Pull Breath, Kick Glide

Pull Breath, Kick Glide. These are the voyages of the 3 degree mandatory swim class. our 8 lesson mission.... to swim lots of laps while a bunch of stubborn swim coaches yell at us repeatedly.  They keep telling me that I can swim faster, but they have yet to prove it to me.

It's a frigid morning. I had hoped to sleep in, but it's my swim go, so I go down to the pool.  I form up in my swimsuit and salute a shirtless lieutenant and say "class reports ready to learn". He responds with "ready to swim". I concede that my terminology will never please AD, I plunge into the water, and immediately my acorns become sesame seeds.  Fortunately, this makes me more streamlined for swimming.  I remark at the lack of shirtless women, only dudes, and then I plunge my gorgeous face into the water.

We begin every class with the 250 meter swim.  It's an amazing opportunity for me to show my teacher that I am not part of any gilled species and there is a reason that we are in the AIR force.  After we proceed to learn and practice the legendary, "life-saving" efficiency strokes.  There are three.  The breathstroke, the elementary backstroke, and the sidestroke.

The breathstroke is a very well known swim maneuver.  The shirtless lieutenant proceeds to demonstrate the moves for the class.  First, he pulls his arms through the water.  Then he breathes as his head breaks the surface of the mini chlorine infected ocean.  Next he kicks his legs in the fashion of a whip kick, and proceeds to end the sequence with a steady glide.  Hence, the 'pull, breathe, kick, glide' was brought to life.  The elementary backstroke is pretty much the same except upside down.  The objective is to drown you while you can still see the light of day above the water.  The sidestroke is again meant to deprive you of comfort and air while you attempt to streamline on your side while your body disobeys and sinks, your ears fill with water, and the living water attempts to take your beating heart once again.

Swim class at the University of the Sciences And the Fine Arts (USAFA) is no joke.  AD takes this course very seriously, just like everything else.  I hope to improve the efficiency of my newly-forming gills and use them to support the greater good of mankind.

I'm excited for the opportunity to increase my warrior ethos through the next USAFA aquatics class I will take called Water Haze.  Check back soon for another aquatic adventure of just 'nother cadet.

Thanks for reading, if you're actually reading this for some odd reason.

Much love.

-Just'nothercadet

Flying towards PROG

It's October at the United States Air Force Academy.  We all know what this means... lots of work and really nothing else to do.  Weather that is cold one day and hot the next.  the return of mandatory A-jackets on the Tzo. Need I go on?

A cadet prepares for PROG

Soon our prog grades will come back disappointing, the dark ages will descend upon us, and Mitches will bring back jerked turkey. Tell then, all we can do is reflect on this extraordinary grind that lead us to this point.

Today, I went to differential equations, where I wrote out high flight and drew a smiley face on my pop quiz. I failed. then, I had a pop quiz in MSS. I got a 40%. I turned in my English sonnet late.  I cost my squadron 11 points in noon meal formation, 10 for not bringing the unit colors and 1 for moving at attention.  I received a C for IP points in the easiest class in existence, MSS.  I spent 2 hours on my matlab regrade, only for it not to be able to publish. I received no points for my efforts. I comprehended no information from ECE.

The cadet wing was also informed we would be restricted by tomorrow if the class crest was not returned by the freshman.  It's a 3 day weekend, and my family flew out.

Despite the failures of this day, I remain focused on one goal: maintaining a prog GPA high enough for my family to include me on the Christmas card, for USAFA to retain me, and to wear around that sweet little star that says you're on the deans list. I also hope to pass the sleep quiz the PEERS sent out earlier. That's important too.

The other extraordinary part about prog is that we get to do midterm feedback. I've already taken the time to destroy my classes and their brutal grading in the feedback links.  I've spammed the squadron and wing google docs with all the sarcastic feedback I can think of.  All that lies ahead is the actual formal feedback procedure.  Let's see how low I get ranked this semester. To put it in perspective, there are fewer 3 digs in my squadron than my ranking last year (some ranked ahead of me quit USAFA), so it will only be better this year.

My MSS (military and strategic studies) teacher just called on me as I was writing this.  I said something about attacking oil.  Works every time.

Valor to Victory,

JustAnotherCadet

Training Staff Strikes Back

The day was September 28th. The time: immediately following lunch and cutting into my afternoon nap. The swallows groggily filed into the SAR for what they anticipated would be another action packed M5 briefing. Strapped in, quiet, waiting, innocent to what was about to occur. It was, and always will be remembered as, morning PT.  A genius concoction by perhaps the most foolish training staff ever assembled.

The Swallow Seven training staff announces morning PT 

(CS07 photo archive)

96 swallows watched the training staff assume command at the front of the room.  As the eyes of the try-hards and the huahs lit up, the other 94 of us sat in utter silence. Our minds raced. Even for the kiss-ups who often assemble at M5 briefs to assert their dominance and obtain higher MPA's, this was too far.

"You may think I am just taking 2, 30-minute periods of your morning away from you each week. Wrong," remarked one of the training staff.

He spent the next 30 minutes explaining how that was exactly what he would be doing. I guess you can make that 3 30 minute periods for the week. Now don't get me wrong. I enjoy feats of strengths as much as the next guy. What I don't enjoy is waking up early to travel to the quad with my whole flight and marvel at the beautiful concrete as I do some jumping jacks and then go to class sweaty and without breakfast.

Then, in an even more genius move, they decided we need MORE briefings. One extra per week, actually. If that's not great enough, they also announced that to compensate for this extra training, there would be LESS freshman training. So in these thirty minutes we earned morning PT, more briefings, and less badass freshmen stuff that all of swallow seven's hardcore 3-digs went through. The least they could have done is re-award us the Air Force training ribbon. All we have left to do is hope. If you're out there and reading this, avenge us. Quickly.

Wing at ease.

Buzzing through MSS

Is it a bee? Is it a hummingbird? Nope! That  buzzing sound you hear is the sound of a rapid fire of buzzwords coming to you courtesy of MSS200.

A general enters the war room. In his left hand: a 250 page document outlining a strategy to decapitate ISIS leadership. He had four months and countless aids to collaborate with. I, however, am not as fortunate. I only have the cadet sleeping beside me, a blue Expo marker, and "five-ish" minutes. In fifteen lessons I have failed to solve world hunger, failed to defeat ISIS, and failed to re-win the Vietnam war.

An MSS200 cadet scoffs at the US
inability to solve the Middle East

Every class has a few cadets (we're looking at you, Greg) who really are exceptionally brilliant in the art of military strategy. There is one cadet who still has a 0-buzz cut that claims the key to stopping ISIS is to use "airpower" to bomb their oil. Nobody really knows what this means. Yet the class nods in unity; the cadet leaves class convinced he has solved the middle east. We salute you, C3C Sun Tzu.

The CARVER Model

At least I have memorized all of Clausewitz's buzzwords. I have mastered the art of the OODA loop. I have learned what may startle you: winning without fighting is the best approach. War is foggy, somehow. Every war is different but still elegantly OODA looped. What really pisses me off is how war changes all the damn time. Fun fact: Hitler was taken down with only the DIME model. If only he were alive to ask himself the five-whys.

This level of thinking could have been mastered by a 10 year old fresh off his first prestige in Call of Duty. You just can't make this stuff up. So the next time you sit down to plan out your weekend using everybody's favorite DIME, CARVER, and root COG analysis models, remember: us MSS warriors get 3 credit hours for doing it.

Buzz on warriors.

An Open Letter to Greg

If you've never had Mitchell Hall black coffee you're probably not a badass. The single bottle of water on the breakfast table is gone within minutes, and the cracks crawling across the bottom of my empty cup stare into me. So I quench my thirst with that really terrifying coffee, finding that my taste buds are so blind to its bite that it really could be water.

A man holds the door open for me on the way to class, but I am very far away. This makes me angry for the next three hours.

Morning classes ended, somehow. I am trying not to step on the persons heals in front of me as we march to lunch. Every left step we almost collide and I am becoming horribly worried. Between the first eyes right and the color guard I realize this is the same kind of person that holds the door open for people while they are too far away. This makes him more innocent and I am becoming less angry.

We are having a class discussion in my afternoon class, but the stakes of participation are much higher. Last time the instructor began putting check marks next to people's names every time they spoke. Greg raises his hand for the fourth time this class. His tongue begins mindlessly flapping around and I realize through the nonsense that he has stolen the point I was about to make! There is now a roster that has the name "Greg", four checks marks, then the name "JustAnotha'Cadet" -- with no check marks. My hands are becoming desperate, so I swing it through the air and let it glisten in Greg's face.

"Adding to what Greg said," I begin, actually realizing I had nothing to add. The teacher searches the roster for my name and positions the point of his pencil beside it. The entire class is on the verge of tears waiting for me to speak. "I think women were the most important aspect of this whole thing".

Saying this in any situation is a good call.

"Excellent," the teacher exhales and whips that beautiful graphite checkmark.

Italian Air Marshall Guilio Douhet
An Influential Figure in Women's History

I am leaving class and thinking about nothing in particular, trying to not to walk so quickly that I catch up with Greg. We approach the same door. Greg yanks it open and looks over his shoulder to see I am some distance away. I give him a hang loose sign and begin walking faster, happy on the outside, and sinking into crushing misery everywhere else.

As long as this world has doors and Gregs, marching and terrible coffee, there can never exist happiness among it. This means that we have to become happy among ourselves, inside our heads, far away from catastrophic marching collisions, from checkmarks and the role of women in history. Yes, we really have to view all these things from far away to realize how beautiful the silence truly is. Because if we don't, we might taste the coffee tomorrow.

The Swallow Six

As you sit by your computer now, browsing this blog,you're probably thinking to yourself "wow, these must be the coolest people on planet earth". It hasn't always been this way.  Once we were merely useless high school students free of responsibility and full of dreams soon to be shattered.  And these fine young cadre were the ones to shatter them.

 

I know what you're thinking... I blurred out their faces to conceal their identity. In actuality, I blurred out their faces to conceal YOUR identity. Time has taught me that these cadre are the most intimidating and resourceful humans on the planet, and they would have seen straight out of this picture and into your soul.  What I'm trying to say I guess is, you're welcome.

Now, regrettably, as a young swallow I nested down near these cadre and tried to learn all I can. Let me describe to you who these strapping young basic cadre from Barbarians Bravo are.

The commander (front left)- Our disgruntled leader, who established himself as a menacing force on day 1 and then lost his voice and was not to be seen for 3 days.  He told us he was raised by bears, wolves, wolverines, barracudas, and other menacing creatures. He often enjoyed screaming "AAAHH" before proceeding to flip our beds.

The sidekick (front right)- our assistant flight comm, a cyber nerd who had striven for a career in cyber but instead got missiles.  He was a pretty cool dude who liked to share motivational quotes and talk about traditions and etiquette.  Dude turned out to be on honor guard, go figure.

Stu- (second from left) This man was basic cadre... supposedly. One time I saw him down the hallway.  On the first day he remarked that we had a long ways to go to earn our prop and wings.  I guess he was right.  After recognition, we became friends but I still barely remember the guy from basic.

Artisan- a mech E who is an awesome dude.  He gave us some solid smack downs and one time I think he told me I needed to stop talking about shark week... his loss.  He up and outed to this foreign country for no apparent reason, hopefully he comes back.

Alex- She was at basic too.  She seemed to have an affection for... well, no one.  We called her sir alot, but modern science has shown otherwise.  Tough luck.

Z- A man who prefers to go by one letter.  This man is older than time itself, and possibly older than the academy at the advanced age of 27.  We were surprised that he did not retire at a C2C, he might have been eligible.  He is fond of electrical circuits and avoiding the horrors of "dirt bag cadets", which he abbreviates as DBC's.

As you can see, the odds were against us.  The fact that any swallows have survived to tell this tale is a miracle in itself.

A Tribute to Those KIA or MIA From Anything!

Dr Steve in south park form, CS-07 photo archive

Hello fine people.  It's another beautiful day here at the University of the Sciences And the Fine Arts (USAFA).  I'm sitting in my ECE class at the moment learning about the logic behind electrical circuits engineering (ECE).  The room is a little bit darker today than it was during the class without the presence of the famous Dr. Steve.  I came into this class last time with an extremely disconsolate look on my face, but the moment I saw Dr. Steve join us at the well known position of attention as we started class, I received the extra burst of motivation I needed to finish out the morning.  USAFA thanks this man for his service.  Much love to you Dr. Steve!

We are 7, death from above, minutes into class at this point, and we are still discussing those who are MIA or were KIA from our last test.  We are all supporting each other to our fullest ability, but with a test average of 66% for the class, well, I'm sure can imagine the casualties that took place with that.  This class is extremely relevant to my future, and I cannot wait to apply it later in life.  Maybe when I'm older and have younger swallows under my wing, they can benefit from my lack of knowledge on electrical circuits engineering.

Now that I've rambled about the story of my morning, I have a question for you:  Do you ever feel like the world is crumbling on top of you and like there is no way out?  In other words, do you every have 'bad' days?  The answer should be yes for all of us.  There is nothing wrong with that.  We all have to take time to sit down and analyze what is really happening around us.  You are not alone!  Everyone, whether they admit it or not, has bad days.  If you're reading this, and you are one of the unlucky ones today, check out this video for a little bit of motivation.  Remember how far you've come.

Fun fact:  I use this sleep tracker app called 'Sleep' on android.  It's telling me that I have slept an average of 4 hours and 50 minutes  a night for the last two weeks.  If this is you, just know, I FEEL YOUR PAIN, and wish you and myself the best of luck in trying to get out of this sleep slump.

I hope you all have a Swall....ow (swell) day.  Much love.  Stay gold.


-just'nothercadet

Welcome to Our Blog

WELCOME TO MY OUR BLOG

A Swallow Celebrates the Earning of His Gizzard
(2016) - CS07 Photo Archive

It's hard to believe that one year from today I will be at ENJJPT. It's been a long journey, and none without the contribution of Gizzard Parks: the Shadow's greatest.

WHO WE ARE: Have you ever wanted to know where someone lived? So badly that you followed them home? Proxies out baby, because you'll follow us to 2nd floor Vandy tower.

The Order of the Gizzard was established several years ago to combat the suicidal tendencies of the Hirundinidae. We wanted the order to come to our squadron, one that has been called "useless", "forgettable", and "shadow seven located on the 2nd floor north corner of vandenberg hall". So we believe it arrived, somehow, last year on the shoulders of Gizzard Parks (2016- PRESENT?). 

You may think, "only a thirdclassman would waste so much of their useless year on a dumb blog".

Strap in for a voyage unlike any other- a journey through the highs and lows of that one squadron in the cadet wing that rhymes with shadow seven.

Any posts incriminating of violations of the cadet sight picture do not represent the views of the authors of this blog or their subsidiaries. 

Fly high, Swallows.