A Day In The Life

I was having difficulty in finding a blog topic until I chatted with my chief editor, and though she is busy with all of her projects, family and school included, she gave me one that i find irritating, but you might find interesting. That's what life in a day is like here in Iraq. Obviously with the 'war' slowing down to a standstill and with the restrictions, the handcuffs we have on, our last few weeks haven't been exciting. They've actually been somewhat irritating, and certainly crawling. I won't tell you specifically everything that happened today, or yesterday, but I'll give you a basic synopsis and some examples of what we've had to deal with since we got here, and more specifically since July 1st.

First get the idea out of your head that there is any kind of schedule or routine for us. There is, but to a very small margin. And as soon as you get comfortable in your schedule, or used to doing things the same, it changes. It's not always a bad thing, especially as it deters enemy attack if you vary and become unpredictable. But in saying that, our missions never seem to vary enough, while everything else seems to with some kind of dynamic strategy of forcing anxiety that isn't necessary. The biggest two things that are a constant change of regiment, are sleep and food. We've never really been on the same schedule with those two. We've missed a lot of meals, or had too many. We've lost hours of sleep or gained too much. All at varied and weird times that constantly seem to change. Another big thing, is our change of living quarters. Loyalty, 763, and Beladiyat have all been homes, along with minor stays at other places.

The variations in everything are inconvenient, preposterous, and even sometimes seemingly maniacal. It is the way of the Infantry though perhaps, and it prepares us mentally for... everything. A wise man told me once, that you can plan and plan and make the perfect plan, but as soon as the bullets start flying your plans turn into a big ball of fuck. But for something less serious than combat, the inconvenience and ridiculousness of not allowing wet clothes, or towels to hang up to dry. They must be folded and kept inside wall lockers. Or else. Uniform, room, personal and equipment cleanliness and standards are all part of the job though, and we can complain about them, but it's never stopped us from doing them. So we deal with it the best we can, even when it, better than a magician can do, boggles the mind.

We are a different generation than the war veterans that you know, or perhaps have talked too. We live with the Iraqi Federal Police. We work right along side them in order to facilitate a safer, more secure Iraq when we leave. We do everything, even mostly the same, but have to give all credit to the Iraqi, and are forced to work with even crooked or corrupt Iraqi personnel. This has just added another avenue of interacting with the Iraqi people. We can talk to them through our sights, at the end of our barrels. Or, more civilly, by conversing with them on the streets or sharing a cup of chai with them inside their homes. These have been more of the methods we have seen since we have lived here. Even when we lived with Iraqi's when we were at 763, we didn't interact with them much because we hated them and they hated us. Forging partnerships for the security of Iraq as best we could. Here at the headquarters of Federal Police Brigades, the upper echelon is here, and so their standards, along with ours are higher. We do things more jointly, even if we do a higher percentage of the task.

We have had our terp Bob, since the beginning of deployment. He's a teacher in computer science as well as working for us as an interpreter. It helps to connect with him because of his ability to speak our language. We have learned culture from dealing with him, and him telling us how things are here. How they were here before we kicked Saddam out. He's a smart guy, who's in his early thirties, and has become a good friend of nearly everyone in the platoon. He's not the only Iraqi we've dealt with, just the one we've dealt with longer. The language barrier is really no different from where I grew up. The Spanish speakers in my home town, with very little English skills are much like the Iraqi's here. Though at home there are always bilingual people standing near who can translate. Here we need a terp close, but it's not always the case.

The other day, down at our entry control point, where we work jointly with Federal Police, a buddy of mine and me had some good conversations with the Iraqi's who spoke barely any English, and our Arabic... well we only know shway shway. (little) The conversations were mainly the small talk that you learn in your Spanish class in high school. How are you, what's your name? Things like that. We asked where they were from, and they asked us where we are from. They know a lot more about America than we know about Iraq, but it didn't stop us from at least pretending. The language is mixed, and varied, and due to the exposure to it, I recognize certain words and phrases, along with hand gestures, that help to facilitate conversation. They're the same way. It's polite, and we can even joke in some professional manors, as we are both professional soldiers. We have that in common, along with Madam's and even religion. Yes, not everyone is Muslim in this country, and they don't all believe that Christians or Jews should die. That's a fallacy, and possibly American propaganda. As with every religion, every group of people, there are radicals, and we have them as much or more in America as they have them here. We've just transcended from the idea of being martyrs for the cause. The Muslim culture hasn't quite developed from that, but then again these Iraqi's don't even know where to dump their trash or dispose of their feces. The most amazing thing about the whole transition of power here, and our need to be allies with these folks, is ours and theirs power of observation. Possibly the greatest tool in bridging the gap between two cultures. That and having some respect for each other. We both have weapons, which is usually the limit of respect except for some individual cases.

Our days are sometimes long. They're sometimes short. Our free time, outside of guard duty, and missions, is usually spent on the computer or phone. Reading books, doing physical training, and keeping clean. We eat when we can, or are hungry, due especially to a large stockade of tuna and soups that are in a box of food accumulated from family and friends. We have a job, that's much the same as yours. There are easy days, and tough ones. There is good pay, and bad pay. There are sacrifices all around that must be made, and a team effort to be put forth. The only difference is, that where it's possible to not be efficient, or complacent, or ready to go home; these are the factors that even if performed at a high level, every time (which they aren't) could be the difference between life and death. Sometimes it's just luck, coincidence, or divine intervention.

The only thing we do somewhat similar to garrison life, or even training life, is our physical training. It's a job requirement to be in great shape. We are athletes, and war is our sport. People like to call us Warriors, and that's a fair assessment. We have to be strong enough to not only carry our own equipment that is mission essential, but that also of at least one comrades. We have to have the endurance and stamina to overcome physical exertion. At the same time we have to have the mental capacity to be able to overcome the mental side of physical exertion, with a never quit attitude. Our platoon is in good shape, we are all strong and have good cardiovascular endurance. We have to be. We have to be for our lives and yours. We are elite, and it's about the only small thing that we've been able to maintain over here. Everything else has changed. From our ideas and thoughts to our maturity levels and ability to deal with events that are overwhelmingly stressful.

Are schedule is always changing. Our interactions with individuals are always different and varied. A Day In The Life of an Infantryman in Iraq is probably incomparable to any other job in the world. We are always doing things on the fly. It's all similar, and there are experiences that you've had, difficulties and obstacles overcome that allow for the success of the unknown. The only way I can think of it, is that you work in the fast food industry, and today you have the 9-5 shift at McDonalds, but tomorrow you have the Midnight-4 shift at Taco Bell. Right when you get to bed, you're immediately called back to work, for the 6-10 shift at Burger King. It always varies, and never stays the same. Some days you don't work, others you're scheduled too and don't, or you're not and do. It's a constant hot route, and it makes us more resilient to.... everything. The stress levels are high, and the tasks we are given, regardless of purpose, are always completed as fast as possible, and to at least a minimum standard. The playbook is always wide open, and perhaps that's why we can deal with anything thrown in our path. Why we have been given a mission here that is so strange, so abnormal from our usual, and so different from what we prepared for, that we've been able to be successful at it.

I guess what a day in the life really is, is different. Different every single day. There is no one day the same. There's always something new, something different. To be in our shoes is to be able to cope, adjust, adapt, and overcome the different and varied obstacles we face everyday. Iraq has been a tough challenge, that I, and my platoon mates alike have been able to overcome, and even exceed the standards in most instances. There's more wisdom that's been imparted on me, and though it sounds like it's out of a Chinese proverbs mouth or a horrible 80's ballad, its that, change is not permanent, but change is.


We've got it! Now where too???