Meet the New Drove, Same as the Old Drove

Welcome to the new edition of Turtle Drove.

For a variety of reasons, the Drove has migrated to Blogger, but mainly to make it more accessible to those who have yet to know the joy of enlightenment that issues from same.

This installment comes to you from the hardwood forests of eastern Pennsylvania, where a full-on blizzard has been smothering the landscape for the past 20 hours or so. A prior snowfall over the weekend dropped about a foot. That episode left the East Coast pretty much paralyzed and newscasters outdoing one another in wordsmithing: snowpocalypse cropped up most frequently. This one I think is dubbed snowmageddon. It has already, at least in this vicinity, outpunched the weekend event.

Sporting Goods & Stuff

No doubt attendance will suffer as a result at the Eastern Sports & Outdoor Show at the Farm Show Complex in Harrisburg, a week-long event and what is apparently the largest of its kind in the U.S. The rescued, one-eyed owl at right was present there yesterday as part of a presentation by a West Virginia outfit that works with birds of prey.

Attendance was down, and so was business as a result, based on what a handful of vendors had to say. Others took the situation in stride and said it would hurt business to not be there, whatever the weather. At any rate, it's a great place for deals on all kinds of equipment. My dad picked up a couple of rods that normally retail for $150 or so for $40 each.

If taxidermy is your thing, then this show is the place for you. Elephants, goats, wild boar, otters, ducks, raccoon, fox. And deer. Rank after rank of mounted deer heads, bucks with big grasping racks, doe with a soft, wide-eyed gaze that suggested wonder at finding themselves stuffed, mounted and suddenly on display.

Space A and How to Fly It

The Drover arrived here a week ago, landing in Dover after a 9-hour flight aboard an Air Force C-5 Galaxy from Ramstein, Germany, then driving north into the Keystone State. The first leg started in Mildenhall, U.K., aboard a KC-135 tanker to Ramstein. Getting out of Mildenhall was easy. The plane was empty, for the most part. From Ramstein, the tanker picked up a complement of Army troops and headed downrange somewhere.

Ramstein is a hub for military transport and the terminal there, a big, modern and fairly new building, hums with the ebb and flow of troops departing for points east and west. The boarding calls summon long lines of men and women in camouflage battle dress, of all branches, to the gates. Until then, they fill row after row of seats in the waiting area or gather in groups on the floor in the corners. Most have an open laptop computer, checking or sending messages, gaming, surfing. The USO provides free WiFi in the terminal, and it also has a small lounge with free coffee and snacks, computer terminals, a small movie viewing area, comfy sofas, phones and game stations.

Getting out of Ramstein for me was a little more complicated but with patience proved not so difficult. The afternoon was spent keeping tabs on upcoming flights and checking with the passenger counter for availability. Turns out I managed the next flight out for Dover, but even that turn of luck illustrates the vagaries of flying "Space A," or space available. Dependents, retirees, active duty on leave all have the privilege of flying for free aboard military aircraft, provided there is "space available." Further, there is an official pecking order, starting with the military folks at the top and ending four tiers below with dependents traveling alone. I fell in the middle, Category 3, as dependent of a military member deployed in excess of 365 days. That little bit of juice helped me bump an irascible old retiree who'd been waiting several days for the very last seat on the C-5. I was totally not expecting to get anywhere near that plane and was taken by surprise when my name echoed from the PA system off the glass and steel inside the terminal.

But saying isn't doing and even as the bus carrying the passengers drew up to the bird itself on the slush-ridden tarmac in the midst of a night snowfall, an airman boarded to explain that the Marines who owned this flight would be boarding, but the seven Army airborne troops hitching a lift back from Afghanistan (flying "space required") and I would not. Tense moments followed until the airman, after conferring with passenger services, motioned our bags onto the plane and directed us afterthought fliers aboard, after all. No one asked why, and no one told.

The Marines were members of HMM-364, or Marine Medium Helicopter Squadron 364, based at Camp Pendleton. They fly the CH-46, the twin-rotored Boeing so familiar to anyone watching the news. One of their birds was lodged in the belly of the Galaxy. They were heading home after a four-month deployment to Iraq that had originally been planned as seven months. The senior enlisted aboard, the avionics chief, I discovered had served with my old unit about four years after my discharge and knew a handful of guys with whom I'd served. Small world.

Hurry Up..... and Wait

At any rate, once we boarded word came down that the aircraft would not be leaving on time due to maintenance issues, which is typical, especially with C-5s, and that we probably would not be heading for Dover due to inclement weather on the East Coast. Two hours later, we were still on the tarmac, half the maintenance issues were solved and we were definitely not going to Dover. New destination: Wright-Patterson AFB in Ohio and anyone not interested in going there should get off now was the announcement in the passenger area. The lieutenant colonel seated next to me departed, saying he would never get a connecting flight to the West Coast out of Wright Pat. Which was nice, because his departure freed up the entire row for me to stretch out upon. Another hour or so later, word comes down that Dover is back on. Another hour or so and finally we're wheels in the well. Welcome to flying Space A.

The reason I actually came over here is to visit once more with Kelley for a day before she heads to Afghanistan. The training command invited family to a graduation ceremony of sorts at the base in Indiana. Considering I could at least get there for free on Space A, why not? She'll be heading out sometime after Feb. 16th. Training, a trial in itself, is nearly over. Now for the real deal.

And finally, congratulations are in order. Kelley was chosen for promotion to major, although she won't actually get to wear the rank before the fall, date to be announced. Hooray!

You know what, it's still snowing.