Exaggeration

For those that know me well, it is probably common knowledge that I tend to tell a story with some flare. In that attempt to gain flare, I might occasionally choose wording that places drama, maybe even an overly dramatic effect on the story. I don't ever stretch the truth, the story is real, but potentially a little hyped up. My audience never seems to mind, in less my beautiful wife is in that audience. She tends to "bust me out" if she deems it necessary.

In my plight towards this assignment in Sweden, I made a trip to this fine country to gain knowledge of my job and to set up life support systems. These systems included; looking for a home, answers to medical support questions, discovering the truth to the rumored $10 per gallon gasoline, researching the size of parking spaces, exploring options for Mia's schooling, and just plain putting a picture to the minds eye picture of what life in Sweden will be like in reality. Due to some of the high level importance to these details, I decided to purchase a fare for my lovely best friend, biggest critic, and gorgeous wife. There was no way I was going to leave her out of the face to face question and answer periods that would occur during the trip. I am highly aware that the male and female brains operate in a much different manner. I wanted her on site to ask questions and hear first hand the answers to said queries.

I will forever be happy with that choice. My experience during that visit caused my brain to have expectations, ones that now seem to be a total bust. I now also realize that a vacation or visit in a location is far from the reality of actually living in that location. I came back to Ft. Riley and was happy to share with my buddies and colleagues the facts of my visit. Facts that now seem to be categorized back into the old Hastings yarn spinning form that might be now considered to be nothing more than a large exaggeration. The very first example happens to be the genetic superiority of the Swedish people. In my fact reporting to colleagues, I reported and whole heartedly believed that every single Swede, male or female, was incredibly good looking. On the trip, others also noticed that the women were void of thighs or large buttocks. In other words, not only were they good looking, but had model bodies to match. In the present, I can sadly report the truth after living here a short time. There are plenty of unattractive, large thigh carrying, ugly people here in the far north of Europe.

I was completely prepared to encounter darkness for twenty hours a day in the three meter snow covered ground. We even purchased three brand new sets of cross country skis, complete with the newest technology. I entertained the thought of using them to transport myself over the frozen land to my place of work. In reality, we landed to green grass, zero snow, and hours of light and darkness that were not far off from that at Ft. Riley, Kansas during January. I had been informed back in November that normally there was up to a meter of snow and that by January it would be two to three meters. Now, I am somewhat of an international traveller, have lived in other countries outside of the friendly confines of the USA. I spent a year in South Korea, over three years in Germany, too much time to think about in the Middle East, but still I am no expert in the ways of the metric system. I can recall from my youth that a meter stick is slightly longer than a yard stick. I had to be much faster to avoid the swing of a meter stick from my elementary school principal than the swing of a yard stick. To compare those two sticks and then pile them two or three high, it all just adds up to being a butt load of snow. Now it is early March, the sun begins to light up my bedroom before the wretched alarm clock goes off at 0615 Monday through Friday morning.

I also loudly and proudly announced to those in ear shot at my former place of assignment, that the Swedes are not about working very hard. Though I find that to still be true in comparison to the uniformed men and women of the US Army, there was still an exaggeration to report. In more detail, it was the schedule of the work day that needs to be adjusted to keep my integrity in check. I was of the belief that a normal work day began at 0730, was then stopped for a practice known as Fica at 0900-1030 prior to resuming until the required lunch period of 1130-1300. Don't be caught at work past 1530 or there would be a discussion with the commander. I neglected to mention the 1430 Fica break. This all seemed laughingly outlandish, but I was completely ready for that "exhausting" pace. Well again reality has been occurring for nearly seven weeks and the above schedule is only remotely the same as I had previously described. The days definitely begin at 0730, there is for sure a Fica break at 0900, but it seems to last until only 0915. That time has been extended assuming there was either a great story in progress or discussion of a work related event on the table. It certainly does not continue until 1030. I have noticed that the Fica break is guarded and highly prized amongst the Swedish Armed Forces, but it is not attended if other work priorities are in the way. The beginning of lunch period begins at 1130 and only extends for an hour as normal. I have noticed that the building begins to be pretty lonely around 1645 and not the anticipated 1530. When we are flying it is a much different schedule.

So far the flight periods here are much different than a normal unit and much more similar to the flight periods at Mother Rucker in Alabama. There is a morning flight period. This begins with a telephonic/power point conference that is attended by all the units across Malmen Air Base and the nearby Saab airfield. The weather, NOTAMS, ATC, and airspace restrictions are announced in this very formal brief at exactly 0740 every morning. The aircraft need to be on the ground no later than 1130 to complete the morning "sortie". There is another briefing of the same nature again at exactly 1235 with aircraft needing to be handed over to maintenance at 1530. The next briefing covers the weather and other information for the night period and begins at 1600, all flights must land prior to 2200.

The TAFT has been doing plenty of "sorties" with our Scandanavian counterparts. It has not been uncommon so far to fly in all three periods. Yes, arrive for the 0740 brief, catch all three briefs and depart for our rented mansions after 2200. This was my experience all this last week. Behind closed doors, there was some American head scratching going on in terms of our Duty Day. We certainly didn't want to appear as whiners or whimps, but we were attempting to keep to a somewhat normal duty period for an American Aviator in accordance with normal unit SOPs. We collectively decided that a 14 hour duty day was not that big of an inconvenience and most importantly not an unsafe situation. After all, I am an AmeriCAN and not an AmeriCAN'T. Either way, this has proven to be another myth buster from my late fall visit here in Sweden. A quick exchange in Swenglish concerning duty days revealed initially that Fica in the morning and afternoon in addition to lunch are not considered part of the duty day. What we did discover is that a flight Duty Day is normally no longer than 14 hours and it begins with arrival for duty and ends when released from all military activity to go home. If the day does not include flight duty, the two Fica breaks and lunch are not only not counted in the duty day, but they are not paid for that time either. This was an eye opener for the three Americans. When we demanded to work through Fica, there was much Swedish secure communication occurring around us. We were unavailable for concern as we wanted to complete the work and not stop for coffee, in retrospect we are sorry for the obvious offense.

Again, as with any military from any country around the world, there are long and high paced days. To be honest, they have been few are far between which makes me thankful as I have been going mad with boredom while nothing needs to be demonstrated in the helicopter or in front of a computer to write new regulation.

My closest colleagues will be laughing at me if they actually ever read this blog. It will not surprise many that my first reports were a little in the unbelievable column, but at least I am coming clean with these exaggeration busters now.

Winter Sports Holiday

I can't in good faith report any news as a Standardization Instructor Pilot from Sweden due to the fact that we are in the weaning days of a national treasure called Winter Sports Holiday.

As it turns out, winter in Sweden can be harsh.  This causes everyone to be locked in doors and inadvertently sharing in may things such as germs.  This is the time of year that kids were historically getting very sick and passing their little nasty germs onto their parents at home and further sharing into the work place.  This reality was the genesis of taking a week off each year in these indoor days, hence the excuse to have a Winter Holiday.  When in Sweden, do as the Swedes do, stay away from that nasty thing we call a J.O.B.

So the Hastings clan embarked on the tradition with an attempt to participate in some winter sports.  Our brand new cross country skis had been delivered around three weeks ago and we were well prepared to put them to their inaugural use.  The big problem is that the snow began an amazing disappearing act just in time for the Winter Sports week away from work and school.

We were shown a new past time to get us off the couch and into the outdoors of Sweden, this new activity to us is known as Geocaching.  Nerds across the world have hidden small "treasures" all around and with the aid of a GPS, they are logged into a website and published.  Nerds such as ourselves utilize GPS', or in our case, donate $10 bones to the App Gods of the iPhone world to search for these hidden trinkets.  It has been an absolute blast.  We have walked into areas around this country that we would have never seen and discovered locations that we will probably visit again during the summer months.  It has proven to be an excellent source of curing cabin fever and breaking the spell of the boob tube.  We spent Monday near a castle ruins and into the forest near Lake Roxen.  Here we found two of three caches we set out to uncover.

Tuesday we joined forces with our Landlord and new friend, Axel, along with his two young boys to a small ski hill.  Unbelievably, there was enough snow to allow Mia to put in her first day of skiing.  I am not sure if there are other parents out there that can remember the first time on skis with their child, not something I can call the best time of my life.  After all, kids, or for sure my kid, is much smarter than her parents and can't even imagine listening to coaching or advice from her parents.  This made for a few hours on a bunny hill that I wouldn't like to repeat.  Eventually, we got something past the goalie in her brain and some tips sunk into the ears and some actual skiing occurred.  Even a trip up a very "old timey" t-bar rope tow lift up a decent ski hill was shared by the three wayward adventurers.  At the end of the day a successful trip happened and we were happy.  Dinner and too many beers happened later that night with the McGettigan clan on a nearby farm.

Thursday we were invited to the farm of our Landlords brother and sister-in-law.  Whitney has made the trip several times to enjoy riding with new good friend Linda.  What an amazing farm and home!  We were escorted around this amazing property and were witness to some very different ways to farm.  They had all indoor beef cattle, like close to 300.  They were a Charlaise type breed.  The barns were huge and very amazing.  The farm is completely self sufficient in all ways.  Most notable to me was the heating system.  It was a huge hopper filled with wood chips from waste wood and trees across the property, fed into a huge furnace, heating water that was fed into around 15 buildings for heat and hot water.  Amazing.  My thoughts were of my buddy Zman, wishing he could be there to look around and discuss the differences in the cattle business.  We stayed for a "typical Swedish" dinner, Moose roast, potatoes, brown sauce and the ever present Lingonberry jelly for the meat.

Friday was spent back on the hunt for Geo treasure.  It was a rigorous hike to find all four caches that were on the list.  This time it was a reclaimed water fowl nature reserve.  The first site was easily found after a great hike in terrific surroundings.  The second was a serious event.  A direct course via iPhone GPS landed us at the bottom of a shear cliff completely coated in a lush moss.  The deep forest had a carpet of the lush green on downed logs, rocks, and the forest floor.  I made an attempt to scale the cliff, much easier going up than coming down.  A few skids to my near death later, we decided to depart the area as losers.  We scaled the map to a larger scale and decided to make a different approach.  Whitney is a serious competitor and was unwilling to give up on this particular cache.  Eventually, we made it to the top and discovered the treasure to discover the box contained a US quarter from our home state of Wyoming.  That was just too weird and a great reminder not to give up.  I can't imagine not finding that Wyo Quarter this far from home.

Things have begun to really come together for us here.  Still feeling pretty out of place but getting used to that feeling and navigating this country in a way that makes us feel like we know how to get things done.  I am positive we are doing it different, some may say wrong, but it is definitely the Hastings way to do things in Sweden.  I don't giving a crap if people think we are weird, take a number in get in line.

Getting Down to Business

Things remain to be pretty rocky here in Sweden for the Hastings Clan as it relates to immigration, finances, payment for rent, school mates for Mia, and communication back to friends and family in the US.  The one thing that has gone very well happens to be my work here at Malmen Air Base.

I am in my third week at the position of Sweden TAFT SP.  Our Swedish counterparts wasted no time in getting us into the aircraft and into the airspace above this frozen yet beautiful country.  Of course the process of getting into the aircraft and breaking the surly bonds of the ground were as well a foreign affair for me.

The most pointed difference was the lack of work prior to entering the cockpit.  The Swedes have a much different system than the US Army in this regard.  Most notebly was the small amount of planning that went into the flight.  It isn't that things weren't discussed or a plan wasn't hatched, just that we didn't spend a significant amount of time on discussing the plan.  The crew brief, well, it just doesn't really occur.  Their position is that all the crew members are current and qualified and we don't need to discuss what their role will be in the aircraft, or they shouldn't be on the schedule to fly.  The professionals in the back of the cabin that we all know and love to be the crew chief, comes in a much different flavor here in Sweden.  There really has never been two of them in the back since their previous helicopters either didn't have the station for two or just plain weren't utilized as the Black Hawk back seats stars are done in my world. 

The crew chief in Sweden first and foremost, is an officer.  That officer is either a technician (mechanic) or a mission specialist (sort of like our CE).  The technician formerly didn't fly and the mission specialist does not work on aircraft.  This means that prior to a flight, the technicians and the maintenance Kompany (yes with a K), owns the aircraft and prepares it for flight. They complete the required Daily inspection as well as a pre-flight, sign the logbook, and then brief the mission specialist of their work.  The aircraft now belongs to the flight crew.  Upon completion of the flight, the flight crew pretty much gathers their gear and walks away from the aircraft.  The technicians then take the aircraft for all post flight activities and maintenance required.

For me this has felt like pure rock star/Hollywood pilot status.  If a pilot or flight crew ever conducted themselves like this in the US Army, I would kick their head in.  The crew chiefs would black ball that pilot and sing derogatory songs about them while slamming needles into their voodoo doll of them.  Here it is the only way to fly, crazy, just plain different.  It also again shows me just how damn bad ass the US Army Black Hawk Crew Chief really is.  Not that I am not reminded by that over and over throughout my career, but it shines through very clearly while here in Sweden.  I am in no means saying that our system is any better or worse than another country or another branch of our armed services.  I just am committing to writing again that our crew chiefs are the hardest working, most knowledgeable, and bad ass members of Army Aviation. 

My position here has been to advise and demonstrate ways of doing things in the Black Hawk in order to prepare the Swedish unit to take this new aircraft into their system of conducting business.  My best advising comes with the tactical sense in mind.  In other words, I really have been in the business of training to take this machine to war and kicking the fuck out of the enemy.  After the training, actually take this machine to war and kick the fuck out of the enemy, which I have had the honor to do for three tours to Iraq and 42 months of combat deployment. 

My experience so far has been great.  The Swedish commanders and so far the small amount of available and qualified pilots have been absorbing my advise and techniques beyond my imagination.  Not all things are capable of doing the way I know how to do because of the copious amounts of Swedish Regulations.  I have had the honor of demonstrating the technique I have used with my unit deployed in combat for 27 months concerning dust landings.  We have been able to use snow in the replacement of dust.  It has proven to be a great challenge to me as the references in a snowy field are far more challenging/terrifying than the worst of dust environments.  No matter, the Chief Pilot is now a believer in the technique and wants to adopt as the preffered method.  I had the opportunity to conduct dozens of these landings along the east coast of Sweden.  For me this flight was a thrill.  Not for the landings but for the chance to fly along the rocky coast of the Baltic Sea.  We saw multiple moose as we flew just inland of the coast.  It was a notable day in my flying career.

Now my big block to further devolpment has come in the form of my inability to speak and understand Swedish.  Obviously, the preferred language in the aircraft is going to be Swedish, well because I am with the Swedish AirForce.  Since there is only three knuckleheads here that don't speak Swedish, I thought it would be the best if we just learned to speak Swedish in the aircraft.  How hard can that be?  Fuck is it hard.  It turns out that Swedish has been ranked the fifth hardest language to learn for an English speaker.  I can read the words, study what is to be said and what I should expect to hear, but saying these words has been a huge challenge.  The sounds are so foreign to our tongues that our attempts have been so far off that they have become the butt of many jokes.  All in good nature though.  I have been learning Swedish regulations for formation flight.  Pretty close in concept but different in application.  Again there are regulated "call outs" that are in Swedish.  I have a list of those and can practice, but the words are so damn hard to say.  I think the decision was made today that when the stupid Americans are in the flight, English will be used.  This makes me as an American very embarrassed that we only know one damn language.  Of course when I was in high school, Swedish wasn't on the menu of classes that could be taken, or in college for that matter.  Yet we still as a majority only speak English.  This is so far behind other countries in the world.  So I am going to get off my ass and this computer, go find someone that wants to laugh at my attempts to speak this language and practice until I am close enought to be understood.  Bye for now!

The Bullshit continues

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!

Bureaucratic beginning

Well the Hastings clan has finally landed safely in Stockholm. It has been a long strange trip. Anyone in the military has been through a PCS move and it always has it's challenges and frustrations, but this one has gone through the roof with nothing but miscues and frustrations.

 First of all, a cherry assignment like two years accomapanied in Sweden is probably the best and luckiest assignment of all times. However, that does not change the fact that it has made me want to give plenty of high fives, with a chair, in the face. Since no one has ever made a PCS to Sweden from the Army before, the first thing that was brought to my attention at every agency I visited was that they had never heard of anyone being sent to Sweden, was I sure that was correct?! Now, I didn't make CW4 by being a fucktard, so YES I am positive that I am being assigned to Sweden. This was always followed with the question of "How did you get so lucky?" As this continued, I quickly ran out of patience and loudly and proudly let the enquistior know that luck had absolutely nothing to do with the assignment. I got this job because I kicked some serious ass for Army Aviation for the last 16 years and I was selected for this job because I know how to build a UH60M unit in a short amount of time and take them to a combat zone. In fact, I can get them through the year long tour with no problems and bring them back to refit and retool.

 My patience has worn thin with mainly civilian workers in Army posts unwilling or unable to do their job properly. My family has acted like troopers and hit all of our required tasks in order to get on a plan in mid January and move to Sweden. This included finding new homes for our chickens, rabbits, horses, moving all of our worldly possesions into categories of, going to Sweden, or going to storage. We even found great people to rent our beloved little farm that we call the Flying H. Friends, school mates and great neighbors were prepared to be left behind with a thin promise that we will return in two short years to pick up where we left off.

 All tasks whether menial or huge were completed like a well oiled military mission. Yet those support personnel in position to assist us in this huge endeavor could hardly be bothered to stroke a mouse and bang on a keyboard to make sure that our shipments left in the appropriate time and sent ot the appropriate continent.

 Now I sit in a very nice, expensive, yet tiny hotel room in Stockholm, Sweden blogging in a very bad mood. This even after hitting a 7.2% alcohol beer that I can not pronounce. Apparently after the nine months of preparation done by the Hastings faithful, no one bothered to let the Minister of Foreign Affairs (MFA)know that three families were arriving to assist the Swedish military build their UH60M capability. I would suggest a much different meaning to the acronym MFA at this point. Without the approval from this Mother fing ahole, we are unable to inprocess into the country. This means that our Visas and more importantly Swedish Personal Numbers can not be obtained. Without these numbers, nothing can be accomplished, like purchase cell phones, obtain bank accounts, enroll children in school, or as my hot wife spewed out in a rage, take a dump without these damn numbers. Ultimately all of this will be smoothed out and we will be moving south to our new home in Linkoping and I will get to start working with the Swedes at Malmen Airforce Base.

 The most interesting thing is that the Swedish people are much more willing to work with us than are the Americans. I guess that I should not be suprised that the red tape of the American machine is causing frustration. In a few days we will be in our amazing home and all of this will be in the past. Then I suppose I will have some sort of blogger guilt about writing while pissed and maybe even experience some stress about the fact that I might even excperience some troubles for the things I have written on this day. Oh well, fuck it!

The next chapter

My daughter Mia inspired me to attempt a blog. I meant to do this two years ago upon my departure for my third tour of duty in Iraq. Reality set in for me on the tour and my busy schedule kept me from doing anything with the blog. Additionally, this website would only display in Farsi. Of course, I could not read the language that appeared to look like "worm trails".

So let's see if I can make a go at this again as my family accompanies me on my newest assignment in Sweden.

Matt