Saturday, July 16, 2011:

Following my son, Matt’s lead, who kept us informed of his worldly travels by blog, I’ll attempt to do the same.  However, due to my poor computer and internet skills - this mode of communication may not yield very good results; but I’ll give it my best shot, none-the-less.  Be further warned:  I have a convoluted writing style, so please try to refrain from screaming at me through the computer, and ordering me to get to the point…

First of all, let me thank all of you who offered your support and continue to do so.  I realize that my choice to take part in this undertaking, has given many of you cause for concern.  Please know that I will do my best to stay safe and that I fully expect to return upon completing this mission and look forward to my return home.   

My journey began after being dropped off at Newark Airport by my two sons, Jason and Matt.  It was a tearful departure as we gave each other big hugs, and as they both gave me their admonitions to be careful.  As I glanced back through welling eyes to watch Jason’s car drive away one last time, I felt proud of the two fine men that they had become, and again was reminded of how quickly time escapes us.  I dabbed at the tears and entered the terminal.

I had stayed up late the night before, separating what I needed to pack from things that would be shipped to me later.  Being in a rush, I gave little thought to what I put in my carry-on and what I placed in what would be checked luggage.  I was given a reminder of what I put where when the x-ray revealed my Leatherman tool (with five different blades) in my smaller piece of carry-on luggage.  Not wanting to toss my multi-tool, I decided that I would check the suitcase that I had planned on bringing on board.  Upon  returning to the baggage counter I learned that I would have to cough up an extra $25.00 – this was on top of having to pay $35.00 for the first suitcase. Since I wouldn’t be seeing a paycheck until September, I hoped that this wasn’t a sign of things to come. 

I haven’t flown a lot, but it was the first time that I slept through a take-off.  Waking up with about an hour left in the flight, I began reading, and fell asleep again.  I next awoke to the sound of the pilot advising the flight attendants to prepare for landing.  In the time remaining, I looked out the window and thought about what the training in Arkansas would entail, and hoped that my gout would continue to subside.  As we neared the airport, the approach to Memphis slowly changed from green to the familiar maze of roads and urban infrastructure.  I made a mental note of the landscape and wondered how different the scenery would look over Afghanistan. 

After landing and gathering my bags, I was met by a representative of T1G, a military training company that supports in the preparation of those about to be deployed for the international police mission. My greeter was a colonel in the National Guard. When asked how he knew I was a member of his group, he told me that I had “the look”.  He led me to a group of about fifteen others who also possessed “the look”.  All were either prior military or law enforcement officers.  While I’m usually somewhat reserved until I get a better feel for those with whom I’m around, it wasn’t long before I introduced myself to a number of people, and found myself engaged in various conversations among a small crowd of about twenty-five others who would also be attending training.  Amongst this collection of former cops, soldiers, and sailors, I felt like it was old home week.  After being retired from the state police for almost eight years, it was good to be back. 

The colonel briefed us on what we could expect in the next few days.   Upon our arrival at T1G, we would be assigned to a barracks, be issued equipment, and get our medical records reviewed before we could begin training.  For those of us who were cleared, we would be taking the physical training (PT) test, possibly tomorrow, Sunday. He went on to explain that those who weren’t medically cleared would have an opportunity to take the test the following day.  As an example, he stated, “Some will need to get the remainder of your vaccinations.”  As he spoke he looked around the group, and after completing his sentence. He pointed directly at me and stated, “You look like a nine shot guy.”  Relieved, I silently thought to myself, “I’m glad I got all the shots I needed.”  I didn’t like the prospect of having to get vaccinated then having to take a PT test.  I felt confident in knowing that I had faxed my records  their doctor, who had given me the medical clearance I needed.   

Following the colonel’s briefing, we stepped out of the airport, and into the humid Memphis air.  As we stood in the hot late afternoon sun, with our bags in hand, my thoughts immediately turned into a prayer that the weather would break.  While waiting for our transport to the T1G training site, the discussions were ripe with cop war stories from around the country, as well as with the accounts of those with military experiences in countries such as Iraq, Afghanistan, Kosovo, and other places around the globe.  The different discussions were upstaged by someone stating in disbelief, “You gotta be kiddin me!”  As I looked to the left, just rounding the turn, came an old yellow school bus spewing a dark cloud of exhaust smoke as the driver accelerated toward us.   My anxiety about another gout attack was quickly replaced by a different concern – having been prone to motion sickness, I hoped that I wouldn’t get bus-sick!

After loading our luggage into a box truck, we took our seats on the bus.  Since there was no air conditioning, the open windows helped dissipate the heat once we got underway.  We were all grateful that the sun had started to set as we began our trip towards Arkansas.  I was surprised that I fell asleep during the hot, sticky, bumpy ride, but was glad none-the-less. At least I didn’t get sick. I woke up briefly as we crossed over the Mississippi River from Tennessee into Arkansas.  Through the rear windows of the bus, the Memphis city lights slowly disappeared.  We weren’t driving long before we were traveling in a rural area surrounded by farms and dirt roads.  As we turned down one unpaved road, the bus’s headlights illuminated crops of soybeans on either both sides of the road. We had finally arrived at what would be our home for the next few weeks - in the middle of nowhere.  After being divided into our respective groups, we were led to our barracks to bed down for the night.  Despite my on-again, off-again sleep pattern throughout the day, sleep came quickly.

PS - Sorry I didn't have any pictures, but I hope to post some in the future.