Religion

This entry isn't nearly as exciting or humorous as previous ones, but here are some thoughts on religion.

Being in another country that at one time was dominated by religion and being in a region of the world where decisions are solely based off of religion makes you think about your own. Me being a Presbyterian, a denomination that encourages questions, I'm ok with it.

Occasionally I discuss religion with my Iraqi counterparts. Some of my counterparts are very religious, others no so much. We studied Islam a bit before we deployed, and I studied it a bit in some mideast studies classes in college, and as I learned from both, one of the five pillars is to pray five times a day. I am told the first prayer of the day (usually at sunrise) is the most important, as it is when your body is most pure and most receptive to God's word. I'd buy that, particularly given that Easter and the story of the Ressurection is right around the corner. I expected to counter hostility with discussing religion, and some instructors told us to stay away entirely from religion as a discussion issue, but the Iraqis seem to enjoy it. There are many similarities between Christianity and Islam, and Islam even uses many of the same prophets. Christians, Jews, Muslims, Bhuddists, Hindus-- Who has it right, or are we all praying to the same God? And if it's the same God, why are we killing each other in the name of the same?

I'll admit I have slacked off in my relationship. No excuses; I just allowed it to be overcome by other events. I was also a bit put off by organized religion, particularly in the wake of seeing the bad side of it (sectarian violence, manipulation, dogmatic brainwashing, and an instilled culture of fear and opporession). But here you can't help but to think about it when the call to prayer wails from the mosque five times a day. I have no idea what they are saying, but it does force you to think about God.

My recent conclusions: I don't believe God intervenes to stop disasters or atrocities. I do think he gave us everything needed to obtain our intended purpose. It's up to us to figure out what we are here for. This is more of a Theory of Emergence, I suppose. Events and atrocities are either learning points or opportunity to do God's will. Most of the people I interact with (IA guys, some of which are either Shiite or Sunni Islam) believe more in a fate-based theory, which is frustrating at times when you are trying to convince them they should take action on a particular matter and they won't engage, citing 'the will of God.' Interesting, but still frustrating.

Islam for the most part is a peaceful religion and it means good things for good people. All we have to do is get the insurgents to follow it...

Hope you are well- Thanks for reading.

Ron

Five months, Soccer Fields and Powepoint

March equals five months in. It is also when people start getting stupid in Iraq. Call it Spring fever, call it the campaigning season, whatever. We have seen a bit of uptick in events this week, and we have had some late nights and some high adventure, but luckily the IA (Iraqi Army) is all over it.

Earlier this week during a clearance operation in the city, the IA got a tip there was a bad guy with an especially bad kind of IED (improvised explosive device) in the city. The Brigade Commander rolled out with his PSD (personal security detachment- more of a private militia used mostly for defense, but in this and other cases, offensive targeted raids) and proudly came back with it. The coalition was skeptical that it was this particular kind of IED, so I set about verifying that it was what it was. When I showed up, it was sitting in the Brigade Commander's front lawn, with a herd of jubilant IA soldiers dancing around it high five-ing each other, and a chain smoking Brigade Commander grinning from ear to ear. He was very happy, and it was good to get it (and they guy who had it) off the street, but I was more concerned for the safety and stability of said improvised (which can mean prone to exploding at inopportune times) device and recommended we call the EOD guys over to make sure it was safe. The Brigade Commander was initially resistant, as he wanted to use it as a war trophy and perhaps as a coaster in his office, but after some persuasion, he relented.

EOD showed up about an hour later, and was unable to verify if it was in fact one of the bad IEDs (like there is a good kind), and he recommended we take it over to the IA Division side of the compound where there was a big open space (the helipad and the soccer field). The Brigade Commander approved reluctantly. We go downhill from here.

I'm not sure if he was reluctant because the Division Commander commands ruthlessly and he was afraid of what might happen to him, or if he was afraid we would destroy his war trophy (which we intended to do in order to render it safe) or if he was concerned about Americans screwing around with a bomb on the Holy IA Soccer Field.

I should elaborate more about the importance of soccer in Iraq. Soccer is very, very important. Soccer balls are more important to kids than food. Woe be unto you if you show up at a humanitarian assistance drop (we occasionally visit schools, orphanages and womens shelters to distribute food, candy, school supplies, etc) in the city without soccer balls to pass out. The Division regularly holds soccer matches on the field, and the Division Commander's team always wins (imagine that).

At around midnight, we took the thing over to the middle of the field and EOD went to work poking it and looking at it. After a couple of hours trying several things, they decided to try something else, and the IED blew up (don't worry; no one was hurt, and professionals did it). The bang was louder than anyone expected, and after that, we figured surely the Division Commander was now awake.

And he was.... Five minutes later, as the EOD guys were gathering evidence and packing up, my phone started blowing up. It was my Brigade Commander, furious not that we had blown up his new end table, but furious that we did it on the Division Soccer Field. I grabbed an interpreter to get the whole story, and apparently the first person the Division Commander called to see why the Americans were setting off IEDs on his compound was the Brigade Commander who put the bomb there.

So here is a Brigade Commander who, without help from anyone (including Americans) arrested a bad person with a bad IED and secured part of the city, and the Division Commander yells at him for blowing a hole in his soccer field. The hole wasn't even that big. We spent the rest of the night trying to smooth it over with the IA. There are some things about this country I will never understand.

This story isn't as good as the one above, but what the heck. This week I also spent time helping the Brigade G3 (operations guy) make Powerpoint slides for a big briefing they had. It was interesting, as the software was in Arabic. Luckily, the symbols are the same on the buttons, but it was a challenge. The simplest things for us in terms of technology are incredibly complicated. A five minute slide took about an hour and a half. It was also a true metric that we have won the war: We have successfully corrupted their Army with Powerpoint.

Sorry for the length. Hope you are well and thanks for reading.
Ron

March

I always hold a bit of nostalgia for March. In 1989 I was an infantryman in the 101st Airborne Division at Fort Campbell. We went to the field for two weeks for a big external evaluation. Even though the evaluation was only for four days, the Battalion sent the entire unit to the field for the entire two weeks. We were the last company to cycle through the evaluation. The weather was miserable; lots of cold and rain, so motivation was pretty low by the time we finally got our turn.

The evaluation went well up until the last mission. We were to conduct a company-sized air assault (120 or so guys using helicopters) to an objective which was off post at a place called Land Between the Lakes. If memory serves me, it is a state park. We were to be inserted just after dark, then we were to walk to the objective and conduct a raid on a hilltop. Following the raid, we were to be picked up by helicopter and flown back to our barracks, about 50 or so miles away. Since it was a short mission, we decided to not take rucksacks (no cold or wet weather gear) , and we would go in very light.

As soon as we landed, the weather turned sour. The temperature crashed 20 or so degrees, and a light drizzle turned to a heavy, thick snow. By the time we had completed the raid at around 2300 or so, there was about four inches of snow on the ground, and it was still coming. We got word that our ride home was scrapped due to weather. Then we began to wait as higher tried to figure out what they were going to do with us, as nobody thought to do a ground evacuation plan. It continued to snow.

The solution was trucks, but the closest serviceable road was about seven miles away, so we walked along trails in the snow, nobody really saying anything. It was clear some guys found their breaking point that night, compounded by the two weeks of austere living and poor weather. I felt like we were abandoned, and that we were left on the field to fend for ourselves. I was angry that no one thought what to do if the weather turned bad, and I was angry that no one saw this coming. They had already finished their evaluations, and were hanging out back at their warm dry houses. I was jealous.

But then all of the sudden, I realized that the emotions I was feeling weren’t really doing anything to improve my situation, so I stopped thinking those thoughts, and I just figured I’d keep going. I also thought of those who went before me, particularly those who served in places like Korea and Europe during World War II where it was REALLY cold and some never got warm, and their poor weather conditions were topped off with someone shooting at them. Compared to what they went through, this was nothing. Eventually I’d get home—I truly believed it, and this faith carried me over the hills and to the road.

We walked for about two hours and made it to the road where the trucks would link up with us. Most were pretty wet, so we were allowed to build small fires to try to warm up. Luckily at the last minute before throwing my ruck on the truck, I took my field jacket liner out and “woobied up.” Eventually the trucks came at around 3 in the morning; they were 2 ½ ton open bed trucks with no tarp on them, and we jammed 120 guys in them and filled the trucks to beyond capacity. By the time we got back to our barracks, we were popsickles. It was one of the more miserable experiences in my life, topped off with another miserable experience two days later, when I started Zero Day of Air Assault School, which was basically a haze fest in the leftover snow and the mud it created. Ten days later I finished the school.

Nineteen years later, I ran into my old Company XO, Lieutenant Colonel Chris Farley (back then he was a First Lieutenant) in a restaurant after class when I was at the Command and General Staff College where I was a student and he was an instructor. It’s a small Army. We relived the story over a beer, and talked about how much it sucked.

The experience taught me a lot about myself. I learned to push my limits, I learned that feeling sorry for yourself gets you nowhere, I learned I shouldn’t rely on someone else to come up with a backup plan, and I learned that even in misery there can be beauty—The air was almost a peaceful quiet, and the clouds rapidly dissipated to reveal a billion stars. The white snow contrasted with the black sky, and the moon cast big, wiry shadows through the leafless trees. If I hadn’t been cold, wet and tired, it would have been a very pretty sight.

Thanks for reading. Hope you are well.
Take care-
Ron

Stuff I learned this week

Sorry for the delay in posting. It was a busy week.

We have enjoyed some good momentum lately. The security situation continues to improve, and we are doing a lot of training and working with the staff. I learned this week there is no arabic word for momentum. When trying to explain something while using a translator, it is sort of like a mix of charades and the old game show "The $10,000 Pyramid" where you try to match an english word with an Arabic one. At times it can be a frustrating game. I try to avoid the charades part, but my Iraqi Brigade Commander is pretty good at it.

Captain Mowfak is one of the officers who works in the Brigade S3 shop. He pretty much runs the place. He is generous, and works harder than any other Iraqi. He could pull his weight on an American staff with no problem. This week his brother died. He was a Lieutenant Colonel in the Army under Saddam, but did not like him. I learned a lot about Iraqi funerals this week; amazing how similar the customs are (except you get buried almost immediately). I learned that death in Iraq is called "taking the road to Najaf," as in 'everyone takes the road to Najaf' imitating the march that Mohammed made as he moved to his death. There is a lot of drama associated with death and dying here. I think I have put CPT Mowfak's picture on here before, but here it is again. This guy is great, and I feel bad for his family.

I learned to be careful what you ask for. My big huge new MRAP trucks are pretty much worthless to me in terms of maneuvering in small towns, so I asked for some Humvees. I got them, but they didn't have any of the equipment needed to move (radios, weapons mounts, and a bunch of other stuff). We have been scrounging and upgrading all week, and it is a pain in the butt. I still don't have them ready yet, but we are close.

I was reminded this week how much dust storms suck. We got schwacked with one earlier this week. It was a mess, and I am still blowing black crud out of my nose. Makes me miss clean air a lot.

Lastly, I learned there are good, honest Iraqi people here. I also learned there are some very very bad Iraqi people too, and that not everyone is who they seem. Call it a bit of a loss of innocence, but it is what it is. The goal is for the good to outlast the bad. Insh'allah...

Hope you are well. Thanks for reading and take care.

Ron

A Pretty Good Article

http://www.nytimes.com/2009/03/07/world/middleeast/07iraq.html?_r=1

Steven Myers from the NYT came to Mahmudiya for a visit. His article captures the atmospherics about the area pretty well.

Enjoy.
Ron

Useful Idiots

Today I went to Baghdad to get some Iraqi Army Doctrine. My IA unit has been using stuff from 1987, which didn't work out so well for them in 1991 and 2003. I thought surely there is an organization that is responsible for creating and distributing new doctrine.



After a multiple day wild goose chase of phone calls and emails, I found it. I borrowed a PSD (personal security detachment) and rolled to the International Zone (formerly the Green Zone). I saw the new embassy (what you can see from behind 12-foot cement walls), the Crossed Sabers monument, and the Tomb of the Unknowns. After some effort, we figured out where to go. It was a nifty little building behind lots of cement walls and it was filled with a lot of people who didn't really do anything, guarded by lots of contracted Ugandan security guys who did a very good job in checking my ID card to make sure I was in the Army and had authorization to go to places like US bases (the uniform, Major rank, and pistol didn't seem to clue them in). They did have a nice coffee shop that was well staffed with people who drink coffee.





I worked my way to the Office of the Chief of Iraqi Training and Doctrine Command. There were 15 people who "worked" there. I only saw one person actually working, a Master Sergeant that was also a MTT but at a higher level whom I met during training at Fort Riley. Of note, there were two civilian guys employed in this office. One of them prided himself on his ability to wack a ball on a string attached to a paddle. He could do it 81 times without messing up. I saw two Lieutenant Colonels in the office; one played a vicious game of Hearts, and the other I never really saw do anything. I did walk away with 4 gigs of information (manuals and classes) which was very helpful, and what I came there for. But nobody in this office was responsible for writing them; all they did was allow me to access their internal drive.



It was a different experience. I'm pretty sure none of the people in the office had any actual interactions with Iraqis.



I hope to God I never work in a place like that. I came back, killed a bunch of email, then went and ate dinner and watched soccer with my Iraqi Brigade Commander.

Hope you are well. Take care.
Ron

Our new stoopid huge new trucks

So we got some new trucks.

It's called an MRAP Caiman. We had MRAP MAXXPROs. This monstrosity is to haul four guys around the battlefield. We go three of them. We didn't want them; we actually wanted smaller trucks. Our Iraqi counterparts use up-armored Humvees, and I figure if you are going to advise folks, you ought to look like them and use the same equipment they do.

This pig weighs 40,000 pounds and doesn't fit in most of the mulhallahs (towns and villages) around here. If I drive it down the street, I will destroy an entire electrical power grid. It almost doesn't fit through the gate of the Iraqi compound.

We got them for two reasons: First, America, under the guise of "we care sooooo much for our soldiers we are going to give them the BEST equipment out there!!!" In doing so, they gave us equipment that isn't practical-- what good am I in advising the Iraqis if I can't follow them on the mission? The "our troops deserve the best $$$ can buy" line has also afflicted the equipment we carry. On average, a guy's kit weighs around 50 pounds. Sure, technology has lightened the soldier's load, but all we did was add to it with personal armor that is so big you can't move in it. Forget jumping, forget getting anywhere quickly, and forget agility. Just stand there and get hit; you'll be ok because you are wearing 30 pounds of bullet-resistant plating...

Do we buy the best because we truly care, or do we do it out of guilt, in that one percent of the American population is defending the priviliges of the other 99%? (sorry, a bit of cynicism there)

Second, (a bit of more cynicism here-- it's one of those days) these things represent the worst in the military industrial complex. Not only do they sell you a spiffy new ride, but also they sell you a big fat maintenance package. You can't drive it until you sit through 40 hours of mandated training (even though it's just like the other big truck we just turned in and were licensed for). You aren't authorized to work on it; only the contracted maintenance is allowed to do that.

There is a place for these trucks, and they are nice and comfy. They even have a new car smell to them. They just don't belong on a MTT. So in response to this mandated fielding, we went and absconded with four slightly used up-armored Humvees. They need a little work, but at least we won't cut off all the power in Mahmudiya when we roll...

I suppose I should be thankful for having this stuff. Don't get me wrong; I am grateful. Thanks for paying your taxes.

Take care.

Ron