That's right! FOB Warhorse (aka The Moon) is the reason there's no new entry today. I'm here on another mission. It should be no surprise that I'm encountering the same problems with getting online I had last time I was here. I squeezed on to this computer long enough to let everyone know that I'm alive and well. My entries for yesterday and today will be updated as soon as I'm back in LSAA. Watch for a few new photos too.
By the way, it's hotter here than the last time and equally as dusty. It would be a real bummer to get stuck here again (like what happened last visit).
Tuesday, July 31, 2007
Sunday, July 29, 2007
29 July 2007: Iraq wins the Asia Cup!
The good news today was really something special. Iraq won the Asia Cup for the first time ever. They beat Saudi Arabia 1-0. This is the same national soccer team that had to endure torture at the hands of the Hussein brothers. Now they’ve done something no Iraqi team has ever done before. It’s a very uniting moment for the nation. Unfortunately, we’re not in position to observe any of the celebrations. I listened to a replay of the game on the radio – in Arabic. Even though I couldn’t understand what the announcer was saying I could follow the action through the enthusiasm of his voice. It was very obvious when the goal was scored because the radio station broke in with celebration music. The irony of all this was that the command reaction at LSAA to all this was to put everyone in Uniform Posture 2 (everyone wears body armor). I guess they thought that Iraqis celebrating would include attacking Balad.
Earlier in the day I stopped by the Public Affairs office. They were filming NFL/NCAA football “shout-outs” for anyone who wanted to stop by. I couldn’t resist the opportunity. I made a short take for the Patriots and friends back in Providence. I can’t say for certain when it will air. What I was told is that prior to every game the network affiliate (regional or national) will show a few of the “shout-outs” from deployed service members. Mine could air before any of the Patriots games. I hope everyone gets to see the clip.
Not much else to say about my Sunday. I did take a nap. It was blistering hot outside. I ate Popeye’s chicken for supper because I didn’t feel like putting on my body armor just to go to the DFAC. It was much easier for me to drive to the food court for a quick strike. Then I just ate back in my hooch.
Earlier in the day I stopped by the Public Affairs office. They were filming NFL/NCAA football “shout-outs” for anyone who wanted to stop by. I couldn’t resist the opportunity. I made a short take for the Patriots and friends back in Providence. I can’t say for certain when it will air. What I was told is that prior to every game the network affiliate (regional or national) will show a few of the “shout-outs” from deployed service members. Mine could air before any of the Patriots games. I hope everyone gets to see the clip.
Not much else to say about my Sunday. I did take a nap. It was blistering hot outside. I ate Popeye’s chicken for supper because I didn’t feel like putting on my body armor just to go to the DFAC. It was much easier for me to drive to the food court for a quick strike. Then I just ate back in my hooch.
28 July 2007: The Adventures of "Gum-Chewing Guy"
And just like that it’s the last weekend of July! That was fast. The passing of another month never gets any formal notice. Yet it is another milestone in a deployment. August, although being the hottest month, has the good omen of a new football season. It’s also my birth month. My family has a reunion every August that’s held back in the mountains of NC. I missed the reunion in 2003 and 2004 due to deployments. This summer will make the third time in five years. There are so many subtle sacrifices involved with service to country. When I look at the many moments with family and friends that have come and gone without me I know it’s only a small fraction of the cumulative separation endured by Joes deployed around the world. There’s no doubt that I acutely appreciate that time when I have it to spend.
There wasn’t really anything about today that stood out. I did make a random observation that I’ve made before. It involves a Joe that I see here several times a week. For lack of a more imaginative name, I just call him “Gum-Chewing Guy.” Every single time I see him he’s chewing gum. He chews his gum in a very deliberate open-mouth motion. He’s rail-thin and goofy. Yet the rhythmic motion of his jaw reminds me of a cow chewing cud. He chews gum walking around LSAA. He chews gum running on the treadmill. He chews gum in the DFAC. He chews gum in the theater. He chews gum at the PX. He chews gum on guard detail. For all I know he chews gum in his sleep. I’ve never, ever seen the guy without gum in his mouth. I’m thinking someone needs to call Guinness Book. I saw “Gum-Chewing Guy” today as I drove to the DFAC for lunch. He was be-bopping along merrily chewing his gum.
The clouds of impending missions are rapidly gathering. That’s good because “Gum-Chewing Guy” is old news around here.
There wasn’t really anything about today that stood out. I did make a random observation that I’ve made before. It involves a Joe that I see here several times a week. For lack of a more imaginative name, I just call him “Gum-Chewing Guy.” Every single time I see him he’s chewing gum. He chews his gum in a very deliberate open-mouth motion. He’s rail-thin and goofy. Yet the rhythmic motion of his jaw reminds me of a cow chewing cud. He chews gum walking around LSAA. He chews gum running on the treadmill. He chews gum in the DFAC. He chews gum in the theater. He chews gum at the PX. He chews gum on guard detail. For all I know he chews gum in his sleep. I’ve never, ever seen the guy without gum in his mouth. I’m thinking someone needs to call Guinness Book. I saw “Gum-Chewing Guy” today as I drove to the DFAC for lunch. He was be-bopping along merrily chewing his gum.
The clouds of impending missions are rapidly gathering. That’s good because “Gum-Chewing Guy” is old news around here.
Saturday, July 28, 2007
27 July 2007: Reflections from a slow week
As this week comes to a close I’ve made a few observations. A week back at LSAA has given me chance to reflect on what is and isn’t happening these days. It could possibly be the last full week I’ll have at Anaconda for the next few months. Sitting back and reflecting on the week past, this is what I’ve noticed.
1. We’re getting a lot less IDF. As recently as a month ago we were getting regular, serious IDF. That’s not the case now. I’ve only heard an announcement of an attack twice this entire week. I never heard anything that preceded the announcements. If there were any attacks they were very ineffective.
2. The average daytime temperatures are at least ten degrees higher than they were a month ago. Once this place heats up it just keeps getting hotter. August is the hottest month of the year and it hasn’t even started. We’re pushing 120 daily. It even seems hotter because of the concentration of buildings and paved roads. They absorb heat and, in turn, radiate that heat late into the evening.
3. Latrine graffiti seems to be diminishing. I’m always on the lookout for good Joe humor. When I first arrived it was everywhere. Now it seems all the port-o-jons are spotless. Every containerized latrine has been expunged. When we were at Union III I was certain I’d find something good to report. Instead I was greeted by postings that warned Joes the latrines would be locked if graffiti was found on the walls. Apparently, Joe takes such warnings seriously – no musings could be found anywhere. This is disappointing to me. Joe graffiti has adorned latrines as long as there have been armies. It’s a true art form of expression that shouldn’t be suppressed.
4. Joe still doesn’t give a shit about Anna Nicole Smith, Paris Hilton, or Lindsay Lohan. Why in the hell are we still getting bombarded with news about all of these bimbos? If the collective brainpower of all three were concentrated together it may generate the equivalent intelligence of a catfish. That even takes into account the fact that Anna Nicole Smith is dead. Her brain is probably more functional that way.
5. Barry Bonds? Who’s he? Is it football season yet?
Friday proved to be just another day to seek air conditioning. All I have to do is walk outside and I immediately feel drained. This heat sucks the life out of a person. How can a place this hot be the cradle of civilization? I wouldn’t mind getting snowed in by a Nor’easter right now. That would be a welcome relief.
1. We’re getting a lot less IDF. As recently as a month ago we were getting regular, serious IDF. That’s not the case now. I’ve only heard an announcement of an attack twice this entire week. I never heard anything that preceded the announcements. If there were any attacks they were very ineffective.
2. The average daytime temperatures are at least ten degrees higher than they were a month ago. Once this place heats up it just keeps getting hotter. August is the hottest month of the year and it hasn’t even started. We’re pushing 120 daily. It even seems hotter because of the concentration of buildings and paved roads. They absorb heat and, in turn, radiate that heat late into the evening.
3. Latrine graffiti seems to be diminishing. I’m always on the lookout for good Joe humor. When I first arrived it was everywhere. Now it seems all the port-o-jons are spotless. Every containerized latrine has been expunged. When we were at Union III I was certain I’d find something good to report. Instead I was greeted by postings that warned Joes the latrines would be locked if graffiti was found on the walls. Apparently, Joe takes such warnings seriously – no musings could be found anywhere. This is disappointing to me. Joe graffiti has adorned latrines as long as there have been armies. It’s a true art form of expression that shouldn’t be suppressed.
4. Joe still doesn’t give a shit about Anna Nicole Smith, Paris Hilton, or Lindsay Lohan. Why in the hell are we still getting bombarded with news about all of these bimbos? If the collective brainpower of all three were concentrated together it may generate the equivalent intelligence of a catfish. That even takes into account the fact that Anna Nicole Smith is dead. Her brain is probably more functional that way.
5. Barry Bonds? Who’s he? Is it football season yet?
Friday proved to be just another day to seek air conditioning. All I have to do is walk outside and I immediately feel drained. This heat sucks the life out of a person. How can a place this hot be the cradle of civilization? I wouldn’t mind getting snowed in by a Nor’easter right now. That would be a welcome relief.
Friday, July 27, 2007
26 July 2007: A few things I crave
I’ll be the first to admit that we’re taking a collective breath before the next round of missions. There are still a lot of moving pieces getting shuffled around here. However, I was able to attend the mandatory pool event for the first time in well over a month. Although it was a refreshing dip it did little to mitigate the scorching heat. I covered myself from head to toe in sunscreen and played water volleyball for about forty minutes. Even waist-deep in water it’s too hot to stay outside. What I can’t believe is the number of soldiers who loiter for hours around the pool. They’re darker than tanned leather. If they keep it up their skin texture will be the same as leather. Although some of my soldiers stuck around for a while, I’d had enough and went back to work. At least it's air conditioned there.
Missions are great because they make time go by very quickly. They also keep me from dwelling on some things I crave. Beer is obvious. I mention that all the time. A cold Yuengling, Shiner Bock, or Leffe Blonde would be a welcome addition to any day around here. Something else that would be nice would be a good merlot or pinot noir. The problem with that would be the lack of a good red meat. Although the DFAC has good chow, the consistently tasty food is poultry. Beef is another story. Ah… that leads me to how my mouth waters at the thought of the 22oz “Cowboy” Ribeye at Ruth’s Chris. It’s a bone-in, sizzling piece of perfection (see my wine preference above). But it isn’t just food and spirits I crave. Having the freedom to jump on my bike and ride to Bristol and back on the bike path would be awesome. There’s a Del’s Frozen Lemonade stand right on the path in Warren. That’s a mandatory stop. I wouldn’t mind heading to Newport for a pub crawl. Block Island beckons as well. They’ll all have to wait.
One of the most enjoyable places of quiet solitude I enjoy is the front porch at my parents’ house back in North Carolina. Nestled in the beautiful Blue Ridge Mountains, its combination of peaceful sights, sounds, and smells can’t be topped. No words are necessary.
I’d sit on the steps of my hooch but it’s not quite the same.
Missions are great because they make time go by very quickly. They also keep me from dwelling on some things I crave. Beer is obvious. I mention that all the time. A cold Yuengling, Shiner Bock, or Leffe Blonde would be a welcome addition to any day around here. Something else that would be nice would be a good merlot or pinot noir. The problem with that would be the lack of a good red meat. Although the DFAC has good chow, the consistently tasty food is poultry. Beef is another story. Ah… that leads me to how my mouth waters at the thought of the 22oz “Cowboy” Ribeye at Ruth’s Chris. It’s a bone-in, sizzling piece of perfection (see my wine preference above). But it isn’t just food and spirits I crave. Having the freedom to jump on my bike and ride to Bristol and back on the bike path would be awesome. There’s a Del’s Frozen Lemonade stand right on the path in Warren. That’s a mandatory stop. I wouldn’t mind heading to Newport for a pub crawl. Block Island beckons as well. They’ll all have to wait.
One of the most enjoyable places of quiet solitude I enjoy is the front porch at my parents’ house back in North Carolina. Nestled in the beautiful Blue Ridge Mountains, its combination of peaceful sights, sounds, and smells can’t be topped. No words are necessary.
I’d sit on the steps of my hooch but it’s not quite the same.
Thursday, July 26, 2007
25 July 2007: The RIP-TOA of Green Beans Karaoke
As remarkable as it sounds, the temperature difference today between Providence, RI and Balad, Iraq was 50 degrees Fahrenheit. At least that’s what it was as of 1600 Iraq time (0800 Providence time). It is wicked hot here. Just walking outside can become a struggle. August is the hottest month of the year and it hasn’t even started. I left my room keys inside the Admiral while I was at the gym and I paid the price for it later. Even though they were in the shade, when I returned home I picked them up and immediately felt the searing heat on my fingertips. It felt like I touched a burner element on the stove. Like a goofball, I yelped and instantly dropped the keys onto the floorboard. I don’t believe there was any permanent damage.
My day was just a continuation of the one previous. We’ve been tending to all the moving pieces that demand our attention of late. That’s going to be the story for most of the week. At the end of the day I made a trip to Green Beans to see what was going on. The crowd was very sparse. There’s a term used to describe the process of one unit taking over for another unit. It’s called RIP-TOA. RIP stand for relief in place. TOA stands for transition of authority. For example - a brigade that’s been in Iraq for fifteen months undergoes a RIP-TOA with a newly arrived brigade. Then the old one goes home. Well there’s been a RIP-TOA of the karaoke at Green Beans. Apparently, it hasn’t been going very smooth. The old regular crowd has all been leaving for home. However, they haven’t done a very effective RIP-TOA with their replacements because the new guys aren’t coming out to karaoke. I guess it didn’t matter. The heat of daytime continued into the night in the form of a hot breeze. After sitting with a couple of friends for about an hour I’d had enough. I rolled on home. Besides, there were helicopters everywhere and it drowned out the sound system.
There will be more of the same tomorrow. I could go for the weather in Providence right now. Well, that weather and some beer.
My day was just a continuation of the one previous. We’ve been tending to all the moving pieces that demand our attention of late. That’s going to be the story for most of the week. At the end of the day I made a trip to Green Beans to see what was going on. The crowd was very sparse. There’s a term used to describe the process of one unit taking over for another unit. It’s called RIP-TOA. RIP stand for relief in place. TOA stands for transition of authority. For example - a brigade that’s been in Iraq for fifteen months undergoes a RIP-TOA with a newly arrived brigade. Then the old one goes home. Well there’s been a RIP-TOA of the karaoke at Green Beans. Apparently, it hasn’t been going very smooth. The old regular crowd has all been leaving for home. However, they haven’t done a very effective RIP-TOA with their replacements because the new guys aren’t coming out to karaoke. I guess it didn’t matter. The heat of daytime continued into the night in the form of a hot breeze. After sitting with a couple of friends for about an hour I’d had enough. I rolled on home. Besides, there were helicopters everywhere and it drowned out the sound system.
There will be more of the same tomorrow. I could go for the weather in Providence right now. Well, that weather and some beer.
Tuesday, July 24, 2007
24 July 2007: Hold the questions please!
There’s no peace in my office this week. From a work perspective it’s a good thing. Now for my love of quiet around my workspace it’s very disruptive. We don’t have any missions this week so my entire team (minus two on R&R) is present in LSAA. Add to that three personnel visiting for technical support on their redeployment software and we’ve got a noisy full house. Just as I settled in this morning we were paid a visit by the new executive officer (XO). When I say that I mean the XO of the unit my team is attached to. She was hoping I’d give her a briefing of my team’s operations. So being the good team player that I am I stopped work on everything I was doing and pulled up the command briefing I’d put together for the abortive command visit. There were lots of questions (the annoying kind that come before I cover the related subject matter in the briefing. The kind of questions I have to say, “if you hold that question I think you’ll find the answer later in the overview.” In other words – shut the fuck up and listen to the briefing!). I personally believe that fewer words are better if they provide the same description. Much to my chagrin, the briefing took over an hour.
At the same time I was very proud watching my team assist our visitors. Their competence level is very high. I’ve done a good job surrounding myself with soldiers who are highly motivated, have excellent initiative, and are extremely confident in their assigned areas of responsibility. My job is to run interference for them so they can do their jobs. We work very well together and are developing a great reputation with the brigades in Iraq. They see us as problem solvers to their redeployment challenges. Our approach is always solution oriented. There is a solution to every problem and an answer to every question. We’re here to provide both and more. I’ve got the best job in my entire unit.
Someone asked me a few days ago what music I’d been listening to lately. Being as I haven’t added any music to my iTunes since I deployed I have my entire library memorized at this point. That’s over six gigs of music. It sounds like a lot of tunes until you have a few months to listen to them all. Anyway, what am I listening to these days? I’d say that lately my music reflects the attitude I’m trying to mold as we gear up for the heavy mission load upcoming. That means it’s time for my hard core game face. I haven’t necessarily been keeping track but I know Mule, Slayer, Alice in Chains, Melvins, Dead Kennedys, Primus, and Tool have all been getting a lot of play. I’ve also found myself on an NWA and Public Enemy kick as well. I’m listening to The Ramones as I type this entry. I’ve also developed a well-earned reputation as the guy that always breaks up the sappy lovefest shit karaoke barrage. Every time I go to Green Beans I always revive the crowd from their catatonic state that was induced by a steady stream of country crap and slow songs. Problem is that with all our missions I’m increasingly away from Anaconda. I’m afraid that if I’m gone for an extended stretch I’ll come back to find a bunch of skeletons covered in cobwebs surrounding the stage. I guess it’s just a risk everyone will have to take because I’ve got work to do.
Have you ever heard someone say, “I guess it’s just in my blood” when talking about a profession? I don’t think that’s necessarily true in every case. However, I have to admit that it must apply to my family. Every single generation of my family on my father’s side has served in the U.S. military. Many of them have made it a career. I can trace someone in my direct lineage to every war in our nation’s history. My Uncle Bill paid the ultimate sacrifice during World War II. A lieutenant in the Army Air Corps, he died piloting a B-29 bomber in the China-Burma-India theater. My father served twenty-three years in the Marines, earned two Bronze Stars for Valor in Vietnam, and retired a Lieutenant Colonel. My brother Tom was in the midst of a stellar career as an officer in the Army when his life was sadly cut short just as he was promoted to Major. His oldest son, my nephew, Patrick is presently three weeks short of graduating Army basic training in Fort Knox, KY. He is also a junior at University of Tennessee and will be training to be a combat medic in the Army Reserve. I’m extremely proud of him for what he’s doing. He’s there on his own decision. Patrick I love you and I’m very sorry I can’t be at your graduation. I’ll be there in spirit. You will make an outstanding soldier. I don’t even have to stop and ponder that.
At the same time I was very proud watching my team assist our visitors. Their competence level is very high. I’ve done a good job surrounding myself with soldiers who are highly motivated, have excellent initiative, and are extremely confident in their assigned areas of responsibility. My job is to run interference for them so they can do their jobs. We work very well together and are developing a great reputation with the brigades in Iraq. They see us as problem solvers to their redeployment challenges. Our approach is always solution oriented. There is a solution to every problem and an answer to every question. We’re here to provide both and more. I’ve got the best job in my entire unit.
Someone asked me a few days ago what music I’d been listening to lately. Being as I haven’t added any music to my iTunes since I deployed I have my entire library memorized at this point. That’s over six gigs of music. It sounds like a lot of tunes until you have a few months to listen to them all. Anyway, what am I listening to these days? I’d say that lately my music reflects the attitude I’m trying to mold as we gear up for the heavy mission load upcoming. That means it’s time for my hard core game face. I haven’t necessarily been keeping track but I know Mule, Slayer, Alice in Chains, Melvins, Dead Kennedys, Primus, and Tool have all been getting a lot of play. I’ve also found myself on an NWA and Public Enemy kick as well. I’m listening to The Ramones as I type this entry. I’ve also developed a well-earned reputation as the guy that always breaks up the sappy lovefest shit karaoke barrage. Every time I go to Green Beans I always revive the crowd from their catatonic state that was induced by a steady stream of country crap and slow songs. Problem is that with all our missions I’m increasingly away from Anaconda. I’m afraid that if I’m gone for an extended stretch I’ll come back to find a bunch of skeletons covered in cobwebs surrounding the stage. I guess it’s just a risk everyone will have to take because I’ve got work to do.
Have you ever heard someone say, “I guess it’s just in my blood” when talking about a profession? I don’t think that’s necessarily true in every case. However, I have to admit that it must apply to my family. Every single generation of my family on my father’s side has served in the U.S. military. Many of them have made it a career. I can trace someone in my direct lineage to every war in our nation’s history. My Uncle Bill paid the ultimate sacrifice during World War II. A lieutenant in the Army Air Corps, he died piloting a B-29 bomber in the China-Burma-India theater. My father served twenty-three years in the Marines, earned two Bronze Stars for Valor in Vietnam, and retired a Lieutenant Colonel. My brother Tom was in the midst of a stellar career as an officer in the Army when his life was sadly cut short just as he was promoted to Major. His oldest son, my nephew, Patrick is presently three weeks short of graduating Army basic training in Fort Knox, KY. He is also a junior at University of Tennessee and will be training to be a combat medic in the Army Reserve. I’m extremely proud of him for what he’s doing. He’s there on his own decision. Patrick I love you and I’m very sorry I can’t be at your graduation. I’ll be there in spirit. You will make an outstanding soldier. I don’t even have to stop and ponder that.
23 July 2007: I get "A Case of the Mondays"
Of course I had to look at a calendar to remember that it was, in fact, Monday. From the outset, today was blah. After our morning meeting I received an e-mail from our operations down in Kuwait that had me agitated. It reflected a fundamental misunderstanding of what work we do in Iraq and what remains to be done in Kuwait. As a result, I had to spend the next couple of hours sorting it out. Fortunately, I got everything straight. It had been my intention to ease into this week. We don’t have any missions so my intent was to start the week at an easy pace.
Once I arrived at my office I discovered the e-mail traffic was only just beginning. I started receiving requests for information from various directions. The RFI’s were anything from questions about upcoming missions and inspection requests to personal administrative data. The calm of my office was shattered too. We had three unit movement officers visiting from outlying FOBs for assistance with their equipment shipping software. There were a lot of moving pieces in both physical and electronic form. Oh yeah, I forgot to mention that the phone rang off the hook. It almost seemed like everyone had been on vacation, returned all at once, and had my team on their number one “to do” list upon getting back to work.
Everyone has seen “Office Space”. If you haven’t then where in the world have you been? It’s only the most classic parody of office routine ever made. Anyway, today I was Peter Gibbons and I had a case of the Mondays. Fortunately, in my world I’m also the boss so there’s no Lundberg hanging over my head. I have noticed there is a lack of staplers in my office though.
The end state of my Monday was that every project came to a successful conclusion. The UMO’s all had their software problems fixed. All the questions that came across my desk were answered. Everyone was happy. At the end of my Monday I put in a good workout, ate chow, and stopped by the east MWR. I couldn’t hang though. I was too exhausted. By 2200 I was out. Even in Iraq we have the occasional hectic Monday. Today’s actually fell on a Monday.
Someone told me later in the day that LSAA had gone into “Alarm Red” for a while due to a concentrated mortar attack. Hell, I hadn’t even noticed.
Once I arrived at my office I discovered the e-mail traffic was only just beginning. I started receiving requests for information from various directions. The RFI’s were anything from questions about upcoming missions and inspection requests to personal administrative data. The calm of my office was shattered too. We had three unit movement officers visiting from outlying FOBs for assistance with their equipment shipping software. There were a lot of moving pieces in both physical and electronic form. Oh yeah, I forgot to mention that the phone rang off the hook. It almost seemed like everyone had been on vacation, returned all at once, and had my team on their number one “to do” list upon getting back to work.
Everyone has seen “Office Space”. If you haven’t then where in the world have you been? It’s only the most classic parody of office routine ever made. Anyway, today I was Peter Gibbons and I had a case of the Mondays. Fortunately, in my world I’m also the boss so there’s no Lundberg hanging over my head. I have noticed there is a lack of staplers in my office though.
The end state of my Monday was that every project came to a successful conclusion. The UMO’s all had their software problems fixed. All the questions that came across my desk were answered. Everyone was happy. At the end of my Monday I put in a good workout, ate chow, and stopped by the east MWR. I couldn’t hang though. I was too exhausted. By 2200 I was out. Even in Iraq we have the occasional hectic Monday. Today’s actually fell on a Monday.
Someone told me later in the day that LSAA had gone into “Alarm Red” for a while due to a concentrated mortar attack. Hell, I hadn’t even noticed.
Monday, July 23, 2007
22 July 2007: New Faces at Green Beans
Sunday…. Ah Sunday…. Not only that, it was a Sunday at LSAA. This all adds up to a day off. That’s exactly how I spent the day. I slept in. I relaxed over coffee. I had a leisurely lunch. I worked out. I called home. I even took a nap. It all felt great. Anytime I saw a member of my team I made sure they weren’t working. If they were just checking e-mail or calling home that was fine. Everyone deserved a day off and I insisted that they take it. No one protested. Despite the extreme heat, it was a relaxing day.
I’m still reflecting on the mission we just completed. I must say that it made me look forward even more to upcoming missions. It is much more fun to be out working than it is to hanging out at LSAA. I did hit the Green Beans karaoke. I hadn’t been in a while. There were a lot of new faces. Apparently, a lot of the regulars had redeployed while I was on mission. Within the next month there will be almost 100% turnover on all of the regulars. It’s kinda sad but also good. Deployments come to an end and I’m glad that it’s come to a safe conclusion for my friends. They’ve earned the right to go home.
I’m still reflecting on the mission we just completed. I must say that it made me look forward even more to upcoming missions. It is much more fun to be out working than it is to hanging out at LSAA. I did hit the Green Beans karaoke. I hadn’t been in a while. There were a lot of new faces. Apparently, a lot of the regulars had redeployed while I was on mission. Within the next month there will be almost 100% turnover on all of the regulars. It’s kinda sad but also good. Deployments come to an end and I’m glad that it’s come to a safe conclusion for my friends. They’ve earned the right to go home.
Sunday, July 22, 2007
21 July 2007: Fascinated by The Essex
Apparently, some readers of my blog thought yesterday’s photo was a joke. I can assure you it wasn’t. The sign is posted at the U.S. Embassy palace pool in the Green Zone. In order to complete the picture, today’s photo is the “pool rules” sign. The two signs are beside one another next to the pool clubhouse. The new DFAC sits on grounds adjacent to the pool and patrons exiting the facility have to walk right past both signs on their way back to the embassy. I can’t remember if these two signs were present back in 2005. However, I can assure you that the pool was a favorite gathering place for late night parties.
After spending a couple of days in Union III it seems a bit surreal to be back at LSAA. Although Anaconda gets mortared a lot it’s actually a veritable paradise where Iraq is concerned. Soldiers never stay more than two per room (unless they are in transient housing). All the billets are container housing units that are specifically designed for their purpose. Many of the housing neighborhoods have internet access in the rooms. All of the CHUs have cable TV hook-ups with AFN programming. Depending on rank, the CHU may also have its own bathroom and shower (mine is an example). When soldiers are off, they have a first-run movie theater, an indoor and outdoor pool, three separate gyms and MWR facilities, two PX’s, four separate DFACs, and various other facilities. Soldiers from outlying FOBs make up excuses to bring convoys into LSAA just so they can spend time enjoying the facilities. Last night I met a Captain who is assigned to one of the MiTTs (Military Training Teams). These teams are embedded with Iraqi forces, where they provide direct training and feedback during the execution of actual combat operations. The U.S. personnel on MiTTs live, eat, and sleep with the Iraqi forces. The Captain I met said jokingly, “I’m on R&R at Anaconda.” The reality was that his comment was true. I shook his hand and thanked him for doing what he does. Very few Joes endure the hardships seen by the MiTT personnel. We’ve got it real easy at LSAA. I’m glad I only stay here for short stretches between missions. Otherwise I’d lose sight of the big picture – I’m here to serve the warfighters. I can only do so by going to them.
Today was Saturday. I sent my team home after lunch and told them I didn’t want to see them until Monday morning. Around 1430 I called it a weekend too. I intended to immediately take an afternoon nap. Instead, I found myself watching a fascinating show about the whaling ship Essex. This early 19th Century whaler out of Nantucket became the basis of Herman Melville’s classic Moby Dick. The Essex foundered deep in the Pacific after being attacked by a giant whale. The crew of twenty then faced three months of dehydration, hunger, delirium, and even cannibalism. Only eight survived to tell the tale. I never knew.
After spending a couple of days in Union III it seems a bit surreal to be back at LSAA. Although Anaconda gets mortared a lot it’s actually a veritable paradise where Iraq is concerned. Soldiers never stay more than two per room (unless they are in transient housing). All the billets are container housing units that are specifically designed for their purpose. Many of the housing neighborhoods have internet access in the rooms. All of the CHUs have cable TV hook-ups with AFN programming. Depending on rank, the CHU may also have its own bathroom and shower (mine is an example). When soldiers are off, they have a first-run movie theater, an indoor and outdoor pool, three separate gyms and MWR facilities, two PX’s, four separate DFACs, and various other facilities. Soldiers from outlying FOBs make up excuses to bring convoys into LSAA just so they can spend time enjoying the facilities. Last night I met a Captain who is assigned to one of the MiTTs (Military Training Teams). These teams are embedded with Iraqi forces, where they provide direct training and feedback during the execution of actual combat operations. The U.S. personnel on MiTTs live, eat, and sleep with the Iraqi forces. The Captain I met said jokingly, “I’m on R&R at Anaconda.” The reality was that his comment was true. I shook his hand and thanked him for doing what he does. Very few Joes endure the hardships seen by the MiTT personnel. We’ve got it real easy at LSAA. I’m glad I only stay here for short stretches between missions. Otherwise I’d lose sight of the big picture – I’m here to serve the warfighters. I can only do so by going to them.
Today was Saturday. I sent my team home after lunch and told them I didn’t want to see them until Monday morning. Around 1430 I called it a weekend too. I intended to immediately take an afternoon nap. Instead, I found myself watching a fascinating show about the whaling ship Essex. This early 19th Century whaler out of Nantucket became the basis of Herman Melville’s classic Moby Dick. The Essex foundered deep in the Pacific after being attacked by a giant whale. The crew of twenty then faced three months of dehydration, hunger, delirium, and even cannibalism. Only eight survived to tell the tale. I never knew.
Saturday, July 21, 2007
20 July 2007: Reflections from the past week.
This week comes to a close with me back at LSAA. I told my team to take the morning off. I slept until around 0800 and then took my sweet time over coffee. I think it’s extremely therapeutic to spend a morning in nothing but boxers. As I enjoyed my coffee I downloaded all the pictures and videos from the mission. I hadn’t realized how many photos I’d taken. Looking through them gave me a chance to reflect on the places we’d been in the past week. Since my actual day was pretty uneventful, I figured this would be a great time to reflect on the mission. Here are some of my observations.
Camp Liberty – No matter how many times I visit this place I still see something new. Every time my team conducts a mission here we stay some place new. The variety of military is astounding. It’s mind-boggling to think this is just part of the Victory Base compound. I could probably walk this place for weeks and never see everything..
Al Faw Palace – Ah the home of MNC-I…. What a gaudy place it is. Al Faw epitomizes the poor taste of Saddam and his cronies. On the surface it appears to be an ornate palace. Upon closer inspection you find that construction materials and workmanship are shoddy. For example, what appears to be a marble column is actually a concrete column with cheap marble slate. Exterior facades are molded concrete and crumble easily. Chandeliers look like the results of a passing Mardi Gras parade (some of you know exactly what I mean. There are trees in New Orleans that have bundles of beads hanging from them year-round). Doorways appear ornate from a distance but in reality are press board covered with veneers. Do you get the picture? Every one of Saddam’s old palaces are crap. I’ve seen better places on episodes of “Cribs”.
Green Zone/International Zone – The biggest difference I noticed was how quiet the place is. It was whisper quiet everywhere I went. When I worked here in 2005 it was common occurrence to here thunderous detonations in the distance (or nearby). Every day you’d here gunfire. That’s simply not true now. I never heard a single explosion. The only gunfire I heard came from Joes shooting on a rifle range. The Green Zone is in the heart of Baghdad. Is this an assessment of the effectiveness of the “surge” strategy? No, I’m just saying that these days all is quiet.
Presidential Palace/U.S. Embassy – Same faces, different year. It’s just not the same people. They all look the same. This sanitary environment seems so detached from the rest of Iraq it’s scary. The place is still teeming with civilians and high-ranking military. They all look good and smell good. Rules are posted all around to remind everyone what’s not authorized. The new Green Beans and MWR inside the former ballroom DFAC is like walking into a Barnes and Noble bookstore. What country is this in? I’m very happy to see the new embassy is almost completed. It’s definitely time for the current location to revert back to Iraqi ownership.
Crossed Sabers – Ok, are they going to be torn down or not? For now visitors are greeted by a gleaming spectacle of disrepair. The handles have been removed from the sabers. Every window in the reviewing stand area is broken. The whole place has been looted. Almost all the Iranian helmets have been pilfered (these helmets are a byproduct of the Iran-Iraq war and are used to display Saddam’s contempt for Iran. Even the speed bumps are made of Iranian helmets). Basically, the entire place is crumbling. If they are going to stay up then fix the place. If not they need to come down. It’s more of an eyesore these days.
The liquor store – Many of you may be surprised at this. You shouldn’t be. Iraq was not ruled by Islamic law. It was a secular society for decades. Liquor stores abound – even in the Green Zone. The one I’m talking of can be found on the road between the embassy and Union III. We used to frequent the place back in 2005. The fact that it’s still there, still well-stocked, leads me to believe that military in the IZ are still able to live a double standard over their warfighting counterparts elsewhere in the country. Back in 2005 drinking abounded in the Green Zone. The embassy and surrounding area were a constant party. Military and civilians alike could be found on a regular basis partying at Adnon Palace, in the British compound, at the palace pool, and other places. If the liquor store is still in business then I’d guess the parties are still happening.
Union III – This FOB is a great example of the resiliency of Joe. It’s extremely small. At most, it measures 500m by 200m. It’s dominated by the former Baath HQ palace on one end and the mausoleum on the other. All open space is occupied by military vehicles. Every room houses four to ten soldiers. I never heard a single complaint from a Joe. To the contrary, I heard a lot of laughter, a lot of joking, and saw sky-high morale throughout the compound. Discipline was tight, military courtesy was top-notch, and soldier esprit was everywhere evident. Joes are awesome. They love what they do and I love being around them. If a dumb ass like Senator Harry Reid would spend just a few months in Union III he’d quickly learn to shut the fuck up. I haven’t found a Joe yet that agrees with him.
Traveling in Iraq – It’s always an adventure. Whether it be by helicopter, airplane, or ground convoy it is always memorable. If you don’t have a sense of humor, or if you get stressed about things beyond your control, I’d recommend you not travel in this country.
For now I’ve got a few days to get ready for the next mission. This will be the last significant lull for the next few months.
Camp Liberty – No matter how many times I visit this place I still see something new. Every time my team conducts a mission here we stay some place new. The variety of military is astounding. It’s mind-boggling to think this is just part of the Victory Base compound. I could probably walk this place for weeks and never see everything..
Al Faw Palace – Ah the home of MNC-I…. What a gaudy place it is. Al Faw epitomizes the poor taste of Saddam and his cronies. On the surface it appears to be an ornate palace. Upon closer inspection you find that construction materials and workmanship are shoddy. For example, what appears to be a marble column is actually a concrete column with cheap marble slate. Exterior facades are molded concrete and crumble easily. Chandeliers look like the results of a passing Mardi Gras parade (some of you know exactly what I mean. There are trees in New Orleans that have bundles of beads hanging from them year-round). Doorways appear ornate from a distance but in reality are press board covered with veneers. Do you get the picture? Every one of Saddam’s old palaces are crap. I’ve seen better places on episodes of “Cribs”.
Green Zone/International Zone – The biggest difference I noticed was how quiet the place is. It was whisper quiet everywhere I went. When I worked here in 2005 it was common occurrence to here thunderous detonations in the distance (or nearby). Every day you’d here gunfire. That’s simply not true now. I never heard a single explosion. The only gunfire I heard came from Joes shooting on a rifle range. The Green Zone is in the heart of Baghdad. Is this an assessment of the effectiveness of the “surge” strategy? No, I’m just saying that these days all is quiet.
Presidential Palace/U.S. Embassy – Same faces, different year. It’s just not the same people. They all look the same. This sanitary environment seems so detached from the rest of Iraq it’s scary. The place is still teeming with civilians and high-ranking military. They all look good and smell good. Rules are posted all around to remind everyone what’s not authorized. The new Green Beans and MWR inside the former ballroom DFAC is like walking into a Barnes and Noble bookstore. What country is this in? I’m very happy to see the new embassy is almost completed. It’s definitely time for the current location to revert back to Iraqi ownership.
Crossed Sabers – Ok, are they going to be torn down or not? For now visitors are greeted by a gleaming spectacle of disrepair. The handles have been removed from the sabers. Every window in the reviewing stand area is broken. The whole place has been looted. Almost all the Iranian helmets have been pilfered (these helmets are a byproduct of the Iran-Iraq war and are used to display Saddam’s contempt for Iran. Even the speed bumps are made of Iranian helmets). Basically, the entire place is crumbling. If they are going to stay up then fix the place. If not they need to come down. It’s more of an eyesore these days.
The liquor store – Many of you may be surprised at this. You shouldn’t be. Iraq was not ruled by Islamic law. It was a secular society for decades. Liquor stores abound – even in the Green Zone. The one I’m talking of can be found on the road between the embassy and Union III. We used to frequent the place back in 2005. The fact that it’s still there, still well-stocked, leads me to believe that military in the IZ are still able to live a double standard over their warfighting counterparts elsewhere in the country. Back in 2005 drinking abounded in the Green Zone. The embassy and surrounding area were a constant party. Military and civilians alike could be found on a regular basis partying at Adnon Palace, in the British compound, at the palace pool, and other places. If the liquor store is still in business then I’d guess the parties are still happening.
Union III – This FOB is a great example of the resiliency of Joe. It’s extremely small. At most, it measures 500m by 200m. It’s dominated by the former Baath HQ palace on one end and the mausoleum on the other. All open space is occupied by military vehicles. Every room houses four to ten soldiers. I never heard a single complaint from a Joe. To the contrary, I heard a lot of laughter, a lot of joking, and saw sky-high morale throughout the compound. Discipline was tight, military courtesy was top-notch, and soldier esprit was everywhere evident. Joes are awesome. They love what they do and I love being around them. If a dumb ass like Senator Harry Reid would spend just a few months in Union III he’d quickly learn to shut the fuck up. I haven’t found a Joe yet that agrees with him.
Traveling in Iraq – It’s always an adventure. Whether it be by helicopter, airplane, or ground convoy it is always memorable. If you don’t have a sense of humor, or if you get stressed about things beyond your control, I’d recommend you not travel in this country.
For now I’ve got a few days to get ready for the next mission. This will be the last significant lull for the next few months.
Friday, July 20, 2007
19 July 2007: "One Night in Bangkok"
My last entry set the stage for what you know happened. Our flights were cancelled. At around 0230 Catfish Air cancelled all missions due to low visibility. There were sandstorms in Balad. My NCOIC suggested we go to transient billets at the embassy. I decided that wasn’t our best course of action. The whole team was sweaty, stinky, and tired. We’d stick out like a sore thumb in that environment. In addition, transient billets were composed of three unsecured tents. The mausoleum at least offered a door with a lock. We called back over to Union III and in no time they returned to pick us up. By 0400 we were all sleeping next to the dead guy.
Around 0930 the lieutenant from the unit we inspected stopped by our room. He informed us that their striker QRF (Quick Reaction Force) would give us a ride back to Camp Striker. All rotary wing traffic was still on hold so helicopter travel was out. However, fixed wings were flying out of BIAP so that was our best hope of getting back to LSAA. Not being interested in another night at Union III, we all agreed that the striker convoy was a good idea. My guys were psyched. We never get to ride ground convoys. At 1030 we met the striker platoon leader and attended his convoy briefing. His platoon was very motivated. They were extremely excited to go because it would give them a chance to go to Liberty PX and eat chow at another DFAC. By 1100 we were on our way. Each member of the team loaded on a different striker. We just stayed out of the way. I sat in a seat just behind the vehicle commander. I had no view of anything except the interior of the vehicle. It was no different for any of the other team members. Hell all we have is 9mm pistols so we were more of a liability. We rolled for about 45 minutes with a couple of security halts mixed in. At about 1230 the convoy stopped, the ramps came down, and we stepped out at Camp Striker. I thanked the platoon for their efficient service. They rolled on.
Our next priority was to get on the space available list for a flight back to Balad. We rode the bus over to the pax terminal and stopped by customer service. After adding our name to the list for a C130 flight we walked to the DFAC and ate lunch. I spent the afternoon at an MWR watching TV and checking e-mail. At 1745 we checked back in for the flight and waited. We made the cut – this was our flight. By 2045 we were on the aircraft – crammed in with about 40 other fully armed Joes, two full pallets of cargo, and a military working dog team. It must’ve been 120 degrees onboard. In just a few minutes we were all sweating fiercely. They finally cranked the engines thirty minutes later and got some air circulating. In the meantime we passed around water bottles. It’s not really a long flight to Balad from BIAP. We touched down at around 2200. It was good to be back. I’d have solitude, a shower, and clean clothes tonight.
If you’ve followed this trip you’ll remember that when we left it was on Catfish Air. That pax terminal is nowhere near the fixed wing terminal. I was waiting on the bus when a KBR employee offered a ride. I gladly accepted. He was a chatty sort. He told me about how he was beginning his third year in Iraq, his wife had divorced him, and how he used to be in the Air Force. Just when I thought he was going to stay on sad subjects he brightened up and started telling me about his new wife. Apparently, he has a friend who married a woman from Thailand. They introduced him to another Thai lady. According to him, “they knew after the first night.” Inside I thought “oh, boy”. This was obviously a “fly-by-night” kind of thing. I asked him questions regarding where they intended to live and stuff like that. He hadn’t thought much of it through. For now they have a place in Bangkok. In my mind I kept hearing that 80’s song “One Night in Bangkok.” Mr. KBR is 48. His new Thai bride? 28. I won’t say any more. He seemed real happy.
I was ecstatic to peel off those dirty clothes and take a long shower. My bed felt wonderful. It was very quiet too.
Around 0930 the lieutenant from the unit we inspected stopped by our room. He informed us that their striker QRF (Quick Reaction Force) would give us a ride back to Camp Striker. All rotary wing traffic was still on hold so helicopter travel was out. However, fixed wings were flying out of BIAP so that was our best hope of getting back to LSAA. Not being interested in another night at Union III, we all agreed that the striker convoy was a good idea. My guys were psyched. We never get to ride ground convoys. At 1030 we met the striker platoon leader and attended his convoy briefing. His platoon was very motivated. They were extremely excited to go because it would give them a chance to go to Liberty PX and eat chow at another DFAC. By 1100 we were on our way. Each member of the team loaded on a different striker. We just stayed out of the way. I sat in a seat just behind the vehicle commander. I had no view of anything except the interior of the vehicle. It was no different for any of the other team members. Hell all we have is 9mm pistols so we were more of a liability. We rolled for about 45 minutes with a couple of security halts mixed in. At about 1230 the convoy stopped, the ramps came down, and we stepped out at Camp Striker. I thanked the platoon for their efficient service. They rolled on.
Our next priority was to get on the space available list for a flight back to Balad. We rode the bus over to the pax terminal and stopped by customer service. After adding our name to the list for a C130 flight we walked to the DFAC and ate lunch. I spent the afternoon at an MWR watching TV and checking e-mail. At 1745 we checked back in for the flight and waited. We made the cut – this was our flight. By 2045 we were on the aircraft – crammed in with about 40 other fully armed Joes, two full pallets of cargo, and a military working dog team. It must’ve been 120 degrees onboard. In just a few minutes we were all sweating fiercely. They finally cranked the engines thirty minutes later and got some air circulating. In the meantime we passed around water bottles. It’s not really a long flight to Balad from BIAP. We touched down at around 2200. It was good to be back. I’d have solitude, a shower, and clean clothes tonight.
If you’ve followed this trip you’ll remember that when we left it was on Catfish Air. That pax terminal is nowhere near the fixed wing terminal. I was waiting on the bus when a KBR employee offered a ride. I gladly accepted. He was a chatty sort. He told me about how he was beginning his third year in Iraq, his wife had divorced him, and how he used to be in the Air Force. Just when I thought he was going to stay on sad subjects he brightened up and started telling me about his new wife. Apparently, he has a friend who married a woman from Thailand. They introduced him to another Thai lady. According to him, “they knew after the first night.” Inside I thought “oh, boy”. This was obviously a “fly-by-night” kind of thing. I asked him questions regarding where they intended to live and stuff like that. He hadn’t thought much of it through. For now they have a place in Bangkok. In my mind I kept hearing that 80’s song “One Night in Bangkok.” Mr. KBR is 48. His new Thai bride? 28. I won’t say any more. He seemed real happy.
I was ecstatic to peel off those dirty clothes and take a long shower. My bed felt wonderful. It was very quiet too.
18 July 2007: A Night At the Mausoleum
My alternate title for today’s entry was “Tales From the Crypt.” Either title was appropriate. My team has officially completed a full night inside the mausoleum. No matter what happens from here on out, regardless of where we travel to in Iraq, we’ve done something very few have, or will, ever do. We spent the night sleeping right next to the dead VIP in his own mausoleum. How did the evening progress? It was very noisy and restless. As I mentioned before, the mausoleum serves as a barracks (we were the only ones housed right underneath the dome). Throughout the night Joes came and went. Many of them were either returning or heading out on convoys and patrols. That meant they were banging their considerable gear around. Everything inside the dome echoed and was amplified. To make matters worse, there was a smoke detector with a low battery mounted high on the wall of the dome. The low-battery alarm chirped constantly. The damn thing was too high to reach. We just dealt with it. The last nuisance was that the lights remained on until well after 0100. If you recall, our hastily built room had no ceiling. The lights in the dome stayed on until some Joe turned them off (or the generator quit). If anyone is wondering if we had any ghostly encounters with the Baath Party VIP the answer is no. I didn’t anyway.
Most of my team slept in. I arose and went to breakfast. I figured out very quickly that Union III is so small that you recognize everyone after just one pass. Since we finished our inspections (and our flight out wasn’t scheduled until late) the entire day was ours to explore. I sat in the DFAC and mulled the news on AFN while sipping coffee. Around 0900 I walked back to the crypt. I’d seen everything Union III has to offer the day before. Therefore, I went back to sleep.
Fortunately, we didn’t have to sit around Union III all day. A lieutenant from the unit we’d inspected arranged for us to get a tour of the IZ/Green Zone. I worked in the IZ on my previous deployment so I’d already seen a lot of the place. My team had never been here so off we went. Next came all the classic Joe tourist spots – crossed sabers of Saddam’s old parade ground, Prosperity palace, tomb of the unknowns, and the U.S. Embassy/Presidential Palace (where I worked in 2005). Here are some observations I made while out and about. My old MNF-I FUOPS buddies will appreciate this.
1. Crossed Sabers – these were slated for demolition earlier this year. The Iraqi government stepped in just as destruction commenced. Only one “Saddam” hand was touched by the demo crew. Otherwise, the sabers look exactly as they did in 2005. Most of the Iranian helmets (each with a bullet hole in it) have been pilfered by souvenir collectors.
2. Prosperity – no changes here. The palace is still the jumble of junk it has always been (courtesy of some JDAMs in 2003). It’s serving as a brigade HQ. I’m not sure I’d trust the structural integrity of the building. It looks like it will fall over any minute. I did discover that the giant Saddam busts that used to adorn the presidential palace are stored on the Prosperity compound. I always thought they’d been scrapped.
3. Adnon Palace looks exactly the same. I couldn’t confirm if there’s still a night club in the annex. FUOPS had some fun times there in 2005.
4. Liquor store – despite rumors of its demise, the store is still in business. We didn’t stop there but it was obvious from the road that the place is still well stocked. I saw many cases of beer stacked outside. I guess it’s still doing great business with the U.S. State Department and our coalition allies.
5. U.S. Embassy/Presidential Palace – This is where I had the keenest interest since it was my old stomping ground. On the surface everything looks the same. Upon further inspection I found the PX had been expanded considerably. Once inside the palace I discovered that the DFAC has now been relocated. In its place is a Green Beans and MWR with library and internet café. There’s a sandwich express line outside where the overflow/midnight chow line used to be. The internet café in the north ballroom has been replaced by offices. The DFAC is now adjacent to the pool in a hardened building. I was sad to see that the new DFAC sits where the horseshoe pits and picnic areas used to be. The grounds of the pool are considerably smaller. I couldn’t confirm anything about our old buddies from the FBI. I never made it close to their old compound. Everything else looked the same – even my old hooch. I received verbal confirmation that FUOPS is still in the same place as always.
Since the embassy was our last stop we elected to eat supper in the new DFAC. My team’s heads were spinning at all the women that work on the compound – State Department, military, coalition, NGOs, etc. The same could be said about the number of general officers. As we sat down to eat two female officers sat down next to us. One was Australian and she was quite attractive. My team was obviously smitten. However, her partner might as well of been her bodyguard. She was a very angry AF lieutenant colonel. When the lieutenant that was driving us around attempted to talk to the Aussie girl he received the immediate “cock block” from her bodyguard. I attempted to assist the lieutenant by trying to divert the AF LTC. I asked what department she worked in and told her that I used to work in FUOPS. It was to no avail. Her sole purpose was to prevent any man from gaining ground with the Aussie. The lieutenant never stood a chance. I reached the conclusion that the AF LTC either had a crush on the Aussie or was just one of those angry women on Oprah that believe that sex once a month is sufficient in a marriage.
After supper we hurried back to Union III. On the way we saw the new U.S. Embassy compound. Eventually, the current location at the palace will be turned back over to the Iraqis. The new compound is huge. I’ve heard it’s the largest U.S. Embassy compound in the world. I believe it. The compound wall along the road is almost a mile in length. I couldn’t tell you how many buildings are under construction. It will definitely require a very large Marine detachment to guard the place. It looks almost finished.
Around 2330 we departed Union III for Washington LZ. When we checked in we found out that flights to Balad were on weather hold. I instructed our escorts to be ready to pick us back up if the flights were cancelled. They returned to Union III. We took our seats and waited. Even in the IZ you have to deal with pax terminal hell. At Washington IZ there is no terminal – just benches outside the service trailer and jersey barriers all around. I wasn’t feeling too optimistic about flying.
Most of my team slept in. I arose and went to breakfast. I figured out very quickly that Union III is so small that you recognize everyone after just one pass. Since we finished our inspections (and our flight out wasn’t scheduled until late) the entire day was ours to explore. I sat in the DFAC and mulled the news on AFN while sipping coffee. Around 0900 I walked back to the crypt. I’d seen everything Union III has to offer the day before. Therefore, I went back to sleep.
Fortunately, we didn’t have to sit around Union III all day. A lieutenant from the unit we’d inspected arranged for us to get a tour of the IZ/Green Zone. I worked in the IZ on my previous deployment so I’d already seen a lot of the place. My team had never been here so off we went. Next came all the classic Joe tourist spots – crossed sabers of Saddam’s old parade ground, Prosperity palace, tomb of the unknowns, and the U.S. Embassy/Presidential Palace (where I worked in 2005). Here are some observations I made while out and about. My old MNF-I FUOPS buddies will appreciate this.
1. Crossed Sabers – these were slated for demolition earlier this year. The Iraqi government stepped in just as destruction commenced. Only one “Saddam” hand was touched by the demo crew. Otherwise, the sabers look exactly as they did in 2005. Most of the Iranian helmets (each with a bullet hole in it) have been pilfered by souvenir collectors.
2. Prosperity – no changes here. The palace is still the jumble of junk it has always been (courtesy of some JDAMs in 2003). It’s serving as a brigade HQ. I’m not sure I’d trust the structural integrity of the building. It looks like it will fall over any minute. I did discover that the giant Saddam busts that used to adorn the presidential palace are stored on the Prosperity compound. I always thought they’d been scrapped.
3. Adnon Palace looks exactly the same. I couldn’t confirm if there’s still a night club in the annex. FUOPS had some fun times there in 2005.
4. Liquor store – despite rumors of its demise, the store is still in business. We didn’t stop there but it was obvious from the road that the place is still well stocked. I saw many cases of beer stacked outside. I guess it’s still doing great business with the U.S. State Department and our coalition allies.
5. U.S. Embassy/Presidential Palace – This is where I had the keenest interest since it was my old stomping ground. On the surface everything looks the same. Upon further inspection I found the PX had been expanded considerably. Once inside the palace I discovered that the DFAC has now been relocated. In its place is a Green Beans and MWR with library and internet café. There’s a sandwich express line outside where the overflow/midnight chow line used to be. The internet café in the north ballroom has been replaced by offices. The DFAC is now adjacent to the pool in a hardened building. I was sad to see that the new DFAC sits where the horseshoe pits and picnic areas used to be. The grounds of the pool are considerably smaller. I couldn’t confirm anything about our old buddies from the FBI. I never made it close to their old compound. Everything else looked the same – even my old hooch. I received verbal confirmation that FUOPS is still in the same place as always.
Since the embassy was our last stop we elected to eat supper in the new DFAC. My team’s heads were spinning at all the women that work on the compound – State Department, military, coalition, NGOs, etc. The same could be said about the number of general officers. As we sat down to eat two female officers sat down next to us. One was Australian and she was quite attractive. My team was obviously smitten. However, her partner might as well of been her bodyguard. She was a very angry AF lieutenant colonel. When the lieutenant that was driving us around attempted to talk to the Aussie girl he received the immediate “cock block” from her bodyguard. I attempted to assist the lieutenant by trying to divert the AF LTC. I asked what department she worked in and told her that I used to work in FUOPS. It was to no avail. Her sole purpose was to prevent any man from gaining ground with the Aussie. The lieutenant never stood a chance. I reached the conclusion that the AF LTC either had a crush on the Aussie or was just one of those angry women on Oprah that believe that sex once a month is sufficient in a marriage.
After supper we hurried back to Union III. On the way we saw the new U.S. Embassy compound. Eventually, the current location at the palace will be turned back over to the Iraqis. The new compound is huge. I’ve heard it’s the largest U.S. Embassy compound in the world. I believe it. The compound wall along the road is almost a mile in length. I couldn’t tell you how many buildings are under construction. It will definitely require a very large Marine detachment to guard the place. It looks almost finished.
Around 2330 we departed Union III for Washington LZ. When we checked in we found out that flights to Balad were on weather hold. I instructed our escorts to be ready to pick us back up if the flights were cancelled. They returned to Union III. We took our seats and waited. Even in the IZ you have to deal with pax terminal hell. At Washington IZ there is no terminal – just benches outside the service trailer and jersey barriers all around. I wasn’t feeling too optimistic about flying.
Tuesday, July 17, 2007
17 July 2007: Liberty to Union III
First order of business was to head to Liberty pad to catch a blackhawk ride to the IZ. I had four team members with me. The other three remained at Camp Liberty to wrap up the training there. Liberty pad consists of a big concrete landing pad adjacent to three tents. We checked in for our flight then took our seats in the pax tent. I walked back to the admin tent and bummed a cup of coffee off the KBR folks. I think it was reheated coffee from the day before. The immediate effect was that it induced the cramps of impending bowel movement. Unfortunately, the only facilities there are port-o-jons baking in the mid-morning sun. What choice did I have? So I stopped into one and took care of business. It must've been twenty degrees hotter inside the shitter. I was drenched in sweat in less than five minutes. Fortunately, my visit was short. The moral of this paragraph is avoid KBR coffee at Liberty pad - especially in daytime.
Our flight was on time (actually, it was early). We boarded and made the short flight to Washington LZ. My MNF-I FUOPS buddies from 2005 will be happy to know that Washington hasn't changed a bit. The presendential palace/U.S. Embassy looks exactly the same. I quickly pointed out things to my team. This is my old stomping ground. Our ride to Union III arrived within ten minutes so I couldn't show the guys much. We loaded up and rolled. There are a lot more jersey barriers than there were in 2005. This blocks the view from the road of the Tomb of the Unknowns. It looked like the liquor store is still there. I noticed it as we drove past. In no time we were at Union III. This is a very small compound situated right on the very edge of the IZ/Green Zone. It measures perhaps 200 meters by 400 meters. On one end is the giant palace of the Baath Party. It was never finished and to this day has an abandoned construction crane on top. It's now a battalion HQ, barracks, MWR, and gym. On the other end of the FOB is a big mausoleum for the founder of the Baath Party in Iraq. It's an ornamental place with a large blue dome and fountains (no longer working). Since Union III is so cramped the mausoleum also serves as a barracks. Once my team arrived the unit we were inspecting took us to our billets. A special five-man room had been built of plywood for us in the only space available - underneath the mausoleum dome and right next to the dead guy. I'm not kidding. We were crammed into a hastily constructed room with two bunk beds and a cot. One wall of our mausoleum room was less than three feet from the tomb of the Baath Party VIP. There was no ceiling to our room so we had a great view of the dome and chandelier dangling from it's apex. In a country full of complex surreal this took the cake so far.
We wasted no time. As soon as we were in our new digs we moved out on our inspections. We were here to check the serviceability of containers for a unit that's headed home soon. It was blazing hot. Despite the small size of the FOB there were armored vehicles moving everywhere - strikers, humvees, a Bradley IFV, an M1A2, Palladins, and M88 recovery vehicles. All of the sidewalks, cobblestones, and paved roads were shattered from all the heavy vehicle traffic. I kept wondering who was going to fix all of this. We hurried through our inspections in an attempt to beat the heat. Around 1600 we took an extended break and I decided we'd finish the next morning. I could see signs that my team was wearing out quickly.
Before supper we took a quick tour of the big palace. Whole sections of the place are still devastated from the "shock and awe" bombing back at the beginning of the invasion. Soldiers are everywhere. Iraqis work here too. They have shops selling dry goods, cigars, coffee, and, of course, pirated DVDs. There's a barber shop and a very nice coffee shop that appears to have been a bar at one time for the Baath Party cronies. I bought a Cuban Montecristo #4 from one of the shops and will put it in my portable humidor when I return to Balad. Alongside the troops are several interpreters - male and female. I was forwarned to watch out for the women. Apparently, they are all looking for a husband so they can move to the U.S. Officers - especially high ranking - are their targets. I noticed a few of them take quick notice of the unfamiliar Lieutenant Colonel walking around. Iraq is going to be the next Korea for soldiers. Those of you in uniform know exactly what I'm talking about.
I had noticed that a West Point classmate commands one of the battalions here. Being such a small place I knew I'd run into him. It didn't take long. I saw him at supper. We talked it up for awhile. I asked if he was going to the reunion. He looked at me, shrugged, and said, "It's not that I don't want to. You understand?" Yeah, I understand completely. I'll pass on his regards while I'm on R&R. It was great to see him. He looked exactly as he did when he was a cadet - just some gray around the ears. He commented that he couldn't believe it had been twenty years. I agreed.
Before we all called it a night a lieutenant from the host unit gave us a tour of the command post underneath the mausoleum. It's a whole labyrinth of hallways and rooms that now house Joes (as many as ten to a room). The lieutenant was pointing out to us where we could find bottled water, MRE's, and other sundry items if we needed them. Along the walls were crayon drawings from school kids back home. One drawing had a special place on the wall separate from all the others. It was obviously a Joe favorite. When I saw it I couldn't believe it and busted a gut laughing. A nine-year old named "Mike" had drawn a typical crayon sketch of clouds, the sun, and a U.S. soldier firing his gun. On the receiving end was a terrorist, who's brains were spewing out the back of his head. Scrawled across the sketch in a 9-yr old's handwriting were the words "Die motherfucker Die!" I took a photo of the sketch since I knew the Joes wouldn't let me steal the thing.
Afterward came my highlight of the day. As I walked back outside I noticed a Joe bending over touching something. I knew immediately what it was - a cat! I forgot everything I was doing and hurried over to the cat. It was even better. Turns out it was a momma cat with three kittens. I dropped to my knees and was immediately surrounded by all of them. They were purring, playing, and rubbing against me. I talked to them and petted them for over a half an hour. I completely forgot myself in kitty heaven. My team got tired of waiting on me and moved on. I didn't care. For a few moments I was one with the cats. The momma had been "adopted" by some of the medics. The kittens were at that playful size that is most adorable. When I was finished playing with the cats I stopped by the latrine and thoroughly washed my hands. After all, they are stray cats in Iraq. They sure were docile and cute though.
Our flight was on time (actually, it was early). We boarded and made the short flight to Washington LZ. My MNF-I FUOPS buddies from 2005 will be happy to know that Washington hasn't changed a bit. The presendential palace/U.S. Embassy looks exactly the same. I quickly pointed out things to my team. This is my old stomping ground. Our ride to Union III arrived within ten minutes so I couldn't show the guys much. We loaded up and rolled. There are a lot more jersey barriers than there were in 2005. This blocks the view from the road of the Tomb of the Unknowns. It looked like the liquor store is still there. I noticed it as we drove past. In no time we were at Union III. This is a very small compound situated right on the very edge of the IZ/Green Zone. It measures perhaps 200 meters by 400 meters. On one end is the giant palace of the Baath Party. It was never finished and to this day has an abandoned construction crane on top. It's now a battalion HQ, barracks, MWR, and gym. On the other end of the FOB is a big mausoleum for the founder of the Baath Party in Iraq. It's an ornamental place with a large blue dome and fountains (no longer working). Since Union III is so cramped the mausoleum also serves as a barracks. Once my team arrived the unit we were inspecting took us to our billets. A special five-man room had been built of plywood for us in the only space available - underneath the mausoleum dome and right next to the dead guy. I'm not kidding. We were crammed into a hastily constructed room with two bunk beds and a cot. One wall of our mausoleum room was less than three feet from the tomb of the Baath Party VIP. There was no ceiling to our room so we had a great view of the dome and chandelier dangling from it's apex. In a country full of complex surreal this took the cake so far.
We wasted no time. As soon as we were in our new digs we moved out on our inspections. We were here to check the serviceability of containers for a unit that's headed home soon. It was blazing hot. Despite the small size of the FOB there were armored vehicles moving everywhere - strikers, humvees, a Bradley IFV, an M1A2, Palladins, and M88 recovery vehicles. All of the sidewalks, cobblestones, and paved roads were shattered from all the heavy vehicle traffic. I kept wondering who was going to fix all of this. We hurried through our inspections in an attempt to beat the heat. Around 1600 we took an extended break and I decided we'd finish the next morning. I could see signs that my team was wearing out quickly.
Before supper we took a quick tour of the big palace. Whole sections of the place are still devastated from the "shock and awe" bombing back at the beginning of the invasion. Soldiers are everywhere. Iraqis work here too. They have shops selling dry goods, cigars, coffee, and, of course, pirated DVDs. There's a barber shop and a very nice coffee shop that appears to have been a bar at one time for the Baath Party cronies. I bought a Cuban Montecristo #4 from one of the shops and will put it in my portable humidor when I return to Balad. Alongside the troops are several interpreters - male and female. I was forwarned to watch out for the women. Apparently, they are all looking for a husband so they can move to the U.S. Officers - especially high ranking - are their targets. I noticed a few of them take quick notice of the unfamiliar Lieutenant Colonel walking around. Iraq is going to be the next Korea for soldiers. Those of you in uniform know exactly what I'm talking about.
I had noticed that a West Point classmate commands one of the battalions here. Being such a small place I knew I'd run into him. It didn't take long. I saw him at supper. We talked it up for awhile. I asked if he was going to the reunion. He looked at me, shrugged, and said, "It's not that I don't want to. You understand?" Yeah, I understand completely. I'll pass on his regards while I'm on R&R. It was great to see him. He looked exactly as he did when he was a cadet - just some gray around the ears. He commented that he couldn't believe it had been twenty years. I agreed.
Before we all called it a night a lieutenant from the host unit gave us a tour of the command post underneath the mausoleum. It's a whole labyrinth of hallways and rooms that now house Joes (as many as ten to a room). The lieutenant was pointing out to us where we could find bottled water, MRE's, and other sundry items if we needed them. Along the walls were crayon drawings from school kids back home. One drawing had a special place on the wall separate from all the others. It was obviously a Joe favorite. When I saw it I couldn't believe it and busted a gut laughing. A nine-year old named "Mike" had drawn a typical crayon sketch of clouds, the sun, and a U.S. soldier firing his gun. On the receiving end was a terrorist, who's brains were spewing out the back of his head. Scrawled across the sketch in a 9-yr old's handwriting were the words "Die motherfucker Die!" I took a photo of the sketch since I knew the Joes wouldn't let me steal the thing.
Afterward came my highlight of the day. As I walked back outside I noticed a Joe bending over touching something. I knew immediately what it was - a cat! I forgot everything I was doing and hurried over to the cat. It was even better. Turns out it was a momma cat with three kittens. I dropped to my knees and was immediately surrounded by all of them. They were purring, playing, and rubbing against me. I talked to them and petted them for over a half an hour. I completely forgot myself in kitty heaven. My team got tired of waiting on me and moved on. I didn't care. For a few moments I was one with the cats. The momma had been "adopted" by some of the medics. The kittens were at that playful size that is most adorable. When I was finished playing with the cats I stopped by the latrine and thoroughly washed my hands. After all, they are stray cats in Iraq. They sure were docile and cute though.
16 July 2007: Routine Mission
Camp Liberty, Mobile Training Team mission, teaching redeployment.... Does this all sound familiar? It should. If it doesn't then you must be new to my blog. This morning my team taught redeployment to about 30 unit movement officers. They were all from units at Camp Liberty or nearby Camp Striker. Nothing unusual came about. As with every other unit we teach we'll see them again soon. My team is the good guys - the folks that help Joes go home. Everyone is happy to see us. I like that.
Our classes went most of the day. We had a small break for lunch. Around 1630 we called it a wrap. I scurried on over to the gym. Some of my soldiers did the same. There was simply no excitement, nothing crazy to report, and no humorous activities that caught my eye. It was a straight-forward business day for all of us. After supper we all sat outside and joked around. I watched two of my soldiers clean house in spades. I just watched. That was fun enough.
Tomorrow I take part of the team to the Green Zone (International Zone depending on who you talk to). This should be fun. I worked in the GZ/IZ back in 2005. In deployment terms, there's Iraq and then there's the Green Zone. It's kinda like saying there's Louisiana and then there's New Orleans. The guys I selected for this are real excited about going. We won't be going to my old workplace (Saddam's former presidential palace - now U.S. Embassy). Instead we're going to a small area known as Union III. It's a FOB at the former Baath Party HQ palace. You've got all of this to look forward to.
Our classes went most of the day. We had a small break for lunch. Around 1630 we called it a wrap. I scurried on over to the gym. Some of my soldiers did the same. There was simply no excitement, nothing crazy to report, and no humorous activities that caught my eye. It was a straight-forward business day for all of us. After supper we all sat outside and joked around. I watched two of my soldiers clean house in spades. I just watched. That was fun enough.
Tomorrow I take part of the team to the Green Zone (International Zone depending on who you talk to). This should be fun. I worked in the GZ/IZ back in 2005. In deployment terms, there's Iraq and then there's the Green Zone. It's kinda like saying there's Louisiana and then there's New Orleans. The guys I selected for this are real excited about going. We won't be going to my old workplace (Saddam's former presidential palace - now U.S. Embassy). Instead we're going to a small area known as Union III. It's a FOB at the former Baath Party HQ palace. You've got all of this to look forward to.
Monday, July 16, 2007
15 July 2007: Camp Liberty - My home away from LSAA
Well.... Camp Liberty isn't really my second home. It seems that way though. I've returned for yet another mission. Keep in mind that there are a lot of soldiers based out of this compound. Part of my team arrived here early Saturday morning. I flew in this morning with my two Coast Guard personnel and another soldier. We came in at almost lunchtime courtesy of our friends at Catfish Air. This time we're supporting a unit from the Puerto Rican Army National Guard. They are a great bunch. Spanish is their primary language. Some of their soldiers speak very little English. There's no language barrier though. They are taking very good care of us. Camp Liberty is much nicer than FOB Warhorse. We're staying in billets that are right next to a DFAC, gym, and MWR. That's all I need to stay happy in my off time. Our mission doesn't actually start until Monday. Once we got checked into Billets we decided to go sightseeing around the Camp Victory compound. Several of my new team members had never seen the Al Faw Palace - home of Multi-National Corps HQ.
Kids will be kids. Once we arrived at Al Faw my soldiers started running around snapping pictures of everything. It's a large palace, surrounded by a man-made lake that's teaming with carp. It's impossible to see the entire inside of the palace due to the labyrinth of temporary office walls and cubicles that compose the various staff sections of MNC-I. However, you can't miss the giant chandelier in the middle of the place. There's also a big goofy chair that has probably seen the asses of 200,000 Joes. Every one of my team members had to get a picture sitting in the chair. I've never had mine taken there and wasn't about to start. However, I did allow a team photo with the chair. I stood to the side. The photo came out pretty well. Once we got back outside we marveled for awhile at the size of some of the carp. I can say quite confidently that some of them were a meter in length or larger. My guys kept throwing rocks to see how quickly the fish swarmed in hopes of food. The fish were obviously used to having food thrown to them.
Something that I found to be an interesting contrast was the difference between the MNC-I HQ and the Iraqi Army HQ. While MNC-I enjoyed the biggest, nicest palace around, the Iraqi HQ was a much more austere building. It looked more like it was a palace annex at one time. I guess at some point we'll hand Al Faw back over. It definitely isn't happening very soon.
A couple of hours after supper I walked to the gym for a late-night workout. I was once again astonished at how many Joes workout so late. The place was packed. I made it a quick workout and headed back to the hooch. Thanks to the paper-thin walls of the CHUs, I had to sit and listen to the noisy conversation of the female soldiers next door to me. The entire conversation was in Spanish. I could only make out bits and pieces of what they were talking about. Based on my limited Espanol, the girls had come from the MWR where they had Salsa Night. Apparently, there was a Joe that kept asking one of them to dance and wouldn't leave her alone. She finally told him she was headed to the latrine and went back to her room instead. The guy started asking her roommate where she had gone and how he could get in touch with her. Sounds like a broken record playing the same sad song. It could've happened in anytown USA. Instead it happened at Camp Liberty.
I guess the story is told in all languages too.
Kids will be kids. Once we arrived at Al Faw my soldiers started running around snapping pictures of everything. It's a large palace, surrounded by a man-made lake that's teaming with carp. It's impossible to see the entire inside of the palace due to the labyrinth of temporary office walls and cubicles that compose the various staff sections of MNC-I. However, you can't miss the giant chandelier in the middle of the place. There's also a big goofy chair that has probably seen the asses of 200,000 Joes. Every one of my team members had to get a picture sitting in the chair. I've never had mine taken there and wasn't about to start. However, I did allow a team photo with the chair. I stood to the side. The photo came out pretty well. Once we got back outside we marveled for awhile at the size of some of the carp. I can say quite confidently that some of them were a meter in length or larger. My guys kept throwing rocks to see how quickly the fish swarmed in hopes of food. The fish were obviously used to having food thrown to them.
Something that I found to be an interesting contrast was the difference between the MNC-I HQ and the Iraqi Army HQ. While MNC-I enjoyed the biggest, nicest palace around, the Iraqi HQ was a much more austere building. It looked more like it was a palace annex at one time. I guess at some point we'll hand Al Faw back over. It definitely isn't happening very soon.
A couple of hours after supper I walked to the gym for a late-night workout. I was once again astonished at how many Joes workout so late. The place was packed. I made it a quick workout and headed back to the hooch. Thanks to the paper-thin walls of the CHUs, I had to sit and listen to the noisy conversation of the female soldiers next door to me. The entire conversation was in Spanish. I could only make out bits and pieces of what they were talking about. Based on my limited Espanol, the girls had come from the MWR where they had Salsa Night. Apparently, there was a Joe that kept asking one of them to dance and wouldn't leave her alone. She finally told him she was headed to the latrine and went back to her room instead. The guy started asking her roommate where she had gone and how he could get in touch with her. Sounds like a broken record playing the same sad song. It could've happened in anytown USA. Instead it happened at Camp Liberty.
I guess the story is told in all languages too.
Sunday, July 15, 2007
14 July 2007: Farewell to one of my best NCOs
You can tell from the headline that today was a melancholy affair. With mixed emotions we held a "farewell" ceremony for my longest tenured Staff Sergeant. He was here when I arrived, having elected to extend another six months. His decision to stay was such a blessing because it provided the only continuity I had to learn the role and missions of the team. His extended time is up. When his accrued leave is factored in it's time for him to go. Unfortunately, I only had the time he extended to consider for awards so I submitted him for an Army Commendation Medal (he had already received another award for the initial year he was deployed). It was approved just in time. I presented this to him. I also had a surprise. I had special ordered an embroidered guidon to thank him for his efforts. It was just a small token of the appreciation my entire team holds for him. He's headed home to San Diego but he may be back soon. It turns out that he applied to go active duty and his packet was approved. Once he transitions from Army Reserve to active duty he could find himself back over here very soon. I'd love to have him return to my team. That won't happen though. Once the big army has him he could go anywhere. From what I've seen he'll kick ass wherever he goes. SSG N epitomizes the professional NCO. He is an outstanding trainer, cares deeply about the well-being of his subordinates, and works extremely well on his own initiative. We've become good friends in the short time we've worked together. He actually worked for a short time for the same Major P that I told you of a few days ago. For the past week or so we've shared many laughs at the mention of a turkey baster. Anyway, so long SSG N. You are the man. You've served well.
Thanks to his attention to training details I've got a very well-prepared team. It will be his legacy.
There wasn't much else to report today. It was clear, hot, and dry. Most of my team is out at Camp Liberty and the rest of us will be joining them soon. I'll be living on the road the next few months.
Saturday, July 14, 2007
13 July 2007: Bad luck? No just a General
Today was supposed to be a day of slow normalcy. It turned out to be much busier than I expected. It had nothing to do with Friday the 13th (I'm not superstitious). We started off with command maintenance. It takes about five minutes to perform operator maintenance on the Admiral. The big event in the morning was a general officer visit. In this case, it was a brigadier general from one of the commands in Kuwait. He turned out to be very personable. As usual for generals, he had an entourage. Accompanying him was a lieutenant colonel and a lieutenant (his aide). For about an hour we briefed him on the operations of our unit. My portion was devoted to my team’s various redeployment missions. He spent the majority of his time asking about my team. It only made sense, as my team constitutes the majority of the workload performed by the unit we’re attached to. The BG left seemingly impressed. He said he’d like to come observe my team on a mission sometime. That’s pretty much standard “attaboy” talk from a general. He may surprise us and show up, he may not.
Once the BG had cleared our area I got on with writing the AAR from the mission to FOB Warhorse. I kept getting interrupted for various reasons. Eventually I finished. We’ve got another mission upcoming. This time we’re headed back to Camp Liberty. Keep in mind that it’s part of a huge compound with lots of units. In order to prevent weather delays, I asked my team for volunteers to fly “space-A” early. To my surprise, several of them immediately said they would go. I put a staff sergeant in charge, who determined there were seats available on a C130 flight later that evening. I gave them their marching orders. Within a few hours I had a team on the ground in Baghdad. I’ll fly down in a couple of days. So long as there are no weather delays I’ll be there in time for the beginning of the mission. I’ll have a couple of other team members flying with me.
At the end of the day I was simply tired. It’s unusual for me to take a nap late in the afternoon. However, today was an exception. I slept from about 1745-1930. Then I took off to the DFAC. I paid the price. At 2300 I was wide awake. Being full of energy I went to the gym for a midnight workout. That did the trick. I was amazed how many Joes were working out. The gym stays open 24hrs. I just didn’t expect so many soldiers that late in the evening. I had no trouble getting to sleep when I got back to the room. This is where some of you will think, “eeewwww!! He went to bed straight from a workout? No shower?” Relax! I took a shower first. I’m not that resigned to being sweaty and hot all the time.
Once the BG had cleared our area I got on with writing the AAR from the mission to FOB Warhorse. I kept getting interrupted for various reasons. Eventually I finished. We’ve got another mission upcoming. This time we’re headed back to Camp Liberty. Keep in mind that it’s part of a huge compound with lots of units. In order to prevent weather delays, I asked my team for volunteers to fly “space-A” early. To my surprise, several of them immediately said they would go. I put a staff sergeant in charge, who determined there were seats available on a C130 flight later that evening. I gave them their marching orders. Within a few hours I had a team on the ground in Baghdad. I’ll fly down in a couple of days. So long as there are no weather delays I’ll be there in time for the beginning of the mission. I’ll have a couple of other team members flying with me.
At the end of the day I was simply tired. It’s unusual for me to take a nap late in the afternoon. However, today was an exception. I slept from about 1745-1930. Then I took off to the DFAC. I paid the price. At 2300 I was wide awake. Being full of energy I went to the gym for a midnight workout. That did the trick. I was amazed how many Joes were working out. The gym stays open 24hrs. I just didn’t expect so many soldiers that late in the evening. I had no trouble getting to sleep when I got back to the room. This is where some of you will think, “eeewwww!! He went to bed straight from a workout? No shower?” Relax! I took a shower first. I’m not that resigned to being sweaty and hot all the time.
Friday, July 13, 2007
12 July 2007: Reflections on Warhorse
Given that I returned to LSAA at around 0130 there was no way I was getting up early. I told my team I didn’t want to see them until after lunch. I slept in till 0800 and then chilled in place over coffee. I rolled into the office around 1030.The day turned out to be much busier than I planned. However, I did have time to reflect on a few things regarding FOB Warhorse.
Graffiti – As I walked around the place I made it a point to poke my head in port-o-jons and latrines in search of juicy Joe commentary. The FOB was devoid of graffiti. I figured that a depressing place like Warhorse would be a flashpoint of Joe morale statements. Yet I couldn’t find a single word, sketch, or symbol. It was possible that KBR recently changed out the portable toilets. That wouldn’t explain the lack of expression on the walls of the containerized latrines. I guess FOB Warhorse is just such a mind-numbing place that Joe is too catatonic to write anything. One day at the place and all I could think of was AC and sleep.
IDF – Warhorse is near Baqubah. There’ve been major offensive operations ongoing in the area. When I flew there I expected the FOB to be a noisy place. I was wrong. While small, dusty, and cramped, the FOB was whisper quiet. I never heard a single alarm, announcement, or even a weapon the whole time I was there. Obviously the operations being conducted had sequestered any insurgent activity.
Sunsets – See the photo. Regardless of where I go the sunsets are always spectacular. I think it has to do with the dusty haze of this place. The sun always sets in a hue of spectacular reds and oranges. It would be a photographer’s (or realist painter’s) dream. The setting sun always provides a pastoral scene of serenity to every FOB. When I took a photo of the sunset at Warhorse a nearby soldier was quick to say, “that’s gonna make a great picture, sir!” He’s right. It did.
I’ve come to be grateful that I’m deployed in this capacity. My team is making a significant difference to the Joes who are outside the wire every day. We bring hope. My team’s presence is a sign to the warfighters that they will be going home soon. The support we provide means they’ll go home with less glitches. By the time this deployment is over I’ll have visited almost every single FOB in Iraq. What’s more important is that I’ll have directly supported Joes everywhere in their redeployment. FOB Warhorse was definitely an armpit but I’m glad to have seen the place. I’ll be there again very soon.
Graffiti – As I walked around the place I made it a point to poke my head in port-o-jons and latrines in search of juicy Joe commentary. The FOB was devoid of graffiti. I figured that a depressing place like Warhorse would be a flashpoint of Joe morale statements. Yet I couldn’t find a single word, sketch, or symbol. It was possible that KBR recently changed out the portable toilets. That wouldn’t explain the lack of expression on the walls of the containerized latrines. I guess FOB Warhorse is just such a mind-numbing place that Joe is too catatonic to write anything. One day at the place and all I could think of was AC and sleep.
IDF – Warhorse is near Baqubah. There’ve been major offensive operations ongoing in the area. When I flew there I expected the FOB to be a noisy place. I was wrong. While small, dusty, and cramped, the FOB was whisper quiet. I never heard a single alarm, announcement, or even a weapon the whole time I was there. Obviously the operations being conducted had sequestered any insurgent activity.
Sunsets – See the photo. Regardless of where I go the sunsets are always spectacular. I think it has to do with the dusty haze of this place. The sun always sets in a hue of spectacular reds and oranges. It would be a photographer’s (or realist painter’s) dream. The setting sun always provides a pastoral scene of serenity to every FOB. When I took a photo of the sunset at Warhorse a nearby soldier was quick to say, “that’s gonna make a great picture, sir!” He’s right. It did.
I’ve come to be grateful that I’m deployed in this capacity. My team is making a significant difference to the Joes who are outside the wire every day. We bring hope. My team’s presence is a sign to the warfighters that they will be going home soon. The support we provide means they’ll go home with less glitches. By the time this deployment is over I’ll have visited almost every single FOB in Iraq. What’s more important is that I’ll have directly supported Joes everywhere in their redeployment. FOB Warhorse was definitely an armpit but I’m glad to have seen the place. I’ll be there again very soon.
Thursday, July 12, 2007
11 July 2007: Cursing the darkness
An extra day at FOB Warhorse was my team’s reward for a job well done. After the previous day’s exertions there was really no option other than let everyone take the day off for recovery. Here’s how my morning went. 0715 I woke up, looked at my watch, and thought maybe I should get up and head over to the DFAC for breakfast. 0752 I woke up, looked at my watch, and thought maybe I should get up and head over to the DFAC for breakfast. 0824 I woke up, looked at my watch, and thought maybe I should get up and head over to the DFAC for breakfast. 1008 I woke up, looked at my watch, and thought damn I missed breakfast. 1048 I woke up, looked at my watch, and realized it was time to get up. 1135 I got up, went to the latrine, shaved, and headed over to the internet café to send in my SITREP from the day before. That took quite a while due to connectivity problems. After I finally got the SITREP completed I went to lunch. I was still in a complete daze from the day before. I tried to eat a plate of lasagna but it didn’t work. Fortunately, a KBR employee had a “taste of home” booth where he was serving red beans and rice. I got a bowl with a chunk of French bread. That went down much better than the lasagna. I then sat in front of a TV, watched news, and drank three cups of DFAC coffee.
I can’t say that I ever did feel awake. After lunch I attempted to use the internet café again but the connection totally sucked. Instead I walked around the FOB and took a few photos. Unfortunately, the heat kept me from seeing everything. Before long I was back at my hooch and laying down for a nap. On my way back to the hooch I took some photos of an armored humvee that had absorbed the blast of an IED. It appeared that the vehicle and crew survived without incident. There was obvious blast damage but it was all superficial. I’m sure the crew of the vehicle had a headache and a story to tell their grandchildren.
After a long nap I continued my walkabout. Eventually, I ended up back at the DFAC. The FOB is so small that a person naturally gravitates back to food. In patrolling terms it would be called “natural lines of drift”. Supper had been going for a good two hours but the place was overflowing. I had to wait in the hand washing area for twenty minutes before being allowed in. Even then I had to wait in line for another fifteen minutes to get to the food. It was steak and lobster night. I had a much bigger appetite than I had at lunch. I ate a big supper while talking to a Major sitting across from me. He’s Army Reserve and when not mobilized he’s a state trooper in Pennsylvania. We talked for quite a while. He introduced me to a burly First Sergeant who normally works on the ROTC staff at another college. It was nice to meet someone in the same line of work as me. We both agreed that teaching Army ROTC is one of the most enjoyable jobs to be had. Eventually supper ended and I walked over to Green Beans for a chocolate smoothie.
About 2155 I grabbed my gear, locked up the hooch, and started walking to the brigade HQ. There aren’t any area lights so it was pitch black. I had to depend on the horizon light for reference. I simply could not see where I was stepping. I knew I was on the road to the HQ but strayed too far off the hard surface. I didn’t remember seeing a gully when it was daylight but there sure enough was one there. I walked right into it. I busted my ass – falling face forward into the gully. I was wearing my body armor and my rucksack. Once I had fallen in I stumbled wildly getting out. Eventually I made it back to the hard surface of the road. My uniform and equipment was covered in dusty dirt, my left knee was throbbing from the fall, and I was throwing the f-bomb with abandon. Fortunately it was so dark that nobody saw it happen. A few minutes later I reached the HQ. I had dusted myself off and walked up with a happy face.
A sergeant from the brigade S4 shop drove us to the pax terminal. At FOB Warhorse there is no indoor waiting area. Everyone waits in a gravel open area surrounded by jersey barriers. Shortly after we sat down we noticed movement in the shadows. Our flashlights revealed the culprit – a camel spider. These things grow quite large, move lightning fast, and are very scary looking. It was coming towards us so we started kicking gravel and eventually drove it off in another direction. That caused a huge commotion with another group of soldiers. When they spotted it coming they started grabbing their gear, jumping up on chairs and benches, and doing whatever it took to avoid the beast. For the next twenty minutes they jumped at anything. It was very comical. One of the soldiers was convinced the spider had climbed into his IBA. We just laughed.
Our helicopters arrived early. My team had the birds all to ourselves. Fifteen minutes later we were on the ground at LSAA. Goodbye FOB Warhorse. The good news is we made it out. The bad news is we have to go back later this month.
I can’t say that I ever did feel awake. After lunch I attempted to use the internet café again but the connection totally sucked. Instead I walked around the FOB and took a few photos. Unfortunately, the heat kept me from seeing everything. Before long I was back at my hooch and laying down for a nap. On my way back to the hooch I took some photos of an armored humvee that had absorbed the blast of an IED. It appeared that the vehicle and crew survived without incident. There was obvious blast damage but it was all superficial. I’m sure the crew of the vehicle had a headache and a story to tell their grandchildren.
After a long nap I continued my walkabout. Eventually, I ended up back at the DFAC. The FOB is so small that a person naturally gravitates back to food. In patrolling terms it would be called “natural lines of drift”. Supper had been going for a good two hours but the place was overflowing. I had to wait in the hand washing area for twenty minutes before being allowed in. Even then I had to wait in line for another fifteen minutes to get to the food. It was steak and lobster night. I had a much bigger appetite than I had at lunch. I ate a big supper while talking to a Major sitting across from me. He’s Army Reserve and when not mobilized he’s a state trooper in Pennsylvania. We talked for quite a while. He introduced me to a burly First Sergeant who normally works on the ROTC staff at another college. It was nice to meet someone in the same line of work as me. We both agreed that teaching Army ROTC is one of the most enjoyable jobs to be had. Eventually supper ended and I walked over to Green Beans for a chocolate smoothie.
About 2155 I grabbed my gear, locked up the hooch, and started walking to the brigade HQ. There aren’t any area lights so it was pitch black. I had to depend on the horizon light for reference. I simply could not see where I was stepping. I knew I was on the road to the HQ but strayed too far off the hard surface. I didn’t remember seeing a gully when it was daylight but there sure enough was one there. I walked right into it. I busted my ass – falling face forward into the gully. I was wearing my body armor and my rucksack. Once I had fallen in I stumbled wildly getting out. Eventually I made it back to the hard surface of the road. My uniform and equipment was covered in dusty dirt, my left knee was throbbing from the fall, and I was throwing the f-bomb with abandon. Fortunately it was so dark that nobody saw it happen. A few minutes later I reached the HQ. I had dusted myself off and walked up with a happy face.
A sergeant from the brigade S4 shop drove us to the pax terminal. At FOB Warhorse there is no indoor waiting area. Everyone waits in a gravel open area surrounded by jersey barriers. Shortly after we sat down we noticed movement in the shadows. Our flashlights revealed the culprit – a camel spider. These things grow quite large, move lightning fast, and are very scary looking. It was coming towards us so we started kicking gravel and eventually drove it off in another direction. That caused a huge commotion with another group of soldiers. When they spotted it coming they started grabbing their gear, jumping up on chairs and benches, and doing whatever it took to avoid the beast. For the next twenty minutes they jumped at anything. It was very comical. One of the soldiers was convinced the spider had climbed into his IBA. We just laughed.
Our helicopters arrived early. My team had the birds all to ourselves. Fifteen minutes later we were on the ground at LSAA. Goodbye FOB Warhorse. The good news is we made it out. The bad news is we have to go back later this month.
10 July 2007: Walking on the Moon (aka FOB Warhorse)
Night conceals the reality of day. The reality that morning light brought was that FOB Warhorse is a depressing place. It’s a small place, devoid of color, and extremely dusty. Ever since the “Surge” it has been home to a lot more soldiers than it’s original design called for. Everywhere you look is Hesco barriers (portable chicken wire and canvas barriers filled with dirt) and concrete jersey barriers. Behind every wall are tents, CHUs, and hastily constructed plywood buildings. At the base of all of it is the thickest layer of fine-powder dust I’ve ever seen. It’s moon dust. The NASA landings could have been staged here. There is only one paved road at FOB Warhorse and it is a former runway. The talc covers all, chokes all, and dominates all. The only thing good I could think about was that fortunately it wasn’t raining. At least dust doesn’t stick to boots. This powder was just like a Betty Crocker cake mix. It was just waiting for water and a mixing bowl. In most places the dust was ankle deep. The only exception was in housing areas, where gravel had been placed. This was the scene that awaited me when I arose from my hooch.
My team was on another training mission. This time we were supporting a Striker brigade from Fort Lewis, WA. Our contact met us first thing and took us to the DFAC. We quickly noticed how packed the place was. There’s only one DFAC here. After breakfast we returned to the brigade headquarters and set up for class in the conference room. During the course of the morning we taught our normal refresher training to about 30 or so soldiers. We had agreed to inspect containers for serviceability once classes were finished and set about this task as soon as classes were complete. I didn’t realize how many containers we would be looking at. It was over 100. All of them were located in the dustiest of locations. Most of them required moving before we could look at them. A long, hot, and dusty afternoon ensued. We worked right through lunch. Many of the containers were unserviceable due to holes in the sides or roofs. We continually drained water but seemed to sweat it out faster than we consumed. I even had sweat pouring through the tongue of my boots. That sucked because it made the dust cake around the laces. Just as we were finishing inspecting one container a humvee screamed up and stopped. The doors flew open and the soldiers inside bailed out lightning fast. One of them opened the door, threw off his Kevlar, took off his body armor, and removed his ACU jacket. What was amazing is that he did it all in one motion. Every one of them looked like they had been dipped in the swimming pool. They were drenched in sweat – their faces red. The NCO in charge told me they had just returned from mission but their AC had conked out the day before. I asked why they weren’t given another for today’s mission (no AC is a maintenance deadline). He told me there weren’t any more available in the battalion. I got to thinking that were I their battalion commander I would have let them use my humvee. They looked so miserable. The outside temperature soared to the 120’s. It was humid too. It must’ve been 140 or more inside their humvee.
At one point we were wrapping up another container inspection when we noticed everyone around us had stopped what they were doing. Looking around, we saw the reason. Nearby was a female soldier ground-guiding a HETT (Heavy Equipment Transporter Truck). She was petite, blonde, and very shapely. Due to the heat she had removed her ACU top to reveal her form-fitting Under Armor t-shirt. Every male soldier in a 300 meter radius was enamored. I had been saying something and noticed the sudden silence. Looking around, I saw what was happening. All I could do was laugh. Boys will be boys and, I must admit, she was one of the hottest soldiers I’ve ever seen. She was quite aware of the attention and simply went along with the adoration. On a small FOB like Warhorse I’d be certain she is known by all. I was just witnessing a daily occurrence.
The last bunch of containers we inspected shared real estate with a mortar firing point. Adjacent to the containers were two Striker 120mm mortar carriers set up for business. Being a former mortar platoon leader, I had to go talk to the 11 Charlies (that’s lingo for their MOS – 11C, Infantry Mortarmen). As I expected they were a funny group. 11C Joes are very blunt but always in good morale. They had come to Warhorse for what was supposed to be 60 days but was now going on 140. All of their personal gear was back at Camp Liberty. I asked where they were from and three of them quickly responded “Fort Lewis, Sir!” I said, “I know he Army owns you but I meant where you are from.” They laughed and made the correction. One of them was from New York. I said, “I’ll bet you’re a Yankees fan.” He said, “only when there’s a Red Sox fan around.” I said, “well that makes you a Yankees fan right now.” We shared a laugh. The mortar Joes set my team up with some ice cold water and we continued our inspections. A little later they broke out RC cars and started racing them in the dust, which was more than ankle deep in places (refer to the photo of my boot prints that was taken in the same location). As we were leaving I went back over to the mortar Joes and shook every one of their hands, thanking them for what they do.
Around 1900 we finally finished our inspections. All three of us were caked with dust and sweat. We dusted ourselves off and headed to the DFAC. Once inside we all ate as if in a daze. The plan was to meet back at the brigade HQ for 2200 for a ride back to the pax terminal. We’d been told that our flight was at 0030. Another surprise was in store for us. When we arrived at the pax terminal we checked in and waited for confirmation on our flight. This required a secure phone call back to Catfish Air in Balad. While we waited we noticed camel spiders scurrying around in the darkness. A little while later we received bad news. Our flight was for the next night. There were no flights to Balad this evening. We looked at each other with pained expressions. We’d been doomed to another day in FOB Warhorse. The mission had gone very well but we weren’t hip on another day here. Oh well… A short time later we were back in our hooches. I peeled off my sweaty clothes and collapsed on the bed. It’s absolutely amazing how much the heat can sap every ounce of strength from your body. I told my team that I didn’t want to see them again until 2200 the next evening. Translation? Go get some sleep!
My team was on another training mission. This time we were supporting a Striker brigade from Fort Lewis, WA. Our contact met us first thing and took us to the DFAC. We quickly noticed how packed the place was. There’s only one DFAC here. After breakfast we returned to the brigade headquarters and set up for class in the conference room. During the course of the morning we taught our normal refresher training to about 30 or so soldiers. We had agreed to inspect containers for serviceability once classes were finished and set about this task as soon as classes were complete. I didn’t realize how many containers we would be looking at. It was over 100. All of them were located in the dustiest of locations. Most of them required moving before we could look at them. A long, hot, and dusty afternoon ensued. We worked right through lunch. Many of the containers were unserviceable due to holes in the sides or roofs. We continually drained water but seemed to sweat it out faster than we consumed. I even had sweat pouring through the tongue of my boots. That sucked because it made the dust cake around the laces. Just as we were finishing inspecting one container a humvee screamed up and stopped. The doors flew open and the soldiers inside bailed out lightning fast. One of them opened the door, threw off his Kevlar, took off his body armor, and removed his ACU jacket. What was amazing is that he did it all in one motion. Every one of them looked like they had been dipped in the swimming pool. They were drenched in sweat – their faces red. The NCO in charge told me they had just returned from mission but their AC had conked out the day before. I asked why they weren’t given another for today’s mission (no AC is a maintenance deadline). He told me there weren’t any more available in the battalion. I got to thinking that were I their battalion commander I would have let them use my humvee. They looked so miserable. The outside temperature soared to the 120’s. It was humid too. It must’ve been 140 or more inside their humvee.
At one point we were wrapping up another container inspection when we noticed everyone around us had stopped what they were doing. Looking around, we saw the reason. Nearby was a female soldier ground-guiding a HETT (Heavy Equipment Transporter Truck). She was petite, blonde, and very shapely. Due to the heat she had removed her ACU top to reveal her form-fitting Under Armor t-shirt. Every male soldier in a 300 meter radius was enamored. I had been saying something and noticed the sudden silence. Looking around, I saw what was happening. All I could do was laugh. Boys will be boys and, I must admit, she was one of the hottest soldiers I’ve ever seen. She was quite aware of the attention and simply went along with the adoration. On a small FOB like Warhorse I’d be certain she is known by all. I was just witnessing a daily occurrence.
The last bunch of containers we inspected shared real estate with a mortar firing point. Adjacent to the containers were two Striker 120mm mortar carriers set up for business. Being a former mortar platoon leader, I had to go talk to the 11 Charlies (that’s lingo for their MOS – 11C, Infantry Mortarmen). As I expected they were a funny group. 11C Joes are very blunt but always in good morale. They had come to Warhorse for what was supposed to be 60 days but was now going on 140. All of their personal gear was back at Camp Liberty. I asked where they were from and three of them quickly responded “Fort Lewis, Sir!” I said, “I know he Army owns you but I meant where you are from.” They laughed and made the correction. One of them was from New York. I said, “I’ll bet you’re a Yankees fan.” He said, “only when there’s a Red Sox fan around.” I said, “well that makes you a Yankees fan right now.” We shared a laugh. The mortar Joes set my team up with some ice cold water and we continued our inspections. A little later they broke out RC cars and started racing them in the dust, which was more than ankle deep in places (refer to the photo of my boot prints that was taken in the same location). As we were leaving I went back over to the mortar Joes and shook every one of their hands, thanking them for what they do.
Around 1900 we finally finished our inspections. All three of us were caked with dust and sweat. We dusted ourselves off and headed to the DFAC. Once inside we all ate as if in a daze. The plan was to meet back at the brigade HQ for 2200 for a ride back to the pax terminal. We’d been told that our flight was at 0030. Another surprise was in store for us. When we arrived at the pax terminal we checked in and waited for confirmation on our flight. This required a secure phone call back to Catfish Air in Balad. While we waited we noticed camel spiders scurrying around in the darkness. A little while later we received bad news. Our flight was for the next night. There were no flights to Balad this evening. We looked at each other with pained expressions. We’d been doomed to another day in FOB Warhorse. The mission had gone very well but we weren’t hip on another day here. Oh well… A short time later we were back in our hooches. I peeled off my sweaty clothes and collapsed on the bed. It’s absolutely amazing how much the heat can sap every ounce of strength from your body. I told my team that I didn’t want to see them again until 2200 the next evening. Translation? Go get some sleep!
09 July 2007: Made it to Warhorse - Finally!
At last I’m able to update this blog. My apologies to all of you who’ve been waiting for my updates. FOB Warhorse was a challenging place. I’m back in LSAA now so I’ll update the days I missed. Let’s start with this past Monday.
We pick the story back up with my team and I still trying to fly to FOB Warhorse. Two nights in a row we’ve been turned away. The past two nights it was because of the persistent sandstorm. This morning came bright and clear. The threat of another cancelled flight was rapidly diminishing. When our flight cancelled the night before, I received help from a KBR representative of Catfish Air in getting “space-blocked” on another flight. Unfortunately, Catfish had no flights to Warhorse for Monday night. However, Destiny Air had seats available. Destiny Air is co-located with Catfish and coordinates all the CH47 flights. There were three seats available so we took them. I had five people designated for the mission so the other two would be space available. The stage was set.
Around noon I received a call from our operations officer. He had bad news. Our flight had been cancelled for “tactical reasons.” I had no idea what that meant. There was another flight but we’d all be space available. It was our only recourse. Due to the number of cancelled flights the past few days I had a bad feeling about getting on a helicopter. We’d go through the motions though. There was always a chance. The day as a whole was uneventful. I let the mission soldiers leave early to get ready. We had a show time of 2230 at Destiny Air. I left the office, squeezed in a workout, and ate a shitty supper of sickeningly soft spaghetti.
When we arrived at Destiny Air the pax terminal was packed. The stand-by line for the FOB Warhorse line was twelve deep. In layman’s terms, that ain’t good. We went ahead and put our names on the list. It was looking highly unlikely that we’d fly. Both CH47’s were already almost full with people who were space-blocked. My team was aware and suggested that we not stick around. However, I clung to the small hope that we’d still make the flight, that somehow there would be room for us.
Around midnight the representative from Destiny Air came out and made roll call. We all lined up, geared up, and headed out on the flight line. The two CH47’s landed and we waited for the crew chief. After he spoke with the Destiny representative the first ten or so soldiers from the flight line were allowed to board the lead aircraft. The rest of us were turned around to leave – no more room. However, just as we were clearing the trail helicopter another representative from Destiny ran up to me and asked me to stand by. He came back about a minute later and said “Ok sir! You can come on the trail bird!” I looked at him and yelled, “I can’t go without my team!” He asked how many there were and ran back to talk to the crew chief. When he returned he held up three fingers. I immediately turned to my team, grabbed two of them and we all waved goodbye to the other two. We literally had to leave them standing on the flight line. Then we boarded the trail CH47. It was already full so soldiers at the rear had to squeeze to make room. We got a lot of disgusted looks. It didn’t matter though. Shortly after we took off and made the short flight to Warhorse. All the other passengers must’ve been going somewhere else because when we touched down at Warhorse my team was the only people to exit the aircraft. Our contact was there to meet us and in no time he (a sergeant from the Striker Brigade) had us checked into our billets for the night. I settled into my CHU and was soon fast asleep. It took three straight days of trying but we finally made it to Warhorse.
We pick the story back up with my team and I still trying to fly to FOB Warhorse. Two nights in a row we’ve been turned away. The past two nights it was because of the persistent sandstorm. This morning came bright and clear. The threat of another cancelled flight was rapidly diminishing. When our flight cancelled the night before, I received help from a KBR representative of Catfish Air in getting “space-blocked” on another flight. Unfortunately, Catfish had no flights to Warhorse for Monday night. However, Destiny Air had seats available. Destiny Air is co-located with Catfish and coordinates all the CH47 flights. There were three seats available so we took them. I had five people designated for the mission so the other two would be space available. The stage was set.
Around noon I received a call from our operations officer. He had bad news. Our flight had been cancelled for “tactical reasons.” I had no idea what that meant. There was another flight but we’d all be space available. It was our only recourse. Due to the number of cancelled flights the past few days I had a bad feeling about getting on a helicopter. We’d go through the motions though. There was always a chance. The day as a whole was uneventful. I let the mission soldiers leave early to get ready. We had a show time of 2230 at Destiny Air. I left the office, squeezed in a workout, and ate a shitty supper of sickeningly soft spaghetti.
When we arrived at Destiny Air the pax terminal was packed. The stand-by line for the FOB Warhorse line was twelve deep. In layman’s terms, that ain’t good. We went ahead and put our names on the list. It was looking highly unlikely that we’d fly. Both CH47’s were already almost full with people who were space-blocked. My team was aware and suggested that we not stick around. However, I clung to the small hope that we’d still make the flight, that somehow there would be room for us.
Around midnight the representative from Destiny Air came out and made roll call. We all lined up, geared up, and headed out on the flight line. The two CH47’s landed and we waited for the crew chief. After he spoke with the Destiny representative the first ten or so soldiers from the flight line were allowed to board the lead aircraft. The rest of us were turned around to leave – no more room. However, just as we were clearing the trail helicopter another representative from Destiny ran up to me and asked me to stand by. He came back about a minute later and said “Ok sir! You can come on the trail bird!” I looked at him and yelled, “I can’t go without my team!” He asked how many there were and ran back to talk to the crew chief. When he returned he held up three fingers. I immediately turned to my team, grabbed two of them and we all waved goodbye to the other two. We literally had to leave them standing on the flight line. Then we boarded the trail CH47. It was already full so soldiers at the rear had to squeeze to make room. We got a lot of disgusted looks. It didn’t matter though. Shortly after we took off and made the short flight to Warhorse. All the other passengers must’ve been going somewhere else because when we touched down at Warhorse my team was the only people to exit the aircraft. Our contact was there to meet us and in no time he (a sergeant from the Striker Brigade) had us checked into our billets for the night. I settled into my CHU and was soon fast asleep. It took three straight days of trying but we finally made it to Warhorse.
Wednesday, July 11, 2007
Mission Limitations Messing with my Updates
Hello everyone! I'm sorry for the lack of updates the past two days. I am presently on a mission to FOB Warhorse. It is the most depressing FOB I've seen. Part of the frustration is that I have limited internet connectivity here and when I get online I have to limit my time to mission-related work. However, I will update the past three days upon my return to LSAA. I've got a few great photos and stories to tell from this trip. Make certain that when you check back (and notice I've updated) to go back to 09 July and read from there.
By the way, the past two days have been the hottest I've experienced this summer. FOB Warhorse is a true, dusty armpit! I feel for the Joes that work here. If you'd like to find it on a map, the nearby town is Baqubah.
Stay tuned for my updates!
By the way, the past two days have been the hottest I've experienced this summer. FOB Warhorse is a true, dusty armpit! I feel for the Joes that work here. If you'd like to find it on a map, the nearby town is Baqubah.
Stay tuned for my updates!
Monday, July 9, 2007
08 July 2007: Sandstorm? Can't control that!
Remember me saying I was on my way to FOB Warhorse? Well it seems Mother Nature had other things in mind. Around mid-afternoon Saturday a sandstorm hit. By this morning it was really bad. It only became worse as the day progressed. I’ve never seen visibility as poor as it was today. From my hooch there were times I couldn’t even see the AMC yard, which is only about 400meters away. No helicopters were flying at all. That even includes the CASEVAC helicopters flying in and out of the hospital. It made for an eerily silent day and night. My team still planned as though the mission was taking place. Sunday is a day off and nothing was different today in that regard. We had a 2200 “showtime” at Catfish Air. I spent the day sleeping in, enjoying morning coffee, reading e-mail, making phone calls, and working out. I knew we wouldn’t fly. The sandstorm showed no signs of abating. Around 2000 I stopped by the pax terminal to get an update. There were probably 200 or more soldiers and civilians laying around in various positions. That was the obvious sign that nothing was flying. Sure enough, there was a weather hold on all flights. Since I was already on the west side I headed over to Green Beans to catch up with my friend MAJ B. There was a huge crowd with lots of singers. I visited for a while then went back to the pax terminal. At 2230 I told my team to head home. We’re booked on another flight. Looks like we may go through the same routine for a third straight night. I never get stressed about things out of our control. If helicopters aren’t flying I just laugh and shrug it off. I’m glad to see that my team is reflecting this attitude. I saw a lot of long faces in the pax terminal, as well as several angry folks. My team was “zippity do da”. This deployment would really be long if we stressed about things out of our control. I guess we’ll just fly tomorrow.
Sunday, July 8, 2007
07 July 2007: The Sordid Tale of Major P.
Today turned out to be the perfect opportunity to tell a sordid tale. Before I share this I’ll get you up to speed on what my team accomplished. We had mandatory training that encompassed subjects like “Issue a WARNO” and “Conduct PCC/PCI”. Since it was Saturday we only worked half a day. A few members of the team and I are flying out tonight for a mission in FOB Warhorse, which is located nearby at Baqubah. I’ve never been there so it should be interesting. I always enjoy treading new ground. It may affect my ability to update the blog. If I’m unable to get online while I’m gone I’ll update upon my return to LSAA. That’s my event update so now let me get on with the sordid tale I promised.
Ever since I arrived here I’ve been cleaning up the disaster a previous officer left behind. Normally when there is a command transition the outgoing personnel provide some continuity in the form of written SOPs (standard operating procedure), mission documentation, and other visual guides. It’s also expected that there be some form of mission statement that defines the purpose of the unit. None of that existed when I arrived. To make matters worse, the soldiers from the outgoing unit were only interested in leaving. It didn’t take long for me to figure out that I had a serious beef with the outgoing leadership. Nothing was available to assist me with transitioning in as the new team leader. The crazy thing was I couldn’t blame the Major that was here when I arrived. He was just clueless and a very weak leader. The officer prior to him was the culprit. This officer (another Major) had led the team for five months spanning May – September 2006. During that time he had done very little except “spotlight” himself. He had purposefully taken credit for everything the team had accomplished and shared none with his subordinates. I found a few memorandums he had authored that were a poor attempt to create an illusion of competence. They were useless to me. The bottom line is I had to redefine the way the team does business. I wrote (notice I didn't say re-wrote) the mission statement and developed a system of mission tracking, documentation, and review. I never expected to arrive here and have to invent the way we do business. Thanks to the prior administration that’s exactly what I had to do. Let me get back to the tale.
I haven’t even started to chip the iceberg on the story. I’m just building background so you are aware the type of character I’m talking about. This officer – Major P – apparently has a charismatic personality. I’ve never met him but know all about the guy. He was the “golden boy” of his unit. His chain-of-command loved him and bought his act hook, line, and sinker. Even though he was only in Iraq for five months he parlayed his time into a Bronze Star – his chain-of-command selling the idea until it was approved. Unfortunately, the narrative (used for award justification and approval) of the award is complete bullshit. I’ve read it and it is full of blatant falsehoods and non-existent events. Members of his team from the time he was OIC have verified that his award narrative is full of distortions and inconsistencies. It was certainly an example of a “good ol’boy network”taking care of their own. At this point I could stop and claim this is the tale I promised. I’m still only setting up the background. You see, he left Balad after five months for a reason. His unit had been tasked to provide a liaison officer to the United States Embassy in Pakistan. The officer selected for this choice assignment would provide interface with the Pakistani government for the safe passage of all coalition supply containers going overland to and from Afghanistan. Who else would be a better fit than Major P? Soon he was in place, living in style in Islamabad. All is well now right? Unfortunately for Major P what goes around comes around. His own character flaws were about to get him in serious trouble.
Soon after the dapper Major P arrived in Islamabad he met an American lady who was a co-worker at the U.S. Embassy. She fell for the dashing fellow. He fell harder though. Soon she realized he wasn’t the great guy he came across as at first. Word on the street is that he has a serious drinking problem and is a control freak. I guess it’s true. She broke up with him. He then proceeded to harass her. An embassy compound isn’t a big place so a stalking ex-lover is someone you can’t hide from. The situation became so bad that a “no contact” order was placed and Major P was relieved of his duties. He was subsequently reassigned to the states. This culminated in May 2007. It doesn’t end there.
29 June 2007 – Major P was arrested at the Minneapolis-St Paul airport. He was wearing a long brown coat, a wig, and fake beard. Under his coat he carried a stun gun, three cans of mace, and an expandable police baton. He had been approached at the baggage terminal by security, who were quick to notice the suspicious character. His car was found to contain flex cuffs, rope, a shovel, KY jelly, condoms, cotton strips, a turkey baster (go figure) and plans for the abduction. Somehow he had determined his former girlfriend’s flight itinerary and had concocted a plan to abduct her (or worse). Major P is now in jail charged with felony attempted kidnapping and is being held on $1,000,000 bond.
All of this news came to our light today. We had all wondered why the man had been relieved of his duties in Pakistan. Now we know. The truth ended up being much worse than anything we ever imagined. If you’d like to get the complete story simply go to Google and enter words like “Army Major, bizarre kidnapping plot, Minneapolis-St Paul Airport, June 29 2007.” You’ll be shocked. Yet from what I’ve unraveled on my end it has been obvious there were a few things out of sorts with the guy. What’s telling is that soldiers who were on his team when he was OIC aren’t surprised. They all reacted with a “what goes around comes around” attitude. From what I’ve seen of his time in Balad they’re correct.
Sordid tale wasn’t it? Thank goodness he was arrested before he could go through with his plan.
Ever since I arrived here I’ve been cleaning up the disaster a previous officer left behind. Normally when there is a command transition the outgoing personnel provide some continuity in the form of written SOPs (standard operating procedure), mission documentation, and other visual guides. It’s also expected that there be some form of mission statement that defines the purpose of the unit. None of that existed when I arrived. To make matters worse, the soldiers from the outgoing unit were only interested in leaving. It didn’t take long for me to figure out that I had a serious beef with the outgoing leadership. Nothing was available to assist me with transitioning in as the new team leader. The crazy thing was I couldn’t blame the Major that was here when I arrived. He was just clueless and a very weak leader. The officer prior to him was the culprit. This officer (another Major) had led the team for five months spanning May – September 2006. During that time he had done very little except “spotlight” himself. He had purposefully taken credit for everything the team had accomplished and shared none with his subordinates. I found a few memorandums he had authored that were a poor attempt to create an illusion of competence. They were useless to me. The bottom line is I had to redefine the way the team does business. I wrote (notice I didn't say re-wrote) the mission statement and developed a system of mission tracking, documentation, and review. I never expected to arrive here and have to invent the way we do business. Thanks to the prior administration that’s exactly what I had to do. Let me get back to the tale.
I haven’t even started to chip the iceberg on the story. I’m just building background so you are aware the type of character I’m talking about. This officer – Major P – apparently has a charismatic personality. I’ve never met him but know all about the guy. He was the “golden boy” of his unit. His chain-of-command loved him and bought his act hook, line, and sinker. Even though he was only in Iraq for five months he parlayed his time into a Bronze Star – his chain-of-command selling the idea until it was approved. Unfortunately, the narrative (used for award justification and approval) of the award is complete bullshit. I’ve read it and it is full of blatant falsehoods and non-existent events. Members of his team from the time he was OIC have verified that his award narrative is full of distortions and inconsistencies. It was certainly an example of a “good ol’boy network”taking care of their own. At this point I could stop and claim this is the tale I promised. I’m still only setting up the background. You see, he left Balad after five months for a reason. His unit had been tasked to provide a liaison officer to the United States Embassy in Pakistan. The officer selected for this choice assignment would provide interface with the Pakistani government for the safe passage of all coalition supply containers going overland to and from Afghanistan. Who else would be a better fit than Major P? Soon he was in place, living in style in Islamabad. All is well now right? Unfortunately for Major P what goes around comes around. His own character flaws were about to get him in serious trouble.
Soon after the dapper Major P arrived in Islamabad he met an American lady who was a co-worker at the U.S. Embassy. She fell for the dashing fellow. He fell harder though. Soon she realized he wasn’t the great guy he came across as at first. Word on the street is that he has a serious drinking problem and is a control freak. I guess it’s true. She broke up with him. He then proceeded to harass her. An embassy compound isn’t a big place so a stalking ex-lover is someone you can’t hide from. The situation became so bad that a “no contact” order was placed and Major P was relieved of his duties. He was subsequently reassigned to the states. This culminated in May 2007. It doesn’t end there.
29 June 2007 – Major P was arrested at the Minneapolis-St Paul airport. He was wearing a long brown coat, a wig, and fake beard. Under his coat he carried a stun gun, three cans of mace, and an expandable police baton. He had been approached at the baggage terminal by security, who were quick to notice the suspicious character. His car was found to contain flex cuffs, rope, a shovel, KY jelly, condoms, cotton strips, a turkey baster (go figure) and plans for the abduction. Somehow he had determined his former girlfriend’s flight itinerary and had concocted a plan to abduct her (or worse). Major P is now in jail charged with felony attempted kidnapping and is being held on $1,000,000 bond.
All of this news came to our light today. We had all wondered why the man had been relieved of his duties in Pakistan. Now we know. The truth ended up being much worse than anything we ever imagined. If you’d like to get the complete story simply go to Google and enter words like “Army Major, bizarre kidnapping plot, Minneapolis-St Paul Airport, June 29 2007.” You’ll be shocked. Yet from what I’ve unraveled on my end it has been obvious there were a few things out of sorts with the guy. What’s telling is that soldiers who were on his team when he was OIC aren’t surprised. They all reacted with a “what goes around comes around” attitude. From what I’ve seen of his time in Balad they’re correct.
Sordid tale wasn’t it? Thank goodness he was arrested before he could go through with his plan.
Saturday, July 7, 2007
06 July 2007: Exactly Four Months
It’s strangely peaceful around here these days. July is already a week old yet LSAA has been calm the whole time. I’ve heard several controlled detonations. That’s about all though. Today the big event was a luncheon “Hail and Farewell” for the executive officer. His deployment is over so it was essentially a farewell only. He was presented his award, several people said a few kind words, and then he was whisked away to his flight south. Normally folks don’t go directly to their flight but he had developed some friendships that curried favors. Basically, he got to fly on the MNF-I commander’s Learjet to Kuwait. Talk about riding in style. Most folks fly south on a creaky old C130. I imagine that’s how I’ll go when this is over.
Today marked the fourth month of my deployment. That’s a third of my deployment. It really went by quickly. We haven’t even been that busy so far. This is really going to fly by when our missions start picking up. I’m not complaining. I’ve been finding myself daydreaming of home quite a bit. I need to get busy again so I can stay focused.
I’ve got to visit a few port-o-jons to see if I can gauge what Joes are thinking these days. It’s getting real hot, summer is in mid-stride, and Joe has got to be thinking of home. I’d imagine that would produce some hard core comments. You can rest assured that I will report my findings here.
Today marked the fourth month of my deployment. That’s a third of my deployment. It really went by quickly. We haven’t even been that busy so far. This is really going to fly by when our missions start picking up. I’m not complaining. I’ve been finding myself daydreaming of home quite a bit. I need to get busy again so I can stay focused.
I’ve got to visit a few port-o-jons to see if I can gauge what Joes are thinking these days. It’s getting real hot, summer is in mid-stride, and Joe has got to be thinking of home. I’d imagine that would produce some hard core comments. You can rest assured that I will report my findings here.
Thursday, July 5, 2007
05 July 2007: The Effeminate Poser
I hope you find today’s title intriguing. It comes from an observation I made today. From time to time I’ll see something that makes me scratch my head and wonder about the “don’t ask, don’t tell” policy. Occasionally I’ll encounter someone who’s behavior or appearance (or both) seems to violate the “don’t tell” side of the policy. I’m not asking when I see someone like this. Yet, if their very presence is blaring homosexual like a neon sign then what are others supposed to think? I’m not delving into cliché or homophobic diatribe here. Policy is policy. That there is a policy means there are violations. Here’s my case in point. He’s the effeminate poser.
After work today I went to H6 recreation to work out. I go there on days I’m running because the AC works in the facility. I can run without the danger of passing out from dehydration. While I was working out a couple of AF personnel walked in and went straight to the treadmills. The man closest to me had the appearance of a serious distance runner. He was tall and string-bean lean. I immediately assumed he was a true athlete. He certainly acted the part – going through a whole sequence of professional-looking stretches. However I found out quickly he was a poser. Once he mounted the treadmill he started running at a very slow pace. For you treadmill aficionados, he was running at around a 6.5mph pace. His running form is what made me scratch my head. He ran with a very deliberate daintiness. His hands were swaying limp at the wrist. To put it bluntly, he was running like a girl. His posture, style, and methods were extremely effeminate. To top it off, he never increased the pace. Serious runner? Obviously not! A short time later I grabbed a treadmill and began my run. The effeminate poser was running to my right front. I noticed he was still at the same slow 6.5mph. His girly-man running style was even more pronounced. Within a few minutes he finished his run. His buddy walked up and they began talking. That’s when I heard the effeminate poser’s voice. It couldn’t have been scripted any better. It was an exact match to the running style. He spoke with that pronounced lisp that is frequently associated with gay men. It was definitely not a masculine voice. The entire spectacle made me wonder about the fiasco of “don’t ask, don’t tell”. Nobody in the gym was asking but effeminate poser’s entire persona was telling. Am I just falling for cliché? I don’t think so. I guess the debate will continue. One thing’s for certain – the guy was definitely not a runner and he was certainly effeminate.
Therefore it’s safe for me to call him the effeminate poser.
I don’t think he would be a good candidate for a recruiting poster.
After work today I went to H6 recreation to work out. I go there on days I’m running because the AC works in the facility. I can run without the danger of passing out from dehydration. While I was working out a couple of AF personnel walked in and went straight to the treadmills. The man closest to me had the appearance of a serious distance runner. He was tall and string-bean lean. I immediately assumed he was a true athlete. He certainly acted the part – going through a whole sequence of professional-looking stretches. However I found out quickly he was a poser. Once he mounted the treadmill he started running at a very slow pace. For you treadmill aficionados, he was running at around a 6.5mph pace. His running form is what made me scratch my head. He ran with a very deliberate daintiness. His hands were swaying limp at the wrist. To put it bluntly, he was running like a girl. His posture, style, and methods were extremely effeminate. To top it off, he never increased the pace. Serious runner? Obviously not! A short time later I grabbed a treadmill and began my run. The effeminate poser was running to my right front. I noticed he was still at the same slow 6.5mph. His girly-man running style was even more pronounced. Within a few minutes he finished his run. His buddy walked up and they began talking. That’s when I heard the effeminate poser’s voice. It couldn’t have been scripted any better. It was an exact match to the running style. He spoke with that pronounced lisp that is frequently associated with gay men. It was definitely not a masculine voice. The entire spectacle made me wonder about the fiasco of “don’t ask, don’t tell”. Nobody in the gym was asking but effeminate poser’s entire persona was telling. Am I just falling for cliché? I don’t think so. I guess the debate will continue. One thing’s for certain – the guy was definitely not a runner and he was certainly effeminate.
Therefore it’s safe for me to call him the effeminate poser.
I don’t think he would be a good candidate for a recruiting poster.
Wednesday, July 4, 2007
04 July 2007: Independence Day at LSAA
Independence Day has come and gone at LSAA. Most everyone here spent the day feeling homesick. I think every person on my team told me what kind of activities they normally do on the 4th. It always involved family, friends, cooking out, and fireworks. They weren’t alone in feeling homesick. I spent most of the day thinking about home. We had an impromptu cookout to celebrate. The DFAC provided condiments, potato salad, baked beans, potato chips, drinks, plates, napkins, and utensils. We purchased steaks and pork chops from the PX. I had some Tony Chacheres seasoning that came in very handy for the grilling. The steaks came out very well – surprisingly. All the food was devoured. It was way too hot for there to be any peripheral activities. After we finished eating we called it a day. Everyone went their separate ways. Most of us went and took long naps. That’s what I did. I finally got up around 1800, got dressed, and went over to the office to call home. My entire team was there lined up to use the phone. I managed to get a quick call in and then called it a night. I was back in bed by 2230.
Independence Day was a very quiet, slow day here. I was expecting IDF to interrupt our activities but it never came. Hope everyone back home had a wonderful 4th!
Independence Day was a very quiet, slow day here. I was expecting IDF to interrupt our activities but it never came. Hope everyone back home had a wonderful 4th!
03 July 2007: Afterburner Insomnia
My hooch is adjacent to the southeast corner of the airfield. It just so happens that the AF has a mechanic shop there. Part of their maintenance checks involves placing jet engines on stationary mounts where they can be started up and run for extended periods of time. This doesn’t mean running the engine on idle. If it’s an F16 engine they’ll fire-up the afterburners. It is extremely loud. I believe in maintenance. However, most of the time the mechanics wait until after midnight to run the engines. What’s the result? A lot of soldiers – including me – get blasted out of bed by jet engines. It always happens just as I’m hitting deep REM. WHOOOOSH!!!! I can’t stick my head out the door and yell, “turn down that jet engine would ya? I’m trying to sleep here!” I must say, it’s very rude. I asked one time and the answer I got was that it’s too hot in the daytime for the mechanics to work on the engines. Well tough shit! The soldiers are out working in the middle of the day and I don’t see them complaining. Sometimes the AF personnel do things that reinforce how all the other services view them – there’s the AF and nobody else. By the way, I bring this up because I was up most of the night while the AF worked on their engines. I still had to go to work in the morning.
Fortunately, the day was calm. My new personnel are settled in. We’re just gearing up for our next mission. The big news on Anaconda is that Josh Gracin will be performing later this week. I’d never heard of him. Apparently he’s a recent American Idol champ. I reckon I’ll have to skip that performance. I can honestly say that I’ve never seen a single episode of American Idol. I probably never will.
It’s been very quiet here. I don’t think there was a single IDF today.
Fortunately, the day was calm. My new personnel are settled in. We’re just gearing up for our next mission. The big news on Anaconda is that Josh Gracin will be performing later this week. I’d never heard of him. Apparently he’s a recent American Idol champ. I reckon I’ll have to skip that performance. I can honestly say that I’ve never seen a single episode of American Idol. I probably never will.
It’s been very quiet here. I don’t think there was a single IDF today.
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