Memorial Ceremonies

There were memorial services on Thursday and Friday for my two friends, Terry Barnich and Maged Hussein, as well as Navy CDR Duane Wolfe.  All three of them were killed in Fallujah on Monday.  The services were exceptionally well attended.  My command held one in our DFAC on Thursday for CDR Wolfe, since he came under our Army Corps of Engineers umbrella organization.  It was a very moving ceremony, well done.  On Friday, the Embassy held a service for Maged and Terry.  They were expecting about 500 people, but my guess is about three or four times that many showed up.  In addition to Ambassador Hill, we had General Odierno, the Japanese Ambassador, the Iraqi ministers of water and electricity, and many many others.  I found the service to be exceptionally moving, particularly the tributes from my boss at the Embassy and her husband, who each talked about their friendship with Terry and Maged.  Their testimony and their personal pain was heart-wrenching to experience.

It was funny, too, as odd as it may seem.  Karen and John recounted a few stories of Maged and Terry's exploits, and since those two men were full of life, there were plenty of stories to choose from.  Because this was a very public tribute, John chose not to mention that crude story about Terry's speaking abilities that I described in my last post ... good choice, John.  But he did tell about the time that Terry got hit on the nose by a piece of spent shrapnel.  It only gave him a minor cut, but that brush with mortality caused him to refocus his attention on what was important.  Terry soon afterward announced his resolution to never drink bad wine again.  And to our knowledge, he didn't.

I came to my own epiphany during the ceremony.  In case anything ever happens to me, I do not want some guy with bagpipes playing "Amazing Grace".  No way.  If you gotta have a bagpipes, well, okay, but keep the "Amazing Grace" stuff off the playlist.  Instead, I want a brief ceremony, and then at the end, I want 'em to turn up the sound system and play "I Like To Move It Move It".  Who says you can't have fun at one of these things?

Two Friends Gone

On Monday evening, Memorial Day, I learned that two friends of mine from the Embassy had just been killed.  They were on a visit to one of our major projects in Fallujah when their vehicle hit a roadside bomb.  A third individual with them, a Navy officer whom I did not know, was also killed.  Two security personnel were badly wounded but survived.

Hearing news like this is a punch in the gut.  These two men, Maged Hussein and Terry Barnich, weren't just names to me, or faces I knew around campus.  We were teammates in the Iraq Transition Assistance Office (ITAO).  And these two were the stars of the team.

Maged was an American of Egyptian background.  He was tall, slender, impeccably dressed, modest, gracious, funny, and brilliant.  He was a true gentleman.  He never mentioned his PhD and never copped an attitude with anybody.  When I first got to the Embassy and was trying to learn my job, Maged spent hours with me going over projects, funding, technical details, political implications, how each effort fit (or didn't) in the grand scheme of things, and the background of each one.  Maged rarely had to look things up - he knew everything going on with dozens of projects.  And he told it straight, no matter what.  Maged was our "water guy".  He was in charge of everything ITAO was doing with water treatment plants, sewer systems, irrigation and drainage, dams, everything.  Including the Fallujah waste water treatment plant, which is what the team was visiting that day.  Because of Maged, there are literally hundreds of thousands of Iraqis tonight who have clean water or working sewers.  He would shrug it off or say I'm exaggerating, but it's the truth.  Maged made a difference in this country.

Terry Barnich was just as brilliant and just as much a gentleman.  He was also very outgoing, athletic, good-looking, and a bit of a mischievous rogue - but always in the spirit of fun.  Terry was always game for something new, and if it happened to push the boundaries a bit, so much the better.  He had a background in law and an incredible talent with words, so he was often called on to provide briefings to the multitude of study groups and high-level visitors coming through.  One of our office partners, after hearing Terry spin a problem project as a great success story, said "Terry can polish a turd better than anybody I know".  A bit crude, but true, and Terry loved that phrase when he heard it.  He served as the deputy in the office, and with his innate grasp of the political environment in both the Iraqi government and our own Embassy, he kept our office well-positioned to do our job.  I always enjoyed working with Terry - his comments and advice were excellent and he respected my input.  And he jumped in and provided cover for me on a couple of occasions when I got myself into hot water.  Most people would've let me flounder.  Not Terry.

And now they're gone, killed by a bomb planted who-knows-when by some nameless goon.  These deaths are a tragedy.  Not just to Maged and Terry's friends and families, but to the Iraqi people.  When I heard the news, I just felt like saying "fuck it, if that's the way they're going to be, then let 'em have this goddam country".  But that's not right.  Terry and Maged came here to make this place better.  "Came here" isn't the right term ... that sounds passive, as if the fickle finger of fate pointed to them and said "You!  Go!".  No, to get to a job here takes a tremendous amount of time and effort.  You don't just raise your hand.  These two guys worked hard to get here, then they worked amazingly hard to make a difference.  And they made a helluva difference.

Another thing.  As bad as I feel right now, and as all ITAO members feel, there's not an Iraqi in this town who hasn't had the same experience.  One day, something bad happens, and somebody near and dear is dead.  The Iraqis that I work with have had enough of that.  They just want to have a job, take care of their families, and live in peace.  They're sick of the fighting and killing.

So I've buried myself in my job the past couple of days.  I'm okay until somebody asks me about it or makes some sympathetic remark.  Then I have to struggle for control.  Terry and Maged worked as hard as they could to make Iraq a better place, so Iraqis like those I work with will have a better chance at life and fewer reasons to take up the gun.  Neither of them would have walked away from the job if the bomb had hit a different vehicle.  I can't, either.

But Memorial Day will forever mean something different to me.

Memorial Day

Memorial Day in Baghdad is not like it is in the States.  Okay, so we got a full day off.  Our little group was sitting around dinner in the DFAC last night discussing what our options were.  Go to the beach?  Nah - the drive down to Basrah is too long.  To the mall?  No, that's out ... too many teenyboppers.  Ball games, car races, and casinos were all ruled out for various nitnoid reasons.

Instead it was supposed to be a day of doing pretty much nothing.  A rarity, here.  We work six and a half days a week, so having a full day off is a bit jarring.  I tried to sleep late but woke up at my regular time, anyway.  After chatting with Janis on Skype, I crawled back in the pit for an extra glorious hour.  Breakfast was a fresh-brewed cappuccino from the Green Bean and a newly-nuked Cinnabon that I picked up from Camp Liberty yesterday.  Ahh, bliss.  

Several of us went over to Union 3 later in the morning.  The stated reason was to drop off a work package.  The real reason was just to get off our compound.  We browsed the little shops for the umpteenth time and, for the umpteenth time, looked at exactly the same tacky little items.  No matter.  We weren't at work.

When we got back I made the mistake of wandering over to my desk just to check email.  Two hours later, I finished up a couple of "I NEED THIS TODAY!!!!" taskers.  So much for a full day off.

This evening we had a Memorial Day ceremony.  It was short and sweet.  But there's something about a Memorial Day ceremony that honors those who have gone before us, when we're still in a war zone.  "Amazing Grace" on the bagpipes takes on a new connotation when two Blackhawk helicopters fly overhead.  "Those who have gone before us" aren't just overseas or far away, they're here, right here.  They're 200 feet overhead, or manning the gate 50 yards away, or standing right next to you.  

This past week, we had some stark reminders that we're still in a war zone.  It's pretty easy to forget that at times.  Baghdad has been fairly quiet for almost a year, but during the last couple of months, there has been a marked uptick in bombings and attacks.  Most of it has been targeted against Iraqis, but just the other day, two of our brethren here in the International Zone were killed.  It's something that you have to be aware of all the time.

But now it's evening.  I've got the TV on for only the third time since I arrived here.  It's tuned to the Indianapolis 500.  I'm gonna get to watch a race!  And then hit the rack.  Back to work tomorrow morning.

A Visit to Flintstone Village

Today I went out to Victory Base, out at the airport, for some work on a couple of projects.  When that was done, a group of us went over to Flintstone Village.  This, according to my probably erroneous information, was built by Saddam Hussein for the enjoyment of his extended family, many of whom were big fans of the Flintstones.  The "village" is an interconnected series of cave-like structures made out of concrete that's falling apart.  But it's imaginative and it was a hoot to visit.

Americans have left their own imaginative tags on the place ever since we arrived in 2003.

Flintstone Village was the kind of place where you're saying "you gotta be kidding" about every three minutes.  And be careful where you step!  All these "houses" and "mountains" are all built out of crumbling concrete over rusty wire mesh, with a very scary-looking structure underneath.

But hey, next time you're in Baghdad, you gotta take a look!

A Rant

So Dick Cheney launched an attack on Obama today.  Reading through the reports, I continue to be amazed at the man's arrogance and stupefying ignorance of the irony of his own statements.  When Dick Cheney accuses Obama of "recklessness cloaked in righteousness", it just boggles the mind.  A phrase like that is how I would have described Cheney at any time over the past eight years.

What I want to know is, why does anybody think Dick Cheney has any credibility anymore?  He did more to undermine the Constitution's protections, such as separation of powers, protection from government intrusion, and prohibition of cruel and unusual punishments, than anybody alive.  He gave us a war with Iraq that was founded on a lie (I believe a deliberate lie) and shattered our economy with a program of massive government growth that was exceeded only by massive government giveaways to his rich and powerful friends.  His convoluted reasoning to support his positions is so twisted that it makes George Orwell's "1984" seem tame by comparison.  The man is a mean-spirited, evil scorpion.  Enough already.

I was just reading one of many obituaries of the Republican party.  Seems like every magazine has to have an article on how the Republicans are down and out, maybe forever; they've lost their way and have no hope.  I, of course, don't believe that for a heartbeat.  They're just going through a period where the conservative movement has been hijacked by hard-right ideologues who became intoxicated with power.  Tom DeLay, for example.  And Dick Cheney.  Men who thought that anything goes as long as they're the ones calling the shots.  Fortunately, the country has tossed them out and begun to repair the damage.  It'll take a long, long time.  Meanwhile, the Republicans have a chance now to re-invent themselves.  And I hope to God they do.  We need a responsible, thoughtful, articulate, pro-active conservative movement to keep this country balanced.  Not the morally and intellectually bankrupt old guard like Cheney, Gingrich, and Palin.

C'mon, guys.  I was a Republican once, until your drift to the far right pushed me out.  Get it together, come up with an inspiring and inclusive platform, and let's get serious about making this country better.  And get rid of Cheney and Limbaugh and their ilk.  They're dragging you down.

Nighttime in my Compound

Groundhog Day, Revisited

My last posting was about how I'm stuck in Groundhog Day, going through the same routine every day.  One way to view that is being stuck in a rut.  But that's not what I feel here ... "stuck in a rut" means experiencing the same thing over and over.  Instead, I'm noticing the variety that's to be found within a routine.  A routine gives structure that enables you to appreciate the differences, big and little, that provide interest.

Walking my dogs is an example.  When I'm at home, I walk them twice a day.  We go at pretty much the same time every day and follow pretty much the same route.  You'd think we'd be bored to tears.  You'd be wrong.  Soozee and Indy are acutely aware of tiny variations from the norm.  They know where to expect the neighborhood dogs, where a squirrel or rabbit might appear, and whether this car or tin can or burger wrapper is out of place.  Each scent demands their full attention.  Is it a regular one?  Or is it new?  Indy has an ongoing debate with another dog about which one is the neighborhood alpha female (the other one is four times her size, but that doesn't matter in the least), so when this other dog's scent is smelled, Indy goes to General Quarters.  Which makes keeping up with her quite a challenge, despite the fact that her legs are only about four inches long.  My point is, the routine of the walk gives a structure to their world and allows them to notice, appreciate, and respond to all the hundreds of variations.

When we take the dogs someplace entirely new, they can go into sensory overload.  Too many new things are going on to be able to make sense of it all.  Man, I know that feeling, too!

So within my own little Groundhog Day here in Baghdad, I'm getting to somewhat the same place as my dogs on their walks.  I know what the routine is expected to be each day.  But it never plays out the way it's supposed to.  Meetings are changed or cancelled.  Something that wasn't even on the radar is suddenly my top priority, at least for a few hours.  I'll be tasked with preparing a decision briefing for the general that will affect how the Corps of Engineers will operate in Iraq for the next couple of years.  Meanwhile, we have to fit in breakfast, lunch, dinner, workouts, and laundry.  Any one of those things could consume my full attention and be the most interesting thing in the world - for me, for a while - but be of no interest whatsoever to anybody else.  And it certainly makes for boring blog posts.  What do you care about the jokes at lunch that had me rolling off my chair?  Particularly since I can't repeat them in polite company!  

So today was Groundhog Day again.  I got up, Skyped with my wife, went to breakfast, and went to work.  Had a bunch of drive-by taskers that I took care of.  Went to lunch and yukked it up with my lunch group.  Took care of a few projects and emergent minor crises in the afternoon.  Went to dinner with my dinner group (same as my lunch group) and we yukked it up some more.  Went back to the office and cranked out a couple of emails and called it a night.  That was my day.  

And it was actually a pretty good day.

Groundhog Day

Lately it's been Groundhog Day here, over and over.  I get up around 6 am and do a Skype chat with Janis.  Then I take a shower and head over to the DFAC for breakfast.  Then I go into work.  Something normally hits the fan about 9 and it takes until about 11 to get it calmed down again.  Then it's back to working on various projects until lunchtime.  There's a group of us that goes over to the Dirtbag DFAC (not its real name) for lunch.  Then back to work.  Something different normally hits the fan about 2 pm and it takes us until about 4 to get it under control.  Then it's back to whatever project has the least time until it's due ... which is often sometime in the past.  Around 6 pm, our group wanders down to a different DFAC for dinner.  Their food is usually better than the Dirtbag's.  Wednesday (today) is their specialty: surf'n'turf.  It's the best shoe leather you'll find in the IZ, at least on Wednesday nights.  After that, I usually head back into work for another hour or two.  It's quieter then and I can finally get around to finishing up all those tasks that were due a few days ago.  Then I head back to my little hooch for some quiet time and hit the rack.  Get up the next morning and do it all over again.

Sounds boring, but there are always surprises.  Today I discovered something new at the Dirtbag.  The main line and short-order choices looked particularly unappetizing, so I decided to try the stir-fry guy.  This is a stand where you pick out what you want stir-fried (mushrooms, cabbage, onions, broccoli, olives, rice, noodles, stuff like that) and give it to the guy who does a Benihana performance on it.  I asked for a tiny bit of curry powder and he dumped in a load that would make your toes curl.  But I gotta tell you, it turned out mighty good.  It's my new favorite thing in the Dirtbag.  (My previous favorite was watching the cheerleaders for the cricket teams on Sky Sports TV ... they do some very energetic and creative dance routines, much more involved than any pro sports cheerleaders in the US).

So if you've been wondering where I've been since my last post ... well, just doing the same thing I did yesterday, and the day before, and the day before ... working, eating, hitting the gym, and watching the cricket cheerleaders on Sky TV.  And you thought Baghdad was exciting.

Pizza Night

Friday is the weekend in Iraq, meaning our Thursday night is like your Friday night.  (Except for college kids, for whom every night is Friday night).  Tonight I met up with some of my friends from the Embassy and we went out for pizza at our favorite Green Zone pizza joint.  It also happens to be the only Green Zone pizza joint.  After wolfing down two pizzas, we retired to the hookah room for smoke and chai.

This is the "chai" part.  Chai is tea, which Iraqis love.  Americans drink cold tea by the gallon, but Iraqis drink hot tea by the milliliter.  And they dump an amazing amount of sugar into it.

Here's one of our hookahs.  Many of us of a certain age would call it a "bong".  However, there's no wacky tobacky in here.  Iraqi hookahs use a highly flavored tobacco in which the tobacco taste is almost obscured.  Part of the enjoyment of the hookah bar is picking out which flavor to try.  I went with watermelon.

Flavor or no, I am not a smoker.  And this stuff is, indeed, tobacco.  Cough, cough.

The owners of the pizza joint/hookah bar have a prized pigeon.  That stuff on his back is feathers.  The little guy strutted around, showing off his amazing feathers to all ("I have these beautiful feathers ... you infidels do not!") before deciding we were beneath him, and then returning to his little palace.

Not quite as much fun as a rockin' night in Georgetown, but it will do.

Laundry Day

So this morning, I dumped all my laundry on the bed.  It was about time: the bag was full and starting to get fragrant.  I sorted it into piles: the light stuff over here, the dark stuff over there, and the in-between stuff in the middle, where I could dole it out to the light and dark piles to even things out.  (Hey, you have your way of sorting laundry, I have mine).  That task done, I scurried out the door to work.  I'll wash later.

Later, I came in the door and couldn't believe my eyes.  Today the cleaning lady came through.  (Yes, we have cleaning ladies here ... they come irregularly, empty the trash, do a quick dusting, probably say "gaack" when they come in my room, and that's normally about it).  And there, on my bed, were all my dirty clothes.  Except they'd all been neatly and carefully folded and arranged.  Even my skivvies and socks.  

These cleaning ladies survived Saddam Hussein and years of the insurrection.  I guess my dirty laundry doesn't faze them in the slightest.

And yes, I washed my clothes in the evening.

Kids' Drawings

A co-worker of mine participated in a special daycamp with a bunch of Iraqi kids aged maybe 6 to 13.  She was in charge of the art table.  Her kids were enthusiastic, going through hundreds of pieces of paper during the day.  She brought in a bunch of them, and I thought I'd share some with you.  I photoshopped out the kids' names - even though the security situation here is better than last year, it's still best to be safe.

Does anything strike you as surprising in these drawings?  Anything at all?

What got my attention was just how normal these drawings are.  They could have been done by any kid in the United States.  Here are happy families with little houses in the countryside with flowers and trees and puffy clouds.  I'm not quite sure what that thing is in the sky in the bottom picture - a bird? a bug? - but for sure it isn't threatening.  All the figures have big happy smiles on their faces.  These are happy drawings from happy kids.

They sure are resilient.  These kids have spent all or most of their lives in post-invasion Iraq, when car bombs and urban warfare were a normal part of daily life.  At least, they were normal until less than a year ago.  With things quieter now (not what we'd consider "quiet", but you get the idea), these kids are looking like normal kids anywhere.

I call that a good sign.

CHU Sweet CHU

I live in a shipping container.  Literally.  It's a standard 40-ft shipping container that has been converted into two living quarters.  In military parlance, it's a "Containerized Housing Unit", or CHU, pronounced just like it's spelled.  My room is the one on the bottom on this end.  I've got dirtbags in the front (again, literally: that's what those bluish shapes are, big wire mesh framed bags of dirt) and concrete T-walls behind me.  They're there to provide protection against things that might come flying at us at high speed.  Like bullets.  On the side of the container, you can still see the big steel doors.  Come to think of it, I hope they're welded or locked shut ... remind me to check on that tomorrow.  (This image, by the way, is a watercolor that I just finished up.)

Here are a few pictures of my own little nest.  As you can see, it's been upgraded from your basic shipping container.  It has rather stylish faux-white-pine panelling, a bed, a desk, and a large and noisy air conditioner (very necessary).  We also have an internet connection.  I've added a second screen since my MacBook's screen is so small.

Moving around the room a bit (3 feet from where the previous photo was taken), you can see more of the room.  I have a TV that I have yet to turn on ... it gets Armed Forces TV and even has a DVD player, but since I'm not big on TV, it just takes up space.  More importantly, I have a small refrigerator stocked with Diet Cokes, V8's, and the remnants of a 10-day-old Cinnabon.  And as you can see, my bed just barely fits.

The door next to the refrigerator is my front door.  The little closet doors are my hanging closet and most of my chest of drawers.  The little brown and tan thing is a plastic chest of drawers.

And here's the final corner of my little room, showing the door to my bathroom, with my very own hot-water tank that looks like it's about to fall off the wall.  That's because it IS about to fall off the wall.

I'm poking fun at my room, but I consider myself lucky.  There are lots of places here in Iraq where two or three people would be living in a room like this.  Also, I have a "wet" CHU, meaning I have running water and a bathroom.  Lots of CHUs out here are "dry", and their occupants have to use the men's or women's communal latrine somewhere (hopefully) not too far away.  Lots of fun for those middle-of-the-night emergencies!

So where do you put a collection of CHUs?  Why, in CHUville, of course.  Ours are stacked two high and lined up in neat, Army-regulation rows.  Actually, you could never take a photo that would match my watercolor up above, as there's another row of these little houses that would be in the way.  We make efficient use of space.  

So that's how I live out here in a war zone.  Not too shabby, all things considered, and I have certainly lived in worse conditions ... even some that I had to pay for.

"Weekends" in Wackyville

I got up early this morning, got into my jogging clothes, walked out the door, and then turned around and walked right back in.  We had a bad "dust fog" going.  It looked just like a very thick, slightly yellowish mist, one that would do San Francisco proud.  Except it wasn't fog, it was dust.  Incredibly fine stuff that just floated in the still air.  Lots of people wear face masks to filter the dust out, or hold handkerchiefs over their faces, or something, anything, to give you clean(er) air.  Take a normal breath and you can feel the grit in your teeth.  Before I went 50 yards, I felt like I needed a shower again.  I couldn't see anything past 100 yards.  Nasty stuff.

But it started clearing up pretty quickly.  It was noticeably better by noon.  By this evening, it was almost gone.  Our temperatures were 20 degrees cooler than yesterday, too.

Today was our "weekend".  You guys at home get two days off.  We get a half day.  And I wound up working most of that.  And I learned a lesson today: never ever ever eat chicken fried steak in our DFAC.  Never.  It took two Alka-Seltzer and a can of Diet Pepsi to calm that bad boy down.

On the positive side, in my one hour off late this afternoon, I started what will be a watercolor sketch of my little hooch.  More on that as it develops.

Thursday Thoughts

Here are a couple more pictures from our recent sightseeing trip.  

Getting to the roof of the building so we could look out over Baghdad involved negotiating places that OSHA would not approve of.

When you work in a place like this, helicopters are always around.  Frankly, I kinda dig it.  They're a reminder to me that we're in a very different environment and to make the most of it.

Since my last post, the weather has warmed up a lot.  I can say that my carefully calibrated Skipometer classified the temperature yesterday and today as officially "hot".  Yesterday was 99 and today was 102.  It's time to start lugging the water bottles around and to make sure we have our hats if we're going to be outside for more than a few minutes.  The dust is bad, too - I carry a bottle of Visine around with me for when it starts turning my eyeballs into red-hot sandpaper.

Things are going well at work.  I like the position I'm in and the people I work with.  We're working on some important issues for the Corps of Engineers for the remainder of our time in Iraq.  General Odierno has said that the military will be out of here in late 2011 and we're proceeding down that path.  The small bases that have been all over the country, and all over Baghdad, are shutting down left and right.  Some of the activities that took place are being shifted to the few large bases that will remain for another 12-18 months, others are being sent off to Afghanistan, and others are just being ended or sent home.  I've felt a big change in the atmosphere since I left in early March.  There's a rapidly increasing awareness that we're starting to wind things up now - right now - and the tempo is getting faster.

Most of the people I talk to think that it's about time.  Iraq is very fragile, but it seems to be holding together.  Who knows what'll happen in the future - it could hold up, it could blow up, or it could muddle through somehow.  But we're at the point where we aren't making the decisions now, the Iraqis are, and since it's their country, that's the way it should be.  We've done a lot to train them and restore a lot of infrastructure, services, and capabilities.  We've spent a ton of money and then some.  There's still a security problem, particularly up north, but it's a small fraction of what it was a year or two ago.

I read a few other blogs by military people both in Iraq and in Afghanistan, and the difference is striking.  The soldiers in Afghanistan are still in pretty heavy combat.  Here, it seems, they're bored stiff.  They're wandering around the bases, doing normal duties at their desks.  

There's still a lot to do here before the last plane leaves, though.  I feel pretty good about what I can contribute to the effort.  The next year is going to be an interesting ride.

Baghdad From A Rooftop

A group of us got to do a little sightseeing today. It was a beautiful day, so we went up on the roof of one of the buildings here in the International Zone. Here are a few of my pictures.

This shows one of Saddam's parade grounds, with Iraqi government buildings in the distance.  You can also see one of the crossed-sword arches on the right.  Behind it is the "Flying Saucer", which in reality is the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier.

Saddam's palaces were covered with marble.  Here's what the brickwork underneath really looks like.
This is the Palestine Hotel, right in the middle of the city.

Here's your intrepid reporter, with Hussein's Grand Mosque (never finished) in the background.

And here's a closeup of the Grand Mosque.  

All in all, an enjoyable time.  Hey, you takes 'em where you finds 'em, huh?

Army Recruiting Poster

Found this in one of our files ... too good not to share!

Gaining Traction

I'm having the wonderful experience of walking into a new job and being able to contribute something from Day 1.  Now that doesn't happen all that often, does it?  It certainly hasn't with me.  When I first came to Baghdad with the State Department, it took me quite a while to get a workable handle on what was going on and what my role could be.  This time around, with the Corps of Engineers, I'm familiar with the issues, know the players, have a good grasp of the background, and have a lot of my own hairbrained ideas for moving forward.  

I'm working in a small section of (for the moment) six people.  Three of them are working on wrapping up (and cleaning up) financial records.  All are sharp and self-motivated - you can practically see the numbers flying as they dig through the records.  Me, I'm clueless about that stuff, so I'm happy to let them do their thing.  The other three of us are focused on planning efforts.  Our organization has some major developments coming down the pike over the next twelve months, and we three are part of a group that's looking at how the organization is going to carry them out.  For example, to achieve a particular goal, there may be four different ways identified.  We look at each of the four ways, estimate how much each one costs, how long it would take, what the problems and benefits are, and make recommendations as to which one best meets our needs.  What really keeps it interesting is that the environment keeps changing, and our plans have to be quickly adaptable.  For example, we may plan on putting a contingent of people into one small base, and after we put the plan in motion, we get word that the base is going to close.  Now we have to find an alternative location that can provide our people with living quarters, food, office space, communications, transportation, and access to the various projects they may be working on.  Sound like fun?  Maybe not to you, but to me, it's pretty exciting stuff.  I'm trying to ensure that our people can do the projects that Iraqis need to make their country viable again.

When I'm not out saving Iraq, I've been working on a more mundane but critically important task: being able to videochat with my wife.  Our computers are Macs, which have the iChat video capability built in.  It's like Skype, only with higher-quality video.  iChat worked great when I was going through training in Virginia.  When I was at the Embassy here in Baghdad, it wasn't all that reliable.  Whenever the bandwidth got a bit tight, usually in the evenings when everybody was in their rooms talking to family back home, iChat often wouldn't make the connection.  But since I've been here, Janis and I haven't been able to connect on iChat at all.  We couldn't even get a voice connection.  All that worked was the text chat.  I tried resetting my proxies, connecting to different lines, complaining to our IT guys, and lighting an incense stick in front of a Buddha.  Nothing worked.

Until tonight.  I decided to see if Skype would work any better.  So I downloaded Skype today and after fiddling around with it for a while, got it to run.  I was even able to call Janis over the phone with it.  Cool!  So she downloaded it to her computer, I talked her through the installation and registration process, and voila!  There she was, on the screen.  I could call her, she could call me, and we could finally see each other.  And I have the ability to call anybody in the United States on a regular telephone without fiddling with an expensive calling card.  Life is good again!  So it looks to me like iChat is good when there's a high-quality connection.  When the quality gets iffy, then Skype is the way to go.  If you have a Mac, you need them both.

Okay, folks, 'nuf for tonight.  Time for this old puppy to hit the rack.  More thoughts on living the dream in Baghdad in a day or so.

Getting Up To Speed

The reason for my prolonged silence is that I arrived at my new command on Monday and have been running hard ever since.  When I get back to my room at night, it's about all I can do to unwind a few minutes before hitting the rack.

My flight from Kuwait to Baghdad was scheduled for the morning after I arrived.  Our show time was 3 a.m. (yes, that's right, the military doesn't follow the same rules as Southwest Airlines).  We put on our IBA (individual body armor, a.k.a. kevlar vests and helmets) two hours later, climbed into the buses, and were taken out to the C130 sitting on the flightline.  Which, of course, wasn't anywhere near ready.  About an hour later the pilots showed up.  Once they finished pre-flighting the plane, we were packed in like sardines and off we went.  When I say "like sardines", I mean it: I couldn't even move my left leg for most of the flight because it was jammed between the legs and feet of the people sitting across from me ... and they couldn't move their feet because they were jammed between me and my immediate neighbors'.  "Personal space" simply does not exist on a C130.  After an hour and a half flight, we touched down at Baghdad International Airport and taxiied over to the military side.  Those of us going to the Corps of Engineers commands were picked up and taken to another facility.  Then a little while later, we were loaded into armored vehicles for the convoy into the International Zone.  The trip went smoothly and quickly.  Soon enough we were parked in front of our new home at the Gulf Region Division.

Since then, it's been a constant run.  I've been briefed and badged and checked-in and signed-up.  I've been learning the ropes in the new job.  I've been taking Melatonin, which helps me get to sleep and stay asleep at night, despite the fact that my body clock is lost in somebody else's time zone.  I've been meeting new people and getting re-acquainted with old friends ("old friends" in Baghdad is anybody you've known over two weeks). 

I have not been able to videochat with my wife since I left Virginia.  I think it's a bandwidth issue, but it's getting annoying.  At least we've been able to text.  I guess I'll have to go get one of those phone cards from the BX.

Weather here is really nice.  It's in the upper 60's or low 70's in the morning, going to around 90 or so in the afternoon ... and since it's so dry, it feels great.  Today it was windy and cloudy, so tomorrow might be a very dusty day.  We'll see.

And that's about enough for now.  I've got more to talk about, but I'm a walking zombie and need my rest.  

Chilling at Ali Al Salem

So here I sit in an internet cafe on the world's slowest computer. I think this thing is running Windows 95 ... the original version ... as originally installed on this antique clunker of a machine. The monitor is about as sharp as a Q-tip and the keyboard clatters like a silverware drawer. But what the heck, it's working, and I'm not doing anything high-tech anyway.

We had a decent flight from Dulles to Kuwait. United Airlines is not exactly my favorite customer-service company right now. We got there pretty early and tried to check in. United has gone over to the Dark Side, making customers do their own checkin as much as possible, and actual agents are hard to find since they're running back and forth between four or five open counters each. United's computers didn't like any of the documents or information that I provided - not my passport, not my last name, not my confirmation number. Maybe it was the fact that I was on a one-way ticket or something. Whatever the case eventually let me in and tried to sell me all sorts of upgrades (a first-class upgrade would've been $800 - NO THANKS!) before it finally printed out a ticket-looking thing that said, in effect, "you're sorta checked in, but we won't take your bags until it's less than 6 hours before your flight." At the moment, it was 6 hours and 8 minutes before the flight. The ticket agent didn't give a hoot, he just said to go get in line again. Which I grumpily did. The next time through, the computers again didn't like any of the documentation I provided, even though I was supposedly checked in already. But eventually it decided to let me on, and another United agent with no personality whatsoever slapped some baggage claim tags on my stuff and sent me on my way.

The agents at the gates were a bit more customer-service-oriented. I'd been stuck in the middle of the middle row (ugh) and the United web site wouldn't let me change it. But the lady at the gate found me a window seat which was a vast improvement.

We took off on time and the skies, for a little while, were clear. We passed just south of Baltimore and then Philadelphia and their lights were bright and sharp. I was able to pick out Baltimore's Inner Harbor and other landmarks that I was familar with. Then cloud cover took over and hid everything before we flew directly over New York. After dinner, I propped my head against the bulkhead and slept pretty well, considering I was jammed into a small seat with no room to stretch or move. Our route took us over Europe and Turkey, and the skies started clearing again as we hit the border with Iraq. It was fun to watch the land change from the mountains to the flat Mesopotamian crescent as we flew over eastern Iraq and began the descent into Kuwait. Twelve hours after takeoff at Dulles, we had a smooth landing in Kuwait. After getting our bags and clearing customs, we were met by our contact and taken to Ali Al Salem airbase. We'll be here until we catch a flight to Baghdad.

So I'm almost back in country. Now I'm starting to get excited about getting back to work. I'm trained, I'm tired, and I need a shower. Sounds pretty normal to me!

Here We Go ...

Our training will finish up today.  Most of it has been a review for those of us who've been in Iraq or Afghanistan before.  I've got my bags packed, except for couple of loose ends (like my computer and shaving kit).  In a few minutes, I'll check out of here and head to class.  This afternoon, we'll head off to the airport, and this evening we'll get on the plane and launch downrange.

I'm ready to go now.  It's been a long road since I made the decision to go with the Corps - that was back in January, four months ago.  There have been lots of forms to fill out, online courses to take, medical tests, forms to fill out, vaccinations, phone calls, travel, and more forms to fill out.  Finally, all that is (almost) behind me and it's time to go do what I'm supposed to be doing.  That feels pretty good.

I'm not happy about leaving home again.  This departure is more difficult than my last one.  Maybe because I was home for the past month, I reconnected with Janis and the dogs and our friends, and I really don't want to leave them.  Having the ability to videochat with Janis, though, is a big, big help.  MUCH better than my deployments with the Navy, when we were lucky to get a letter every couple of weeks.

So now I'm off.  Next post will be from Kuwait or Baghdad.