I passed my BRC this weekend. The class was a lot of fun, and had about 1/3 women which was pretty cool. Went to the DMV today to trade in my paperwork for the M on my license but the system was down (statewide, awesome) so I have to go back tomorrow. I have my eye on a 2003 Sportster 1200C at a dealership nearby and will probably get it this weekend. There’s a Garage Party happening Thursday that I’m going to check out first.

The Real Meaning of 4,000 Dead
Wednesday, Mar. 26, 2008
By LIEUT. SEAN WALSH

The passing of the 4,000th service member in Iraq is a tragic milestone and a testament to the cost of this war, but for those of us who live and fight in Iraq, we measure that cost in smaller, but much more personal numbers. For me those numbers are 8, the number of friends and classmates killed in Iraq and Afghanistan, and 3, the number of soldiers from my unit killed in this deployment. I’m 25, yet I’ve received more notifications for funerals than invitations to weddings.

The number 4,000 is too great to grasp even for us that are here in Iraq. When we soldiers read the newspaper, the latest AP casualty figures are glanced over with the same casual interest as a box score for a sport you don’t follow. I am certain that I am not alone when I open up the Stars and Stripes, the military’s daily paper, and immediately search for the section with the names of the fallen to see if they include anyone I know. While in a combat outpost in southwest Baghdad, it was in that distinctive bold Arial print in a two-week-old copy of the Stars and Stripes that I read that my best friend had been killed in Afghanistan. No phone call from a mutual friend or a visit to his family. All that had come and gone by the time I had learned about his death. I sometimes wonder, if I hadn’t picked up that paper, how much longer I would have gone by without knowing — perhaps another day, perhaps a week or longer until I could find the time and the means to check my e-mail to find my messages unanswered and a death notification from a West Point distro list in my inbox. The dead in Afghanistan don’t seem to inspire the keeping of lists the same way that those in Iraq do, but even if they did it wouldn’t matter; he could only be number 7 to me.

I’m not asking for pity, only understanding for the cost of this war. We did, after all, volunteer for the Army and that is the key distinction between this army and the army of the Vietnam War. But even as I ask for that understanding I’m almost certain that you won’t be able to obtain it. Even Shakespeare, with his now overused notion of soldiers as a “band of brothers,” fails to capture the bonds, the sense of responsibility to each other, among soldiers. In many ways, Iraq has become my home (by the time my deployment ends I will have spent more time here than anywhere else in the army) and the soldiers I share that home with have become my family. Between working, eating and sleeping within a few feet of the same soldiers every single day, I doubt I am away from them for more than two hours a day. I’m engaged to the love of my life, but it will take several years of marriage before I’ve spent as much time with her as I have with the men I serve with today.

For the vast majority of Americans who don’t have a loved one overseas, the only number they have to attempt to grasp the Iraq War is 4,000. I would ask that when you see that number, try to remember that it is made up of over 1 million smaller numbers; that every one of the 1 million service members who have fought in Iraq has his or her own personal numbers. Over 1 million 8′s and 3′s. When you are evaluating the price of the war, weighing potential rewards versus cost in blood and treasure, I would ask you to consider what is worth the lives of three of your loved ones? Or eight? Or more? It would be a tragedy for my 8 and 3 to have died without us being able to complete our mission, but it maybe even more tragic for 8 and 3 to become anything higher.

I stayed at Ricketts Glen State Park this past weekend. I had said I’d drive, so of course it snowed again. I love snowy rush hours on Friday nights when driving far. Most of the ride was okay, although I did about half the speed limit after Hickory Run again, especially after leaving the turnpike. The last 5 miles were the worst though. My car couldn’t make it up the steep hill. The two people with me had to get out and push, I was pretty much not getting any traction with tires spinning constantly as I fish tailed across the road. A couple of pickup trucks blew by but otherwise the road was empty. Finally a plow came and cleared a path that I was able to roll into backwards and try to make it up the hill some more. There was still an icy coat on the road so I didn’t make much more progress than I had been without the plow. It came by again going down the hill and dropped salt this time. The driver told us to give it a few minutes for the salt to start working and then try again. This time I was able to get some traction, although I still managed to lose it every ten feet or so. We did make it to the park entrance and although the park roads were covered in snow and hadn’t been plowed, my car was able to get through the powdery, non-icy stuff there to the one cabin where we were meeting people. It was late but we were only the second car there so we still had to wait for everyone else to arrive before turning in. The original plan was to split between cabins and tents but it was so late that no one felt like driving over to the tent sites to see how they looked since they’d probably not be in good shape any way. There was room in the cabins due to people backing out last minute though so all the tent campers just stayed there. Ricketts Glen has modern cabins and they were very nice inside – two bedrooms, living room, bathroom with shower, full kitchen (including microwave), and, most importantly, heat.

Saturday we did about a 4.5 mile hike through most of the Falls Trail. It was gorgeous, although I’d like to see what the trail actually looks like some time when it’s not covered by a foot of snow. We were guided by Quest, who also provided crampons and ice axes in case we would need them. We actually didn’t need the crampons for most of the trail, although the axes came in handy on the really steep parts where we either had to climb up or basically do a controlled slide down. The only part we did need the crampons for was at the last waterfall we saw, where there was a spiral staircase built into the rock, but without any support on the outside edge and with a straight drop down from there. The guides managed to chop away some of the ice before we climbed up but some people had trouble with crampons coming off halfway there. It was a great hike though, lots of fun to get through the tough parts. I realized I should invest in some waterproof pants, or at least gaiters, if I’m going to plan on doing any more really snowy winter hikes.

Sunday we did another hike to see the falls we had missed the previous day, this time with snowshoes. I’ve heard that some people don’t like snowshoes but I thought they were a blast. Maybe they were a little tricky going over difficult / narrow spots, but they made walking over the rest of the snow so much easier that it was worth it. We did a shorter hike this day, probably a little less than 4 miles, but we still had to drive home so I’m glad we finished early.

The whole weekend was a great time. Quest seems like a great program. They offer outdoor courses and trips, specific outings for groups, and also provide outdoor leadership training through Bloomsburg University. I would have loved to do a program like that in school.