Welcome to Balad

How lieutenants are "taught."

Remember me mentioning how "informal" I was told the Change of Command ceremony would be here in a deployed location? Good. Keep that on your back burner for a minute.

I hadn't gotten heaps and loads of help from anyone, but had managed to scrape together enough information from a handful of people who weren't completely adverse to parting with useful information. I had enough, at least, to fly by the seat of my pants and avoid plummeting to earth. If all else failed, I told myself, it would be over in about five hours, anyway, and it wouldn't matter to anyone for more than the next four months.

I've sat through a few Change of Command ceremonies. They have a familiar format. There are standard components. The outgoing and incoming commanders say a few words. The outgoing commander tells the incoming one what an outstanding gaggle of go-getters he's getting, how they can build a passable network with little more than a coconut shell, paperclip and some twine, then he tells his troops how qualified his replacement is and how he knows they'll do him/her proud. Then the incoming commander talks about how he can't hope to fill the shoes of the outgoing commander, how honored he is to be selected as their new leader, and thanks the little people for putting together such an outstanding ceremony. The group commander also says something, but I always tune him out, more or less. He makes a couple of jokes to show everyone what an approachable, down-to-earth leader he is, and...something else.

Like I said, this is all standard. Also, there's the bit with getting the sound folks to set up the mikes, and make sure they have the right music and know their cues. There's the photographers, and the guideon bearer (the man--in our case, the first shirt--who helps with the flag handoffs), and making sure the color guard are there to do their dignified and polished presentation of the colors. Oh yeah...and the refreshments. I'll get back to that in a minute.

Part of the emailing of the invitations is that little "RSVP" thing at the bottom that is understood to apply only to people who may be DVs (distinguished visitors). Airman Snuffy doesn't bother to tell you he'll attend the Change of Command ceremony because nobody gives a fig. But if Colonel Sanders plans to pop in, the polite thing for him to do is to mention it to those planning the event because all colonels and above are fully aware that they can't just walk into a ceremony like that without being seated on the front row (in the proper order, no less), and being recognized by rank,* full name and position.

* Or selection for a higher rank, if applicable. This, like full name and position, is not something they wear on their nametags. You just have to know.

I understand that colonels and generals are busy people and often make these functions only if they can squeeze it in. I do. However, I was always under the impression that "RSVP" meant "I plan to attend." If they RSVP in the affirmative and don't make it, people tend to understand something came up. If nothing comes up, though, the function coordinators are ready, with all the attendant pomp and circumstance befitting their distinguished positions. However, those who put the event on their calendar then don't RSVP are just being malicious. Maybe they think they're being self-deprecating, and like to pretend people shouldn't make such a big fuss over them. If that's the case, that's sweet, but I really don't care, because the people making the fuss are bound by military custom to do so--and to make it in a specifically prescribed manner. If, however, the DVs who don't RSVP because they assume all the little people should know their full name, selection for a higher grade, appointed position and date of rank in relation to all the other DVs who may or may not RSVP, then reserves the right to complain if the narrator doesn't get it right (and they do), is...what can I say here and remain professional? It isn't fair and it isn't right. If I had my way, those who do this deserve to be introduced with little more than "...and all the DVs who didn't RSVP." (But if I had my way, all Republicans would wake up tomorrow with the realization they should protect the environment more than big business, might doesn't make right, and "religious freedom" doesn't mean "the freedom of everyone else to believe what I believe." Hey...I can dream.)

The big brass who does not RSVP when he plans to attend is showing his disdain for the little guy who put the whole thing together and who has to make panicked and hardly legible last-minute annotations on his script to accommodate him. He also sets up the little guy for a fall if he (egads!) recognizes the brass out of order. (Yes...he's expected to have it all perfect.) Add in the Command Chief Master Sergeant, if he appears. He's at the bottom of the list, as far as these things go, but don't forget him.

I got three RSVPs from my invitations. I dutifully lined them up.

I got the script from the lieutenant who'd just put together the Operations Support Squadron Change of Command, made changes, had my outgoing and incoming commander hack on it, buffed it a little more, and was all set. The outgoing commander suggested we use a projector to put the words to the Air Force song on the screen, since we'd play it for the exit of the official party at the end, and everyone was supposed to sing along (and most troops don't really know the words by heart). Our audio-visual troops took the suggestion like an order and made it happen. Good folks.

Remember the cake fiasco of the day before? Turns out, there was no cake problem when I appeared the next morning to collect it. The phone call and wild goose chase the day before was apparently for harrassment purposes only. Not only did they have enough eggs for a cake, but they made one the size of Maui. I also scored two cases of Otis Spunkmeyer cookies and a selection of the only sodas they had on hand, since no soda trucks had come in for over a week. To wit: one case of Sprite, one case of Diet Coke, and one case of 3 Horses near beer.

As I pulled up to Town Hall with my loot, I met a bunch of folks from the Red Horse Squadron who had asked for some munchies to accompany the promotion ceremonies there at 0900 (it was now 1000), but the food had only just arrived. All the promotees and well-wishers were long gone, so they asked if they could just bring it in and set it up with ours. And so it was that we ended up with the following spread:

Four huge platters of cheese and cold cuts.

Four huge platters of cheese and tuna fish sandwich finger foods. Those two stainless containers on this side are full up with baked chicken. Then there was that stack of Otis Spunkmeyer cookies you see. More under the table.

Add two coolers full of Sprite and Orange Fanta.

Not one but two HUGE HONKING cakes. See how much of the cakes were actually eaten? About twelve pieces of the yellow one there.

This is my cake. I've posed with it not only because it was a trophy for me by this point, not unlike an eight-point buck, but also for scale. Note the cellaphane wrapper. After all that mess, we didn't even take the wrapper off.

As an aside: I asked y'all to pray me a cake, not enough food to feed a third world country. Think of all the starving children in Africa.

Anyhow...back to the trial by fire bit. Five minutes (or less) before the ceremony began, I asked the utterly approachable and likeable Group Commander (Col Dougherty, aka "Col Doc") to help me put the DVs in the proper order, as a few had shown up I hadn't counted on. He directed me to Maj Ryan of Protocol, who was laying name plates in the seats for them. So, I asked Maj Ryan to help me out.

Maj Ryan was a bit harried, as it was his duty (apparently) to welcome each DV personally, so he told me he'd help me as soon as he finished, as this was his primary duty here. I said okay and stood aside with my script. When he finished, I asked him to help me order the DVs and get their names, ranks and positions right. We had about three minutes at this point.

Maj Ryan: Why are you doing this now?

ME: They didn't RSVP, sir.

HIM: Why haven't I seen the script?

ME: I didn't know you needed to, sir.

HIM: There's a new OI* out that covers Changes of Command. All Changes of Command are to comply with the regulation. All scripts must be cleared through Protocol at least three days in advance.

*Operating Instruction. Obviously, OIs are written for just about anything someone feels needs to have specific unwaiverable rules.

ME: Sir, I've only been here seventeen days. I haven't heard of this OI.

HIM: It was sent out last week.

ME: Who was it sent to, sir?

HIM: All the commanders. [Editor's note: almost all of which were on their way out with the last rotation or already gone.]

ME (stifling the urge to say something career-wrecking like "do I look like a commander to you?"): Sir, I never saw the OI. I got direction from whoever I could get it from.

He stood there and looked a me. The clock was still ticking. Seats were filling up. He said, "I don't see how that could be. I've been waiting for you to bring the script to me."

Excuse me? Did he just accuse me of lying to him? Then tell me that he'd noticed (apparently for the last three days) that I hadn't complied with the OI requirements, but hadn't checked with me, only to take the last precious moments for arrangements to jack me up for not clearing my script with Protocol, all while still not helping with the DV lineup, the only thing with which I desperately needed his assistance?

He took the script from my hands and flipped through the main layout, right past the DV section, scanning the rote words, etc. He made a couple of recommendations, then handed it back. Still no help with the DVs.

He turned away and I said, "Sir. I need to know the names, ranks, positions and order in which to introduce the DVs." He took the script again and scribbled down some barely legible numbers and acronyms for squadrons here (which I had to ask about, as I'm only passably familiar with them at this point). When he returned the script to me, I had two pages of scribbles and notes in shorthand that jumped from one page to the next and back again.

Thank you, sir.

In my opinion and in the opinion of the main participants and practically everyone in the audience with the exception, apparently, of the wing commander (who'd just published the new OI) and Maj Ryan (who'd written it), the program went swimmingly. Although I was trembling with helpless frustration when I took the stage and began my narration, my emotional state was apparently transparent to the audience. Military bearing comes in handy, I guess.

Incidentally, out of three RSVPs, I had eight (count 'em, 8) DVs, so you can imagine how I was scrambling to get it right. Just so you can get the flavor of what I had scribbled everywhere, with arrows and numbers all out of order, the script goes like this at that point: "At this time, I would like to recognize some of our special guests and visitors. The 332nd Air Expeditionary Wing Commander, Brigadier General Select Blair Hansen. (Pause for applause to die down.) The 332nd Air Expeditionary Wing Vice Commander, Colonel Michael Cosby." Etc. Perhaps you can understand why a little thing like an RSVP is so important.

I caught Maj Ryan after it was over and thanked him again for his last minute help. He said I was welcome, but he was dismissive still. I'm sure he's a nice man and understanding under normal circumstances. I rarely meet people in the Air Force who aren't. Maybe he was just having a bad day. If such was the case, I appreciate his giving as he had been given.

That afternoon, my brand new commander forwarded the OI Maj Ryan had referenced to all of us. It was published on 24 Aug 04. Our Change of Command was 31 Aug 04. That's, oh...seven days to make things right. Assuming, of course, that the OI had been distributed the day it was published, which is highly unlikely, verging on insanely improbable. More likely, it was distributed one or two days after approval.

It should go without saying that I had not, in fact, received it. I sorted back through all the emails I'd received from any source remotely referencing the Change of Command and there was no reference to it, let alone a copy of it. For my ignorance (as well as the ignorance of all those helping me or involved in any way), I was reamed.

It doesn't seem fair, somehow.

The new OI, incidentally, requires troop formations as part of the ceremony indoors. Pull that "informal ceremony" pot off the back burner, now, and cook this in it. I've never attended or heard of such a thing, even stateside in the peacetime military which prides itself on pomp and circumstance above and beyond the call of duty.

There's more we did "wrong." We only did one verse of the Air Force Song, and had the words on the screen. We should have done two verses, apparently, from memory. The outstanding a capella singing of the national anthem by SSgt Langerud is no longer acceptable; we can now use prerecorded music only. We didn't pass out programs with the bios of the outgoing and incoming commanders, either, but apparently should have.

This all goes to show you that our little Balad is quickly moving from an actual deployment location, where common sense temporarily triumphs over politics, to an actual base, where insanity reigns supreme.

d