Leave it to my sister to brighten my day with frustrations…

Today I received three very large packages from home. They contained all sorts of cookies and brownies from my sister. This is a birthday surprise. She cooked some tiny cookies with my mom a month ago and noted that the quarter sized cookies were not adequate for soldiers in Baghdad and decided I needed large cookies. This is reasonable I suppose. Large cookies! OK no problem but what I thought that meant was a couple maybe a dozen 2 to 3 inch diameter cookies. What the hell? Did you have a cookie bake-off? After all, how am I going to eat 25lbs of baked goods? Office dwellers can graze on this bucket of sugar goods for a month like cattle at a trough. Sure we have a large office here but this is enough to feed an entire division of ground troops for a week. It turned into a heck of a logistical task just giving these things away to the troopers walking through the passageways. One of the tins was bigger than my head. Never one for subtlety (don’t know where she gets that from) I can imagine the smile on my sister’s face when she finds out what an event this turned into… I even found myself “marketing” these things as “fresh-baked”. Which Mr. BUA responded “Have you no shame?”… “Well they were fresh baked at one time or another!” He rolled his eyes and ate the brownie. I will forever remember this as the Baghdad Cookie Incident. Thank you Sisterine! ;-p

Now this is a great surprise…

For the second year in a row I find myself on active duty in a different country on my birthday. Today I requested and received the day off to relax. My intent is to sleep all day… To my surprise several other folks have different ideas. Instead I was treated to a day out and about around the IZ with friends; from the crossed sabers, to FOB Liberty, to the Chancellery to raise a flag. Follow that up with a huge email campaign from friends and family and then a surprise birthday party from my hoochmate… complete with birthday cake, a DFAC full of warriors and State Dept Types singing Happy Birthday and a wrapped gift from the Haji shops (DVDs of BattleStar Gallactica). Thank you Dave, Ryan, and Katie for not letting me sleep through the day and forcing me to have a little bit of fun in an otherwise peculiar location. Thank you mama and daddy for the obvious reasons. And I especially want to call out the wonderful elf (also known as my girlfriend) who continues to surprise me day after day with all her generosity of time and loving support from the home front. Something tells me she had a heck of a lot to do with the spamming campaign that filled my email box as well as the great blog posting on the site. It’s easy for folks to forget that there are two of us on this deployment… I may be facing the physical challenges here in the combat zone but the she’s facing the same day in and day out challenges vicariously through me at home. The isolation is the same for us both. It means a lot to me, I love you darlin.
Like last years Birthday party at the sushi boat shop this yeas birthday is memorable. I suppose I am well on my way to living 99 different years instead of the same year 99 times. You all gave me a wonderful day that I will keep near and dear for the rest of my life. Thank You!

Wishing you a very Happy Birthday, Matt!
Though you aren't home with us, we hope that you're having a fun filled day off from work with your buddies. I'm sure if you had it your way you'd be spinning donuts in a hummer just to see how dusty it can get over there. Gotta love ya crazy Texan! Happy Birthday!!! PS: Shout out to Mr & Mrs Breedlove, thank you for bringing Matt to this world :)

Deep down inside, I’m still just a boy who wants to play war…

Today at lunch we were treated to a real combat moment. It’s really nice outside these days so my battle buddies and I have taken to eating out near the pool. (Yes Virginia there is a pool. I told you HQ was posh.) Anyway as I mentioned earlier Farhd al-Qanoon is in full effect and all the firefights and explosions make this seem like a real combat zone. Last night I couldn’t even sleep with all the commotion. Hell, it seemed like the scene out of Apocalypse Now with all the helo activity zooming (very low) over head. Sure we have our morning VBIEDS and rockets but those aren’t really organized campaigns. As Capt KJ and I were eating I heard the now very familiar sound of a Marine Corps COBRA helo flying over head. It had a ton of altitude which I thought was odd. Then the most amazing thing happened… It made a quick 180 degree turn dropped low from the sky and when it was almost directly over our table it fired off a series of salvos at a target across the river. Puffs of black smoke poured out of the rocket canisters as it zipped on past the compound. Moments later we heard a few booms but I couldn’t really tell if that was the rockets striking or something else. WOW! I know on the other side of that firefight there is a raging hell of fire and destruction but the kid in me still finds fascination with all these “toys”. As Marines always say that Cobra pilot was out to “Get Some!”

The choice between personal comfort or leadership…

To say things are rough around here is an understatement. At times the atmosphere is downright mentally abusive. It takes all my energy and fortitude to not loose all morale and break down completely in my work. I’ve heard stories of shipmates coming out here strong willed and returning home broken. With that I am increasingly finding myself in the middle of a political firestorm and to top it off I appear to be assuming a new title. This new title was alluded to in conversations but I have yet to receive a formal notification. However as more people continued using the term it began to stick. Apparently I am now Deputy Chief of a branch that my Colonel and I were tasked to stand up. Moreover I am now responsible for other staff members. At any other time this would be cause for celebration. As a junior officer this is a significant opportunity but again circumstances here are not normal. For me this is just one more nail in an already full coffin. As I see it, the additional responsibility and visibility of this position only sinks me deeper into politics and controversy. I am visibly unhappy. Regardless of my comfort level something happened yesterday that really snapped me to attention. One of my team members had an emotional incident at work (I told you its rough here) that made me realize as leader I have to disregard my own emotions and fly coverage for them. It’s more than my responsibility; it’s my Navy vow of Honor Courage and Commitment. To some this may sound like horsesh*t but I take it seriously. I come into this world with nothing and will go out with nothing all I have in between is my word.

Later on in the evening a senior leader pulls me aside and asks how I’d like an opportunity to get out of this situation by taking on a temporary two to three month position at another command. On the face of it this sounds like a great opportunity complete with battle rattle and all but beneath it all I have deep concerns. 1) This person is part of the political firestorm. 2) I am not sure the person making the offer has the real power to affect this change. 3) I am old enough to know that running away from a situation doesn’t really resolve anything. 4) And most importantly what weighs on my mind is my staff. Now matter how good the opportunity I can’t leave them in this bad situation without top coverage. When I express this concern the senior leader he got visibly angry and disregarded my staff members saying I’m not looking out for myself. This takes me aback. Of all people I expected he would understand the need to be a responsible leader and yet it is thrown in my face. My orneriness kicks in immediately and I silently walk away… I know my decision. No matter how badly I want to get out and about… no matter how bad the crap here gets… I know I have to stay. Its no longer about me… it’s not about personal comfort… it’s about leadership.

Is this the culture I’ve vowed to protect and sacrifice my time and effort for?

If you want to know why the rest of the world hates us just switch on the TV and turn the channel to any of the western news outlets. From CNN to Fox to CBS, the top headline is the death of an Ex Playboy Playmate and subsequent battles for her body and baby. Along with the silly circus that is a bald has-been pop singer the top stories for the past two weeks are nothing less than atrocious. It only serves to prove that broadcast news is no longer news. News is entertainment. All the majors are actually owned by entertainment conglomerates that arguably succeed in cost reduction and fairly well orchestrated marketing synergies. Don’t kid yourself if you think it’s anything more. Hell - conspiracy theorist can further argue my entire point of being here is to aid in the marketing of one of the largest “productions” available today. This story has all the high drama, violence, and plot twists some of the best Hollywood writers wish they could dream up. And yet even with all the compelling excitement we have here on a daily basis, some of our biggest stories are displaced by the death of one of the least intriguing personalities I’ve ever had the displeasure to endure. Is this the American Ideal of satisfactory role-models? Knowing full well that mainstream TV is profit driven, measured by ratings of viewers, means this is apparently what you’re asking for. But I have a difficult time believing this crud is important to anyone. Perhaps there is ulterior motive by these large conglomerates. Maybe they have a vested interest in selling these celebrities beyond their ratings and therefore push the story regardless of initial public interest thereby the tail wagging the dog. So I ask you, is this obsession with a dead miscreant drama queen being fed to us by the media or are we really that base that this is really considered news?

Truer words…

I received an email attachment with writings by Thomas L. Friedman, writer of The World is Flat and a Journalist from the NY Times. This has bounced around the blogosphere for some time now but I still feel compelled to share in its entirety. It may seem long but its a quick read. If you've seen it before take a second glance.

Mideast Rules To Live By - By Thomas L. Friedman
For a long time, I let my hopes for a decent outcome in Iraq triumph over what I had learned reporting from Lebanon during its civil war. Those hopes vanished last summer. So, I'd like to offer President Bush my updated rules of Middle East reporting, which also apply to diplomacy, in hopes they'll help him figure out what to do next in Iraq.
Rule 1: What people tell you in private in the Middle East is irrelevant. All that matters is what they will defend in public in their own language. Anything said to you in English, in private, doesn't count. In Washington, officials lie in public and tell the truth off the record. In the Mideast, officials say what they really believe in public and tell you what you wantto hear in private.
Rule 2: Any reporter or U.S. Army officer wanting to serve in Iraq should have to take a test, consisting of one question: "Do you think the shortest distance between two points is a straight line?" If you answer yes, you can't go to Iraq. You can serve in Japan, Korea or Germany - not Iraq.
Rule 3: If you can't explain something to Middle Easterners with a conspiracy theory, then don't try to explain it at all - they won't believe it.
Rule 4: In the Middle East, never take a concession, except out of the mouth of the person doing the conceding. If I had a dollar for every time someone agreed to recognize Israel on behalf of Yasir Arafat, I could paper my walls.
Rule 5: Never lead your story out of Lebanon, Gaza or Iraq with a cease-fire; it will always be over before the next morning's paper.
Rule 6: In the Middle East, the extremists go all the way, and the moderates tend to just go away.
Rule 7: The most oft-used expression by moderate Arab pols is: "We were just about to stand up to the bad guys when you stupid Americans did that stupid thing. Had you stupid Americans not done that stupid thing, we would have stood up, but now it's too late. It's all your fault for being so stupid."
Rule 8: Civil wars in the Arab world are rarely about ideas – like liberalism vs. communism. They are about which tribe gets to rule. So, yes, Iraq is having a civil war as we once did. But there is no Abe Lincoln in this war. It's the South vs. the South.
Rule 9: In Middle East tribal politics there is rarely a happy medium. When one side is weak, it will tell you, "I'm weak, how can I compromise?" And when it's strong, it will tell you, "I'm strong, why should I compromise?"
Rule 10: Mideast civil wars end in one of three ways: a) like the U.S. civil war, with one side vanquishing the other; b) like the Cyprus civil war, with a hard partition and a wall dividing the parties; or c) like the Lebanon civil war, with a soft partition under an iron fist (Syria) that keeps everyone in line. Saddam used to be the iron fist in Iraq. Now it is us. Ifwe don't want to play that role, Iraq's civil war will end with A or B.
Rule 11: The most underestimated emotion in Arab politics is humiliation. The Israeli-Arab conflict, for instance, is not just about borders. Israel's mere existence is a daily humiliation to Muslims, who can't understand how, if they have the superior religion, Israel can be so powerful. Al Jazeera's editor, Ahmed Sheikh, said it best when he recently told the Swissweekly Die Weltwoche: "It gnaws at the people in the Middle East that such a small country as Israel, with only about seven million inhabitants, can defeat the Arab nation with its 350 million. That hurts our collective ego. The Palestinian problem is in the genes of every Arab. The West's problem is that it does not understand this."
Rule 12: Thus, the Israelis will always win, and the Palestinians will always make sure they never enjoy it. Everything else is just commentary.
Rule 13: Our first priority is democracy, but the Arabs' first priority is "justice." The oft-warring Arab tribes are all wounded souls, who really have been hurt by colonial powers, by Jewish settlements on Palestinian land, by Arab kings and dictators, and, most of all, by each other in endless tribal wars. For Iraq's long-abused Shiite majority, democracy isfirst and foremost a vehicle to get justice. Ditto the Kurds. For the minority Sunnis, democracy in Iraq is a vehicle of injustice. For us, democracy is all about protecting minority rights. For them, democracy is first about consolidating majority rights and getting justice.
Rule 14: The Lebanese historia Kamal Salibi had it right: "Great powers should never get involved in the politics of small tribes."
Rule 15: Whether it is Arab-Israeli peace or democracy in Iraq, you can't want it more than they do.

Letters from Home...

The other day I received a couple of emails that really got my attention. The first was a heads-up informing me that I have a cousin over here with me. Apparently he joined the Navy (go figure) in 05 and became a Naval Corpsman (Medic) who deployed with a Marine Division, as all "Docs" are apt to do, for a 7 month stint west of Baghdad. Unlike me, he and his Marines are mainly in the field and drive patrols in HumVees. Instead of wet trailers like the ones I have, they live in true hooches, essentially a little hut-like building. As a Corpsman supporting his Marines he is at times under enemy fire and so far he's already had his first "bad-day" suffering a concussion and winning a trip to the hospital after the HumVee he was in ran over a mine. His Sergeant was badly injured and the driver, who also suffered a concussion, just recently returned to their unit.

This email is very significant - It affects me. The work I do has its "challenges," but nothing in comparison to his duty. Things at this high a level of command structure can sometimes get lost in statistics and percentages and I think I lose touch with reality. This email is a reminder that I must take every opportunity to resolve issues at my level as they eventually trickle down to the folks in the field and directly affect those Marines and their Corpsman on the ground. His appearance suddenly makes my job here extremely personal.

The second email is from a dear friend from high-school. We went to college together and she informed me of the happenings of several of our classmates that I haven’t heard from in, well many years - trust me. Where has the time gone? This makes me smile. She then went on to inform me that one of these friends is now battling brain cancer. On all accounts I suddenly feel melancholy and isolated. I have traveled so far since our college days and obviously now I feel even farther away still. I want to reach out and give comfort but there is not much I can do from here. All I can do is send my love and say a prayer for her speedy recovery. These emotions are not a negative thing. Life here in the IZ is "challenging" on so many levels that I can't go into at the moment. Sometimes you need a good dose of reality to make you feel again and bring you back from the turmoil.

Can someone kill that damn rooster?!?

This morning I wake to a battle somewhere in Baghdad. According to Major General Abboud, Farhd al-Qanoon, also known as the Baghdad Security Plan, is now officially in effect. I'm guessing the series of coordinated "boofs" followed up by rolling syncopated booms is artillery. It's too organized to be anything else. I've never really heard organized artillery so this is sort of cool… (Wil - eat your heart out) The thunder lulls me back to sleep… It's the "Incoming" alert that wakes me again - Funny how this agitates me more than the actual explosion of a rocket or mortar. It sets in motion an anticipation of events rather than events just happening. Once you hear the booms its pretty much over. Waiting for something that may never come… that’s antagonizing. We get the "all clear" a few minutes later. Sure enough - nothing.

Not corporate Hollywood tonight

In the world of entertainment esp. TV we have guest stars. Well I enjoy being experimental as much as the next guy so rather than hearing from me today, I have invited a guest star "Mr BUA" to speak on my behalf with the topic of his choice. You see I am swamped today and he really wants his pie coffee at MidRats and we are quickly running out of time. So without further adieu… I present Mr BUA…

Your regularly scheduled blogger is trying to avoid the existential blues by staying one project ahead of himself. In his place he has left you in the completely incapable hands of Mr. Bua. This is the second entry I have typed tonight as Hollywood's guest blogger. The first was light and pithy, full of literary joys and wonder. It was as if I swept you up and whisked you down the highway to Baghdad. And it would have been completely full of crap. Therefore, by Hollywood's standards it would have been a blockbuster… but it also would have cheated you.

You'll be happy to know Hollywood is fitting in well here – he is slowly trying to take over all our operations and planning, all the while protesting about the obstacles being placed in his path. When he first arrived, Hollywood was destined to be the next Mr. Bua. It is good that did not happen. It happened to me and I am still trying to figure out where five months of my life went. I think what I find refreshing about him is that he actually, genuinely believes the Kool Aid he is trying make everyone else drink. Honestly, to see him get worked up over a project and head in to sell it to leadership is like watching Mr. Smith head to Washington. Now, you must believe me when I type that I am not writing this to garner his favor or play up to the home crowd (Hollywood and I still argue over whether or not any publicity is actually good publicity). But when I see him return from a trip around the IZ where has had a chance to interact with the people of Iraq, it is like watching an excited, little boy. I know, I have a little boy and they both blather on endlessly when they are excited.

Okay, he just kicked my chair and told me that I have to write something related to me and my time here. The other night Hollywood, Capt. Kj and I sat around at midnight chow talking for hours. We laughed harder than I have in months. I have been here longer than both of them and to be honest, over that time I have looked through the glass darkly while here. That laugh, that deep from your gut, thank goodness your bladder is empty or else you would have a problem, makes you gasp for air laugh was the best thing that has happened to me since I have been here. I owe them both for it too. You can lose yourself in your work here real easy. One day you are unpacking your seabag and the next thing you know it is five months later and you feel like you've aged a million years. You don't write home about it because you know the six o'clock news already has them worried enough about you. So a lot of us bottle up and trudge on, focusing on the work of trying to solve this riddle called Iraq. But work doesn't make you feel alive again – it's the people that do it. That laugh reminded me of who I actually am.

That's it for me. I need pie and coffee before I hit the rack for the night. If you get the chance, I encourage you to read any of Ernie Pyle's books. If a journalist wrote in that style today, he would be accused of propaganda and selling out, but to me no one brought the life and experiences of the average GI home better than he did during World War II. It is shame the home front doesn't have that understanding of today's GI, but maybe one of these bloggers will be able to get the job done. Maybe even Hollywood.