The Psychosis of Boredom

What is the difference between an ODA, and a Boy Scout Troop? Adult supervision.

It is said that war is hours of boredom interrupted by moments of terror, which is true. There are volumes written on how to train, deal, react go 0-60 in a heartbeat. Learning to breathe like you’re in a lamaz class. Hell, even Ricky Bobby had to learn how to control his fear so he could drive with a wild cougar in his car.

What hasn't been talked about as much is what happens to a man (Yes. I said man. It's not sexist - women just aren't this stupid.) when the monotony and boredom become too much, and a kind of euphoric insanity overtakes you. It is a strange phenomenon because very rarely does this madness affect only one person.

I had first heard about this affliction during the Q course. We had some Vietnam vets come and talk to us. They told a story.

After a failed attack on their camp, they spotted an unexploded white phosphorous mortar shell right outside the wire in the middle of their minefield. Well, the demo guy got some C4 and went out there to blow it up. Apparently, he had miscalculated the time fuse and it exploded while he was trying to wind his way back through the mine field. The guys telling this story were laughing their asses off, describing him hot-footing it around the mines while White Phosphorous is raining down all around. I didn't get it at the time, but I do now.

Disclaimer: I do not recommend any of these actions, even though every single one of them was totally worth it...at the time. (Until our wives found out, that is. Wives just don't have this child-like curiosity and wonder at all the amazing things that are possible.) Also, I swear to everyone reading that each story is true. Names will be hidden to protect the innocent and give them plausible deniability when confronted by angry spouses, who may not have heard some of these.

Afghanistan 2002

This was my entire team's first combat rotation. We were all nervous and excited, not knowing what to expect. After a month or two we had gotten our firebase built, and while construction was still ongoing, we weren't being run ragged like we had been at first. We were out patrolling a lot, but when we were back we had some downtime. That was when we came to the most dangerous epiphany that could possibly come to guys in a foreign land at the beginning of a brand new war. The fact that it took this long shows you how ingrained and brainwashed we all were by the modern peacetime Army. Our epiphany.....there is no Range Control at our Firebase.

Not only was there no Range Control, the closest adult supervision (B team) was over three hours away, through prime ambush areas over spine crushing roads. You don't really see the insanity at the time. It is only when looking back through the hazy lens of time do the "what the fucks" come.

I think the first time the insanity hit, I was standing on the edge of our Firebase looking down, far below, across our DZ to where we had set up our heavy weapons range. The range was on top of a deep cut that was not only a river bed, but also acted as a road. Across the stream/road was a tall ridgeline that ran parallel to our fire base. We would shoot our heavy weapons over the road and use the ridgeline as our impact zone. Right next to the firing line was the outline of an old compound we called the ruins. All that was left was the typical Afghan mud wall, about 3 feet high and about 2 feet thick.

The insanity hadn't completely taken a hold of me yet so I couldn't quite believe what I was seeing. I saw three of our guys shooting the 60 mm mortar, similar to this. They were standing about 15-20 meters from the ruins and seeing if they could get the round to land inside. They were holding the tube straight up and shooting it. Every once in a while they would shoot it, and a few seconds later they would all dive for cover and the round would hit danger close. They would get up, brush the dirt off and do it again.

In their defense, they got so they could set up right next to the compound and make it land inside...almost every time.

A few days later my Bravo was down there again, this time by himself doing the same exact thing, except this time he was using his 203 grenade launcher. By now, I was full in the clutches of this dangerous malady, so of course I went down and joined in. If you've never shot one, if you pay real close attention when you shoot, you can watch the grenade fly.

Trying to get a 40mm grenade to land 15 meters away is not easy. The wind, rotation of the earth, tides, the moon's gravity and global warming all come into play. Well, sometimes you would lose sight of it, or you would see it coming down where you're pretty sure it will be too close, so it then becomes necessary for you to throw yourself to the ground, in the opposite direction from where you think it might be heading (stupid global warming). But practice does make, if not perfect, at least less shitty, so by the end we getting most of them right in the ruins.

Sometimes it's not insanity that hits you, but a really "funny" idea on which you probably could have done a better cost-benefit analysis. As a Fox, I now know to look for 2nd and 3rd order effects, but sometimes a lack of critical thinking on your part makes your hilarious joke less funny for you, but infinitely more funny for everyone else. That happened to me on my third trip.

We were right next to FOB Salerno who had a medevac unit located there. Our medics had built a good relationship with the pilots, and they would come over and conduct training. Many times they needed to go pick someone up, so they would fly over and pick our 18Ds up to help out, so it was not uncommon to see the helicopters sitting out there on the airfield. I got to know the pilots and would sit around and bullshit with them.

Well, one afternoon I was out doing PT running around the airfield, in nothing but ranger panties, of course. I was at the end of the runway heading toward them as they were taking off. They were going to fly right over me so I quickly turned around and dropped my shorts, laughing at how clever and funny I was. Apparently, the pilot thought I was funny too, because he brought the helicopter to a hover...directly over me.

Even though I couldn't see due to the fact that I was blind in the middle of a tornado and every orifice was completely covered in dirt, I just knew they were laughing.