The Gypsy Battalion

"Never quit. It is the easiest cop-out in the world. Set a goal and don't quit until you attain it. When you do attain it, set another goal, and don't quit until you reach it. Never quit." - Paul "Bear" Bryant

Moving the Tactical Operations Center of a Headquarters is referred to affectionately as "Jumping the TOC". The larger the unit, the more difficult a process this is. Back when I was a Mortar Platoon Leader (I won't divulge how many years ago that was), jumping the TOC was as easy as rolling up the tarp on our M577 and driving it to the new location. Not so with a Battalion of several hundred Soldiers that operates on a geographic area larger than the State of Georgia. The toughest aspect of making such a move is our extreme need for secure communications at more than one location while we are making the move. This is necessary so that we can continuously control the Battalion from the old and new locations while we make our move. Once we're in place at the new location, we pull the plug on the old location and "collapse the pocket" of our remaining personnel to the new HQ. It's an intricate and delicate sequence of steps that requires our full use of the Troop Leading Procedures (TLP's) and the Military Decision Making Process (MDMP). And now that I've shared all of that military jargon I'll sum it up by stating we successfully jumped our TOC with style, precision and grace. I'm proud to say we moved it over a hundred miles south in the middle of continuous combat and combat sustainment operations without skipping a single beat on our critical mission. I am very proud of my Command Team and Staff. We stayed fully engaged in the fight and accomplished our relocation on time, on target. Now we've been adjusting to our new digs, facilities, and neighboring units. Our containers and vehicles are here and they are being unpacked and registered respectively.

But wait! War is fluid. Situations change. Missions are adjusted. Timetables get shifted to the left or right. Rumors fly faster than speeding bullets and spread like fire on dry kindling wood. What's that I hear? We are being tasked to move again? But we just got here! Ok Staff, let's just continue to follow our last command from the tower. Remember, if I didn't say it then we ain't doing it. You got that? Here's a compromise - only unpack what you deem essential from the containers and leave the rest packed. I will concede that we need to start living like Gypsies because the rumors are flying so fast I have to move faster than Jackie Robinson to catch them all. Such is another responsibility of command and leadership - anticipate the rumors and squelch them at the highest level before they trickle down to the ranks. Soldiers need to stay focused on the mission - not their anticipated next mission. However, there is always some validity to rumors that start to triangulate from multiple directions. I piece together the evidence, keep my Staff and Company Commanders focused, and accept that we are, in fact, becoming the Gypsy Battalion. Our caravans are prepared to move at a moment's notice across the Iraqi Joint Operating Area (IJOA). Wherever our mission takes us, so shall we go.

And yet there is always time to find humor in the dusty, dreary, colorless existence we share at locations like Camp Liberty. I've noticed of late a new amusement. Normally, I can't get into the DFAC for supper until right before closing time every night because of my schedule. By the time I get my food and sit down the mess hall is closed. That's happy time for the Third Country Nationals (TCN's) who man the chow lines and keep the place clean. Closing time is when they can go through the lines and grab some chow. Boy do they flock to the food! I've discovered their muse and it humors me greatly. Once they get their plates they all congregate around one of the TV's tuned to AFN. Then they eat while absolutely hypnotized to WWF - wrestling! They are completely addicted to watching the theatrics that we are all familiar with. I'm not certain if they believe it's real or not. It is just funny to watch how they react to every jump off the top rope, DDT's, folding chair slams, and eye-gouging face rakes. Perhaps there is a little Redneck in everyone around the world? I think so.