Getting out of town

I worked really hard to get out of the International Zone.
I reached the point where I was tired of seeing people in the hallway who would say things such as, "I thought you were gone. When do you leave?"
Now I am officially out of the IZ. I have not gone far, but the trip of a thousand miles begins....yada, yada, yada.
I did not go tell all the people good bye that I wanted to, but got tired of walking the halls looking for people who were not at their desks and running into people who had already told me bye.
Chief Walz walked me to the heliport and carried one of my duffle bags. As we approached, helicopters were landing. I remarked, "There is my ride," only half-heartedly, knowing that the helos come in waves and then there is an hour or so delay until the next flock lands.
As we walked into the area, one of the Air Force coordinators was there. I recognized her and asked, "Is one of those birds headed to Griffin?" There were four helos on the pad with engines running.
"Yes," she yelled over the noise. "HURRY."
No more incentive needed. We walked to the line and discovered that the helicopterwould have already left, except this day there was an additional layer of security in place that delayed everyone just long enough to allow me time to lay my bags at the end of the line and be part of the manifest.
I hugged Chief's neck and wished him the best for his year here and turned to get on the bird. Eight minutes later I was at my destination.
Now I am awaiting a ride this evening to get onto a flight to Kuwait....then more waiting for a flight to the States.
Not sure how the trip will go or how long I will wait at any particular place. I have reservations, but they are a week away. I can leave early, and that is the plan...get out of town.

Will update as possible.

Will I keep writing?
I plan to ... I won't be the official greenzone chaplain any longer, but I think that I will write some observations that I have made over the year...political, theological, and use the blog to help rebalance my mental well being after being around Baghdad for 7 months.

Plus, now I can really say what I want about my bosses, because what are they going to do? Send me to Fort Drum New York or to Iraq?
Been there....

We have clouds

As I was driving through a Marine checkpoint, I asked the Private how he was doing. Doing fine, sir. Wish we could get just a bit more cloud cover. That was when I noticed that there were clouds in the air....high, full, cumulus clouds. I had not seen clouds since April. The Marine was new and for a few minutes we looked at the clouds. I am sure we looked professional, because there were other cars waiting to pass through the checkpoint behind us.
"The last clouds here were in April," I said. "We got a sprinkle of rain that turned the dust on the buildings into mud. That was the last rain. We should start getting rain here in November."
"I got here last month. I miss seeing clouds."
My thoughts exactly. We can tell that the temperature is moderating some. I cannot say "the temperature is dropping," because that has an overtone of cool temperature. The high tomorrow is supposed to be 95. That is really cooler than 115-120.
I cannot wait to get home and see green grass and much cooler temperatures.

Down to just hours rather than days....I think.

They stole my shoes!

I never know what the Iraqi workers here in the Palace find important or valuable. I am convinced that one of the guys who empties my trash stole a knife that I left on my desk one day. I had cut up an orange, wiped the blade and did not put the knife back into my pocket immediately....I left my desk, went down the hall...it was only later when I could not find my knife that I reconstructed what had happened and realized that the guy took it when he emptied my trash...I was attached to that knife.
We moved into new offices and the first day that the guys came through to empty the trash our Tylenol and aspirin were lifted from the bathroom shelf. I did not need them that much and I wondered how much a bottle of Tylenol was worth in a country that does not have a pharmaceutical manufacturing capability. I let it go and thought that I could always get more for free when I needed it.
Then the next week, my running shoes were taken! I had them in the bathroom where I changed clothes to go to the pool for workout. I KNOW THE SHOES WERE THERE.
The men came to empty the trash and I am sure they just dropped the shoes into the trash bag and snuck them out the door....shoes are very important here to the workers. What bothered me is that I have been sent cases of shoes to give away. I had a box of shoes in my room with shoes that I was going to give out and they took my running shoes. I still went swimming later that day... big mistake. I got to the pool in my bare feet ok and went swimming. Getting from the pool to my trailer was another story. I took a bottle of water with me to drink, but needed it to pour water on my feet as I ran back to change. The entire way to my trailer is either rocks (too hard to run), concrete or asphalt (too hot to walk). I would run a bit, splash water on my feet, run more, splash more water. I ran out of water before I got home. Big trouble. I ended up with first and second degree burns on my feet from the sidewalk. When the temp is 115 degrees, then running barefooted is not a good idea. I limped for a few days and mumbled under my breath about the workers taking my shoes.
The next week, one of the workers saw an extra pair of shoes in my office that I was going to give away. I turned down the request for the shoes. I will give them to a supervisor and the supervisor can determine who needs the shoes. That will save my desire for retribution and still help out the workers.
Now if I can just find my cool guy sunglasses that have been missing since last week.

What did you do in the war?

Here is a lengthy read if interested:
I have been asked, "What do you really do?" That is a good and fair question. Here is the narrative that accompanied my end of tour award recommendation:

Chaplain (Lieutenant Colonel) Jerry Powell, United States Army, distinguished himself by exceptionally meritorious achievement, while serving as the Plans and Operations Chaplain (Forward) for the Multi-National Force-Iraq (MNF-I), Baghdad, Iraq from 4 April 2005 to 4 October 2005 during OPERATION IRAQI FREEDOM. Chaplain Powell’s outstanding professional skill and knowledge in his many different areas of expertise truly established him as an extraordinary officer in his position as consultant, advisor, pastor, counselor, administrator and staff officer as the only MNF-I Chaplain assigned to the International Zone in Baghdad. Chaplain Powell served as the Command Chaplain’s representative in the Strategic Operations Center for daily updates, plans and communications affecting the strategic level provision of religious support. Among his many responsibilities as the MNF-I Plans and Operations (FWD) Chaplain, he was the US Chaplaincy’s primary resource at the International Zone, and the US Embassy. He provided significant, direct input into the Department of State Cables, and Department of State reports on Religious Freedom and on Human Rights policy development. Department of State Political Officers regularly requested Chaplain Powell’s attendance at scheduled open forum dialogues concerning Women and Children’s issues with members of the Transitional National Authority and National women’s right leaders. He was selected to participate in the initial working group for Human Rights supported by the Department of State. He is the only chaplain in theater that has direct coordination access to members of the Iraqi government as well as members of the Transitional National Assembly on issues of Freedom of Religion and Human Rights issues. Chaplain Powell became a trusted advisor to members of the Department of State, the Iraqi Reconstruction Management Organization, the Strategic Planning sections of the Coalition Forces and the Coalition Command. He was a critical component of the development of strategic level relationships between the MNF-I Chaplain’s office and IRMO, USAID, CMO, MNSTC-I, and the Iraqi Assistance Center. He initiated a working relationship between the International Society of the Red Crescent and the US Chaplaincy for the cooperation of Humanitarian Assistance. He was similarly instrumental in the development of Chaplain Policy regarding coordination between Chaplain Sections and US Army Civil Affairs for the distribution of Humanitarian Assistance throughout Iraq. At the request of the MNC-I Command Chaplain, Chaplain Powell provided support to the force by presenting training seminars to the Corps and Coalition Religious Support Teams on Reunion and Reintegration Concerns, and to the 42nd Infantry Division Unit Ministry Teams on Prevention Relationship Enhancement Program (PREP) to better equip Chaplain team members to support their soldiers. Chaplain Powell traveled across Iraq to provide specialized suicide assistance training to members of the Force. He was singularly recognized by the Commanding General of COSCOM for his presentation to the unit. Chaplain Powell provided direct ministry and coordinated follow-on ministry to members of the force at MNSTC-I during the crisis of deaths in their organization both in the International Zone and in the Combat Zone. His ministry to units during loss was conducted both in the International Zone and in the Combat Zone for memorial ceremonies. He was highly regarded as the senior pastor of the Protestant Congregation at the Community Center Chapel at the Embassy. His Pastoral ministry included memorial ceremonies for twelve members of our Coalition force who died or were killed by enemy action while serving in combat operations.

Playing Bingo

I am listening to a radio in the next room playing our local Armed Forces Network station. The stereo is courtesy of me playing BINGO last night.
I thought I had my evening planned. I had a good shooting magazine, my swim suit, nothing special. I was headed to the pool to read, relax and, if I got hot, to jump in the water. When I arrived, I reaized I forgot my glasses...no reading tonight.
As I walked through the pool area, I heard the announcer say that BINGO would start shortly. I played about a month ago and it was just an evening that required little energy, less thought and took an hour from the day.
I grabbed the papers, cards and ink spotter to play. There was not a table empty with anyone that I knew, so I dragged a chair close enough to hear and plopped down.
(Thankfully, the numbers are large enough that without glasses I could still play and not get a headache). Balancing a score card on one knee, dobbing the numbers and holding it up to the light was not all that fun and half way through someone left and I moved to a table...
I won the second game and was awarded a man's watch. I don't really need it, but hey, it's free. Someone may get it for their birthday soon.
The final game was "blackout" where every number on the card had to be filled. I won that game as well. There were about 70 folks playing and for me to win once is good. To win twice is amazing. Grand prize was a $50 gift certificate to AAFES.
This morning, the Chief Petty Officer and I went to the PX and bought a stereo for the office. I could have taken the gift card home and bought something stateside, but thought that I would leave a gift for the office.
At least I will enjoy it for a few more days.

Low-grade depression

I am getting pretty good at spotting low-grade (Non-specific) depression in those around me (and in myself). The military sets standards on dress and grooming, so lack of shaving and disheveled look doesn't apply like it would in civilian life. What I detect is lethargy, eating habits, no energy for initiating new events or activities.
What I discover is the energy level required to keep motivated for relationships. That becomes a clue to me. It takes a while to find a good group of folks to have meals with....eating alone is not that much fun. Then you find others for evening meal or to sit around the pool with after the sun goes down.
The groups change, the people vary. Then some go home on R&R. Others end their rotation and head to families. The group dissolves. Then you're alone...again. Easier to just not go to the pool, and easier to eat quickly without getting engaged in conversation...watch a bad movie and go to sleep. But that wears thin. Then there is more low-level depression, lack of interest.
I realize that many of the people around me are living with a level of depression and disinterest. Their job requires energy and focus. When they leave the office, all the energy is gone and there is not initiative to engage.
Sound depressing? It is.
Back home there is a constancy in most of our lives. We have family, friends, chapel, malls...something that generates relationships that brings us satisfaction. But that is missing here. The only constancy is the change in personnel.
I think that there is another contributing factor as well and that is the death and wounding that we report and listen to each day. That wears on us emotionally. I have discovered that there is a big difference between hearing of battles in different parts of the country and hearing the shooting yourself.
Last week I saw the smoke plume of the VBIED before I heard the explosion. The detonation was followed up with small arms fire...ours and theirs and someone elses. The realization is that I am hearing the sounds that for some people are the last sounds they hear.
As it turned out, I had to be at the hospital later that day to show my replacement around. As we went through the emergency room area, there were chaplains that I have worked with and some officers, including a General that I know personally. They were all stoic, glum, expressionless. Death and post-battle emotions do that to commanders and leaders.
My replacement was there to register in patient admin. When I told him there were people he needed to see, he did not want to get out of line. I wanted him to meet and minister to the care givers. When he resisted getting out of line, part of me wanted to punch him right where he stood to get his attention...or at least drag him outside and explain that it was not all about him at this point, but that there were dead and dying soldiers whose commanders and leaders and chaplains could use a word of comfort and hope. I left him alone and took care of the people myself. I hugged, talked quietly, laughed when I could, patted shoulders and teared up when necessary. That kind of work drains me...makes me depressed afterward. Especially when the other chaplain could only talk about getting in to see his specialist and how he would have to rearrange his schedule for when the doctor could not see him later the next day.
No wonder I fight depression at times....

"I am another statistic"

I love flying in the helicopters. Getting around Iraq in a Blackhawk is cool on a lot of different levels. I was standing by the helicopter ready to load up while the crew made the final adjustments. The Crew Chief had his helmet on and with all the load bearing equipment, it was impossible to read name, rank, or facial expression.
"Hey, Chaplain. Good to see you. Where have you been?"
I wasn't sure why the question. Did I know this guy? The unit patch on the shoulder was not one of the units that I had covered in the Aviation Brigade at Fort Bragg. I knew a lot of those guys and could often recognize their voices. But I had no clue who this guy was.
"I am headed north. Going to visit some other chaplains. What is up with you?"
"Sir, I wish you had been here. I have just become a statistic."
That was an interesting comment. But I recognized what he meant. I have been seeing a lot of "statistics" lately. More than I want to.
"Getting a divorce, huh?"
"Yep. My wife let me know and now she has decided to leave me."
There is not much to say at this point. My heart goes out the guy. Here he is, thousands of miles from home and his homelife is disintegrating without him being able to do much about it. The preflight had started and we needed to board. He motioned for me to get on and find a seat. I motioned (too loud to talk) to the seat adjacent to his. He nodded and I got on, buckled up and handed him his seat buckle as he fastened in.
The engines started their whining startup and for the next few minutes we sat and waited. I was pretty sure that his mind was not on the helicopter, but rather on what was happening back home. The waiting that soldiers endure as part of their lives on a regular basis is the time when they worry about home.
Then the engines slowed and I knew that there was something mechanical going on (or rather, not going on).
"Out" he motioned to all of us on board. We walked a short distance away and he yelled to me that the #2 generator did not come on line and we could not take that bird.
We went to another helicopter. I joked that we were switching taxis. He laughed and admitted that as glorious as helicopter operations were, his job was mostly as an assistant to a taxi service.
We waited for about 15 minutes for the preflight to be checked again. While we stood around, the chief came over to me, this time without his helmet and it was quiet enough to talk.
"What can you tell me about forgiveness?" was his question.
For the next ten minutes we talked about forgiveness and healing in a relationship. "I pray for her and our marriage every night. I want this to work. When I get home, I want our lives to be different."
We both sensed that the fight was all uphill. Hard battle from across an ocean. Only time will tell.
We talked about forgiving even when undeserved or unmerited and about not allowing the past to overwhelm the present and poison the future. He needed an overhaul and all I could do was give him a jump start.
Then the word came to get aboard and we finished the last leg of our journey.
As I dismounted and grabbed my bags, before I filled up both hands, I reached out for his. He took my hand in both of his and even though I could not see through the sun visor, I sensed that his life had a bit more hope.

Red Badge of Courage

I went to the hospital to visit one of our folks. I was told that one of the officers that I was at Ft. Bliss for my CRC had been injured in an explosion. I went with my Chief Petty Officer to make the visit.
The guy had been part of a patrol checking on Iraqi Police. While visiting with them, just as they were getting back into their Hummer, the enemy hit. The top gunner saw an insurgent step out into the street, get down on a knee and launch an RPG at the vehicle. Before he could even warn the others, the grenade struck. Fortunately, the grendade actually lodged between some of the armor plating before exploding, which deflected and absorbed some of the explosion, but the damage was done.
My friend did not have anything broken (other than both eardrums), and did not lose body parts, but he was battered pretty well.
He had just returned from his R&R leave. Before he left, his brother had bought him a pair of "cool guy" sunglasses that were impact resistant. The glasses saved my friend's sight. His face is speckled with cuts and spotched with pocks of schrapnel except for his eyes and the surrounding white area that gives the appearance of a racoon.
Percocet and morphine keep him in good spirits, but I inwardly cringe as I see the wounds while the medic changes the dressings. "Do you need me to call anyone?"
"No, I got about 20 calls last night. All my family knows and after I talked to them, they are sure that I am allright."
We talk for a while, but he has trouble hearing me over the ringing in his ears and he thinks that he is talking too loudly, but he is fine.

Three days later, we have a special promotion ceremony for some of his friends. He is discharged from the hospital and allowed to attend. We meet poolside for the promotion and sit in the sun for the 1/2 hour event. I offer the opening and closing prayers and we listen to the general, who actually does a very good job.
At the end of the ceremony, I talk to the officer and ask how he is doing. He is self conscious because he is in his PT clothes while everyone else is in uniform. His arm is in a sling and the bandages on his legs are obvious. We laugh and joke and the break from the hospital is therapy enough. We joke about the party at his place that night, because there was no limit to the Percocet they gave him....

A couple of days later, we run into each other in the dining hall. He is in uniform, but wearing a tennis shoe on one foot. The stitches and swelling make wearing a boot too painful. He is self-conscious about not having boots on. His arm is healing enough that he can almost lift it over his head, but he has to be careful because of the stitches.

The rest of us regard him in awe. He has the red badge of courage. He has the Purple Heart. He will have minimal scarring, but can wear the ribbon the rest of his career. He has joined an elite group of folks, of which there are way too many.

We sit around the pool and joke about being awarded the Purple Heart. Nobody wants one, but we are all jealous of the folks who get one. We agree we would take the award, but only if we don't lose body parts and it doesn't hurt too much. We know we delude ourselves as if we have any control over such issues. We sit at our desks and do paperwork and only hear the battle in the distance. He was there and paid the price.
But I think he would be willing to give it back if it would help his buddy, who was the gunner, get his arm back as well.

"JIHAD"--the struggle

A jihad is "a struggle." Look it up. The West believes that Jihad is a holy war. That is how dictionary.com describes it:
"A Muslim holy war or spiritual struggle against infidels.
A crusade or struggle..."
But to many Muslims, a jihad is not necessarily against infidels. A true Jihad is a struggle for purity...a type of purging that occurs only through difficulty or sacrifice.
The term "jihad" occurred in the presentation about Nabil and the construction company that he directs. In the video that I watched, some of the workers were interviewed. It was not difficult to see how strenuous the work was. The hot sun and high temperature are obvious on the tape by the heat waves rising from the work site. Mixing concrete by hand and hauling buckets of concrete up ladders to pour into molds is very hard work. During a short break, the interviewers talked to some of the workers about what this job means to them.
It is apparent that the workers take pride in their work. The workers not only get a decent salary, they get work boots, eye and ear protection and hard hats. The boss directs them by action and word to take pride in their performance. For many of the workers, this is the best job they have ever had and the have the opportunity to provide for the their family by doing something they can be proud of. The workers mention that they are building their own community and, by implication, their own lives and futures.
"This is the jihad of today," one of them remarks. The others nod their heads in agreement. "The struggle for us is against the heat and the sun. The struggle is to build something for our lives."
As the conversation continues, I am reminded that for the majority of Iraqis, the deepest desires of the great majority is that they can live a life in peace, raise their families and improve their lot in life. They are not particularly concerned with national or international politics. They really don't care about what happens in surrounding provinces. (I recall the saying "all politics is local.")
What concerns these workers is clean water, security, schools and hospitals for their family and a chance to make a living and improve their lot.
I sense that their shared concern is almost everyone's personal jihad.

Iraqi Success Story

I attended the Town Hall meeting for the IZ on Saturday. This is a monthly meeting for the contractors, civilians, foreign nationals and others who live in the International Zone. This is a critical meeting to make sure that everyone understands the security, badging, infrastructure, plans for the future and anything else that may be of interest to the folks who live and work here.
One of our special guests was introduced by a video presentation. The video was a tape of a CNN special that was aired last year. The centerpiece of the special was a local Iraqi named "Nabil." He was born and raised in Iraq, and left during the difficult times of Saddam. He learned construction and contracting and returned just after the fall of the old regime. His first contract was for $500 to supply gasoline to the coalition forces. He has parlayed that initial contract into becoming the country's largest independent contractor. He now has over 1,000 local hires and contracts all over the country.

After the video, then he spoke about what was involved in being a contractor. He pleaded with the contractors that were present to please hire local citizens to work for them. Don't hire out of country contractors. What the contractors do is "take 40% off the top, then hire the locals at reduced rates. We get the work, but the money leaves the country."
The Iraqi laborers are hired at $7 a day. Experienced laborers who don't need a lot of supervision can earn $10 a day. Skilled laborers who supervise and are technically proficient (read blueprints, etc) can earn up to $40 day. That is about the highest pay scale that there is.
Nabil said that he could earn more money in another country. He is here without his family. They will not join him until the environment is safer for them to live here. "I miss my family," he said. "But the way to make it safe is to give people jobs. When they have jobs, they can provide for their families and they stop fighting. I am fighting the war the same as you. I am fighting for my country."

Drinking from a firehose

That is how my replacement feels when it comes to learning about the job. He is happy to be here, but there seems to be a lot to learn. My boss at Camp Victory had dinner and conversations with him before my replacement got on the bus to get here a few days ago. The boss said "The optempo at the Palace is a bit different than here." What he meant was that evidently we don't work very hard here. I wish that he would have seen the 0700-2200 days that I put in for the first four months that I was here and my first day off (1/2 day actually) was after I had been on the job for over 4 months. What he had seen was the days when he came to visit. On those days, I cancelled all meetings and appointments to spend the time with him. So, obviously, it appears we don't have a very frantic pace.
My orientation to the replacement is called "left seat, right seat." That term comes from training helicopter pilots who sit in the adjoining seat to the trainer and watch what he does. Then after enough time of observing, listening and assisting, the two of them switch seats and the pilot now observes and assists the new trainee. After enough training, then the pilot is released to let the new trainee handle it alone. Right now, I am still in the seat but turning it over as quickly as I can. There is just a lot to learn. Most of what I do is centered around relationships and networking. That has taken me months to build, and I think that I am very good at it. I have built a very good foundation that he can build on for his year in country.
We spent some time talking about projects that I have just begun, but not really developed. He will have the chance to see them through. That is when he admitted that he felt as if he was drinking from a water hose. Combine the job and new area and new approach to how the Strategic level operates with the fact that he will struggle with jet lag for another week, and I am pleased if he can remember just some of what I am dishing out. I can tell during my monologues when his eyes glaze over that it is time to take a walk and meet people rather than me just droning on about what he will be doing.
Earlier today, he asked if I was going to miss the job and being here. What I will miss is getting to see the results of the work that I developed. But all along I have been saying that we are building for generations yet unborn. Developing a democracy in a land that is unaccustomed to having a voice will take time.
We will have a couple of weeks together. I will be gone for some training during that time, and at other times I will be involved in outprocessing and taking care of getting out of town. But I am leaving at a good time and in good hands.
It is time to go home.

Replacement Arrived

I hate getting up in the middle of the night...but this time, the effort was worth it.
My replacement arrived at 4:00 in the morning. I was at the pickup point a few minutes after 3:00. When the bus was not there, I slept on a picnic table for an hour. (I am glad that I can sleep anywhere).
My replacement arrived wide awake and full of questions. Since he was still on his biological clock from Colorado, and this was the middle of the day for him. By now it was 4:00 and I wanted to go to bed...He wanted answers on where was the gym, where is the office, can he call to the states...on and on. Let me go to bed.
But there was payback.
The next day in the middle of the afternoon, when I was wide awake and ready to give him updates and explain the job, all he wanted to do was to take a nap.
I am not in a rush to get him oriented, but I do sense that I am in a rush to get home. Counting the days (But I won't tell you when).

9-11

We had a very good commemoration service last Friday. Two of our Navy personnel coordinated the program to honor 9-11. I found it amazing how many people in our line of work have direct connection to the 9-11 events. Our guest speaker worked at the Pentagon as a crime scene investigator. Our hosting commander coordinated military coverage for NYC. The Community Chapel was a good location for the event. During the entire 30 minute program, a slide show of the events of that day was presented behind the stage. I offered opening remarks, opening and closing prayers.

Our guest speaker learned to play the bagpipes and formed a special funeral group to assist with the police and fire department funerals after 9-11. He concluded our program by playing "Amazing Grace" on the bagpipes. It was a professional and quality program all the way around.

The command chaplain concluded the Sunday briefing to the staff with a prayer. At the conclusion, General Casey had us all pause for a moment of silence in honor of our fallen. At the exact time of the first airplane assault on the Twin Towers, our Charge de'affair here in the Embassy had everyone pause for a moment of silence.


Each event was a somber reminder of the price we have paid and continue to pay:
Those who died at the World Trade Center
Those who died at the Pentagon
Those who died on United Flight 93 in Pennsylvania
The 1,894 service members who have lost their lives over the past four years.

"Never Forget"

Take Cover, Take Cover!

Explosions reported near Green Zone, central Baghdad
BAGHDAD, Iraq - (AP) Two large detonations were heard in central Baghdad early Tuesday, near the heavily fortified Green Zone that houses the Iraqi government and several foreign embassies. A plume of smoke could be seen rising from the area. There were no immediate reports of casualties. Security in the zone was boosted earlier this month after reports that suicide bombers were trying to penetrate the area, which is a frequent target for insurgent attacks.


We are all fine here.
The announcement came over the loud speaker while I was having breakfast. We had the same drill yesterday as well.
"Take Cover, Take Cover, Take Cover. There are rounds impacting in the International Zone...."
The announcements are more annoying than anything. For one thing, the PA system is not that good and many of the speakers are so loud that the noise hurts our ears.
I had not heard the explosions and was not particularly concerned.
We were told to take shelter immediately under the tables.
Everyone in the dining facility looked sheepishly around to see if others were crawling under tables. We could tell who was new to our area, because they did not hesitate....down on the floor, wide eyed.
I kept shelling my hard boiled egg...the rounds had already landed. I was hungry. I kept my head down, on task. When I looked up, I think that I was the only person visible at my end of the dining hall above table height. The mess daddy walked by and said, very respectfully, "Sir,I am under orders to ask everyone to take cover."
I decided then to put my plate of food on the chair next to me and eat leaning over.
Others enjoyed their time playing "Fort" or "cave" like they were children again. Most were bored, annoyed or kept trying to sneak food off the plate that was above them on the table overhead.
Two of my co-workers took this picture during our time of sheltering.
One older civilian gentleman remarked to me from his spot leaning against the wall as he hoisted his styro cup, "As long as I have my coffee in hand, I will be allright." Not sure what he plans when the cup is empty.
I want to be smart and safe. I would hate to have my eulogy start with, "He was the only one who was not under the table, and we are sorry he is gone." But really, we are not in much danger....

Desserts?

I got in trouble for taking this picture.

I forgot that photos are not allowed in the particular dining facility where I ate the other day. The desserts were just so incredible, I pulled out my camera and took a few shots. As I was putting my camera away, one of the workers came by and reminded me that photos were not allowed in the building...security, you know.
I apologized. I really had forgotten. "The deserts are so nice, I wanted a picture of them." He was pleased I liked his food, but knew I had violated security. If Al Quida knew the quality of desserts we were serving, it would alter the direction of the insurgency. Good thing that I did not have time to take a picture of the main courses....they were awesome!

Flying Home

One of the recently arrived Captains showed up here in the IZ in time to get an offical letter of reprimand...not the way you want to start your year. He had written an email informing some folks here when he would be arriving. He gave the time, date and location...a big NO-NO because of the security precautions.
I have mixed feelings about all the security precautions. I know they are important, but if the insurgents wanted to shoot down an aircraft of some type, all they really have to do is wait for one fly over.....I think that if they knew that on such a date and time an airplane would fly over, "let's shoot down that one becasue it is on time!" is probably not what they are thinking. The on time record is not really one to be proud of anyway.
My replacement is due here soon. I really don't know when. I got a call from higher HQ wanting to know. I said, "because of security precautions, I am sure that he will not notify me by either phone or email until he is in country and ready to be picked up. Security, you know." That makes HQ upset, because they know that security is important, but they hate not knowing everything about everyone.
So, I am getting closer by the day....still waiting on an actual release date, but I can see the pieces coming together to get home....I just cannot tell you when.

Building use

Sat through a long meeting about how to best use the building space here in the Embassy. Too long a meeting.
The interesting part of working in this particular building is that the space technically belongs to the Department of State. As such, the Chief of Mission is responsible for allocating who goes where. On top of that, we want to give the building back to the Iraqis at some point (soon) so we don't want to disfigure or spend a lot of money.
Having Chief of Mission in charge is a different tact than the mil folks are accustomed to. We like to be in charge and the senior ranking is in charge of it all. Just give the recommendation and the boss makes the call. No problem. But now the underlings give recommendations and pass them to higher and regardless of how well planned, the colonel doesn't have the final say.
The meeting dragged, people lost focus and drifted around. Then an Australian Colonel took over and wrapped it up well. We kept our office and space, but some lost some room. Then we discovered that all the rooms are not internet compliant. The military cannot and will not function without internet, both open source and secure....
This seems how the country is being put together....the wrong people sometimes seem to be making the big decisions, just when we think the plan is set, we discover that the infrastructure cannot contain it...the center is collapsing.

Prayer at the Battle Update

Today was my day to offer the prayer at our daily battle update. The sound system and the VTC worked the way it was supposed to work and all could hear the words.
Here is the prayer:
******
LORD GOD, as we pause from hearing of battles and casualties, may we be reminded that our efforts here are to instill peace.
As we see images of destruction and injury, remind us that we are called to build and heal.
As we plan battles and campaigns, remind us that our goal is justice for all.

Grant that we may be strong of heart and purpose in the days ahead. As we assist these great people in the election process, may Your Grace and Mercy be evident. May our focus be to bring a hope and purpose to their efforts.

For those who stand against the efforts of peace and stability, I ask that You turn their plans against them. Frustrate their efforts and confuse their paths. May their evil intentions be poured back upon their own heads and may they see their own destruction. Protect the innocent who are in the path of danger and save their lives.

Strengthen and encourage our friends and families during our time of separation, knowing that they often pay the higher price of anxiety and loneliness while we are away. Comfort them with Your peace.

Grant us grace with one another as we work for peace. May we be assured that the travail of the present is to bring a new birth of justice for generations yet to be.

Encourage us by Your Spirit, and uphold us by Your Grace, and may we all, though trained for war and equipped for battle, each live out our days in peace.
--Amen

How many in your family?

I had a wonderful lunch with a group of Iraqis from the government and their translators. Since they did not have proper US ID, I signed them into the hotel lobby. Since they did not have military ID, they could not eat in the free dining facility, we ate in the restaurant. Since I was the host, I was expected to pay. Since I don't speak Arabic, we ate too much expensive food that I did not order. I had a nice lunch for $113 that is not on an expense account.
During the conversation, we naturally talk about families. One of the men is a new father. His daughter is only two weeks old. "Have you slept through the night?"
"No, and I am very tired all the time."

Then I asked one of the other translators about her family. I got a story different that what I am used to from US citizens:
"I come from a family of eight children. Three of my older brothers are dead now. One was killed in the Iran war. Two are in mass graves from Saddam."
"I'm sorry."
"Almost every family here has someone that Saddam killed or that died in the war. It does make it awkward to ask someone about their family because everyone has someone who is dead. We don't like to talk about their death, but we do like to remember their life."

Getting Blammed

Sometimes Blogs have folks leave comments that are links to commercials or bugs or who knows what. I got one the other day. "love your blog....if you want...click here"
As one of my faithful readers, please don't click on the links. If a reader has something to write me personally, the link to my email is the way to contact me.

If you notice that someone has blammed the site through the comment page, please send me a message through the email link and let me know. YOu can find my email address on the right of the blog page "View my complete profile" link. I can go right in and delete the comment. Since I don't check the page throughout the day, you may have better eyes on it than I do. Plus the time zone issue puts us 1/2 a day apart.

Thanks for the support and encouragement that you send through the comments and the email. I appreciate it.

Greenzone Chaplain

Call me--write me

One of the military photographers showed me a "love letter" he had composed using Valentine's candy. (Valentine's Day was six months ago, but the candy didn't taste any different to me).

Another officer told me of a letter he sent to his wife. "Don't tell anyone I told you this story." I am telling the story, but nobody will know the source.
He wrote his wife and asked for one of her sleep shirts. "Please sleep in it for a few nights and then send it to me. Put it in a zip lock bag and mail it. Thank you."
He got the shirt a few days ago. Now he doesn't know what to do with it. If he stuffs it inside the pillowcase, the pillow is lumpy, but nobody would know. He would really like to use it as an additional pillow case, but not sure what his roommate will say. He is shy about having it seen and maybe being razzed. But having the shirt is really special to him.
Too bad he is not a colonel. They get a room to themselves and he can sleep wearing the shirt if he wanted.

Are those clouds?

The temperature "seems" to be moderating some. I can tell that the sun is coming up later in the day and the light leaves sooner in the evening while we are around the pool.
Yesterday, some folks thought that those were lowlying clouds over the east of Baghdad. There have not been clouds in the sky for the last 4 months. Clouds only appear in the winter season and bring rain. "Are those clouds? Are we getting rain? Is winter here?"
"No. That is smoke from a fire. There is still a while until there is rain."
The "clouds" were from a huge fire at a warehouse in Baghdad. No terrorist strike. No explosion. Just a good 'ol city fire with hundreds of firefighters and lots of firetrucks. Nothing to do with war or weather. Just part of life.
I think that I will be back in the states before I see rain again.

Another Memorial-again

I provided another memorial ceremony this week.
Killed in an IED this past week. Explosions don’t care who you are. They are equal opportunity killers. It doesn’t matter if you are smart, well educated, married, kids, young…..you are still at risk.
We would all like to think that we are invincible. Won’t happen to me. Only some other guy. But someone is the other guy.
Mike was the one this week. Mike Dawes was a great guy, a great American. He served in Vietnam. Ranger. Airborne. 82nd Airborne in Vietnam. Finished his tour. Completed his mission. Got out of the military and plied his skills into 16 years of law enforcement back with his Native American tribe in Oklahoma. He was awarded the Cherokee Nation Patriot Medal.

He volunteered again to serve and went to Kosovo as part of the police force there for two tours. He was here in Iraq training the Iraqi nationals to be the type of quality law enforcement officer that he was. His son recently left Iraq as a member of the military and headed home. Now the son will be standing over the father's flag-draped coffin.
Now Mike is gone. Another will take his place in the line of duty, but nobody ever really replaces another life.

"Somebody's gettin' it"

We can tell how close an explosion is by the noise or concussion or both. IED's are horribly effective-explosive-deadly.
I am amazed at how the sound travels when there is a detonation, especially in the morning. After my (brief) workout this morning, I was sitting by the pool talking with a former chaplain assistant that worked with me at Ft. Bragg. We heard the boom. I commented "that was not close, but it was big." I knew it was not close because there was no concussion that we could feel. Really close explosions shake your internal organs. Further away, only your skin. I cannot imagine what happens as you get closer.
Today's explosion came at 0704. It was far away across the river.
"It is hard to believe that when we hear that noise, it means that someone probably died," I said.
"Or lots of somebody."
Then we heard follow on small arms fire. "Somebody's gettin' it back at 'em."
The group of Marines across the pool relaxing after breakfast stood up nervously and paced around without moving anywhere. Chances are, the Marines on patrol are now on alert and headed that way. These are their buddies.
A few minutes later, all of us separate to go our separate ways and focus back on mission. For some, life will never be the same. For us, nothing will be different.