Through a long convoluted series of irregular events that I won't bore y'all with, my arrival in the big sandbox was not with the rest of my unit, but with my issue weapons, which I had drew ammo for.
Up until I arrived at my Troop's area in the FOB, I was constantly told by about a billion Air Force personnel not to load my weapon, or to chamber a round, about the only guy who I could understand his reasoning was the loadmaster on the C-17 who didn't want and I quote "No A-Ds on my plane. This thing costs more than an Abrams." Fair enough.
But once I got to my unit, I constantly had a mag in my M-9, round in the pipe, safety engaged. But everyone with a Beretta did that.
NRA Life Member
Ladyfriend: "I need help with the leaves in the yard"
Me: "Controlled burn?"
LadyFriend: "I forgot my Boy Scout turned into an infantry officer."