... was actually the third
Published on August 13, 2004 By pseudosoldier In Work
My first day at the unit was Single Soldier Day out at a local lake. All the soldiers on post, except those with additional duties, were out at the lake having a barbeque, or playing volleyball, or hiding their beer drinking. Only those who had duty driver, or staff duty, or who were of such sufficient rank that they could not go or were able to choose not to go were not there.

There were three people at the unit when the sergeant who inprocessed me called to get someone to pick me up. Because the other two were the Commander and the Platoon Sergeant, SSG Calangelo was low man on the totem pole, so he got tasked to get me. This suited him fine, actually, as I was to be in his squad, and he could be my first impression of the unit instead of some MI pogue. Get me off on the right foot and all.

The man is intimidating. While in his car, I only spoke when questioned. He did most of the talking, letting me know he was my squad leader, what he expected of his soldiers, that we would make this unit great. It may have been the most positive talk that I ever received from him. I wonder sometimes if I’m a disappointment, as I doubt I’ve lived up to his initial goals for me.

We arrived to the unit, which is fairly far away from the main post where he picked me up. I met the Platoon Sergeant and the Commander, who had little honest interest in seeing me. I think they had planned on going home early and felt obligated to stay because a new soldier was coming in. They dismissed me fairly quickly; They were all relieved when I told them I already had a place to stay. SSG C asked me if I had a car. He seemed to have forgotten that he had driven me there. So, while the CO and PSG left for the day, he drove me all the way back onto post where he had just gotten me from.

Of course, I saw him a lot from then on, but something nagged at me. Hadn’t I met him before? And then it came to me.

Briefly, at AIT, in the smoke pit… I recall a man beschnozzed with what I have come to know as a Lebanese nose. Sitting on a picnic table, he was spitting into a soda can. He exuded Armyness, with his SSG’s rocker and his other acoutrements on his uniform. That was it, right?

No. There was still something. And then it came to me.

At language school, we have what is referred to as an LTX: Language Training Exercise. We go to a MOUT site for a day, and interact as a squad with other linguists who pose as natives in an elaborate set-up of a made-up foreign country. We move from station to station, dealing with military and linguistic challenges as we go. There was the “buy weapons from the insurgents” station, there was the “help to mostly friendly insurgents treat and carry their wounded until you get ambushed by the mostly unfriendly insurgents, and then react to ambush” station.

And then there was the “town during a coup” station. The local governmental authorities (a mayor or governor or something) had just been assassinated, and there were many wounded villagers laying about. The local constabulary was attempting to take charge and calm people down, but there seemed to be some insurgents still in the town, hiding in buildings. Our squad leader, a former Airborne Infantryman, directed one team (including me) to start administering aid to the wounded. He and the other team (including Sangus) headed into a building to start room clearing. More gunfire. Sangus yelling. We stop treating the wounded and try and regroup. Sangus comes back, the squad leader is dead. SPC Goose is in charge. The police chief is yelling at him in Arabic, “Get the fuck out of my town. You’re making things worse.” It all clicks in my head.

“Goose, this is the asshole who’s responsible!”



[beat]



[beat]



[beat]



“ASSHOLE!? MA M”N? ASSHOLE?” His eyes flaring, the police chief, a shaved bald man with a Lebanese nose started towards us. Goose ordered us out of the town. “What about the squad leader?” Sangus asked. “Let’s just go,” replied Goose.



Suffice to say, one of the points in the AAR was “you never know who knows English in a situation.” The embarrassment of my actions, and the possibility that I could’ve just gotten everyone killed, is the reason I hadn’t relayed this tale to anyone.

Not even SSG C.

I wonder if he remembers.

Comments
on Aug 13, 2004
Sigh......fond memories, not.....you can't win an LTX, it's like playing poker with God, the insurgents are also the people in charge, they know like a billion times more Korean/arabic than you, and they change the rules as they go to suit them. Did like the MOUT site though.
on Aug 13, 2004
I enjoyed reading your post. You really know how to tell a story.
on Aug 13, 2004
DUde I SO took out every motherfucker in that building. None of them had a faster draw on me and i was SO pissed when the dude i had easily shot three times before he shot our squad leader said "they are dead your allowed to go"

Muddafukkaz
on Aug 13, 2004
you can't win an LTX, it's like playing poker with God, the insurgents are also the people in charge, they know like a billion times more Korean/arabic than you, and they change the rules as they go to suit them. Did like the MOUT site though.


We've changed things quite a bit for the KP's recently. The mout site was placed off limits for a while, so we started doing the JLTX's on the presidio. There's no patrols or fighting. Just language related tasks. My station is for the students to teach first aid tasks to 'KATUSA's (role playing instructors). There's also interview stations for refugees/POWs, crime accident scene, maritime interdiction, and VIP briefing. About the closest to what you probably used to do is the SERE station. They cram the entire squad into a dark, cramped area and they listen to a tape where the enemy (captor) leader talks on a radio. The MLI in charge of the station constantly yells at them and tries to mess with them. He'll leave from time to time so they can talk and share notes on what they heard. Then one is randomly chosen to escape and they take a test that determines whether the sqd will be rescued or not. It's actually one of the students favorite stations.

A Co recently tried to do a FTX. From all reliable (non-officer) accounts, it was a goat roap and a half. The CO tried to drive the bus, the PSGs/OCs were out of the loop, the OPFOR was overzealous, and the students were lost. I'm really glad I didn't volunteer to help. I hate to see people set up for failure.
on Aug 15, 2004
He probably doesnt remember. Although, he might. He tends to remember this most odd things. Him and I were at BNCOC and ANCOC together and there was this other SSG in my class that Calangelo thought he remembered from somewhere. Finally, it came to him. The staff sergeant in question was a private that he had smoked for trying to evade retreat one day at Goofellow AFB. Calangelo, in his ever non tactful way, followed this private down to his class, where he proceeded to smoke him and call him an ungrateful American for trying to avoid saluting the flag at the end of the day. So, yeah, he might remember.
on Aug 16, 2004
you tell a great tale, pseudosoldier. i'm with texas wahine, i really enjoyed this.

vanessa/mig XX