Today is moving day in the barracks. I don't have to go far, but I have a lot of books. Also, I'm still unwell from that stupid flu "vaccine".

Being unwell, I've been kind of slow. So I was in the shower when the guy moving into my current room knocked on the door. I put on a towel, and opened the door, discovering that he'd brought his Japanese girlfriend along to help him. Heh. Konichiwa! I was amused, she was embarrassed.

But I post this now because it's time to disassemble my computer. I hope I can get the internet working in the new room in short order.

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Friday I had my annual flu "shot". I use quotes because this year it was a nasal spray. That makes three kinds of flu shots that the Corps has given me: the nasal spray, an ordinary intramuscular injection, and a hypospray that used compressed air to blow it past my skin. The Star Trek one was the coolest. And coolness is how I make all my medical decisions!

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Last night we had a farewell party for the Marines in the shop that were attached to us from the parent commands of the different type aircraft. That is, I belong in a CH-46 squadron, but we've got AH-1, UH-1, and CH-53 aircraft reinforcing us. When we got those aircraft, some maintainers came along. Those maintainers are about to switch off with another group.

So as I was saying, the shop went to Jon-Jon's, an all-you-can-eat, all-you-can-drink restraunt in the American Village. For under thirty bucks, as much food, beer, and booze as you can handle. It's popular for parties, both with Americans and with Japanese. We had a good time, laughing and telling stories. I left at 2300 to take the new LCpl back to the barracks, as he's not yet allowed liberty past midnight.

Apparently Gunny and the OIC kept drinking though, until the place closed down at 0500. Which is all well and good, as today the only thing happening was the squadron holiday party. I was the photographer for all the kids sitting on Santa's lap. And Santa? Hmmm, did I ever mention that my OIC is the biggest guy in the squadron? So the poor hung-over guy flew in and had to sit as Santa for the first hour of the party. We didn't SPIE rig in, as they couldn't get the airfield to clear us for a 50 foot hover for the couple of minutes it would require. Not everyone was having their party today.

The photography was easy- I set up my tripod and snapped each kid in turn. I had some trouble with the white balance (what temperature are sodium vapor lights?), but it was also kind of dark, so I used the flash. Thus the background has a color cast, but the kids look allright. I was a bit worried about power, as I don't have any spare batteries, and I was flashing away. My camera has a defect, it's battery sensor doesn't work. That is, it indicates full power up until it pops a "Out of power! Shutting down!" message. Servicing under warrenty could fix that issue, but I can't be bothered.

My power held out. The photo session lasted maybe an hour, then Santa and I quit and ate the catered food. Then it was gift time. My name and my OIC's name were picked one after another in the raffle, so we both picked out what were obviously wrapped DVDs, and agreed to trade if we didn't like what we got. He ended up with Ocean's Thirteen, and I got the original Terminator. We decided we were happy with those winnings.

Tomorrow, I have to move barracks rooms. That won't be nearly as much fun.

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I'm now going to be the photography elf for Santa at the Holiday party Friday. Oh, joy. I may have to SPIE-rig in along with Santa, which will be fun, I guess.

Today I gave my class first thing; it went all right, I guess, but not as well as I'd like. Then I spent all morning in a training on some new gear we're getting. The Navy Chief leading the class tried to convince me to re-up, after the class. When a Navy SNCO is trying to talk you into staying in the Marines, something is up.

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Saturday night I was arriving at the barracks. Tuesday morning, back at work. Today we unpacked all our gear and started working on two Cobra phases. That phase inspection requires my shop to pull out the heating and cooling unit ("ECU"), a box that's about two feet wide, six inches long, and eighteen inches tall. It weighs about thirty pounds, and costs as much as a decent car. (Making a lightweight heater+A/C unit is a challenging engineering task.) One of the pipes these things have takes bleed air from the engines- that is, air from the bypass path, so it's not been burned, but is at high pressure and high temperature.

The plumbing to get this air from the engines to the ECU has a bunch of connections, as it passes through valves, firewalls, etc. And metal connections exposed to 400° air for a while tend to get stuck. Normally we need to whack a few places with a wrench to get it to disconnect.

One of the ones we did today came off very easily. That should have been the warning, because the same connection at the other aircraft was as bad as I've ever seen. We hadn't gotten it disconnected by the time we knocked off for the day, but we did get all the way up to a 30 lb wrench with a six-foot long cheater bar. We broke that wrench, which I feel bad about, because tools that big are expensive. We were pushing that cheater bar by lying down and pushing on it with both legs. I think it broke at about 300 lbs force exerted by me, by comparing how I felt with how it feels to do leg pressed in the gym. So let's see, we put 3600 ft-lbs on that thing and it didn't come off. Most annoying.

So it's soaking in oil overnight. In the morning, we're going to hold a blowtorch to the outer joint and ice the inner pipe to get some thermal expansion help too.

When I wasn't getting my ass kicked by a Cobra, I learned that I've got to give an egress and explosive safety lecture to all hands first thing tomorrow morning. Now, not to pat myself on the back too much, but I've been told many times how much people love my presentations. But my stuff is so much better than the USMC average because I've had formal training in information transfer ("communication"). Plus I liven it up with spontaneous jokes. But it takes me days to write all those spontaneous jokes, and I like to practice my presentation for a week or two as well. Doing one cold is making me nervous- should I try to recycle material, or just hope that something comes to me?

I'm going to have to do a few makeup classes too, because the powers that be are pulling 40 people from the maintenance shops tomorrow for a boots-n-utes "moto run". Those things only ever motivate me to desert. Luckily, I didn't get picked this time.

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Hooray! Yesterday I made it back ashore in Okinawa, Japan. I apologize for the lack of post the last few days; I was too busy packing up the shop to spend time on the internet. The once we were done packing, the computer was packed up (duh), and that made it kind of hard too.

Debark was a pain, as always. I wasn't on the flyoff list, so I was senior man from the shop bussing off. I had to keep things running as the aircraft took off, wave after wave. Which is harder than it seems, because we need to keep spare flight gear ready to go at a moment's notice for all the waves, yet get it aboard one of the aircraft on the last wave, at the last minute. I even needed to use some of the spare gear when one of the crew chief's had a helmet lose comms. It's nice to be needed.

The birds gone, we cleaned our workcenter yet again, then waited on a petty officer to come down and sign some paperwork to officially turn it back over. Then we weren't allowed back up there, so we spent a couple of hours chilling with all our seabags on the hanger deck. We were chased onto the flight deck just before the ship moored, so the customs crew could come aboard. In formation, I got randomly picked for additional screening. I don't know why, but they picked a lot more people this time than ever before. The dog finished with the bags, including,  I was told, making a large puddle in such a way as to make is clear it knew it wasn't supposed too, but couldn't hold it. I and the other searchees went back to get our bags and dump them for inspection.

I had over the max bag allotment. I had three seabags and a garmet bag, which is authorized, because I'm one of those overacheavers that takes ever damned thing on the packing list. We're also supposed to have only one 'carry-on' bag, but I had two- a laptop backpack and a sling pack for my camera. I sure as hell didn't want to dump and repack all five bags. So I just grabbed my clothing seabag and my camera bag, took them over the customs area, and dumped and searched them. The agent asked where the hell all my combat gear was, so I put on my best Dumb Airwinger face and lied to her face about it. This was not one of ethical high points, but I was trying to conserve energy and water.

Because, cut off from our shops, we couldn't get any water. After the search, we had to wait another hour, while all the other MEU groups got off the boat. (All our non-junior officers had already flown off, so we had no one senior left to speak for us.) Hauling all the bags down to the pier and stuffing them into an undersized truck to take to base is heavy, thirsty labor. Then it was pack aboard the busses, a hour ride back to base, and unload the truck. I was in Bus One, and the other two busses didn't even arrive until we had unloaded and sorted all the luggage. When they did arrive, we hasseled the other guys, even though it clearly wasn't their fault.

We and our luggage get dropped off a quarter mile from my barracks, at a point somewhat central to the three different barracks that we are spread out amongst. So I took one bag and humped it over, feeling my dehydration levels getting dangerous. But hooray! At the barracks were some of the guys that had flown off, plates of food, and coolers of drinks! (Food and drink courtesy of the squadron spouses and the Family Readiness Officer). I grabbed a ice-cold 16.9 oz water bottle and chugged it, after which I began feeling better. I lugged all my gear up to my room, with the help of one of the guys that had flown off in the morning, who owed me a favor anyway, although he volunteered to help lug without my asking.

Did a quick sort of my luggage, got my compter updating, and checked in with my WoW guild, then I passed out. When I woke up a little while ago, I realized that I had slept carefully in the center of the bed. Whenever I rolled over, I carefully scooted to remain in the same place. Six weeks on a bed two feet wide and seven feet up give one a few safety habits.

So here I am! I think tonight I'm going to find a restraunt that serves delicious food.

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Near the end of every float, the cooks get mushroom-happy. Sliced mushrooms are included in almost every dish, even if it's wildly inappropriate. I have two theories on the reason for this behavior:

(1) The Navy cooking manual consideres mushrooms a vegatable. Mushrooms keep better than other vegatables. So having used up all the stuff that perishes, they're just substituting mushrooms for whichever veggies the recepie originally called for.

(2) The food storage rooms are belowdecks. There's no light down there. So we didn't set sail with mushrooms... they grew while we've been out.

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The final layouts of the cruise book have been turned in to the guys that will ship it to the printer. My work on the book is done.

Which is why it's unfortunate that someone pointed out on one page I used a nickname for a senior officer without checking to see if that officer doesn't mind said nickname. And I put my name in the book, so it won't be hard for him to find me if he is not amused.

Ah well, no sense worrying about it, I'll be out in six months anyway.

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The last event in our port visit to Sihanoukville, Cambodia, was a formal reception hosted by the Navy and the US Ambassador. There were probably fifty American civilians, fifty Navy and Marine officers and SNCOs, and a hundred Cambodian visitors. A live band, fresh catered food, and a substantial selection of ethanol-based lubricants completed the picture. It was all held down in the hangar bar, and off limits to hoi-polloi such as your humble author. My staff sergeant was "voluntold" to attend, which he did with poor grace. Apparently the food was good, but the lines to the bar were very long.

Although I couldn't go to the party, I did have a funny encounter. I was going to the evening maintenance meeting, in the squadron ready room. That's where flight briefs are held, so it's full of comfy furniture. Anyway, I walked in, and there was a Marine major and a lady. The Marine was a groundsider, so he didn't have any business in the ready room. The lady was probably embassy staff, and young and lithesome. I gave them the eye and said "Can I help you, ma'am, sir?" The major gave me a gimlet glare and said "We're fine, corporal." Then the lady asked why I was wearing a colorful patch on my uniform, and hey, I need to be polite and answer. I started with a simple explanation of it as a squadron symbol, but the glare of the major was amusing me, so I extended into a discussion of unit pride and the organization of naval aviation. The major was transparently desperate to get rid of me, and the lady seemed amused by that. By the time I wrapped up my exposition, the other guys were arriving for the meeting, so now there were twenty Marines and a couple of senior staff NCOs in there, giving these two the hairy eyeball. The meeting was about to start, so I wrapped up, thanked the lady for her time. She thanked me politely, the major thanked me rather impolitely, and he dragged her away. I even invited them to watch our meeting.

I guess I'm a small-souled and cruel person. But the way I read it, that officer was trying to use our squadron ready room as the site of an assignation with a cute civilian. And if I can't get any on this boat, I'll be damned if I make it easy for some groundpounding officer to borrow my spacees to get his!

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