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.