Magic Eight Ball

Ft Lewis, WA

Yesterday I and one of our senior enlisted (the "Chief") took a van ride together across post to discuss logistics with our immediate superiors at the Expeditionary Combat Readiness Center.  One of the issues I had to arrange was for a Catholic Chaplain to administer ashes to the Roman Catholic trainees who were being trained in the "outback" on how to drive a HUMVEE.  The Army has precious few Catholic chaplains and this was a herculean task under our present circumstances.

We are truly lucky to have superior senior enlisted, two chiefs who are about as good as they come.  They are excellent cat-herders, behind the scenes arrangers, and overall facilitators.  This makes all of our lives so much easier as it can be extraordinarily difficult to get 63 people of various ages (ranging from 18 to 55), cultures, and varying levels of enthusiasm to be at several places at the same time and in the right gear.  Harder than you can imagine.

The Chief  whom I was riding with in the van is a true character, your classic American success story in my opinion.  Born and bred in Queens with a strong accent, father was a NYC cop, who has made a great career in the Navy.  He's coming to Kandahar with me and I am very grateful for that.  I mentioned to the Chief that I had to arrange a meeting with the Army chaplain to get ashes to the HUMVEE range, as well as to get crucifixes for folks' dog tag chains, as requested to my by a certain junior enlisted who is also quite a character.  "Who asked for that?," asked the Chief.  When I told him he began to laugh and launched into a story.

"Before I left for deployment I was using this magic eight ball," he told me in his strong Queens accent.  "It was amazing and very accurate."  He told me how it had accurately predicted that his Yankees would win the World Series and in how many games, as well as other predictions.  "It was never wrong," he said.  "I asked the magic eight ball if I was going to die in Afghanistan.  It said yes.  Thirteen times in a row..."  He also told me that it told him he was going to die on a plane.  He had a deep-seated feeling of dread.  "When I got here I contacted a priest and he gave me a crucifix for the dog tag.  Since then I don't have that terrible feeling any more.  I keep the crucifix in my wallet" - and he showed it to me.  "Interesting," I said.  "What happened to the magic eight ball?"  "I smashed it at the dump," he told me.  He went on to tell me that he had taken out an extra $300,000 life insurance policy on top of his existing life insurance policy.  "Also, when you die your NOK gets a $100,000 check right off the bat!", obviously very pleased with this windfall.  "Used to be only $2000.  That's a great deal."  I am SO relieved, I thought to myself.  The Chief told me he had told his magic eight ball story to the crucifix-requesting petty officer, "and he has been acting skittish ever since."  You don't say, I thought to myself.

Later on that day I had to go to the post office so that one of the petty officers could send some gear home.  I am one of only about 6 people that can drive the van for some reason.  The post office clerk was so sincere and friendly when he found out I was deploying.  He gave me the Purple Heart embossed printing that I put in this posting above.  Weird,  in light of the magic eight ball prophecy.

Two people have given me St. Christopher's medals - my brother and his wife, and another friend, Mike.  I am putting those things on my dog tag chain pronto.

On a much lighter note, yesterday was Mardi Gras.  We celebrated by going to Popeye's to pig out on Cajun fast food.  I drove.