Yes. I know this has been diaried a few times this past week or so. And good diaries too. But
A. This story is getting play in the MM and...
B. I'm just so fucking pissed off and astounded at the entire thing. So sit back, relax and listen to a little story about a CEOI...
"Communications-Electronics Operating Instructions" or CEOI was a little book. And this little book had some very important instructions in it. It was a temporary thing, little CEOI, and it knew that in a short period, perhaps 72 hours, it would be replaced by another, updated version.
But that only emphasized how important the information was to CEOI's carrier, the soldier entrusted to its use and protection. That soldier knew that in a pinch, CEOI's radio procedures and authentication protocols would be the deciding factor on whether harried calls for indirect fire or CAS would be heeded or ignored.
You see, we were once prepared to fight an implacable enemy. The Soviets were devious and we knew that it was possible for them to capture our secure communcations equipment. Even to use it to send our own Air Assets against us. So we devised methods to ensure that critical radio traffic could be verified; using a destructible, transportable and temporarily valid device: CEOI.
And CEOI knew what the soldier, even in training, had to go through to get his prize. You see CEOI was born, carefully, by very serious men, in a dark vault underground. The vault was always protected and when a soldier appeared to collect a CEOI, these men would always stare into his eyes, looking for the fortitude necessary to carry the little book.
The book was precious, because men's lives depended on it. Yet the book was useless without a trained soldier to use it and so they had a symbiotic relationship. Yes, even to be strapped around the soldier's neck using a strong lanyard.
And so it came to pass that a young paratrooper took that long walk and collected his charge, as he had done many times. And secreted beneath the BDU's CEOI followed him on the remainder of his errands.
First to collect his personal equipment:
The Secure Radio and jump freqs. Of course he didn't set the radio to the freqs before the jump because he might not survive the jump and a captured radio with proper freqs was a bad idea. Spare batteries. 25 lbs.
Rucksack, combat load. Including 2 mortar rounds for the Company team. 200 rds of 7.62 for the platoon MG team. 600 rds of 5.56 for himself. Grenades, one MRE, weather gear, fart sack, socks and pougie bait. 50-70lbs.
Helmet, 5.5 lbs.
Armory. Personal Weapon. 7.5 lbs. Jump gear: rucksack quick release straps, padded weapons case.
Gathered, inspected and off to greenramp. Drew parachute, 35lbs. Reserve, 25 lbs. Rigged, inspected, loaded aircraft.
Remember little CEOI? It was under the shirt, still. Under the parachute harness, upon which the rucksack had been attached, hanging, pregnantly, from the front of the harness, under the reserve chute. And after hours in the sun, covered in sweat.
And then as the men loaded the unairconditioned bird, like so many green sardines. Their knees, from sitting, pushed up the rucksacks, into the reserves, which compressed heavily onto the soldeir's chest. Only shallow breathing was possible. The nylon jump seats dug into thier legs.
And so immoble, drenched and uncomfortable they did what all thier forebears had done in the same situation. They laughed, smoked, cursed and were cruel to each other, followed by more laughter.
Hours later, awakening in the air to the rumble of the turboprops, a gush of humid air rushed through the opening door and pushed out the acrid smell of several men's vomit. You see, inflight, the pilot's needed to practice their "nap-of-the-earth" flying techniques that help them disguise a formation to enemy radar. It's speeding up and slowing down, up down, left and right. Even this particular paratrooper had fallen victim on occasion.
Trance-like, CEOI's soldier carried out his jump procedures along with his fellows, but took extra care to make sure CEOI was safely tucked in the bosom. And when they landed, the impact was borne by the soldier; allowing his own flesh to be scraped by the little book's hard vinyl covers.
Later, after days in the field and many miles marched, something occured that had never happend on all the training missions done by the soldier. A captain approached, the S-2, whom the soldier recognized as a regimental staff officer. Out of the blue, he demanded to see the CEOI. Proudly the soldier produced it, and satisfied upon seeing it still in the soldier's keep, he left.
All was well. The End.
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What's the moral to this story? Well, it's to illustrate what the good ol' Army was like before we sold our souls to Halliburton and also to beg the question: If it wasn't too tough for a soldier in the field to maintain OPSEC, why can't our civilian contractors maintain control of a goddamned flash drive?