The integration into Sweden remains a rocky affair for the Hastings Family. The people we have met here in Linkoping are the only saving grace to a so far traumatic beginning in a foreign land. Without the welcome feel from the pilots and mission specialists at Malmen Airforce base, coupled with the warm welcome from our Land Lords, I would have gone off the deep end and behaved much like famed postal wworkers of the past.
A slow start was applied to our small US element making up the Sweden TAFT (Tactical Assistance Fielding Team). One of my favorite Swedes, Magnus, set a very slow integration program into place for this week. It began a little off course as we decided to witness the delivery of UH60M three and four here to the Helicopter Wing at Malmen Airbase. The weather decided to act more Swedish than previous days that were spent walking the streets of Stockholm. Of course, our professional TAFT wore our stylish US Army uniforms for the first time of the assignment for the affair. Unfortunately, we were very inappropriately dressed for the weather conditions on a January day in Scandanavia. Please understand that this unfortunate miscue is due solely to the inability of the transportation machine that rules the lives of the forelorn service members and their dependents while in the throes of a PCS.
Backwards planning is what rules my life and for over a dozen years now, the lives of my family have had to endure my military planning brain and procedure in which my life is ruled. Our unaccompanied baggage was arranged with the most needed gear and personal effects upon arrival in our new foreign home. Things that would make us feel a little at home were packed with care along with Army equipment that be of utmost importance to begin my mission were along for the ride as well. This shipment is done by air freight and as such comes quickly, in fact it is given a Required Delivery Date that is 45 daYS from the date that the packers roll away with these personal belongings. The chain of custody begins with signatures on official transportation documents that inform the service member of the contractual obligation from the new keepers of these personal and professional items. Our date was set for 15 January. Not a coincedence at all that our arrival into the Nordic North was the same date.
A week at the embassy was the plan that would begin our new life along with the ever important Swedish Personal number, the equivalent to a US Social Security Number. News from the ever trustable US Embassy personnel was that these numbers would take somewhere in the neighborhood of 10 days to receive. Upon receipt of the Holy number, deliveries would be made to our new homes. If I had forgotten to mention, I know I did not, the Embassy was ill prepared to receive the service members and families of the Sweden TAFT. I realize that a mere nine months is a short short time to prepare for this day.
Now two weeks into this assignment, we still have no idea if we are even welcome in this country. Will we be enjoy diplomatic status or be covered under the PFP SOFA. Apparently that decision is extremely hard to make when no one gives a flying fuck about the Sweden TAFT and their families!! Our dependents now fear deportation, a fear that is not going to be realized, but a concept that is not too far fetched. If they hadn't given up friends, jobs, and homes to move over here in continued service to our nation, that would be no real big issue. A quick trip home to familiar digs while an answer is formulated could probably solve many demostectic arguments at this point. Home, however, is a fleeting memory that now has no base in reality.
Due to the slow and soft approach to our working assignment, the purpose of our new struggles, I am home on this Friday. Our new house is fantastic. Of course we can't get our shit together (WE being our beloved agencies of our government and not the Hastings family) and not a single cent or Swedish Kroner has exchanged hands for our contracted rent. Did I mention contract, or better known as a lease, oh yeah, we are advised currently by the Embassy that we should not sign our contracts just yet. So at the advice from our supporting agency, we are living in very expensive homes with no lease and no payment. The reason we shouldn't sign that lease is because there is no understanding to date on our actual welcome to stay in Sweden. The three service members might be covered, but certainly not those pains in the asses that our government knows as our dependents. The signals are not misunderstood by this overly pissed off and dramatic CW4, don't sign two year contracts because we aren't sure you will complete the month in this country. However, make sure you report to work!
Family resiliency is only a great sounding concept and buzz phrase put together to give out needless civilian contractor jobs and the illusion that there is still a good reason to fight in multiple wars with shit pay.
The extra amount of time that I am spending on this completely random rant and rave could be more useful if better channeled into working a viable solution to our multiple issues. Of course, the US sleeps now and emails will be read and further blown off much later in my afternoon and evening. These petty issues of finances, immigration, and status of the theivery of my worldly possessions must be pondered and further blown off for the weekend, on Monday much beigger issues will develop, like activities of the weekend had by those surrounded by the comforts of familiar locations and people, while pushing our problems to the bottom of their "piss off" files.
On a good note, we will be attending our first ever hockey game tonight watching the local professional team. My daughter, Mia will get to join her new buddy in the VIP box as the father of the young gal is on the roster of the team. Unfortunately there is news that she will have to move soon to the US due to the weird education system here that legally in unable to provide a grade to students under year seven in school. No problem if staying in the Swedish school system is the plan, but going back to the US will apparently cause repeat of the years with out grades, such as the entire sixth grade. The worry is that Mia will attend half of sixth, all seventh, and half of eighth here in Sweden. I can't allow her to require repeats of all upon entry into the US.
If it sounds like it has all been a bad experience, well only the majority has! Again, we are deeply thankful to the warm welcome feelings from our new friends, neighbors, and land lords; Axel and Susan. These people should be furious about our squatting in their home without a lease or payment, yet they have had this to their home for a meal, taken us around their beuatiful property and Susan and Whitney are currently out on a dual grocery store training flight. But the last thing I want right now is a positive attitude. I just want to kick some Embassy, transportation, finance and all other tursted agencies that are around for no other reason but to support our service members and their families. What a crock of shit!
A slow start was applied to our small US element making up the Sweden TAFT (Tactical Assistance Fielding Team). One of my favorite Swedes, Magnus, set a very slow integration program into place for this week. It began a little off course as we decided to witness the delivery of UH60M three and four here to the Helicopter Wing at Malmen Airbase. The weather decided to act more Swedish than previous days that were spent walking the streets of Stockholm. Of course, our professional TAFT wore our stylish US Army uniforms for the first time of the assignment for the affair. Unfortunately, we were very inappropriately dressed for the weather conditions on a January day in Scandanavia. Please understand that this unfortunate miscue is due solely to the inability of the transportation machine that rules the lives of the forelorn service members and their dependents while in the throes of a PCS.
Backwards planning is what rules my life and for over a dozen years now, the lives of my family have had to endure my military planning brain and procedure in which my life is ruled. Our unaccompanied baggage was arranged with the most needed gear and personal effects upon arrival in our new foreign home. Things that would make us feel a little at home were packed with care along with Army equipment that be of utmost importance to begin my mission were along for the ride as well. This shipment is done by air freight and as such comes quickly, in fact it is given a Required Delivery Date that is 45 daYS from the date that the packers roll away with these personal belongings. The chain of custody begins with signatures on official transportation documents that inform the service member of the contractual obligation from the new keepers of these personal and professional items. Our date was set for 15 January. Not a coincedence at all that our arrival into the Nordic North was the same date.
A week at the embassy was the plan that would begin our new life along with the ever important Swedish Personal number, the equivalent to a US Social Security Number. News from the ever trustable US Embassy personnel was that these numbers would take somewhere in the neighborhood of 10 days to receive. Upon receipt of the Holy number, deliveries would be made to our new homes. If I had forgotten to mention, I know I did not, the Embassy was ill prepared to receive the service members and families of the Sweden TAFT. I realize that a mere nine months is a short short time to prepare for this day.
Now two weeks into this assignment, we still have no idea if we are even welcome in this country. Will we be enjoy diplomatic status or be covered under the PFP SOFA. Apparently that decision is extremely hard to make when no one gives a flying fuck about the Sweden TAFT and their families!! Our dependents now fear deportation, a fear that is not going to be realized, but a concept that is not too far fetched. If they hadn't given up friends, jobs, and homes to move over here in continued service to our nation, that would be no real big issue. A quick trip home to familiar digs while an answer is formulated could probably solve many demostectic arguments at this point. Home, however, is a fleeting memory that now has no base in reality.
Due to the slow and soft approach to our working assignment, the purpose of our new struggles, I am home on this Friday. Our new house is fantastic. Of course we can't get our shit together (WE being our beloved agencies of our government and not the Hastings family) and not a single cent or Swedish Kroner has exchanged hands for our contracted rent. Did I mention contract, or better known as a lease, oh yeah, we are advised currently by the Embassy that we should not sign our contracts just yet. So at the advice from our supporting agency, we are living in very expensive homes with no lease and no payment. The reason we shouldn't sign that lease is because there is no understanding to date on our actual welcome to stay in Sweden. The three service members might be covered, but certainly not those pains in the asses that our government knows as our dependents. The signals are not misunderstood by this overly pissed off and dramatic CW4, don't sign two year contracts because we aren't sure you will complete the month in this country. However, make sure you report to work!
Family resiliency is only a great sounding concept and buzz phrase put together to give out needless civilian contractor jobs and the illusion that there is still a good reason to fight in multiple wars with shit pay.
The extra amount of time that I am spending on this completely random rant and rave could be more useful if better channeled into working a viable solution to our multiple issues. Of course, the US sleeps now and emails will be read and further blown off much later in my afternoon and evening. These petty issues of finances, immigration, and status of the theivery of my worldly possessions must be pondered and further blown off for the weekend, on Monday much beigger issues will develop, like activities of the weekend had by those surrounded by the comforts of familiar locations and people, while pushing our problems to the bottom of their "piss off" files.
On a good note, we will be attending our first ever hockey game tonight watching the local professional team. My daughter, Mia will get to join her new buddy in the VIP box as the father of the young gal is on the roster of the team. Unfortunately there is news that she will have to move soon to the US due to the weird education system here that legally in unable to provide a grade to students under year seven in school. No problem if staying in the Swedish school system is the plan, but going back to the US will apparently cause repeat of the years with out grades, such as the entire sixth grade. The worry is that Mia will attend half of sixth, all seventh, and half of eighth here in Sweden. I can't allow her to require repeats of all upon entry into the US.
If it sounds like it has all been a bad experience, well only the majority has! Again, we are deeply thankful to the warm welcome feelings from our new friends, neighbors, and land lords; Axel and Susan. These people should be furious about our squatting in their home without a lease or payment, yet they have had this to their home for a meal, taken us around their beuatiful property and Susan and Whitney are currently out on a dual grocery store training flight. But the last thing I want right now is a positive attitude. I just want to kick some Embassy, transportation, finance and all other tursted agencies that are around for no other reason but to support our service members and their families. What a crock of shit!
