Hard Days

The last couple of weeks have been the hardest so far. So please forgive me for not keeping you posted. Not only have we spent most of our time in the field, but the temperature has been over 125 degrees almost every day. Long days and excessive heat just does me in. Adding to my exhaustion were several problems that we had to manage to keep the students and the course on track. And, like I said before, NOTHING is easy here. So, when a problem arises, it takes all the energy you can muster to deal with it. And for me, unresolved problems eat at me, further sapping my energy and morale.

For the past three or four weeks I’ve been trying to get someone in the Iraqi Army to pay my students. Seven of them have not received a penny since the end of April. There are not banks here, no postal system and very little is automated. So, when something happens to mess up their pay, it has to be dealt with in person, with hard copy documentation. It’s excruciatingly slow and painful. This problem still hangs over me.

Then, just when I’m feeling good about the progress we’re making - training these guys to be good officers - they go and kick me right in the gut. We were getting ready to step off on a three hour (10km) road march in full combat gear the other night. The student leader reported everybody ready and I asked him if he had done his pre-combat inspection (PCI). Yes, Sadi. But something wasn’t right. I discovered that they had taken their Kevlar plates out of their body armor and stuffed their ruck sacks (back packs) with pillows instead of our combat load. Yes, I blew a 50amp fuse.

So, we had another one of those (very loud) one way conversations about integrity and officership. They just don’t get it. I told them they had played me for a fool. “Did you honestly think I would not check you? Now each of you looks like a fool.” I think they were ashamed that they had let one or two of their members talk them all into such a stupid stunt, but that does little to help me feel better about them right now. Needless to say, I’m kind of tense.

And, there are other issues but I’ll not bore you anymore. Just know that I’ve been at wits end for the past few days. Thank you for praying for me. You probably didn’t even know how effective your prayers have been. And today was a much better day.

Today I was finally able to establish a video connection with home! Yes, I got to see and chat with my beautiful family over the internet! They looked great and I was so moved. Thank God for technology. What a blessing it was to see them. And, while I was chatting with Sharon, Michael and Anna, Andrew happened to sign in from his apartment at school. I can’t tell you what this has done for my morale. I was talking to Captain K about how blessed we are to be in a combat zone and still be able to see our families via web cam. How did soldiers in earlier wars deal with the separation? Captain K said, “yea, I bet the video feed over WWII era web cams was in black and white”. He’s such a smart A_ _ sometimes, but we love him.

Update

We've been in the field for most of the past two weeks. Thought I'd say hello while I had a few minutes this morning. I'll post something new here in a day or so. Thanks for all your prayers and support.
awe

A Letter Home

Sorry to go so long between posts. Not at a point to write much so I'll share an e-mail to my mother. I don't think she'll mind.

Hey Mom.

Thanks for the compliments. She is a VERY special girl. I'm sorry I have not written much lately but we've been so busy. I've been in the field most every day for the past couple of weeks. I'm so drained but I'm really enjoying this experience. I get the biggest high when we're out doing our mission - but then someone or something is always conspiring against the good, and THAT levels me again. You know, ups and downs.

I love watching these students. This is a very class oriented society so I make sure they know the colonel is always right there with them. They're not used to seeing senior officers sweat it out with the masses. We trained all day in the heat and stayed out in the field last night, not something they like to do. After my NCOs explained how the guard roster worked (we have to maintain security through the night) the students were a bit disheveled. I watched for a little while as the Lieutenants (students) tried to explain to my NCOs that they did not need to do security because this was "just training". I stood in the back and let it go for about five minutes then gathered them around me.

Gentlemen, we have all trained very hard today and I, like you, am very tired. My old bones are aching and I'm looking forward to a few hours rest. But let me tell you, at some hour tonight I will pull guard duty. There are only five of us and I can not ask someone to do his duty and mine too. I must do my own duty. But there are seventeen of you. This is a small matter for seventeen. Why do you debate it? Sure, we are in training, but it is not completely safe. As soon as you let down your guard, the enemy comes like a thief in the night (I always try to throw in a Bible verse on these guys). At the very least we have weapons and ammunition that must be guarded, lest it be stolen while we sleep.

And gentlemen, do not think for one moment that any of you are above pulling guard. How can you, when you return to your platoon, expect your jundi to do something you were not willing to do yourselves? You will each pull a shift tonight and other nights we are in the field. Then, you will know what it is like for your soldiers when they are on watch. Believe me, you will also learn that you must keep watch on those who keep watch for you. As leaders, you will get less sleep than anyone under your command. You must constantly check on the guard or they will think you do not care. If they think you do not care, two things will happen. One, they will not be vigilant to keep the watch and will expose your whole command to possible calamity. Second, they will not follow you in combat because they will believe you do not care for their welfare. This, gentlemen, all because you were not willing to pull guard.

And that is what I do here. Thanks for praying for me. I love you.

awe

A Death In The Family

Tonight, as I was returning to the coalition side of camp, Major Jaffre and an interpreter met me at the gate. The Iraqi major was quite uneasy. Through the interpreter, he informed me that the brother of one of my students had been killed today by insurgents. He needed to know if I would permit the student to return home.

So, tomorrow morning at 0500hrs, when we assemble the students, I will pull the young soldier aside and allow Major Jaffre to inform him that his brother is in the hospital and he needs to go home. Although I prefer telling the truth, Major Jaffre and the interpreter assured me that it is customary to lessen the shock of bad news; in this case by saying his brother is in the hospital. They told me that the soldier will know it is much worse than what he is being told.

Already my heart is breaking for this guy. He is a very nice guy. Just last night I walked with him and three other IA Lieutenants as they went from point to point on a 6 Km night land navigation exercise. I was impressed by their stealth and movement as I bumbled and stumbled across hundreds of old irrigation ditches and holes I could not see. It wasn't pitch black but I can't see at night anyway. These young officers cracked and joked with each other and took turns with the one compass and map sheet they had. As I observed, I would get so tickled listening to them argue and poke at one another each time we stopped at a point. After they'd had a cigarette they were ready to go and would quietly get their gear on and look to be sure I was with them. "Sadi, 1 Km and 100 and 75 meters, okay?" I'd say, "Hey man, you've got the map, let's go." They would just chuckle, knowing I was taking a beating. But it was their honor that the Mukadem was with their group. And I am honored to work with these young patriots.

As I left the interpreter and Major Jaffre at the check point, I asked myself how much longer will these people suffer. When will God remove this yoke that hangs around their necks, this blight that scars their land?

Later this evening, when I went back to get my clothes (it was laundry night for me and the laundry point is on the Iraqi side of camp) I crossed through CP1 again. As I entered the camp and handed my ID card to the gate guard, he handed me his last slice of orange. I swear. You see, he wanted to give me something and it was all he had. I ate it and the juice ran down my chin. It was very sweet.

A Tough Week Ahead

Not for me, but for my best friend.
















See these two characters?




Well, the little girl is going off to college for the first time on Tuesday.












This guy leaves for his third year on Saturday.....












I don’t have words.















I just want to be there.













To comfort my best friend; to cry with her on the drive home from moving them in; to hold her hand and sit with her in the quiet house.



How will she do it on her own?

High Hopes

“It is well that war is so terrible, lest we grow too fond of it.” (General R.E. Lee)

I’m thankful my share of this war has been very light so far. But as Soldiers in a combat zone, we literally have to put on the full armor every day and be prepared mentally and physically to do combat if necessary. Still, we earnestly pray, and I know that you do too, that we be spared the attacks of the evil ones. We also pray for peace and freedom for this land that has never known peace or freedom. (awe)

“Freedom has a scent like the top of a newborn baby’s head.
The songs are in your eyes, I see them when you smile.
I’ve seen enough, I’m not giving up on a miracle drug.” (bono)

A few weeks ago, as I was leaving the LSA (life support area), I was surprised to see a little guy coming onto the camp with one of our interpreters. In an instant it occurred to me that it had been more than a month since I had even seen a child. I stood at the gate and watched him as he approached. He noticed my stare and stepped up and held out his little hand. His uncle, the interpreter, introduced him as Hussein (or Muhammed after his grandfather). I shook his hand and greeted his smiling face with, “Marhabba”.

Have you ever been anyplace where there were no children around? Some of you might long for such peace but I can tell you that it’s a darker world without children around. I got an e-mail the other day from a buddy (a college room mate) who I’ve not talked to in over twenty years. He told me he has five daughters. Can you imagine living in a house with six women? You’d have to make an appointment to use the bathroom. I’ll bet he’d like a few weeks without kids.

But, for most people, the world is warmed by both the heat of the sun and the innocent, pure love of their children. As this little guy shook my hand, I was reminded of something very special and missing from my life. I decided that nothing I had to do that morning was as important as getting to know this little fellow. And it was Sunday.

His uncle told me that Hussein is nine years old (he’s the size of a typical six year old American kid) and lives with his grand parents and some neighbors. Both of his parents, older brother and baby sister were killed when their house was rocketed by insurgents last November. It might have been a case of mistaken identity, but it’s the price many Iraqi patriots pay for assisting the coalition. None of that matters to Hussein. His family is gone; forever.

The kid barely survived the attack and now bears a scar on his belly from below his navel to just under his chin where the doctors had to repair his abdomen to save his life. He also has a steel rod (that was improperly placed) in his left arm and he is blind in his left eye, a condition that could be corrected by technology in the US. Still, he is care free and loves to play, just like any other kid. His attitude and demeanor show no signs of his horrific ordeal.

We had a great time playing soccer and goofing around on the computer. He’s been back a couple of times since and each time he visits he raises my spirits greatly. He just hangs out at the medic station and we are all blessed by his company.

One day Hussein will be a man and I’m sure the light in his eyes will be dimmed by this harsh land. But I have high hopes that when he is older his weary eyes will stray to the horizon and not down a road we’ve been so many times. My prayer is that this great kid (and all the sons and daughters of this country) will, in their lifetime, know the peace we take for granted. The peace we've known in our lifetimes when...

The grass was greener
The light was brighter
The taste was sweeter
The nights of wonder
With friends surrounded
The dawn mist glowing
The water flowing
The endless river
Forever and ever
(D. Gilmour)

Pirate of the Persian Gulf

Got an e-mail from my buddy "Buccaneer 6". Remember, he's the guy that lives life like its one big frat party. If there's fun to be found, Bucky 6 is there. He wanted us to know that he finally found the Baghdad bar with all the belly dancers. Although Multinational Force - Iraq (MNF-I) General Order Number One states that alcohol is strictly prohibited in the Central Command (CENTCOM) Area of Operations (AOR) - Baghdad being in the middle of the CENTCOM AOR- I have a feeling Bucky's sneaking a snort somehow. Well, without further ado, here's my friend, Lieutenant Colonel Earls with his newest friend on location somewhere down on the docks of the Tigris. The guy's never met a stranger. Way to go Bucky!

A Thank You Note

Hey Kim: I got your message about the packages coming this way. Thank you very much and please tell all the boys on the baseball team and all their parents that we appreciate their kindness. If your bats are as big as your hearts you'll never lose a game!

Scott: Send me a picture of the team and I'll post it on the blog. Good luck and keep swinging.

AWE & the boys
at Besmaya

Where’ve you been?

It may appear that I’ve forgotten about Dancing Goat In Iraq, but I haven’t. We’ve been a little busy lately and I’ve not been able to stay awake past 11 p.m., which is when I normally work on the BLOG and personal stuff. Our schedule had us in the field everyday this week. We muster the students around 0500 hrs for physical training (PT), let them clean up and eat about 0600 and draw weapons at 0645. Most days they ride out to the ranges around 0700, but the last two days we’ve made them road march. Now they hate us. Well, they don’t really hate us, but they sure don’t like road marches. By the way, they absolutely hate PT at 0500 hrs. Iraqis are not morning people.

It is my practice to walk out to and in from the ranges each day. It’s only about two miles one way and I enjoy the walk across the quiet desert. It’s not the distance that the students don’t like, it’s the 115 degree heat. Even though they are native to Iraq (a blinding flash of the obvious there), they believe we are better able to cope with the heat than they are. One of my interpreters said, “Sadi, you Americans are so much healthier and can deal with the heat much better.” HA! He hasn't been keeping count of my trips to the port-a-pottie this week. I’ve been instructed to be sensitive to their beliefs so I didn’t tell him what I think he really needed to hear, which is, Iraqi officers need to toughen up a little. No, a lot.

I begin my walk out around 0700 and can usually get there a few minutes ahead of the truck. The walk out is nice, not very hot at all. The walk in is a little warm, but I enjoy it the most, I think. It’s my small victory over the heat and harshness of this place. Of course I know that I wouldn’t last too long if I were ever stranded in this environment. When I do get back, I have to change clothes. Everything, even my boots are soaking wet.

The Iraqis are mystified by this. The students, the guards at the check points and the guards in the towers curiously watch me walk to and fro. The other day, my friend the Iraqi Medic walked in with me. He speaks English very well but said little as we walked. When we entered the camp gate I told him that it was nice of him to walk with me. He asked, “Sadi, where is your vehicle and driver?” I told him that I’m an infantry officer and it is my nature to walk. He just grinned because he knew I was blowing smoke. I asked him what was so funny. “Sadi, I know all high ranking officers have drivers and vehicles.” It was my turn to laugh.

The Combat Arms School is the newest venture for the Multinational Security and Transition Command – Iraq (MNSTC-I). When we arrived here, we had NOTHING, and still have very little. We’ve been told vehicles are coming for us, but the way things work in this country, I could walk home and back and still be waiting on my ride. There are a lot of vehicles in this camp, but most belong to the IA or to contractors. I’ll die in the dirt before I ask a contractor for a ride. Another story for another day.