Three days ago I didn't know many, if any people who could say "I was there when a war began", but today, I know of several and I am one of them. What began as a business-as-usual overnight trip to Tbilisi, Georgia ended as a bit of a race against the clock.
For those who don't know, a brief geography/history lesson. The Republic of Georgia is a former Soviet state on the eastern shore of the Black Sea. It is a relatively small country, roughly the size of Nebraska. For the past few months, the region of South Ossetia, about 40 miles northwest of Tbilisi, has been trying to break away from Georgia in an attempt to join the Russian Federation. Until recently, the uprising was limited to small armed skirmishes between Ossetian fighters and the Georgian Army, and was relatively insignificant in the grand scheme of things. As my luck would have it, that all changed the day we arrived in Tbilisi.
It seems the Ossetians, fearing being overrun by the Georgian Army, requested military assistance from Russia, and they got it in the form of hundreds of Russian tanks, and dozens of fighter/attack aircraft. The last I heard, thousands of people had been killed, several Russian jets had been shot down, and in retaliation, the Russians had bombed targets all around Tbilisi. The night before we left, they bombed an airfield just 3 miles south of the one we'd landed at. I even heard a rumor that the only reason the Russians didn't bomb Tbilisi International Airport was because our airplane was there and they didn't want to give the US any reason to get directly involved. How considerate of them...
All of the above is just to set up my real story. Obviously and thankfully, I did not experience any of the fighting or destruction first hand. What I experienced and what moved me was the reaction of the Georgian people to the news that their country was in the early stages of all out war. I was just a visitor to their nation, and I had a ticket out of town (provided they kept the airfield open...but I guarantee you we would have found a way to get out of Dodge either way), the local citizens were in it for the long haul. This was their home and their way of life, and it was under attack from one of the most powerful nations on Earth. I hope and pray none of us ever have to find out what that feels like, but if we ever do I hope we weather it with the calm and grace or these kind people.
As I've told many who were concerned about our well being, unless you watched CNN or BBC News, you would never have known that there was a real live war starting just up the road. Nobody was panicking, people were going about their daily activities, all businesses were open, it was life as usual for the Georgians. That's not to say they didn't know or understand the gravity of what was happening, everyone did, but it just did not seem to affect them in a way that caused them to alter their normal daily activities. Everyone at the hotel, from the housekeepers to the front desk clerks, to the waitresses in the restaurants had smiles on their faces. They went about their jobs as if it were just another day in paradise. One of the waitresses apologized for the "bad time", and invited us to come back again in "good time", all with a big smile on her face. Can you imagine? She apologized to us because her country was under attack? Seems a little counterintuitive, but she was sincere.
If anything, the beginning of this war brought about an outpouring of Georgian pride and patriotism. The night before we left, there was a rally in Freedom Square (formerly Lenin Square), just down the street from our hotel. Horns were honking, people were cheering, and Georgian flags were everywhere. It was an impressive display, and I realized then that David had no intention of letting Goliath get the better of them. These people truly loved their homeland, and it was inspiring.
As you might be able to guess, the Georgian people are very proud of their heritage, and very proud of their national individuality. Georgia has a long and varied history, with the first settlers arriving in the region in approximately 4000BC. Since that time, just about anyone with a cause has come thru and left their mark. The Greeks, the Romans, the Persians, the Mongols, etc, etc. The resulting culture provides a very unique experience. The majority of Georgians are Orthodox Christians, but most other religions are present and welcomed. How many places do you know of that have a Mosque on one corner and a Synogogue on the other?
Until 1988, Georgia was part of the Soviet Union, and the Soviet/Communist influence is still very evident, but evident as part of the Georgian past, not it's present and hopefully, not it's future either.
Our trip back to Iraq was uneventful, as was our entire experience in Georgia. It was only after I returned to Iraq and had a chance to watch the news in English that I realized just how perilous the situation really was/is. I never thought I would say it, but I'm glad to be back in the relative safety of Iraq.
My thoughts and prayers are with all the kind people we encountered on our brief trip to Tbilisi, and for that matter, with all the people of Georgia. May cooler heads prevail, and bring about a quick and peaceful end to this conflict.
Saturday, August 9, 2008
Saturday, July 12, 2008
What's it like?
People back home often ask me what it's like here in Iraq. Being that the answer is so in-depth and varied, I thought I'd share some of my observations here.
Sights:
Dusty - There is a constant dust-haze in the air here. Even on a "clear" day, there is still a brown haze. Only when you look straight up is the sky ever really blue. That's a clear day. Then there are the dust storms. They can last for weeks, but normally only stick around for a day or two. They seem to come about when strong winds off the Mediterranian sweep across Syria and Jordan, blowing the powder-fine dust off dry lakebeds. The dust is the consistancy of powdered sugar, and is carried thousands of feet in the air, and blown over hundreds of miles. It coats anything and everything, and can get so dense that visibility is reduced to just a few hundred feet and the sun is almost completely blocked out. On those days, the little bit of sunlight that filters through all the dust has an erie brownish-orange color to it, and the only thing you can smell or taste is dust. Not at all unlike when you blow the dust off a box that's been sitting in the attic for years on end.
Brown - Not surprisingly, because of the constant dust, most everything here is a tan or light brown. There are a fair amount of trees, mostly eucalyptus, but even they are coated with dust. Greens here are not the same as they are at home. They are all faded and dust coated. About 40 miles west of us is an enormous lake (About the size of Lake Mead if I had to guess), but that is the only real blue water I've seen here (aside from the Persian Gulf). The Tigris and Euphrates rivers are extremely muddy and poluted, and the water is (guess which color?) brown. Even the thousands of farm fields here in the "fertile crescent" appear brown from the air. No vibrant colors anywhere, aside from... you guessed it.... vibrant brown.
Dingy - This is a very poor country, and all the wars and conflicts in the past 50 years have taken their tolls. All the buildings here (left over from when Balad was an Iraqi Air Force base) are run down and in poor repair. In the years that we've been here, a few improvements have been made, but just those that were absolutely necessary. Utilities may or may not work, water may or may not come on (and quite often when it does, it is brown for the first few seconds), and so on. Not at all up to the standards we're used to back home. Everything is dirty, and most everything is broken in some respect and works just enough to get by.
Blast walls - They're everywhere. Large, steel reinforced concrete wall sections. They're called "T" barriers, because they're sort of shaped like an upside down "T". They're designed to contain explosions from mortar rounds or rockets. Fortunately for us, they don't get used for their intended purposes very often. They surround just about every building on base, and sometimes they even have "T" barriers surrounding other "T" barriers. They're anywhere from 5' to 20' tall and 6' to 10' wide, and you can't turn your head without seeing dozens of them. Most of them are just plain old concrete gray, but soldiers being the creative types they are, have turned many of them into concrete canvasses onto which they've painted some beautiful murals. Some are memorials to fallen comrades, some are reminders of home, some are unit insignias, and others are just the "Kilroy was here" type of mementos used to mark a brief point in time that seemed like an eternity to the creator.
Sounds:
Balad is a very noisy place. Not that any big city back home is "quiet", but there are some sounds that are unique to a military airbase in a combat zone.
F-16s - Every hour or so, the air is pierced with the sounds of F-16s taking off in full afterburner. If you've never experienced this from 1/4 mile away, you should try it once. Then imagine it happening on a regular basis, all day every day. I used to live near a railroad crossing, and remember how the train horns used to wake me up at 3am. I didn't think anything could be worse than that at the time. Now I only wish I just had to listen to trains.
Generators - Everything here on base is powered by enormous generators, and they're everywhere. You can't walk anywhere without passing 7 or 8 of them. Huge diesel engines just droning on, all day, every day.
Air conditioners - Being in the middle of the desert, air conditioners are a necessity. In our offices and in our rooms, there is always the constant din of the a/c in the background.
Explosions - Just about daily, there are large explosions somewhere on base. They're called "controlled detonations", and are the Explosive Ordinance Disposal (EOD... military Bomb Squads) teams destroying the various explosives they'd come across that day. They announce the detonations before hand, but they still get your attention even when you're expecting them.
Birds - In the satellite antenna just outside my window, a pair of mourning doves have a nest, and now have several chicks. About 6am each morning, the chicks get fed, and I get to hear all about it. It ususally doesn't bother me, as it reminds me of the sounds of home. There are also lots of sparrows, pigeons and hawks here on base. Each morning and evening, the eucalyptus trees I mentioned above sound like they're filled with chirping birds. It's actually pretty impressive just how loud they can be.
Gunfire - There are rifle and machine gun ranges somewhere on base, and every now and then we hear the distant crackle of a machine gun burst. I realized I'd been here a while when the sound of gunfire didn't even get my attention anymore.
Accents - This place runs because of "TCNs" or Third Country Nationals. They are non-Iraqi contractors that do all the various non-military jobs on base. They work in the mess halls, they clean the showers and restrooms, they drive the busses, they work in the housing office, at the movie theaters, the barber shop, the fast food restaurants and the 3-day laundry service. They come from all over the region (India, Sri Lanka, Bangladesh, Kenya, Uganda, Philippines, South Africa, just to name a few), and most have very thick accents. Granted, they all speak English much, much better than I speak their native language, but its still a challenge to understand most of them. Also, we quite regularly have to deal with foreign air traffic controllers. Like the TCNs, their English is far better than my Arabic, but it can get interesting at times.
Gravel - Pretty much everywhere on base that is not paved or concrete, is covered with gravel. It varies from small pebbles to decent sized stones, but it is everywhere and it is usually about 6" deep. They put it down in the housing areas and parking lots to try to keep the dust and mud under control. It makes a very distinct "crunch, crunch, crunch" sound when you walk thru it. Very difficult to sneak up on anyone here.
Smells:
Sights:
Dusty - There is a constant dust-haze in the air here. Even on a "clear" day, there is still a brown haze. Only when you look straight up is the sky ever really blue. That's a clear day. Then there are the dust storms. They can last for weeks, but normally only stick around for a day or two. They seem to come about when strong winds off the Mediterranian sweep across Syria and Jordan, blowing the powder-fine dust off dry lakebeds. The dust is the consistancy of powdered sugar, and is carried thousands of feet in the air, and blown over hundreds of miles. It coats anything and everything, and can get so dense that visibility is reduced to just a few hundred feet and the sun is almost completely blocked out. On those days, the little bit of sunlight that filters through all the dust has an erie brownish-orange color to it, and the only thing you can smell or taste is dust. Not at all unlike when you blow the dust off a box that's been sitting in the attic for years on end.
Brown - Not surprisingly, because of the constant dust, most everything here is a tan or light brown. There are a fair amount of trees, mostly eucalyptus, but even they are coated with dust. Greens here are not the same as they are at home. They are all faded and dust coated. About 40 miles west of us is an enormous lake (About the size of Lake Mead if I had to guess), but that is the only real blue water I've seen here (aside from the Persian Gulf). The Tigris and Euphrates rivers are extremely muddy and poluted, and the water is (guess which color?) brown. Even the thousands of farm fields here in the "fertile crescent" appear brown from the air. No vibrant colors anywhere, aside from... you guessed it.... vibrant brown.
Dingy - This is a very poor country, and all the wars and conflicts in the past 50 years have taken their tolls. All the buildings here (left over from when Balad was an Iraqi Air Force base) are run down and in poor repair. In the years that we've been here, a few improvements have been made, but just those that were absolutely necessary. Utilities may or may not work, water may or may not come on (and quite often when it does, it is brown for the first few seconds), and so on. Not at all up to the standards we're used to back home. Everything is dirty, and most everything is broken in some respect and works just enough to get by.
Blast walls - They're everywhere. Large, steel reinforced concrete wall sections. They're called "T" barriers, because they're sort of shaped like an upside down "T". They're designed to contain explosions from mortar rounds or rockets. Fortunately for us, they don't get used for their intended purposes very often. They surround just about every building on base, and sometimes they even have "T" barriers surrounding other "T" barriers. They're anywhere from 5' to 20' tall and 6' to 10' wide, and you can't turn your head without seeing dozens of them. Most of them are just plain old concrete gray, but soldiers being the creative types they are, have turned many of them into concrete canvasses onto which they've painted some beautiful murals. Some are memorials to fallen comrades, some are reminders of home, some are unit insignias, and others are just the "Kilroy was here" type of mementos used to mark a brief point in time that seemed like an eternity to the creator.
Sounds:
Balad is a very noisy place. Not that any big city back home is "quiet", but there are some sounds that are unique to a military airbase in a combat zone.
F-16s - Every hour or so, the air is pierced with the sounds of F-16s taking off in full afterburner. If you've never experienced this from 1/4 mile away, you should try it once. Then imagine it happening on a regular basis, all day every day. I used to live near a railroad crossing, and remember how the train horns used to wake me up at 3am. I didn't think anything could be worse than that at the time. Now I only wish I just had to listen to trains.
Generators - Everything here on base is powered by enormous generators, and they're everywhere. You can't walk anywhere without passing 7 or 8 of them. Huge diesel engines just droning on, all day, every day.
Air conditioners - Being in the middle of the desert, air conditioners are a necessity. In our offices and in our rooms, there is always the constant din of the a/c in the background.
Explosions - Just about daily, there are large explosions somewhere on base. They're called "controlled detonations", and are the Explosive Ordinance Disposal (EOD... military Bomb Squads) teams destroying the various explosives they'd come across that day. They announce the detonations before hand, but they still get your attention even when you're expecting them.
Birds - In the satellite antenna just outside my window, a pair of mourning doves have a nest, and now have several chicks. About 6am each morning, the chicks get fed, and I get to hear all about it. It ususally doesn't bother me, as it reminds me of the sounds of home. There are also lots of sparrows, pigeons and hawks here on base. Each morning and evening, the eucalyptus trees I mentioned above sound like they're filled with chirping birds. It's actually pretty impressive just how loud they can be.
Gunfire - There are rifle and machine gun ranges somewhere on base, and every now and then we hear the distant crackle of a machine gun burst. I realized I'd been here a while when the sound of gunfire didn't even get my attention anymore.
Accents - This place runs because of "TCNs" or Third Country Nationals. They are non-Iraqi contractors that do all the various non-military jobs on base. They work in the mess halls, they clean the showers and restrooms, they drive the busses, they work in the housing office, at the movie theaters, the barber shop, the fast food restaurants and the 3-day laundry service. They come from all over the region (India, Sri Lanka, Bangladesh, Kenya, Uganda, Philippines, South Africa, just to name a few), and most have very thick accents. Granted, they all speak English much, much better than I speak their native language, but its still a challenge to understand most of them. Also, we quite regularly have to deal with foreign air traffic controllers. Like the TCNs, their English is far better than my Arabic, but it can get interesting at times.
Gravel - Pretty much everywhere on base that is not paved or concrete, is covered with gravel. It varies from small pebbles to decent sized stones, but it is everywhere and it is usually about 6" deep. They put it down in the housing areas and parking lots to try to keep the dust and mud under control. It makes a very distinct "crunch, crunch, crunch" sound when you walk thru it. Very difficult to sneak up on anyone here.
Smells:
Ah yes, all the glorious smells of a 3rd world combat zone. Where to begin?
Dust - As I previously mentioned, dust is everywhere and it has a very specific smell that is just about everywhere, except on the very clearest of days. There is no escaping it when it's bad. It wakes me up at night on a pretty regular basis.
Smoke - About a half mile away from us is a huge trash burn pit. Imagine an enormous landfill where they don't bury the trash, but burn it instead. Anything and everything gets burned, and we get to breathe the smoke. Daily. It's almost to the point that we can tell what they're burning that day, just by the way the smoke smells. Plastics are the worst. I've taken some pictures of the giant plume of jet black smoke that billows up from the burn pit. I'll post them here sometime. There is no way on Earth this would ever be allowed back home because of all the toxins and pollutants that result, but hey, we're not at home so it must be ok, right?
Exhaust - With all the generators running all over the base, it's not surprising that there is also a constant stench of diesel exhaust just about everywhere you go. It first hits when I walk outside, but by the time I get to wherever I'm going, I've gotten used to it and don't even notice anymore. Then there is the jet exhaust out on the flightline. It's everywhere, and again, after a while you don't even notice.
Pine Sol - I think the Army keeps the makers of Pine Sol in business. Every Army building I've ever been in smelled like Pine Sol. I don't know what the fascination is with it, but I sure wish they'd switch to a different floor cleanser. Enough already with the Pine Sol!
Porta Potties - They're everywhere, and they smell like, well, porta potties. To add insult to foul smells, they hardly ever put just one anywhere. Normally there are 4 or 5 together, just to ensure that everyone for a half mile downwind can sample the bouquet of less-than-pleasant aromas. Oh yeah, and there isn't much that smells worse than a porta potty that hasn't been cleaned in a week and is baked on a daily basis in 117* heat. Not fun. They should encase them in glass and write "For Emergency Use Only" on the doors.
Body Odor - Most people here smell pretty bad. Usually, it's either for job-related or cultural reasons, but whatever the cause, the result is the same. I can't go more than two days without washing my flightsuit, but apparently, many people can (but shouldn't...). Then there are the TCNs, many of whom seem to feel it is "masculine" to smell like 3 week old rotting garbage mixed with sweat (either that or they use a cologne called "Eau De Dumpster"). I'm starting to better understand how their families can send them off to work here for years on end.
Tastes:
A common question is "What's the food like?" Well, it's actually pretty normal. We have many options available to us. The most common eatery is the 4 mess halls or "dining facilities/DFACs". They're each open 4 times a day, and always have a wide variety of foods to choose from. There are different theme meals every day, and they range from Mongolian BBQ and Indian food to Surf & Turf and Italian. The menu is pretty much the same week after week, but there is enough of a variety to keep us from getting too bored with it all. In the event that we do tire of the mess hall food, our other options on base include: Taco Bell (150 yards from my room), Pizza Hut, Burger King, Subway, Popeye's Chicken, Cinnabon, McDonalds, Green Beans (a military version of Starbucks) Baskin Robbins, and a mom and pop type Turkish restaurant (my favorite). We can also get a limited amount of foods (steaks, hamburgers, soup, canned vegetables, bread, etc) to cook in our rooms, altho most rooms are not set up for cooking aside from having a microwave. Most of the fast food tastes pretty close to the way it does back home, which I guess is the point.
Activities:
What is there to do on base? Well, aside from eating and sleeping, we actually are offered lots of options to pass the little spare time we do have.
There are three major recreation centers on base, and each offers various and assorted activities. From Bingo and Poker to video games and ping pong, you can generally find something to do 24 hours a day.
There are several nicely equipped gyms on base.
There is a huge movie theater, which aside from the ballistic shields around it and the fact that it's free to get in, could pass for any theater back home. They play two different first run movies during the week, and three on weekends. They also have various USO concerts and activities there.
There are two pools here, one indoor, one outdoor. The outdoor pool was formerly used to train the Iraqi Olympic swim and diving teams.
There are three exchanges (military version of Wal Mart) on base, and you can usually get just about anything you want, just not when you want/need it. For example, right now it's 117* outside, and it's a great time to stock up on sweat pants, jackets and thermal underwear. Come winter, you won't be able to find those things, but you can get a great deal on shorts.
There are several chapels on base, and there are services for just about every faith imaginable.
If all else fails and you can't find anything else to do here on base, you can always go back to work.
Friday, June 6, 2008
Transitions
Well, my transition is once again complete. I am back to being CW3 Bishop, United States Army. For the past two weeks, I’d been Dada, Husband, Brother and Son. If you have to ask which role I prefer, you don’t know me very well.
Being an Army Reservist, I get the unique opportunity to switch back and forth between my military and civilian personas, and I’ve always thought the process of doing so was fairly interesting, so I thought I'd share it here.
It’s not really a “scheduled” transition so to speak, more of a mental changeover that just sorta happens. Going home on leave, I started out in Kuwait with 300 other people who couldn’t wait to get home to friends and family. We were in full military mode at this point, seeing as we’d all been deployed for many months and been surrounded by nothing but uniforms the entire time.
Our first dose of civilian life came as we boarded the airplane to head home. The flight crew was the first group of non-contractor civilians we’d seen in many months. They treated us as people, not as soldiers (there is a difference…those who’ve been there know what I mean.) Our civilianization had begun.
The next step was getting off the plane in Atlanta, 16 hours after we’d left Kuwait. This was the first time I’d been back on US soil in 7 months, but it didn’t take long to get used to all the sights and sounds again. We also had some interaction with civilian passengers in the terminal, many of whom came up to shake our hands and thank us. It was good to be back in the US.
When we got to Dallas (the 3rd stop on my way home), we were welcomed by the wonderful volunteers from the DFW USO. There were hundreds of people lined up to shake our hands, high 5 and hug us as we headed out of the terminal, and it is an experience I will never forget. I now know what a movie star feels like on the red carpet, and it was humbling to say the very least.
Dallas was where we left the military charter flight and went on to regular scheduled airlines to our individual destinations. I was one of two soldiers on my flight from DFW to Phoenix, and again we were treated like royalty. For two rows around me, people were offering to buy my lunch (I’d eaten 5 times by this point), give me their pillows and blankets, or whatever else they thought I needed. In case I’ve not said it recently, I am so very grateful to all those who are grateful for what we do. Thank you.
By the time I got to the curb in Phoenix, I was the only one in a military uniform. My transformation was nearly complete. In a little over 28 hours, I’d gone from a sea of green suits to being surrounded by civilians, and it was rubbing off. I arrived home and within 10 minutes, was in shorts and a T-shirt that didn’t say “Army” on them. I was ready to be a civilian for a while, and boy did I enjoy it. I will try to write about all my wonderful leave experiences in the near future, but I want to make sure I have the time to do it properly, so it will have to wait until things settle down a little.
The civilian to Army transition was pretty much the same as above in reverse. It began when I put the uniform on for the first time in 2 weeks, and ended 40 hours later when I stepped off the plane back in Kuwait and was hit square in the face by the dust filled 105* heat.
I am eagerly awaiting the opportunity to write about my next transition, which will take place in about 3 ½ months. It can’t come soon enough, but I know that the time will pass quickly. We’re on the downhill side of the clock now, and to quote a popular Army phrase, I can do that time “standing on my head”.
Being an Army Reservist, I get the unique opportunity to switch back and forth between my military and civilian personas, and I’ve always thought the process of doing so was fairly interesting, so I thought I'd share it here.
It’s not really a “scheduled” transition so to speak, more of a mental changeover that just sorta happens. Going home on leave, I started out in Kuwait with 300 other people who couldn’t wait to get home to friends and family. We were in full military mode at this point, seeing as we’d all been deployed for many months and been surrounded by nothing but uniforms the entire time.
Our first dose of civilian life came as we boarded the airplane to head home. The flight crew was the first group of non-contractor civilians we’d seen in many months. They treated us as people, not as soldiers (there is a difference…those who’ve been there know what I mean.) Our civilianization had begun.
The next step was getting off the plane in Atlanta, 16 hours after we’d left Kuwait. This was the first time I’d been back on US soil in 7 months, but it didn’t take long to get used to all the sights and sounds again. We also had some interaction with civilian passengers in the terminal, many of whom came up to shake our hands and thank us. It was good to be back in the US.
When we got to Dallas (the 3rd stop on my way home), we were welcomed by the wonderful volunteers from the DFW USO. There were hundreds of people lined up to shake our hands, high 5 and hug us as we headed out of the terminal, and it is an experience I will never forget. I now know what a movie star feels like on the red carpet, and it was humbling to say the very least.
Dallas was where we left the military charter flight and went on to regular scheduled airlines to our individual destinations. I was one of two soldiers on my flight from DFW to Phoenix, and again we were treated like royalty. For two rows around me, people were offering to buy my lunch (I’d eaten 5 times by this point), give me their pillows and blankets, or whatever else they thought I needed. In case I’ve not said it recently, I am so very grateful to all those who are grateful for what we do. Thank you.
By the time I got to the curb in Phoenix, I was the only one in a military uniform. My transformation was nearly complete. In a little over 28 hours, I’d gone from a sea of green suits to being surrounded by civilians, and it was rubbing off. I arrived home and within 10 minutes, was in shorts and a T-shirt that didn’t say “Army” on them. I was ready to be a civilian for a while, and boy did I enjoy it. I will try to write about all my wonderful leave experiences in the near future, but I want to make sure I have the time to do it properly, so it will have to wait until things settle down a little.
The civilian to Army transition was pretty much the same as above in reverse. It began when I put the uniform on for the first time in 2 weeks, and ended 40 hours later when I stepped off the plane back in Kuwait and was hit square in the face by the dust filled 105* heat.
I am eagerly awaiting the opportunity to write about my next transition, which will take place in about 3 ½ months. It can’t come soon enough, but I know that the time will pass quickly. We’re on the downhill side of the clock now, and to quote a popular Army phrase, I can do that time “standing on my head”.
Tuesday, June 3, 2008
This Time Vs. Last
As I sit here today in the Atlanta airport, waiting on my flight back to Kuwait / Iraq, I can’t help but compare this trip to my last eastbound odyssey over 7 months ago. True, leaving home and loved ones is always difficult and unpleasant at best, but this time was far easier than last in most respects.
Last time was the first time I’d ever been away from home for such an extended period. This time, I’ll only be gone half as long. Last time, I was going into the unknown and the apprehension was palpable. This time, I am returning to a known entity and aside from the ever present frustrations of dealing with the hurry-up-and-wait method the government seems to choose for transporting masses of people, there was little or no stress involved. I was just along for the ride and whatever happened en-route was ok with me. Last time, our exact departure date and time was uncertain until the very last minute, and Jamie and Jaislyn were there with me, so it was very stressful and hectic. I didn’t want to leave them until I absolutely had to, but nobody knew for sure when that would be, so we sat by the phone and waited. This time, I knew before I even got home when I would be leaving, so we could plan our time together accordingly. Still the most difficult thing I’ve ever done was kissing Jaislyn goodbye this time. She’d just gotten used to having me back in her life, and now I was leaving her all over again. We’d talked to her about it beforehand (complete with a deployment-themed Elmo dvd...Thanks MilitaryOneSource!), and she knew that I was only going to be home for a short time, but that didn’t make it any easier, at least not for me. Last time, I’d never been gone that long so she had no frame of reference. This time she knew what it was like to have me gone for a long time. Not easy.
On a positive note, there is a definite sense of calm today that I did not have 7 months ago. Today, I am just headed back to work. Back then, I was “Going off to war”, complete with all the drama that goes along with such an endeavor. I know now that my “war” and the war we see on TV every day are thankfully, two very different things.
Something else strikes me as I sit here waiting and people watching: I can’t help but notice the two parallel and somewhat ironic realities that I’m currently straddling. All around us, people are going about their daily activities. For the most part, they’ll all return to their own homes, their families and sleep in their own beds. I’ve seen and heard people complaining about this and that. Things that 8 months ago, I too probably would have wasted the energy complaining about, but now seem far too insignificant to worry myself over. Then there is the group of soldiers I’m traveling with. We’re all headed to various and assorted unpleasant parts of the world to do various and assorted, often unpleasant jobs, yet I hear all sorts of laughter. I often wonder if the civilians around us know how much we’d love to change places with them, even the seemingly miserable ones. I’d bet most of them have no clue, but that’s ok.
Until today, I’d never seen or met any of the people I’m traveling with, yet there is a sense of “family” among us. I know that I can go up to anyone wearing this uniform, and they will help me in any way they can, and they in turn can expect the same of me. We talk to complete strangers like we’ve known them for years. That is perhaps my favorite thing about being in the military, no matter where you go or who you are, we take care of our own and look out for each other. Perhaps it stems from our common experience, or because we share a mutual respect for anyone that is willing to put on the uniform and step up to the proverbial plate, but whatever the reason, that sense of belonging is always there, no matter when or where. I can’t help but think if people out in “the world” treated each other with the same sort of respect, the world would be a much different and far better place.
Last time was the first time I’d ever been away from home for such an extended period. This time, I’ll only be gone half as long. Last time, I was going into the unknown and the apprehension was palpable. This time, I am returning to a known entity and aside from the ever present frustrations of dealing with the hurry-up-and-wait method the government seems to choose for transporting masses of people, there was little or no stress involved. I was just along for the ride and whatever happened en-route was ok with me. Last time, our exact departure date and time was uncertain until the very last minute, and Jamie and Jaislyn were there with me, so it was very stressful and hectic. I didn’t want to leave them until I absolutely had to, but nobody knew for sure when that would be, so we sat by the phone and waited. This time, I knew before I even got home when I would be leaving, so we could plan our time together accordingly. Still the most difficult thing I’ve ever done was kissing Jaislyn goodbye this time. She’d just gotten used to having me back in her life, and now I was leaving her all over again. We’d talked to her about it beforehand (complete with a deployment-themed Elmo dvd...Thanks MilitaryOneSource!), and she knew that I was only going to be home for a short time, but that didn’t make it any easier, at least not for me. Last time, I’d never been gone that long so she had no frame of reference. This time she knew what it was like to have me gone for a long time. Not easy.
On a positive note, there is a definite sense of calm today that I did not have 7 months ago. Today, I am just headed back to work. Back then, I was “Going off to war”, complete with all the drama that goes along with such an endeavor. I know now that my “war” and the war we see on TV every day are thankfully, two very different things.
Something else strikes me as I sit here waiting and people watching: I can’t help but notice the two parallel and somewhat ironic realities that I’m currently straddling. All around us, people are going about their daily activities. For the most part, they’ll all return to their own homes, their families and sleep in their own beds. I’ve seen and heard people complaining about this and that. Things that 8 months ago, I too probably would have wasted the energy complaining about, but now seem far too insignificant to worry myself over. Then there is the group of soldiers I’m traveling with. We’re all headed to various and assorted unpleasant parts of the world to do various and assorted, often unpleasant jobs, yet I hear all sorts of laughter. I often wonder if the civilians around us know how much we’d love to change places with them, even the seemingly miserable ones. I’d bet most of them have no clue, but that’s ok.
Until today, I’d never seen or met any of the people I’m traveling with, yet there is a sense of “family” among us. I know that I can go up to anyone wearing this uniform, and they will help me in any way they can, and they in turn can expect the same of me. We talk to complete strangers like we’ve known them for years. That is perhaps my favorite thing about being in the military, no matter where you go or who you are, we take care of our own and look out for each other. Perhaps it stems from our common experience, or because we share a mutual respect for anyone that is willing to put on the uniform and step up to the proverbial plate, but whatever the reason, that sense of belonging is always there, no matter when or where. I can’t help but think if people out in “the world” treated each other with the same sort of respect, the world would be a much different and far better place.
Monday, June 2, 2008
Heroes?
In the past two weeks, I’ve heard the word “Hero” used quite a bit, and often in reference to me. Each time I hear it, I feel like looking around the room to see whom the person is talking about. I am no hero. I haven’t cured any devastating illness, I haven’t saved anyone’s life, I haven’t prevented any catastrophe, I haven’t invented a way to reduce gas prices ($4.00 a gallon?? It was “only” $2.50 when I left!!), in short, I’ve not done anything to save the proverbial day. I don’t wear a shiny red cape or change clothes in phone booths, I just wear a tan flight suit and do the job I’ve been trained and love to do. Hardly a heroic deed, at least in my humble opinion. The fact that I do that job in some far off war-torn country that we see on the evening news every day is I think where the - for lack of a better term – misconception comes from.
Before I go any further, let me say that I certainly do not mean to sound conceited or ungrateful in anyway for all the wonderful support I/we have received from family, friends and even complete strangers. Knowing that we’re thought of, missed, loved and cared for by people back home means the world to me and all the soldiers I know. Knowing that people acknowledge and appreciate the sacrifices we, and more importantly, our families have made means a great deal as well. Still, that in and of itself does not make me a hero, at least by my definition.
A hero to me is the 19 year old PFC who goes “outside the wire” (off base) every day and must constantly be wary of IEDs, Snipers, Suicide Bombers, and whatever other new forms of death and destruction the bad guys have to offer today. For him/her, there is no guarantee that once they leave the relative safety and security of the base that they will return safely to the same when their patrol is over. Each day they gamble with their lives, and they do it willingly and fully aware of the threats that face them. If that weren’t enough, most of them do it for 15 months on end. They are heroes. I just fly airplanes.
A hero to me is the 22 year old who throws himself on a grenade because he knows it will save his fellow soldiers. Can you imagine the kind of split second courage a decision like that would take? Deciding whether or not to save yourself or to end your own life in order to save friends’ lives? I cannot fathom ever having to make such a decision, and I’m not too proud to admit that there are only a select few people in this world that mean enough to me to make such a decision. That young man is a hero. I just fly airplanes.
Heroes do what they do not because they want the praise, awards or spotlight, not because they are paid to do it, not because they are told to do it, but because they believe it to be the right thing to do, and know that if they don’t do it, someone else will have to be put in harms way to get the job done.
I think people refer to us as heroes collectively for a variety of reasons. Perhaps they do not fully understand what it is we do. Perhaps they feel that just because we do what we do where we do it, we qualify for the accolades. Perhaps they feel the sacrifices we make (even tho our families sacrifice far more than we do) qualify us. Perhaps it is because they appreciate people who are willing to do things that they themselves are not (As I appreciate the “grunt” soldiers who go out and do the dirty/dangerous work every day.) Perhaps they are just grateful for what we do and don’t know how else to qualify us (I’ve found that people have an innate need to label everything…) Who knows? I’m sure the reasons vary from person to person, just as I have my own definitions of what makes a hero. Whatever the reason behind it, I truly appreciate the sentiment, even if I don’t feel qualified. There are definitely true heroes in our ranks, don't get me wrong, but at least for myself, I'm pretty much just satisfied knowing that I've done the best, safest job I can. That's enough for me.
Quite honestly, I hope I never do anything to actually qualify for my own definition of a hero. There is an old saying that pilots have: “Always use your superior judgment to avoid situations in which you would have to demonstrate your superior skill.” If I ever find myself in a situation that requires heroism, something has gone severely wrong and I try my best to ensure that I avoid such situations whenever possible. Heroism is hazardous to your health, and I’ve developed a breathing habit that I’ve become rather fond of. My goal in this little adventure is not to become a “hero”, but just to return home safely to my friends and family in the same (or better) condition as I left.
Before I go any further, let me say that I certainly do not mean to sound conceited or ungrateful in anyway for all the wonderful support I/we have received from family, friends and even complete strangers. Knowing that we’re thought of, missed, loved and cared for by people back home means the world to me and all the soldiers I know. Knowing that people acknowledge and appreciate the sacrifices we, and more importantly, our families have made means a great deal as well. Still, that in and of itself does not make me a hero, at least by my definition.
A hero to me is the 19 year old PFC who goes “outside the wire” (off base) every day and must constantly be wary of IEDs, Snipers, Suicide Bombers, and whatever other new forms of death and destruction the bad guys have to offer today. For him/her, there is no guarantee that once they leave the relative safety and security of the base that they will return safely to the same when their patrol is over. Each day they gamble with their lives, and they do it willingly and fully aware of the threats that face them. If that weren’t enough, most of them do it for 15 months on end. They are heroes. I just fly airplanes.
A hero to me is the 22 year old who throws himself on a grenade because he knows it will save his fellow soldiers. Can you imagine the kind of split second courage a decision like that would take? Deciding whether or not to save yourself or to end your own life in order to save friends’ lives? I cannot fathom ever having to make such a decision, and I’m not too proud to admit that there are only a select few people in this world that mean enough to me to make such a decision. That young man is a hero. I just fly airplanes.
Heroes do what they do not because they want the praise, awards or spotlight, not because they are paid to do it, not because they are told to do it, but because they believe it to be the right thing to do, and know that if they don’t do it, someone else will have to be put in harms way to get the job done.
I think people refer to us as heroes collectively for a variety of reasons. Perhaps they do not fully understand what it is we do. Perhaps they feel that just because we do what we do where we do it, we qualify for the accolades. Perhaps they feel the sacrifices we make (even tho our families sacrifice far more than we do) qualify us. Perhaps it is because they appreciate people who are willing to do things that they themselves are not (As I appreciate the “grunt” soldiers who go out and do the dirty/dangerous work every day.) Perhaps they are just grateful for what we do and don’t know how else to qualify us (I’ve found that people have an innate need to label everything…) Who knows? I’m sure the reasons vary from person to person, just as I have my own definitions of what makes a hero. Whatever the reason behind it, I truly appreciate the sentiment, even if I don’t feel qualified. There are definitely true heroes in our ranks, don't get me wrong, but at least for myself, I'm pretty much just satisfied knowing that I've done the best, safest job I can. That's enough for me.
Quite honestly, I hope I never do anything to actually qualify for my own definition of a hero. There is an old saying that pilots have: “Always use your superior judgment to avoid situations in which you would have to demonstrate your superior skill.” If I ever find myself in a situation that requires heroism, something has gone severely wrong and I try my best to ensure that I avoid such situations whenever possible. Heroism is hazardous to your health, and I’ve developed a breathing habit that I’ve become rather fond of. My goal in this little adventure is not to become a “hero”, but just to return home safely to my friends and family in the same (or better) condition as I left.
Wednesday, April 23, 2008
Then, and Now.
6 months ago today was the last time I woke up in my own bed. It was the last time I saw my home. It was the last time I drove my own truck (Thanks John and Leslie for taking such good care of it!!). It was the last time my life was in any way "normal".
Now, in the grand scheme of things, 6 months is not a long time but when you're taken from all you know and those you love, it is an eternity. It has gone by very quickly in some respects, but in others time seems to stand still.
It is amazing to me, as I knew it would be, to look back on all that I once took for granted and compare those things to all the "little" things that I now look forward to.
I used to dread having to "work" (i.e. sitting around a fire station and on occasion, flying a helicopter) 7 whole days in a row. Now I work 9 or 10 days in a row and consider myself lucky.
I used to think that 7 days off in a row was normal. Now I'm happy just to have one day off.
I used to complain about having to go to the grocery store. Now I only wish I could select my own groceries.
I used to complain about occasionally having to cook. Now, it would be an unheard of luxury to actually be able to cook your own meals (microwaves dont count).
I used to leave Jaislyn in daycare because it was easier to run my errands by myself. Now, I would do anything to spend just 5 minutes with her or Jamie.
I used to call my parents two or three times a week, because I let myself get too "busy" to call every day. Now, talking to them, Jamie and Jaislyn is the highlight of my day and I wish I could call two or three times per day, no matter how busy I am.
I used to drive everywhere, no matter how close the destination, and usually I found it inconvenient. Now I walk a mile and a half round trip to work and I don't even notice.
I used to see dogs and cats and never give them a second look. Now, seeing a dog is reason to go out of my way to pet it (there aren't any dogs here on base aside from MP dogs, but occasionally the USO brings a therapy dog for a visit...funny what something as simple as petting a dog can do for morale).
I used to pass all sorts of lush greenery every day without notice. Now, we plant small (1'x3') patches of grass outside our rooms and call them "lawns" and people will stop, look and admire.
I would occasionally hear birds chirping outside, but didn't give them a second thought. Now, I love hearing the sparrows chirping in the morning because it reminds me of home.
Simple things like changing radio stations, or having more than 6 TV channels, or being able to take a shower by yourself without having to wear flip-flops, or go more than 2 miles from your home whenever you wanted... I used to take it all for granted. Now, I'll listen to the radio station they broadcast on the TV guide channel, just because it's a radio station. I'm happy to have any sort of TV, because occasionally they show something new (LOTS of reruns of reruns). I am thankful we have any showers, because there are lots of people who don't. I'm also more than happy to stay safely within the confines of my base, because I realize that there are thousands who only wish they didn't have to venture outside "the wire" every day.
I know that when I return home, I will likely eventually lose sight of these things and once again I will take them for granted, but hopefully when I read this blog it will remind me of how precious even the simplest of daily activities really are, and how we need to cherish those around us at every opportunity we're given.
Now, in the grand scheme of things, 6 months is not a long time but when you're taken from all you know and those you love, it is an eternity. It has gone by very quickly in some respects, but in others time seems to stand still.
It is amazing to me, as I knew it would be, to look back on all that I once took for granted and compare those things to all the "little" things that I now look forward to.
I used to dread having to "work" (i.e. sitting around a fire station and on occasion, flying a helicopter) 7 whole days in a row. Now I work 9 or 10 days in a row and consider myself lucky.
I used to think that 7 days off in a row was normal. Now I'm happy just to have one day off.
I used to complain about having to go to the grocery store. Now I only wish I could select my own groceries.
I used to complain about occasionally having to cook. Now, it would be an unheard of luxury to actually be able to cook your own meals (microwaves dont count).
I used to leave Jaislyn in daycare because it was easier to run my errands by myself. Now, I would do anything to spend just 5 minutes with her or Jamie.
I used to call my parents two or three times a week, because I let myself get too "busy" to call every day. Now, talking to them, Jamie and Jaislyn is the highlight of my day and I wish I could call two or three times per day, no matter how busy I am.
I used to drive everywhere, no matter how close the destination, and usually I found it inconvenient. Now I walk a mile and a half round trip to work and I don't even notice.
I used to see dogs and cats and never give them a second look. Now, seeing a dog is reason to go out of my way to pet it (there aren't any dogs here on base aside from MP dogs, but occasionally the USO brings a therapy dog for a visit...funny what something as simple as petting a dog can do for morale).
I used to pass all sorts of lush greenery every day without notice. Now, we plant small (1'x3') patches of grass outside our rooms and call them "lawns" and people will stop, look and admire.
I would occasionally hear birds chirping outside, but didn't give them a second thought. Now, I love hearing the sparrows chirping in the morning because it reminds me of home.
Simple things like changing radio stations, or having more than 6 TV channels, or being able to take a shower by yourself without having to wear flip-flops, or go more than 2 miles from your home whenever you wanted... I used to take it all for granted. Now, I'll listen to the radio station they broadcast on the TV guide channel, just because it's a radio station. I'm happy to have any sort of TV, because occasionally they show something new (LOTS of reruns of reruns). I am thankful we have any showers, because there are lots of people who don't. I'm also more than happy to stay safely within the confines of my base, because I realize that there are thousands who only wish they didn't have to venture outside "the wire" every day.
I know that when I return home, I will likely eventually lose sight of these things and once again I will take them for granted, but hopefully when I read this blog it will remind me of how precious even the simplest of daily activities really are, and how we need to cherish those around us at every opportunity we're given.
People are People
Before I came to Iraq, my experiences with foreign cultures and peoples was limited to what I'd experienced growing up in Los Angeles, and on a few short trips to Canada, Central America and the Carribean. I'd learned more from reading National Geographic than I had thru personal experiences. That has changed, at least a little, and hopefully for the better. I'm starting to understand that no matter where we live, what we believe, or what language we speak, we share more in common than we'd probably like to admit.
Granted, I've also had relatively limited exposure since arriving, but comparitively speaking I've learned lots about people in the last 6 months, and what I've learned has surprised me a little, altho I'm not sure just why.
In the past few months, I've been all over the Middle East (or "Southwest Asia" for the politically correct crowd) to places like Iraq (obviously), Kuwait, Qatar, Bahrain, Turkiye (Correct spelling), Saudi Arabia, Jordan, and Georgia. The one constant I've noticed is that as a whole, people are pretty much the same. While there are some major surface differences in things like religion, moral values, language, dress, etc, when you dig down deep, we're not really all that different. We all have the same wants, needs, desires and dreams. We all need to feel loved, we all need to have someone to love, we all need to feel accepted, we all need to have some sort of hope to cling to, and the list goes on. The differences lie in how we choose or are allowed to go about pursuing those needs, but the needs themselves do not change no matter how some may try to disguise them. We're the same.
In all my travels to all these places I'd never been before, I found it extremely easy to identify things like grocery stores, restaurants, schools, apartment buildings, etc etc. Aside from a different language on the signs (and sometimes not), they looked pretty much the same as back home. Going into a mall in Manama, Bahrain, or Dubai, UAE is almost exactly like going into a mall in any US city. Same stores, same layout, same smells, and people doing the same things. Watching children playing in Tbilisi, Georgia, if you couldn't hear the language they were speaking, you could have easily mistaken them for kids playing in Anytown, USA. So many similarities, and very few differences.
A few days ago, I watched as a father bought his 4 year old daughter her first "big girl" bicycle in a Dubai department store (that reminded me a great deal of the Sears in North Hollywood). I didn't need to know exactly what they were saying in order to understand what was being communicated. I could see the excitement in her eyes, and the pride and love in his. He saw me watching them. I flashed him a knowing smile, and he returned it. He knew that I knew we were the same.
I guess I am surprised that any of this surprises me. I don't really know what I expected, but I did expect to find vast differences in who and what people in different parts of the world were. I did not expect to find so many close similarities.
Watching the news at night, all I see is people complaining about differences. This group does things this way, and that offends that group. Hillary said this, but Obama did that. Who cares? Not that I've become some soft bellied tree hugger, but what about the similarities? Why are we so afraid of what is different that we are completely unable to focus on what we have in common and use that as a foundation on which to build? The more I look around, the more I see how we continue to divide ourselves based on differences, rather than come together based on similarities. I guess I'd have to study psychology for a fairly long time in order to even begin to understand the answers to those questions, but as an uneducated observer looking in from the outside, it seems pretty silly in most cases, don't you think?
Granted, I've also had relatively limited exposure since arriving, but comparitively speaking I've learned lots about people in the last 6 months, and what I've learned has surprised me a little, altho I'm not sure just why.
In the past few months, I've been all over the Middle East (or "Southwest Asia" for the politically correct crowd) to places like Iraq (obviously), Kuwait, Qatar, Bahrain, Turkiye (Correct spelling), Saudi Arabia, Jordan, and Georgia. The one constant I've noticed is that as a whole, people are pretty much the same. While there are some major surface differences in things like religion, moral values, language, dress, etc, when you dig down deep, we're not really all that different. We all have the same wants, needs, desires and dreams. We all need to feel loved, we all need to have someone to love, we all need to feel accepted, we all need to have some sort of hope to cling to, and the list goes on. The differences lie in how we choose or are allowed to go about pursuing those needs, but the needs themselves do not change no matter how some may try to disguise them. We're the same.
In all my travels to all these places I'd never been before, I found it extremely easy to identify things like grocery stores, restaurants, schools, apartment buildings, etc etc. Aside from a different language on the signs (and sometimes not), they looked pretty much the same as back home. Going into a mall in Manama, Bahrain, or Dubai, UAE is almost exactly like going into a mall in any US city. Same stores, same layout, same smells, and people doing the same things. Watching children playing in Tbilisi, Georgia, if you couldn't hear the language they were speaking, you could have easily mistaken them for kids playing in Anytown, USA. So many similarities, and very few differences.
A few days ago, I watched as a father bought his 4 year old daughter her first "big girl" bicycle in a Dubai department store (that reminded me a great deal of the Sears in North Hollywood). I didn't need to know exactly what they were saying in order to understand what was being communicated. I could see the excitement in her eyes, and the pride and love in his. He saw me watching them. I flashed him a knowing smile, and he returned it. He knew that I knew we were the same.
I guess I am surprised that any of this surprises me. I don't really know what I expected, but I did expect to find vast differences in who and what people in different parts of the world were. I did not expect to find so many close similarities.
Watching the news at night, all I see is people complaining about differences. This group does things this way, and that offends that group. Hillary said this, but Obama did that. Who cares? Not that I've become some soft bellied tree hugger, but what about the similarities? Why are we so afraid of what is different that we are completely unable to focus on what we have in common and use that as a foundation on which to build? The more I look around, the more I see how we continue to divide ourselves based on differences, rather than come together based on similarities. I guess I'd have to study psychology for a fairly long time in order to even begin to understand the answers to those questions, but as an uneducated observer looking in from the outside, it seems pretty silly in most cases, don't you think?
Thursday, March 6, 2008
Happy Birthday Dad, I Love You.
Dad,
As I was laying in bed trying to go to leep tonight, I couldn't stop thinking about how much I wished I could have been with you today on your birthday, so I decided I'd write and tell you.
I wanted to apologize again for not having a card or a gift for you on your special day. The card is on it's way, and the gift will be shortly, but they weren't there today when they should have been, and I feel badly. I'm sorry. That being said, there are things that no simple card can ever express, so I wanted to tell you about them now. I hope you don't mind that I shared them with the world on this blog. I just want everyone to know how very proud I am to call you my Dad.
First of all, you are now, always have been, and always will be my hero. You and Mom have taught me and raised me to be who I am today, and while I'm sure I didn't turn out quite as you'd hoped (I still can't speak Latin...), I think you did an incredible job with what you had to work with. You taught me to do the right thing. You taught me the importance of telling the truth. You showed me what it meant to be a man and a father. Big footsteps to follow in to be sure, but I try my best every day to make you proud of me.
You were (and still are) always there when I needed you. You let me sleep with you and Mom in the middle of the night when I was scared. You let me "help" you build things, even when all I did was get in the way. You put a bicycle together for me on my 6th Birthday. You let me run the trains under the Christmas tree. You drove an hour and a half to rescue me in the middle of the night when I got scared at camp. You went to every soccer game, baseball game, football game and parade even when all I did was stand in the middle of the field watching airplanes and trains. You made sure I got that double dump truck, even when there weren't any to be had. You fixed countless flat tires, broken toys, skinned knees, and hurt feelings. You soundproofed your garage for me when I just had to have that drum set. You took us on countless wonderful vacations. New York, Las Vegas, Yellowstone, Bryce, Zion, Grand Canyon, Yosemite, Salt Lake City, San Diego, San Francisco, Reno, Driving accross the country (what is it? 4 times now?) You showed me the things that were special to you. You took me golfing with you and just you at 6am on a Sunday morning, and taught me a little about the game you loved. You put me through a private school, even when I gave you every reason not to. You drove down to LAX in the middle of the night to rescue Mike, Greg and I when I wasn't paying attention and crashed the car. You pinned my WO1 bars on my shoulders. You pinned my wings on my chest. You moved me and my junk accross the country...twice.
You gave of yourself whatever it was you thought I needed, and you did so graciously and without question. You taught me the importance of doing a good job, no matter what job I was doing. You taught me to take responsibility for myself and my actions. You taught me to be proud of myself, and to stand up for what I believed in. You taught me to "think positive". You reminded me that 90% of the things we worry about never happen. You taught me the importance of just saying a prayer, and you let me decide who to pray to. You let me follow my dreams and pursue my goals, never once trying to change my mind. You let me become me because you were you.
In short Dad, you set the example for me to follow, and a simple "Thank You" will never be thanks enough. You and Mom were and are my biggest fans. I just wanted you to know that I am yours as well.
I can only hope that I can be for Jaislyn what you are to me. If I accomplish nothing else in my life, that will be enough. Thank you for who you've helped me become Dad, and thank you for who you are. I love you more than you can possibly know.
Happy Birthday.
As I was laying in bed trying to go to leep tonight, I couldn't stop thinking about how much I wished I could have been with you today on your birthday, so I decided I'd write and tell you.
I wanted to apologize again for not having a card or a gift for you on your special day. The card is on it's way, and the gift will be shortly, but they weren't there today when they should have been, and I feel badly. I'm sorry. That being said, there are things that no simple card can ever express, so I wanted to tell you about them now. I hope you don't mind that I shared them with the world on this blog. I just want everyone to know how very proud I am to call you my Dad.
First of all, you are now, always have been, and always will be my hero. You and Mom have taught me and raised me to be who I am today, and while I'm sure I didn't turn out quite as you'd hoped (I still can't speak Latin...), I think you did an incredible job with what you had to work with. You taught me to do the right thing. You taught me the importance of telling the truth. You showed me what it meant to be a man and a father. Big footsteps to follow in to be sure, but I try my best every day to make you proud of me.
You were (and still are) always there when I needed you. You let me sleep with you and Mom in the middle of the night when I was scared. You let me "help" you build things, even when all I did was get in the way. You put a bicycle together for me on my 6th Birthday. You let me run the trains under the Christmas tree. You drove an hour and a half to rescue me in the middle of the night when I got scared at camp. You went to every soccer game, baseball game, football game and parade even when all I did was stand in the middle of the field watching airplanes and trains. You made sure I got that double dump truck, even when there weren't any to be had. You fixed countless flat tires, broken toys, skinned knees, and hurt feelings. You soundproofed your garage for me when I just had to have that drum set. You took us on countless wonderful vacations. New York, Las Vegas, Yellowstone, Bryce, Zion, Grand Canyon, Yosemite, Salt Lake City, San Diego, San Francisco, Reno, Driving accross the country (what is it? 4 times now?) You showed me the things that were special to you. You took me golfing with you and just you at 6am on a Sunday morning, and taught me a little about the game you loved. You put me through a private school, even when I gave you every reason not to. You drove down to LAX in the middle of the night to rescue Mike, Greg and I when I wasn't paying attention and crashed the car. You pinned my WO1 bars on my shoulders. You pinned my wings on my chest. You moved me and my junk accross the country...twice.
You gave of yourself whatever it was you thought I needed, and you did so graciously and without question. You taught me the importance of doing a good job, no matter what job I was doing. You taught me to take responsibility for myself and my actions. You taught me to be proud of myself, and to stand up for what I believed in. You taught me to "think positive". You reminded me that 90% of the things we worry about never happen. You taught me the importance of just saying a prayer, and you let me decide who to pray to. You let me follow my dreams and pursue my goals, never once trying to change my mind. You let me become me because you were you.
In short Dad, you set the example for me to follow, and a simple "Thank You" will never be thanks enough. You and Mom were and are my biggest fans. I just wanted you to know that I am yours as well.
I can only hope that I can be for Jaislyn what you are to me. If I accomplish nothing else in my life, that will be enough. Thank you for who you've helped me become Dad, and thank you for who you are. I love you more than you can possibly know.
Happy Birthday.
Sunday, February 10, 2008
Step By Step
As I sit here tonight, writing my first blog since Christmas day, I have to remind myself that we've been here in Iraq for over 3 months already. The old saying "Time flies when you're having fun" doesn't necessarily apply, because I would hardly call this experience "fun", but I've found that the time is indeed beginning to pass quickly. The irony is that at the same time, it seems like I have been gone forever, and still have an eternity and a day yet to go before I can return home.
More often these days, I am hearing people saying that they're "ready to go home." Who isn't? Sure, I miss my family like crazy. I miss doing the silly little things that most people normally don't even think twice about. I miss being able to go where I want, when I want. I even miss waking up with a little Jaislyn foot in my mouth in the middle of the night, but the fact remains that we're not yet even 1/3 of the way thru this deployment. There is nothing that can be done to shorten our time here (barring serious injury or criminal activity), so we're faced with a choice: We can ignore the calendar and maintain a positive attitude, or we can focus on and complain about things beyond our control. I choose the former, simply because I refuse to sit around and think about being miserable. Depression is a self-sustaining, downward spiral and it can ruin people in a hurry. I think being miserable is in part, a conscious descision. If you focus on the negative, and dismiss the positive, it only stands to reason that you will be unhappy with your situation whatever it may be. It's true, there aren't many positives here, and there are lots of negatives to choose from, but notice the wording..."choose". There ARE positives here, we just have to search for them and be willing to recognize them when we come across them.
Some of the positives I've found here include: The ability to talk to my family and friends on a daily basis; the chance to meet new people and make new friends; the opportunity to go to places most people will never see; the satisfaction I get from doing my job as safely and professionally as possible; the pride I feel in serving our country; the beauty of a sunset; the serenity of a night sky full of stars; the fact that I sleep in a real bed, in my own real room (as opposed to a cot in a tent); and the list goes on.
No, those are not the kinds of positive things most people would focus on. In fact, I'm sure in most normal situations, those are not things most people would even notice at all. It is amazing at how much we take for granted in our daily lives, but being in a situation like mine has a tendency to remind us of all we have to be thankful for, even the little things.
On the last leg of tonight's flight, I was listening to a song called "Jacob's Ladder", and it pretty well summed up my attitude towards this "phase" of my deployment. "All I want for tomorrow is to get it better than today, step by step, one by one, higher and higher." Each day I get thru here is one day that I'm closer to going home and seeing everyone I love again. The more I focus on the positives here, the quicker the time passes, the quicker time passes, the more positives I find. I only wish everyone here was able to see things the same way, and I hope everyone at home can find the positives in this as well.
The real challenge however, is not getting through the next 8 months, the real challenge for me will be staying focused on all the positives that surround me back home, and not taking them for granted. Step by step, one by one.
More often these days, I am hearing people saying that they're "ready to go home." Who isn't? Sure, I miss my family like crazy. I miss doing the silly little things that most people normally don't even think twice about. I miss being able to go where I want, when I want. I even miss waking up with a little Jaislyn foot in my mouth in the middle of the night, but the fact remains that we're not yet even 1/3 of the way thru this deployment. There is nothing that can be done to shorten our time here (barring serious injury or criminal activity), so we're faced with a choice: We can ignore the calendar and maintain a positive attitude, or we can focus on and complain about things beyond our control. I choose the former, simply because I refuse to sit around and think about being miserable. Depression is a self-sustaining, downward spiral and it can ruin people in a hurry. I think being miserable is in part, a conscious descision. If you focus on the negative, and dismiss the positive, it only stands to reason that you will be unhappy with your situation whatever it may be. It's true, there aren't many positives here, and there are lots of negatives to choose from, but notice the wording..."choose". There ARE positives here, we just have to search for them and be willing to recognize them when we come across them.
Some of the positives I've found here include: The ability to talk to my family and friends on a daily basis; the chance to meet new people and make new friends; the opportunity to go to places most people will never see; the satisfaction I get from doing my job as safely and professionally as possible; the pride I feel in serving our country; the beauty of a sunset; the serenity of a night sky full of stars; the fact that I sleep in a real bed, in my own real room (as opposed to a cot in a tent); and the list goes on.
No, those are not the kinds of positive things most people would focus on. In fact, I'm sure in most normal situations, those are not things most people would even notice at all. It is amazing at how much we take for granted in our daily lives, but being in a situation like mine has a tendency to remind us of all we have to be thankful for, even the little things.
On the last leg of tonight's flight, I was listening to a song called "Jacob's Ladder", and it pretty well summed up my attitude towards this "phase" of my deployment. "All I want for tomorrow is to get it better than today, step by step, one by one, higher and higher." Each day I get thru here is one day that I'm closer to going home and seeing everyone I love again. The more I focus on the positives here, the quicker the time passes, the quicker time passes, the more positives I find. I only wish everyone here was able to see things the same way, and I hope everyone at home can find the positives in this as well.
The real challenge however, is not getting through the next 8 months, the real challenge for me will be staying focused on all the positives that surround me back home, and not taking them for granted. Step by step, one by one.
Tuesday, December 25, 2007
Merry Christmas...
Many people here tried very hard to forget Christmas. For a few, it was just another Christmas in the Army, same as always. For many, it was another day at work in Iraq, but for all of us in some way, it was yet another reminder of all we've left behind.
For me, the day began at midnight, when I went to Midnight Mass here on base. I'd done it once before when I was away from home on Christmas, and it helped a great deal to focus me on the true meaning of this Holiday. It made me stop and take stock and give thanks for the many blessings I've received in this life. This time was no exception. There is something comforting about being around others who are going thru the same thing you are. It's a sense of unspoken understanding and it brings with it a certain feeling of peace and belonging, which is exactly what we're all missing by being away from loved ones. By no means is it an equal substitute but it does fill the void, even if just partially.
At about noon, my neighbors (whom I fly/work with) woke me up to go to Christmas lunch. As with Thanksgiving, this was quite an all-out feast, with anything and everything you could possibly want and then some. The employees of the dining facility, all of whom are foreign nationals (Bangladesh, India, Philipines, Sri Lanka, Uganda), did their very best to get us in the spirit and ensure our needs were met or exceeded. There were elaborate decorations everywhere, and they were all dressed up in their finest native dress clothes. Some danced and sang, some were greeters, some were dressed as Santa, Mrs. Claus or Elves, but all went above and beyond, just for us. I still missed Mom's Lasagne, but thinking about all these people did to try to please us sure helped.
After lunch, it was time to get ready to go fly. I figured the more I had to do/made myself do, the easier and quicker the day would go. True, to some extent, but...
Our offices and halls were all decorated for Christmas, complete with a real Christmas tree and lights all over the place, including on some of the Flight Operations specialists. There were stockings on the wall, some of the office doors were gift wrapped, there were USO Care packages all over the place (THANK YOU!), and dozens if not hundreds of Christmas cards from complete strangers hanging on the walls. On our office door, a certain nameless CW3 with a slightly warped sense of humor hung a nearly blank 8.5 x 11 piece of paper with the words:
For me, the day began at midnight, when I went to Midnight Mass here on base. I'd done it once before when I was away from home on Christmas, and it helped a great deal to focus me on the true meaning of this Holiday. It made me stop and take stock and give thanks for the many blessings I've received in this life. This time was no exception. There is something comforting about being around others who are going thru the same thing you are. It's a sense of unspoken understanding and it brings with it a certain feeling of peace and belonging, which is exactly what we're all missing by being away from loved ones. By no means is it an equal substitute but it does fill the void, even if just partially.
At about noon, my neighbors (whom I fly/work with) woke me up to go to Christmas lunch. As with Thanksgiving, this was quite an all-out feast, with anything and everything you could possibly want and then some. The employees of the dining facility, all of whom are foreign nationals (Bangladesh, India, Philipines, Sri Lanka, Uganda), did their very best to get us in the spirit and ensure our needs were met or exceeded. There were elaborate decorations everywhere, and they were all dressed up in their finest native dress clothes. Some danced and sang, some were greeters, some were dressed as Santa, Mrs. Claus or Elves, but all went above and beyond, just for us. I still missed Mom's Lasagne, but thinking about all these people did to try to please us sure helped.
After lunch, it was time to get ready to go fly. I figured the more I had to do/made myself do, the easier and quicker the day would go. True, to some extent, but...
Our offices and halls were all decorated for Christmas, complete with a real Christmas tree and lights all over the place, including on some of the Flight Operations specialists. There were stockings on the wall, some of the office doors were gift wrapped, there were USO Care packages all over the place (THANK YOU!), and dozens if not hundreds of Christmas cards from complete strangers hanging on the walls. On our office door, a certain nameless CW3 with a slightly warped sense of humor hung a nearly blank 8.5 x 11 piece of paper with the words:
"Christmas Decoration,
Government Issue.
1 Each.
Serial Number:
12-25-2007-00000"
1 Each.
Serial Number:
12-25-2007-00000"
written on it. It seemed appropriate, and about matched my mood at the time.
The preflight period seemed to drag on forever. This was going to be just a milk run out-and-back flight, so nothing unusual or overly exciting needed to be done in preparation. I was ready for the day to be over so I could call home and go to bed.
As we walked out to the airplane, I switched into "fly" mode, and focused on the job at hand and for the first time that day, forgot that it was Christmas. The flight out was uneventful, and we got to witness a beautiful sunset from 26,000'. I handled the radios on this leg, and made sure to wish all the controllers a Merry Christmas. It seemed that some of them had also forgotten, and were glad to hear the reminder.
We landed, took on fuel, loaded our passengers and taxied back out to head "home". I was flying the airplane for the last leg. We climbed up to 29,000' and settled in for the hour and a half flight. Once the climb portion of the flight is complete, there really isn't much to do in the cockpit, so once again I was alone with my thoughts. Tonight my thoughts weren't of what was going on in the towns and villages below (as they normally were), but of what might be going on back at home. What was everyone doing, were they opening gifts, were they laughing, were they enjoying the day as much as I hoped they were? Did they know that I was thinking about them, missing them and loving them? I hope so.
As we droned on, I caught myself staring off into the inky darkness that is Iraq, wondering what this land must have been like over 2000 years ago. Here it was, Christmas day (night), and as the crow flies, I was maybe 200 miles away from Bethlehem at most. Wow. I can't imagine that this region has changed much in those 2000 years, so even back then it probably looked pretty similar to what I was seeing out my cockpit window right now. The night sky was crystal clear and filled with more stars than most people will ever see. There was no moon, but the stars gave off enough light to see the ground below very clearly. As I was sitting there admiring the beautiful tranquility that was before me, "Silent Night" began to play in my headphones. How appropriate. Indeed it was a silent night, and a Holy night. All was calm (at 29,000'), and the stars were bright. I sat in quiet wonder and remembered the Chaplain's reading of the Christmas story, realizing that I was staring out at the very land in which it all took place so long ago. There aren't many people who will ever get to experience what I did that night, and for that gift, I am very grateful.
Merry Christmas from Iraq. May all the joys and blessings of this Holiday season be yours, and may you know the love of friends and family as I do.
Monday, December 10, 2007
Sacrifices
I am constantly amazed and humbled at how much support and thanks we receive not only from family and friends, but also from complete strangers back home. The walls in our hangar offices are literally covered in cards addressed to "American Hero", or "Any Soldier". These cards and letters come from all walks of life, old and young, East and West. No matter who they're from, they all thank us for our service and our sacrifices, and while the thanks are sincerely appreciated, I can't help but think that they're addressed to the wrong people.
When I signed up to do this job nearly 14 years ago, I knew that being sent to any one of a number of foreign countries was a likely eventuality. It wasn't really a matter of "if", but "when". I considered my options, and willingly signed on the dotted line. When Jamie agreed to marry me, she knew the possibility existed that I would be sent overseas. She agreed by default to my being in the military, and therefore to her own being in the military. To quote a favorite childhood cartoon of mine ("Super Chicken"), we both "knew the job was dangerous when we took it."
Jaislyn on the other hand, had no choice in the matter, and did not agree to anything. She does not understand where I am, why I am here, when I will return, and most importantly, why I am not there with her. People tell me that 2 year olds do not comprehend such things, and that "she'll be fine". I'm sure in time this will prove true, but at the moment, she comprehends much more than most people give her credit for, and she turns to me for answers I cannot give her.
In talking to her last night, she got on the phone, briefly told me about her day and what she did, and then wasted no time in asking "Dada are you coming home this week?" I could hear the hopeful anticipation in her voice as she waited for my answer. It absolutely broke my heart (and hers too) to tell her that "Dada had to stay at work for a very long time." She was noticeably disappointed by my answer, as she had obviously been waiting to ask me that question for some time. She didn't even ask why, altho I could tell she was wondering. She just said "ok." in a very dejected tone of voice. It was of little consolation when I told her that I loved her and missed her more than anything in the world. She was yet again left to wonder to herself why her Dada wasn't there with her. She doesn't yet know the words necessary to get the proper answers to the questions she has in her head, so people just assume she doesn't have any, but she does. It's obvious every time I talk to her. It's obvious when she goes and hugs my truck, because it is the closest thing she has to me. It's obvious when she stops talking to me and hugs the phone "like a baby". She knows what is happening, she just doesn't know why and cannot yet fully express her feelings on the subject. I can't imagine what that would be like. I remember when I was very young (probably 4 or 5) and my Father went out of town on short business trips. I was completely traumatized, and wondered when and if he would ever come home. Even a weekend trip seemed like an eternity at that age. I've been away from Jaislyn for over a month now, with another 5 1/2 to go before I see her, and another 10+ to go before this oddysey is complete. I can only guess the things that are and will be running thru her little head in that time. I hope someday I can sit down with her and show her these posts, and explain to her where I went and why. That is the real reason for this blog.
My choices and my career have taken me away from my daughter at an age when she has all kinds of questions, but very few answers. I often lie in bed and wonder if I've made the right choices, and wonder if she'll ever forgive me for leaving her. Will she understand some day?
People thank me for my sacrifices, but I'm not the one making them. I made a career choice. Jamie and Jaislyn made the sacrifice. Jaislyn is the one making the biggest sacrifice because she had no choice. I have nothing but the highest respect for anyone who is a member of a military family, but military kids are without a doubt the ones who make the biggest sacrifices and get the least credit.
I Love You Jaislyn...
When I signed up to do this job nearly 14 years ago, I knew that being sent to any one of a number of foreign countries was a likely eventuality. It wasn't really a matter of "if", but "when". I considered my options, and willingly signed on the dotted line. When Jamie agreed to marry me, she knew the possibility existed that I would be sent overseas. She agreed by default to my being in the military, and therefore to her own being in the military. To quote a favorite childhood cartoon of mine ("Super Chicken"), we both "knew the job was dangerous when we took it."
Jaislyn on the other hand, had no choice in the matter, and did not agree to anything. She does not understand where I am, why I am here, when I will return, and most importantly, why I am not there with her. People tell me that 2 year olds do not comprehend such things, and that "she'll be fine". I'm sure in time this will prove true, but at the moment, she comprehends much more than most people give her credit for, and she turns to me for answers I cannot give her.
In talking to her last night, she got on the phone, briefly told me about her day and what she did, and then wasted no time in asking "Dada are you coming home this week?" I could hear the hopeful anticipation in her voice as she waited for my answer. It absolutely broke my heart (and hers too) to tell her that "Dada had to stay at work for a very long time." She was noticeably disappointed by my answer, as she had obviously been waiting to ask me that question for some time. She didn't even ask why, altho I could tell she was wondering. She just said "ok." in a very dejected tone of voice. It was of little consolation when I told her that I loved her and missed her more than anything in the world. She was yet again left to wonder to herself why her Dada wasn't there with her. She doesn't yet know the words necessary to get the proper answers to the questions she has in her head, so people just assume she doesn't have any, but she does. It's obvious every time I talk to her. It's obvious when she goes and hugs my truck, because it is the closest thing she has to me. It's obvious when she stops talking to me and hugs the phone "like a baby". She knows what is happening, she just doesn't know why and cannot yet fully express her feelings on the subject. I can't imagine what that would be like. I remember when I was very young (probably 4 or 5) and my Father went out of town on short business trips. I was completely traumatized, and wondered when and if he would ever come home. Even a weekend trip seemed like an eternity at that age. I've been away from Jaislyn for over a month now, with another 5 1/2 to go before I see her, and another 10+ to go before this oddysey is complete. I can only guess the things that are and will be running thru her little head in that time. I hope someday I can sit down with her and show her these posts, and explain to her where I went and why. That is the real reason for this blog.
My choices and my career have taken me away from my daughter at an age when she has all kinds of questions, but very few answers. I often lie in bed and wonder if I've made the right choices, and wonder if she'll ever forgive me for leaving her. Will she understand some day?
People thank me for my sacrifices, but I'm not the one making them. I made a career choice. Jamie and Jaislyn made the sacrifice. Jaislyn is the one making the biggest sacrifice because she had no choice. I have nothing but the highest respect for anyone who is a member of a military family, but military kids are without a doubt the ones who make the biggest sacrifices and get the least credit.
I Love You Jaislyn...
Perceptions
How we view the world depends in large part on our life experiences. How we were raised, what we were taught, places we've been, people we've met, all of these things come together to continually define and redefine who we are and what we believe.
In the short month I've been here in Iraq, it has occured to me just how sheltered and cocooned we are as a whole in the United States. Most people I know would have a hard time simply finding Iraq on a map, no less be able to carry on an intelligent conversation about the political, religious or socioeconomic climate of this region of the world. That is in no way a slight on their education or intellect, it is just a product of the lives we lead. We have no real need to be aware of or educated in those subjects, as they have little or no impact on our daily lives. I still include myself in that group of people, and I am here in the midst of it all, at least physically. I am smack in the middle of the country, but I don't know the first thing about the people who live here, aside from some are "good", some are "bad", and some just don't care one way or the other. I don't know much about this place, but I'd like to learn and hope to do so while I am here.
In talking to some of the "door kickers" (Infantry troops who do the door to door searches in the towns and villages here), it's become apparent that the Iraqis are equally clueless about us, but they're far more curious, as we tend to stand out in our tanks and attack helicopters as we roll thru their towns. What I've learned is that the average Iraqi lives in a low-income household, is extremely dedicated to their family, and has about the equivalent of a 3rd grade education. 5 in 8 cannot read or write. Most don't know or care about the government, so long as their family is provided for. The "enemy" you hear about back home, the Suicide bombers, the people who launch the rockets and mortars at our troops, these are just normal everyday people. Most have no intention and no desire to do anyone any harm, they are just scared and trying to provide for their families. The real "enemy" is the people who are putting them up to it.
Here is a common scenario: A father of four, who works 16 hours a day as a farm hand in the fields, has a child who is sick and will die without the proper medication and treatment. He does not have the money or the resources to acquire the medicine or medical care on his own (no health insurance, medicare or welfare here), so he goes to the local insurgency leader. These people are the ones directly funded by Al Qaeda, Syria, Iran, etc. They have the money, they have the resources, what they lack are the warm bodies to do the dirty work. The insurgents agree to help the man's child and provide for his family. All he has to do is... (Blow himself up in a crowd, launch a rocket at a US convoy, set up a roadside bomb, etc). Of course shortly after he does so (providing he is still alive), a bunch of rather intense individuals wearing uniforms and carrying large guns show up on his doorstep. He's just become "The enemy", but all he was trying to do was save his child's life. You don't hear about that part on CNN, or Fox News, or in any media outlet. Why? Perceptions. It's far easier to just pass them off collectively as "The Enemy", but this situation goes way beyond simple black and white, cut and dried answers. Yes, the man did "attempt" (usually halfheartedly at best) to bring harm to US troops, but given his options, who wouldn't have done the same? I would have.
Another thing about perceptions is that they can lull you into forgetting where you are. This has happened to me several times already, and quite honestly, I hope it continues as it gives me just a brief break in reality, and that is enough. Example: Coming "home" to Balad tonight as we droned along at 28,000' against a 110 knot headwind, I caught myself staring out at the lights of whatever small town we were over. The sight was so serene and soothing, with the moonlight reflecting off the tops of the scattered cloud deck, and the lights of the town twinkling, peeking out from behind the clouds here and there. It was a beautiful sight, and the soft Christmas music I had playing on my iPod just completed the scene. It was perfect. All of a sudden I was back in California, somewhere high over the San Joaquin Valley, it was Christmas time (easily my favorite time of year), I was on my way home, and I could even smell fresh baked cookies (I think one of my passengers brought some aboard...). Then all of a sudden, the radio crackled as an F-16 pilot requested a higher altitude. In an instant, I was thrust back into the C-12 cockpit somewhere over central Iraq. The town I was watching was no longer in California, but in a Middle Eastern war zone. Slap! Back to reality, but the perception (or misperception as the case may be) of being back in California was so real, even if just for an instant. The view was identical, and it brought back fond memories of when I was first learning to fly, more than 17 years ago. It seems like yesterday.
This place, this war, this entire experience has already and will continue to change who I am. It will not by any means define who I am, but it definitely reshapes the mold a little. One of the things they pounded into our heads before we left home, is that we will not return home as the same person. I found it odd that anyone would ever expect to be exactly the same after such an experience, but apparently, many people try. They resist any sort of change, I assume because they are afraid they might not like the results? A favorite song of mine says "If you choose not to decide, you still have made a choice". The same is true here, you can either accept that you will be changed by your experiences, and embrace and learn from them, or you can spend all your time resisting something that is inevitable. Either way, you will still be a different person in the end. I have already been affected by this experience, as I am sure you can tell by reading my "before" and "After" blog posts. I can see the change, so I am sure it's more than obvious. I don't think it's a bad thing in any way, I just feel like my knowledge and understanding of the world we live in is slowly expanding, and that is good. I can feel myself maturing in many ways, as I learn that there are realities beyond our own.
Why are we "really" here in Iraq? Who knows. Will our being here solve problems in the long term? I hope so and I think so. Are we helping people in need? Definitely. Are we doing the right thing? There is no one right or one wrong. Only perceptions...
In the short month I've been here in Iraq, it has occured to me just how sheltered and cocooned we are as a whole in the United States. Most people I know would have a hard time simply finding Iraq on a map, no less be able to carry on an intelligent conversation about the political, religious or socioeconomic climate of this region of the world. That is in no way a slight on their education or intellect, it is just a product of the lives we lead. We have no real need to be aware of or educated in those subjects, as they have little or no impact on our daily lives. I still include myself in that group of people, and I am here in the midst of it all, at least physically. I am smack in the middle of the country, but I don't know the first thing about the people who live here, aside from some are "good", some are "bad", and some just don't care one way or the other. I don't know much about this place, but I'd like to learn and hope to do so while I am here.
In talking to some of the "door kickers" (Infantry troops who do the door to door searches in the towns and villages here), it's become apparent that the Iraqis are equally clueless about us, but they're far more curious, as we tend to stand out in our tanks and attack helicopters as we roll thru their towns. What I've learned is that the average Iraqi lives in a low-income household, is extremely dedicated to their family, and has about the equivalent of a 3rd grade education. 5 in 8 cannot read or write. Most don't know or care about the government, so long as their family is provided for. The "enemy" you hear about back home, the Suicide bombers, the people who launch the rockets and mortars at our troops, these are just normal everyday people. Most have no intention and no desire to do anyone any harm, they are just scared and trying to provide for their families. The real "enemy" is the people who are putting them up to it.
Here is a common scenario: A father of four, who works 16 hours a day as a farm hand in the fields, has a child who is sick and will die without the proper medication and treatment. He does not have the money or the resources to acquire the medicine or medical care on his own (no health insurance, medicare or welfare here), so he goes to the local insurgency leader. These people are the ones directly funded by Al Qaeda, Syria, Iran, etc. They have the money, they have the resources, what they lack are the warm bodies to do the dirty work. The insurgents agree to help the man's child and provide for his family. All he has to do is... (Blow himself up in a crowd, launch a rocket at a US convoy, set up a roadside bomb, etc). Of course shortly after he does so (providing he is still alive), a bunch of rather intense individuals wearing uniforms and carrying large guns show up on his doorstep. He's just become "The enemy", but all he was trying to do was save his child's life. You don't hear about that part on CNN, or Fox News, or in any media outlet. Why? Perceptions. It's far easier to just pass them off collectively as "The Enemy", but this situation goes way beyond simple black and white, cut and dried answers. Yes, the man did "attempt" (usually halfheartedly at best) to bring harm to US troops, but given his options, who wouldn't have done the same? I would have.
Another thing about perceptions is that they can lull you into forgetting where you are. This has happened to me several times already, and quite honestly, I hope it continues as it gives me just a brief break in reality, and that is enough. Example: Coming "home" to Balad tonight as we droned along at 28,000' against a 110 knot headwind, I caught myself staring out at the lights of whatever small town we were over. The sight was so serene and soothing, with the moonlight reflecting off the tops of the scattered cloud deck, and the lights of the town twinkling, peeking out from behind the clouds here and there. It was a beautiful sight, and the soft Christmas music I had playing on my iPod just completed the scene. It was perfect. All of a sudden I was back in California, somewhere high over the San Joaquin Valley, it was Christmas time (easily my favorite time of year), I was on my way home, and I could even smell fresh baked cookies (I think one of my passengers brought some aboard...). Then all of a sudden, the radio crackled as an F-16 pilot requested a higher altitude. In an instant, I was thrust back into the C-12 cockpit somewhere over central Iraq. The town I was watching was no longer in California, but in a Middle Eastern war zone. Slap! Back to reality, but the perception (or misperception as the case may be) of being back in California was so real, even if just for an instant. The view was identical, and it brought back fond memories of when I was first learning to fly, more than 17 years ago. It seems like yesterday.
This place, this war, this entire experience has already and will continue to change who I am. It will not by any means define who I am, but it definitely reshapes the mold a little. One of the things they pounded into our heads before we left home, is that we will not return home as the same person. I found it odd that anyone would ever expect to be exactly the same after such an experience, but apparently, many people try. They resist any sort of change, I assume because they are afraid they might not like the results? A favorite song of mine says "If you choose not to decide, you still have made a choice". The same is true here, you can either accept that you will be changed by your experiences, and embrace and learn from them, or you can spend all your time resisting something that is inevitable. Either way, you will still be a different person in the end. I have already been affected by this experience, as I am sure you can tell by reading my "before" and "After" blog posts. I can see the change, so I am sure it's more than obvious. I don't think it's a bad thing in any way, I just feel like my knowledge and understanding of the world we live in is slowly expanding, and that is good. I can feel myself maturing in many ways, as I learn that there are realities beyond our own.
Why are we "really" here in Iraq? Who knows. Will our being here solve problems in the long term? I hope so and I think so. Are we helping people in need? Definitely. Are we doing the right thing? There is no one right or one wrong. Only perceptions...
Monday, November 26, 2007
War from 27,000'
Here on base, I live by myself in a small room. I have air conditioning, internet, cable TV, a real bed, a refrigerator, a microwave, and even a small window. In New Jersey, I would probably be paying $1500 a month to rent a room like this, not including utilities and parking. (Ok, well I certainly wouldn't be paying it, but someone likely would.) I am within short walking distance to things like Taco Bell, a laundromat, a shopette a barbershop, a fully equipped Gym, a Rec center with pool tables, ping-pong tables, computer games, video rentals, Karaoke, volleyball courts, basketball courts, etc. Life is not bad at all. That's here on base though.
About 1/2 mile from where I sleep is a real, live 3rd world war zone. From where I sit that is a hard concept to comprehend. We are very securely segregated from the outside world, so what goes on outside of the fence stays outside of the fence in most cases. I say in most cases, because everytime I start to forget where I am, I'll hear a Medevac helicopter landing at the trauma center accross the street, or I'll hear (and feel) two F-16s taking off in full afterburner. Blunt, noisy reminders that we're not in Kansas anymore Toto.
Tonight, as we were approaching Bagdhad at 27,000', my co-pilot (Who's been here as an Apache attack pilot on two previous tours) pointed out some bright flashes on the outskirts of town. "Those were IED's" he said. Now, if you're not familiar, an IED is an Improvised Explosive Device, which is the Army's nice, tidy little euphemism for "Homemade Landmine". I looked over, and saw 5 or 6 more go off. They were very bright yellowish white flashes, and from our altitude, looked somewhat like a camera flash going off accross a sporting arena. Actually, they were almost "pretty", except when I stopped to realize that I'd just watched someone get killed or at the very least, very severely injured. You see, those bombs only go off when a car drives by and triggers the device or someone pushes a button. They're very primative (usually made with parts from old cell phones or washing machines), but also very deadly. They are the biggest threat to troops on the ground, and they are the #1 reason you will not find me anywhere outside the gates of a very secure airbase.
These devices have been going off and killing people for years and years. Nothing new there. It's just that prior to tonight, those were things I read about in the newspaper or saw on CNN. I didn't expect that I would ever see them first hand, and quite honestly, I hope 27,000' is as close as I ever get to them. As I said in one of my first posts, I've been given an all-expenses-paid trip to see this war first hand, and tonight that's exactly what I did. I really wish I hadn't. It's much safer to think that those things only happen on TV, because then it's not real. Even tho I couldn't see anything but a big flash from miles away, I knew in an instant what the result of that flash was, and it gave me a knot in my stomach. Somewhere tonight, there are grieving family members and friends. I don't know who they are; Iraqi, American, British, Australian, etc, doesn't really matter. Grief is a universal emotion, it doesn't matter what language you speak or where you come from. No matter what politicians may tell you, no matter what you read in a newspaper or see on TV, this is a real, live war...still.
I debated whether or not to even write this, because I am sure it will cause a good deal of worry back home and I don't want to make anyone worry about me, but what I saw tonight affected me, and I needed to make some sort of record of it. I assure you, I am still very safe, and very secure here on base, so please don't worry. To be honest, we received what they call a "Threat Briefing" when we first arrived here, and their biggest concern for this base was a damn about 120 miles north of here. It seems the damn is very large (6th largest in the world), and in a very poor state of repair. If/when the damn fails, they say this base will be under a whopping 3 feet of water, and we'll "only" have 75 hours to get to high ground! Oooh! The horror. And me, without a bathing suit. No wait, I have one. Nevermind. Apparently, I am in more danger of getting my knees wet than anything else, so please let that be a comfort.
I also plan (when I find two minutes in a row to myself) to go volunteer at the hospital on base. Supposedly, this is the biggest and best trauma center in Iraq, and this is where all the worst cases are brought, hence the constant helicopters. It has been said that if a wounded soldier (or anyone for that matter) arrives here with a pulse, they stand a 98.7% chance of surviving. Now, having flown civilian EMS, that number sounds extremely high given the circumstances of most of the cases here, but I like it just the same. I've been warned to stay away from the hospital because of what I will see there, but being the stubborn ox that I am (ask Jamie), I've never been one to heed good advice. One of the pilots I first flew with even told me that he was asked to go help one day, and refused because "that wasn't his war". To each his own I suppose, but I need to go. I need to at least try to help people, especially as we approach the holidays. As I said in the post below, attitude is a very powerful tool, and I've seen first hand that it can also be the difference between life and death. They say the mortality rate increases around the holidays just because the injured people feel hopeless and give up. Perhaps I can change that for someone. Maybe I can't, but as the old saying goes, I'd rather try to do something good and fail than to try to do nothing and succeed. Maybe doing something to help someone live will help to offset the destruction I witnessed tonight, and will likely see many times again. I'll let you know how it goes.
About 1/2 mile from where I sleep is a real, live 3rd world war zone. From where I sit that is a hard concept to comprehend. We are very securely segregated from the outside world, so what goes on outside of the fence stays outside of the fence in most cases. I say in most cases, because everytime I start to forget where I am, I'll hear a Medevac helicopter landing at the trauma center accross the street, or I'll hear (and feel) two F-16s taking off in full afterburner. Blunt, noisy reminders that we're not in Kansas anymore Toto.
Tonight, as we were approaching Bagdhad at 27,000', my co-pilot (Who's been here as an Apache attack pilot on two previous tours) pointed out some bright flashes on the outskirts of town. "Those were IED's" he said. Now, if you're not familiar, an IED is an Improvised Explosive Device, which is the Army's nice, tidy little euphemism for "Homemade Landmine". I looked over, and saw 5 or 6 more go off. They were very bright yellowish white flashes, and from our altitude, looked somewhat like a camera flash going off accross a sporting arena. Actually, they were almost "pretty", except when I stopped to realize that I'd just watched someone get killed or at the very least, very severely injured. You see, those bombs only go off when a car drives by and triggers the device or someone pushes a button. They're very primative (usually made with parts from old cell phones or washing machines), but also very deadly. They are the biggest threat to troops on the ground, and they are the #1 reason you will not find me anywhere outside the gates of a very secure airbase.
These devices have been going off and killing people for years and years. Nothing new there. It's just that prior to tonight, those were things I read about in the newspaper or saw on CNN. I didn't expect that I would ever see them first hand, and quite honestly, I hope 27,000' is as close as I ever get to them. As I said in one of my first posts, I've been given an all-expenses-paid trip to see this war first hand, and tonight that's exactly what I did. I really wish I hadn't. It's much safer to think that those things only happen on TV, because then it's not real. Even tho I couldn't see anything but a big flash from miles away, I knew in an instant what the result of that flash was, and it gave me a knot in my stomach. Somewhere tonight, there are grieving family members and friends. I don't know who they are; Iraqi, American, British, Australian, etc, doesn't really matter. Grief is a universal emotion, it doesn't matter what language you speak or where you come from. No matter what politicians may tell you, no matter what you read in a newspaper or see on TV, this is a real, live war...still.
I debated whether or not to even write this, because I am sure it will cause a good deal of worry back home and I don't want to make anyone worry about me, but what I saw tonight affected me, and I needed to make some sort of record of it. I assure you, I am still very safe, and very secure here on base, so please don't worry. To be honest, we received what they call a "Threat Briefing" when we first arrived here, and their biggest concern for this base was a damn about 120 miles north of here. It seems the damn is very large (6th largest in the world), and in a very poor state of repair. If/when the damn fails, they say this base will be under a whopping 3 feet of water, and we'll "only" have 75 hours to get to high ground! Oooh! The horror. And me, without a bathing suit. No wait, I have one. Nevermind. Apparently, I am in more danger of getting my knees wet than anything else, so please let that be a comfort.
I also plan (when I find two minutes in a row to myself) to go volunteer at the hospital on base. Supposedly, this is the biggest and best trauma center in Iraq, and this is where all the worst cases are brought, hence the constant helicopters. It has been said that if a wounded soldier (or anyone for that matter) arrives here with a pulse, they stand a 98.7% chance of surviving. Now, having flown civilian EMS, that number sounds extremely high given the circumstances of most of the cases here, but I like it just the same. I've been warned to stay away from the hospital because of what I will see there, but being the stubborn ox that I am (ask Jamie), I've never been one to heed good advice. One of the pilots I first flew with even told me that he was asked to go help one day, and refused because "that wasn't his war". To each his own I suppose, but I need to go. I need to at least try to help people, especially as we approach the holidays. As I said in the post below, attitude is a very powerful tool, and I've seen first hand that it can also be the difference between life and death. They say the mortality rate increases around the holidays just because the injured people feel hopeless and give up. Perhaps I can change that for someone. Maybe I can't, but as the old saying goes, I'd rather try to do something good and fail than to try to do nothing and succeed. Maybe doing something to help someone live will help to offset the destruction I witnessed tonight, and will likely see many times again. I'll let you know how it goes.
Sunday, November 25, 2007
525,600 Minutes...
Anyone who has seen the Broadway play "Rent" will understand where the title of this post came from. 525,600 minutes is the number of minutes in one year. Coincidently, that is exactly the amount of time I am scheduled to be here in Iraq, and so it got me thinking.
As I sit here in the little cocoon that is my room (Not complaining at all by the way), it occured to me just how big a number that is. Over half a million minutes. Over 31,000,000 seconds. Seems intimidating when we think about it in those terms, doesn't it? But we don't have to think about it that way. It's all in how we look at it. If we turn it around, we can make the numbers very small as well. 31,536,000 Seconds = 525,600 Minutes = 8760 Hours = 365 Days = 12 Months = 4 Seasons = 1 Year = 10% of a Decade = 1% of a Century = 0.1% of a Millenium, and so on and so forth. They're all exactly the same measurement of time, its just a matter of perspective really.
It's also a matter of attitude. That fact has become extremely apparent to me since arriving in Iraq. I've seen the entire spectrum as far as attitude goes. Everything from people who don't mind being here in the least and have in fact signed up to stay even longer, to people who have invented "issues" in order to attempt to get an early trip home (They're referred to as "Klingers" a la M*A*S*H). I've seen deep depression caused by the separation, and those who were happy to get away from home. It made me stop and reflect on how I was doing on the emotional front. I've been so immersed in getting the job done, I really hadn't stopped to check myself so to speak. In doing so, I realized that I was actually doing just fine. Of course I miss everyone like crazy, and there is nowhere on Earth I'd rather be than back home, but the strength of my relationships and all the support I am receiving from friends and loved ones has allowed me a level of comfort and reassurance that apparently is fairly rare.
Attitude is a funny thing. We all know the old addage about seeing the glass as half full or half empty, but it is truly amazing the difference a positive attitude can make. Dad always tells me to "Think Positive", and if that advice ever applied, it applies here. We can choose to be miserable, or we can choose to make the best of the opportunities we've been given, either way we're going to be gone the same amount of time. Before we left Fort Benning, a Chaplain told us "There are those who count the days, and then there are those who make the days count." He was exactly right, and I am doing my best to fall into the latter category.
The time is indeed starting to fly, at least on a daily basis. I had so many wonderful plans as to how to spend my spare time. I want to take online courses, excercise/lose weight, plan 2 vacations, etc. The only problem is, I haven't got any spare time to spend! I think that will change a little once we've settled into a more comfortable routine, but right now, it's all I can do to keep up with the flight schedule, and that's a good thing.
People all cope with stress differently, but I believe that how you cope depends in large part on your attitude, and that in turn depends on your "Support System" as Jamie calls it, (and it makes sense.) I think of this year away from home as a bridge, and all of you back home are my support. You're the reason I am able to do this. A bridge with no structure would soon find itself in pieces on the ground. The same is true here. A person with no support, or at least insufficient support, soon falls apart and is essentially useless as far as the mission goes, and can even go so far as to be a danger to themselves and those around them. I am extremely grateful for and lucky to have all the love and support I have in all of you back home. Thank You.
I've been on the ground here in Iraq over two weeks already, and all is well. Spirits are high, even in this Holiday season. As I said in an earlier post, being away from home, friends and family makes me reflect on and truly appreciate just how lucky I am, and that realization is perhaps the best Christmas present anyone could ask for. That being said, I am still eagerly awaiting my mid-tour leave, and cannot wait to see what my "Welcome Home" party is going to be like. If you're reading this, you're invited.
See you all in less than 0.1% of a Millenium.
As I sit here in the little cocoon that is my room (Not complaining at all by the way), it occured to me just how big a number that is. Over half a million minutes. Over 31,000,000 seconds. Seems intimidating when we think about it in those terms, doesn't it? But we don't have to think about it that way. It's all in how we look at it. If we turn it around, we can make the numbers very small as well. 31,536,000 Seconds = 525,600 Minutes = 8760 Hours = 365 Days = 12 Months = 4 Seasons = 1 Year = 10% of a Decade = 1% of a Century = 0.1% of a Millenium, and so on and so forth. They're all exactly the same measurement of time, its just a matter of perspective really.
It's also a matter of attitude. That fact has become extremely apparent to me since arriving in Iraq. I've seen the entire spectrum as far as attitude goes. Everything from people who don't mind being here in the least and have in fact signed up to stay even longer, to people who have invented "issues" in order to attempt to get an early trip home (They're referred to as "Klingers" a la M*A*S*H). I've seen deep depression caused by the separation, and those who were happy to get away from home. It made me stop and reflect on how I was doing on the emotional front. I've been so immersed in getting the job done, I really hadn't stopped to check myself so to speak. In doing so, I realized that I was actually doing just fine. Of course I miss everyone like crazy, and there is nowhere on Earth I'd rather be than back home, but the strength of my relationships and all the support I am receiving from friends and loved ones has allowed me a level of comfort and reassurance that apparently is fairly rare.
Attitude is a funny thing. We all know the old addage about seeing the glass as half full or half empty, but it is truly amazing the difference a positive attitude can make. Dad always tells me to "Think Positive", and if that advice ever applied, it applies here. We can choose to be miserable, or we can choose to make the best of the opportunities we've been given, either way we're going to be gone the same amount of time. Before we left Fort Benning, a Chaplain told us "There are those who count the days, and then there are those who make the days count." He was exactly right, and I am doing my best to fall into the latter category.
The time is indeed starting to fly, at least on a daily basis. I had so many wonderful plans as to how to spend my spare time. I want to take online courses, excercise/lose weight, plan 2 vacations, etc. The only problem is, I haven't got any spare time to spend! I think that will change a little once we've settled into a more comfortable routine, but right now, it's all I can do to keep up with the flight schedule, and that's a good thing.
People all cope with stress differently, but I believe that how you cope depends in large part on your attitude, and that in turn depends on your "Support System" as Jamie calls it, (and it makes sense.) I think of this year away from home as a bridge, and all of you back home are my support. You're the reason I am able to do this. A bridge with no structure would soon find itself in pieces on the ground. The same is true here. A person with no support, or at least insufficient support, soon falls apart and is essentially useless as far as the mission goes, and can even go so far as to be a danger to themselves and those around them. I am extremely grateful for and lucky to have all the love and support I have in all of you back home. Thank You.
I've been on the ground here in Iraq over two weeks already, and all is well. Spirits are high, even in this Holiday season. As I said in an earlier post, being away from home, friends and family makes me reflect on and truly appreciate just how lucky I am, and that realization is perhaps the best Christmas present anyone could ask for. That being said, I am still eagerly awaiting my mid-tour leave, and cannot wait to see what my "Welcome Home" party is going to be like. If you're reading this, you're invited.
See you all in less than 0.1% of a Millenium.
Sunday, October 28, 2007
And So The Adventure Begins
Tuesday, Octber 23rd, 2007 was a difficult day.
It was the last time I would wake up in my own bed for a year. It was the first time I would have to leave my family for such a long period. No fun, I promise, but I didn't expect it would be.
It wasn't hard waking up, since in order to actually wake up, you first must be asleep, and that night I didn't get much. My mind was going 1000 mph, albeit in neutral. So many unknowns and questions yet to be answered, but at that point there was nothing I could do about it. I was along for the ride, and we'd all figure things out as we went. I think it's commonly referred to as jumping in feet first... here we go.
The flight to Fort Rucker was unusually pleasant and uneventful. I arrived nearly on time, and all of my bags did as well. Almost unheard of for Delta in my experience.
I got to my room at Fort Rucker at about 11pm, and 8am came way too early. Wednesday was spent doing paperwork and going to classes. Typical Army stuff. Once all that was complete, I had some time to go to the PX (Military version of Wal Mart) and do some last minute shopping. I bought a digital camera and a big backpack. I also decided to treat myself to a Philly Cheesesteak sandwich rather than eat at the mess hall. I figured I had the next year to learn to like mess hall food.
Thursday was pretty much a carbon copy of Wednesday, just with different boring classes. Don't ask me which ones, I can't remember. Thats how educational they were.
Friday I actually got to take the airplane out and knock the dust and cobwebs out of my head for an hour or two.
Saturday morning rolled around, and we all piled into the van for the 3 hour ride to Fort Benning, GA, where we'd spend the next week getting "educated", poked, and prodded. I didn't really care about that. Jamie and Jaislyn were coming to GA on Oct 30th, Mom, Dad and Shannon were coming on the 31st, and Mike, Cindy and Tyler were coming down on Nov 2nd. Thats what I was focused on and looking forward to.
It was the last time I would wake up in my own bed for a year. It was the first time I would have to leave my family for such a long period. No fun, I promise, but I didn't expect it would be.
It wasn't hard waking up, since in order to actually wake up, you first must be asleep, and that night I didn't get much. My mind was going 1000 mph, albeit in neutral. So many unknowns and questions yet to be answered, but at that point there was nothing I could do about it. I was along for the ride, and we'd all figure things out as we went. I think it's commonly referred to as jumping in feet first... here we go.
The flight to Fort Rucker was unusually pleasant and uneventful. I arrived nearly on time, and all of my bags did as well. Almost unheard of for Delta in my experience.
I got to my room at Fort Rucker at about 11pm, and 8am came way too early. Wednesday was spent doing paperwork and going to classes. Typical Army stuff. Once all that was complete, I had some time to go to the PX (Military version of Wal Mart) and do some last minute shopping. I bought a digital camera and a big backpack. I also decided to treat myself to a Philly Cheesesteak sandwich rather than eat at the mess hall. I figured I had the next year to learn to like mess hall food.
Thursday was pretty much a carbon copy of Wednesday, just with different boring classes. Don't ask me which ones, I can't remember. Thats how educational they were.
Friday I actually got to take the airplane out and knock the dust and cobwebs out of my head for an hour or two.
Saturday morning rolled around, and we all piled into the van for the 3 hour ride to Fort Benning, GA, where we'd spend the next week getting "educated", poked, and prodded. I didn't really care about that. Jamie and Jaislyn were coming to GA on Oct 30th, Mom, Dad and Shannon were coming on the 31st, and Mike, Cindy and Tyler were coming down on Nov 2nd. Thats what I was focused on and looking forward to.
With a Little Help From My Freinds
Wow.
It is said that the truest measure of ones' worth lies in the quality and quantity of his friends. I guess that makes me pretty special. I wouldn't have thought so if you'd asked me, but the night of October 20th changed my mind, and humbled me in a way I'd never been before.
As I mentioned earlier, my last week at home was filled with various and assorted events and plans. Thursday the 18th, we went to dinner with Spicy Grandma, and she mentioned that she had a "Special Guest" coming to dinner on Saturday, and that I needed to wear a shirt and tie to dinner, but left it at that. Ok.
Saturday morning, we decided to head out to Schnepf Farms to see their famous corn maze. As I cannot resist pushing buttons at times, I decided to see what kind of information I could get out of Jamie regarding our "Mystery Guest". She wouldn't budge. I thought I had it figured out just the same tho. I was almost certain that Shannon was the guest in question. She'd tried to come out a few weeks earlier, but couldn't find a decent plane fare. I thought she'd stumbled upon a cheap ticket and just decided to come out at the last minute. Normally I can read these types of things pretty well, but this time I wasn't even close.
The plan was for us to arrive at Spicy's (Jamie's Mom, Chris...Jaislyn calls her "Spicy Grandma") house at 6pm to pick her and Mystery Guest up to go to Houston's Steakhouse for my"Farewell Dinner". I was a bit suspicious of all the Fort Knox-like secrecy regarding this dinner, so I had my guard up and my feelers out. I did notice that someone down the street must have been having a party due to the number of cars, but didn't think anything of it otherwise. Jamie and Jaislyn ran into the house as soon as we pulled up, and I brought up the rear. I knew something was up when I walked in and saw the kitchen table set with a tablecloth and plasticware. A split second later, when I looked into the living room, I saw our "Mystery Guest"... or should I say, ALL of our "Mystery Guests".
I don't dare attempt to name everyone who was there for fear of leaving someone out, but there were dozens of friends and family members there, many of whom drove or flew in from out of town just to see me off. I was floored. I could not believe it. I am getting a bit misty eyed right now just remembering. All of those people went that far out of their way just to come see me (And Jamie, Jaislyn and Chris of course...)? Really? Like I said above, wow. I think I am going to be missed. I'll sure miss them.
I spent the remainder of the evening shaking hands, giving and getting hugs, explaining what we'd be doing in Iraq, and just visiting with everyone. It was the perfect sendoff, and I could not have asked for more. Thank you Jamie and Chris for arranging this incredible evening, and a big, sincere Thank You to everyone who took time out of their schedules to come make me feel so special. I will never forget that night or the kindness and love I felt from everyone.
Thank You.
It is said that the truest measure of ones' worth lies in the quality and quantity of his friends. I guess that makes me pretty special. I wouldn't have thought so if you'd asked me, but the night of October 20th changed my mind, and humbled me in a way I'd never been before.
As I mentioned earlier, my last week at home was filled with various and assorted events and plans. Thursday the 18th, we went to dinner with Spicy Grandma, and she mentioned that she had a "Special Guest" coming to dinner on Saturday, and that I needed to wear a shirt and tie to dinner, but left it at that. Ok.
Saturday morning, we decided to head out to Schnepf Farms to see their famous corn maze. As I cannot resist pushing buttons at times, I decided to see what kind of information I could get out of Jamie regarding our "Mystery Guest". She wouldn't budge. I thought I had it figured out just the same tho. I was almost certain that Shannon was the guest in question. She'd tried to come out a few weeks earlier, but couldn't find a decent plane fare. I thought she'd stumbled upon a cheap ticket and just decided to come out at the last minute. Normally I can read these types of things pretty well, but this time I wasn't even close.
The plan was for us to arrive at Spicy's (Jamie's Mom, Chris...Jaislyn calls her "Spicy Grandma") house at 6pm to pick her and Mystery Guest up to go to Houston's Steakhouse for my"Farewell Dinner". I was a bit suspicious of all the Fort Knox-like secrecy regarding this dinner, so I had my guard up and my feelers out. I did notice that someone down the street must have been having a party due to the number of cars, but didn't think anything of it otherwise. Jamie and Jaislyn ran into the house as soon as we pulled up, and I brought up the rear. I knew something was up when I walked in and saw the kitchen table set with a tablecloth and plasticware. A split second later, when I looked into the living room, I saw our "Mystery Guest"... or should I say, ALL of our "Mystery Guests".
I don't dare attempt to name everyone who was there for fear of leaving someone out, but there were dozens of friends and family members there, many of whom drove or flew in from out of town just to see me off. I was floored. I could not believe it. I am getting a bit misty eyed right now just remembering. All of those people went that far out of their way just to come see me (And Jamie, Jaislyn and Chris of course...)? Really? Like I said above, wow. I think I am going to be missed. I'll sure miss them.
I spent the remainder of the evening shaking hands, giving and getting hugs, explaining what we'd be doing in Iraq, and just visiting with everyone. It was the perfect sendoff, and I could not have asked for more. Thank you Jamie and Chris for arranging this incredible evening, and a big, sincere Thank You to everyone who took time out of their schedules to come make me feel so special. I will never forget that night or the kindness and love I felt from everyone.
Thank You.
Thursday, October 18, 2007
7 Days and Counting
Well, it seems the closer I get to leaving, the faster time moves, not unlike watching the last few grains of sand slip thru the neck of an hourglass. In actuality, that's not an unrealistic analogy. My time here at home is quickly coming to a (temporary) end, and once I get to Iraq, the "hourglass" will be turned over, and once again I will begin a countdown. As I've said before, I hope it goes as quickly as this past year has. I guess we'll see.
This past two weeks has been mostly spent taking care of all the last minute nitnoid items the Army forgot to tell me about. I've updated my dental records, got a government passport, tried to figure out what kind of things I wanted/needed to bring, and then figured out how to fit those items in a small footlocker. One of the highlights last week was when two of the fine gentlemen I will be deploying with were kind enough to fly out here from Alabama to pick up my footlocker and take it to Atlanta. Jaislyn finally got to see "Dada's Air-payne" and sit in the cockpit. She was thrilled to say the least. Altho I am certain there is still more to be done, I can't for the life of me think of anything else, so as far as I'm concerned, I'm done until we leave.
Now comes the hard part. I/we have not yet had "the talk" with Jaislyn. Not because I don't think she'll understand that I'm leaving, but because I still have no clue how or what to tell her so that she understands that I will come back. In her short 2 years, she's come to understand that Dada "goes out of town" on a regular basis, but usually only for a few days at a time. This time, well... you know.
I know I'm not the first to deploy and leave a young child at home, and I know this is only my first deployment, but it is still the first time I've ever had to leave MY young child for such a long time, and let me tell you, that is by far the most difficult part of all of this. Being in Iraq, being gone for a year, etc etc, that's all easy in comparison. I am terrified to walk away from her (and Jamie, Mom, Dad and Shann for that matter) knowing that I will not see her or hold her or hug her again for another 6 months. I'm not sure I can do it in one try, but I know the longer I draw it out, the harder it will be. I'm open to suggestions if anyone happens to have any pearls of wisdom.
Ok, enough of that for now. Now for the fun stuff and good times. In the past few weeks, we've been blessed to have been able to spend lots of time together, just the 3 of us. We've gone to the train park, the duck park and Chuck E Cheese countless times, we've read LOTS of books (Ok, actually it's just been about 3 different books, each read 100 times...), we've memorized "The Jungle Book", which, in a period of two days became Jaislyn's new favorite movie, we've visited with friends, made new friends, danced, played music, had tea parties (in Jaislyn's room), and I've even learned the intricately complex hierarchy that is a 2 year old's doll house. ("No Dada! The pony goes in the BATH TUB!"). I am also now convinced that Arizona is to the kite world what the Bermuda Triangle is to aviation. Kites simply do not fly here. There is wind, but our kits have an unexplainable attraction to the ground. I know this because we've spent many hours attempting to fly a kite (well two kites now) that absolutely refuses to fly. Fortunately for me, Jaislyn doesn't know what a kite is supposed to do, so she's had fun just the same.
This past week, Jamie and Jais have both been sick, each with ear infections and upset stomachs. Thankfully, that hasn't stopped them from spending time with and taking care of me tho (I had 4 teeth pulled last Friday, and they took excellent care of me over the weekend). Jaislyn pretty much refuses to act sick during any portion of the day in which she might reasonably expect to: a) go to Chuck E Cheeses or one of the parks; b) watch a movie (or should I say "THE" movie); c) play with Mama and or Dada; d) take a walk down to the golf course, or e) eat candy. Once she is relatively certain that the above are no longer viable options, she "becomes" sick, and then wants to be "a baby".. her words.
Jamie... wow. Where do I begin? I don't know how she does it. Before I even know it's a new day, she's up, dressed, has Jaislyn fed, bathed and dressed and off to school. Whomever said that "the Army does more before 8am than most people do all day" hasn't met Jamie yet. She's also been actively looking for work, in addition to showing her artwork, making sure our house is spotless, attending to her ladies' groups' activities, and being Jaislyn's #1 full time playmate. I've got the easy part. I just hafta go to Iraq and fly. Ha ha.
In my last week here at home, we've got lots of together time planned. We're going to the AZ State Fair tomorrow, on Friday we're going to a Corn Maze/Halloween festival out in Queen Creek, on Saturday we're having dinner at Spicey's (and will probably find our way to the train park or the duck park at some point as well), on Sunday we're having a BBQ at Uncle Greg's house. Monday and Tuesday currently don't have any hardfast plans... yet. At that point, I'll be happy just to sit and talk, read stories, play tea party, or whatever my two girls want to do. They've been pampering me, I want to return the favor before I go.
This past two weeks has been mostly spent taking care of all the last minute nitnoid items the Army forgot to tell me about. I've updated my dental records, got a government passport, tried to figure out what kind of things I wanted/needed to bring, and then figured out how to fit those items in a small footlocker. One of the highlights last week was when two of the fine gentlemen I will be deploying with were kind enough to fly out here from Alabama to pick up my footlocker and take it to Atlanta. Jaislyn finally got to see "Dada's Air-payne" and sit in the cockpit. She was thrilled to say the least. Altho I am certain there is still more to be done, I can't for the life of me think of anything else, so as far as I'm concerned, I'm done until we leave.
Now comes the hard part. I/we have not yet had "the talk" with Jaislyn. Not because I don't think she'll understand that I'm leaving, but because I still have no clue how or what to tell her so that she understands that I will come back. In her short 2 years, she's come to understand that Dada "goes out of town" on a regular basis, but usually only for a few days at a time. This time, well... you know.
I know I'm not the first to deploy and leave a young child at home, and I know this is only my first deployment, but it is still the first time I've ever had to leave MY young child for such a long time, and let me tell you, that is by far the most difficult part of all of this. Being in Iraq, being gone for a year, etc etc, that's all easy in comparison. I am terrified to walk away from her (and Jamie, Mom, Dad and Shann for that matter) knowing that I will not see her or hold her or hug her again for another 6 months. I'm not sure I can do it in one try, but I know the longer I draw it out, the harder it will be. I'm open to suggestions if anyone happens to have any pearls of wisdom.
Ok, enough of that for now. Now for the fun stuff and good times. In the past few weeks, we've been blessed to have been able to spend lots of time together, just the 3 of us. We've gone to the train park, the duck park and Chuck E Cheese countless times, we've read LOTS of books (Ok, actually it's just been about 3 different books, each read 100 times...), we've memorized "The Jungle Book", which, in a period of two days became Jaislyn's new favorite movie, we've visited with friends, made new friends, danced, played music, had tea parties (in Jaislyn's room), and I've even learned the intricately complex hierarchy that is a 2 year old's doll house. ("No Dada! The pony goes in the BATH TUB!"). I am also now convinced that Arizona is to the kite world what the Bermuda Triangle is to aviation. Kites simply do not fly here. There is wind, but our kits have an unexplainable attraction to the ground. I know this because we've spent many hours attempting to fly a kite (well two kites now) that absolutely refuses to fly. Fortunately for me, Jaislyn doesn't know what a kite is supposed to do, so she's had fun just the same.
This past week, Jamie and Jais have both been sick, each with ear infections and upset stomachs. Thankfully, that hasn't stopped them from spending time with and taking care of me tho (I had 4 teeth pulled last Friday, and they took excellent care of me over the weekend). Jaislyn pretty much refuses to act sick during any portion of the day in which she might reasonably expect to: a) go to Chuck E Cheeses or one of the parks; b) watch a movie (or should I say "THE" movie); c) play with Mama and or Dada; d) take a walk down to the golf course, or e) eat candy. Once she is relatively certain that the above are no longer viable options, she "becomes" sick, and then wants to be "a baby".. her words.
Jamie... wow. Where do I begin? I don't know how she does it. Before I even know it's a new day, she's up, dressed, has Jaislyn fed, bathed and dressed and off to school. Whomever said that "the Army does more before 8am than most people do all day" hasn't met Jamie yet. She's also been actively looking for work, in addition to showing her artwork, making sure our house is spotless, attending to her ladies' groups' activities, and being Jaislyn's #1 full time playmate. I've got the easy part. I just hafta go to Iraq and fly. Ha ha.
In my last week here at home, we've got lots of together time planned. We're going to the AZ State Fair tomorrow, on Friday we're going to a Corn Maze/Halloween festival out in Queen Creek, on Saturday we're having dinner at Spicey's (and will probably find our way to the train park or the duck park at some point as well), on Sunday we're having a BBQ at Uncle Greg's house. Monday and Tuesday currently don't have any hardfast plans... yet. At that point, I'll be happy just to sit and talk, read stories, play tea party, or whatever my two girls want to do. They've been pampering me, I want to return the favor before I go.
Friday, October 5, 2007
A Little More Than 2 Weeks To Go
Well, if time flies as quickly in Iraq as it has here the last month or so, I'll be back home before I know it. If only...
It's 1130am, and I just got home from work about an hour ago. I didn't get much sleep (2 hrs) because we had to fly at midnight, and I didn't get to bed until 4:30am, but that's ok, last night was special. It was my last shift at LifeNet 1, the Air Ambulance base I've been assigned to for the last year. LifeNet 1 is different from any other base I've ever worked, because our quarters are in a fire station. Now, anyone who's known me for a while must know how excited I was to go work at a fire station. Yes, I've always wanted to be a pilot, but what kid doesn't daydream about driving the big fire engine and putting fires out? I'm still just a big kid.
Aside from all the adrenaline that accompanies this job, the best part about LifeNet 1 was the people. The pilots and medical crews I worked with were all top notch, each one a dedicated professional in the truest sense of the word. The Florence firefighters took us in and made us a part of their family. They didn't have to, we were some group of weird flightsuit-wearing invaders in their space, but they immediately made us feel at home, and welcomed us as part of their team. I'd always heard that firefighters were a tight-knit group, but for the past year, I got to experience that first hand and I will never forget it. Thank you guys.
Last night, the A Shift firefighters threw me a going-away ice cream party, and insisted that I bring Jamie and Jaislyn out for the festivities. Of course Jaislyn was more than willing to oblige, and it didnt take much arm twisting for Jamie either. One of the firefighters brought his wife and 6... yes, 6 kids out, and our paramedic's wife brought their kids as well, so as you might imagine Station 549 was a busy place for a few hours. Everybody wanted to go see the helicopter, especially Jaislyn, who's already decided that she can fly it. (Stretch the pedals out a bit and it wouldn't surprise me in the least.) As the previous pilot had left the fuel a bit lower than normal, I decided I needed to fly to the local airport just to "put just a little more fuel on". Well, I had to fly anyway, and all of the seats were going to the same place as the rest of the helicopter, so why should they go empty? (SHHhhhhhh!!! Dont Tell!) Strangely enough, it was rather difficult to find 3 willing volunteers (Jamie "had no desire", but I think she just wanted to stay on the ground and take pictures), but Jaislyn was the first in line. "I go fly Dada's Hewlikoptir?"
As she sat strapped in her carseat, patiently waiting for everyone else to do whatever it was they were doing, she was literally squealing with excitement. She had no idea what she was in for, but whatever it was, she was thrilled about it! It was only after we closed the doors that she decided she didn't reaallllly wanna go fly, but by then it was too late! I gave her her earmuffs, and after a few attempts and some help from Ms. Jennifer (our Flight Nurse), she got them on and then thought she was pretty cool. As we were taking off, I could hear Jais telling me all about something. I would have loved to have heard that story, she was having a blast!
We got to the airport a whole 3 minutes later, and after I shut down, the airport kitty came out to visit. Jaislyn was in hog heaven. Helicopters AND Kitty Cats at the same time? What more could a 2 year old possibly ask for? As I rolled up the fuel hose, kitty ran home and so did we. Jaislyn was babbling to herself again as we took off, but I looked over about a minute later and she was passed out asleep. I reached over and squeezed her leg to wake her up, but she wouldn't have any of it. After all, it was just a ride in Dada's helicopter. Big whoop. Aren't all kids shuttled around in helicopters?
She woke up as soon as I shut the engine down, and then wanted out of her seat. Back on terra firma, she resumed her pre-flight quest: to find the froggy she saw on the helipad before we took off. No luck. Gee darn.
Soon thereafter, the social events of the evening drew to a close, mostly because all the kids were having a hard time staying awake (Not Jaislyn tho, she'd had her "helicopter power nap"!).
45 minutes after everyone left for home (about 12:10am), reality hit as the "bat phone" rang. Time to go to work.
My last flight with LifeNet 1 was a run of the mill prison flight. People find all kinds of interesting ways to harm themselves, and this guy was no exception. Due to the privacy laws that protect overly stupid people, I can't go into what this bonehead did, but it was mildly entertaining, even at 1am. I did get into a brief discussion on the pros and cons of being in prison (There's that prison referrence again), and he told me all about how living in one of Sheriff Joe Arpaio's "tent city" prisons was such a terrible ordeal, and how he never wanted to go back. My comment to him was: "Well isn't that the whole point of a prison?"
As I tend to do, I've rambled on and on yet again. My apologies (and my thanks if you've managed to get this far.) The whole point of this post was to document my last day (well, night) at work, and let you all read about some of the wonderful people I've had the pleasure of working with, and some of the things I've enjoyed most about this job. I will miss the people the most, but will also miss the adrenaline rush of setting a helicopter down at night in the middle of the desert, or on a busy highway, or on some residential street. I will miss helping people in need. I will miss the 7 on/7 off schedule (The Army has a similar schedule tho, it is 7 on/7 on.) Lastly, I will miss being part of the LifeNet 1/Florence Fire Dept family, altho everyone has promised to keep in touch via Email. That being said, I am looking forward to becoming part of a new (yet old) team. I have just as much respect for the officers I am being deployed with, and I know I will yet again form friendships that will last a lifetime.
Things do happen for a reason.
It's 1130am, and I just got home from work about an hour ago. I didn't get much sleep (2 hrs) because we had to fly at midnight, and I didn't get to bed until 4:30am, but that's ok, last night was special. It was my last shift at LifeNet 1, the Air Ambulance base I've been assigned to for the last year. LifeNet 1 is different from any other base I've ever worked, because our quarters are in a fire station. Now, anyone who's known me for a while must know how excited I was to go work at a fire station. Yes, I've always wanted to be a pilot, but what kid doesn't daydream about driving the big fire engine and putting fires out? I'm still just a big kid.
Aside from all the adrenaline that accompanies this job, the best part about LifeNet 1 was the people. The pilots and medical crews I worked with were all top notch, each one a dedicated professional in the truest sense of the word. The Florence firefighters took us in and made us a part of their family. They didn't have to, we were some group of weird flightsuit-wearing invaders in their space, but they immediately made us feel at home, and welcomed us as part of their team. I'd always heard that firefighters were a tight-knit group, but for the past year, I got to experience that first hand and I will never forget it. Thank you guys.
Last night, the A Shift firefighters threw me a going-away ice cream party, and insisted that I bring Jamie and Jaislyn out for the festivities. Of course Jaislyn was more than willing to oblige, and it didnt take much arm twisting for Jamie either. One of the firefighters brought his wife and 6... yes, 6 kids out, and our paramedic's wife brought their kids as well, so as you might imagine Station 549 was a busy place for a few hours. Everybody wanted to go see the helicopter, especially Jaislyn, who's already decided that she can fly it. (Stretch the pedals out a bit and it wouldn't surprise me in the least.) As the previous pilot had left the fuel a bit lower than normal, I decided I needed to fly to the local airport just to "put just a little more fuel on". Well, I had to fly anyway, and all of the seats were going to the same place as the rest of the helicopter, so why should they go empty? (SHHhhhhhh!!! Dont Tell!) Strangely enough, it was rather difficult to find 3 willing volunteers (Jamie "had no desire", but I think she just wanted to stay on the ground and take pictures), but Jaislyn was the first in line. "I go fly Dada's Hewlikoptir?"
As she sat strapped in her carseat, patiently waiting for everyone else to do whatever it was they were doing, she was literally squealing with excitement. She had no idea what she was in for, but whatever it was, she was thrilled about it! It was only after we closed the doors that she decided she didn't reaallllly wanna go fly, but by then it was too late! I gave her her earmuffs, and after a few attempts and some help from Ms. Jennifer (our Flight Nurse), she got them on and then thought she was pretty cool. As we were taking off, I could hear Jais telling me all about something. I would have loved to have heard that story, she was having a blast!
We got to the airport a whole 3 minutes later, and after I shut down, the airport kitty came out to visit. Jaislyn was in hog heaven. Helicopters AND Kitty Cats at the same time? What more could a 2 year old possibly ask for? As I rolled up the fuel hose, kitty ran home and so did we. Jaislyn was babbling to herself again as we took off, but I looked over about a minute later and she was passed out asleep. I reached over and squeezed her leg to wake her up, but she wouldn't have any of it. After all, it was just a ride in Dada's helicopter. Big whoop. Aren't all kids shuttled around in helicopters?
She woke up as soon as I shut the engine down, and then wanted out of her seat. Back on terra firma, she resumed her pre-flight quest: to find the froggy she saw on the helipad before we took off. No luck. Gee darn.
Soon thereafter, the social events of the evening drew to a close, mostly because all the kids were having a hard time staying awake (Not Jaislyn tho, she'd had her "helicopter power nap"!).
45 minutes after everyone left for home (about 12:10am), reality hit as the "bat phone" rang. Time to go to work.
My last flight with LifeNet 1 was a run of the mill prison flight. People find all kinds of interesting ways to harm themselves, and this guy was no exception. Due to the privacy laws that protect overly stupid people, I can't go into what this bonehead did, but it was mildly entertaining, even at 1am. I did get into a brief discussion on the pros and cons of being in prison (There's that prison referrence again), and he told me all about how living in one of Sheriff Joe Arpaio's "tent city" prisons was such a terrible ordeal, and how he never wanted to go back. My comment to him was: "Well isn't that the whole point of a prison?"
As I tend to do, I've rambled on and on yet again. My apologies (and my thanks if you've managed to get this far.) The whole point of this post was to document my last day (well, night) at work, and let you all read about some of the wonderful people I've had the pleasure of working with, and some of the things I've enjoyed most about this job. I will miss the people the most, but will also miss the adrenaline rush of setting a helicopter down at night in the middle of the desert, or on a busy highway, or on some residential street. I will miss helping people in need. I will miss the 7 on/7 off schedule (The Army has a similar schedule tho, it is 7 on/7 on.) Lastly, I will miss being part of the LifeNet 1/Florence Fire Dept family, altho everyone has promised to keep in touch via Email. That being said, I am looking forward to becoming part of a new (yet old) team. I have just as much respect for the officers I am being deployed with, and I know I will yet again form friendships that will last a lifetime.
Things do happen for a reason.
Thursday, September 27, 2007
The Stages
Something I've learned a lot about in the last year are the stages we go thru when faced with a major shift in our day to day realities. Here is how I've broken them down so far:
1. Denial - "I'll believe it when I see it", "Things will change before then", etc. We try to make ourselves feel better by pretending it won't happen. Sometimes we're right, most times we're not. I was hoping this deployment would be like my last in January, and get put off another year or so. This was not to be.
2. Acceptance - "Ok, so I have to go. Now what?" "There's nothing I can do about it?" For me, this was a period of a kind of mild depression. I don't want to leave everybody. I don't know what to expect. I felt kinda trapped, or "sentenced" (again with the legal stuff). The realization that it WAS going to happen combined with the fear of the unknown was a powerful and relatively new experience for me. This wasn't just happening to people I knew, it wasn't just on TV anymore. I was going to get an all expenses paid vacation to go see it all first hand. Wow.
3. Preparation - A little more reality setting in. Yes, I'm going. Ok. I've dealt with that, now what? What to bring? What to do? Where will I live? What will we be doing? Can I call home regularly? What is there to eat? (hey, we all have our priorities) What's the weather like? As I said in an earlier post, lots of questions.
As I am still on step 3, all the following steps are just purely what I imagine them to be based on stories I've heard. Will keep you updated as I progress thru them.
4. Mobilization - This is the "official" getting ready place. This is where we go to make sure all our paperwork (and there is LOTS of paperwork) is in order, make sure all our shots are up to date, make sure we know how to be nice to Mohammed and Achmed so we don't offend them, take care of legal, dental, etc etc etc. A very busy time to say the least. Oh yeah, and if that weren't enough, this is when we are supposed to find a little more time to spend with our families, because this is the "jumping off point". What I want to know is, jumping off of what??
5. Deployment - Getting settled into my room; letting everyone know where I am; learning the new rules (I just got a 120 page handbook on the rules at our base. Unfortunately, I am not allowed to send body parts from Iraqi soldiers home as souvenirs...Yes, it actually said that in the book. Which means some sick dunce has tried it already...); learning my way around base; learning how to fly there, etc etc. This is yet another intense learning stage.
6. Post Deployment rut - The homesick phase. Ok. We're here, we know what we need to know. We're still not used to it, but now all there is to do is fly, eat and sleep. Oh yeah, and miss everyone back home.
7. A Routine - We've been here for a little while and things are going smoothly now. We're not as homesick as we were at first, and we're making friends and getting into a routine. Things are not quite as doom and gloom as they first seemed. We're going to be ok. We're doing the job, and it's not all that bad.
8. Mid Tour Leave - This is what I've been looking forward to. This has been the motivation that's gotten me thru the first part of the deployment. I've been thinking about this not as a 1 year deployment, but rather as two, very closely spaced 6 month deployments. A large amount of my free time has been spent planning our trip (we're all meeting in Europe) down to the minute, mostly just so I have something to do and something to look forward to. As long as I have an attainable goal to work towards and look forward to, I've found I am capable of dealing with all kinds of obstacles and hardships with little problem. I'm sure that will be true in this case as well.
9. Back to the Routine - Refreshed, and now on the downhill side of the mountain. But now what will I do with my free time? Well, there's a few business ideas I've been toying with, and another vacation that has been in the "idea" stage for sometime now, and I think this will be the perfect time to advance it into the planning stages. Jamie, Moms and Dad know exactly what this is. Houseboat! (Summer 2009 in British Columbia if anyone is interested in joining us!)
10. Getting Ready to Come Home - Doing everything I did when I first got here, in reverse. Shipping all of my large items home, going thru all of the "How to be a civilian again" classes, doing MORE paperwork, and most importantly, counting the days, hours, minues and seconds.
11. Coming Home - Cue the marching band, flags, etc etc. In reality, as long as I have a fairly comfortable seat on the plane and my Ipod battery is charged, all I care about is getting back home and seeing everybody. Just a day filled with hugs, laughs, and relief. Thats all I ask.
12. Reintroduction - Ok, party's over. Time to get back to reality here. What's changed? What have I missed? I've been gone for a year, so I cannot just jump back in and expect things to be the way they were when I left. I've changed and so has everyone else. Time to get reacquainted and get to know each other on a non-telephonic basis again. This will be an awkward stage, but if handled delicately, it should be fairly painless.
13. Establishing Normality - Getting back into a routine here at home. Going back to work, and settling in as the Dada once again, and hopefully remembering all the lessons I've learned in this long, difficult process and taking the time to stop and just enjoy my family.
Note: I had to add a 13th step, just because I didn't want this to be a 12 step program. ;-)
1. Denial - "I'll believe it when I see it", "Things will change before then", etc. We try to make ourselves feel better by pretending it won't happen. Sometimes we're right, most times we're not. I was hoping this deployment would be like my last in January, and get put off another year or so. This was not to be.
2. Acceptance - "Ok, so I have to go. Now what?" "There's nothing I can do about it?" For me, this was a period of a kind of mild depression. I don't want to leave everybody. I don't know what to expect. I felt kinda trapped, or "sentenced" (again with the legal stuff). The realization that it WAS going to happen combined with the fear of the unknown was a powerful and relatively new experience for me. This wasn't just happening to people I knew, it wasn't just on TV anymore. I was going to get an all expenses paid vacation to go see it all first hand. Wow.
3. Preparation - A little more reality setting in. Yes, I'm going. Ok. I've dealt with that, now what? What to bring? What to do? Where will I live? What will we be doing? Can I call home regularly? What is there to eat? (hey, we all have our priorities) What's the weather like? As I said in an earlier post, lots of questions.
As I am still on step 3, all the following steps are just purely what I imagine them to be based on stories I've heard. Will keep you updated as I progress thru them.
4. Mobilization - This is the "official" getting ready place. This is where we go to make sure all our paperwork (and there is LOTS of paperwork) is in order, make sure all our shots are up to date, make sure we know how to be nice to Mohammed and Achmed so we don't offend them, take care of legal, dental, etc etc etc. A very busy time to say the least. Oh yeah, and if that weren't enough, this is when we are supposed to find a little more time to spend with our families, because this is the "jumping off point". What I want to know is, jumping off of what??
5. Deployment - Getting settled into my room; letting everyone know where I am; learning the new rules (I just got a 120 page handbook on the rules at our base. Unfortunately, I am not allowed to send body parts from Iraqi soldiers home as souvenirs...Yes, it actually said that in the book. Which means some sick dunce has tried it already...); learning my way around base; learning how to fly there, etc etc. This is yet another intense learning stage.
6. Post Deployment rut - The homesick phase. Ok. We're here, we know what we need to know. We're still not used to it, but now all there is to do is fly, eat and sleep. Oh yeah, and miss everyone back home.
7. A Routine - We've been here for a little while and things are going smoothly now. We're not as homesick as we were at first, and we're making friends and getting into a routine. Things are not quite as doom and gloom as they first seemed. We're going to be ok. We're doing the job, and it's not all that bad.
8. Mid Tour Leave - This is what I've been looking forward to. This has been the motivation that's gotten me thru the first part of the deployment. I've been thinking about this not as a 1 year deployment, but rather as two, very closely spaced 6 month deployments. A large amount of my free time has been spent planning our trip (we're all meeting in Europe) down to the minute, mostly just so I have something to do and something to look forward to. As long as I have an attainable goal to work towards and look forward to, I've found I am capable of dealing with all kinds of obstacles and hardships with little problem. I'm sure that will be true in this case as well.
9. Back to the Routine - Refreshed, and now on the downhill side of the mountain. But now what will I do with my free time? Well, there's a few business ideas I've been toying with, and another vacation that has been in the "idea" stage for sometime now, and I think this will be the perfect time to advance it into the planning stages. Jamie, Moms and Dad know exactly what this is. Houseboat! (Summer 2009 in British Columbia if anyone is interested in joining us!)
10. Getting Ready to Come Home - Doing everything I did when I first got here, in reverse. Shipping all of my large items home, going thru all of the "How to be a civilian again" classes, doing MORE paperwork, and most importantly, counting the days, hours, minues and seconds.
11. Coming Home - Cue the marching band, flags, etc etc. In reality, as long as I have a fairly comfortable seat on the plane and my Ipod battery is charged, all I care about is getting back home and seeing everybody. Just a day filled with hugs, laughs, and relief. Thats all I ask.
12. Reintroduction - Ok, party's over. Time to get back to reality here. What's changed? What have I missed? I've been gone for a year, so I cannot just jump back in and expect things to be the way they were when I left. I've changed and so has everyone else. Time to get reacquainted and get to know each other on a non-telephonic basis again. This will be an awkward stage, but if handled delicately, it should be fairly painless.
13. Establishing Normality - Getting back into a routine here at home. Going back to work, and settling in as the Dada once again, and hopefully remembering all the lessons I've learned in this long, difficult process and taking the time to stop and just enjoy my family.
Note: I had to add a 13th step, just because I didn't want this to be a 12 step program. ;-)
No Fear?
It is a normal human reaction to fear the unknown. We all do it to some extent, and I am certainly no exception. It is interesting (at least to me,) to attempt to dissect that fear to it's most basic levels and determine exactly what it is I'm actually afraid of and why. In doing so, I find I am usually able to quell those fears significantly, if not do away with them altogether. Unfortunately, I am my best lab rat. That is to say, my "process of elimination" does not seem to transfer well to those around me. They're still worried about me and I can't make that go away. Perhaps in this post I can shed some light for them, and help them to better understand what it is I am truly afraid of.
In talking to people in my day to day dealings, my pending deployment occasionally becomes the topic of discussion. Almost invariably, those without a military background will ask if I am scared (Those with a military background already know the answer.) Yes. I am. But...
Am I afraid of being shot down? (The most common question) Not at all. My airplane has the newest, state of the art defensive gadgets on it, and we are not considered a "high value" target anyway... other words, we're not worth wasting a missile on.
Am I afraid of road side bombs? No. As a pilot, I am not allowed off base except to fly, so road side bombs really are no threat to me.
Am I afraid of being taken hostage? Nope. Again, not allowed off base in Iraq, so no worries there, unless you count being forced to eat in the mess hall a "hostage situation". In that case, I am afraid, but it still beats MREs.
Truth be told, I am not afraid of anything in or around Iraq. The Army does pretty well when it comes to protecting it's own, and they've only had 5 years to figure this base out. I'm not going into some brand new combat zone, I'm "moving in" to an established airbase, complete with swimming pool, movie theater, internet, bowling alley, and air conditioned rooms. Maybe not the Holiday Inn Express, but what the heck, it's free. Besides, the Air Force lets its people stay there, so how bad can it be?
Well then you may ask, what is it I am afraid of? I am afraid of being helpless if I am needed at home. My biggest fear in all of this is that something will happen at home that I could have somehow prevented had I been there. Pretty irrational huh? I think so, but it's there nonetheless. Common sense tells me that life can and will go on without me around to supervise, and there is an excellent chance that it will do so just as sucessfully as ever (maybe even moreso?... nah....)
To combat this ever-present fear, all I have to do is remind myself of the wonderful support systems we have in place here at home. All the family and friends who've been praying for us and who've volunteered to watch out for Jamie, Jaislyn, Mom, Dad and Shannon while I'm gone, I can't thank you enough. It is because of you all that I am able to do this. If I was left to just constantly sit and wonder if everyone was alright, they'd take my wings and issue me a brand new jacket with cuffs in the back. Knowing that there is so much love and support for my family makes all the difference in the world to me. The Army is my job, my family and friends are my life. I am humbled by and eternally grateful for all the kind comments I've received from this blog, and for the overwhelming show of support I've/we've received in general. I will sleep well knowing that so many incredible people are here looking out for my loved ones. Thank you all, from the bottom of my heart.
People sometimes tell me that I'm some sort of "hero", but all I am doing is a job I've been trained and paid to do. I assure you, I am no hero but appreciate the sentiments just the same. The true heroes are the ones who did not volunteer yet still must endure. They are my strength. They are my heroes. Thank you all in advance for taking such wonderful care of them while I am away. With you all behind me, I have no fear.
In talking to people in my day to day dealings, my pending deployment occasionally becomes the topic of discussion. Almost invariably, those without a military background will ask if I am scared (Those with a military background already know the answer.) Yes. I am. But...
Am I afraid of being shot down? (The most common question) Not at all. My airplane has the newest, state of the art defensive gadgets on it, and we are not considered a "high value" target anyway... other words, we're not worth wasting a missile on.
Am I afraid of road side bombs? No. As a pilot, I am not allowed off base except to fly, so road side bombs really are no threat to me.
Am I afraid of being taken hostage? Nope. Again, not allowed off base in Iraq, so no worries there, unless you count being forced to eat in the mess hall a "hostage situation". In that case, I am afraid, but it still beats MREs.
Truth be told, I am not afraid of anything in or around Iraq. The Army does pretty well when it comes to protecting it's own, and they've only had 5 years to figure this base out. I'm not going into some brand new combat zone, I'm "moving in" to an established airbase, complete with swimming pool, movie theater, internet, bowling alley, and air conditioned rooms. Maybe not the Holiday Inn Express, but what the heck, it's free. Besides, the Air Force lets its people stay there, so how bad can it be?
Well then you may ask, what is it I am afraid of? I am afraid of being helpless if I am needed at home. My biggest fear in all of this is that something will happen at home that I could have somehow prevented had I been there. Pretty irrational huh? I think so, but it's there nonetheless. Common sense tells me that life can and will go on without me around to supervise, and there is an excellent chance that it will do so just as sucessfully as ever (maybe even moreso?... nah....)
To combat this ever-present fear, all I have to do is remind myself of the wonderful support systems we have in place here at home. All the family and friends who've been praying for us and who've volunteered to watch out for Jamie, Jaislyn, Mom, Dad and Shannon while I'm gone, I can't thank you enough. It is because of you all that I am able to do this. If I was left to just constantly sit and wonder if everyone was alright, they'd take my wings and issue me a brand new jacket with cuffs in the back. Knowing that there is so much love and support for my family makes all the difference in the world to me. The Army is my job, my family and friends are my life. I am humbled by and eternally grateful for all the kind comments I've received from this blog, and for the overwhelming show of support I've/we've received in general. I will sleep well knowing that so many incredible people are here looking out for my loved ones. Thank you all, from the bottom of my heart.
People sometimes tell me that I'm some sort of "hero", but all I am doing is a job I've been trained and paid to do. I assure you, I am no hero but appreciate the sentiments just the same. The true heroes are the ones who did not volunteer yet still must endure. They are my strength. They are my heroes. Thank you all in advance for taking such wonderful care of them while I am away. With you all behind me, I have no fear.
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