A Six Day Tour: Day 2

A Six Day Tour: Day 2

FOB Junkyard, is a hole, without the redeeming qualities of cool local shops. On the smaller FOBs there are little local shops that have cheap and cool stuff. Six days and three more bases to shop at. The Movement Control Team (MCT) wants us to wait until 2300 to leave. Moto and the HET commander decide to try and sneak out early. As Lifeguard and I get to the gate. (Might Mouse was back at the fob so he could compete in some hoorah thing, and learn how to use a new weapon system.) Our guest driver Ms. SPC is doing well when the HETs call Moto and ask if we know that we are smoking. I look back and see a cloud of smoke.
This is our first trip in an this MRAP, but I am certain that giant clouds of white smoke are not normal. Not like campfire clouds, or a guy smoking a cigar smoke. You could signal Geronimo’s boy that the cavalry is coming with this cloud. I can’t even see the truck behind us. It is lucky for us that the Slayer recovery truck is right behind us. The hop out and run up to lend a hand. Lifeguard gets out takes a look at the smoke and begins to swear as he pops the hood. The radio is alive with suggestions of what to check. Is there water in the oil, did we put MOGAS in a JP8 vehicle? The mechanics come up as Life guard pops the hood.
This is not the way to sneak out the gate. Almost thirty giant trucks, stacked up behind an escort truck that is doing its best imitation of a smoke generator. Our only hope is that the gate guards can’t see the unit markings. I watch as Lifeguard pulls the dipstick and looks at the color of the oil. Then he offers the business end to the Slayer Mechanics. I watch in amazement as the first one, looks at it with his flash light. Then he touches it and rubs it between his fingers and smells it. Finally he sticks his tongue out and tastes it. Like a vintner checking the vintage.
He makes a face then offers it to his partner in crime, who also tastes it. Lifeguard, who is the opposite of Hick, whatever that is, looks shocked. I have seen my brother in law do this. Now I know these two hill billy mechanics at least enjoy their work.
Slayer one and Slayer two have us fire up the truck to the accompanying cloud of smoke. Then run around and put their hands in it to check for moisture. The step back and yell at me to have the driver rev the engine. When she does a series of perfect smoke rings fly out of the exhaust pipe. They have me do it again, and more rings fly out. They watch the rings and have me do it again.
“Are you just doing that to see the rings?” I yell down from my perch, half in jest.
They look sheepish and nodd. One is about 5’6” and Two is over six feet. One yells back “She should be good, there isn’t anything in the oil! Probably a blown injector!” With that they are back into their truck where I will watch them throw chem lights at each other and occasionally reenact Wayne’s World’s head banging scene.
We leave a trail of smoke from the middle to the end of the convoy all the way home. Back at COB Allahlone we roll through the gate as slow as possible, smoking out the guards.
When Moto finally lays eyes on the truck he says, “Holy shit, I thought it was like a little smoke not that!”
Day two ends back where we started prepping our second truck, and moving all of our crap to the new truck. Four more days to go. I think I like these guys.