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.

Improving the Middle East - One beer at time

A more skilled writer may be able to paint a verbal picture of the landscape here in Iraq, but for as far as my eyes can see it’s just sand. I find it no great wonder that the inhabitants of this area of the world are such zealots. Their world is monochromatic, and almost barren of the resources to create beer and other alcoholic beverages.

You laugh, but with a million kegs of beer I think I could win this war. Benjamin Franklin was once quoted as saying, “Beer is proof that God loves us.” Certainly Allah has the same love for his people…don’t you think?

So why is alcohol strictly forbidden by their faith. Easy, they have very little of the resources required to produce it, and instead of wishing for what they can’t have they just outlawed it. Oh, I’m sure someone has discovered how to make a liqueur out of a bunch of fermented dates, and I know they make palm wine in Africa but the fresh water to mixed those ingredients with is also in short supply.

What would a million kegs cost, 70 million dollars? One countrywide block party to replace the thought of the promised 70 virgins in the after life for a chance to drop their differences for a night. The women would be shedding their veils and showing their ankles, and the men would lighten up enough to realize the here and now isn’t so bad. An entire country shaking their junk on the dance floor and showing the rest of the middle east the benefit of the “Jimmy Buffet lifestyle.”

The biggest hurdle I see is getting them past that initial phase of not liking the taste, as many of us went through in our late teen years (er, I mean early twenties). I’ll need some help in brainstorming that part, so any suggestions would be greatly appreciated.

Those are my big thoughts for today. Stay tuned for my next addition where I’ll address the topic of “girls with guns.” Hope you’re all well.

Pictures

Here are some pictures of my first couple of weeks. The first one is from our boat ride that had to turn around after being out for several hours. The next one is me in my full "battle rattle" getting ready to go on the convoy into Iraq. The "Change of Command" photos are next, followed by me in front of my new ride (nice huh?). Hope you're all well.