swat: the same but different

image from here

We were lying in bed in the middle of the day while our two boys were playing downstairs. We had plans shortly before picking up our daughter at school. It's his day off. When his cell phone went off, somehow I knew that it would be swat related. I don't know how. I just did. I felt three things. One: A pang of sadness deep down inside because I HATE it when he gets called in on his day off. Two: Excitement for him because it was his first call out. Three:  Dread. It reminded me of his first night out and how I felt. I rarely feel fear and worry when it comes to HF on duty, but when it's something he hasn't done yet (or I haven't done vicariously through him...) then I worry. The fear takes over and I let the "what if's" rule my mind for a moment. Do you do that? Do you imagine the worst? Do you imagine what he'll be doing "right this second" and do you imagine getting a call from someone else? I do. But just for a moment. I don't like to, but that's that. And then somehow, by the grace of God, I am enveloped in a cocoon of peace. I feel strong and confident and that everything will be okay.

I watched him dress in his swat gear. He had everything at home. He looked like a warrior ready for battle. He looked super hot, but that wasn't the most important thought in my mind at the time, strangely enough. He was focused and serious. He got a few other calls. I wished I could ask questions. I wished he could tell me where he was going and what it was for, but that would have to wait. He has been told not to tell anyone anything until the situation is over. It kills me not to know. The boys come to the living room and watch him in awe as he quietly gathers his things. He kisses us all on the head, gives me an extra kiss on the lips, says, "I love you guys", and he walks out the door. I hear the car literally speed off.

The hours go by. There's no way I'm calling him or texting him. I will wait for him to do that. I no longer feel that desperate itch to communicate while he's on duty, but this is different. It's the same, yet different. I finally get a text:

"Love you and the kids".

What is this supposed to mean?! I'm picturing him in a WWI trench being bombed from overhead and it's his last call. I know. Very dramatic. But just for a moment. He doesn't usually send random texts like that. Something heavy must've been on his mind as he had a moment to send me that message. I keep it in my phone even though I'm an avid text message deleter.

It is late at night and I am still awake. I cannot sleep. I will probably wait up for him unless sleep overtakes me. I finally fall asleep. I toss and turn. My neck aches from my inability to relax. My jaw aches from clenching my teeth in my sleep. I have nightmares. As far as I can remember, it's the first time I have a nightmare related to HF's job. Some of my nightmares tonight are silly- like me taking my daughter to school in my underwear without a care, while the majority involve HF getting hurt. I toss and turn some more. I never hear him come home. When I wake up in the morning, he is in bed next to me. I have no idea when he got home. I will let him sleep in. As for myself, I had about 4 hours of sleep. Not enough.

There's a little bit of blood on his uniform. Argh! I'll ask him about it later.

While I have a moment to myself in the morning, I scour the news. I feel fairly certain that I know what he was up to all night based on what I'm reading, but I know he won't say anything. At least not for a week or two. I test him anyway. When he wakes up, I ask him if it had anything to do with "such and such". He smiles, but says, "I can't talk about it." That's all right. I love my honorable and "by the book" officer. I'm just glad he is home safe and sound. He will tell me when he is allowed to. No hurry

First call out.  A success. And I will probably feel more relaxed next time.

grenades n things

I found out that my license is expired. Like really, really expired. I found out when doing some banking. They asked me if I had another form of ID because my license was expired. I looked at the date. It expired January 2010. Whoah. I thought that the DMV sent you a friendly reminder in the mail or something. I didn't realize it was my responsibility to check the expiration on my license, so I had no way of really knowing. Guess what? I still haven't renewed it. HF got a babysitter and took me on a "date". His idea of a romantic date was to drive me to the DMV so I could take care of my biznizz. Well since it's been so long, I have to take a written AND a driving test! I still haven't taken care of it. If you've read this blog from the beginning, you know how much that would make HF crazy. Mr. Rule Keeper and Follwer. And here is his wife-breaking the law. He is always quick to remind me of the consequences of driving without a license-among other offenses I am not guilty of.

I mentioned in my to do list that I needed to freak out at HF for leaving his SWAT stuff in my car. Check. I did it. Last week when HF had swat training, he couldn't take his usual police car as it was getting work done, so he took our van. The next day I was cleaning up the usual car mess left by the monsters children and I came across a thick cardboard cylinder thingie. I wasn't sure what it was so I picked it up. Well imagine my horror when I turn it towards me and have a little looksie inside. Yep, it was a grenade. I froze and then gently put it back down under the seat just as I found it and backed away slowly. I was a little upset. For one, was I driving around with the potential to blow myself and my kids up? What kind of person leaves that behind? Two. You know how when you notice something or are thinking of something and suddenly it's everywhere? For example, when HF started going to the academy, it seemed like the only stories in the news were about cops being killed or dirty cops getting caught. Well, when HF joined the swat team, the only stories I noticed were swat related deaths and of course, those were the only stories that seemed to be on the news.  Anyway, I am well aware that a couple of recent swat-related deaths were related to flash bang grenades going off. Without knowing the whole story, I just felt certain that these were very unstable devices that will just randomly go off without warning. When I confronted HF later about leaving his all his junk in my trunk, he had a good laugh and explained that they were dummies.

Can you imagine what would've happened to me driving around town with grenades and an expired driver's license. I expect I will take care of that license problem real soon. . .

This just in

HF has made the SWAT team.

We're gonna need a bigger closet. This is what the closet looked like 2 years ago:

Here's what it looked like today:

This is what we really need:

{image taken from here}

Except, you know that this men's closet wouldn't be filled with designer suits and drawers full of perfectly rolled ties. Each drawer would roll out and reveal a collection of knives, guns, grenades, etc. I think Jack Bauer has a room like this. Or it's his tricked out SUV that had the hideaway compartments of weapons. Maybe it's just HF, but I think that every guy wishes they had secret weapon rooms (press a panel on the wall in your closet and the wall flips around to reveal a bunker with flourescent lighting-guns of all types mounted to walls). This would actually be a very nice gear closet, wouldn't it? Someday HF. Someday. And now that I'm thinking about it, maybe I would like to have a drawer full of grenades. . .

a time in history that I would like to have far behind me

image from here

Well that was a big fat lie when HF said he was going to be posting this week. Sometimes he just flat out lies! Just kidding. The lack of posting is due to the aforementioned kidney stone issue which I thought was going to be the end of me. For real. It was nice however to lay low for a few days. One thing that I found quite amusing is that once when I came downstairs for water, I opened the fridge and all I saw were steaks and hot dogs and hamburgers. And that's pretty much it. I worried for my family's health, but went back to bed. HF blew through our allotted food budget money for 2 weeks in about 3 days. But that's okay. He was doing his best to hold the fort down. I always joke that he's like those guys in those Carl's Jr. commercials. "Without us, some guys would starve". Secretly I hope that he sees that what I do is kind of a big deal and without me he would literally starve or at the very least, be lost without me. Even though some of the aftermath leaves me with more to fix than I would like, I appreciate his part that he does to make our little family run.

The other reason for not posting in forever is because of major work-related drama. After many days of going going going, HF came home one afternoon after a particularly long day and I could tell that he was spent. He usually puts away his gear and other items, but today he dropped everything in a heap and stumbled upstairs to the shower. After his shower I listened for footsteps that would tell me that he was getting dressed and coming back downstairs, but I had a feeling that he would fall over on the bed and be out like a light. What happened next was automatic even though I never had to do it before. I checked over the gear he had plopped down and made sure that his gun was secured, and that anything else was put away or out of reach temporarily so that the kids wouldn't get into anything. Then I let him be. I told him later that I waited until I knew he was up to holler at the kids. It's true. As soon as I heard him walking around, I yelled at the kids. When he woke up, he was startled for a minute thinking that he hadn't put away his gun and other important things and I cut him off and said, "I know. I could tell you were going to crash so I checked everything and made sure". We didn't talk about it at all, but I tucked away that moment in my memory as one of our beautiful "in-synch" moments that remind me that we are "one".

These past few days have proven to be mentally and emotionally exhausting. Not to mention physically. After being encouraged to try out, HF completed the selection process for the swat team and was not happy with his performance. Everyone knows he is harder on himself than anyone else, but after hearing about his day, he did not perform as he would've liked to. He put it out of his mind, and I could tell he was relieved to have it behind him. We find out if he made the team soon.

HF's conclusion:

1. He doesn't make the team.  He tries out again next year.
2. He does make the team, and will spend the next few years proving himself all over again as the new guy. He would have to strive to be the best at everything; Shooting, physical fitness, etc.

Academy all over again anyone?

SWAT school: Day Three

Day three and the final day of swat school was scenario training. They started with a basic call that escalated to needing to call SWAT. Each person would role play a different position that they normally didn't take so they could see what it was like for that person. For example, someone played the role of a negotiator, or a commander, or a patrol officer, or a hostage, or a bad guy. You get the idea. They did that most of the day.

They also had a discussion about current trends involving SWAT. What kind of calls they are responding to, how the global war on terrorism is spilling over into our communities, etc. That is pretty much it.

Although HF had been invited to train with the team during the last several months, most of the guys pretty much ignored him at first. As long as he didn't commit any weapons violations or speak when not spoken to, they tolerated his presence. It's normal for them to see new faces as they weed through potential guys for the team.  The command routinley invites officers to train with the team in an effort to find new members.  Once invited, an officer is expected to pull his own weight plus do all the other little things that are needed like being the "target monkey" or "clean up monkey," etc.  When you're in this phase, you have no opinion.  You have no voice, unless there's a safety issue, then you're expected to call out any safety violations you see.  Other than that, you're expected to pay attention and apply what you learn immediately.

 After a while you get a nickname which evolves over time.  HF's was "The F***."  Maybe it's just me, but I don't really understand how that could be a nickname. Things really changed one training day, when a team leader detonated a flash bang next to HF while he was shooting a dynamic qualification.  HF reacted well by not reacting and hitting his target.  After that they started calling him by his last name.  At the conclusion of this SWAT school, the team started calling him by his first name and he was formally invited to try out for the team.  Now HF will go through a selection process and if he passes, will be sent to another school for final basic training.  Once he finishes that, he'll be "deployable," and be able to go on his first call out.

Tryouts, or selection as they call it, happens sometime in January. Since completing the Police academy, HF has made it a point to maintain his fitness level and conducts regular circuit training; but now he's working to increase his physical strength and stamina to prepare for the selection testing. So in other words, he's going to "pump you up".  Right now he is sore and feeling the burn, but no gigantic biceps and pecs quite yet. . .

SWAT school: Day Two

yes, this picture is for real. image from here.

ME: (hugging) We missed you! Mmmmm! You smell good again! Are you using a new deodorant or cologne or something? You smell like essential oils.

HF: It's called gun powder.

ME: (like Homer Simpson) Mmmm gun powder. . .

HF: You really are cut out for this lifestyle if you think this smells good. Hahaha.

So today he came home with a shrapnel wound on his hand. That just about sent me over the edge, but he assured me it was normal, not a big deal, and that everything was safe. It ricocheted off one of the target stands in the CQB house (Close Quarters Battle). I held onto my faith and let the fear melt away.

HF threw his first flash bang grenade, he went through the entire house without making any mistakes in the shoot/don't shoot targets, every shot was a good shot. Basically, he was able to differentiate between which targets were hostages or bad guys. They did this all day, with each scenario becoming more complex.

I learned two things that day. The expression, "Do they yield to the shield?" Somebody jokingly asked this question when they were picking a restaurant to go eat at afterwards to see if they offered a police/fire/military discount. Don't worry, they weren't choosing a place based on this criteria. HF has mixed feelings about this. He doesn't look for or solicit establishments that offer this, but understands that some people want to show their appreciation and this is the way they want to do it. Anyway, that's a topic for another time.

The second thing: Slicing the pie. Finally an explanation! A while back Lt mentioned this cutting the pie business and the officers in the comments were echoing this sentiment, and I thought I was taking crazy pills. Okay people. Go ahead and slice that pie and eat that pie. Yum. Well, I am happy to say that I know what it means now! It's a tactical maneuver. Here's a little diagram I found to help those of you that don't know what in the world that means like I didn't.

Next time, I will talk about day 3 of SWAT school, which was scenario day.

SWAT school: Day One

We've had a sudden onset of illness here at the Fuzz household. As in the usual fashion, I didn't get sick until HF had a day off, which is weird how it always happens that way, but awesome because I get to crawl into bed. Poor guy dealt with our crazy kids all day and from what I could hear from upstairs, it wasn't pretty. Next to fall victim to throwing up was our 4 year old boy. I got up briefly to wrap him up in a blanket and put him in bed. Many hours later, HF crawled into bed, having thrown up himself after he put the kids to bed. Here it is 4 in the morning and I have had a lot of sleep and am wide awake for some reason. So I thought this would be an excellent time to talk about SWAT school.

Yes. SWAT school. HF recently completed a three day advanced SWAT school for the existing members of the team, but he was invited to attend pre selection, which is in January. There is a week long school that he will attend post selection once he makes the team. For three days he attended special training given by "industry professionals" (if you know what I mean- *elbow elbow, wink wink*). He loved every second of it. When he came home the first night, this is what happened:

ME:  Hi! Mmmmm. You smell good!

HF:  Really? That's called gun powder.

ME:  Oh. . . well mixed with your deodorant or something, it smelled good I guess. . .  How was it?

HF:  It was AWESOME.

He then began giving me all the details of the first day, and although I was paying attention, my ears perked up on "bullets whizzing past my ears" and I said, "Oh, you don't mean live ammunition do you?" It was as though I slapped him in the face. "What do you expect them to use? Of course it was live ammunition." My cool, calm, and collected self was having trouble breathing suddenly. He then explained to me how it works and suddenly I could recall a dozen or so stories of people dying during training. Ahhhhhh! Then I was okay like I always am. It's called faith.

On day one they did live fire shooting and moving. All day long.

That night he pretty much crashed into bed so he could wake up and do it all over again the next day. I came to bed a couple of hours later and I very carefully, as not to wake him, slipped into my side of the bed ever so carefully. Once into position, I looked over at him and he was smiling in his sleep! I couldn't help it, but a snort of laughter came out. He stayed smiling until who knows when because I fell asleep. I was hoping that it was me that he was smiling about, but I'm pretty sure it had to do with what he had been doing that day. The guy was in heaven.

Day one's training was in preparation for day two, which was live fire close quarters battle training.