hey man, it's effing Diego

Remember how I was saying we were delayed and did some shopping? Well, I wasn't alone. In fact I was with a dentist, flight surgeon, and a couple other people people. There was this one first class, a SEABEE, who first enlisted in 1981! He got out for a few years, then joined the reserves, and now was active duty for the past few years, and now he only had 3 years before he could retire. Interesting guy, and you tell he was all navy. Kinda cool actualy. I'm not going to beat around the bush, the dentist was probably the hottest woman on the island (I'll get to that in a minute), and I found out the flight surgeon was an ad hoc professor at the college I was taking classes from (again I'll touch on that in a minute) over a couple glasses of Tiger Beer while waiting at the airport terminal.

Those people were just a footnote to the story I'll share with you now. On the flight I was seated next to MCPO Smith. Master chief Smith was the CMC of WESPAC munitions command, and he was visiting Diego with his CO. Getting that much sit-down time with a master chief is invaluable and I seized the opportunity. We talked non-stop, and I can't begin to tell you how therapuetic it was. He asked me about what I thought of the navy and shared with him my personal views, my frustrations, my questions, and my confusions. All my questions were junior sailor related, and he made the chief's mess look very good. I left the plane remembering two things that use myself when talking to more junior than me sailors. They are to always remind yourself what the facts are. When you are frustrated and vexed, just step back and remind youself simply what the facts are. This helps you put everything into prespective and a plan to accomplish what you need to do. The second piece of advice he offered was to always listen. What is your leadership telling you? If they're talking to you most likely they are trying to teach you something where you can take something from it. I doubt I'll ever meet Master Chief Smith again, but that conversation pretty much saved my naval career.

We arrived on the island late in the night. It was a quick meet'n'greet with my sponsor, the pharmacy tech I was relieving, and a even shorter tour of the clinic/pharmacy. After that I was shown to my room and I went to bed. The next morning I was up to go for a short run to take a tour of the base. It was the last motivating PT I would do for the time I was there.

Diego Garcia is a funny little place. It is a shaped like a horseshoe and is 37 miles around. The widest it is only 2 miles. The island is also extremely flat. In fact the highest point of elevation above sea level is the outdoor pool that had to be man-made. I can also gloat that I was in the southern hemisphere as it is 7 degrees south of the equator. The entire island is a military base and you needed a security clearance to even check out of customs. There are 4 things to become on the island: a hunk, a chunk, a drunk, or a monk. DGAR is a great place to get in shape if you let it, or the other 3 options I suppose. Because I was only there for 30 days, I personally treated my experience like a vacation. Besides the PRT I chose to do with the command, and one other mandatory PT session, I only PT-ed twice, and it wasn't very motivating PT.

Since being overseas I have prided myself on staying away from the heavy drinking and jackassery behavior. Not there though, I really let myself go. Cigarettes, dip (when it wasn't sold out), Captain'n'Cokes, and pizza were the staple items. My diet was crap upon crap. Sure in the beginning it was very nice; I felt like I needed this break. Like most vacations though they soon get old, and I was beginning to start getting that Catholic guilt about the 2.5 week mark. Being in Diego Garcia was the closest to being on vacation without actually having to take leave.

You could say that I was productive. I took a tour of the USS Georgia, a nuclear submarine. I took my final exams on the island thanks to the flight surgeon I met in Singapore. For being in DGAR for 30 consecutive days I picked up the Global War On Terrorism (GWOT) Expeditionary ribbon. I even paid for the EMT national registry test myself and took it, though I didn't pass. Above all else I started working on my dive physical needed for a special warfare package. I'll get to conversations with Joe in a bit, but I felt like I was able to do a lot.

Like I mentioned earlier the island is a funny place. It is obviously the navy, but not really. Some things really don't happen, like the rules of fratenization. The clinic, an enlisted staff of 30, was very top heavy with 1st classes who we called "the first class mess." Immediately once I arrived I was warmly accepted and greeted with open arms. There were only 4 third classes onboard, and 2 e3 and below. We would drink and party with them like I was back in 'c' school. A very weird feeling, but it was accepted there. Hell, I don't even know all the 1st class' names in Sasebo, but once work got out or behind closed doors we were all on a first name basis on the island. I checked in on a Tuesday, and that Friday was the Captain's Cup. A monthly athletic competition between the different rates/commands on the island. It was hot and sunny, and I participated as much as I could. My one philosophy on the island was to not make others in DGAR look bad, but to make BHC Sasebo look good. Needless to say about the Captain's Cup I was rather sunburnt that would bother me for the next week. The next day was the Halloween Party and we all dressed up. I kinda stole my idea from Laughlin, and went as a dick in a box. It got lots of positive reviews.

The MWR program there was fantastic. Everyday there was something planned, and just for participating we were given a t-shirt. I raked up a couple shirts. Most notably my 100 freestyle race (of course I took 1st overall). I also qualified for the texas hold'em finals tournament but it was going to be played the day after I left. I also played in a spades tournament where my team took 3rd runner-up. Either way it was SO nice to throw some spades again. When the clinic caught wind of my swimming PRT time they put me in a triatholon relay, but it was postponed twice due to certain factors and I didn't compete before I left.

My best friend on the island was Joe Sayre. We were inseparable. In fact it got to point when the 1st class mess would ask us where our girlfriend was and we would know they were referring to me or him. He was a shit hot fellow 3rd class who had just come from the USS Truman in Quanico, VA. I can't count the nights we would have the most motivating conversations about the navy, the next step(s) in our careers, ways to get there, etc. He had bought a nintendo wii and we had some epic battles in Wii sports. My experience on the island would have been very different if he wasn't there, and call me gay, but I'm thankful I was able to know him.

Everything on the island was awesome. I even was able to go deep sea fishing. For 4 hours, 5 of us went out for only $150 ALL TOGETHER and we kept everything that we caught. The wahoo were biting and we snagged 6 and a yellow-fin tuna. For $6 a fish they would fillet them, and we took them to the local resteraunt to cook for us. We only brought 2 wahoo's and the tuna. The tuna was made into sushimi and the wahoo was cooked in like 5 different ways: grilled, garlic, sweet'n'sour, cajun, and a couple others. There were 6 grown ass men at dinner and were all very hungry, but we still each had a box full of left-overs. Awesome time.

As noted in the title, that was our battle cry. Effing is substituted for another word though ;) I'll always remember the times I had there.