Attention please: I am not tech support for all the computers in the barracks. That is all.

Posted by: Boviate at 05:31 AM | No Comments | Add Comment
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*sigh* Every Marine has a mentor. The mentor is of superior rank, and is to advise the mentee on how to generally be a success with the Corps and with life.

I have failed at being a mentor, inasmuch as my mentorly advise for today was "I think you've made some bad choices. You need a lawyer. Here's the number for the Navy/Marine Corps Relief Society, I'm sure that they can recommend one."

So at the moment, besides falling behind on the workload, I'm trying to keep my guy out of a Japanese jail. He'll have a more conducive time in the brig. At least they provide you with food there.

Posted by: Boviate at 06:20 AM | No Comments | Add Comment
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I thought I'd share with you a little life lesson. I think most of you know it, but someone had to learn it last night.

When your opponent gets an armbar locked in, tap out.

Last night, I was on my compter, when I heard hooting and hollering outside. I went to my window to make sure I didn't have to go downstairs to break something up, and saw two guys grappling in the grass. A little observation convinced me it was a friendly match, so I went back to my computer.

Then the cheering suddenly stopped, and it got quiet in a way that I didn't like. I poked my head out and yelled "Everything OK?" The answer: "No! Get Doc!"

So I grabbed my roommate, the corpsman that lives in the barracks, and we trooped downstairs. The wrestling loser was pretty drunk and feeling little pain, so he refused to tap when the other guy got an armbar on. When I've got an armbar and my opponent doesn't tap, that tells me that I haven't tightened it down enough- so I pull harder. And harder. It hurts more and more, sooner or later they'll get the point. Only this idiot didn't.

So the idiot got his left shoulder dislocated. He and the crowd wanted Doc to just pop it back in, which is a bad idea. Doc dragged him to the ER, where they discovered that his scapula was no longer in the right place, so he ended up waiting for hours until a specialist could get there to put his internal structures back in the right place.

Because he was drunk as hell, the hospital resident wouldn't allow him to be given any anesthetics. As the hours went on and the booze wore off, this guy was in increasingly agonizing levels of pain.

FInally, for fear that they'd get in trouble, the parties involved decided to lie about the cause of the injury. There's an armwrestling contest going on today, so they claimed that he was practicing for that. I strongly urged them to just tell the truth, but was ignored. The results were just as I expected- a Marine shows up to the ER with his arm dislocated and claims it was an armwrestling accident, and the resident gets curious. Curious about why it was a left arm out of socket. And about why the armwrestler is covered with grass, almost as if he'd been rolling around on the ground. Curious about why the shoulder was dislocated laterally, while for armwrestling you'd expect a rotational injury.

And a little friendly grappling isn't something that'll get you in trouble anyway! Sure, you get hurt and can't work, your boss will yell at you. But now LCpl Dumbass and his buddy that backed him up as a witness, Cpl Dumbass, are both getting paperwork on filing a false report, and the duty NCO is getting paperwork on falsification of a logbook entry. Dumbasses, all of them.

Posted by: Boviate at 09:08 PM | No Comments | Add Comment
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Seems that typhoon never managed to get it together. So we're just looking at some ordinary rain this weekend, nothing exciting. Which is good, because this weekend's the Futenma Flightline Fair, which should be exciting enough, even if it's slightly damp this year.

Posted by: Boviate at 04:44 PM | No Comments | Add Comment
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I stepped out of my room into the hallway wearing my swimsuit, and almost bumped into a Marine coming to my room. I'd forgotten that he'd talked to me at work, as I was feeling pretty stressed and blew him off a bit. He'd just purchased a new Nikon D40 camera, and since I'm the squadron's best-known camera geek, he wanted some pointers. So I'd told him to stop by after work, and there I was, about to blow him off.

So we invited him to join us at the pool, and he cheerfully did. He ended up being a better instructor than I was, because he'd started surfing at the age of 11 and grew up a ten minute walk from the beach in Puerto Rico. I could learn a few things from him.

Among other thing, I remembered how much fun swimming could be. I've not been swimming for pleasure since college. I still have muscle memory of how to swim, but it was awkward for fifteen minutes or so. Also, I gained that muscle memory when I had long hair- so every time I surface, I flip my neck to clear the hair away from my mouth. That was pretty well wasted energy now, as you might imagine.

We spent 90 minutes in the water, and had a grand time.

Posted by: Boviate at 05:42 AM | No Comments | Add Comment
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Yes, it sure is lovely weather out there. The reason it's so nice, is that all the moisture is being sucked into the typhoon forming to the southeast. It'll be here on Saturday, thus keeping my streak alive. For the last 18 months, every typhoon I've been here for was on a weekend. So we get locked into the barracks Saturday and Sunday, and go back to work on Monday. I want a typhoon that arrives Wednesday and leaves Friday!

No time for further complaining now. I'm going to the base pool. I've never swam there before, as they only recently reopened it after a year of repairs. I'm going to go help a buddy of mine that's not a strong swimmer. He needs to improve to qualify as aircrew, and I can probably give some instruction and motivation.

Posted by: Boviate at 03:52 AM | No Comments | Add Comment
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As is normal, last weekend the weather was "bleah", with clouds and a couple of sprinkles. The week was trending that way, too.

But today is gorgeous. Perfect. Ideal. Scattered clouds just to break up the sunshine. Sea breeze to keep you cool. It doesn't even feel hot, because the humidity is unusually low.

That low humidity has broken up the haze that typically surrounds the island. The base is on a hilltop, but normally the horizon is murky. Today, you can see the other islands in the Ryukuan chain that are normally lost in the sauce. Ships passing in the distance. Birds soaring.

And not only am I working, I've been doing paperwork, inside our windowless office. I got to spend a half hour outside for the FOD walkdown at 0715, but you have to stare at the ground during that. The only other times I've been close to seeing the glorious weather is spending a half hour inside a Cobra cockpit parked inside the hanger, and the drive home to lunch, where I am now. Most frustrating. I want to go to the beach- and I don't even like the beach!

Posted by: Boviate at 11:02 PM | No Comments | Add Comment
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Some excitement at work yesterday, when a Taiwanese airliner caught fire at Naha airport, the island's only commercial airport. Reports of burning aircraft naturally cause some distress amongst aircraft mechanics such as ourselves. It seems that there were no deaths or injuries, so their egress plan worked. Hmmm… too bad I'm not scheduled to give any egress lectures soon, or I'd work it in somehow.

Also, it shut down our flight ops for two hours, becuase the Marine aircraft crash and fire trucks headed down to help as soon as the call went out; and with them gone, our airfield ops got shut down. We didn't mind the break, as we're really shorthanded right now, so maintenance is behind schedule and falling further back by the hour.

Posted by: Boviate at 04:25 PM | Comments (1) | Add Comment
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Very stressful day today. With my SNCOs and OICs gone, I had to stand up in front of an E-6, a CWO-5, and an O-5, all three of which wanted something to happen. I felt bound to tell them that I would not permit it to happen, and that I would do anything I judged as necessary to to prevent it from happening.

This was quite stressful, both externally and internally. Externally, because no one likes getting yelled at. Internally, because I'm a Marine. The day I joined up, I swore and oath to obey orders, and here I was telling superior officers to go pack sand.

But in the air wing, we swear a second oath, when we gain an inspection qualification. CDIs and CD/QARs swear that they will particularly and exactingly uphold the orders and directives that cover aviation maintenance, and that they will make decisions according only to their professional knowledge and judgment, regardless of external factors.

So I decided that an aircraft that was scheduled to fly a very important mission was unsafe. I did it like the INTP I am, which is to say, partially intuitively, based on a large pool of evidence; and most distinctly in a manner not precisely in accordance with standard operating procedures. I don't really like confrontation, and I especially don't like confrontation when I don't already have my arguments logically arranged and my words chosen and honed. But I had stand there and say "It's unsafe. No, I cannot point to any paragraph in the mainenance manuals that specify the situation is unsafe. But it's still unsafe. No one is flying that aircraft, even if I have to tackle the pilot." You don't get ahead in the Corps by telling a Major, a Chief Warrent Officer, and a Staff Sergeant that, either separately or all together.

I do feel very pleased about one thing. When I got my CDI stamp at this unit, I got a brief from the QA chief, a gunny. He told me that QA would stand behind any CDI 100% of the time. That even if he disagreed with a safety decision, he'd back any CDI up, and then discuss the matter privately later. Well, after I'd gone back and forth with thee three superiors a few times, they sent me to go talk to QA, wanting QA to go out to the aircraft and double-check my inspection. I walked to the QA office, and none of the QA guys that particularly like me were in the shop. In fact, the only guy that was in there I think doesn't really like me much at all. I explained the situation, and told him I'd been told to ask him to come out to the plane and check my work. He didn't even get out of his chair. "Do you think it's unsafe?" he said. "Yes, Staff Sergeant, because…" I started to reply, but he cut me off. "Then tell them I said it's unsafe too."

Backing like that makes me feel, well, hell, honored. I mean, this guy was willing to go to bat against the third-highest officer in the unit, just on my say-so. I know the bond of trust that comes from sharing common danger; but I guess a good Marine doesn't need combat to have esprit de corps.

It was a bad day in several other ways too, but that was a big part. Maybe I'll post more on it later, but I think right now I need to decompress a little. I heard Mr. P_ back at my hometown church though I'd never make it as a Marine because I was too independant-minded to take orders. I think he'd be surprised how much I agonized over having to speak my mind about this, and how much it's still bugging me. I know I made the right choice, but I feel pained about how it went down.

Posted by: Boviate at 05:12 AM | No Comments | Add Comment
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I'd believed I was the only person in the squadron that loved Danner boots. Today in line for a sub at on-base sub shop, I noticed that a Lance Corporal from my unit was wearing a pair. So we spent a couple of minutes comparing boot notes. We were also both amused that we were doing this- who thinks of tough Marines as guys that can discuss, at length, the merits of a dozen different brands of an article of clothing? But in our jobs, one's boots are more important than any other article of clothing.

Also, I gave him some hell, because he works "upstairs" in the S-6 shop, maintaining computers and telecommunications. So my boots are steel-toe, scarred from impacts, muddy from unimproved flightlines, and stained from hydraulic fluid and other nasty chemicals. His are pristine and practically sparkle with cleanliness. The S-shop guys are used to give as good as they get, though. We accuse them of not knowing what hard work is, and they accuse us of not knowing how to maintain a proper uniform.

Posted by: Boviate at 06:53 AM | No Comments | Add Comment
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