Coming Home

After nearly 7 months in the middle east I am finally coming home for 15 days of leave.

I am scheduled to fly out of COB Delta (as a part of the draw down of military forces in Iraq, the title “Forward Operating Base” has been changed to the more benign “Contingency Operating Base”) on an Air force C-130 and will spend a day or two en route to Atlanta, Georgia. I don’t think I have looked forward to anything with such excitement. [a note from the author: A close second place goes to Christmas 1996 which obviously was the holiday season just after Nintendo 64 was

released in the United States providing us with a 3-D Mario, the rise of the first person shooter in Goldeneye and subsequently preventing me or any of my friends from any notable interactions with girls until long after turn of the millennia. For those of you non-geeks out there, just call one of my brothers and either will confirm that describing any anticipation as surpassing that of Christmas ’96 borders on the hyperbolic].

I was home schooled from kindergarten to high school graduation. My summer camp as a kid was a week long. I never studied abroad during college (who in their right mind would voluntarily give up a semester at UVa/in Charlottesville to hang out with foreigners? I pity the fool…Sorry but who isn’t completely psyched about the new A-Team movie ?) The longest I was ever in a basic training style army school was 5 weeks. All this to say, I am not altogether used to being away from home for long periods of time. Now that I have been away for more than half a year the idea of coming home seems surreal. I suppose this shouldn’t come as a surprise considering the unusual realities of living in a combat zone, however, I have experienced this to a greater than expected. A couple of weeks ago I was downright anxious about the idea of coming home, but through much prayer and the encouragement of loved ones my anxiety has in large part melted into joy. (please take the time to watch this short video which I really feel accurately demonstrates how out of place a veteran may feel initially after coming home). I expect it will take some time to get used to not carrying a gun, not having to scan the sides of roads for bombs while driving or not looking for a bunker at the sound of a siren. While it will be nice to leave these things behind in Iraq, I am far more excited by what will be regained upon my arrival back home.

I have already begun giving myself pep talks mustering the discipline not to make a scene in the Atlanta airport by sprinting through the terminal and mowing over unwary TSA employees on my way to hugging Molly. Think Tim Tebow (Go Broncos!) blindsiding an FSU linebacker in the red zone. Not good.

By the way, for those who don’t know, a hug from Molly White is one of life’s treasures and should never be taken for granted. I struggle with envy of those of you whom have had these regularly over the past few months (this means you, Vanessa Newton).

After arriving in Atlanta, hopefully on the morning of May 14, I am planning on driving to Columbus, GA to see friends and worship at St. Andrew’s PCA. I spent only about 16 months living in Columbus and attending SAPC but I was so blessed to gain incredibly close friendships and community there. Having lived without it for the past 7 months I can honestly say the blessing of membership in thriving church community is truly life giving. My friend Bradley recently asked me how I would want to spend my precious few days in Columbus and I explained that simply spending time in friends homes, having dinner, talking and laughing seems like an absolutely thrill right now. Some soldiers use their two weeks R&R for “exciting” vacations to the south pacific, Hawaii or Europe. But not me. I simply want to be around the people I love and regain a sense or normalcy…and enjoy some home cooked meals. Which brings me to the next stop on the itinerary. On or around May 17 Molly and I are driving up to Virginia Beach to spend time with my family. Six things come to mind immediately:

1) Sitting at the kitchen counter talking with my mom while she cooks something incredible.

2) Hanging out on the porch talking with my dad.

3) Surfing with my older brother, Wesley.

4) Golfing with my younger brother, Reed.

5) Laughing with my sister, Lera.

6) Taking a nap on the sofa with my dog, Cricket on my chest.

Go to war for a year and you will realize the simplest parts of your life, which you have taken for granted for years are the most dear to you.

After leaving Virginia Beach Molly and I hope to spend a couple of days with her family at the beach in South Carolina before heading back to Columbus and ultimately to Atlanta for my flight back to Iraq. I know the 15 days of leave will go by way too fast but I am really glad to already be over halfway finished with deployment and should be home for good in late September/early October. I will have an extended block leave this fall after our final return at which time I will be free to travel more extensively and see as many of you as possible.

[Another note from the author: all credit for inspiring the inclusion of links and pictures belongs to Jennifer "J-Money" Hocutt. She truly has perfected the art of blogging.]

The Glamour is Gone

At the beginning of my last post I made a pledge of sorts to update this blog more often and I am sorry I failed to keep my word. While the army has instilled in me a great disdain for excuses, I will go ahead and catch you up on what has been going on, which I hope will explain the lack of updates. With the elections in Iraq approaching, most people have been anticipating a spike in violence around the country. Unfortunately this has turned out to be much more reliable than most speculation coming from soldiers. Rocket attacks were sporadic throughout our first four months at FOB Delta, but a couple of weeks ago the insurgents really started increasing their diligence. Attacks started coming every other day at first and then during a six day stretch we received 5 separate rocket attacks (each attack consisting of 2-5 rockets). The rockets themselves are mostly remnants of the cold war and are hardly precision munitions when employed by under equipped and under trained insurgents, however, if you throw darts while blindfolded at a dartboard the size of a wall, you are bound to hit something and that seems to be good enough for these guys. The worst attack came one night about a week ago while I was at the FOB chapel during our praise and worship practice (I play guitar and sing for our Sunday morning protestant service). I was teaching “Song of Hope” by The Robbie Seay band to one of the vocalists when the pre-chorus was rudely interrupted.

“In my darkest night, you brighten up the skies. A song will rise”…[explosion]…

The irony didn’t occur to me until long after the adrenaline wore off that night. [Context: during the numerous rocket attacks prior to this one all I would hear was a dull thud in the distance and if I wasn’t already in the concrete building I live in would dutifully (and slowly) make my way to a nearby bunker in an effort to obey orders and keep my promise to my family and Molly to be careful. But this night was different. The first impact was fairly loud. Loud enough that I immediately knew Robbie Seay’s chorus was going to have to wait. The second impact set all of us running down the aisle towards the door of the paper thin chapel’s front door and taking cover in safety of the small bunker outside. My sprint was only briefly delayed by a moment to stop and gently set down the new Martin guitar I ordered and had shipped to me out here. I mean, it’s a Martin for heaven’s sake. In the past I have brought my guitar into a bunker during a rocket attack for a little sing along to pass the time until the “all clear” was sounded over the FOB loudspeakers but I knew no one including me was in the mood for a sing-along during this attack. As I ducked my head into the bunker I heard the third impact. It sounded like a quick crack of thunder and it sounded like it was close. I looked up at my friend and fellow 1^st Lieutenant, Matt Parker and asked rhetorically (in what I am sure was very cliché “we are getting shot at” yelling voice) “how close is that?” Much to my surprise he laughed and pointed over my shoulder and said “its right there”. I turned around in time to see a smoke cloud and ball of sparks filling the night sky. We later found out the impact was somewhere between 50 and 100 meters from us. 5 rockets hit the base that night, all in busy areas full of soldiers walking around and miraculously only 2 soldiers received minor injuries from gravel thrown by one of the impacts. I fully realize that this experience is very tame compared to the firefights and IED ambushes other soldiers have dealt with throughout this war, nonetheless it quickly put my over glamorized view of war to rest for good.

The elections are coming up this Sunday and we will be working alongside our Iraqi Army counterparts conducting stability operations which hopefully will keep citizens of Al Kut safe while they head to the polls. This week is crucial for Iraq and consequently for our mission here as well. I will put together another update after the elections are over and everything settles back down.

Unbridled Restraint

After my last blog entry I told myself I would start posting more often and clearly I failed during this past month. Since then, however, I have been encouraged by my good friend Luke Addison to keep up with the blog more diligently. After more than three months of being in the middle east I have grown accustomed to life here. I forget all too easily that business as usual for me here is far less than normal for friends back home. Our base is hit by rockets every week or so and now the attacks seem more like an inconvenience than anything to get worked up about. The fact that I am at this moment typing on my MacBook with a 9mm pistol on my belt and a loaded magazine in my pocket is quite forgettable to me but I must remember this is not the norm back in the states (even for good NRA members like me). Just a couple of months ago I was a filled with excitement and anxiety before each patrol or escort mission, but now these missions are just ordinary activities. While I work very hard to guard against complacency in myself and in my men, inevitably we adapt to our environment and adjust our sense of normalcy. I am going to make an effort to remember this rather than discarding writing ideas because they seem dull. In case this blog takes a turn for bland you can send complaints directly to Luke. Before I even stepped foot in the middle east I was excited about keeping friends informed not only on what I would be doing here but also about what is going on in the war here. It seems now that at some point while no one was looking Afghanistan, long held as “forgotten war” switched places with Iraq as the campaign in the limelight. I suppose relative peace and strategic success just isn’t sexy enough to talk about. I hope these posts will help provide you, my friends and family with a more consistent view of the war that is now on its 2,505^th day. If not, hopefully these words will at least be an effective cure for those struggling with insomnia.

Lately my biggest challenge as a platoon leader has been keeping my men motivated and invested in our mission here. You must understand the average American soldier is not terribly excited by phrases like “tactical restraint” or “advisory assistance” (the latter is actually the new catch phrase and overall description for our mission here in Iraq). My platoon is a conglomeration of Infantry Mortarmen, Field Artillery Forward Observers, and Cavalry Scouts. Many are here in Iraq for there second or third tour and are chomping at the bit to knock down doors and kill the enemy. It would take very little effort to garner a confession from any of them of desiring a confirmed kill in combat. While I try to guard against my own delusions of grandeur, I must confess I still am excited by the potential for a gun fight. I must remind myself and my men, however, that the fight in Iraq is largely past the days of gunning down insurgents and hunting IED triggermen. But, in many ways our mission now is more crucial than the more violent days of 2005, 2006, and 2007. Our new mission still requires great courage from our soldiers, but courage of a new brand. Our intent with every mission and interaction with the Iraqi people and the Iraqi army is to build rapport and relationships. In practice this means that we make ourselves more vulnerable in order to display trust to our Iraqi army partners. When we arrive at their compounds we take off all of our helmets and bullet proof vests as a gesture of fidelity. We have abandoned many aggressive tactics used frequently just a year ago to protect U.S. troops like firing warning shots at civilian vehicles that intermix in our convoys that could be VBIEDS (Vehicle Borne Improvised Explosive Devices). We no longer roll through the city with Bradley Fighting Vehicles and tanks, but rather use armored trucks in order to try to blend in at least slightly better than before. Our rules of engagement and command oversight cause us in many cases to have to wait to be shot at until we can engage an attacker (and even then only if we can assure little to no collateral damage). Our restraint, however, is key to the strategic gains made every day and are exemplified by the steady growth of the Iraqi Government’s legitimacy. We must show ourselves to the Iraqi people as a friend rather than a bunch of cowboys who are quick on the draw but slow to discern. This is hardly a fair description of U.S. forces in Iraq but it still echoes as a stigma surrounding our presence in parts of this country.

In less than two months history will be made when Iraq will hold full democratic elections. No other Muslim nation in world history has ever done such a thing. Iraqi people have freedom and excitement about their future that was never thought possible under Saddam Hussein. I just finished a two hour conversation with my interpreter about life in Iraq before 2003. He said he took seven years to go through college not because he was lazy or a bad student, but because under Saddam there was little to no hope even for an educated Iraqi to have a good life so he had no motivation to work hard. Now Iraqis are getting to choose their own leaders without any foreign influence or broad threat of violence. While Iraq still has many problems, there is excitement in the air when you talk to locals who are starting to figure out what it means to be free. Citizens of surrounding countries are also beginning to see the freedoms enjoyed by Iraqis under the post-Saddam government. I was so encouraged last week when I was watching a Lebanese newscast and listening to one of our interpreters translate and provide context. The interpreter, a former Iraqi citizen and now a highly educated American explained how unrest is developing in neighboring countries like Iran and Syria because their people want a hope of freedom like that which now grows in Iraq. I have great hope that the shockwaves of what is happening in Iraq will be felt in this region for many years to come. Also, without Iraq, our nation’s only ally in the middle east is Israel. While I am personally prone to political affection for Israel in the same way that I rooted for Stallone in Rocky III against Mr. T, our relationship with Israel is hardly a diplomatic foot in the door into the middle east. (God bless them, they will use a sledgehammer as a flyswatter…and they will not pity the fool). Iraq on the other hand can become a viable, Muslim ally in a region which traditionally rejects us. I keep reminding my men with slow but steady success that our presence here, “boring” as it may be is absolutely crucial to the long term preservation of the new government of Iraq. Iraq’s security forces are growing in efficacy and legitimacy every day, however, if we are to leave prematurely or without a firmly established partnership the whole situation here might collapse like a Jenga tower at the hands of an impatient child. Our presence here provides confidence to Iraqi Security Forces akin to an older brother watching his younger brother's back during a neighborhood brawl. We will let them get some scrapes and bruises, but we are right here if things get out of hand. Iraq’s geographical position residing in between Iran and Syria make the neighborhood seem all the more dangerous and our long term partnership all the more crucial.

Link to an interview I did with Army Public Affairs

Holidays Away

I have been in Iraq for about six weeks now and am thankful to have begun feeling a battle rhythm for this deployment. I run patrols, escort missions or conduct training for Iraqi soldiers about 4 times a week and spend the other 3 days making sure my soldiers and equipment will be prepared for the next day’s operation. Fortunately in the past few days our pace has slowed down slightly, providing a little extra time for myself (a 12-14 hour day or working is wonderfully light compared to what some days have been like thus far). Two weeks ago marked my first Thanksgiving away from home. As you can imagine it was very hard being away from home, missing out on my Mom’s cooking and also missing out on the rare privilege of having my whole family together. Ironically though I found myself thankful for such a stark reminder of how much my family truly means to me.
I suppose a lonely Thanksgiving also provided my often overactive and possibly overly-analytical mind some free time to wander and philosophize. I had never left the United States until boarded the plane to Kuwait back in October. I have periodically paid lip service to the ambiguous idea that even lower and middle class Americans are some of the wealthiest people in world history. However, considering the only economic comparison available to me during my youth was the sprawling suburbia of Virginia Beach along with some isolated missions trips, my perception of the world was very limited. Praise God my eyes have been opened. The building I live in now would more than likely be condemned back home and I admit I furled my brow during my first look at it, but after my first patrol out in Al Kut I gained an appreciation for my accommodations in a hurry. I have A/C, clean sheets, hot showers and a mini-fridge. What more could you ask for in a war zone? Meanwhile I drive by what real poverty looks like every day and it is sobering. Nevertheless I see children playing, smiling, waving and giving the most impassioned “thumbs up” you will ever hope to see.

Our “wealth” as Americans, however, extends far past our economic circumstances. Our sense of safety and security at home is unimaginable here. These people live an in a place where rocket attacks, small arms fire and Rocket Propelled Grenades are a way of life. Considering recent events on our base I find myself walking at night around the FOB making mental notes of the nearest bunkers in case we take incoming rockets. I find myself along with many other soldiers eating in the dining facility flinching at the sound of thunder or a trash dumpster slamming to the ground and then laughing self-consciously at the realization that the noise was harmless. While don’t get me wrong, the war here is going very well and stability is a realistic goal, you must remember that stability is relative. A few days ago 200 Iraqis were killed an in instant by a coordinated car bomb attack and yet life moves on. During this upcoming Christmas season I encourage you to reflect and thank God for the great wealth and safety he has provided for all of us.

FOB Delta

After four and a half years of training in ROTC and on active duty I am finally in Iraq. I have known since I first signed my contract that I would one day end up here so I am very excited to finally get settled in. I took an Air Force C-130 flight from Kuwait here to FOB Delta a week and a half ago. I will never complain about turbulence on a commercial flight again. I really need to invest in some Dramamine stock because without two of those pills I probably would have ended up vomiting all over my commander who sat across from me in constant fear of my unfortunate inner-ear woes. I guess I’ve dodged one bullet already.

Much to my surprise, the landscape here in Wasit Province is quite different than that of the Martian looking topography in Kuwait. A light brown soil covers the ground rather than sand and there are even sporadic trees (including palm trees) around the base. To be honest the best description I can give of the environment here is that it looks like a post-apocalyptic central Florida. (Vote Tim Tebow for Heisman and for Wasit Provincial Governor!) I haven’t personally encountered any of the indigenous wildlife yet, however, there are already tales of bats with 20”+ wingspan and jackals with a 6’ vertical leap. I am hoping these stories are the results of typical soldier hyperbole, but I am keeping a loaded magazine with me just in case. My troop lives in a pre-war concrete structure which seems like it was an old project-style apartment building. My room is about 16’X16’ which I share with my Fire Support Sergeant. We have a shower building adjacent to our barracks as well as a bathroom trailer complete with running water! Compared to home, conditions are still fairly primitive, but after living in a refugee camp in Kuwait for three weeks I am thrilled for our new upgrades.

I am fairly confident I have recovered from what was H1N1 flu. There are many confirmed cases within the brigade but I chose not to go to the clinic to find out definitively because that would have meant walking a mile and half through the desert in order to be told to take some ibuprofen and sleep it off. I may have been a government major but I think I could have thought of that myself.

Last week I went out on two missions visiting the local Iraqi Army headquarters of the brigade we will be advising and assisting. The Iraqi soldiers were surprisingly warm and welcoming to us. They seem very motivated to improve as an army and are remarkably willing to accept our help in training their units. On my first day meeting the iraqis I was walking around with a captain who was introducing me to various soldiers in the brigade headquarters. We walked into the communications office and I immediately noticed a very plump Iraqi sergeant whom would be best described as an arab Mario from Super Mario Brothers. Yes, ridiculous mustache included. As soon as he saw me he jumped to his feet and exclaimed in broken english, “Oh yes! He is very beautiful, and then in a flood of Arabic he apparently asked my translator for permission to kiss me. Obviously I didn’t know anything was awry until my translator looked at me in hysterics and I was subsequently blindsided by Iraqi hospitality in the form of a bear hug and bristled kiss on the cheek. Once I recovered from the shock I joined in the laughter enjoyed by everyone else in the room.

Overall I am enjoying my time here more than I expected, but I miss family, friends and one particular Vanderbilt Medical School student quite a lot. Thank you so much for the emails and words of encouragement. Just hearing from people back home makes me feel much less isolated while I am here.

Camp Buehring, Kuwait

I've been here at Camp Buehring, Kuwait for about 10 days now and am just starting to get used to being the in middle east. I should be heading to Iraq sometime next week. To say the terrain is desolate would be a wild understatement. The only life of any kind here other than the soldiers walking around kicking up dust are the incessant flies and occasional camel spiders. Everything else is powdery sand that is much more like dirt. The few buildings we have here are hardly more than trailers or warehouse style garages. The only other structures here are large tents where we sleep. Imagine an enormous refugee camp on the planet Tatooine (minus one sun of course) and you will pretty much have the right vision of where I live. I live in an approximately 2,000 square ft. tent with the rest of my 80 soldier cavalry troop. Personal space is scarce.

Camp Buehring functions as the main staging area for units like mine on the verge of heading north into Iraq. We spend about half of each day in classes or last minute small-arms training and the other half the day sitting on our cots, working out in the gym or using the wifi in the one foothold of western capitalism in the middle east, Starbucks. Yes, you can defend an emerging nation from radical islamic terrorists and get your Grande Coffee Frappuccino at the end of the day too. War certainly has changed since D-Day. The training has varied from briefings on the latest insurgent tactics to working in Hummvee (our main combat vehicle) rollover simulators. Being the eco-friendly beacon of freedom that we truly are, the army has recycled destroyed Hummvees, hooked them up to amusement-park style rotation devices and developed some super fun training for all of us wide-eyed combat soldiers. The beginning of the briefing confirms that yes, neck and spinal injuries are fairly common so be sure to tuck your head when you crash into the ceiling. We get in the rebuilt Hummvee wearing all 60+lbs of our body armor/assorted gear and wait for the human washing machine to get rolling. Once I was upside down and sufficiently regretting my decision to leave my Dramamine back in the tent, the instructors yell "Exit the vehicle!". The air is quickly filled with a cacophony of seat belts unfastening, soldiers falling on their heads and an assortment of curses from the back seat that would make a sailor blush. I was one of the fortunate few who got the advice to open your door while dangling upside down and then flip out of the vehicle once you unfasten your belt. A quick flip that would have made Kerri Strug proud and I was able to escape the Hummvee and avoid being paralyzed.

I'm definitely looking forward to leaving Kuwait and getting settled into my Forward Operating Base in Iraq. I should have my own room and there are there are exciting little rumors of wifi in our rooms. Next thing you know they might even give us air-conditioning! Its really a tough life.

...more to follow soon. Keep in touch!