No post today

Just can't think of anything to say. Talk to you tomorrow.

Sunday Again

There seem to be a disproportionate number of Sundays here. It seems like every time I sit down to write it's Sunday again. That's good because it means that the weeks are moving by. Today Ch. Ducharme did not preach at church. Due to the surge, there are more battalions here, and each battalion has its own chaplain so they have to share the pulpit. I was doubtful tonight since Ch. Kerr is the same one who spoke on Easter and seemed to be a very feel good type. Today I was proven wrong. He was delightfully expositional, and what I thought was Hillary-esque folksiness on Easter ended up just being the way he speaks. He is Southern Baptist (very) but seeing as this is a military service, when most SB pastors would say "Amen" and pause for the congregation to say amen, he would substitute in Huah for Amen. Only in the military.

Incidentally and unrelated: one year ago today I was still on the boat doing PORSE aka post-overhaul reactor safeguard exam aka nuclear kabuki. It involved mainly paperwork review and walkthrough drills (since the ship was taken apart in shipyard, we couldn't start up to do real drills.) It was also the day before our move out inspection and the only thing remaining on the to do list was to scrub the trashcans which Kate could not do because she was 6 month pregnant. So as I was about to walk off the boat at 2200, one of the inspectors finds me and says he would like to do one last paperwork review with me. I sat in the wardroom with him for about an hour going over training records and other miscellanea for an hour. Finally he got to a report that was over a year old and had been inspected, rather successfully, during the last reactor safeguard exam. He started asking where such and such was in this report, and it wasn't there. I told him that it was not there. He asked the same question 3 times until I finally had enough and told him that I really didn't know what he wanted me to say because it obviously wasn't there. I don't know if he thought it would magically appear if he asked enough, but if he did my answer burst his pathetic little nuclear bubble. I had never been so mad as I was riding my bike home and scrubbing trash cans that night. It is good that I have those memories (way too) recent in my past so that no matter how insane the Army is, I can remember that they cannot even touch the pettiness of the nuclear Navy.

Still keeping busy

For about the 3rd day in a row I have been busy! I had a meeting in the afternoon, and I know I did something this morning. Anyway, the days haven't really started dragging too much even though I'd still much rather be home. Mundane tasks can be distracting which is good.

Today at the hospital was the most exciting day so far. A guy came in with heat stroke. He was in pretty bad shape, but he would get better so it was not terrible. He had not drank enough water, so maybe the Drill Instructors at Fort Jackson were on to something with their ever present hydration charts. He also had been feeling sick to his stomach, so water wasn't the only answer. Bottom line is I will continue to drink more water than I think I need even if it is bowing in to peer pressure and propaganda.

Propaganda aside, it was really interesting to watch the guys I hang out with every night working together as a team. I would much rather get hurt as an American than as an Iraqi for sure.

Running behind

I think this will be a short post tonight, but every time I think that I type forever. I've been pretty busy the last couple of days. Doing what? Well, today I had to make a map for a presentation and I spent in excess of 3 hours restarting the program on the computer because every time I was about done it would shut down. Some programs are only bought by the government for a reason. Google Earth is much better.

Today USNA finally came through. They had a luncheon for the wives of IA's, and it sounds like the bigs came. Half of me wants to be angry and say it's about time, but the other half is really thankful that the Navy even in its halting way tries to be supportive. I also got a letter from one the elders at our church with a book in it. I really could not find a better church back home, and even though I miss it, I am glad that my family has a support structure as wonderful as they do.

It's getting late. I had to spend about 45 minutes tonight trying to retrieve the map I made today (it is not impressive enough to justify a whole days work) because the server crashed. I could blame the everpresent Iraqi dust, but I'll choose to pin the computing difficulties on the Army. Anyway, it is a little later than normal, so I'm going to bed. Thanks for your thoughts and prayers.

On again

Sorry about not posting last night. I'm pretty sure that most of you recovered from the non-post to have the same day you would if I had posted. The replacement for the chief I work with flew in so I had to go with to pick her up. Her helo got in late, so I got to bed later than normal. I am not a night person.

Today one of our soldiers said she saw me talking to myself walking down the road the other day. She said that I was actually using my hand and being fairly animated. She thought this was very funny. Ha, ha, ha, ha, ha - laugh at the squid. I really don't see the big deal. I have always supposed that everyone talks to themselves, but I probably just get in more arguments because of my personality. I'll have to make sure the comments are not allowed on this post so that no one comes along and tells me that discussing religion or politics with yourself is taboo because those are some of my favorite topics. And what if you talk to yourself about how annoying other people are? Is that gossip? Is it worse if you say the words instead of just think them? You can draw your own conclusions. We have already drawn ours. If, however, you come down on the "talking to yourself is not normal" side of the argument, I recommend you hold your judgment until you've been to Rustimiyah: You might be the only interesting person you can find to talk to.

Who's in charge here

A couple of days ago one of the junior sergeants walked into our office (which is really a big open room with lots of desks and computers) and shows the senior sergeant what he had just bought at the hajii shop on the FOB: an honest to goodness police quality taser. Of course the question that had to follow was "Can I try it out... on myself." I was sitting quietly in my corner thinking that this could not end well, and my thoughts were confirmed when the senior sergeant's eyes light up and he says, "Sure, but you know it will hurt." Both were undaunted by the thought of pain. Luckily, all of the officers in the room are military POLICE officers and understand the effect of tasers because there was a groundswell of captains levitating over their desks to join the chorus of NOOOOO!!!! One of the captains explained how the voltage from a taser can have adverse effects on your heart, and more convincingly on your bowel control. I think the sergeant was a little disappointed deep down that he couldn't play with his new toy, but nothing came of it.

The whole event does raise the question, who in their right mind would allow police quality tasers to be sold at a store frequented almost exclusively by 18 -24 year olds? Probably the same people who allow water bongs to be sold and loaded weapons to be carried. Can't blame the Hajii's who sell them, but if that junior sergeant had been in an infantry unit instead of a an MP unit (MP's are by and large the smarter of the two), the self test would have happened. The really sad thing is that at the infantry unit they would have seen his total loss of bowel control and the burn on his skin and would have started arguing about who would get to go next.

Happy Day

I went in to work today and found a pleasant surprise when I checked my computer. For the last 24 hours there had been no US soldiers killed. I know that you probably read it in the headlines, but I don't get the paper over here so I missed it. I thought that was a reason to smile.

Other than that, life goes on. Not too much worth mentioning really. Maybe I'll think of some trivial detail to share tomorrow, but now I'm just going to finish my chicken a-la-king and go to bed.

Finicky Blog

I seem to have a persnickity blog sight. The last two posts I tried to allow comments, but when I posted them they were blank. I'll try again, but if you can't comment it is not because I have to have the last word; it is just a nice by-product.

Joke: A pastor was out visiting his parishoners and he knocked on a door. He heard rustling inside, but no one answered. After a couple of minutes, he slipped a note under the door that said "Revelation 3:20" and walked away. The next Sunday there was a note in the offering basket that said simply "Gen 3:10."

The chaplain had to explain it to us, but we all laughed which is not a give for the chaplain's jokes. Once again church was a real refresher. Having a critical mass of people to get together for worship is one thing you don't have on a submarine, and you just can't deny the value of fellowship. Even Lone Ranger had Tonto, and he was the LONE Ranger. I've probably said this before, but many chaplains are chaplains because they couldn't find a church that would take them. Our chaplain could give Schuppe a run for his money.

The other interesting happening at church was a loud boom outside, which for opsec purposes I will say sounded like someone dropping a VERY large something that makes a boom. Life went on. Probably safer in the chapel than in a bunker anyway.

Coincidence

Coincidence

Today was another beautiful Rusty day. Spring was in the air and music was running through my mind. Yesterday when I was doing penance for an extra KBR provided hash brown in the gym, the song "I believe in miracles, you sexy thing," by Hot Chocolate was on the radio. The only reason I know the name or group is that it has been going through my mind for the past 29 hours so I looked it up on the net. The tune is really very catch, but as you can guess based on the title, it will probably not replace "Blessed Assurance" in the hymnal any time soon. Words aside, the tune is infectious.

Speaking of infectious and tunes, as I was walking back from the hospital (get it - infectious?) I passed a mortar bunker that two girls were using for a smoke break. They were singing "American Girl" by Trisha Yearwood and giggling. It sounded very innocent and happy. A bit farther down the road, I passed a 18-wheeler resupply truck with its Third Country National (or TCN as the Army has acronymized them - they are the Bangladeshi's who cook the food, clean the port-a-johns, and drive the unarmored trucks in the resupply convoy for a KBR $5 a day paycheck) crew sitting on the trailer playing a flute and singing.

If I were an NPR correspondent I could have linked the two events together, probably with the flute music as a ketchy intro and made an ambiguously anti-war story out of the cross cultural appeal of music, blah, blah, blah. But I fall asleep when I read books with big words and too many footnotes, so I didn’t study anthropology or world lit – thus I don’t work for NPR. Sadly all I can offer is a question: what are the chances of hearing two separate groups singing on the same walk? I guess it was 100%.

Not much to say

You are not immune

I'm a pretty savvy guy when it comes to influences on my life. I can figure out when I'm being sold a bill and not fall prey, or so I thought. In the past week or so I have come to understand just how mind changing propaganda is to a person raised in an advertising culture. At Fort Jackson, a place so forlorn that it would make the Democrats want to pull out of South Carolina, there was a hydration chart above every urinal with different colored boxes so you could check your state of hydration in situ. The white box, indicating the highest level of hydration, was labeled "Possibly well hydrated." Hydration is the Army's religion, and Drill Instructors are its prophets. They regularly preach hell, fire, and brimstone if you are not well in the "Possibly well hydrated" color zone, and based on the "possibly" your salvation was not even assured.
So recently, I have noticed that a) I drink a lot of water making trips to the port-a-john the most common activity of my day, b) the frequent trips demanded to achieve the white box make the hydration chart a harsh task master, and c) on every trip I measure myself by the Ft. Jackson standard or righteousness. Guess I'm not so savvy as I thought.

BTW, here is a link to a website that talks about what I'm doing. I don't like discussing my job on this blog lest I cross a classification line, but this article at least uses some of the right vocabulary:

http://www.strategypage.com/htmw/htecm/articles/20070418.aspx

CORRECTION

In Sunday's post I mentioned I had not received my FITREP. I did today, and it was postmarked 12 April, so someone remembers me. Go Navy.

And the sun and the air were darkened by reason of the smoke of the pit

Today I decided to walk the Rustimiyan perimeter to see what there was to see. There is quite a bit, most of it dust. Every time a convoy would roll by, my eyes got itchier and itchier. I figured it was allergies so I made a short cut to the PX for some Visine. In retrospect, it was dust rather than pollen, so all is now well. Ahhh... the cooling goodness of putting chemicals in your eyes. Aside from the dust, I noticed that it has warmed up quite a bit in the past couple days. When I walked to the gym, it was plain old hot.
Walking back, I bet it was 5 degrees cooler. The sky was dark, and with sunglasses on I could look at the sun. There was so much dust in the air that they sky was a hazy pink. So at night there is a gentle glow of burning garbage over the wall, and during the day the sand blots out the sun. All that and crazy militants. Makes you want to build a vacation home here.

Another Rusty accomplishment

Today was professionally uneventful. In my capacity as 759th MP BN EWO, I sent one email and read another 3 or so. Counting read and sent together, that's one email for every kiwi I had for dinner. If I put 280 of those days end to end and dress them up with adjectives and adverbs, I'm sure it will be enough for an Army Commendation Medal.

I did accomplish something today: I finished reading a book. I am more of a book starter than finisher so this does count as a personal victory. I would highly recommend "Unknown Quantity: A Real and Imaginary History of Algebra" to anyone interested in the history of algebra. It was actually very interesting, and I wish that I had read it before taking Modern Algebra those many years ago. Having a historical framework to put concepts in would have helped me understand what was being said and how it all fit together. On the other hand, anyone who reads this book has to accept that they have planted themselves firmly in the nerd camp. The best line in had to be "Matrices are, in short, the bee's knees." I just about blew a gasket I was laughing so hard at the truth of that line and the courage it took to write it , but only on the inside. I didn't share my mirth. After all, there is smart, and then there is Army smart. Huah!

Good Lasagna

Today is not healthy eating night, but how can you say no to lasagna and mozzarella sticks? My stomach may give me a good reason to say no tomorrow, but carpe diem, right? Finally got to talk on the phone tonight. The comms here have been unpredictable as of late, and I haven't been able to call home the last two nights. But even 1 night out of 3 is better phone time that my last deployment. Except for the high chance of getting killed, the Army has it alot easier on deployments than the Navy does. They always have comms, fresh fruit, and sunlight. Those are three things that many people take for granted unless they don't have them. And while 15 months away, 12 at home sounds bad, that is about the same optempo as a Navy ship has. I imagine that when they are at home, they spend comparable amounts of time in the field as your typical sailor spends on duty. They just lump all 15 months together which makes it worse. The Marines do 7 months deployed, 6 at home. There are advantages to all 3 ways of splitting up a 50+% optempo, but there are more advantages to having a low optempo. When this war is over, the Army and Marines will. The peacetime Navy will still have the same optempo as the wartime Army. I wonder if the Army will send any IA's to help the Navy stand their watches once the Army goes back to no-deploy mode? No, I actually don't wonder.

Clarification: I got a couple of emails saying I sounded down in my post last night. I guess I didn't communicate really well. I was pretty torqued before church, but I left feeling very encouraged with that God doesn't abandon even if the Navy lets you down. It was supposed to be a moderately cheery post.

A rah-rah navy post

Yesterday I got a phone call from the headquarters for all the Navy EWO's out here asking for LT Wagner. There is no LT Wagner on FOB Rustamiyah, but I'm not too surprised that my overlords didn't know that: I'm not even on their contact roster yet, and I've only been here 40+ days. They didn't have the mailing address for my base before I got here, and I still don't think they do. I don't think they have a database to put it in if I sent it to them. I'm surprised they even know they have EWO's out in the field.

The most disappointing part of this IA experience has not been getting sent here. I do not resent the people who chose me (although I do think their reasoning was what you would expect from 3 people who have been in the Navy for a total of 70+ years and maybe have 2 deployments between them), but I do resent the little things that have not been done, little things that don't matter except to say that I'm still on somebody's radar. For instance, no one in my chain of command except my immediate boss ever gave any of us in the IA group from USNA even 5 minutes of their time to say that they appreciated what we were doing. My fitness report has not been sent out to me or even discussed with me via email. The group I came to out here did not have our billets assigned until after we had arrived. Even though I replaced a guy who had been in the system 11 month, the Navy did not have the foresight to let me know I was going until 27 days before I left. The current failure of leadership from the Navy's premier leadership institution is that the submarine detailer is coming to the yard as I found out through a mass email, but the head submariner has not contacted either me or the other USNA sub-JO to ask if their is anything we need from him. I'd probably say no because if the detailer knew what I wanted it would just give him more time how to scheme to keep me from getting it.

All of these things would not change my situation, but they would at least let me know that my bosses know who I am, let alone where I am. Traditionally the military deploys as units and there is a sense of cohesion that goes along with that. A captain will not let anything too bad happen to you because it will happen to him, also. I get the sense that I am more a soldier of fortune out on my own, being a free agent to the highest bidder who does not pay that well. As I was walking to chapel (Chaplain DuCharme was excellent, btw), I was thinking about this post and the phrase "professionally abandoned" was going to figure prominently. Interestingly, a line in one of the songs we sang said "persecuted, not abandoned; struck down, but not destroyed." That line made me think about the BN Bible study on Joseph. Last week he was in prison, and he asked the baker and wine taster "Why do you look sad?" Personally, I think that is either a) a rhetorical question to someone in prison, or b) a game they must have played every day: who can name the most bizarre reason to be sad in a dungeon today? The exegesis behind the daily question game theory (besides the fact that they are in prison) is that the answer is bizarre: we don't have a dream interpreter. If I were Joseph, I would have given up right there and let them have that round. How do you top that one? There are alot of things I could think that I'd miss in prison, but not in a thousand years would I have said a dream interpreter. No clean clothes? an uncomfortable bed? missing my family? rats running over me at night? Bubba my cell-mate has inadequate hygeine? Those are reasons to look sad in prison. If the only thing you can come up with is a dream interpreter, you've got to be playing games. Interestingly, as bizarre as that was, it was the one area where God had communicated a promise to Joseph and then had gone one step further than not fulfilling it: He had put Joseph in a position where hope of fulfillment was abandoned. It would have been so easy for Joseph to laugh that reason to be sad off, but by his answer it looks like Jo had a "persecuted, not abandoned" mindset.

Does this mean I don't care if I ever see my fitrep? No. Do I still wish that some submariner would spontaneously remember me in Iraq and ask me if there is anything I would like from the detailer? Sure. Those are leadership failures that are inexcusable. The people who execute those failures, though, can not abandon. I don't even want to challenge the creators of the IA by saying they cannot persecute with the best of them, but that's all they can do - strike down without destroying.

280 is better than 370

Sorry I haven't posted in a while. The net has been down for the past 3 nights when I normally post. And tonight the phones are down, so I can't call home. Down seems to be a theme here recently. Many of the soldiers are pretty down since many of them got extended an extra 90 days with the SecDef's announcement on Tuesday. I'm suffering from the inter-service equivalent of white guilt since the Navy did not get extended. I feel really bad for these guys, and I almost feel bad that I am glad I didn't get extended. But I would feel worse if I had. So that's the big happenings here. We're not sure if 759th is going to get extended since the people relieving them have had well in excess of the SecDef's required 12 months at home. Even so, people are a bit on edge and expecting the worst. I don't say this often: Go Navy!

Thank you Al!!

Global warming must be in full effect here at Rusty. Today we had torrential rains, hail, and unseasonably cool weather. Kate would have worn a jacket if she were here. Those who have been here enough to know, and there are quite a few of them, say it was out of the ordinary. The main downside of the rain (there I go being whiny again!) is the mud. The country of Iraq is covered in a 2" layer of the finest dust you've ever seen. It is almost like someone spilled a bigger than Price Club size bottle of gray baby powder and never bothered to clean it up. When it is dry, the dust gets everywhere. I think it is why computers and trucks don't last more than a couple of years here. When you walk down the side of the road, your foot sinks about half an inch and a little poof of dust puffs up. If a Humvee drives past you, port side to, it's exhaust pipe creates a cloud of fine dust that is so fine that you don't even notice if you breathe it in. That's dry. When this stuff is wet, I've heard it described as baby poop mud. I'd take my baby to the doctor if her poop looked like that, but the name does get across the point that it's slippery, slimy, and sticks to everything. But mud aside, if the weather stays like this all year, I'm just fine with that!

While it lasts

Guess I should say this while I have the chance: it was a beautiful day today. People keep saying that it's going to get miserably hot, and I don't doubt them. Today, however, was really worth being thankful for. When I first went outside this morning to take the 30 step walk to the bathroom, it was raining very lightly and the air smelled fresh and clean, when normalized for Iraq. Today as I was walking back from working out, there was that wonderful spring feeling of sun on your skin, not too hot, not too cold. Just nice.

A little confused

Rusty is giving me conflicting signals. Yesterday they had Sunrise Crystal Light packets. As one of my overlords said when we first arrived and were told to drink, drink, drink to avoid dehydration, "Sometimes water flavored water gets old." This is a real problem in a war zone, or would be were it not for KBR. Next to all the exits at the chow hall there are piles of individually packaged Gatorade and Gatorade's sugar free cousins. Ever since I arrived at Rusty, I had missed the sugar free variety available at Camp Victory, for here there was only one choice a meal and that usually lemon-lime Tang. Sometimes they would throw out Tang fruit punch, but those two get old. Imagine I just said that in a really whiny voice. Apparently KBR got tired of imagining that voice, and a couple days ago they put out Raspberry Ice Crystal Light. SCORE!! Yesterday they put out the mother of all Crystal lights, Sunrise. DOUBLE SCORE!! It's excellent. The whining has subsided.

Here's where the confusion comes in. I just got done reading George Orwell's "Homage to Catalonia." It is one of National Review's 10 best non-fiction books of last century, and "Without it, no study in meaning in the twentieth century is complete." Wouldn't want my meaning studies to be incomplete, so I got it and read it. Got to say, it's one of the best autobiographical accounts of the Spanish Civil War that I've ever read. Something that resonated with me was Orwell's statement that every war has certain things in common: cold, lack of sleep, and lice. Only when someone turns the AC too low, no, and no. I'm one out of three if I fudge. So if I'm not at war, where am I? I'll think on that as I sip my Sunrise.

Many reasons to miss Hawaii

Two nights ago I decided to listen to a little Daniel Ho, so I started playing Ko-Aloha. That was Kate's favorite especially when we lived in Hawaii. So many good memories. I started to get a little down about all the new memories I am missing out here. That is a sad fact. But thinking back to all the good times we had in Hawaii I realized that those memories I do have are rich enough to replay over and over again out here, and even though I will be missing a lot this year, I am blessed beyond measuring just to have had so many happy days that I can't even remember which was the best. Maybe if I just went from making memory to making memory, I wouldn't have the chance to fully enjoy them while they are still fresh. I'd be more than willing to try out that making memories faster than I can fully appreciate them, but there is a richness to having the time to be able to look forward to making memories. Most people are so busy raising their kids that they don't really savor the memories until it's too late. Not me.

As if I needed any more reason to miss Hawaii, last night I was listening to whoever sings "Pineapple Princess." They were singing "I miss you my Hawaii," and right as they were mentioning the shores of Wainaie, I heard a huge boom. For some reason I decided that I needed to stop the music before I ran out to the bunker. The mortars or rockets or whatever they were were not near us and didn't hit anything, but they did underscore yet one more reason that Hawaii is better than Baghdad.

Friday, Saturday, or Sunday??

For some reason today feels like a Saturday. Don't ask me what distinguishes a Saturday from any other day, it just feels like Saturday. If I hadn't had steak and lobster for dinner, I wouldn't have known. Speaking of which, KBR has been continuing to do a great job feeding, even though I haven't commented on it much of late. Every day being Tuesday around here and being human, I start to take some things for granted (e.g. left feet), and I find myself doing that with the food also. Tonight the lobster was not the best (cue the sniffles and tears), but the steak was flavorful, tender, juicy, and free. I really ought to remember how good I have it more often. Speaking of left feet, it has been a bad week in our battalion for left lower extremities. A guy got shot in the left leg today, but wasn't too bad. It's easy for me to say not too bad since I don't have any bullet holes in me, but this one should heal.

The day confusion also continues among the local populace. These guys are really confused about a lot of stuff, and I think part of the big picture problem may stem from this. Anyway, these guys think you should go to church on Friday. Silly. Sillier still, whereas we would go to, say, Shoney's after church, these guys go out and fire assault rifles. That's a bit much even for Pentecostals. As I was walking outside today, there was a whole bunch of shooting going on outside the gate. No one but me seemed to notice, or maybe they all, like me, did not want to be the first one to suggest someone do something about it. After all, if you make the suggestion, you might be the one who has to do the something about it. I suppose it ended. I was walking outside for about 10 minutes and it was going on the whole time. It hadn't stopped by the time I went inside and couldn't hear it any more. The sermon must have been really good, or the service at Shoney's must have been really bad.

What do you say to that one?

A mid who is doing a paper on IED's wrote to ask me my first-hand take on some stuff. I gave him my unclassified take and told him I would be glad to answer any questions. Here is his email today:

Thank you very much for your last email. It was helpful in understanding what is going on with improvised explosive devices right now. How did you get chosen to join the Army working with IEDs in Iraq as a naval officer? And secondly, what kind of training did you receive prior to being deployed and how in depth was that training?
Your assistance is greatly appreciated. Again, thank you for your time because I know you are very busy over there.

Boy, what do I say to that? I know how I would answer if any of my friends were to ask, but this guy is just a pup. If the truth got out, they'd have to put him on suicide watch and take his shoe-laces away from him. I can just imagine him telling his therapist, as he is rocking back and forth with his thumb in his mouth, "I just about trusted the Navy with my life. If I hadn't decided to write my paper on IED's, and if he hadn't been so forthcoming, that could be me... (interrupted by babbling and drooling)." I am debating whether to just not answer under the motherly if you can't say something nice rule, or to just tell him the "truth" vice the truth. I mean, if I don't recruit the next generation, whose going to be my relief? This is one of those ethical dilemmas that you think can only come in an ethics class.

I faced a similar dilemma when I went to the Academy to teach. How could I recruit these kids to submarines when there was the option of being a pilot AND liking your job? How could I respond when they asked for sea stories? Do I make them up? Do I fudge the truth? Do I tell pilot sea stories and just substitute submarine in for airplane? I really never faced up to that one. I ducked and jibed, pretended I was deaf, told them we didn't have time for such trivialities when there was math to be done... Anything to avoid asking the question. Now I'm faced with a similar situation out here.

I think I will just sit on this one for a while and stare at my left foot to count my blessings.

My Monthiversary with Rusty

One month ago right now I was sitting at Baghdad international waiting for the UH-60 that would take me to my new home. I had 4 fully loaded seabags, a ruck sack, and an M-16 in it's case. Before our flight arrived, I got to chatting with a Marine captain who was going to back to Rusty from 2 weeks of leave. He had a backpack. When we went to take the 200 yard walk to the bird, he was gone before I could even turn around to ask him for a hand. One seabag handle broke on the tarmack, I had to make multiple trips, I was dripping sweat the whole 10 minute helo ride, and I had a sore back for 4 days.

But now I am settled in and over 10% done with my 280 days "boots on ground" time. I have purposefully not calculated exactly what fraction I am done, because once you do that time starts to drag. First you start to do it every day, then a couple times a day. Then every hour. Then you make an excel spreadsheet that updates to the second. Then you just hold down the update button and watch seconds go by. I've done that in past deployments and know that it does NOT speed things up.

Today I woke up and Hajii-net was working again, so I could email. It was down the past 2 days for unknown reasons. It is $65/month for really slow service, but it is a nice diversion. I don't mind paying that much because the guy who brings the service in actually risks getting killed if the bad guys found out that he was helping us. It is crazy how these people just accept death as a possibility each day. This morning we heard a huge explosion right out the gate. An Iraqi Police convoy had been attacked, and just minutes before our guys had rolled by. It is surreal to be that close to these things, and almost more surreal that these things are almost not a huge deal.

Along those lines, if any of you think you are having a bad day and have something to gripe about, just look down at your left foot. One of our guys lost his a couple nights ago. We thought he had been hurt worse and were worried for his life, but he would probably say that he got it bad enough as is. Today I counted the plaques on the wall outside the operation center. Since we have deployed here in September, 13 people have been killed. Of those 13, 4 are the unsung heroes that don't make the paper or get included in the "totals." We have lost 4 interpreters since we got here. The Iraqi police have a reputation for being corrupt and playing both sides, but the interpreters are almost without exception honest brokers. When they go out, they have to cover their faces and wear sunglasses so that they don't get recognized and their families killed. I don't know if any of the guys know their real names because their name tags say "Jimmy" or "David" or "RC" or the like. Some soldiers tell stories about having to physically force corrupt Iraqi police away from these guys when they try to pull off their masks to find their identities. Even after they are dead their plaques on the wall have their nicknames to protect their families, and their pictures all still have sunglasses. These terps go out with our soldiers on our convoys in our trucks wearing our uniforms, usually about 1 terp for every 30 or so guys. The thing that really just makes me shake my head is that someone mentioned that their life insurance policy is good for about $2,500.

Tonight I'm going to go to bed thankful for my left foot, and that I don't have to worry about crazed jihadiis trying to kill my family because they saw my face. And I'm some percentage closer to being home. I'm not sure if I should be thankful for a larger life-insurance policy, but a little more gratefulness can't hurt.

Sunday

No matter where you are, Sunday afternoons seem to be lazy. Today was no exception - even the computers at work took a break. I am getting very frustrated with the computer system the Army has because once I start to get the hang of it, they change it. They took away my old computer that was at least serviceable and gave me a new one that is supposed to be much better. It is so slow that when I log on, I go start brewing the coffee and come back when I have a cup. I've never actually timed it, but it takes about 10 minutes to log me on. I wish I could think of something funny to say about that, but it is truly not funny.

I got two more packages today. You have all been great support especially since I know that there are many prayers that come with those packages. I went to the 7pm contemporary service today, and I didn't notice any changes to the words in the songs this week, but that may be because I just don't know the words as well. I really like the preaching, but one of the things I miss most from the traditional service is the benediction. I've never really noticed that before, but I do.

The Navy chief who is assigned here with me gave me two pretty good salute options for responding to shoot'em in the face (see a couple of posts back)
1) Stab'em in the back
2) Eat your young
Even though these come directly from navy culture (he is surface so he sees more of number 2), they sound sufficiently war-like that the average soldier might not notice that I'm just referring to Navy leadership techniques. That is, after all, the point of stabbing someone in the back. Not noticing. If you're good at it. Ahhhh... I miss shipboard life.