Days Rated: 114
Average Day: 2.09
Secret Terrorist Hint #74 – If you want to prevent US military personnel from dislodging you from your safehouses, break the pipes and allow a foot of water to collect on the floor. Then when the temperature goes below freezing, the floor will resemble that of a hockey rink, causing the attackers all types of inconveniences.
We attacked some buildings today. In other news, CPL Fennerty hit me. The conversation went something like this.
Fennerty: Go…over there.
Fennerty: NO! Motherf*cker, the door, get…
Me: ??? (puzzled and frustrated…he was yelling urgent things, but I couldn’t by understand his sentence fragments what he wanted me to do)
Fennerty (grabbing me): RIGHT HERE!
Me (sarcastically in retard voice): Oh…OK!
[Fennerty strikes me on the side of my helmet]
[I turn to him, fist clenched]
Me: Don’t f*cking hit me!
White: Don’t hit him!
This was said in White’s southern accent, sounding panicky. I’m still not sure whether he was telling Fennerty not to hit me or worried that I would deck Fennerty.
Either way, later we both apologized. Fennerty said he was wrong to hit me and I said I was sorry for smarting off. Working with guns can be frustrating.
I think he was in a bad mood because the area we were working in was sheer ice. Earlier, he led the way into a building, then his feet went out from under him and he fell so hard on the ground that I was sure he broke something.
Lessard, on the other hand, was in a great mood. One of the other platoons, who had already been to this training area, had said something to the effect of “Yeah, they got these two beat-up old office buildings, you can smash holes in the wall and stuff.” Lessard took this as a license to wreak mayhem in every room he entered, destruction taking priority over completing the mission. Several times, he had to be told to come along, because he was busy kicking a giant hole in a wall, throwing furniture or scrawling graffiti on the wall.
We entered one room on the second floor of one of the buildings, that as previously described, must have had a broken pipe. At least a foot of ice was on the floor. This was a comedy of errors. Picture four men breaching the door, hitting the ice, then going skidding across the room in every direction.
Later in the day, I went to the gym. The Sergeant Major of US Army Alaska was there. He’s often there at the same time I am. He was 2005 Male Army Athlete of the Year, for his acheivements in Triathalon, which in his case is apparently running, tearing phonebooks in two and charging machine gun nests. I stay out of his way as much as possible, and when we unavoidably come face to face in the gym, I nod, mumble “good morning Sergeant Major” and scurry away. Well, a few months ago, he observed me doing the trap bar deadlift. He demanded to know what it was, and why I was doing it. I explained myself, and since then, I’ve seen him playing around with it. Today, I was doing a 20 rep set with 230 or so, and I think he saw the light amount of weight on the bar and decided to challenge me.
“Young man, you better be careful, because I’m catching up to you.”
I think he thought I was only going to be doing a set of three. I’ve been doing low reps the last couple of weeks, albeit with about twice that much weight. Little does he know that I hold a national record in the deadlift (in an obscure, small, drug-free federation, but still…) I proceeded to knock out 20 reps. He then acknowledged my deadlifting superiority. Arg!