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:

"Christmas Decoration,

Government Issue.
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.

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...

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...

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.