We are in the process of pulling outta here, and my access to the internet will be spotty for the next couple of weeks. I will post when I can. Currently, the network is in flux because the incoming unit is configuring it to their needs, so it keeps going up and down. It's often difficult to even send an email.
**
It seems that my blog has been sniffed out by the comment spammers. I would delete them, but am restricted from accessing blogspot. My apologies for the spam.
A group of soldiers was to fly out of here this morning at 0030 (half hour after midnight). To be ready to fly then, they assembled at 1800, did roll call, did a little bit of processing, and loaded their bags. The bags are stacked on a thin metal pallet, then secured with a web of nylon straps, so they don’t come loose during the flight. The soldiers leave here on Air Force C130s, and the palletizing is one of the ways they do business.
Well, the 0030 plane didn’t come. It broke down. So the soldiers waited. Another plane was to arrive at 1000. It did, but some other group got on it. So they waited. Another one was due at 1500. It got diverted. So they waited. While they wait, they have to stay in the terminal, because a plane can drop in at a moment’s notice, I guess.
One lieutenant here, going home for leave, encountered the usual delay. He didn’t want to hang around the terminal, so counting on the planned next arrival, he took off for a little while. He thought he’d be back in plenty of time. Of course, a plane came in early, and left without him. So everyone just stays in the terminal.
I saw one of the stranded soldiers in the chow line, and he looked tired and unshaven. He doubtless got virtually no sleep last night. How well do you sleep in an airline terminal? And, because the bags were palletized, they weren’t allowed to get to them. No access to his shaving kit, or a clean t-shirt.
It's surprising he was allowed to go to the chow hall. Last time I was in the terminal, we were allowed to help ourselves to MREs and bottled water they had available. His next chance at a flight must be a ways off. Still, he was philosophical. He's going home, if he ever gets on a plane.
I think the reason that flights are so unpredictable is that soldier transport is, must be, the lowest priority on the Air Force’s list. I’m not sure what else the big transport planes are being used for now that is so urgent (got to get that shipment of MREs to Pakistan TODAY, it can’t wait until tomorrow, they’ll go bad), but the unpredictability, from a soldier’s view, is impressive.
We spent a few weeks last year in Ft. Polk, LA for training at the Joint Readiness Center. The training was pretty good, and some of it we actually used on our rotation. In an October post, I talked about the Observer/Controllers (OCs). I have been reflecting on that experience lately; one of the lead OCs was to come over here to see if what they taught us was what we needed.
I found the OCs to be kind of funny. Some of them were prima donnas. Their job is to “observe” and “control” our training event, and they tell us what we did wrong (per their playbook) and how to improve. Being the expert just naturally leads one to take on airs, I think.
Although the Army requires you to remove head gear in almost every case, the OCs kept their hats on in doors. I asked one why, and he said it was to set them apart, so we know who the OCs are. It would seem easy to tell us from them because we wore tan uniforms, they wore green. They had radios and cell phones, we were forbidden them. (Reason; must train like we fight, and there are no cell phones in Iraq. Wrong. It seems that every Iraqi has a cell phone, better than ones I’ve seen in the states, and there are some areas our radios don’t work but cell phones do. So we have them.) You could also tell the OCs because part of their uniform was a chair.
A stool, to be precise. One of the folding stools made from metal tubes. Two rectangles, hinged in the middle of the long leg, with a swath of fabric between one of the short ends and feet on the other. The type of stool favored in athletic pursuits such as fishing or camping. Folds up and packs small, and deploys with a flick of the wrist.
The OCs, expressing their originality, wore their chairs in various fashions. Some liked the over the shoulder look, and would stand and talk with their thumb hooked on the tube. Some hung it from their canteen, and some used a D-ring. Some wore it on the right side, for a quick slap, draw, flick, sit. Others liked to do a cross draw, reaching across the body. They’d sit on the low stool, elbows on knees, eavesdropping while pretending to be listening to the radio ear plug, and scowling.
I got to wondering about those chairs. A friend suggested that they were awarded upon graduation from OC school: “Upon your successful competition of the OC course, I now bestow upon you, this chair….”
Do they wax the stools? Oil the hinge? Did they have quick draw contests? Grab, open, sit; two seconds. I suppose the rookies and klutzes would get flustered and deploy the stool upside down, sit on the wrong spot and stick one of the little feet where the sun don’t shine, then fall over. All the other OCs would laugh at them; “Ha ha, you looked really stupid sitting on that stool.”
Probably some of the OCs let the habit bleed over into civilian life. “I’m ready to go shoe shopping with you dear, I’ve got my Leatherman and my chair.” His wife would ask “Are you going to wear that?” The OC could sit and clean his nails and scowl at passersby for hours, while his wife tries on shoes. Both would be happy. In church: “I see my favorite pew is occupied, good thing I’ve got my chair. Wonder where the wife will sit?”
The greeting in vogue right now is “How long you got left?” Soldiers see others in the chow hall, or the restroom, and that question always gets asked, and the answer is always served with a smile. I heard one soldier reply, “I’m a one-digit midget.”
The new guys, although they haven’t formally taken authority, are not shy about taking over. They’ve been painting over unit signs and vehicle numbers, rearranging offices, and generally taking charge. When we moved in a year ago, the outgoing guys wouldn’t let us do anything until after they moved completely out. Just one of the differences between Active and Guard units, I guess.
We get some feedback on what is supposed to happen, but are pretty much in the dark. We don’t know the time the plane will land or leave, or what happens after we leave, or really much of anything. I looked at pictures in the newspaper of our soldiers arriving in Washington, and learned more from studying those photos than I have been told.
I saw the soldiers get off the plane with no helmet, and no body armor. Which tells me we will turn that in somewhere along the line. On the flight over last year, the plane was uncomfortably overstuffed. No one wanted to or could wear hot, rigid body armor on a 15 flight, so we took it off. But, there was no where to put it. Overhead bins were all full. We just ended up with no leg room, and often the damn things sitting in our laps. So the idea that we can fly back without it is pretty welcome.
The crew was emptying our green plastic dumpsters into the garbage truck today, and one of the workers reached in, lifted out a clear bag of trash, and dumped out the contents. He reached down, picked up a CD jewel case, inspected it, and threw it back in. The crew then hooked the dumpster to the truck and hoisted it overhead, spilling it empty.
A KBR worker was watching me watch the garbage men, and he said “They’re supposed to check it.”
“Oh yeah” I said, “what for?”
“Hazardous materials, wood, things like that. Yesterday they found two live practice mortar rounds and a clip full of M16 bullets.”
Our replacements have arrived, and the FOB is teeming with soldiers. The chow hall is teeming, especially lunch, the PX is teeming, the gym and Rec centers, teeming. Probably can’t say the unit, but they are active duty and a well known unit. If a civilian can name 3 or 4 Army units, this would probably be one of them.
They have lots of fancy stuff, big flat screen monitors, etc. Shipped in a bunch of leather chairs for the conference room. Our cheesy Haji chairs are now out in a junk pile. And, they managed to grab a bunch of our equipment we were shipping home. This is an issue because our unit will not get any equipment to replace it, not until the war is over. All the production goes right here. And, the folks who were paid to maintain the equipment won't have anything to maintain, so you have to wonder about how long their jobs will last.
The new unit's CONEX containers have all been deposited in a big field near the tent city. As I walked back and forth to chow, I’d always see two soldiers sitting on a cot. Smoking, chatting, reading, listening to music, watching a DVD on a portable player, just seemed to be there, killing time, different soldiers each time. I asked them if they were on guard duty and they said yes, they were guarding the CONEXs. These are steel boxes, 6 ft by 6 ft by 4 ft, with high security padlocks on the door. They were guarding against the eventuality that someone might sneak in with a fork lift and steal a container.
We drove the empty streets of Kirkuk the night before and the night after the referendum. Kirkuk is probably the most ethnically mixed city in Iraq. It has Sunni and Shia Arabs, Kurds, Assyrians, Turkmen, and some Christians.
In this city, US soldiers are well received. People all over the city wave at us. If we stop we tend to get mobbed by children, although that is due a large part to us handing out candy and gifts like school supplies and soccer balls. After one stop, we drove away from a large group of children as they cheered for us.
After the election the streets were empty of cars and mostly deserted by people. We did see a group of guys hanging out, so we stopped and got out. The guys ranged in age from young boys to men in their 60s. They were playing backgammon and dominos. We mingled among the group, mostly composed of Kurds but not entirely. One soldier played dominos with the Iraqis. I walked into a small shop and saw boys playing Grand Theft Auto and a couple of other Play Station games. They brought us all Chai to drink, including the gunners who stayed on the vehicles to man the machine guns. The younger boys flocked around us like magpies, chattering “Mister Mister”, and “Give me”.
What struck me the most was that we easily mingled in. There was ABSOLUTELY no fear of us, even though of course we are bristling with weapons. They just accepted our presence with grace, good humor, hospitality and lots of pictures. I saw some women looking out of windows, or down from balconies above, and they smiled and waved.
Every time we stopped and got out, the citizens just took it in stride. It wouldn’t even cause a ripple of anxiety. I was watching the faces on the people when we got out, and no one looked nervous or upset. Nobody left the area.
I don’t know that the people of Kirkuk love us, but I can say with certainty that they accept us and don’t fear us.
The Air Force just sent 3,000 troops to do traditionally Army jobs, per the LA Times.
http://www.latimes.com/news/nationworld/nation/la-na-airforce11oct11,0,5242046.story?page=1&coll=la-home-headlines
Interesting article. It looks like the Airmen are going to be trained in some Army schools, and may be working for the Army. I saw some Airmen wearing the new Army uniform the other day, so I know that Airmen do fill roles that report to Army leaders.
The article talks about longer deployments for the AF, more than the usual 4 months. It also alludes to a bit of culture shock when the AF has to do Army business. The cited example is the forced march, which to the Airmen has little to do with being an intel pogue.
The Navy is doing customs inspections. Sailors inspected my gear when I went on leave, and I wondered why, and now I know. The Army is running out of bodies.
This presages a fight in congress. Each service battles over its budget and number of troops it can have. If Airmen are doing Army jobs, the question will arise, why not just reduce the AF and increase the Army? Something to watch.
Behold the lowly helmet. High on the body, low on the totem pole. Our version is just the recent expression of a soldier’s desire to protect the skull.
We wear our helmet whenever we leave a building, and we wear it when we drive, even in an SUV or civilian auto. If we lounge around the CHU or walk to the gym wearing our PT uniform, we wear the helmet. We wear it all the time, except when inside, or when doing PT. Inside a tent counts as inside, so we don’t wear our helmet there.
I have been wearing my helmet pretty much constantly for 16 months. During those months, it has been hot and very hot. Ever see an old straw hat or baseball cap that the wearer has heavily sweated in? Dark and stiff around the headband? Our old helmets had a leather headband, which got dark and stiff after not very long. When you were issued a new helmet, you’d always try to get a new sweatband, although sometimes you were stuck with the one sweated in by whomever wore the helmet before you got it.
We have a new version of helmet now. You can see the soldiers wearing it on TV and in pictures. The old one, made of Kevlar, resembles the German WWII helmet, and dips down over the ears sheltering your entire head. However, if you lay on your stomach and try to fire your rifle, the back of the helmet hits your back and tips down over your eyes, making it difficult to see, and shoot.
So, the new helmet is shorter and does not cover the back of your head as much, so you can lie prone and shoot. The down side is, it exposes the base of your skull. Unfortunately in this war, we don’t do a lot of lying on our bellies and shooting. The biggest risk is from IEDs, bombs lying on the ground, exploding upward. Covering the lower part of your skull might be useful from a ground explosion. We don’t get a choice of helmets; we wear the new style, regardless.
The new style has nice cloth-covered foam pads to hold on your head, much more comfortable that the old leather sweatband and mesh. The foam pads are black, and we get issued one set with the helmet. I have been sweating into those pads for 16 months, less about 3 cooler months. Lucky they’re black to begin with, or they'd look like the old leather sweatbands.
When I take off my helmet, I put whatever I’m carrying into it so I don’t forget it and leave it. Notebook, sunglasses, water bottle, whatever. I have to be careful with my sunglasses and be sure that the lenses don’t touch the pads, or they will get smeared with oil. I try not to think about those pads against my head.
In WWII movies the soldiers never fasten their chip straps, and they always swung loose, even in combat action. We always do. Look closely at pictures; you won’t find a American soldier with an unfastened chin strap.
We went on a knock and search today, accompanied by some Iraqi Police, and it struck me that many of the families whose homes we searched were happy to see us. Smiling, some laughing, didn’t appear to be irritated at all.
Almost every home has two floors, many have three, and a couple had four. The top floor is always the roof, but they use it to sleep on when it’s hot, also just as an outdoor room, much as American might use a deck or patio. We searched in body armor and although it was only in the low 90s, before long the soldiers were sweating under the armor. One soldier, taking a brief break, lit a cigarette and complained good-naturedly about the exercise “And I put on fresh uniform today.”
**
A soldier came in for some help today in getting some money he’s owed, related to a foot injury. Having my attention directed to his feet and thinking “Man, that’s a lotta foot to hurt” I asked, pointing “What are those, about size 13s?” Smiling, he replied “These are 13 and a halves, but in civilian shoes I wear a 16.”
This post is a bit long, and doesn’t talk about soldier life. I offer my view about how reporting of the war could be improved.
Much ado over the recent announcement that only one Iraqi battalion is up to snuff, when Congress thought it was three. I just don’t get this. Why is Congress so uninformed? There are frequent CODELs (Congressional Delegations) coming over here; what do they do here? It’s not like they’re busy golfing or vacationing. The main reason, I believe, is that they just don’t talk to soldiers when the come. I blogged about this in an earlier post about bigwigs visiting. If you only talk to Commanders, all you’ll get is the Command Message, and that begins at the top.
Likewise, the MSM gets lots of criticism for not reporting the war well. I guess one reason is editorial decisions not to print or show routine stuff; a new water project just doesn’t grab attention like a bomb does. But, you’d think a report about the lack of readiness of Iraqi battalions would be interesting. I suppose I’m assuming this hasn’t been reported, based on Congress’ surprise.
What I’m getting at is that the MSM isn’t sending reporters out, not in our area. Near as I can tell, they pretty much just huddle inside the Green Zone in Baghdad. We’ve seen a few here; some from home to report on hometown soldiers, some from Stars & Stripes, but nothing extended.
For whatever reasons, we don’t have many (any?) reporters hanging out with soldiers in our area. It’s easy enough to catch a spare seat on a patrol, or to a meeting with a local Sheik or to the military assistance team training the Iraqi Army. Hang around the regional embassy and observe state dept staffers. How about having a reporter live for three to six months here with us? A month or two? A few weeks?
MSM and CODELS ought to get out of the headquarters buildings and circulate among soldiers. It’s simple to ask the guys training Iraqis “What do you think of their readiness? What standards are they meeting?” I’ve asked that in the chow hall, and the recent assessment that surprised Congress was consistent with what the soldiers told me. Or, ask the soldiers if more troops would help, and if so, how? I’ve done that, and the answer often isn’t exactly what you hear from command.
Of course, the view from the dirt is limited in range, so the Joes have only a part of the truth. Embedded reporters did a great job reporting the initial attack. Embedding seems to be a thing of the past. Embedded reporters wouldn’t be at any greater risk than soldiers. Probably a bit less. I’d like to see reporters assigned to a FOB or large unit for an extended period.
Traffic in many places here is chaotic, and seems lawless. I have a picture of a small Japanese pickup truck bearing three Iraqi men and an overloaded bed full of green vegetables. The hood (engine cover) is missing, as is the front bumper, headlights, turn lights, parking lights, grill and pretty much everything in the front of the radiator. But, it is still on the road, which suggests that either traffic laws are minimal or they are not enforced. No doubt the police have plenty to do just to maintain security, much less worry about vehicle inspections.
So traffic is not orderly. Roads are adequate but not particularly wide, especially in town. When our large HMMWVs enter the picture, they don’t share the road well with the generally smaller Iraqi vehicles. And, we are road hogs. We won’t allow ourselves to get stuck in traffic, because that is a good way to become a target.
We often have to bully our way through the traffic. Some of the Iraqi drivers don’t notice us and don’t get out of the way. We don’t bump them, we don’t throw things, we don’t shoot, of course, to get their attention, we do what people everywhere do; we honk the horn. In most cases, all we do is wave or honk.
HMMWVs have a horn like the one on my motorcycle. Beeeeep beeep, beeeeeeeep, tinny little bleating sound that can easily be missed, especially if the Iraqi driver has the window up or is listening to the radio. Getting the up-armored HMMWVs is nice, and saves lives. It would also be nice if they’d put a real horn in the HMMWV. An air horn would be nice, or at least a really loud regular horn.
I have begun to see soldier modification to the HMMWVs. Example; I saw a couple of aimable lights mounted on a hood, to help with locating IEDs at night. Like a spotlight, but not operable from inside. Perhaps soldiers can start mounting air horns or loud car horns. Or maybe they can get the portable compressed air horns like you hear at sports events, or on boats.
I woke up around 0200 this morning and couldn’t return to sleep. Insomnia and I are old friends, so I just relaxed bed, waiting for morning, listening to the air conditioner. I moved into my CHU last December and turned on the unit and haven’t shut it off since. Last winter I needed the heat; this summer, the AC. And it provides a white noise to mask sounds from my neighbors, two of whom work from 1500 until 0300, then come in and watch movies.
I guess most of us are experiencing at least a low level on ongoing stress. When a CHU door slams, or you hear a similar sudden noise, you wince, wondering if it is a rocket attack. As I lay in bed this morning, the compressor in the AC unit suddenly engaged with a thump. My heart startled into high gear for a few moments, even though I knew quickly it was not a rocket attack. That bloom of adrenalin ended any hope I had to get back to sleep.
We mounted up today around breakfast time and drove to a village where we met with some locals, made plans for the referendum and walked around town in a dismounted patrol. School let out as we walked and kinds in blue and white uniforms swarmed around us.
We pulled out of our parking lot after receiving the mission and briefing, and headed for the gate. Our gunner was standing up in the hatch as we rolled along. We hit a rough patch of pavement, and some liquid splashed down inside. Apparently the gunner had spilled something.
The vehicle commander asked what he was drinking, and the gunner replied “A near beer.” About then the beer smell filled up the cab. I’m glad he didn’t spill it on me. I’d hate to be reeking of beer when meet with Muslims Iraqis.
We went through the gate, and stopped briefly to test fire the machine guns. The gunner fired several rounds into a dirt berm, and the spent shell casings and linkage tink tink tinked down through the hatch into the cab like metal rain. One of the casings landed in a puddle of near beer.
Later in town I was happy to drink sweet Chai tea with the hospitable Iraqis, as the caffeine helped offset my lack of sleep.
