Comic Book Tells of Nisei Soldiers' Service, Humility

Oahu-based writer and entrepreneur Stacey Hayashi didn't start out to write a comic book about World War II—particularly one filled with disarmingly cute characters drawn in a style called "chibi." Inspired first by family and friends' war service, she wanted to tell an unflinching story about the Nisei soldiers—Japanese-American soldiers who fought in Italy, France, and elsewhere—as a feature-length film.

If the world is lucky, it might still be a Hollywood movie someday. This is, after all, a story that should be told again and again.

When Hawaii's film economy turned cloudy in the late 2000s, however, Hayashi was worried that years of research into a screenplay would go to waste. "It's not like you can bind a script and have people read it," she says. "And then it hit me ... a comic book! It would be like storyboards, sort of."

The 30-something Hawaii native teamed up with artist and Rhode Islander Damon Wong, to create and publish "A Journey of Heroes"—an educationally accessible and emotionally powerful graphic novel about second-generation immigrants who put their country first, no matter the cost. In the wake of Japan's Dec. 7, 1941 attack on Pearl Harbor, Japanese-American citizens struggled for opportunities to serve their country. Too often, their efforts were met with distrust and racial discrimination.

The Nisei soldiers—the word connotes "second generation"—include the 100th Infantry Battalion (100th Inf. Bn.), and the 442nd Infantry Regiment (442nd Inf. Reg.). In World War II Italy, the 100th Inf. was, for a time, attached to the 34th Infantry "Red Bull" Division (34th Inf. Div.). In addition to wearing the patch, the soldiers even painted the Red Bull symbol on their helmets. The unit was celebrated as the "Purple Heart Battalion," due to the number of its members who had been killed or wounded while fighting the enemy.

The 100th Inf. Bn. trained at Camp McCoy, Wis., and Camp Shelby, Miss, and fought as part of the 34th Inf. Div.'s 133rd Regiment in North Africa and Italy, including battles at Mount Cassino, Anzio, and Rome. After Rome, it became part of the larger 100th/442nd Regimental Combat Team (100th/442nd R.C.T.). The unique, combined numerical designation was a special recognition of the 100th Inf. Bn's previous military accomplishments.

Later, at great cost in lives and casualties, the 100th/442nd Inf. RCT would famously rescue a "lost battalion" of Texas's 36th Inf. "Arrowhead" Div.

Nisei soldiers also include those who served with Military Intelligence Service (M.I.S.). These Japanese-American soldiers served as translators, and trained at Camp Savage and Fort Snelling, Minn.

In addition to battlefield heroics and tragedies, "Journey of Heroes" also offers moments of humor and light-heartedness. Initially, for example, there are language- and culture-barriers between the "Buddhaheads" from Hawaii and the "Kotonks" from mainland states:

"Jus cuz you soun' like one haole no mean you mo bettah dan me!" 

"How am I supposed to know what you're talking about, you crazy Hawaiian?"

Later, those differences are erased when the troops are taken on a field-trip to visit an internment camp. During World War II, the American government detained Japanese-American citizens in camps, and deprived them of their freedoms and properties. With dinners and dances, the internees hosted the troops. From those experiences, the soldiers took lessons of patriotism, thanksgiving, and humility.

"Some were very angry at being put in these camps, and rightfully so," says the narrator, "but I noticed the Japanese philosophy of 'shikata ga na'—it can't be helped—at work. They also reminded me of my parents at home, who said "Gaman"—to endure hardships with grace. [...] We based a real unit after that. From then on, we were all in this together."

The "Journey of Heroes" comic is drawn as a manga, similar to black-and-white comics originating in Japan. Rather than a gritty or realistic style, Hayashi and Wong opted for cute characterizations, called "chibi."

Using the friendly-looking cartoon characters meant they could soften the story without dumbing down the facts. That was important, because Hayashi's objective was always that "Journey to Heroes" could be used in libraries and classrooms. "Yes, it's a book that's going to have war and violence in it, but I didn't feel that that was the lesson," Hayashi says. "To me, the true story is the story of [the veterans'] character, and what they did in the face of racism and adversity ..."

"Also, because they're so cute—like the vets themselves—as the reader, I think maybe people are sometimes sadder ... like, how can something so awful happen to this guy who is so cute?" she says. "Even when you meet the vets themselves [in person]. Sure, some of them are tough, gruff old men you don't want to mess with, but they are also so friendly, so cheerful, so generous and gracious and playful, it's hard to believe that these guys were also tough soldiers."

When "Journey of Heroes" was first published as a 30-page comic in 2012, some 5,000 copies were donated to Hawaiian schools and libraries. The content is suitable for ages 10 and up. A second run of the comic is anticipated in late 2013, with additional new pages. One notable innovation: As individuals and organizations, World War II veterans and their supporters often sponsor distribution of the comics into classrooms—putting history in the hands of today's young people, in a fresh, tangible, and unforgettable way.

An introduction to the book by the late U.S. Sen. Daniel Inouye, himself a 442nd RCT veteran, reads in part:

We were unlike most other soldiers because we bore the responsibility of bringing honor to our families' names, and proving that Americanism was not a matter of skin color, but a matter of heart and mind.

To purchase a copy of "Journey of Heroes," visit the website here. Cost is $10 each, plus shipping and handling. There is also a 5-mintute movie-style trailer for the comic book posted on YouTube here, and embedded below in this blog-post.

There is also a Facebook page for the comic book here.

To learn more about sponsorship opportunities, visit the website here, or view a 5-minute YouTube video here.

A Few Quiet Words on Justice

Today is the funeral of Staff Sgt. James A. Justice, 32, killed April 23 in Kapisa Province, Afghanistan, during a mission to secure the crash site of a downed U.S. Army scout helicopter.

I knew Justice, although not well. We worked alongside each other last summer at Camp Shelby, Miss. Each of us was a non-deploying soldier assigned to help the Iowa National Guard mobilize 3,000 troops of 2nd Brigade Combat Team (B.C.T.), 34th Infantry "Red Bull" Division. We were to help get them out the door to the National Training Center at Fort Irwin, Calif., and onward to Afghanistan.

In September or October, we'd each subsequently gone off to different assignments back in Iowa. I eventually retired from uniformed service. Justice somehow managed to volunteer to re-join the Red Bull. He was assigned to Iowa's 1st Squadron, 113th Cavalry Regiment (1-113th Cav.). The unit had been in Afghanistan since November. Justice arrived in February.

I didn't find out that he'd deployed until I heard the news reports of his death.

The press release announcing Justice's death said that everybody called him "Juice," but I didn't know that. I've got another, smaller story to tell: Justice was a hard worker. He'd single-handedly set up training events for deploying soldiers, working late hours into the night, then happily adapt to last-minute changes demanded the next morning by less-dedicated soldiers, civilians, and contractors.

Taking offense on his behalf, a few of us on the team shared a running joke--a word-play on his last name.

"At least," we would say, admiring his cheerful diligence in the face of Army bureaucracy, "we have Justice on our side."

The Weather Rock

CAMP SHELBY, Miss., August 2010--The Weather Rock hangs in front of Headquarters Troop, 1st Squadron, 113th Cavalry Regiment (1/113th Cav.). It is bigger than your first, smaller than your head, and is suspended by olive-drab "550" cord used by Army parachutists. As such, it can withstand theoretical wind speeds far in excess of my ability to combine math and physics. Science, after all, is hard.

Saber2th is the one who introduced me to the Weather Rock. He and The Hamster, his sidekick and usual partner in crime. Part of their team's job involves reporting the weather, and its potential effects on military operations--if it's going to be too windy for aircraft operations, for example.

That's where the Weather Rock comes in.

Saber2th explains how it works:

"When the Weather Rock is warm to the touch, that means it's hot. When the Weather Rock is cool, that means it's cold. If it's wet, it's raining. If it's swinging back and forth, it's windy. If it's moist, it's humid. If it's jerking wildly about, there's been an earthquake."

He says this all straight-faced and deadpan and official-sounding, of course, as if he were briefing the time of day or the color of the sky. It is a beautiful thing to behold. He is in his element. He is rocking the TOC.

The Weather Rock: Get yours today! Results may vary. Void where prohibited.

The Brotherhood of the Traveling Flat Minuteman

There's a 21st Century tradition in the Army National Guard of mounting life-sized photographic likenesses of deployed soldiers to cardboard, foamboard, or corrugated plastic. They're called "Flat Daddies" (yes, there are "Flat Mommies," too) and some of them really get around: Family reunions, vacations, dance recitals, birthday parties.

There are a lot of twists and turns in the following story, but they all center on what might be billed as the "Granddaddy of All Flat Daddies."

Danny Coggins is president of Gulf States Manufacturers, fabricators of metal buildings systems. When business slowed a year or two back, he challenged his employees to come up with a patriotic project to spruce up the exterior of their Starkville, Miss., plant.

"They told me, 'The only thing we know is steel.' And I said, 'Well, then, that's the language we'll use.'"

A couple of great stories result. First, the workers create a work of art outside the business, one that includes minutemen and the seals of each U.S. service branch. "It's pretty amazing," Coggins says. "For us to do this kind of detail work is a little bit like asking a framing carpenter to do your cabinets. Our guys figured it out."

Then, a little girl starts stopping by the plant to add some flowers to the display. Goggins zaps the girl's grade-school teacher an e-mail. "I thought Gracieann was pretty special, but even more special was a teacher who teaches patriotism," Coggins says. The e-mail travels around the Internet a couple of times, and, by the time that Coggins gets a chance to introduce himself, she's already fielding media inquiries.

Then, a general officer at Camp Shelby phoned, and asked if he could make the 3-hour drive up from the Hattiesburg area. "We're a 40-year-old business, and we're not a pretty place," says Coggins. "Suddenly, we've got a general coming to visit."

While preparing this summer for a deployment to Afghanistan, soldiers of the Iowa National Guard's 2nd Brigade Combat Team (B.C.T.), 34th Infantry "Red Bull" Division (2-34th BCT) first noticed the 6-foot-tall steel minuteman standing outside Paxton Hall at Camp Shelby, Miss. Turns out, that minuteman is only one of some 70 that were subsequently installed throughout the State of Mississippi. You know, after that general visited.

The 34th Infantry "Red Bull" Division has a well-established history with Camp Shelby. In World War II, members of the celebrated Japanese-American 442nd Regimental Combat Team (R.C.T.) trained there. The unit would later fight alongside the Red Bull in the mountains of Italy.

While at Camp Shelby prior to a 2005 deployment to Iraq, members of the division's 1st Brigade Combat Team (1-34th BCT) re-created a "living patch" photograph that evoked the division's World War I origins at Camp Cody, N.M. The 1-34th BCT included two units that are now deployed with the 2-34th BCT: Iowa's 1st Battalion, 133rd Infantry Regiment (1/133 Inf.); and Nebraska's 1st Squadron, 134th Cavalry Regiment (1/134th Cav.).

Although he's proud of his employees' efforts, Coggins repeatedly stresses that Gulf States Manufacturers is not in the business of making or selling 6-foot-tall flat minutemen. The "statues" don't have a brand or company name on them. Rather, they say "Made in the U.S.A." and "God Bless America." They're made out of 100-percent U.S. steel, by the way.

There are, however, 8-inch-tall steel replicas of the Gulf States minuteman for sale at the Mississippi Armed Services Museum, also on Camp Shelby. Gulf States Manufacturers donates them to the Mississippi Chapter of the American Gold Star Mothers, so that the chapter can raise a little money.

Gold Star Mothers have lost a child in service to his or her country. There's a conference room at Gulf States Manufacturers designated for Gold Star Mothers' use: For meetings, for counseling classes, for grief sessions--whatever they need, whenever they need it.

The bottom line to all this? Gulf States Manufacturers is a group of creative, patriotic people who have repeatedly gone the extra mile for troops and their families.

Now, I told you all that in order to tell you another one ...

In addition to many other fine attributes, Coggins is also a former combat engineer. He was once even a member of the Iowa National Guard's 224th Engineer Battalion--"Iowa's Engineers"--when he lived in Mount Pleasant, Iowa. When Coggins and his buddies found out the Red Bull was once again on the move through Mississippi, he saw another opportunity to deliver more Gulf States steel on target.

Retired Col. John "Jack" Wallace, chairman of the Mississippi Employer Support to the Guard and Reserve (E.S.G.R.), personally delivered to Camp Shelby one of the 6-foot steel minutemen to the Iowa National Guard's 2nd Brigade Combat Team (B.C.T.), 34th Infantry "Red Bull" Division (2-34th BCT). Iowa's Lt. Col. John Perkins, commander of the 334th Brigade Support Battalion (334th B.S.B.), accepted the minuteman on behalf of the brigade. There's talk that the minuteman will eventually reside at Iowa's own Gold Star Museum, Camp Dodge, Iowa.

But the minuteman isn't coming home to Iowa--at least, not right away.

The 334th BSB includes soldiers who are logisticians and maintainers. You want to move or improve something, you go to the BSB. The battalion's motto? "Support the Attack!"

In less than a day, the metal-heads in the 334th BSB figured out how to mount the 100-pound minuteman statue on a portable stand. The Red Bull is shipping out to Afghanistan this month, and so is the steel minuteman.

"Attack!"

There are a couple of lessons I take from all this:

If you are business owner, manager, or employee, you can help your organization to think beyond flag-displays, free lunches, and military-discounts. Look for unique ways that you put your own stamp on ways to celebrate, remember, and help people. Look for the low-cost, the meaningful, the win-win. (A "Gold Star Mothers" conference room? Genius!)

If you are a National Guard soldier or spouse employed by a business that supports you and your family's service, you can nominate that organization for recognition by the Department of Defense's ESGR program. Click here, fill out the form, and hit "send"--it takes less than 5 minutes!

And, if you are a Red Bull soldier serving in Afghanistan, and you come across a certain Flat Minuteman, tell him Danny, Jack, and Sherpa say "hi." We look forward to your stories.

CAMP SHELBY, Mississippi – Retired Col. Jack Wallace, chairman of the Mississippi Employer Support of the Guard and Reserve (ESGR), presents Lt. Col. John Perkins, commander of the 334 Brigade Support Battalion of the 2-34th Brigade Combat Team, with a 6-foot tall “Steel Minuteman.” The steel minuteman statue is a gift from Danny Coggins, president of Gulf State Manufacturers, Starkville, MS. Coggins is a former member of both the Iowa (224th Engineer Battalion) and Mississippi National Guard. The statue will accompany the 2-34th BCT during the year long deployment to Afghanistan. More than 3,200 Iowa and Nebraska National Guard soldiers from the 2-34th BCT will deploy later this fall to Afghanistan in support of Operation Enduring Freedom. (Photo by Capt. Adrian Sean Taylor, HHC 334th BSB)

Chatting Up the Patch

This post was written earlier in September:

It was only after three people at the airport asked me whether I was "coming or going" that I realized what was going on. People just wanted to whether I was traveling in the direction of home or Afghanistan.

In an attempt to avoid too many questions about why I had body armor in my personal luggage, I was traveling in uniform. Tropical storms and tornadoes had socked Dallas/Fort Worth in the eye, and I was transferred between airlines. I believe the industry term is "walking the ticket," but from where I was, it looked a whole lot more like a full-on sprint.

Given that my ultimate destination was Camp Shelby, Miss., I decided my canned response to "coming or going" should be: "Going. But only halfway." I also reveled in the potential double-meaning, given this summer's news that I was off the deployment bus.

I can think pretty fast, you see, but that's only if I've thought ahead. Start pushing me toward a plane that isn't headed where I think I should be headed, and this particular Red Bull becomes a balky calf. As the aircraft door hit me in the backside, and I searched out the seat the gate agent swore was waiting for me, I'm sure I looked to my fellow passengers like the proverbial cow in the headlights.

Civilians in the Camp Shelby area now recognize the Red Bull patch we wear on our left shoulders, and will chat soldiers up about life back in Iowa. I've also had Red Bull veterans and families introduce themselves in airport coffee shops and gate areas.

It gets a little more problematic when people comment on the right-shoulder patch. Generally, a soldier who has deployed to a "combat zone" can wear the patch of the unit with which he or she "went to war." Even if the soldier transfers units, the right-shoulder patch will stay the same.

So, quick lesson-learned for making airport small-talk here: Look for the patch, ask about it, and you'll find a friend. Most soldiers take pride in their units, and where they've been deployed.

My own "combat patch"--I'm getting a little cheeky here, for reasons I'm about to tell you--is a little more problematic, conversationally. First, I was awarded the badge for a peacekeeping mission. You know how "military intelligence" is a contradiction in terms? Try wearing "a combat patch for peacekeeping duty."

(There's a related line from Stanley Kubrick's "Full Metal Jacket," about wearing a peace symbol on one's helmet: "I think I was trying to suggest something about the duality of man [...] The Jungian thing, sir.")

Second, I wear the patch of the XVIII Airborne Corps. Jokingly referred to as the "Gagging Dragon," it features the profile of a ferocious-looking, spear-spewing lizard. A separate "Airborne" tab tops the patch.

If I wore the same tab on my left shoulder, it would signal that I was in a unit that jumps out of perfectly good aircraft. If I wore a parachutist's badge over my "U.S. Army," it would indicate that I'd individually been trained to do just that, and, in the process, lived at least three times to tell the story.

At the airport, people sometimes see the "Airborne" tab on my right-shoulder and ask me about jumping out of perfectly good aircraft. I hope that I don't disappoint them--I'm not "Airborne," and I'm certainly not an "Airborne Ranger." (A "Ranger" tab is a Whole 'Nother Animal.") I'm a soldier, not a "death from above" paratrooper.

Recently, a buddy told me what the active-duty soldiers call someone who isn't Airborne-qualified, but still wears an Airborne tab as part of a unit or combat patch:

"You're a 'penguin,'" he informed me. "You're a flightless bird!"

Sherpa the Friendly Ghost

Written sometime in September 2010, Camp Shelby, Miss.: I know this violates Sherpa's Deployment Rules Nos. 1 and 2: "Never complain," and "Never Compare the Suck." But I'm tired of the Army, tired of Camp Shelby, tired of packing and unpacking. Tired of my hotel room that smells of stale tobacco smoke. Tired of these lumpy sheets. Tired of eating bad food, when I feel like eating at all. Tired of the Mississippi humidity, and the air-conditioning unit that is one step past the "denial" stage of mechanical failure.

Mostly, I'm tired of missing my wife and kids. Tired of imagining their voices, and then not being able to hear them clearly across the crackle and pop of a cell phone. Unlike a distant radio telephone operator (R.T.O.), you can't tell a kindergartner to "I DO NOT UNDERSTAND. SAY AGAIN, Honey, ALL AFTER 'Hamster.' Who got a hamster?!"

Household-6 reminds me not to look the proverbial Cavalry horse in mouth: Earlier this summer, suddenly learning that I would not deploy to Afghanistan was an emotional shock to the family, as well as a potential financial one. That my Iowa National Guard superiors asked me to help push the 2nd Brigade Combat Team (B.C.T.), 34th Infantry Division (2-34 BCT) out the door as a non-deploying soldier was both backhanded compliment and a blessing.

It hasn't all been honeymoon and roses, however.

I'm currently on my third trip to Mississippi. At first, I felt like Casper the Friendly Ghost. I'd suddenly appear in a Tactical Operations Center (TOC) or a chow hall, and my buddies would give me a familiar nod before I'd see a wider recognition pass across their eyes. "Waitaminut," I see them thinking, "Sherpa isn't supposed to be here."

It was fun the first couple of times. Now, it's just heartbreaking. Because instead of Casper, my now-you-see-me-now-you-don't existence is more like reruns of Quantum Leap. Or Beetlejuice. Or Quantum Leap. Every time I shake your hand and say good-bye, it might just be the last time I see you.

My buddies invited me over to the barracks to play dominoes one night. Most of them were getting ready to jump from the frying pan of Mississippi into the fire of the California desert. We stayed up too late, but, to me, it was worth it. I'll miss the boredom and I'll miss the action, but mostly, I'll miss my buddies.

Still, we'll always have Camp Shelby.

Theories of Time and Space

If you are open-minded and observant, you can sometimes detect the presence of angels--even if you don't particularly believe in them.

Long-time friends will recognize that I tend to get both faithful and fatalistic when it comes to big life decisions: Whatever is supposed to happen is supposed to happen. Some people might call that living in the present, or being mindful. As a good Lutheran boy, however, I choose to ascribe it to a powerful and loving God--a being supreme enough that he probably thinks it's funny that I give him so much credit.

Life is a journey, but it's more like steering a canoe than it is driving a car. You can shift it this way or that way a little, but you're always moving forward, and you'd better anticipate the occasional rapids.

When Household-6 and I found out that I was going to deploy to Afghanistan, we put ourselves in God's hands. When we found out, dramatically and suddenly, that I would not be deploying to Afghanistan--that, in fact, I would be retired by the end of the year--we tried the same tack:

"Maybe we have learned what we were supposed to learn, just from the experience of making preparations," we told ourselves. Little did we know.

A few days later, I was back in uniform. This time, I was assigned to help my Red Bull buddies get to Afghanistan. Traveling back and forth to Camp Shelby, Miss., has turned out to be a strange blessing, because it's kept me in touch with my buddies and my unit, far longer than I would have otherwise.

I can't predict where my family's new path may lead, but I know that am occasionally visited by angels of coincidence. Today, on Iowa Public Radio, Garrison Keillor read a poem by Natasha Trethewey on his daily "Writer's Alamanac" program. Titled "Theories of Time and Space," the poem begins, "You can get there from here, though there's no going home. Everywhere you go will be somewhere you've never been."

There are too many coincidences happening to me right now. Almost daily, obstacles are removed, opportunities are presented, and happy coincidences flash by like roadsigns. Here's one such example: Trethewey’s poem moves on to explore a drive along Highway 49, the very road I've traveled repeatedly between Gulfport and Camp Shelby. I have walked this ground; I am walking this ground.

The title of the collection from which the poem is taken?

"Native Guard."

***

(Here's an Amazon link to the Pulitzer Prize-winning book, in case you are as inspired as I am to explore Tretheway's work.)

The Bull, the Hawk, and the Pike

A quick and visual history lesson today ... File this knowledge under "Know your patches"!

The Red Bull patch was designed by American regionalist painter Marvin Cone. Cone was a National Guard soldier stationed at Camp Cody, N.M. with the 34th Infantry Division (not yet nicknamed the "Red Bull") during World War I. What's a "regionalist" painter? Cone was a friend and colleague of Grant Wood, the latter the artist of such revered works as "American Gothic," "Arbor Day," and "The Midnight Ride of Paul Revere." Think "guy with pitchfork standing next to his sister in front of house with a church-shaped window," and you'll be close.

The "Hawkeye" patch, which is currently worn by members of the Iowa Army National Guard not otherwise assigned to the 2nd Brigade Combat Team (B.C.T.), 34th Infantry "Red Bull" Division, mirrors the "olla" jug shape in somewhat larger form. The patch was originally designed as the unit crest for the 34th Infantry Division headquarters and separate units of the division, including the 67th Infantry Brigade.

The patch features the profile of a hawk, and blue and gold laurels. The latter evokes the French influence on the state, which was part of the Louisiana Purchase. The former is symbolic of Iowa as the "Hawkeye" state.

Why the Hawkeye? The state's official nickname was partly due to the efforts of two boosters shortly after statehood: Judge David Rorer or Burlington and newspaper publisher James G. Edwards of Fort Madision, and later of Burlington.

Rorer was apparently an enthusiast of James Fenimore Cooper, who wrote "The Last of the Mohicans." In that book, the nickname "Hawkeye" is affixed to the scout Natty Bumppo. Edwards was a friend of Chief Blackhawk, and saw an opportunity to commemorate the Native American in the term "Hawkeye." He re-named his newspaper the "Burlington Hawk-eye and Iowa Patriot." The newspaper continues publication to this day.

The Nebraska National Guard's 67th Battlefield Surveillance Brigade (B.f.S.B.) is a possible successor to the 67th Infantry Brigade, although the Iowa National Guard's administrative 67th Troop Command is perhaps just as likely to be related. Nebraska's 1st Squadron, 134th Cavalry Regiment (1/134th Cavalry), as well as other soldiers of the 67th BfSB, are currently deploying with the 2nd Brigade Combat Team (B.C.T.), 34th Infantry "Red Bull" Division (2-34 BCT).

The Nebraskans wear the left-shoulder unit patch depicting a "pike," a heavy pole-arm once wielded by medieval troops. Pikes are like spears on crack: There's the pointy end for skewering your enemies, there's a hook for tripping your enemies, and a smaller pointy bit for bashing your enemies. All it needs is a can opener or a corkscrew attachment.

The 67th BfSB is often referred to as the "Pike" brigade. One should avoid calling Nebraskans "pikers," however, because in some places in the world, that word is defined as "one who does not participate, or who stops participating."

Trust me--they're more than participating.

Red Bull Meets the Red Ball Express

On a hot and dry Mississippi afternoon, shortly before closing time, a sudden gust of trumpets added some much-needed swing to my step. The Big Band fusillade helped transport me not only to the front doors of the African American Military History Museum, Hattiesburg, Miss., but also back to what the place must've sounded like back in the day.

Motion-sensors in the otherwise deserted parking lot must've triggered the music. It was startling, but in a groovy sort of way.

The City of Hattiesburg, Miss., boasts not one but two military-themed museums. The Mississippi Armed Forces Museum on Camp Shelby, discussed in yesterday's post, is one. The other is the African American Military History Museum, located in the city's downtown Mobile-Bouie neighborhood, and operated and managed by the Hattiesburg Convention Commission.

The museum is housed in a former United Service Organizations (U.S.O.) club, where troops stationed at nearby Camp Shelby once met with Hattiesburg locals for fun and recreation. Built by volunteers in 1942, the now-historic landmark is the only existing USO facility built for African Americans still in public use. Having served as a library and community center in the 1950s and '60s, the building was fully restored and placed into operation as a museum in 2009.

The front doors open into a small lobby, which could serve as a place to read or talk. A soda fountain flanks the space, and there is also an adjacent reading room. Because the facility has ties to the Hattiesburg Convention Commission, the space can also be rented for small receptions and presentations.

The exhibits take up most of the original dance floor, winding and twisting from story to story, from American Revolution to Civil War to Vietnam to present day, and culminating at a 20-minute video presentation that takes place in a small theater carved from the cool darkness behind the USO's stage curtain.

In addition to Tuskegee Airmen and Buffalo Soldiers and the Triple Nickel, two Hattiesburg notables get much-deserved spotlights: Jesse L. Brown, the U.S. Navy's first black aviator; and Ruth Bailey Earl, one of 500 black U.S. Army nurses to serve in World War II. The latter's defiant and steadfast silhouette serves as part of the museum's dog-tag logo. I would've liked to have met Lt. Earl, and I'm very proud to serve in the Army she helped build.

Another personal favorite: A open-cab "Red Ball Express" Army transport truck, in which visitors can sit and take an interactive history quiz. (Correct answers generate happy honks; incorrect answers get screeches and crash-noises.)

The term "red ball" is a railroad code for "express shipping," and the Red Ball Express was an emergency long-haul trucking effort established in support of the D-Day invasion of Normandy. There was a 1952 movie about the units, which is one of my long-standing gotta-watch-it-when-it's-on-TV discoveries. "From beachhead to battlefront, they carry the ammo for Patton's tanks!"

Like Archer likes to say, "Amateurs talk tactics. Professionals talk logistics."

The African American Military History Museum is located at 305 E. Sixth Street, Hattiesburg, Miss. Open Tuesdays through Saturdays, 10 a.m. to 4 p.m.; closed Sundays and Mondays. For more information, visit www.hattiesburguso.com, or call 601.450.1942.

Museum Lays Out the Red Bull Carpet

The sudden sounds of machine gun fire so close to my position was, to put it mildly, a little alarming. Here I was, after all, thinking I'd found a cool and quiet spot to spend my lunch hour. I turned a dark corner, and found myself walking along the depths of a World War I trench. Another corner, and then another, and I found myself in No Man's Land.

Being downrange of a machine gun just feels wrong, even if it's being crewed by dummies. And, by "dummies," of course, I mean mannequins.

The Mississippi Armed Forces Museum located on Camp Shelby, Miss., is a 26,000-square-foot building featuring multimedia depictions of military life, equipment, and history. The museum recently laid out the proverbial red carpet for the Red Bull: A banner featuring the unit patch currently flies over the museum's entrance.

The museum is well worth a few hours' visit, although parents should prepare younger children for the occasional loud noise and other surprises driven by motion sensors. There are machine gun noises, and a tank that comes at you with its headlights. Upon entering a ship's bridge, klaxons sound while planes dive past the portholes. It's not quite "interactive," but it all is certainly is fun and educational.

More than 100,000 U.S. soldiers (and a few thousand Canadians) have mobilized through Camp Shelby since June 2004, including in the 2005 deployment to Iraq of the 1st Brigade Combat Team (B.C.T.), 34th Infantry "Red Bull" Division (1-34 BCT). Two battalion-sized elements from that 2005 are here with the 2-34 BCT, preparing for Afghanistan. These are: Iowa's 1st "Ironman" Battalion, 133rd Infantry Regiment (1-133 Infantry), and Nebraska's 1st Squadron, 134th Cavalry (1-134 Cavalry).

A variety of ground and air vehicles are displayed on the grounds surrounding the museum, as well as stone monuments to units that have ties to Camp Shelby. One of those units is the 442nd Regimental Combat Team (R.C.T.)--a celebrated unit of Japanese-Americans who fought in World War II Italy as part of the 34th "Red Bull" Division.

The Armed Forces Museum at Camp Shelby, Miss., (near Hattiesburg on Highway 49) is open Tuesdays-Saturdays, 9 a.m. to 4:30 p.m., excluding holidays. It is closed Sundays, Mondays, and state and federal holidays. It is, however, open on Memorial Day, Independence Day (July 4th), and Veteran's Day.

Mississippi MultiCam Media Madness

The 2nd Brigade Combat Team (B.C.T.), 34th Infantry "Red Bull" Division has sure been in the news a lot recently--and all it took was a change of clothes.

The Iowa Army National Guard unit was the first-ever to receive the full-issue of MultiCam uniforms and equipment. Astute observers of the Afghan theater of operations will have already noted the camouflage pattern in limited use downrange. There were test fieldings and other experiments. During a special screening of "Restrepo" earlier this year, Red Bull soldiers noted that the 173rd Airborne BCT was sporting the mud-colors back in 2007.

The news was big enough to warrant a personal visit to Camp Shelby from Sgt. Major of the Army Kenneth Preston.

While the commercial/civilian market still calls the textile MultiCam, the Army is calling it the "Operation Enduring Freedom Camouflage Pattern" (O.C.P.) That's opposed to "Universal Camouflage Pattern" (U.C.P.), which apparently isn't as universal as first thought.

The uniform itself is called "Flame-Resistant Army Combat Pattern" (or "Frak-You"). No, I am not making this up.

The 7-color camouflage pattern tends to look like yellowish mud against the pine-green forests of Mississippi. (Parents of young children might be reminded of something else.) On the subdued "Red Bull" patch, the beloved bovine skull is now yellow-brown, rather than sage green. "How now, yellow-brown cow?"

The uniforms are flame-resistant and insect-repellant. Hook-and-loop fastener tape (aka "Velcro") has been replaced with old-school buttons. Collars and crotches have been reinforced. And the infrared tab has been hidden away in a better place.

Related equipment includes lower-rise mountain boots, and a "plate-carrier" harness that will allow soldiers to ditch some of their armor while still protecting vital organs from the big 7.62 mm bullets. That means that, as mission dictates, soldiers can drop 15 pounds of equipment weight. A "Tactical Assault Pack" ("TAP") distributes more magazines more evenly than the old gut-buster ammo pouches.

The new uniforms won't be worn until after the Red Bull rotate through a major training exercise in California later this year. Soldiers will be allowed to break in their new mountain boots, however.

The Army Combat Uniform (A.C.U.) isn't going anywhere. The Red Bull soldiers will return and exchange the OCP equipment for their standard sage-greens when they return from Afghanistan in 2011. The Army says it may continue evaluating camouflage patterns. Meanwhile, so that its personnel on the ground can continue to blend with their Army counterparts, the U.S. Air Force appears to be moving toward MultiCam in Afghanistan. It will be interesting to see what the "blue-suiters" deploying with the Red Bull end up being issued.

Here's a list of recent MultiCam Media Madness, featuring Red Bull soldiers:

Army News Service:"New uniform for OEF protects soldiers, hides them better"

Army Times:"Soldiers receive new MultiCam ACUs, gear"

Des Moines Register:"Iowa troops get new uniforms, but pack them away for now" (text; photo comparing OCP and UCP)

KCRG-TV9:"Iowa soldiers will be the first to wear new uniforms in Afghanistan" (text and video)

USA Today:"Military sees it's time for change in camouflage" (text, photo, infographic)

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!

Happy 93rd Birthday, Red Bull!

On Aug. 25, 1917, the 34th Infantry "Sandstorm" Division was organized at Camp Cody, New Mexico. While the distinctive unit patch was also created by Iowa National Guard soldier and regionalist artist Marvin Cone in that same year, the division did not take on the nickname "Red Bull" until World War II.

The division's birthday is specified as the official "unit day" of the 34th Infantry Division by the U.S. Army's Center of Military History. As such, this day is to be commemorated with stories, displays, and ceremonies of the unit's past accomplishments.

According to Army Regulation 870-5 (Chapter 6, Section 2, Paragraph C): "Each organization should observe its Unit Day as a training holiday and commemorate its history in ceremonies that stress unit lineage, honors, heritage, and traditions, as well as personal accomplishments of former and current unit members. The Unit Day program may also feature such activities as parades, concerts, sports, and other competitive events."

Given that the 2nd Brigade Combat Team (B.C.T.), 34th Infantry Division (2-34 BCT) is currently preparing for deployment to Afghanistan at Camp Shelby, Miss., its soldiers are unlikely to enjoy any special events today.

Unless, of course, one can sweat competitively. Or hold a roach parade.

I'll keep you posted.

Taking a Pass on Taking a Pass

There's been a lot of Family Readiness Group (F.R.G.) talk on Facebook about the times 2nd Brigade Combat Team (B.C.T.), 34th Infantry "Red Bull" Division soldiers might be allowed a 4-day pass from their pre-deployment training.

Not all soldiers will take their passes at the same times--or in the same places--making it an administrative nightmare and a potential gold mine for travel agents. Soldiers are restricted to travel within 300 miles of their duty station, which means they'll not be able to return to Iowa.

Not to be too contrary, but passes, in my opinion, can be a mixed blessing. Sure, it sounds great, getting together with your soldier for a few "extra" days before they leave for Afghanistan. Please remember, however, that not everyone--especially lower-ranking soldiers and their families--has the resources to spend money and time on travel, lodging, daycare, and whatever else it takes to get from Iowa to Mississippi for four days.

That doesn't mean they don't love their soldiers. That doesn't mean they don't want to see them. That does mean, however, that you should watch what you say. You may think you're only asking about someone's plans to visit their soldier ("aren't you SO EXCITED about SEEING YOUR SOLDIER?!"), but what they may be hearing is "if you don't visit your soldier, something is wrong with you and your family."

All of this is only one soldier's opinion, of course. Here are some other tips to consider regarding pre-deployment passes:

Talk honestly and directly with other family members about your expectations. One Red Bull spouse reports getting pressure from a not-so-passive-aggressive mother-in-law. Mother-in-law wants to visit her baby boy during pass-time. Meanwhile, Mrs. Red Bull wants a romantic stress-and-kids-free interlude before her husband disappears for 12 months. Please do not put your Red Bull soldier in such a crossfire.

Don't talk about times, dates, and places on public venues such as Facebook. I say again: Don't do it. It confuses other people, and causes them stress. Your soldier may have different opportunities than my soldier. What you've heard about Joe's unit doesn't necessarily apply to Joan's. Focus on your own family.

There's also something the Army calls "Operational Security" or "OPSEC." Basically, OPSEC means "keep Army stuff out of public view." If you were going on a family vacation, you'd lock your doors, put the lights on timers, and stop your mail and newspaper deliveries, right? Now, if you're careful enough to hide your departure in those common-sense ways, why would you announce publicly the dates of your upcoming visit with your Red Bull soldier?

Think about the trip home, too. Not all families may want to re-visit the pain of having to say good-bye. Only recently did my wife tell me how painful it was to leave after we said goodbye after a 4-day pass at my 2003 mobilization station. It was a long, long way home, and she kept bursting into tears. People kept asking if she was all right, and all she wanted was to be left alone. Knowing that story now, I wouldn't ask her to visit me this time--particularly if she were traveling with our two kids.

Other soldiers and their families, of course, might choose differently. And that's really my point, no matter how grinchy I may sound today: We need to give each other's families the spaces to make those decisions.

Godspeed the Red Bull families, and their soldiers.

Red Bull on a Stick

"You know, Camp Shelby is an awful lot like the Iowa State Fair," says one Red Bull soldier. Back home, the Iowa State Fair is going on, and we're talking over a lunch of greasy food here in Mississippi. "We've got the food trailers, the stifling heat coming off the pavement, and," he sniffs at himself, "we certainly have the smell of livestock about us."

"Yeah," says Saber2th, "and we've got the 'freak show' thing down, too."

You want Midway rides? There's even a vehicle-rollover simulator that spins you around.

It's another 100-plus-degree-heat-index day, and the Mississippi sun feels hot enough to strip paint off a barn. We're hanging out under the tin roof the "tactical food court," where a collection of food-vendor trailers sits in a gravel parking lot alongside a 100-foot-long temporary picnic shelter. You can take the Red Bull out of Iowa, but not the Iowa out or the Red Bull.

"We could really use some of those cattle-misters they use at the fair," says Hamster, referring to a piece of farm equipment that sprays a fine mist of water. Agricultural-equipment vendors sell them at the state fair, and they're also used to cool crowds of people. "If we had one of those, we could make a fortune here."

Many troops seem to avoid eating the "Meals Read to Eat" (M.R.E.) rations that are provided them for lunchtime chow, in favor of eating at their own expenses. There's a trailer that sells Domino's Pizza--"delivered to you in 30 minutes or more," quips one soldier. "Lucky for me, food can never get cold here," says another. "The whole state of Mississippi is one big heat lamp."

Another vendor sells burritos. There's a trailer that offers catfish (the Army should really come up with a "dehydrated fried-catfish patty MRE," says one soldier), and another barbecue sandwiches and pork fritters.

In Iowa, we'd call a fritter a "pork tenderloin."

In the spirit of Iowa State Fair experimental food-fads (aka "foods that should probably be eaten only on a dare"), that last place also sells what they call "horseshoes" and "ponyshoes." Here's how a menu sign describes a horseshoe: "Take a hamburger, chicken or pork fritter. Put it on Texas Toast, put fries on top and smother it with a rich white delicious cheese sauce."

And the "ponyshoe"? That's the same thing, but half the size. You know, in case you're watching your diet.

There's a rumor that some congressman from Iowa is going to bring down some Iowa sweet corn down to Camp Shelby sometime before the unit moves out to the California desert. If the troops are lucky, maybe some Iowa pork producers or cattlemen's association will jump on that wagon, too, and throw some corn-fed protein on that menu, too.

At the very least, maybe somebody could FedEx the troops a bunch of freeze-dried corn dogs--because nothing says "home" to a Red Bull like meat on a stick.

Lost in Translations

When it comes to tobacco, I really don't know what I'm talking about. I don't smoke or chew, and lack both experience and vocabulary--which means that the locals don't know what I'm talking about, either. Here I am, traveling from one Mississippi gas station to another, trying to score some "mint-flavor long-cut Skoal" for a buddy who's currently based at Camp Shelby.

"Do y'all have chew?" I ask. I get blank looks. "Tobacco? Chewing tobacco?"

Eventually, I get the point across. I'm still trying to figure out what Mississippians call the stuff. "Snuff? Dip? Skoal?"

Like most of the soldiers of 2nd Brigade Combat Team (B.C.T.), 34the Infantry "Red Bull" Division (2-34 BCT), my buddy Pilz is restricted to Camp Shelby. If the Post Exchange--a sort of a military version of a five-and-dime or drug store--runs out of your favorite extracurricular supplies, you're out of luck until the next truck. With access to a rental car, however, I can go out on the economy. Or, rather, I can try.

Pilz wants Mint Skoal. Not Wintergreen or Spearmint. Not Cherry or Berry or Vanilla or Peach.

And it's got to be "long-cut." Not "pouches" or "bandits."

I take a wrong turn, and find myself lost on the backroads of Mississippi for a few minutes before I re-locate the highway. Winding through the pines on tightly turned blacktop, my mind wanders upon this thought:

The deploying Iowa soldiers currently confined to Camp Shelby are experiencing about as much of Mississippi as some may eventually experience of Afghanistan. They're behind the wall, and behind the wire. They're not necessarily meeting the locals, or learning how to speak the local language.

How do y'all say "chew" in Dari or Pashto?

Red Bull on the March, in the News

Soldiers of the 2nd Brigade Combat Team (B.C.T.), 34th Infantry Division (2-34th BCT)--as well as their National Guard counterparts already downrange--have been in the news a lot recently. The send-off ceremonies in Iowa are over, and the units that comprise the 2-34th BCT are now mobilized and training at Camp Shelby, Miss.

Des Moines Register writer Reid Forgrave is consistently delivering insightful, well-crafted narratives about the deployment. Yesterday's newspaper featured the story of some Red Bull soldiers on their 2004 deployment to Afghanistan. Not all of them came back.

It's pulse-pounding, heart-breaking stuff.

Take, for example, these words from a father of a soldier killed on the mission:

"Every one of those well-wishers, whether they knew it or not, were sharing that little piece of the Almighty that rests within. When everybody is sharing just that much of the Almighty with somebody else ... you can't hold it in. You gotta give it back."

Last Friday, Col. Ben Corell and Chaplain (1st Lt.) Martha Kester were interviewed at length on Iowa Public Radio's "The Exchange." Corell is the commander of the 2-34 BCT. Kester is the chaplain of the 334th Brigade Support Battalion (B.S.B.), and the first female chaplain in the Iowa Army National Guard. For a time, the 46-minute interview is available as a free download and streaming-audio: Click here.

The radio interviews feature good info on conditions at Camp Shelby, how the unit was the first to be issued the Afghan-specific "MultiCam" uniform, and how soldiers and families are dealing with the first days of separation.

(Click here for a slide show from the Hattiesburg American depicting the new camouflage gear. And here's an official National Guard news release about the same.)

Lastly, Spencer Ackerman of Wired's "Danger Room" blog tells how Vermont National Guard soldiers are using their technology skills to help maintain a computer lab in Tokchi, Parwan Province. I don't just find this interesting because I'm also a communications guy: Previous news reports in Iowa have indicated that at least some of the Red Bulls will eventually relieve the Green Mountain Boys of Vermont.

Ackerman's article (click here) is a good snapshot of how soldiers attempt to build bridges with small, concrete projects. Dealing with people through an interpreter can be frustrating, as can be trying to untangle the local political webs. At least one commo crew on one day, however, reduced all the confusion down to providing tech support to the locals:

[Capt. Cristian] Balan, true to form, thinks it was a good day. He’s got big plans for the computer lab. He wants to network the computers so they can print to a single printer – maybe add some speakers, too; oh, and he’ll need printer cartridges – so he says he’ll write home to solicit donated equipment. After the platoon rolls back to Bagram, he hangs out in front of its office on some picnic benches and talks about the new software he wants to install. Maybe something about learning English. [...]

Balan’s eyes indicate that he’s already musing about all the cool stuff he can introduce to the Tokchi computer lab. Whether his tech upgrades will be useful as a counterinsurgency tool may require some more imagination.

Water, Water Everywhere

The heat at Camp Shelby, Miss., is a gut-punch, and the back-and-forth between allegedly air-conditioned buildings is a forced march along molten blacktop. If there's any breeze at all, it smells of pine and asphalt, skunk and sweat--his sweat, her sweat, your sweat. After even a short walk between buildings, your uniform will be soaked. The trick to survival is to learn how to not mind being sweaty. Or sticky. Or smelly.

The brigade commander has issued a uniform policy that includes the wear of a "hydration system" wherever you go(canteens went out with the 20th century Army). The need to drink water is constant, and everyone reminds everyone else to "drink water!" There are even official Army posters about how to self-diagnose the color of one's urine.

I remember working Washington, D.C., and sweating the walk between pools of cool. I'd pop out of a dark Metro tunnel, and trudge and sludge my way to an office kennel. The Nature Channel is right: There are good reasons why desert animals are nocturnal--and my younger self was living proof of it.

Camp Shelby forces the same kind of avoid-the-sun survival techniques, except in a rural setting. If you're lucky enough to work in a air-conditioned office or tent, you tend to optimize business there, particularly in the afternoons. Recently in Mississippi, it's been highs in the mid- to high-90 degrees Fahrenheit, with nightly lows in the mid-70s. Factoring in humidity, the heat index has been up to a feels-like-110-degrees-F.

Sure, it's hot, but it at least it's a wet heat. With 100 percent chance of perspiration, everyday.

The equipment of choice is the Camelbak-brand hydration system. I carry a non-Army issue piece of Camelbak merchandise, one with pockets enough for some sunglasses, hand-cleanser, and a broken-down Meal Ready to Eat (M.R.E.) It's pretty girly, I'll admit--probably the equivalent of those little why-bother-sized backpacks worn by teenyboppers and mallrats. But it gets the job done.

I've taken to the practice of putting ice from an ice machine--Army chow halls usually have them--into the bladder of my Camelbak. It keeps my liter of water reasonably cool for a couple of hours, although too much ice ends up creating a pool of condensation at the bottom of the bag. Since water flows to the path of least resistance, the condensation occasionally begins to drips through, and I end up with a soggy butt.

War is heck.

Welcome to Shelbistan!

The last time I was in Camp Shelby, Miss., I was brand-spanking new to the Iowa Army National Guard. I was part of an entire battalion of communications soldiers who had descended up on this place like locusts, wave after wave after wave.

There wasn't much physical damage that was left to be done to the post, of course, because Hurricane Andrew had recently blown through the American South, and the post was being used as emergency housing. Many of the cinder-block buildings were so moldy and wet, soldiers asked whether the hurricane had actually passed over this part of Mississippi. We preferred living and working in our tents.

In those days, units still got a 24-hour pass during their 2-week Annual Training periods. One "Retention-Day" busload went to Gulfport, Miss. The other went to New Orleans.

You haven't lived until you spend an all-nighter on Bourbon Street, trying to keep your company commander from chasing the wrong kind of women ("Uh, sir? I think she's a man
!"), and almost getting kicked out of a country karaoke bar with your first sergeant, because he wanted to sing "All My Exes Live in Texas" once too many times.

I had to carry one of my buddies into a taxi cab--held his head out the window like a drunken puppy--in order to get him back to the hotel. Just recently, I was interviewed for his pre-deployment security clearance. What goes on in the Big Easy, stays in the Big Easy.

There's a beauty and charm to the American South that's easy for a flat-lander like me to forget. To appreciate it, you have to not mind getting sticky. And developed a tolerance for exotic and pungent smells. To this day, I can still remember the full-on nasal assault of a New Orleans dumpster. Laissez les bon temps rouler!

You gotta take the bad, after all, if you want the good. You can't have Mardi Gras, if you don't have Lent. You can't have the deployment, without the mobilization station.

Camp Shelby is the largest state-owned training site in the United States, comprising more than 525 square kilometers. and has served as a training and mobilization station for units in World War II, Vietnam, and Operations Iraqi Freedom (OIF) and Enduring Freedom (OEF), as well as others. A series of stones on the grounds of the Mississippi Armed Forces Museum memorializes some of the units that have gone before.

The 1st Brigade Combat Team, 34th Infantry Division (1-34th B.C.T.) came through here at least once before, prior to deploying to Iraq in 2005. The 2-34th BCT's own 1st Battalion, 133rd Infantry Regiment (1-133 INF)--the "Ironman" Battalion--was one of those units.

There's apparently been a lot of construction on Camp Shelby in the past 20 years. The Post Exchange (P.X.)--a military equivalent of a truck stop store, or a convenience mart on steroids--is undergoing an expansion and renovation.

At the PX, soldiers can buy snacks and DVDs and pocket knives. They're not allowed to purchase or consume alcohol at any time, even the the PX has some of that, too. There are some food vendors parked in trailers outside the PX, allowing soldiers to replace (at their own expenses) their M.R.E. lunches with pizza and pork fritters and burritos and catfish. Ah, life on the FOB!

I haven't yet gotten a chance to visit the on-post museum, but I note that, in World War II, German prisoners-of-war (P.O.W.) from the North African campaign were housed at Camp Shelby. I seem to recall that POWs were required to be housed in environmental conditions similar to that of their points of capture. In matching the misery and heat of the North African desert, Camp Shelby apparently fit the bill.

Welcome to Shelbistan!

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."