Monday, 2 JAN 06: One would think that Senator Charles Schumer's constituents, after witnessing what happened to their friends and loved ones in the World Trade Centers, would be rather anxious to know if the person they are riding the subway with has been making and receiving calls to and from Al Qaeda. Why on earth would Schumer be trying to protect this type of malignancy is as puzzling as it is disturbing. Is his disdain for the President so great as to turn a blind eye on those that would slaughter innocent women and children just as soon as look at them?
Politicians should be careful on what side they fall on in the NSA monitoring revelation. The 60 minutes test still holds true. If and when the next great attack happens on this soil, the public at large will be asking: What did you know?, When did you know it? and What did you do about it? Not to mention- How could you have let this happen again?
There is absolutely nothing wrong with the FBI conducting radiation surveys around mosques. As an Irish Catholic if the FBI thought that a group of IRA nuts were planning an attack on this country using my parish as a base of operations than the FBI had damn well do what they can to stop them. As a good citizen I would be turning them in if I even caught wind of it and if I had found out my priest was involved I would take him out back and kick his ass. I am certainly not going to sit idly by because he is a religious leader.
Sunday, 1 JAN 2006: I decided to start this year off with a resolution to do less for me and much more for my family.
Saturday, 31 DEC 2005: Happy New Year to you all. God Bless you and keep you and yours. I am placing some Molloy McGraw pictures here just as a chuckle. My Mom found them while she was setting out the Christmas things.
Thursday, 22December 2005: There are so many of my friends and family that made sure my family had a wonderful Christmas last year while I was in Afghanistan. Words can never express how much you all mean to me. I hope that you all find much joy in this Christmas season, and I know that God has a special place for you, for all you have done and continue to do for the least of your brethren. Please continue to pray for my colleagues still overseas and continue to show them all the love you have shown my family. I love you all very much. Have a truly Blessed Christmas.
Wednesday, 21 December 2005: I decided to get into the Christmas spirit this year purchasing the DVD collection of the animated Christmas Classics that made my childhood a little more magical at this time of year. Instead of recapturing a little magic, my jaded, cynical eyes viewed an entirely different classic than I had remembered. It became obvious within the first few minutes that this movie could never have been made in today's politically correct environment. Take "Rudolf the Red Nosed Reindeer" for example.
The characters had taken on some new dimensions with my adult sensibilities. First we have Rudolf, who was born with a congenital defect manifesting itself as a Blinking Bright Red Nose, commonly known today as BBRN syndrome. There is now some debate as to whether this is a recessive gene or linked to illicit chestnut smoking by the mother reindeer. Be that as it may, poor Rudolf, not ten minutes after his birth is immediately scorned by his own father for daring to be born different than the other young bucks and insists that his son's deformity be covered up so as not to bring shame on his family. Santa, it turns out is a flaming bigot, and within seconds of seeing Rudolf's deformity exclaims that if he ever has a chance of being accepted at the North Pole, much less find gainful employment in Santa's company, that he had darn well outgrow this unsightly condition and but quick!. Hey Santa!, Ever hear of the American's With Disabilities Act! This prejudicial attitude runs rampant at the North Pole, all of the other reindeer mock and ostracize Rudolf almost immediately after learning of his birth defect.
Rudolf is not the only character to be assailed by the very hostile working environment created by Santa and his Union of thug Elves. The poor gay Elf with an oral fixation, Herbie, for example. All Herbie really wants is to move to San Francisco and set up shop as a dentist catering to other vertically challenged alternative lifestyle elves seeking acceptance. Herbie of course is drummed out of Santa's organization by company sanctioned oppression and derision. He is routinely forced to work during Union breaks and forced to participate in company functions after hours, such as Elf choir practice. He chooses to leave his home rather than endure another minute of this treatment.
Now we have the Man's Man, and my personal favorite character, Yukon Cornelius. Yukon, has braved the Arctic life in a solitary existence and has honed his survival skills to make a Special Forces Operator bow his head in respect. Yukon, with one quick sniff and a lick can determine the presence of precious minerals in the area. He is the North Pole MacGyver, foiling Abominable Snow men with the quick creation of an iceberg just in time to avert disaster. He even shows a total disregard for life and limb and tackles the Abominable Snowman right off a cliff in order to save his friends. Yukon is a strangely enlightened man, and quickly takes in the outcasts Rudolf and Herbie and offers them protection from the elements and words of wisdom from time to time.
PETA would have a conniption at the treatment of the poor arctic wildlife that is constantly mistreated by the local human and elf population. It is obvious that the North poles populace have encroached on the Abominable's natural habitat and that the violent encounters with the Snowman are entirely a natural result of this. However, the beating, capture and forcible removal of the Abominable's teeth, his only means of his survival, is inhumane treatment.
Lastly we have the internment camp of the Land of the Misfit Toys. A land created for toys that have been cast out of their own communities and run by a benevolent dictator King MoonRacer. Their only hope is that the heretofore, grossly intolerant Santa Clause will take pity on them and find them new homes in more tolerant communities. Not a bad analogy for Capital Hill now that I think of it.
Of course, there is a happy ending when everyone realizes their ignorance and our Zeros go to Heroes and become the stuff of Legend. Santa and his Union boss undergo some sensitivity training and the North Pole is no longer a hostile work environment and become the model of tolerance. Even the mauled and defanged Abominable Snowman is given safe refuge in the new North Pole. All in all not a bad run in about in 60 minutes.
Merry Christmas and a special Happy Hanukah to the Mad Russian, Grig Charny!
Thursday 10 November, 2005: I have noticed that there have been several visits to my site from the McGraw-Hill servers. If the much renowned Terry McGraw, CEO of the McGraw-Hill Publishing company, wants to purchase this domain name from me, I will gladly entertain an offer!
Saturday 5 November, 2005: Parents, you can wait too long to have that birds and the bees discussion with your children.
In the absence of knowledge they will just start filling in the blanks; as we found out the other day with our son Joseph. It seems that Joseph and some of his friends had a conversation about where babies come from; and areas in which they lacked certainty they just made some logical deductions. Joseph, having seen his mommy's caesarian scar, made the deduction that all babies are delivered in such a manner. He then assumed that he was in fact born this way as well. His friends, having seen some pictures of babies being born, deduced that babies were in fact delivered through a woman's anus. So Joseph and his friends concluded that there must being fact two ways for a baby to come into this world, the first being cut out of a mother's stomach and the other was she simply pooped them. This of course lead to the logical conclusion that both men and women pooped- ergo men and women could both have babies this way but men just choose not to. Joseph not wanting to demonstrate ignorance on this hypothesis readily accepted it in front of his friends but felt reassured that he was in fact was cut from his Mommy' tummy rather than defecated, because, well, quite frankly, that just seemed kind of distasteful. Alimentary my dear Watson!
Joseph, having a day or two to digest this playground philosophy session, decided to ask his mother why some babies were born by being cut out of their mommy's tummy and others were- well you know. So Jennifer informed him that babies were only cut from mommies when complication arose during delivery of the baby and that most babies, including him, had been born "the other way". Joseph was now mortified to learn that he in fact had been crapped from his mothers butt, rather than cut in the far more sanitary manner of caesarian.
Jennifer, still unaware of the playground medical conference, was perplexed by Josephs reaction; that is until he asked his follow up question- "If men and women both have butts, why do men choose not to have babies?" This is when the light bulb went off in Jen's head and she figured out that Joseph had concluded that babies were in fact carried to term as a very large blockage of the intestinal track and finally passed as a huge screaming turd when she could no longer keep him in! She of course broke into a fit of hysterical laughter. Later when she shared it with me, I nearly wet myself laughing and became very sophomoric in my humor and did a very dramatic reenactment of male child birth or a man taking a very large crap.
The morale of my story is two fold. First, you should try to be the first ones to tell your kids the facts of life. Secondly, the same process by which these kids concluded babies were in fact pooped into life is very similar to how many people in the world analyze politics- take a couple of pseudo facts, make a few assumptions, fill in the blanks with supposition and then run with it only to be surprised to learn later that politicians are actually turds.
Sunday, 23 October, 2005: I suppose I should provide an update on where we are now and we have been up to since I have come back from Afghanistan. While deployed I was selected by the Army's Career Field Designation Board to enter one of the Army's newest branches: the Telecommunications Systems Engineer Career Field. The Army finally realized that with warfare and communications becoming more and more net-centric, a branch of career officers that were trained in all areas of telecommunications engineering are needed to address architecture design and compatibility issues that the ever increasing dependence on technology is creating. The course is being taught at Fort Gordon, Georgia by a team of contractors and PhDs from several universities. The course load is grueling and as intellectually challenging as I have encountered to date. There are only 7 students in my class and we are all expending copious amounts of gray matter towards graduating; which by the way is far from a guarantee. Unlike many other Army schools where showing up is 80% of the battle, this year long course sees at least two dropouts per class. The classes are on the Advanced Graduate level and they have crammed a two year masters program into 30 weeks. I am praying I will graduate; as it is not a certainty by any stretch. The bright side is upon graduation is I will be one of the hottest commodities in the Army and Civilian markets.
The down side is we are stationed at Fort Gordon, on the outskirts of the Augusta, GA and on the South Carolina Border. Augusta is an economically depressed town, with all the tell tale signs of eminent economic collapse. Grocery stores and strip malls are failing at an alarming rate, and are depressing portends of things to come. My older son is attending a middle school challenged by economic depression, crime, and all the other ills of urban society. I swear I will never subject my children to this kind of environment again, even if I have to commute hours to prevent it. At least we will only be here a year.
I have found that keeping up with my Blog is more than a challenge, as I am consumed by hours worth of studying every night. There are so many things I want to comment on, but I find that they are already OBE (overcome by events) by the time I sit down to jot down my thoughts. I will continue to try as it is fun to see that people are still visiting this site- so I feel I owe you something for your patronage.
Friday, 23 SEP 2005: It is true that you can never really go back home. Although it was fun seeing folks I had not seen in 20 years-God that almost hurts to say- It was as poignant as it was amusing. Although, I got to see my first real girlfriend again, and although she looked marvelous, even three kids later, she clearly was not the same person I had kept in the treasure chest of memories. It was even more painful to realize that I was far more forgettable to her than she had been to me- she literally had to search the old hard drive of gray matter to recall who I even was. The old haunts I frequented as a young and dumb man were all but unrecognizable and time had been less kind to them than I suppose it has been to me.
It is nice to know that my high school years, were not my glory days. I do not spend my current days reveling in my former ones. In fact I still fantasize that my best accomplishments are yet to be had- or at least my dreams will materialize in the years to come. I am content to know that I am a far better man than the awkward over compensating teenager I left so far behind all those years ago. There are days however, when I adamantly refuse to show an ounce of maturity; as my wife will readily testify to.
It was fun to walk down memory lane if only to see how everyone else had faired in the years since venturing away from the long white halls. However, at the end of the day, I think it is better to leave the past where it belongs. The reality never matches the nostalgia colored by years of mellowed selective amnesia.
If this is your first time to my website, please feel free to look around.
Thursday 22 SEP 2005: My first update in a few months; my apologies to anyone who was looking for updates. I will step up the maintenance on my site from this point on.
Jennifer and I attended her 20 year reunion for the Lake Braddock Secondary School Class of 1985. She had a great time seeing old friends, making new ones and waxing nostalgic for those not in attendance. I promised to put the pictures we took on the net so here is the link: Older but not Necessarily Wiser . I never claimed to be a photographer so you will have to tolerate what I managed to produce.
If you have pictures of the great event please send them to me and I will add them to ours for all to see. You can send them to my Gmail account as it can receive nearly unlimited size in attachments: mailto:terry.mcgraw@gmail.com
5/5/2005 1110Z
Well folks this is going to be my last entry while deployed. I will probably change the format a bit and jot down random thoughts from time to time when I am in a more hospitable environment. I have enjoyed writing in this blog; I hope that you enjoyed reading it. I also hope that you continue to read it from time to time. Maybe I will have something thoughtful amongst all my inane drivel. God Willing I will be home by the 12th of May. I want to thank you for all your thoughts, prayers, well wishes and emails; they have been a light in a truly dark place. I love you all very much.
5/4/2005 0846Z
I finally have the green light to head for the door. I am flying out of Afghanistan on 8 May in the evening; assuming I can get a flight that is. From Afghanistan I head to Qatar, then I head to Bahrain and then I will head to Europe for a connecting flight to the U.S. and eventually home. Can you say Jet Lag?
4/27/2005 1423Z
The true measure of a man lies not only in where he stands today, but also from where he came and the direction in which he is headed.
4/25/2004 0430Z
Over the years I have been given advice on success, learned from those that were successful and adopted philosophies that have served me well in my career. I thought this would be a good venue to pass on what I have learned. Some may be cliché, but there is a reason for that as well. So for what it is worth, he are some very good principles for success on ones career:
- Every action has a reaction; whether it is good or bad is entirely up to you.
- If nobody else wants the job; you take it.
- No matter what that job is, give it your best.
- Attitude is everything; how many negative people did you ever enjoy working with or for?
- Do not worry about what you can get out of the assignment, worry about what you can put into it.
- Do not worry about how you will be rated in your job; if you give your best effort, your rating will take care of itself.
- Take care of your subordinates, because they will take care of you.
- First impressions are lasting ones and perception is reality until proven otherwise; always strive to make good ones.
- Finally remember, that faith is a powerful thing and God is greater than you are- try to keep your very short time here on earth in perspective.
4/18/2005 0700Z
We had another series of rocket attacks over the weekend. The Isamo-fascists are popping up like daisies now that the warm weather has arrived. We had a rocket attack on some of our local national fuelers sitting outside of one of our areas. One tanker went up and caused a daisy chain effect with the other sitting in line. Thank God, again no one was seriously injured.
To me one of the most fundamentally disturbing aspects of these conflicts is the propensity for the terrorists to slaughter their own people. They have killed each other by the thousands, yet somehow in a bizarre twist of logic, it is the fault of America for coming to the region to begin with. It is like a mass Stockholm syndrome, where the oppressed identify with their oppressors. Saddam and the Taliban were sociopathic regimes unbounded in their brutality, yet this is somehow preferable to American intervention.
Even more ironic is our entrance into Iraq on the presumption that Saddam had WMDs and now it looks like the penultimate terrorist state in the region, Iran, is on the brink of realizing nuclear weaponry. I still assert the Saudi Arabia is the premier terrorist state in this region, but that is for another blog.
It is important to note with all of this however, that had America not intervened in World War II, Europe would be speaking German, and the ovens would not be baking bread.
4/13/2005 0422Z
A special thank you to my wife for sending this to me. Just what I needed something to make me feel even more crappy about being here. I love her for the sentiment though. I hope to be home sometime soon. The link may take a minute or two to download.
4/10/2005 0656Z
Every soldier, sailor, airman and marine on Bagram Air Base not actively engaged in an assigned duty, stood shoulder to shoulder lining the half mile route from the hospital to the air field. There was a quiet, unsettled murmur as folks conversed waiting for the solemn event to begin. Like an unspoken command, the low rumble of the "Humvee" processional issued a silence over the crowd and brought all servicemen to the position of attention. Ever so slowly the vehicles moved their precious cargo to their final flight out of Afghanistan. As they drew nearer to each individual's position along the road, a hand salute was rendered, moving down the line in a slow, wave like motion. We would remain that way until the processional moved past.
I looked on in the stoic position of "Present Arms" and counted 1...2...3... until the 18th Humvee, turned carriage, passed by me. I gazed upon the American Flag draped and secured over the metal boxes where my comrades lay silently; ushered along to their flight home. They were riding feet first now, but I knew that they would be loaded on the aircraft head first, as a sign of respect to our lost friends; so that they should be known to all, as those who did not flee: their feet shall be the last things to leave the battlefield.
None of them awoke that morning and understood that this day was the day they would give their last full measure of devotion; that it would be the last sunrise they would see and yesterday was the last sunset. They did not know their loved ones would be devastated that day and that a child would cry for daddy that night, and that an answer would never come again. They did not know that day, that the their last breath would escape their lungs in a final cry that no one but each other would ever hear. They did not know the hour or the day that the Lord would call them home.
Watching as they past by me, I knew that they would have to make just one more flight and at the end of this one, many families would die a little right along side those that were landing at Andrews.
They gave the last full measure of devotion. They did not know that day was the day they would pay the price of your freedom. Their families did not know their world would come to a crashing end so that yours might go on normally. They died as they lived, on the wings of freedom; now their souls are carried home on the wings of God.
Maybe the Lord just needed a few more good soldiers.
4/1/2005 0551Z
My replacement arrived and I am coming home this week... Yes I know that is a lame April Fools, but I thought announcing my untimely demise would probably be in poor taste, and I have tempted fate for too often in my life as it is.
I have much to do in the last month I am in charge here as I want to leave this organization better than I found it. Although, it is a tradition in the Army to blame everything that is wrong on the person that held the job previously to you. So I am sure my name will be used to curse all that is not running perfectly 3 minutes after I leave. That said, I still want to reduce my target silhouette for the blame game. I want this to be a good cornerstone to future successes for my agency. I would also hope that I could bestow some credibility to my much maligned organization. I want the command structure here to know that we are a force multiplier and not an obstacle to success.
My wife and kids are enjoying a Spring Break in Myrtle Beach. I would like to be there of course, but I suppose the massive beach they call Afghanistan will have to suffice for the moment. Temperatures are beginning to climb rapidly. The temperature reaches the 130 mark in the summer so it should be quite fun here by May I imagine.
3/28/2005 0437Z
Once again I apologize for the gap in the blog; it just this damn war thing, never seems to give you any peace and quiet. The Taliban and Al Qeada are just damn inconsiderate if you ask me.
Today is a special day in my family. My beloved grandfather turns 92 years young. He is a pretty amazing fellow considering we thought he was suffering from the debilitating effects of age and senility, when it turns out he just had some fluid on the brain. A fantastic neurosurgeon properly diagnosed his true condition and drained the fluid, and within a few months my Grandfather took 20 years of his age. He went from being confined to a wheel chair to climbing the hill at Gettysburg this past summer. It is truly a modern miracle.
My relationship with my grandfather has changed over the years, much like most of our relationships as they mature and we mature with them. As a child I was intimidated by my grandfather, he was stern and unapproachable, or so it seemed. During his life, he had been a goal oriented, purpose driven man and a hard task master at work and home. He had little time for the frivolities of life; he was busy providing for his family and making his part of the government a well oiled machine. He was a man of little praise and slightly stoic to the unobserving eye. Yet underneath his stern exterior was a man who loved his family above all else and worked tirelessly to take care of them.
It of course served he and his family well, they were all well cared for and he weathered depression and recessions without the tragedies that befell many. His hard line was the way he tried to prepare his children for the unforgiving world that they would venture into. They may not have appreciated that tact at the time, but they are all wonderfully intelligent and successful people today, so it seems to have worked- at least in my eyes.
But my grandfather mellowed over the years, or maybe I just began to understand him as I grew older, nonetheless, he became far less a forbidding figure and one whom I enjoyed spending time with and helping when I could. I would look for excuses to go and see him and Grandma when they lived nearby. If there were tables to move, or a car to wash, or an errand to run, I would be there. I began to see they were just very neat people, with a world of experiences that I knew nothing about and a perspective on the world I had yet to appreciate. My Grandmother, whom I loved so very dearly, was a quick wit with a quick laugh to match and always a joy to be around. My Grandfather always had something to teach me if I just would stop, listen and observe.
When I applied for and was accepted for my first job, I nearly had to miss the first day of work, because I had not received my Social Security Card. When Grandpa heard about this, he showed up in his old Ford Grenada and took my happy ass down to the Social Security Administration and insisted that they produce the card for me- they did and I made it to work. (The job sucked by the way, but then, that is why the hire teenagers- they don't know any better)
My grandfather once took me to the Treasury Department to see how a citizen purchases Treasury Bills and how they accrued in value over time and what made them a secure investment in your own future and America's as well. My grandfather lead by example, he taught by deed not such much by word. He was an example of a man who took charge of his life and made no excuses for it. I have learned much from my grandfather.
His greatest legacy to me however, was the gift he gave me by raising my own father to be the wonderful man of integrity and dedication he is. He is directly responsible for everything I have become, humble though they be. The two of them have been a testimony to purpose driven, God filled life. I am truly thankful for all that they have given me.
I have been raised in an environment where pejoratives were forbidden; never uttered or whispered. Men were judged by the content of their character and not the color of their skin. People were people and all children of God. I am so blessed to not have had the baggage of racism placed around my neck. My grandfather and father taught me that life was hard, but my life was not nearly as hard as many others. What kind of man would I be if I contributed to the hardship of others? I may not be as good a parent as my own parents and grandparents, but that one lesson is an unbreakable rule in my own home today.
Grandpa, thank you for everything you have done for me in my life and have contributed to my family. Words cannot express my gratitude and love. Happy Birthday young man. I am sorry I cannot be there to celebrate it with you.
3/21/2005 0938Z
We had another rocket attack over the weekend. They managed to actually hit a B-hut, and vehicle and a shipping container. I am still fairly certain that they are using the bottle rocket method of trajectory guidance for their 70mm rockets due to the utter random impact pattern. I have to admit that I was quite amused at the faces of the newbies in country as they scrambled around at the sound of the sirens and explosions. Chicken Little impressions were abound. Those that had lived through a couple of these, casually went about getting accountability of troops and equipment, while most of the new folks huddled in bunkers fearing the worst. I believe when the Lord wants me, he will know where to find me.
I am into the last 60 days of my exile here to the Stone Age, and I admit I can hardly wait to get back home. I have a lot of making up to do; my wife and children are on the top of the list. They certainly have had the worse end of this trip, the stress is wearing out my poor wife. It probably doesn't help much to have a phone call with her cut off by indirect fire. Her imagination goes quickly into warp speed; bracing for the worst of all possible scenarios. My sons are bending a little under the weight of worry as well, but at least they have a very loving mother that puts their fears to rest while dutifully hiding her own. I am not sure how I go about returning the family to a sense of normalcy. Yet, that won't really be enough, because my normal has always been too caustic, too abrasive and too argumentative. I owe them better than the man that left them several months ago. I know I have changed here, I hope more for the good than the bad.
My last deployment to Haiti shook my faith in God and humanity and I came back despising the inability of man to escape his own inhumanity. In Haiti, the level of human misery would drown even the most optimistic of people; I still struggle with the memories of that place. I railed against a God that could allow such a place to exist. I am sure that many a survivor of World War II struggled with the same question. Simon Wiesenthal, when asked "where was God at Auschwitz?" replied simply "where was man?"
With this trip to Afghanistan however, I have found myself turning to faith in God rather than away. I also suppose that I have come to terms with my own mortality, whereas I have always accepted that death is the natural conclusion to life; I rarely spent time considering what ramification lay in the "end". I always figured I would return like the Prodigal Son and discuss the finer points of theology with my Maker when I got the chance to meet him face to face. I now feel a sense of urgency to just to make more of the life I have been given; however long or short that may be. I want to be a better person and I believe faith in God is helping me make more of the time I have here on earth. I want my life to mean more than instant gratification and animosity toward my fellow man.
Man has the capability to drop to the most depraved levels of evil, but we also have the beauty of creation making up every fiber of our being as well. As glorious as a sunrise over the mountains here in Bagram, so too can the beauty of God be found in the eyes of another person. The fire of creative imagination is the realization of God making man in his own image. We were not born with wings to fly, yet we have flown nonetheless. We do not have gills, but we have visited the bottom of the ocean. We cannot create a sun rise or sun set, but we can paint it with a passion that recalls their glory. We did not create mankind, but we mapped the human genome. There is a spark of God in all that we imagine and dare to create.
I see the stars and wonder at the shear magnitude of it and my relative insignificance in relation to it; and somehow I know there is more to the story than what I see on the page.
3/16/2005 0611Z
Last week it was in the 30s with a wintry mix of precipitation. This week, God flipped a switch and it is in the 70s. It went straight from Mid winter to early summer in about 3 days. This is a very strange place.
The 25th finally rolled out of town, thank God; they just don't make spoons big enough for some people. I am relieved they are gone; well their personnel are gone anyway, the equipment I will be shipping out of here for the next couple of months. I have roughly 60 days left in Afghanistan myself and I am trying to continue shipping equipment, write awards for my soldiers and plan for the turn over to the incoming Detachment. At least my days are filled. However, I am still waiting for a name to be ascribed to the billet I am currently filling. I have names for my soldiers replacements but still no word on the incoming Major. A am getting a warm feeling around my fourth point of contact, and I am hoping it does not turn into a sharp pain. I am keeping my fingers crossed.
The Army Times carried an article on how popular Blogs have become with soldiers. Some of these blogs have over 5 million hits already. I am barely at the 5000 mark. I suppose I need a publicity boost. What was quite surprising to me is how many of these soldier-essayists were getting paid to reprint or provide articles to other media venues. This of course causes me to pause and wonder how bad my blog is that no one has made me such an offer. I suppose I should rewrite those sections my wife has so carefully edited for me. I am an ungrateful turd for not taking the time to use her labor of love. This Sunday will be editing day.
3/8/2005 0905Z
I will probably not see the fruits of my labor, or at least I won't see them ripen. Standing up a new organization, in this austere environment, while simultaneously rotating 2 divisions is proving to be quite challenging. Especially when the only support you receive comes in the form of lip service. This has not exactly been the most rewarding point in my career, but my end-state will to be to leave an organization that is functioning well enough for a new commander to come in with a new team and just start the mission. At least my relationship with the incoming unit is off to a great start. One of my old friends from the 82nd Airborne Division is the incoming J4, and he is now a full bird colonel. He has also brought with him several officers from the 82nd with whom we both served, so it is a mini paratrooper reunion.
The experiences of a paratrooper create lasting bonds that seem to span the years. Maybe it is jumping from a high performance aircraft into the unknown and having to trust the man on your left and right implicitly to do the right thing, or else things will go horribly wrong. Or maybe it is the history and traditions left to us from our grandfathers that jumped into D-Day and Market Garden, that we feel a sense of duty to uphold these high standards. Whatever the reason, once a paratrooper you are always a paratrooper, and it is good to have some of my old brethren back on my left and right.
3/6/2005 1016Z
This entry goes into the way too cool category. Some aviator friends of mine agreed to take me and some of my folks up to the top of one of our mountains and let me re-enlist my soldier at 10,000 feet! I am not easily impressed and I have done a lot of things in my career that most people only dream of doing, however this will go down as one of the treasured events of my career. Think link below will take you to the photo gallery of pics we took today.
3/5/2005 0430Z
I was so moved by this piece I had to reprint it here. It is so true it is painful. I loved it and I hope you will as well. Author unknown.
WHAT MILITARY WIVES ARE MADE OF...
It was just another harried Wednesday afternoon trip to the commissary (grocery store on military bases). My husband was off teaching young men to fly. My daughters were going about their daily activities knowing I would return to them at the appointed time, bearing, among other things, their favorite fruit snacks, frozen pizza, and all the little extras that never had to be written down on a grocery list. My grocery list, by the way, was in my 16-month-old daughter's mouth, and I was lamenting the fact that the next four aisles of needed items would wait while extracting the last of my list from my daughter's mouth, when I nearly ran over an old man.
This man clearly had no appreciation for the fact that I had 45 minutes left to finish the grocery shopping, pick up my 4-year old from tumbling class, and get to school, where my 12-year-old and her carpool mates would be waiting.
I knew men didn't belong in a commissary, and this old guy was no exception.
He stood in front of the soap selection staring blankly, as if he'd never had to choose a bar of soap in his life. I was ready to bark an order at him when I realized there was a tear on his face.
Instantly, this grocery aisle roadblock transformed into a human..."Can I help you find something?" I asked. He hesitated, and then told me he was looking for soap.
"Any one in particular?" I continued.
"Well, I'm trying to find my wife's brand of soap." I started to loan him my cell phone to call her when he said, "She died a year ago, and I just want to smell her again."
Chills ran down my spine. I don't think the 22,000-pound Mother of all Bombs could have had the same impact. As tears welled up in my eyes, my half-eaten grocery list didn't seem so important. Neither did fruit snacks or frozen pizza.
I spent the remainder of my time in the commissary that day listening to a man tell the story of how important his wife was to him -- how she took care of their children while he served our country. A retired, decorated World War II pilot who flew missions to protect Americans still needed the protection of a woman who served him at home.
My life was forever changed that day. Every time my husband works too late or leaves before the crack of dawn, I try to remember the sense of importance I felt that day in the commissary.
Some times the monotony of laundry, housecleaning, grocery shopping, and taxi driving leaves military wives feeling empty -- the kind of emptiness that is rarely fulfilled when our husbands come home and don't want to or can't talk about work.
We need to be reminded, at times; of the important role we fill for our family and for our country. Over the years, I've talked a lot about military spouses...how special they are and the price they pay for freedom too. The funny thing is; most military spouses don't consider themselves different from other spouses. They do what they have to do, bound together not by blood or merely friendship, but with a shared spirit whose origin is in the very essence of what love truly is. Is there truly a difference? I think there is. You have to decide for yourself...
Other spouses get married and look forward to building equity in a home and putting down family roots. Military spouses get married and know they'll live in base housing or rent, and their roots must be short so they can be transplanted frequently.
Other spouses decorate a home with flair and personality that will last a lifetime. Military spouses decorate a home with flare tempered with the knowledge that no two base houses have the same size windows or same size rooms.
Curtains have to be flexible and multiple sets are a plus. Furniture must fit like puzzle pieces.
Other spouses have living rooms that are immaculate and seldom used. Military spouses have immaculate living room/dining room combos. The coffee table got a scratch or two moving from Germany, but it still looks pretty good.
Other spouses say goodbye to their spouse for a business trip and know they won't see them for a week. They are lonely, but can survive. Military spouses say good-bye to their deploying spouse and know they won't see them for months, or a year, or longer. They are lonely, but will survive.
Other spouses, when a washer hose blows off, call Maytag and then write a check out for having the hose reconnected. Military spouses have to cut the water off and fix it themselves.
Other spouses get used to saying "hello" to friends they see all the time.
Military spouses get used to saying "goodbye" to friends made the last two years.
Other spouses worry about whether their child will be class president next year. Military spouses worry about whether their child will be accepted in yet another school next year and whether that school will be the worst in the city...again.
Other spouses can count on spouse participation in special events...birthdays, anniversaries, concerts, football games, graduation, and even the birth of a child. Military spouses only count on each other; because they realize that the flag has to come first if freedom is to survive. It has to be that way.
Other spouses put up yellow ribbons when the troops are imperiled across the globe and take them down when the troops come home. Military spouses wear yellow ribbons around their hearts and they never go away.
Other spouses worry about being late for mom's Thanksgiving dinner. Military spouses worry about getting back from Japan in time for dad's funeral.
The television program showing an elderly lady putting a card down in front of a long, black wall that has names on it touches other spouses. The card simply says, "Happy Birthday, Sweetheart. You would have been sixty today." A military spouse is the lady with the card, and the wall is the Vietnam Memorial.
I would NEVER say military spouses are better than other spouses. But I will say there is a difference. I will say, without hesitation, that military spouses pay just as high a price for freedom as do their active duty husbands and wives.
Perhaps the price they pay is even higher. Dying in service to our country isn't near as hard as loving someone who has died in service to our country, and having to live without them.
God bless our military spouses for all they freely give.
3/4/2005 0530Z
I have a roommate in my B Hut; his name is Grigory Charny. He was the scout platoon leader for the Southeastern Command area, the most volatile and dangerous area left in Afghanistan. The day he moved into my hut, we exchanged greetings and pleasantries and then he threw his gear on the floor, crashed onto a bunk next to mine, and he fell fast asleep. I noticed right away that this young man was haggard, disheveled and smelled like month-old sweat. He slept for nearly three days straight, waking only to eat and run to the latrine. Eventually I came back to my hut to see him sitting in the room, awake, cleaned and attentive. We reintroduced ourselves and he apologized for being a bit rude, explaining that it was the first time he had been able to sleep uninterrupted in five months. I noticed that this man had a quick wit, an easy going disposition and a streak of steel in his backbone. He and I became fast friends. Over the next several weeks, we did like most soldiers do: exchange war stories. I learned right away, that all of mine paled in comparison to the six months he had just spent where the killing and dying are done. During his five months on the tip of the spear, 10 of the 22 men in his charge were catastrophically wounded. His platoon sergeant was hit by a 50-caliber sniper rifle that blew through his leg, disintegrated his pelvis and exited his buttocks, taking with it any hope of being able to run along beside his child learning to ride a bicycle. Two of his soldiers were hit in their vehicle by an Improvised Explosive Device and suffered severe burns over 85 percent of their bodies. Others, too, sustained various horrific injuries. Capt. Grigory Charny managed to keep them all alive, but none will ever be the same nor enjoy a normal life again. The hardest part for Grig was not seeing the death and destruction, but having to hold the hand of his soldiers as they writhed in excruciating agony.
I always fall silent during our talks; I usually can add nothing to the conversation.
Few of us will have to bear the experiences of Capt. Grigory Charny, and for that we should thank God every night.
We say we support our troops, what does that mean to you?
3/3/2005 1141Z
I have been in the military for nearly eighteen years and I am continually learning new things. For instance, a few days ago, I learned that the best dressing for a gunshot wound is a tampon; this is actually pretty intuitive when you stop to think about it. I have also learned that the best course of action during a mortar attack, in this region, is to just lie down where you are at; if a rocket or mortar hits near enough to you in the first round, chances are you are already wounded or dead. However, if the first volley misses you, the blast of these devices travels up and out, so the closer to the ground you are, the less likely you are to sustain shrapnel wounds. Furthermore, running soldiers are easier to spot and adjust fire on. I have discovered that if a man is willing to trade his life for yours, there is very little you can do about it, unless by a miracle you discover what he is about to do first and kill him before he gets the chance, and even then, if he has a bomb strapped to him, chances are you will both be taking the long dirt nap. I have learned that the equipment we the tax payers have put our hard earned money into, actually works; our survivability rates are the highest ever seen in combat, and I believe this is a direct reflection of the ingenious engineering of our gear.
I have also learned how fast boys turn into men and can still act like boys when the shooting stops.
2/26/2005 0442Z
A harsh truth is better than a good lie. It is hard to be the man to tell the emperor he has no clothes, but we should not be afraid to be the one that bears the burden of truth. I am suffering some backlash for stating an unpopular truth over a teleconference that involved several major commands. When I first started receiving the incoming rounds in retaliation, I initially felt guilty; now I am just thoroughly pissed off. The ones that should feel embarrassed are those whose apathy brought on the current situation, despite my repeated warnings that there was an iceberg off the starboard bow. So now, I am taking the heat and I am wrapping myself in righteous indignation. One of the greatest attributes demonstrated by military officers as a stereotype is integrity. It is the cornerstone of life as a leader in the Army. When did we start watering down the absolute necessity for candor and integrity?
I think it started with a competing Army value of mission accomplishment despite all obstacles. The Army will never say that the bridge is too far, the mountain is too high, or the beach is too exposed. We expend blood, sweat and tears to accomplish the mission we have been handed. One unintended casualty of this value, is candor. As the U.S. government has drawn the armed forces down to a quarter of what is was in the 80s we have taken on the role of world police and a global war on terrorism. Even stretched to thinnest of threads, the Army will never say we cannot accomplish the mission. Leaders of value find ways to say "I can", not "I can't". These are noble traits that I aspire to live up to everyday. Unfortunately, leaders not wanting to be categorized as an "I can't" person by their superiors, begin to distort or hide the truth rather than confronting the issue head on.
Instead of facing the ugly truth, acknowledging that the shortfall has happened on your watch and you are ardently working a resolution to the problem, I have seen a growing tendency to just gloss over systemic problems, ignore worrying trends and adopting hope as a course of action.
I am striving to be the leader that identifies the systemic problems, admits that it has appeared while I am at the helm, and I have a plan for its resolution. I believe a true leader can maintain his integrity, tell the emperor he has no clothes and then suggest a very stylish outfit for him to wear. So if I have to take a nuke round to the chest and alienate those that refuse to acknowledge that the titanic might actually sink if not steered correctly, then so be it. I am nothing without my integrity.
2/25/2005 0850Z
For those of you that have not heard, I will pin on the rank of Major as of 1 March. It is a big day for me and my family as I become a Field Grade Officer- actually the best part is the pay increase.
None of you will be able to see my pinning ceremony here, so I would like to tell you now what you would hear from me had you all been here:
"I thank God every day for the blessings in my life; for the accident of birth that allowed me to be an American, for allowing me the most wonderful parents a child could hope to have, and a beautiful wife that has truly been my better half and the mother of my two wonderful sons. I am truly a blessed man, if for no other reasons than these. I have also had the blessing of nearly 18 years of service in the United States Army. Life has not always been easy in the Army and not without sacrifice, but it has given me so much that all the sacrifice seems of little consequence. My time in the Army has allowed me to experience an environment full of the best our country has to offer- the men and women that fill the ranks of our military. You are truly are our countries greatest asset and I am honored to be called a member of your ranks.
Thank you and God continue to bless us all."
2/24/2005 0925Z
You know I am constantly driveling on about how I am doing here in this delightful little tourist haven, but I rarely get any feed back on how you are doing. So, How are you doing? How are things in your area of the world? What are your thoughts on my overly opinionated pontifications? I love to exchange ideas with others- so let's hear them. I like to ponder the perspectives of others and broaden my own horizons. Besides, I am so absorbed by my job here, I could use the excuse to think about something other than here.
2/23/2005 0946Z
Imagine if you will taking a wet piece of rayon/acrylic blended fabric, getting it soaking wet, and vigorously rubbing it back and forth across your nipples until they blister. Again, imagine taking a completely synthetic fabric, getting it soaking wet and rubbing it on the inside of your legs until they are raw and blistered. It sounds like fun doesn't it? Well these are just two of the wonderful benefits one receives from running over 6 miles. I know one rarely hears about these pleasantries when one first starts to become a running enthusiast, or as I like to call them- novice masochists. There are many other wonderful side effects derived from continuously pounding you feet against uneven, broken terrain, like stress fractures, aching back and throbbing knees. I have had to endure all of these things wonderful benefits in my 18 years of service. It is the Army's way of "Keeping me healthy". I try to remember that when I wake up sore from head to toe.
To add insult to injury the Army has "improved" the Army Physical Fitness Uniform, designing it to fit like a Hefty 3 ply garbage bag, with much the same texture. It is comprised of "new cutting edge fabric technology" to "wick" away sweat from ones body while exercising. In my experience it is extremely cold in the winter time and feels like you are wearing an air tight body condom in the summer. I was quite sure that the friction of the fabric against my skin would combust at some point during my run, fortunately I have only rug burns.
Well. at least I have calloused nipples to show for my effort, which may come in handy if I ever have the need to breast feed an alligator.
2/18/2005 0316Z
I apologize for the great gap in my blog, but I have been busier than a one legged man in an ass kicking contest. During my blog absence I have traveled around the Middle East on official business. It would be intellectually dishonest to sugar coat my impressions of the Middle East, it is simply an area full of hypocrites. The countries here espouse a moral high ground and virtuous life according to the Holy Quran, while, the seedy dark and sinister reality of these countries is just beneath the facade. One need only pay attention to see the very dark reality of life here. The people make a very public pretense of their high moral standards, but prostitution, drug abuse and slavery (mostly young girls and boys for prostitution) can be found in all areas. These vices are all abundant in America as well, but I don't remember any public official stating without equivocation that these problems do not occur in our society because of our strict moral code. Officials here routinely make that assertion, which is almost as laughable as the former Iraqi Information Officer stating that there were no American soldiers anywhere near Baghdad.
I have seen women covered in black Abayas get onto airplanes and then as soon as they taxi out of the airport, strip them off down to tight fitting pants and clingy half shirts and pat on some make up. The men who 15 minutes before might have had them publicly stoned sit by apathetically as their property become independent women in a blink of an eye. The pretense obviously for members of their own society alone. I have witnessed Arabic men in strict cultural attire change into western clothing and get completely shit faced in the hotel bars renting whores in pairs. I suppose Allah makes allowances for these occasions somewhere in the Holy Quran, much like there must be a clause in there proscribing the mutilation and wanton killing of innocent women and children; I just must have missed that portion in the abridged version.
I was visiting a local mall with some of my fellow citizens and while in a shop, the shop keeper, once he ascertained we were Americans, snapped his heels together and gave us a Heil Hitler. He felt completely comfortable in asserting that American and the Third Reich were both bent on world domination and that the Middle East refused to be dominated by our evil culture. This nearly became a very public international incident, however, I am learning restraint in my old age, and we laughed at him and his ignorance, which had the desired effect of making him furious to be dismissed so offhandedly.
It did illustrate, however, that America, unlike any other country in the world, has been completely vilified, despite our propensity to help those in need whenever they ask. In a region dominated by monarchs and dictators, where the name of Hitler is casually invoked in the same breath used to describe America, is their hope for democracy?
In the same mall, teenagers and young adults strut around in American inspired fashion with baggy jeans, NY Yankee baseball caps worn sideways. A few sporting dew rags that they have seen on hip hop videos, and speeding around town in low rider, overly accessorized Japanese 4 cylinder cars pulled from the Hollywood "Too Fast, Too Furious" movies.
Very recently we had a vehicle try to run through our front gate in Bagram. Our guards opened fire and the vehicle swerved and sped away. 30 minutes later the same vehicle showed up at the opposite gate of the compound and asked for medical treatment for gun shot wounds that they said were sustained from an ambush by bandits outside of our compound. Although mildly humorous at the time, it is a greater allegory of our real global position. We are hated and reviled, yet even the enemies who try to kill us know that we will not refuse assistance when we are asked to help.
The majority of people in Afghanistan and Iraq do appreciate what we have done for them. There was little real love for the Taliban and Sadaam. That said, I am not at all convinced that these same individuals are willing to fight and die for a better way of life. Just as many stood by as we fought and died to free them for oppression, so to would they stand by and let those same regimes return to power, if we should leave. Tens of thousands of Iraqis were brutalized and slaughtered by Sadaam, and since his depose, thousands more have died at the hands of maniacal insurgents. Where is the public outrage? Where are the crowds in the streets dragging out the parasites in their midst and stoning them in the street for the wanton killings of loved ones?
Even more disturbing is the lack of public outrage from Muslims around the world at the brutality being committed under the guise of their own religion? When was the last time, Islamic religious leaders demanded a Jihad against those that defile their own religion?
It seems quite possible that the Iraqis, given the opportunity to vote for their future will have traded the brutal dictatorship of Sadaam with that of an Islamic fundamentalist regime. Is this the democracy we were hoping to foster in the region?
I pray for a day, when the Middle East either runs out of oil, or we discover a viable alternative fuel source. Washing our hands of this region in its entirety would be a great step in the right direction.
1/30/2005 0735Z
Have you discovered your gift yet? That is to say, have you found that special something within yourself that you do well, better than most. Have you asked yourself what is my purpose in life, what am I here to do or learn? What is it that gives meaning to my life? If you have not taken the time to ask these questions and seek out the answers, then chances are you are just plodding along, taking one day at a time, with true happiness seemingly always just beyond your reach. You spend some days more up than others, but mostly your moods are greatly influenced by the events in your life, and not the other way around. It is an important task to discover ourselves and the gifts that are unique to us. What gift do you bring to the world around you that you have not fully capitalized on? The gift inside you may never make you rich and famous, although. some may. More likely, it is an untapped resource within you that will add something positive to the world around you and in turn positively influence your life as well.. When you discover your gift, you will find personal joy and satisfaction by sharing it with others.
Even the least among us, the idiot savants, those trapped within themselves with autism, or hindered by Downs Syndrome, often have wonderful, unique gifts that amaze the world around them and bring joy to those that care for them.
Are you a gifted speaker or writer, a charismatic motivator, a great organizer? Can you see a problem for all its sub components and readily see a solution? Or is your gift more subtle? Do you have the ability to listen to what someone is saying and actually hear what is being conveyed by that person; a truly rare gift indeed. Do you have the ability to put others at ease, can you relate to any type of person despite their idiosyncrasies, can you bridge the gap that separates most of us from those unfamiliar to us? Do you have the gift of understanding, of empathy and sympathy, can you ease someone's troubled heart with your own? These are all wonderful gifts that many of you possess and never realized that they are truly gifts, and ones that can be leveraged to realizing a better life for yourself. Are you able to lighten someone's heart simply by your ability for optimism even in the darkest of circumstances. Are you able to maintain calm when others become frenetic?
Discovering your gift is the first part of the equation; knowing how and when to use it is the second part. We all know people around us that are self absorbed, self centered and egocentric. The world revolves around them and their own pursuits of personal gratification. In my experience, they have summarily been unhappy people, no amount of success or personal acquisition is enough to fill the void in their personalities and lives. They may have discovered their gifts, but they have never examined how to use them. Hitler was an outstanding motivator, but his gift was not used in a positive manner. Martin Luther King Jr., had many of the same gifts, but his legacy is one of the betterment of mankind, not its desecration.
Some of us may find our gifts in the entrepreneurial spirit, others with physical abilities, or a voice that lifts our spirits, or with our mental acuity. There are all sorts of gifts and many of you will find that you have several and you should use them all, hone them and share them with others. The real personal joy and satisfaction with finding your gift comes not when you discover it within yourself, but when you use it for others. Success can be measured by many yard sticks, but for all of us the race for success comes to the same end. What good is your gift if no one ever knows you have it; starting with yourself.
If you fail to understand what God's plan for you is, then I suggest you make your own; make it positive and make it clear. Eventually you will find your days have more meaning and are more satisfying. Discover your gift, decide to how use it and execute your plan. Not only will you finally find yourself along the way, but you will also find that you are happy.
1/27/2005 1422Z
I am about halfway through my tour here and I am anxiously looking forward to its end. Not that things are unbearable, I am just tired, very tired. I also harbor no love for the winter time. Snow is a beautiful, wondrous thing when it can be viewed from inside; preferably next to a nice warm fire. When having to be in for extended time periods- not so much.
I will try and add something a little more insightful tomorrow when I have some more time. I just wanted to let everyone know that I am alive and well and taking one day at a time.
1/20/2005 1323Z
The preponderance of my life in the Army has been a positive experience. There are few days when I do not get to see the glory of a sunrise announcing the coming of new day, full of promise and potential. The Army has given me many blessings, some tangible others not. I received clothing, shelter, a few degrees and other lessons that one can never learn in a classroom. I have been given direction and motivation and I have had the best brought out of me in the worst of circumstances. I have learned what it is means to keep going when every fiber of your being is telling you to stop. The sum total of my experiences in the Army have added much to my growth as a man and a human being and for the most part they have been improvements.
I try to remember these things on days like today. I know we all have bad days. It is a common enough occurrence to feel like you are banging your head against a wall, however the knowledge that others have bad days as well, does little to mitigate the shitty one you are having. So it goes with today, which thank the Lord is almost over for me here. In fact this week, I actually had to remind myself that everyone else here is armed with live ammunition as well.
The reasons for my frustration are solely situational and completely job related, and predominantly classified; so I won't elaborate.
Don't you wish someone would just say "Have a Crappy Day" and you could say in return "No thanks, I am already having one"
Yet, tomorrow, I will once again be up before the sun crests the mountains and shines with its rich pink and purple hues. I will see mist swirl off the mountain peaks like the breath of God whispering a new day into being and I will have another day to count the blessings in my life.
1/17/2005 0600Z
Continuing on with my theme of small comforts, I thought I would share one of the most coveted luxuries known to any soldier that has been in the Army more than a year. I call it the Brown T-shirt Syndrome. A simple, yet beautiful, clean, brown T-shirt. I know those of you who have not been in the Army probably won't appreciate this, but those who have experienced a "field problem" are already smiling at this simple truth.
All true soldiers keep tucked away in in their gear, in a zip lock baggie or some facsimile thereof, one clean brown T-shirt. There it will stay as a quiet reserve of humanity. This clean brown T-shirt is kept until one is at their lowest ebb; when they are the dirtiest the have ever been, when they are so tired and so removed from the creature comforts of home that a shower seems like a foggy dream that you can't quite remember when you wake up.
When the soldier reaches this point and finds a lull in the battle, the Brown T-shirt is removed from its tabernacle and put on. When possible a quick once over the body with a baby wipe is highly advised, but not necessary to receive the benefit of this syndrome. As the soldier opens the zip-lock and removes the brown T-shirt, the gentle yet distinct smell of fabric softener wafts to the soldier's nostrils offering a brief respite from the stench of himself and his buddies. He then places this clean soft cloth over his head and he remembers what it is like to be clean and dry and home. A brief euphoria often results and the soldier's mood is lifted and his situation does not seem so bad; and an occasional smile might even grace the lips of the weary soldier.
The Brown T-shirt syndrome is of course, no substitute for sleep and a shower, but when you only have that which you carry on your back, it is on par with Motrin for its ability to ease discomfort.
Motrin will be tomorrow's commentary.
1/16/2005 1531Z
For those of you who have been following my daily drivel, I apologize but I have been without an internet connection. One of the backbone fiber optic cables running under the ocean off the coast of Bahrain was severed and our internet bandwidth dropped down to 10% of its former level. It will take some time to repair it, given its location. Yet, this annoyance is still a remarkable comment on the genius of the internet; it is functioning the way it was designed to, with numerous alternative routings. Although the through-put is slow, communication can still be transmitted. Of course my ramblings don't exactly qualify as high priority so my activity has been severely curtailed.
We have had a more exiting week than usual. We had a breech in our wire and we went out looking for the culprits, that reduced the boredom for a day. Also, the 25th Infantry Division finally figured out that they were going to go home soon and needed to do some planning. This of course is why my team is here, so we are getting busy-thank God. Activity is the cure for homesickness and the dog years are reduced to maybe cat years.
Today being Sunday, we did not have organized physical training, so I took the opportunity to do a little Egyptian physical training- meaning I stayed in my bunk as quiet and still as a mummy. "Sleeping in" here though, is not a factor of how long you remain asleep or how long it takes your body to recuperate; rather it is directly proportionate to the amount of urine your bladder can hold before you are forced to get up to keep it from exploding, forcing one, as previously mentioned, to traipse out into the cold. For me this translated to an additional 2 hours, which was luxury beyond measure. The feeling was compounded because my mother included in a Christmas box, some inhumanly soft pillow cases. They did not make Santa's first run, but his helpers managed to swing it on in with a few additional passes. They were well worth the wait however.
I am always amazed at what you can get used to when you have no alternative. I remember when my protective mask (gas mask for you civilians) inside its carrying case was the ideal field expedient pillow. Then the Army had to go and change it and instead of having the filters flat and tucked inside the mask itself, they placed a large canister on the outside, not exactly lending itself to this dual usage as sleep apparatus. Sure it is easier to change if you are actually being gassed, but the probability of a soldier sleeping once a day hovers near the 90% mark, whereas one might never get gassed! Having children opened my eyes to the novel idea of a baby pillow, small compact, infinitely more comfortable than a protective mask and can be tucked into the cargo pocket of any ruck sack, adding nearly no weight at all. A marvelous addition to any soldier packing list. Now numerous stores carry these "travel" pillows and they even carry versions in woodland or desert camouflage patterns.
1/10/2005 1225Z
Today is my two month hash mark on the calendar. The folks that have been in country a while tell me you hit a wall at this point, they have been proven correct; I am exhausted. 18 hour days 7 days a week is getting to be brutal. The up side is that they tell me once you punch through the wall and get your second wind it doesn't bother you as much. We shall see about that one, right now I think I could sleep for a week. Things could be worse however, I could have assumed room temperature like so many of my brethren. Every day above ground is a good one.
The temperature drops dramatically at night, so when I get up for physical training every morning the mercury is well below freezing, then it warms up to a balmy 50 degrees during the day. I am told that come February the temp will stay at or below the freezing mark until Spring. Afghanistan, much like the U.S. has a wide array of climates; some areas here have gotten 30" of snow and others to the south remain in the 50s. I hear through Fox News that the U.S. has been pummeled with severe weather recently. Location, location, location.
I have often wondered why nomadic groups of pre modern people chose to hang there hats in severe, inhospitable regions. I mean, what were the Eskimos thinking? "Nanuk, much too warm here, let's go further north!" Or the tribes of Qatar- "Ahmed, I see an area that is dry, barren, stiflingly hot, with no water or natural resources- Man, this is home sweet, home!"
Sam Kinison had it right, the cure to famine can be found in a few Greyhound buses. Load up the populace and ship them to an area that can grow food! "It is a f***** desert- nothing grows there!"
1/6/2005 1122Z
I have been suffering through lack of connectivity due to what I like to call "Moron Ex Machina". It seems that the office next to ours was suffering from poor connectivity, and the diagnosis was poor wiring. So the IT contractors put in a work order to have the wires replaced with new ones; enter "moron in the machine". The sharp tack sent to fix said wiring problem assessed the situation and discovered to his pleasant surprise two "additional" wires running along the same path, and low and behold they were good! So instead of having to spend the morning wasting his time actually replacing the old bad wires with new good wires that he was sent to fix- he opted to let fate smile on him and cut the "additional" wires and just put them into the old jack- Ta Da, problem solved.
Well, amazingly enough, those additional wires turned out not to be "additional"; well yes the were- they were live and "additionally" they were mine! So now we have lost most of the connectivity to our office space and I am left having to share the remaining line with all of my personnel. So I will be limited in sending emails and the like, not to mention updating this with any frequency until the "Moron" has another "Ex Machina" encore presentation, and we get up and running again.
In the immortal words of Curly "If at first you don't succeed, keep on suckin' till you do suck seed!"
1/3/2005 1350Z
I was working out at the gym this morning and it struck me at how young our fighting men and women really are. I sat between sets marveling at their youth, imagining them with their sweethearts at the prom not more than a year ago. Like their forefathers, the awesome weight of being freedom's last line of defense rests so heavy on their young shoulders. I am quite sure some of them only ran a razor across their faces so they wouldn't be teased by their compatriots.
That is not to say they are all young soldiers. Our citizen soldiers that have been dragged into our ranks are quite another story. I pass a specialist (E4) nearly everyday on the way to my office, and he must have an AARP card next to his military ID. If he is a day younger than 55 then I am an NBA star. The Colonel that runs the hospital here was another reservist pulled in from retirement; he is 70 years old! That is not an exaggeration either.
It would seem our little war on terror is now spanning at least three generations of soldiers. It is feasible to have a Grandfather, father and son all serving at the same time.
And I thought, all of you geriatrics went to Florida!
1/1/2005 1221Z
Happy New Year to one and all.
12/31/2004 0915Z
On this the eve of a New Year, let us resolve not to make new resolutions, but instead, to resolve the year that has come to a close. Let us drop from our shoulders the burdens that have weighed so heavily on our hearts and minds. We should let the past be the past; forget the worries of this last year, for the new year shall have troubles of its own. Drop your grudges, forgive those that have wronged you, seek forgiveness from those that you have wronged. Start this new year anew. The regrets of days gone by will not help you face the challenges that lay ahead, and while focusing on the past you may miss a future opportunity. If you must make a new resolution, make it to complete the old ones, or at least come to terms with those you failed to keep and let them go. Take a deep breath and forgive yourself for your own failings and those of the ones you love.
Let the blame and worry and self doubt from last year remain there and let the dead sleep.
Far too often we focus on what is ugly and what is wrong with the world; this new year let us find what is right with the world and take pleasure from its simple beauty. I pray that you all will find with this new year a new beginning; with renewed hope and appreciation for the precious gift that is your life.
12/30/2004 1150Z
My roommate brought home the 2005 Hooters calendar to brighten the hooch. I have to admit they are all very attractive young ladies, even if most of them had the help of a good surgeon and some silicon to perfect the final product. Yet is struck me that although they were certainly aesthetically pleasing, my idea of what is beauty had changed. There was a time where I would sit and gawk and say "what a Babe!"; and think of what having a woman like that would be like. ( ok, maybe I still do), but I now have a deeper understanding of what a "babe" really is.
A babe is a woman that will comfort you and make you soup when you are sick in bed.
A babe is a woman that will comfort you and make you soup when she is sick in bed.
A babe is a woman that will change dirty diapers and scrub the skid marks from your underwear.
A babe is a woman that will let you use the bathroom while she is in the shower and only occasionally throw water at you for doing it.
A babe is a woman that loves you despite the fact that your six pack has turned into a keg.
A babe is a woman that cares more about the size of your heart than the size of your---- wallet ( I know what you were thinking on that one!)
A babe is a woman that reminds you that you are not alone even when you feel abandoned.
A babe is a woman that helps pick up the pieces when your house of cards comes tumbling down, and your castles have all crumbled.
A babe is a woman that shares your hopes, your dreams and your failures with equal grace.
A babe is a woman that sacrificed her bikini body for stretch marks and baby fat, and only blames you when no one is around to hear her.
A babe is a woman that gave up her individuality to make a partnership with you.
A babe is a woman that you can grow old with.
I married a Babe.
As my Grandmother McGraw once said- "A marriage is what is left when the romance wears off"
12/29/2004 1040Z
Well the death toll for the Tsunami tragedy has now climbed well past 60,000. I don't know how one puts that into perspective. The number of those killed may be quantifiable, but the amount of human misery will be beyond measure. Past the immediate loss of family and loved ones, the environmental impact of that number of decomposing corpses added to the contamination of the water supply, will, I am sure, cause more death and suffering in the near term.
Again, "There but for the grace of God go I". Once again I am humbled by the fragility of life; reminded yet again of how little control we have over the hour and manner of our death. Cherish every moment, for you may not have a moment more.
12/28/2004 0600Z
Ok, now for an issue that really chaps my ass- Army toilet paper!
I do not know what vendor provides the armed forces toilet paper, but I would put a ten spot on a factory that also has a belt sander production line in the same facility. Instead of Mr. Whipple, I expect Bob Villa would be the perfect spokes person. "And after you finish removing that 100 year old varnish off that family heirloom, you can reuse the paper to buff the crap right out of your crack!"
The troops have dubbed it "John Wayne Paper"- It is ruff and tuff and doesn't take shit off of anybody!
If the local alternative is of similar grade, I understand their propensity to use their left hand. It does give new depth to the phrase "offering a helping hand"
Anybody got a nail clipper?!
12/27/2004 0642Z
I hope everyone had a wonderful Christmas. I want to thank you all for the well wishes and the extra attention you paid to my family this year. I love you for it.
The world overall had a difficult Christmas time this year, we saw the wanton killing of more innocents in Iraq and mother earth let off the largest recorded earthquake, with a death toll rising past 12,000 and counting. With death on that large a scale, it is hard to wrap our minds around the sheer volume of misery that those populations are going to have to endure. It is easier to think of it in the abstract because it is so very hard to personalize so great a loss.
Every year the Federal Government has a drive to raise money for charities. It uses leadership pressure to guilt federal workers and service members into giving a portion of their paychecks to one of thousands of registered charities. Albeit the means of conducting this drive are dubious, the result is a large amount of money raised annually for numerous charities. It is, in a round about way, the government giving back to the society it functions for.
Ok, so what do these two things have in common? I am getting there; hang on.
Because of the annual Combined Federal Campaign, I was forced to scrutinize many of the charities that I was being coerced into giving money to. I was shocked at how little of the money one gives, actually goes to those it is intended for. Most charities gobble up large percentages of your dollar to cover overhead and other less conspicuous expenditures. However, the one great exception to this rule, was the American Red Cross. .80 cents to every dollar goes to those it was intended to help. This is exponentially greater than most of the charities I looked into, most giving back only .10 cents on the dollar.
Okay, here is the juxtaposition. The Red Cross operates internationally and responds to all manner of man made and natural disasters, usually they are one of the first agencies on the scene. (The American Military often either proceeding and arriving hand in hand I might add). So now for my unpaid endorsement- If you feel compelled to help, might I humbly suggest the Red Cross. Second to the American Military, the Red Cross is the largest humanitarian assistance provider in the world.
Where there is human suffering- the Red Cross is there to ease the burden the best they can.
12/25/2004 1137Z
I am sitting here in anxious anticipation of my two sons waking and scurrying into the living room to see what Santa has left them. In my mind's eye, I picture their faces alight with smiles that only seem to adorn children; smiles that have not faded with the worry of the world. Smiles that skepticism and scorn have not eroded to the smirks or painful grins that begrudgingly cross my face from time to time.
I long to take the pictures of my wife with sleep in her eyes and her hair bedraggled and unkempt, because I had not afforded her the opportunity to clean up before I indelibly captured the early morning Christmas Joy with a digital camera. Despite the fact that my wife would be angry that I had done just that, and erase them when I wasn't looking.
I miss not being able to see my children find that one special toy that will survive the first 24 hour period of newness and not be relegated to the toy shelf with the other toys that did not make the favorites list.
Yet I see it all in my mind as if I was there; I see the presents under the tree, the lights twinkling before the morning light has dimmed their magic. I smell the coffee that my wife had prepped the night before so that it would be ready to help Santa's helpers overcome a late night of preparation. I feel the headache that I would have from lack of sleep, but I do not mind, because it was earned in a joyous effort. I see the wrapping paper strewn across the floor and I see my mother anxiously trying to pick it up as it is strewn about, not wanting a mess to be captured on film as well.
But this is all okay; for in my mind, there are no arguments, no short tempers, nothing that distracts from the pure joy of the moment. Christmas morning in my mind's eye is perfect, the way God intended it to be. It may not be real, but it is a magnificent time nonetheless and I will cherish it forever; as I cherish all the Christmases that have come before.
Merry Christmas and God Bless You.
12/24/2004 1252Z
I want to wish you all a very Merry Christmas. I wish you all love and a my prayers that you find real joy in this Christmas, and let peace be upon you and your families.
Remember the second greatest gift is giving of yourself. The greatest gift was God's gift to you and why we celebrate Christmas to begin with.
12/23/2004 1020Z
So I am sitting in the dining facility eating my breakfast and watching the news as I do every morning. (Ground Hog Day). The news is showing the horrific footage of the homicide bomber's destruction of the Mosul Dining Facility in Iraq. The reporter commented on how the dining facility was a target of opportunity because it had local nationals working in the facility, it had a large crowd of Americans grouped there on a regular basis (eating at meal times of course) and had little in the way of protection.
I was digesting this food for thought while I was digesting my previously cooked then frozen, and now warmed, partially reconstituted food, when a local national employed by our contractors strolled by cleaning up a bit. I then noticed that the dining facility was pretty crowded this morning, well ok it is crowded at every mealtime, and no one really scrutinizes the environment, because we are in our comfort zone...... Hey wait a minute, what's wrong with this picture?
Things that make you go hmmmm.
12/22/2005 1156Z
Finding the right person to spend the rest of your life with is not a matter of finding the perfect person for you, because perfect people don't exist. The best way to go about finding a life partner is to find the person whose faults you are willing to accept and live with. We all have faults, we all have our idiosyncrasies and character flaws- they are part and parcel to the human condition. The greatest mistake one can make in this endeavor is to assume that you can force a person to change their faults and idiosyncrasies by force of will, coercion or love. In fact when one begins to go down that path it inevitably leads to frustration, resentment and heartache and in the end, you are left with a marriage with a weak foundation born upon preconceived notions that will never come to fruition.
It took me a very long time to understand this quite simple of principles. This of course indicates one of my own flaws. "Stupid is as stupid does ma'am"- Forest Gump
My own wife grasped these principles very early on, which is a great thing for me, because my list of flaws rivals the length of the Iliad and the Odyssey. Yet she has loved me despite my most unlovable qualities.
More over she has not tried to change me, but with the recognition that she accepts me for all of these flaws, I have been encouraged to change some of them for myself; so that I may be more lovable to her and the world at large. To steal yet another corny movie line, she has made me want to be a better man. I recognized that my faults, whether she accepts them or not, still remain unacceptable for me to continue, and so I strive to reduce their burden on her. My list is long so the changes will be slow and some I may be too weak of will to change at all, but it is I that have chosen to try and change.
In this most Holy of seasons, maybe we can all choose to reduce the burden of our faults on those we love.
12/20/2004 1347Z
A year ago today I ruined Christmas; it seems I have done it again this year. I wonder how much more my family will have to suffer with me as their provider.
A year ago today, I learned I was not as strong as I thought I was. Today a year later, I hope I am stronger than I think.
12/18/2004 Saturday 0730Z
I have a new room mate in my B hut, and a very interesting fellow. He is a captain and the executive officer of the Headquarters company here. He had an interesting accent so I inquired as to where he was from and much to my surprise he is a Russian. I have to qualify that though, he was raised in the former Soviet Union, and his family fled the Soviet persecution of the Jews in the USSR. They immigrated to the United States and after he assimilated into American life, he went to college, got a degree, became a citizen and joined the Army. His sister is now a firefighter in Maryland and is completing her masters degree at Georgetown.
His story highlights some very interesting aspects of our country and why we will remain the world' greatest hope for mankind. To this day we represent opportunity and liberty, that which much of the world is still very much denied. Yet, our country is not a free ride. We see, far to often, how Americans born and raised in our country fail to reach for their own brass ring. They remain bitter and feel entitled to more, just by mere accident of birth. So how is it immigrants to our country so often succeed while those blessed with citizenship from birth fail to thrive? The answer I believe is largely a matter of motivation. The very people that have the tenacity to overcome their oppressors and escape to the dream that is America are those who also have the intestinal fortitude to succeed when the arrive here. They also have no delusions of entitlement, no "I am here therefore I should receive" mentality. They rely on what they have brought to the table and apply it to their betterment. We should all reflect on what it really means to make something from nothing; for very few among us have nothing. We have access to clean water, education, a functioning government and an economy that still has the ability to create new wealth.
Captain Gregory Charny, my new roommate, makes the greater analogy that the Soviet Union's own misguided desire to drive Jews from their midst hastened the USSR's demise by removing the middle and upper classes from Soviet society. The Jews in the Soviet Union, as well as most other countries for that matter, represented the most educated members of society; the doctors, educators, businessmen and scientist, all the very people that would have been the greatest assets to the Soviet Union were summarily removed from the society that so desperately needed them.
The analogy holds true for most of those that choose to immigrate to our nation. These people have drive, tenacity and courage, all the aspects of human nature that could be used to save or rebuild the countries they flee, but those aspects go unrewarded in all but our own nation. Remember that the next time you want to complain about immigration- ask yourself what lengths would you go to provide a better life for your family.
12/17/2004 Friday 0545Z
The USO came to town yesterday to dedicate a new facility to the late Pat Tillman, the former NFL player turned Army Ranger. It was a very touching gesture. The President of the USO brought with him the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs, Gen Myer, Robin Williams, John Elway representing the NFL and Leann Tweedan (swimsuit model turned ESPN sportscaster). Robin Williams of course stole the show, putting on an impromptu stand up routine for the crowd that gathered, and I do mean crowd every soldier, sailor, airman and marine not on a mission was packed into the clamshell tent to get a glimpse of the celebs. Robin of course was hysterical and wired feeding of the crowd. All in all it was a thoughtful gesture. I am especially impressed with Robin Williams as is this is his 3rd trip to Afghanistan alone, not to mention his trips to the rest of South West Asia.
It is important to remember the purpose of their visit- to honor a man who gave the last full measure of devotion, not for fame and not for fortune but because he believed that there are things in life worth dying for. It was commented yesterday and I think it bears repeating here. Pat Tillman is not a hero because he died for his country, he is a hero because he was willing to die for his country.
It is good every now and then, to examine our lives and reflect on what we would die for. I know I would gladly give my life for my family, but I truly believe their are ideas that are worth dying for as well. The idea that my children should inherit a world that offers all the opportunities I enjoyed, where they might express themselves without fear of reprisal and where they pray to God in whatever manner they choose- these are ideas worth dying for. I believe that you have the right to say horrible things about me, my country and my profession, you might even want to refer to soldiers as baby killers; but the difference between me and those individuals, is I am willing to die for their right to say those things in the first place.
I am certainly no hero; I have no delusions of grandeur, I simply believe that we all have been given a finite amount of time on earth to do something positive. I may only ever be a hero to my children, but then what better epitaph is there than that. I suppose you could sum up my life with 4 short words- Husband, Father, Soldier, Son- and I believe that would be a life well lived.
12/16/2004 Thursday 0503Z
There are parts of my life
That have taken their toll
All the Stresses and strains
Things beyond my control
Yet I find a quiet strength
and a steady firm resolve
that carries me through
and my problems are solved
Just within my reach
Ever there by my side
My lighthouse and rock
Ever steady in growing tides
I have no doubt
I know in heart and mind
It was a gift from God
To be my light and guide
The half that makes me whole
That gift that completes my life
Certainly my better half
She is my beautiful wife
12/15/2004 Wednesday 1044Z
Well, I managed to fracture my tibia on a run here. It seems my old butt wasn't up to a few 6.2 mile runs after all. I have to laugh, because I injured the same leg in Haiti, of course that one was a bit different circumstances, and the outcome could have been far worse than a fractured ankle it was. In fact I look back over the years and I have to be either the luckiest or unluckiest SOB I know, depending on whether or not you are a glass half full or half empty kind of person. For instance right after I was born my father dropped me down a flight of steps, I was fine but Dad threw out his back landing on the stairs. When I was five, I was hit in the head with a boomerang, splitting my head wide open. A few years later I had my head split open again with a rock thrown of a hill by my younger brother- well deserved I might add, for all the torment I put the kid through; I ended up ruining the carpet of the model home my parents were looking at, needless to say we did not move to that neighborhood. I have been run over by a drunk driver, I have been thrown off my motorcycle at highway speed, had a high altitude entanglement with a fellow jumper, suffered a concussion on another jump; I was hit by a stray bullet on a firing range (that was the Haiti injury I was referring to), last year I had a heart attack-mit coronary stent implant, and this year I snap a bone running.
I am trying to think if I have had any other near death experiences -- well, besides my wife wanting to kill me now and then (well deserved though it may be, she hasn't acted on the impulse as of yet)
There are two real downsides to having an injured leg while I am in a war zone, first it makes it very hard to run for cover if and when necessary, and secondly it is put a serious damper in my cardio rehab program. I was making some substantial gains in that area- I had completed the 6.2 miler in under 59 minutes. While that time is not exactly an Olympic qualifier, it is certainly not bad for a guy who was doing his best to assume room temperature last year.
I suppose that list, although it may be incomplete, is certainly enough to make me believe "there but for the grace of God go I"
--Quote for the day- "I went to the White House and met the President- again" Forest Gump
12/14/2004 Tuesday 0920Z
For some masochistic reason I have decided to teach myself the programming language C. If anyone out there has a good textbook on this, you could send it my way. By the way, I am certainly not above receiving packages, so if you feel the overwhelming compulsion to send something to Afghanistan I will happily accept it. The address is:
Seriously though, I am in no desperate need of anything, so don't take my previous remarks as a call to action. Email is just fine as well, understanding however, that my responses may be brief because Internet access is limited.
I didn't have enough good pics to make them as long as I wanted but its a start
12/13/2004 Monday 0930Z
I read a very interesting article in National Geographic about our war here in Afghanistan. Other than the author mislabeled the 25th Infantry Division as the 27th Infantry Division, the article was well written and researched. It provided a good overview of the Pashtun tribes occupying the harsh and rugged territory that borders Afghanistan and Pakistan. They actually do not recognize a border existing between them; their relationships are clan based and in-fighting is a way of life. The Pashtun's population is close to 25 million, but they say the only time the Pashtuns are united is when they are at war with a common enemy. They have a warrior code of ethics, called the Pashtunwali, that has remained unchanged for a millennia. They are much like the Klingons of the Star Trek genre, and they have outlived every foreign invader to occupy this region of the world. In fact every foreign entity that has tried to subjugate the Pashtun have eventually learned to adopt a live and let live attitude towards them. There alliances are as shifting as the desert sands and are always formed on the basis of pragmatic self propagation. Their warrior code of ethics include a sanctuary clause that stipulates whenever a guest comes to their home and requests sanctuary they will give it no questions asked, and while a guest in their home they will die defending you if need be. There is no exception to this policy, no mitigation, no stipulations, other than while a guest you will commit no crime. If a member of Al Qeada requests sanctuary it will be granted, if an American soldier requests sanctuary it will be granted. The Pashtun's only recognize one authority and that is, Pashtunwali, this warrior code that is rooted in Islam. No amount of money would cause a Pashtun to violate the code and its sanctuary clause. Death comes swiftly to the individual and his family that violates Pashtunwali. The sanctuary clause has often been used against them, the Taliban, Osama Bin Ladin and Al Qeada being the most recent examples; Arabs trained in the Wahabi schools of Saudi Arabia. Honor bound to never give up a guest, they wage war to protect those in their care.
Unchanged by time and industry the Pashtun are an anachronism, yet I cannot help but admire their tenacity and quiet strength. They would be a formidable enemy to anyone or any nation. They really seek nothing more than to be left alone, to sort out their own clan affairs in their bellicose way and protect their land. The Pashtun will most certainly be here long after we have gone.
12/11/2004 Saturday 0840Z
I was recently posed the question, "Can a parent love a child too much?" I figured I would include my response to the question in this blog, because I have yet to actually determine what the theme of my blog should be, and honestly, just letting my thoughts wander here is a catharsis of sorts. I know it is awfully presumptuous to think anyone other than me cares what my opinions and thoughts are, but hey- it is my time I'm killing. So-
How can anyone love a child too much? The sad fact of the matter is far too many parents love their children far too little. Biology does not make a parent. Any jerk and their brother can make a baby, but it takes a truly special person to be a parent. Children can be the source of our greatest joy and our greatest suffering. We rejoice when they succeed and we cry when they fail and fall. Life has no guarantees and sometimes we fail to see that the real joy, the real purpose of our lives, is found in the journey not the destination; for in the end we will all return to our maker and for most of us our only legacy will be with those we raised as our children. I have often said that my purpose in life, may not be that I changed man kind, but rather that I was a kind man. We are all human, we all fail, we all have shortcomings, but the one thing we can always give when we have nothing else to offer is our love, and who better to give that gift to than our children.
In my own experiences I have been far too selfish. I would die for my children, but I would not always share my time with them. It was easy for me to make excuses on why that is so; I am too tired, I have work to do, I want to watch this- give me a minute. How many minutes do we have? None of us are guaranteed tomorrow. Will my children remember me for the time I spent with them, engaged with them, or will they remember how busy a man I was and how hard I worked? Will my children know that I always have time for them, to listen to them, to offer advice, to be a rock in troubled seas, or will they feel that I was too busy to be bothered with their hopes and dreams and concerns? It bothers me that I can name every character on the sitcom Friends and the actors that played them, but I do not know who sits next to my child in school. I recognize these as failings, shortcomings and as inexcusable. I know one thing, that I will spend the rest of my life trying to correct the course I have been walking down as a father and as a husband. I never want to hear the phrase "Give me a minute, Daddy's busy" come off my lips again.
One thing I have learned from my own parents is that no matter how far you away you travel, or how long you have been apart, home is a place where you are always welcome, and even when their is nothing else to give, there is always an abundance of love and always enough time to share a thought, a dream or concern. I want nothing more than my children to learn this as well.
12/10/2004 Friday 1242Z
It has been a month ago that I left Fort Eustis. In some ways it feels like an eternity, and in others, it does not seem that long ago. I hope I will look back after six months and say gee that was quick.
Afghanistan has some natural resources that can be purchased here at great prices. The problem is I am not an expert in these areas. Gems, furs, rugs and DVDs can be purchased at a fraction of the cost to the American consumer. So if you are an expert in these areas and can give me some quality control tips, I will be happy to broker the deals for you. We have a Bazaar with the local tradesmen every Friday. One of my co-workers bought a full length mink coat for $85. It of course is not 5th Ave quality, but attractive nonetheless and hand made. I don't know anything about rugs, but people here have doubled their money buying rugs from the local merchants and reselling them at home. The gems available here in abundance are rubies, garnets, tiger eye, blue lapis (very pretty stones) and sapphires. The problem once again is knowing what the heck to look for, so I don't buy glass.
The only "no brainer" deals are that of DVDs, I bought the entire "Band of Brothers" HBO mini series for $17, and I was told I did not haggle enough, that I could have got them down to $15. In fact I purchased 15 movies altogether for $26. The best deals are buying entire TV series seasons. For instance any particular season of CSI goes for $15. If you have a favorite series you would like me to shop for let me know. They also sell 5 in 1 movie DVDs, where several movies are compressed onto a single dual layer DVD. I purchased one with "Alexander", "Troy", "Pirates of the Caribbean", "The Rundown", and "Walking Tall" for a whopping $3. I will remain totally silent on how said movies were produced and distributed, but my ignorance is bliss and U.S. Customs does not object to sending them in the mail, so long as they have the movie covers to go with the DVD. So if you have a movie or series you are itching to own, I will be happy to pick some up for you at a largely discounted brokerage fee. They probably won't make it by Christmas, but a good movie is timeless, or so Hollywood would have you believe.
12/8/2004 Wednesday 1700Z
Well the VP and Rummy blew through for the inauguration of the first democratically elected President in Afghanistan; Hamid Kharzi. They had breakfast in our dining facility for about 30 minutes and were whisked away to the official functions. I did not get to see them- just a few soldiers were picked from each unit to have chow with the VIPS. Though the commotion did break up the monotony a little.
In order to function here I have had to adopt a "cooperate and graduate" philosophy. Although I am actually assigned to the Military Surface Deployment and Distribution Command, that chain of command's nearest counterpart is in Bahrain, a six hour flight from here. The most interaction I get with them is roughly what I have with you my family and friends- email and an occasional phone call. On the surface this would appear to be a good thing by having several degrees of separation from me and the flag pole. In reality however, I am one captain with 4 soldiers in a war zone that already has a Major Command running everything according to their likes and dislikes, and no captain- no matter how brilliant he may be, is going to tell a 2 star general and his primary staff what they will and won't do in their area of operations. I should mention that this two star is a Combined Joint Task Force, so he commands not only his own division, but also all of the special forces, air force, army, marine, navy and coalition nations within Afghanistan.
I actually laugh now at the admonishment of my counterparts back at the Fort Eustis Operations Center when they said, "whatever you do, don't go native- you are there to represent our interests in the theater." Now, I have always been gifted in the art of persuasion, and I could argue alternative points of view with any level of leadership, but at the end of the day, the war fighter is the guy I am here to support and oh, by the way, I am playing in his sand box. Without the support of the command here, I get no living space, no working space, no communications, nada. Hence, the cooperate and graduate philosophy. I will keep both my chain of command and the theater command well apprised of each other's respective points of view, but at the end of the day, the man on the ground gets the support.
This tactic is having two very severe drawbacks, however. First, I am doing more physical training here, than I have since before my heart attack. Monday is a three mile Indian run, Tuesday is a 6.2 mile run around the perimeter, Thursday 50 minute workout, Friday, 3-4 mile run, Saturday alternates between sports and running. I have amazed myself by not falling out of any of the runs to this point, although, secretly it is killing me. I don't want to show weakness, so I gut it out, and go moan about my aches and pains in private. My shins and knees are killing me, not to mention we are 5000 feet above sea level and the air is pretty thin. So I will prove the axiom whatever does not kill you only makes you stronger, because one or the other is definitely going to happen!
The second drawback is my day starts at 0030Z and ends at about 1630-1700Z, yes that is a 17 hour day. It is true that there is nothing else to do but work anyway, so why not be at the office. I don't argue that point, but I am not at all opposed to the notion of sleep either. I suppose I will get used to it, they tell me everyone does, it just takes a while.
Now add my new PT regimen with all the walking, throw in some low level stress, and I have a new weight loss program that makes Adkins look like a chubby kid with an all you can eat pass to Baskin Robbins. I have lost 13 pound in three weeks here and counting. This of course may level out with all the cookies and candy you all have been sending me, so I hope you don't mind- I have been doling it out to the soldiers around me- share the wealth or calories as it were.
12/6/2004 Monday 1137Z
Timing is everything. For example, it is 300 meters from my hut to the latrine complex, it takes approximately 2 minutes to walk the circuitous gravel route to said facility. Now, before one can make a late evening latrine journey, one must first get out his rack, put on a uniform (it is below freezing, so even a quick jaunt requires layers), put on your weapon and boots, and stumble out into the cold to answer natures call; this takes an additional 1-2 minutes, for a total of 4 minutes to get from bunk to latrine. Now, given this time-distance factor, one must carefully judge how long one can hold bladder and bowels before one reaches critical mass. I had this journey's time-distance factors to a fairly reasonable prediction- that is until I received my mother's care package.
Now, my mother, who is by far the greatest mom one could hope to have, goes the distance to insure her deployed son, is as spoiled as one can be while deployed. She put together a "Thanksgiving" care package, with all of my favorite items from this dinner (those that would not spoil anyway) and sent it off, to me her treasured soldier. My mother, unintentionally I am sure, planted within this care package, her version of an IED (Improvised Explosive Device). She cleverly hid this item, in sugar coated, pecan stuffed dates, one of her son's weaknesses. The effect of these IEDs was to inadvertently compress my latrine time distance factors considerably and unpredictably. Instead of the heretofore 4 minutes required to ascertain the need to go and completion of the steps required to reach the facility; I have been faced with the same mission, requiring completion in under an approximate 30 seconds.
Like I said: Timing is everything. As any good jumpmaster will tell you, you have to have eyes on the drop zone when you have a jumper in the door, so I have had to make what one could only call a mad dash to make "time on target", from the deep rumble in my gut, waking me with Mayday! Mayday! until I rounded the last 50 feet to the latrine. To the casual observer, I am sure I resembled a monkey with a fire cracker in his ass.
Well, nothing like adding little excitement to break up the monotony!
12/5/2004 Sunday 1451Z
My father once gave me a piece of advice that I use to this day. He said "Son, there are usually two ways to use authority, you can have your rank on display or you can keep your rank in reserve." He went on to explain that those leaders who continually felt the need to demonstrate how much they were in charge, were invariably the ones that no one was inclined to follow, and conversely those that lead from the heart, those that knew what position they held and treated those under them and around them with dignity and respect, were those that men would die for if need be. I must admit that unfortunately I have met far too many of the former rather than the latter. I have always striven to be the latter, with my father's voice in the back of my head reminding me of what it means to be a true leader.
I have also noted that rank tends to magnify ones character flaws. With more authority they invariably have more chances to display those flaws. I suppose this holds true for all positions of authority. I am always dismayed when I see leaders that hold the belief that by virtue of their position that their opinions are the only ones with virtue. No one person can ever know enough; that is what staffs and committees are for, those that suffer no contrary opinions are susceptible to catastrophic consequences. Tragically in my business, that type of leader invariably means the loss of lives of those placed in their charge.
12/4/2004 Saturday 1320Z
Well, I made it back from my trip down to Kandahar, and surprise, it was more rocky barren landscapes! I have come to appreciate this barren beauty however, once you get past the dust that covers everything, and the lack of vegetation, it is not without appeal. I suppose it is much like the Arizona desert in its stark beauty. Kandahar has a few more trees than does Bagram that offers a little more relief from the vast rocky terrain, but stark still aptly applies. I must admit to missing my editor in chief, she proof reads far better than I do.
I have concluded that my tour here will be very much like the movie Ground Hog Day with Bill Murray. If you have not seen it I highly suggest it, those of you that have will appreciate the reference. The time here can definitely be counted in dog years, everyday seems like seven. I will apologize if this blog is devoid of my usual witty repartee but I have not felt all that witty these days. Much of where my mind's aimless wanderings arrive are rather somber places.
Let me tell you first hand from a deployed soldier's perspective; all of your wonderful and generous boxes of "stuff for the troops" are found here in abundance. I smile every time I see the cards and letters from all of the elementary schools, church groups, and social committees. All of our walls are adorned with your well wishes, pictures and prayers. I truly wish I could write back to each child that has taken the time to address a letter to "Dear Soldier", but that would take years. So I will use this forum to say thank you. If you read this, please pass on the love and gratitude of your soldiers, sailors, airmen and marines; we are getting your messages and we love you for them.
By the way, support for your troops should start at home, where we have left our loved ones. The families of your servicemen and women are the truly brave citizens making the sacrifice for our country. They have had to endure our absences and go through gut wrenching fright every time the news has a report on one of our fallen comrades. If you see the yellow ribbons displayed on a car, try to do something nice for them, for those are the shoulders we stand on while we are over here. If we should die, our troubles are over, but our families will have to cope with that devastation for the rest of their lives. Children will lose fathers and mothers, wives will lose husbands and parents their children. In this the most Holy of our Seasons, please go out of your way to thank the families of our service members. Their sacrifices are even more Herculean.
A special thanks to my dear Grandfather for a wonderful gift, that I have used everyday since leaving. It has helped alleviate much of the drudgery here.
11/30/2004 Tuesday
I am well into the Christmas Season, but for some strange reason, I just can't seem to get into the spirit of it. Well, that is not entirely true; there probably has not been a time in my life where I have been this divorced from the commercial aspects of what we have turned Christmas into. I think for the fist time, I might actually grasp what the birth of Christ really means to me and the world. Still, it won't be the same without my family.
In my mind I have related this tour of duty to Jesus' trip into the desert. It is truly a time for introspection and an examination of faith. The inescapable truth is that the mortality rate of our species is 100%; death is the natural conclusion to life. The alternatives are quite simple actually. The first is that this single life I have been given is finite and when I take my last breath- that is it, I will know no more and everything I hoped and dreamed, all the love in my heart, all the treasures of my life simply cease to be. That of course, is a bleak and depressing option. Truly life would appear rather pointless, would it not? The other option, is that my life on earth is simply an aspect of a life that extends beyond this physical world. It is the difference between the brain and the mind. The mind being far greater than the sum total of its parts, so too, my life is greater than the sum total of the short time I walk this earth. I prefer to believe that there is a greater journey that I am on. My body being only a vehicle for my soul while I am here and when this vehicle breaks and can no longer perform its function, my soul will find another vehicle. At least that is my fervent hope, because the alternative is far too depressing for me, especially while I am here.
All human cultures since the dawn of written history have believed in some form of afterlife. It seems we are pre-wired to contemplate that which comes after. There seems to be an innate desire to seek that which is unseen, to transcend the confines of this world.
"Wise men still seek him" I am not a wise man, I am not singularly gifted with a dazzling intellect, but even those with minds vastly superior to mine have embraced a belief in God. I think Einstein said it best when he said "God, does not play dice with the Universe"
So too, in my time in the desert I shall seek him, and with faith I will rely on a power greater than my own, so when I find myself in that darkest hour I will still have a light.<