The past week
Well, here we go again. Just for the sake of posterity, I shall update ye all on my past week.
Uhm. Frankly, I can't remember all of it. Everything kind of mixes together in a great blur. But...this week, two frankly quite awful events : the Stretcher-incident and the Gassing.
Stretcher incident:
First, I will tell you of crawling. In Dragsvik military speak (at least) it's called "tetsning", "att tetsa". This is when you're in full military gear, crawling around on the ground, ripping up your knees and elbows and breaking into a million pieces. It might not sound very hard, but by the gods it is. Anyway, this fine day (wednsday?), we were sent out into the G-forests for a wee bit of tetsning. We had to run great parts of the distance there as well, and once more it might not sound like much but with an extra 15kg to lug around, and running in your military boots...well, running more than a couple of hundred meters becomes impossible. So, I at least was beat by the time we got there, and by the time we had finished the tetsning, I was near the brink of total exhaustion.
After the whole tetsning ordeal, we learned how to make stretchers out of common household materials such as branches and rain coats, and how to carry ones' wounded companions around. Now...when just two people in a war movie carry a wounded around on a stretcher, it's complete bullshit. A man + his pack on a flimsy stretcher...you need four men to be able to carry him at any pace, or any distance beyond a few meters. Trust me on this one.
Now, after this thing, which was a nice little relief from all the running...we...went off running. Again. Our underlieutenant, who ran the whole charade, had just one goal in mind. To so utterly exhaust the whole platoon, that certain members begin to drop behind the formation. I am not in great shape, so...after having run up and down sand-walls for a while, I dropped behind. Alas, alas, I rather knew what he had planned, because the makeshift stretchers we had built were still with us.
Yes. A nefarious deed. Those who had fallen behind, had to be -carried- home by their teammates. Not something I would have wished, and I would have kept running if I could have prevented it. But I simply could not keep the pace...so...I was "wounded by grenade fire", and had to be carried home on a stretcher. Oh...and they had to run, of course.
That experience rather sucked, although I must admit, had I not been the wounded one but rather a carrier, I would probably have broken even more.... *sigh* Still, it was a very uncomfortable circumstance to be in, but I suppose that's the army for you. Drive and drive until someone can't take it any longer, then use that one person as an example. Blah.
The Gassing
This was on Friday. Day started at 5.15 AM, early breakfast, and then a unit-wide march to the G-forests again. It was time for the "Nassedagen". Nasse is a Swedish colloquial term for "pig" (like "piggy"), and refers to what you look like when you wear the army-issued gas-mask. Basically, the point of the whole day was to teach us how to survive an ABC (Atomic, Biological, Chemical) attack, by correctly and quickly utilising the defensive gear Uncle Sam has given us. The high-point of the day : being put into a telt, where high-grade tear gas is released, afterwhich one gets to run through a cleansing-procedure gauntlet in which you end up quite naked and shivering.
Well, I started in group number 3, the group before 4, which was the gassing. Thank god for that, tough. At least I got the worst over with soon. In Group 3, we learned how to throw our defensive gear on us as quick as possible. 10 seconds for the gas-mask, 3 minutes for everything. This included : rain pants, gloves, gas-mask and great raincoat (no, not a coat with sleeves and stuff. Just like...a big...plastic...sheet). Not a lot, you think? Well...trust me, 3 minutes is really pushing it. It's possible but...sheeeze, you stress. Anyway...very last time we put it on, stresssss...yes! Manage it on, final panting moments as I try to close the button around the collar, my helmet hanging on with its strap undone. Oops. We're late. The petty-officers (I'd prefer the literal translation "undersergeant" however) decide that, since we're so slow, we'll RUN to the next point. Running in a gas-mask, my friends, is NOT fun. You can't breathe. And, you're in rubber boots, and covered by a huge unwieldy coat, and of course withh your standard 15 kg of pack. That run was hell. And where does it end up, you ask? That's right, straight into the tent, where residues of the last group's tear gas still linger. I had, foolishly, during the run tugged at my mask in a desperate attempt to get air to breathe, so it wasn't exactly as tightly on as it should have. The strings holding the rain-coat around my neck were fucked. My gloves were slightly too small for my hands, leaving my wrists bare.
Now...tear gas irritates all bare skin, as well as the eyes, throat and nose. I know this for sure now. You have no idea how scary it is to run, head-first and panting like an elephant in heat into a tent filled withh this thing. It begins to burn in your lungs after a couple of breaths, your eyes tear up, your nose starts to drip. My throat and bare wrists began to burn immediately. Nothing incredibly serious, mind, but definately unpleasant. I push my gasmask against my face tighter, trying to take deep, calming breaths. Everything's fuzzy in the tent, people in gas-masks crawling about awkwardly. Finally, we all settle in around the edges, kneeling down. In comes the lieutenant who runs the whole shebang. A serious nazi we shall only call W. W. then quips something like "This is what ít feels like to be in the gas-chamber!", and then opens up another tear-gas shell. The entire tent fills with gas. My throat is killing me, the skin on my wrists and throat feel like they're literally on fire.
...and then, we're let out. Blindly groping through the thich smoke, out into the fresh air. Of course, we're not allowed to remove our masks, and some unfortunates clearly had a lot more misfortune than I (I hear one even fainted, briefly, and in the last group to do the whole thing, one guy had ran out of the tent and thrown up briefly after entering...niiice) were complaining. Then, through the cleaning-gauntlet. Five minutes to do that, two minutes to do that, stress stress run run HURRY UP damn you! At this point my arms and legs and everything was just plain dead beat...but hey...got through it.
As it were...I suppose I did learn something. It's important to cover all bare skin. And it's important to keep your gas-mask tight at -all times-. And getting it on quickly would probably be a good idea.
Nonetheless, I still think you could knock out 90% of Finland's army with a couple of strategically placed tear-gas canisters... :P
That will have to be it for today : I need to get back to the unit. Feegh!
Incidentally, had a -wonderful- weekend with friends, thankyousoverymuch for that. Without these weekly breaks, I'd break for sure. :) So thanks. But aye-oh...
Uhm. Frankly, I can't remember all of it. Everything kind of mixes together in a great blur. But...this week, two frankly quite awful events : the Stretcher-incident and the Gassing.
Stretcher incident:
First, I will tell you of crawling. In Dragsvik military speak (at least) it's called "tetsning", "att tetsa". This is when you're in full military gear, crawling around on the ground, ripping up your knees and elbows and breaking into a million pieces. It might not sound very hard, but by the gods it is. Anyway, this fine day (wednsday?), we were sent out into the G-forests for a wee bit of tetsning. We had to run great parts of the distance there as well, and once more it might not sound like much but with an extra 15kg to lug around, and running in your military boots...well, running more than a couple of hundred meters becomes impossible. So, I at least was beat by the time we got there, and by the time we had finished the tetsning, I was near the brink of total exhaustion.
After the whole tetsning ordeal, we learned how to make stretchers out of common household materials such as branches and rain coats, and how to carry ones' wounded companions around. Now...when just two people in a war movie carry a wounded around on a stretcher, it's complete bullshit. A man + his pack on a flimsy stretcher...you need four men to be able to carry him at any pace, or any distance beyond a few meters. Trust me on this one.
Now, after this thing, which was a nice little relief from all the running...we...went off running. Again. Our underlieutenant, who ran the whole charade, had just one goal in mind. To so utterly exhaust the whole platoon, that certain members begin to drop behind the formation. I am not in great shape, so...after having run up and down sand-walls for a while, I dropped behind. Alas, alas, I rather knew what he had planned, because the makeshift stretchers we had built were still with us.
Yes. A nefarious deed. Those who had fallen behind, had to be -carried- home by their teammates. Not something I would have wished, and I would have kept running if I could have prevented it. But I simply could not keep the pace...so...I was "wounded by grenade fire", and had to be carried home on a stretcher. Oh...and they had to run, of course.
That experience rather sucked, although I must admit, had I not been the wounded one but rather a carrier, I would probably have broken even more.... *sigh* Still, it was a very uncomfortable circumstance to be in, but I suppose that's the army for you. Drive and drive until someone can't take it any longer, then use that one person as an example. Blah.
The Gassing
This was on Friday. Day started at 5.15 AM, early breakfast, and then a unit-wide march to the G-forests again. It was time for the "Nassedagen". Nasse is a Swedish colloquial term for "pig" (like "piggy"), and refers to what you look like when you wear the army-issued gas-mask. Basically, the point of the whole day was to teach us how to survive an ABC (Atomic, Biological, Chemical) attack, by correctly and quickly utilising the defensive gear Uncle Sam has given us. The high-point of the day : being put into a telt, where high-grade tear gas is released, afterwhich one gets to run through a cleansing-procedure gauntlet in which you end up quite naked and shivering.
Well, I started in group number 3, the group before 4, which was the gassing. Thank god for that, tough. At least I got the worst over with soon. In Group 3, we learned how to throw our defensive gear on us as quick as possible. 10 seconds for the gas-mask, 3 minutes for everything. This included : rain pants, gloves, gas-mask and great raincoat (no, not a coat with sleeves and stuff. Just like...a big...plastic...sheet). Not a lot, you think? Well...trust me, 3 minutes is really pushing it. It's possible but...sheeeze, you stress. Anyway...very last time we put it on, stresssss...yes! Manage it on, final panting moments as I try to close the button around the collar, my helmet hanging on with its strap undone. Oops. We're late. The petty-officers (I'd prefer the literal translation "undersergeant" however) decide that, since we're so slow, we'll RUN to the next point. Running in a gas-mask, my friends, is NOT fun. You can't breathe. And, you're in rubber boots, and covered by a huge unwieldy coat, and of course withh your standard 15 kg of pack. That run was hell. And where does it end up, you ask? That's right, straight into the tent, where residues of the last group's tear gas still linger. I had, foolishly, during the run tugged at my mask in a desperate attempt to get air to breathe, so it wasn't exactly as tightly on as it should have. The strings holding the rain-coat around my neck were fucked. My gloves were slightly too small for my hands, leaving my wrists bare.
Now...tear gas irritates all bare skin, as well as the eyes, throat and nose. I know this for sure now. You have no idea how scary it is to run, head-first and panting like an elephant in heat into a tent filled withh this thing. It begins to burn in your lungs after a couple of breaths, your eyes tear up, your nose starts to drip. My throat and bare wrists began to burn immediately. Nothing incredibly serious, mind, but definately unpleasant. I push my gasmask against my face tighter, trying to take deep, calming breaths. Everything's fuzzy in the tent, people in gas-masks crawling about awkwardly. Finally, we all settle in around the edges, kneeling down. In comes the lieutenant who runs the whole shebang. A serious nazi we shall only call W. W. then quips something like "This is what ít feels like to be in the gas-chamber!", and then opens up another tear-gas shell. The entire tent fills with gas. My throat is killing me, the skin on my wrists and throat feel like they're literally on fire.
...and then, we're let out. Blindly groping through the thich smoke, out into the fresh air. Of course, we're not allowed to remove our masks, and some unfortunates clearly had a lot more misfortune than I (I hear one even fainted, briefly, and in the last group to do the whole thing, one guy had ran out of the tent and thrown up briefly after entering...niiice) were complaining. Then, through the cleaning-gauntlet. Five minutes to do that, two minutes to do that, stress stress run run HURRY UP damn you! At this point my arms and legs and everything was just plain dead beat...but hey...got through it.
As it were...I suppose I did learn something. It's important to cover all bare skin. And it's important to keep your gas-mask tight at -all times-. And getting it on quickly would probably be a good idea.
Nonetheless, I still think you could knock out 90% of Finland's army with a couple of strategically placed tear-gas canisters... :P
That will have to be it for today : I need to get back to the unit. Feegh!
Incidentally, had a -wonderful- weekend with friends, thankyousoverymuch for that. Without these weekly breaks, I'd break for sure. :) So thanks. But aye-oh...