Re-learning How to be Civilized

I'm in Kuwait and finishing the last requirements before heading home. I was originally told that I would have to wait for the next "class" to begin, but I've since convinced them that I would be an easy one and not require much attention. I've seen the Chaplain, the Shrink, and the Docs, and they all agree that I've suffered no measurable ill effects from the adventure. This program is something all the warriors go through on their way out of the country, and although I can see it being helpful to many, to me it simply represents another obstacle between me and home.

If all goes as planned, I'll be home in time to enjoy at least part of the weekend in the States. That suits me much better than waiting around for that Monday class to start.

After arriving late the other night, I was picked up and delivered to a tent capable of holding 20 or so people. I get it all to myself. My days are spent in short little 15 minute meetings with people like those mentioned above...followed by time at the pool to relax. Not a bad way to recover, but I'd rather be doing this somewhere in the Carribean.

The big party is planned for November 3rd. If you didn't get an e-mail with the details, drop me a line and I'll send it to you. I can't wait!

T.

Heading Out

Well, I guess this will be my last entry while I’m “in country”. The recent lack of entries on the blog is due to a combination of careful steps not to give away too much to those we fight against, concern for unjustified worry back home, and the inevitable drain of inspiration that comes with spending too much time in the desert environment. The things that were worth telling, I didn’t want to (or couldn’t) tell for various reasons…and the day to day mundane things were a dry brush across the canvas.

I can tell you now that I’ve experience the plume of dust that seemed to rise from the very spot I was parked a minute before when viewed in my rearview mirror. I’ve experienced the shockwave from a blast that made my chest feel weighted down by a force that made it impossible to inhale…if only for a moment. We had an attack that was so close to our compound that it dropped two of my guys that weighed in excess of 200 pounds to their knees. I never once feared for my life.

I say the last not because I feel it necessary to prove I’m a brave man. A brave man is someone who is afraid of something, but chooses to face it anyway. The fact that I never feared for my life may very well be some defect, but it certainly wasn’t bravery. With that said, I witnessed fear and bravery everyday (if not in myself than in others). I didn’t disdain one and embrace the other as you might think. I did what each of us do on a daily basis, and worked to understand both and get to know the people that represented the notions.

I imagine that most of you have a certain view of the American Fighting (wo)man. I can assure you that there is no “mold”. The people over here are a cross section of people you meet everyday. There are traits that stand out that are common among them, but none of them can be lumped into some convenient group. The best of them lead with honor, and I imagine if you were to bring that word back to its roots it would be derived from some Latin word that also gave birth to the word “honest.”

My definition’s may not coincide with Webster’s, but to me, honor and honest come back to “being true”. True, whether to a friend or to a cause. True enough to examine something as a whole, and ensure that it is what it seems.

I serve with people who have different views of this war. Some think it an imperative, while others wonder why we’re here, but all of them are true to their beliefs. Regardless of how we got here, all of them know that there are forces at work that intend to steal something that is highly valued to our country and the people that live in it. We deal with that reality everyday, and it unites us. The idea that some in this world favors repression to freedom, and rote memorization instead of freedom of interpretation.

I leave here tired, but glad that I came. I’m happy with my contribution, and proud of the people I’ve served with. I have more insight about the people here; having less hostility for most, and more for others. In the end it was more personal than national, and I am looking forward to telling you all about it.

Retrospective

It occurs to me as I rapidly approach what WAS to be my departure date, that some things have changed since my arrival. Nothing significant, but as I read through some of my blog posts I decided a little updating was in order.

Chez Flamingo has fallen into disrepair due to lack of use. What seemed like a perfect semi-outdoor retreat in the spring, became a kiln in the summer’s sun. Aside from some evidence of critters on the 6 inches of sand that cover the floor, no one has even stepped inside for months.

The mortar attacks that used to be relatively frequent have completely subsided. The last one we experienced was the one that killed several prisoners in the internment facility, and that was months ago.

We automated our internet watering for a time. The guys rigged up a pump that would feed water through a tube and directly on the overheating transceiver. I believe these guys are related to the man who created the remote control. Why get up, when you can just press a button. Sadly, the pump is now broken, so we’re back to the manual mode.

Our camp mascots were replaced. A pregnant cat decided to call place home for a time, and made a meal of the previous mascots. We believe in survival of the fittest here, so we didn’t interfere with the natural process. Not surprisingly, once she had eaten all the mice, she too moved on.

We have gone through an estimated 40 pounds of peanut M & Ms in this compound, and although I still like them, I don’t ever think I’ll “crave” them again.

Beau and Jo have recovered from their wedding festivities, and are currently enjoying a month split between Greece and Italy. I threatened to join them, knowing full well that a honeymoon is incomplete without friends, but I was unable to get away.

I’m sorry to say that I’ve received no support from the Government for my plan to introduce large quantities of beer into the general population. While I still maintain that nothing would have a more positive effect on the rapid end to the violence, apparently some people don’t think the plan with gain widespread favor.

The rusted out old Hummer that I drove when I first got here has been replaced by a brand new six passenger pick up truck. Not only do we have air conditioning that actually works now, but we have a radio. It’s not quite as beefy as a Hummer, but it’s better for doing donuts on the roads.

As you can see, I haven’t spent as much time posting as I did several months ago. It has become increasingly difficult to convey the nature of life here without telling you about what it is we do on a daily basis. Since I can’t do that, I’m left with little excitement to describe. Make no mistake, we have plenty of excitement…just none that I can talk about.

The one thing that remains the same is the effort that my guys put into the job everyday. They make my job easy, and in return I do my best to make life here for them as pleasant as possible. The sacrifices they make to get the job done, although occasionally accompanied with a groan, always seems to exceed the expectations of everyone we support. I’m not sure how I got lucky enough to get this position, but their effort and the accomplishment that goes along with it is what makes my job most satisfying.

As things start to wind down for me over the next month, I’ll be able to start focusing on the plans I’ve got in mind once I get home. Since I’ll still belong to the military for several months after my return, I won’t be able to just get up and go when I want to. I’m trying to divvy up my leave between some time at a home I haven’t seen in seven months, the Sears Tower climb, two ski trips, Thanksgiving, Christmas, a visit to the lake home of some great friends in Tennessee with a bonus night or two with the wild bunch in “Nash Vegas” and a trip to see several old friends. I also have to decide between whether to accept a position offered in DC or to return to San Diego as planned. It is a great dilemma to have, but perplexing none the less.

As always, the support you all provide helps to keep me sane, and I can’t thank you enough. I’ll try to get better on the updates, and I’ll let you all know when and where the party will be sometime in the weeks to come.

Should I stay or should I go?

I was running a marathon one day a long time ago and I remember trying to stay focused on goals in the not-too-distant vicinity. For me, it was every bit as much mental as it was physical. Making it to that bend in the road, or that water station there in the distance, or to the top of the next hill. I wouldn’t allow myself to think about the finish line, because it would be like thinking about graduation day on your first day of college, or planning for Christmas on New Years Eve. The anticipation would make the distance seem that much greater…better to think of what is just ahead, and surprise yourself at mile 25 when you’re almost done.

On this particular day I had just passed the 22 mile mark. A local who had come out to support the race was yelling at the side of the road, “Nice job, keep going, only ONE MILE to go.” After pounding the pavement for that long, you tend to lose your social graces, and when I heard him telling people they only had one mile to go when I knew we had FOUR miles to go, I lost it a little. I shouted back, “Shut the hell up, you’re going to screw people up by lying about the distance remaining.” He gave a dejected look that made me believe he was well intentioned, but I wasn’t sorry I had said it. Of coarse the “people” I was worried about him messing up was ME. I wasn’t ready to shift gears into the “crossing the finish line” mode yet, and still needed to focus on nearer goals. Running is definitely not my forte’, and 4 more miles with 22 behind me was a considerable test of my willingness to give a damn.

Flash forward to the last few weeks. I had originally been planning on leaving Iraq in about two and a half weeks. Three weeks ago I was given the news that I would be required to stay an extra month. I wasn’t exactly happy, but it was do-able because I was still just focusing on those short range goals right in front of me. I hadn’t yet allowed myself to transition into the reality that I would be leaving soon. Like a marathon that’s been extended from 26 miles to 32…if you’re told about it early enough you can just adjust your pace and convince yourself it’s not a big deal.

Less than a week ago everything changed. I was told that my original replacement was no longer in the mix, and my new replacement was going to be able to be here on the ORIGINAL schedule. I was back to 26 miles, and I felt like sprinting! I had plenty to do to prepare for the hand off, but I had just gained a month back, so what did I care if I had to put a couple of extra hours in each day.

Well, today it changed again. Now it appears as though I’ll be here for the first several weeks in October, and only save a week from the original revision. The kicker is, I no longer have much faith in ANY date they give me…so I somehow have to physically be prepared to leave in a couple of weeks, while mentally convincing myself that I’ll be here for several more.

Here’s the upshot. The weather is starting to get pretty nice (at least by comparison). With any luck I’ll still make it back in plenty of time for me and Beau to complete our second annual climb of the Sears Tower (the stairs, not the outside)…and most likely early enough to make it back for a Halloween bash or two. I’m sorry to say it looks unlikely that I’ll make cousin Kelly’s wedding, but I imagine I’ll have no difficulty finding someone to do my celebrating for me.

Hope you’re all well. Keep the e-mails and pictures coming…

T

News from the sandbox

My time here in the desert is really speeding by, thanks to plenty of missions to keep us busy. The fact that the days are going by quickly is definitely a good thing, because I just got some news I’m not exactly thrilled about. I’ve been EXTENDED.

It’s only an extra month, and the truth is I started preparing for this news from the day I got here. It basically comes down to a buddy of mine missing out on a one in a lifetime opportunity, or me sticking around for 30 more days. It was my choice, so I made him sweat it out a little…just to drive home the point. It’s really not that bad now that the days are starting to cool off a bit. The monetary bonus helps too.

I’m saddened to report the death of my computer. As I write this entry from an extremely slow government computer, I am reminded of the good times we shared together. My constant companion on trips around the world, it helped keep me in touch with all of you and remind me what you all look like. As I anxiously await the arrival of my new computer, I am hoping that I will be able to recover addresses, phone numbers, photos and writings, but I’m not holding my breath. You may be getting an e-mail from me very soon asking for updated contact information.

I imagine everyone is frantically trying to get in the last few activities before admitting to themselves that summer is actually over. I envy you! I plan to cram all the activities I would have been doing this summer into a couple of weeks in San Diego…and moving my long awaited trip to sometime shortly after the new year. I’m also planning to take some time to do a little cross country traveling to see old friends and family when I get back. I won’t make any promises until I find out what is in store for my schedule, but it will be as soon as I can.

The morale around the camp is at an all time high. We’ve culled through the talent and put all the key players are in the right spot to make our mission over here the most effective possible. The work is getting done, and we are getting noticed for it. Although we still operate in crisis management mode the majority of the time, we have gotten it down to an art form and the guys really step up when it’s their turn to shine.

So, the question is inevitably asked: What do I need from all of you to help make my time continue to fly by? Well, it’s the standard “back to school” assignment. Tell me what you did this summer. Stories, pictures, whatever you’ve got. Fill me in so I can have a vicarious summer and catch up on what’s going on in your lives. A lot of you have been doing this all summer anyway, so you’re excused from the assignment…but for the rest of you slackers….give!!!

Looking forward to seeing you all when I get back. As soon as I get my schedule a little more firmly in my grasp, I’ll start making the plans. Hope you’re ready! I know I am.

Perspectives

I’ve discovered that this “blog” thing is much more widespread than I thought. Although I started mine in order to keep all of you updated on what is happening a half a world away, I soon found that several of my friends had their own blogs that were created for their own unique reasons.

My friend Lesa started a blog as a sort of cathartic journal to help keep track of her trials and tribulations as she wrestles with the challenges of raising two children while her Marine husband is deployed in Iraq. I’ve known Alec and Lesa for over a decade now, and had the honor of serving as the best man (obviously a misnomer) in their wedding in Seoul, Korea. They live in San Diego now, but have traveled the globe together, including a three year tour in Lesa’s homeland of Australia. Her blog entries are not as frequent as I would like, but then, she does sort of have her hands full. Click here to take a look.

I’ve got another friend I’ve known for just over a decade who is an emergency room doctor. In deference to his desire for anonymity, so that he can continue to write candid comments on the current state of affairs of our nation’s medical system, I’ll refer to him by his web alter-ego name of 911Doc. In this blog you’ll find that 911Doc has teamed up with 4 other E.D. (Emergency Department – or E.R. if you prefer) physicians to give a no holds barred view of the impending demise of health care as we know it. It is decidedly PG-13 in content (and occasionally Rated R), but frank and to the point. Check it out here.

Finally, in an attempt to single handedly prove that news does not necessarily need to be serious or even factual to be relevant; my nieces husband Kevin publishes the prolific blog that is “Mr. Heavyfoot.” The entries show a viewpoint of the world as processed through the machinations of Kevin’s mind, and the results are often hilarious. Although much of it is aimed at the people most dear to him, many of the entries have universal appeal.

If you find yourself looking for something other then the Sunday paper to enjoy with your morning coffee, I hope you take a look at these.

T.

Swimming in the NAG

When I was 18 years old I spent the summer living in the bunkhouse of my buddy Chris’ family lake cabin. I had a job, but I don’t really recall working that much. I think I spent most of the summer in the water; on water skis, hanging out at the sand bar, or heading to other lakes with friends.
The bunkhouse was all mine. Chris lived in the boathouse, and some girls from New Zealand lived in the cabin itself…at least for part of the summer. At some point one of the girl’s ex-boyfriends flew up from New Zealand to propose to his lost love. The girls left shortly after that (it was more like fleeing the scene of a crime than leaving), and the ex-boyfriend stayed. Not exactly a fair trade, but he had a guitar and knew how to use it, so we didn’t complain. The bonfires drew a bigger crowd with live music.
I had this other buddy, Nick, who lived on a different lake and had a ski boat. He tended to live life as if tomorrow wasn’t likely to arrive. I never wore a watch back then, and I remember on the days when I had to work I would turn to Nick and ask, “Hey, what time is it?” His answer was always the same…”It’s summertime.” It may not have answered my question, but it reminded me that there were more important things then work sometimes.
I think we all have that one summer that is eternally etched in our minds. That summer that defined what summer was supposed to be about. I can’t describe in detail all the things that made that summer so memorable (most of which involved events that, to my Irish Catholic mother, would be considered capital crimes with no statute of limitations). I can say that the memories of those 3 months helped me define how I wanted to live my life. Working hard enough to be able to leave work behind, and stringing enough days together to make some incredible memories with great friends. In my mind, that is the key to staying content with life.
The other day, as I was sitting in the control room of my alternative workspace in the middle of the Northern Arabian Gulf a young Lieutenant knocked on the door.
“Sir, a bunch of us are going swimming and wanted to know if you cared to join us?”
I felt a crooked smile forming on my face. “Is it safe to go swimming off an oil platform?”
“I don’t know sir, we’ve never tried it before.” came his response accompanied by a mischievous smile that may just as well have been a dare.
“I’m in!” I said, without hesitating long enough to think about what I was about to do.
By the time I had changed into shorts and walked outside I could already hear the cheers, and shouts, and splashing from 4 stories below. As I made my way down the last of the ladder wells, I was psyched to see that they had rigged a rope swing to properly deliver us into the rolling seas below. 20 sailors fidgeting like ten year olds, all waiting for their next turn on the rope…but they gladly handed it off to me as I approached, knowing I was a few swings behind.
It was 125 degrees that day. The water was incredible. Neither hot nor cold, but more refreshing than anything I had experienced in the preceding 4 months. The salt content was so high, I didn’t even have to work in order to float in it.
At 10 second intervals another sailor would hit the water. Each turn on the rope was an opportunity to perfect your technique…or out-do the person who had gone in front of you. The straight swing, the swing and flip, the swing and flop, and of course the endurance swing that brought you dangerously close to striking the large metal beams from which you launched.
For 30 minutes I wasn’t in a war zone. I wasn’t miles off the shores of a country whose people meant to do us harm. I wasn’t worried about tactics, reports, rank, logistics, or much of anything for that matter. I emerged from the water barnacle-scraped, slightly tar covered (think crude oil), and itchy from a combination of saltwater and jellyfish encounters…but I’m guessing the most notable thing would have been the broad grin on my face. Had someone asked me at that moment what time it was, I’m pretty sure my response would have been, “It’s summertime.”

This will choke you up...

The Big Event

Well, the results are in, and Beau and JoJo’s wedding was indeed the event of the decade. Below are the highlights.

Ah, the happy couple. Don’t they both look pretty in all white? Of course a close up of Beau would dispel any thoughts that he is “pretty”.

So how did the face painting tradition start? I have no idea…but it all makes sense after a few Jamieson’s.

And who would miss the “drop your pants dollar dance?” Well, there are too many people in a hurry to grow up as it is, right?

Damn, I wish I had made it!!!!!

7 7 7

I find it interesting that some people believe in superstition and some don’t, and how learning that tells you so much about the individual. Some people believe that luck ebbs and flows, and they can do certain things…or avoid doing certain things to influence how much luck they’ll have. Four leaf clovers, a rabbit’s foot, stepping on a crack, walking under a ladder, a broken mirror…to some, they all influence how their day, their week, or their month is going to turn out.

Still others attribute luck to individuals…as if the universe has conspired to create an interesting experiment by mixing a number of people with good fortune and a some with bad fortune just to see how they’d mix it up. Of course we all know that those with good fortune always come out on top, but we can’t help rooting for the underdog.

I personally choose to believe in luck. Chance, serendipity, karma, whatever you want to call it; there is something about it that makes life more interesting. A degree of romance and adventure. Without it what fun would it be to walk down a cracked sidewalk, or closely examine that patch of clover, or saw the feet off of little rabbits?

I have to add a qualifier to my belief in luck, however. I’ve always believed that people are capable of making their own luck. The desire for good Karma forces me to consider how the things I do will affect others, and often makes me change course in order to prevent someone else from carrying a burdened I’ve discarded. It’s selfish really. I don’t want the smudge on my soul that will inevitably bring about hard times and distress. I like a clean conscience, and although I usually get my way (which is important to someone who falls last in birth order), I at least attempt to do it without stealing something that is of value to someone else. Sometimes I screw up, but at least I think about it.

Today, at home, it is July 7, 2007. 7-7-7. A record number of weddings are planned for this day, but there is only one that matters to me. My great friends Beau and Jo Jo are tying the knot, and it is not only good fortune for them but for all that share their lives. They are lucky for the reasons described in the previous paragraph. They do right by the people they surround themselves with, and on the rare occasion that they mess, they make amends. They work hard, they play hard, they live life well and surround themselves with great people. They give their friendship and trust easily (at least the first time), and make everyone feel as if they are a part of something great. And just as importantly, they stick around for those spells of “bad luck”, when their friends need a helping hand.

There was only one thing that made me consider not coming to Iraq. That one reason is happening today, and I am sad to be absent from what is certain to be an incredible celebration. There will be more Easters, and July 4ths, and days at the beach, and birthdays, and all those other things that I’ve chosen to forgo this year…but a day like this is a once in a lifetime, and I truly appreciate them easing my conscience when I told them my plans.

I hate to be too corny, and I know this will make Beau’s whole head turn red from embarrassment, but I love you guys and it’s killing me not being there today. I look forward to the idea of walking into the house of two such great friends, knowing that they have joined together in a conspiracy against bad luck from here on out. I only wish I had a whisky to raise in their honor.

Cheers and good luck!!!

Watering the internet

All things need water to survive. There is no better practical appreciation of that then the desert. In the spring we saw some sprouts of green venturing up from the sand, and even a couple of desert flowers from time to time – but as summer starts to cook the sand, the colors melt back to their subterranean lairs.

The midday sun brings temperatures upwards of 120 degrees, and the air conditioning mechanics rarely get the chance to enjoy the fruits of their labor. They speed from one job to the next, charged with keeping everyone else cool at the expense of their own comfort.

We do our best, in this compound, to get the outside work and heavy lifting done before the sun comes up or after it has been down for awhile. With a cool 90 degrees outside, we can do anything. Once the temperature climbs beyond 110, lethargy kicks in and we drag ourselves between tasks not completed in a more timely fashion.

On the days when we get it done right, we spend midday in the lounge, trading stories and surfing the net. We discovered last month, however, that the internet often stopped working at roughly the same time we did. That’s when it apparently occurred to one of my guys that maybe the internet was too hot to give a damn anymore.

His solution? Well, maybe if we pour some ice cold water on the satellite dish’s transceiver, we can get a little more work out of it. We all laughed at him. What a ridiculous idea, right? Well, it worked.

For the next couple of weeks we started to pamper the internet. We devised methods of shading it and trying different methods of watering it. We used the small hole in the top of the bottle approach, for the continuous trickle effect. We used a siphon hose from a 5 gallon jug. We even used the “drink water and spit up at the dish” method (which was effective only if you had a quick download). We finally discovered that the most effective and most water thrifty way of doing it was to tie a paper towel around the transceiver, climb the ladder once an hour, and dump a half liter bottle on it.

If anyone told me that I would ever have to water the internet to make it work…well, you know. Here’s hoping that your enjoying waterless internet and (moderate) summer sun.

Final Flight

I just received this e-mail from my Uncle Tom. I've actually received several stories of similar incidences, and it always make me divest myself of all those cynical thoughts of the societal downfall of civilization as we know it...if only for a moment.
There is a certain comfort in being associated with people of honor. Although the military truly is made up of a cross section of America, the ones that stay in for any length of time do so out of a belief in the greater good. I stay because I enjoy their company.
I enjoy walking in the company of heroes every day, knowing if something happens, if someone needs them...they will be there. I'm here to support and lead them because it is the least I can do. The story that follows explains how a small cadre of Americans had an opportunity to show their appreciation. Slowing down from deadlines and busy schedules to honor one of my fraternal brother's sacrifices.
Here's the story:

Diary of A Last and Final Flight Home

February 17, 2007,
0350
I was at curbside at 24th and M, Washington DC . 16 Degrees with a light breeze. Going home after my second week of freezing temps to my warm home in SoCal. Take a walk on the beach, ride a horse, climb a mountain and get back to living. I'm tired of the cold.

0425
paying the taxi fare at Dulles in front of the United Airlines counter, still cold.

0450
engaged the self-serve ticker machine and it delivers my ticket, baggage tag and boarding pass. Hmmm, that Marine over there is all dressed up in his dress blues a bit early this morning... "Good Morning Captain, you're looking sharp." He says, "Thank you, sir."

Pass Security and to my gate for a decaf coffee. A quick check of the flight status monitor and UA Flt 211 is on time. I'm up front, so how bad can that be? Hmmm, there's that same Marine. He must be heading to Pendleton to see his lady at LAX for the long weekend, all dressed up like that. Or maybe not. I dunno.

The speaker system announces "Attention in the boarding area, we'll begin boarding in 10 minutes, we have some additional duties to attend to this morning, but we'll have you out of here on time."

The Marine Captain has now been joined by five others. BINGO, I get it, he's not visiting his lady, he's an official escort. I remember doing that once, CACO duty. I still remember the names of the victim and family, The Bruno Family in Mojave - all of them, wow, that was 24 years ago.

On board, 0600:
"Good morning folks, this is the Captain. This morning we've been attending to some additional duties, and I apologize for being 10 minutes late for push back, but I believe we'll be early into LAX. This morning it is my sad pleasure to announce that 1st LT Jared Landaker, USMC will be flying with us to his Big Bear home in Southern California. Jared lost his life over the skies of Iraq earlier this month, and today we have the honor of returning him home along with his mother, father and brother . Please join me in making the journey comfortable for the Landaker family and their uniformed escort. Now sit back and enjoy your ride. We're not expecting any turbulence until we reach the Rocky Mountain area, but we'll do what we can to ensure a smooth ride. For those interested, you can listen in to our progress on Channel 9."

Click Channel 9: "Good morning UA 211. You are cleared to taxi, takeoff and cleared to LAX as filed."

4 hours and 35 minutes later over Big Bear Mtn, the AB320 makes a left roll, a steep bank and then one to the right-Nice touch. Nice tribute. Five minutes out from landing, the Captain comes on the speaker : "Ladies and Gentlemen, after landing I'm leaving the fasten seatbelt sign on, and I ask everyone to please yield to the Landaker family. Please remain seated until all members of the family have departed the aircraft. Thank you for your patience. We are 20 minutes early."

On roll out, I notice red lights, emergency vehicles approaching. We're being escorted directly to our gate, no waiting, not even a pause. Out the left window, a dozen Marines in full dress blues. A true class act by everyone, down to a person. Way to go United Airlines for doing things RIGHT, Air Traffic Control for getting the message, and to all security personnel for your display of brotherhood.
When the family departed the aircraft everyone sat silent, then I heard a lady say,"God Bless you and your family, and thank you." Then a somber round of applause. The Captain read a prepared note from Mrs. Landaker to the effect, "Thank you all for your patience and heartfelt concern for us and our son. We sincerely appreciate the sentiment. It's good to have Jared home."

After departing the aircraft I found myself along with 30 others from our flight looking out the lobby window back at the plane. Not a dry eye. It was one of the most emotional moments I've ever experienced. We all stood there silently, and watched as Jared was taken by his honor guard to an awaiting hearse. Then the motorcade slowly made it's way off the ramp.

I realized I had finally seen the silent majority. It is deep within us all. Black, Brown, White, Yellow, Red, we're all children, parents, brothers, sisters, etc - we are an American family.

Official Report : February 7, 2007, Anbar Province, Iraq .. 1st LT Jared Landaker United States Marine Corps, from Big Bear California, gave his live in service to his country. Fatally wounded when his CH-46 helicopter was shot down by enemy fire, Jared and his crew all perished. His life was the ultimate sacrifice of a grateful military family and nation.

His death occurred at the same time as Anna Nicole Smith, a drug-using person with a 7th grade education, of no pedigree, who dominated our news for two weeks while Jared became a number on CNN.
And most unfortunately, Jared's death underscores a fact that we are a military at war, not a nation at war.
It has been said that Marines are at war. America is at the mall.

1st LT Landaker, a man I came to know in the skies over America on 17 February 2007, from me to you, aviator to aviator, I am unbelievably humbled. It was my high honor to share your last flight. God bless you.

Lounging...thinking...vegging...

I’m sitting in one of those Ikea recliners in an eight foot by twenty foot metal box. It’s 5:30 in the afternoon and the air conditioner is laboring away. I’ve just been working on some briefings in my office (the eight foot by twenty foot metal container next door), and thought I’d take a little break from the mental labor.

This particular box has been made into our home away from home by the guys. A 32 inch television with a DVD player connected to surround sound speakers sits at the far end next to a small refrigerator. On top of the fridge is a microwave, with a toaster oven on top of that. All of it runs from generators that whir their white noise 24/7.

The walls on one side have a bunch of shelves to keep the food away from our new camp mascots. We’ve also got some shelves for our ever growing DVD collection. The walls on the other side are filled with the classified maps of our operating areas.

The long table near the entrance has 3 laptops sitting on it. One of them is for the job, the other two are for the sanity of the guys. Keeping in touch with everyone back home is what keeps these guys motivated. They are all here for their own reasons, but a lot of those reasons are the people at the other end of the internet.

In this box is where we do our socializing, eating, joking, and on a rare occasion…working. Don’t get me wrong, we have three other buildings where it is all about the job, but this one is where we escape when the job starts to get to us. We’re in here a lot!

Last week we had sandstorms that seemed to start as the sun rose, and continue until a couple hours after the sun went down. We would spend a portion of every day sweeping, wiping off the flat surfaces, and blowing sand off our keyboards. They didn’t stay clean for long. During those days, everything itches. It seems like we are continually rubbing our eyes, cleaning our ears, and spitting.

My guys and I are the fortunate ones. We are safely surrounded by earthen berms on all sides, and multiple strands of fence separate us from the detainees in the prison. Everyday I see the young heroes whose job it is to drive the outside perimeter of the camp in search of insurgents. I see the guys trudging up the stairs to the to the lookout towers. I watch those assigned guard duty at the interment facility going to assume their posts. They are all dressed in full combat gear, which includes 40 pounds of protective armor, a big gun, and a bunch of ammo. It is all designed for protection, not comfort. Just imagine wearing a 40 pound down vest in 120 degree temperature.

I’m happy that the job we do here is so essential to both our protection and the apprehension of bad guys. It’s not fair that we get the adrenaline without the risk, but at least we’re doing some good stuff. There are times when it is tedious, but if my guys complain I have only to point at one of the towers or the prison and remind them what they could be stuck with. They normally respond pretty well.

My compound is located far away from just about everything else on the base. No one bothers us, and it makes for a pretty quiet environment…since I’m the only one that gets to live here. The guys joke about my butt being in a sling if there is ever a mass escape from the prison, but my door locks from the inside and my 9 mm is a hell of a noise maker.

My guys get to take R & R every 3 months, and although I’ll admit to envying them that, my time seems to be flying by here…so I’ll just keep heading towards my “go home date.” I’d rather take my R & R back there anyway.

Hope you’re all well and enjoying the summer.

T.

Summertime

It is Thursday afternoon in the United States. It is summertime. If you are doing anything besides coming up with reasons to call in sick tomorrow, or making plans for tonight, all that we are doing here is in vain!!!!

Camp Mascots

We’ve taken in a couple of pets at our camp lately. Some of you may refer to them as vermin, but they’re all we have. About a week ago a couple of mice would sneak into our lounge area and make mad dashes from beneath the furniture to the crumbs left from the daily gorging. Since we keep all the real food locked up tight, we’ve all come to the consensus that they are doing us a service…so we’ve let them stay.
They get a little braver each day, and the littler one of the two actually sat and twitched his nose at me for about 30 seconds as I talked to him from 3 feet away.
Maybe we keep them around after seeing what the Camel Spiders can do to them, or maybe the heat has finally gotten to us, but regardless they know there boundaries and so far have been pretty well behaved. Our only real concern is what happens when the snakes come looking for them!?!?!
Thinking of summertime, beaches, and all of you. Don’t waste a day of it, I have to live through your stories for the time being. Keep the pictures coming, they are helping me keep my sanity over here!

Miss you, T.

Mortar Attack

The Sat phone has been ringing off the hook all night, and we've got one of those outdoor ringers on it, so it rings LOUD. The rest of the guys have all gone back to their hooches for the night, and since I've taken up residency here in our compound, I'm left to deal with the frantic calls from all of their Stateside bosses and military contacts wondering if they are alright. What exactly are the news reports saying happened here? That the whole base was blown up?
Here's the skinny. Some bad guys with some bad aim launched a couple of mortars (not really rockets) and hit a bunch of the bad guys (I guess I have to say "suspected" bad guys here) who are our permanent guests here in the detainment facility. They also slightly injured one Iraqi guard, but not a single American was injured. Not even a scratch.
We felt the shockwave, we ran to the bunker, and we did a head count. We were doing a mission at the time, and 15 minutes after the attack we had forgotten all about it (well, pretty much anyway). This all happened around 9 am here. Once the United States got out of bed, the news agencies had somehow made it into a huge deal and we all started getting a bunch of e-mails.
Trust me when I say that this is one of the safest bases in Iraq. There are some places that go through this several times a day. I really do appreciate the concern, but I'm safer here than I am on I-5 in San Diego. Seriously!
Hope you're all well and enjoying the summer. I'm expecting more pictures of all the fun I'm missing out on!

T.

These videos are compliments of Thatch

Swear Jar - Not for kids!!!

Back from my trip.

Just got back from my trip. I've got some catching up to do now that I'm back, but here's a little travelogue from the journey:

I’m aboard a 60 foot barge as I write this. I’ve just spent the last two and a half days living on a mile long oil terminal in the middle of the Northern Arabian Gulf. It’s the location where the second half of my detachment operates from, and the lifestyle is interesting to say the least.

The trip has been a much needed escape from the day to day routine I’m subjected to as part of my duties at my home base. I’m finding that the ocean suits me much better than the desert, but I can do my job more effectively from that base…so I’m reluctantly returning.

The trip down started with a helicopter flight about 20 feet off the ground until we passed the Kuwait-Iraq border. From the base where we landed, I caught a ride to three other bases over rough roads before I finally made it to the place I would catch the ship out. It had taken me two days.

The Gulf is fairly calm this time of year, and the breeze across the deck convinced me to stay outside long enough to catch a reasonable sunburn. The crew aboard the craft are made up of Indian and Asian merchant sailors who served as good hosts for the 5 hour voyage.

Once at the platform, my guys welcomed me and treated me to a grilled Spam and cheese sandwich. I’m not ashamed to say it was fairly good…but then again, I was pretty hungry. The control center that my guys work out of doubles as their living quarters, and is perched 80 feet above the ocean. It is accessible from a maze of walkways and ladder wells that are worn and rusted enough to make you wonder if you might be swimming after your next step.

The showers are halfway across the terminal (about a half a mile), so if you don’t get there early enough in the day you are guaranteed to need another shower by the time you’ve made the trek back. We were surrounded by warships standing guard from small attack vessels that may be brave enough to disregard the 50 caliber gun emplacements located in strategic places around the structure.

Earlier today I took a ride on a RHIB (rigid hulled inflatable boat) the six miles to a similar terminal where the Coalition Commander I take my orders from resides. I sat in on a briefing, and ate a big lunch with my British hosts before getting a tour of their facilities. A fire had ravaged a sizable portion of this structure just over 6 months ago, so the quarter inch deck plating we walked on was precariously welded to heat bent steel girders. In other places, huge holes and shell casings showed evidence of abuse taken from this, and other wars. I was amazed that they had created a little city in the middle of the ocean out of such worn infrastructure.

The return RHIB ride back to my command center was less eventful than the one over. The fog that had caused us to nearly run into a couple of ships had since lifted, and although the sun was hot the breeze made it bearable. I made it back in time to send out a series of e-mails and make a bunch of phone calls before dinner. It seemed that some troubles with our operation back in Iraq would require me to head back early.

I boarded this ship at 11 pm, knowing I wouldn’t make it back to help my guys until at least Tuesday. I am teetering somewhere between exhaustion and an adrenaline charged excitement that I’m sure will wane with my ride across those rough roads.

I’m joined on my boat ride by a group of sailors that have been out on the platform for 3 months, and heading for a week of R&R, so the mood is pretty upbeat. I know I should be sleeping, but I’m guessing that isn’t too likely. I’ll settle for a few chapter of reading before we make it to port.

Hope you’re all enjoying the summer and each other. Send more pictures when you can.

T.

The new face of terrorism

SCARY, ISN'T IT?

Chez Flamingo

I had to cancel my trip this week because of some logistics challenges. I was bummed because I’m really looking forward to getting off this base for awhile. We’ve got the routine down well enough now that it is starting to be….well, routine. The trip is back on for next week barring anymore unexpected surprises.

I’ve made a move recently. Instead of staying up where everyone else stays, I’ve taken up residence in our compound. It puts me about a half a mile from the rest of the people, so it’s a lot quieter. I’m living in one of the Connex boxes (semi-trailer without the wheels). I’ve got air conditioning, computer access, and most of the conveniences I need. I’m in the process of building an outdoor shower, and once that is complete this place will be home.

Speaking of home, I’ve received an over abundance of packages recently from the States. Within two days I received an entire over-sized foot locker full of food (Thanks Mom, Dad, Rita, Sandy, Pat and his coworkers). Here’s the picture to prove it.

I’ve also been told to be on the lookout for at least 4 more packages that are inbound. I almost hate to say this, but if you’re planning to send something, you might want to wait a month or so. We love getting it, but at the rate it’s coming in we might have to open a store over here! We can always use some more music and movies though.

Below are pictures of our outdoor lounge that the guys made out of a huge shipping crate. It has been dubbed “Chez Flamingo”. A couple of you know where that reference comes from. Good times!

The last picture is me with a couple of the Brits taking a break from a mission to get a picture with “Flat Stanley”. Connor, I’ll get the little man back to you soon buddy.

Keep the e-mails, pictures, and letters coming. Looking forward to seeing you when I get back!

Flyer's beware!

Would you trust any of these men with your lives?
You better take a peek in the cockpit next time you get on an airliner!

Friday night?

Hi,
I'm sitting here at work, and I just realized it's Friday night. A few beers and a night out with the boys sounds just about right...ugh. Well, I guess my liver will have to wait!
I've gotten a few questions about this blog that people actually think I have the answer to. I assure you all that I am not a tech guru, but I did figure out a few things.
First, I don't know why the comments don't appear right on the blog page...but if you click on each entries title, you can read it and see your comments right below the entry when you finish. To get back you can either click on "Tommy's Blog" at the top, or chose another entry from the archive list.
Second...why don't I respond to the comments? Well, I really didn't know I could (or was supposed to) until a few days ago. A friend of mine has his own blog (way more interesting than this one...if you click his name "911DOC" that you'll find in the comments section of several of my blogs you can get to it), and I saw that he responded to just about every comment in the comments section. Oops, I guess I'm still figuring this stuff out.
Finally, I figured out how to embed videos on the sidebar so you can listen to tunes while you read. If that isn't full service, I don't know what is.
I'm missing green grass, blue water (and pretty much anything that has a color other than tan), and all of you. I'm looking forward to a trip I'll tell you all about once it's over. I've put up a few pics to give you all something to look at. If you look closely at the tire picture, you'll see a scorpion trying to hide under it. The one that looks sepia toned is what the sky has looked like for the last couple of days (talcum power sand over everything), and the one with the storm clouds was taken last week...and we all wish it would rain again soon if only to get all the sand out of the air. Hope you're all well and enjoying the spring.

T.

Click to make them bigger

Send Peanut M & Ms

A contingent of Brits we’ve been working a lot with is getting ready to head home. I’m sorry to see them go…great people. They’ve been taking some big hits over the last several months. The region I work in is the only one controlled by the British, and their convoys have lost significantly more people than ours. We’ve done the e-mail swaps, so I’m hoping to stay in touch so I’ve got some tour guides during my next stay there.

Our temperatures are averaging around 115-120 degrees during the day now, but it really isn’t as bad as I thought it would be. The guys are still getting along great, and despite a need for all of them to blow off steam from time to time, we haven’t had anyone going at each others throats just yet. That’s a big concern living in close quarter, surrounded by the same personalities day after day in this heat.

The work is getting done, and despite some road blocks from time to time they are doing an awesome job with what we’ve got to work with. We all sit around talking about what we miss most about the States, and most of it is pretty obvious. Family, friends, favorites restaurants and bars, and a bunch of conveniences that we all took for granted when we were home.

One of my guys bought a house while he was over here, and another is searching for one everyday on the internet. They both have people at home that are/were able to check things out for them. With all of our income tax-free, it’s amazing what our bank balances are telling us. Who knew Uncle Sam was taking such a big bite. I’m personally buying a Harley Davidson Fatboy Softtail under a special military buying program that should allow me to drive it around for a couple of years and sell it for what I paid for it. I can’t wait!

I’m at the point where I’ve got my head far enough above water to start to consider what I’m going to do when I get back. It looks like the Navy has some jobs to offer me for about 6 months in the San Diego area, which would put me in the position to be able to have a better choice of what I want to fly when I go back to Northwest Airlines (I’m really trying to avoid the DC-9). Before any of that, I’m planning a big trip though. I’m split between the Mediterranean or Central/South America. Palma de Mellorca, Ibiza, Rio, Costa Rica…all I know is it has to have a beach…you know, sand attached to water instead of just to more sand. Any suggestions would be greatly appreciated.

I've discovered everything here works on the barter system. If we want something, we have to find something worth trading. Cookies and brownies from home seem to be the preferred commodity...so for those of you that have been asking what to send, there you have it. On a more selfish note, one of those big bags of Peanut M&Ms would make me a happy man. It's funny what you miss out here.

Well, I wish I could fill you in more on what it is we are doing over here. Let’s just say it’s making a difference, and that makes us love our job. Hope you’re all well and enjoying the spring.

T.

Camel Spider

Tonight we found a camel spider roaming around the compound. I've heard all kinds of stories about these things, but now that I've seen one I'm convinced they are all true. They say they aren't afraid of anything...and this one kept running right at us. It was pretty cool. I found the video above so you guys could see a little clip of what they are like.

Little Girl...

I keep getting a vision in my head of a little girl I saw as we drove along the convoy route the other day. She was standing on a pile of sand in a neighborhood filled with what can be best described as earthen shacks. She waved and smiled at us in bare feet and a flowered dress, and her eyes held the same innocence that all 4 year old kids seem to have. She was genuinely happy to see us, and the chaos that surrounded her had yet to diminish her excitement for life.
I tried to imagine spending day after day in this environment. The oppressive heat, with no air conditioning to retreat into, and water always in short supply. The corruption in this part of the world is wide spread, and they are almost guaranteed of maintaining whatever class level their parents were raised in.
I guess growing up in a big family has given me more exposure to seeing things from another persons perspective. It was almost a survival technique with 9 siblings whom covered the entire spectrum of personality types. Don’t get me wrong, I’m as self-centered as anyone else, but I find alternative perspectives fascinating.
The little girl on the side of the road reminded me that we all start out pretty much the same way. The major events in our lives, good and bad, define how we allow ourselves to live our lives. I venture that the difference between someone who lives courageously and someone who goes through life hiding in the shadows is often nothing more than a single life event at a crucial time. Divorce, encouragement, abuse, education, oppression, and a hundred other factors define whether we become one of the good guys or one of the bad guys.
Our enemies here are people who have decided that human life is expendable. They don’t bother themselves with the details. If one of the women they blew up in the market that day was the mother of 3 young kids whose lives will be changed forever, the bad guys can justify it away as a necessity to their cause. The heroes that the USA has over here risk their own lives everyday doing their best to protect the innocent from the bad guys. Even this far from home, and surrounded by people who have little in common with us, our guys find common ground with the locals and develop a mutual respect.
One thing about the desert…the lack of visual stimulation makes your mind find other ways to keep itself busy. We’re all becoming a bunch of philosophers out here.
The little girl had blue eyes.

T.

PS – Happy Birthday to my sister Rita. LYMI!

All is quiet...

I know its been a week since I’ve written. I wish I could say that it’s because I’ve been so busy…but I haven’t. The truth is there have been no riots at the prison, no mortars inside the wire, no escapes, no extremely cool missions…really nothing out of the ordinary. I guess you can say it’s been just a quiet week in the desert. Well, as quiet as the desert gets.

My first week here I was irritated that someone was banging loudly on my neighbors door in the middle of the night. I live in what is basically a miniature mobile home, while a lot of the folks are stuck in tents…without doors. Anyway, one of my neighbors is an intelligence officer, and I assumed someone had an important update for him. I decided whoever the messenger was, he must have been an infantry guy because he knocked loudly and in quick succession, like the machine guns they so often fire. It took that first week for me to realize that it wasn’t someone knocking…it really was a machine gun. Can you believe it took me a week to figure that out? What can I say, I’m used to be stationed far from the action and flying in to do my thing…then flying home.

These guys go out and drive the perimeter of our camp every night. These small tactical units get on gun trucks and circle around while I sleep. As I talk with them about their experience they act as if it’s no big deal. I’ve spent most of my life surrounded by guys who do things most of us would think is crazy or scary, but rarely do I cross paths with people who do it knowing so little about what they are up against. They may find no one…or one or two guys…or the may face an ambush. Still, every night they put on their 50-60 pounds of Kevlar, load their weapons, and head into the darkness. I guess we can say the same about the policemen and firemen at home, so I guess not all the brave men are over here.

I’m finally in the swing of things over here. Every few days I look at my watch and realize it’s 3 am or 5 am, and I’d better get some sleep if I’m going to be any good the next day. We have time to throw the football around every once in awhile, and we all have our meals together…so the guys are really starting to come together as a group. Mail call is our big event for the day. Just before lunch (post office closes at 11:30 am) we check to see if we received any letters or packages that day…and even if only one of us did, we all know we’ve scored because we share the bounty. Today I set the record by getting 4 packages in one day that had nothing to do with our business at hand (it’s always a let down to get a package only to find out it’s work related). Movies, magazines, CDs, chocolate…and my favorite was two batches of my sister Rita’s famous granola. The guys will have to continue to suck up if they want any of that!

We’ve had some extra time lately, so we’ve taken an enormous crate (8 feet tall, 8 feet wide, and 35 feet long) made of wood, and made it into our expeditionary lounge area. We’ve got a futon in there, and an old broken office chair, and we sit out there as nighttime cools the air enough to stand not being in an air conditioned space. We’ve lined the ceiling with some leftover Christmas lights, and turned it into the perfect place to sit and BS about whatever comes to mind.

Well, I’m sorry to say that there is nothing truly exciting to report…but I guess that is a good thing. Thanks to everyone for taking such good care of me and my guys while we’re over here. I hope you’re all enjoying the spring weather and getting out and doing all the things you promised yourself you would when the snow was finally gone. The days are flying by, so I’ll look forward to seeing you all in when I get back!

One last thing...congratulations to my nieces Molly and Casey, and their hubbies. Two new babies will join the clan this fall!!!

Take care, T.

Send lawyers, guns and money

We awoke to mortar rounds landing inside the camp in the early hours of Friday morning. It was exactly 4 am when the first one hit…followed by the whistles and explosions of the following three. The base is pretty large, and they didn’t hit a thing. No casualties and no fatalities.

All my guys rolled out of bed and met outside so we could get a quick head count and let the TOC know that everyone still had all their fingers and toes. Nothing like an adrenaline rush at that hour to start the day right. Their tactics are to shoot and run, so the danger was over almost as soon as it began. They don’t get this brave that often… soon the dunes would be covered with patrols.

I needed to be on a convoy to Kuwait by 7, so I just headed for the showers. We had some equipment to pick up, and it was a good excuse for me to get off the base for a couple of days. I rode down what must have been the most pot hole filled road in Kuwait, in an armored semi with little or no shocks left. Imagine getting kidney punched for 2 hours straight.

We played the normal game of find the package when we got to the shipment receiving point. We had a group of TCNs (third country nationals – people from places like Bangladesh, the Thailand, India, etc, who do all the actual work in Kuwait. The Kuwaiti don’t do labor), rifling through papers and talking excitedly in foreign tongues as they searched for our cargo. Total cluster, but they found it and called us later in the afternoon.

That night was incredible. We were invited to the “mini-palace” of a Lebanese (Beau, Sammy, Chris…I said Lebanese) entrepreneur who indulged us with some Cuban cigars and refreshments before taking us to what he claimed was the nicest restaurant in Kuwait City. All glass, and opulence, and situated so that the best tables not only had an ocean view, but felt like you were hovering over it. Most men were in the stereotypical white robes and head dresses, but many were in European style business wear. We, on the other hand, were in jeans, tennis shoes, and oxfords. We were told to leave all civilian clothes in the States so we were lucky to have anything at all. No one batted an eye, and we were greeted with smiles by patrons and staff alike.

Our host treated us to as many traditional Lebanese dishes as he could find on the menu. Our table was full of dozens of small dishes of different delicacies. It was one of the best meals of my life. As we ate, one of the TCNs brought us each a hooka pipe (for those that are un-indoctrinated, it looks like a fancy version of what most of you hid in your closets in college). They used some sort of apple flavored tobacco that was filtered through water as it traveled through the hooka, so it came out as little more than a breath freshener. Apparently good for digestion.

Although there was more in store for us, it was midnight and we had to be up early; so we parted ways. Even conservative countries have underground discos, but we’d have to make that another visit. We had to get the big rig back across the border and be awake enough to be vigilant. No sense pushing our luck in a war zone.

We made our way north the following morning, and scheduled one additional stop to pick up some cargo for a crew of special ops guys. We ended up having lunch with them and swapping ideas on how they could use our assets. Real nice guys…you’d never believe they were stone cold killers.

It was nice to get “home” after the arduous road trip. The boys hadn’t missed a beat in my absence, but were excited to hear some new stories. I guess that’s pretty much how we spend the majority of our down time…swapping stories.

Hope you’re all good, T.

Happy Easter...late

Click the image to make it larger

Thanks to everyone for the e-mails, snail mails, packages, and comments on the blog. They definitely make my day. That said, I can’t believe how fast the time is flying here. I know I’ve been in country for only a few weeks, but it seems like I just got here. There are a few monotonous duties, but more often then not we have something happen that makes things pretty interesting. Time may slow down a bit when the temperature hits 130 degrees this summer, but so far I feel like we’re doing great things to bring this mess to a speedy end.

I’ve discovered that my compound is located adjacent to the largest prison in the world…population wise anyway. 14,000 people being held for various reasons. The worst I’ve heard is a guy who is being held for his part in over 100 beheadings. Last week one of the detention areas decided to protest. They burned all of their tents, and used improvised sling shots to shot rocks at the lights and guard towers. The guards were forced to launch percussion grenades and shoot non-lethal rounds at them to stem the chaos. A bunch of my guys and I got on the roof of our command center connex box to get a better view. Quite a scene to say the least.

Another interesting night. I was leaving our compound at 9:30 last Saturday night when a Hummer pulled up and blocked me in. A Sergeant got out and told me my presence was requested at the Tactical Operations Center (TOC). I cruised to the other side of the camp trying to figure out which one of my guys was in trouble…or had gotten me in trouble

As it turns out, they had immediate tasking they needed our help with. This was probably the coolest mission I’m likely to do here, and I can’t tell you about it. Wish I could. It was one of those rare instances when CNN and FOX missed the story. I will say, however, we stayed up through the night and my guys did an incredible job. We acted as the eyes in the sky to help the good guys do there thing. We all slept through a good portion of Easter day…but for good reason.

I don’t know whether it is the fact that I’m doing satisfying work or being in the desert air, but something out here has helped to put me at ease. I guess it’s strange that I had to come to a war zone in order to put things into perspective, but in a way it makes sense. I’m surrounded by honorable people working to ensure the safety of the things the care most about back home. We don’t sit around CNN watching news of some company bilking their employees out of their pensions, or get caught up in the drama of which person at the office is playing grab ass with the other. It’s like a group of people that trust each other implicitly and go out of their way to ensure each others safely and mission success.

Well, I’m off to Kuwait tomorrow to meet up with some of our cohorts and take care of a few things. I’m looking forward to the convoy down, and a big evening tomorrow night. I hope you are all doing well. Keep the updates coming and take care of yourselves and each other. Oh, and congrats to Sammy and Corey on the news of the inbound kid!

Best, Tom.

PS – Send more pictures.

Girls with guns

I imagine you’ve all gotten fairly immune to the news coverage of the war. Statistical analysis of progress, death, and set backs. I’m hoping to give you all a little different view of the day to day warrior’s life to show you a new perspective. That perspective is decidedly mine, but it’s the only one I’ve got, so I hope it works for you.
In all the time I’ve been associated with the military, I’ve never seen anything like what I experience on this base everyday. Girls with guns. Not just one or two, but about 20% of our total population. Oh, I’ve seen female MPs in full uniform with side arms stateside...but there is something ponderous about seeing hundreds of women walking around the compound in anything from camouflage to gym shorts and a t-shirt with an M-16 slung to their backs.
As women were being assigned more and more to combat roles during my career, I’ve had to ask myself how I felt about it. Would they be up to the job? Would they be a distraction? Would it create new challenges? The answers I’ve discovered are yes, yes, and yes.
By and large the folks we work with are true professionals. The women toting those guns are every bit as capable of using them as their male counterparts. They proved that to me at the Udari Range. Women carrying M-16 are NEVER subjected to cat calls or inappropriate behavior. It makes me wonder if we shouldn’t start conspicuously arming teenage girls.
Distractions…yes. It is almost comical to watch some of the girls walk into the chow hall. The men are all in “warrior mode” but like the cavemen we can be, that hint of perfume impacts them like a loud bang from across the room, even if she is approaching from behind them. You can see them catch the scent and suddenly stop eating to search for it’s origin. Table after table of men repeating the process in a pattern not unlike “the wave” in a football stadium.
New challenges. Definitely. Where once a soldier at war only had to worry about his hometown sweetheart being true to him, because she knew there was little likelihood of him being untrue to her in a war zone…now we hear stories of marriages and relationships ending simply due to distrust…sometimes justifiably but often unfounded. Morale amongst the troops is a huge consideration, so that particular challenge has a big negative impact.
Camp Bucca made national news a couple of years ago when several female soldiers became the main event of a mud wrestling contest. Soldiers trying to blow off steam and create a spring break type atmosphere were suddenly accused of creating the Army’s version of “Girls Gone Wild”. Despite groups of bikini clad entertainers making the rounds with the USO, that sort of behavior is apparently frowned upon by the soldiers themselves. As is true with any incident like that in the military, the repercussions changed the rules overnight.
The party atmosphere that once made this camp legendary is now somewhat subdued by comparison. When on the job, the soldiers and sailors have always been professionals, so in my mind that is all that really matters. The real difference now is that most of them have to store all that pent up exuberance for life until their next leave period.
As for my opinion as to whether a war zone is the right place for women…I’m still trying to figure that out. I’ll let you know in 6 months.