Travelin' Light

Sorry I've been out of the blog loop lately. I now work in a place with less time and less internet access to update. I will try to find a way when I get back.

Where am I going? On R&R Leave. Yes, the military has this plan to get us out of the zone for a while as a stress releiver and to give us some time with our families.

I will spend a couple days at home and a week or so hidden away on an island with my wife.

The planning is never perfect when traveling Military style. I will say that I spent the night in a tent last night. It was one of those "transient" tents. It had a matress covered with plastic on a cot. The Inne Keeper let me borrow a nice crisp wool blanket. I laid it on the plastic mattress stared at the ceiling for a minute and went to sleep. I slept until 0930 and woke up in a daze.

My new assignment is good. But, I walked into an office in turmoil. The equipment was scattered and mostly unnaccounted for. There was a hand receipt folder that seemed a little useless. The office is very small and you have to be careful turning around or you'll knock something over.

I met my co-worker first. He's in the Navy and works the "print" side of the office. I work the "Video" side, or so I thought. It looks like I will be carrying a still camera on each assignment as well as the video camera.

My new co-worker is a 6 foot 4 Navy Petty Officer. He greeted me with a slow southern drawl that sounds half way between Lewis Grizzard and old Atlanta TV feature reporter Leroy Powell. So, if I refer to anyone as Leroy Grizzard, you'll know who I'm talking about. Our other co-worker is a young Air Force guy. He's the lowest ranking in the office and probably on the whole installation I work on. He's a smart kid and knows his way around.

I met the officers too and the boss has the right attitude. He wants us doing stories outside of the IZ, or International Zone. When I get back after leave, it looks like I will be able to do some decent traveling around. I'll just have to balance stories and admin stuff. When I met Leroy Grizzard, I asked him who was in charge of the crew. He smiled a little, knowing that the NCOIC had left and said, "That would be you."

In the past week and a half, I've inventoried the office, signed for the gear, in-processed, piled up the gear that we don't need, ordered gear we do need, sorted through most of what is working and what isn't, cleaned and tried to fine out where all the important offices are, like the supply office.

I've also traveled on three assignments. On one, I flew around Baghdad with a Major General and the Iraqi Minister of Youth and Sports. We surveyed recreation areas and swimming pools. On the other, I went to a clinic that is run by a NPiTT, National Police Training Team, of U.S. soldiers. They train the Iraqi National Police, not to be confused with the Iraqi Police. The clinic is open 4 days a month. NP medics that have been trained by our medics take all the vital signs and Iraqi Doctors assigned to the National Police, do the checks on the patients.

It's not always easy getting the doctors there on time, but the U.S. doctors and medics help out. They coordinate the time and the facility and the security, but other than emergencies in the clinic, they stay "Hands off" and the Iraqis run the show. " One Sergeant told me the Iraqis were really taking this on well and other than the supply issues, which affects every Iraqi endeavor, the medics and docs were really getting into this mission.

I met the folks at AFN (American Forces Network) the other day. I gave them a story that I did on the medics at my old location. They told me they could "Critique" it. I looked at the 23 year old Air Force Sergeant and said, "That would be lovely." Within the first few shots, she realized I knew what I was doing and asked how long I'd been doing this. I figured she was probably in diapers when I started in video story telling.

Bottom line is that I have found a good assignment in a whole different part of the military world. I was far from the flagpole, now I'm standing on it knowing that Majors are some of the lowest ranking officers at the place I work. I'm going to take my break and unwind for a bit. When I return...game on. It will be a good ride until I return home for good.

For now...that be all.

New Chapter

My assignment here is ending. I think this is a case of "Be careful what you wish for" but I don't care. The bottom line is that somebody finally decided they needed me as a photographer/videographer. I'm headed to Baghdad in the very near future to work with the Multi National Security Transition Command - Iraq. MNSTC-I, pronounced "Minsticky."

I received the order a few days ago and am setting up the transportation. I've made contact with a Staff Sgt. in the Public Affairs Office who is getting me up to date on what they need. I asked her how many Videographers she had in the shop. I was hoping to some degree that she had some folks who were young and eager so the old man here could mentor and coach a little. But, it came as no surprise when she said, "You're it." I've known for a while that my particular skill is unique in the Army and that we are hard to find anymore. That's fine with me. I'm, looking forward to this.

I'm giving up a few things here. We are truly "Far from the flagpole," meaning we are a little less formal. It's great because there's an atmosphere of letting common sense rule around here and that's why we've been successful.

The Medics here are leaving shortly after I am. They are heading home to Puerto Rico. I've now made two friends that I will never forget. They are good at their job. They are great with the Iraqi Medics. They provide loads of entertainment and they've done so much work around here. I hope everyone can meet them some day, because they are good people, even though the keep beating me at darts. (Hey, we have to have a little entertainment around here).

My boss is one of the best bosses I've ever worked for. I've learned a lot from him and I've come to appreciate his knack for making good decisions based on sound, rational judgment. I'm still not sure how he sorts through all the contracts and negotiations, but he does it well. He has a personality that secures his role as a leader. It's a combination of work ethic, energy, quick thinking and positivity. Everyone likes him and wants to do a good job for him because we all know he cares about the team. I've worked for blustering, red-faced, soda-enraged tyrants before and wonder how they were ever able to make it as boss when there are people like my current boss getting the job done with rational thinking and motivation.

I'll miss the interpreters and some of the other people that work here.

I'll miss the Iraqis that I have worked with on a regular basis, even though many of them have made me pull what's left of my hair out. Everything I've done here and learned here is going to benefit me when I get to my new assignment.

The thing I supposed I will miss the most is the peacefulness of this place. Every night I can stand on the roof and watch the sun go down over a distant ridge. I can hear the echo of the dueling Imams and I smell the smell of the...well the smell isn't so nice, but the landscape outside our compound is beautiful with distant mountain ranges to the north that send cool breezes down our way. We can even see the Ancient Tigris River.

I'm heading out to another part of this country and another part of this war. Mah sehlam'.

Shinoo?

This is George. He’s the driver of the “Honey” truck that empties the septic tanks around here. George isn’t his real name, but that’s what we call him. He’s a jack of all trades and does construction and repair and can work on our generator. He says he used to be in the Iraqi Special Forces. Everybody that used to be in the Iraqi Army tells me they were in the Iraqi Special Froces.

I found him kneeling in front of this the other day after working on an air conditioner in my office.
“What are you doing, George?”
“I am praying, Sir. I am an Iraqi, but not all Iraqis are Muslim. I am Christian.”

George, that’s not a crucifix, that’s the rack that holds my helmet and armor.” Shinoo?

The latest news is that it’s registering 102 degrees F on the thermometer that hangs on a piece of 550 cord outside my office. It measures Celsius as well. It’s shaped like a guitar. Shinoo?

This looks like a tornado at first glance and was heading right towards

me at the truck dump the other day. It’s not a tornado, just a “Dust Devil.” Shinoo?

This is the newest member to the compound. I was going to call him “George” because the hairdo is reminiscent the late George Harrison when he was with the Beatles back in the early days. George didn’t like that idea. Shinoo?

Our Iraqi NCOs have decided to try adjusting the sights on the rifles at the range rather than just grabbing the shoulders of the jinood and pointing them toward the target. Shinoo? Progress?

I’ve been the highest ranking soldier on our Coalition Compound for the last week and it hasn’t been boring. I’m doing my job, the Commander’s job and the good Master Sgts job while he’s on leave and the commander is at a conference. It was quiet here until they both left. At that point, the Iraqi Police decided they wanted to train on our compound. I agreed with the Iraqi Army Commander when he said, “No way.”
I had a man come by with a crew telling me he won the bid to do some construction here. I hadn’t heard the bid had been won. Found out later it was won, but not by him. He was either lying to me or was dreadfully confused. Shinoo? Hell, I gave this guy a Pepsi!

The ministry of Defense’s finance officer who is responsible for paying the soldiers here was supposed to have pay ready for over 800 jinood who were returning here from leave to gather the pay and their next assignment. He told the IA commander that he wasn’t going to get the pay to them on time because…he was “tired.” Shinoo?

I thought I was going to have 800 screaming jinood running around here. I’m not sure how the IA commander kept them all calm. Almost a week later and the problem is not solved. Shinoo?

I helped arrange pickup of supplies and equipment from another location for the Iraqi Army here. Coordinated to make sure the supplies were ready and told the IA Commander that he could send a convoy to pick it up. These convoys have been hit before, so it’s no small happening to get one put together. When they got to the sight, another Iraqi from the MOD told them they needed a whole new form, signed by him, to get the supplies and that since they didn’t have it they were told to leave. Shinoo the hell? I was lucky and got a telephone call out from the roof to a really fantastic Lt. Colonel up there who went over and said, “Give ‘em their supplies!” I just heard the convoy roll in. Humdililah!

Ran 6 miles on the compound this morning and swallowed 2 “Suicide” bugs. You know, the ones that fly between your gritted teeth, over you gums and tongue and hit you square in the back of the throat causing you to have a serious coughing fit. Shinoo?

As you all have rightly guessed, “Shinoo?” is Arabic for “What?” Not just “What,” but more like, “Whaa?” or “What the hell?” the best part is when you put “what” and “who” together. “Who?” is “Minoo?”

An old Sesame Street song comes to mind when you hear, “Shinoo? Minoo?”
Do doooo da do do!

Memorial Day

Five years ago I played a soccer game at 10 o’clock in the morning against a bunch of Kuwaitis. It was 135 degrees and I didn’t last long.
Later that day, half the compound caught on fire. The Marines owned the camp and they were the first to get air conditioners. The contractors ran faulty wiring and the first tent went up in seconds. Within the next 10 minutes, 50 tents were on fire. The Marines scrambled away and we all took cover. As you can probably guess, Marines carry a lot of ordnance in the form of bullets, grenades and a variety of other things. Some of this stuff began to cook off. When particles from the explosions started falling around us, we had to take cover.
Everyone was okay. We had Marines running around in their underwear for the next couple of weeks, I offered them Army PT shirts every day, but none of them would take a piece of clothing with the word “Army” on it. Good for them.
A lot of water has passed under the bridge since then. At home, I worked on Memorial Days when I was at Channel 5. There were ceremonies and observances at cemeteries around the Atlanta area. All to remember the sacrifices made by ordinary people that chose to serve.
Specialist Joshua Dingler chose to serve. He came to Iraq after I left the first time. He was part of the 48th Brigade Combat Team…Georgia’s National Guard. Before I came back here to cover the 48th BCT for Channel 5, Spc. Dingler was killed in an awful way. I never got to meet him and I don’t know his personality or really even how old he was. He was young,though, in his early 20's.
I met his mother, father and brother though. They are a very dedicated family. Joshua was part of the 108th Armor out of Douglasville, GA.
I covered the 108th when I was in Iraq. Their Commander was Lt. Colonel John King, who is also the Chief of Police of Doraville, GA. Col. I covered them when they came home in style. King led his troops down Main Street Douglasville for a parade to welcome them home. All the troops came into downtown marching to cadence. A giant American Flag was carried ahead of them by volunteers.
Between them and the flag were four horses. Each horse had a pair of desert combat boots in the stirrups. A blanket draped each horse and I can’t remember all the names. But, I do remember seeing the name, Spc. Joshua Dingler. I remember seeing his mother, father and brother standing among the crowd. They were there.
They told me that this was important because Joshua lived and died next to these men. It was important for them to be there to welcome home Joshua’s friends. As busy as I was, I could see the Dinglers across the street from me, watching the parade. They kept looking, waiting for the troops to come by and somehow you could sense that they were hoping that Joshua would come marching down that road too. They would have loved to cheer on their son as he pushed his chest out a little further and sounded off in step. He’d probably have on one of those cavalry hats these “Armored Cav” guys were wearing and maybe a pair of spurs.
He never marched by.
His boots came by in the stirrups of that horse. Mrs. Dingler watched. She realized the riderless horse, a tribute to her son, was standing before her. There is pain in life and death and it was written on her face. She gathered herself together and took pictures of the troops while tears rolled down her face.

I’ve let myself lose sight of Memorial Day. As I go home after this tour, I will no doubt look forward to the long weekend and maybe a cook out and hanging out with my friends at a festival. I’ll go on, glad to be alive. Maybe in the back of my mind, I’ll think about those who made my life better by laying down their own. Maybe I’ll go to a ceremony, but it’s doubtful. I will probably treat it as a holiday and be glad to I have the day off.
I don’t think the Dinglers will.

The "Running of the Jinood"

The dawn of Thursday morning was warm. By 0500, the sun was already sitting in a clear blue sky. I could see all the way north to a mountain range in Kurdistan. It really is a long way from here, but on some days, it's clear enough to make it out.

Today was the Physical Training test for a group of Iraqi Army Basic Combat Training soldiers...Jinood (singular is jundi ). The good Master Sgt. refers to them collectively as, "Dem Jinoots."

I'm used to the U.S. Army test which measures and grades how many push ups you can do in 2 minutes, then how many sit ups and then a timed 2 mile run. Here, they just run.

I made my way down to the range for the start. I had on boots and my uniform. I planned on ditching my top for just my t-shirt. As I got closer to the range, I noticed several hundred jinood in brown t-shirts, blue shorts and brand-spankin' new New Balance running shoes. I quickly took off my boots and grabbed my running shoes. I also grabbed my small video camera. I managed to get my shoes laced up about the time they said, "Go!" I stood up, turned on my video camera and was rolling about the time the jinood wave hit me. I didn't have to jump in this race. They were all over me as I turned to join the run. It was a great experience that I'm laughing about days later. I had more fun than I ever did at my old "Runner Cam" job.

I used to be the "Runner Cam" for Channel 5, WAGA TV, Atlanta. I carried live shot equipment on my back and held a mini cam and went live during Atlanta's 4th of July Peachtree Road Race. I won't be doing that this year, so I brought my own "runner cam" out to the PT test and shot "The Running of the Jinood." It's a hiliarious video that I can't seem to upload to this sight even though it's one of the formats they allow. If I knew more about computers and had a lot of extra time, I might figure it out. As it is, I barely have time to put these blogs together and I'm sure you all have noticed that they are being posted further and further apart.

There was no time limit to finish the 2,500 meter run. You simply had to survive. The push at the beginning was tight as we squeezed through the opening from the range onto the road. Skinny elbows and knees were popping me from all over the place. I was popping them back and the fact that I weigh probably 50 pounds more than the average jundi, I had plenty of space open up for me. I have to admit, though, that there were some quick rabbits out there. There was no way I was going to win this race. I had fun though and there were only about 20 of them who finished ahead of me. They were seated in formation when I came in.

One thing you can't help but notice about the men joining the Iraqi Army these days is age. There are some that don't look like they're 15 years old. Then there are others like the guy on the right in this picture. I was 35 when I joined the Army. How old do you think this guy is?

Kids

Today, we walked outside of one of our gates. The Iraqi Army unit that guards this post told us they found something that might be an explosive. They lead us to a building that had been imploded by Coalition Forces back in 2005. I had my camera with a long zoom lens. We wanted to get a look at this device from a good distance. As we got closer, I felt all my senses heighten. If felt we were pushing our luck a little. I figured I would have a long-lens look, snap a shot and get back to the gate. They walked us up to the building. I thought they were going to point down a hall at something. Instead, the guy all of a sudden leans down and shows me a wire! It was right at the corner of the building where we were standing. Under some rubble was a black device and the wire was running into it. It’s possible that this was a piece of explosive that didn’t go off when they imploded the building. I had no idea. All I knew was that we were too close. Needless to say, we got the hell out of there and reported it.

Walking back, we asked how they found it. “One of the children told us about it.”

Across the street from the building is what looks like an apartment complex. There are plenty of children. We told the IA guys that they needed to secure that building better. We noticed where razor wire was flattened and anyone could walk in. Apparently, that’s what some kid did.

Fortunately, I had my camera. The thing you notice is that these are good looking kids. There was one young lady that looked no older than 11 or 12. All the younger kids paid attention to her. I had some of my mother-in-law’s homemade cookies on me. I gave a bag of them to the girl and she handed the cookies out. Little hands took cookies one by one until they were gone. I’m not sure if she even saved one for herself.

I can’t imagine growing up the way they do. The place is a dump. What you could call a back yard is filled with trash, razor wire and an old car. Dogs forage there looking for food. Who knows what these kids eat on a regular basis. It truly bothers the interpreter I worked with today. I’ve seen him put Dinar into tiny fists before. He told a little boy once to go home and give it to his mother. The boy, who could have been no older than 4, obediently ran home.

They all smile. They have to be aware of the ugliness around them, but their brown eyes are wide and even the ones missing teeth have a nice smile and are friendly. We told them all to stay away from the building.

I was nervous. We’d come too close to a possible explosive. We were outside our gate on the town side. I was scanning every window I could see. We headed back in. I walked away and amid the trash, the razor wire, the filth and the poverty, their little smiles stood out like a stood out like jewelry.

Chief

The Iraqi Command Sergeant Major here is a good man. By rank, he is referred to as “Chief.”He is a fatherly figure who struggles through the Iraqi Army system of the officers believing NCOs are inferior. I have talked to him at length about staying the course. The way it’s supposed to work is the officers oversee the training and make sure it is being done correctly. They have to be experts at the training. They have to recognize when something is being done incorrectly. When they see something, they are supposed to pull the Sergeants over and correct the problem. What we see too much is officers who get in the way of the training. They think they have to do “Hands on” with everything. It’s always been that way in the Iraqi Army. If you are not an officer, you are a second-class citizen.

But, things around here are starting to change. I keep telling the CSM to hold his Sgts. accountable. They have to do the training. I told him about last week on the range where I asked why the jinood were missing the targets and the Sgts didn’t know. He says that was disgraceful and will change. Even the officers are changing a little. The executive officer here ran the weekly training meeting the other day. He addressed the NCOs directly and told them the compound needs to look like a training center and that he doesn’t want any of the jinood lying around. The CSM is making the same point.

When I met with him, I told the CSM that what I saw the other day was fantastic. Soldiers were learning squad movements. They were walking in a wedge with rifles at the ready, the last two pulling rear security. There were two areefs (sergeants) in the middle of the wedge coaching them. I only saw one young lieutenant out with the troops. The rest of the officers were on the perimeter watching and taking notes. Hopefully, to talk to their Sgts. later about how things went.

I couldn’t believe it. Even the one of our contractors said he had never seen that before. It’s been a combination of things that are making this happen. Our contractors are doing a good job working with their instructors. I think we made an impact at the range the other day too. All of our NCOs went to the range to observe their qualifying. None of us liked what we saw and started pulling them aside and asking them what the hell was going on. When we found somebody doing it right, we made sure to pat them on the back.

We climbed all over the officer in charge of the range. He was on a megaphone moving troops around while the Sgts were trying to conduct training. We pulled him aside and grilled him.
“Why aren’t the soldiers qualifying today?”
“They are.”
“Who has the best score so far?”
“I don’t know. I don’t have a list.”
“How are you tracking who is qualifying and who needs re-training.”
“We’ll do that later.”
“WWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWHAT?!”
Anyway, their XO asked my Commander why I was grilling so many people on the range the other day. I think my commander told him it was my job.

I’m not here to cry for these guys. I have to get them ready to go into the fight. If these soldiers can’t shoot straight, they will get killed in an ugly way…bottom line. Way more Iraqi Army soldiers are dying in this fight these days than U.S. Soldiers. I want them to stop dying and be able to defend themselves and kill the bad guys.

All of them take a risk joining the Iraqi Army. On a daily basis I have jinood tell me that they and their families are threatened. There are still enough bad guys out there to make it ugly and I don’t want these guys going into the fight unprepared. If I have to grill a few of the trainers…so be it.

I realize I’m walking a fine line sometimes. I always talk to my interpreters after an encounter with my Iraqi friends and ask how they thought it went. I’ve got a learning curve here to deal with, a language barrier, a lack of myself being a truly good soldier. I wear a lot of hats around here including admin, sewer truck guardian, trash man and gatekeeper. Every U.S. Soldier working on this small compound is in the same boat. We give it our best shot and when we see things like the good training we saw the other day, it makes it seem like we are starting to turn this Titanic.

The CSM told me he has 8 children and that three of them play soccer. When we wrapped up our conversation, I gave him one of my bags of Dunkin Donut coffee. I told him that my wife heard that he liked coffee and she told me to give him some. I told him I have to keep my wife happy because in the United States, men have an expression… “If Momma ain’t happy, ain’t nobody happy.”
He said it was the same way here. He also said to tell her “Thank you.” “Shukran!”