Cyrus makes his triumphant return....?

Sometimes I forget about the suck of active duty, and then inevitably I'm reminded again of why I became a Reservist. This new chief (who just got here) came over to me today to fix the mistakes made on my LT's information paper. I didn't have the soft copy of the file because my LT forgot to send it to me. The chief gives me a speech on how important it is to maintain continuity by using shared drives. 1SG heard him and said, "LT emailed it to me, I'll just email it to SGT Simmons so he can make corrections." This was not sufficient, and he thought it necessary to pursue the issue further. "This will require the SMG's involvement" he undoubtedly thought to himself. "SMG, if this is a CACE-wide issue, then it needs to be addressed immediately. We can't have people just emailing each other all the
time! As he continued to rant I couldn't help but think that the unnatural progression of such a non-issue is such an Army cliche. The chief's rant faded to background noise as the SMG's expression turned to one of serious consideration. "Shoot me" I thought, "right in the fucking face so I see it coming. What the hell is wrong with these people?" I wondered. On many different occasions in the past and while on active duty, I have asked myself the very same question and to date the answer still eludes me. I'ts getting to the point I am beginning to wonder what the hell I'm doing here. At home is my motorcycle, my woman, steak, beer, and fishing. These are the things that matter to me, not some irrational chief and a SMG whose duty it is to address the pettiest issues en force. To top it all off there's a civilian sitting beside me doing the same job who is more or less immune to ridiculous military issues and makes $200,000 a year. Shit.

Yes, the military has it's shittly little idiosyncrasies as illustrated in the above rant. But...uh....well, no but. Here's a slice!

Forced to take Anthrax Vaccine

Today I finally went to the Doc to see about my neck. I hurt it doing mixed martial arts about a week ago, and I've had headaches and muscle spasms and stiffness ever since. Doc put me on muscle relaxers and then told me I had to get your third anthrax shot. I said, "Sure, but what kind of weird concoction do I get to inject you with?" He just kinda looked at me funny. I said, "Na- I think I'm good on the anthrax, Doc." "What do you mean?" "I'd rather not take it." That's all it took, and he blew up. "You don't have a choice in the matter! Army policy says that blah blah blah, blah blah blah blah. Blah blah." Any time people start a sentence with "Army policy..." I quit listening immediately. Not only that, but his tone was all wrong. There's a certain way to talk to me, and he was nowhere close. I don't give a shit if he's a doc or a fucking brain surgeon or a goddamn astronaut that does medical experimentation in his spare time, with that "you're gonna do what I say" attitude, combined with the proposition that he gets to stick me with a needle full of some kinda experimental and unnecessary vaccine just doesn't fly with me. I'm not having it. He continued his rant, so I decided I should really piss him off. "Well the last doc I spoke to told me two shots is all you get and you're done. I trust his medical opinion." "Oh no! You get more than two. Not two- six! That's how it's always been!" "Well, the other doc is a lot older, so I'm kinda leaning towards his opinion. Plus, I've got a good immune system, and there's never been an Anthrax attack in Iraq. So you can save the shot for someone that wants it." "You don't have a choice! It will be an Article 15 if you don't take it!" "If it comes to that, I'll deal with the repercussions. What's the worst they can do- send me to war?" "You're not leaving this office without the shot." "Bye sir." He was furious. Within a matter of minutes he had contacted my commander. My first sergeant got the email and came over to ask me about it. After much deliberation and the threat of a dishonorable discharge, I capitulated. But not without informing him that I couldn't let myself take the shot willingly. This was not my finest hour, by any means. Back in the day I would have told all of them to fuck off and stuck to my guns. When I went back upstairs to the medical clinic I asked the doc for his first name. He asked me why and I told him so I know who to blame when five years from now I've got retarded, disfigured children. I said when I left, "Glad to be part of your science experiment." Asshole. Just a side note...I tried to look up the name of the manufacturer of the vaccine and couldn't find the company name associated with anthrax on any of 10 searches I did.

-Cyrus

Lamenting Goodbye

Yet again appears blood on the horizon

And bullets still rain in Hell's storm.

Lamenting goodbye's loom in still air,

Yet unspoken, as are the words, "I've got to go"

So many sad words remain unsaid,

Floating through my minds' misty haze

And once again I face the grim prospect

Of facing death in the arid sands of Arabia

For Reasons Obscure

On the horizon appear the tides of war
Bullets rain down like hell
Soon the lament of goodbye's will begin to play
On loved one's heart chords chime bittersweet notes
These private things, hereto left unsaid,
For once will rush from the tips of tongues
Off to fight in the arid desert sands
For reasons, obscure, my life is risked

Bronze Star for a Hero

There was a promotion and awards ceremony today held at the palace. The ceremony was held on the rear balcony overlooking the largest stretch of Victory Lake. Clear skies and cool winds prevailed. The thirty or so of us on the balcony chatted and joked as we waited for the ceremony to begin. As I sipped my black coffee and spoke to one of the more down to earth and sociable lieutenants, a warrant officer of ours climbed up onto a large carpet-covered box overlooking the balcony. Chief Myler grabbed a club and a golf ball and settled into his stance. A practice swing or two for warm up, then he smacked it with his four wood. One of the younger officers yelled "Good swing" as the ball sliced over the road below and landed in the drink. As he aligned his club to another ball, I continued sipping my coffee and chatting about how lucky we were to have gotten such a good assignment. A palace, a driving range, quick satellite internet access, and to top it off it's Friday, which means it's steak and shrimp and scallops with a side of crab legs for dinner. We've got it way too good here.

Quite a few of my associates think I'm nuts for making arrangements to get outside of the wire and amongst the fighting. I'm convinced though, we should pay our dues to earn the privileges we have. Some soldiers outside the wire are sweating their asses off and getting shot at every day while others are whacking golf balls, among other things, and enjoying an elevated view of Baghdad. Let me be clear, I enjoy the luxuries as much as the next guy; one day it will be cool to tell my kids about working in Saddam's palace, but I would also like to be able to tell them about surviving an ambush or shooting an insurgent , or even just being shot at. Maybe I'm a fool for thinking these things, but at least if I am successful in getting outside the wire no one will be able to say I didn't pay my dues. There is an uncle of mine who is a Four-Star Armchair General who I would like to make sure knows that even though "The fighting's almost over now," I'm still willing to take a shot at mane e mano combat. By the way, it's not as far over as Fox and Friends might report, and you and your sons weren't too old to sign up in 2003.
The remaining coffee in my cup was getting cold, and lord knows the only reason it's even slightly palatable is if it's hot enough to burn the tastebuds senseless. As the commander called everyone over I slugged down the last of my Valvoline 10W 40 coffee, subsequently making an involuntary whiskey face. The commander informed us we were there to promote a Specialist to Sergeant and to give an award to a soldier who saved another soldier's life by saving that soldier from a fire. Impressive. I work with the guy and never realized he had saved another soldiers' life, much less the life of a soldier while in a combat zone. Just yesterday a Lieutenant Colonel was awarded a bronze star for her work here at the palace. I wondered what type of award Specialist Boef would receive for his notable actions. The other specialist got his stripes pinned on, and I thought about how I had once gotten mine. Then it was time for the award to be given. Specialist Boef stood tall and everyone was called to attention. As the commander read the order I imagined the soldier he saved asleep in his bunk as flames were burning around him. I thought about how that soldier could have died if Spc Boef hadn't banged on the door until he woke up. A tinge of pride filled my chest when I remembered that I, too, had once beat on a door to wake up a family in a burning house. I remembered my uncle, who was a fireman, showing up at the scene; it was the same uncle who couldn't resist the dig about the fighting being over in Iraq. The only part I heard of what the commander said is when he said Spc Boef was awarded an Army Achievement Medal. For those who don't know, that is the lowest medal you can get.

Ever wonder how we come up with blog ideas?

Cyrus: Did i tell you there are serial butt-rapists running around here?
True story
People get butt raped constantly here

Chuck B: see...now why the FUCK are you not blogging this?

Cyrus: people are carrying alarms...they passed them out today

Chuck B: they rape the men-folk?

Cyrus: yep
i laughed when i first heard it....

Chuck B: me too
still laughing
who rapes them?
other soldiers?

Cyrus: they looked at me all army-like and said "I'm dead serious."

Chuck B: Iraqis?

Cyrus: no- joes

Chuck B: write a blurb about that
c'mon man
you're missing out on GOLD!

Cyrus: i tell my soldiers in a serious tone...we couldn't find you...we didn't know where you were so we thought you might have gotten serial butt-raped. You didn’t get butt-raped, did you? You would tell me though, right?

Cyrus: In all seriousness...THIS is the type of story that you'll ONLY here from a guy on the ground

Chuck: haha

Cyrus: let me get it together here, and I'll send it to you to post.

Chuck B: we just had a breakthrough, I think
this type of thing is GREAT
and it'd take a lot of pressure
off of you having to come up with your flowery shit

Cyrus: what the hell do you mean, "flowery shit"?????

Chuck B: Hm?

Cyrus: we joke about butt-rape every day

Chuck B: it's a great subject
nothing butt humor
HA!
HEYOOOOOOOOO!

From the WTF files!

A few days ago, we captured a high-level member of the insurgency. When we searched his place we found some of his personal effects, including some hand written papers. One of the papers was a list of things he needed to do and needed to buy.....

-fix the satellite,

-change the generator oil,

and

-buy "cowboy pants"

Cowboy pants? I'm about as American as it comes and I have NO IDEA what "cowboy pants" are. And why is it so important that this wild-eyed jihadist has "cowboy pants" in the first place?

-Cyrus

Wear your seatbelt

Just thought this was funny.

Chuck B

DoD Identifies 4 Army/1 Navy Casualties

The Department of Defense announced today the death of four soldiers and one sailor who were supporting Operations Iraqi Freedom and Enduring Freedom.


Killed were:

Staff Sgt. Darris J. Dawson, 24, of Pensacola, Fla., died Sept. 14 in Tunnis, Iraq, of wounds sustained in a non-hostile incident. He was assigned to the 3rd Battalion, 7th Infantry Regiment, 4th Brigade Combat Team, 3rd Infantry Division, Fort Stewart, Ga.


The incident is under investigation.


Sgt. Wesley R. Durbin, 26, of Hurst, Texas, died Sept. 14 in Tunnis, Iraq, of wounds sustained in a non-hostile incident. He was assigned to the 3rd Battalion, 7th Infantry Regiment, 4th Brigade Combat Team, 3rd Infantry Division, Fort Stewart, Ga.


The incident is under investigation.


Lt. Col. Ralph J. Marino, 46, of Houston, Pa., died Sept 14 at Camp Buehring, Kuwait, from a non-combat related illness. He was assigned to U.S. Army Central Command, Camp Arifjan, Kuwait.


Pvt. Michael W. Murdock, 22, of Chocowinity, N.C., died Sept. 11 at Bagram Airfield, Afghanistan, of wounds suffered at Combat Outpost Lybert, Afghanistan, when he was struck by enemy fire. He was assigned to the 1st Battalion, 6th Field Artillery Regiment, 3rd Brigade Combat Team, 1st Infantry Division, Fort Hood, Texas. OEF casualty.


Hospital Corpsman 3rd Class Eichmann A. Strickland, 23, of Arlington, Wash., died Sept. 9 from injuries suffered when the vehicle he was driving hit an improvised explosive device in Afghanya Valley, Afghanistan. OEF casualty.


Strickland was assigned to Combat Service Support Det. 36, Iwakuni, Japan. He was a member of a US Marine embedded Training Team deployed to Afghan Regional Security Integration Command Central.

I'd like to see the statistics on how many deaths in Iraq and Afghanistan are directly related to combat verses "common" deaths. One thing that many of us forget is that people die over there in the same ways that we die over here. There are car accidents, murders, deaths as a result of illness, people die of old age, etc. One thing for sure though is that no matter how these service members died, they died while serving their country. God rest the souls of these patriots.

-Chuck B

It's better to die with your boots on

It's been said by many that war changes men. Hemingway knew it and suffered through the changes. Orwell, before his involvement in WWII claimed, "…it is better to die with your boots on." Currently I'm somewhere between blind valor and healthy apprehension. In exactly a month I'll board a plane bound for Iraq. Little of what I've heard is good. It's hot, there are an excessive amount of IED's, huge sandstorms, and many bad guys there seriously want us to die. I've watched the horrible video of a journalist beheading and have seen too many clips of army vehicles hit by Explosively Formed Penetrators (EFP's); I've seen what those wicked devices do to even our toughest reactive tank armor, and the results are bad. I've also seen men who have returned. I've talked with them, careful not to ask too many details of their potentially painful stories. You can sense something about them is different, somber in the effect it has on other people. But it's hard to put that sense into words and explain sufficiently and with the proper respect. It's hard not to wonder how I'll be once I'm back home, and if people will see me differently. Will they feel pity on me for overreacting to loud noises or saying something way out of line without noticing? Maybe, but I would like to think I wouldn't want their pity. Instead I'd rather them just understand and accept that war is an individuals' burden to bear and that in due time a man will make his peace. The difference between Hemingway's and Orwell's war and ours is that there's no glory in this war. There is only the valor of a brotherhood of soldiers protecting each other, and all are just trying to make their way back home.

Despite my reservations, I'm only a month away from going to war and I'm anxious to get there. Now, since the march to the Iraq War began I've understood it as a hoax, a trumped-up excuse for some other goal. Maybe it was for Bush's legacy, or to gain a strategic foothold in the Middle East; but gross incompetence on the part of the entire intelligence community? Not a chance. I believe it was Roosevelt that stated, "Nothing in politics happens by accident." I am of the same opinion, and it makes me mad that the American people were so blatantly lied to. Worse, it confounds me that so many Americans were so naive to believe all of the media's putrid tripe. Nothing upsets me more, though, than for my fellow soldiers to be lied to. But here I am, and I'm surrounded by soldiers who've already been and who are going back…soldiers that already understand this dilemma. Even if we know better we're drawn, I suppose, by the allure of danger, by the embarrassment of not wearing a combat patch, by the chance to prove our valor, by the extra pay, by the jobs available to us afterwords, by helping the good people of Iraq, and by taking care of our own. But for all those reasons, and despite all we stand to lose, we've still gone to war based on lies. Many deal with it as I have- we go despite our reservations. This moral dilemma, although not openly discussed, is well understood by many in my field. I guess the conclusion I've come to is that I'm not happy about the manner in which our government duped America into this war, but the damage is done and we would be fools not to finish what we've started. We have to hold our ground and fix Iraq.

Wrote this about a month before I left for Iraq....

-Cyrus

Why do I even try?

I was walking home in the dark tonight and saw two dark figures near a construction site where iraqis have been working. I said salaam alaykum, and they laughed at me. Turns out it was just two black guys.

-Cyrus

Censorship or not censorship...that is the question

ALCON: As we enter the final race before the Presidential election, I want to remind you that IAW DOD Directive 1344.10 and the TAG's General Order 2006-01, all CA Military Uniformed Personnel are restricted in what they can / cannot do regarding partisan political activities.

All personnel working for the ATF (AGR, ADSW, Contractor, Technician, all) are required to read the attachments, to become knowledgeable with the rules. Supervisors ensure this is completed.

There will be no political cartoons, advertisements, posters, or other material in any area that the ATF is responsible for. This includes but is not limited to offices, cubicles, store fronts, recruiting vehicles, one stops, etc. If you have questions regarding this, be sure to check with your supervisor.

Thank you all for what you do!
COL [censored]

Peace in Iraq...for today at least

Today there was dust and peace for much of Iraq. By 1400 hours the only significant event was a thick cloud of dust which encapsulated everything in and around Camp Slayer, Camp Victory, and Baghdad International Airport (BIAP). The dust storm was thick enough that visibility was limited to a ½ mile at best. Now, you wouldn't normally think that a thick, massive, lingering cloud of dust could in any way be a blessing in disguise. In fact, dust storms are one of the experiences, such as getting shot, blown up, or knifed, that I haven't really been looking forward to. Surprising how wrong we can be sometimes. Today that huge mass of stagnant, eye irritating dust particles not only kept the sun off our necks and kept the temperature down, but I'm fairly sure it was a factor which kept our enemies' activities to a minimum. I suppose the weather just wasn't conducive to extreme acts of terrorism today.

So, with nothing going on operationally and a big, novel dust storm outside I did what I deemed best, given the situation. I grabbed a chair and went to the large eastern balcony of Al Faw Palace, where I proceeded to slowly smoke a tasty maduro. There I watched huge carp swim around lazily through the waters of Victory Lake and watched the little people scurry below from the heights of the palace. I wondered where the skimmers were, having noticed their docked boats tied ashore and a huge, floating mass of hydrilla which they would normally be pulling into the boat. Pigeons were nestled into crevices along the walls beside me and seemed to prefer a nap over flying around through the dust. Occasionally I'd hear the rumbling battle cry of the Tongan Marines who post security at the palace gates. Their battle cry sounds tough, like a low growl and a bark. Combined with the fact that the majority of them are well over 200lbs and 6'2", they make for a fairly intimidating crew. I wondered about their opinions of us, since the majority of people working in the palace are a bunch of braniacs who are physically small in stature, save the intense magnitude of their imposing craniums. These were just some of my casual thoughts today as I slowly smoked my maduro while at peace in Iraq. My routine started and ended as usual with a 0545 wakeup and a 12 hour shift, but sitting on the balcony is the memory I'll carry home with me.

-Cyrus

The "Last Resort" crowd

In order to take some of the burden off of Cyrus (he's fighting a war for Gods sake....plus I think he's off to buy some more apricot face scrub) I decided to add my perspective to this blog. With out going in to too many details I'll tell you that I am a military recruiter. I won't be going to Iraq, and interestingly enough, of all the people who I've drugged, lobotomized, and forced to sign on the dotted line (at gun point, of course) only one or two have them have deployed to Iraq.

My battles are different from Cyrus. He gets shot at by wild-eyed Islamic goof-balls, and I get Diet Coke flung at me when I walk into a community college (and I was there to sign up for a class...I wasn't even trying to recruit anyone). I did get approached by a few students, most of them asking if I had any free No. 2 Pencils. The general consensus with many people at this school was that they would give school a chance, and enlist only as a last resort. That always struck me as odd...if you can't make it through a state-funded community college, what makes you think you can make it in the military? Think about this: as you sit there reading this, would you have a clean urinalysis? Could you pass the ASVAB (it's a tenth-grade level test....MOST people who take it do not pass)? Do you have perfect vision and hearing? Have you been surgery free (that INCLUDES lasik eye surgery) for the last ten years? If you answered "no" to any of those questions then you won't even get a chance to see if you'd make it through "Boot Camp".

So, to the "last resort" crowd; If you've reached "that point" in your life, it's probably already too late.

-Chuck B.

A Compromising Dichotomy

A Schofield Barracks spokesman confirmed that the Army in Baghdad ordered Capt. Matthew S. Gallagher -- who is assigned to 25th Division's 2nd Squadron, 14th Cavalry Regiment, 2nd Stryker Brigade Combat Team -- to stop writing a blog called "Kaboom: A Soldier's War Journal," which chronicled the exploits of his time in Iraq and that of his platoon, which was called Gravediggers. The platoon was sent to Iraq in December. The last posting was on June 27. Since then it has been maintained by his fiancee.

A Washington Post July 26 story that said a May 28 posting, which depicted an officer in his unit unflatteringly, caused Gallagher's downfall. The story said that Gallagher also violated Army blogging rules by not having a supervisor review its contents before publishing. The contents of his old blog are kept on a Web site created by his friends: "kaboomwarjournalarchive.blogspot.com" after Gallagher was ordered by the Army to delete his blog.

Gallagher's unit Bravo Troop was sent to Sabaa Al-Bour, a village northwest of Baghdad, which Gallagher calls in his blog Anu-al-Verona, the sister village of Romeo and Juliet's Verona where Sunnis and Shiites played the roles of Capulets and Montagues, the story reported. Extremist militants were called "Ali Babas" in his blog.

In the May 28 posting Gallagher described his conversation with his supervisor, whom he had told that he wasn't interested in a promotion that would take him away from his platoon. He juxtaposed it with dialogue that was taking place in his mind, the newspaper reported. The supervisor took it "like a spurned teen-age blonde whose dreamboat crush tells her point-blank that he prefers brunettes," Gallagher wrote.

First Lieutenant Matt Gallagher has fought battles in Iraq. As I am writing these words, it is likely he is listening intently to the radio crosstalk of his Gravediggers Platoon out on patrol and he's just itching to get out there with them as they prepare to raid a safe house or a weapons cache. On sun-baked streets and in deadly back alleys, he and the Gravediggers fight a cutthroat guerrilla enemy fueled by animosity and greed and justified by extremist ideology. Men like he and the Gravediggers fight and die every day in this godforsaken place. For what?

Many say this war is about oil, or for freedom, or for stock dividends from no-bid contracts, or for Papa Bush, or for whatever. Who knows? I say all of those things are extras that come along with the intended purpose of establishing a strategic U.S. footprint in the region. But what do I know? I know the following: you're not going to get a real answer while sipping your coffee on the couch and watching Fox and Friends or CNN. You won't get it riding to work, listening to Rush Limbaugh or any left-wing radio broadcast. So where are you going to get a straight story on the war without political bias or an agenda? You'll get if from the same place history has always gotten a real account of war- from the soldiers who fight it, live it, bleed and die in it.

Captain Gallagher- I know it's cliche, but I salute you. I'm a writer and a soldier myself, and it pisses me off to hear about your battle with censorship…especially since I'm in Iraq, too, and will undoubtedly face similar issues. I realize you can't write your blog anymore, but maybe reading mine will cheer you up. Being a soldier, to most, is a means of self-validation, but being a writer is liberation! In some cases this can be a compromising dichotomy.

Good luck to you.

God rest the souls of those who have gone before us.

-Cyrus

An email from the CSM

ALCON

FYI

The post CSM has noted that KBR found over 1000 bottles of urine on their inspection of the CHU's last week. If this is you, then you need to check yourself. This is unsanitary and is not conductive to how a Soldier should act. If we have to we will start doing Morale and Welfare inspections on your living space.

"If the shoe fits"

CNN Bush reducing Iraq troops

As far as the surge goes, TV is only telling part of the story. The main reason isn't because of the surge though, it's the upcoming elections. "Muqti" called for a freeze on attacks, because he's posturing for political power. His people are obeying. This is all unclass info, by the way, but US news just doesn't bother with the details, especially since we've got our own election coming up. But the situation as it stands here is only more calm than usual because that's the way the bad guys want it to be. After the provincial elections there's no telling. I've got my opinion, and I'm sure you know why I think we need to keep troops here for a while longer. Hell, we're already in this mess, we may as well finish what we started.

This is from an email from Cyrus. I won't say what he does in the military, but let's just say he's associated with some people who keep their fingers on the pulse of Iraq

Week 1

As I walk along the canal the sound of choppers gets closer. Hydrilla and algae cover much of the surface water in the man-made canals below. The gurgling from the drainage conduit is faint against the thump-thump-thump of Apache rotors in the distance; the running water soothes me as I make my way from Al Faw palace to the Omaha Beach life support area. At Omaha Beach LSA reside the cramped living quarters in which we soldiers live. But we are lucky to have what we've got. I watch the sky as the thick-beamed search lights from the choppers scan frantically for some person, or group of people on the run through the back alleys of Baghdad. It's easy to imagine pilots on some mission of great interest or importance. Maybe they're part of a quick reaction force, or conducting a search and destroy mission for of a high-value individual from Al Qaeda. My peaceful walk continues as do the last remaining sounds of a waning war. Behind me is a loud clang. Someone in the dark moves quickly and my eyes fix on his silhouette. Unconsciously my hands reach for my rifle. A sudden tinge of heightened awareness instantly prepares me to fight. My eyes adjust as I see the dark figure throw away his garbage and walk back through the noisy gate surrounding his compound. Clang. It was a false, but instinctual alarm. The Apaches fade from earshot and off into the night.

On some days you can hear the distant sounds of gunfire. Camp Victory has not been attacked by rocket fire in five months now. I ponder the recent wartime events as the steak and shrimp and crab legs from dinner settle in my privileged stomach. My stroll along the canal banks of Saddam's Water Palace continues. As I question the cush-ness of my part of the war, I recall how the majority of those in the [edited] Battalion thought nothing of slapping on an [edited] combat patch on their right shoulder to signify their involvement in the war; it's too easy to consider yourself a warrior just for being here.

Armored MRAP patrol vehicles pass as I turn down the dusty, rock covered road leading down to the Omaha Beach LSA. The dark path opens up to a fortress of 15 feet tall reinforced Jersey barriers surrounding the collection of fragile 15' x 10' tin boxes in which we soldiers live. Walking through the countless lines of barriers is the closest I've ever felt to being a rat in a maze. Despite the reinforced-concrete protection, this area is jam-packed with suicide and random hazards. Electrocutions and deadly fires are the most common causes of death. American suicides are next, followed by rocket attacks. Since rocket attacks have stopped, suicides are unfortunately the more common cause of death. However, my biggest concern is with random electrocution in the shower while applying my apricot face scrub. Every soldier deserves a noble death, and lying face down in a shower stall just isn't it. To counter this, I've begun shutting off the water while lathering up. In my mind this seriously lowers the odds that I'll die of random electrocution. Day seven of my part of the war is successfully over, but I've still got to shower again tomorrow morning.