DAY 32 / DEC 30

DAY 32 / DEC 30

Today was not a usual day. I spent most of last night preparing the
paperwork for our trip to LSA Anaconda. After numerous changes,
additions, deletions, swaps, and other stuff to throw a wrench in the
works, I finally had a relatively firm plan and was able to tell
people who was going and where they would be riding at 2200 last
night. No problem.
At 0500 I woke up and remained in bed, trying to get back to sleep,
knowing that I had a convoy to go on, and knowing that, at the present
time, convoys are the single most dangerous thing I could do here.
So, I didn't get back to sleep, but managed an uncomfortable snooze
until 0600 when the alarm went off and I dragged myself out of bed and
got dressed – skipped the shower so I could fit in with the locals
(just kidding).
At 0630 almost everyone was out, ready to get started on their trucks
– or maybe just milling around waiting to be told what to do.
Eventually we had everyone where they were supposed to go and had most
of the pre-convoy stuff settled.
At 0700 I gave the OPORD to the troops and went to the TOC to get the
trip ticket and clearance to go. It went remarkably smoothly and we
were out the gate right around when we thought we would be.
Keep in mind, this was my first time really in an Up-armored HUMVEE,
so I might go on and on. These humvees, unlike our other, soft
skinned humvees, have an internal communication system whereby I wear
a set of headphones and can hear the radio (not like music, but
communications between other trucks and other units) and what the
others in my truck are saying. To talk on the radio, all I have to do
is flick a little switch and viola, there I am. The intercom system
is 100x better than the old hand-mic and speaker system. I never had
to yell over the roar of the engine, or even raise my voice to be
heard by either the gunner or driver. It was peaceful and definitely
stress reducing. I would say that it let me concentrate more on the
road and what was going on there than my communications with everyone
else.
But, enough about the truck, which, I can't say too much about
because its considered SECRET and by telling you everything about it,
I would be helping the insurgents. So, moving on.
I quickly realized that my assumptions about the people here were
highly inaccurate and that my assumptions about the conditions were
just about right. First, the conditions. The roads are crappy and
have had little maintenance recently, if ever. There are pot holes
1-2 feet deep in the middle of the paved roads and there are no
sidewalks to speak of, even in the villages. There does seem to be
plenty of fertile land in which to grow stuff. And they seem to
actually be trying to grow stuff in some places, I can't tell what,
but it IS green. The buildings are in general in poor shape, either
from the numerous wars, or from neglect, or lack of fund – I don't
know which – but some building still look remarkably nice. Some are
multiple story houses with windows and ornate decoration and
construction. Some houses have walls build around them as well. The
majority of the buildings are run down and neglected. A lot of the
houses, even the run down, neglected ones, have a satellite dish on
them (I would assume for TV). It's actually somewhat surreal – they
have no indoor plumbing, no central electricity (they run off of
generators), no running water, but they have satellite TV. Strange.
Some of the land is being used as a burn pit for garbage – right in
the middle of a village area. There are quite a few cars here, even
in the suburban and rural areas. None of the cars would qualify as
"nice" in the US, but quite a few would qualify as "decent" or "good."
There are checkpoints every so often, manned mostly by Georgian Army
(the country not the state) Soldiers. There are also some Iraqi
military bases, which I would call pitiful in comparison to what we
have, but at least its something. There are animals everywhere, dogs,
donkeys, sheep, cows, birds (but, oddly, not a lot of cats). They are
around every corner, along every road, in every field. If you drive
around here, you are most likely going to hit something. All in all I
would classify the conditions around here as "not quite as bad as
third world countries."
Now, the people:
Let's start with the adults. They seem very serious, very
non-nonchalant. From what I saw, they are not lazy, sit by the road
and do nothing. I saw many working hard to rebuild houses and
buildings, I saw them herding sheep down the road, and manning
sidewalk awnings (ramshackle at best) selling cola and other stuff
like that. It is strictly against our policy to stop to talk to these
people or shop their stores or really have any interaction with them
at all (its someone else's job to do the interpersonal part), so I
can't say what kind of response we would get from doing any of that.
They did not seem angry or nervous with us there. They have grown
accustomed to us being here. In Iraq, the military (US and Iraqi and
Police) have the ultimate right of way on any road. When we come,
they move to the side – period. It doesn't matter if we have three
vehicles or thirty, they will move and wait for us to pass. We will
not stop for them, but we do give ample warning to get the hell out of
the way (not to say that we run people or their property over for
being slow, we DO make every effort – short of endangering ourselves –
to not hit them or their property). The roads are narrow and it is
clear why VBIEDs (vehicle borne IEDs) are the most popular attack
against us. At many points, we have no choice but to be virtually
door-to-door with the Iraqi cars. The women still wear the burkhas
that is not much more than a black robe that covers the head and face.
The men wear normal looking, if somewhat dated, clothes – its like
being back in the eighties, leather jackets are prominent.
Now the children: They actually bring a sense of hope to the
country. They clearly are not being taught to fear us or hate us.
They seem to like us. When they see a convoy coming down the road
they will run to the edge of the road and give the thumbs up sign, or
wave. Most of them do – probably about 75% do something when we go
by, wave or give the thumbs-up. Even from cars that we made get out
of the way as we pass by. I gave instructions for my troops to wave
back if they can – hey, I have to do my part to "win the hearts and
minds" of the people too. But, it's hard to act friendly when your
job requires you to race down the road at high speeds in a massive
armored truck carrying five trained Soldiers that each carry over 150
rounds of ammunition and are somewhat on edge. The waves I give feel
half-hearted, like I'm torn between my compassion for the children and
my sense of peril just being here. I would like to shake their hands,
to give them high fives, to pat their heads and tell them to grow up
well, maybe to give them some candy, or a toy, or something – but I
know I can't and won't, its not safe and I can't risk my life (any
more than I already do) for the sake of being compassionate. That
reminds me; I don't remember seeing any toys in the hands of these
children, none at all. I've just reviewed the 253 pictures I took on
our hour and a half convoy and NONE of the children are playing with
toys. Some have sticks, but those are for herding the goats and
sheep. Hmm, no toys. Interesting. Anyway, back to what I was
saying. The kids: they smile a lot, the love to see us coming, they
wave and give the thumbs-up. They chase each other like our children,
and run hand in hand together. I have one picture showing a boy (about
nine) skipping down the road, one hand in the air, the other firmly in
(what I assume to be) his little brother's hand (about four). The
children here are, thankfully, just children.
The one thing that seems to unite the people here is soccer. On our
way back to the FOB, I counted no less than five soccer games going
on, each with about 25-50 adults and children playing. They have no
nets on their goals (which look like rusted pipe from somewhere), no
grass (they play in the dirt), but they still play, and seem to love
it. Maybe what we need isn't an Army here, but a soccer team, or
teams (just kidding).
But the enemy is still out there, and the people know it. Some of
the Iraqi Police and Soldiers wear ski masks to conceal their identity
at the checkpoints so that the insurgents can't identify them and hurt
their families. I have to give credit to those people that are
working as Soldiers and Police in Iraq, their jobs are much more
dangerous than ours. We sit in relative safety behind these walls.
We do our jobs and then sleep safely, no one will come to my CHU in
the night to kidnap and kill me. They can't touch my family when I'm
away at work. The enemy isn't my neighbor across the street, who
calls me "neighbor" one day and then shoots me in the back the next.
For me, the enemy is "out there," on the other side of the wall –
sure, sometimes he lobs a few mortars at me, but he's a lousy shot.
For their Army and Police, the enemy is unknown, but it is definitely
not "out there," because for them, "out there," is their backyard.
So, I respect the Iraqi Soldiers and Police for their sacrifice and
I'm glad they're trying to take their country back from the insurgents
and dictators.
So, I must hereby rescind my earlier comment that the people don't
care. They do care, they just need more to work with and a safe place
to work with it. If the insurgency could be wiped out and the people
were free to run their own country, they could do a good job and I
suspect they would.
Every moment outside the gate I felt the danger I was in. I felt it
inside me, the senses on edge, my heart beat a little faster, and
every time we passed something that might have been an IED or VBIED I
imagined what it would look like blowing up, or what it would sound
like. We need to stay on edge out there, because it IS dangerous. No
matter how many times we go here or there without incident, it only
takes one time of not paying attention to really fuck up your day.