two vertical stripes of equal width with the shoulder sleeve insignia of the applicable division in proper colors, 10 inches high, above the number of the brigade in Arabic numerals 8 inches high, both centered on the flag. Named brigades of the division will use a monogram “AVN” or “ENG” in lieu of a number. The fringe is yellow. The first stripe of all brigades is red. The second stripe of armored and cavalry division brigades is yellow. The second stripe of airborne, infantry, and training or exercise division brigades is national flag blue. Numerals or letters on armored and cavalry division brigades are green. Numerals or letters on airborne, infantry and training or exercise division brigades are white.

The streamers, by the way, commemorate the unit's battles in: The Indian Wars, the Civil War, the War with Spain, the Philippine Insurrection, and World Wars I and II.

Godspeed Col. Corell and Command Sgt. Maj. Joel Arnold, and Godspeed the 2-34 BCT.

"Red Bulls, Attack!"

The New Sound-off!

One of the ways new commanders make their marks is to change the unit motto or greeting. For years, members of the 2nd Brigade Combat Team (B.C.T.), 34th Infantry Division have greeted each other with the lower-ranking soldier saluting and sounding off with "On the objective!"

The reply was "Attack!"--an echo of the divisional motto, which is "Attack! Attack! Attack!"

Our new commander and command sergeant major have issued orders that the new sound-off will be "Red Bulls!" The reply will remain "Attack!"

I finally encountered Command Sgt. Maj. Joel Arnold while walking my 6-block commute to the Tactical Operations Center yesterday morning. I asked for clarification: Was the new salute "Red Bull" singular or "Red Bulls" plural?

He was in his full battle-rattle, and carrying his M-4 rifle at the ready, but the sergeant major shot me a look both flinty and amused.

"I'm saying 'Red Bulls,' with an 'S,'" he said, "because we're a team! 'Red Bull'? 'Red Bull' is an energy drink!"

Hoo-rah! Sounds good to me, sergeant major! 'Red Bulls' it is!

A Change in Command: Dust-up or Sandstorm?

There was lots of rumor and innuendo in the bull pen this past week, as the commander and top non-commissioned officer of the 2nd Brigade Combat Team (B.C.T.), 34th Infantry Division were abruptly reassigned. This is only days before the unit moves out to three weeks of Annual Training in Camp Ripley, Minn., and only a few months prior to deployment of approximately the unit's 3,000 soldiers to Afghanistan.

The Des Moines Register splashed the news on the front page, and attempted to offer context without a lot of information. The news article indicated Col. Tom Staton and Command Sgt. Maj. Craig Berte were relieved "due to violations of Army regulations"--a phrase that, weather-wise, could mean anything from gale-force winds to the proverbial "tempest in a teapot."

I'm not personally privy to the particulars of this human resources sandstorm, nor do I wish to speculate. As they say, whatever happened is "way above my pay grade." I was gladly following the leadership of both Staton and Berte, and now I'll gladly follow the leadership of their replacements. That's the way the Army works.

It should be recognized that Staton and Berte have worked for years to make our organization a success. Regardless of the circumstances of their reassignments, they're deserving of some thanks: After all, they got us pretty far down the road toward deployment to Afghanistan. It's too bad that last week's dark clouds obscured their efforts, and potentially tarnished our unit's reputation.

On toward less bleak sentiments ...

One of the advantages the Army National Guard enjoys over the active-duty Army is that we soldiers mostly grow up with one another. Our officers and non-commissioned officers are friends, family, and neighbors. We're rooted in our communities, and share common histories.

That means that when people change positions, we're still likely (and lucky) to see familiar faces.

For example, a story-telling warrant officer in headquarters company often talks about being squad leader to a kid named Tim Orr, way back in the day. Orr grew up to be the brigade commander, and is now The Adjutant General ("TAG") of the State of Iowa.

Such familiarity can make command transitions easier and more efficient.

The new brigade commander is Col. Ben Corell, who has previously commanded the 1st Battalion, 133rd Infantry Regiment (1-133 Infantry)--a Red Bull division unit. He deployed his battalion to Egypt in 2003-2004 on a peacekeeping mission, and to Iraq in 2005-2007 on a ... non-peacekeeping mision. The latter deployment was part of the 1-34 BCT's historic 22-month stint in Iraq--no other Army unit, reserve or active-duty, was deployed longer. (60 Minutes embedded with the unit, resulting in the hour-long "Fathers, Sons and Brothers." See text here, or purchase here.)

To my knowledge, the new command sergeant major has not yet been announced.

Unlike most civilian organizations, a military unit is designed and trained to be machine-like. While the life of every soldier may be individually precious and irreplaceable, we are each trained ultimately to be replaceable. Like Eli Whitney's celebrated musket-parts, we are interchangeable. We are trained to take life, and to give our own. We are trained to step up when another falls: "Mission first, soldiers always."

See you on the objective!