The Shadow War

You've all heard that there is a shadow war to every overt war. Well, it's true. Sometimes the fighting is hand to hand. Here's my ole buddy Buccaneer 6 doing his part in the shadow war - fighting to protect his chair at the palace from a band of Bronco invaders. Maybe Bruce Almighty has a point about the palace. I don't see the fascination. It's all a bunch of hype. I mean, I took a trip to the IZ the other day. Yea, they have mess halls that stay open round the clock, coffee bars in Saddam's grand ball room, and water polo going on in Saddam's pool (a game played exclusively by our heroes in the U.S. AirForce), but I have my own Port-a-Potie. Well, me and six other guys. Still, all that stuff in the IZ is overrated. Believe me, we're better off here in the desert. Right?

Moving Forward To The Past

I want to tell you a little more about our gang at Fort McCoy.
Lets review: The "Team Griffon" was about fourty senior Soldiers mobilized about one month ahead of the main body of 400. We first went to Charlotte for initial processing. After a short stop in Charlotte, we flew to LaCrosse, Wisconsin, and drove over to Fort McCoy. We got off the bus and it was snowing cats and dogs. No problem, because in a week or so, we headed out to the Naval Post Graduate School for some graduate level Arabic/Iraqi Culture education. Thank God they did not give us any tests. Beautiful place, Monterey. Here are a couple of pictures.

It was hard going back to McCoy from California. But, thank goodness for idiots - that is, my middle aged barracks buddies. I think the rule was the older you were, the more idiotic you were supposed to act. Anyway, it was like being in a frat house with these guys. Here's Lieutenant Colonel Robby R with Lieutenant Colonel Earls (Buccaneer 6) showing off his fifty something physique in the background. I think he's had one too many. Running out of time right now, but if you're interested in some of the stuff we did at McCoy, click over to Captain K's blog: http://deploymentstory.blogspot.com.

Captain K is my "second in charge" here at Besmaya. He was also the junior officer on my team at McCoy. I sort of felt sorry for the lad so I brought him with me to Besmaya. Now he hates me. Something about wanting to live in the Palace. See the pictures of the Palace on his blog. I keep asking him why would anyone want to live in Baghdaddy when they can live here at Besmaya? He walks around here mumbling something about a swimming pool - I don't know.

Captain K (tell you what, you can call him Captain Kangaroo, we call him "Bruce Almighty") has a great little family back home in Texas. We won't hold that against him since I have some family back in Texas too. A quite annoying bunch, but I love em. If I were to introduce you to them I'd say: "Please allow me to introduce you to my brother in law Terry and his wife Terry." See what I mean? Hey Ya'll - Hookem Horns... or something like that. Or was it Horn Frogs?

Terry Girl: See what happens when you make fun of my music? Love ya.

As God Wills.

Today was a great day. We finally got underway with the first, Iraqi Army Combat Arms School Officer Basic Course. The first course was supposed to have started on 1 July, but nothing happens on time over here. There is neither time nor space in this blog to explain how excruciating the process is to make the slightest thing happen here. You don't just pick up the phone and make a call or send a fax. There is no secure network connecting the Iraqi Army commands and ministries. Everything is coordinated (and very loosely coordinated) at a snail's pace. En Shallah (as God wills or God willing).

Oh yea, there is no banking system. What that means is that on payday, a big truck (and I mean big) pulls onto the camp and a pay officer pays each soldier his monthly salary. The soldiers do an about face and go on leave for a week (not all at once, thankfully). Yep, one week of leave every four weeks. That's because they have to tote all that cash back home to momma. No direct deposit, no checks. And, I only learned this yesterday...No Postal Service! This is one reason you hear of so many kidnappings here. It's not so much terrorism (like in Al Queida) but extortion. A bunch of bad guys doing ugly things to people for ransom.

But...we got started today with 17 Iraqi heroes. I mean that. We have one senior Major, one Captain and the rest Lieutenants. There had to be a mistake somewhere because Officer Basic is designed for new Lieutenants or those with little experience. Most of these guys are my age or close to it and ALL have already been in combat, some just last week. The Captain...well there's something about this guy. He is distinguished, reserved and very handsome. My first impression was that this guy looks more like a General than a Captain. At the end of the day I invited him over for a chat. He did not offer the usual fluff we get from a lot of people in this culture. Instead, the interpreter, who already knew of this officer's character and experience, began to explain to me that the Captain was previously in Saddam's army a Major and a commander. He should be a Colonel now but not in the new army. I knew at once it was true for I perceived this officer could command circles around most Battalion Commanders in this army. Yet here he was, a mere captain, quiet and seemingly content to be where he is. Very secure. I wanted to apologize to him for his being subjected to this level of training. He on the other hand, never hinted of self pity or voiced any complaint. A complete professional.

Like I said, things happen at a snail's pace here and often, when something does get done, it's wrong. It was obviously a mistake for this Captain to be sent to this course. Perhaps there is a reason for him being here, a reason for the mistake. Perhaps I will be the pupil. En Shallah.

Like I promised.....Pictures of the Jar Head and my Hooch...

Here's the picture of Captain Naz and me. He's quite ugly, but he gets all the women. How is it that the ugly guys get all the beautiful women these days? Maybe I don't want to know the answer to that question. He's a SoCal kinda guy, very quiet, likes to lift weights and has a knock-out SoCal chick for a girl friend. He leaves us in a few days to go home (the Marines only do six month tours). We're gonna miss this guy, but don't tell him I said so. Our Iraqi Colonel is in tears. He can't stand the thought of losing his "American Brother". The Colonel promised to bring in belly dancers if Naz would extend. C'mon Naz? Just think about it. Lebanese women, man!



Yep, this is where I sleep. Hooch 115. Funny thing...my house address back home is 1115. I'll have to paint another "1" on the walls when I get some black paint. Don't tell the Erhabbee (insurgents) my hooch number. Speaking of paint....I need to get somebody to paint Dancing Goat grafriti on my protective concrete barriers.

Sorry for the short entry tonight. It's midnight and I'm a little out of gas.

Oh yea....Hey Sharon, the Colonel was just kidding about the belly dancers. And...nobody in Lebanon as pretty as you.

Besmaya....Where the Boys Are.

I'm going to jump out of sequence for this post in order to provide you a little bit of information about my present duty station. It's called Besmaya (Bes-My-Ya). According to my Iraqi professor back at Fort McCoy, Besmaya is "an oasis". I've seen oasises and this ain't one. For one, there ain't any Sheiks or harems. But, it's not bad either. The Iraqis in the Babalon Cafe (that's our mess hall) have a flat panel TV that constantly plays Arab music videos. Arab music videos always have beautiful women dancing and singing. So I guess it's the next best thing to a harem.

If you're ever on a road trip to Baghdaddy, hang a right and go East for about 35 KM. You can't miss us. But if you do miss us, you'll be turned around at the Iranian border for sure. The best means of travel is by black hawk. Fast, agile and well armed. Here's a couple of pictures from my ride in:
That's cattle down there. An Iraqi village. My Sergeant Major (first time I've ever seen him lose his cool!!! It was only about 150 degrees).

We have some of the best range facilities in the world, including a world class "shoot house" or MOUT (military operations on urban terrain) training facility. As far as I know there is only one other like it in the world. Soldiers conduct live fire exercises in the shoot house to perfect urban combat (house to house and room clearing) skills. Video cameras record every move and we conduct AARs (after action reviews) using the video from the live fire. Here's a picture of me and the Jar Head (that'd be a United States Marine) Captain N on top of the shoot house. Also is a picture of the camp in the distance with the range control tower at left.

Here's a picture of my hooch (where I sleep) and my bathroom (where I ....you know). We'll talk more about Besmaya and some of the folks I work with later.

Well, I can't get the picture of me and the Jar Head or the picture of my hooch to load. I'll include those in another posting. One in the morning and I've got a Black Hawk to catch at 0600. So, good night from the land of Abraham.

He Aint' Heavy

Leaving home was hard, but once I was on the ground, in the company of other Soldiers, things got a little easier. I was mobilized with about 40 other Senior Officers and Non-Commissioned Officers whose mission was to go early to Fort McCoy, WI, and prepare to receive 400 more 108th Division Soldiers later in April.

The first stop for me was Charlotte, NC, the HQ for the 108th Division. When I arrived at the Charlotte Douglas Airport, I grabbed my bags and waited in the “hold area” for other folks to show up. Soon guys started coming in one by one, flight by flight. It’s easy to pick army guys out in a crowd, so nobody got lost looking for the “hold area”. Plus, we all had the same depressed look on our faces, just having left somebody who loves us. When everybody in the group is heart sick, you make friends quick. Misery loves company, and for the next two days, the only topics of conversation among ourselves were all those things we couldn’t leave behind - those things I talked about earlier. By the time I left Charlotte Douglas Airport, I knew the names of every wife and every child in our five or six man group. It made me feel a lot better to learn that every one of these rough, tough guys were as emotional about leaving home as me. Some of those guys are police officers, DEA agents, and former Special Forces dudes. So don’t laugh, they might just come around and kick your _ _ _.

One of the first guys I met was Lieutenant Colonel Rich H. What a guy. Somebody said God has a way of putting the right people in your path. Rich was that person for me. Turned out he’s a Baptist preacher from LA (Lower Alabama). He has a way of picking you up no matter how down you (or he) may be. After we got to Fort McCoy, somebody realized we didn’t have a Chaplain. Although Rich is a BP (Baptist Preacher) he’s NOT an Army Chaplain. He’s a Chemical Officer. No matter, we voted him Chaplain for our crowd, which soon grew to 400 Soldiers. Rich was up to the task. The poor boy ended up counseling and praying with just about every one of us. Rich also prepared and conducted at least two sermons a week. So what’s so special about that? Well, he was not exempt from any of the training we were going through. He did all we did AND all the preacher stuff too. Thank God for Rich Hayes. Rich, I love ya brother! Here’s a picture of Rich doing an impromptu service for some of my guys in the FOB (Forward Operating Base).

And, here's another of him giving Communion the night before we departed for Iraq. People get religion before they depart for a combat zone.

All You Can't Leave Behind

We take a lot for granted in America. Most of us live lives of luxury and yet we think we don’t have enough. “Honey, we can’t afford the 735, maybe we can make do with the 535i”. Well here’s a test…..just leave it. Leave your beautiful home, your beautiful wife, your exceptional children, your best friends, your job (some of you might like that), your golf clubs, your seasons tickets, your F150, your dog, your bed, your clothes….everything you do everyday.

You get about three weeks notice to get everything wrapped up. Then, its off you go for year long deployment. That’s the way it is for most US Army Reservists when they get the call (some get as few as 7 days notice) . But, as a reservist you do it because, even though it's killing you inside, you’d hate yourself more if you didn’t go. For me, it was that way. I fulfilled my service obligation years ago and could have just walked away. But how could I when there were so many of my brothers and sisters in arms over there, leaving for over there and coming from over there? It’s no bull, our Soldiers (sailors and marines too) are the best of our young generation. The airmen are tolerable. I had to send too many of my Soldiers in the last three years not to go myself.

But the day eventually comes when you have to go to the airport and leave all that you can’t leave behind (as Bono says). Oh man, I don’t wish that on anybody. They all walked in with me, checked bags, then followed me to the atrium. We sat for a few minutes then it was time. I said, “Here’s the plan….I’m going to tell each of you bye, kiss you and just walk away. When I do, I’m not going to look back. Okay?” Like I thought that would be easier. I made it about two steps before I lost it. I just hung my head and kept walking. I did glance back just in time to see my babies go out of sight, their heads hung down too.

By the time I got down the jet way I had recovered. I found my seat and got out the MP3 player they bought me a couple of days before. Here’s how I’ll get through this; I’ll listen to some good music. But, it was an ambush. For each of the kids and Sharon had pre-loaded a song with a theme set to my leaving. Each had loaded a favorite song that served as a good bye message to me. And I lost it again, but quietly. Thank goodness I had a window seat. Even now it’s hard for me to listen to those first few songs on the MP3 player. Airborne Rangers are not supposed to be so emotional. Please keep it a secret.

Here’s the “From Us to U2” play list: From the girls - “Don’t Forget to Remember Me” (Carey Underwood), “We Belong Together” (Mariah Carey). From the boys - “Life of a Salesman” (Yellowcard), “Pass the Flame” & “Home with a View” (John Elefante). And from the love of my life - “Here We Are” (Gloria Estefan).

Airborne Soldiers will tell you....Jumping is easy, it's the landing that sucks. For citizen Soldiers, the duty is not too hard or too much to ask. But the leaving is a kick in the gut.

Who's dancing in Iraq? Well, a lot of people but that's not what this blog is about. It's about me, you know....ME. Like Bette Midler said in "BEACHES"....."Enough about me, lets talk about you....What do YOU think about me?” And, Iraq. So here is a blog about Me and about Iraq, Me in Iraq and perhaps Iraq in Me.

Why Dancing Goat? Long story but it's the coffee I drink. And my beautiful wife makes sure I have it here in Iraq. My hooch (the place I sleep) smells like a coffee house every morning. My little piece of Americana, right here in Besmaya. Dancing Goat, a coffee, also seems fitting because a lot of people read blogs as they sip coffee in their kitchen or in an internet cafe. Finally, I like the name.

Why another blog from Iraq? First, I created this blog to provide friends and family information about my deployment so that they will not worry so much about me. Second, I want to provide friends, family, strangers and enemies my perspective of the situation here. Third, I want to report on the places I go and the people I meet while I'm here in this ancient land. I hope everyone who checks it out will be educated somewhat, entertained somewhat, and maybe even pissed-off somewhat by the things I say and report. I promise I will never lie or exaggerate. I'll call em like I see em, but be ye warned; I wear bi-focals. I'm not like Rush Limbaugh - I'm sometimes wrong. He is too but I'm man enough to admit it. Please feel free to disagree, but remember, RESPECT is an Army Value. Thank you.

My perspective is that of an older Soldier, not a young trigger puller. A twenty two year Lieutenant Colonel who is seeing his first tour of duty in a combat zone. That's right, when I was a young, gun slinging Airborne Ranger, I couldn't find a war anywhere. The Russians wouldn't cooperate so I left active duty to pursue business in the early 90s. The Russians would have been an easier proposition. I hung around the reserves because I wasn't sure I could just quit the army - cold turkey. Fast forward to now.....Having just left battalion command after three years, I finally got a ticket to the dance (notice the throw-back to the blog name?). I couldn't deploy until I finished my tour as battalion commander. Iraq is much easier than that gig, let me tell ya. Anyway, so many people have been posting blogs that are so negative or either are so rosy that you need a shower when you finish reading them. Well, I've had about enough of that. So this will be my story. Thanks for caring enough to read it.

Next Time: My journey here.