Is there a more appropriate day to run this article than the Army's 234th birthday? Wounded soldier Erik Castillo embodies the warrior mentality applied to the stripped-down basics of living--improvise, adapt and overcome:
Five years have passed since he woke up drooling and paralyzed in an Army hospital with a coconut-sized hole in his cranium... [snip]
Castillo, she said, has succeeded at one of the most difficult things a human being can be called upon to do: create a new vision of the world and his place in it.
I was talking to a friend of mine yesterday, a recently-retired Marine Command Sergeant Major, about my impressions of Admiral Mullen after having observed him with the wounded and others in close proximity last week. He remarked that in his experience, those selected to be Chairmen of the Joint Chiefs of Staff have been surprisingly humble and gentle men, and went on to speak highly of former CJCS and fellow Marine, General Peter Pace, based on having repeated interactions with him over the years.
Rather serendipitously, I stumbled across a photo of Gen. Pace while doing a Google image search this morning. I couldn't find the context (I'm guessing it's one of the Friday Pentagon tours for the wounded where everyone lines the halls and cheers as they arrive), but it seemed to speak for itself.
Look closely [click to enlarge]. So much said in every detail of everybody in this picture...
Heart-breaking, joyous, sobering, inspiring and more... all at the same time.
Though some observers consider him a bit rough around the edges, General Mattis is highly respected in most military circles. And as with any larger than life figure, legends have begun to develop around him. I suspect this story (from an impeccable source) could soon become one of them. It certainly shows one of the reasons he is held in esteem by so many...
Marine Corporal Q has just had his 3rd Humvee in the last two weeks blown up by an IED in Iraq, and he doesn't react too well to it. When the small arms fire is over and the area has been secured, he goes back to the Humvee and starts beating on it with his kevlar. He's ticked. This one was a good one and he had really liked it. But it now has two flat tires, a damaged windshield and front grill, and all down the passenger side it's full of shrapnel.
His fellow Marines break out the jacks and Cpl. Q proceeds to begin changing the tires, since the vehicle is still operational--it just has some new openings for air conditioning.
No sooner has Cpl. Q gotten the jack set, when an entourage arrives on the scene. Here he is, just having finished beating on his truck, face still bloody from minor wounds... he has a concussion and he's really p***** off... and someone breaks off from the entourage and walks up directly behind him. His ears are still ringing from the IED, so he can't clearly hear the person greeting him. He turns his head and sees a Marine with no gear on and in cammies, so he knows the guy's important. He looks over the guy's shoulder and sees his battalion commanding officer in the entourage, and now he really knows the guy is somebody important.
But Cpl. Q just flat doesn't give a rip. As he turns around to face the visitor, his CO is heard to gasp, "Oh God, anybody but Q!" The guy who had come up behind Cpl. Q asks him if he's alright and Q responds, "Good to go, sir," then immediately turns back to jacking up the truck.
The guy then asks Q if he's been in a fight. Way too wired to care, the corporal responds, "No s***, sir! Ya' think?" The corporal's CO is now watching in horror.
After a pause, the guy inquires, "Son, do you know who I am?"
The young corporal replies, "No f***ing clue, sir, and right now I really don't give a flying f***!"
The unknown man replies gently, "We'll just keep it that way, son. Keep up the good work, Marine."
General Mattis turns away from Corporal Q and walks back up to the battalion CO. "That kid's one hell of a Marine," he says. "If that's the kind of Marines they have in [this unit], then they'll do."
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It would take a book--and far more personal revelations than I care to make--to explain what a dear friend Sgt. B is, and the impact of that friendship.
And now he's heading off to war. It's what he has wanted and what he has worked very hard for, even before he signed up two years ago. So I'm proud of him, happy for him, and...
That's the thing about grown ups, we manage to hold conflicting feelings and use our minds to choose which ones we will feed and build on. And every day is looking better over there.
So... smiles, hugs and cheers for Sgt. B! We've proudly got your back.
For Will and Carrie, who have also been learning that a tradition of service doesn't make sending him off to war any easier...
For three years, I knew this day would come. I thought I would be prepared. Coming from a family whose proud military heritage dates to this country's founding, and having served in the Marines for a quarter-century and lost a brother to war-related causes, I felt ready for any challenge military life might bring.
I was not.
Postscript: Perusing the unit displays at an airshow one year, I flippantly asked what could possibly inspire a person to join EOD. With something bordering on contempt for my flippancy, the sailor behind the table gave the same answer as Zumwalt's son, and I was ashamed.
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Last week at the USO was... interesting. One of the more satisfying in terms of believing my presence made a difference, but one of the more disturbing because I couldn't fix everything--particularly a strong but suffering military wife and a freaked out Marine recruit. What a day...
For quite a few hours, a young woman and her small daughter had staked out the children's room. We heard frequent cries that would usually quickly recede, but the tension in the sounds emanating from the room rarely eased. I hate to say it, but the poor mother looked a wreck... moreso than is usual for a mother of a toddler.
Later in the afternoon, she put the child in a stroller and stopped at the desk with a question. Question led to conversation, whereupon I learned how much I could and couldn't help her... In short, she was an impressive young woman. She and her husband were in their mid-twenties. A year and a half ago, he joined the military. When I asked what motivated him to join at a later age, she gestured to their daughter. "After she was born, we were really struggling, so we looked at our options. We could live precariously for awhile in hopes that plans may work out, or we could have the security of the military and a good retirement in 20 years..."
"--And the likelihood of deployment," I added.
She nodded. "He's leaving in [next year]."
We talked and laughed a bit about what it must be like for her "peers" (fellow spouses) to be 18-21 when she's in her mid/late twenties. We rolled our eyes about the differences between women at those ages and lamented the all-too-frequent immature reactions to their husbands' deployments. She said she was a bit of a big sister to the young women in her neighborhood, but agreed with my guess that she wished for serious and mature friends who also understood the military life.
But that wasn't the hardest part. Her little two-year-old was another of those "littlest draftees." The child was having trouble coping the two weeks home/two weeks in the field pre-deployment training schedule; she has become Daddy's Little Girl and the back-and-forth keeps her from adjusting to him being gone. As her frazzled mother put it, "I wish it was time for him to deploy now, then maybe she would eventually settle down.
In the meantime, not only is Mom every two weeks a single mother with a toddler, the toddler doesn't sleep more than a few minutes at a time for a total of two or three hours a day when Dad is gone. No joke. Mom and daughter are thus operating on extreme sleep deprivation, with all the attendant physical and emotional repercussions. She told me about the professional support they are getting, and it's obvious her family is "there for her," but this is going to take awhile.
In a bolt of "D'oh!" I remembered SpouseBUZZ. It would be the perfect solution to her need for true peers instead of the mere children who are usually married to men of her husband's rank! She was very receptive. "I'm a real techie, so I'll definitely check it out," she said. "Everyone is so nice in my husband's unit. I mean, the Staff Sergeant's wife told me to call if I need anything. But, come on! Yeah, right," she rolled her eyes, "I'm gonna call my husband's SSG's wife when I'm falling apart! SpouseBUZZ would be the perfect alternative."
So, it felt good to be her sounding board, to sympathize with her, and to give her a resource through SpouseBUZZ. But I couldn't do more--couldn't fix her child, couldn't change her husband's schedule, couldn't give her the sleep she needed.
Another person there that day was having a bit of a crisis, too. It was recruit day--the Marine drill instructors pick up their recruits at the airport USO. A worried-looking young man approached the desk and asked, in a stumbling and stuttering manner, "What do I do if I don't want to go?"
I thought he was mostly joking, and laughed a little. "Oh, you'll be fine."
He shook his head. "I... I think I made a mistake."
Upon gentle questioning, he revealed that he thought he'd been "talked into" joining the Marines. "It was the thing to do. I mean... everybody was doing it.... Well, lots of people. My friend talked me into it. I don't know what I'm doing here. I'm thousands of miles away from my family..." His voice faded and he looked at the floor. "I won't make it through boot camp."
"You're right," I said. His head jerked up. "The person you are today doesn't yet have what it takes to get all the way through boot camp. But it's a process, and you will have what you need by the time you get to where you need it. You are not the person you'll be in thirteen weeks."
That didn't reassure him. "But what if I don't want to be that person?"
I was surprised. "What do you mean, 'that person?'"
"My friend is the military type. I'm not."
"Oh," I said. "So, what is the military type?"
He couldn't answer, so I talked about some of the Marines I know--about their non-military qualities (character forged by their experiences) that make them people I love and appreciate in my life.
I pressed him to answer his statement, "What makes your friend the 'military type?' What makes him different than you?" But the best he could say was, "My friend's different. He's gonna go his whole life in the Marines. I'm not like that."
I reminded him that he wasn't signing up for the rest of his life. He shook his head. "How do I show them I'm not supposed to be here? What do I do to get them to throw me out?" he asked.
"Is that what you really want, to screw up on purpose?" I kept my voice gently curious.
He looked a little chagrined for having said that.
I could sense this was a crossroads for him and I didn't want to erroneously pressure him either direction, but I feared for what he would think of himself down the road if he chickened out at this stage. I took it as far as I wanted to go: "If they see during training that you just aren't cut out for the Marines, they will send you on your way, and there is no shame in finding out it wasn't a good choice for you. But you have a decision to make. You have to be able to look yourself in the mirror. Think about how you want to see yourself, what's important to you, what your standards and your values are. Would you feel better about yourself if you gave it your best and found out you fell just short or it wasn't a good fit, or would you be okay with backing out after you made a commitment? That's up to you and it's not something I can judge. To make a decision, you need to think about how you'll look back on this down the road."
He swallowed hard, but had a bit of a trapped look on his face. After a moment he spoke with great agitation, "I don't want go anywhere there are bullets. Bullets and I don't mix!"
I was at a loss. Why in the heck was he signing up for the Marines, then? I glanced at the director's empty office, knowing that were he there, I could hand the kid off to a retired sergeant major who had been CSM of a recruit depot. Surely he would know better what to do or say, be better at evaluating whether this was just nerves or genuine recognition of error.
For the last few moments of that conversation, two twenty-something Marines in civilian clothes had been standing at the desk to check in. The one in front gave off a positive, unflappable, staff sergeant vibe. I asked him, "Where are you in your career? How long have you been in?" When he said seven years, I gestured wordlessly to the recruit.
He looked the kid up and down. "Recruit, huh?"
"Yes, sir." He was almost wild-eyed.
"What MOS did you sign up for?"
"Admin, sir. I signed up for Reserves."
The two Marines busted up laughing. The recruit looked absolutely mortified and I panicked for a moment, fearing I'd misread the two Marines. "Admin? Admin?! Kid, you've got it so easy. You just gotta get through bootcamp and it's smooth sailing."
I stared at the SSG in front of me, hoping he could read my "Lay off, he's freaking out!" expression. He took his time signing in while the kid stood there looking stricken. Then with a sideways nod, he looked at the kid and said gently, "Come on, let's talk."
The recruit looked to me for a cue. I smiled and nodded. "Go on, he's a good guy."
They disappeared together outside. About an hour later, the SSG came by and said, "He's a momma's boy, but he'll be okay. I talked to a bunch of them out there, answered all their questions and gave them some tips. He'll be fine." I thanked him, and shared my fears that the recruit would regret it something awful if he bailed out now. The Marine agreed. "He's just scared, unsure of himself. He'll spend the night bawling, but he'll make it."
I had to defer to the Marine's expertise, hope that the advice and perspectives we gave the recruit had been the right thing... hope we hadn't steered him wrong.
I've been thinking about that kid all week, wondering if he's still at MCRD, wondering what he'll be like if he makes it through, and wondering whether he'll look back at the SSG and me with gratitude or resentment. I hope we did the right thing...
Same ship, different time, full airwing, familiar faces, and shots I wish I'd gotten...
Breakfast was an interesting experience. The petty officer warned us that we would be cutting in line "because we're on a tight schedule." But the looks we got from the long line of sailors waiting their turn almost made me defy the PO for the second time that morning. As he instructed a sailor to make room for us, the small tightening of the sailor's expression made his opinion clear despite the quick accommodation. I turned to look at all the sailors who would be behind us and they all had similar expressions. We began to apologize, and I said with a laugh. "We can't help it. He told us to. It's all his fault." Not a line in the hard expressions cracked in response.
Thinking of the sailor who had been hard at work before I even awoke, I wondered how many of those irritated faces and done the same that morning, and I felt horrible. If not for the knowledge that it would have caused further inconvenience and more of a scene, I would've refused my place and gone to the back of the line. I truly felt that terrible.
It didn't help that I was constantly in the way at breakfast--heading in the wrong direction after getting my food, standing in the middle of the juice and bread selections while sailors rushed around me, lost and overwhelmed by all the people who seemed to know what they were doing... before I turned and nearly knocked someone's tray out of his hands. Fortunately the Warrant Officer who had volunteered to shepherd us spotted me and waded through the crowd to point me in the right direction.
The cafeteria-style seating was very industrial, reminding me of the worst of a high school cafeteria, or even what you seen on TV of jailhouse settings. There was a giant flat-screen TV blaring CNN as sailors of all shapes and sizes in blue coveralls and other functional clothing sat over their formed trays of food. The topic was Scott McClellan, which of course meant it was a lot of discussion about "White House lies" and "how President Bush lied us into war" (I couldn't help overhearing throughout breakfast, and it was a particularly unappetizing accompaniment to my food).
Feeling like I'd been enough of a spectacle, I looked for the first familiar face and plopped myself down next to a fellow visitor who was sitting with two sailors. The youngest was from Kansas. A small town, even! He said there were more people on the ship than in his entire town, and that he was an engineer. He was young and gangly, still growing; I couldn't even be certain he yet needed to shave.
At first I sat and listened, not asking any questions. I also couldn't help but compare this setting to what I'd experienced at dinner the night before and elsewhere on the ship so far. Somehow I doubted that this young man's berthing was right next door to a hatch that opened up to a chest-level view of the flight deck, or that he had spent the night in a two-person stateroom. And I wasn't betting on his work in engineering giving him a lot of opportunities for fresh air and sunshine.
But pity was not what he inspired. Instead, earnest enthusiasm for his job shone from everything he said. He mentioned he'd been on the fantail when the ship had done its speed trials recently. "We were going so fast she was putting out a gigantic rooster tail!" he enthused. It reminded me of this video, so I asked him if he'd ever had he chance to be on the deck during high-speed navigation tests. "Oh no," he assured me. "They don't let us do that." I told him about the video, and he asked me which ship it was.
"I think it was U.S.S. REAGAN," I said uncertainly (erroneously). His face cleared with recognition, followed quickly by almost a longing and then dismissal. "Of course. REAGAN is known for doing crazy things like that," he said calmly.
"They are?"
"Oh, yes. All the time," he answered with matter-of-fact assurance.
Thinking of what I've heard through the grapevine and what I've experienced in my official interactions with the ship from my post at the USO, I laughed, which he seemed to find odd.
When asked what his job was, he told us about how careful he had to be with dirt at his station, which involved work on the ship's diesel "backup" engines, and shared sea stories about how dirt could magically get into the wrong places despite all their best efforts and most careful work. He said he had been disappointed to be assigned to a carrier, since the diesel engines he specialized in were so rarely called upon on a nuclear-powered ship. He also spoke matter of factly and without self-pity about difficult schedules, losing track of the days and nights, and how long he had sometimes gone without seeing daylight. He almost seemed to find it amusing rather than upsetting or frustrating.
Despite not being where he would've preferred, despite the austere conditions, despite his lowly position, he shone. I came away from the conversation impressed by his dedication, adaptability, professionalism, and sense of responsibility. He didn't find his situation ideal, but he obviously gave it his all because he saw his contribution as important and valuable.
Perhaps all those people in line had not been "morning people," because when I carried my used tray out of the eating area people seemed friendlier and more alert. I found myself lost and disoriented again, but managed to figure out what to do by following everyone else. Leftovers, metal and plastics were all carefully separated from the trays, which were then handed to dishwashers after the cups were placed in washing racks. Not really the most appetizing way to end a meal, but orderly and thorough.
All-in-all it wasn't unpleasant, but the contrast between it and what we had experienced previously couldn't have been more stark. I couldn't imagine eating meal after meal in that atmosphere for months at a time, and decided that perhaps that was part of why ships at sea are filled with young people.
Fresh from the contrast between the austerity of breakfast and the relative luxury of dinner, we were well-primed for our next stop: meeting the Command Master Chief, the senior enlisted man on the ship.
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Like everything else about Fuzzybear that is random and illogical, this blog itself doesn't have a definite birthday. If you want to be technical, it's probably the 25th. Officially, it's the 28th.
And so as has become traditional around here, I'm going to take a look at my year in blogging... The busy month of August started off what a bang--a trip to San Antonio for the largest single distribution of Valour-IT laptops yet, the highlight of which was meeting Sgt. X. It ended with coverage of a new embed in Iraq, whose blog I kept up for him.
June can be summed up in two letters: DV. I'm sure I must've blogged on other topics, but after spending the night on an aircraft carrier at sea, who cares?
In July I had the privilege of helping to roll out a beautiful way to thank the troops. And we said a sad and proud goodbye to a number of greatAmericanspirits.
Well, that's the year in review. It didn't really seem like much when it was happening, but looking back I guess there was a lot going on after all.
Cpl. Ayers has reportedly been given a posthumous promotion and Bronze Star with V for his actions in the battle last weekend. He was at the observation post for the FOB, a position at which 7 of the 9 soldiers manning it died. He was apparently not the only soldier who fought that day with tremendous valor.
Stars and Stripes has a riveting, heartbreaking account of the battle as told by survivors now recovering at Landstuhl Regional Medical Center:
"I just hope these guys’ wives and their children understand how courageous their husbands and dads were," said Sgt. Jacob Walker. "They fought like warriors." [snip]
Cpl. Jonathan Ayers laid down continuous fire from an M-240 machine gun, despite drawing small-arms and RPG fire from the enemy. Ayers kept firing until he was shot and killed...
"It was some of the bravest stuff I’ve ever seen in my life, and I will never see it again because those guys," [wounded soldier] Stafford said, then paused. "Normal humans wouldn’t do that. You’re not supposed to do that — getting up and firing back when everything around you is popping and whizzing and trees, branches coming down and sandbags exploding and RPGs coming in over your head … It was a fistfight then, and those guys held ’ em off."
I imagine some additional places have been set at Fiddler's Green...
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May he rest in peace. He was one of the nine American soldiers killed when a compound in Afghanistan was overrun last weekend.
This one hit a little close to home, as he is the son in a family intimately known to a friend of mine. I've spent the evening corresponding with said friend and putting out some Soldiers' Angels support alerts to set in motion the appropriate SA teams. My friend's son (a veteran himself) was very close to CPL Ayers and is coping with a visceral reaction to the news, as are all in his hometown who knew and loved him.
A good kid... He'd probably be all 'aw shucks' over all the fuss being made over him. He was kinda' shy.
And a good community, too:
[My son] ran off to Gillem to get some new chevrons for his dress blues before he went to work. [My daughter] and her girlfriends went to pick up some little American Flags that they got donated...
We're going back over [to their house] this evening. My wife is making her (almost) world renowned sausage and meatball spaghetti. Like they need more food. We'd probably do better if we brought them a spare refrigerator! His parents' church is taking very good care of them. His dad came over for awhile this morning to hang out with my son. Just mainly to get out of the house I think. I'm fielding calls from a lot of the old team as word has gotten out. It's a good community...
I wouldn't have written a post singling out CPL Ayers and his hometown, as he is the center of just one of nine radiating circles of anguish. Except that I opened an email to this:
Over at Blackfive, Jimbo starts out with a political post that veers off in a different direction, resulting in this gem of a comment from a regular reader:
War is not law enforcement, and the primary concern in a firefight is not preserving evidence so that America-hating leftists won't be able to second-guess you.
While my focus was not on GTMO while in the military, I investigated a few deaths of civilians in Afghanistan. The bottom line is that in war you don't have a chance to sit down with sheaves of records and ponder ambiguities when someone is trying to kill you. You make a decision and run with it. Sometimes, unfortunately, that decision will be wrong, but it simply cannot be judged as if it were a police action. And those of us who *do* sit down with sheaves of information should not forget that.
A couple of years ago my father died. He was in the Army in the Pacific Theater in New Guinea in WWII, was a recipient of the Silver Star, and was catastrophically wounded in the war.
After he died, I had to go through his stuff and get his house ready for sale. I ran across a newspaper article from when he returned to his home town after being wounded. He was quoted extensively on the battle in which he was wounded and in the event that got him the Silver Star.
In that discussion, I was struck by his very practical attitude towards killing his enemy. The bottom line for him was that he was in a war for his life and that if there was any ambiguity, it would be solved with a bullet. He told the newspaper, for instance, that the Japanese had a habit of false surrenders and booby trapping wounded soldiers, so unless they were pretty much standing alone naked with their hands up, he just shot first and asked questions later. Wounded? His buddy was killed by a grenade on a wounded Japanese soldier. Shoot and move on. Surrender? His next buddy was killed in an ambush in a false surrender. Shoot and move on.
This was war, not a game.
The most amazing thing about this, though, was the glowing report such statements got in the newspaper. His statements about just shooting the "Japs" and taking the fight on was treated as eminently reasonable and good judgement. He was, rightly, portrayed as a hero.
Now, of course, the opposite is true. Unless soldiers treat the people trying to kill them as if they were the good guys instead of the enemy, they are guilty of "crimes against humanity."
I had one case in Afghanistan of a suspected Al-Qaueda operative who had infiltrated a camp posing as a local. The local chieftans told the warfighters that this guy was not a local, and was Al Quada. He ended up dead. Some folk said he was killed trying to escape. Others said he resisted capture. Others said he was executed.
My job was not to make that determination, but to analyze some of the evidence, so I didn't have to opine about the substance of the charges. However, I couldn't help wonder if people had forgotten that we were in a war. There was no ambiguity about whether or not the guy was Al Quaeda and was responsible for killing American warfighters, just whether or not he had received due process. I kept thinking that, you know, if this were WWII, we would not be spending a half-million dollars trying to put these people in jail.
It was one of the few times I was a little ashamed of being a REMF. It was clear that there were people in JAG who were much more concerned with the politics of this than with the reality of war.
I don't know the outcome of the case. It might still be active, so I can't talk about what happened with my end of it. But the bottom line is that there was a nontrivial effort to generate a prosecution of those warfighters. And I do know that when my team sat down to write our report, we didn't forget who was on the front line and who was not.
I'm not one of those who think the frontline soldier can do no wrong, but I find myself in the agreeable company of those who say we have tilted to far the other way.
There are reasons war is so horrible... and there are reasons I once told a warfighter who'd been to hell and back more than once, "Part of why I thank you for your service is because you had to make the difficult decisions, had to do what must be done. I understand that what I only know in my head, you know in your heart. And that leaves me in your debt."Read More......
"DV" stands for Distinguished Visitor. I'm not sure how distinguished I am, but I was definitely a visitor to an aircraft carrier at sea this week for just about 24 glorious hours. I have struggled mightily with how to write about this. I truly don't know where to start, and it seems so many others have expressed it all so much better than I. But I'll try...
Aircraft carriers are a jumble of paradoxes—postage stamp-size for a plane taking off and landing, yet gargantuan for the visitor who would have an easier time navigating a foreign country than the distance between his bed and the nearest exit; incomprehensibly complex to the outsider, but blindingly simple to the person explaining every detail of how his particular machine operates and how it affects the rest of the ship; hot, cramped, humid and miserable for the sailor manning the catapult engine 16 hours a day, while spacious and exhilarating for the "Shirt" repositioning aircraft on a quiet deck as the sun rises.
I was also struck by the contrasts between the youngest sailors given so much life-and-death responsibility, and even the best of the teenagers I currently know or observe. If the startlingly young man on his 16th hour of monitoring and maintaining the catapult engine screws up, somebody above him can be severely maimed or killed. If the eighteen year old I had breakfast with doesn't do proper maintenance of the ship's diesel backup engines/power plant, 5,000 people come to a grinding halt. If their doppelganger at McDonalds doesn't wash his hands, someone goes home and is sick for a little while. Maybe.
But it's more than that. There is a light in the eyes of young sailors given great responsibility. It is the spark of confidence in knowing both that what they do matters and that they are up to the task. Even the shy ones or those without the gift of gab will still straighten a bit more and look you in the eyes when you ask about what they do and how they feel about it. And then they'll proceed to immediately communicate that information to you in a straightforward, easily-understood manner that resonates with quiet pride.
You can see echoes of those kids in the Command Master Chief who was once one of them. And yes, he calls them kids. His kids. He described his job as helping them find that spark of pride and confidence, "Getting them to the deciding point," he calls it--the point where they have completed their first enlistment with honor, learned at least one skill/trade, and have an Associate's degree so that they have the opportunity to attempt to move forward into a successful naval career or step out with a personal and intellectual skill set that will make them successful civilians (the CMC deserves an entire post of his own, a lesson in management and leadership).
But over and over again, it was the very youngest sailors who most amazed me. Volunteering at the USO, I see the full range of young sailors coming through: the terribly nervous ones straight out of Boot Camp at Great Lakes who are going to a school to learn their "Navy trade," and the more polished but just-as-nervous sailors going to their first duty station.The ones who walk in with the world on their shoulders and a bad attitude to match, and the “squared away” ones who are somehow every inch the teen while still being polite, respectful, and quietly confident.Overwhelmingly, it was that last type I saw most often on U.S.S. STENNIS this week—and it was those in the menial jobs that impressed me the most.
Our meals included times in the general mess hall with the enlisted, but our first meal was a formal dinner set up in one of the wardrooms.We were served by a wait staff that was as polished, attentive and efficient as any fine dining could require.I enjoyed the experience, but thought nothing of it until our host commented that these sailors were not formally trained in this; they were merely doing their grunt time as brand new sailors before moving up into the positions for which they had actually enlisted.
I was floored.Their attitudes, professionalism, and way above and beyond approach to dealing with a unique situation during the meal would have done the finest restaurant more than proud.I was humbled, and honored.If how they can serve a meal is anything close to how they are going to approach their more ship-related tasks when they advance, STENNIS will be in very good hands.
I’ll put it another way: I went out there thinking I’d meet some neat people, but expecting to be wowed by the technology.I had quite the opposite experience—wowed by the people.
I’ll write about it all in detail in multiple upcoming posts.And yes, they lost my camera when they took everything that wasn't attached to our clothing at the catapult safety briefing and put it in the cargo section of the plane [update 6/27/08: Found!]. It had every scrap of video and every photo I took while onboard.Even my notes were in that bag. The only proof I have that I was ever there is the ship’s photo of Captain Johanson and the DV group.The fact that I haven't cried about that is either an indicator of my continuing total exhaustion, or testament to the fact that the rest was so overwhelmingly impressive it can't be overshadowed. I suspect the latter...
Update: Okay, I cried. I remembered something else that was in the camera bag--a delicate gold and silver Harley-Davidson necklace given me by a soldier I had adopted long before I thought of Valour-IT and with whom I had lost contact until he requested a laptop due to his wounds. He gave it to me the day we met after his recovery, when he called me a real-live angel and took me out on a Harley. As much as it's a hit to my finances, I don't care about the expensive camera, the $100+ dollars in cash, or even my driver's license or the notes I took. But the pictures/video and the necklace are irreplaceable. The disappearance of the bag is just incomprehensible, based on the geography and logisitics of the situation, but these things happen. I know that from my own travails in trying to keep track of stuff. If that's the bill for the opportunity I just had, I can accept it. And I'll always have the pictures in my head, which reproduces them far better than any pixels or ink. It sucks, though. Just. sucks.
Mostly just other peoples' writing, but I thought it should be pulled together all in one place...
I've written before about how getting to know both current soldiers and Vietnam veterans has helped me better understand how awful what America did to returning Vietnam veterans was, that how they were treated and how their war was "concluded" had powerful effects on how they ultimately responded to their battlefield experiences.
BillT (helicopter pilot in Vietnam) writes about similarities between Iraqi soldiers and America's Vietnam veterans, and I guarantee it's not what you think. Fellow Vietnam veteran "Jimmy J" (flew off carriers and had friends in the Hanoi Hilton) has this to say in response to a link to BillT:
This war and its detractors have certainly ripped the scabs off the psychic wounds I had been carrying since Vietnam.
After a tour at Yankee Station [deployed], I had the misfortune to spend two years recruiting Navy pilots on the campuses of northern California. We were picketed, insulted, spat upon, had our literature burned, our vehicles defaced, and, on two occasions, were detained against our will. We could not, of course, respond in kind. Wouldn’t be seemly to flatten some callow youth’s nose or shatter a few teeth. The urge to fight back was always there, but always kept in check. The result was a great deal of repressed rage carried around for a number of years before I learned how to deal with it.
After 9/11 I saw the beginnings of another anti-war/anti-American movement. It has grown larger, more bellicose, more hate-filled, and more unreasoning with each passing year.
I spend a lot of time venting and dealing with anger these days. The understanding and acceptance the Iraqis and Bill T. feel certainly resonates deeply with me.
I’m sure there are many Nam vets who are dealing with the same feelings...
Just last week I talked to a friend of mine whose husband was severely wounded several years ago. We talked about his journey with anger over being wounded and some of the symptoms of TBI and PTSD he had shown at times. She said that he was doing very well, and never displayed anger toward her and other family members. Instead, what could set him off in a split second was anti-military things or inaccurate/spun news coverage of Iraq--things any reasonable person could be angry about, but which "flipped the switch" in him.
And Greyhawk, veteran of our current wars, adds this:
"The true soldier fights not because he hates what is in front of him, but because he loves what is behind him." - G.K. Chesterton
Iraq as you'll only see it in milblogs.
Just thought I'd once again point out that some of the wounding done to America's veterans these days happens off the battlefield... And it's 100% preventable.
Read More......
Just read it. If you are military, you'll know what's happening by the time you get to the description of the goodbye setting. If like me you're not, you'll be once again reminded of the incredible strength required to send a loved one off to war.
I think perhaps it's so big that I can't quite wrap my arms around it--I am blessed in that I don't have a personal connection to someone who is honored on this day. I have no face that hovers in my mind's eye on days like this, no ghosts that walk alongside me each day.
So I sit quietly and watch... awed by the stories... noticing the change in faces as pictures flash behind speaking eyes... observing that no matter how much the focus is on "celebration of the life lived," a bitter ribbon flows among the love and pride and fiercely-held memories.
And so they are here and their brothers are not. But they almost are... in names whispered or shouted, in stories of laughter and tears and astonishing heroism, in survivors enveloped in brotherly love, in bonds so fierce that even death cannot sever them completely.
For what is remembered never really ceases to exist.
A somber occasion then, this Memorial Day, but also a sadly joyous one. For if we must regret the bitterness and pain of sacrifice, we must celebrate the fact that there are those who love us enough, and trust us enough, and what we stand for, that they would lay down their lives for us. We must earn this.
We must earn this by keeping in our hearts their loved ones, for whom no Memorial Day celebration will ever be required to invoke their memories or sufficient to fill the holes left in their lives.
We must earn this by continuing to build that more perfect union, so that it may more nearly represent the ideals of truth and freedom and justice for which they gave their lives.
Sarah is the kind of wife a good warfighter dreams of having waiting for him back home--strong, loyal, responsible, flexible, loving and unspeakably proud of her husband and the profession he has chosen... A warrior wife.
Less than a year ago, far later than what they had planned for, she was finally pregnant. She lost the baby at about six weeks, though she didn't know until later.
Just over a week ago, her husband deployed to Iraq. Last weekend, she found out she was pregnant again. It wasn't part of their plan, but they rejoiced across the miles.
[Final installment of my interview with Major General Rick Lynch, Commanding General, 3rd Infantry Division (MND-C, Iraq). Part I and Part II.]
In January when I interviewed the 3ID Chief of Staff, he was obviously concerned about getting help with rebuilding the economy and infrastructure. COL McKnight said, "we are very good at security operations, but other enablers can help us with the economy." He expressed the need for private investment and expertise, and help with building infrastructure. However, he said he expected to see more of that soon, as things continued to calm down.
So, last week I asked MG Lynch to what extent COL McKnight's expectations had been met--what was succeeding, and what was falling short in redevelopment? In response, Lynch proudly rattled off a staggering list of rebuilding and reconstruction projects, ranging from the typical schools and hospitals to things such as fish hatcheries/farms, poultry farms and markets. The focus has been on what he calls "sustainable employment," jobs that help build lasting industrial and economic systems.
During the 14 months that 3ID has been deployed, MG Lynch reports that the Iskandariyah Industrial Complex has gone from employing "a couple hundred" to 4,000-5,000 people, with the local Provincial Reconstruction team "facilitating" the contracts that created the increased need for workers. And to fill that need, the Iskandariyah vocational/tech school "has gone from 32 students to 1500. They are each paid a stipend to go to school and will graduate having learned a trade."
Economic development work centers on the local level. MG Lynch referenced community-based projects such as the newly-reopened Yusufiyah wholesale market, which employs 500 people and gives the recovering farmers and artisans a place to sell their goods. There has also been a concurrent effort to make sure that security and infrastructure support economic development, while offering micro-grants to help merchants and farmers with either "seed money" or investments that will improve an important aspect of their businesses. "No one has complained in my area that they can’t get their goods to market…or that they can’t get goods [they want] to sell," said Lynch.
MG Lynch spent a lot of time talking about the fish and poultry farms that have been reborn through micro-grants and the assistance Provincial Reconstruction Teams. He described the 90,000 fertilized eggs that had just arrived from Holland, and the effort to design transport tanks that individual fish farmers could use to get their "fingerlings" (baby fish) to their farms. He then talked about how long it would take for before the fish and poultry would be marketable, and how that market would play out in the region.
At times such as this in the interview, it seemed more that I was talking to a business-minded mayor or the professor of an agricultural college than to the commanding general of a lethal U.S. Army infantry division. I asked MG Lynch if he had envisioned himself being so involved in this kind of work. He pointed out that they had planned for this going in, "We were prepared to do COIN." The division started out with what ended up being about eight months of major combat operations but, "We knew coming in that there was [going to be] the rest of the story--Okay, now you’ve got to meet the needs of the people." They had prepared ahead of time for this eventuality, but MG Lynch admitted he'd gained much more familiarity with raising chickens and fish than he'd ever expected.
All of this redevelopment work going on leads to the obvious question of whether 3ID's operations are now including more PRTs and non-military support than they had been earlier this year. This is clearly a touchy subject, as it goes back to the long-running Iraq-related feuds between DoD and State/CIA. In earlier interviews, members of 3ID expressed great appreciation for the PRTs, but politely made it clear they weren't getting enough.
MG Lynch reports that while the number of PRTs has increased, staffing is not at 100% in his AO. In general, they are manned at the 80% level, though the newest teams are only at 60%. He seemed happy to be able to note that Karbala and Najaf were finally getting their own PRTs on the very day we spoke, and added that the State Department is, "soliciting for people to come in and fill those positions." This struck me as a case of stepping lightly around the feud, since the State Department has refused to force its employees to take these unpopular postings and instead has relied on volunteers to fill the billets.
In closing, I asked MG Lynch if there was anything I hadn't mentioned that he feels is not being heard back home. He replied with intensity, "I continue to find myself frustrated by the idea that the American army is at the breaking point!" He referenced 3ID's record-breaking rate of reenlistment, with fiscal year goals met in March despite having deployed 3 times since 2003 and currently finishing up a 15-month deployment. "But [they are] reenlisting because they believe that what they are doing is important--protecting our freedoms and way of life--in their souls. They believe in the mission, as I do."
"The idea that the Army is broken is blatantly false," he continued. It is not the military personnel themselves who concern him nearly as much as their families. "It's the strain on families more than anything...Fifteen [months] isn’t 12 + 3,” he pointed out. "You miss two of something when it's fifteen... We've also gotta spend more time at home between deployments."
He repeatedly emphasized that it is the families who are much more of a worry for him than the soldiers. "It’s important the American public knows their army is not at the breaking point," he reiterated, "That they’re re-enlisting and believe in the mission."
With that in mind, MG Lynch was happy to report that the 3ID Headquarters will be formally transferring authority to the 10th Mountain Division on June 1. I asked him what he thinks are the biggest issues 10th MTN will be facing. He expects the major work to be on the Sons of Iraq program, "[ensuring] they remain part of the solution." Lynch said he believes about 60% of them were involved in insurgent-related activity at some point but, "Today they are part of the solution."
This transfer of SOI participants from their temporary employment as a kind of neighborhood watch into careers such as military, police, and various trades has been a constant challenge for a number of reasons. According to MG Lynch, most SOI want to join the Iraqi Army, but only about 1/3 of those applying meet the recruit criteria for physical condition, aptitude, age and literacy.
Instead of military service, many SOI are encouraged to join local police forces or attend trade schools, an effort which is "making some progress." MG Lynch said that in the Jurfa sector where recently there had been no police presence, the newly-reconstituted police force is composed entirely of former SOI members, and there is also an effort to employ some SOI as a kind of civilian service corps for cleaning up and repairing streets and structures.
Even among the SOI qualified to join the Iraqi Army, there are challenges. Potential recruits still "encounter sectarian resistance at the national level, something we have a difficult time understanding," says MG Lynch. "The concern is that these SOI are nothing more than a Sunni militia that will overthrow the government at some point. It is difficult because there is resistance to embracing the idea of getting Sunni to be functioning members of society."
But MG Lynch is not without optimism on this subject. "Slowly, slowly," he says, using a common Arabic phrase. "Everything here in Iraq is hard, and everything in Iraq takes time... It’s going the right direction, just happens to going very slowly."
On the other hand, the transition from 3ID heading up MND-C to the 10th MTN taking over is going very smoothly and quickly. "We are an experience-based army," says MG Lynch. "I find myself worrying zero percent of the time about transitioning... Constant transitions, but it works well." He expects no lapse in momentum when 10th MTN takes over. "I don’t have any concerns."
And so MG Lynch and the rest of 3ID HQ will be home by about June 3, after 15 long months at "war..." Or at something that no longer resembles war for most of them, so much as it resembles a cross between the later stages of a disaster recovery operation and the typical Peace Corps project.
"We're close to that." - MG Rick Lynch, Commanding General, 3ID/MND-C
As outlined in Part I, the shift in security in 3ID's Area of Operations since they arrived has been startling. The biggest reason attacks are down to less than two per day is that there are simply fewer hardliners left to cause problems. In the last year, 3ID has killed or captured over 6,000 al Qaeda terrorists and insurgents in the AO, reports MG Lynch. But though attacks are down sharply, Lynch refers to the security situation as "tenuous" because the enemy is still capable of what he describes as isolated spectacular attacks such as lethal bombings.
However, Lynch does not see opposition forces as capable of coordinated and sustained action. "We’re at the point now where we believe there is no more than 100 AQ in our area…in isolated cells of 5 or 10 people," he reports. The situation is similar in regards to what he calls "Shia extremists." Though they number at an estimated 650, they are not connected and coordinated.
Some of the analysis of recent operations in Southern Iraq has described resistance as being comprised of largely criminal elements, despite whatever ideological affiliations such elements may claim. With that in mind, I asked MG Lynch how much of the attacks or unrest in his area was simply criminal activity. He again pointed to the remaining pockets of al Qaeda, but added that "Many Shia [insurgents] are purely motivated to criminal activity," and repeated a line I've heard him use before: "The best way to train for Iraq these days is to watch the 6th season of The Sopranos.
Another big factor in the improved security situation in 3ID's AO is the continuing development of Iraqis creating and maintaining their own security, of which Sons of Iraq and Iraqi Security Forces (army and police) are a significant part. MG Lynch described the SOI program as "maturing" and swelling to 40,000 participants. The SOI "provide sustainable security, which is defined as locals under positive control securing their community."
The development of Iraq Security Forces themselves has obviously pleased MG Lynch. "Great progress with ISF," he enthused, mentioning three patrol bases that are currently being transitioned to the control of Iraqi units. "It’s an amazing thing to me—the progress that is being made in the Iraqi Army."
Within the 3ID AO, the Iraqi Army is comprised of 14 brigade-size units that are near fully functional. "In the majority of cases, they are capable of planning and executing operations on their own," MG Lynch reported. "All they need is logistic or supply support. [There are] several provinces where they are fully in the lead, including Wasit and al Kut."
The big issue with ISF today is the police. This is one area that obviously concerns MG Lynch. "Not making a lot of progress improving the capability of police," he laments. Corruption/lack of professionalism is a huge problem with many Iraqi police units.
Part of the challenge comes down to a problem with availability of Coalition personnel. There are 96 Iraqi Police stations within 3ID's AO, but there are only 27 Police Transition Teams (civilian/military training and mentoring units). This leaves the vast majority of new Iraqi police units under-trained and unsupervised. With the Iraqi Army now taking the lead more and more, this is 3ID's current focus in the area of ISF development. When I spoke to MG Lynch last week, a reorganization and restructuring of the Military Transition Teams was underway in an attempt to--wherever possible--move qualified Americans from the MiTTs into the PiTTs.
Despite generally good security in the AO, what MG Lynch calls "continuing pressure on the enemy" remains an important part of 3ID's mission. For example, as part of Marne Piledriver, there are significant combat operations in Wasit Province and al Kut (two of the provinces where Iraqi Army units are in the lead). However, Lynch was quick to point out the ways in which combat and stabilization operations go hand-in-hand in counter-insurgency. "At the same time," he said, "you do what you can do to meet the needs of the populations." This includes building governing institutions and relationships, efforts in which he has reported "significant progress."
When I asked MG Lynch about relations between the various religious factions, he replied flatly, "No sectarian violence at all." He said many local councils have Sunni/Shia working together very effectively, a pattern that is also seen in the SOI units. He believes he sees the population coalescing around common bonds and fundamental desires: "People identifying themselves as Iraqi, not as members of a sect." He spoke of a focus among Iraqis--across a variety of backgrounds--on basic safety, good jobs, and the opportunity to improve their station. "I’m convinced more than ever that the people of Iraq want what you and I want," he said with conviction.
I also asked MG Lynch if he believes the AO has "turned a corner," that if current troop levels and Iraqi capabilities were unchanged there would be no going back to the violence and chaos of the past. He declined to use such language, but he is obviously optimistic. "We’re working towards irreversible momentum," he replied. "And we’re close to that."
In the final installment (tomorrow): economic development, transition and expected challenges for 3ID's MND-C replacements, and the burden of long and repeated deployments.
I know how humbling it is, how humiliating it feels. And I know how much better I felt, how amazingly more functional I felt, after Soldiers' Angels provided me with a laptop.
--Chuck Ziegenfuss, wounded in Iraq and recipient of a voice-activated laptop while hospitalized (Valour-IT's inspiration)
