

The ramblings of a father, a husband, a psychologist, a non-believing/non-practicing Mormon, an Iraq war veteran, retired North Carolina Army National Guard officer. The views expressed herein represent my thoughts and opinions only and do not represent the views of any organization with which I have been affiliated in the past, in the present, or the future.
Some time with the big man- as with my more immediate leader, the third meeting- on the way out- it doesn't get any better than that.
More meaningful than the IZ awards presentation were the truly heartfelt discussions I had with my friends down at An Numaniyah. It was hard to say goodbye to the National Police that were there. And most of them weren’t even there because of the extended hiatus the Training Center is in. Just as we were leaving the Training Center for my last time, General Sabar arrived. He hurriedly had some of his staff wrap up a couple of gifts, and they are all gifts that are quite meaningful to me. I had requested a set of the National Police patches as a souvenir, and they came through. They also gave me a leather bound poster-like “map” of Iraq, with well-known sites engraved in the leather. Lastly, there was also a smaller box, with inlaid stones, a nice map on the top, with a little genie-style lamp within. It was beautiful, and something that I might have bought myself, which is not a common thought of mine when I receive gifts from my brown brothers. I had to go quickly- almost missed the helicopter because it came early- so I didn’t get to ask them about the meaning behind the lamp. I like to think it represented knowledge and education, a symbol that I’m familiar with. They had always rendered honor to me, at least in our discussions, for my educational background.
That is one thing that I noticed more and more throughout my tour. The people of Iraq I worked with were always generous, gracious, hospitable, and concerned with showing respect and honor. They would always offer “chai”, tea, which I would respectfully decline for my personal religious reasons. They would always escort me to my vehicle or otherwise walk with me to an appropriate parting point, rather than the more cursory American style of “you can find the door.” I’ve commented in previous posts about their customs of gift giving. I have found them very generous with what is by our standards meager means. It is hard to reconcile that with other experiences of hostility and danger, mafia-style business dealings, cheating, and the rampant mistrust in this country. But here, like anywhere, it appears we all retain an ability to live lives of incongruence and contradictions apparent to everyone looking on from the outside. A silly parallel from the states would be the person driving an SUV with a “save the environment” bumper sticker. I also hold out the hope that these experiences are with different people- that the ones that are so nice to me are not also the ones participating in all of those other less friendly activities.
I wish the National Police well, and hope the Training Center can someday once again be a major contributor to increasing the personnel strength and skill sets of the National Police. It really has great potential if it can get the proper level of support and can enjoy effective management. Those are contingencies at this point, however.
And Steve and Tim, I pray it goes well for you as you try to clean up the mess I’ve created down there!
A last photo at the Police Training Center barracks.
General Sabar honors me with a couple of great gifts-
almost missed him as he rolled in just before my departure.
The flight was a time of reflection as I looked out at Iraq below me. This was it. Last helicopter ride. I’ll take an armored bus from the IZ to the airport when the moment arrives for the movement out of country. For the most part we flew over green and irrigated areas around the land of the two rivers. The Tigris and Euphrates keep these parts of Iraq alive. At times, though, we’d be over drier, sandier spots. I was noticing what I first thought were large craters, and guessed they were impacts from bombing. Upon further inspection, these areas revealed themselves to be a bit more orderly, and I would be able to spot HESCO barriers and sand-colored tactical vehicles. The holes were made to yield sand to fill the HESCO barriers, providing protection for the isolated outposts the barriers surrounded.
I thought during the flight about what I was leaving behind- the National Police, my replacement, etc. And consistent with my experiences throughout the tour, I was pleased with the fruits of my labors, knowing regardless that there were other things I could have done better. On the whole I know I made a good effort to do the right thing and try to make improvements throughout. As my Iraqi brothers would say, through interpretation- “you were very serious in your work, and we have learned much from you.” I can hold my head up high as I return home and know that when I was called, I stood up and answered the call. I worked through fear, through health problems, disappointments, danger, and sometimes even a strong sense of loneliness. But I’ve almost made it home now.
The goodbye from my friends' perspective- I'm in that bird. Photo credit to Steve.
The good captain, not a close friend, but had the best job title (apologies to dogbert)
Another friend was a Marine, Derek, who I’d just met and worked with during my last trip up to Baghdad. He was kind enough to invite me on my second day in Baghdad to get a bit of a workout at a punching bag at the same fitness center where I did the yoga thing the night before. I was flattered to be invited, and we had a good time with the workout. We chatted a bit as we went through a routine that he’d developed in working with others with some expertise. I hadn’t done much like that since some judo type training way back in 1992 during my job skill training for my enlisted army position back at Ft. Sam Houston, TX.
I almost had to laugh, though, as we got the alert for incoming “indirect fire” (IDF- rockets and/or mortars), and had to take cover. We were out pretty much in the open (the punching bag was hanging outside) away from any building. So we ducked behind a wall while we got our stuff together, then half walked/half ran to the building which wasn’t much better cover, given how much of its walls were nothing more than glass.
First, indirect fire isn’t really a laughing matter- in a recent post I note 2 MNSTC-I folks that were killed just over a week ago. So it is deadly serious in that respect.
Maybe it was just mirth at the sheer folly of my existence- how did I ever end up hanging out hitting a punching bag with a Marine at a fitness center in the International Zone in Baghdad, and then get it interrupted with IDF exploding somewhere around us? (I think it was to the north, but I don’t have a great sense of direction in the IZ) All my psychology and business training was paying off yet again!
The laugh was a bit the amusement of watching a Marine running for cover (tough guy!), but mostly for the odd situation we have where taking indirect fire is just a part of the experience there. We as the U.S. have a tremendous amount of firepower, but given that the folks firing these rockets and mortars are doing it from neighborhoods, often on mobile platforms, we’d often have to destroy far too much innocent civilian property and risk the lives of innocent civilians to make it worth firing back indiscriminately. So for folks like us, with no combat power under our command, we just take it, and scatter like mice as we run to get our helmets, body armor, and try to find hardened shelter.
The IZ I think should have the subtitle “IDF Magnet”. I can still remember the footage from the press back when I was at Ft. Riley last year, sometime between Feb and April- I believe it was the newish secretary general for the UN (Ban Ki-Moon?), at a press conference with Maliki, when some indirect fire hit either the building they were in, or close enough nearby to really rock their building. The secretary ducked down and started looking around for some cues as to what he should be doing. Maliki didn’t even exhibit a startle reflex- just kept on going with the brief, muttering something to the secretary about not worrying about it. What a life.
I am heartened however, when I do get to see reports of times when drones or other air assets can pinpoint tubes or other IDF activity and destroy the weapons and/or their operators. My unit wasn’t a warfighting unit, but thankfully someone else is responding to these hostile acts on our behalf.
Steinhausen- one of my self-purchased Christmas toys last year
Watchismo. This blog rocks. If you have a thing for watches, anyway.
Sea-pathfinder. Another of my man jewelry items. Complicated enough I can't figure out half of the functions.
My old stand-by- the Seiko Monster Diver- I've missed this one during my tour. Didn't want to mess it up.
And another recent acquisition- I'm a silly, materially-oriented person. But it is so cool how it works in the dark with the tritium dials!