Nils and Zeds

One of the briefings I attended last week was led by a Brit. We have such a unique blend of military here...almost 30 different countries represented. Instead of "none" the Brit would say "nil" and when he spoke of the "I-Z" for the "International Zone" he pronounced it "I-Zed." In the words of Winston Churchill, I believe, "two nations separated by a common language."
Last week I talked to a friend that had been in a previous unit with me. We noticed the different uniforms and languages and people in the hallway as we passed. Then we recalled the Equal Opportunity class we had attended a couple of years ago. The concern in the class was whether or not Hispanics should be allowed to converse with each other in Spanish in the workplace. That practice was upsetting to some of the English-only workers in the Army. "What did we think?"
"Should that be allowed?"
"Is that a type of discrimination or alienation?"
Now that discussion seems so irrelevant:
The workers that empty my trash cans speak Arabic.
The guards at the gates speak Nepalese.
A Ukranian sits next to me each day in the Operations Center. His English is a work in progress.
The line servers in the dining facility are speaking Tagalog from the Philipines.
One of the anxieties brought up in that classroom two years ago was, "The Hispanics might be talking about us while we were there and we would not know about it." If a person is that paranoid (or self-centered) then you would not do well here. You would think that there are people everywhere talking about you all the time.

Visit to the CASH

I went to our Combat Support Hospital yesterday. The CSH (as it is referred to) is only a few hundred yards away, but I do not get there often. I went there yesterday for two reasons. One: my boss told me to go visit some soldiers that had been medevaced there (Medically evacuated--via helicopter). The second reason was because my throat is raw and sore and I wanted drugs to help with the Baghdad Crud that is going around.
There had been a mortar attack the day at one of our nighboring camps. There were some soldiers hit and evacuated to our hospital, which is the closest and best equipped.
I got my meds and saw the patients. Of the three, one will rest a couple more days and return to duty and the other two are going to be airlifted to Germany for treatment and recovery.
After visiting the soldiers, I went back downstairs and almost stumbled over a good Chaplain from Fort Bragg, Chaplain (CPT) Joe Hammiel. We hugged and chatted and generally felt good about seeing a friendly face in the middle of battle damage.
I had gone to Joe's Officer Basic Course graduation at the Chaplain School in South Carolina about 18 months ago. He is a stellar performer who is a great pastor to his soldiers and has the heart of a warrior. It made me sad that I could not get closer and watch great officers like him develop into their full ministry. After we had talked, caught up on where everyone was in life, I had to head out. As we hugged each other good bye, I had tears in my eyes. My parting words were, "Be safe, Joe. Take care of your people." I may never be a hero, but I have sure worked with some.

'Nam Vets

USA TODAY ran a very good article on Vietnam Vets serving in Iraq today. We have some serving here in the Embassy. We farewelled Sergeant Major Madsen recently. He served in Vietnam in 1969-1970. I was finishing high school and he was in Vietnam. He is now a grandfater and treated many of the officers in the Operations Center as if they were his children. He doted and cajoled, adjusting and fussing over every detail. He had been reactivated onto Active Duty after he volunteered to come to IRAQ. "I just could not pass up the chance to serve again," he told me. "My wife was upset, but she knew that this was something I had to do. We actually became closer during this year apart. She grew more as a person while I was gone and I have come to appreciate her even more. I look forward to lots of time with her in the days to come."
He and I spent time together talking late in the evenings. He liked having an ear to bend who was more his age and experience. Early in his year tour, there had been rocket attacks into the compound and the warning alarms sounded in the work center. He had been in the same situation before and knew what to do. During his farewell remarks, it was obvious that he was pleased that others looked to him during the attacks to know what to do. "I told everyone..." He was relishing his moment in the spotlight during a time of crisis.
Now he is headed home. Back to his wife of 30 years and his grandchildren.
"I think that my reception home this time will be a bit different than the last war I was in."
We gave him a well deserved, extended standing ovation when he left...

Out of water?

We got an interesting email today sent to everyone on our net:

"....Due to insurgent strikes on water lines, the supply of city water is significantly down...."

I had heard about the insurgent strikes earlier in the day as part of our Strategic Update. Now the news is on CNN. (I watch the headline news on my computer throughout parts of the day) and in newspaper articles. I keep wondering what are the insurgents thinking? Cut off your nose to spite your face? They systematically try and blow up the oil pipe lines. An article just last week was positing that the damage done to some of the oil fields may be irreperable and limit the ability to pump oil from the ground well into the forseeable future. There are systematic attempts to blow up the electrical power lines and the substations. A rocket propelled grenade through the wall of a substation can do considerable damage that can take quite a while to repair. In the meantime, all the neighbors are without power. No one in Iraq without a generator has electricity all the time. Half a day of power is a good day.
Now someone decided to blow up the water lines. We are now limited to taking "quick" showers. I plan to swim in the pool in the morning for my workout and then rinse off quickly at the pool shower.
The insurgents have a mistaken belief that if they keep blowing up the infrastructure, then people will believe that the new government is ineffective and the new police force is unable to protect them. That belief will then, supposedly, move the populace to overthrow the interim government and bring back the leaders of Saddam's government. WHAT ARE THEY THINKING? What is actually happening is that the people are tired of thugs and miscreants destroying a country that is trying to reform and rebuild itself. The word is starting to spread on the street that the reason there is no electricity or water or oil is not because of the coalition forces or the interim government, but because there are wicked people out there that relish lawlessness and anarchy. Rise up, folks, and shoot somebody....please. I want to take a shower.

Can you harm yourself?

I stood quietly as the Security Patrol personnel slowly went though all the belongings in the room. The soldier was having difficulty being in Iraq. There had been some acting out and some direct violation of orders. I had already spent over an hour in a quiet, tearful counseling session. I was convinced that the soldier was not a danger to self or others. But the protocol must be followed. The security personnel are required to carefully search every aspect of the room. The air was thick and hot in the room with the doors open and the temperature over 110. The tension was thicker than the air. The command was embarrassed to see the humiliation that the soldier was feeling. Any contraband must be logged, bagged and confiscated. The soldier had some antihistimines which had been issued as over the counter drugs. Unfortunately, the medics give out OTC meds in little baggies. The soldier had emptied the baggy of pills into an older medicine bottle and put it on the shelf. "These medications are mismarked and therefore considered contraband. We must take them in for evaluation by the pharmacy before we can make a determination." Even after the explanation, protocol must stand. The soldier was being regarded as uncooperative because there was hesitancy to allow every single piece of clothing and personal effects to be handled, moved and piled up on the bed. "Just following policy."
"Do you have anything in your room that could be used to harm yourself or others?"
"Do you mean other than automatic weapons and knives?"
Sometimes the protocol that seem to work so well back in the States seems to be a bit out of place in a war zone.
The soldier is doing fine and will get through this....I am not so sure about the protocol or my perception of how we really treat our soldiers who need help.

Hot today, tomorrow and forever

The temperature today will reach 117 degrees. It was that hot yesterday. It will be that hot tomorrow. The weather forcasters don't want to predict further than that but I bet it will still be hot. The low is 80 in the morning when I get up. Just right for swimming. The other morning I decided not to swim but took a run/walk instead. After the run, I cut through the pool area to get some water from the cooler there. I noticed body guards stationed strategically at entrances. The guards are not trying to be particularly discreet, but it would be easy to walk right by and not notice them. I always say, "Hello" on my way by. I am careful not to distract them. I have offered water in the past, but that is too distracting for them. They will drink later...I guess.
This morning, I noticed three guards staged at different spots around the pool. Just then one of our senior people got out of the water and started toweling off. The guy cannot go swimming without armed guards to watch him. That is good. No complaints here, but is just seemed out of place as he went back to his trailer to watch armed guards ahead and behind him as he sauntered down the sidewalk with a towel over his shoulder. I know my wife would never swim if there had to be escorts with her.
The morning is the best time to swim. With the temp like it is, even in the evening the water feels good, but the air is still hot to breathe. Whenever I walk outside, I notice that as soon as I hit the heat, my stride slows. Moving slowly is the only way to go. It is almost unconscious, but I notice that everyone moves more slowly and deliberately during the hot time of the day.
One of the other chaplains and I are particulary careful to notice military escorts who drive into our compound. They are required to stay in their humvees with their full body armor and helmets on even in the sun. Dennis and I fill our helmet bags with cold drinks and toss them up to the soldiers in the gun turrets. I can only imagine how good a cold Gatorade tastes when you are inside an armored vehicle in the sun....

Where is the focus

Today I attended a "women's meeting" in the Convention Center where others are meeting to help draft the constitution. I have mentioned attending this before, but the meeting has become one of the highlights of my week.
Today there were 33 attendees. I sat next to a very demure, quiet woman in her habib/headscarf. She appeared to be in her late 20's. She is a lawyer and an instructor in constitutional law at one of the universities. The meeting had lawyers, judges, professors, members of the national and regional governments. All were women of power. Very self-assured group of people.
One quote that I noted was from one of the presenters. She said that the media is focused on security and safety. But our focus is on the constitutional process. Security will improve and our safety will get better, but if we fail on the constitutional process, then that will be a long-term fundamental failure.

She seems to have the right perspective. Unfortunately, for the media, the constitutional process is long, laboring and at times boring. Blood and drama sell media coverage and that more often becomes the lead story. To look to the future, though, you must look at the processes that will set in motion the future.

The Sand Stopped

The sand has finally let up.
Three days ago I got up and stepped out side to head for the pool for my workout. I thought, “The morning is sure foggy.” Then I realized that fog requires moisture and there is none of that in the sky here. The “fog” was sand in the air. The next day’s copy of Stars and Stripes reported that 250 Baghdad residents went to the hospital with respiratory problems because of the sand. Any time I looked out the window, the day looked like dusk. I thought of taking a picture, but why? The photo would look like fog, or dusk. When I got to the pool, half of the bottom was brown. The interesting thing is that the sand is not gritty. Then I examined a bit more out of curiosity. The sand is more like dust. The sand is too heavy to be lifted and carried very far without a strong wind. When I looked at the trees, there was actually no noticeable wind at all. The sand (dust), from what I learned, was lifted into the upper atmosphere from miles away and drifted. Then over the next few days, the wind would die down and the dust from the atmosphere would settle here. The gate guards and many of the folks who work outside wore dust masks. The rest of us would just cough until midway through the morning to clear our lungs from what accumulated in our lungs overnight. In the evenings the horizons have a haze that extends half way up the sky. I am reminded of large cities with lights in the distance. In Baghdad, the lights are not that bright, but shining through the dust in the air, it looked much more attractive than healthy.
This morning when I went out, the sky was blue. That is the way it should be.

Who wants an exit strategy?

The Boston Globe published an article on June 11th about some in Congress wanting an exit strategy for getting out of Iraq. The article and hype or hysteria brought to mind the example that President Franklin Roosevelt used to explain the Lend-Lease program of WWII. (My mind works that way sometimes….)
The United States was not involved in World War II for the first two years that the conflict raged in Europe and Africa. But the countries fighting the German onslaught quickly ran low on supplies and equipment. The United States offered its help. The Lend-Lease program was a monumental undertaking whereby the United States would “loan” the Allies in Europe the war materiel necessary to continue the defense of their countries. President Roosevelt explained the Lend-Lease program this way: (not a direct quote, but the best that I can remember how he explained it)..
“If your neighbor’s house catches fire and the neighbor comes to your door for help, you offer help. He is more than welcome to take your water hose that is connected to your house and he can use your hose and water to help put out his fire. I would just hope to have the water hose back when the fire was out.” Some laughed at the analogy, but everyone understood the implications. When your neighbor needs help, you proffer assistance until the crisis is over.
We are presently engaged in what the Iraqi leaders and citizens here would consider a “crisis” and they surely need our help. I realize that the initiation of force into this country was under less than circumspect conditions. The whole issue of WMD’s, etc. and a determination to invade this country was an issue that involved so many layers of intel, interpretation, misunderstanding, and the such that there will be book length explanations in the future. But that is for the historians to determine. The question today is “when do we leave?” According to the article, Representative Marty Meehan, Democrat from MA., said, ''The war is going terribly" and he is working to get us out. What he and the others like him are saying is, “Sorry that your house is on fire. The fire took longer to put out than I think it should take. We want our hose back. Thank you very much.” For him to say “terribly” begs the question of “by whose standards?”
I wish that more people could (or would) read and listen to some of the reports coming from the Iraqi leaders and their government. The leaders continually mention how appreciative they are of our sacrifice. They mention how their future is brighter than it has been in 35 years of oppression. There is a higher percentage of people determined to vote at the Constitutional referendum in the fall than vote in the U.S. for any election. They say that they want to stand on their own, but need a bit more time and training before they are ready. They are ready to stand at some time in the future, but presently, we are what stands between freedom and anarchy. There are enough bad guys here and crossing the borders to get here to put parts of the country into anarchy and lawlessness. That situation is changing every day in the favor or law and order, but it takes time. There are some in the country that prefer lawlessness and killing because that is how they made their living under the last regime.
We see the distance that their police and military have come in an extremely compressed time frame. Remember, this army was huge in the past, but completely untrained, under equipped, rife with corruption and completely incapable of planning any type of involved military strategy or campaign. They could “sorta” defend, but knew nothing of logistics, training, planning and strategy. (They did not roll over when we attacked, but the casualties were far less than a trained and quality military would have inflicted). Yet some people believe that they should be capable of maintaining all the intricacies of border security, internal police security, national defense and all that involves after only months of training. Are they serious?
The exit strategy should be (in my modest opinion), “When the democratically elected and duly appointed leaders of Iraq, under the newly established constitution, have provided assurance to the international community that Iraq can provide for its own internal and external security, and take its lawful and recognized position as a free nation among other nations, then we will be honored to allow them full and rightful freedom to act, without constraint, as an independent and free nation.”
Let’s see if Congress will approve that statement and sell it to the people.

Memorial Day pic

Memorial Day was special here because of the honor we showed to our fellow workers. The table cloths in the dining hall were covered with red, white and blue bunting table cloths...special meals (which I didn't need, but ate anyway...so as not to offend the chef).

One of the emails that was sent by one of our Sergeant Majors:
..............
Sixty-one years ago last night (5 June), pathfinders, paratroopers, beach masters and others made their way to France. Early the next morning (6 June), more than 130,000 Allies flew, glided, jumped and boated their way to France and onward. Many never left the parachutes, boats and gliders which bore them.

Ever wonder what they were all thinking about as they departed? Did they get wrapped up about tour lengths and rotation plans? How about if their DCU top matched their DCU bottom, or the cost of starch? They had no e-mail or morale calls, no KBR chow to get fat on, no post office, no gym, no body armor, no night vision, no ice cream, and certainly no beds to sleep in. As you reflect on the blessings in your life, take a moment to remember all those who before us paid for the luxuries we enjoy today.

We are in a global war on terrorism, and it will last our lifetime, so don’t get tired. The Cold War took over 45 years, and still has some lingering worries.

I remember a poster up in the CSM’s office in the 1st Battalion, 1st Special Forces in Okinawa. It was a photo of the aftermath and scattered pieces, parts and personal effects of the PanAm Flight 103 bombing and crash in Lockerbie. In the foreground was a young girl’s shoe. The header said something to the effect of, “...think of her when you get tired...”

Keep the faith. And don’t get tired.
..............
But here is another one of the reasons we struggle for the future.
Here is my grand nephew, Caleb, taken at last year's Memorial Day.
Born in Asia, raised in Texas, loved by all around him. It is for him and all the little ones for whom I pray will live a long and happy life, in peace.

Laugh more

When I was going through CRC (so long ago) at Fort Bliss, one of the briefings was about how to take care of oneself during deployments. The briefer talked about laughing as part of our mental health care. "How many of you are taking DVD's with you that are comedies?" I thought that was a dumb question and implication since we were all packed and not planning to go to the store and buy DVD's at this point. But the thought of laughing was something that I keep in mind.
Walking through the dining facility the other day, I heard two younger women laughing. Loudly. I realized how much laughter is missing in the war zone. This is not funny business, and there is not much to laugh about while we are here. But how much should we laugh to keep our own mental health in good check?
I went to hear Comics on Duty at the Pool the other night. For over an hour and half hundreds of soldiers who refuse to laugh were dragged into humorland. This was truly a rough crowd. The comics were determined to get us to laugh. They worked hard and were successful. After about 30 minutes, the walls started coming down. After another 30 minutes, we were all laughing hard enough to hurt. That was healthy.
I decided to go to a movie on my own two nights later. I went to see "Hitch" with Will Smith and Kevin James. There is a theater here in the Palace that seats about 60 people. This night there were no extra seats. One of my buddies and I got seats on the back row and other people sat on the floor. The movie was great. I laughed more...again.
I need to make sure I laugh more....we are way too serious....way too often.

Go ahead. Enjoy life. Laugh.

Another Memorial

“Well, Chaplain, how many has this been for you? Too many, I’m sure.”
“Yes," I replied. "One is too many but this one is really no fun at all.” This would be my fourth ceremony in less than two months.
We were talking about the memorial ceremony I was asked to perform to honor a Colonel whose death is still under investigation. The Army said he died from "non-combat-related" injuries. That is a category that includes accident, illness, natural disaster and suicide.
He was found alone in his room with a single gunshot wound to the head. Some of the officers that I work with asked if the suicide rate is high. “It sure seems high. Didn’t we have one last week?”
I double checked the figures.
The military is pretty quiet about suicides, especially during war. These are figures that are not announced with fanfare or bravado. But as I look over the figures, I was actually surprised about how low the numbers are. The 18-25 year age group is historically one of the cohorts with the highest suicide rates in our society. We have over 100K of that age group here in country in some of the most demanding situations imaginable. In the three years of combat in this theater, there have been over half a million military members through the war zone. Yet the huge majority of our people are managing. There are many specialists here to support the troops. Mental hygienists, Psychiatrists, Combat Support Teams, Chaplains, even me all play a part in helping keep our military as mentally balanced as possible in an insane environment.

The ceremony for our most recent casualty went extremely well. There are many military traditions involved: playing of taps, 21 gun salute, the upended rifle with helmet, boots, dog tags…
This was unique with the members of the Iraqi military government, Iraqi generals, and coalition forces attending. The Senior Enlisted in charge did a superb job. Since he was Navy, though, he did not know what the “Final Roll Call” entailed. I explained:
“This is a recollection of early formations in the Army. The roll would be called to ensure that all were present and accounted for. Any missing person must be accounted for by the leader, i.e. “sick call, Sergeant” or “in jail, Sergeant” or whatever the reason may be. By the time that the name of the missing person is called three times with no response and no excuse offered, the person was written down as “missing” or "unaccounted for."
This time it was a bit different to have a roll call that involved senior officers, Majors, Lieutenant Colonels, and Colonels. The Master Chief went through an abbreviated roll and called out five or six officers who each replied, "Here Master Chief." Then he called the name of the deceased once, followed by silence. Then again he called the name with rank and that was followed by silence. Then the third time, full name and rank was called loudly followed by silence. After a pause, the 21 gun salute, the playing of taps, and the benediction.
A proper and fitting tribute to a man who had spent over half his life in the military and served honorably. We leave the ceremony somberly and remember that war can exact a very high toll.

Back in print

I have had a terrible time getting Blogger to accept my blogs. I do all the writing and thinking (hard part) and try to publish. Everything seems fine until I click "publish," then NOTHING. The Info Tech folks reconfigured my computer to be better, smarter, faster, but I cannot get the net to accept my BLOGS. Hopefully, if you read this, I am back on line. I promise to try and publish more frequently. Promise. Thanks for reading.

"An Iraqi will stand where I am"

Tonight we said goodbye to one of our senior Republic of Korea officers. He is a very delightful and intelligent guy that I have spoken with often. The first time we met, he was in the chaplains’ office looking for video tapes. As he left, I was walking in and I greeted him in Hangul. He turned around and in impeccable English, said, “Good morning, Chaplain. How are you today?” Realizing that his English is better than even mine and my Hangul is limited to “hello” and “thank you” I decided that I should probably limit myself to English and let it be.
He was allowed parting comments after this evening’s Strategic Update. He addressed the 75 or so of us who were there as Action Officers and Principles. His comments were something along these lines:
“It has indeed been a privilege to serve with each of you. I consider it an honor to work with such wonderful and professional military members. I come from a country that knows what it is to be liberated. We regard our freedom very highly. Over fifty years ago, coalition forces fought for the freedom of my country, led by the United States. Millions of soldiers have served in the intervening years to assure my country’s freedom. Even today there are over 40,000 military serving in my country from the United States to keep us free. We thank you for that. I stand here as a representative of my country and say ‘thank you’ for the service and sacrifice you have shown for these decades. I also stand here as a product of freedom helping another country become free. I am honored to serve. Although I am not a prophet, I believe that it will not be too many years before an Iraqi officer will stand as I am and speak these same words. I trust that he will be able to say, as I do, ‘I stand here today as a product of freedom and I serve to help another people become free as well.’”

As long as I have breath

I just spent an amazing hour talking with Sergeant Major Stone from Connecticut. He is at the end of a nine month tour here in Iraq. He has served in some interesting positions and done some great work. His trip home is well deserved and welcomed. Once home, he knows that he will have to tell his wife of 33 years that he will most likely be returning in about six months to do it all again with another unit.
His story is not that unusual because of his location and service. He worked almost exclusively with Iraqi nationals and got to know many of them personally. He developed a deep and sincere appreciation for the efforts of the Iraqis to rebuild their country.
One of his missions involved being part of a unit that helped train Iraqis in medical care and first aid. The training was all conducted by Iraqis with the Sergeant Major as the Subject Matter Expert and advisor. The mix was an amazing amalgam of races and groups. There were Shi’a, Sunni, Kurds, Turcoman, Assyrian, and some that he was not even sure of. But what he found amazing was the change in the attitudes. They came to the training because they were “Iraqi.” Each of the students referred primarily to themselves as “Iraqi” not by their cultural, tribal or ethnic origins. “That is the key to success in your country” he continually stressed, “is that you emphasize your common country tie, not your local tie. Think bigger and you will get bigger.”
His time here was not without tragedy. He was close to some of the citizens killed in IED bombings. The more difficult times were when suicide bombers would kill innocent citizens. There was no place for the anger. The killer was killed by his own hand so there was no one to chase down or shoot or pursue. All that could be done was to gather the bodies and transport them to families for burial. Stone’s work back in the states is as an EMS. He is familiar with death and accidents and tragedy. He was not familiar with meaningless destruction for its own sake…just to incite terror and fear. Some of the roadside explosive devices were planted by ignorant shepherds. The terrorists paid simple workers and shepherds an exorbitant amount of money ($500) to plant a bomb by the roadside. This money is more than a year’s salary for a shepherd so they fellow had a hard time resisting that kind of incentive. Unfortunately, the shepherd did not always set the bomb correctly. Shepherds are not well schooled in timers and relays and wiring. Bombs could often go off while being emplaced, blowing up the shepherd and any innocent folks just walking by.
The Iraqi government had a policy in place to provide a death gratuity to the families of soldiers and police killed in the line of duty. By our standards, the amount did not seem significant, but here, the gratuity was very needed and often could provide enough assistance to help a family establish itself when the breadwinner was killed. During a security operation, one of SGM Stone’s Iraqi personal security details was decimated by an explosive device. Eight of the Iraqis in the detail were killed. One of the soldiers was a twenty year old officer. The father of the officer came a few days later for the death gratuity. He brought along the officer’s younger brothers, his ten year old son. The boy was missing his right arm just below the elbow and his face was disfigured. In the time spent together, the Sergeant Major talked with the boy. He discovered that a year earlier the boy had been playing in the yard and discovered some unexploded ordnance. He did not know what it was and played with it until it blew up. He lost his eye, his arm and will be permanently disfigured. The father said, “I hate insurgents. They are trying to destroy our country and our people. They killed my son. They wounded my other son. But we will never stop fighting them. My family will fight them and my friends will fight them. One of my sons is dead. If they kill my other son and even kill me, as long as I have breath, I will fight the insurgents until we are free.”

NAM-ES-TAY, Sir

If you ever want a place to practice a foreign language, come here. Working in a multi national coalition is a treat for those who love to learn languages. For someone like me, who took seven semesters of Spanish and still can’t order food from a Mexican restaurant, life here can be confusing. I have mentioned the Gurkhas as the gate guards. They can be counted as among the most gracious and happy people on earth. The web site I checked out about the Gurkhas shows them to be among the most friendly and my experience bears that out. This is not their first time in IRAQ. They served gloriously in World War I with the British in the battle for Mesopotamia. The Gurkha’s greeting is “Nam-es-tay.” They steeple their hands together with the fingers extended pointed up and bow their heads slightly. This is the first greeting I learned. I say it to them each time I enter the Palace grounds or go through the checkpoints. The guards reply with the same and smile broadly. I was told that “Nameste” is similar to the Hawaiian “aloha” which can be a greeting, a welcome, a good-bye, a “how are you doing” catch all phrase. An officer in our Operations Center left his cell phone at the Gurkha's desk one afternoon and forgot it. The following day, there was a notice on the bulletin board that read, "Namestay, Sir..." and went on to post the notice that the cell phone could be claimed at the desk. One of the gate guards is particularly friendly and always greets me with a smile. I decided to take a photo and keep it. He wanted a copy as well. That is him on the right of me at one of the pedestrian gates entering the Embassy compound.

I talked to one of the other fellows that I work with. He said that the literal meaning is from the Hindu greeting that means, “the light in me greets the light in you.” One of the Chaplain Assistants that works here refuses to greet the Gurkhas that way. He says that his Calvinist background has taught him that there is not light in us nor in them outside of Christ. Although he may have “light” he will not acknowledge that there is “light” in the Gurkhas unless he is assured that they are Christian. Then he does not need to greet them with a Buddhist greeting. He can greet them as a brother in the Lord. I have opted to make my greetings friendly and not get quite so theological at this point.

I sit next to a Romanian officer in the Operation Center. He speaks good English, but for his email reports to his HQ, he types in Cyrillic on his computer. He has no threat from me that I will copy anything from him. There are Georgians (not the Atlanta-type) who guard the National Assembly area. They were trained for this mission by members of the US Army. The Army unit previously served as the Opposition Force (OPFOR) at our National Training Center at Fort Irwin, California. We would practice our battle drills against them and they are always regarded as extremely proficient. I have been to the NTC myself a few times and recognized their insignia. The Georgians adopted the OPFOR insignia to wear on their helmets since they did not have their own distinctive insignia when they arrived. Every time I go to the National Assembly, I flashback to California and the “enemy” there. The Georgians speak Russian. Our new Catholic Priest here speaks Russian, French, Italian, English, and Latin (among smatterings of others). He can talk to the Georgians in their own language and they appreciate that.
We have, of course, many folks who speak Arabic. I think that I can say “hello” but I wait for someone else to say it and then I mimic them. There are over 30 different coalition countries and the variety is amazing. (Don't look for the French). I can greet the Japanese contingent and the Korean officers in their language, but all the rest I treat like I am the Ugly American…believing that they should be speaking English.

O How the Mighty Have Fallen

Here are a couple of photos that I find revealing. The one is of the portico leading into the Palace/Embassy foyer. On the top is a 20’ tall bust of Saddam Hussein. He had four of them placed on the cornices of the building while he was in power. After the fall of Baghdad, the government brought in a crane to remove the heads.

Someone told me where the heads had been stored in the back section of the palace grounds. On my walk yesterday, I had a friend point them out to me so we got the picture. What is interesting is that 1) the crane operators were deliberate to rub Saddam’s face into the dirt when they placed the bust on the ground and 2) the only noticeable mark on the face of Saddam are the footprints of workers who were deliberate in making the most offensive statement they could make by marking his face with the soles of their feet.