One Of Those Weeks - And How Not To Fire Mortars

Ever have one of those weeks where every little thing seems to go wrong? Yeah, definitely one of those. Thank goodness it just might be over.

The CO's been extra cranky (which is saying something). And that just leads to more yelling. And that usually means Medina and I make more mistakes. Which causes more irritability on the CO's part and...well, you get the picture.

On top of that, half the Company is sick. And, no, that's likely not an exaggeration. Evidently something was less than agreeable in the chow hall food. And now the porta-johns would be reporting record visits if anyone tracked those numbers. Pooping in a bag has never been less fun.

And yesterday I almost lost a hand.

No, I don't believe it, either.

Mortars, for those of you who don't know, are basically smallish cannons we use to lob rockets at targets. The shell travels upwards in a very steep arc and is used to shoot over walls, trucks, small hills and the like, which is why we refer to it as "indirect fire." They're a favorite and common weapon of insurgents and often used against us (not us *us* but Coalition Forces).

The correct way to load a mortar tube is crouched from the side, two-handed, and to take a knee facing away from the blast as soon as you release the shell down into the business end of the tube. The wrong way is standing, one handed, and without enough space between oneself and the boom.

Do you really have to ask what I did?

Honestly, the fault lies with the shoddy instructions I received. Not to say that the guy hates me but, well, I mentioned that the Puerto Ricans are no fans of mine, right (I think all that extra protein they take to get big makes them extra angry)? Let's just call him apathetic towards my well-being. And maybe existence.

Luckily, I do still exist. Although the First Sergeant seemed very relieved as he came over yelling "No, no! That's not how you do it. Are you ok?"

At least that's what I think I heard thru my left ear. My right ear was basically ringing in a less than all that useful manner while I wondered how long it would remain deaf (and just how bad does hearing have to be for a medical re-class/discharge?)

"Dammit, junior, you could have been killed! Bet you felt that on your face."
"Just a bad right ear, First Sergeant. But it would've sucked if I had gotten killed. Lot of paperwork. And if I were dead, who would help you with it?"
"Heh, I guess I'd make Gonzo - yeah, you, you idiot! some instructor you are - before they shipped us both to Leavenworth (the military prison). Yeah, if we both go, you can be my wife, Gonzo."

That lovely image in mind, I watched the First Sergeant demonstrate the proper mortar-firing technique before trying it, myself, again.

And I gotta admit, the second-time was a lot less interesting.