So it begins 5/12/07

So it begins 5/12/07

Yesterday I put in my first 15 hour day of work. Tons o'Fun! It wouldn't have been bad if I was busy the entire time but as usual, it turned out to be a lot of waiting for other people to get their stuff done with a mad dash at the end of the day to compile it all. Believe me, I'd much rather be busy than bored, but it's frustrating to see weaknesses in organizational skills of the people I work with. Seriously, how long have you been a professional and still don't know how to operate your computer?

We did have a little excitement today in the "office". Besides the standard power outages and fending off the large shipment of girl scout cookies from entering our mouths, we had a mortar attack. Now, talking about this has me going down a road that I don't frequent. Sure I usually write about trivial things like clean workout rooms and Baskin Robbins ice cream, but the truth of the matter is that we have IED attacks, suicide bombings, small arms fire and mortar attacks every day. Those are just the facts of being in a war zone. I don't always write about the mortars that land near here because frankly our insurgent friends are pretty bad shots and they tend to hit a lot of nothing. Besides, I'm not one to highlight the bad events because it is unnecessary to make folks back home worry, and we all have enough to worry about as it is. This was just the first time that the rounds got close enough to knock things off tables and have us scramble for our body armor and helmets. For most of the folks in the shop, they simply put their gear on and went back to their computer terminals and continued doing what they were doing, almost like a scene out of M*A*S*H. A few newbies freaked a little, but nobody was hurt. The whole incident was over in about 3 minutes and we were soon back to work like normal. As far as excitement goes, I would have rather had a water balloon fight or an impromptu smashing of a piñata instead of the shelling of our base, but the bad guys don't always bring fun things to the party (which is why we don't invite them for sleep-overs).

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Interesting fact of the day: Today is Mother's Day, or at least it's almost Mother's Day back in the states. Don't forget to call the lady who raised you to be the person you are today and tell her that you appreciate all the important life lessons she taught you, like donning clean underwear before you leave the house and washing behind your ears. Myself, I have quite possibly the greatest mom in the world, and if you doubt me, I'll defend her honor by challenging you to an Indian Leg Wrestling contest (you'll have to come to Iraq though as my boss won't let me leave just yet). Seriously though, tell your mom that you love her today. You'll both appreciate it.

TGIF 05/11/07

TGIF 05/11/07

Today was my first official day off. Well, actually, I really didn't
have the day completely off. In the Iraqi culture, their Friday is
equivalent to our Sunday in that most places of work are closed for a
day of "rest". Because of this, we of the coalition forces take a half
day off since most of our Iraqi counterparts aren't around to do
business with. The odd thing about it is that we take the morning off,
reporting in around lunch time. Wouldn't it make more sense to take the
afternoon off? My guess is the policy makers are folks who like to
sleep in so we just show up at lunch and work until 8ish or so. It's
still a full day of work, but the illusion is the military doesn't work
us 24/7 and they actually give their folks some personal time to do
things like laundry, or write home to their loved ones, run errands that
they can't do during the week, or even have a nice picnic lunch outside
under the sandbag reinforced mortar awning with razor wire surrounding
it. We don't have much say in the matter. Uncle Sam is paying for this
vacation, so he gets to make the rules any way he wants. I guess it
doesn't matter much to me as it's not like I'm going to go dancing at
the embassy on salsa night nor do I have a desire to go hang out at the
MWR (morale, welfare and recreation) pool with the DOD contractors or
interpreters. If you think a farmer tan is bad, a Kevlar/body armor tan
is just plain ridiculous.

I did try something new today. Since they didn't serve breakfast at the
base, we had to fend for ourselves and try to hunt down another DFAC
serving breakfast. We strolled over to the embassy to find chow and
ended up just missing the mess hall hours. This prompted us to hit the
coffee shop in the embassy. Green Beans is a military coffee shop that
is a replica of Starbuck's in that they serve lots of foo-foo coffee and
muffins for those willing to dish out the dough for a $4 cup of coffee.
Since my compadres wanted coffee, we stopped in for breakfast. Now, I'm
not much of a coffee drinker. I'll occasionally have a cup after a big
meal or with dessert, but I'm not a regimented drinker like the folks
who can't function until they've had their daily cup of joe. The Green
Bean menu was a limited one so I opted for a vanilla chai latte, which
is basically tea with steamed milk and some vanilla flavoring. Very
yuppyish sounding, but I soon learned not to judge a drink by it's sissy
name. It turned out that the drink was pretty good. Not "I must buy
one of these every day and spend a small fortune to support my daily
chai latte habit" good, but tasty enough that I would buy one again if I
happened to be near a good coffee shop.

Interesting fact of the day: The plumbing system in Iraq is very
sufficient for their indigenous population, but is not designed for us
"westerners". In order not to stop up the toilets in the bathroom, one
has to dispose of their "used" toilet paper in a bin next to the commode
instead of actually flushing it down with the rest of their business. I
guess it's better that using rocks like some other cultures use.

Gym 5/10/07

Gym 5/10/07

To combat this new battle of the bulge that the mess hall has waged with
me and my waistline, I've been hitting the gym on the base near work for
the last three days. I've heard stories and seen pictures of other gyms
that soldiers had access to during their deployments and I was prepared
for the worse: dusty and dirty tents housing chipped and broken cast
iron weights on rusty weight bars that one has to guestimate the
poundage of, piles of cardio equipment that sit in a broken heap in the
corner, and soldiers bench pressing items like buckets of rocks and
smaller members of their squad to supplement the lack of weights. The
gym near my hooch (place where I sleep) is nestled in a bombed out
section of the Palace and is pretty shabby, which is why I try to work
out near work. For a deployment style gym, the gym near my "office" is
a pretty modern facility that would give some civilian health clubs a
run for their money in terms of cleanliness. The 4 TVs they have
scattered around air satellite TV stations such as CNN, ESPN and even an
Arabic version of MTV. Let me tell ya, nothing gets you more fired up
to do your next set of squats than seeing the Middle Eastern version of
N-Synch break'n it down in their man-jamies. The best part about the
gym is the showers. Nice, roomy, clean showers with all of the hot
water you can use (just don't let any get in your mouth or you'll be the
proud new owner of a mud-butt). Compared to the "combat showers" we
took in Kuwait and the rickety shower trailers near the hooches in the
IZ, the gym here is the lap of luxury. Best of all, it is surprisingly
under-utilized. That could be because everyone is too busy to work out,
or due to the fact that the base is filled with mostly Air Force folks
and everyone knows that they don't do PT. I'll see an occasional Marine
in their trying to bench press the weight equivalent of a VW Bug, but
for the most part, it's just me, my MP3 player, and music videos of
camels and burkas.

Interesting fact of the day: Treadmills run on power. Unlike some of
the stationary bike machines that use the motion of the user to power
the computers, treadmills have to be plugged into a power source. I
mention this because running on a treadmill with no power means you're
not going anywhere. Running on a treadmill that has power, but suddenly
stops because of the frequent power outages here, results in a humorous
display of stumbling and tripping that onlookers can laugh at. After
Brendan thoroughly entertained us yesterday with his very own rendition
of the "treadmill tap dance", I got to play the fool this morning when I
almost impaled myself on the heart-rate handles during a brown out.
Lucky for me, no one was there to notice.

Food 5/9/07

Food 5/9/07

Food. Without it, I'd be living in an eternal hell of a liquid diet,
and I speak from experiences when I say that ain't fun. Although not as
important as air or water, your body needs it to function. Because it
is so vital to one's existence, the military decided that they will
provide us with as much as we can eat. Gone are the days of the stingy
Ft. Benning mess server who dished out 3 miniature meetballs, no more,
no less, as if the nation was emergency rationing burger and meat
fillers. Here in the IZ, just like Kuwait, they give us the ability to
eat ourselves into oblivion with the Golden Coral style "all you can
stuff your gullet" buffet of food. It is very easy to lose track of how
much you are piling on your tray since you want to try everything, and
before you know it, your forearms are reaching muscle failure before you
can make it to an empty table to devour the mountain of viddles you've
accumulated. I'm doing my best to be responsible for my own fitness and
for the most part I try to make good choices in the food I get, but
again, Baskin Robbins has decided that they will do their part for the
war and send tubs upon tubs of real ice cream here, and the friendly
Pakistani gentleman who mans the scoops is just too generous with the
Pralines and Cream and Mint Chocolate Chip to resist. Why do they
torture us so? Why do they serve ice cream for both lunch and dinner?
Why don't they serve it for breakfast too?!! People have told me that
you'll lose weight during a deployment because wearing the body armor
all the time is like a workout in itself, but I don't think those people
had access to the sweet goodness of Baskin Robbins, for if they did,
they would have told me to wear my stretchy pants to war.

Interesting fact of the day: In Iraq, the doors are all backward. When
you enter a building or a room, the door is a "pull" instead of a
"push". This results in entertaining displays of soldiers performing
body slams into doors that cause a Three-Stooges style chain reaction of
the soldiers behind them crashing into one another.

First day of work 5/8/07

First day of work 5/8/07

Ahhh...the first day of work. There is nothing like starting your new
job with an impromptu conversation with the outgoing senior NCO over a
Belgian waffle on how the section you are going into has a LOT of room
for improvement. I guess that means I can't screw up things too badly,
doesn't it? The building I'm working in is pretty new which is a stark
contrast to most of the structures in the International Zone. A
majority of the palaces and towers bear the scars of bomb and mortar
attacks done by the insurgents over the past 4 years (not to mention the
damage we did back in 2003). New construction is something I haven't
seen much of in Baghdad, but that could be due to the fact that I just
can't see a lot behind the tall barriers and guard towers. The building
I'll be spending most of my time in, along with the mess hall across the
way, are both fairly modern. I have been assigned a work station
amongst a row of cheap particle board desks that barely supports a
computer monitor and keyboard on its sagging top. The working
environment is not very egro friendly (where is Rhyne when I need him?)
and only after a day of being on the computer I can feel the onset of
carpel tunnel syndrome in my wrist and forearms. Of course, the 3 hours
of playing PSP at the airport in Kuwait probably didn't help matters
much. I don't have a desk phone which isn't too bad since they have put
me in for a military cell phone. Most communication is done by cell
here and it will be nice if I get one of the fancy phones that will
allow calls back to the states. Even though I put a full day in,
getting my email set up was the only real accomplishment of the day.

Around 8 tonight I returned to my temporary room which resembles a
closet more than an actual room. In fact, it's miniscule, but not as
small as Kevin and Brendan's room. Oh sure, they have their own
bathroom, 9" satellite ready TV and micro fridge, but at least my room
has enough space for my roommate and I to stand at the same time on the
floor space not occupied by furniture. The bath and shower trailer is
about 40 yards away and while the trek is a little annoying, especially
when I've had to pee in the wee hours of the last few nights, but it's
not too bad when I think of the alternative. My new roomie, Thomas, a
fellow IRR call back, discovered that the metal his bed frame was
extruded from resembled tin foil more than steel and he posed for a
great Posturepedic add picture that I hope to post some time. Our
trailer sits in the shadow of one of Saddam's many palaces and we are
surrounded by giant Texas barriers (called T-walls) to help shield our
living quarters from the stray (or not so stray) mortar rounds that
frequent the IZ. Oddly enough, it's comforting to know that I have a
little bit of Texas keeping me safe.

Interesting fact of the day: They don't call it the Green Zone anymore.
Instead, they like to call it the International Zone, or "IZ" for short.
See, being green would mean that things are safe, and technically, there
isn't a place around here that is very "safe" in the true sense of the
word.

Touchdown 05/06/07

Touchdown 5/06/07

Benzene. That's the smell that hits you when you step off the plane at
BIAP (Baghdad International Airport). I don't think I've ever smelled
benzene before, but everyone who has deployed here before says that is
the smell that makes them think of Iraq.

The flight from Kuwait to here was on a military aircraft designed more
for shipping mass amounts of cargo and equipment than comfortable
transportation of humans. They packed us in to makeshift rows of
modular airline seats bolted down in the cargo bay and turned on the
heat, or at least that's what it felt like. With all of our gear on, it
wasn't long before we were drenched in sweat which made this flight the
hands down winner of the worst plane ride I have ever taken in my entire
life. Because our flight landed late, we were unable to get transported
over to the holding tents to spend the night at BIAP. Instead of a
comfy army cot to rest my travel weary bones on, a picnic table became
my temporary bed for the remainder of the evening. Chow this morning
was at an Air Force facility and I have to give props where props are
due; the Air Force knows how to keep it's people plump and happy. After
a big fatty meal, we went to the staging area to retrieve our duffles
and rucks.

The ground transport from BIAP to our new home in the IZ was, well, it
was classified. In fact, most interesting events that happen here fall
under the umbrella of the "secret squirrel clause" that the military is
holding over us. I understand about OPSEC and all so maybe these are
stories that I'll keep to myself until one day, many moons from now, I
can sit in my rocking chair on my screened in porch and tell my
grandkids of the zany things their grandfather did in the war.

Regardless of everything, I am here and have only 359 days to go before
I return to the states.

Interesting deployment fact of the day: Light switches in Iraq are
opposite from those in the US. Up means "off" and down means "on".
This takes a little getting use to, especially if the light fixture you
are trying to turn on doesn't have a light bulb in it.

Iraq!

Holy cow! I'm in Iraq! Well, I've actually been here for almost a
week, but who's counting? I've written a few blogs, but Uncle Sam has
deemed it unlawful to use the military internet access to view or post
on most blog sites. So, I've found this work around where I can post
via email. I can't add pictures right now, but if all goes well, I'll
get personal internet access some time at the end of the month and will
be able to show what's happening. I'll go ahead and post the past
entries later, but for now, I wanted to make sure that everyone knows
that I'm here, alive, and sweating and that the countdown is well under
way. I'm 3% done with my tour!

Yeah, countdowns aren't so much fun when you have over 90% left to go.

Happy Cinco de Mayo

And here I thought I'd be spending the 5th in Iraq. No such luck. Kuwait is still my home for a few days (maybe less) and that's fine for now, just as long as Baskin Robbins still keeps sending ice cream for the mess hall. :) Oh, the steak and crabs was just as I had expected; boiled and rubberized. I passed on the rubber crab legs but opted for the steak which was difficult to eat due to the plastic utensils they give us. I'll give them a 10 for effort though. Tonight is probably going to be a Mexican theme since it is the 5th of May, but if all goes well we'll be on a plane heading north before dinner time. That's too bad as I would like to see the middle eastern culture's attempt at Mexican food.

Went to the rifle range two days ago to re-zero our weapons. It was more like a open piece of desert with a few targets instead of an actual range. It was hot, and for the first time ever in my army experience, we had to call a cease fire due to the fact that there were camels on the range. I'd post pictures, but the system here is pretty slow to accept any uploads of files. I'll post them later when I get decent access.

Besides that, not much to report as we are doing a lot of waiting. If patience is a virtue, then our group should be on the short list for sainthood. Morale is a little low at times, just because things are changing so much (pack your bags, don't pack your bags, pack only one bag, now pack the little bag, make sure you have your left combat boot socks in the right pocket of your ruck sack...). It will get better soon. Life without my luggage was a curse at first, but now it's not so bad since I don't have much option on what I can and cannot pack. The bags are suppose to arrive today at our locale, but that's one of those "I'll believe it when it actually happens" type things. It has cause a lot of heartache for everyone and we blame our S4 (supply guy) for it being all screwed up. In fact, we beat up on our S4 quite a bit because he constantly drops the ball on all of our supply issues (plus he smells). Did I mention that CPT Brendan is our S4? :) Actually, he's doing a great job of rolling with the punches and he does receive a lot of uneccesary heartburn for things he can't control. The only reason I mention him is because I know he hasn't contacted his mother (which we harp on him about) and I wanted her to know that he is doing fine. He does, however, smell, which is probably due to the fact that he doesn't have any clean clothes (which is the reason why I smell too).

Going back to Cali...

Going Back to Cali...

They found our bags! They had not fallen off the truck on the way to the airport, they didn’t find them floating in the Atlantic, and they were not stolen by terrorist in an evil plot to steel our individual supplies of Gold Bond powder and beef jerky. Somehow they never made it off the plane when we landed in Kuwait and were taken back with a Marine unit stationed in California returning from theater. Now the question is how are we going to get this stuff back in time for us to show up at our next duty station? Enter our friends at Federal Express who are going to get the bags and fly them over to us in a most Ricky-Tick fashion. We won’t get them for a few days still, and most likely they will meet us in Iraq instead of here in Kuwait, but at least the days of washing my underwear in the sink are numbered. I’m looking forward to getting my stuff back. Even though I had packed two pair of running shoes in 2 of the 4 missing duffle bags, in order to be able to wear my PT uniform I had to purchase a pair of horrendously ugly, day-glow orange running shoes at the Base Exchange. I chose them not because I’m a fan of day-glow orange, but they were the only shoes they had in my size since the pickn’s are slim in the middle of no-where.

Tonight is suppose to be steak and crab night in the dining facility, or at least that’s the rumor. Now before you go thinking that life can’t be so tough for a soldier when the Army is feeding him/her a surf and turf meal, let me say that while it can be morale booster, it is often a crushing let down since the steaks are boiled and the crab legs are rubbery. It’s still better than chile-mac and dried chicken, but only slightly.

Napping

Nap Master

In my normal life, I’m not much of a napper. There was a time back in college where sneaking in 5 minute power naps between classes was an art form only perfected by individuals who’s free time is tightly regulated. Back then, I was a self proclaimed “rack master”, trying to make up sleep throughout the day that I missed out on the night before. As school life moved onto the real world, I lost my knack to nap as most employers frown on sleeping in your cubicle between meetings, but I often longed to curl up under my desk at work and catch a few Z’s before the next teleconference.

Now, in my current situation I’ve discovered that napping, much like riding a bike, is a skill you don’t lose. I think I’ve napped more in the past 3 days than I have for the better part of the last decade. And I’m not talking short little naps because you are bored and don’t want to engage in any time consuming activities between appointments. I’m talking 2 to 3 hours of full on power racking! And, in my defense, I’m not the only one participating in this new deployment pastime. It’s not uncommon to walk into our tent and find 90% of the group sprawled out on their cots in a comma-like sleep (the other 10% are usually just getting up from a nap or about to lie down for their next installment of Slumber Fest 2007). This is no easy feat as there is a constant drone of generators around the tent, the roar of helicopters buzzing and the whipping wind of the sand storms shaking the frame of our quarters. Despite these distracters (and a few snoring folks that have followed me all the way from Benning), we forge on with our pursuit of sugarplum visions and REM dreams. I hypothesize that sleep begets sleep, or seeing other people in the horizontal siesta position makes others want lie down and doze off for just a little while, and that is why I’m napping so much, or at least that’s my story and I’m sticking to it. I’m not sure how napping in an air conditioned tent is suppose to get us ready for operating in the cities and deserts of Iraq, but let’s just say that we are fully trained to take on any enemy that wants to challenge us to a sleep off.