I awoke to rain pouring down on my trailer this morning. The first thoughts when hearing rain in Iraq is Mud! Before I came here I had always thought of Iraq as nothing but sand and desert. Like with most things here, I was wrong. The sand here is more of a fine silt, dusty almost. The mixture of the silty sand, dirt, and water turns this place into a sloppy mess of mud. Think of pig pens, four wheeling, and two women...uh...er...I better stop there before my mother reads this. Needless to say mud is not fun for anyone involved, at least not in this particular fun filled environment.
Other than the mud, life has been treating well lately. My time here is flying by and I will be home in less than 3 months. It is hard to believe that the end is in sight when it feels like my time here has just begun. Trust me, I am by no means complaining. Although, I am happy to be here and feel as though we are doing our part in the efforts going on, I miss my home...my family...my wife.
I received an interesting letter yesterday, and by interesting I mean threatening! It was not sent out of malice or hate, nor was it threatening me with harm. It was sent with love. The kind of motherly love that kicks in when its time to give their children a spanking. You know the old "this hurts me more than it hurts you"routine? Yep, that's the one!
It seems that I may have portrayed things in my writing very different from how I feel. This particular person, who will remain anonymous (Joni Minton), wrote to me reminding me of what I am here for. Explaining to me the reasoning behind the love and support that I have so richly been blessed with, for that I will always be greatful. In fact let me read you a snippet of the letter...
"Ok! It is time for a chewing out young man! I am tired of hearing you put yourself down because you aren't in the middle of the desert in a hummer firing rounds off an M16 or whatever! I will tell you just like I told Jeremey...your orders sent you to the very place that God Intended for you to go! For whatever reason, for whatever purpose, He sent you there, and not just there, but to do the very job that you are doing!...
...And I will tell you something else, just because you aren't doing what you think you "should" or "could" be doing doesn't mean that you aren't making a sacrifice for your country! You are! You ask your wife, your mother, father, sisters, grandmother and grandfather even your OLD aunt! You are making an extreme sacrifice, and you volunteered to do it!...
...And another thing...imagine me shaking my finger at you!..."
As you can see I am getting the love and support from back home, whether I want it or not!
But... She is right. I have never meant to come across as being downtrodden about being here, or what I am doing here. I know that what I am doing here does have an affect on this war. It affects the soldiers who are at the tip of the spear, actually firing rounds, and negotiating hostile areas. It affects all of you back home, not just my family, but all Americans. It affects the good people in Iraq who are doing all they can to rebuild this country. I understand this, and I am more than happy that I can be a part of the efforts taking place here. The rebuilding of Iraq will take time, and it will take the help of everyone to make this happen. I know that somehow, someway my efforts here are helping that day to grow closer. That is why I get out of bed every morning and continue to do what I do, and why I always know that I have the support of those back home.
I guess distance has a way of letting things get lost in translation, especially for those who do not know me personally. Those who do know me have the joy of knowing my dry, witty, sarcastic humor, which I usually try to convey when I write. My last entry, "Convoyager", was not written out of self pity, but rather out of such humor. I apologize if it may have come across as anything but, which apparently it did... Just ask my OLD aunt!
So, I will pack up my things for the day. Load my bags into the back of my mini-van and drive off into the Iraqi sunset with the knowledge that I am making a difference...
One mini-van drive at a time...just pray I don't get stuck in the mud.
Wednesday, January 23, 2008
Thursday, January 10, 2008
Convoyager... Plymouth that is
Sometimes I feel like a fake. A fraud. A phony.
Today I had some co-workers miss lunch. They were out on a shoot(video that is) and didn't make it back in time. Knowing that today was going to be a long day and that they needed to get their freshly shot video edited and put together they asked me to go grab some food for them. No big deal, right? I am always more than willing to look after my people, especially when they are the ones who in turn take care of me. So off I go to grab them some food from the base exchange.
As I pull up into the parking lot I notice very quickly that it is packed. There are armored vehicles everywhere! From Humvees to Strikers, M-RAP's to Bradleys... Something is going on at the exchange today. As I pass these vehicles, and the crews standing outside of them, I notice that everyone is staring at me. Not just a few, but every person that I pass.
Although I am in the heart of Iraq right now, what has the US ARMY so graciously bestowed upon me...?
A soccer mom, kid toting, side door sliding, grocery getting MINI VAN!
A mini van. Seriously.
When I had first found out about my orders to Iraq I had envisioned convoys in Humvees...I would be the gunner. With my M-4 and NVG's in tow, I would be running supplies and personnel throughout the country. I would be a true warrior. Out on the streets doing what American troops are supposed to be doing...fighting terrorism and winning the hearts and minds of the innocent Iraqis. Nowhere in my wildest dreams did I expect to be driving around in a beat up old mini-van.
Yet, there I was in a parking lot full of troops just coming in off the streets, many of whom had been engaged in combat only hours before, driving a mini-van as if I was on a weekly trek to wal-mart.
If I was them I would have stared too. They are coming from one of the deadliest areas this generation has ever seen, why I drive around inside the comfort of the base in a mini-van.
My wife tells me that I won't be happy until I am miserable. Perhaps she is right. I feel that there is so much work that needs to be done here in Iraq, and feel as though I am not able to help accomplish any of it.
I am not the warrior, the purveyor of supplies and truth, convoying all over the country like I had envisioned. I am just a sailor lost in a sea of sand and solitude trying to find my way... One mini-van ride at a time.
Today I had some co-workers miss lunch. They were out on a shoot(video that is) and didn't make it back in time. Knowing that today was going to be a long day and that they needed to get their freshly shot video edited and put together they asked me to go grab some food for them. No big deal, right? I am always more than willing to look after my people, especially when they are the ones who in turn take care of me. So off I go to grab them some food from the base exchange.
As I pull up into the parking lot I notice very quickly that it is packed. There are armored vehicles everywhere! From Humvees to Strikers, M-RAP's to Bradleys... Something is going on at the exchange today. As I pass these vehicles, and the crews standing outside of them, I notice that everyone is staring at me. Not just a few, but every person that I pass.
Although I am in the heart of Iraq right now, what has the US ARMY so graciously bestowed upon me...?
A soccer mom, kid toting, side door sliding, grocery getting MINI VAN!
A mini van. Seriously.
When I had first found out about my orders to Iraq I had envisioned convoys in Humvees...I would be the gunner. With my M-4 and NVG's in tow, I would be running supplies and personnel throughout the country. I would be a true warrior. Out on the streets doing what American troops are supposed to be doing...fighting terrorism and winning the hearts and minds of the innocent Iraqis. Nowhere in my wildest dreams did I expect to be driving around in a beat up old mini-van.
Yet, there I was in a parking lot full of troops just coming in off the streets, many of whom had been engaged in combat only hours before, driving a mini-van as if I was on a weekly trek to wal-mart.
If I was them I would have stared too. They are coming from one of the deadliest areas this generation has ever seen, why I drive around inside the comfort of the base in a mini-van.
My wife tells me that I won't be happy until I am miserable. Perhaps she is right. I feel that there is so much work that needs to be done here in Iraq, and feel as though I am not able to help accomplish any of it.
I am not the warrior, the purveyor of supplies and truth, convoying all over the country like I had envisioned. I am just a sailor lost in a sea of sand and solitude trying to find my way... One mini-van ride at a time.
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