I ended up getting a day off today, though it was unplanned. The mission was to head up north to handle security for women attending some meeting. We had to take a bunch of extra people and my seat got filled by the females we were required to bring in order to search the women before they enter the building. To be honest, I'm not upset at all. We didn't send our vehicle out today, so most of my crew ended up either slotted into other trucks or got a (well deserved) day off...including my truck commander (TC) who, until today, hadn't had a day off. Period. The greatest thing about getting an unexpected day off is that everybody just thinks you're out on mission, so I can sleep, watch movies, or update this thing uninterrupted. It's fantastic. Another bonus is that I can play my Texas country, bluegrass and singer/songwriter stuff without listening to my roommate's (rather uninformed) criticism. He'll come around. I'll make sure of that.

In other news, I am constantly encouraged and inspired by the kindness of friends and family back home. It's incredible the ability to rekindle friendships and forge new ones even though I'm (approximately) 7,128 miles (11,470km) from home.

Those of you who are interested, I was awakened two nights ago to loud booms and sounds of something landing on my my chu (compartmentalized housing unit -- army speak for a trailer). Turns out Mosul gets thunderstorms too. I thought I was back home in west Texas -- after, of course, my heart started beating again.

Things Most Important

Deployments are funny things. In many ways, they're much easier on soldiers than the day to day back home. On mission days, we show up, prep the trucks, roll out and do the mission, and come back and relax. On days we're not on mission, we perform preventative and any necessary maintenance, and relax. However, in the back of our minds, we're always prepared for when things might turn bad...which is something we needn't worry about back home. Also for many, thoughts of loved ones left behind for a year wear on the nerves. Since I have no wife or kids to worry about, I don't experience that as much, but I see the stress on many of my fellow soldiers' faces. One of the sergeants in my platoon left his 2 day old daughter back in the States. When he returns, she'll be a year old, and he'll have missed all of that. Skype is a wonderful thing in that situation, but I can't imagine not being able to hold my child when she's sick or can't sleep. We may be an Aid and Assist Brigade (NOT a combat brigade, mind you), but we're still fighting our own battles in addition to an active insurgency every day that we're over here. Now that we've been gone for a month and a half, the superficial things we miss are just that. We are all fighting the same things our families back home are fighting: separation. So often, we take for granted simple things like a hug from your grandmother, or a home-cooked meal with your family. Sometimes, it takes a trip to Iraq to realize what is really important in your life. What we're doing here now in Iraq is great, but what I have back in the US is much more meaningful to me.

a benchmark of sorts

After a day off, it's always nice to get back on the job. My job here is usually driver, which means I stay in the truck and watch the goings-on around me while listening on the radio to what's going on inside. Today, however, I had the pleasure of pulling dismounted security. It served as a nice change of pace, even though having the previous day off served that purpose as well. As a dismount, my job is to ensure the security of our Provincial Reconstruction Team (PRT) personnel, as well as our vehicles and equipment. In most of the places we've gone thus far, the biggest challenge is the kids. For most of these kids, all they've known their entire lives is that American soldiers come around, disrupt their daily lives and sometimes give out free stuff. I don't know who started it, but sometime back in early 2004, some dumb private decided it'd be a good idea to give some kid a pencil or a gatorade. The details have blurred over the last 6 years, but the fact is, that kid told all his friends, and they told their friends, and soon, every kid in every neighborhood in Iraq believed that every American soldier gave out free stuff.

Today's mission involved us taking some medical personnel to a local medical clinic in Mosul. Before every mission, we're briefed as to the objective and location, and it's pointed to on a map. Being new to the city, we never know what kind of neighborhood it is just by looking at satellite images. Today's neighborhood was not the best one we'd been to, judging by the amount of Iraqi Army guard towers. Even worse, once we started rolling into the courtyard area, the kids started leaving. While kids normally spell aggravation, the lack of kids spells trouble -- much like rats leaving a sinking ship. What a day to be a dismount. However, it seemed the kids were just a little shy. Upon realizing we were not there to harm but to help, they got a little more brazen. Soon, I found myself surrounded by kids whose grasp of the English language was limited to "Meestah! Pencil!" and "Meestah! Water!" and "Meestah! You give me money!" The first two were easy...I carry a pen, not a pencil, and I was drinking a Gatorade. The third was a little more complicated. How do you explain to a kid, let alone a kid who speaks very, very little English, that you're a government employee, and thus have no money?

Some of these kids have been around soldiers long enough to know what makes us laugh. One kid today was definitely the class clown of the group, and I saw a little bit of myself in him. He'd been working me over pretty good with his best Jerry Lewis-esque schtick, so I decided to give him the last half of my Gatorade. I don't usually give stuff out, because it incites a riot amongst the kids, and creates more problems than it solves. I was feeling good, and thought I'd pay it forward and give the kid a reward for his hard work. Did he graciously accept it and move on to my buddies to see what else he could get? NO! Without skipping a beat, he turned it down and asked me for my $80 watch. Talk about swinging for the fences...and like the Babe Ruth everybody forgets about, the kid struck out. As soon as he turned it down, his buddy swooped in and took the Gatorade happily, and Jerry Lewis moved on empty handed.

The lesson here, folks, is that when life hands you lemons, accept the half-consumed lemon-lime Gatorade some stranger is offering you.

Er...Something like that. In other news, today, I benched my weight for the first time in my life...hence the benchmark in the subject line. You got it.

-j

I got my first day off in about 10 days or so today. Now, that's not to say that we don't get "down" days...days we're not on mission or in the maintenance bay with our vehicles. My platoon sergeant tries to rotate us on what he calls "comp days." On our down days, we'll do classes on various things such as how to troubleshoot radio problems (constant issues with radios create the need for such classes). On comp days, however, you're OFF. Today was no different for me. While the rest of the platoon went off to Provincial Hall (the main government building in the province of Nineveh), I slept in all the way to 9:30 and it was fantastic. After a pretty aggravating mission yesterday, I was in need of a day off. As much as I hate watching my guys go off without me on a mission, I'll never turn down a day off.

As I said, I had a pretty aggravating day yesterday. The day began with an unbelievably awful 8th inning from my Texas Rangers. (Because of the time difference, 7 o'clock games start before I'm usually up...around 3 am or so the next day). Already in a sour mood, I discovered oil leaking from my (previously) trouble-free MaxxPro (the vehicle pictured above -- the kids add perspective to the size of the thing). Being the savvy mechanic (NOT grease monkey...we hate that term) that I am, I quickly determined that it was nothing serious and we'd continue on with the mission. At Ft. Hood, if you're out in the field and your vehicle breaks down, it's not a big deal...you simply sit around and wait for a recovery vehicle. On the streets of Mosul, it's much the same. There are other variables (ie- bad guys) involved, though, so it's important that you feel confident about your vehicle making there AND back. I think I did. That didn't stop about 15 people from coming up to us and letting us know about the leak over the course of the day. Once back at Marez, we had the mechanics look at it, and they confirmed my diagnosis. The leak was not a big deal, but simply caused by the loose air compressor. When I say loose, what I really mean is that all that was holding it to our truck was 1 loose bolt. In most vehicles, a broken air compressor (or absent one) simply means an uncomfortable ride in the summer. In a 30 ton truck with air brakes, however, an absent air compressor means zero stopping power. In a 30 ton truck with no brakes, that means big trouble. Luckily, we made it back with all necessary parts and there were no other leaks present (after a trip to the wash), and proved again, that ignorance is indeed bliss.

The Long Awaited Blog Arrives...

About 6 or 7 months ago, I said I was going to blog about my experience in Iraq as the first "aid and assist brigade" to have boots on the ground. Seeing as how my boots have been on the ground in Iraq for about 3 weeks now, I figure now is better than never to start it. I could say that I was waiting for the go-ahead from our commanding general up here (I mean...I did go to a briefing held by him today in which he said "we love blogs." <--- I'll be sure to watch what I write, though...ha.), but let's be honest...I'm notorious for my procrastination.

So let's get started here. We (the 4th Brigade of the 1st Cavalry Division) have assumed control of the Iraqi province of Ninevah. We (the 5th Batallion of the 82d Field Artillery) are a smaller part of the afore mentioned Longknife Brigade responsible for the city of Mosul and its surrounding areas. Being that we are field artillery in a country that doesn't let us shoot artillery rounds anymore, we don't do field artillery. As artillerymen, we pride ourselves on being able to accomplish and/or break near anything. Over the next year, for lack of a better word, we will serve as infantillerymen. You're probably saying, "hey, John, Infantillerymen, and it's root, infantillery, are not real words." To that, I say add it to your vocabulary. It will undoubtedly be used again in this blog. Also, there are some key words that will likely recur throughout as well that, to the non-military type, will seem unfamiliar. So, I will attempt to help you all out as best I can. Please comment with any questions you may have and I will try to answer them as best I can.

As I said before, I had to go to a briefing today held by Major General Cucolo. He showed us why the area we're in right now is so crucial. I won't go into all of it right now, but I'll try to find a map to post up here to show the "human terrain" as he called it. There are several, several groups of people that are about one misguided comment away from civil war. We just happen to be in the middle of that, all while trying to get rid of about 3 terrorist groups still active in the area. Oh, and while all that is going on, we're providing security escort for various State Department and UN personnel in order for them to get the Iraqis that are willing to work with us the help they so desperately need. Needless to say, now that combat operations are over in Iraq (Thank you, 24 hour news networks), we're still seeing plenty of things that can blow up and kill you.

That pretty much lays the foundation. (read: I'm done writing for now.) I don't want to give too much away in the first writing. I apologize for not leaving you with a juicy cliffhanger, but there's about 11 months of possible cliffhangers to look forward to, so stay with me.

-j