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.