IStock Photo 2265622 © Rockfinder

My battalion has a tradition of making the junior Lieutenant carry around a mop bucket with a mop that has a flag hanging off it saying "Jr. LT." Well, I was forced to assume the responsibility of the Jr. LT. "Guidon," as it was called, when I first arrived at my unit in Texas, and it has been the bane of my existence since getting to Afghanistan.

Everyone made a game out of stealing it from me and it sometimes found its way into the Battalion Commander’s office, and to retrieve it I had to do something stupid and humiliating. It’s supposed to be passed to the next Jr. LT. when a new one arrives, but a formal ceremony was placed on the back burner because of our deployment. So, it looks like I will be stuck with this stupid thing for the whole year I am over here. I thought I would be clever and hide it in a storage closet back in Ft. Hood, but it wasn't long before the Battalion Commander asked my Company Commander where my LT. Guidon was. My answer was "Sir, it is in a storage closet in Ft. Hood." Wrong answer. As we say in the Army, shit rolls down hill, and so I was under pressure to produce a new guidon here in Afghanistan.

And so, being the good platoon leader I am, I asked the Privates in my platoon for some help in procuring a new guidon. Being the good Privates that they are, they managed to "acquire" a mop and mop bucket, much to the anger of the third-country nationals who are in charge of cleaning our chow hall. They even acquired a revolving emergency light much like the one you would see on the roof of the military police trucks seen driving around the base. I don't ask questions.

On the personal side I have been back at war again with the nefarious insurgent terrorist organization known as Al-rhino virus, or the common cold. It just doesn't go away. I wake up every day, walk out of my tent, and just stand there for about 5 to 10 minutes and hack up mucus and shoot snot out of my nose. Graphic stuff, I know, but it’s the honest truth. The worst is when the showers are not working for whatever reason because then I have to walk around all day feeling gross and can't get a hot shower to loosen up my congested nose.

I only average five hours of sleep a night right now, which isn't bad, but consecutive days on light sleep makes it hard to get over this nagging cold. I got some powerful medicine from the medics that clears up my sinuses but results in me feeling slightly stupid for a few hours. I had to give a briefing the other day that took about 30 minutes and I sounded nasal through the whole thing. When I got done the Battalion Commander looked at me and said, "Alex, you sound like a half-dead frog." Everyone laughed. I didn't think it was funny.

People keep sending us care packages. Some of them are from my friends and family, some are from church groups, some are from the Boy Scouts, it varies. The ones from my family are great because it’s some sort of physical contact with your loved ones. The ones from the Boy Scouts are great because they pack them full of junk food. The ones from the church groups have a lot of religious material and honestly most of us could care less. It ends up in the burn pit.

The cutest are the ones from the local elementary school that my unit sponsors. Back in Texas we sent volunteers to the school to help teach, and now the kids send us cards and books and stuff like princess tiaras and Silly String. The other day one of the Privates in my platoon turned 21 and so for his birthday we made him wear a princess crown all day and then gave him a "pink belly" (hold him down, pull up his shirt, pour cold water on it, and slap his stomach until it turns a bright, pinkish red) and then covered him in Silly String. Then he went to go pee in a Porta-Potty and we tipped it over.

The Army is so fun. My birthday is not for a while, but I anticipate getting pretty bruised up.

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