…So after two days of buying copious amounts of useless
housewares that Brian and I deemed necessary, we finally entered
the place where we would spend most of our summer: The Redstone
Arsenal. The arsenal itself is a massive plot of land, almost
reaching the size of Huntsville, Al., itself. On a map, it is an
intimidating sight to see for someone used to living life within a
three-block radius.

The base houses all the engineering and design agencies that
deal with the Army’s ballistic missile program, so most of the
roads bear the names of “successful” programs like Stinger Road,
Hellfire Boulevard and Your Worst Nightmare Avenue (actually, that
road doesn’t exist, but wouldn’t that kick ass?).

The gate Brian and I used to enter this monolithic facility was
perhaps the most intimidating part of all. The entrance to this
gate was a mile-long corridor with nothing on either side of the
divided road other than suspiciously tall trees and
tactfully-located billboards for army contractors. Up until the day
I left the arsenal, I always wondered what went on beyond those
trees; but then again it probably would not be in my best interest
to find out what kind of sick alien-probe stuff the Army does.

For the bulk of my summer sojourn to Huntsville, I worked for
the Chinook division of the Army Engineering Directorate, which is
a part of the Research Development and Engineering Center, which is
part of the Army Aviation and Missile Command, which is a part of
the Army Materiel Command.

This meant I was such a small part of the overall Army picture,
nobody really cared what I did. Granted, I worked hard when I was
given the chance to, but that happened infrequently. My typical day
consisted of arriving about 10 minutes late, checking my email,
doing a little bit of office work, checking with my boss to see if
there was anything for me to do (rarely did this action have any
consequence), reading for a little while, taking an hour and
fifteen minute to an hour-and-a-half lunch off-base and then
repeating the same thing in the afternoon until it was time to
leave 20 minutes early.

Was I reprimanded or penalized for such actions? Well, that kind
of sanction requires someone caring enough about what I did, and
nobody did.

During the summer, I was subjected to a series of orientation
classes for new-hires, consisting of two one-week blocks of
seminars and a big project during the break in the seminars.

The joke about the whole thing is that the last day of my
orientation class was also my last day of work in Huntsville.

We interns got a big kick out of it, but none of the other
government people laughed at this joke–perhaps they’ve heard it
far too many times. The classes themselves were completely
pointless for almost everyone. Most were old contractors that had
dealt with AMCOM for years, but were just now being hired by the
Army, or were so new that everything said had no meaning or
relevance. By the end of it, I was thinking of looking through
Geneva Convention restrictions to see if anything like this was
covered.

Still, I survived, and now know the correct process for creating
a weapons program from nothing.

As I was forced into orientation classes, I was also paid to fly
a helicopter. Helicopter theory is a relatively obscure line of
aerodynamics, so AMCOM devised a one-day program to help people
learn how helicopters fly.

What better way to do that than by having people actually fly
them?

So, I got to take the controls of an OH-58A+ for 20 minutes,
then hang out the back for another 40 minutes, and all on your
dime. Thanks.

Overall, working for the government is great.

I worked at a golf course the previous two summers and thought
hanging out with golf pros and driving golf carts would be the peak
of my employment satisfaction.

But sitting around a cool office and messing around on the
computer, occasionally going to meetings with majors and colonels
(all at over $12 and hour, mind you) is, by far, the best job I’ve
ever had. I highly suggest it, if you have the means. My problems
really only arose when I left the guarded gate of the Redstone
Arsenal and had to scrape it out on the tough streets of
Huntsville…

To be continued…

Drew Ewing is a junior studying aerospace
engineering.