All The Small Things

Life has a funny way of communicating with the living. You see it everyday, but often times, it goes unnoticed. Things happen that we all take for granted. Little things...that could be life's way of telling us something.

For example, take a man running down the street. He most likely has run that route every day, or every other day for quite some time. He's not a bad runner, and does it because he likes how it makes him feel. Well, while running one day, he has to slow down because there's this pain in his chest...he can't catch his breath. He goes to the doctor, and gets checked out...only to find that he has something wrong with is heart. Maybe it's his cholesterol, maybe something more serious. But the pain...that little warning that he could have chosen not to listen to...was life's little way of saying "Slow down."

I have recently found myself being reminded of things that I take for granted. (No, it has nothing to do with difficulty breathing, or pain when I run....I feel that all the time...I hate to run...) No, there are little things, that we don't even realize we do...or take for granted...until life decides to remind us.

As we all know...if you've read any of this blog at all...I am in Baghdad, Iraq. I reside in an area of Baghdad popularly known as the "Highly fortified Green Zone." As far as places in a combat zone go...it's not that bad. Don't get me wrong...I wouldn't want to vacation here....EVER. But, I could have it worse.

The problem with being in a place like this....Complacency. In getting too comfortable with our surroundings, we tend to let our guard down. Life over here has a funny way of reminding you that you are still in a combat zone. These little things happen to be highly effective.

One may ask, "How do you get comfortable and complaisant in a place like that?" I answer: "It's sometimes hard to remember what is going on outside the walls when we are afforded the opportunity to go to the pool whenever we want, have pasta day/steak and lobster/breakfast buffet whenever we want, access to the internet in my airconditioned trailer, and a fully equipped gym at our disposal."

That's not to say that it is like a vacation here, but the "imminent danger" effect is a bit diluted with all the amenenties. That is, until life reminds you where you are. Which is exactly what happened in the last two days. Let me explain.

I was sitting in my tailer, watching a movie (yes...cheap bootleg copy...but a new release none the less...), and checking my e-mail. I was just thinking that I should turn the air down, because I was getting chilly, just sitting there in my underwear (see honey...some things never change!). That's when the unmistakable sound of an explosion snapped me back to reality. It is an undescribable feeling that shakes your very soul. Two mortars had entered the "Highly Fortefied Green Zone." One of these mortars landed very near to where I live...striking a fuel tank...thus the exceptionally large "BOOM."

It was just life's little way of reminding us all that we are still in a combat zone. If you are reading this and feeling sorry for me...or anyone else in this case...don't. No one was hurt, this time...(thank God.) But, in a weird sort of way, I'm glad that kind of stuff happens. Just to remind us that this thing isn't over yet...not to let our guard down. (I'm not saying that I am glad there are people out there blowing stuff up...I just think some people lose focus over here, and if it takes a kick in the pants for a wake up call...that's what it takes.)

Yet another example happens here everyday. Now, it is nothing so grand and spectacular as an indirect fire attack...this one is more subtle. As I walk into work each day I pass no less than four check points, manned by guards. These guards are all from different countries in Central and South America.

My mother will tell you that I took (and failed) Spanish III in High School twice. This fact irritates her...but not as much as the fact that I spoke the language at an intermediate college level at the time. (Note that now I only speak enough to get myself into trouble) So it wasn't lack of ability so much as lack of motivation...back then I just didn't like homework as much as I liked the cute blonde Spanish teacher...)

Why is that important? The gate guards all speak Spanish...well. I do not, but enough that I can practice and they aren't too cruel when I get it wrong. Well, everyday I pass the same guards and ask...in Spanish, "How are you?" I say little things like "Have a good day," and "See you later, my friend." They are all very nice guys that have taken to smiling when I come by and calling me 'Amigo' and humoring my attempts at short conversations.

Then I realized one day when I asked one of the guards, "Como Estas?" He answered, "Asi, Asi. Yo soy muy caliente, y yo verdadero faltar mi familia. Hoy ser mi hijo cumpleaños." Which roughly translated means: "I'm alright. I am very hot, and I really miss my family. Today is my son's birthday." I smiled and told him, "Yo entender...colgar en alli." (I understand...hang in there.) I then went on to tell him that it was my daughter's birthday the week before.

That was life's little way of telling each of us that we are not alone out here. Somewhere, not too far away, is someone going through nearly the same thing. And knowing that makes it a little easier.

To give another example, (and to get off the heavy stuff for a while...sheesh, what is my problem?) there is a routine that my family goes through at bedtime. When I was home, it consisted of bathtime and cuddle time (to try to get them wound down at the end of the day). Then, stories and prayers. This portion was absolutely one of my favorite times of the day (aside from the fact that it was when the kids were going to bed...finaly!!) This was when it was just one kid...and one Mommy or Daddy, focused on each other for a few minutes. (See, I would go in with one kid and Mommy would go in with the other...then after a few minutes we would switch.)

I would tell my son stories...usualy made up on the spot...about a silly monkey and his little sister, or the pirate adventures of "Captain Monkey Boy," or any number of other silly things...depending on what was popular that day. We would say our prayers and then I would kiss sweet dreams into his eyes.

I would go into my daughter's room and it was pretty much the same. There were stories about pricesses, and princes...and sometimes ninjas. We tell each other about our days, and then there are the kisses good night.

I would tell each of my children...every night, "Have sweet dreams...I love you all the way to the moon and back down to your stinky toes." (It sounds weird...but trust me...it's sweet and cute...)

Those little things were the same every night. I took them for granted, and didn't think I would miss the routine as much as I seem to have missed it. But what's the point...you ask?

Well, we forget...we get used to things the way they are. I call home at night now, and talkbrieflyy to the kids. Sometimes I get a good conversation, and sometimes the Power Rangers are on. I had fallen into a rut of not doing the little things for the kids while I'm gone. (Although I still say "Have sweet dreams," before I go to bed everynight...outloud...even if they can't hear me...and I touch each of their pictures before I close my eyes.)

I wrote a letter home last month...a couple of cards, actually. One for the kids, and one for my wife. I signed the kid's card: "I love you all the way to the moon, and back down to your stinky toes...Daddy." When it arrived, my wife read the card to the kids. Apparently all those small things mean a lot to the kids as well.

When I got on the phone with my daughter that night, the first thing she said was "I love you to the moon, Daddy." I told her I love her too...and then she asked "And back to our stinky toes?" Yes, Poodle...back to your stinky toes.

It was life's little way of reminding me that the small things are important. That even though I may not get a full conversation because the Power Rangers have immediateprecedencee...I can't forget the little things. I can't stop giving my son kisses on his eyes so he has sweet dreams...even if it is over the phone. It reminds me that no matter how far away I go...or for how long...I will always have someone to come back to that needs me more than any country in conflict ever could.

So...as you go through your day...and you live out our normal routine, think about what it means to someone important to you. When something happens out of the ordinary, try to figure out what life may be trying to tell you.

I know I will never look the same way, at all the small things.

SFC Newman,
Out

It's all I've got

Separation is not an easy thing. As kids, we go through the anxiety of being separated from Mommy and Daddy when we are dropped off at the daycare or school for the first time. There is a bit of trepidation the first time Junior goes off to summer camp...(Both on the Parent's and Junior's part.) I frequently feel a bit of abandonment if I am prematurely separated from my plate full of Enchiladas.

The question then arises, when we are forced to separate from those we love (and yes...I do love my Enchiladas with a special part of my heart...) how do we find ways to cope? The kids at day care make new friends and find out what their interests are. Junior discovers that the outdoors are not too bad, and he happens to be pretty good at archery (or decoupage...depending on what type of camp he went to...).

One of the things that I have found that people do here is find something to cling to. There is the attempt to maintain some semblance of normalcy. Everyone out here latches on to something to keep themselves busy, sane, entertained, or whatever...but everyone has something.

I've seen people throw themselves into the work, whole heartedly and devote every minute they are awake to the job. I've also seen those same people begin to burn out after only a month. The idea of working constantly to make the time go by faster is pretty popular, though hard to maintain.

One of the guys out here was very adamant about having the same day and time off every week, so that he could talk to some girls he met online. To take that concept a step further, I have seen some of the people out here seem to treat this place like the set of the dating game. (Wearing a short denim skirt and lowcut pink top to the DINING FACILITY in a COMBAT ZONE is completely unnecessary and makes one look what I like to call "DESPERATE.") But...they need something to cling to and if that something is another person...well so be it.

There are those who find their place in the gym. Any time off is spent lifting obscene amounts of weight and then putting it back down...(I wouldn't mind lifting weights if they weren't so heavy.) There are others who will take to the track at noon, in the heat of the day to do a "quick few miles." (apparently they have too much fluid in their systems and they need to sweat it all out at one time.) Still others will go the aerobic route and take one of the multitude of classes offered here...step, aerobics, water aerobics, belly dancing, etc.

All these things serve the same basic purpose. Distraction. There is a lot of stress in a place like this and a guy can go pretty nuts if doesn't find something to take his mind off of it...even if for just a little while.

It is hard sometimes to want to keep going. I have a couple of friends out here from places I've served before. One of my best friends from Denver is here as well. He is going home soon...in about three months. When I asked him about how he was doing, he had this to say:

"This deployment has cemented my feelings for my wife in the same way that 'absence makes the heart grow fonder,' but it has been so hard to function with this constant feeling of something missing. You know how hard it is to be "Millitary Man" seven days a week, but usually you can look into the sweet innocent eyes of your 'lil 'uns and know why you do it. You can get a hug from your honey and it gives you the strength to straighten your shoulders and face the world. The knowledge that they are taken care of and all you have to do is survive one more day is easier when you can actually see them. Being away from my family has been one of the hardest things I have ever been through, and I feel it in my heart. They are the reason my soul is able to fly so high they are my life. The army has taken me from every good thing in my life and expected me to function with no mistakes. I have been able to do that for the last nine months, and I have no doubt that I can continue doing it for the next three…but I feel like I have aged a decade in the last few months. I feel myself losing the joy that I normally hold close to me. I live through this hell for the future joy, and that is no way for a man to live for very long. After a time the vision of the future joy is too hard to picture and all you have to hold you up the is now that seems to want nothing more than to see you falter. This has been harder than I expected, and I hope that you fare better than I have."

So...What have I found to cling to? That is simple...tomorrow. The gift of tomorrow brings many things for me. Any time someone here asks how I'm doing I answer them, "It's a good day...I woke up." That simple statement says a lot. You're not guaranteed to wake up no matter where you are in the world...but the odds here are a bit less in your favor.

With the fact that I have that tomorrow comes the fact that I am one day closer to leaving here. That is good, because I find every aspect of this place miserable. From the weather, to the smell, to the hours I work. I don't think I can leave soon enough.

There is a little Microsoft Excel program that a lot of us have here that counts down the time we have left. It shows a pie chart comparing 'time served' to time left. I have a picture of the Palace I work in as my 'time left' picture...and one of my family as the 'time served.' Every day the Palace gets smaller and my family bigger (The pictures at least...I hope if my family gets bigger my wife waits till I'm home to help facilitate that process...)

I know they are missing me as well...I just talked to my wife tonight and she told me about a 'family barbecue' event that happened recently. They went, the wife and kids, but she said (with tears in her eyes...and her voice) that it just isn't the same without me there. They continue to function and live their lives without me...but only out of neccessity.

And that boils it down to the base of what I cling to...my family. They are the reason I get up every day and come to work. I cling to the thought of my kids in my arms. I dream about my wife by my side. It may not seem to you to be so exciting as trying to find a new date...or seeking the golden Idol of the Ultimate Body in the temple of the Gym...but they are my everything...and in this hell hole...it's all I've got.

SFC NEWMAN
OUT

A final Salute

An odd thing happens to a person when it is their business to deal in unpleasant things. I've heard it described before as a 'numbness' or desensitizing to the harsh realities of our work. I have even experienced it. When I first joined the Army, I was in the Presidential Honor Guard...better known as the 3rd US INFANTRY, THE OLD GUARD. One of our primary functions in that job was to conduct funerals in and around the National Capital area...to include high profile funerals in Arlington National Cemetery.

While I was assigned to the Old Guard, I conducted an excess of two thousand funerals. (Yes...thousand!) Every one of them was a service member, or former service member. Most of them had reached a ripe old age and had passed of natural causes...(This was between 1996 and 2001). The first hundred or so where hard...burying all these guys and having to see the pain the families went through. After that, they got easier to do. Soon, in order to cope...it was just another thing we did a few times a day...for the most part.

The thing I never was able to get used to...and for every one of those two thousand plus funerals sent chills down my spine and a tear to my eye...was the playing of TAPS. It was the final goodbye...and the first three solemn notes of that song still, to this day, bring a tear to my eye and a sadness to my heart.

Now...I find myself quickly becoming numb once again. I am forced to desensitize and detach myself from the personal side of my work. Baghdad, Iraq is one relentless place. In the two and a half hours since I started my shift tonight six mortars were fired in the city...five of them at a school. Those attacks killed six civilians and injured a total of fifty-four. There were also thirteen unidentified bodies found. Most of those were shot in the head, bound at the wrists and blindfolded. There was also a kidnapping. And that's just the stuff that was reported...we estimate about half the stuff that happens is never reported. (Note that none of the stuff mentioned above involves Military Personnel at all...these are just the issues the Iraqi people deal with...and these are the Unclassified reports...I can't even go into most of the other stuff...)

So it is clear why I have to detach myself and just report what comes in. If I reacted to each of these reports, I'd quickly loose any sense of sanity I have. I naturally want to get upset and mourn for any loss of life...but I have a mission to accomplish and have taught myself to push emotion to the back burner and "Soldier on."

Which is why today is a strange day for me. To say that there is a 'normal' day out here is strange in and of itself...but today is particularly off for me. I found out several days ago that one of MY soldiers was killed in Afghanistan last week.

This hit me hard. I wasn't prepared for it and I don't know why. When I was a Recruiter, I enlisted this young man into the Army and I was up front with him. "If you join the Army in this day and age," I said to him during one of our interviews. "You will most likely end up 'over there' at some point." He was OK with that...as a matter of fact, it was part of why he wanted to join.

Justin Davis graduated from Colonel Zadok Magruder High School in Gaithersburg, MD last year...and soon after, left for Ft. Benning, GA. He attended Basic Training and his advanced school there, graduating as an Infantryman. He then returned to Gaithersburg Recruiting station to work with me for a couple of weeks as a 'Hometown Recruiter.'

No one was more excited about Justin being in the Army, than Justin. He told everyone he met how much he loved it and tried to convince everyone that they should go talk to the recruiter. (When I say everyone...that includes the girls working at the Amish Market...yes, the AMISH GIRLS working at the market...)

He then reported to Ft. Drum, NY with the Tenth Moutnain Division and promptly deployed to Afghanistan. Justin Davis was described as highly motivated and always willing to go the extra mile. He had a positive attitude, even in the worst of circumstances, and cared more about his fellow soldiers than for himself. His willingness to take on the tough tasks earned him the nickname "Make it happen."

It is for this reason that Justin's fellow soldiers are able to call home today. During a patrol, his squad was ambushed. Reports are still being written and I hesitate to publish too much, as I have neither seen nor heard anything in writing...but from what I hear it was Justin's actions and his selfless sacrifice that allowed the rest of his squad to make it out of that ambush alive. I believe he is a Hero and I am proud to serve in the same Army as Justin Davis.

According to his Mother (whom I have spoken to since I found out about the attack...and that was the hardest phone call I've ever made...) she says she is able to carry on knowing that he died doing what he loved. I know she's right...and I'm proud of him. Today, they bury him, one of my Soldiers...one of my friends...in Arlington National Cemetery. Being numb...and detached is next to impossible.

I found this poem the other day. I think it is appropriate. I can see this in my mind...and I think of Justin and all the others who have given the ultimate sacrifice when I read it. I don't know who wrote it, but whoever it was...thank you.

The soldier stood and faced God, Which must always come to pass. He hoped his shoes were shining, just as brightly as his brass.

"Step forward now, you soldier, how shall I deal with you? Have you always turned the other cheek? To My Church have you been true?"

The soldier squared his shoulders and said, "No, Lord, I guess I ain't. Because those of us who carry guns, Can't always be a saint.

I've had to work most Sundays, and at times my talk was tough. And sometimes I've been violent, because the world is awfully rough.

But, I never took a penny that wasn't mine to keep... and I have wondered if I could carry on, When my troubles got too steep.

And I never passed a cry for help, though at times I shook with fear. And sometimes, God, forgive me, I've wept unmanly tears.

I know I don't deserve a place, among the people here. They never wanted me around, except to calm their fears.

If you've a place for me here, Lord, It needn't be so grand. I never expected or had too much, but if you don't, I'll understand."

There was a silence all around the throne, where the saints had often trod. As the soldier waited quietly, For the judgment of his God.

"Step forward now, you soldier, You've borne your burdens well. Walk peacefully on Heaven's streets, You've done your time in Hell."

I sit here now and try to detach myself from the reports that keep comming...knowing that an hour ago my Wife stood in my place at Justin's wake...and I wish I was able to say goodbye myself. Because I could not, she went in my place...to pay my respects and to render a final Salute.

SFC Newman,
Out