So, I've been busy. That's a lie. I've been lazy. I haven't written, even though I made a promise in Kuwait that I would write at least SOMETHING nightly. I really have no excuse, especially since our operational tempo (or optempo, for those who wish to sound hip around the water cooler) has slowed. We're on an off-week of sorts. Our missions ended on Saturday for the week in order for us to refit and rest a bit.

In my last post, I believe I mentioned I got pulled off mission last-minute. As I've said before, I hate sending off my guys on mission without me. This particular mission, however, I am grateful I did not go out. The vehicle I was supposed to be on was lucky enough to suffer a flat tire. Now, these particular vehicles are equipped with tires that are designed to withstand just about anything short of an explosion. They're called run-flat tires for a reason. Allow me to put your collective minds at ease: this flat tire was not caused by an explosion. This tire was flattened by a driver that had to have hit something large enough to rip a quarter-sized hole in the outside wall of said tire. We drivers are a proud bunch, but there's nothing you can say to defend that kind of operator error. For all it's faults, the International MaxxPro is a remarkably easy and forgiving behemoth. Luckily for our platoon, the tire failure occurred near a checkpoint manned by a platoon of infantrymen from a sister battalion who also happened to have a spare tire (being that these tires are about 4 feet high and weigh about 300 pounds, there's not really room for a spare on the vehicle). While they were out there, I was receiving periodic status updates in the command post (CP), laughing to myself (after finding out they were all safe, of course). Little did I know at the time what was to come. Upon their return, our commander sent out word about the next day's mission (previously a scheduled day off). It has since become known by several names, including, but not limited to: "Operation: Saving Private Tire," "Operation: Good Job, Jay," and "Operation: REALLY?!?" Without giving away too much about our operations, the mission brief went something like this: conduct movement to checkpoint 8 in order to resupply a (single) tire and class 1 materials (technically items of subsistence). What this broke down to was a platoon escorting 1 maintenance truck loaded with one (1) tire, and 3 cases of gatorade (as a thank you, I assume) to a platoon very much isolated (the accompanying picture gives you an idea of what these guys deal with daily) from the creature comforts we enjoy here at Marez. After waiting nearly 2 hours for our wonderful escorts from the Iraqi Army (apparently we caught them on a day off), we took off to checkpoint 8, somewhere north of Mosul. A short drive later, we arrived at what can only be described as a refugee camp. 30 guys live in tents, exercise in a gym that consists of a pull-up bar and a bowflex, use porta-johns (the contents of which must be burned off by highly motivated privates), and eat wonderful Meals, Ready to Eat (MREs for the non-military folk) 3 times a day. The good news for these guys is that (hopefully) they get relieved some time in February. I found myself not wanting to get out of the truck because of my sheepish feeling arising from coming from my comparative resort city of Marez. However, I did get out to walk around to see how these guys live with very little. I was reminded of my visits to the homeless villages around Abilene. The cases of Gatorade were greeted like kids coming downstairs on Christmas morning. It was embarrassing thinking that we were complaining about the CP not having milk just hours before. These guys literally have nothing, and probably complain less than we proud artillerymen. This mission, all absurdity aside, left me grateful for what I do have. While I am in a country filled with seemingly new threats arising every day, I have it pretty good. And someone ALWAYS has it worse.

In other news, on Friday, I (officially) finally got a sister to bully (in absentia) when my brother married his love. So, congratulations, Jeremy and Janette...May you both live as one for as long as you both shall live. I greatly wish I could have been there...but this business...

Also, tomorrow is election day in the States. As a favor to me, all of us over here and everyone in this world that doesn't enjoy that right, get out and vote. Nothing changes without you telling the candidates what you think. Know who you're voting for and voice your opinion! We're 334 years strong, but that can all change with apathy.

That is all.

-j