Over the Hump Update

Spending Christmas away from home is no fun--when you're in Iraq. During a mission it's kind of cool, in Iraq you make the best of it. On Christmas eve as I walked to work you could tell things were different. There was a long line coming out of the AT&T trailer, and a group of New Mexico Guard Soldiers were playing a steady beat on a drum that carried across FOB Cropper. Their voices were both invigorating, soothing and familiar to anyone who has ever watched an old-fashioned cowboys and Indians movie (later on I asked a guy in my unit who is Native American if he knew how to sing like that and what it meant, he told me his tribe was from the Mojave desert and they didn't do that--they walked around naked).

Christmas Day, for me, started off getting up early, 4:45pm (I work the night shift) and going to Glenard Brawner's baptism (back left on group picture). It was very neat. LDS members came from the surrounding FOBs to attend. He was baptized outside in cold water in cold weather--Iraq can get into the 30s. The font was so small he had to tuck into a ball to get all the way under. It was a great way to spend Christmas away from home.

After Christmas Dinner (breakfast), which was better than Thanksgiving--finally got meat right off the turkey--I walked back to our FOB with my buddy Ezra. As we approached our billets we we're feeling good. One could almost forget where we were. Then we heard the womp, womp, womp, of two Blackhawks coming low and black--no lights--in the night. Dust blew into the air, they circled over the FOB, their red crosses easily visible, and lowered to the LZ that services the hospital on our FOB. For someone, for someone's family, today is not a "Merry Christmas." Iraq is a SOB: she never lets you forget where you are.

Ezra (in photo with me above) has gone home. He finally got to meet his daughter and see his son walk--he was not even crawling when he left. I'm over the hump. Yesterday, 7 Jan 08, I met some soldiers who just got here the day before. I helped them hump some gear over to their billet. They'll be here for 15 months.

HALLiDAYS--The Ten Days of Christmas

My boss asked me to write a recap of our HalliDay festivities each night. We had aobut 7 of these 15 minute parties, I wrote up narratives of a few of them:

Yesterday marked the beginning of our HALLiDAY season. Capt Hall celebrates Christmas in Baghdad from 15 Dec to 25 Dec. Not a day more nor a day less. So, to properly celebrate the festivities each night we irreverently don hats, glasses, and other festive apparel, sing carols, light candles, and have a keynote speaker. Tonight it was Capt Glanzer who reminded us to give at Christmas, but we were reminded by the crowd that getting is good too. He read the last paragraph of Dickens' A Christmas Carol. The crowd erupted in cheers, hoots and hollers when he read "no further intercourse with spirits ... but Total Abstinence...." The Marine Lieutenant, from Fallujah, ended the speech with "god bless us everyone" to much applause and revelry. Afterward we sang We Wish You a Merry Christmas while our boss, master and Lieutenant Commander Carsten, tried to stay on his feet after several non-alcoholic beers. There was no figgy pudding and true to the verse, we have not left. We followed it up with Jingle Bell Rock and a hard-core thrashing center stage by Sergeant Shrage. Finally we sang Joy to the World with an edge ACDC would be proud of. Capt Henderson started off the carol by setting the pitch and Capt Imperato sang the melody with the sanity of a man stuck here for 365 days. But the highlight of the night may have come earlier with Sergeant Ornelas stomping his foot during the Drummer Boy. The song ended early with the Commander's excitement at how many times the song says "rum." Sailors! Always about the rum!

More to come from the HALLiDAYS Festivities, Baghdad, Iraq.
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The festivities raged on with all the excitement of warriors at the tip of the spear!!! This rage train has taken off, and it's moving fast – try to get off now and you'll get hurt!
The evening started off with a touch of Elfin magic from Corporal DeWeerd who knows more about elves than the average man – more than any man should rightly know. We listened with festive apparel donned, raging about the injustice of presents wrapped in India. A few dared to obtain the knowledge of the elves without a festive hat or crown, only to but cut down by the master and lieutenant Commander Carsten with an inflatable sword. Even those not normally touched by the Christmas spirit placed cheer on their heads and joined in the festivities. After the discourse on elves we sang carols with such excitement that Captain Imperato burst out of his pants. We sang some new ones and some Magcell favorites. You could almost see the snow fall as Capt Fill carried us through Walking in a Winter Wonder Land. Who would have guessed the "poolside princess" would know the lyrics of a song about snow and could sing it with fervor amid the onslaught of Chinese yo-yos? Then we went Up on the Housetop with ol' saint Nick, and right back down again to We Wish You a Merry Christmas (Get Some)! Every detainee in the TIF reached for their shiv as we sang it with enough Christmas Cheer for all to hear. We ended the evening as it must: with Sergeant Schrage cutting the rug to Jingle Bell Rock. He danced for two as Lieutenant Cotter failed to represent the Marine Corps with the spirit of Christmas one would expect of a Devil Dog. Damn Leather Necks! It's all blood and glory and no cheer, even at Christmas!

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People tried to shake Kid Rock's hand so we had no HALLiDAY Festivities:

Today's narrative is that there is no narrative. We sacrificed our Christmas spirit to a trailer trash icon with a beer gut who never showed — a curse to all those who wanted to shake hands with a man who is perhaps more famous for who he's done than what he's done. Undoubtedly there are some among us who relish the idea of Christmas without songs, revelry, singing, master and Lieutenant Carsten dressed like Darth Vader, or getting lots of presents. Those people suck!!!

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Tonight's festivities were without precedent. Sergeant Schrage calleddown the powers of heaven with authority from on high. The crowd cried "amen" to the almighty. Thankfully he was stopped before he started asking for money. The AOIC emeritus followed with a serious sermon on Hanukah. He was reminded half-way through to include jokes and he followed through with a few punch-lines delivered with the charisma of a man whose bags are already packed - both literally and mentally! The 12 Days of Iraqi Christmas brought the proverbial house down and is a tribute to our MAGCELL Poet Laureate, Sergeant Schrage. However, as amazing as these events may seem, Sergeant Frye shook the very foundations of the universe as he danced the worm so smokin' hot to Jingle Bell Rock, that - I just reported as I see it - a few men questioned their sexual orientation. In the end, some of us found amusement in watching the new people ponder whether or not this dusty land would leave them in the same condition the rest of us are in – half crazy and totally dog-faced! But that's what happens when you're on the tip of the spear in the Global War on Terror!

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Last night, with battle rattle and festive headgear, we were all speechless! Not because Capt Glanzer turned down the near beer, or because Captain Knudson could barely talk because of laughing while giving her speech, but because we learned the hard way that whistling butts and Christmas cheer just don’t mix, even during the HALLiDAYS. Lieutenant Cotter wiped it up with the marines of Christmases past, present, and future – well at least past and present. He may have forgotten about Christmas future, but he himself saved Christmas present! Then we sang with record HALLiDAY spirit while Lieutenant Korody, on his way home from CCCI, sat looking at all the fun he missed out on during his sojourn in the IZ. But just like not everyone makes the grade, not everyone gets the MAGCELL.

Turning 30

I turned thirty yesterday, 27 Nov 07 and we'll celebrate it tonight with two other birthdays by buying about 50 tacos from the Taco Bell stand (it's like hot dog stand but it's Taco Bell with a limited menu) and having a feast. We'll use our multi-purpose water bottles as heaters by placing them in the micro-wave and then into a cooler to keep them warm. should be a good time.

It's a little anti-climatic turning thirty here. I always wanted a small party when entering the new decade. Have some friends over, smoke some pork and make home-made pulled pork. Listen to music, eat cake, and have a good time. Instead I used my monthly day off to watch Tombstone -- great movie by the way -- on my non-secret work computer. I think that is the only reason we have the non-secret computers, because very little of my job is done on them.

When I asked to have my one day off a month on my birthday there was some push back because my one half-day a week off was the day before. I said "it's my birthday so that's the day I picked." My AOIC (Assistant Officer in Charge) responded "don't you know that everyday in Iraq is your birthday? You can celebrate it every day." And so it is. At least there were no "fireworks" on my birthday.

I always make time to read, both scriptures and books. I've read nine books in six weeks. I think I'll read the gospels next month and continue with my westerns. I think I like the westerns because of the guns and horses. I've always like horses, but the gun fascination comes from carrying one on my belt everywhere I go. We talk guns all the time on the night shift if we get our work done. In fact we talk about all kinds of stuff.

On the night shift, after our work is done (or sometimes before causing us to work like maniacs to be done on time) we've discussed all kinds of guns and ammunition, war strategy, domestic politics -- times a hundred -- history, anthropology, chess, and quantum physics (gave me a headache). We work hard on the night shift, but if there has not been a lot of new detainees sent to the TIF we discuss. Some guys watch movies if they get their work done, and I'll do that sometimes, but I'd rather read or talk. Guess I'm just a talker and a reader. Shouldn't be surprised, I've had 30 years of practice.

Thanksgiving

I woke up around 18:30, and headed over to the chow hall on F.O.B. Stryker (where they have lots of Stryker vehicles) for Thanksgiving. When you work the night shift you eat Thanksgiving for breakfast. They had prime rib, turkey breast, stuffing, mash potatoes, yams, virgin mixed drinks, sparkling grape juice, hot apple pie, and all kinds of other pies, amongst other things. I kept my meal pretty light. My buddy Capt Ezra Glanzer pigged out and felt sick. Big meals for breakfast are rough on a person's gut, but it's his half day so he can sleep it off for a while.

When you walk into the chow hall it's pretty neat. There are decorations everywhere. A huge statue of a man in only a loin cloth holding a globe on his back (atlas), made out of butter -- they should have made the loin cloth better, he looked like horse. Large ginger bread houses, teepees, paper mache turkeys, tables full of fruit and decorated cakes, and one of the cakes was shaped like a book, opened to the 100th Psalm:

1 Make a joyful noise unto the LORD, all ye lands.
2 Serve the LORD with gladness: come before his presence with singing .
3 Know ye that the LORD he is God: it is he that hath made us, and not we ourselves; we are his people, and the sheep of his pasture.
4 Enter into his gates with thanksgiving, and into his courts with praise: be thankful unto him, and bless his name.
5 For the LORD is good; his mercy is everlasting; and his truth endureth to all generations.

It feels good when they go all out for us. It makes a very significant difference. Half way through the meal I asked someone what they did for lunch and he told me they were serving meat right off the bird. Legs, breasts, wings, right from the bird! I had to ask. Suddenly my cafeteria style turkey breast didn't taste as good. But the hot apple pie with ice-creaim right on top, that was still the best thing I've eaten in nearly two months. Yes, there is much to be thankful for.

After awhile the people from the day shift left, and it was me and Ezra chatting about the things that seam important but really aren't. We talked about the new uniforms and how pilots get special treatment. We finally left the chow hall and headed along the road back towards F.O.B. Camp Cropper, following about five guys, a mix of Army and Air Force, mostly sergeants. We decided to let one of the airmen keep smoking and walking, something he shouldn't do -- it's Thanksgiving after all.

When we were about 20 meters from the Entry Control Point (ECP) to Cropper we hear the siren and the calm voice that never seems appropriate for the occasion: INCOMING, INCOMING, INCOMING.... I looked at Glanzer as we saw the guys in front of us start to sprint towards the duck-n-cover in front of the ECP and I said "sonuvabitch!". We started to run.

Our guns were rattling and we made good time across the thick gravel as we rounded the barrier down into the duck-n-cover. One of the army guys put it best when he said "I have to sh*t and I'm full." Running on a full stomach is never fun. The guys lit lighters and started smoking and joking.

"Someone tell a ghost story"

"OK, the guy next to me is so scared he needs has to smoke a cigarette," and things of that nature.

About five minutes later the second siren came in a voice that seems very appropriate: ALL CLEAR, ALL CLEAR, ALL CLEAR.... It came with neither booms nor C-RAMs (Counter Rocket, Artillery, and Mortar) fire. Nothing had happened anywhere near us. Just a siren. As we left the duck-n-cover I said to Ezra, who was quite quiet, "we should have expected them to try to hit us tonight" he replied with a simple truism "if I never hear the incoming alarm again...."

When we presented our badges to the sergeant at the ECP he saluted us and said "nothing like a little incoming on Thanksgiving." We returned the salute and started walking away.

"Happy Thanksgiving" I said.

"Happy Thanksgiving" he replied. A Happy Thanksgiving, indeed.

Cropper

First, I don't post here often, and I'm sorry to those who check it often. I don't get over to the internet cafe often enough. I'm stationed on Forward Operating Base (FOB) Camp Cropper on the Victory Base Complex. We house four to five thousand detainees in the Theater Detainment Facility (TIF), the rest are way down south at Bucca (20,000+). I work in the magcell reviewing case files of detainees to see if we have enough evidence to prosecute them, keep them as a security detainee, or, if we don't have sufficient evidence I process an expedited release. I'm on the night shift which is great because I'm awake the same time my family is awake. The FOB is pretty small and the TIF takes up most of it. At the most it is one click by one click. If it's bigger than that it's not by much. The best part about this FOB is we have hardened billets, meaning dorms instead of tents or trailers. Not only are they safer but they're much more comfortable.
Like I said, we review the case files of all the detainees that are picked up in Iraq. We review them to see if there is enough evidence to try them at the Central Criminal Court of Iraq (CCCI). If there is not, then we decide if there is a "reasonable belief" that the detainee was involved in insurgent or terrorist activities. If there is, we send them to the Combined Retention Review Board (CRRB) who decides whether or not to keep the detainee as a Security Detainee. If there is not a reasonable belief that the person is a threat to the stability of Iraq because of insurgent activity, we recommend an expedited release of that person. We review all of the evidence on the individual and prepare a memo with a summary of the person's activities. How we write those summaries has the potential to put a person away for a long time. We have to make the memos look good because they get reviewed by people with a much, much higher pay grade than myself.

We get a good flavor of what is going on in the counter-insurgency. We see the detainees arrive, and we see them leave. We see why they were picked up, what they were accused of, what intel they give, etc. What is amazing is how good of a job the forward operators do at being a hybrid soldier/investigator/cop. A lot of the guys who are picked up are just plain evil, but a lot are only opportunists who needed money. The average guy in the TIF can't read and is unemployed, but I have little sympathy for anyone firing rockets at a US base or planting
IEDs.

I get time to workout after work in the mornings. I don't run outside because there is no real good place to run. The roads are not paved and they are full of pits, and holes, and rocks, and nubs, and whatever else you need to sprain your ankle with. There are also no roads without tons of traffic on them.

We don't get hit here like they do on Camp Victory. That is very nice. Things are always quiet on Cropper -- knock on wood.

Camp Victory, Iraq 5 Oct 07

FYI - these posts are late because I don't get access to a computer that can post them very often.

As I walked home last night in almost complete darkness the chaos of this place settled in. Camp Victory, is like New York, it's the FOB that doesn't sleep. It's dark, very dark, with only the lights of the palaces and Baghdad in the distance. The dirty sewage infested lake is to my right. Trucks pass, people pass, voices, gunfire, explosions in the distance so strong you still feel them, generators, helicopters, the smell of diesel fuel, exhaust, stench of sewage, black smoke from a huge fire in the distance, more helicopters, more Humvees, up-armored and soft sided, semi-trucks hauling water, fuel, cargo, crap, all go by, and by, and by. This place is noisy, rowdy, smelly and unrefined. 24 hour-high-speed-ops. A convoy goes by, young men in turrets manning machine guns coming and going from the red zone in Humvees. More trucks, more cars, more SUVs, more Humvees, more helicopters, more convoys, more booms, more bangs, more people, more voices, more rancid air filled with fuel, exhaust, sewage and burning garbage.

We work in one of the guest houses Saddam built for his family and friends. There are several man made lakes with palaces and homes all around them. Normal Iraqis never saw this place that was once beautiful with palm groves, palaces and gardens. But Saddam built his palaces on the cheap. Everything is a facade, with only marble vaneers and plastic chandeliers. They are all used as office buildings now for the military.

The food is good. You can eat just about whatever you want, as long as it is on a plastic plate, with plastic utensils, paper cups and paper napkins. There is Baskinrobins and milkshakes. A meat carving table. A short order and main menu buffets. Coca-Cola light, and Pepsi light from Kuwait. Juice, salad, Mexican food bar, sandwich bar.... The room is full of Army, Air Force, Navy, Marines, civilians, and military members from Japan, Australia, England, Tonga, and more whose uniforms I don't recognise.

The chow hall, aka DFAC (dining facility something something) like all buildings is surrounded by concrete blast walls. And in addition it has a pole barn over the top of it. That way if a mortar hits next to it the blast wall absorbs the shrapnel. If it is a direct hit, the roof of the pole barn absorbs the hit. I don't think it has ever been hit, but indirect mortar fire is a real threat. Every once in a while they get lucky and hit someone. Last week they killed two and wounded 37.

They've told me I'm going to Camp Cropper to worth the magcell near the detainment facility. The magcell is where they decide what to do with the new detainees. Should be interesting work.

The "Deid" 4 Oct 07

I'm at Al Udeid. I've never been the type to look at a landscape and think of a poetic way to describe it. But this place, its complete, desolate and lifeless ugliness reflects the ugliness of the war we are fighting and demands a poetic attempt to describe it. When God put life on the Earth, he missed a spot, and I'm here. When he placed mountains, valleys, streams, rivers, and lakes, he passed by this place. He even forgot color -- everything is a blinding white. It stretches on to the horizon. If I had to imagine the world after nuclear war, I would think of this place. I'll be glad to leave it all behind.

The water we drink is all bottled and the water we use to bathe is trucked in. The sand forms a haze in every direction and when the sun shines it reflects off of the white sand and engulfs you. Most of the workers who take care of it are TCNs (Third Country Nationals). There are military members from the US (a lot of us), and I've met people from Australia, and England. The Coalition Air Operations Center (CAOC) is located here and they control all of the air space over Central Command (middle east). It also has a lot of transients (like me) who fly in and wait for a cargo plane to take them further down range into the AOR (Area Of Operations).

I'm living in a tent with rows and rows of bunkbeds. It is air conditioned and comfortable. The sun comes up around 4:30 and it's completely dark around 5:30 Food is good and has a lot of selection. It is 7 hours later here than EST.

It was really something to step off of that plane and be here, in the AOR. There are concrete bunkers and barriers everywhere to stop terror or other types of attacks (this place is very safe and the people stationed here are allowed to go to the city near by to shop, eat, etc. without any worry or concern, they just stay ready). The military cargo planes line the flight line, thousands of people in desert camo, all working to support the operations going on in Iraq and Afghanistan. I think I will feel something similar but more intense when I get off the plane in Iraq.