As I look out the small portal window I realize…

that coming home is as big a pain as leaving. To summarize… I left Baghdad a couple of weeks ago and began what will be an extended redeployment and demobilization. This includes a week’s stop on the surface on the moon in the small country of Kuwait. There is so much nothing here, the US military set up what must be 400 jillion self-powered Magnum generator lights to brighten up said “nothingness.” At night Camp Arifjan is an awesome sight of tents, portable buildings and most importantly a Starbucks trailer lit up in the literal middle of nowhere. This is where I began my “decompression” known as Warrior Transition. In retrospect it is a good thing. Initially I was unexpectedly depressed at leaving “home” and having to travel yet again. That said nothing is more rejuvenating than a couple of days of sitting in Starbucks (i.e. good coffee as opposed to the less than fulfilling Green Bean coffee) and catching up on a few movies at the MWR tent. It gave me a moment to remember what I’ve been missing. And even more enjoyable was finally returning the 150lbs of battle rattle and the additional 4000lbs of unnecessary issued gear. Don’t get me wrong I am grateful for the entrenching tool and the extreme cold weather gear; I just think it may be a little better suited elsewhere, like the North Pole perhaps.

This was all a good start but my angst really set in when we were informed of the follow-on travel arrangements. Including customs quarantine and various other “delays,” my transit back to the states was going to take no less than 60+ hours to include - 6 terminals, 4 flights, 3 countries, 2 bus transfers, and a partridge in pear tree. This is military travel at its best. I suppose the one thing that will stick with me the most is a service members ability to sleep anywhere at anytime. I no longer see seats in a Passenger Terminal – they are luxurious sleeping accommodations.

Once back in the States I was and continue to be overwhelmed by the generosity of many and the impoliteness of others. In our first steps out of customs, we were all greeted by a long patriotic procession of well wishers giving out hugs, hand-shakes, and snacks. That and the 40 degree cold temperatures were my first episodes of extreme shock. But this was soon followed up with some sneers and comments from less than accepting folks who I suppose were a bit tired of uniformed personnel coming and going through “their” terminals. I continued my travels alone now separated from the larger herd. While waiting to board my next flight my name was called over the loud speaker to see the agent. “Sir – Thank you for your service and this lady would like to upgrade your ticket.” “Uh…” I stood there stunned and at a loss for words. “Thank you ma’am but that’s not necessary.” “I know its not… but you gave something for us… Let me give you something in return. I wont take no for an answer. Besides- You look like you can use a roomier seat to get some rest” Wow – Do I look that bedraggled? “Uh…Thank you for your kindness ma’am.” She went on to explain to me that most folks don’t have a way to express their gratitude and that having someone to personalize this experience helps humanize it…make it real. I slept for the next four hours in an almost fully reclined position. (Thanks Ms SB. - I will pass on your kindness to another trooper.)

I finally arrived at my destination where I was greeted by my girlfriend and several other close friends carrying a Texas Longhorn banner. I was still very tired and tried my best not to seem overwhelmed but I truly was happy to see familiar faces. After an impromptu breakfast I checked in to my next duty station and finally got some sleep – about 10 hours worth which is a lot seeing that my new pattern is 4 to 6.

And now? Well now I sit here going through the process of demobilization. I’m a lab rat getting pinched, poked, bled and briefed. It’s a slow process slowed even more by the Thanksgiving holidays. That said I have an infectious smile on my face and for probably the first time in my life I seem to be the most patient person in the room; a quality that I think has endured me to an obviously overworked staff. As others (who I may add were only on 4 and 6 month deployments) jump up and down screaming “hurry up hurry up…” I just wait in lines and say “Take your time - get it right… You see everyday is a gift: No ones shooting at me, I have a certain amount of freedom to travel, I don’t see any sand, and it’s relatively nice outside… I am just happy to be here.” Hmm… So it took all this to finally discover Zen.

Eager to leave – reluctant to go…

Before I begin I will admit this is probably one of the toughest entries I've written. My mind is very conflicted with contradictions. On this my fifth and final attempt at not rambling I will follow the golden rule of Keep It Simple Stupid. Pardon if it still comes off as a stream of consciousness - Enjoy…

I am standing on the Helo pad preparing to board a Blackhawk that will take me to Baghdad International. This is the beginning of a redeployment and reorientation process. I am shaking the hand of my vision of Davy Crocket personified or maybe it's Stephen F. Austin (If you don't know him look him up.) Though I've only known Charlie three months, we have become very close friends. This giant of a statesman with a big welcoming smile and firm grip challenges my opinions of politicians. He also confirms for me that I never want to run for public office… I value my "freedom of opinion" (read: freedom to say whatever is on my mind) far too much. He is genuinely a good guy with good intentions…

An hour and a half earlier I am standing outside the Embassy bidding my roommate farewell… It is our third such goodbye in as many hours. And yesterday he took the day off just to spend time with me. Hence why I haven't slept in 30 + hours and why I am now running behind. While I will miss him I can really ill afford this additional goodbye – "Dude, I'm gonna be late - I still have stuff to ship." "I know Wood, I just don't want to see you leave." It wasn't supposed to end like this… We came in together we are supposed to be rolling out together. Such is the life of an Individual Augmentee. This is my true Battle Buddy in every sense of the word. I met Dave a year ago at the airport in S. Carolina in route to combat training. We've pretty much been together ever since. He is one of the most gracious people I have ever had the pleasure to know…to a fault. He shared everything with me from care packages (I think most of the stuff I am shipping home is actually gifted from him.) to the drama and turmoil of his personal
life. He is even responsible for my call sign "Hollywood." And through it all I have seen incredible growth and transformation – from an unsure sailor with a broken family to career officer figuring out who he really is. I can not have asked for a better friend, confidant or battle buddy…

Six hours later I am getting a quick cat nap on a cot at BIAP. (I did mention my roommate and Charlie had me up all last night.) I open my eyes and there sitting quietly looking at me is Michael. "What the hell… how long you been here brutha? Why didn't you wake me up?" "Just a few minutes, I couldn't bring maself ta wake up a man lookin so peaceful and such." A fellow Texan, self-proclaimed red-neck, and great friend he was transferred out to Victory from the IZ some weeks ago. I was a bit concerned that I wouldn't get the chance to see him before I left town. He appropriated a vehicle and risked driving into the red zone a couple of times just to see me off. We are the epitome of the fellowship of Texans. When I get around him my draw comes out with vigor and his "tall-tales" git jist a bit taller if ya know what I mean. We don't necessarily see eye to eye on everything such as my passion for the Longhorns or his enthusiasm for the Aggies (which shore nuff can lead to some lively and spirited conversations) but regardless of our differences we are brothers and Texans living in an odd situation with a bond of home that cannot be broken. (see note above on the value of "freedom of opinion") We grab chow, share a last Green Bean coffee and talk about future reunions before we bid a temporary farewell. Michael embodies a surrogate for the brother I lost …

On my last hours in Iraq I choose to share these three people with you… You see I joined the services for "high-minded" reasons: defend the constitution, protect our citizenry, guard against oppression… hell more importantly - preserve my right to "freedom of opinion". However all that pails… In the end it's not about politics of the Middle East or economics of a barrel of oil, or even the history of who is right and who is wrong. It's about people; serving for whatever reason. These three and the many others - Free, Mr. BUA, Capt KJ, SwordMan, The Boss, Letlow, The Yoz, "President Carter", ColeMiner, KC and Justine, to name a few, represent more than mere friendship. They are family - brothers and sisters in war - living an
experience that many will question and few will comprehend; an experience that will be difficult to relate without first hand knowledge. They represent my military service. And while I want nothing more than to get back home as soon as possible – these folks are now part of my home. Parting truly is bittersweet.

Time for a little reflection…

As I make preparations for my early departure, I feel both an eagerness to move out and reluctance to leave battle buddies behind. For all intents and purpose this place became my home and this life abnormally familiar. I also have the beginning twinges of anxiety of returning to a life I left well over a year ago. I am well versed at "You can never go "home" again – because the "home" you left was a snapshot in time of both place and person. I know I've changed and I know the circumstances of those I knew has changed – how much will be determined by the comparison and contrast of those people and the places I used to know. The "home" I return to will require redefinition. I digress…

So where does that leave me now? Well as any good "Dick Clark's Rockin' New Years" show will prove… I am obliged to provide a brief reflection of beginning and end. With that… Something is very clear - The Baghdad I leave behind is not the Baghdad I arrived at a year ago. Regardless of your take on this conflict there is an undeniable sea change taking place here at the moment. On my arrival there was a palpable sense of resignation and uncertainty. Today there is a growing but cautious sense of optimism and new possibilities. There is still much to do and the challenges for this country are enormous but at least now there is a kernel of will and semblance of spirit. It grows by the day and I truly hope it is as infectious as the passion these folks here have for their country, history and religion.

The Scientist…

Transition defines the essence of my experience in Baghdad…and as my time here ebbs my position continues to evolve from that of charging the hill to passing the torch. The other day I woke up and realized (by design) I had trained myself right out of my latest primary duty. There was literally nothing left for me but a daunting amount of neglected administrative work and After Action Reports. Or so I thought… It seems Sr. Leadership had something else in mind for me. As the Admiral repeatedly said throughout my tour, "Hollywood - your reward for hard work done well is more hard work;" thus my newest and I suspect (based on historical evidence) my final title – "Special Projects Officer." And for my money, I think this is the most fulfilling job I've had yet. My task? Combine my lessons learned with some creative marketing to 1) streamline a couple wasteful practices, 2) develop a branded imaging campaign and 3) simplify our tools and products to better suit our customers needs. In other words, at long last, I am finally bringing my Customer Relationship Management skills to the fray. The result? A slick new set of, simple to use, simple to produce products dubbed the "Science Projects" by my Army Cadre. "Damn Hollywood – you're a friggen Rocket Scientist… everyone loves these things Hooah!" "Hooah Boss! See… let me work on something I'm good at and I will produce." "Hollywood - I hope you realize working on what you know isn't what makes you an impressive officer. Anyone of us can work within the margins of expertise. For the past year now I've watched you pulled this way and pushed that way… constantly run through the ringer and challenged to work outside of your comfort zone day in and day out - week after week… You've held more jobs here in the past year than most people have in their entire career. And regardless of the task assigned, you saluted and moved out smartly accepting all risks and inevitably contributing some sort of positive, often unexpected, product. In my eyes that's what makes you truly remarkable." "Whoa… uhhhh…Thank you sir." I was more than a bit stunned and it took a little longer than usual to stutter the following…" Sir the way I see it, the execution is too easy… ya'll stepping out of your typically conservative dogmatic safety zone and giving me all the rope I needed to hang myself… that was the real science project."

Happy Halloween!

Whether it's taking an inebriated stagger down 6th street, dancing (drinking) at the Goth clubs in the Montrose, scrutinizing "fashions" of the West Hollywood parade, strolling leisurely down Kalakaua Ave or just hosting a costume party with friends – Halloween is something I thoroughly celebrate. In fact, as most of my close friends and family can attest, it is my absolute favorite Holiday. So as I spend this Halloween lurking the Embassy Ballroom in a eerie Baghdad Palace, I want to take a moment to wish you all the scariest and spookiest of Halloweens! And in the spirit of this Holiday I wish to haunt you with this extremely frightening thought – As you may have figured I'm dressed in my usual "Sand Pirate" costume. More significantly…this year I'm armed and dangerous!

BOO!

It may be about the journey and not the destination but I REALLY want to go there.

I walked by the periodical shelf today and noticed a well worn Wine Spectator magazine. I don't typically take notice of these things as I haven't had the time to enjoy "extracurricular" reading. If it doesn't involve a clip about developing political and economic civilization or concerted attempts to blow it up then it's just not in my preview. This time however I was intrigued by one of the cover segments which included "good-eats" in LA and exploring the south of France. I picked up the magazine for a quick browse and couldn't put it down. Besides reviews of traveling for the palate, chocolate and wine pairings, and all around gourmand interests, the articles on the LA restaurants really caught my attention. The picture of a sushi plate included with a review of a Japanese restaurant named Hokusai nearly floored me…The assessment on the Omakase menu left my mouth watering. I was instantly taken back to an amazing dining experience in Kyoto Japan. I could visualize it… taste it… For five minutes I was back in the small traditional eatery in a far off place. I want to go to Hokusai when I get home if for no other reason than providing me with a 5 minute respite from Baghdad. I considered writing down the name of the restaurant and or emailing it to myself so I wouldn't forget it but then I did something a bit out of character… I desecrated the magazine. I ripped out the page, folded it up (careful to not to put creases in the picture of the beautifully displayed sashimi plate) and put it in my wallet. As selfish as it may be the name was just not enough. I want this article and associated picture to serve as a personal memento of where I've been and where I'm going.

Well now… This is a day to remember.

I woke up to a rumble… then another… and another. It's been relatively quiet around here lately so this break in the norm seemed a bit extraordinary. I had to take a look outside to see for myself. I was pleased and amazed to see cloudy skies and big rain drops. Not much but enough to realize that yes there is such thing as weather beyond a cloudless sunny 95+ degree day.

The words were as unbelievable as they were shocking… "LT you may want to get used to the idea of leaving Iraq a little earlier than we anticipated." The comment was so unexpected it fell flat like a dull thud. Our admin officer shuffled there in front of me looking for a reaction. "Front office isn't too happy about it either…" she trailed off still searching for something. My experience with the orders process thus far has been "unpredictable" to put it mildly. It only stands to reason that my leaving would become just as disorderly as my arriving. I gave her my now typical wry smile, "Hmmm… let me think about that for a moment. OK I'm used to the idea. Now let's make it happen." And there I was… standing in disbelief in a now empty hallway, wearing a goofy smile, and confirmation that this extreme summer camp actually has an end date…a date I can mark on the calendar. Barring any "unforeseens" I am assured I will be back in the states in time for the holidays.

And tomorrow I go on Pass for a few days… Yeah – this has the makings of a good day.

Just so you know…

Pardon the delays but recent changes to the systems have made posting hit and miss. As it is these postings are published via email. I will do my best to get a new update mailed shortly. Until then my best wishes to everyone.

Hmmm it was interesting while it lasted…

My how time flies… it's been nearly 3 months since I left for leave. After covering positions for several folks taking their own leave, I was asked what I want to do next. "Hmmm.... that's a new one… what do I want to do? Really?" It didn't take long to determine. Having worked every position here I requested a job that would provide some new challenges, stimulus and some professional/personal growth; all very reasonable. More importantly, the area I want to support just had a 95% turn-over and needed the guidance of an "old-timer." Well - what was old is new again and I'm back in my old job... by name requested; long on hours, short on sleep, engaging the media at every turn. Sure its "front-line" stuff but honestly I can't say as I missed it that much. It's become so second nature it sort of bores me. Well… not sort of… I just don't find it that challenging. Additionally while most folks here vie for face time with General Officers, I'm way over it. For me it just means more sleepless nights. I saw this coming… there's been so much turn-over in the office I knew sending me away was a pipe-dream that the Sr. Leaders could ill afford but I suppose they had to ask. It wouldn't be long before they figured out the shortcomings for themselves. "You have earned the right to go where you want to go and we don't think for one minute that you wouldn't make a substantial addition to the other division…Unfortunately LT you're too critical to our mission." And there it was…with my typical wry smile and a chuckle I sort of blurted out my first thought "Boy are you guys in trouble… No worries Sir, keep in mind ya'll asked me what I wanted to do so I told ya… Needs of the service dictate you need me here… how high do you need me to jump."

So what do you do when life tosses you lemons? Well for me I do the following: One – I find new ways to challenge myself and two - I always start making myself less "critical." A bit of the ole "what happens if I get hit by a bus?" sort of thinking (Or tank/HMMWV/Rocket is probably more appropriate out here). Following in the old mantra of See - Do – Teach, I have taken it upon myself to teach the new folks (or anyone who will listen) to assume these responsibilities too…much to everyone's surprise. Curiously, it seems most of my associates are threatened by the idea of passing on their learning's to others. For my part… boy do I like to share.

And don't call me CHOPS…

As the title infers, the Boss returned and resumed his high profile "in the line of fire" position. I think the most challenging aspect was dealing with frustrations brought about by new folks who are unaccustomed with our environment. They are forced to learn the difference (on the job) from what they believe they are supposed to do with the reality of what we are actually doing. Theories break down in the world of operations. What is practiced in the peace-time world doesn't quite work in the combat arena. That coupled with a lot of accountability and little executional fire power to affect a free-media space makes for a very difficult work situation. I am happy for the opportunity to walk in the boss's shoes but trust me when I say he has mighty big boots to fill. The bad news – unfortunately it's not quite the same job he left; too many new "Good Idea Fairies" muddying the water. The good news – fortunately it's not the same job he left behind and the days off and PT time stuck. I think I even managed a way for the Boss to get some of that free time; Necessity is the mother of invention. I only hope I didn't let him down.

After my first day off in over 8 weeks I woke up this morning and realized my time here really is growing shorter by the day. And for the first time in Baghdad I feel relaxed and ready for the day. Wow - that only took 10 months.

"Morning Chops…"

Just the sound of those two words catches me off guard. I never expected to hear that title directed toward me…

A quick rundown of where I am now…After returning from leave, I was requested to cover some gaps for a few battle buddies which required taking on night shift operations. Rather ironic since one of my reasons for going on leave to Europe was to avoid the turmoil of a time shift from a 12 to 14 hour time difference. Oh well. I quickly adapted and became a creature of the night. Let me tell you there is something refreshing about living in the desert and working at night during the hottest months of the year. I flourished at this job. Although I will admit waking up to light and going to sleep to light was a little disorienting on the whole I took to this shift like a fish to water. After a couple of weeks of night shift one of my favorite Lt Cols – "Boss", who entered theater a couple of weeks after me, pulled me aside to let me know it was his turn to take leave and that he recommended to Sr. leadership that I take his post during his absence. I laughed at him and told him what a funny joke. "Boss… didn't I mention I am enjoying the low profile night job?" He wasn't joking… "It's an easy job – you'll love it…" Famous last words… "Sir, I'm an LTO3 type… You want me to manage my seniors?" Now he started to laugh quite jovially… " Hollywood – Tell me the last time you didn't boss your bosses around? Last I checked you wear 2 stars by proxy." Grrrrrrr… I was really hoping to ride out this fun gig for at least another week. No way around it I don't only make waves the waves often come back to over take me. I suppose taking it easy here is just not in my cards. I am now Chief of the Media Operation Center. People call me Chief or CHOPS (Chief of Operations) or just Boss. I have a fair-sized staff of people doing extended hours of busy work running on little sleep 24hrs a day and many Sr. Officers circling my desk by the minute. For better or worse this is a high visibility position and I suppose the most interesting aspect is the look of surprise whenever a new visitor sees me behind wheels. It's something I'm sort of used to by now. Most of my colleagues begin their introductions with "Don't mind his rank; he's a reservist with tons of experience…

Unfortunately, as I expected, one of those perfect storms was brewing – a significant portion of the staff and Sr. Leaders including Boss's supervisor were replacements that were rotating in. First task – train these new folks (including the three new Sr. Supervisors and my night counterpart) in their jobs while maintaining high ops tempo. One of the unforeseen benefits of being "an old-timer" is becoming the basis of corporate knowledge and default teacher. (Read: Grrrrr 2.0) My second and more important task – build morale. I approached this job as only a Jr. Officer can – with a "blissful ignorance" and a "better to beg forgiveness than ask permission" attitude. I reenacted the one day off rotation system and mandated the daily 2 hrs of PT time away from your desk schedule. These benefits were turned off a few month's ago by Boss's outgoing supervisor because of another restructuring. No one took the time to think about turning it back on. Why not take advantage of a regime change to re-enact good solutions? Mostly I just did it to look out for my folks the way Boss looks out for me. The smiles on everyone face tells me their morale is getting better already. It was even funnier for everyone to hear the Sr. Supervisor tell folks we were implementing a 1 day off and 2 hrs a day benefit a week after it had already taken effect. I'm guessing this is one time I won't have to beg forgiveness.

As it stands the Chief position doesn't benefit from the 1day off - 2 hours of daily PT. They have to pull watch duty 24x7 with their night ops counterpart in order to stay on top of operations and the world media and manage crisis communications. They are "the glue that holds this place together." Suffice it to say I'm eager for the Boss to return.

“Alright – I’ll see you back home…”

I recently received a chain email from a friend that caught me by surprise. I typically disregard most junk/joke emails, sending them straight away to the delete bin, but as I read the list of bullets on this particular message, I realize they are not only quite humorous but (for better or worse) amazingly relevant. As a matter of fact the quote in the subject line is not in reference to a future meeting in the States… Oh no… Rather it’s something my roommate and I tend to say these days in endearing reference to a certain 16X8 metal container typically used for field construction offices. We now prefer to call it… well… “Home.” All the same I decided to share… Enjoy.

"You know you've been In Iraq Too Long If..."

Generally:
• You call your tent (trailer/connex if you're lucky) "Home".
• You start to think "it's not so bad here".
• You say "this place sort of grows on you".
• You say, "It feels cooler today" and find out that the temperature is 110.
• You get excited at the idea of "ICE".
• Apaches excite you much more than Blackhawk's or Kiowa's.

Armaments:
• You don't jump when a door slams or someone drops something.
• You aren't alarmed when every second person you see has a gun or two or three.
• You kick the M-16 on the floor aside without a second thought when you sit down in the Dining Facility.
• A Glock 9MM on a lady's hip is considered sexy.
• Mortars and rockets are "Okay" compared to vehicle bombs.
• You can measure distances based on explosion sounds.
• When a "Red Alert" sounds and you're leaving a DFAC, you would rather go back in and have more coffee instead of seeking shelter in a bunker.
• You know the difference in sound between "Incoming" and "Outgoing".

Entertainment:
• You get excited at the prospect of seeing the latest gun camera videos.
• $5.00 for a DVD is a little pricey….especially if there is only one movie.
• You are disappointed if you can't find a new movie a day after it is released in theatres stateside.
• Sitting around with your coworkers talking about different ways to be killed is considered "Water Cooler Talk".

Convoys:
• You are soothed by the sounds of helicopters flying six feet over your trailer.
• Bullet holes in the cab of your vehicle are no longer alarming.
• Vehicle selections consist of "Up Armored or Not" not Volvo or Mercedes Benz.
• Convoys consist of as many extra Hummers and large caliber weapons as the Convoy Commander can find.
• Driving on the sidewalk is normal.
• Hit-and-Run fender benders are treated as mere warnings.
• You get upset that you don't get "C-130" Frequent Flyer Miles.
• Your carry-on luggage includes a flack jacket and helmet.
• Driving through the traffic circle of death has lost its thrill.

Hygiene:
• You enjoy waiting 45 minutes for the toilets to refill.
• Its ok to skip brushing your teeth because the tent/trailer is out of bottled water.
• It's ok to brush your teeth with the brown water that comes out of the faucets.
• Flies don't even hang around anymore.
• You have your own roll of toilet paper stashed in your tent/truck/ pack.
• A shower with water that is either too cold or too hot and contains no mosquitoes is a priceless unattainable luxury.

Surroundings:
• "Texas Barriers" are something other than a device to keep Texans Out.
• "Jersey Barriers" are something other than fences to keep Holsteins away from Jerseys.
• You get excited with the presence of clouds in the sky.
• The security guards are Peruvian, Georgian, Ghurka, South African, etc, etc, etc.

Dining:
• You look forward to Mohammad's Mango ice cream as the treat for the day.
• Powdered eggs taste don’t taste too bad.
• You consider plastic ware the Palace China.
• You can distinguish inherent qualities of various plastic utensils.
• The quality of the plastic utensils becomes a hot dinner topic.
• The quality of the plastic utensils becomes a cold dinner topic.
• The quality of the plastic utensils becomes a leisurely anytime topic.
• Lettuce for your salad is a luxury.
• You have become to believe that ham should be grey in color.
• No matter what animal you are eating, it will be flavored with curry.
• Going to another mess hall is an adventure.
• Putting Thousand Island dressing on you hamburger bun instead of mayo/mustard/catsup is normal.
• You automatically pick up two plastic forks whenever beef is on the menu.
• A McDonald’s Quarter Pounder with Cheese meal is a gourmet delicacy
• You accept the fact that fajitas do not require tortillas.
• Sliced hot dogs on a pizza served in a KBR DFAC is good eats.
• If you can not decide if you are going to leave a brownie and some milk during a mortar attack.

Fashion:
• You think dessert combat boots look great with shorts.
• Sand between your thong sandals actually feels good.
• Buzz cuts begin to look stylish (even on girls).
• You can recognize 12 different camouflage patterns.
• You've given up on shoe polish.
• T-shirts at the PX are: M, L, XL, and XXL & KBR.

Living Conditions:
• You get a big smile when you see your pressed clothes at the KBR laundry.
• You get a bigger smile knowing they didn't lose your laundry.
• You get the biggest smile when you get back someone else's laundry and now you have more underwear than before.
• You think the bullet holes in the roof of your trailer is just another form of ventilation.
• You get upset because the post office won't ship your looted artifacts.
• You haven't had water from anything other than a bottle for months on end.
• You consider broken sandbags just a new beach expansion.
• The idea of a double wide trailer is only for the very rich and powerful.
• Forgetting your military ID makes you feel naked…but pants are optional.
• "Only one rocket has hit camp" is excellent news.
• Cardboard boxes have become substantial pieces of furniture.

Communications:
• Stars & Stripes seem to be a liberal newspaper.
• It feels normal to have to run outside to make a cell phone call.
• You call your coworkers as soon as new T-Shirt patterns arrive at the PX.
• "Can you hear me" takes up 50% of your cellular telephone conversations.
• Your conversations are sprinkled with "Roger that" and "Good copy".

Rebel???... or Leader?

It wasn’t the first time I’ve heard the name…
In fact it’s nothing new. People have labeled me a “Rebel” for the better part of my life. It’s a term of endearment as far as I’m concerned… I embrace it… consider it a compliment even. Perhaps it’s my innate curiosity or maybe it’s simply my stubborn and ornery Texas nature… but I am always reluctant to blithely fall into every line because others are doing so. If you ask me it’s far too easy (and potentially dangerous).

In this particular case I don’t think the comment was meant as a compliment. My quizzical response of “…And?” was followed up by a “But you’re in the Navy…” as if this were all the excuse in the world to justify just doing what I’m told. My response? “I’ve never just done anything… I’ve always pondered the resulting effect of any action.” Most of histories greatest leaders and innovators do or did the same. Many of them were labeled rebels, rabble-rousers and trouble-makers. Yes I am in a military establishment… my cohorts and I have the ability to impact (positively and negatively) others lives and circumstances. Therefore it is not only a responsibility but a requirement to ensure we evaluate a situation and respond with the most appropriate action. Sometimes that means taking directions outside the perceived norm and not being afraid to make adjustments. If doing so makes me a rebel (even with a negative connotation) then I proudly accept the title.

Wake up and smell the old World…

OK so I’ve heard from several of you wondering what’s going on. Why no new blog entries? Well one of the very few benefits of being here so long is this thing called leave. I left Iraq for a few weeks for a bit of Rest and Relaxation. What a relief it is to breathe air not laced with Mesopotamian dust and smoke from burning tires. I opted to meet my girlfriend in Europe for a couple weeks instead of taking the long flight back 11 time zones. Our itinerary included time in Germany and France. Even the noise and auto pollution of Paris was - well a “breath of fresh air.”

I took this opportunity to fulfill a long awaited goal. Being the history buff I am, we visited the allied invasion beaches of Normandy. Trying to explain all the sights and emotions will require several entries of their own but just know the experience of visiting such historical places as Pegasus Bridge, Omaha and Utah beach, Pont du Hoc and Ste. Mere Eglise at this particular time in my life was ironic… educational… contextual…

We followed this up with a trip to the Burgundy region for some really amazing food and wine… actually after all the KBR meals, a Twinkie and Thunder-Bird alcoholic grape juice is amazing food and wine. Trust me when I say we ate and drank like royalty. Hmmm - I forgot what real food tastes like. From Burgundy we headed to the Black Forrest of Germany. Did I ever mention I hate the desert? Wow - I forgot what fresh water, trees and mountain air is like - so crisp… so sweet. After a pit stop in Baden-Baden for a spa treatment and some Chinese food we made a side-trip to visit a small town named Neuenburg; the namesake of a close friend. (By the way Mr. Neuenburg, you may want to go back to the old country to fix-up the family castle, it sprung a leak in the roof some hundred years ago and the water damage is pretty severe. On the plus side the massive stone walls are still pretty damned impressive.) After a rather peppy 3 digit speed on the Deutsche Autobahn – “Wow this little car can really go this fast!” – We headed back to Paris. Amazing - I forgot what freedom of travel is like. In Paris we visited Euro Disney and saw Harry Potter on the big screen. Oh yeah - I forgot how much I love the entertainment industry.

Now that I’m back to my “favorite” land of sand, 120 + temperatures, hostile-fire, restricted movement and processed food I will simply say the real significance of my trip isn’t so much that I got some much needed sleep and time to decompress. It’s more that I had an awakening. I realized how deeply involved I became in my work here and how many things I took for granted or simply forgot about. I realized just how home sick I am. Tomorrow marks the one year anniversary that I left my civilian life for military duty. I am ready to finish up this tour and get back to my family, friends, career, and most importantly the wonders of my previous life.

When no fireworks is a good thing…

By popular demand (mostly from the girlfriend) I am taking a moment to write a quick update. It’s been busy… I’ve been a little sick (again)… And most importantly I just haven’t been in the mood to write.

It’s the 4th of July Baghdad style. And while I stand in this large Islamic architected ballroom listening to PM Maliki, President Talibani, AMB Crocker, and Gen Petraeus I am reminded of all the upheavals our United States went through to become the stable and secure democracy it is today. The struggles of a fledgling government taking on a War of Independence, the strains of a country divided by Civil War, the trials of injustice inevitably leading to several social revolutions, it’s taken us 231 years to get this point. The elected Government of Iraq is a little over a year old. The challenges before these people are enormous but not insurmountable. With our without our support I am confident they will find a way. We can only hope the road before them finds this sovereignty at peace with its neighbors, with a representative government that respects the rights of its people (culture norms accepted), and denies a safe haven for terrorist. But as I stand here listening to the Iraqi National Anthem followed by the Star Spangled Banner, one thing continues to run through my head. I hope that someday the people of Iraq can stand proudly and celebrate an independence day of their own.

While I typically spend this day at a BarBQ and finish it off with a great fireworks display… trust me when I say this is one time I am happy and willing to miss the “explosions.”
Best Wishes for great Fourth of July!

PS For my Brit friends – Thank you for your partnership - Thank your lucky stars you're rid of us! ;-p

My War – Or perhaps its really Our War...

(Warning due to the “100lb brain” contemplation and graphic nature of this rant viewer discretion is advised)

I was speaking to friends the other day about the strategic communications packages I began developing a month ago or so. When we get the formula right we get big media play. So far, I am 4 for 4. Front office says I am at the tip of the “non-kinetic” spear. My cohorts here are looking to duplicate my efforts so they began quizzing me on the “how to.” Before our conversation I hadn’t really thought about the “how to” as much as the “for whom” on any given event. The answer is second nature. Know your audience and you know your story. I pondered that answer a little further and came to a basic unsettling realization about my audience.

This war of extremes… our “War on Terror…” is a war of ideology (obviously.) But what is not so obvious is everyone’s role in this war. On one side there is an unconscious submission to fanatical detachment – that which makes us inhumane. On the other side is a need for all of us to resist our base “me first” survival instincts and practice overt conscious compassion – that which defines us as human. So for me it comes down to that… I am a fighting the “non-kinetic” war of Compassion vs. Detachment… and my mission is to push empathy into a world of cynicism.

Explain? Sure…
The capability to highjack a plane and fly it into a building of thousands… the ability for someone to pull out a knife and physically saw someone’s head for video display… the facility for a crowd to violently and slowly stone an young woman to death in public exhibition… the capacity to bind a persons hands behind them, hang them from a hook in the rafters and use power tools to drill through their arms, back, and skull… All these acts take a profuse lack of sympathy and tremendous amount of detachment.

The real crime… detachment is contagious. Witnessing sensational acts of violence or its effects is initially shocking often infuriating. Seeing recurring acts over time and we become desensitized and numb. Before you know it, we are simply indifferent or detached. Yesterday’s extreme act is today’s aggressive action and tomorrow’s routine. Inevitably the mere definition of “sensational act” must be escalated to the incomprehensible… another potential fanatic is born.

Example? OK… Torture videos were (and in some places still are) available on the black market here in Baghdad during Saddam’s Regime. It was a handy devise to reinforce the message of submit or pay the price for an uneasy population. People all over Iraq bought these things for the shock value. They were (and are) popular. Now we have a society accustomed to watching the suffering of others. It’s not sensational – it’s routine.

Back to knowing my audience: My audience is suffering fatigue… they see the atrocities of daily terrorism and war… they are for all intents and purposes detached… embittered… cynical. I contend we cannot afford to forget what chain of event brought us here. Right or wrong, we are here now and unfortunately must remain to finish a job. Because of these facts I must fanatically promote shocking stories that remind us why it is important to be human and why it’s important to be human - here. Something that is doubly difficult to convey to people living – there (US). One of the few tools I have is association; highlighting that which is familiar for all of us. Promoting the tenderness of new borne… Highlighting the innocence of school children… Endorsing the warmth and safety of home… Reinforcing the affection of family… The more I push the envelope the more I realize I am using the same tactics as my enemy but instead I am trying to move the audience from indifference and detachment to a world of active empathy and compassion. I am a warrior of “sensational compassion.” I am a director of theater and drama - In effect pulling heart-strings in hopes of pushing reaction…Marketing 101.

My concern? For any audience to be so cynical and callous is disappointing sometimes often discouraging. It serves to demonstrate how much ground we have ceded to the enemy. Where does it end?

Every one of us is responsible for making a difference. We all need to engage on some level. For some of us it’s charging to the “tip of the spear.” For others… well I leave that for you to decide but I offer you this challenge. Get involved on some level. Practice whatever act of personal kindness / engagement / service fits your personality. Acknowledge a homeless person… Engage in conversation with a disenfranchised student… Take interest in someone else’s cultural, social or theological difference… even if the cost is as simple as 1 minute of your life. What you don’t realize is how that slightest of human compassion may be the ripple in the universe that alters a path and keeps a isolated individual from joining a fanatical group, shooting up a college campus, igniting a car bomb in a market place, or flying a jet liner into a high-rise.
You'll deprive the enemy of opportunity and sure as hell make my job a little easier.

Well that seems familiar…

A few of my close friends - hi Jason … hi Joe …can attest to the fact that when there is something that needs to get done - a “crisis” per say - I become very um…“focused.” Some of these friends say I change into my alter ego “Mr. CRM” in reference to an initiative I spent the better part of my time working on in my civilian career. This is my business face I suppose. The take charge, move out, make things happen and heaven help the individual or group there-of that gets in the way. Today the Al Askari mosque was attacked… again. This is the same Golden Domed Mosque of Samara that was blown up over a year ago and is attributed to initiating the wave of sectarian violence that has plagued Iraq since. While everything that happens here can be considered a “crisis” this one has the potential of really shocking the system. We had to start moving on this before we were over come by events. It is in this framework of changing our days plan that the following moment happened…

We have had a group of new folks around giving an assessment of our performance and implementing much needed organizational changes. It’s having a positive effect. Funny thing is I am the subject matter expert on some of these items and folks are asking my advice. Today one in particular told me he was having trouble getting around a rather difficult roadblock in the form of an “ego.” When I advised my shipmate on how to how to “Smartly address this ego with a couple of grenades and fifty pound sledge hammer he turned to me with great concern and said, “This guy is definitely not going to like you or me...” Without thinking I abruptly stopped, spun on heel and looked my friend directly in the eye and in a most serious and official tone channeled these words…“I didn’t come here to make friends… I came here to get it DONE!” I added a couple other choice words about 1) what I think of people who use their egos to gate-keep and block progress 2) how he might also want to spend more time getting it done less time worrying about friends and 3) if he really needed a friend which one of us he would rather have on the “friendly” side of the fence but that is of little consequence here. What is important is the familiar look I saw in this guys face as he stared back at me. Um - hi Jason… hi Joe… It was something in between “did someone get the name of that bus that just hit me?” and “Sir Yes Sir How - High Sir!”

I’m not sure he knew what hit him. For that matter I’m not sure what I threw at him. You see there is a subconscious part of me that just naturally stands up and takes charge of any given situation. I don’t know where it comes from it’s just always been there. The result… well the roadblock is gone and as for the crisis… initial feedback is that we are managing our area very well.

This incident tells me I’m coming into my own around here. As my friends Joe and Jason will say I not only know where to find the grenades, more importantly I know when and how to lob them for effect.

Finding life amongst the living…

OK… So it’s been about 3 weeks since I was last able to write and post something. I fully expect many of you have dropped off, lost patience or quite possibly just lost interest. Can’t say as I blame ya… Most of my writing is now relegated to opening remarks or responses to media or... Regardless this not so new job is now new all over again. A month ago “The Ninja cell” as we were called began a planned disintegration as one by one the members of this “elite” team began their rotations back to the states in anticipation of the boss ending his tour. With the loss of talent I went from 90mph to “ludicrous speed” – “light speed is too slow.” ;-p

My promise to the team members, who were going back to set up a support cell for the boss stateside, was that I would manage his engagements and get him out of here in his last month without any mistakes or incidents. No sooner was I in my new position of responsibility then we had a crisis that needed to be managed; Missing Soldiers. Moreover we got real pressure to ramp-up daily operations. Long story short – the past month was a real trial of patience and endurance. I suppose I passed the test because I am now let loose to do what I do best… develop strategic communications packages. I was also surprised with a CG coin for my efforts.

The boss is now home starting his 3 star job with the rest of the Ninja Team and I am still here fulfilling my second promise… transitioning the boss’s replacement - keeping the mission going without skipping a beat. So far so good…luckily for me he brought the cavalry with him. That’s right I have a replacement and it makes me very happy. Several weeks running without enough sleep have taken its toll. As things begin to shape up I am starting to feel human again. (Sleep – not milk – does a body good)

When I first arrived, people asked me how long I was scheduled to be here. After hearing the answer they continually told me that I would become the mayor of the town. As we go through this transition and pass along what I have learned I realize now what they meant. I am quickly becoming the “salty sailor” here… I am the old-timer. The number of people who arrived here before me is growing smaller by the day. Within the next month I will be one of a handful left with the corporate knowledge of last year. I know where things are and how to get things done. All this and I haven’t even hit the half-way mark yet. As far as I’m concerned I’ve been to the top of the hill – Now I’m ready to help someone else get there. I’d rather get 5 to 6 hours sleep.

No time like the present to have no time…

So I’m still here and many friends are not… I have no time on my hands and apparently my friends have a little more than they are accustomed too. I am far to tired to be bored and my friends are bored with how slow and tired things are. So I asked for a little help. I've "ordered" an entry from a stateside friend - I bring you Captain KJ:
(We pronounce that like the old CAPTAIN CAVEMAN!!!! cartoon by the way…)

Capt...
So after being teased inordinately for my previous “Sex In the City: Baghdad” style guest-blog, I’m afraid to write anything that’s typically Captain KJ… Not really, but anyway, I’ll try to stay on topic about getting back home and all that. Man, these PA types really crack the whip.

I’m back in the thriving metropolis of Montgomery, Alabama where I have been for just about a month, now. OK, I guess a month ago I was still technically in transit, living in the tents in Al Udeid Air Base in Qatar, floating around through empty days wondering what on earth I was supposed to do with myself. The funny thing is, that particular feeling has stuck with me ever since the night I left the Green Zone.

The only real goal I had, leaving, was to get OUT OF THERE. And then once I was out, what was I shooting for? Well, to get home, of course, and then to get my pets and my car from family out in Arizona. But as soon as I was back home with all my possessions and back in work for those funny short 40-hour work weeks… The boredom set in almost immediately. For all that there are joys to be had in wearing what you want when you want to, driving where you want when you want to, and being the only person in control of what you get to eat each day, those joys lose their thrill pretty quickly.

And here I am, something of an “area expert” on Iraq, a subject that no one seems to want to hear about. The typical question—often the only question—that I get from people about the deployment is “Wow, how was it being there? Weren’t you so scared?” How, exactly, do you explain in a social setting that, no, you live with the knowledge that a mortar could come in and send you to Kingdom Come just like people living in a large city know that they could very well be carjacked or mugged… or killed in a car accident by a drunk driver, for that matter, and while you’re aware of it, you don’t waste your time worrying about it.

What, too, is it that makes Iraq so uninteresting to everyone? I guess they think they’ve been there, done that, it’s all car bombs and terrorists… but it’s really not. And if the military people around me (I work on an Air Force base and most of the people I know are other Air Force officers) aren’t interested, you know that no one else is.

Well, it’s perplexing. I’ve found myself disturbed by this—and by being in a backwater setting where I’m so far out of the loop that all I can do is beg my still-deployed friends for the latest in what’s up. Which normally they can’t say much about because of security concerns. In my frustration, I found myself actually looking up deployments that I could be doing in the future. But in the future, none of this messing around with a six-month deployment! No, 365+ days is what I thought would be interesting…

Though I’m going to give myself some time on this. Maybe my Navy friends haven’t impressed on me well enough the “Never Again Volunteer Yourself” motto…

So being back home is a mixed bag. I didn’t realize, while I was there, that I was really enjoying being in the middle of everything, being in a place that has the eyes of the world fixed upon it. (It would take something really strange for that to happen to Montgomery.) Normal life, which sounded so wonderful in the extraordinary situation of Baghdad, seems flat and a little bit pointless, and I’ve had some days where it feels like all the interesting times have ended and I’m going to be stuck living a vapid, uninteresting life from now on. But I’m already working on that, putting together new goals and a new life plan—and I have Baghdad to thank for that. A lot of my priorities and values have been shifted around as a result of my time there.

When you’re standing in the middle do you know where you stand?

I was speaking with a Colonel the other night in the middle of a working haze. He stopped me and asked if I had taken a moment to consider the contribution I am making to our efforts on a larger scale. While I usually enjoy talking to this particular Colonel I was a bit pushed for time. All the same I could tell there was something on his mind. He is an analyst and one of the very few Colonels’ here in theater that actually gets me. He is also an Army “thousand pound brain” type. His point to me was meaningful. His question simple… “How do you know where you are in historical reference when you are standing the middle of historic precedence? The political pressures, security demands, economic hurdles and complexities in the Middle East put you square in the middle of chapters and pages yet to be written… and you my friend are helping to write those pages though you and I do not yet comprehend with what effect.” He then gave me several examples. In terms I could easily relate too… The great Navy battle of Midway… “Further research on the logs of the Japanese sailors showed they lost the battle before our dive bombers landed their first fatal shot. The Japanese ships were in disarray prior to bombers arriving to the scene that led to a swell of faltering effects. These building effects of confusion and misunderstanding of what they had actually gotten themselves into snowballed into a crushing, well documented defeat. At that moment in history the sailors living that engagement had no idea of the significance that battle or what it would later represent. That moment was just another hazy day of combat like the hazy day before and the hazy day after. It wasn’t until many years later the real significance came to light.” Ah Ha… cob-webs clear - light bulb brightens! He actually means I’m here making effect that may make a difference. He sees the dull glaze of my eyes brighten and focus. He was pulling me aside to try and boost my morale a bit in a way that only he knew how. “That’s right Hollywood – we may have already passed our Midway and not even know it. And you my young friend are quite possibly one of those dive bombers lying in on your target about to release your payload.” This was deep – Forced me to think… I’ve been driving in on that concept for days now. Expanding it - Compressing it - trying to determine just where I stand. Col W is heading out in a couple days after his year tour here. I’m gonna miss our profound conversations.