tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-72354414313253724092026-03-23T10:20:35.156+03:00The most famous person you've never heard of...The Wrong Guy; the right job...http://www.blogger.com/profile/02726636293730103660noreply@blogger.comBlogger34125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7235441431325372409.post-69886410139459478832009-02-16T08:28:00.004+03:002009-02-16T08:35:56.247+03:00

As I finish up leave and prepare to settle back into life as a normal soldier who is not deployed, I realize it's time to close this chapter in my life's book. I am not complete with everything I've said here. There is much more to be done until I can give everyone something worth having. Until then,I'll be over here:Your PseudoSaviorAgain, I can't thank you enough for all the support I have

The Wrong Guy; the right job...http://www.blogger.com/profile/02726636293730103660noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7235441431325372409.post-27071562300566876512008-12-24T00:48:00.004+03:002008-12-24T00:51:32.252+03:00

I am coming home.------------------Nothing Follows------------------

The Wrong Guy; the right job...http://www.blogger.com/profile/02726636293730103660noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7235441431325372409.post-34830810637869351802008-12-22T23:29:00.004+03:002008-12-22T23:36:24.632+03:00

Attention to orders...The Secretary of the Army has reposed special trust and confidence in the patriotism, valor, fidelity, and professional excellence of Anthony Vaccariello. In view of these qualities and his demonstrated leadership potential and dedicated service to the U.S. Army, he is therefore, promoted from Sergeant to Staff Sergeant…Promotion is effective 1 Jan 2009.It's a bit early, but

The Wrong Guy; the right job...http://www.blogger.com/profile/02726636293730103660noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7235441431325372409.post-96461058441014722008-12-22T01:02:00.003+03:002008-12-22T01:13:06.578+03:00

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The Wrong Guy; the right job...http://www.blogger.com/profile/02726636293730103660noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7235441431325372409.post-60150243868737803962008-10-04T14:43:00.009+03:002008-10-07T17:35:41.379+03:00

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The Wrong Guy; the right job...http://www.blogger.com/profile/02726636293730103660noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7235441431325372409.post-42255636129424413152008-10-03T20:13:00.006+03:002008-10-03T20:36:12.243+03:00

Ever get those jitters the first day at a new job? Yeah?Me too.---------------------------------------------------------------You need any more flares?Nah.How about smoke? Are you good on smoke?Yeah.Well, I’ve got the radio set up, checked with extra batteries and encryption too.Awesome man, thanks.So we’ve got 2 sniper rifles with day and night scopes, a machine gun with a 120 round starter

The Wrong Guy; the right job...http://www.blogger.com/profile/02726636293730103660noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7235441431325372409.post-50161144244233276362008-09-26T12:29:00.000+03:002008-10-03T12:35:14.549+03:00

I woke up in an unknown, mildly foreign place today. The alarm on my phone was set for 0530. The ring tone echoed familiarly in the room. Ah, it's time to get up. It's time to get moving. I think. I didn’t have a patrol to go to. I didn’t have planning to attend. No time lines were present to abide by. I am in an undiscovered world. I have lost the rigid structure that kept me busy for ten months

The Wrong Guy; the right job...http://www.blogger.com/profile/02726636293730103660noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7235441431325372409.post-66516293939787429902008-08-27T17:11:00.000+03:002008-09-24T17:16:07.305+03:00

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The Wrong Guy; the right job...http://www.blogger.com/profile/02726636293730103660noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7235441431325372409.post-37334323226596999362008-07-14T04:31:00.003+03:002008-07-14T05:36:57.050+03:00

I'm standing on the edge of what I cannot escape. A tragic battle has risen within me. Sooner or later the vast fears of billions of individuals will concern me as well. Heaven versus Hell is a constant reminder of the consequences of our actions taken in this plane. The echoes of an eternity... wait inside of me.We are, without a doubt, the unwitting products of our environments. As we grow up,

The Wrong Guy; the right job...http://www.blogger.com/profile/02726636293730103660noreply@blogger.com17tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7235441431325372409.post-12705815284861890782008-06-24T23:12:00.003+03:002008-06-24T23:37:26.207+03:00

Rampant sweat builds in each of your pores until it quickly overflows. Warning! Warning! Warnings are far too late. Your body has violently turned host to a sodium-filled flash flood, ravaging the course of your skin. The steam rises, racing from your flesh and escapes hurriedly through the collar and sleeves. Marinated with your own sweat, you’re an amphibian cooked in the boiling water. The

The Wrong Guy; the right job...http://www.blogger.com/profile/02726636293730103660noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7235441431325372409.post-1610313827443816812008-05-05T16:53:00.001+03:002008-05-06T14:27:44.590+03:00

There was an eerie feeling this morning. The life, the movement, the buzz, as you would call it, had disappeared entirely. All that was visible to the eye gave the uneasy impression of ruins, a deviant ghost town. The merciless sand storm was in full bloom this morning, and we were returning to base. One momentary look around the FOB, and the conclusion would jump at you like a Jack Russell

The Wrong Guy; the right job...http://www.blogger.com/profile/02726636293730103660noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7235441431325372409.post-87445569800833586832008-04-05T16:06:00.001+03:002008-05-06T14:44:00.427+03:00

A senior journalism major at the University of Houston, Tony Hernandez, had e-mailed me for my input in an article he was writing on military blogging. I'll add some of the correspondence, what I wrote to him, his response and article below.Email Correspondence from Tony Hernandez:"I just wanted to say thank you again for taking the time to reply for my story. I emailed it early to my professor

The Wrong Guy; the right job...http://www.blogger.com/profile/02726636293730103660noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7235441431325372409.post-9091035016420659632008-03-30T15:50:00.000+03:002008-05-05T16:05:42.555+03:00

This is where I apologize profusely for my inability to bring timely updates to the table. I could go on and on about busy this or busy that, but in all reality I basked in the glory of each break we received from the rapid idiocies of operational tempo. All in all, you didn’t miss much more than an over-hyped, underappreciated amount of work from your United States Soldiers over here in the

The Wrong Guy; the right job...http://www.blogger.com/profile/02726636293730103660noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7235441431325372409.post-48251237100796684092008-03-21T21:15:00.000+03:002008-03-21T21:29:24.179+03:00

I remind myself inconsequently that it is long past the time to quit after each cigarette has the life squeezed out of it. The reddish-tan debris from my cigarette butt lay haphazardly on the wooden lounge chair. A slight breeze enters unobtrusively, carrying them away as the charred cigarette rolls awkwardly between the gaps of the gazebo flooring. It’s a slow afternoon at the outpost. The out

The Wrong Guy; the right job...http://www.blogger.com/profile/02726636293730103660noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7235441431325372409.post-18169140644409070002008-03-19T11:41:00.000+03:002008-03-19T11:44:50.243+03:00

Warning: This journal is NOT for kids. This journal is not for those easily affected by personally tragic experiences. Read at your own discretion.I forewarn everyone about the realities of this war, and henceforth the realities of this journal. They are exhilaratingly fun to write about on the good days, but there’s the dark side to this moon as well. I wish no one had to see it. I wish no

The Wrong Guy; the right job...http://www.blogger.com/profile/02726636293730103660noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7235441431325372409.post-64366860167181712672008-01-28T22:32:00.000+03:002008-01-31T22:50:26.781+03:00

It’s a frigid morning. The roar of the generators powering the combat outpost recedes into the back of my head as a constant, persistent hum. Flashing intermittent lights from FOB Loyalty’s Aerostat are a constant reminder that big brother is always watching. The moon has perched itself amongst the rooftops in hide; waiting patiently for the sun to break the horizon and assume its duties. The

The Wrong Guy; the right job...http://www.blogger.com/profile/02726636293730103660noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7235441431325372409.post-37823342077545276282008-01-11T10:30:00.000+03:002008-01-11T20:08:49.800+03:00

I have a small entry this morning to make. There isn’t much I have to say in terms of exciting activity or intense situations. No, I simply wanted to state that I should be making 500k a year, drive a Lamborghini, marry Jessica Alba, win the World Series of Poker, and be touring with my two man ukulele band. Because, in fact, hell hath definitely frozen over. It’s snowing today in Baghdad.

The Wrong Guy; the right job...http://www.blogger.com/profile/02726636293730103660noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7235441431325372409.post-73138447601466815172008-01-09T11:51:00.000+03:002008-01-10T12:04:09.734+03:00

Imagine this. Here you are with your best friend. The person closest to you, the person you know in and out, through and through who will be your future best man, or maid of honor. This trustworthy, steadfast, solid person has seen you at your best, has seen you at your worst, and continues to accept you for the person you are. Now imagine you’re about to embark on a highly stressful fifteen

The Wrong Guy; the right job...http://www.blogger.com/profile/02726636293730103660noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7235441431325372409.post-8893854554391469362008-01-06T11:13:00.000+03:002008-02-08T09:15:54.919+03:00

Day breaks and we roll sevens on the craps table again. Basically it’s a dramatic story to only those not involved. The sun is rising and we’re patrolling again, searching out for the mortar men responsible for the New Year’s Eve fiasco. Apparently this mortar crew has been at it for a week straight now, and they were not varying their point of origin by much. Foolish they are for thinking they

The Wrong Guy; the right job...http://www.blogger.com/profile/02726636293730103660noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7235441431325372409.post-70848799652187655762008-01-01T21:14:00.000+03:002008-01-06T21:16:08.648+03:00

The Secretary of the Army has reposed special trust and confidence in the patriotism, valor, fidelity, and professional excellence of Anthony Vaccariello. In view of these qualities and his demonstrated leadership potential and dedicated service to the U.S. Army, he is therefore, promoted from Specialist to Sergeant…Promotion is effective 1 Jan 2008.

The Wrong Guy; the right job...http://www.blogger.com/profile/02726636293730103660noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7235441431325372409.post-29508995031450453222008-01-01T09:06:00.000+03:002008-01-06T21:18:34.468+03:00

It was a godsend in ways. All the units outside our surrounding area of operations have all had something to talk about. Snipers, IED’s, ambushes, and mortars, and all we had to talk about was the occasional rock thrown at our six ton up-armored humvees. It was another holiday to spend away from our families – or at least that’s how I categorized New Year’s Eve. We had just finished up our

The Wrong Guy; the right job...http://www.blogger.com/profile/02726636293730103660noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7235441431325372409.post-33032993748173484972007-12-27T23:07:00.000+03:002007-12-30T22:00:35.494+03:00

I start this journal off today with mixed emotions. In 3 days I will be promoted to Sergeant. I am supposed to be the most visible leader for my men. I am supposed to support the leaders above me, and the decisions those leaders make. I am supposed to be the man that the men look up to when the rights are hard and the wrongs are easy. Now I find myself slipping a bit more and more each day as

The Wrong Guy; the right job...http://www.blogger.com/profile/02726636293730103660noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7235441431325372409.post-85459795823982645222007-12-22T02:59:00.000+03:002007-12-22T03:11:59.443+03:00

It’s not enough to know that I made a lifetime long mistake of being married too young. It’s not enough to have the inherent stresses of being enlisted in the Army. It’s not enough to know that I had to deal with all my personal problems staring me down as I worked every day at Fort Polk, Louisiana. But to me, it is enough to absolutely drive a person insane, delirious to be forced to deal with

The Wrong Guy; the right job...http://www.blogger.com/profile/02726636293730103660noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7235441431325372409.post-73853686347044952942007-12-16T07:45:00.000+03:002007-12-16T21:10:42.150+03:00

It’s been only two hours since the last tragic event. The shit grows deeper as we say. An MP company was rolling outside the FOB, and the truck was hit by an IED. The gunner was killed. I don’t know his story, but a loss of the family is still a loss. And the hits keep on coming, on and on – hopefully they’ll stop near the break of dawn. And all I can think back to is.. “Welcome to Baghdad!”

The Wrong Guy; the right job...http://www.blogger.com/profile/02726636293730103660noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7235441431325372409.post-15788003326949370702007-12-16T06:00:00.000+03:002007-12-16T21:03:47.085+03:00

“Suicidal Imbecile… Disconnect and self destruct one bullet at a time.. What’s your rush now? Everyone will have his day to die...” – A Perfect Circle Blood soaked and silent scars run throughout the cot, the home of another man. Speculation rises, words scamper amongst individuals as the sorrow tears another gaping hole through the dangerously low cup of morale. The men feel it. It’s worse

The Wrong Guy; the right job...http://www.blogger.com/profile/02726636293730103660noreply@blogger.com0