Category Archives: Military Reintegration

SMURF-P

Smurf-P is not a small blue hip-hop artist who wears baggy footy pants. Nor is it a urine sample from a tiny person who lives in a mushroom house.

Smurf-P is the nickname given by my husband to a specific military team he recently joined. The proper acronym is CERFP (pronounced “surf-pee”), which stands for (and no, I’m not kidding): Chemical, Biological, Radiological/Nuclear, and Explosive Enhanced Response Force Package.

See? CERFP. It’s easy. And Smurfy.Brainy Smurf

Or Smurf-P, as the case may be.

Smurf-P and I are already at odds. The training that comes with my husband’s new role generally occurs on weekends that are not drill weekends. That means T is now gone two weekends a month instead of one. Since we both work fulltime, it’s not like we just sit around during the week soaking each other in. We’re working, commuting, running errands and doing housework. Weekends are when we’re supposed to relax, see friends or plan a fun activity together – in between laundry, taking the trash to the dump, grocery shopping and vacuuming up the dog hair and cat litter that threatens to bury the house on a daily basis.

What I wouldn’t give just to go see a movie with my husband.

As if that wasn’t irritating enough, this week is a full week of training for the Smurf-P. The training takes place near the armory where T drills – the one that is two and a half hours away from where we live. It doesn’t make sense for T to drive five hours a day for a full schedule of classes, so he’s staying in the area.

From wikipedia; originally uploaded to wikiped...

Image via Wikipedia

In case anyone is new to this blog, I’ll also mention here that my husband got home from a year in Afghanistan last December. Oh, and he’s also National Guard, which means all this is in addition to his civilian job. That’s right. He’s not fulltime military, which means we don’t get housing pay, he doesn’t get health insurance through the military and he doesn’t get comp days for a drill weekend. The only thing we regularly get from the military is the shaft.

What was I talking about? Oh, yeah. Smurf-P. Sorry, got a little off-track.

Last week we were discussing T’s military plans and I got on a roll then, too. I commented on how often he’s been gone and will be gone in the coming months. I listed off this training and that inventory and this drill and that whatever. T ignored me as best he could, but when I didn’t get the reaction I was looking for, I kept going.

With as much distain as I could muster – using diminutives to minimalize its importance – I scoffed, “And what about your little Smurf-P-ness?”

Which sounded completely different out loud than it did in my head.

Good thing T doesn’t have a fragile ego.

The National Guard and Salsa

This weekend is a drill weekend, which means I get to sit around in my fleece pants, not shave my legs and eat ice cream all weekend long.

Oh, wait. I do that anyway.

But, is it a drill weekend? Or is it next weekend that’s a drill weekend? It might be this weekend. Or not. I’m so confused.

You see, since the first weekend of the month is split (Saturday falls in April, Sunday in May), each unit can pick whether they want to drill this coming weekend or the next (which would be the first full weekend of May).

So what does that matter to us?

Well, T was promoted to CPT in Afghanistan where his status was “active duty”. Now that he’s returned to Guard status, he can’t stay with his current unit because in the Guard you can’t have two CPTs in the same unit. He’s sort of homeless for the time being.

He’ll be taking command of his unit in August, so the military only has to find a place for him until then. I was irritated by the decision to move him. I whined, “It’s only for a few months. Why can’t they just fake it?” Then I got the speech about rules and regulations and blah blah blah, something that I didn’t really listen to because I knew it was all BS anyway. They can get around the rules and regs when it’s convenient for them – just not when it’s convenient for us, so don’t pipe me that tune, thanks.

So, they tacked him onto Battalion. About a month ago, T came home and said, “Guess what?”

“You won a million dollars?” I asked.

“No, but Command decided that I can stay with my unit until August because it’s only a few months and it would be a pain to transfer to Battalion, then transfer me back.”

Gee, I wish I’d thought of that.

Earlier this week, word came down that T would be drilling with Battalion after all. Battalion is drilling this coming weekend. Okay, fine. I can take the trash to the dump on my own and maybe I’ll plan a hike with some friends. The weather looks nice.

A couple of days ago we got word that, no, T would be drilling with his original unit the following weekend instead. Okay, fine. T can go hiking with me and my friends this weekend, and we’ll take Owen. And T can go to the dump. Beautiful!

Today we got word that, no, T will go to Battalion unless it’s too short of a notice, in which case he could drill with the original unit. Uh, okay? Maybe I’ll take Owen to the dump and cancel the hike?

Five minutes ago we got word that, no, T will stay with the original unit and drill next weekend. Oh for the love of Pete! At this point, I think I’ll hike to the dump where I’ll meet my friends unless the weather is bad in which case Owen can drive me.

I love the military.
 
I can’t understand how they can even function sometimes. I mean, if they can’t figure out how a drill weekend is supposed to work, how in the name of your Aunt Fanny can they maintain an entire theatre of operations?

I guess the same way in which my husband can strategize a successful mission from top to bottom, but he can’t find the salsa in the fridge because it’s behind the yogurt.

That’s what I’m telling myself, anyway.

My Dirty Little Secret

I have a confession to make. You may hate me afterwards, but I can’t keep it inside any longer. (Actually, I can, but for the purposes of this post, we’ll pretend I couldn’t.)

I’m an FRG Leader.

There. I said it! I’m an FRG Leader and I’m proud of it!

Do you hate me yet? C’mon. You know you just threw up in your mouth a little. FRGs have the reputation of being only slightly less catty than an old school popularity contest between Nicole Richie and Paris Hilton. (Ah, those were the days.)

I knew this before I went in, but I wanted to be involved with the Guard and learn more about the military piece of my husband’s life, so the summer before his second deployment, I signed on as co-leader of the unit’s FRG. I really wanted the job of Communication Chair because I thought (and rightly so) that I’d be better at things like writing emails and newsletters and establishing social media venues than I would be at organizing and leading meetings.

My co-leader had been doing a phenomenal job at running an FRG that was based out of the middle of the state, but there was a need to branch out. The soldiers in T’s unit, as is the case in all the Maine Guard units, are spread throughout the state. I know it doesn’t look like it on the map, but Maine is actually a pretty big state. It’s about an eight-hour drive from top to bottom. Or you could probably snowmobile it in five, if you didn’t freeze first.

So it was that I was handed the job of creating an FRG in the southern part of Maine. We started having meetings the November before the unit left for Afghanistan and we had our last the November before they came home. When a unit is in non-deployed status, FRGs are required to meet only quarterly. Frankly, it’s a struggle to meet that often. There just isn’t much interest in forming bonds when the soldiers are at home.

You have to understand: this is the Guard. It’s not an Army base. This has both pros and cons for families. One pro is that Guard families already have friends and families that live around them. Most of them didn’t just move to the area so they aren’t necessarily looking for new friends or support networks. They’re in a place they’ve lived all their lives. The con to this is that when the soldiers do deploy, there is quite possibly no one within an hour’s drive that has any idea what it is they’re going through. It’s during this time they yearn for and need those connections. So that’s when the FRG is most active.

Ideally, we’d form these bonds before deployment and maintain them afterwards, but it’s tough, and not only because of distance (though that certainly is a major factor). Our unit in particular tends to have a high turnover rate. We also have a lot of very young soldiers that don’t have spouses. During a deployment, it’s their parents that need information and support. I had multiple meetings where I had in attendance: wives, parents, grandparents and young children. Talk about a diverse group. It wasn’t easy to plan meetings that would be relevant and meaningful to everyone, which is one reason I tried to keep things strictly informational.

Another reason, apparently, is that I’m a Gold/Green personality, according to Shipley Communication’s 4 Lenses Assessment.

This weekend, my husband and I attended the FRG State Conference. The first session on Saturday morning was “4 Lenses Training”, which turned out to be absolutely fascinating. At least for an analytical person like me.

What are the 4 Lenses? Well, according to Shipley Communication’s website:

The 4 Lenses™ assessment is a proven personality assessment which helps organizations build a solid understanding of the innate talent and potential of its individuals. The 4-Lenses™ instrument was created from the research of the Myers Briggs’ Personality Type Indicator, as well as David Keirsey’s modifications to this instrument in his book, Please Understand Me.

Basically, it’s a personality test that helps you understand and relate to others in a group, whether that group be work, family or the FRG. And it was really helpful. I won’t give away the full profiles of each of the four personality colors or how the test works in case you ever get a chance to do it (which I would highly recommend). I’ll just tell you each color’s assigned “word”:

Green: competence

Gold: structure/order

Blue: relationships

Orange: freedom

Color Arrows Vector

I was a Gold/Green and that’s pretty accurate. I’m OCD about order and structure. I’m organized and I make lists constantly. That’s the Gold. I’m also independent and a perfectionist. That’s the Green.

My husband was an alpha Green. So much so that his test numbers almost didn’t leave room for any other color, which explains a lot. He was literally off the charts. But he was sort of a Green/Orange-Gold, if that’s possible.

The Blue didn’t show up until third on mine and last on my husband’s test. Blues are sort of the nurturers who value relationships most. That’s not to say that we don’t value relationships, but in a work situation, we are very business-like and less social.

We decided that if we ever have a Blue child, we are going to mess that kid up royally. It would go something like this:

“Look, I know you’re only eight months old, but you’ve got to get over this teething thing. Suck it up and don’t be such a baby!’

Hmph. Come to think of it, I’m not sure that’s the right attitude for an FRG Leader, either. Maybe I should look into that communication position again.

What about you? Have you ever taken the 4-Lenses Assessment? What was your color?