Chris' Deployment Journal

It’s Just a Hat…. Or Is It?

2011-06-21T10:12:00.002-06:00

Last Saturday night, me, Sally and several friends and family went to a Reds baseball game. Because it was my brother-in-law’s birthday and Father’s Day the next day, we decided to spring for some good seats. These ones allowed access to a sort of gourmet cafeteria area with stations filled with good food and a cash bar.

Upon entering this room, I immediately noticed a 35-or-so year old guy wearing a USMC boonie cap, one of the new ones in the digitized camo pattern.

As a vet (albeit one that was Army, not Marines), my immediate reaction was that I wanted to go over to the guy, introduce myself and ask him when/where he served. But I also wouldn’t want to interrupt someone at a game like this and tried to value the guy’s privacy, so I held off. [Note to self #1, he was wearing the cap indoors. This should have been my first tip off, even if he was dressed in civies.]

When the national anthem came on, I noticed he had taken the hat off, was at attention and had his hand over his heart, doing the ‘right thing’. 'Cool,' I thought.

As the game started and went through its progression of innings, I would spot the guy (actually the hat) and sort of battled internally about going up to him, or just minding my own business. I kept opting for the later.

At one point, I passed by the guy and noticed that he was somewhat slack-jawed and rubber-lipped, and just generally got a bad vibe from him. Now, I don’t care what anyone looks like (especially if they were a former Marine), but the military makes you pretty good at immediately sizing people up. Actually, it makes you very good at just not ignoring those feelings you get about someone not being quite ‘there’ or being sort of ‘out of it’ and immediately acting upon those feelings. Because while those feelings might not mean too much in the civilian world, they can mean life and death when you have to depend on someone’s actions in a combat zone. [Note to self #2: never again ignore it when you get the feeling that someone is a total ‘POS’.]

As the game wound down though, I found Sally and her sister at an outdoor bar, about mid-way up the stadium, looking down at the first base line. As we were chatting, I saw that Boonie Cap was sitting just below the bar and I mentioned that I should go up at chat with him.

Sally noted that they’d already been talking to him and that he was never in the Marines. I was sort of taken aback, because you generally just don’t see someone wearing Marines’ gear, especially modern stuff like the digitized boonie cap, unless they’d actually been a Marine. Further, he apparently said he’d never join the military these days because it was ‘anautomatic death sentence’ and then added something about how his wife doesn’t like him to drink anymore, or even leave the house.

Now, the Marines make a lot of boonie caps, and they give them out to a lot of Marines, both good ones and bad ones, hard-core recon guys all the way down to POG (‘Person Other than Grunt’ – rear echelon soldiers) finance guys. And Marines come and go out of the Corps, so those caps become surplus and anyone could buy one. But you just don’t… I just don’t… ever see anyone wearing something like that unless they were actually a Marine.
I immediately said to Sally, “He shouldn’t be wearing that cover.”

Seeing ‘that look’ in my eye, Sally immediately said, “Let it go Chris.”

Once again failing to heed Sally's good advice, I immediately walked over to the railing edge, leaned down to, and said to the guy, “Hey buddy, you really shouldn’t be wearing that hat.”

“What? Why not?” he replied.

“You weren’t a Marine, so you shouldn’t be wearing that hat.”

He was with four or five others and they immediately started to chime in. In the din, I could pick out his voice, saying things about how he’d wear whatever he liked.

I repeated sternly, “You weren’t a Marine, you shouldn’t wear that hat.”

His voice, which sounded a LOT like Bill Paxton’s character in Aliens, whiny with a touch of southern drawl, piped up, “Hey buddy, I’ll have you know that I bought this hat at a yard sale for 50 cents. 50 cents! They guy who had it didn’t even want it and he sold it to me for 50 CENTS!”

Now, here Rubber Lips had a point. The hat is surplus, just a piece of cloth with some grommets and other stuff stitched into it. Oh, and a USMC globe and anchor emblem on the front. That’s all. The guy who’d been issued it sold it at a yard sale, and now it was, in fact, Rubber Lips’ property, which he could wear or not.

At this point too, I believe Sally was pulling on my arm saying repeatedly, “Chris, let it GO.”

Now, anyone who knows me (and no one knows me better than Sally) knows I’m not really that great at letting things go. So – unwisely, I’ll admit – I continued to stay at the railing.
“I don’t give a [frig], you weren’t a Marine, and you shouldn’t be wearing that hat.”

Rubber Lips said, “Sir, were you a serviceman?” [Side note, he said ‘serviceman’. What is this 1942?]

“Yes, I was.”

“Well, I thank you for your service but you can’t come up here and tell me…” At this point, his voice was sort of lost amidst the additional shouts and comments of his friends, plus me repeating over and over again that he shouldn’t be wearing that [frigging] hat.

Sally finally pulled me away and back to the bar. She was, of course, disappointed and embarrassed, and gave me her worst, ‘What the [frig] where you DOING!?!?!’ look. It’s a good one by the way, as Sally is outstanding at these sort of looks (which are, most often, directed at me). It’s a very strong look, with laser beam eyes that won’t look away, until she gives you this very dismissive sort of ‘slow blink’ and then looks away in this state of near absolute disgust.

It would not be the last time she gave me this look that night.

I turned back to the bar, and started to take my spousal lashings from Sally. Suddenly Rubber Lips appeared, hat in hand.

“You know what,” he says, “I’ll give you my hat if I can just get my 50 cents back.”

“Great man,” I replied as I dug into my wallet. “Tell you what, I’ll double your money. Here’s a buck.”

Rubber Lips took the dollar, handed me the boonie hat, and walked away, as I added, “Thanks, you did the right thing!”

I folded up the hat, put it in my pocket, and started to think of ways to destroy the hat so that it would never end up sitting upon the dome of another Rubber Lips.

I felt good, like I’d righted some wrong in the world, however tiny and inconsequential it might have been in the grand scheme of things.

But, my good feeling was short-lived, as Rubber Lips soon returned.

“You know what, I changed my mind. I want the hat back. My wife gave me that hat.”

“You said you bought it at a yard sale.”

“No, my wife gave me that hat. I can’t go home without that hat. Here’s your dollar back.” He slapped my buck back on the bar.

“No sale,” I said. “The hat is mine. I bought it off you. All sales are final.”

Rubber Lips wasn’t budging. “My wife gave me that hat, my WIFE. I can’t go home without that hat. It was a gift. I want it back.”

“It was 50 cents! Why do you care? I’m not giving you the hat.”

This went on for a bit, with Sally occasionally chiming in, “CHRIS! Just give him back the HAT!”

Finally, Rubber Lips says, “Look, you can call my wife, her name is Tiffany. You can ask her about the hat.” He pulls out his Blackberry, dials a number, and hands me the phone. I look down, see that it’s ringing ‘Tiffany’ and waited.

A woman picked up, I said hello, introduced myself, and then started to tell her what’s going on. Just about the time that I finish up my tale, just as I’m about to ask her, ‘So, do you really care if I keep this hat or not?,’ Rubber Lips dives past Sally, grabs my shorts, and reaches for my pocket. I was still holding his phone, so could only spin my hips a bit and use my one free hand to try to block him, but he reached in with both hands, and yanked the hat out of my pocket.

My thought process here was something like: ‘[Frigging] bastard! MY hat. His phone – in my hand…’

My response was automatic.

It was inspired.

It was deliberate.

It was… really, really stupid.

I spun toward the field, and hucked Rubber Lips’ crappy Blackberry off the middle deck of ‘Great American Ballpark’, toward the field below. It’s a beautiful sight, you know, a little spinning Blackberry, momentarily sparkling under the stadium lights, as it speeds toward its doom, finally dropping below the railing toward the seats below…

Although somewhat elated (momentarily absolutely psyched, actually), I immediately was filled with regret; ‘Oh crap, there are people down there. I could have just hit someone with a spinning Blackberry doing about 25 mph.’

Rubber Lips’ lips were hung open. “You just threw ma phone!”

“Yep. Sure did. Buh-bye.”

He repeated, “You just threw ma phone!”

About this time, Sally surely said something like “CHRIS CHESAK, what did you just DO!?!?!”

My reply was wise, insightful, and illuminating, “I [friggin’] chucked his phone.”

“You threw ma phone!”

“Yep.”

About this time, a woman from security came up screaming, “All right, that’s it!!! You two stay right there, DON’T MOVE!!!” She then got on her radio and started to call a cop.

I nonchalantly leaned up against the bar and said, “Hey, I’m cool. I’m not going anywhere.”

Rubber Lips meanwhile had to fill his friends on what just happened, “He threw ma phone!” and then peppered me with a variety of disinformation;

“That’s a FOUR HUNDRED DOLLAR phone!”

“Yer gonna PAY for that, man! I'm gonna SUE you!”

“You hit a kid man, A KID! He’s down there, all wrapped up in bandages, all bleeding everywhere. How do you feel about yourself now?”

Meanwhile, a young patrolman showed up and started taking down everyone’s story. I told my story, identified myself as a vet, and was completely factual (to the best of my ability), polite, and respectful to the young officer, even if he did miss the point here (assuming I actually had one really): When I mentioned that Rubber Lips shouldn’t have been wearing the hat, the young cop said, “What’s the big deal about the hat? You’d wear a Reds hat, but you aren’t on the team are you?”

I said, “Actually officer, I wouldn’t wear a Reds hat [Because I’m a Red Sox fan.], but I see your point.” [In hindsight, I should have said, ‘Officer, how would you feel if you saw someone at a game like this wearing a Cincinnati PD hat? Or maybe an actual badge, just because it’s ‘cool’?].

When the officer mentioned the phone, I immediately offered to pay for it. I owned up. After all, I’d chucked this dude’s phone off the stadium. No blame, no lie, no excuse: it was ME that chucked his phone. I also mentioned, very honestly, that I was absolutely mortified at the fact that someone could have been hurt. [Luckily, this altercation came in the ninth inning of a 4-0 loss to the Blue Jays, so most fans had already shuffled on out of the stadium.]

At some point in all this, the patrolman went to talk to Rubber Lips, who – just for effect for sure – was wearing the frigging boonie hat (and did the whole time). Now, had this gone to an actual court, that hat would be mine. He sold it to me fare and square. He set a price, we agreed to terms, and had a financial transaction. That hat was mine.

But, somewhere in there, while I was being all cool and all, Rubber Lips burst out at me, “That’s a FOUR HUNDRED DOLLAR PHONE, man! I’ve got a wife and kids to go home to, two kids! You know what that’s LIKE!?!?!”

As his little tirade continued, I kept my cool, thinking about how yes, I have two kids too, and one was actually born the night I flew into Iraq and I didn’t get to know her until she was 11 months old, and all sorts of quippy, hip, chilling burns to hit this moron with. But, as my temperature again started to rise, and he droned on further, I blew up with a simple, yet effective, “Yeah, you ever been to IRAQ!?!?! You know what THAT’S LIKE?!?!?”

The patrolman kindly settled everyone back down, and I slipped back into cool mode.

Soon after, the patrolman introduced me to his boss, a police lieutenant in plainclothes, and HIS boss, who was presumably a captain then, also in plainclothes.

The lieutenant got both stories, checked them with both of us, and then told us what was going down. I never once looked at Rubber Lips, but just stayed focused on the LT, respectfully responding to his questions. Bottom line, he said I was wrong for chucking a phone off the stadium (duh) but that Rubber Lips was wrong for coming at me and grabbing me (hello, assault – not to mention theft of the hat that I had purchased) but that he would both let us off since we were both wrong.

He then instructed the young patrolman to go with Rubber Lips to go find his phone and see if it was ‘okay’ (yeah… no chance in hell).

With Rubber Lips gone, the LT (and the captain) sort of started to joke around about the phone’s condition. And then the LT sort of let it be known that they’d be showing Rubber Lips out of the stadium from down in the lower deck. We were then free to go.
So… we did.

And I have to think that – I have to hope that – at the least, Rubber Lips will think twice about ever wearing that hat again.

To my boys in the 116th (on the eve of their redeployment):

2010-11-17T08:21:00.001-07:00

- May the days pass quickly

- May the poo water never touch your boots (and certainly not crash over your gunners)

- May the wind be at your backs and the various and sundry smells be downwind

- May your Internet connections be strong and uninterrupted

- May your Kevlar, SAPI plates, and other armors be both thick and in all the right places at the right times

- May your care packages arrive often and each be a cornucopia of goodness

- May you have plenty of time to further memorize more Will Farrell movies

- May you find a way to have a beer here/there

- May your emails and letters from home always bear good news

- And may your deity of choice always be by your side.

Good luck and godspeed gents...

Items to send troops overseas

2009-12-02T13:42:00.005-07:00

Recently I've been asked by various people for ideas of just what items to send troops overseas. I thought I would pull these lists together and post them online. Hopefully someone gets some better ideas of just what to send troops, items that will actually boost their morale, instead of reminding them that people at home have no idea what they are going through...

First, contrary to most lists that come from Family Readiness Groups, old veteran's organizations, and some unknown REMF somewhere, DO NOT send jerky and DO NOT sent toiletries - unless you know for sure that the guys you are sending it to are on some platoon-sized patrol base on a hilltop in The 'Stan (and believe me, they probably aren't - and if they are, they aren't getting your package...).

Second, don't send junk. Don't send cheap stuff, especially stuff that has 'Discounted!' and 'Reduced for Quick Sale!' stickers on it. That makes guys feel like crap and makes them think that 1. You don't really care that much about them or what they are doing over there and 2. That you are just offloading old stuff on them. Definitely NOT a morale booster (the opposite really).

My specific comments below (from a list that a friend of mine got at their work - a sadly misguided list however):

Beef Jerky/Slim Jims – DON'T DO IT! We were gagging at the site of jerky by the second or third month.
Flavored Coffee/Creamers – Sure. Better still, send really good coffee. There are also some flavored coffees that come in self-contained, self-heating cans. Those are great if you can find them. Hot chocolate can come in handy for those few non-coffee drinkers over there too (I know, I was one of the few...).
Individual Powdered Drink Mixes [Propel, Crystal Light, Etc.] – Yeah, not so much. Generally plenty of this stuff around.
BBQ/Tabasco Sauce/Salt & Pepper – This is really a good idea, but send GOOD hot sauces, not Tabasco. Salt & Pepper though is a total NO GO. After all, why? Salt and Pepper (and Tabasco) comes in the MRE's.
Frank’s Hot Sauce/Spicy Mustard – Yes, but again: send GOOD stuff, like unique flavored hot or other flavored sauces (my guys from Idaho loved getting 'Some Dude's Fry Sauce' for example, or how about spicy Thai or a curry sauce - something to spice up their usual bland fare).
Individual Can Soups/Chili/Tuna – These won’t get eaten. If you are going to send something like this though, find the pouches of tuna (not cans) that are flavored.
Individual Can Fruit Snacks – Eh... Most of these guys won't eat 'em.
Crackers/Cheese Spread/Velveeta – Sure, why not.
Small Bags Peanuts/Sunflower Seeds – SEND LOTS OF SUNFLOWER SEEDS. Some guys are totally addicted to them, and, as always, feel free to get the flavored ones. And nuts are generally a good idea, as they are a great power food, always tasty, and are generally salted to replace electrolytes lost while sweating in the 120+ degree heat. But, as always, get the good stuff: salted, roasted or smoked almonds; toffee covered peanuts; pistachios, etc.
Gum/Breath Mints/Non-Melting & Individually Wrapped Candies – Eh, sure. Better still to send some really good stuff though: chocolate covered cashews or Little Debbie snack cakes. Guys are pretty much perpetually depressed so they like to eat good stuff. (Don't send anything chocolate in the summer months though... For obvious reasons.) You can send cheap candies for soldiers/Marines to hand out to kids, if you want, but I'd label it as such so that they don't think the cheap candies are supposed to be for them. Oh, and get heavier candies like Jolly Ranchers or Tootsie Rolls (rather than say Laffy Taffy or something lightweight), because these are easier to throw from trucks and go farther too - so that the kids don't run out into traffic.
Since mentioning gum, I have one other thought here: send CAFFINATED GUM like Jolt. Great stuff for guard duty, night mounted patrols, etc.
Granola/Power Snack Bars – Eh. Again, lots of these already around.
Cards/Dice/Checkers/Water Balloons/Etc. – NO. Water balloons? WTF? No cards, no dice. This isn't 1952. Guys play linked games of Blackhawk Down and HALO on their laptops. They don't play cards unless their eyes are aching from the 12-hour straight HALO marathon they just got done with. This one is a NO GO.
Pretzel Rods/Can Potato Chips – Eh. Again, better to send GOOD STUFF (peanut butter filled pretzel bites, spicy Pringles, other good chips that are flavored, etc.). You have to pack them carefully of course...
A good idea is whey protein powders (don't get soy protein, get whey protein). Guys love this stuff. And often things like MetRx meal replacement packets might just be a life-saver when a guy just can't grab a real meal (convoy duty, stuck guarding a munitions cache all night, etc.).
Recent Magazines like Sports/Cars/Hunting/other, gently used OK – YES. Good one. Get trashy: hot rod, motorcycle, & truck magazines, Maxim, all that crap. Bodybuilding magazines are good too, as are general interest magazines like Men's Journal. But, DO NOT, I say again, DO NOT send ‘used’ magazines. That just makes guys mad and makes them feel like you are sending them your trash. Spend the $4 on a new magazine.
DVDs and Magazines [no Violence/no Pornography], gently used OK – As above, YES and NO. Do not send 'gently used'. Send NEW stuff. It's SUCH a buzz kill when you get someone's old DVD that they obviously don't want any more. Just because I'm stuck in the Sandbox, doesn't mean I want to actually watch 'Harry and the Henderson's'.... Send comedies, GOOD ONES!!!! Lots of Will Farrell movies, for example. (And, well, anything with a hot girl as the main character - hey, just being honest here.)
Another idea: send good computer games. Again, don’t go shopping in the $2 bin for crappy old games. That’s worse than sending nothing at all, frankly. Tactical, racing, or sims type games are usually pretty popular and sometimes more benign stuff like Monopoly or card games like Poker guys can get into as well.
Lip Balm/Skin Lotion/Band-Aids/Floss/Toothpicks/Sunscreen – Don't do it. Just don't. Most guys have access to mad PX's. And those that don't already have piles of care packages with this crap in it.
Toothpaste/Mouthwash/Eye-Drops/Tylenol/Aleve/Advil [pocket size preferred] – Ibid. See above.
One idea though for those serving at higher altitudes (like the mountains of Afghanistan): nasal spray, which helps keep soldier's noses from drying out (and bleeding) in the high, dry air. Better still: nasal gels like Ayr brand.
Local/favorite Teams Sports Items, NASCAR drivers, etc. – Yes! Good one! If you are sending to someone you know and know his/her favorites, then send posters for them to put on their crappy concrete and plywood walls.
Duct Tape/Bungee Cords – WTF? Why? Like they didn't bring enough, get enough supplied by the Army, or can't buy enough at the PX already?
AA Batteries – Good one. Better still, send AAA too.
Holiday Decorations – Oh, F--- NO. What, you want to remind them that you are at home for the holidays and they are stuck in a bunker? Don't do it. Send a nice handwritten card thanking them, kids art, and all that nice stuff, but DO NOT send holiday stuff. Geez no. This would be nearly as bad as sending a pamphlet on 'How to Commit Suicide in a Combat Zone' - which is all too easy...
My last note, building off the bullet point above, – send sincere thanks. A note, a picture from your kid, something you made, needlepoint, whatever - whatever you can do to truly convey your thanks and honest appreciation is always, always a good thing to send (especially if you DIDN'T just burden some poor SPC with another box of jerky and toiletries...)

Now, if you are serious about the 'Support the Troops' magnetic on your gas-guzzlin' SUV, and REALLY want to support a troop? Send them something like these tasty items:

Magpul magazine (the 'clip' that holds the bullets) for their M4 or M16: http://www.magpul.com/catalog/index.php?main_page=product_info&cPath=80_120&products_id=268
Sweet (and highly functional) tactical headlamps like: http://www.petzl.com/us/outdoor/headlamps/tactikka-series/tactikka
Highly functional black carabiners, good for 100's of uses, such as these: http://www.urbanhart.com/shopsite/militarytactical_blackcarabiners.html
Tactical gloves like: http://www.tactical-store.com/ts-t5-gl-59300.html
3-point slip for their M4 or M16, such as this one: http://www.slingsonly.com/m4_tactical_sling.shtml

If you send one of these truly necessary items, the 'troop' you are supporting will TRULY be jazzed and appreciative. And who knows, that piece of gear might really get him/her out of a bind some day...

The Last Statesman Article

2006-04-10T16:02:00.000-06:00

The Idaho Statesman asked me to write one more story about my experience in Iraq and it is below.

If you missed any, most are still posted (it looks like after a year, some are being deleted now) at:
http://www.idahostatesman.com/apps/pbcs.dll/article?AID=/99999999/NEWS01/41203005/1002&theme=IDAHOANS&template=theme
Under the title “Letters from Iraq”.

Collect ‘em all!

Best,
Chris
Boise, Idaho

Idaho soldier welcomes the comforts of homeAbout Christopher Chesak and the letters

Officer Candidate [note from Chris: FINALLY I’m in OCS!] Christopher Chesak, 36, of Boise joined the Idaho National Guard in August 2003. When he reported for boot camp in March 2004, he was the oldest recruit in a company of 150. Chesak works as an independent consultant in the outdoor industry.During the 116th's more than 10 months in Iraq, Chesak wrote a number of "Letters from Iraq" columns for The Idaho Statesman. Readers will remember the story of Chesak experiencing the birth of his first child, daughter Lillian, by telephone as soldiers moved from Kuwait into Iraq in December 2004. Or his story about one soldier who taught Iraqi children to read English by the light of a night-vision scope. [note from Chris: It was actually by the light of some chem. sticks.]About 2,000 Idaho soldiers served in northern Iraq with the 116th Brigade Combat Team. The 116th, based at Boise's Gowen Field, had about 4,000 soldiers from 20 states. The 116th was deployed for of 18 months, including training in Texas and Louisiana before leaving for the Persian Gulf.

Editor's note: Christopher Chesak wrote for The Idaho Statesman about the 116th Brigade Combat Team's experiences in Iraq. We asked him to reflect on life back home, several months after he and the 116th returned in November.

Returning to Boise from a yearlong deployment to Iraq, I quickly slipped back into the comforts, safety and familiarity of home. For days I was numb, almost unable to comprehend it all. Simply lying on my couch, drinking beer and watching football made me feel like some sort of royalty.
The once-mundane was now opulent and luxurious.

But while the physical transition was immediate, the mental and emotional transition took a little more effort.

The first thing I did to help my transition was something many other soldiers won't do: I told Sally, my wife, partner and best friend, all the stories that I couldn't tell her (or you) before.

I described to Sally the distant boom of insurgents' rockets launching, the sound of them flying overhead, and the concussive BOOM! when they hit the U.S. base across the highway from our own.

I explained about the sniper who took potshots at a comrade while I was nearby, talking to her on an Iraqi cell phone. As his squad mobilized to counter-snipe, they informed me of what was happening. I sought cover while still nonchalantly talking to her on the phone.

I expressed the gut-wrenching worry I felt for a friend wounded in the face and hand by a car bomb. I described to Sally what it felt like to clean his warm, sticky blood off the ammo boxes from his Humvee.

I also told my wife what charred body parts look like and what it's like to see a piece of meat lying in the street or wedged into the grill of your Humvee and realize that moments before it was a living, breathing Iraqi person.

We lived in that environment for a year, our senses constantly attuned to so many otherwise minor details and our mettle constantly steeled for whatever might happen next. After a year, it's difficult to let go of that hyper-aware, always-ready, expect-the-worst mind-set.

One day back home, I drove up 28th street and my mind wandered. Suddenly I noticed a pothole in the middle of my lane and instinctively gripped the wheel, readying to swerve the vehicle hard left to avoid the bomb that insurgents might have hidden inside. Luckily, before swerving into oncoming traffic, I remembered that I was now 10 time zones away from those insurgents.

Another night, I spotted a truck trespassing on a neighbor's property. Instead of calling the police, my first thought was to grab my machine gun and train my sights on them. Luckily (especially for the trespassers), I'd turned in that machine gun long ago.Still, and perhaps forever, when a car backfires, I will instinctively assume it's a gunshot and immediately scan for bad guys.

There are other physical reminders. I'm having continuing problems with my hip. I had a pre-cancerous blemish (caused by the intense Iraq sun) burned off. And my body just never quite adjusted to winter's chill this year. I guess that's to be expected since, physiologically, I had to get used to 120-degree days. It must be hard for your body to accept a 100-degree change within just a few months.

For me, those physical problems and mental reactions are slowly fading away. For those who experienced worse than I, the memories won't fade quite so quickly.

One friend from my unit confessed that he was often haunted by the image of an Iraqi man. The (presumably innocent) man was caught between my friend's Humvee and an exploding car bomb. The man was blown across the hood and windshield of the Humvee, giving my friend a firsthand and up-close view of the man's final moments.I hope that time will help him deal with that image, as it has with my own mental snapshots of the violence we witnessed. But dealing with it doesn't mean those images will ever be forgotten.

I actually do what I can to share those experiences, showing my photos (the non-graphic ones) to friends and family, our church (twice), Kiwanis, Rotarians, nurses, grammar and middle schools and whoever else will listen.

A lot of veterans prefer to never speak about these things, but I want all the people back here to know what we went through, what our lives where like, what we missed back home — and to never forget what amazing freedoms, comforts and safety we have in this country.

I know I will never forget that. Nor will I ever forget just how good my own couch feels. Or how a beer fresh out of my refrigerator tastes when I drink it in the confines of a peaceful nation, a quiet hometown and the serenity and protection of home.

From Bombs to Bean, The Last Blog Post!

2005-11-30T15:45:00.000-07:00

Our last days on Barbarian Base were spent packing up. We thought they'd be as quiet as the rest of the year.

Unfortunately, just as our replacements from the 101st Air Assault started to take over, insurgent activity jumped. We started getting a lot of IED's. (We think the insurgents were trying to send a little notice to the active duty guys, who are younger, more gung-ho, and perhaps – just perhaps – not quite as respectful of the locals than us older National Guard types.)

Then, on our second-to-last patrol, our guys from second squad got hit bit a VBIED (a car bomb).

2005-11-30T15:36:00.000-07:00

Here's a Spc Henson shot of what happened to the truck (which a few months earlier, while I was on leave, was also hit by another large IED , the blast from which actually picked up the rear end and swung the vehicle around a bit and caused some minor damage).

Now, this up-armored M1114 was hit right on the fender by a car bomb, a taxi that swerved at them from oncoming traffic and was filled supposedly with three 155mm, two 135mm, and one 80mm artillery shells. All that happened (to the truck) was three of the tires were blown out, some minor fender/engine damage, and the trunk was somehow blown open, along with two of the doors. After the blast, the truck actually drove out of the 'kill zone' for a few hundred meters. (You gotta love that 'run flat' system on the tires, which is nothing more than a solid rubber donut inside the air-inflated tire.) Some mechanic's time, about $10,000 worth of parts, and this truck was actually patrolling again within a week.

The series of images to follow are all Spc Hensen's.

2005-11-30T15:34:00.000-07:00

Here's a shot of the truck, number B36, while it's still out in sector, awaiting a tow back to the KRAB (note that a gunner is still manning the turret machine gun). These things might cost a quarter-million dollars per, but for the four out of five crew inside that walked away without a scratch, it was certainly money well spent.

Unfortunately the fifth guy, my buddy 'Scarface', was the original guy in the gun turret and was hit, but even he had only minor wounds, including a burned hand (from the blast) and cuts on his face. He may have been hit by the blast itself, by some small shrapnel, something blown around by the blast, or the 80+ pound .50 cal machine gun, which was blown off its mount (all for lack of a simple coder pin that probably costs $2) and into the vehicle.

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Some of 'Scarface's' cuts were near his tear duct though, so he was flown out of the KRAB on a medivac to a larger base, just in case. It turned out the duct will be okay but he'll have to wait and see if he has any problems with it tearing or not in the future.

2005-11-30T15:30:00.000-07:00

He rejoined us a few days later and is fine. (When most guys saw these past few photos, some thought that the photos shouldn't have even been taken – much less, I assume, posted on a blog. But I wanted to post them so that you can see the real affects of what's going on over there. Meanwhile many other guys who saw this photo only commented on how cute the stretcher bearer to the left rear was.)

Worst of all, a few innocent civilians were killed in the blast. The civilians didn't have our Interceptor body armor on and certainly weren't in a M1114 armored truck. One guy was wearing only a 'man dress' and riding a bike.

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Here you see some damage to a taxi further from the blast.

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Here's a shot of what's left of the car bomb.

2005-11-30T15:26:00.000-07:00

As another truck returned with the ammo and weapons taken off the damaged Humvee and we started unloading it, I noticed something sticky on the ammo cans. It was Scarface's blood.

Wilson and I got some baby wipes and started cleaning them off. This was definitely a 'reality check' for me. So much of the year had been so quiet and we were so near leaving, that I don't think I was completely mentally prepared for something like this (then again, how could you be, unless having been through it before). I can't imagine what it would have been like to actually lose someone…

2005-11-30T15:25:00.000-07:00

Here's a close up of vehicle B31, which was right behind B36. This is where some of the car bomb's shrapnel hit it, peeling back a thumb-sized piece of the armor but, obviously, coming nowhere near penetrating it.

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Here's B31 again. The small gouge in the armor is barely visible near the bottom center of the door.

You might be wondering what are the oil stains on the vehicle. Well, remember that poor guy on the bike? That's him.

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After all this, we had to keep on packing up. Scarface's squad members, shown here, had to pack all his stuff up for him as he recovered in a distant hospital.

He was constantly on all our minds for the next few days. Even if we knew he was fine, we still kept thinking about him.

2005-11-30T15:20:00.000-07:00

In between thoughts of Scarface, I started to get a little excited, finally starting to believe that we were actually leaving!

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Our last day, we started throwing all our remaining duffle bags in the LMTV (cargo truck),

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and then finally, blissfully, happily, drove the heck out of Barbarian Base for once and for all (or so we thought). Note that the two guys in the cargo truck in front of me are taking pictures of me taking pictures of them. It was a momentous moment and worthy of all the shots we could take.

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And then, at last, finally moved onto the KRAB.

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Our new home.

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Inside our new bachelor pad, the lads got settled.

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We unloaded the truck full of our duffle bags and then reloaded it with duffles from the 101st guys.

2005-11-30T15:06:00.000-07:00

While we thought we were done with Barbarian Base for good, we did later that night drop back in and say hello to some of the new guys in our bay. The rest of our company was on one, last, final raid, that we thankfully (somehow) missed out on. So we sat and watched Armed Forces Network TV for a few hours until their return, as they were our ride back to our new home at the KRAB.

2005-11-30T15:04:00.000-07:00

We also turned in most of our ammo (keeping just a magazine per guy, just in case),

2005-11-30T15:03:00.000-07:00

I said a bittersweet farewell to my SAW,

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and then I put her on the pile with all her brethren. Goodbye 'Sawz-All', good ole' number 111087. I knew ye well (but not too well, thankfully).

2005-11-30T15:00:00.001-07:00

On the KRAB, those of us who weren't helping the 101st learn the city (namely us lower enlisted guys) spent the next few days loafin',

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watching yet more movies on laptop computers,

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eating delicious, HOT, good KRAB food (like these lightly fried scallops that somehow never seemed to make it out to our patrol base… hmmm….),

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quaffing LOTS of ice cream,

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and expanding our minds through reading. Here Spc McFarland reads some titillating articles. Don't worry, there are certainly no photos of naked women in that magazine as pornography isn't allowed in theater, not even a bit.

We also started to savor all the other things that the glorious (at least it seemed glorious to us) KRAB had to offer.

2005-11-30T14:56:00.000-07:00

We started hanging out at their 'Clamtina' (get it? It's a 'cantina' but it's on the KRAB, so it's Clam-tina…) MWR (Morale, Welfare, and Recreation) building, playing games,

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playing pool,

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and getting 'hopped up' on the sugar rush from their $0.50 slushies. (Yeah, where were these when it was 125 degrees out and we were baking in concrete guard towers?)

We also found out that, in addition to a stellar weight room, sports leagues, and numerous 'fun runs', the KRAB also had continuing education classes, self-defense classes, bingo tournaments, computer classes, USO shows, and even salsa dance classes. We, on the other hand, had only guard duty...

2005-11-30T14:53:00.000-07:00

We also hit the KRAB's coffee shop quite often,

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usually in an effort to use up the over $14 I had accumulated in army 'pog' change. They don't use regular change over there because, I believe, it's all too heavy to ship. Since most of the guys just throw these things away, the Army totally makes out on the deal.

2005-11-30T14:51:00.000-07:00

We hit the phone center and tried to use up all the phone cards that nice folks had sent us, but which we couldn't use on our base since there was no phone center (although we had cell phones which we had to pay cash for calling cards for). I had some extra calling cards (thanks mom, dad, Kathy, and others) and gave them to some 101st guys in there, who could certainly use them over the next year that they're now stuck in Iraq.

Sometime in here Scarface came back to the unit and we were very happy to see him. I tried to take some video of his return, all the accompanying hand-shaking, and his recounting of the attack.

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We also checked out this cool truck that EOD (Explosives Ordinance Disposal – aka 'the bomb squad') uses. Seats eight, has two gun turrets and firing ports through all the bullet-proof glass, is raised up to avoid bombs and mines – man, we wish we'd have had these things! You could have fit a whole squad in one of them and, with two gun turrets, pulled your own security.

2005-11-30T14:49:00.000-07:00

During the final day, we killed time waiting for the flight out. Finally we started to move, slowly, getting into the first few of the many, many, many lines we'd see over the next several days.

2005-11-30T14:48:00.000-07:00

Our first official 'get out of country' act was to have our ID cards swiped like a credit card. Then we, now segregated alphabetically, waited in a tent where thankfully I got a little sleep. Finally we got up, geared up one last time in body armor and helmet, and headed to the flight line.

2005-11-30T14:47:00.000-07:00

We settled into the web sling seats in the C-130 and soon were off. Upon takeoff, there was a lot of hooting and hollering in the pitch-black cabin. I tried to get some of that on video with the camera's night vision feature but it's all still extremely dark.

2005-11-30T14:46:00.000-07:00

Dawn found us on a bus to a lovely camp in lovely Kuwait. Almost the entire camp looked like this so it was rather hard to remember where the heck you were living.

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We occupied our time there with better food

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and more board games, generally trying to sequester ourselves away from the main body as much as possible. At this point in the process, everyone is just SO sick of each other that you really can't deal any more with all the knuckleheads that you had put up with for so long.

2005-11-30T14:41:00.000-07:00

The day of the 'Freedom Bird' we waited around most of the day, had a customs inspection of all our duffle bags (at this point we were told that, now that we'd packed all of our extra duffles elsewhere, that we could pack our body armor and helmets in the cargo hold of the plane, if we had extra duffles), then piled them high outside the tents, waiting for the 'Freedom Buses' to take us to the airport. And then we waited… again.

2005-11-30T14:39:00.000-07:00

But first the buses took us to another base, where we waited. Then we had this briefing about stuff that we already knew. Then we waited. Then we got into lines and waited. Then we had a customs inspection of our carry-on stuff. Then we got into lines and were ushered into a lock down area called, ironically, the 'Freedom Tent'. There we waited. Then we got into lines, got onto the buses again, then drove to the airport. And we waited, and waited, and waited.

2005-11-30T14:38:00.000-07:00

Then we got into the buses again then got into lines and finally got onto the freakin' plane!

Here, Spc's Ohlensehlen, Timmons, Smith, and Jolly get ready for the long flight ahead.

2005-11-30T14:36:00.001-07:00

And then we hit blessed Ireland for our layover.

There 'The Plan' went into effect. Litzsinger, who was at the front of the plane, raced to the bar before the herds gathered and bought he and I two pints each. I hit the duty-free shop and loaded up on, uh, 'supplies' for the rest of the long flight to Washington state (note the bag next to the table, that's full of 'supplies'). I also quaffed two MORE pints before getting back onto the plane, for a total of four in about an hour, all at around 0400 in the morning on an empty stomach. Others had more than that, some far too much for such a short period of time.

The flight was LONG, dull, and cramped, although luckily me and Sgt. Sam Tozer had one of the very few empty seats in-between us.

2005-11-30T14:36:00.000-07:00

Still though, we got loopy. Here Sam puts to good use one of the hot towelettes that the flight attendants plied us with. We watched four movies total, slept as much as we could, eat a lot of airplane food (Sam and I putting down five breakfasts between us during one serving), and just generally pined for the landing in the USA.

At last, we touched down in the US and there was much rejoicing, many of the lads whooping it up as we landed (all of which I again, hopefully, captured on video).

2005-11-30T14:35:00.000-07:00

Our first breaths of American air; moist, crisp, cool, Washington air to be exact, were wonderful.

2005-11-30T14:33:00.001-07:00

The governor of Idaho (in black 116th ball cap) was there to greet us and gave us all a commemorative coin (note the 'coin handler' woman behind him who handed him each coin). He was followed by no less than four generals, and a couple of full-bird colonels, all of whom thanked us and welcomed us home.

One of the colonels recognized my name from my articles in the Statesman and said quickly, 'Hey, great write-ups!'

2005-11-30T14:33:00.000-07:00

We quickly left the plane, then got onto… you guessed it: more buses!

2005-11-30T14:31:00.000-07:00

Suddenly cruising the highways of our home country was surreal. We were so tired and everything was just so familiar, yet at the same time completely odd, or perhaps 'wonderful' is the correct word, maybe even fantastic. We just stared and sort of mentally drooled, perhaps unable to process all that was suddenly before us: flat, paved highways, restaurants galore, malls, movie theaters, lot after lot filled with brand new cars, stores, stores, and more stores.

Then we pulled into Fort Lewis, drove out to our barracks, and immediately got off the busses to… get into lines.

2005-11-30T14:30:00.000-07:00

Luckily though, these lines were all good, the first one being the final turn-in of our weapons. As tired as he was, Jake Smith was overjoyed to finally get rid of that little M4 carbine.

2005-11-30T14:29:00.000-07:00

We dropped our gear in our WW II barracks.

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Then we got into a line to turn in our ballistic plates for our body armor. Soon after that, we turned in the body armor itself and our helmets.

2005-11-30T14:26:00.000-07:00

That night, the beer came out in spades. Here, first squad's Sgt Fischer and Spc Cole tip back the first of many Coronas.

Many guys had TOO much that night and there were many a hung-over lad at the 0700 formation that next morning (and one guy who didn't make it at all who was then put on 'lock down' for the next few days).

2005-11-30T14:25:00.000-07:00

The next day began the stupid, poorly organized, frustrating process known as SRP (Soldier Readiness Package) which is the heart of de-mobilizing. We spent many an hour in this old theater, sitting around en mass, listening to briefings from finance, legal, the chaplain, etc.

Some of the first of the stupidity was when we had to take the time to sort all 300+ of our group alphabetically to help 'speed the process' along, yet the paperwork we were to sign wasn't alphabetical, so, in the end, it actually took more time.

The guy in charge, 'Les,' was a total, and self-admitted, ass. He spent more time telling us how long the process would take and how frustrated that we would get during the process, that he actually made the process much longer and got us all frustrated. Go figure.

On a separate note, at this point guys ironically started to complain about dehydration. Because there weren't pallets filled with water bottles all around us, as we'd become accustomed to in Iraq, we weren't drinking enough water. I had to be reminded that now we could actually drink water from the tap. I'd completely forgotten we could do that.

2005-11-30T14:23:00.000-07:00

During down time, we spent time playing with new cell phones calling loved ones,

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getting online at the wireless Internet cafe/coffee house on post,

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admiring the armored cars of the Japanese troops staying near by to train there (the grand irony of that being that they were staying in WWII barracks built to train American guys to fight their grandfathers),

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eating some really good food at these little mini-chow halls (each of which apparently was staffed with one real character, ours with a sort of hippie-vet who announced loudly each time a guy came in, "We got burritos, hamburgers, hot dogs, 'Freedom Fries,' and of course we're always going to serve you some BAKED BEANS! Man, I love this job, they PAY me to give this stuff away!"),

2005-11-30T14:19:00.000-07:00

and just generally biding our time.

2005-11-30T14:18:00.000-07:00

At night, we ate, drank, and were merry. This meal was particularly good, a fresh seafood place in Tacoma, that made me extremely happy. While at this point I'd already eaten out a few times and had my fair share of beers, it was this particular meal that felt to me like 'the one' meal that we'd so long and often talked about on those long, long nights on guard duty and while choking down all that processed army food.

Meanwhile, eating all this food and drinking that long-sought beer, I watched the abs that I had worked so long and hard to get quickly disappear under a new little layer of fat. Ah well. I just wish I could have kept them long enough for Sally to appreciate them.

2005-11-30T14:16:00.000-07:00

We also played lots of pool (again).

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And we found out that Timmons, try as he might, just can't handle shots of booze. Thankfully we brought that trash bag along with us!

2005-11-30T14:13:00.001-07:00

If SRP is the heart of de-mobilizing, this converted field house (note the lit-up racquet ball courts in the rear) is the heart of SRP. Over the course of several days, we spent a lot of time here, most of the time waiting in very long lines so that, when you finally get to the end, they do literally two to five minutes of work on your file. Then you get into another line.

Just to give you an idea of the lack of organization, instead of grouping each day's stations into one area, they were just scattered all over. On Day 1, you're supposed to go to something like stations 7, 8A & 8B, 10-14, etc., instead of just putting them all together and naming them 1-8 or something like that.

By the time we were into Day 3 here and the group behind us was on Day 1 in their lines, there were so many people here that SSG Attebery colorfully described it as looking like 'maggots on meat'.

On that particular day, we were waiting on the small bleachers in a shuffling line of sorts. That line led to:

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this line. Which lead to:

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this line. After this line you finally got to spend ten minutes with a nice woman who processed your new ID card.

Well, they were nice women until 5:00 PM. Once that time comes, they cut off the line and if you aren't done, then too bad, they just cut the guys loose. We had about 16 guys behind us, all of whom had waited in line for nearly four hours. Come 5:00, they were told to leave and come back the next day, 'first come, first served', regardless of their nearly four hours already spent in line on this day. When we asked if they could write up a list of who was here so that they could get to the front of the line tomorrow, we were simply told, 'No.'

2005-11-30T14:10:00.000-07:00

So, out of frustration and just shear joy at being home, we went out again, this time to a great bar called Swiss in Tacoma. We of course played pool. Needless to say, beer was involved.

2005-11-30T14:09:00.000-07:00

Another day found us filling out our travel voucher forms, which were written in an almost code-like lingo. If we hadn't hand hands-on help, we really would have had no idea how to fill these things out. They're important though as they are for reimbursement for your daily per diem expenses, about 18 months worth. I'll certainly be needing mine since I'm now unemployed.

2005-11-30T14:07:00.000-07:00

This blurry shot wouldn't make too much sense to anyone else but I just had to include it. It was the night that 'Litzsinger Took Control'. So upset by the ineptitude all around us, Litz had had enough. This night we were supposed to sign the coveted DD214 form, the final document that sums up our entire time deployed, awards won, etc. It is apparently the one and only official thing that says we were indeed deployed. They had us line up alphabetically and then were calling us into this random barracks where they would dig through their un-alphabetical pile and then have us sign it. This could have taken hours. Taking initiative far beyond his rank, Litz talked to the powers that be and instead had them bring all the documents to one location, one we were all now already waiting in, and just called people up as their form came up. Litz probably saved each person in that room at least an hour of waiting around per person, probably much more. For this reason, I have awarded CPL Christian Litzsinger the Efficient Service Cross and he is entitled to all benefits therein.

2005-11-30T14:05:00.000-07:00

On our last day there, the drizzle finally stopped and we got this great rainbow.

2005-11-30T14:02:00.000-07:00

Now sunlit, I was able to get some better shots of the active duty barracks. They're rebuilding much of this part of the fort, getting rid of the WWII-era barracks for much nicer buildings and landscaping and creating a more collegiate-like environment. I'd say it's about time! Our defense budget is enormous, almost equal to the entire rest of planet's other nations COMBINED. With all that money, I think we start to afford some nicer digs for our guys.

2005-11-30T14:00:00.000-07:00

Finally, on the last morning (and with coveted, now signed and official DD214 in hand) the bus came to take us back to the airbase.

Two brief stories of more ineptitude: the night before we were told to pack up everything and put it into a truck that would carry it to the airbase. That meant the guys had no sleeping bags, change of clothes, etc. That night, there was no heat in our building. Yet, the next morning the truck was still there, with all of our stuff still just sitting in it. Oh, and it turns out it was the WRONG truck so we had to unload it all again anyway.

And that morning we awoke about 0500 to clean up the barracks and be outside for the bus at 0630. The bus didn't come until 0700 or so. Then it didn’t leave until 0730. The ride to the airbase was about 15 minutes. When we got to our hanger at 0750 or so, they weren't even open yet. Typical. For each layer in a situation like this, each person bumps things up by half an hour, 'just in case'. What that means is that guys like me stand around a lot, waiting.

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Once the building finally opened up, we (say it with me now!)… got into lines.

2005-11-30T13:57:00.000-07:00

Our final 'Freedom Bird' arrived! But it was so old, Litzsinger quickly dubbed it 'Disco Bird' and we hoped she had one more short, hour and a half hop left in her (wouldn't it have been terribly tragic and ironic if she didn’t...).

2005-11-30T13:56:00.000-07:00

Still waiting around, Litz and I hit the extremely nice USO building next door.

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There we attacked sandwiches and donuts, just out of the pure boredom and anticipation.

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Soon though, Disco Bird was airborne and we were passing Mount Rainier.

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Apparently, this crew does a lot of these flights, as you can tell by the flight attendant's patches.

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Somehow Litz slept. Although I was wiped out from not sleeping at all in our freezing cold barracks the night before, I was bright eyed and bushy-tailed the whole flight. This was probably my first flight ever that I didn't pass mostly by reading something.

2005-11-30T13:50:00.000-07:00

I just sat there, with a big ole grin on my face. Needless to say, I was a little excited.

I also had a little time to reflect and prepare myself for eventually telling Sally a few stories that I didn't tell her before, just a few things that I decided to keep to myself in the hopes that I might help prevent her from worrying quite so much.

2005-11-30T13:49:00.000-07:00

First there were the accidents. Being around the military and all its equipment, operating in conditions like we do, there are bound to be mistakes. This was a brand new M1114 Humvee that someone flipped while we were training in Kuwait. They were taking it on its first test run, trying to get acquainted with the new vehicle. The guys driving were told to really push the vehicle and apparently they did, executing power slides, spin outs, and more. The last driver was just about to execute his last power slide when this happened.

But the Army is pretty good about at least trying to enforce safety stuff and this accident caused all sorts of reviews by officers and reports and other stuff. The driver was even charged with excessive speed. Any idea where that guy ended up?

He ended up in Boise, writing on his blog. Yes, that was me. I flipped that Humvee, my first time EVER driving any kind of Humvee whatsoever, and I flipped it good.

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The camp Air Force SP's even gave me a ticket, saying I was doing over 60, which we found impossible as the vehicle speedometer never got over 45 in the sand.

And our platoon leader and platoon sergeant backed me up on that. Mostly importantly, no one was hurt, not even 6'5" Wilson who was in the gunner's hatch. We all had our seat belts and helmets on, thankfully, and Wilson was actually able to climb out the back of the hatch to get out. Later, one officer reprimanded the E6 that was with us and who was the NCO in charge of the 'training' for not doing a proper safety briefing and not explaining just how top-heavy the vehicles are. Of course, I realized later that their being top-heavy should have been obvious for me, but I think I might have still had tanks on my mind, being fresh out of tank training. Regardless, I was just thankful everyone was okay.

Unfortunately, after we arrived at Camp Scunion there were a few more accidents. The 1st Infantry Division guys that we were assigned to had previously not lost a single guy during their deployment, not one. But one night, a tanker was lowering a .50 cal machine gun down in the turret of a tank to secure it. It hadn't been properly cleared and the butterfly trigger caught on something, firing the round. The tanker's head was taken off. Apparently the scene was so gruesome that the medic that responded passed out.

Soon after, a Bradley armored vehicle flipped into a canal, killing all six aboard. While we didn't see any of this firsthand, it was all a huge reminder of the dangers of even being around this stuff. This was when I really started to despise some of the guys in our company, as I realized that they (more specifically their mistakes) might be more a threat to me than insurgents. [Sadly, in their first month the 101st, the unit replacing us in Kirkuk, has apparently already had one, and possibly two, accidental deaths, both from accidentally discharged weapons from other Americans.]

A few weeks later, I was on guard duty with SSG Dmitrov in a concrete guard tower. We suddenly heard a big boom, followed by a SRUSSSHHH!, followed by another, more concussive, closer BOOM! I asked, "What was that?" Dmitrov didn't know and as we discussed possibilities, two more booms went off, followed by two more impact booms. We quickly ducked. Bad guys were shooting rockets over our small base at the larger base across the road. Luckily they didn't hit anyone, but it was just another wake up call, as were the shrapnel marks on the dining facility tables from the airburst mortar round that hit the building a few weeks prior to our arrival.

Twice at Barbarian Base in Kirkuk, the bad guys lobbed more rockets at us. Each time it was 'just' one rocket, I think each about 120mm or so, and luckily the bad guys are, generally, bad shots. Both times they overshot the base, although not by a lot. There wasn't much we could do about it anyway.

If you can imagine, the scene was something like this: we're all playing video games or watching movies when we hear and feel a very large BOOM that shakes the windows. Guys' heads pop up from their laptops and we ask, "What was that?" Guys speculate, most guess another car bomb somewhere outside the wire. Later we hear it was a rocket. We shrug and go back to our video games. Hey, what are you gonna do?

Another night I was walking around the pool, speaking to Sally on the Iraqi cell phone. Well into the conversation, there was a commotion near the pool and I saw much of our first squad headed there, with an M14 rifle with scope. Passing one of the guys, I asked what was going on. One of their guys had been doing pull-ups when a bullet whizzed past his head. He assumed it was a stray round from some of the celebratory fire that we constantly hear throughout the city. So he resumed his pull-ups. Then a round cracked near his head (rounds close to you whiz, rounds very close to you crack as you hear the actual sonic boom that they make), impacting on the wall directly behind him. His buddies were using the M14 to try to counter-snipe the shooter. Sally asked me, "What's going on? I sort of lost you for a moment there." As I changed my old path alongside the pool to one with more cover, I answered, "Oh nothing, just saying 'hi' to some guys." From then on, whenever I talked on the phone or even ran around the base, I was always very conscious of just what rooftops I could see from inside the compound, since – of course – that meant anyone up there could see me.

I hated the idea of lying to Sally, even if for good reason. I hated too the idea of misrepresenting anything, or even just not being able to share the things that really happened during my day. There were times where she would be having a tough day with Lillian and I would patiently listen, at the same time wanting to say, 'Hey, you're there with her, and that can't be too bad. Me, I got to see the charred body parts of some Iraqi guy who was killed by a car bomb.' But of course, I couldn't say that. By the way, there were a couple of other incidents that I saw just that.

And, for the same reasons I wouldn't tell Sally stuff, I also couldn't tell you.

The VERY same day that I posted a 'fake combat' photo on this blog, the one with the caption in which I answered the question about me seeing any combat with a resounding 'no', we drove into a bit of a crossfire. It was night and it was two factions (if I can call them that, probably more like it was 'two groups of idiots' is probably more appropriate) shooting their AK's at each other. Our patrol of one Iraqi Police SUV and three U.S. Humvees drove just about into the middle of it.

The gunfire subsided soon after we stopped and dismounted the trucks. I was the gunner on the second Humvee on a 240 machine gun, nervously scanning rooftops and seeing several heads stick up to watch us (luckily it was only locals sleeping on the rooftops to avoid the late night heat). As we took up our positions, three men left a building in the distance. When our dismounted guys caught up to them, they said they didn't know anything about any gunfire. Then we searched the house and (surprise!) found three AK's. The men didn't know anything about the AK's. When we picked them up, they were hot, as if recently fired. When pressed, the men said the equivalent of, "OH… THOSE AK's." Apparently they'd been firing on security guards at a law school across the street when we drove up, allegedly returning fire after first having been shot at by the guards. The Iraqi police arrested them.

So those are my 'almost-war' stories. They ain't much, particularly compared with what other, 'real' veterans have been through, guys like my dad, who was an advisor in the Highlands of Vietnam. And I'm happy they ain't much, because if they were something much then that would mean that people had been actually shooting at me. I can tell you one thing, had someone been shooting at me, especially after lugging that SAW machine gun around for over a year, I would have shot back – a LOT (even if just to use up some of the ammo and lighten my 80-pound load).

Still, sitting on the 'Disco Bird' plane, waiting to land back home, I was probably more nervous of having to tell Sally that I hadn't quite told the truth to her than I ever was around gunfire and rockets flying overhead.

When we finally landed in Boise, there was more hooting and hollering, all of which I, hopefully, captured on video. Unfortunately (yet another military screw-up), the flight was an hour early so many soldiers' families hadn't even shown up yet!

2005-11-30T13:43:00.000-07:00

Luckily though, my family was there already (thank you cell phone!).

2005-11-30T13:41:00.003-07:00

The next few days were a whirlwind of learning about life with Lilly Bean, signing up for unemployment, getting to know Sally again,

2005-11-30T13:41:00.002-07:00

And they came bearing gifts! As we pulled out of the base though, there was a long string of cars still trying to drive in, all filled with guys' families, big 'Welcome Home' signs, and balloons. It was really sad that they weren't there already, waiting to welcome their soldiers off the plane.

2005-11-30T13:41:00.001-07:00

starting on my 18-month-old 'honey do' list (this is the garage's 'before' photo… I'm still working on the 'after' photo), scanning the classifieds for jobs and meeting with recruiting services,

2005-11-30T13:41:00.000-07:00

playing with Lillian on her swing in the back yard, enjoying running errands,

2005-11-30T13:40:00.000-07:00

and reconnecting with friends. So I hope you'll forgive me if this blog wasn't updated in a while.

2005-11-30T13:39:00.000-07:00

You see, I've been a little busy.

He's Home!

2005-11-11T11:58:00.000-07:00

Finally! Chris arrived home on Tuesday, Nov. 8 around 1:00pm. My first view of him was when the rear door of the plane opened and he stuck his head out looking for me. I was waving frantically but he didn't see me. I pulled out my cell phone and called him, told him where I was standing, and then he found me.

Since he was in the back of the plane, he was one of the last to get off the plane. Seeing him walking towards me was surreal - it is still hard to believe that this is finally over.

While we had a great homecoming, I felt terrible for probably 80% of the soldiers and families. The stupid military actually loaded up the plane and took off an hour EARLY, but most families didn't know the soldiers would arrive an hour early. (Fortunately, since Chris had a cell phone, he called me while boarding to let me know he'd be early.) One of the saddest sights I've seen is soldiers walking off the plane to a fairly small crowd, scanning and not finding their families. You could see their excitement and anticipation crashing when they realized their spouses, kids, etc weren't standing there waiting for them. While we were driving away from the plane, lines of cars full of kids, balloons, etc were just arriving. It broke my heart.

Our first 24 hours together were less than romantic. Sometime in the middle of the night I woke up feeling sick and spent 1/2 hour or so vomiting. Chris got a crash course in parenting our first full day together taking care of Lillian while I slept my illness away. Fortunately, it was a short-lived bug and we are now able to enjoy our time together. Talk about stepping right back into real life!

The Scoop

2005-11-07T07:43:00.000-07:00

Chris called last night to say he'll be home at 2:20pm on Tuesday, November 8. He'll arrive on a chartered plane full of returning soldiers. Now I just have to figure out how I'm going to make it through today...

The next posting will most likely be from Chris. He said he's been working on one about his travels, and another one about the scarier stories he didn't want to talk about while he was in Iraq.

Keep your fingers crossed that he'll be here on time tomorrow!

Tuesday is the day

2005-11-04T21:34:00.000-07:00

We're pretty sure Chris will be coming home on Tuesday. It sounds like the army chartered a plane and wants everybody (in this group of soldiers) to come home at the same time. So unless we get any surprises over the weekend, it looks like Tuesday is the day.

Homecoming date still uncertain

2005-11-04T09:50:00.000-07:00

This morning (Friday) Chris asked me to buy him a refundable/changeable ticket from Seattle to Boise for 6:30 this evening...just in case. He still doesn't know when he's coming home, and rumors range from 'we'll be able to leave when we're done today' to 'nobody can leave until they fill up the army -chartered plane' to 'we're definitely leaving Tuesday morning.' So the Southwest ticket, which I did purchase this morning, is just in case they say at 5pm tonight 'ok, you can go home now or you can wait until Tuesday.'

Articles in the Idaho Statesman

2005-11-04T09:47:00.000-07:00

Chris had another article in the Idaho Statesman earlier this week, and today there is an article about spouses preparing for the soldiers' homecoming.

Link to Chris' article:
http://www.idahostatesman.com/apps/pbcs.dll/article?AID=/20051101/NEWS01/511010334/1022

Article about the homecoming (I'm quoted in this - something about Chris cleaning out the garage when he gets home...)
http://www.idahostatesman.com/apps/pbcs.dll/article?AID=/20051104/NEWS01/511040333

Headed Home...Who Knows When

2005-11-02T08:27:00.000-07:00

So here's the latest....rumors are flying and Chris doesn't really know when he'll be home. It sounds fairly certain that he will be done de-mobilizing by Friday, but he's hearing rumors that they aren't going to leave Seattle until Monday so they can fill up a plane with more guys. We decided to buy his ticket on our own so he could come home Friday, but now he's being told he's not allowed to leave early, even though he'll be done with everything he needs to do there. So, at this point he'll either be home Friday, on a ticket that we purchase, or he'll be home Monday, on a chartered Army plane.

Arrival in Seattle

2005-10-30T10:03:00.000-07:00

Chris called this morning (Sunday) from Seattle! He arrived around 6am Seattle time, and is making his way to Ft. Lewis today. Now he has a few days of de-mobilization, and soon will be headed to Boise. Stay tuned...

Chris' travels

2005-10-28T11:06:00.000-06:00

Chris called this morning (Friday morning) from Kuwait...he is out of Iraq and officially on his way home! He said that he's expecting to be in the Seattle area and Ft. Lewis sometime Sunday evening, and will be back in Boise 5-9 days after arriving in Seattle. This means he should be home by November 9 at the latest.

While Chris was in Iraq, I sent him a cell phone so we could stay in touch during his time at Ft. Lewis. He's planning on calling me as soon as he lands in the States. I'll post a blog note once I hear from him.