Friends in Low Places

It's called "Cabin Fever." I've heard it referred to as "Island Fever" by those who end up stationed out in Hawaii. You know the feeling. It's winter time, the weather has been garbage and you've been stuck in the house for two weeks. You are dying to go ANYWHERE...and you jump at the first opportunity to get out. (Even if it is just to go get more milk because before the storm came, everyone lost their minds and felt it necessary to stockpile seven and a half months worth of toilet paper, milk, bread, and...of course...a snow blower and plow for the truck just in case they have to tunnel out of the massive four inches of snow that fell in three days.)

So, no kidding, there I was...neck deep in a bad case of FOB fever...(it's like cabin fever, but if I 'run out for milk'...they start shooting...) I was given the opportunity to go over to one of our other camps and meet some of the Intel guys over there. This is a chance to get out...see some more of the country...break away from the confines of the "Highly Fortified Green Zone." (And I get to ride in a helicopter...how cool is that?)

Traveling in Baghdad for a Service member is quite interesting. You can't go anywhere unless you are either escorted by armed men in armored vehicles...or you fly. So, I call Catfish Air...(it's like a taxi service for us over here...only with helicopters...) and arrange my flights to Camp Victory and back. I got all dressed in my gear the next morning and headed out to the landing zone.

Getting dressed to 'go out' over here is quite the task. First I put on my uniform and walked the half mile to work. Then, I put on my IBA (my body armor...the vest thing that we wear.) and my helmet and grab an M-16 and 210 rounds of ammo for it, strap my 9mm pistol to my leg and grab 60 rounds of ammo for that...then it's time to go. (By this time I am ready to cancel the trip...I've already broken a sweat and I haven't even left the building yet!!!!)

After an hour wait at the landing zone, my ride shows up. My ride happens to be a 64ft long, twin turbo engine powered UH-60 Blackhawk Helicopter that reach speeds of 182 Miles Per Hour!!!! After staggering back two steps from the prop wash as it landed (1,630 HORSE POWER PER ENGINE...YIKES!), we got on and headed out on the five minute flight to Camp Victory. It went smoothly and it was pretty cool to see some of the landscape...although mostly it was a blur as it zipped past.

Shortly after landing I quickly did what any good NCO would do when he is in a place he has never been and has to get somewhere that he has not a clue how to reach...I began to look lost. After about five minutes of unsuccessfully trying to sucker someone into volunteering to help I heard my wife's voice in my head...telling me to "Just ask someone how to get there." Since everyone who knows me also knows that I run my house and make all the decisions...when my wife lets me...you will understand why I had no choice but to listen to her.

I found a motivated young Captain who was not wearing his armor or helmet...which could only mean one thing...he was from Camp Victory. (We don't have to wear our gear while on the FOB...just in transit.) So I approached and asked him how to get to the main bus stop. He told me that he was just waiting for the next flight to come in so he could pick up some Colonels and that I was welcome to ride with him over to the main part of camp and he could point me in the right direction from there.

There is something you need to know about Junior Officers at this point. They are very motivated...highly educated...outstanding Soldiers...and they are dumb! Let me explain what I mean when I say dumb...I mean...dumb. They have a tendency to want to show that they know the answer, even if they may not. Saying I don't know may be a sign of weakness to a guy like that. A guy like that will tell you he knows exactly where you want to go and how to get there, when...in truth...he couldn't find his hind parts with both hands and a full length mirror.

That being said, the happy young officer dropped me off in a parking lot in the rising heat (by this point it was 101 degrees at 9:30 in the morning) and confidently pointed me in the wrong direction. After walking for what seemed to be entirely too long to be the right distance to my friend's place, I asked another young soldier how to get to 'Tent City.' (This time I asked a Sergeant...just to be safe.) What Luck!!! I had found the only guy on Camp Victory that had been there even less time than myself. It turns out he had landed about twenty minutes prior and was lost himself. (Apparently that Captain gets around...)

After apologizing to each other for not knowing anything even remotely helpful to the other we parted ways. A quick glance at a thermometer would show that it was about 107 degrees by this point. I had to find someone that knew where I needed to go. Then I came across him...another Sergeant...walking with a laundry bag over his shoulder...this guy knew his way around. No dice. He was only at Victory to attend training for the week and only knew how to get from his bed to the building for the training. (This is proof that God has a sense of humor.)

I decided that even though I was not sure where I was going, I was sure that I was going the wrong way. So, I turned around and did what every master of map reading and land navigation would do...I followed the road. After another twenty minutes or so, I ran across someone else I was sure would not be able to help me. I was pleasantly surprised.

I explained what happened, and after the good soldier stopped laughing, he pointed me in the right direction. Twelve minutes, thirty seven seconds later and another seven degrees hotter, I found my friend's tent. I was relieved since it was hot and it took so long to find this place. I was excited because I had not seen this guy in nearly four years. I was pissed, because he was not there.

After a quick explanation from one of the other guys in his tent, and a brief temper tantrum, I recovered and waited the five minutes it took my friend to get back from the laundry. That's when one of my theories was proved correct.

I have found that the longer I stay in the Army, the easier it is for me to make friends. I used to have issues introducing myself and talking to strangers. I was kind of introverted and shy. Recruiting duty was a good cure for that. Now, much to my Wife's dismay, I will talk to absolutely anyone...anytime...for any reason. Here in Baghdad, it was easy to break the ice and make some friends.

I think that if you suffer through harsh times with people, it makes for strong friendships. With that theory, I have made some lifelong friends in the last three months. That also explains why I think the guys from the Recruiting Station will be counted amongst my best friends...there is little that can compare to the amount of suffering a man goes through as a Recruiter. Aside from suffering together, I have also made some friends the good old fashioned way...being forced to spend insane amounts of time together.

I have known my BEST friend of all time since the fifth grade. The story of how we met is quite touching and is one of those "Sunday Matinee, Made for T.V. Movie" kind of stories. And this is absolutely not the place for it...mostly because there is not enough room for it in one post. (But you know you're closer to me than blood...I love you, man.)

Anyway, my friend shows up and we spend the next three hours talking and 'catching up.' He is one of those friends that falls in that second category. We spent insane amounts of time together on twelve hour shifts for nearly three years. We had two choices...be friends...or eventually be so sick of each other that at least one homicide would occur. Fortunately for me...we got along.

After some catching up, he decided to just hang out with me for the rest of the day and 'show me around' Camp Victory. This is indicative of our level of friendship, since he works nights and had only had an hour and a half of sleep. (I'm sure that it had nothing to do with the fact that his tent was one hundred and fifteen degrees inside and sleeping was out of the question anyway...)

There is a bus system on Camp Victory...as it is one of the larger camps we have in Iraq. Problem is, the bus stop was about thirty seven miles from his tent...or three quarters of a mile, but in 124 degree weather it could have been back in Maryland. To make a long story short...(too late, right?)...we spent the day going around Victory...I met the Intel guys out there that I needed to meet (Five of which I worked with in the past...go figure, I have to go all the way to Baghdad to see them again...)

It just felt good to be around someone that knew me. I guess one of the things that I miss the most is a connection...a history. It takes time to build a true friendship, and while I would go anywhere for and with the people I work with now. I can't say "You remember that time when...?" I will be able to eventually...and I look forward to that with these guys. I mean...They are going to be my "Buddies from the War"...just like in the movies.

I am making awesome friends here, but every now and then, you need to have someone around who just "gets you." It was good to see an old friend and tell him about the new friends. As I think about it, it makes me value the 'true' friends I have even more. My Best friend since the fifth grade...My friend from The Old Guard who went back to Illinois...my childhood friend that used to live with us for a while growing up...my Brother and My Dad...and my three very best friends ever, My wife and kids.

I guess the point is that no matter what kind of places you end up in...it's good to have friends you can turn to. And that's why, now...whether they are the new friends I am making, or the trusted friends I have had for years...it's good to have friends in low places.

SFC NEWMAN
Out

I Can't Get No Satisfaction

The Navy has it right...or so I've been told. I'm told that on their ships, one of the things they do not compromise on is the food. (This could absolutely be a falsehood...as I never have had any inkling to get on a ship...and drift off so far to sea that I can't see the shore. I like to know which way to swim when it goes down....) But back to the food...the idea behind it was that the food should be top notch. That way the sailors are happy...that way they don't consider doing bad things to the Captain...such as Mutiny.

Apparently, there was not a large focus on Morale, other than eating. (Which makes me very happy...Especially if it is my enchiladas...mmmmmm....but I digress...) Which makes me wonder...How much did these guys like their jobs? I mean, if you are so worried about your people being miserable, that you fear a bad meal will send them over the edge...(or it may send the captain over the edge...of the ship) you may want to re-evaluate your work environment.

So I started thinking...how much do we really love what we do?

A very wise man once told me to keep doing what I'm doing, as long I am having fun and nothing better comes along. (Thanks, Dad...) It has been good advice so far. Ten and a half years ago I joined the Army to get my footing...find a direction...get a jump start...and some other cliche to say that it was just a temporary thing. (Either I am slow on the uptake and haven't found my direction yet....or I just listened to Dad's advice.)

So far nothing better has come along. That's not to say that offers have not come up for contractor jobs that would pay me more than what I'm making now...I get a few of those every year. On a purely monetary level...yes, something better has come along with those...sort of. (These guys don't factor in that the Army pays me all the extra stuff for food, and rent, and then there's the medical and dental benefits....so in the end, the contractor offers are about what I make now...)

But as far as "BETTER?" Well, you have to look at the job. Being in the Army puts me in a category that a very small percentage of Americans can claim to be part of. I take pride in that. I volunteered to do this job...to train, to sacrifice, and to protect and defend the American way of life for everyone else. (Yes...I am Superman.) To me...that is very cool. I look at it this way...when someone asks my son, "What does your Daddy do?" he can answer "He's a Soldier." Which sounds much cooler than. "He's a contractor that works for the government."

Now...as far as having fun...where do I begin?

First I feel that I must acknowledge the fact that "FUN" is a relative term. I may talk about things in a moment that you personally have no desire to do, but I find extremely fun...and you may think I need professional help by the end of this. (I must warn you that there is very long and distinguished list of individuals who have already recommended such help...to no avail.)

I love guy stuff. The Army does all kinds of guys stuff. Therefore, I love being in the Army. First of all...the most obvious guy thing...I get paid to shoot a gun. (I'm not supposed to call it a gun...it is a "weapon" but sometimes the trailer park in me just has to come out...) I only fired a gun a few times before joining the Army. So when I joined and I realized that I was pretty good at it. Now I find it pretty fun.

Then there's the physical training side. (In a nutshell...not fun...but let me explain.) I don't like DOING the actual P.T. I LOVE the way I feel after a good workout...and how healthy it is for me. Every now and then, we do something fun for P.T. (Like playing Frisbee football...a game in which I get injured everytime I play, but it's a blast.) So all in all, that is a fun part of my job. (especially considering the next big P.T. thing we are doing is making a boat out of empty water bottles and hundred mile an hour tape...like duct tape only stronger...and racing other similarly constructed boats around a pool simply for the rights to say you won the race...How can you NOT love something like that?)

One of the biggest things is the camaraderie. I love the fact that I can go ANYWHERE in the world that the Army sends me...and within weeks, I have new friends. Some of these friendships will last as long as my tour...others are lifelong. I have TWO very good friends that I met in different duty stations and we keep in touch still...years later and thousands of miles apart. (And there's the one...who is here in IRAQ, and everytime we talk...no matter how long it has been...is like we just saw each other yesterday.) There is no amount of money that can be offered, no benefits package, no sign on bonus, or 401K that can take the place of the feeling of FAMILY that you get from this life.

I also get to meet some really cool people. In my time in the Army I have met the Current President, four former Presidents...a dozen foreign heads of state (to include Prime Minister Blair, and the Prince of Jordan.) I have stood next to Movie Stars and had my picture taken with Hollywood A-list personalities. More recently I have been involved in conversations with Secretary of Defense Rumsfeld and the Commander of Multinational Forces in Iraq...General Casey. I have sat in meetings with the Iraqi ambassador to the US, and spoken to decision makers at the highest levels here in Baghdad. All of that equals very cool stories to tell the grandkids....someday. (Not to mention...FUN, and yes...I love it.!)

The last thing...feeling of accomplishment. I really feel like I am making a difference to someone...somewhere. I may not always immediately see it...but it happens. It can be frustrating, and make me want to pluck out my hair (what little I have left.) But in the end I feel satisfied with what I do.

For example...I had a 22 hour day last week. That was tough...highly stressful when I was on the wire...and frustrating when things aren't going just right. It boiled down to the Army wanting to do it's job...and needing approval to do so from hihger up.

So, I jump through the hoops and all that...being stuck to a Colonel's hip for hours after I'm supposed to be off. Our Goal? Give the General a good feeling about doing a certain mission. The INTEL drives the Ops. (If we give him the warm fuzzy...he says "yes" and recommends that "yes" to the higher ups. If all works out, then the higher ups say "Yes" and the world is a safer place...on more bad guy down.)

The frustration came when after all that work...and the jumping through hoops...and the last second phone calls are all done and the General says "Good Job." I sat down and let out a long and tired sigh. It was one of those days that drains you completely...but you feel good about what you did. You know you did a good job, and it was recognized by the right people. It was the good kind of tired...and I love that feeling. (All the way up to the point we found out that the Higher ups said "No" and all our work was essentially for nothing.)

I tried to explain that, although that sucks...completely...I am happy with the way I and the people I work for and with performed under the stress and pressure. I was proud and felt like I did a good job. And although that was kind of a big disappointment...tomorrow is another opportunity to start over, and try again to make a difference...and feel good about your job.

So while you have frustrations at home...or work...or school, think to yourself about the overall picture. Has anything truly BETTER come along? And are you having fun...overall? Forget the one off moments of frustration that make you want to scream and ask yourself...am I having fun even though sometimes it seems with this job...

...I can't get no satisfaction?

SFC NEWMAN
Out

The Good, The Bad And The Ugly

We had a little get together the other night. That phrase, in and of itself is not weird...if you ignore the fact that we are in Baghdad, Iraq...the most deadly city in the world...or something like that. But we did...and we did our best to relax and forget about the war for a minute or two.

The occasion was the departure of several people from the Theater of Operations, and the welcoming of the new ones taking their places. The military calls these, "Hail and Farewell." Under normal circumstances, I dislike them greatly. Here, in Baghdad...I have reached new levels of loathing for them.

Whilst trying to ignore the forced friendliness that was happening all around between military personnel...that I know for a fact have issues with each other...I turned my attention to the civilians that work with us. Now, I have some very strong opinions about the fact that civilians are out here performing similar duties as the military. And they do it right next to us.

We were all under "the tree" (this thing is enormous...I believe it is a Bana tree...and it's branches create a canopy of shade larger than the first floor of my home.) I politely refused the offer of an alcoholic beverage (which should have never been offered anyway...since it is illegal for us to drink over here...) and put that on my list of reasons to resent most of the civilians out here. It was at that point that a bird pooped on my head.

The biggest problem I have with this (the civilians...not the birds...) is that they are not the military. A lot of them are former military of some sort..but have gotten out for one reason or another. They walk around here in their khaki cargo pants and Under Armor t-shirts, with loaded pistols on their sides...or even worse, fully loaded assault rifles. Why should this bother me? I walk around with a weapon on my leg all day...right. Well...my badge allows me to carry the weapon...yes. It does not allow me to carry a LOADED weapon. Apparently the DOD hasn't paid me enough...my contract (AS A SOLDIER) is less than that of some contractor who put together a group of has been's and wannabe's.

Why such animosity? Let me explain. They have turned this thing into a commercial event. This thing that should be a noble liberation of an oppressed people and re-establishment of a sovereign government, has turned into a conglomeration of corporations and contractors turning a profit from another country's turmoil. I volunteered to come here for multiple reasons...and the fact that even here, the military is looked down on by the civilians it protects turns my stomach.

Let me explain those points...

If you wanted to keep doing military type operations...STAY IN THE MILITARY!! If you have retired, that means you are old...get out of Iraq. If you got out after just a few years or didn't finish your whole twenty and still want to play Soldier games, then you can still come back in...and you should have re-enlisted. If you are out here in one of these civilian positions, and running military type operations because some contractor can pay you better than the job you had in the states...step back and check your priorities...and read my previous posts. This thing cannot be about any amount of money...or it will never be worth the sacrifices we are making.

Now...I ask...why are they allowed to be here? They fill positions that any Soldier could easily fill. The Military complains about being streached too thin, and not having the money to buy the proper equipment...or give the Military the pay raise they wish they could. But the average Civilian contractor out here is making 2 to 3 times what I make. (And I've been in ten years and have several promotions under my belt. Imagine how much more they make than the average private...doing the same job.) So the government can afford to pay the Contractor enough to keep him over here, but wonders how it will supply the US Security forces with the proper armor to counter a roadside bomb. Sounds simple...clear, right? Funny how things get blurred when bureaucrats and money are involved.

But...honestly, I am not just bent around the money thing. It burns me up, yes...but that is not the only thing that bugs me.

There are other reasons...one of which being their view of what our role (the military) is out here..and life in general. These civilians and others within the areas I work have described the Military presence here as uncivilized, and rude. We have been compared to animals, and cavemen. All of this, just prior to a group of civilian men getting drunk at the pool and one of them dropping his shorts at a female soldier walking by...now who's the caveman?

One night, as I enjoyed a midnight meal of cheese omelet and chicken nuggets (don't ask...when you get a craving, you get a craving...) a group of about six civilian guys were sitting at the table behind me. A young female soldier came in wearing her PT uniform (Shorts and T-shirt...) and instantly garnered the attention of these men. She did her best to ignore them and their obnoxious banter, but I could tell that she was not comfortable with it. She sat and began to eat. They kept talking about her and even making a comment or two to her.

I have a tendency to want to be the hero and step in and save the situation. This part of my personality was about to take over when one of the men stood up and walked to her table. He started talking to her quietly, and I couldn't really hear what he was saying. Then she spoke...and everyone heard what she said. "Look," she began. "It sucks being a woman over here. I have a hard enough time, and I shouldn't have to worry about being harassed while I eat. There are plenty of people outside the fence that want to make my life hard, asshole...so just go sit back down and leave me alone."

My heart soared. I was proud of her, and felt for her all at once. It is hard here, but to add stress in one of the few places we should feel safe...and stress inflicted by the very same civilians who rely on us to keep them safe...absolutely unacceptable.

It was only two nights later that I sat and was beginning to eat with one of my co-workers (in the Navy) when a civilian sits down next to us. He began to try to impress us by calling us by our ranks...demonstrating his vast knowledge of the military. He asked what our MOS's (that's military talk for "JOB") were, and then WOWed us by knowing what the codes for those are...(for example...I'm a Signals Analyst, the code for the job being 98C).

It was all good, and we humored him, until he began telling us about how he had just spent the evening having drinks at the "Member's Only" Bar, and how he had such a long day (8 hours...and I was just starting a twelve hour shift.) but it was alright, because he had the next day off. (Most military out here only get maybe half a day off...just 6 hours each week...maybe.) He looked at me a little funny as I stood and walked away, wishing him a good evening..before I was finished with my meal.

One of the biggest things that bugs me, is that we...as a Military...are expected to do certain things and act certain ways...and what do they hold themselves to? We are held to a high standard but thought of in lowly terms. People want us around to keep them safe, but not to get in the way while doing so. We are expected to defend the freedom of speech, but do it silently...while we are called demons and devils. And through it all, the civilians are quick to point out the moment one of us slips even a fraction of an inch.

Another issue I have is the lack of standards. I am very proud to wear this uniform. I have spent time in the Presidental Honor Guard, and hold myself and all the soldiers that serve with me to a high standard. The civilians over here, that are filling the roles that we cannot, due to cutbacks or troop reductions, or whatever other reason the "administration" deems appropriate, are not held to those standards. They walk around with their weapons, and their high tech gear, wearing military style clothing...but they don't have the same standards to answer to. No one holds them to a standard of appearance or conduct anywhere near to that which I hold myself and my soldiers.

I have seen these "teams" walk around unshaven, with beer guts...slightly over the hill soldiers of fortune out there in the eyes of the Iraqi people. Or, the guy who just graduated from college and couldn't tell you what the real world looked like, but was able to get on with one of these companies and is now out here...looking terrified, confused and lost everytime I see them. And these guys are out "representing" America. Not the best image I could think of to put into the world's mind as a representation of who we are.

Do I want thousands more soldiers over here? No. Do I think I know the way to fix all the problems over here? Not all of them. Do I think this thing would be easier if the only people we had to worry about were the US/Coalition Military and the bad Guys...without having to babysit a bunch of overpaid mercenaries? Yup.

I know there have to be some civilians out here. Diplomatic positions need to be filled that I know I have neither the patience, nor the gift of subltety to fill. There are certain things that civilians need to be here for. Most of the civilians out here don't need to be, however. The US military has trained people to do nearly every job out here...yet we are filling these spots with, to put it bluntly, people who will get in the way if everything goes south.

I guess, the point of this whole rant is to have you think about how you value certain things. WAR...is a job for the military. We serve with pride and do everything that is asked of us...the whole time knowing that someone else may be getting paid much more to do the same, or that when you look at us, you get uncomfortable because the military is for people who have nothing else. Still we stand tall and answer the call everyday. I guess the frustration comes from a lack of appreciation for what we are as a military and who we are as people...in a nut shell. I hate seeing us treated poorly...no matter where in the world we are.

The next time you see a Military Service member, notice the way they carry themselves. Notice that they most likely are polite to the people they talk to, and try not to draw attention to themselves. Then think about the sacrifices that he or she has made...because it is expected of them.

Then think about the fact that they are doing it for you.

Now, while I have complained a lot this post...(thank you, if you are still reading, by the way.)..there are some things that I can appreciate. My room mate and I were out under the tree after lunch the other day. He was smoking and I was just sitting there enjoying the shade. A young lady walked by...civilian that works somewhere in the palace...and smiled at us. She nodded as she passed and said "Thank you. You guys are doing a great job out here...stay safe." I commented on how nice it was to hear that...even out here. Then I commented on how I still think they should all get out of Iraq, but I guess everywhere you go...you get the Good, the Bad, and The Ugly.

It was at that moment that a bird pooped on my head.

SFC Newman
OUT

P.S. After some thought and a few reviews of this post...I have posted a comment. Please check it out.