Sadly, Iraq

Routinely our routines are routinely changed. Same goes for saying the same thing, over and over. Prison would be a vacation from this place someday's. Wake up, eat, patrol, sleep, gym and repeat as desired. It still feels like day one here sometimes. We've been doing this same old song and dance for what seems like so long. It hasn't been an easy assimilation to this life. Well the life has been easier to adjust to than the change of job status.

Walking through the chow hall today, looking at one POG, two POG, three, nothing has changed for them. Other than the lack of responsibility that they already do has been alleviated by tax payer money, and contractors who themselves barely work, into nothing. I need to be in a union. Right in the middle of this I'm finding it hard to write. It's hard to not sound like I'm complaining, but all I want to do is gripe. As sad and pathetic as the cooks and other soft skilled occupations in the Army have turned into a joke, ours is sadly the same.

Sure we still go out as much as we used to, and perhaps even a little bit more. Unfortunately our job has gone away from killing the enemy, or neutralizing the threat. It has turned into an ODA, Out Driving Around. We have lost all ideals of attack, and aggression. I don't think any of us want to kill anyone, but we are here to do precisely that when the time comes. However our chain of command doesn't seem to see that when that time comes that we should be allowed to execute our job. In that rare instance when we can be reduced to our primal skills of fighting for survival, can shine in an almost immaculately refined, efficient purpose of motion to neutralize threats to our own and others well being, that we will be stuck with our hands tied behind our backs.

Today might be the most productive day of our entire five months over here. I wish I could talk more about what we are doing later tonight, but operational security would be effected. We are going after a known bad guy, for the first time I've been here. And yet, we have so many factors, from how we are confined in operating, to how our chain of command lacks giving us the support we truly need. Earlier this deployment our scouts saw three men digging in a field at 3 in the morning with a positively identified weapon on there backs. The requested to engage, and were turned down. Told not even to try and apprehend these individuals. Then later on were humiliated by there higher ups, for being to big a pussy's to pull the trigger. I guess Lou should have called his own number on that, cause he's still on the bench.

It's amazing how much the Army, the 82nd, cares for if your boots are bloused, and you have a clean uniform. And how little they care about losing comrades. When you are saluting a fallen soldier, and someone tells you your sideburns are a little excessive, that's hard. Hard to take, hard to swallow, and you still have the nerve to ask me why I'm not reenlisting? We could get one of the guys responsible a fallen comrade tonight, and they still have the nerve to try and sink our ship. Tell us to not be on our toes, not looking for a fight. I guess American casualties are perfectly fine, but you kill and Iraqi, or rough him up a little, that could get on CNN, and ruin my chance for promotion. Sadly, Iraq is a place now where contractors get money, higher ranked individuals make there political moves for promotion and placement, and fellow Americans dies un-gloriously.


"Its about how you look, appearance is everything..." -the Voice of Experience

The Swine Flu, JSS Beladiyat Style

This past week our platoon had to cover down for another platoon attached to our company while they went and zeroed there sniper rifles. Not a big deal, four days just down the road at JSS Beladiyat. A JSS is now what I'm considered to live on as well. Purely for the reason we are not allowed to have bases in Iraqi cities unless they are joint. JSS literally means, Joint Security Station. It's basically where we live with the Iraqi Security Forces. FOB Loyalty, my home for the last few months, had to change it's name to JSS Loyalty, and the FOB was cut in half to give room to the Iraqi National Police to move in.
JSS Beladiyat is a little smaller than Loyalty, seeing how it can barely accommodate one platoon, to Loyalty's battalion. It's not a bad place though. It's basically a building, with a make shift gym, and a large bay that is the extent of the sleeping quarters. You park just outside and the force protection is basically all Iraqi run.
We stayed four days, four very grueling days out there. Other than constantly having to watch your back for crooked jihadist police, you also get chow only twice a day, if you're lucky. The MWR in the JSS is lined with 5 computers, and a nice big screen TV where our platoon literally hung out together the entire time when not hanging out on mission. The days seemed to go quick there, and we didn't have to deal with the same amount of bullshit that Loyalty tends to give. It was almost a vacation despite the fact that our patrol schedule was intensified.
Upon our return to Loyalty, the platoon fell sick. It could've been the lack of sleep, change of schedule, new germs, or the water we showered in that could've been the cause. The swine flu is running rampid in America, and here maybe it's the same.
Today was a surprising day off for us, after we got back from the other JSS yesterday. It was a pretty nice day off. I almost didn't know what to do with myself. I fought through the nausea and sick feeling to get to the gym, because the time we had allotted was simply to much to be normal. Kind of weird how much of a work-a-holic I have become. It seems not to long ago, I was climbing telephone poles for three hours a day, and calling it a day.
Morale has been high lately. Despite the patrol schedule being completely grueling, and everything else that seems to have been going on, everyone is in the 'zone' right now. The platoon has finally gelled together, and it's been quite an amazing transition to be apart of. A year ago we would be down each others throats all the time, and usually on the edge of fighting after insults were exchanged. We were all small and inexperienced. Now our platoon is either on the cross fit bandwagon, or in the White Supremest Lifting Club, or a little of both. Only joking there are no White Supremacist's in the Army. The Boyz of AT 4 calendar is just a tanning bed and photo shoot away from being complete.
The other night as we were leaving the wire, checking in with the gate guard, Kolt Killman, our truck commander in Four One, said the funniest thing he has ever said. The gate guards are the Ugandan guys that are contractors through some kind of contracting company. They speak hardly any english, and Killman is the man who gives them the number of people and trucks leaving the wire. This guard in particular was having a hard time understanding what Killman was saying, and finally Sgt. Killman told him that on top of the number of people and vehicles, we also had 6 lions and 3 spider monkeys. We ended up back at the gate later on that night, and as he told them again our numbers, everyone in the truck was doing there best attempts at making 'jungle noises.' The individual looked very dispirited at our expense.

"Two more weeks and I'll be through..."

Hot Days of Beladiyat Bruising

The weather, for the first time since I've been here, reached triple digits today. It was definitely hot to say the least, despite the fact that I sat in the truck and absorbed as much of the pitiful A/C as I could. Everyday lately has seemed to start to lull by. A couple of changes within the platoon have really been the only thing that has kept things somewhat interesting.

The first and biggest change that has happened in the past week, or even as far back as the last time I wrote on this Blog, was that my good friend Jason Watkins returned from his R&R. Jason has always been one of the positive forces within the platoon, and it's really nice to have him back. Another big change is James 'Downtown Dirty' Brown left for his leave. Brown is always not the most liked in the platoon, and could even be considered annoying, disgusting, and is even reputed by most who know him. But to we AT4ers Brown is definitely one of us. He is sadly and hilariously the end of the point of the finger that you have when you are pointing and laughing at someone. But to 'Beowulf' James Brown, that's three quarters and a half the truth.

The other biggest change other than platoon members coming and going from leave, is that we have a new LT who took over today. He has been with us for the past week or so learning the role of a platoon leader. Lt. Young, our old LT decided that he was not going to stay in the Army, and so they gave him a job at Battalion and sent us a new LT who might want to stay in the Army longer. So far, our new LT is very much different from our old one. First off he's a Pac-10 guy who went to UCLA instead of some crappy school. I'm not going to name any names of crappy colleges, but the initials of one are, Michigan.

It was an honor to have served with Lt. Dave Young. He spent nearly a year in our platoon, and I will always consider him a mentor, colleague, and friend. I earned my CIB with him, and was his RTO for many months here in Iraq.

The same has remained the same here. The weather is getting hotter, the beers still aren't being served. Our FOB continues to decline in size, and become more of the JSS that they say it is. We continue to go on wild goose chases looking for Osama Bin Laden and the Weapons of Mass Destruction that are hidden here in Baghdad. We have been told that in the near future, (cough July) we are supposed to be moving to a bigger base, and not going outside the wire anymore. Fun.

Another change that is happening this week, is our platoon is going to head out to an auxiliary base in Baghdad for four days. It should be a nice change of pace from the monotony that has been the last five months. I might even be able to drop top and work on my tan while I'm there. Soon enough though I should be beach side with a beer in hand! Exciting isn't it. For me I'm checking the box, YES. Can't wait to see you all in Cali!


Our new LT (in his glory days)

Dinosaurs in Iraq!

Last night we were 'spun' up to go search for weapons of mass destruction in one of the remote locations of Baghdad. It was late late at night, and only the wild things were out. It was near pitch black, despite there being close to a full moon. It got really eerie around the witching hour.

Some of the things that you see at night, or don't see, but make up in your head, are very scary aberrations. The first thing I saw was something I would say I probably will never see again in my life. A dead horse on the side of the road in full rigor mortis. Very weird that the packs of dogs were scavenging meat off of this huge dead animal like they were vultures.

Other things that 'bump' in the night that we've encountered so far have not been seen necessarily but have been heard. Gibbens last night heard the spitter from Jurassic Park. Duffy saw what he thought was some kind of Hawk take fly past him and then hover. It just so happened that it was a ginormous bat. We caught some in white light from the headlights of the truck, and these things looked humongous and prehistoric. You'll hear sounds you only thought to exist in sci fi movies. You can't tell where they come from, and despite having your night vision goggles, you can't see into the night. Nothing is there to make the sound, and yet the weird sounds exist.

The gloom that seems to always approach at the deepest reaches of night and earliest reaches of morning doesn't help ease the eeriness of the situation you find yourself in. The headlights don't seem to reach as far as they did before, and the truck seems to run more silent in the quiet night. I half expect to turn a corner and see Michael Jackson and a posse of zombies doing the moon walk. You know you have 210 rounds of M4 ammo, and machine guns with thousands of rounds, but somehow it doesn't seem to cool the imaginary feeling of someone breathing down the back of your neck. Maybe it's the two Tylenol pm I took before we left on this mission mixed with the now 6th rip it I'm putting down my gullet that has me on edge.

As we rolled back to the FOB, it was very eerie. The Zombie Apocalypse might have been underway in the quiet of the dark houses on the roadside. The early morning hours are very quiet here in Iraq. Other than the dogs that freely roam on street to street, or the NP that sleeps at his post, there is absolutely nothing going on. No late night club closing down with drunk pedestrians hailing cabs or walking home. There is nothing going on. No Waffle House or Denny's with a young group of high school hooligans harassing waitresses. Perhaps that most eerie bump in the night. But despite the peace and strange serenity, I'll keep the shotguns loaded, and truck running in the event zombies pour out onto the streets in a thirsty blood lust, or I have to out run T-REX. In any case, who would've thought I'd have time to worry about Zombies and Dinosaurs as opposed to terrorists here in Iraq.

Must Go Faster

Legless Weather, and Hot Women. Or Something Like That

Turn the blow dryer that's pelting the back of my neck with an unrelentless amount of heat is what I thought. I stirred awake while still in the sitting position on the hood of the truck leaned against the drivers windshield glass. Sweat rolled down my brow and had already streaked my sunglasses with what once was precipitation but now only recognizable as a line of parted dust upon the lens. While this was the third straight hour of sitting in the hot sun, our commander continued to deal with humanitarian aid and relations of mistakes made, and incorrect building blown up. It was at this waking moment, this small segment of time that I realised it's only 90 degrees outside, and it's terribly hot.

Stephen Hawkings Other Ride

Our mission today was to escort our company commander to the headquarters of the National Police and help them with save Iraq, and America. We passed our wheelchairs to all kinds of different people. I slept the majority of the time during this operation, and tried to work on my farmers tan. However I did notice that most of the people we ended up giving these free wheel chairs to, had missing limbs. Probably lost them when we accidentally bombed there building, or due to our enemy exploding roadside bombs in crowded marketplaces.

The problem that I saw with the wheel chairs, which I'm sure were donated by a great American country with all the right intentions meant, was that they were poorly constructed. They had bicycle tires for wheels, and plastic lawn chairs for seats. The retarded guy that was getting one seemed very happy regardless I think though. A kid with some kind of leg deformity had a really nice wheelchair, and I'm sure was less than stellar on getting this new piece of crap that will probably have already broken by now, 10 hours later. In the end I guess the people got something for free, on the American tax payer once again.

Iraqi Woman With No Legs

At the end of the seven hour operation I felt accomplished to say the least. I caught a bunch of Z's and talked Lola's ear off. Lola is the Hula Dancer that sits in the front seat with me. She has the voice of an angel and plays her ukulele like Hendrix (totally just googled it for spelling). She thinks it's getting hot too.

Lola

FREE GIACOMO! Giacomo you are now free

It's Raining, It's Pouring, and 6 Years Later We're Still In Iraq Waring

Today was just as any other day was here. We went out in sector for no apparent reason. We were told that we have and always will be ate up. The anniversary of our invasion of Iraq was also today, and the Zombie Apocalypse seemed to be on the verge of happening.

Today also was a very frustrating day, as most of this deployment has been. There's tons of reasons why it has been frustrating. Usually they are sporadic and only taken in small doses. However we have a few that seem to be everyday frustrations and are dealt with on that basis with a wearing thin fuse of patience. One for example is the fact that a certain individual in our platoon is terrified of one man at the top. He is absolutely petrified of him, and it's somewhat sickening. Part of the reason as far as we could surmise is that he wants a more 'chill' job than the one he has now, and so for his own personal growth and development decided to make things tougher and 'gayer' on us to achieve his goal of appearing to be squared away. This is the same guy that turns the lights on his truck off, because it makes his truck less of a target. While that is very true, it also makes the other trucks more of a target for attacks. This also negates an Army code of ethics and creed that forebodes someone with rank to use it for personal safety.

Something has come over the Army and I'm not sure if they'll ever recover from it. Perhaps being involved with the Army and the politics at the low level that I see them I don't have a full understanding of what is happening. But at the same time, I'm not an idiot and I can read things generally for what they are. The sickness that seems to inflict the Army is it's need, at least in my Battalion, to look right. For everything to be dress right dress and in order. Everything the same. And where this makes a lot more sense in garrison, in the rear, in America. Here in Iraq, it's a struggle to do so. Sometimes you just have to do things that make sense. That make it easier, so that in an extreme case, or daily operating case you can execute more freely and save your own life, a buddy's life, or the platoon's life. My unit has the problem of overlooking the 'make sense,' common sense aspect of operating in War. But if you look straight, and all the same, you must be dedicated infantry combat killers. Oh how backwards we have striven.

Not only does the common sense evade the minds of those who sit behind desks and make decisions, or give you the standard and then themselves not follow it, but it also ruins the nostalgia of war. John Wayne would've never been able to wear his helmet with the strap undone. Facial expressions would be hard to read due to the fact that everyone would be wearing eye protection. EyePro, like body armor, but better.

The other frustrating thing that we have to think about everyday, is how little of the job we have trained to do, we are actually doing. The only way that I can correlate it is for example. You get hired on at McDonalds. They have a two year training program where you learn everything from making hamburgers to frying fries to making shakes. At the end of the two years, they say you are finally ready to hit the line. You're hard charged and ready to take orders and flip burgers. You walk into your new job, and instead of it being McDonalds, its Taco Bell. Sure it's still in the food industry, but it's not what you've been trained to do. It's a frustrating thing to know your job, to be proficient at your job, and not be able to do it. And it's especially tough to be given a new set of parameters that you quickly adapt to, and do proficiently, and still get told that you are all ate up.

What do we have to look forward to in the 6th year of war here? Maybe we'll come home a little early. Maybe we'll deal with more micro management bullshit and hypocritical leaders. Maybe we'll catch Osama, and Obama will help us win the hearts and minds of the Iraqi people. Maybe, just maybe we are doing good. It is what it is, for now I'll stop complaining, and clean some more radio connections.

"I'm Batman"

A Fool's Day

This morning started well enough with a wake up at 23o and a quick scramble to go recover a vehicle that crashed. We were immediately stood down only minutes after being awoken. We still had to get up an hour later so that we could perform our daily dosage of negligent guard.

This mornings negligence was about as fun as usual. I struggled to stay awake, and downed as many rip its as my body could handle. A Rip It is the Army's preferred energy drink, as it has roughly 8 times the amount of caffeine a Mountain Dew has in half the amount of liquid. It also takes years off ones life, and can be used as a paint thinner, along with a industrial grade degreaser.

The rest of the morning went well, as if some cruel April Fool's Day joke was being played, we only had one patrol. Got to the gym where I lobbied for a lifting club to be formed here on the FOB, but apparently no one wants to venture into the dangerous, blood thirsty sport of competitive bench pressing. After returning from the gym, I took a much needed nap, and woke up to find most of the day gone. The joke of the day was that the showers here are now shut down for the next three days. I guess it's not an Army April Fool's Day joke unless is cruel and somewhat sadistic. Really not making it a practical joke whatsoever.

These past few days I've been made the driver of our lead vehicle. Usually considered a 'bitch' position, it's really not that bad. The reasons I have been made the driver temporarily are because that driver went on leave, and because with only around 40 days before I'm on my way home, my replacement RTO needed some hands on while I could still be here to assist him.

Once again, Ryan The Nose Kellogg is upon his mission to rid the world, or at least our room of mosquitoes. This process is very entertaining, and hilarious. It starts with Ryan behind his computer, listening to music and updating his myspace. Then it turns into him spotting the insect that lurks in our room. He will spring forward from his relaxed state and assume the ready to pounce posture. A hundred different complaints flow from his mouth and all seem to have nothing to do with the mosquito itself. "It's all these guys coming in and out of our room. The latch onto their backs and come in here!" As if the mosquitoes are some kind of insect that is waging war against him, and having to make very strategic moves to sneak into our room, which just so happens to have about one hundred different holes in it that the mosquito could fit through even if he we were to be carrying an 8 foot long 2X4 on his back.

So The Nose continues to stand ready and fast, in his pounce position. Head phones out of the ears and laying next to him on the bed. His eyes scan constantly. "Turn off the light!" As if it's some counter measure and tactic that will draw the mosquito to the light on the computer screen still open and sitting on his bed. He breaths deep and angrily as he sits back down and pulls his computer back to his lap. The scowl on his face could make small children cry. One mosquito does all this, every night.

Now his hands rub fast across his head as he tries to figure out a quicker way to draw the mosquito into its demise. He won't be able to sleep if he knows that the mosquito still lives in his kingdom, his room, his sanctuary. CLAP! Ryan almost got him, he peers at his hands looking for the remains of a now worthy enemy. No dice. He now searches more gravely through the air and the immediate surroundings for this now battle tested opponent. I turn the lights back on and a few minutes later pretend to see the mosquito above his head. The neck turn Ryan gives is similar to the speed of a Chuck Norris round house kick.

I turn the light back off and lay down to bed. No sleep for Ryan tonight. I already killed the mosquito and just haven't told him. Happy April Fools Day Ryan.

"I like my women like I like my coffee, hot and black." -Danny Gibbens