Chokehold in Iraq

New Blog

2008-11-05T19:28:00.000-08:00

If you'd like to continue reading my blog, I've moved it to Marshall Thompson.org.

Thanks,

Marshall

Haditha Massacre

2006-06-05T02:45:00.000-07:00

I just wanted to write a few thoughts on the Haditha massacre. I don’t want to simply assume the Marines committed this atrocity before a court martial finds them guilty or not guilty. However, the facts seem to point that way, and more importantly, the Iraqis seem to feel that way. To send a message that we are sincere in our investigations and punishment of war crimes I think we should turn the Marines in question over to the Iraqi courts. Let them investigate and prosecute the crime committed on their own soil. It only seems just.

I know this idea will offensive to many people. For one thing, it’s traditional that the U.S. tries to protect its citizens from prosecution in foreign countries. Still, when it comes to serious crimes such as murder, or mass murder, the U.S. is often obliged to let the host nation take charge of the investigation and come to its own conclusions. I see no reason why this case should be any different. It would show the new Iraqi government that we have faith in them and that we’re willing to punish all war crimes, not just the ones that Saddam committed.

As reasonable as this seems to me, I know that it’s not likely to happen. What is happening, however, is one of the silliest things I’ve heard of in a long time. The top brass announced a few days ago that all military members in Iraq would go through “ethics training” in the next 30 days. Ethics training? This is there answer to a massacre?

Everyone soldier I’ve talked to is offended, incensed even. We are just as disgusted as anyone with what the handful of Marines might have done in Haditha. The Pentagon’s response seems to blame every military member in Iraq for what happened. As if the massacre was the result of a general moral decay among the troops that could be remedied by ethics training.

And what would this training be exactly? A multiple-choice quiz: Should you shoot a three-year-old girl? A. yes B. no C. Yes, but not with a .50-caliber machine gun because it’s against the Geneva Convention.

Yup, when you get down to thinking about it, the “ethics training” response is ridiculous. The reason it’s being given any credence is that it ignores a particularly uncomfortable truth. The so-called heroes, who are supposedly spreading freedom and democracy, are not always good people. Sometimes they’re murderers. And, a morally ambiguous war, such as this one, almost encourages your men and women to become such.

It’s also interesting to note that this massacre is not the first of its kind. Let’s say, for instance, that the Marines killed the insurgent who set of the bomb and then in their psychopathic rage killed the twenty plus other people. The twenty people are collateral damage for getting the one insurgent. How is this different from the bombing we’ve been doing since the start of the war? How many families has the U.S. massacred because they lived to close to an insurgent target? These Marines, if they committed the crime, are perhaps more culpable because their act was more malicious at heart. However, to the people of Iraq, the result is the same.

All this is all the more tragic because I still believe that Americans, by and large, have good intentions over here. The vast majority of military members I talk to want nothing more than to help the people of Iraq. It’s a tragedy in every sense.

Road Trip Iraq 2006 - Day Four

2006-06-05T00:17:00.000-07:00

Camp Diamond -back is one of the only U.S. bases in Iraq to be inside a city. From the edge of the base you can see the houses and streets of Mosul. The ancient city of Nineveh is on the northern outskirts of Mosul as well as what might be Jonah’s grave. I think Jonah, the reluctant mouthpiece of God, might be one of my favorite prophets of the Old Testament. I laugh every time I look up at the hills east of Nineveh and think of how Old Jonah went up there to watch the Lord destroy the people Nineveh and how disappointed he was when the Lord forgave them instead.

But Jonah’s tale isn’t the only funny story about Mosul. Today there are much more interesting ones. For instance, rumor has it that a Turkish restaurant on the base closed down because it was the center of a prostitution ring. This was hard to imagine since the only ladies I ever saw there were old Turkish grandmas. Nevertheless, the restaurant was gone.

But the best story I heard in Mosul was about two soldiers who decided to beat the snot out of each other with fire extinguishers. They thought that if they could break a bone or two, they could go back to the States. Unfortunately, the MPs didn’t buy the story that they were randomly attacked by fire-extinguisher-wielding insurgents. Whatever happens to them, I’m sure their punishment will be less painful then their crime.

Camp Diamondback is one of my favorite bases in Iraq and Sgt. Powell and I didn’t want to leave. We were exhausted and wanted at least a day to recover. Capt. Andrews, however, tempted us once again with stories of snow capped mountains and friendly locals. We hooked up with another convoy and soon found ourselves driving down the nocturnally deserted streets of Mosul. It was beautiful. Because of the curfew, we rode quickly and quietly through all the intersections and bypasses without seeing a soul.

We passed a few hours without any problems and then, just before we reached the mountain pass to go into Zakho, a convoy coming in the opposite direction had an accident. A third country national truck driver rolled an oil tanker. We pulled security and waited for the medical evacuation to arrive. I wasn’t able to find out if the driver was OK. Oil was all over the road. A few days later, I would find out just how precious oil really is in Iraq, but I’ll tell you more about that later.

Finally we drove into Zakho, the northern most major city in Iraq. Capt. Andrews was right. It was already more than I expected. We passed two travel plazas, the kind of luxury truck stops you see on the highways in Nebraska and Iowa. We even saw a Toyota dealership that looked every bit as modern and clean as a car dealership in the U.S.

The streets were empty, not because of a curfew, but because it was early in the morning and it was still raining hard. We passed a Kurdish soldier guarding a gate to a four-storey marble building that the local government had loaned to the Army. We ran in from the rain and put our bags on bunk beds set up for the soldiers who run the convoys. Then we climbed the stairs to find what looked like a nice little restaurant with small tables and red tablecloths. The cooks had stayed up for us and dinner was still hot.

It took us four days of grueling and dangerous night convoys to get there, but I could already tell that it was worth it. It was, as Capt. Andrews promised, a different world. Unfortunately, I would soon find out that it was a different world complete with its own wars and its own hate. Peaceful Zakho isn’t peaceful for all.

Photo: Sgt. Powell peaks around the corner on the roof of one of Saddam's former palaces during an earlier trip to Mosul. The Army now uses these palaces for their offices in Mosul. Somehow, I think that using these decadent buildings, which are inextricably tied with oppression, might have been a bad move for the U.S. We wanted them to see us as liberators, but now were just he new guys in the castles.

Road Trip Iraq 2006 - Day Three

2006-05-31T01:02:00.000-07:00

I woke up to the sound of explosions. I could hear the rounds going off in the distance like a door slamming, and then an instant after, I could feel the air compress in my trailer. I rolled over and went back to sleep. It didn’t bother for a few reasons: One, I’m stationed at Camp Anaconda, AKA Mortar-itaville, so I know that once you hear the explosion and you’re still there, then there’s nothing to be worried about; and two, it sounded like outgoing rounds, not incoming.

About an hour later, I had to get up because if I didn’t, my bladder was going to explode. The rounds kept hitting off in the distance, but I couldn’t for the life of me figure out what they were targeting. The Q-West Base Complex is in the middle of nowhere without a building for miles in all directions. I imagined a mud hut erupting into the air and a little boy with a goat shaking his hand at the sky, or America, or both.

I learned quickly that the local command had received some intelligence about a possible attack. I can’t go into details, but the security levels were raised to the highest level I’ve ever seen them. It was incredibly inconvenient and annoying to the point that I absent mindedly stated the following truism: “Gees, it’s like were living under martial law here.”

Eventually we hooked up with our next convoy and headed toward Camp Diamondback. I was driving this time and I couldn’t help but remember the last time I drove the stretch of road, about three months ago. At the time, I wanted to be alert so I downed a Diet Coke right before we left, but about five minutes out of the gate, I realized that I had to pee in a bad way. The body armor pushed down on my bladder like a large woman stomping grapes. One hour later, I did something that was embarrassing at first, but of which I’m now quite proud. I filled up a 1.5-liter water bottle while driving 60 miles per hour on the most dangerous roads in the world and I didn’t spill a drop.

This time, however, I barely drank a thing the whole day to ensure I would not have to do a repeat of my amazing feat. I knew we had made it half way when I could smell the raw sewage at a spot near the road where we think a line broke. A lime green pools sits next to the road and cooks in the hot sun. You can smell it a mile away. I was glad when we passed it.

The trip went well with no major incidents. However, we were starting to notice some problems with our rebuilt humvee. Our radio wasn’t amplifying like it should have so we had a mechanic look at it at Camp Speicher. He removed the antenna mount and showed us two nickel-sized holes in the base. He shook it and the shrapnel rattled inside it like a maraca.

“I’m guessin’ that’s not good,” Sgt. Powell said.

“Nope, that ain’t good,” the mechanic replied.

Next, Sgt. Powell’s door stopped latching. It even opened while we were on the road and she had to hold it shut and drive for about a half hour. We replaced the antenna mount and found a way to get the heavy armored door to shut, but our confidence in Paparazzi was seriously waning. Plus, we realized that Paparazzi is the plural of paparazzo and that maybe we shouldn’t have given a plural name to a single vehicle. Oh well, it got us to Camp Diamondback. We picked up Capt. Andrews at the airport and went to sleep in trailers that smelled like a smoking room in a cheap motel.

Border Line Crazy

2006-05-16T08:42:00.000-07:00

Before I post the events of Day Three of Road Trip Iraq 2006, I need to take a moment to comment on current events. Bush just announced that he was going to deploy 6,000 National Guard troops to secure the Mexican border.

The biggest problem is that illegal immigrants come to the U.S., not to spite conservatives, but because there are jobs. It’s simply a free market functioning in a global economy. If there weren’t jobs for them, they wouldn’t come. Those who spend their nights worrying about Mexicans and other nationalities crossing the border are not thinking logically. Such a sense of immediacy on this issue seems to be spawned from xenophobia, racism and ignorance.

Free markets and globalization are like the laws of physics, it’s better to work with them than to try to stop them. In that sense, sending the National Guard to stop the natural flow of a labor force to an overabundant job market, would be like calling in the Marines to stop gravity. But wait, someone might think, don’t we need gravity? Yes, of course. But wait, someone might also think, don’t we also need an essential workforce that has been functioning in our economy for decades? The answer again, yes, of course.

Besides being futile, this answer to the supposed problem of illegal immigration is a bit hackneyed. Send in the troops and as the border patrol increases, the amount of troops will decrease. That sounds familiar. I’ve finally figured out what the neocon vision is: the military will solve all the problems. I’m just glad they caught the killer alligator today. If that had gone on a few more weeks we would have been deployed for Operation Jogger Shield.

Finally, does any one care about the poor suckers that have to leave their jobs and families to go stop illegal immigrants? Bush said that it was important for everyone to understand that the U.S. military was strong enough to fight a war in Iraq, handle natural disasters at home, and still secure the southern border. What? I guess he thinks that two out of every three years home is good enough. This makes sense if you consider that he spends almost two out of every three months at his ranch. His statement sounds a bit too much like “let them eat cake” for my taste.

In the end, America shouldn’t look to the military to take care of all its problems. We have celebrities for that.

Road Trip Iraq 2006 - Day Two

2006-05-16T08:21:00.000-07:00

Rain hitting the yellow canvas of the massive tent woke me up at about 11 a.m. the next morning. I took a shower, packed my things and then Powell and I went to Taco Bell, the only one I’ve seen in Iraq. A soft taco and burrito hit the spot.

After lunch, we stopped by a maintenance company to do a story on their recovery missions. When a vehicle breaks down or is hit by an IED, a recovery team will respond within an hour to get the vehicle and any people left behind. They’re also experts at getting vehicles out of mud.

Sgt. Powell simply mentioned that she’d like some footage of them doing their jobs and they immediately offered to do a demonstration. For the next two hours, the recovery guys stuck different vehicles in the deep mud behind their unit building. They even got their Gator, a four-wheel drive golf cart, stuck. That’s just how bored they were.

I don’t know how they could be bored when one of the most novel pieces of war memorabilia was sitting right in front of their company area, a WWII, Italian made, mini-tank. It’s a two-seater vehicle that answers the age-old question: What do Shriners drive when they go to war?

When Powell and I finished laughing at the little tank, we caught a convoy and headed up to the Q-West Base complex. This trip wasn’t anything like the last one, a third country national (what the Army calls someone not from Iraq or the U.S.) rolled his semi truck right in front of us.

He broke his leg, but he was OK otherwise and was even able to sit and wait for a medical evacuation. The truck would have to wait for a recovery team, maybe even the one from Speicher. Rolling semi trucks is a rare site on an American highway, but in Iraq, it’s a regular occurrence. Most of the guys who run the convoys with third country nationals say there is a rampant drinking problem. This rollover was most like alcohol related. But don’t be too quick to judge. If you had to drive an un-armored truck on the Iraqi highways all day, you might hit the sauce a bit too.

With the driver evacuated and the truck recovered, we made it up to Q-West with no problems. Instead of sleeping in a circus tent, like the night before, we were lucky enough to get our own trailers. I felt like a movie star.

Road Trip Iraq 2006

2006-05-12T23:47:00.000-07:00

I waited for the last minute to pack for the two-week road trip to the Turkish boarder and back. Part of me wanted to play it safe and waste away the last 75 days of my deployment in the comparative luxury and safety of Camp Anaconda. But Capt. Andrews, the brains behind the expedition to Kurdistan, kept tempting me.

“It’s like nothing you’ve seen in Iraq, Thompson,” he said speaking of the Kurdish controlled area in northern Iraq. “It’s like a different world.”

Of course, I had to go. But getting there wasn't easy.

Day 1: Camp Anaconda to Camp Speicher

Sgt. Powell, my broadcast counterpart for the trip, found a convoy that would let us tag along for the first leg of the trip. We loaded up our new armored humvee, which Powell christened “Paparazzi,” and left for Camp Speicher. When I say the humvee is new, I mean new to us. The Army rebuilt it in Kuwait after and IED blew the right side to pieces. It’s one of the first rebuilds in the war zone and has a new engine and all the other bells and whistles that only the best armored vehicles have. Old Paparazzi’s a pretty sweet ride as far as rebuilt armored humvees go.

Just outside the gate of Camp Anaconda, we saw small arms fire and I knew it was going to be a long night. The red dashes of tracer rounds cut across the night sky. As far as fireworks go, this is fairly unimpressive. But when you remember the little flying lead things that the dashes represent, it becomes more significant. The insurgents hid in the tress and tall grass that grows prodigiously after the rainy season around Camp Anaconda, but they weren’t firing directly at us. Instead, they were signaling someone down the road to get the IEDs ready.
“Here we go,” I thought as we turned on to the main road.

In the next half hour, we safely passed about three IEDs. (Unless they go off, it’s hard to be sure if something is definitely an IED). The third IED we passed was the funniest.
I saw American vehicles in the median of the highway.

“What are they doing just sitting there in the median?” I asked Powell.

“Oh they’re probably just doing a presence patrol,” she replied to my satisfaction.

Later, I saw some water bottles with chemical lights in them sitting in the road and commented on how pretty they looked glowing on the highway at night.

Then Powell noticed that no one from the convoy was behind us.

Apparently, a patrol found an IED, marked it with chemical lights, and then decided to set up a roadblock. Unfortunately they didn’t get the roadblock going until half our convoy went through.

Well, a lot of stuff happened after that, but I can’t really give you any details because it involves our tactics and techniques. I can say, however, that for the next three hours I had my M-16 aimed at a civilian vehicle. I won’t lie, the possibility of death is scary and the thought of trying to stop a possible vehicle-borne IED with an M-16 is scary as well. I found myself wishing I had a larger caliber weapon and at the same time wishing I didn’t have any weapon at all. For me, the thought of having to shoot someone is scarier than being shot. And if I thought I might be shooting an innocent person, I’d rather he shot me.

Still, I had to think of the other people in the other vehicles that I was protecting. I couldn’t make a decision like that for them. So I kept my weapon aimed just above the right headlight.

Luckily, after waiting it out, the car thought better of it, and turned around. Soon we reunited with our convoy and we made it up to Speicher.

A soldier at the convoy support center directed us to two big tents, about 100 meters long. Powell went in the female tent and I went into the male tent. I had the whole thing to myself. Half the tent was falling in and the center poles were all askew. I grabbed one of hundreds of cots and put it next to the light switch in the middle of the cavernous shelter. I went to sleep wondering what else could be in the tent without me ever knowing.

One Down, Way Too Many To Go

2006-04-22T04:00:00.000-07:00

I have a list of things I hope to accomplish while I’m in Iraq:

1. Stop all the bad guys.
2. Save all the good guys.
3. Develop some reliable way to tell the good guys from the bad guys.
4. Find WMDs so I can stop feeling used by the Bush administration.
5. Discover a new oil field that the U.S. can secretly tap. I figure the sooner G.W. gets what he wants, the sooner I can go home.
6. Catch Osama Bin Laden. I've heard some rumors about this and I might actually have to leave Iraq for that one.
7. Run a satellite version of the Boston Marathon in the ancient city of Ur.

I’m happy to report that I was able to cross one off the list. Last week I finished the Iraq Boston Marathon in an Army base in southern Iraq. The Boston Athletic Association set it up in conjunction with the Army and it was a lot of fun. The route ran up to the famous Ziggurat of Ur, a massive terraced pyramid in Abraham’s old hometown.

Note that I said I “finished” the marathon, instead of saying I “ran” the marathon. Somewhere between mile 14 and mile 16 my body crapped out on me in the 107-degree heat. This was my first marathon and I only had a month to train. It wasn’t an ideal situation but it was probably the only one of my goals that I, or anybody else, would be able to accomplish while in Iraq.

Marathons are cliché to use as analogies for life, and as I limped the last few miles to the finish line it was all I could do not to think of comparisons. Oh please tell me that our stay in Iraq will not be like a marathon. If it is, I’m about ready to wave for the first aid car to pick me up, stick an IV in my arm and drive me home.

In the mean time, I’ll keep my mind off the analogy by concentrating on my other goals. I think Bin Laden might be hanging out in the movie theater on Camp Anaconda, it’s always the last place you check.

photos: (top) The Ziggurat of Ur. (bottom) I'm standing on the steps of the ziggurat. Photos by Traci Varrasso, international recording artist (who, by the way, is not brainwashed)

Following Orders

2006-04-10T01:31:00.000-07:00

I know the Army isn’t good at a lot of things, like building nations, winning hearts and minds, and sticking to a budget. But I always thought the Army was good in one area: following orders. Sure, we soldiers are a crass bunch of salty mongrels, but when we get a direct order, we follow it right? Not really.

For years now, every person in the Army has had it drilled into him that sexual harassment is absolutely unacceptable. So why is it still so prevalent?

A few weeks ago, I traveled to a remote base in western Iraq. There were only a handful of females and they ran the shower and dining facilities. I asked one female if she had any problems out in the desert among all the rough men. She emphatically replied that no one treated her any differently. Good, I thought.

I was doing a story on the shower facility and all the soldiers I interviewed kept saying how competent their commander was. I’m used to hearing soldiers complain about their commanders so I was impressed and set out to find her.

“Do you know where Capt. L is?” I asked a passing soldier.
“Oh, yeah, she’s the hot one,” he said.
“Do you where she is?”
“Just walk that way until you see a hot captain.”

I laughed a bit because I figured these guys were probably starved for the female form. Out in the middle of the desert surrounded by a bunch of ugly grunts, they had probably built this captain up to be an Aphrodite in carnate. And so I found the comment understandable and not particularly malicious.

When I found Capt. L, she was pretty and, more importantly, very competent. I was impressed with the efficiency in which she ran the logistics for the base. I thought to myself, here is one of the best and brightest of the military. I decided I might do a sidebar personality feature on her because an officer who knows her job is definitely newsworthy these days.

I asked her if she felt she was treated any differently being a female in the remote base. She said definitely not.

I finished up the interview and was about to ask if I could follow her around and gets some photos when a male master sergeant butted in.

“Hey, sergeant T., you should get some photos of her with her top off.”

She blushed and played it off as if it were just part of being in the Army. But I could hear her voice crackle ever so slightly with emotion. All the guys laughed as if it were some clever repartee. I didn’t laugh, she didn’t laugh, and I didn’t dare ask her right after that comment if I could take pictures of her.

The foul minds and untamed tongues of undisciplined soldiers took something innocent and good and made it seem vulgar.

No wonder both females I interviewed denied any different treatment. They probably felt, in a sad and strange way, that they were responsible for the comments and would rather deny the existence of the problem than to talk with some stranger about it.

It’s not OK and it should not be tolerated any more. I’ve assumed that the females are fine with or they would speak up. But that’s not true. I’ve also assumed that I could get in trouble if I call out someone of higher rank than I. This may be true, but I don’t care anymore. The next person I hear sexually harassing a female is going to get a double helping of the wrath of Marshall, which anyone will tell you is not that impressive but it’s the thought that counts.

I will never again tolerate anyone disobeying this order.

Best Combat Pedicure in Iraq

2006-04-04T02:55:00.000-07:00

After having traveled to many of the major bases in Iraq, I feel it’s time to announce the winner of the “Best Combat Pedicure” contest.

At Camp Anaconda, I had a decent pedicure, but the pedicurist went chintzy on the massage at the end. If that’s not reason enough for instant disqualification, then the shoddy pedicure they gave my friend, Ryan, is.

It took me months to convince Ryan of the importance of combat pedicures to proper foot care in the war zone. So I felt particularly bad when he came back with bleeding feet. Camp Anaconda is completely out of the running for best combat pedicure.

Al Asad Air Base, a Marine installation in western Iraq, had a facility that offered pedicures for the usual rate, $7. For anyone who still considers combat pedicures as antithetical to military machismo, consider the kind of guts it takes for a Soldier to walk into a room full of Marines and ask for a pedicure. It doesn’t get manlier than that.

Everyone stared at me and the proprietor quietly explained that that particular service wasn’t available because of lack of interest. I guess Marines just don’t understand good foot care. Al Asad is out.

The Q-West Base Complex in northern Iraq has a Turkish group that does pedicures, manicures and half-hour massages. I was excited to sample the massage since good muscle alignment is also critical to combat readiness. However, when I got to the facility, I found it was more of a dirty shack. All I could think of was the torture scene in “Lawrence of Arabia.” I passed. Q-West is out.

Camp Diamondback, next to Mosul, Iraq, offers pedicures for the standard rate. Mia, the pedicurist, and her co-workers found it hilarious that a male soldier wanted a pedicure. As my feet soaked, she grilled me:

“Are you married?”
“Yes.”
“To a woman?”
“Yes.”
“Do you have children?”
“Yes, I have a new daughter.”

This seemed to please her and she ran giggling back to the other ladies who all erupted in Tagalog. When she came back, she explained that they were all betting that I wasn’t married. I showed her my ring to reassure her.

The pedicure was definitely the best in Iraq. Mia explained to me that the key to a good pedicure was the massage. I couldn’t agree more. In fact, she used to be a massage therapist at Camp Diamondback until a nasty incident a few months prior when a male soldier accused one of the massage therapists of sexual harassment. After that, the Camp Diamondback command outlawed massages, leaving Mia to do pedicures.

Massage therapy’s loss it pedicure’s gain. Mia and her team at Camp Diamondback win the award “Best Combat Pedicure.”

photo: Mia, second from the right, has three children and has been working in Iraq for over 2 1/2 years. I asked her how long she would stay. "Until I find an Iraqi husband," she said laughing.

Naked Blogging

2006-03-24T07:42:00.000-08:00

I’m writing this blog in the buff. I know it’s not a pleasant thought, but Gordon England, Deputy Secretary of State, has forced me into this compromising position. On March 14 he issued a memo titled “Political Activities by Members of the Armed Forces.”

He says that soldiers can’t do anything political while wearing the uniform. And so, I’m blogging naked.

OK, in reality, I’m wearing clothes. One, because I don’t think Mr. England’s memo applies to blogs. And two, because I think he’s bluffing.

The argument in this memo is that if people see soldiers wearing the uniform and at a political event, they will assume that the military supports the political group or ideology. The memo forbids “any activity that may be viewed as associating the Department of Defense … or any component … directly or indirectly with a partisan political event ….”

The memo goes on to say that this applies even to retired servicemembers. So, this should apply to Bud Day, former prisoner of war and recipient of the Congressional Medal of Honor, who appears in ads smearing a certain senator and former presidential candidate while wearing a U.S. military flight jacket as well as the Medal of Honor itself (http://www.swiftvets.com/index.php?topic=Ads).

Mr. England, are you going to arrest Bud Day?

I’m also worried, because my brother, who brought this memo to my attention, once appeared in uniform as a backdrop for G.W. as he spoke at a military installation in Texas.
Mr. England, are you going to arrest my brother? He was told to stand there. He didn’t mean to give the appearance that the military supported the Republican agenda. He was just following orders.

Or, and I hate to be cynical here, is it OK as long as the soldier is campaigning for the Republicans and the current administration? Or, and I hate to be even more cynical here, is just a scare tactic to keep a wave of disgruntled soldiers from speaking their minds in public.

So, prove me wrong Mr. England. Either retract your ill-advised memo or arrest Bud Dad and George Bush (but not my brother, he’s the only one I’ve got).

Photo: Deputy Secretary of State Gordon England. Great memo Gordo.

Let's Talk About Troop Withdrawal

2006-03-17T22:27:00.000-08:00

I recently watched a slide show about a young Marine who died in Iraq. The boy’s parents made the tribute and set it to the song “A Million Miles Away,” by the Bob Stewart Band (www.bobstewartband.com/mm/augie). Warning: don’t watch it if you don’t want to cry.
The parents are associated with a group called Families of the Fallen for Change (http://fofchange.org/). They’re calling for a bipartisan effort to set real goals for troop withdrawal. G.W. and his buddies need to reexamine the troop levels in Iraq as well as the justifications for the troop levels.

Thousands of excess troops could go home to the United States without any serious affect to our mission in Iraq, whatever that mission is. The vague mission definition drives me crazy sometimes. Was it to stop a homicidal dictator with weapons of mass destruction? Was it to take control of Iraq? Stop an insurgency? Establish a democracy? Train an Army? Get oil? Stop a civil war? Or is our goal here just to occupy? I have no idea.

The president has used several arguments to squash any hope for serious troop withdrawal. Let’s go through some of my favorite arguments against troop withdrawal.

1. Withdrawing now will embolden our enemy.

OK, maybe that’s true, but who cares? Our enemies are willing to blow themselves up to kill us. Who cares if they’re bold when they do it? Are they going to blow themselves up harder? I suppose the administration thinks the insurgents are depressed right now and are only doing a half-hearted attempt to kill U.S. troops in Iraq. I think administration might have a different feeling if they were here.

2. If we leave now, all the sacrifices before have been in vain.

Again, the main problem here is that we don’t know exactly what we are trying to accomplish? Bush says we are going to stay until we “win.” How the hell do you win an occupation? When Bush makes statements like that, it gives me the impression he sees Iraq as a game, like a grown-up version of King of Bunker Hill. In elementary school, to “win” at King of Bunker Hill, you had to be the only one on the hill when the recess bell rang. Is Bush waiting for someone to ring a bell and declare America the winner? Is that it, G.W.? OK, here it goes: We rule, we’re the best nation ever, and we have the strongest, coolest, most articulate president in the history of presidents. Is that good enough? Can we go home now?

3. We have to finish what we started.

Or in other words, we broke it, we bought it. Since we deposed Iraq’s dictatorship, we’re responsible to rebuild their nation to a decent level before leaving. This is the best of all the arguments because it’s true. But it has little to do with troop levels. The U.S. military is designed to kill people. There’s no nice way of saying it. The U.S. military is not designed to build a nation. I think that’s better left to the God, or at least the Marshall Plan. We’ll keep doing what we can, but there needs to be some realistic expectations of what a large military presence in Iraq can do in the reconstruction of a nation. Once again, armies destroy, not build.

4. Now is not the time to weaken the U.S. military in Iraq.

This is the biggest lie. Lowering troop levels is not the same as weakening the U.S. military. That’s a like an obese man saying he doesn’t want to lose any weight because it will make him weak. The insurgency has such small numbers compared to the U.S. military and Iraqi military and police that there is no chance of insurgents overrunning our bases. The insurgents are using guerrilla warfare against us and the main idea of guerrilla warfare is to use your opponent’s strengths against him. The U.S. is numerically and economically superior to the insurgents. So, they’ve found where that becomes a weakness and attack. If you’ve been paying attention, we’re weakest when we’re driving on the roads.

We have such an excessive force here and we’re so rich that we’re constantly shipping in massive amounts of food, fuel, supplies and entertainment items. Convoys miles long roll down the roads of Iraq, making a big fat target for anybody with a cell phone and some explosives.

Improvised explosive devices are the number one killers of U.S. troops in Iraq. We need to cut down the number of convoys we send out and give the insurgents a smaller target to hit. This means going without Baskin Robbins ice cream in the dining facilities and it means sending tens of thousands of excess troops home immediately.

5. We need to stay until Iraq is a safe and secure environment.

Sounds good, but it’s unrealistic. How safe is safe? People murder people every day in the U.S. Do we need to stay until the crime rate is equal to that of the U.S. or until it’s around a nice Singapore level? North Korea has hardly any crime and absolutely no threat of terrorism. Is that the goal?

The other problem with this is that a large U.S. presence is most likely exacerbating the violence here. I spoke to a Sunni man during the Dec. 15 elections who said that he couldn’t wait for the U.S. to leave so the fighting would stop. He had some loose ties to the insurgency, and he claimed they would stop as soon as the U.S. leaves. It was just one man’s opinion, but it deserves some thought. The best way to calm down a hornet’s nest is to take your hand out of it.

So, what do you say, G.W. Can we go home yet?

Photo caption: A soldier considers his many options at a dessert tray at Camp Anaconda. Would you believe this is a very modest spread compared to the other major dining facilities in Iraq?

I'm Invincible!

2006-02-27T05:07:00.000-08:00

Body armor is a big business these days. And why not? It’s a situation where everybody wins. The manufacturers of the armor make millions, the politicians can claim they support the troops and the American people can feel a little less guilty when they read about attacks in Iraq.

As far as the soldiers are concerned, we get Kevlar vests with ceramic strike plate inserts that can stop a high-powered 7.62 mm round. We get new ballistic helmets, ballistic eye protection, knee protection, elbow protection, throat protection, neck protection, groin protection (A.K.A. the codpiece), deltoid protection, rib protection, ear protection and chemical protection masks. We’re invincible! Unfortunately we’re also immobile.

Each unit debates how much of the armor they should actually wear. The weight of this modern body armor is roughly the same weight as a suit of medieval chain mail, over 50 pounds. It reminds me of the Battle of Agincourt as told by Shakespeare in “Henry V.” Old Henry had his soldiers take off their armor and then prayed for rain. The rain came and turned the battlefield into a quagmire. When the French knights fell off their horses, all the English had to do was watch them drown in the mud.

Still, it seems the modern Army isn’t interested at all in mobility. Next thing you know, they’ll be rolling us up in bubble wrap and sending us out to battle with stickers that say “Fragile, handle with care.”

Now, the armor has saved many lives, and I don’t want to discount that. In fact, I’ve developed a new kind of body armor that will save even more lives and hopefully make me rich. I’ll let you in on it if you promise not to steal it.

The bulletproof vests we have right now use a few layers of Kevlar and about an inch of a specially designed ceramic that absorbs the impact from a bullet. My method would use air to stop the bullets. That’s right, air. By surrounding soldiers with a few thousand miles of air in every direction, they become 100 percent bulletproof. Plus, my patented air armor weighs next to nothing. The only down side is that it decreases mobility on the roads of Iraq. To be honest, to use this armor in Iraq, the soldiers would actually have to be physically standing in the U.S. But if it’s protection over mobility we want, then I think my air armor is the best solution.

Bush and Cheney, if you care about the troops, you’ll send me a multi-million dollar no-bid contract immediately.

Photo: I'm standing in my office wearing all the gear. It's almost like a scene from "A Christmas Story." If I'm ever in combat, my battle cry will be, "Ralphy! Ralphy!" Photo by: Ryan Poland, film genius.

Bad Dreams

2006-02-09T12:54:00.000-08:00

Sgt. David Weyant has bad dreams. I have bad dreams, too. There’s one where I’m arm wrestling Dick Cheney and he looks into my eyes and says, “Marshall, I am your father.” Then I go, “Nooo!” and wake up in a sweat. But Weyant’s dreams are a bit more serious. He dreams of explosions.

“When you wake up from an explosion dream, your heart’s beating and your ears are ringing,” Weyant said.

He hesitated to call them “recurring” dreams and said he didn’t know what Freud would say about them. I told him I wasn’t a psychiatrist, but I had a pretty good guess why he had the dreams.

Weyant is an IED hunter. He and his team drive around in special vehicles to clear the roads of Iraq from improvised explosive devices, or IEDs. The makeshift bombs are the number one killer of U.S. soldiers in Iraq. If this screwed up war has a front, Weyant’s on it.

If that's not reason enough for the dreams, maybe the fact that they started after he saw one of his friends die from a vehicle-borne IED.

“A lot of guys will admit to having dreams,” Wyant said. “You learn little tricks to get yourself to sleep.”

When I asked Weyant’s buddy, Sgt. Taze Baskerville, if he had any tricks to get to sleep, he held up a large bottle of Tylenol P.M.

“My wife sends them to me,” Baskerville said. “Some of the guys think it’s bad to use pills, but they’re the ones up all night reading or messing around on their computers.”

That night, I talked to a soldier waiting in line for the showers. He had been on a patrol just a week earlier and saw a massive IED, five 155 mm artillery rounds, blow the humvee in front of him in two. Four people died. He said he’d barely slept since that day. He especially felt guilty because, as an IED hunter, he was supposed to clear that IED.

“They keep telling me I should go to the combat stress center,” said the soldier. “But the only way they can help my stress is to tell me I’m going home.”

We both laughed for a bit before we realized how akward it is to have a conversation while wearing only towels.

Their unit is home now, and I hope they're sleeping well.

photo captions: top, Weyant rides shotgun in a buffalo, a special de-mining vehicle adapted for hunting IEDs. bottom, Baskerville climbs the ladder to enter the rear hatch of the buffalo after stopping to check out a possible IED. The vehicle behind Baskerville is a Meerkat, which is essentially a large metal detector.

My right as an NCO

2006-02-07T00:45:00.000-08:00

Article 88 of the U.S. Military’s Uniform Code of Military Justice states: “Any commissioned officer who uses contemptuous words against the President, the Vice President, Congress, the Secretary of Defense, the Secretary of a military department, the Secretary of Transportation, or the Governor or Legislature of any State, Territory, Commonwealth, or possession in which he is on duty or present shall be punished as a court-martial may direct.”

The maximum penalty for a violation of Article 88 is a one-year confinement. Basically, an officer can’t speak negatively about any politician above state representative. Although, I believe the lieutenant governor is fair game.

I knew there was a reason I stayed a sergeant. Allow me, briefly, to exercise my rights as a noncommissioned officer:

President Bush is a class A jackass. Vice President Cheney is an evil monkey puppet master. Congress sucks. Donald Rumsfeld eats little children. I would speak contemptuously of the secretaries of all the military departments but they change so quickly, I don't know where to start. Norman Mineta is a jerk. (I have nothing against the Secretary of Transportation, but I’m on a roll. Sorry, Norman.) All the governors and legislators of all the states, territories and commonwealths are scurvy dogs who deserve to get paddled with a wicker switch.

That feels better.

The Quest for the "Best Combat Pedicure"

2006-01-23T13:56:00.000-08:00

I leave this morning on a weeklong trip up north. I packed my ruck sack, cleaned my M-16, added the neck and crotch guards to my body armor and, most importantly, I got a pedicure.

Foot care is important in a combat zone.

Many people wonder where the best place to get a pedicure is in Iraq. There are at least two beauty parlors that offer pedicures: one on Camp Anaconda and one on the Q-West Base Complex. I’m headed to Q-West, and having just treated my feet to a pedicure at Camp Anaconda, am in a good position to compare the two.

Since starting this quest, many have felt the need to tell me that pedicures are only for women and the Air Force. For the life of me, I can’t understand what’s feminine about getting your feet massaged. Besides, I always pick a nice Army green for my toe nail polish.

I will come back as soon as possible with reviews of my combat pedicures. Only one will earn the title, “Best Combat Pedicure.” Peace and good foot care be with you all.

photo caption: I maintain a high level of suspicious alertness as my feet soak in prepartion for a combat pedicure at Camp Anaconda. Photo by Ryan Poland, film genius.

Martin Luther King Jr. Day

2006-01-16T23:03:00.000-08:00

Happy Martin Luther King Jr. Day. I was hoping we’d get the day off, but that didn’t happen. G.W., whose visit to King’s grave was heavily protested, recently said that America has made progress toward King’s dream, but we’re not there yet.

This is one of those special occasions when I agree with G.W. Within the military in Iraq, I don’t see a lot of tension between white and black soldiers. It doesn’t mean it’s not there, I just haven’t experienced it. However, I have been witness to the emergence of a new racial epithet for Arabs.

Haji, once an honorable term for one who had made the pilgrimage to Mecca, has moved into popular use among soldiers to denigrate and generalize Arabs and those who live in predominately Arab nations. Spencer Case wrote a great editorial about it in the Jan. 15 edition of the Anaconda Times on pg. 2. It will also run in the Army Times soon and you can read it on his blog, Case and Point, at www.spencercaselog.blogspot.com.

The chow hall was nice. They made a huge MLK cake. I couldn’t help but notice that it was a two layer cake, vanilla and chocolate. I nearly teared up as I realized that, in a small way, this cake was realizing Dr. King’s dream. Two separate flavors combining to form one cake. But then I realized that the vanilla layer was on top of the chocolate and that they were separated by an impenetrable layer of cream cheese icing. Just another example of the vanilla cake keeping the chocolate cake down.

So, yes, G.W., I guess we’re not there yet.

photo caption: a lovely sunset on Martin Luther King Jr. Day at Camp Anaconda, Iraq.

$10 million a month is a small price to pay for not waiting

2006-01-15T15:10:00.000-08:00

“As you know, you go to war with the army you have, not the army you want.” – Donald Rumsfeld, Dec. 9, 2004

Rumsfeld’s infamous words apply to more than just body armor – they also apply to cargo containers. When the Army started deploying troops and equipment to Kuwait for Operation Iraqi Freedom in 2003, there was a shortage of government owned cargo containers. Waiting to purchase the necessary containers would have slowed the momentum of the war. And momentum, I have learned from years of roller coaster riding, is what makes things fun.

So instead of having a boring, momentumless war, the Army borrowed cargo containers from the commercial shippers and let the good times roll. The shippers let the Army use their containers free of charge as long as the Army unloaded the containers and returned them to the ships within a certain amount of time, usually about 15 days. Every month after that, there would be a late fee.

But everyone was having too much fun fighting the Iraqi army and completely forgot to turn the containers back in. Two years later, the U.S. government was spending over $10 million a month on container late fees, according to Lt. Col. Patrick Lyons, the man the Army turned to shape things up.

Lyons, along with his hard working team from the 840th Deployment Distribution Support Battalion, have tracked down and returned many of the carrier-owned containers. They also worked out rent-to-own deals with the cargo companies. Most units were using the containers for storage rooms, but one unit had cut the top of their container and made a swimming pool.

Over the last year, the 840th lowered the detention costs, or late fees, to about $350,000 a month. Unfortunately, Lyons and his team do not get a commission on the money they save the Army every month.

The big question now is what is the Army going to do with all that extra dough? I have a few suggestions.

1. Give every servicemember in Iraq an $800 bonus at the end of the year.
2. Buy a piece of artwork every month off e-bay, like an autographed picture of Joe Montana for $5 million (Picured above. This is for real, here’s the link: http://cgi.ebay.com/Joe-Montana-one-of-a-kind-Autographed-Painting-4x4_W0QQitemZ7380366563QQcategoryZ551QQrdZ1QQcmdZViewItem ne -of-a-kind-Autographed-Painting-4x4_W0QQitemZ7380366563QQcategoryZ551QQrdZ1QQcmdZViewItem)
3. Create an army of robots to replace American soldiers in Iraq. Their superior strength and inability to be depressed will help bring peace to this troubled land.
4. Pay the foreign fighters to screw with Iran instead of us.

These are just a few suggestions. Anyway, my hat’s off to the 840th for making the Army more efficient so that autographed pictures of Joe Montana can stay in the U.S. where they belong and not in the hands of terrorists, communists or any other ‘ists’ that scare Americans.

photo caption: With the money the Army's saving it could buy two of these works of art a month.

In the city of the future ...

2006-01-14T13:20:00.000-08:00

“In the city of the future, it is very hard to concentrate.” –Thom Yorke of Radiohead on the B-side Palo Alto

You can’t think of Camp Anaconda like a military base. If you think of it in a janissary Spartan manner, then you’ll be confused by certain amenities like two swimming pools, an 800-seat movie theater and a beauty salon that gives $7 pedicures.

No, Camp Anaconda is a city. It’s a city of about 30,000 people. It’s a city where there are no children, most people wear uniforms, and nearly everyone is armed to the teeth. Our building designs are simple and effective pre-fab architecture. We commune to centrally located eating hubs called D-FACs. We’ve reverted back to a feudalistic system of aristocracy (officers) and common laborers (enlisted). In short, it is the city of the future.

George Orwell imagined his dystopian city of the future in his book “1984,” in which an authoritarian government controlled the very thoughts of the populace. Jean-Luc Goddard named his city of the future “Alphaville” and had a super computer run the show.

Camp Anaconda is a lot like those, but not as scary. If their dystopias were boiling pots of water, Camp Anaconda would be a hot tub. It’s kind of nice for a bit, but I’ve been in too long and I’m getting pruney.

The creepy thought is what if the future does bring a powerful State that subjugates the People, but does it in such a way as to not inconvenience the masses. You couldn’t have freedom of religion, but you’d have free cable. You couldn’t have freedom of speech, but there’d be no real reason to complain. What if we like the city of the future?

So, what's life like in Iraq? It’s like 1984, except not so bad.

photo caption: Three of my fellow members of the perfect system in our City of the Future which we call Camp Anaconda. Engels Tejeda (center) is still skeptical while Spencer Case (left) and Traci Varrasso (right) have cleary been brainwashed as evidenced by their cheesy smiles. We were waiting to catch a glimpse of Jesse James and his hit cable TV show, Monster Garage. Being this close to a cable TV star is worth giving up certain freedoms.

The Big Board

2006-01-13T00:11:00.000-08:00

Every morning I drive past the ‘big board’ that tells me how many days have passed since the last auto accident, negligent discharge, incident of fire, and fatality.

I don’t know how I feel about the big board. When the numbers are low, it’s depressing because something bad just happened. When the numbers are high, it’s depressing because we’re due for something bad to happen.

Lately, however, I’ve started to lose my faith in the big board. Forgive my blasphemy, but I think the big board might be bunk.

Yesterday the 3rd Corps Support Command held a memorial service on Camp Anaconda for Maj. Stuart Anderson who died in a helicopter crash on Jan. 7. Unfortunately, nobody told the big board. According to it, it’s been 101 days since the last fatality.

photo caption: I'm standing next to the big board on Jan. 12, the same day as a memorial for a soldier who died in a helicopter crash. Either the big board is load of crap, or it's moving closer to the speed of light than we are and therefore has a different measurement of time relative to the rest of the camp. photo by Ryan Poland, film genius

Al Franken outs Army's top enlisted soldier and combats anti-troop stereotypes

2006-01-11T13:47:00.000-08:00

I'm thankful nobody hates me for being a soldier. Al Franken, who some might know as Stuart Smalley from Saturday Night live and others might know as the author of "Rush Limbaugh is a Big Fat Idiot," came to Camp Anaconda just before Christmas to remind servicemembers that they're not hated. In fact, they might even be well liked.

"We want to show you that all of America -- that every American -- is behind you," Franken said to a crowd of soldiers who gathered for the USO morale show.

Many people erroneously associate support of the military as a solely Republican characteristic. But Franken, a raging liberal, has visited soldiers on USO morale tours since 1999. Rush Limbaugh, for all his bloviating, has never come to a combat zone that I've been in. (He did go to Afghanistan once, which is better than nothing.) In his defense, it's more dangerous for him because he's a much larger target. Also, they have a pretty strict no drug policy here.

I was in Kosovo in 2001 and missed Franken's show. I was determined not to miss it this time. Al Franken is to liberal soldiers as Oprah is to middle class housewives, he understands us. Although, I have to admit, his shows would be better if he gave away cars to the audience or at least a gift basket.

The show was still fun without the giveaway. The best part was when he outed Sgt. Maj. of the Army Kenneth Preston. Franken pointed out that the "don't ask don't tell" policy doesn't make any sense because even the best soldiers, like Preston, are gay.

"He's definitely, definitely gay. Very, very gay," Franken said.

I don't know if Preston is gay or not, but he sure did blush a lot. Was it a tacit acknowledgment?

Backstage I was able to ask Franken a few questions. I asked him if he found any incongruency with opposing the war and supporting the troops.

"That may be the one thing we learned from the Viet Nam War," Franken said. "Don't take it out on the troops."

Thank you Mr. Franken! It's that simple. Don't take it out on the troops. Still, several conservatives I know maintain that it's impossible to oppose the war and support the troops at the same time. This, of course, frustrates me to no end.

When I was in Kosovo, I remind my conservative friends, the Republicans were calling for the troops to come home and the Democrats were having us stay. Talk about a flip-flop. It's as if both parties got together and said, "OK, you guys were pro-war last time, and we were anti-troops. So this time, let's switch."

So for standing up in such confusing times, I think Franken deserves an award. What's the one Bush gave to Tennet, Rumsfeld and Bremmer for screwing everything up? Franken should get one better than that. "For meritorious service in reminding soldiers that all of America supports the troops in the face of pernicious Republican propaganda to the contrary," the citation will read, "Alawicious 'Al' Franken is awarded the super-duper medal of courageous bravery and strong strength."
Thank you Al.

Photo caption: I'm talking with Al Franken and Ben Wikler at Camp Anaconda just before Christmas 2005. It looks like they're laughing with me, but I have a sneaking suspicion they're laughing at me. Photo by Engels Tejeda, freelance war correspondent.

Windexing the steps

2006-01-10T22:19:00.000-08:00

Yesterday morning it rained for a few hours straight and the camp turned into one huge mud puddle. I picked my way across the parking lot to the front doors of our office building. It's a building left from the Iraqi air base we took, so it's a solid structure with faux marble tile floors. As I tried to kick all the mud off my boots, I saw a specialist who works in our office kneeling over the steps to the front door.

"What are you doing?" I asked.

He replied that he was Windexing the stairs. On closer inspection, he was, in fact, bent over with a wad of paper towels and a squirt bottle of Windex. He said we were preparing for a general's visit.

I told him I'd jump over the steps, but I couldn't guarantee anything from the others. I have to admit, though, the steps looked pretty clean.

Today we got a polite e-mail from our commander asking us to make ourselves scarce when the general arrives. Sounds good to me. I don't want to be the one who has to Windex the steps again.

2006-01-10T02:58:00.000-08:00

2006-01-10T02:55:00.000-08:00

I went with the Iraqi army to drop off back packs and supplies to elementary school students. This girl is in the 3rd grade and stared at me suspicously over her stuffed animal. The little girl sitting behind her was so scared when we pulled up that she was shaking. They've been raised that when they see a man in uniform, bad things will happen. I'd like to think a stuffed animal could change all that, but they're probably right.

2006-01-10T02:51:00.000-08:00

A soldier who trains the Iraq infantry takes a moment to train children on the subtle art of Frisbee.

2006-01-10T02:50:00.000-08:00

A little boy sits and rubs his face while he waits to open a small vegetable stand.

2006-01-10T02:49:00.000-08:00

This boy kept climbing up and jumping off. At first he was smiling, but at this point he just doesn't have anything else to do.

2006-01-10T02:48:00.000-08:00

A group of soldiers from American Samoa pray in Samoan before leaving Camp Anaconda to help secure the polling sites on Dec. 15, 2005.

2006-01-10T02:44:00.000-08:00

A young boy sizes up an Iraqi army soldier on election day Dec. 15, 2005. The enlisted soldiers are called, jundis, and kids still don't seem comfortable around them. If you look at his AK-47 you'll see he has two magazines zip-tied to each other. When one runs out he can just flip it over and stick the other one in. I tried to rig something like this for the M-16 but it's not nearly as conveinent.

2006-01-10T02:35:00.000-08:00

I'm saying goodbye to Eliza at the airport.

I'm blogging!

2006-01-10T00:25:00.000-08:00

Hello All,
I use that term euphamistically considering that, at most, my wife will read this. It's with some hesitation that I start this blog because of the direct negative effect blogging has on newspapers sales. Well, at least that's what they say. But I couldn't sleep last night and I visited my friend Aaron's blog (www.espositosbox.blogspot.com). I wrote a bitter comment to his posting on pre-war intelligence or the lack thereof. It was kind of fun. So, I thought I'd keep the good times rolling with Chokehold in Iraq.
If anyone has any questions about life in Iraq, I'll try and find out the answers. Presonally, I'm still trying to figure that one out. It's a strange place.

Peace,
Marshall