greenzone

Disinformation attack

2005-12-12T17:48:00.000+03:00

Last week's Los Angeles Times broke a story about the Lincoln Group. According to the article, the U.S. Military has been contracting with the Lincoln Group to get the good word about the war in Iraq out to the people in Iraq.
Evidently, the Lincoln Group payed the newspapers in Iraq to run articles and opinion pages for the military. According to an article in 12 Dec Chicago Tribune, Senator Warner is concerned and the Pentagon and military officials are looking into the matter to see what really happened.
What happened? Just what it looks like: the military pays to get articles in the paper!
That is how business runs in Iraq. In the U.S., if you want to show appreciation for good service, you leave a tip: in Iraq, you pay the tip up front. This is not just for food servers, this is for everyone who is in the service industry, and that includes, police, doctors, public servants and newspapers.
The newspapers also have an additional problem: They have been targets of insurgent strikes if the newpaper publishes something that is pro-coalition. Paying the newspapers up front helps them to be "convinced" that it is all right to run the articles.
Newspapers are also written and read differently. Here in the States, letters to the editors are signed with the name and usually the city in which the writer lives. To respond either in person, or by replied opinion, it is not hard to find the person in the white pages and contact them directly. There are no white pages in Baghdad, because there is no phone service or printing to speak of. Anyone can sign their opion with any name they want and there is no accountability or way to track the author.
When a writer pays the newspaper to print his opinion piece, the editor knows where the article comes from and agrees to help protect the identity of the author. That is very important in a volitile environment like Baghdad.
So, is this really "freedom of the press?"
Maybe not, in the U.S. sense of looking over the past 200 years of development of that freedom.
Is it helping win democracy and establish stability?
More than some in Washington want to admit.
War has different rules. Someone needs to explain that in the free press.

I'M TOO OLD!

2005-12-10T21:07:00.000+03:00

What a great opportunity...
I read the advertisement in our local installation newspaper, aptly named The Blizzard. The Institute of Living and the National Center for PTSD were looking for ME! They wanted a male, active duty person without PTSD who recently returned from the combat zone to be paid $400 for a two day visit to Hartford, CT.
I could visit my brother and his family on the edge of Hartford and get paid for it.
I called, gave my name, phone number, qualified and then the interviewed asked my age.
"53," I replied.
Pause.
"Sir, I am sorry. Your age is outside of the age range we are looking for. If we extend the age, would you like us to call you?"
"Sure."
Click.

If you know someone who would like to participate, have them call Dr. Aidins at 203-932-5711 ext 5557. Make sure the participants are younger than I.

Long Distance Love

2005-12-03T00:23:00.000+03:00

I had opportunities in Iraq to write for the MNFI weekly paper, The Scimitar.
When I returned to Ft. Drum, I noticed a copy on the First Sergeant's desk that had been printed off of the internet.
"Hey, First Sergeant, I have not seen one of those in a while."
"Yes, sir," the First Sergeant answered. "That one has your article in it. That is why I printed it off."
I was genuinely touched. Here was a great NCO that took the time to look up the article, print it off, keep it on his desk and mention it to me.

Here is a copy of one of the articles that I wrote. I have handed it out to some of the folks here who are deploying soon as well.

Does deployment equal domestic disaster?
Recent articles in Stars and Stripes and USA Today indicate divorce rates among military members continue to soar. Some analysts believe there is a direct correlation between the rise in deployments and the rise in divorce and domestic difficulties among military members. That should not be hard to figure out. Deployment is hard, and separation is tough on all relationships. “But what can I do from 7,000 miles away? How can I help my marriage when I am gone?” you may ask. “I cannot do anything to help my spouse or my marriage from here. Or can I?”
I think there are things that can be done to actually strengthen a relationship
during separation. The task is not easy and the steps can be difficult, but I would regret traveling halfway across the world to help save a country and lose my own life’s partner.
Here are some suggestions I have found helpful from my experience and the help that I offered to others during their deployments. The most important aspect on my list is communication.
Today’s communication has made quantum leaps from previous conflicts. The ability to communicate instantly with family and friends back home can be good or bad. The key is how best to use the instant communication we have available....e-mail, instant messaging, phone cards, satellite phones, webcams; all of these can keep you in direct contact far more quickly and easily than at any other time in history. But what do you say to your partner? More importantly, what do you NOT say? Our families are bombarded with images from the war zone that are almost always BAD NEWS. They do not need more bad news from us. I decided that I would share with my wife what we would talk about if I were TDY or simply out of town. My intent is not to be deceitful, but to be realistic. What may be an adrenaline rush here in country provokes anxiety or fear in families back home.
If I want to talk war stories about what happened today, there are plenty of people who I live and work with to swap stories. I am determined not to talk about anything that would compound my family’s anxiety. So what do we talk about? The heat, the food, the sleep, the noisy helicopters and vehicles … anything except issues dealing with danger, death and destruction. My family does not need to know about missions or casualties or threat levels at this point. There is no need for them to be concerned about what danger I may or may not be exposed to on any given day. I have found from talking to family members that their single biggest emotional drain is the unknown and unexplainable anxiety that comes from the uncertainty about their military member’s well being. Many have told me, “I am tired of living in fear about what is happening over there. I cannot take it any more.” When families don’t know what is going on, it is easy for them to be overcome by wild imaginations. I will not add to that.
I also vary the times of my phone calls. I am purposely not predictable about when I call. Delays and schedule changes can always keep me from the phone. I do not want people back home sitting by the phone and worrying that “something bad happened because he did not call me!” only to find out that I had a meeting or a conversation or the convoy got delayed, and I was just slow to the phone. If you promise to call “when I get back from the mission,” your family has no idea that you got delayed or had a follow-on mission or whatever. Don’t set them up for worry and concern. “I will be busy most of the day but will call you when I get a chance. Don’t worry about me. I just won’t be around a phone for a while.”
Finally, our family wants to believe that their sacrifice is important. I want them to realize that their sacrifice is making a difference as well. “I miss you. I love you. I cannot believe that I am part of making history here. As painful as our time part is for us both, I am so glad to be part of rebuilding a free country. You are part of it, too, because you are always with me.”
These are hard words to say at times. But defending and rebuilding a country is not the only hard work we do. Maintaining a marriage is very hard work as well.

The 42nd Comes Home

2005-11-08T15:57:00.000+03:00

Members of the 42nd Infantry Division from New York have been coming home via Ft. Drum. I have seen them on the streets of post and at the different offices. The familiar 1/2 rainbow patch on their sleeve and their DCU's easily gives them away.
I saw a line of them standing waiting for a taxi in front of the PX the other evening. I had some shopping to do, and was headed the other way. When I came out of the PX, the line was even longer. I don't mind taxis, but these guys had waited long enough.
"Who wants a ride to their barracks? You'll save the taxi fare."
A group of five guys together raised their hands. We trundled to my Laredo, popped the back hatch and completely filled up the back of my truck with PX supplies.
I drove them the couple of miles to the barracks. They had been back in the country about 12 hours. The lied when I asked if they had jet lag. They said "No" but the sat staring out into the black night and had trouble answering questions.
Then I started asking about what was different. All admitted that eating off of pottery and using metal flatware and having glasses to drink from was different.
"I drank water that was not from a bottle," one said and they all laughed.
One admitted that he had freaked out earlier that day in formation.
"We were standing there in formation and I realized I did not have my helmet or my rifle with me. I freaked. Then I remembered that I was back in the States and we had turned them in. For a minute there, I forgot where I was."
I did not have the heart to tell him that "for a minute there" will last for a long time for him.

"Daddy's home"

2005-11-08T09:17:00.000+03:00

I went to get a new Ft. Drum vehicle sticker for my truck this afternoon. While I was waiting there, women with children came into the MP station to get a temporary pass. It was not difficult to tell that they were not familiar with post. I had an idea why they were there.
"Is your husband with the 42nd?"
"Yes, he gets home today," was the rushed response. She had a toddler in arms and three others crowding her legs. She had to go back to the vehicle to get registration papers and proof of insurance for the desk clerk. [I hate our bureaucracy that punishes innocent family members under the pretext of “security” concerns. Nobody can convince me (I don’t care their rank or position) that a wife of a deployed soldier with four children who has never been on post is a security risk and needs to prove liability insurance and registration validation before they can see their husband!!!)]
She was in a hurry….the tension was palpable.
“How long did you travel?”
“Four and a half hours,” was the reply.
“You have plenty of time. I know that the plane was delayed about 45 minutes and there are still lots of things to be done before he can be released. You won’t be late. He has been on the plane for 45 hours getting here.”
I played with the little boy who would not stop squirming.
“He only recognizes Daddy as the man on the ‘puter.’He has been gone so long that our son doesn't remember him in person, only on the web cam.”
At the mention of “Daddy” the boy started piping up “I-RAK.” “I-RAK”
“No, Daddy is not in Iraq. Daddy's home.”
“Will your husband be driving the vehicle while on post?” the clerk asked.
Silence.
“I don’t know. Will they let him out? Can we go somewhere?”
“Say, ‘Yes,’” I offered. “You never know. He may get to visit some.”
The Mom brightened at the prospect.
The clerk smiled and shrugged realizing she asked a moot question. She should have automatically included the husband. How would it hurt to write one more name on a line? It is too easy to be nice to these families, yet we love our policies and procedures.
By then four more wives and enough children to fill a school bus were in the small room each wondering what to do.
“Are you here to meet the 42nd?” I asked.
“Yes!” they all chorused, glad that someone understood who they were and why they were here.
“Welcome to Fort Drum.” I smiled and continued. “We’re glad you are here. Get a temporary pass at this desk and don’t forget to get a map with the yellow directions on it to the gymnasium where your husband is. You have plenty of time.” The relief was immediate. Their plans and waiting and anxiety were about to end with hugs and kisses.

I needed to leave the building. My eyes were tearing up. Reunions almost always make me cry.

Anticipatory Grief

2005-11-02T18:48:00.000+03:00

It has been three years since one of my personal heroes and I presented a seminar on “anticipatory grief.” Chaplain Jeff Watters and I developed a seminar for the wives of the leaders of the 82nd Infantry Division (Airborne) when the Division was deployed to the Gulf in response to 9-11. In the seminar, we developed and explained the concept that during marital separation caused by a military conflict, the spouse that stayed home developed specific habits and behavior patterns that directly reflected the anxiety and fear they had while their partner was separated in a combat zone. Simply put, the wives of the leaders of the Division acted out while their husbands were in combat that caused additional stressors on the family. The wives began acting on an assumption that they would, at some point, be given bad news and they had already started the grieving process. They anticipated grief and began experiencing it whether it was true or not.
In the intervening years, I have been a student of this phenomenon in my own counseling cases, couples I have interviewed, stories that I have heard and now in my own life.
Leaving my wife always causes grief for me. I may not cry each time (though at some point I usually do), but I grieve at different levels. But the interesting phenomenon is when to grieve. I realize that I begin anticipating the grief and separation days before the actual separation takes place.
“I leave in four more days,” I think to myself. “There is more to do. I better appreciate this time together.” But thinking about the upcoming separation increases the tension and I find that I cannot enjoy the time I have because I am anticipating the grief that is yet to come.
As I talked with soldiers who went on mid-tour leave, they admitted that the time was too painful for them and they would not do it again, if given the option. As nice as seeing the family may be, the anticipation of returning to the war and leaving the family again was not worth the small joy they had. That recognition of not wanting to see the family increased their guilt and knowing that if the family knew what the soldier was thinking, then they would not understand. “Why don’t you want to visit us?” To be honest, the answer would be, “because I love you so much, it hurts to be with you.”
Anticipatory grief plays on all the minds of the family members facing deployment. I would try and stay focused on the present. “Live in the moment. Stay focused on the present. Don’t worry about what may happen in the days ahead.” All good self-talk to a normal person, but these mantras did not help me very much. By choosing to focus on the present, I kept realizing that the mental energy was detracting from the present because the storm clouds seemed to be so close and ominous.
It is no wonder that the planes headed back to the war are full of depressed and angry soldiers. And what does that say about the ones that are left behind?

Here is Cash--buy some guns!

2005-11-01T12:20:00.000+03:00

Big events transpiring in the area of the Inspector General and in Congress in general. It seems that someone is missing a few millions in US dollars in the Iraq reconstruction issue. Congress is doing the handwringing and we, who have been there, are not surprised.
Understanding that there is a principle difference in how we do business and how the Iraqis (and many mid-Easterners as well) do business is important.
Here is how it works:
1) cash
2) trust
3) time

1) Cash talks. Lots of cash talks louder.
Hand a man a suitcase of cash if you want something.
Drive up in a truck load of cash if you want something big.
--a few months back a semi-truck was hijacked on one of the major highways in Iraq. A group of men in fake uniforms set up a roadblock and stopped a car and the truck that was following it. The car was hosed with automatic rifle fire, wounding or killing the family members in the car. The two men in the truck were dragged out of their truck and shot. The truck was driven away. It was loaded with cash. No suspects. No leads. The answer? Request another truckload of cash to finish the run.

Let's say I want to buy a case lot of rifles. The street price of an AK-47 is $115-$150 each for a reasonably worn, used rifle. It will cost me $200,000 US dollars for a thousand rifles with slings, magazine, bayonet in boxes. When the suitcase of cash is handed over for the goods, the second part comes into play:
2) trust
I trust (?) the guy to come through for me. He just walks out of the office with all that cash and I hope he delivers the goods. He is under some compulsion, because I know where he lives and I will come for him if he doesn't deliver. People taking the cash and running is infrequent because that would be dishonorable.
3) Whenever the goods are ready, I am told to go to such a place or someone will meet me with the case lot of rifles.
Now is when the rub comes....
What happens if I open the cases and find rusted, unusable rifles? How do I get my money back?
Every person who has handeld that suicase of cash to make the deal happen has already taken their cut. The finders cut is between 20 and 40 percent of the gross.
30% to the first guy = $60K, who hands the suitcase to his friend or cousin or contact who knows someone who can get the rifles.
That leaves $130K for the next guy to find the rifles. He takes his 30% ($40K or so) and hands on the suitcase. Now the buyer has less than $100K to buy the thousand rifles. A guy can only buy 1,000 rusted rifles for that little amount of money so that is what he gets. He pays someone to deliver the goods and I open a box of junk instead of my merchandise.
NO ONE GETS A REFUND, because the money is gone and there were no guarantees.
Try to equip an army, rebuild a country, restart the infrastructure, dig the wells, run the electric wires, pump the oil and do the millions of things that cost billions of dollars, knowing that the goods must usually be imported or trucked from elsewhere with no paper trail and no guarantees.
We bought tons of things that turned out to be junk and we could not take it back for a refund.
No one did anything wrong....just nothing went right...the way that we expected it would in the good ol USA. But Congress insists that we do it by our book and we did not realize that the Iraqis did not read our book first.
Some great people will lose their careers and some will go to prison because we did not understand the way to do business.

What was it really like?

2005-10-21T17:01:00.000+03:00

Surprising number of people are asking "What was it really like being in Iraq? Are we getting the right story in the news that we watch?"
Good question, because I asked myself the same thing while I was in Iraq. I would sit in the briefings in the mornings at the Strategic Operations Center and then listen to the Headline News later in the day. Not always the same story. What the coalition forces accomplish on a daily basis is not being reported. What the insurgents and criminals perpetuate seems to always be highlighted.
National News is competitive. The best stories are the ones that grab the listeners at an emotional level (hence the "yelling" shows of Sunday news and the No spin zone variety)...emotions sell advertising. "If it bleeds, it leads."
The hard work in Iraq is not emotional or leading-news-type stories. The hard work stories are the day in and day out slogging it out among the citizens helping to keep them safe and secure. Not a lot of glory and guys get blown up on a regular basis just doing their jobs. That is the high price of securing a dangerous country, but it is necessary and difficult; but not glorious.

Do the Iraqis want us there?
Overwhelmingly, YES. Scarcely a visit with an Iraqi that I had did not involve some part of the conversation centering around how grateful the citizens are that we are there and that Saddam is gone.
The insurgents and Former Regime elements that want Saddam back in power are basically thugs and criminals that preyed off of the citizenry. If lawlessless can be established and maintained, then their hope is that the coalition will leave and the vacuum of stability and power will allow them back into their positions of oppression. The plan is to provide enough continued stability in the country that their own forces can keep the peace...then we are out of there.

That is not always reported, but that is the way that it is.

What to wear? part II

2005-10-21T10:43:00.000+03:00

I decided not to wear my Desert Uniform on the plane ride home. I packed the four sets of uniforms and realized that I would not wear them again....
When I got to the airport, there was another officer on the same flight as I; El Paso to Atlanta. He was wearing his DCU's for the flight.
As we boarded the plane and headed to coach, he took his assigned seat across the aisle from me, he in DCU's, I in my sweater and khakis, in preparation to go out to dinner that evening from the airport.
After we took our seats, a gentleman from First Class came back and told the other officer that he had a seat available in First Class for him. He was giving up his seat for the flight to the returning vet. Very thoughtful of the guy. They shook hands and mutually thanked the other for the service.
When in uniform, I had been stopped often in the airports and thanked for my service. That small gesture means a lot.

Once here at Ft. Drum, I decided to wear my DCU's one more time. The day that I returned to work I wore them again. The company commander drove to my office specifically to see me and welcome me back. "Sir," he said, "as the first commander in your line of command, let me be the first to officially welcome you back and thank you for your service and sacrifice while serving our country. Welcome home." Although I know that the "official" greeting is required and expected, I still appreciated it.

He also commented on my uniform. I am expected to wear it for the next week as part of the reintegration process. This signifies me as one returning and is supposed to help expedite the paperwork drill of getting me back into the unit and back to work. It goes without saying that the uniform does set me apart. When I first saw green uniforms among the desert patterns, they were out of place. Now the colors are reversed. I am the minority among all the green uniforms on post.

Next week I will be normal....

Fully home?

2005-10-10T16:12:00.000+03:00

Before heading to Iraq, I was resonsible for providing briefings to returning soldiers at Ft. Drum, NY. As these soldiers returned from their deployment, I helped greet them at the airport, offer prayers, encouragement and presence. I have provided reunion briefings for returning soldiers for so many times, I have the briefing memorized.
Part of the getting home process always invovles lots of "welcome home" comments and speeches. I always begin mine by saying, "Everyone seems to say 'welcome home' to you, but I reaize that you are not home yet. You are on the way home, but only you know when you are really home. So let me welcome you thus far on the journey and I hope to make this briefing short and to the point, so that you can get home where you want to be."

For me, I have announced in the past that there are certain events that must take place before I am fully home.
I must hear the laughter of my children around the table at dinner.
I must stand with the congregation and sing praises in church.
I must fall asleep with my wife's head resting on my chest.

Then I know that I am home.

I am home now.

What I find different

2005-10-10T08:20:00.000+03:00

Janet and I take a walk together every day.
As we walked through the woods the other day, we stopped and just listened.
Silence....nothing....
It has been a long time since I heard nothing. We talked about that on the rest of the walk.
"What do I find that is different or unexpected since I got back?"

Here is a short list:
*The quiet is amazing. There are no generators running 24/7. I am surprised at how normally I acclimated to the noise of the generators. They are everywhere and we don't even realize it.
*There are no helicopters flying overhead. I love watching helos fly, but there are none here at my house. No medivac or supply choppers flying in regularly every 45 minutes or so. Outside ceremonies are interrupted two or three times by helicopters flying overhead that are so loud that the speaker cannot be heard. We can tell the medical choppers that are on "milk runs" of normal delivery and cirucit rides from the ones that have patients. We comment to each other while at poolside in the evenings whether or not the ER at the hospital would be busy that evening.
*Seeing children! The International Zone produced a T-shirt that I did not get around to buying. It had a logo on the front pocket and on the back said, "The International Zone-Baghdad, Iraq. The world's most exclusive adult gated community. Security by Abrams and Bradley." There are so few children in the IZ, that I was not accustomed to hearing or seeing them around when I got home.
*Being able to hold a glass under a faucet and drink the water. None of the water in the sinks was potable. Brushing one's teeth with water from the faucet invited diahrrea.
*Using stainless steel flatware and real glassware and coffee cups and pottery....
We ate off of plastic plates with plastic ware and drank from juice cartons and bottled water.
*Sitting down at a restaurant and being served. I have stood in line for every meal and gotten up for any refill or forgotten item. It is nice to sit and visit without having to get up until the meal is over.
*A good shower. The water pressure was so poor in the trailer that the water just dribbled down the wall and splashed off the handle. Every shower was more of a standing wash cloth sprinkling that it was pathetic and generally the water did not get very warm. I shifted to considering my swim in the pool as enough hygiene to last for a day. Now I can stand in a shower with water pressure, hot water and not worry about the water running out or getting cold.

There are more things, but this is a good start.

The "Patton Slap"

2005-10-06T08:47:00.000+03:00

General George Patton almost lost his career over an incident where he slapped a solder. If you are not familiar with the incident, the General was visiting a hospital where he encountered a soldier sitting on a hospital bed with no visible wounds. When asked about the situation, the General was told that the soldier just "couldn't take it anymore" and was in the hospital for evaluation, recuperation, etc.
The General blew up, slapped the soldier across the head with the riding gloves he always carried and screamed at the soldier....thus erupting the famous "Patton slap" stories and increased concern for shell shock, PTSD, post-battle symptoms, etc. The incident almost cost Patton his career, and he had to stand and publically apoligize to the hospital staff, the soldier, his command and anybody else that Ike thought needed to hear the apology.

I was tempted to go off on a soldier the other day. I was standing in line in Kuwait. I was the last in line ready to plead my case that I did not want to be in theater any longer and would get my own flight home on the Air Force rotator (which I did...thank you AF!).
After standing in line for a while, an NCO brought two soldiers to stand behind me in the line. One soldier was a Private First Class and the other had not rank, which means he was a Private (E-1) or as we say, "E-nothin.'"
"Stand here and give the lady this paper when you get to the front of the line" was their instructions.
The line moved slowly and the E-0 talked quickly. The two were from the same Division, by the patch on their shoulders, and I assumed were from the same unit, since they came together and had the same NCO escort.
E-nuthin was talking from the time the two of them got into line. "I am ready to go home. All I want to do is get home. I need to be home." But something was weird about the guy.
As it turned out, the E-3 was going home on R&R, well deserved rest from his time in combat. Judging by his worn uniform and the look in his eyes, he needed the rest. The other soldier was just "going home." To be an E-nothin' here means you probably lost rank. By the time a soldier gets through all the training required and gets to a unit, they should have enough time in the military to have achieved at least one advancement in rank. (The Army does not call the first two advancements "promotions" because there is nothing required of the soldier other than breathing and showing up for work. After PFC, then the promotions are deserved).
E-nothin' would not shut up.
I did not want to hear it.
"I just want to go home...," he whined. "I saw the Psychiatrist. I am not homicidal. I am not suicidal. I just want to go see my baby. My boy is 18 months old and I want to be with him. I know that he needs me..." The babble continued....incessant...whining...begging...trying to convince the other soldier (or himself) that he was justified in his decision to get out of theater and go home.
After a while, the soldier left the line to go to the bathroom. He wasn't supposed to leave the line without an escort, but who cared?
Then it dawned on me that this punk was being busted out of the unit and sent home for failure to perform. He had become a problem child, lost his rank, would not do his job and was being sent home for discharge.
I turned to the PFC and asked if he was the escort. "No, sir. I am just in line." The soldier was tired and worn thin. "You can tell Private nothin' that he can be quiet. You don't have to listen to him whine adn I don't need to hear his noise."
The soldier shrugged. I don't think that he thought it worth the effort and it probably would not help quiet the whine. He was respectful, because I was a Lieutenant Colonel, but I could tell that he had lost his incentive to change anything about the other guy.
As I stood in line, I began to think about the E-nothin.' He showed the typical symptoms of obsessive, self-absorbed, intrusive thought patterns. He convinced himself that it was for his baby's best interest for him to get home to see him. He obsessed on that thought until it became the primary focus of his life and all that he could think or focus on. Nothing else in his life would fit until he got home to his baby. He stopped working. He stopped functioning. All he could do was whine until he got his way.
Then I got mad.
"Who will carry his ruck...fill his spot...do his job when he went home to his baby?" Every person here came for a reason and a job and when one is gone, then someone else has to do extra work.
"Does he think that he came here for nothing and that he can just go home, like cutting class?"
"How much grief has he brought his unit?" He has been busted in rank, which means he is a problem child. He requires escort which means that some NCO who came to fight a war and make a difference is being paid to be a babysitter.
"What kind of drain is this on the command to take care of this baby?"
"Does he think we don't miss our family? our babies? our lives back home?"
"How self-centered/obsessive/idiotic is this punk to bring this kind of grief on the command who is trying to run a war and keep soldiers alive?"

I was feeling very un-Chaplian-like at the moment and I began to empathize with Patton. I was wishing that I had a pair of riding gloves.

The line was shorter. I was next to be called. I stepped forward and handed over my paperwork. I was told to head to another building and take care of my flight myself. I turned to leave. There was a Staff Sergeant standing next to E-nuthin' as his escort. I shook my head and pushed through the door, mumbling under my breath, "let it go and go home."

What to wear, what to wear?

2005-10-05T18:00:00.000+03:00

I had planned to wear my DCU's, the desert uniform home on the plane. I got an upgrade to first class with them on my way from Dallas to El Paso the other day. A major and I had been together since Kuwait and were ending our trip together. We were the last ones on the plane in Dallas, just because we were not in a rush. As we approached the counter, the attendant pulled us aside and asked for our tickets. Later, the major admitted that he thought there was a problem and we may not have seats. I knew that she was upgrading us, because the plane was about 1/3 full.
She handed us our tickets with a "Welcome home" as we went to the gate.
The major was ecstatic!
When we got on the plane the first attendant asked, "Did you get good seats?"
"Yes," I replied. "Thank you."
"Welcome home."
That was very special. We were seated on the front row and were the first served. We did not ask for anything special, but it was nice to be served without having to wait and having her hover around asking if we needed anything.
I planned to wear my DCU's on the home flight, maybe scoring another first class seat. Then I decided not to. I am going from the airport out to dinner with my wife and thought I would dress more appropriately.
I did laundry this evening and I packed my DCU's in the duffle bag for the flight home. I realized that there will not be another time or reason to wear them again. That thought caught me by surprise. I have worn them every day for the last 7 months and then, it's over. If I deploy again, I will be issued the new style of uniform. When I return to Ft. Drum in two weeks, I will switch back to the basic BDU's that I have worn for the last 18 years. The DCU wear was a one-time uniform for a one-time mission...never replicated, never undone.
It has been a good ride, one of the highlights of my life, but when I packed the uniforms away, something ended.
I am going home....

Avoiding the Chaplain

2005-10-05T17:45:00.000+03:00

When I first came to Ft. Bliss, there was a chaplain assigned here as part of the unit that was in charge of our preparation and deployment. I did not like her at all. I don't know if it was that she was loud, irrelevant, grossly overweight, or pretentous, but there was something....she complained about how the unit did not respect her position and tried to take her vehicle away, and how she maneuvered around the command to get an expensive 4 wheel drive rental at government expense...she whined about how she was not being fully utilized. She complained about how hard it was being a Reservist. Plus, she wanted me to help provide ministry to the soldiers while I was here...
I wondered if the rest of the folks going through the process with me were "requested to assist?" Did the cadre ask the mechanics who were deploying to go the motor pool and work on vehicles? Did they ask the medics to help with sick call or the clerks to handle the paperwork? Then why ask me to help do her job?
I wondered how the reunion briefing by the chaplain would go. I thought that her outgoing briefing was the next thing to horrible. How would the welcome back be?
As it turned out, the Chaplain Assistant did the briefing. Many of the assistants are quality soldiers and fully capable of doing the briefing. I am moderately impressed with him, and the briefing was, shall I say, "brief?" It was the shortest that I have ever seen; five Powerpoint slides, less than 4 minutes long. Obviously a "check the block" briefing and, to tell the truth, that was about all that we could stand or want at this point in the getting home game.
I just saw the Chaplain this evening as she was standing outside on my way into the offices.
She has actually gained weight, or else her dress uniform has shrunk. I was embarrassed for her, the Corps and myself. I turned another direction and walked behind her so that she and I would not meet.
I don't need this.

Back in the USA

2005-10-04T14:56:00.000+03:00

Got stateside into Dover, MD.
Nine of us grabbed a taxi/van to haul us to Philadelphia airport.
The ride was the most dangerous event in my life in the last 8 months!
Underinflated tires on the rear of the van, 27 full dufflebags, 9 soldiers.
The interior light had to stay on because the dash lights did not work and the driver could not tell how fast he was driving. The heavy rear end made the front end light and steering was erratic. Add to that the fact that the driver kept answering his cell phone and we were all nervous. Many of us had not bothered with putting on seat belts because we were crowded in so tightly. Once we reached the interstate and the swerving started, we all grabbed and scrambled to buckle up.
"What a way to go," one guy remarked. "We get this far and die in a wreck to the airport."
"And there is no Purple Heart for that."

The trip, from when I left the Palace on the helo, to arriving at Ft. Bliss was 99 hours long. I crossed 10 time zones, missed lots of meals and sleep and glad to be here.

Went to bed earlier than I wanted to, at 6:00 p.m., but with the help of Benedryl, slept for 11 hours and got up at 0500 for our 0600 first inprocessing meeting.

I hope to be through in two days ....

Getting Home

2005-10-04T05:50:00.000+03:00

What a way to leave the country.
Flew from Kuwait back into Balad for refueling and picking up more hitchhikers.
Just as we were getting to board the plane, the insurgents sent a rocket into the camp. When I say "camp" I mean something the size of a small town or city. I have no idea where the rocket landed, it was so far away from us. But that did not matter, the place went on red alert.
We decided to clamber into the plane for safety, but the crew met us on the ladder with their helmets on and their protective vests fastened. I could tell by the size of their eyes that this was an event that they were not accustomed to. The two other fellows with me agreed with me, "the attack is over. This is annoying. Get the plane loaded and let's leave."
The rest did not agree. They sprinted to the bomb shelter and yelled at us as they ran by to join them. We walked in and I read the paper for the 10 minutes until the "all clear" sounded.
Back to the plane.
In the next ramp to us was a C-130 starting up its engines. "They did not go to cover. They just stayed on board doing their pre-flight until they could pull the wheel chocks and leave," I mentioned to the Major with me. Wish our crew had us up in the air.......
We then left.

My last 10 minutes on the ground in Iraq was in a bomb shelter. How appropriate.

Getting home-3-

2005-10-03T01:55:00.000+03:00

This has been one of the longest days for me.
I tried remembering when this trip started....Friday I left Baghdad for Camp Victory. I got to Victory and visited in the Chaplains office for a while. I dozed in the lounge chair for a few minutes waiting for lunch. The command Chaplain for MNFI came into the office. I stood when he came into the room. He said, "HI" then turned, went into his office and that is the last I have seen of him. I know that he doesn't appreciate me at the highest level (is that discreet enough) but I thought that with him being a Colonel, he would at least know what "polite" means.
Chaplain Mitch Schranz introduced me to one of his fellow Jewish Chaplains as a "mensch." He explained that the term is the highest compliment that one can give a non-Jew. Mitch and I have gotten along very well. He then went on with the introduction by saying that I was one of the finest presenters and teachers he had ever listened to in the Army. He concluded with, "I wonder to myself, 'what are you doing in the Army?'" Very gracious of him.
I went to visit my buds at Corps and had a great time. Spent the afternoon with them and was treated with honor...
I went back to the MNFI Chaplain's office to pick up my bags and say final farewells. The office was dark...the building was dark...nobody there. The generators were down 'as scheduled' so everyone left. Fortunately, the doors were unlocked and I was able to snag my gear. Otherwise, there would have been some concern.
I was nominally surprised that nobody told me that the office would be closed that afternoon and that I should take my duffle bags with me....
So, that was the good-bye.
I did see Mitch and Scott, the other chaplain, at the dining facility and visited and hugged them good-bye.

Flight to Kuwait...wait and wait.
Ride a bus to the airport in Kuwait City and snagged a flight stateside. First to Balad, back north of Baghdad, now I am in Spain...awaiting the next leg.
Once Stateside, I will grab a flight to Texas, then hurry through reverse CRC, if the folks there allow anything to be hurried.
THEN finally, to NC and home for a week.

Trying to leave-2-

2005-10-02T05:40:00.000+03:00

Made it to the airport and got a flight to Kuwait. A C-5A that was configured for half cargo and half passengers. I got a good seat that was not a fabric bench along the wall. Slept about 40 minutes of a 60 minute flight. Since our baggage was palletized, I did not have to carry it all around with me.
I am lugging two full duffle bags of stuff that I did not use at all, but have to turn back in, a large back pack, a helmet bag stuffed with my personal paperwork, books, etc. and my helmet and protective vest.
All my paperwork is in order, and the only problem was just standing in line waiting my time. I was purposefully the last in line, because I don't want to fly on the scheduled flight. That will delay me a week by just waiting. I want to go AF hop. I was last in line so that worker bee on the computer could spend time with me and not be concerned about holding up the line.
Only problem: wrong line. Got to the right line and the folks said that the Army really doesn't like us doing that, but if the AF will let me fly, they cannot stop me. To me that sounds like permission!
Waited for two and a half hours for the Air Force liaison to get back to her desk. Once there, she really could help. She could not get the flight call signs to register. She suggested that I just go to the airfield (hour+ bus ride) and sign up.
Took the bus that left at 2200. Finally unloaded at a bit past midnight.
Waited at the counter while folks drank coffee in the next room. Decided not to chase them down; don't want them upset with me. Finally got the answer that I wanted, "If the Army doesn't mind, we can fly you."
"The Army said that if the Air Force doesnt' mind, then I can go. So nobody minds, let's go home." They laughed and I am manifested for flight later in the day.
I get the priviledge of calling back to the staging area and telling them that I will not be returning to stay in the tent for the next week.

Trying to leave

2005-10-01T05:08:00.000+03:00

I am trying to leave this country....really I am. It just seems that there are not enough aircraft flying out of here with 1 empty seat that I can ride.
Had a great day visiting with my friends at 18th Airborne Corps Chaplains office. We drove to the airfield last night about 1000 (2200 hrs) to check a flight. The drive to the airport is only about 20 minutes max. The flight was cancelled. I once again pled my case, and was then informed that the airman had not looked closely enough at my paperwork. I was at the wrong counter. In a small tent/building with 8 desk/counters, you would think I could end up at the right counter, but NOOOO, I go to the wrong one. It really did not matter, there was nobody working at the counter where I needed to be, anyway.
Back to the office, where my hosts put me up on a fold out couch, sleeping bag and I have a shower/bathroom handy. I restart the effort later this morning.
Last night we changed to Daylight Savings time.
I was to be awakened at 0600 for a 0700 mosey from the office....but someone did not give the assistant good enough instructions. The knock came at 0500 instead. I was hoping to start adjusting my body clock to be back in the states, but did not want to start this morning....As it turned out, I got in a wonderful time of drinking coffee and visiting with Chaplain Tom MacGregor. We have been friends for 15 years now and I think the world of him. Great visit. Then to the airfield, again.

Getting out of town

2005-09-30T15:45:00.000+04:00

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

2005-09-29T17:21:00.000+04:00

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!

2005-09-29T07:06:00.000+04:00

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?

2005-09-29T07:00:00.000+04:00

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

2005-09-27T11:22:00.000+04:00

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

2005-09-27T11:04:00.000+04:00

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"

2005-09-24T21:53:00.000+04:00

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

2005-09-24T21:24:00.000+04:00

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

2005-09-19T18:14:00.000+04:00

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

2005-09-18T21:09:00.000+04:00

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

2005-09-18T20:25:00.000+04:00

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

2005-09-17T19:16:00.000+04:00

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

2005-09-13T17:51:00.000+04:00

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!

2005-09-13T15:37:00.000+04:00

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?

2005-09-13T08:45:00.000+04:00

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

2005-09-12T13:12:00.000+04:00

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

2005-09-12T07:07:00.000+04:00

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

2005-09-04T14:39:00.000+04:00

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?

2005-09-03T09:11:00.000+04:00

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

2005-09-03T06:55:00.000+04:00

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

2005-09-03T06:36:00.000+04:00

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?

2005-09-03T06:28:00.000+04:00

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

2005-09-02T07:52:00.000+04:00

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"

2005-09-02T07:41:00.000+04:00

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.

When will we have victory?

2005-08-30T16:52:00.000+04:00

Good question: hard answer.
In past wars, the time of victory was never uncertain. There was a surrender, a treaty, a capitulation of the vanquished. The moment in time could be noted on a calendar, photographed, annualized, and remembered. We could celebrate what became Veterans Day (the 11th day of the 11th month) for WWI, or V - E Day, V - J Day for WWII. Schwarzkopf sitting in a tent with Hussein’s Generals let us know that the ’91 liberation of Kuwait was complete.
But how will we know when this war in Iraq is complete?
Is it right to even call it a war? President Bush’s administration has declared a global war on terrorism, but the actual criteria for a war do not truly exist. This is a battle of ideological differences that is not defined by countries’ borders, uniforms or flags. That distinction is critical. There never will be a cessation of hostilities due to an agreement or peace signing ceremony. Ideology is not changed due to dominance of force.
Now what about IRAQ?
We could leave tomorrow and we would have accomplished our mission which was to overthrow Saddam. The pundits can postulate about WMD’s forever, but ultimately, the overthrow of Saddam was the true (hidden) objective and that was achieved. His regime had destabilized the entire region and that was unacceptable for our national objectives. Now that he is gone, the trouble we have is keeping the Former Regime Elements (FRE) and Foreign Fighters (FF) from reasserting itself. To remove our forces from the region would further destabilize the area. To stay longer will cost more lives and more money but the inevitable result will be stabilization of the region.
The administration has made many mistakes. Military and political thinkers agree on this point. The disagreement is no longer about why we got here, or what will we do next, but how do we get out? Should “peace with honor” be a part as it was in Vietnam? I don’t think that is the right question.
Last Sunday, one This Week on ABC, George Stephanopoulow interviewed Senator Joseph Biden, the ranking Democtrat on the Senate Foregin Relations Committee. Senator Biden insisted that the goal should be to get our troops out of Iraq as quickly as possible. I agree. He then goes on to insist that the President should hold to the “Pottery Barn rule” which is “you break it, you buy it” and the President has broken the pottery. He owns it.
But I wonder how you “break it” to begin with. Mistakes, yes. More difficult than expected, yes. But broken? What was it before there was justice, before there were elections, before the overthrow if not broken?
Biden continues that his solution is to first fire Rumsfeld. (I see that as vendictive, not helpful in any form). “Secondly, lay out specific terms, Mr. President, as to how many Iraqis you have to train, when you are training them, when you expect them to be trained, and when you expect to be able to draw down American forces so that we can judge whether or not you have a plan, Mr. President.”
Mr. Senator, you have no idea what you are talking about any more than you could have predicted that we could take boys from the farms and factories of the U.S. heartland in 1942 and form an army to fight WWII (which took two plus years). And in WWII we were talking about men who had been through the Great Depression, not who had been born and lived their entire lives in a regime of oppression and devastation.
The Iraqi soldiers of today and their police counterparts are incredibly brave people. Yet they also know that the only way to provide for their country and ultimately themselves is to join and fight. To stand in line to join puts their very lives at risk. But in an economy that has been in shambles for generations, they risk that to feed their children. [Saddam’s economy was simply to pay those who supported you and ignore the rest. Everyone who wanted to eat supported Saddam].

[Last week I spoke with a woman who said her friends join the military and the police because you can live with hungry children only so long. You have these options:
Live with hungry children that tears your heart out-
Join the military-
Join the police-
Join the terrorists- Those are your choices. She said, “I would sell myself rather than live with hungry children that cry all day long.” She is employed as a government worker and is grateful to have the job.]

So how can the President say how long it will take to raise an army and a police force? Should it be free from corruption? Should it be ready to defend its borders? Should it enforce the laws? Laws require a judicial system that is counter-supportive. That system has not been in place for 50 years. Should the police learn to live on their salary and not be subject to graft and kickbacks? That requires training a new way of thinking not just for the police, but for the citizens as well, who don’t trust the police.
Sending people to boot camp or a training center does not make them a competent police or military with a time line on completion, Mr. Senator.
It is easy to throw stones at mistakes. It is much more difficult to put a time line on learning how to live in a newly formed Democracy. Getting out is simple. Doing it right is painful. I think we would do well to do it right.

Sign the Constitution

2005-08-27T14:45:00.000+04:00

Sign the Constitution

We are still in the waiting game.
When will the Iraqis sign their new Constitution? Another day passes and another deadline goes with it.
But the real question is not “when” but the concern is about what will be in the document? I have had a chance to talk with some of the people that are very closely involved with the proceedings and them some who “think” that they are close.
I spoke with a man today who was very happy with how the progress was developing. “When did you read the draft?”
”About a month ago” was the reply.
I immediately knew that his review of the Connstitution was too outdated and that he had no idea what was still in it. This document goes bad quicker than fish in the sun. What was printed two days ago is already outdated.
I spoke with some members of the Department of State earlier this week. They were very concerned about the process. I cannot say too much, because who can say what the final document will look like. I know that the information flow back and forth has been at a frantic pace between the participants, the advisors, the advisors to the advisors and the Capital back in D.C.

What is the concern?
Main issues: “We have been disenfranchised for 35 years and we want what is rightfully ours.”
“We have been in charge for 35 years and you have no right to take what we have developed and accumulated for the last generation.”
“We don’t care what you do. We have the $-rich resources and we deserve to keep the money. You cannot take it and give it to others in the country, because it is under our dirt.”
Federal vs. State concerns….can the national government tell the local leaders how to manage their area? The local leaders (tribal warlords, etc.) have ruled for generations and see no reason to change just because outsiders tell them there is a new regime.

Part of the concern is that there is little concept of national pride in the sense that we as U.S. Citizens understand it. The loyalty of many Iraqis is first to their family. Inherent in the family loyalty is tribal loyalty. Beyond that is the loyalty to their neighborhood, their hometown mentality that has nurtured their tribe and family for generations. Beyond those borders, there is not much room for loyalty. Everything that you have is provided locally or arranged locally or consumed locally. Who needs national or international government? Once one gets far beyond Baghdad, that seems to be the prevalent thought process. So what purpose does a Constitution or an international agreement have for the locals?

“All politics is local” could be the ultimate slogan for most of Iraq. Many who are pushing from the outside to force a constitution would do well to be reminded of that. Our concept of Federalism and autonomous local governments has very little foundation in the thinking of Iraqi leadership.
Can we get it done? I think so, but we have to remember that “we cannot force our Western style into their Eastern mind.”

Hungarian holiday

2005-08-26T18:55:00.000+04:00

St. Stephen's Day was a great success for the Hungarian NATO Group. There are not a lot of them in country, but they are a great group of guys.
I showed up in plenty of time...I was told to "follow your nose" to the gulash. I was pinned with a minature Hungarian flag and enjoyed getting to meet new friends.

Part of the evening was a video display of Hungary and Budapest...beautiful country. Then came the recognition of the officers there who were celebrating their anniversary of commissioning date. When under the Communists, the leaders designated what had been "St. Stephen's Day" for generations, to "Constitution Day" and changed the religious holiday into the state holiday. This date became the day that all the military officers were commissioned. There were a dozen or so attending.
Then we all stood for the national anthem. This was not a march or martial song. The Hungarian national anthem sounded like a love song to a country. The CD played was of a 6 part harmony chorale that was fabulous. The music was enough to bring tears to your eyes.
Patriotism runs deep in the military serving in a foreign country.

The origin of St. Stephen's day also includes the "Blessing of the Bread." I had invited my good friend, Father Dennis Volmi to do the traditional blessing. Since many of the citizens of Hungary are Catholic, I thought it only right that he be asked to do the blessing. I assisted and the people were very appreciative.

The highlight of the evening was the food.
There was plenty and it was good. The gulash reminded me of a beef stew...tomatoes, onions, peppers, beef, and who knows what. Along with hot flat bread, this was a meal I could eat more than on holidays.

I stayed much too long, ate far too much, but it was one of those memorable evenings that taken in the context of a war zone and all of us being in a different land, we all had a wonderful time.

"You type, I'll write"

2005-08-26T18:34:00.000+04:00

There are many Iraqis working to establish their country that still don't trust technology. (Same could be said of our folks, too). I was talking to one of our folks who works downtown with one of the directorates in the Iraqi Government. She said that getting people to commit information to a computer is very difficult. The fear is that the information will be lost. You cannot trust electrons. They are afraid that when the screen closes, the info is gone. Backup disks are difficult to fathom. To turn off the computer is unthinkable, but when there is only 3 hours of electricity on some days, getting the generator turned on at the right time is difficult.
So the solution? When one person types at the computer, the assistant sits beside them and copies everything that is written onto a notebook. Which of the two is more important? The one doing the writing. That person is the one with the power, because the book is the final authority of what work is done.

Don't pick up the backpack

2005-08-24T10:53:00.000+04:00

We are always told to never pick up packages or backpacks that are abandoned or have nobody around them. The bag could be a bomb. Call for security. They will cordon the area, move all the people to a safe distance, call in the bomb sniffing dogs, do whatever is needed to get the bomb disarmed or blown up.
We had a controlled detonation this morning. Nobody will ever say if what was blown up was bomb or just a forgotten box.
A few weeks ago there was a flurry of activity at the front of the Palace. The morning had started with a lot of VIP's in the area. That always means escort officers, security, armored vehicles and all the "stuff" that goes with that. Less than half an hour after all the vehicles had left, there was an announcement over the loud speaker ("voice of God") that everyone in the front of the embassy must move immediately to the rear of the embassy for their own safety until a suspicious backpack is disarmed....
I am sure that in the flurry of departure, one of the aides or security details of one of the VIP's left his pack leaning against the vehicle. Once the VIP gets in the vehicle, then everyone runs like a Chinese Firedrill to get to their assigned seat in the surrounding vehicles, doors slam, tires squeal and off they go in a cloud of dust....very dramatic...totally inane, and senseless. Only this time, someone forgot to pick up his backpack.
An hour after everyone vacated the front of the building, the dogs had been called, the EOD (bomb squad) came, the loud speaker announced that it was safe to return to work. No bomb, but I bet there were fireworks at someone's workstation later that day.
This morning was a pleasand breakfast with a couple of my friends. I had just enough time for my food and a bit of conversation before heading back to a scheduled phone call. Then I saw the backpack. The black bag was leaning against the counter underneath the toaster. I am sure that it was not there when I sat down a few minutes earlier. Someone set it there while they toasted their bagel and forgot. I pointed it out to the folks at the table. But should I leave it? If the "wrong" person saw it, the dining facility would be emptied, dogs called.....breakfast missed by a lot of people. But what if???
I sat for a full minute staring and watching others walk by it, nobody noticed, nobody claimed it.
Then I decided to resolve the problem. I went for the bag, brought it to the table and announced that I was going to find out whose it was. I unzipped the top. Why was I nervous if I was sure that there was not a problem? Because two days ago, I had read some of the report of the Mosul Dining Facility bombing earlier this year.
Socks and underwear. Side pocket had chemlights, a flashlight, a strobe light. Other side pocket had a waterbottle. Nothing harmful yet. The back zipper held ammo. Light rifle ammo in plastic speed loaders. One of my buddies was right. He had announced that one of those "!#$! PSD's forgot his load."
I zipped up the bag and held it overhead and announced, "Who recognizes this bag?"
Heads turn, then shake....
Next group of tables...same response.
Third group of tables. Before I finished the question, fingers pointed at now a red faced guy in civies. He was the culprit. Everyone at the table knew I had saved their buddy's butt. He was very apologetic. I was very relieved.
Back to breakfast.

Where I'll be tonight

2005-08-20T12:24:00.000+04:00

Tonight is the celebration of St. Stephen's Day in Hungary. I have been asked to bless the first loaf of bread of the harvest season. This is a tradition that goes back over 1,000 years to the establishing of Hungary as a nation under King Stephen. It seems to be a combination of what we would regard as the 4th of July and Thanksgiving together. The Hungarian UN contingent has asked me to join them for the celebration of the blessing of the bread followed by their traditional gulash. Some of the men started cooking pots of it on open fires two days ago just outside my trailer. I stop in the evenings and visit with them and smell the cooking.

The men start gathering around the fire as soon as the first can get away from work. They cut the vegetables and tell stories and laugh as they cook the gulash. They have been there the last two nights well past midnight. I don't know how late they stay, but I am sure that quality food must take a long time.
I am looking forward to another cross cultural adventure this evening.

Baghdad Regatta Raft Team

2005-08-20T12:12:00.000+04:00

Last night was our "once in a while" regatta team competition. This is an occasional competition sponsored by Morale-Welfare-Recreation folks and they generate a lot of interest and fun for the evening.
With all the water we drink and all the water bottles that are left, someone decided to host a water bottle raft competition. This has evolved into the regatta. Each team has six members and one raft. One member must ride the raft from one end of the swimming pool to the other. Then a second member, who is prepositioned at the other end, gets on with the first member and the two of them ride back to the starting point. The other four members are the propulsion system for the raft. The raft must be composed of only plastic water bottles and duct tape (100 mile an hour tape for the military).

There were five yachts entered. The smallest, puniest floating board won the race, but there was also competition for best design and best working raft. The best working did not work well if that is an indication of what else is involved....I think that bribery had something to do with it.
One was named "taxpayer's dollars" entered by some Embassy workers. Another, titled "Last Minute" boasted of "203 bottles, 320 yards of tape."
A great time. Lots of people at the pool and $100 to the winning team.

Who Dressed You?

2005-08-19T21:31:00.000+04:00

One thing about the military, we are Uniform! That is the whole meaning of the word....all alike. There are complaints about the uniformity and sometimes the lack of such. Articles to the editor in the Stars and Stripes complains about the uniform police who insist on making on the spot corrections to improper uniform wear such as placing one's sunglasses on the top of their head. We are issued a sunglasses strap to keep them secure, but the strap is unauthorized while in uniform. We are not allowed to wear anything except the uniform and to hang the sunglasses strap around the neck and let the glasses dangle out of the way is not authorized. The bottom line is that we regard the uniform police as someone with way too much time on their hands and a missed recognition that we are in a war zone.
But the greatest miswear of clothes had to be a civilian flying on a helicopter with me the other day. She was cute, long brown hair, nice short sleeved knit top. Not very conducive to wearing body armor on top of the knit outfit. But the pants, as nice and probably as expensive as they were did not match the environment. I don't think I have seen anyone get on a helicopter in a war zone wearing tight, hot pink pants. Not that she was not noticed, but the comments were not favorable. The pants were topped only by the wooden soled, open toed sandals she wore. Somebody should help her get dressed.

Christians in Iraq

2005-08-19T15:56:00.000+04:00

There are Christians in Iraq. They have a rich and deep history here and have had for generations. There is seldom a Sunday that goes by that some do not attend the Chapel services here at the Embassy.
But, yes, in much of Iraq (all?) there is much persecution. Many Christians have left the country rather than risk the purging that appears in so many areas.
One web site that was shown to me recently is Christians in Iraq. This gives a very good insight into what is taking place in some areas.

Carnage, Anger and Grief

2005-08-19T15:37:00.000+04:00

In yesterday's Washington Post, foreign service writers, Ellen Knickmeyer and Khalid Saffar wrote about the anger and grief being demonstrated in Baghdad. This is a very good sign. Yesterday's attack seemed unusually brutal. Vehicle borne bombs were placed at strategic distances at a police station and a crowded bus terminal to gain the greatest damage. Then secondary explosions detonated in front of the hospitals where the wounded were being taken for emergency care. The national news made an unusual decision as a result. The television programming was interrupted to show the grief of the families as they discovered their loved ones were dead or wounded. People at the explosion sites called the television stations to tell of their anger at the bombings that seem to never end.
Moqtada Sadr is the cleric leader of one of the most heinous groups of terrorists. "We put responsibility on the occupation forces," said one of his spokesmen. But the people are not buying that line any more. You cannot blame the "occupation forces" for blowing up their own people. National outrage and anger is what is needed to stop the insurgency and the terrorists. This is not a coalition battle or a fight for freedom from occupation. The terrorists are hiding behind a flimsy disguise of patriotism and loyalty and yet are destroying the very people they claim to defend and support.
When the Iraqi people have had enough, they will denounce the charade that poses as religious leadership and pull down the false leaders. It will take time, but anger here is a good thing today.

What the Constitutional fight is about

2005-08-18T12:21:00.000+04:00

This is an excerpt from an article by Reuters, with some additions from me and some editing. I think that this is a good overview of what the Constitutional fight is over....strong emotions, money, power, the regular thing.
Talking to one of my Irai friends helped me understand that much is a redistribution of power and resources since the fall of Saddam. Those who had been "out" of government control for the last 30 years want to get what they think should rightfully be theirs. Those who have been "in" power do not want to give it up, even though they are a minority in number and the power base was supported only by terror and power, rather than common consent. The Kurds, long despised and wanting their own country, have great resources. The fight over how much Islam should pay a part, how to decide who rules and even what the name of the new country. Did you know that the legislators might change the name of the country?

[I included some of my thoughts and explanations in brackets.]
Enjoy:
BAGHDAD, Iraq (Reuters) — Following are the main points of dispute in talks over Iraq's permanent constitution, which a 71 -member panel is aiming to complete.
The main groups in the debate are
1) Shi'ite Muslim Arabs, who form around 60 percent of Iraq's population;
2) Minority Sunni Arabs, who lost their dominant position under Saddam Hussein after the U.S.-led invasion of 2003; and
3) Ethnic Kurds -- mostly Sunnis -- who already enjoy autonomy in northern Iraq.

FEDERALISM - Kurds have been the most vocal in arguing for a strongly decentralized federal state that would safeguard their gains in three provinces in northern Iraq. Sunni Arabs, who see themselves as the historical glue for Iraqi unity, have resisted federalism as a ruse for eventual Kurdish independence.
Shi'ite religious leaders have blown hot and cold on such decentralization. Some now suggest that the Shi'ite regions of the south should also form a "federated region".
Iraq's transitional administrative law (TAL), signed in March 2004, allows any three of the 18 provinces the right to form an autonomous region. There is argument over whether that provision should be changed to make forming regions harder.
[this is not too different than some of the considerations that led to the struggle between states’ rights and federal rights that led to the Civil War].

ISLAM - Secularists, U.S. officials and a host of liberal lobby groups, the most prominent of which have been women activists, are fighting to water down references to Islam in defining the new Iraq.
Shi'ite clerics had originally argued for Iraq to be named an "Islamic republic", like Shi'ite Iran, with Islamic law -- presumably Shi'ite for Shi'ites and Sunni for Sunnis, though this was not spelled out -- specified as the sole source of law. Secularists fear that if Islam is the sole source of law, as opposed to simply a source, parliament or local government could enact laws or regulations that deny women equal inheritance rights, [women can only inherit ½ of what their brothers would inherit], restrict their rights in divorce [only men can initiate divorce proceedings] or impose dress codes.
Women also want to ensure they have the right to pass on their Iraqi nationality to their children, which is not an available right at this point.

ARABS - Sunni Arabs have pushed for Iraq to be defined as an Arab state that is part of the "Arab nation", a loaded term linked to pan-Arab nationalism, including that espoused by the Baath party of Saddam Hussein. Shi'ites, keen to establish their distance from non-Arab Iran, have been sympathetic, though perhaps not overly concerned. Non-Arab Kurds have fought for softer alternatives, such "Arab world" or "Arab surroundings".

RESOURCES - Sunnis are keen for central government in Baghdad to have control over all or the majority of the country's oil revenues. Iraq's huge oil reserves are located around Basra in the south and Kirkuk in the north -- another spur for Kurds and Shi'ites to favor federalism. Sunnis fear being left in the middle with a rump state big on Arab nationalist slogans, but bereft of resources.

KIRKUK - Since Iraqi Kurdistan is already an autonomous region, the drafting committee is faced with deciding where the borders of its three provinces are and what proportion of their revenues can be retained for local use without passing through the central government in Baghdad.
The north oil city of Kirkuk, just outside present-day Kurdistan, is an emotive issue because the Kurds consider it their ancestral capital and resent the forced settlement of Arabs during Saddam Hussein's rule. Arabs say it is an Arab city and Turkish-speaking ethnic Turkmen say it is by rights theirs.
The TAL specifies that issues involving Kirkuk cannot be settled until after a census in the area is held, property claims are resolved and a permanent Iraqi constitution is ratified. However, Kirkuk as a symbol of Iraq's divisions is overhanging many of the discussions over the constitution.

Is it clear now? How hard can that this be????

In Memory: Thomas Strickland

2005-08-17T18:45:00.000+04:00

Numbers are more than just digits on a page. When they represent casualties, they are people. These people are the sons and daughters of our country; the brothers and sisters we will never see get old. They are the future and hope of our nation who give the ultimate sacrifice so that those whom they do not even know will savor the taste of freedom. They live in memoriam for generations yet unborn.
This is Thomas Strickland. He died along with two other fellow soldiers in his unit this past week in Iraq.

One of the faithful readers of the blog brought this loss to my attention. Sergeant Strickland is one of the best friends of their nephew.
This photo was the only one posted of an individual soldier this week in the daily photo update I receieve. Many photos are sensational and graphic. Some pictures are of the rebuilding and the political side of the growth of this new democracy. We very seldom get photos of the personal side of the US military who pay the highest price. When the numbers become numbing, it is appropriate to put a face with the figures and be reminded that they represent what can be the very best of sacrifice in us and the very worst in cruelty and destruction.

I am continually reminded of Lincoln's Gettysburg Address. His words those many years ago reverberate with the truth....
"a new nation: conceived in liberty..."
"dedicated to the proposition that all men are created equal..."
"it can never forget what they did here..."
"for us to be here dedicated to the great task remaining before us..."
"they gave the last full measure of devotion..."
"that these dead shall not have died in vain..."

May it be so.

Riding the Rhino

2005-08-17T07:06:00.000+04:00

$275,000 for a truck seems like a lot of money. But when the truck runs “the most dangerous highway in the world,” I think that the money is well spent especially if I am riding in it!
I rode the Rhino last night to get back to the IZ from Camp Victory. Since the Rhinos started their late night rides (during the hours of the Baghdad Curfew), nobody has been injured riding in a Rhino. That is a good safety record. The only problem is that riding at night makes for a long and painful night for me.
Senator John McCain was on FOX news the other day. He stated that he thought that Iraq would be safe when he could land at Baghdad International Airport on any given day, get into an unarmored car and drive to the International Zone without concern or incident. We are not at that point, yet. The road is still dangerous.
"Riding the Rhino" was the title of an article in The Army Times from May 30 ’05 that gave a good description of what was involved in getting from there to here. The article described the 14 minute trip as “uneventful” and that is surely the truth...

When my NCO and I went to the sign up desk, there was another soldier standing to the side. I can spot a newcomer by the look in his eyes. He reminds me of the Basic Trainees I worked with back at Ft. Bliss. They don’t blink their eyes very often. They stand wide-eyed and search for anything that could be familiar or comfortable. While I stood in line, he mouthed the words, “Do you have any ammo?”
“What?” I asked.
“Do you have any ammo?”
“No, I am a chaplain. Why do you need ammo now?” I stepped out of the line to visit with him for a minute. I could tell that he was very anxious.
“Haven’t you heard the shooting going on outside? They have not issued me any ammo, yet. Said that I would get it when I got to my unit. But I need it now.”
“We’ll see.” To be honest, I had not heard any shots, but maybe I was just not listening. After I signed up for the ride, I went back outside. Sure enough, there was shooting going on. Not too far away, but I knew what it was. No overhead helicopters flying providing support. No hand grenades. Only one type of weapon being fired. All the shots coming at the same time. Now I know: firing range for our soldiers. Night firing exercise. Nothing to worry about.
I went back inside and found the solder. He was sitting down. That was a good sign. I placed my hand on his knee for assurance. You don’t need to worry. The shooting you were hearing is from our U.S. firing range. If it were a real firefight, there would be helicopters and heavy weapons. What you were hearing is night firing training. You won’t need any ammunition tonight. He exhaled deeply. I trust that he believed me and trusted that this would be a quiet night. It was a long night, but it was quiet.
Now I just need the next day to sleep in….

Interesting Mass today

2005-08-14T22:42:00.000+04:00

I went to Catholic mass today. My good buddy, Dennis Volmi, is the priest. He is a delight to be around and the services have increased in number and fervor since he arrived a couple of months ago.

The text for the homily this afternoon was taken from Matthew 15. In the passage, Jesus refuses ministry to a “foreigner” until she persuades him through her persistence to give her “the scraps from the table.” Dennis explained that perhaps this was the time when Jesus expanded his ministry and sphere of influence to include those who were not like Him, those outside the Jewish realm. Dennis’ conclusion centered around the belief that we should all look beyond our normal sphere of influence and comfort to include all of God’s created people to embrace them as well.

We had dinner together afterward. He commented on how many people come to the chapel service and sit with tears coming down their cheeks as the liturgy is read and the service is conducted. I notice it often during our songs and prayers. I wrote of this in an earlier blog. Dennis had a Colonel hug him after the service “almost hard enough to crack my ribs,” he said. He had red eyes from the tears. He admitted to Dennis that “this is the only place where I can come and cry and not be ashamed.” The pressure some of our people are under is immense and I think that chapel, for some, has become a true sanctuary.

I was struck by the diversity of those who helped Dennis with the service. We don’t have altar boys (although this war is fought by young people, they are not altar boy age). One altar server was a Sergeant with a combat patch on his right sleeve. This is not his first tour in a battle zone. The other was Captain with Ranger tab, 101st Air Assault Division patch on his sleeve and a pistol in its shoulder holster. For serving communion, the volunteers included civilian contractors in khakis, military-white, Hispanic, and Black in DCU’s, civilians and a KBR who works in our dining facility who is from India and wore his blue baseball hat through the whole service, because the ball cap is part of his uniform.

There were no foreigners there in one sense…we were all pilgrims together….caring, praying, worshipping.

What is worth dying for?

2005-08-14T22:38:00.000+04:00

Or is Cindy Sheehan really that wrong?

One of the folks that I work around was angry the other day. The office was all busy working at their stations, headphones on to provide their own background noise. Then the Colonel announced, “Everyone give me your attention. We need to have an office meeting.” That announcement is usually met with immediate thoughts of, “here we go again, hearing pronouncements about what should happen….hardly a meeting, more of a diatribe.”
Yet this one was different.
“What do all of you think of Cindy Sheehan? You know, the mother camped out in front of President Bush’s house in Texas. The one upset her son was killed here in Iraq. You, Major, what do you think?” And the discussion began.
I would venture to say that any of us here in the Palace that have watched any of the television news or checked the internet, are familiar with Cindy Sheehan….The soldiers on patrol don’t get cable news and seldom read the papers. They just do their mission…

The greatest heartbreak and most horrific nightmare of any parent would have to be the pain of burying their children. When I have performed funerals for children, that topic is one of my themes. Parents should not have to bury their children….children should bury their parents after a long and full life. That idea leads into the second theme of the funeral…we cannot count on any certain number of days.

Cindy Sheehan has experienced one of those tragedies. She has buried her firstborn. Casey was killed in Iraq last year by an IED. Mrs. Sheehan now wants to talk to the President to demand an explanation of why her son died. She is convinced that he died not for the Iraqi people’s freedom and for democracy, but for oil.

I think that only history will write the final chapter on the Iraqi move toward democracy. It is certain that Mrs. Sheehan will not write it. She and her supporters, who stand against all U.S. involvement will not, should not, have the final voice in what our country’s determination in Southwest Asia will involve.

Mrs. Sheehan says that the Iraqi people are now “much worse off than before we meddled in their country.” I wonder how she determined that? Are there 14 year old girls regularly kidnapped on their way home from school by Saddam’s two sons’ henchmen for their pleasure and then murdered? Are chemical weapons deployed against their own countrymen? Can she uncover mass graves with hundreds of victims that have been murdered since we arrived? Has she talked to the people on the street who say, “Thank you for being here?” I think not….

There is still murder, brutality, injustice and in some places there is virtual anarchy. But that is not the result of our being here. That is the result of an oppressive regime’s absence and an interim before the grassroots justice and law is established in a land that has known neither for a generation. The bad guys are not us, Mrs. Sheehan. The bad guys are everywhere, including our own country. They just have the leeway here to wreak their havoc more often. The Iraqi people are sick of it, too. They want peace even more than they can express. They know that it is not us who are doing the killing, it is those whose whole purpose in life is anarchy and destruction.

Mrs. Sheehan is a mother. She knows that you cannot have peace in a household until you kids to stop fighting. That is peacemaking. Then comes peacekeeping. The peacemaking is happening, but there are still more coming into the country every day that want to destroy. Until the Iraqi people can stand up and stop the fighting themselves and trust the courts to be fair, then the fighting continues. Our goal is to make the peace last as best we can until the people can keep the peace themselves.

Our government has made no secret that we will leave as soon as the “kids stop fighting.” Our goal is not to rule, overrule, dominate, or intimidate anyone here except those that are fighting. When they stop, we leave. There are plans to leave. We are ready to leave. It is up to the Iraqis to help us leave by stopping the fighting.

Our government has made no secret that the outcome of this conflict will not be settled on the battlefield. This is not a conventional war that will be won on military might. This is a battle between those who want justice in their land and those who want anarchy. Elections, public servants, police, and common citizens will win this conflict. We in the military are here to keep the kids from fighting until the people can grow into a democracy.

Mrs. Sheehan, I am truly sorry that your son was killed. I have no idea the pain that a mother experiences at such a time. But I wonder if your anger is directed at this conflict for democracy or if you are just angry. Mrs. Sheehan, what fight would you allow your son to die for? Afghanistan? Is that a noble fight for democracy? Or how about the fight in Somalia with the Rangers and 10th Mountain Division? How about Lebanon with the 220+ Marines killed in Beirut in a barracks bombing? How about going down in a Pennsylvania field on 9-11 or in the twin towers or the Pentagon? People died in each of these and hundreds more examples of great Americans whose blood was spilt on the ground and whose mothers got the knock at the door and a visit of condolence. Good and noble people and soldiers and sons in each. How do we decide which are noble and which are not? Can you say that you draw the line and decide who died needlessly or who died worthily?

Maureen Dowd, of the New York Times, says that “the moral authority of parents who bury children killed in Iraq is absolute.” I don’t think that I even understand what she means. These parents cannot lay claim to any absolute moral authority any more than any other person can. I think they can lay claim to grief and anger and hurt and, for Mrs. Sheehan, perhaps misplaced vengeance at times. We all have our soapboxes (this blog is mine). But none of us have a moral absolute. You may have grief, but you have no context of historical or cultural perspective of what is happening here. You have a desire for vengeance, but you have no voice with us who are in theater. You hurt, and you cry, and you are angry and you have every right to all of those emotions. But don’t tell us that what we do is a lie or that we sacrifice for nothing. You don’t know what you are talking about. You do not know what you are doing.....sorry.

Please go home.

What do you miss?

2005-08-10T19:41:00.000+04:00

One of the conversations I hear on occasion is the “what do you miss?” question. The first time that I heard the question, I was at a local Iraqi restaurant. [Note: That particular restaurant, my absolute favorite, has since been put ‘off limits’ because a group of people eating there one evening all got sick. Well, let the buyer beware! The water here is not potable. The restaurants wash all their produce in water that we are not supposed to drink and any prepared chicken should be considered suspect. That should be interpreted, “don’t order chicken and don’t eat freshly washed produce. If you want that food, eat it in the military dining facility. Only order meat that can be cooked thoroughly and eat only cooked veggies, etc.” This is still a foreign country but some Americans don’t get it]...back to the story... This particular evening the question played was “what do you miss?” One of the guys said that what he missed most was “fountain drinks.” We all have certain things that we miss that makes home special for us, and for this guy, he missed fountain drinks most of all. We all thought that was a rather unusual item to miss.
Yesterday, the local Imam had our Religious Support Team over to his house for lunch. What a spread.

This, however, was a conflict of culture. When I grew up, I was told to always clean my plate at the table. The Iraqis are always told to make sure that the guest’s plate is never empty. Who will win that culture war? The Iraqis. There is always way too much food for us to eat. We could have had triple the guests and still had food left over.
After the meal, the Imam asked one of the chaplains what he missed most being here in Iraq.
“What I miss most is rain” was the answer.
“But it is summer here. You cannot have rain now.”
“Oh, yes. There is rain in the summer where I come from. I am from Connecticut and we have rain during the summer.”
“How can you have rain in the summer?” the Imam asked. “If it rained, the water would be so hot that the trees and the grass would die from the hot water. You can only have rain in the winter.”
Our interpreter had to explain to the Imam that in Connecticut, the summer is not as hot as here in Iraq. The weather was much cooler…we tried to do quick calculations and convert Fahrenheit to Celsius to explain that nothing in the Northeast US was as hot as here in Iraq. The concept of rain in the summer was a completely new concept to the man. Rain is reserved for the winter. That is when the people know that winter is close...rain falls.
“Then does it rain in the winter, too?”
“No, then it snows.”

$2 a month, plus tips

2005-08-07T21:50:00.000+04:00

How can one best describe the corruption that has plagued Iraq for the past 35 years? The entire generation of everyone under 50 has been part of a culture of corruption. But how does it work? How does one live in a culture of corruption and not become corrupt?
I got something of an insight by talking to one of the Iraqis that has befriended me.
Probably the best way to explain how the system works is to compare the wages to how we pay waiters and waitresses in the States. The wait staff usually is paid minimum wage and the rest of their salary is made by tips, the “donations” paid by the patrons. The tips may not always be fair or equitable or even appreciated, but that is how we do business. The same type of wage scale can be imported to the Iraqi civil servant and public officer positions. My Iraqi friend’s wife is a doctor. Her state paid salary was $2 a month. “No one can live on $2 a month,” he explained. “So what happens is that everyone is paid extra for what they do. If you want a paper from the court house, then the paper is free…f you want it next week. If you want it in a few days, then you pay them what you think it will take to have them get the paper in a few days. If you want it right away, then you pay much more. That is how business works.”
A doctor had to work the same way. I can see you, but the tests may take a while. I know you need this treatment, but it may take a while to get you in. All of those approaches are an invitation for the patient to offer a way to present a gift for the help. No gift; no help. The money machine was just a merry go round of dinars being passed from one person to another. Everyone was paying off the next person who paid the next and so on.
So the only way to make a living working in the public sector in Iraq was by “tips.” Merchants made their living by the price of their goods. People in the service sector made money by people paying them off. Police were paid $2 a month. They made their living by offering “protection” to the merchants in the area, like our mobsters are reputed to do. So a well paid policeman was one who had the community under his thumb. Add to that scenario, the only acceptable sign of power (according to Saddam) was force and brutality. The police were brutal to maintain their power and extorted to maintain their lifestyle. Now for someone to join the police force requires a lot of indoctrination to convince them that they will be paid enough to live on and that extortion and protection money are not part of the new Iraq.
Some police officers have walked off the job when they were not paid. I think that there was a combination of frustrations involved. Joining the police force was an act of bravery for many of the recruits have been targets of the foreign fighters who would bomb police stations. Then the police were not paid on time by the government, and yet the government would not allow them to extort or strong arm the populace. How could they make any money? So they walked.
Part of the struggle also involves getting the court system up and running. The courts are hesitant to prosecute people for doing what has been done for generations. Murder is one thing. Strong arming the merchant for a few bucks is different. Should we throw all the public servants in jail? Can’t do that. It will be hard to retrain and reorient a new generation on how to live honorably and justly when there is not a template to follow.

The New Look

2005-08-05T13:15:00.000+04:00

My wife just laughed when I said that I was thinking about shaving my head. Why not? There are others here that do. I don’t plan on having any significant photos taken of me while in country. After she stopped laughing, she said, “Sure, why not? You will have time to grow it out before you return.” (I have two months) So I shaved, but kept the moustache. Here is the result.

My hair was so short (and receding) before I shaved that I don’t think a lot of people have noticed. Either that or I am not as important in their eyes as I thought I was.
I promised not to die until my hair grows out. I have always hoped to leave a good looking body and with the minimum I have to work with now, I need the help.
I am standing at the rear hatch of an armored truck used to transport soldiers around. I love the question posted at the top of the door.

Birthday Party

2005-08-05T13:06:00.000+04:00

Sometimes having a slice of home is a wonderful break from the daily job. I had such a chance this past week. Our translator, bodyguard, good friend and local culture expert had us over to his home for a special meal and the 11th birthday of his youngest daughter.
Because of the sensitive nature of his work, I have decided to digitally change his face for security.

Our guy is a wonderful man with five delightful daughters and two beautiful grandchildren. The meal was 14 separate dishes served buffet style….all traditional Iraqi food. Even when we took the smallest amount, the plates were overloaded before we reached the end of the table.

Lamb was the primary meat, but if one wanted chicken, then you got a ¼ chicken, choice of baked in flavoring. Baked, stuffed peppers with rice and lamb stuffing: or baked stuffed tomatoes: or baked, stuffed onions: or baked, stuffed egg plant: or baked, stuffed more….My favorite was the lamb and okra served in a flavored tomato sauce, or maybe the shredded lamb in spice sauce, but really the baked chicken was excellent, or maybe the stuffed tomatoes….I realize that my PT program will not keep up with my Par-Ty program at this rate.

That's a truck!

2005-08-02T21:46:00.000+04:00

This is the greatest way to travel in Baghdad right now. This is the Rava! What a truck. If you want a vehicle that will turn heads, ride in this. Even sitting in the parking lot, it gets a lot of attention. That is where I found these two and took the pictures. While taking photos, others stopped and stood by me to take their pics. There are not a lot of them in country, but when they arrived, there was a notice in the morning BUA about their arrival.

Dual gun turrets and hatches on top. Full armor all around. The only door is a hatch in the back that is like the one on the back of our armored personnel carriers (M-113’s and Bradley Fighting Vehicles). The small discs on the window are firing ports. The machine is massive. This is the ultimate testosterone set of wheels.
I purposely kept the Ford SUV in the picture so that you can see the height and size contrast to a full sized US SUV. I don’t know if the ecologists and tree huggers would approve of such a thing, but I hope they don’t stand in front and try to stop one. The driver would scarcely feel the bump under the tires.

Typing with a hammer

2005-08-02T15:02:00.000+04:00

I think that one of the most critical skills that a staff officer must develop is how to type. Typing quickly and accurately is essential. Not all have this skill. One person I work around is continually complaining about the number of emails that he receives. Those who know him just laugh.
"I had over 24 emails this morning." "When I came back from being gone for a day and I have 62 emails to answer."
We laugh. Many in our jobs have emails in the dozens before lunch and I have gotten over two hundred in a busy day back at Ft. Drum....and that was before lunch. If one doesn't stay on it, it can be a short time until there are drowning sounds coming from the office.
The problem with the complaining officer is that he cannot type quickly. I watched him one day (I got caught up quickly 'cause I can type). He types with three fingers and a thumb. Slowly. The problem is not the number of emails, but also that he is a very deliberate, exacting typist. NO mistakes, wording is perfect, and phrasing is exact. Watching the process would be painful if it were not so funny to us who watch and hear the complaining about how he can never get caught up.

In the SOC we see the same thing. There are some who type very well...very quickly.
Then there is LOWTH, one of the British officers. He truly hammers the keys. When he types during our morning briefing (which is allowed, but not really appropriate), his three fingered hammering on the keyboard can be heard for rows around. I mentioned this to one of the guys at the pool the other night who also works in the SOC. He knew immediately who I was talking about. He laughed. We both wondered how long a keyboard will last under the pounding and if there is some type of dubious honor for beating up a certain number of keyboards during a tour here...Battle damage comes in all kinds and styles. Another Brit joined Lowth one evening to work on a project together. They sat at adjoining computers and the racket was so loud that some people left the room because they could no longer concentrate.
We surmise that the two must have learned to type on a tired manual typewriter that required some serious pressure to activate the keys. They have not adapted their style to the "new" electronic age.
They get the job done, but I think they must stay late...

Should we send them home early?

2005-08-02T15:01:00.000+04:00

One of the more interesting parts of my job is not even in my job description. That is the counseling part of being a chaplain. As a “strategic planner” I have been put in a position where the actual “ministry” is done by another chaplain element here in the I-Z. The Joint Area Support Group is responsible for providing the religious and spiritual care to the folks here. I cover a bit, but not that much.
Unfortunately, the chaplain who is supposed to be doing the work here in the IZ is extremely incompetent in his position as a senior leader. There is not a doubt that he wants to do the right thing and cares for the people, but in the words of an earlier supervisor, “his administrative skills are still developing.”
Because of his inability to function in his position, I have picked up some of the splash over. Even people in his unit that have known him for years (maybe that is not a good thing) don’t want to see him, and they come to me.
I enjoy counseling; believe that I am rather competent and have the time to do it. My being upset with this other chaplain is that his inability increases the stress and workload of those around him.
A number of months ago some officers came to see me because they were very concerned about one of their fellow officers. This particular Major was acting in such a bizarre manner, that the others around her were concerned about suicide/homicide/etc. issues. Would I talk to her, and then have the command send her home?
I talked. She talked. She seemed to be handling the war as best she could. I could not say that she was a danger to herself or to others. She may have lapses or spurts of bizarre behavior according to those around her, but I could not make a recommendation that the command send her home early. One of the concerns that troubles commanders is that if you start sending people home early, there may be a M.A.S.H.-inspired, Max Klinger syndrome develop in the unit. Others ask “what do I have to do to go home?” and then act out and go home. Once that door is open it is hard to close. We monitored the officer…watched closely….held our collective breath…waited….then put the entire unit on a plane when it was their time to return and they all went home together, safely.
Recently, a senior sat in my office and cried when he talked about his marriage ending. He was not suicidal or dangerous at any level. He just could not sleep, was distracted and unfocused at work. The General officer for whom he works talked to him about his lack of focus and the officer explained that his marriage was over. After consideration of all the factors, the General decided to send him home in two days. The officer’s tour was cut short and he was on a plane right away.
Two situations. Two different answers. Which commander was right? They both were. Thankfully.

Chaplains are not immune to the struggles of being here in the war zone. Our most famous “walk off” was written about extensively during the push to Baghdad in 2003. The Chaplain just got tired, and hitched a ride to the Baghdad International Airport and decided that he was going to hop on the next available flight back to the states. He just told his assistant, “I am sorry. I am going home.” He did not go home right away. He got the help that he needed. Battle stress can do that to the very finest. Having a reporter embedded with the unit brought that situation to the forefront. I think that is a good thing. It reminds us all that battles are not fought and paid for by machines, but by people.
Recently, a chaplain returned from R&R in the States. After returning for the final six months of his tour here, he just announced to the Senior Chaplain that he could not do it any more and was going home. How would one “force” a chaplain to minister, to be competent, to be effective? One cannot do that. Perhaps in another time and place, the chaplain could be set aside for a while, given some administrative duties or told to relax and stand down. Here in Iraq, the Chaplaincy is spread so thin that there is no one to do your job. Either you do it, or it does not get done. The second part is that we cannot requisition another chaplain. All the slots are filled that we can fill. To get a new chaplain in theater, one must go home. The command decided that this one would go home so another could be tagged to replace him. Good decision for all involved. The chaplain went home, turned in his equipment, got out of the Army and went back to his home town. We may not all come home as heroes, but I trust that we all come home alive.

Temperature check

2005-08-02T09:51:00.000+04:00

Our intranet has the daily temperature range listed for the next three days. There is also a small icon next to the temperature range to let you know what the day will be like:
3-Day Forecast
High Low

Tuesday 113° 86°

Wednesday 114° 78°

Thursday 116° 79°

I could not get the icons to transfer to the blog (I know there must be a way, but I am not going to learn it).
The icon for Tuesday and Wednesday was a bright sun.
On Thursday, the icon was the word HOT in red.
Who decided that at 114 degrees, it was "sunny" but at 116 degrees it is "HOT?"
I think that the meterologist could stamp HOT across the whole month of August.

In Kuwait, the temperature is 15 to 20 degrees HOTTER!

Man Camp

2005-07-28T16:11:00.000+04:00

This is a picture of one of the camps where the guys live.
One of the most obvious things is to notice the heavy security against indirect fire (mortars and rockets). Every trailer is surrounded by sandbags and concrete walls. Our engineers did their best to preserve the palm trees...wish our contractor had been as careful in our subdivision in North Carolina! I am not even sure that I could find this place if I had to....On one of my flights, I could see the camp in the distance, aimed my camera and took the shot. There are lots of camps around filled with coalition folks, contractors, military, civilian, support personnel.

Sleeping on the roof

2005-07-28T16:01:00.000+04:00

This picture is taken flying over the outskirts of Baghdad. The river in the background is the Tigris. It is easy to pick out the partner helicopter in the sky flying on our port side. All the heliopters fly in pairs.
In the upper left of the picture is one of the more dominant mosques in the area.

The roofs are all flat and can accomodate family visits and sleeping. In the summer when the nights are so hot, it is common for families to take their bedding onto the roof to sleep. In the past, there was concern about bullets falling from the sky, but that is less a threat then previously. Celebratory fire has been a real concern. You have seen video and news clips of people firing their weapons into the air to celebrate…Well, those bullets have to come down somewhere. Our chaplain assistant has picked up spent bullets off the carpet of the chapel where the rounds have come through the thin ceiling. Now, there is very little night time firing. There is a curfew for the streets and random rifle shooting will bring the newly trained Iraqi Police in short order.
The other thing to notice about the rooftops is the number of satellite dishes. That is the main way that the Iraqis find out about the world. Whoever owns the airwaves can own the future. The same can be said of the internet, but in Iraq, that will be a while. Internet is not as prevalent because there are not lines run to the home (hence the satellite dishes). Once cable is run and internet is common, expect to see exponential growth in the attitudes and perspectives of the populace.

New Sheriff in Town

2005-07-27T21:08:00.000+04:00

We welcomed a new Ambassador this week.
After chapel on Sunday, many of us gathered in the Rotunda here in the Palace to hear remarks from our new Ambassador to Iraq.

Today, as I entered the Palace, the Rotunda was closed off. Only later, on Fox news did I see that Rumsfeld was here along with General Casey and our new Ambassador. They did not even invite me. They probably already knew that I was busy.

What is he thinking?

2005-07-27T21:05:00.000+04:00

I watched a horrid video yesterday.
The video was taken from an Al Zarkawi network website. The producer propositioned a camera to videotape a distant car bomb as it exploded. The fireball, blast wave and then the resulting smoke were distinctive features on the tape. We hear bombs in the distance on occasion. Each time I hear one, I know that people just died. A bit unnerving and very sobering. Even at a distance of miles, the blast can still rock our trailers and rattle the windows in our office. I shudder to think what the blast is like just yards away instead of kilometers.
Zarkowi’s video was shown to bolster his position. He is determined to demonstrate that his followers will stop at nothing to obtain purity for their cause. Those who are part of the coalition, those who support the coalition, and those who approve the coalition…all are his targets now. His approved targets now include those of his own country and his own faith. Since his targets do not believe as he does, or else believe it firmly enough, then he regards them as apostate and are now targetable.
The video was then clipped together by a local videographer with shots taken by a news crew at the site of the explosion. The horror of the devastation is difficult to fathom. This was not a Hollywood set where the artists are praised for their makeup and special effects. These were not just bodies in the street. These were parts of bodies; women, children easily recognizable, heaps of bloodied clothing holding smoking remains; the injured sobbing for their loved ones and in agony from their own wounds. These are Zarkowi’s enemies? Enemies of whom? Of what?
What type of person would forfeit his soul like this and disregard all that makes one human to indiscriminately send followers to blow themselves and surrounding innocents in a blast of flame and flesh? What does he hope to achieve? Does he believe that his methods, goals and tactics are honorable?
His goal cannot be to remove the coalition. We are ready to leave and that has been openly announced. As soon as the Iraqi government can provide for the security of its people, we are out of here. His tactic is counterintuitive. To continue his struggle in this way only assures the coalition’s continued presence. He is killing the Iraqi’s at an incredible percentage compared to the coalition.
His only goal that can be surmised must be anarchy and lawlessness. He has no political, economic, religious, social agenda. He cannot be propounding the teachings of Islam. The Koran says that for one to kill his brother is to lose his own soul. He cannot be forwarding a political agenda for he has none other than to return to the decadence of Hussein’s regime. He knows nothing of economic or social determinates. The man is psychotic on many different levels.
His redemption and restoration would be welcome. If that is not forthcoming, then I would agree with one of our combatant commanders. “He needs a dirt nap.”

Close Emotions

2005-07-26T18:06:00.000+04:00

One of the unspoken truths here is that many, if not all, of us keep our emotions pretty close to the surface. We’d like to believe that we are tough and rough and nothing gets to us, but I know that is not really the truth. When I ask the right questions, it does not take much to see eyes of our soldiers water up.
There is a 60 second commercial from Anheuser-Busch that was sent to me entitled “The Quiet Commercial.” This is a simple, yet poignant minute that contains spontaneous applause in an airport as soldiers walk through the lobby with a simple ending of “Thank You.”
When I have watched soldiers view the commercial, I am never surprised to see tears trickle down cheeks (at least mine) and there is biting of lip and sniffs or hard blinking. As tough and thick-skinned as we have to be, I am blessed to see that I serve with tender hearted warriors.
I am determined to be careful in chapel services to not allow my prayers for families and friends, for the wounded and the survivors, for those with whom we serve and those who wait for us to become so pointed and directed that rather than healing, the prayers cut too deeply. I know that there are some of my friends that do not attend chapel service because, for them, it is too painful. Singing songs and sharing communion reminds them too much of what they miss at home….the family, the friends, the familiar. As much as they may miss attending church, the pain of the reminder of separation and the loneliness would be too much. Being tender hearted in a war zone has its price.
I have to be careful when I talk to some soldiers. The professional counselor and chaplain in me wants to ask the probing questions and find out “how are you really doing?” But in the wrong situation, I know that the soldiers would be embarrassed or offended if they realized that their emotions were so easily exposed and the raw nerves so simply rubbed. Our thoughts of home and family and relationships and the ones we value are never far from our consciousness.
Many of my contacts are in the Strategic Operations Center, a 24/7 planning and information center where the work never stops and the lights never go out. When I talk to soldiers and officers there, I am careful about what I talk about in front of others. I draw aside the ones that I sense need to talk more deeply and in hushed tones we talk about issues of value. These officers have no where to hide, for this is their life and we share it together. They have no way to walk away, because this is their place of duty and they don’t leave because of their mission. They don’t want to leave, because they have found someone willing to talk to them about what they value as well….
My heart is continually touched and my pride is deepened working with such wonderful people. They miss their homes beyond words and only the deep ache we share is silently understood. Yet they also realize that the work we share, we trust, will bear fruit for generations yet unborn. We trust that the pain will be replaced with rejoicing some day soon….

Bragg-dad

2005-07-25T09:10:00.000+04:00

I love getting together with my friends from Bragg. Camp Victory in Baghdad is now referred to as “Bragg-dad” because there are so many there from Ft. Bragg. I was asked to participate in a senior leaders’ conference there this week. I was a presenter on Reunion and Reintegration Issues. Many chaplains have been presenting briefings on Reintegration for months. For some, this is a boring repetition of already done stuff. Surprisingly though, some of the chaplains have never done a reunion briefing for their soldiers. So, this was helpful for them. For the supervisors, I think that I gave them some encouragement to make sure that their subordinates stay on top of the requirements.
One of the nice things was to be introduced by Chaplain Rutherford, the XVIII Airborne Corps Chaplain. I would love to work with this guy again. We could have a great time.
The two days spent at Victory were a breath of fresh air for me. Getting to hang out with my friends was fun. Even dinners were different. Rutherford places himself strategically in the dining facility to make sure that he gets to see as many people as possible. His staff jokes that they tried to move a desk into the dining hall and have his office there, but they could not get the phone lines run…
Our dinner lasted for over 2 hours. During that time we visited with an incredible number of people. Some just stopped by to shake hands, one apologized that he was going to miss mass since he had to return home for his mother’s death….others to thank for providing some type of ministry service to the troops…and on and on….
I slept in the transient tents again, but actually slept well the second night. Flights were fun and getting a trip in a helicopter (especially since the flights only lasted 7 minutes) is always a blast.

Embassy Library

2005-07-22T18:26:00.000+04:00

Here is a view of one of the Embassy “libraries.” We have two other book tables in the Embassy as well as MWR library shelves. The one pictured here is right outside the door of the Chaplain’s office.

The library originated as a book table and started growing. I joke that the books are reproducing during the night, because every morning there seem to be more.
Great Americans keep sending books. Some are very good, valuable and quickly snatched up. The unwritten rule is take, read, return, take more….
Unfortunately, when we open some of the boxes that are sent, we can tell these are books taken from someone’s basement or attic that have not been read or seen for a long time. There are some classics, but mostly good for firestarting. I don’t think that there is much call for 8 year old “Daily Bread” or dated Sunday School lessons.
Our main problem is that one of the chaplains here that started the library and ordered the shelves is a pack rat. He believes that there is nothing that should ever be thrown away. Everything is valuable. His desk, his floor, his shelves are all filled with “valuable things.” Some of us have thrown things away only to find him going through the trash and finding them and wondering who would do such a thing. Now, we fill boxes and hide them until he is gone. Then we quickly haul them to the furthest trash dumpster that is out of the way of his normal traffic pattern. That is the only way to get rid of periodicals and devotional books from the 90’s and keep from being crushed by paper.

Sandstorm

2005-07-22T18:14:00.000+04:00

Here are a couple of pics of the sandstorm we had last week. The sand just showed up. All aircraft flights were cancelled. I spent 5 hours at the air field waiting for the flights to clear. After the Air traffic controllers finally announced that nothing would fly the rest of the day, I went back to the office.
The first picture is from the front of the Palace on a "normal" day.

The other is from the same spot when the sand is blowing.

The following day was no better. From the beginning of sunrise, all we could see was brown sky. I had a chance to take a convoy to Victory and I hopped aboard, if that is the term one could use. Getting on the convoy involved putting on all my gear and walking about a mile to another assembly area. The temp was about 100 degrees. I thought that we were ready, but there had been an explosion and the routes were closed until the danger was considered over.
We waited two hours and then got loaded up. As we left the compound, one of the vehicles could not shift into high gear, so we pulled over and quickly fixed the problem. Then we were gone. The drive took less than 15 minutes, and was uneventful (thankfully).
I was taken to a dismount area and called for another ride to the office.
My outbound flight was scheduled for 5 p.m. that evening. The sand did not let up all day. I could look out the office windows where we had our meeting and just see “brown.”
By early evening, I had the NCO call to confirm that there were not any flights expected. The only flights planned were at 8:30. I went to the flight terminal in enough time, but the sky was still brown. My flight originated 30 minutes away, and by 8:00 the flight was scrubbed. The next possibility was at midnight show time for a 0100 flight. I hiked back to the office and visited some friends for a couple of hours until they had to get some sleep. I hiked back to the terminal about 1000. What I did not realize was that I was getting more and more dehydrated as I walked outside. I was not drinking enough water and was not paying attention. By 1030, the night was covered by a clear, starry night. I was convinced we would fly.
The flight came in on time and I boarded at 0110. The flight was only 7 minutes, but took eight hours to get it done. I arrived back at the Palace helipad and walked back to my office. I dropped my gear, went back to the hooch and went to sleep.
Dehydration can be cumulative. I did not drink that much the next day and the following morning, I had a terrible headache, felt bad, and went back to bed. I started rehydrating when my head hurt. That is my own sign of dehydration since I very seldom get headaches for any other reason. It took a day and a half to get fully rehydrated. The sand lifted two days later.

We have no heroes

2005-07-19T21:52:00.000+04:00

The Iraqi people continue to amaze me with their insight, diligence and determination. Last week I spoke with a woman who left her home in a distant province to move to Baghdad.
“Why did you move?” “Only in Baghdad can you make a difference” she replied. The belief is that the seat of power for the country is in Baghdad and to make any significant changes in the society or culture or government, one must be at the seat of power.
“Our country has known nothing except corruption for the last 35 years. Our leaders know nothing else. Everything in our society is based upon power and corruption.”
As we continued to talk, she explained more and we had a very interesting dialogue about our differing cultures.
She explained what she meant about power and corruption. When Saddam Hussein assumed power, he began a regime of corruption. Kickbacks and payola became a way of life. The concept of public service and service for the greater good fell out of the public consciousness. “What can I get for me?” became the byword of the administration. Positions of power were merely positions. There was not a mandate for performance, only a desire for position. From what many have told me about some of the leadership positions, the job only involved “holding the job.” Visiting others in positions of power and drinking coffee and smoking around the hookah pipe was all that was expected of powerful people. Actually providing any public service was not a pressing consideration. If any public service was conducted, that happened at lower levels and only after extreme pressure was applied from higher ups.
After 35 years of corruption, there is not a template for public service.
The maxim continued to prove true: “Power corrupts. Total power corrupts totally.” Those in power became more and more corrupt as their power increased. The whole purpose in being in power was to stay in power and enjoy the powerful position.
Now lay a 35 year template on the country. Anyone younger than 50 years of age has no real recollection of any type of governing leadership that was not corrupt (assuming that 15 year olds paid attention to government anyway). Citizens who are over 50 either had to accept the way that government ran or not be a part of it. (Those who resisted the status quo are not around anymore).
One of her interesting remarks was that they have no heroes to admire or to emulate. There is no Nathan Hale who regretted that he had but one life to give for his country. There is no one to admire who said, “Give me liberty or give me death.” All the leaders that these people know were the ones who kidnapped their 14 year old daughters and murdered them, or who were involved in kickbacks and corruption.
It is no surprise to us to see that there are missing millions of dollars of our U.S. contract money and shoddy work being done on public works projects. If we don’t participate in payola, then why should the work be good?
I asked her a question that she could have found offensive. “Why are you not corrupt?”
“I decided that the children need better. I have decided that I would move to Baghdad for the sake of the children.”
“Are you married with children?”
“No, I am single. I care about the children of the next generation of our country. They need to know what true freedom is about and how to live without fear and corruption.”

I look forward to meeting more like her in the future.

Sorry for the delays

2005-07-19T09:53:00.000+04:00

Sorry that I have not posted recently.
I would like to say that I have been very busy, but those of you who know me, know better.
I have been distracted, and at times disinterested, and just didn't get around to typing.
I have been thinking about what to write, so hopefully, the writing will be worth it rather than mere ramblings.

Much has been happening in Iraq and in Baghdad in particular.
Bombings, kidnappings, 125 degree weather, I moved offices, lost email for a week, etc.

Attending the Battle Updates each morning and the Strategic Operations Update each morning and then reading all the editorials and articles has been quite a contrast. I will write more of that in the coming days.
Are we winning?
How long will it take?
When do we leave?

All good questions that beg for good answers. Wish that I had some good answers. I do have some perspective and those who know me personally, know that I have opinions about everything.

Talk to you soon.

Task, Conditions and Standards

2005-07-11T10:28:00.000+04:00

Everthing in the military is done to specified standards.
The military members must know and understand the task at hand that must be accomplished.
To accomplish effective training, the trainer is provided with certain conditions (tools, equipment, personnel, environment, etc.) a task to be completed and the standard to which the task must meet to be successful.
Here is one of my favorite signs that was hung with tongue in cheek to make sure that the soldiers remember to close the outside door to the building.

If the door is left open, there is "remedial training" available!

Sandbag cozies

2005-07-11T10:24:00.000+04:00

As part of a recent briefing, the shipping lading included one and half million sand bags for a new outpost. That’s a lot of sandbags! That is also a lot of time spent filling and stacking sandbags. Sandbags are a way of life. There are sandbag walls everywhere. The walls are easier and quicker to build than concrete walls. Window ledges are piled with sandbags in certain areas to keep bullets or shrapnel from puncturing through to the indoors. Soldiers here are routinely assigned to “sandbag detail.” The duty usually involves supervising hired nationals who do the actual filling and stacking of the sandbags.
One of the problems with the hot, direct sun is that the sunrays cause the sandbags to deteriorate over time. Usual lifespan of a sandbag in the open is about a year. After that, the wall has to be torn down and the sand rebagged and restacked. Very labor intensive for the workers.

A solution that someone developed is to design and make sandbag covers. These covers are made from high density plastic tarp that can be formfitted, sewn to fit and then placed over the entire wall of sandbags. These “sandbag cozies” help delay the deterioration of the bags and keeps the walls standing longer.
The next step in beautification is that there are now crews of nationals hired with buckets of water, brooms and mops who spend their days cleaning the cozies. One crew has even scored a portable powerwasher to help keep up with volume of work. Ingenuity at its best.

Behind the T-walls

2005-07-05T16:03:00.000+04:00

Concrete barriers are a way of life in Baghdad. They have sprouted up everywhere.

The wall is five feet long, a couple of feet thick and can range from eight to twelve feet high. The walls surround EVERYTHING! The NY Times this morning even ran an article on the T-walls. They reported the wall just around the American "seat of power" is a circumfrence 10 miles long.
This is not just a coalition or US military thing, this is a universal "save your life" phenomenon. When the Iraqi government fell and security became everyone's primary concern, the T-walls started going up. The asking price for a 10' wall was $1000. The price has moderated to a mere $600 and some prices are negotiable. At the height of the T-wall demand, there was not enough concrete available to assist the Iraqi government in rebuilding the infrastructure. All the concrete suppliers were busy filling the demand of private home owners and governments. Any landowners or homeowners that could afford T-walls bought them. T-walls ringed the property. The walls are strong enough to withstand mortar attacks and rockets as well as small arms fire. The walls can be interlocked and prove inpenetratable to all but the most determined assault. There are literally millions of them in Baghdad. When homeowners started ringing their property, they would place the walls at the edge of the street. The neighbor across the street did the same and suddenly a two lane road becomes a one lane passage. Traffic patterns are disrupted. Shops and businesses are not easily accessible and whole shopping district traffic patterns have been altered. Safety has taken priority over business for many. To get an idea of the magnitude of the building and the price, take a while and step off the front of your property or building. Every five feet, add $1000 to your total. Go from the front to the back around the property line, and then again just to ring the building. (Double walls are all the rage). Now walk the street. Go to the end of the block and visualize walls on both sides of the street as far as you can see. At each corner the walls continue for as far as you can see. Don't forget to multiply by $1000 for each five feet of linear property. Now figure the price of a major downtown like Baghdad.
Now the walls are becoming more permanent. Workers are installing lights along the sides and some are being painted to match the surroundings (sand colored!)
I wonder what will happen to all the walls when the walls come down? How to dispose of millions of cubic yards of concrete walls when they are no longer needed? There is a great opportunity for some creative entrepreneur if someone can figure it out. I think that the walls would make a great lining for the Tigris and Euphrates rivers, like the St. Louis wall along the Mississippi....
Opportunity knocks.

T-walls as Art

2005-07-05T13:42:00.000+04:00

Some units have "designated" T-walls to mark their time in theater. As units come and go in different locales, they leave their mark for others that follow. These walls are actually "blast walls" designed to protect buildings.

Reading the Casualty List

2005-07-03T17:22:00.000+04:00

Reading the Casualty List
June 27, 2005

I stood at the window of the second story office and watched the Humvees drive in from escort duty. The MP units provide security and escort for many of the officers needing to shuttle around the area. I love watching convoys and the gun trucks as they pull in. I imagine that the ritual of dismounting is the same as it has been since horses were ridden by knights of old: Remove the helmet, stretch the neck. Take off the armor, clamber down. Stretch the arms and flex the shoulders. Then the soldiers gather at the front of one of the Hummers and talk, joke and smoke and just hang out until someone gives them instructions. Today’s group was different. As the soldiers pulled off their helmets, I noticed their hair pulled back and fixed in a tight bun. When the gloves were removed, their hands were not as large and rough as others I had watched. These were the female MP’s running the convoys that I had read about. Each of the four top gunners and three of the drivers were female soldiers. There had been an article about them in both the Stars and Stripes newspaper as well as our own theater paper, The Scimitar. Well written, good article that acknowledged the quality of soldiers that these folks are.
Yesterday I read the Casualty Report. I try to skim the list every day to stay situationally aware and look for trends or units in my area that may need to have their chaplain be reinforced or encouraged. The names of the previous day’s KIA’s are listed in red on the roster. As I scanned through the list, there were the names from the previous day. It is hard not to notice the obvious female names. The names were all listed along with the males who had been killed in the IED explosions that tore through their convoy. I sat in the briefing the evening before when the attack was described. Gender nor branch nor service is noted; only killed and wounded by number. Searching deeper gives more of the details and of course, CNN and FOX were sure to talk at length about the incident. The newspapers covered the event of the deaths, especially since the reporters had pictures of some of the women doing their jobs in an earlier interview.
What will become of the handwringing? Is a daughter’s death more difficult for a parent to handle than a son’s? Is there more value in a daughter than a son? Should women be regarded as “protected property” in our society? There are so very many culturally ingrained views to be addressed before we start seeing too many body bags brought home with women in them. (We still “give our daughters away” to a man during a wedding ceremony. An archaic custom that bothers me, but I cannot get any women to agree with deleting that when I perform their wedding).
Can women do the job in a combat zone? Absolutely. They are mentally, psychologically and emotionally capable of accepting any mission demanded of them. The only concern, fully and duly noted, is the physical limitations; and, yet, there are many men that are unable to meet those same demands. Convoy ops, Traffic Control Points, Cordon and Search; all areas that women can perform. Hauling a heavy rucksack over difficult terrain and distance is a struggle for any soldier, and if a woman cannot do it, she will wash out in the training phase, the same as a guy will.
Two of our deeply ingrained culturally protected values are: the virility of our men and the virtue of our women. Men will fight to protect either or both of those values. When we try and combine virtuous women in a virile atmosphere of combat, men have difficulty wrapping their minds around that concept. Some have been taught and trained to protect the women and children…and now there is a woman in the gunner’s seat beside them? How do we protect one who is protecting us?
I don’t have answers to the anthropological questions. I just find it interesting that men my age (legislators) are trying to determine what should be done with younger men and women whose very livelihoods and living (and dying) depend upon their decisions.

Register your Blog

2005-07-02T09:34:00.000+04:00

My good buddy, Dave Meyer, alerted me to an article published this week in Army Times. I went on line and read the article. There is a mandate to register all Blogs with the command if they are written by a member of the Multi-National Corps-Iraq. Evidently the guidance has been in effect for quite a few months, but this is the first I have heard of it. The Army Times article spoke of the freedom of expression, etc. and there were some bloggers who admitted they would not identify themselves nor register their blog. That could be trouble. In the words of a great movie (that I cannot remember), "we are here to instill democracy, not practice it." In a war zone, there are considerations for security and safety that supercede even the first amendment.
I am part of a different command and as far as I know, I am not required to register my blog. I am willing to do so, for security's sake, if asked to. I have asked members of the security detail to review some of my postings before I published and was assured that I was within the boundaries. One concern is the timing of postings. I have gone so far as to hold publishing until I can verify certain incidents from "open sources" i.e. newspapers, emails, etc that are available to the general public. That way I am assured that any "insider" knowledge I may have of an event is already general knowledge through the media.
I am open to anyone reading this who has input or suggestions if they think that I have jeopardized any OPSEC issues.
Let me know.

been sick

2005-07-02T09:28:00.000+04:00

So sorry to miss writing on the blog for the last week. I have been fighting the Baghdad Crud in my lungs for the last week. I got some meds from the clinic (after denying there was any problem for a week). The medic said that the antihistamine would make me a bit sleepy, but I should still be able to work. She was wrong. The meds knocked me out. I am down to ½ dosage at night and none during the day so that I can function at a minimum level. Naps in the afternoon and early to bed have been my remedy. I am much improved.
Have had lots going on this past week and will update shortly.
Thank you for the concerns and questions.

Nils and Zeds

2005-06-26T19:45:00.000+04:00

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

2005-06-24T14:36:00.000+04:00

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

2005-06-21T17:51:00.000+04:00

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?

2005-06-20T18:45:00.000+04:00

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?

2005-06-20T13:15:00.000+04:00

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

2005-06-17T10:36:00.000+04:00

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

2005-06-16T20:46:00.000+04:00

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

2005-06-14T11:49:00.000+04:00

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?

2005-06-12T17:09:00.000+04:00

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

2005-06-12T14:36:00.000+04:00

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

2005-06-12T14:05:00.000+04:00

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

2005-06-10T11:35:00.000+04:00

“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

2005-06-10T10:59:00.000+04:00

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"

2005-06-04T13:02:00.000+04:00

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

2005-06-04T11:33:00.000+04:00

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

2005-06-01T15:55:00.000+04:00

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

2005-06-01T12:59:00.000+04:00

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.