Day 31

 Thirty First Day:

I didn’t sleep well.  AC was blowing right on me (yes, I know, why am I complaining? Because I couldn’t sleep! That’s why!) and I couldn’t get comfortable. I was up and out (THIS time with a buddy!) and in the bathroom by 0430, which allowed me to daven and eat before our scheduled exercise at 0545.  Today, we are doing the MRIC – the M*A*S*H simulation.  Everyone was given roles – some were wounded patients, others were doctors, some were security guards… I was the supply officer! Typical! Let the Jewish guy be in charge of dry goods! The best part of the exercise is the three linked tents are air conditioned. Well, in theory.  Of the three, only one was working, which made conditions unbearable. After I set up my “shop” I went to investigate and realized the settings were wrong. I fixed one, but couldn’t fix the second – I was told later it was broken.

Being briefed in the OR in the MRIC tent

The  exercise was incredible. There was simulated rocket attacks and bombs and gunfire – the actors were AWESOME! Guys were coming in covered in blood, others were screaming and yelling like madmen – and in the middle, there would be a missile attack and we’d all have to dive under tables and wait for the “all clear”! I hated when it ended… But that meant we were going home…

The supply room, of which I was in charge

MREs for lunch - Lt Myers, Lt Taves (wearing BCGs - Birth Control Glasse), and Lt Chin 

My MRE - Mmm! Noodles and the ubiquitous Cheerios and Bagel Chips!

We packed up duffels and returned our cots.  We were wet and smelly and hot – and the schedule had us going straight back to the Boyd Auditorium for some final admin stuff. Yeah. Just before we boarded the buses, Capt Miller announced we could go back to our rooms and shower, but we had to be back in our flight rooms in 1.5 hours. Everyone began planning how we were going to get at least ONE pair of ABUs wached and dried in time for class! Four of us decided to go in on one machine – I would grab and start with the water and soap and our tops, while everyone else would run to their rooms to pull off their pants and change, dump their clothes into the already-running machine while I then changed… like a dream!

We met in the flight room and, one at a time, we went across the hall to an empty classroom and had our final evaluations with Major Haig.  By this time, I had already realized how ultimately insignificant the “grade” for COT is – no matter how much they built up the importance of your formal record, it was like your elementary school teacher threatening you with your “permanent record” – no one cares how you did in COT. We are all commissioned officers because we all have something the military needs.  Our performance in the service will dictate our advancements, not this.  Additionally, I am a Guardsman and we operate differently anyway… That having been said, my evaluation was what I expected.  Did well, could have done better, Blah Blah Blah…

Maxwell Air Force Base Officer's Club 

At 1730 we transited to the Officers Club for Dining In.  This is the big “final” dinner, with all the customs and, dare I say, silliness of officer traditions.  More importantly, there was a cash bar, and this was my first drink in five weeks! The Glenlivet was delicious! I had arranged with the head of the kitchen (who used to live in Atlanta and worked with Rabbi Feldman in their kosher kitchen so knew what my issues were!) to have my SEALED MRE microwaved and brought to my table still taped shut. While everyone was eating their nice dinners, I – once again – was eating my MRE! WHEN WILL IT END???

My MRE at the Officers Club - is that a bag of Bagel Chips?? And are those peanuts and a granola bar on the right? Of course it is! Kosher MRE!! 

Some of the customs are: no pointing (you point with your elbow), no clapping (you tap with your spoon) – and any violation makes you “eligible” to be called up to the Grog Bowl (two commodes on a table in the middle of the room filled with God-only-knows – one was “leaded” and the other “unleaded”).  If someone wanted, they would get up and ask for the Dinner President’s permission. He would then recite a poem in as high-falutin’ English prose he could muster, challenging the victim’s offense, and demanding he drink from the Grog.  The victim then marches to the middle of the room, salutes the president, does and about-face, pours a glass, does another about-face,  raises the glass and announces, “To the Mess!”, to which we all respond, “WHAT A MESS!” – he then drinks, puts the glass upside down on his head showing it is finished, about-faces (with the glass on his head), places the glass back on the table, about faces, and salutes the president. Yeah – that’s normal.

Major Haigh (right) and my FOIC (flight officer in charge) Lt Hakila at the Grog Bowl

Maj Haigh and Lt Hakila saluting the president of the Mess - note the Grog Bowls!

Dinner was great, and it was followed by dancing – but I wouldn’t know, as I volunteered to man the CQ table (when anyone leaves the facility they need to check out so they are accounted for). CQ tonight is a big deal, because everyone’s family are in town and they want to go visit – I didn’t have family, so I decided to be a good wing man. Yeah me! Good night!