Tuesday, September 28, 2010

Day 32

Almost done! But first, the final ceremonies.  This morning we ran the “Warrior Run” – we woke up at 0445 and fell in at 0500.  The Warrior Run is a 2-hour run – not straight, mind you. We ran about a mile through the base until we got to a plane (there are actual historic planes all over Maxwell as monuments). We would take a break, and taught something about the plane. Based on the facts, we had to do something. For example, “This is a B-52, the only jet in the military that carries nuclear missiles… blah blah blah… and THERFORE we will now do 52 pushups!”  Then we would run another mile until another statue.  You get the idea. I lasted about an hour and a half, but then my knee gave out again. I kept trying but it kept failing me. Finally, one of the officers drove by (he was picking up the stragglers) and I went along with him.  The run ended at the oldest building on the base. It was in that building that so much of what we had learned during the five weeks here – strategic and tactical methodologies, the vision of an independent air force, etc. – all happened.  And outside is the massive wing-and-prop statue. There, Lt Col Ackerman – the one who welcomed us on that first morning when we crossed the Blue Line – spoke to us again, adjuring us to always come back to this place and remember what it meant then, and what it means today, and what it means to each and every one of us. We were standing by flights is two rows – he announced, “Morehouse Class, about face!”  
We all turned and our flight commanders walked through our ranks, pinning us with the Wing-and-Prop pin. Maj Haigh had something to whisper to each person as he pinned them, and I’d be lying if I didn’t admit that when I overhear him say to the person near me (he was speaking quietly and said this to everyone), “Welcome to my Air Force”, my eyes welled up. I know how much the Air Force means to him, and when he says “MY Air Force,” he means it.  It was a great approbation.  When he came to me, he stopped, smiled, and said, “Rabbi, I’m glad you were here. Welcome to my Air Force.” Wow.
We marched back to the campus, went to the DFAC for breakfast, and changed into our Blues.  We did our last parade practice while the visiting family members were briefed in Boyd (Let THEM take a nap there!) about the graduation. When we were done and all sweated up, we had to march to the practice pad to sit out in the sun and watch the six best flights compete in a drill competition. They weren’t the best flights; they were political choices. Who cares…
After lunch, we went to a dedication of one of the dormitories (not ours) to the class exemplar, General Morehouse (hence, “Morehouse Class”). About the most boring thing EVER.  At 1430, we walked to Polifka Theater for graduation. 
At Graduation - Lt Coombs (my roomate) and Lt Nichols

Graduation - the entire class (all 290 officers)
This is a MASSIVE theater – must sit a thousand people – and it was actually a very moving ceremony. No one from Papa Flight made Distinguished Graduate, which shocked us to no end, but once again, by this point I don’t think anyone cares. Our squadron one Honor Squadron, so my certificate at least lists that… What I DON’T understand is why we couldn’t go straight from the graduation back to the parade field, do the parade, and LEAVE!!! Why are they keeping us here for another day???
After graduation, everyone went back to the campus, back to the dorms, and dispersed with their families for dinner off base. Except me. I went in to the DFAC and I was THE ONLY person from the ENTIRE CLASS who ate dinner that night on base. Which ended being incredible! I walked into our side of the DFAC, and it was populated with BOT students. I couldn’t eat with them! So I walked into the other side (I had never been there in five weeks) and it was mostly empty. I began looking for a place to sit down when suddenly I hear, “Chaplain, sit here with me.”  It was Chaplain McDonald, the assistant OTS chaplain, sitting at the staff table.  Let me explain: in each of these two rooms, there are dozens of four-person tables for the students, and a long row of tables at the head for the staff. For five weeks we have been sitting under the glaring gaze of that table. Not only that, but while we had been silent, sitting at tight-meal attention, they were yucking it up, talking and laughing the whole time. The staff table was like the Holy of Holies! And there is Chaplain McDonald, beckoning me… I glanced at the two colonels and the handful of majors and looked back to McDonald and mouthed, “I can’t sit there!”  He looked down the table and said, “Colonel, is it okay if that chaplain sits with me?”  The colonel looked at me, looked at him, looked at me, looked at him, and shrugged his shoulder.  I went and sat next to McDonald AT THE STAFF TABLE(!!!!!!!) and felt like a MILLION DOLLARS! I was at the STAFF TABLE!!!!!
We had a wonderful dinner, and schmoozed for about an hour – it was the most relaxed and enjoyable meal I had in five weeks. I hated for it to end. But end it did, and I went back to my room to pack. It all ends tomorrow…

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!