The Fighting Leprechaun

It's Getting Better All the Time...

2011-07-27T21:08:00.000-07:00

Those of you who know what a crappy singer I am will be relieved that you can't hear me warbling...okay, screeching that old Beatles song...But it's an apt theme for the progress with our remodel.

As of today, the oak hardwood floors are finished, and look gleamingly gorgeous. The Spousal Unit and I expanded the painting portion of the project plan.. Alliteratively... and the new color schemes, coupled with fresh, white ceilings, gives the place a whole new look. Even the trailer is beginning to feel like "home".

Of course, we are buying some nice new furniture pieces to replace some of the "eclectic" stuff, and revising what will go up on the walls once we move back in next week. But hey, it's only money!

Remodel Hell Continues!

2011-07-22T16:08:00.000-07:00

Last night was our first in the 17' trailer, and it was almost our last. The Spousal Unit (SU) is definitely not suited for the small RV lifestyle. She prefers the bedroom to be as dark as Carlsbad Cavern, without the lights. Between the twin skylights, a couple of missing slats on the window blinds, and the high-intensity street light on the corner, SU wasn't a happy camper...literally. Naturally it was too cold, this being "summer" in Washington State. So, SU wound up sleeping like a baby; Waking up every hour and crying!

I found the experience comparable to sleeping in a "Wet CHU" (Containerized Housing Unit, equipped with a bathroom), so was very comfortable. I made the mistake of mentioning that to the SU, which scored me zero sympathy points.

Our contractor and his crew showed up on time this morning, ready to remove the rest of the carpet, the interior doors, and trim, in advance of the floor installation team who hit the ground tomorrow. During the walk-through, we discovered that an old leak in the siding had rotted away a portion of the subfloor and footer, and covered the insulation with mold. Yet another benefit of hiring a general contractor to do the entire remodel is that it took him just a couple of hours to completely repair the damage, while his crew completed the removal job. Of course, the new drywall will need to be painted, which of course led to our decision to have the bedrooms/office repainted in complementary colors...they were last painted in 1990. Yep, we are definitely experiencing the remodel phenomenon known as "Project Creep".

Wednesday, 20 July:

I returned to work, leaving the SU to greet the hardwood floor installation crew. Telephonic reports during the day confirmed that these guys were all-star caliber craftsmen. The floor looks great...and they are due to finish by Friday. We celebrated our anniversary and the remodel progress by going out to dinner at Hunan Garden, which virtually assures that we'll shatter the previous family record for number of days in a month eating out in a restaurant by this Friday. (Sigh)

A Deployment is Great Prep for Home Remodeling!

2011-07-18T10:41:00.000-07:00

I am sitting in the bare bones computer room, blogging as a team of Haz-Mat specialists are tearing up the carpet in the dining room and hallway. They are removing the 1970's vintage vinyl flooring, which is impregnated with asbestos, in addition to being truly ugly. (By the way, I exercised great self-restraint this morning by NOT referring to them as the "Master-Abaters". Since they are all large dudes, wielding sharp implements, that was a wise choice on a number of levels.) While my beloved Spousal Unit is experiencing a fair degree of stress associated with having our relatively placid lives disrupted, I have found that the tempo is somewhat akin to life during deployment. Well, except for the rocket and mortar attacks, convoys, and helicopter flights, and mess hall food, and walking several hundred meters to the latrine and shower trailer...anyway, by comparison, this is a breeze! By the way, it's 8:30 p.m. in Baghdad, and it is still 100 degrees, while the temperature here is...65 degrees! Much more comfortable...

My spousal unit and I decided about a year ago to have the 20-year old carpet replaced with hardwood floors pretty much throughout the house. We did a lot of research and discussion, and let the idea percolate for nine months...though I doubt that "gestation period" was conscious! After first deciding on bamboo, we finally settled on solid oak, and expanded the project to replacing all of the cheap, hollow-core interior doors and trim with solid hardwood versions, and scrapping the yellow formica kitchen countertop and chipped yellow sink for a nice Corian deck and heavy-duty stainless steel sink. Angie's List yielded a good contractor, the estimate was within our budget.

Once we got the schedules finalized, the odious task of moving most of our belongings from the house to the garage was next on the agenda. This is where being blessed by having some of the best friends/colleagues ever really saved our butts. Last Saturday, these valiant warriors of amateur furniture relocation showed up and we completed the mission by noon...Yep, three hours of hard work, followed by an hour of pizza and beer "after action review" yielded a cleared house. We owe them BIG TIME.

I purchased one of those inflatable queen-sized mattresses with the integrated electric pump, and we spent the rest of the weekend camping out in the empty house, watching TV, eating left-over pizza, and mentally getting ready for the actual kick-off this morning. Spousal Unit packed up the pups and headed out for a day-long exile, while I remain on-site to handle questions. So far, so good! Another friend will be hauling out the 15' trailer I rented from Ft Lewis Recreation Services this evening, which will be parked next to the house and serving as our residence for the next two weeks. Our general contractor just called to confirm he, and a gigunda trash dumpster, will be arriving sometime tomorrow, and the flooring subcontractor starts on Wednesday. If all goes according to plan (and doesn't it always?), we'll be ready to move all our stuff back in the house in 14 days, and resume life in a very different looking home.
I'll post a progress report mid-project, and a final report once everything is back to "new normal".
(Postscript: The asbestos abatement foreman just advised that there's hazmat vinyl under the newer vinyl in the kitchen...we thought that had been removed when the new stuff was installed...good thing they discovered that while the job is in progress, so it can be removed for just a relatively small added cost. Otherwise, the wood floor install would have come to a crashing halt day after tomorrow! Semper Gumby!)

Loose in the Palouse, I'm a Walla Walla Wallah!

2011-06-09T21:17:00.000-07:00

One of the best parts of my civilian job is when I escape my Cubicle of Deathly Boredom and get out on the road, providing emergency management planning assistance to local jurisdictions. This week I was invited out to the southeastern portion of our state, which is geographically referred to as The Palouse. This time of the year is especially stunning, with endless rolling hills covered with bright green wheat, undulating in the wind like an emerald ocean. There's a whole different vibe out there, compared to the Seattle area...more laid back, plain spoken attitudes. The Palouse is also home to Washington State University, which is the football arch-rival of my grad school alma mater, the University of Washington. Since I was a guest of the locals, I didn't wear any of my UW apparel...well, at least until I was leaving town this morning...it's good to show the purple and gold just to remind people that all Huskies aren't confined to Seattle.
Next stop was the all-time alliterative capitol of America: Walla Walla Washington! Despite living in this state for over 30 years, I had never visited Walla Walla until today. Serious omission there! Quaint downtown, wine shops about every 100 feet (the Columbia River region boasts some of the finest wineries in the world, and they definitely have the market cornered on quirky, funny names!), and the sidewalks were filled with people eager to prove that Walla Walla deserves their recent honor of being named, "Friendliest Small City in the USA". I witnessed what probably passes for Road Rage, when one motorist hollered at another driver who was blocking an intersection, "Hey there, sir, if it's not too much trouble, can I get by you?" The response? "Oh, gee, I'm really sorry...I'll move in a jiffy! Have a nice day!"
Since I didn't finish my meeting until late afternoon, I decided to stop for dinner in Union Gap, after getting stuck in slow-moving detour traffic. Crawling along the main street, I glanced to my right, and spotted an old favorite from my Yakima Training Center tank gunnery days in 1980-81..."Jean's Cottage Inn". I saw an open parking space and on impulse pulled in. I think the last time I had eaten there was 1983. It was a favorite among our battalion officers, because their schtick was simple and brilliant: Offer a heftyT-Bone steak, potato, and salad for around $10, and serve that meal in about five minutes after you place your order. Naturally I didn't expect the current version to be anything as awesome as I remembered it, but I was dead wrong! Almost 30 years later, the price of a steak dinner had gone up a measly buck ninety-five, the steak was a fork-tender 16oz T-Bone, the salad and potato were first rate, and yep, it was sizzling in front of me in 4 minutes and 27 seconds. If you've stuck with the grilled chicken breast and steamed vegetables regimen on a regular basis, but are in the Yakima area craving a serious burst of 1950s chloresterol goodness, you've gotta drop in at Jean's Cottage Inn...(Just be forewarned that Jean's isn't open on weekends...a faith-based accomodation which hasn't hampered business since they opened in 1946.)
I sure do enjoy being on the road!

A Memorial Day Tribute To My Uncle "Bub"

2011-05-30T10:28:00.000-07:00

My uncle, Leo R. "Bub" Howe, passed away on 31 March this year. Uncle Bub typified members of "The Greatest Generation" in that he was humble, hardworking, generous, and very modest about his combat service during World War Two. When I was growing up, both my father and mother made reference to Uncle Bub's heroism during the Battle of the Bulge, but there were never any details. As I became older, and went into the Army during the mid 70s, I tried a couple of times without success to get Leo to talk about his wartime experiences. He just would say something like, "It wasn't fun," and change the subject.

Several years ago, Uncle Leo and Aunt Mary Lou were staying in our home, visiting my dad and some other friends in the area. I had just received notice that my reserve unit was going to be deployed to Iraq, so I asked Uncle Bub if he had any advice for me. He retorted bluntly, "Don't go!" Leo paused for a minute, then started telling me what it was like during the final days of the push into Germany in 1945. He was a Sergeant in the 364th Field Artillery Battalion, part of the 76th Infantry Division, and was assigned as a forward observer/scout/liaison, driving ahead of the front lines in a jeep with a lieutenant. Uncle Bub explained that it could get pretty dangerous out there, with the constant potential of running into a German ambush, but he liked the freedom of roaming the countryside. One morning in April, as Leo and his lieutenant were approaching a woodline outside of a small German village, a small group of Wehrmacht soldiers came out of the forest with their hands in the air. A German Colonel asked Leo if he would be willing to take their surrender. When the lieutenant said "Yes", and asked how many troops were surrendering, the colonel replied something to the effect of "The whole division." He went back into the trees, and emerged with a major general. The general indicated he wished to surrender his division to the American Army, rather than the Soviets who were bearing down from the East. Uncle Leo and his lieutenant radioed this news to their command post, and were directed to bring the general back to battalion HQ. As for the rest of the German division, Uncle Leo said he told the colonel to have them ditch their weapons, and start them marching down the road toward the U.S. front lines. Leo and the lieutenant drove the general back to the battalion, where he was bundled into a Piper Cub observation plane, and flown back to Division HQ. Uncle Bub grinned slightly, and said that incident gave him the most pleasure of anything that had happened to him during the war.

That was the only time Uncle Leo and I talked directly about the war. I know that he was decorated with the Bronze Star Medal for valor, in an era when such medals were given sparingly. More important than any medals he earned, Uncle Leo was a hero more for how he lived his life after returning from Europe. He was an honest, faithful, contributing member of his community up until his last day. He and Aunt Mary Lou raised a family, instilling in them those same attributes. Whether Uncle Bub was operating his barber shop, working for the local school district, or managing the small hotel in Hawaii, he did everything with energy, enthusiasm, and humor.

I'm very proud to have known my uncle, Leo R. Howe, and will always be grateful for the courage and sacrifice he and our other war veterans have made, and continue to make on our nation's behalf.
Rest in Peace, Uncle Bub...You've earned it ten times over.

You've Got To Read "Lions of Kandahar"!

2011-05-19T16:04:00.000-07:00

Major Rusty Bradley, US Army Special Forces, and Combat Journalist Kevin Maurer have co-written an amazing, powerful non-fiction account of the little-known Battle of Sperwan Ghar, which occurred north of Kandahar, Afghanistan in 2006. I had the opportunity to preview this book prior to its publication date (June, 2011), and was sucked in by page two.
There are some really superb books out there describing the realities of combat in Afghanistan and Iraq. ( Kaboom, by Matt Gallagher, is one of those) What really grabbed me about Lions of Kandahar is Rusty Bradley's talent for pulling the reader into the middle of the action...His descriptions felt so real to me that I was compelled to drink lots of water while reading about some of the prolonged firefights.
I have talked to a couple of acquaintances who are part of the Special Forces community, and know Major Bradley. These folks say he's the real deal, not a self-promoting poser, which validates the highly positive impression I formed from the way he described his philosophy of combat leadership, and relationship building with the Afghan people.
Anyone who is serious about gaining a perspective about why we are in Afghanistan, and whether we can truly accomplish anything more after the death of Osama Bin Laden, should definitely read this book.
If you don't also feel humbled and awed by these Special Operations warriors after the last page, then nothing will move you. I am truly grateful for what Major Bradley and his fellow Green Berets have accomplished, and sacrificed, since 2001.

On Writing, Relationships, and Laziness

2011-03-09T23:06:00.000-08:00

I enjoyed several aspects of being deployed to Iraq for a year. One of those positives was having the opportunity to write this blog without feeling guilty about taking time away from my spousal unit. Writing is a solitary pursuit, which I seem to do best when I focus on the task. I can't write for diddly while sitting in the living room with the television on. Retiring to my CHU after the duty day was done (at least until the indirect fire alarm went off, or I got called out to go to a crime scene) allowed me to put in at least a solid hour of crafting tight paragraphs three or four times per week. While I didn't post everything I wrote, because some of it was pure crap, I was regularly exercising my dormant skills. Based on feedback from a variety of my blog readers, as well as my own self-critiques, I believe my writing improved from "Mostly Mediocre" to "Occasionally Good". This isn't false modesty by the way, as I do a lot of reading, and most of those published authors leave me in their dust. I also recognize that the authors whom I admire and respect work their butts off to achieve such results. I have asked myself a lot recently, "So, Dave, are you going to settle for your deployment blog being the zenith of your writing career, or are you going to move forward?" My ambition is to write a decent, enjoyable novel or three, and I know in both my head and my heart that no novel ever wrote itself. The big question is whether I have the inner resolve and commitment to finish the 40 or so drafts it's going to take before something is good enough to be published.
Thomas Edison's Inspiration versus Perspiration Ratio definitely applies to writing popular fiction and non-fiction.
There is another factor which I alluded to earlier in this post. I'm not sure if I'm willing to cut time and energy from my relationship, and also my civilian job, in order to write as frequently and intently as I'll need to accomplish my goals. Tonight, having pissed off my wife during a stupid argument over how precisely-centered the new shower caddy was, it's easy for me to channel my frustration into introspective journaling...Hence this longer-than-usual blog post. Sometime in the next 24 hours, I'm going to need to apologize, and my temporary visa to Isolation Land will be revoked. I'm also traveling more frequently as part of my job, which sucks more energy out of me than such trips used to. While I can always take my laptop along and write while holed up in my hotel room in the evenings, I know that it'll be tough to pass up just vegging out, resting up for the next day of workshops, facilitating planning meetings, or driving back from Spokane or the Tri-Cities for three to six hours. Ironically, I truly enjoy those activities. (Well, except for driving 'til my ass goes numb.) It's definitely the best part of my job, and I like feeling that I have accomplished something to help my fellow Washingtonians survive the myriad disasters lurking out there. Yeah, more internal conflict...is it any wonder that I'm bald as a politician's lie?
A number of my friends have been moaning about their decisions to give up something for Lent. Not being one for organized religion, I usually view their public vows of sacrifice with some skepticism. After all, the whining about how tough it's gonna be to stop posting on FaceBook, or drinking coffee, or buying Victoria's Secret underwear seems in my opinion to devalue the act a bit. Quietly changing one's lifestyle to demonstrate humility seems much more in keeping with the Christian ideal drummed into me during Sunday School lessons 50 years ago. Having said that, I can also choose to "give up something" in order to write productively, but there's no heroism or sacrifice or altruism involved...If I want to succeed as a writer of popular fiction, I'll need to make some relatively significant changes in my life. Am I willing to do this? I'm thinking about it...but as of tonight, I just don't know.

Sleep-Deprivation...Now Without Coughing!

2011-02-26T04:08:00.000-08:00

For at least six months after I returned from Iraq, I slept very little due to a chronic cough, induced by exposure to toxic smoke from the burn pit on my Forward Operating Base. Thanks to some good medical intervention, my cough is pretty much under control...but a new source of sleep-deprivation has arisen to take the cough's place.

Yep, this innocent looking little animal, aka Frodo the French Bulldog puppy, has been keeping me and my spousal unit in a state of sleeplessness for the past three weeks. Frodo is a sweet little dude, but like most puppies he's gotta pee more frequently than my old partner at FOB Kalsu...and that's saying something! It has been eight years since we last had a new pup, and I was still a cop back then, and used to frequent call outs at 0-Dark-Thirty. Eventually Frodo will become capable of utilizing the dog door, and the sweet slumber I've been craving will be mine once more. Until then, I may need to invest in a pair of those eyeglasses with eyeballs painted on the lenses, in order to nap in my cubicle at work without getting busted.

The Domino Theory Redux

2011-02-26T03:44:00.000-08:00

One of the benefits of being older is having some historical perspective when observing current events. This definitely is the case for me while I watch the political and social upheaval in the Middle East and Africa. Seeing the long-term autocratic regimes of Egypt and Libya toppling in favor of grass-roots coalitions, supported by the armed forces, I can't help but wonder whether the same thing might have occurred in Iraq, if we hadn't invaded back in '03. Food for thought, anyway...
I'm also fascinated by the diplomatic strategy my country is employing with the various governments and their respective opposition groups. When I was in elementary school, and read about the Hungarian Revolution in the 1950s, I wondered why President Eisenhower hadn't helped the Hungarians overthrow their Soviet occupiers. Of course I later understood that such a response would very likely have triggered a nuclear war with the USSR, and world history would have been substantially different! (Thanks, Ike!) Now it appears that our government is successfully influencing these regime changes without overt action, though I have absolutely no clue what is going on behind the scenes...assuming that WikiLeaks doesn't broadcast the details in a few months.
The final revelation here has to do with the theory that social networking media such as FaceBook and Twitter largely facilitated the synergy which knocked over the governments in Tunisia, Yemen, Egypt, and perhaps others to follow. I called an old friend this afternoon, who is an adept historian, and we ended up talking about FaceBook. My friend mentioned that he will never join FB, as he sees it to be petty and divisive, especially in his academic work environment. We didn't get a chance to fully-explore the topic, but I wonder if my friend would be so resistant to "embracing the FaceBook" if he thought about using it to further his own activist leanings...(My friend is a union leader and fights for good, instead of evil, just in case you thought I was buddies with the UnaBomber or some other schmuck like that!)

"Welcome Home, Warrior-Citizen!" "Huh, Who, Me?"

2011-02-08T06:06:00.000-08:00

A full 8 months after returning home from our Iraq deployment, our unit was notified to attend the Army Reserve's Welcome Home Warrior-Citizen Ceremony last Friday. It's a nice concept, designed to acknowledge the unique sacrifices we reservists/national guard folks make when going off to war...but it's also supposed to be conducted immediately upon the unit's return home, so as to have meaning. Stuff like timing has never deterred the USAR, naturally, so we found ourselves standing in formation (after 90 minutes of rehearsal!) in the Reserve Center's drill hall/gym, surrounded by soldiers sweating on the exercise machines while looking at us with undisguised amusement. (It's always fun to watch other poor schmucks having to stand in formation!)
Eventually, the Bird Colonel commanding the local Joint Mobilization Brigade showed up with his Command Sergeant Major (CSM) in tow. These were the same two who had chewed us out during our pre-deployment "incarceration" at Fort Lewis for wearing civilian clothing on the weekends after the training day was over. Needless to say this duo wasn't on our list of favorite folks, but at least on this occasion they were convivial enough. After our Ops Officer read a standardized script full of bland verbiage, we filed over to receive a folded flag encased in a triangular wood and glass box...which looked exactly like the cases for displaying casket flags...an eerie resemblance we all remarked on. We got a silver-colored metal plaque, engraved with our name and rank, and some flowery language about our wartime service, to attach to the front of the flag case. I've still got no idea where I'm gonna put this thing...For now, it remains in the trunk of my car, keeping my golf clubs company.

Read This Book!

2011-02-03T10:45:00.000-08:00

And by "This Book", I'm referring to KABOOM: Embracing the Suck in a Savage Little War, by Matthew Gallagher. Not only is the author a gifted writer, he has accurately captured the essence of soldiering in a way so many military authors aspire to, but so few accomplish. Matt Gallagher served as a front-line combat leader in Iraq during the Surge. His deployment blog of the same title served as his journal, and ultimately the framework of this book.
Although I was not a front-line combat soldier during my own Iraq deployment, I definitely identified with many of Matt's experiences, especially his encounters with dumbass field-grade officers, and really stupid policies/regulations...or the effed up interpretations of regs by the aforementioned field grades.
The author W.E.B. Griffin almost always inserts the following philosophy into his novels: "The measure of a man's intelligence is determined by how much he agrees with you." Using that scale of measurement, I believe Matt Gallagher is on a plane with Albert Einstein.
Seriously...Read this book. You will not be disappointed.

Brutal Honesty Can Be Fun(ny)

2011-02-01T14:27:00.000-08:00

I was tasked to review participant evaluation forms from a recent emergency planning workshop, which we will be hosting in a couple of months. There's usually at least one no-holds barred comment contained in this kind of feedback, and this bundle provided an instant classic.

In response to the question, "How well did the presenter convey the material to the audience?", one responder wrote in bold print, "Presenter read every dang Power Point slide verbatim...WTF? He MUST BE STOPPED NOW! His unabated dispensing of boredom almost caused a training death..."

"This is an Exercise..."

2011-02-01T13:20:00.000-08:00

This morning's mission at work is to serve in the Sim Cell (Simulation Cell) supporting the State of Arizona Emergency Management Division while they conduct a mutual aid exercise. I've got about 30 minutes before my next "inject" (I get to role play various deployed first responders), so an impromptu blog post is in order to stave off boredom.
So yesterday morning in my cubicle, as I was chatting with a colleague, I noticed a field mouse poking his little head out from underneath one of my rolling file cabinets. He spotted me, and zipped back out of sight. I raised the alarm, which spurred a cornucopia of varied reactions from my cubicle neighbors. AJ's response was "So?", while Sandy began hyperventilating. The rest of us military vets immediately began plotting our tactics for implimenting RCOIN (Rodent Counter-Infestation) operations, ranging from conventional mousetrap/peanut butter emplacements to mini-IEDs. Posting the SITREP on Facebook yielded even more suggested solutions: Glue traps ("They stick to your ribs"), cats (Frankly, I'd rather have mice.), and from a combat infantryman I served with in Iraq, "Trap 'em in a box, then stomp on the box!" That last one was a bit extreme for our Washington Hug-A-Tree Daily environment, but I filed it away just in case the lesser options failed. Our planning session was interrupted by a scream from Sandy's cubicle...She had just discovered the ninja rodents had gained entry to her junk food drawer, leaving half-eaten chocolate caramel Easter Eggs, cracker crumbs, and mouse turds littering everything else.
It appears that our entire building is infested with the little furry vectors, leading to many female employees propping up their feet on boxes while at their desks...Honest, folks, I'm not being sexist, this is based upon personal observation...and this being a state agency, it should be about 30 days before we get the necessary RCOIN equipment package issued to us.
Semper Mickey!

Today's Forecast: "Slightly Bloggy with a Chance of Irony"

2011-01-31T22:41:00.000-08:00

My wife says that I'm happiest when either someone has given me a microphone, or I'm writing for fun. I think I'm guilty as charged, with the most compelling evidence being the resumption of this blog. After being relatively "blog-free" for the past seven months, the siren call of the written word launched once more into the ether has me smiling with anticipation.
Some of my desire to post what I think are humorous comments on the internet has been sated by routine sacrifices to great god of Facebook, yet there are limitations to that platform. Most posts must be short, and while there is a ready-made readership among my 150 or so "FB Friends", it feels like I'm doing an Open Mike routine, but with only 5 seconds onstage. There's also lots of competition and a fair amount of banality cluttering up the display of true jewels. Yep, my own posts can definitely fall into the banal category, but I do try real hard not to routinely add crap to the compost pile.
There's a lot more competition for my attention, now that I'm back home from the Iraq. There wasn't that much to do at night in my CHU other than watch movies, read, or write blog posts. The blog also served as my war journal, which is also providing fodder for the novel I'm (slowly) working on. Don't get me wrong, I'm damned ecstatic to be home almost every night with my first-class spousal unit and also our Jack Russell Terrier. It's just bad form to spend a couple of hours every evening in the back room, pounding away on the keyboard, especially after having spent a year apart. Nu-uh, not gonna be making THAT mistake. Guess I can forsake the iMac back here for my deployment-tested laptop, at least until my wife gives me THAT LOOK which translates to, "Pay some attention to me, lest I "accidentally" knee you in the groin tonight once you are asleep!"(I wish I'd learned to speak Arabic with the same fluency I have developed in "Spouse".)
Well, that's all for tonight...But tomorrow I shall regale you with the dramatic saga of "Mice Infestation in the Workplace"!

Epilogue (Epiblog?)

2010-08-01T01:05:00.000-07:00

I've been back home for two months, readjusting to simple things like indoor plumbing, fresh seafood, and a very nice absence of indirect fire. The month-long "Transition Leave" followed by a return to my civilian job has been spent in part processing the lessons I learned about myself, family, fellow soldiers, and all other aspects of a combat zone deployment. When I began this blog in April, 2009, I knew there would be a lot of new experiences, mixed with familiar situations from both military and law enforcement prior service. The biggest question in my mind was whether or not I would perform satisfactorily during a war. It's a question most military folks ask themselves. I think, upon reflection, that I did okay. I managed for the most part to keep up with my younger colleagues, I never shirked from "outside the wire" missions, nor did I wet my pants during rocket attacks. My teammates provided me positive feedback, and made me feel like a contributing member of our detachment, rather than an old geezer has-been soldier. Their approval and acceptance has meant the most to me, far more than any medal or promotion, and I suspect I will be friends with some of them for a long time to come.

My perspective about most things has changed somewhat. Stuff that used to get me kind of wound up no longer has that effect. While I considered myself fairly laid back before deployment, now I'm even more so. That doesn't mean I am apathetic, I just don't sweat the small stuff...and a lot more things qualify as "small stuff" these days. When I hear people who go ballistic over inconsequential matters, such as how our local Major League Baseball team is performing, I just shake my head sadly, and wish that they would apply such anger and emotional energy to something that really matters like finding a cure for cancer, ending child abuse and domestic violence, combating illiteracy, homelessness, or crappy TV sitcoms. My sense of humor is still very much intact, though occasionally I have come close to offering comments which would definitely fail the "Not Downrange Political Correctness Test". I found the frank, often crude humor exhibited by almost everyone over there to be very 1970's in flavor. Some of it made me uncomfortable, or just surprised, but for the most part it was refreshing to be able to joke without every comment risking punishment. We still had clear standards and boundaries...racism and sexual harassment were never tolerated...but most everything else was fair game. I especially enjoyed the proliferation of practical jokes, which also served to keep us sane. It was also a measure of social standing...if you were the target of the occasional prank, it meant that you were part of the clan. Those colleagues who overreacted to being the butt of a practical joke soon found themselves excluded altogether, although it usually required much more egregious behavior to rate complete shunning. Liars, slackers, and gross incompetents qualified on the first ballot. In a war zone, being quietly bounced from the "Band of Brothers/Sisters" is a lonely fate. Of course, the ostracized soon formed their own clique, so nobody was ever truly alone for long.

While there were a lot of positive, or at least interesting aspects to being deployed to Iraq for almost a year, two situations really sucked for me. The first, and most negative aspect of 14 months away from home, was being away from my wife. While a number of my teammates relished the absence from their spouses for a variety of reasons, I definitely missed my wife every day. I am extremely lucky to have found such an amazing spousal unit, and definitely do not take her presence in my life for granted. At our ages, each day is a gift, so I keenly felt the loss of leaving over 300 of those days "unopened". One upside is that the process of getting to know each other all over again is a lot like dating, but without the uncertainty and angst.
The second most unhappy part of being gone for so long was the deaths of a number of close friends, former colleagues, and family members which occurred in what seemed like rapid succession. Though it helped to blog about their passing, I deeply regret not being able to attend their funerals/memorial services. In some ways, I still don't have closure, and that hurts. I was very thankful that my mother, whose health had seriously declined after I left, hung in there long enough for me to visit her the week I returned. She passed away the following week, but this time there was nothing left unsaid between us, and we had a chance to say goodbye to each other on our terms. (One thing that the Army and the American Red Cross still do exceptionally well is arrange for emergency leave, for which I will be eternally grateful.)

There is one other major lesson that requires mention. Although there were a few frightening moments during my tour in Iraq, and I am now entitled to wear a "Combat Patch" on my right sleeve of my uniform, I don't compare myself for one second to those true combat soldiers who endured daily patrols, firefights, IEDs, or suicide bombers, for a year or more, and for many, up to five deployments in either Iraq or Afghanistan. Many of those soldiers display the same ribbons I now do, but our experiences don't really compare. To those of you who fought in WWII, Korea, Vietnam, or Somalia/Panama/Grenada/Desert Storm, I am honored to be allowed to walk through the same door you are, but I certainly don't feel entitled to stand in the front ranks...

Finally, I need to acknowledge the darkest side of my job during this deployment: Investigating soldier suicides. There has been a lot of commentary and discussion in the media, as well as throughout the ranks about this terrible epidemic. There is absolutely nothing heroic, and no benefit served when a Soldier, Marine, Sailor, or Airman decides to end his or her life. Although I had been exposed to a lot of violent death during my civilian law enforcement career, I was still not fully-prepared for the sheer numbers of young lives terminated for some apparently-trivial reason. Long after I have stopped getting a bit twitchy at the unexpected clap of thunder, and my burn-pit induced chronic cough has gone away, I will likely be haunted by the scenes of those deaths, simply because they made no sense at all.

As I wrap up this blog's final post, I must thank all of you who faithfully read it since April, 2009. Your comments, both on and off-line, have encouraged me, and kept me writing. While I intend to transition from blogger to novelist (but doesn't everyone?), The Fighting Leprechaun will serve as fodder for at least one novel, as well as my wartime journal. While I can safely say that this will be my one and only combat deployment (I've checked the regulation to make absolutely sure, and have duly promised my wife!), I remain privileged to have served in these circumstances, alongside some of the finest soldiers in the United States Army, and returned home safely with only the aforementioned cough, and a persistent case of "Saddam's Revenge"... In short, I am one lucky leprechaun!

Very Respectfully,

THE FIGHTING LEPRECHAUN

Back in CONUS

2010-05-26T05:26:00.000-07:00

And the operative acronym is still BOHICA. I've been on emergency leave since last Sunday, but will return to the cornucopia of cluelessness tomorrow. Can't say any more...

Another Great Story I Can't Tell You About

2010-05-19T22:41:00.000-07:00

I attended our battalion awards ceremony last evening. I'll recount it in detail once I've signed my release from active duty paperwork...never saw anything like it in my military career. It reminded me of the old joke: "What's the difference between the US Army and the Boy Scouts? The Boy Scouts have adult leadership!"

(Updated entry: 22 Sep 10) Okay, I promised to do a Paul Harvey and provide you with The rest of the story...so here it is. During our deployment, there had been rumblings about the process of selecting end of tour awards (as in medals) for the folks in the battalion headquarters, and the agents out doing the actual work of investigations in Iraq, Afghanistan, and Kuwait. Rumors flew around from almost Day One, as the battalion commander had decreed all award recommendations must be submitted around the second month of our deployment. (I wrote a blog post at the time, though I disguised the fact it was our unit which was ordering this rather absurd timing. Since nobody had actually done anything in-country at that point, how could anyone write a credible recommendation?) Aside from this silliness, the other rumor was that there were quotas assigned to each detachment...Only X number of soldiers could be awarded a Bronze Star, or Meritorious Service Medal. It didn't matter if the detachment had five super performers, only one or two could receive these more prestigious medals, and everyone else would receive an Army Commendation Medal (ARCOM). Out in the field offices, our leaders ignored this edict, and based their award recommendations on performance. Well, as you can predict, these recommendations were "re-done" by the battalion staff folks to conform to the quota numbers. So, when we arrived in Kuwait and assembled in a big multi-purpose room, it became clear that the rumors were indeed true. Folks who had done a superb job, many under dangerous and/or spartan conditions received ARCOMs, and so did all of the under-performing, lackadaisical, no talent fuck-ups. Morale, which was pretty much at sea level for the entire deployment, plummeted to Death Valley depths. Some folks demonstrated their utter disgust by flinging their ARCOMs across the room into a metal garbage can, which was soon ringing like one of Quasimodo's bells. Others left their medal and the accompanying certificate on the folding tables, and walked away without a backward glance. Of course the new battalion commander, who had taken over a couple of months ago and seemed like a decent sort, was utterly embarrassed by this overt display of disgruntlement. It had the same feeling to it as the scene in the WWII movie Mr. Roberts, when the ship's executive officer, finally fed up with the skipper's heavy-handed treatment of the crew, heaved the captain's potted palm over the rail into the sea.
While my own performance didn't rate a Bronze Star, and I didn't really care about what I got, I was (and still am) indeed steamed that those agents who deserved higher awards were treated so shabbily. On a personal note, a couple of us also received an Army Achievement Medal (one level below an ARCOM), thanks to a recommendation from our Team Chief, in recognition of our investigative work. That particular medal means ten times more to me than the "Everybody gets a trophy" ARCOM ever will.

Still in Kuwait. Here at Camp Arifjan, the food is pretty good...Had a Hardee's burger yesterday, and it was easily the best burger I've had on this deployment. The downtime is okay, though it is just giving some unnamed staff REMFs more time to mess with us. Our flight arrangements are made, and naturally it entails starting at 0200 (that's 2:00 a.m. for you civilians) for a departure time of 2230 (10:30 p.m.). Remember that the next time you are tempted to complain about having to get to the airport 2 hours before your flight time. We will be returning to Camp Virginia, Kuwait, where we will be held in the prison compound (not really, but it sure resembles one, and we can't leave.) until our flight departs. The photo shows what there is to do there...nap, and eat Pizza Hut pizza. Yep, pretty special last memory of CENTCOM.

Kuwaiting for Godot?

2010-05-18T03:28:00.000-07:00

Got the heck out of Baghdad yesterday morning on a very long and hot C-130 flight. We were jammed in the aircraft like armored sardines. Had to make a detour to Tikrit, where the sky was opaque with sand. Fortunately the flight conditions were just above minimums, so we bounced our way south to Ali Asalem Air Base. Four hours of intense heat, blowing sand coating everything, and a break at the MacDonalds...by the way, the "Big n' Tasty" burger is only half-accurately named. It was indeed "Big", but far from "Tasty". A big bus arrived, and we sat in air conditioned comfort until it was time for the two hour trek south to Camp Arifjan. This was the first time I had been out on the highway in Kuwait, and I was struck by the contrast with Iraq. Kuwait is thriving, the buildings are beautiful and well-maintained, and commerce appears to be thriving. Even in the best parts of Baghdad, it still resembles a desert version of 1945 Berlin. I kept looking in vain for camels out the bus window, but did see small clusters of black burka-clad women sitting out in vacant lots in the terrific heat. I doubt that these were local meetings of Oprah's Book Club, but don't have any clue what they were doing.
Camp Arifjan is as close to a resort as I've seen over here. Though we are quartered in 10-person tents, the bunks have actual mattresses, the air conditioners are more than up to the task of cooling us down, and they are right by the showers and latrines. The shower trailers are deluxe. We are about 5 minutes from a huge Starbuck's, which could be in suburban Seattle instead of Kuwait...and there's WI-FI!!!!!!!

We've been commenting on the fact that our colleagues who have been stationed here the entire deployment drew the same combat pay as those of us in Iraq and Afghanistan...without experiencing any of the hostile artillery/rocket/small arms fire we did. Guess that policy is due to change soon, though...
We could definitely tell this is a rear area garrison environment this morning, as we were awakened at 0600 by loudspeakers blaring the bugle call "Reveille", followed by the theme from the movie, "Patton". Jeez...

Anyway, we've had a couple of battalion formations, and spend the rest of the day in our PT uniform, reading, catching up on email, and taking naps. Our flight homeward departs at the end of the week, though we learned this morning there will be a stop in Qatar to pick up a bunch of USAF types, a stop in the states to drop them off, and finally we'll be arriving home...well, the work release facility, anyway. Ten more days in uniform, then it'll be "Fighting Leprechaun on Leave". I can't wait.

A Law Enforcement Memorial Candlelight Vigil in Baghdad

2010-05-15T12:15:00.000-07:00

Today was 15 May, which is Peace Officers Memorial Day stateside. My former Honor Guard colleagues, along with survivors from Lakewood PD, Pierce County Sheriff's Office, and Seattle PD, were standing tall at the main ceremony in Washington DC. I have attended three of those ceremonies in years past, and they are especially moving when a friend /partner is being honored.
My unit received a short-notice invitation to a local memorial tonight here at Camp Victory. It was held at sunset at a general's residence on one of the lakes, and was well-attended. Although only the 22 names of Military Police Regiment soldiers who had died over here were read out loud, I was honoring in my heart those from Washington State. At the same moment our ceremony began, the Muslim prayers began echoing from the many mosques surrounding the base, and seemed to me like a sympathetic chorus. Our somber faces lit by candles, we listened to very short comments from the commanding general, prayers from a chaplain, followed by "Amazing Grace" played not expertly, but with feeling by an amateur piper. The ceremony concluded with sounding "Taps" as we all saluted until the last note rolled across the lake. I was grateful to have an opportunity to pay my respects to my fellow soldiers who laid down their lives this past year, and even more so to be able to belatedly honor Ronnie, Tina, Greg, Mark, and Kent...and of course, Johnny B.
Though I have helped coordinate and/or been to many Law Enforcement memorials over the past 20 years, this evening's ceremony was special and unique; the memory will stay with me always.

All We Are is Dust in the Wind...

2010-05-14T19:09:00.000-07:00

Sandstorms have hit the Baghdad area, and the timing couldn't be worse. Most helicopter flights have been grounded, as have military and commercial aircraft. One of my colleagues took this photo as we drove back to base yesterday around noon...Couldn't even see the sun because of the dust and sand in the air. We've been expecting unit members from outlying FOBs to arrive over the last couple of days, so that we can all fly out from Sather Air Base to Kuwait next week...but so far, that just ain't happening.

By the way, the Humvees in this photo are Iraqi Army vehicles. Note their gunner's tendency to stand up in the turret, ala General Patton, which is not very tactically-sound...but it looks cool.

Boredom, Ice Cream, and Farewell Grafitti

2010-05-14T05:19:00.000-07:00

While we all looked forward to the day when the new folks were in place, and we no longer had to work investigations, it has turned out to be terrifically BORING! We still go in to the office to check email, but when our replacements show up to work at around 0900, they barely disguise their impatience with us occupying THEIR desks. They've made it pretty clear that we are all superfluous at this point, so there's not much for us to do but hang out, watch videos, and eat. We all resisted the temptation to eat a lot of desserts during the past year, but now that the daily temperature averages 105 degrees, we seem to be casting aside our previous caution, and have a bowl of ice cream after lunch. This morning, some of us returned to the "Victory Over America Palace" for some final photos, and to add the traditional farewell grafitti to the already-covered walls. I made a few additions to the Peace Sign I had drawn in honor of my cousin's birthday, and couldn't resist leaving this bit of shameless self-promotion as well. Once we turn all of this real estate back over to the Iraqi Government in a few months, no doubt they will paint over all of our "Kilroy Was Here" sentiments posthaste, but for the time being my mark remains. (Thanks to the miracle of digital photography, my tagging efforts will live on for much longer than the real grafitti!)

The Leprechaun's Final Week in Iraq

2010-05-12T05:45:00.000-07:00

I admit lacking the motivation to do anything except prepare to get the heck out of here and return home. (Well, I did make one exception, when a couple of friends from a transportation unit invited me to drive golf balls into one of the lakes surrounding Saddam Hussein's palaces. That was the most fun I'd had for a while!)This lackadaisical attitude applies to keeping up this blog. I’m also a bit cautious about commenting about some of the stuff going on, as I don’t want to offend the Army while they still have their hooks in me. Anyway, here’s a brief recap of the last month:

We had a case which required us to set up a surveillance of one of the camps. We expected to see some prostitution activity, based on a tip from a GI, but instead of Happy Hookers, we just observed people doing stupid stuff. It’s amazing how some folks assume that because it is kind of dark outside, no one can see them. One rocket scientist was apparently trying to convince a female soldier to become his “deployment diva”, but completely lost any headway he might have made with her by picking his nose for 92 seconds…yep, we timed it. She quickly walked off in a different direction without Nostril Man.

A few minutes later, a couple of the Ugandan security guards strolled over to the row of porta-johns. One went inside, and when he emerged a few minutes later, he was without his AK-47 rifle. Both guards wandered off into the darkness. Five minutes later, the unarmed guard raced back to the outhouses, and yanked open the doors of each until he found the errant rifle. (In our surveillance vehicle, we briefly debated grabbing the AK so some potential evildoer didn’t make off with it, but we settled for keeping our eyes on it.) In the meantime, three TCNs (Third Country Nationals) zipped by, riding bicycles without any kind of lights, and all three of the Lance Armstrong wannabes collided with a cable strung across the parking lot perimeter…they did a nice flying roll, retrieved their bikes, and pedaled furiously off into the night. By their lack of loud cursing, this kind of thing must happen to them on a regular basis.

Finally, we saw what looked to be evidence of a number of “Third-Rate Romance, Low-Rent Rendezvous” hook-ups. We’d see couples emerge from the dark recesses of the T-Walls, smooch, and then head off in different directions. Good to know love conquers sand fleas, camel spiders, and pit vipers. All in all, the surveillance was a voyeuristic waste of time.

We had to complete a long form called the “Post Deployment Health Assessment” (PDHA) on the computer, which is intended to document any illnesses or injuries resulting from our time spent in this hospitable country. One of the questions asked if I had seen any dead bodies while deployed…I thought at the time it would be a mistake to answer honestly, but I went ahead and marked “Yes”. A few days later, we all assembled at the Troop Medical Clinic to be interviewed by a doctor to complete the last part of the assessment. After waiting an hour outside the clinic in the rising heat, and then another 30 minutes standing in the hallway outside the doctor’s door, I was finally called inside. The Doc was a wizened gnome who might well have done General Eisenhower’s PDHA in 1945. He was also hard of hearing, having to ask me my social security number four times before getting it entered correctly. When we got to the “dead body” question, the Doc asked me whether I preferred to be treated for Post Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD) at the VA or a private therapist. I told him that I didn’t think I suffered from PTSD, and wasn’t planning to seek treatment unless I developed symptoms later. “So, it’s the VA then for your therapy,” the Gnome replied. “I don’t need it,” I responded. “They’ll schedule your appointment at the demobilization site,” said the Doc. “Uh, Doctor, what part of “NO THANKS” don’t you understand?” I retorted, becoming visibly frustrated. “I can see that your combat experience has affected you,” the Gnome said… Sheesh, this was just like a scene from Catch 22!

Now that our replacements have arrived, and made it very clear to us they are ready to take over operations, it is obvious that some of my colleagues are having a hard time letting go. One of my fellow agents has a very hard time not doing everything himself, or at least looking over our shoulders and offering detailed guidance. Now faced with handing over his case files, his computer, assigned vehicle, and his desk, he is just about going nuts. (Good thing he’s also been involuntarily scheduled for PTSD treatment like the rest of us!) As for me, I don’t care because my cases are either closed or just awaiting lab results. If the new folks change my stuff, or don’t think I’m the best investigator that ever lived, I won’t worry about it, because I’LL BE HOME, SUCKERS!!!!!

With “four days and a wake-up” remaining in country before beginning the long journey homeward, the only thing I have on my mind right now is keeping my head down and getting on that aircraft in one piece. I promise to post an Epilogue after I have been handed my DD-214 (Release from Active Duty), which will close out this adventure.

And Speaking of Twitchy Short-Timers...

2010-04-21T11:33:00.000-07:00

One of my teammates and I were driving to one of the camps to look for prostitutes (wait, that didn't come out the way I meant...), when Ka-WHOOM!!!!!!!, there was a huge explosion 150 meters off to my left, followed by a rising column of black smoke. We looked at each other, said simultaneously, "Oh Crap, ROCKET ATTACK!", and I started to pull over next to a drainage ditch. Another explosion rocked our SUV, but then I noticed there were a handful of people casually standing fairly close to the site of the bursts. After the third concussion knocked the remaining mud from the bumper, the "Big Voice" loudspeaker announced, "Attention! This is the Command Post! There will be a series of controlled detonations in...uh...two minutes ago...Command Post, Out!"
Sheesh...just when I think there will be nothing to write about today, once again the U.S. Armed Forces comes through in the clutch!
(Special thanks to SGT Homer "Command Post Announcer Guy" Simpson...I could have sworn I heard a muffled, "Doh!" after the announcement...)

The G.A.S. gauge is on "E"...

2010-04-20T11:41:00.000-07:00

The team is looking toward the finish line, closing cases, and getting ready to hand off responsibility for investigating "Bad Things in Baghdad" to a fresh crew. With our replacements due to arrive in a couple of weeks, everyone, and I do mean everyone, has their G.A.S. gauge pegged on "Empty". We do have a couple of moderately interesting cases going on, but for the most part our focus is elsewhere. There are post-deployment leaves to plan, new duty assignments on the near horizon, and for us reservists, a return to the comfortable and familiar routines we left behind a year ago.
Close as we are to doing the "Beat it outta Baghdad Boogie", loud explosions have some folks looking a bit twitchy...even if it's something as routine as the daily pre-announced controlled detonations or test firing of our 20mm Gatling Gun Guardians, otherwise known as the Phalanx System. Conversely, goofy decisions from various levels of bureaucracy are now met with a resigned shrug and sad shake of the head. When it is time to get on the aircraft and head for home, even the most outspoken among us will likely be as docile as a sheep...albeit an armed and armored sheep. There is life after deployment, and right now, that is what really matters.

Quick Update from Bloghdad

2010-04-12T02:39:00.000-07:00

Sorry, y'all, for not posting anything for the past two weeks. It has been crazy busy between getting ready to GTFOB, and the flood of new investigations, which don't seem to be letting up one darn bit. While I'd love to share some of the weirder details of a couple of these cases, which are "Quentin Tarantino- Wes Craven Bizarre", I'd end up with my wrinkled old butt in a sling if I did so. Sorry!
I AM taking notes so that I can modify the details sufficiently enough to use this stuff in my eventual novel(s). Some of this stuff is just too strange, and yet perfectly illustrative of my little piece of the war, so it's gotta be there in some form.

One of the major distractors we are dealing with has nothing to do with case work. While preparing to re-deploy and in the case of us reservists, demobilize from Active status, it is clearly evident that despite the "One Team, One Fight" slogan, we are to be treated like second-class citizen-soldiers upon our return stateside. Normally, when our active component counterparts return from a combat deployment, they have 3 half-days of post-deployment processing, and can live at home, drive their own cars, and even consume alcoholic beverages...all while returning every evening to the bosom of their families. Sounds pretty routine, doesn't it? Well, for us reservists, our return is more akin to being released to a half-way house after finishing a prison term. We will be essentially "confined" to the limits of Fort Lewis, prohibited from operating, or even riding as a passenger in a POV (Privately-Owned Vehicle), or commercial taxi/limo/bus. Even though a lot of us reside mere minutes away from base, we will be spending six or seven nights living in a WWII-era open bay wooden barracks, and worst of all, kept apart from our families and friends. Meanwhile, the active duty soldiers we served alongside who are stationed at the base will be spending THEIR nights in their civilian beds, next to THEIR significant others, drinking whatever adult beverage they wish, driving up to Seattle for sushi, or Bremerton for BBQ... (By the way, our active duty brothers and sisters who were pulled from units all over the U.S. to staff all the offices in Kuwait, Iraq and Afghanistan are also going to be jammed into those barracks and confined to base with the same restrictions, albeit for only 3 days...but you can imagine what these Regular Army officers and NCOs think about that!)

The message seems pretty clear: Army Reservists are acceptable enough soldiers to serve a year in a war zone, but back home, where most of us will be returning to very responsible civilian careers, we are regarded in the same league as Basic Trainees, despite a lot of us having 20 or more years of military service under our belts. In my humble opinion, it's a pretty stupid message, which speaks louder than all the "Army Strong, Hooah!" crap posted everywhere we look. I think we've earned better...

Surprise! Water Shortage in the Desert!

2010-03-30T13:06:00.000-07:00

Seriously? That's news? Yeah, I guess it must be, as we've gotten dire warnings from the base administration folks over the past week. One of the threats which has gotten the most laughs is that the toilet trailers will be closed, and porta-potties will be placed at the end of each row of CHUs. Heck, for most of us, that'll represent an improvement! (In my case, it'll shorten my walking distance from 250 meters to 5 meters...I vote, "Heck Yeah!")

The old joke about "Save Water, Shower With a Friend!" has been resurrected by a new generation...there is even a rumor floating around that some wiseguy has distributed flyers around the base, offering himself to females as a combination "Shower Security/Water Conservation Partner". His nickname? "Clean But Creepy Dude". If this is more than an urban legend, I'm sure he's gonna get punk'd a bunch of times.

It's Raining Lead...

2010-03-27T11:28:00.000-07:00

But no one was saying, "Hallelujah"...!
Last night the Iraqis announced that Mr. Allawi's party had outpolled Mr. Maliki's party in the recent elections, which sent Allawi's supporters outside to the streets, shouting, singing, and firing thousands of rounds of AK-47 ammo up toward the heavens...and then back earthward, which the Iraqis seem to conveniently forget every time they whoop it up.
I was reading in my CHU when the heavy gunfire erupted. I grabbed my helmet, body armor and weapon and bounced outside, ready to defend the base. Peering out from behind the closest concrete T-wall, I quickly sized up the tactical situation. Recalling the basics of gunfire analysis from my days as a cavalryman, I noticed a whole lot of red and green tracers emanating from outside the wire...but all heading in a more or less vertical direction. That meant no attack, just your basic Baghdad celebration. The tracers triggered the base warning alarms, and the loudspeakers blared, "Attention, this is the command post, take cover immediately due to Iraqi celebratory fire!" Since I no longer had to emulate the great Sam Elliott in his role as CSM Basil Plumley, ("Gentlemen, prepare to defend yourselves!"), I retired back inside my CHU and took up a position on my bunkbed. I knew I'd be shielded from falling projectiles by the combination of the thin aluminum CHU roof, ultra-hard and lumpy upper mattress, and the plywood base.
I grabbed my laptop and TV remote and chilled out, listening to the rattle of gunfire which was soon joined by the pounding of a gigunda thunderstorm. Is it possible all that lead seeded the clouds, provoking the deluge? At any rate, nobody on base was hit, and aside from another darn mudfield, we survived the Iraqi celebrations in one piece.

Phalanx Phollies

2010-03-22T11:10:00.000-07:00

Here's another slice of life here that illustrates how fast things can turn from scary to hilarious:
It was lunchtime, and an SUV-load of us was traveling the gravel road toward the mess hall, windows down, enjoying the spring sunshine. I was driving, and as we neared the main PX, I heard the indirect fire alarm go off. I quickly pulled over at a handy roadside bunker, and we all piled out of the SUV...I managed to bonk my noggin on the door frame as I bailed out, and landed flat on the ground in a big poof of dust. When my head cleared, I looked up toward "Strawberry Hill" just as the Phalanx 20mm gatling gun blasted a long stream of bright red tracers skyward. I wasn't the only person entranced by this awesome vision of firepower...a young soldier pedaling a mountain bike, rifle slung across his back, and wearing his kevlar helmet jerked his head up at the Phalanx's distinctive sound (think of Godzilla breaking wind), and managed to run head on into a cement T-Wall. We all laughed when it became clear only the soldier's pride was injured, and also at relief when no mortar rounds or rockets came spiraling in on top of us.
I still have a small bump on my forehead, and a couple of my teammates got skinned forearms from hitting the gravel, but these minor wounds were just the price of admission to a brief moment of combat zone comedy. We were all definitely glad that the comedy wasn't followed by tragedy...unless of course you count the bent bicycle wheel.

Happy Saint Patrick's Day!!!!!

2010-03-16T13:45:00.000-07:00

Tis the Fighting Leprechaun's second most favorite day, (ranked only behind me wedding anniversary), so what will I be doin'? Sure now, I'd like to be chasin' out the insurgents with me trusty shilelagh, but I doubt I'd be gettin' permission for that bit of fun...

Looks like I'll have to be content with gettin' everyone to go for the wearing of the green...and it looks like I'll be havin' a great deal of success...

Never underestimate the powers of a Leprechaun!

My Battle Buddy Moves Up!

2010-03-15T12:25:00.000-07:00

One of the newer concepts in the military is the "Battle Buddy"...this is the person who has your back, watches your rifle while you are in the porta-potty, shares their Tabasco when you get a crappy MRE...like a best friend , but with hand grenades. Well, back in my civilian job, I was fortunate to have a Battle Buddy as well. I'll just use her initials, LDSG, in keeping with my blog's policy of anonymity. LDSG was a Signal Corps officer in the Army, and still wears combat boots to work. She's one of the most talented instructors I know, can captivate an audience even while discussing some esoteric trivia about disaster logistics...yep, the girl can make SANDBAGS sound interesting! LDSG is a steadfast friend, a schizophrenic BamaTex cowgirl, practical joker, hater of bureacratic stupidity, and will sell her soul for either a Taco Cabana burrito or down home BBQ.
Well, I got good news and bad news last month...My Battle Buddy won't be occupying her cubicle down the corridor when I return to work in 90 days, because she has been snagged by FEMA to be their regional logistics guru. LDSG will be able to preach the gospel of high-speed emergency supply systems to a much greater (and possibly more appreciative) audience. I'll definitely miss having a partner in mischief, who coincidentally does the best Eric Cartman impression (South Park) I've ever heard.
So, congratulations, Battle Buddy! I know you'll kick butt at FEMA, just like you did at Building 20. Semper Mobilis!!!!

A Baghdad Birthday

2010-03-14T13:03:00.000-07:00

One of the guys in the detachment celebrated his 39th birthday today, which coincided with our "personal maintenance day", so a party of sorts was in order. We've had a few birthdays among our crew, but either work interfered or the birthday person was reluctant to celebrate. Actually, the dude today didn't want a party, but we ignored his wishes because we wanted to eat cake.

I volunteered to procure said cake, having seen them in the freezer at our Post Exchange. Our mess hall also is supposed to make cakes for unit celebrations, but they require 30 days notice, so that option was a big no-go. I stopped by the PX after work last night, grabbed the only pre-decorated cake available, and headed for the cashier. Mind you, this was not a big spectacular cake, it was only about the dimensions of my laptop computer, just a couple of inches thicker. Back home, this quarter-sheet cake costs about nine bucks, and there was no price tag on either the cake or the shelf. When Muhjibar from Mumbai (I'm not making that up) scanned the bar code on the package, he gasped and pointed to the display. "Sir, this appears to be a $40 pastry...do you still wish to purchase?" I thought Muhjibar was messing with me, so I responded, "Gee, at that price I'll take five!", but then I took a closer look at the cash register and uttered my favorite German phrase..."Heilige Scheisse!" I don't believe Muhjibar speaks German, but my shocked tone was multilingual,, causing Muhjibar to shake his head and growl, "Bloody rip-off wallahs!" Once we ascertained there was no mistake, I decided to complete my purchase, as there was no reasonable alternative. (Everyone chipped in, so I didn't lose my shirt on the deal.)
The next day, our party was typical deployment style. We got Iraqi pizzas to go, went back to the office and watched a movie, "Team America, World Police" which is the perfect birthday party flick, ("Durka durka!") and did the traditional "Happy Birthday" song while presenting the cake (sans candles, which are prohibited for some odd reason). So, how did that $40 cake taste? Well, everyone had two pieces, it was that tasty. It was baked in Germany, had whipped cream frosting, and was pretty fresh considering it had been frozen a couple of weeks ago, flown to Kuwait, and then trucked to Baghdad. The Birthday Boy was happy, which is what really counts.

Now if we were on the front lines, I suppose we could have taken an MRE pound cake, mixed up peanut butter and cocoa powder frosting, and lit a piece of C-4 for a candle, but since we are on a civilized base, acting like infantrymen in a foxhole would have been kind of poser-like. (Credit for the combat cake recipe goes to Chris and Ted...Thanks, guys!)

Hitting "The Wall".

2010-03-12T09:28:00.000-08:00

Long ago, when I could call myself a long-distance runner, I experienced that runner's phenomenon called "hitting the wall." A lot of runners hit that notional wall after two-thirds of the race is complete, and it literally hurts when you run into it. Well, sportsfans, I've been getting the feeling lately that this wall-hitting stuff happens to soldiers on deployment too.

You'd think that getting ready to go home in a couple of months would be uplifting and spark raised morale, wouldn't you? Apparently that ain't the case so much. With the finish line almost in sight there is a pervasive gloominess stuck to folks like Baghdad Mud. I don't really get it, being the persistent optimist, but sometimes I find myself being affected by the "bummertude" around me. For some of my Regular Army colleagues, new assignments or school selections promise to turn their lives upside down. There have been a few disappointments too, as the capriciousness of the Army personnel system punches some really great troops in the solar plexus...or lower. We've seen a couple of examples of crappy agents getting selected for promotion over much better qualified folks, which is like pissing on soldier's heads and calling it a hot shower.
Some fellow reservists have also been gobsmacked while deployed. I personally know four soldiers whose civilian jobs were eliminated while they have been serving over here. Talk about effectively reducing the "joy of homecoming"...
I know for sure that I have got it good when I get off that Freedom Bird. I've got the best spousal unit anyone could ask for, a comfortable home, great friends and family, a meaningful job and superb colleagues...and essentially a stress-free life...once I'm out of range of those darn rockets! So I'll do my best to be sympathetic to my grumpy battle buddies, but I plan to avoid joining 'em up in the Bummer Bleachers for these last few remaining miles...

Good Fences Make Good Neighbors...

2010-03-02T12:30:00.000-08:00

And a 30 TDY (Temporary Duty) of the guy next door makes for a GREAT neighbor! This dude, who I'll call "Godfrey", is an okay person, but he's got a few quirks which have made sharing a thin dividing wall a real challenge. Let's start with his alarm clock. Godfrey owns one of those 300 decibel model electric clocks...the indirect fire warning klaxon is quieter...which by itself is relatively harmless. In Godfrey's hands, however, it is hell with a "snooze" button. Godfrey is a sound sleeper, which means neither rocket attacks nor his alarm clock usually awaken him. Unfortunately for me, I am a fairly light sleeper (thanks to over 30 years of being "on-call" either for the Army or law enforcement), so while Godfrey slumbers peacefully on, I wake up immediately...and since he doesn't turn off the alarm, I have to get up and pound for several minutes on the wall or his door until he gets up. Godfrey regularly sets his alarm for 10:30 p.m. most nights, so he can call his wife. If I go to sleep before then, I can be sure of experiencing "Sleepus Interruptus". Once the nightly phone call starts, Godfrey's foghorn of a voice makes sure that I hear everything...and I do mean EVERYTHING...he says to his wife. Unlike Godfrey, I'll spare YOU the details...no need to thank me...but there are some verbal images seared into my brain which it may take therapy to erase. An hour or so later, the phone call has reached its climax, so to speak, and it is relatively quiet until 0500...Yep, you guessed it, that's when Godfrey's alarm goes off again, with the same non-result on his side of the wall, and my same choice...try to ignore the beep Beep BEEP BEEP!, or get out of my snug bed and hammer on the vinyl paneling. Some choice, eh?
It gets better. Godfrey is a 3 pack a day smoker. Seconds after his feet hit the floor, he's standing just outside his open door, lighting up the first butt of the new day. Godfrey apparently believes the laws of physics don't apply to his carbon-monoxide laced clouds, but believe me, they are sucked into his room...and then thru the seams in the shared wall in to my abode. If I open my own front door to throw something heavy at him, the smoke senses new territory to befoul, and now my room is "Ashtray Fresh". Who needs Agent Orange, when I have Agent Godfrey?
Yesterday, our battalion HQ called down with orders to send Godfrey up north for a month to backfill an office. I definitely owe whoever came up with that mission a steak dinner when we return.
Now, if you'll excuse me...I have some serious sleep deprivation to rectify...zzzzzzzzzzzzzzz.....

More Military Terminology "From the War Zone"

2010-02-21T07:46:00.000-08:00

Every war produces words, acronyms and phrases which become embedded in soldiers' vocabulary. WWII had "Kilroy Was Here", Vietnam spawned "Sorry About That," "FTA" (Fun, Travel & Adventure), and "REMF" ("Rear Echelon Management Facilitator"). Here in Baghdad, the one-word description which uniquely belongs to this conflict is..."Iraq-able", as in, "She's Iraq-able" or "I wouldn't want to marry the guy, but he is definitely Iraq-able!" I haven't heard if there is a similar phrase in use by our brothers and sisters in Afghanistan. The equivalent to the Vietnam-era RMF is known as the "FOBBIT", describing someone who never leaves the FOB, much like a Hobbit prefers to remain in the Shire. (See photo)

The term used to describe soldiers over here has its roots in WWII and also the still-popular Hasbro doll. Both male and female soldiers are usually called, "Joes", short for "G.I. Joe"...It seems to connote an equality between genders. I like it for its simplicity. Every so often you'll hear soldiers referred to as "Grunts" (usually by us Vietnam-era types), or "Troopers" (We have a lot of Cavalry units here), and the 3rd Infantry Division Song still pays tribute to the "Dogface Soldier" of WWII vintage...but the only time you'll hear a soldier called a "Doughboy" is during the monthly weigh-in!

Almost Live Update from Baghdad

2010-02-16T13:22:00.000-08:00

My apologies to John Keister for using the name of that great local Seattle comedy show, but the term, "Almost Live" perfectly describes me at this minute. It's 0030 hours, (Half-past Midnight), I just walked in the door to my CHU, after 16 hours in the office. The culprit behind this late night is what's innocently-named, "Team Chief Case Review". Once a week, our supervisors review agent's case files, write copious notes about what needs to be corrected, and return 'em to us. Of course, most of us shoot for "zero defects", but that almost never happens. The amount of documentation required for each case file ranges from a minimum of 50 pages for a basic, no-brainer investigation. A homicide, or even a bus theft case file can easily grow rapidly to the size of a NYC phone book...and yep, I mean the Yellow Pages! In between assembling all this pulp filler, there's some actual detectin' going on, plus plenty of phone calls, emails, and the usual Army dumb stuff, like having to check if we still have our weapons with us...
Finally, my much younger colleagues spend about 20% of each hour playing tricks on each other, or other hi-jinks, such as engaging in hand-sanitizer gel fights, impromptu no holds-barred wrestling matches, or other activities too gross to describe here. The soundtrack to all of this circus behavior is a combination of hip-hop, country-western, and the occasional classic oldies tune. (which to my colleagues means from the early 90's) Believe me when I say that this might not be the optimum environment to support concentration and organization skills. So, rather than be a stick in the mud (and the circus IS usually rather entertaining, at least until somebody gets an eye put out), I just do my best to putt along, until everyone else leaves around 7 p.m. that's when I crank up my own tunes (a mix of Celtic, Bollywood, and rock music, which my mates refer to as "Geezer Eclectic"), and start putting files together.
I can only handle these "surges" once a week, but it is sure nice to have my files stacked in the Team Chief's office, ready for inspection first thing in the morning.
Besides, while he's occupied with my stack o' files, I can grab a nap in the porta-john, which is surprisingly comfortable when the weather is cool.
Goodnight...

Pathway to Reaching "Seriously Stupid"

2010-02-13T10:42:00.000-08:00

Step One: Get your hands on some liquor, even though it's strictly prohibited here.

Step Two: Invite a co-worker of the opposite sex, who you know is gay, over to your quarters to discuss your marital problems.

Step Three: Become intoxicated.

Step Four: Try to rip your co-worker's clothing off and have sex with them.

Step Five: Discover while attempting to perform Step Four that your co-worker has a Black Belt in Tae-Kwon-Do, and REALLY takes offense at your actions.

Step Six: Kiss your $200,000/year contractor's job goodbye, in addition to suffering a broken nose and a possibly-torn knee ligament, which the government health insurance will not cover.

Step Seven: Congratulations! You've just achieved "Seriously Stupid" status. You may now depart Iraq. (Don't worry...your summons to U.S. Federal Court will follow you shortly!)

Leaning Forward in the Foxhole

2010-02-12T08:32:00.000-08:00

While we are still going Mach 2 with our hair on fire around here, I've noticed a definite change in focus among my fellow unit members since I returned from R&R. With about 90 days left in-country, planning to get out of here has moved to the top of the discussion list. Office improvement projects which had been deferred until Springtime are now relegated to the "Why should we bother messing with that?" category. The mountain of snack food which once filled the shelves in the break room has been whittled down to eight boxes of frosted Pop Tarts, a half-eaten box of Girl Scout cookies, a can of fat-free refried beans (which my office-mates have told me I am prohibited from consuming by the Geneva Convention.), a package of snowman Peeps left over from a Christmas care package, which should still be just as edible should we ever find ourselves deployed here again in five years, a bottle of BACOS fake bacon bits, which might come in handy should we ever invite the Iraqi Police over for lunch. ("Colonel Nasir, would you care for some delicious BACOS on your refried beans?")
We're also finally receiving some of the hot weather combat gear which was supposed to be issued when we first deployed. When it's 50 degrees and windy, nothing beats wearing a thin mesh Army Combat Shirt to avoid heat stroke! (I'm afraid it doesn't do much to prevent hypothermia...)
But when we are 90 days from leaving this lovely paradise in our virtual rear-view mirrors, we simply DO NOT CARE! It's too late to send us to Afghanistan, the rocket and mortar attacks have tapered off, and in my case, I have enough books, underwear, socks, and serviceable uniforms to get me through any eventuality. In the meantime, crime ain't taking a holiday here, so the time will continue to fly by with long work days and nights for us Two Digit Midgets!

Reflections on R&R

2010-02-06T08:59:00.000-08:00

I've been back in Iraq for 3 days now, sitting in my CHU, with my mud-caked boots at the doorway, a 50-foot pool of rainwater surrounding my front step, and more mud than a congressional debate beyond that. It's hard to reconcile this dreary scene with the beaches and jungle of Kaua'i, or even the coziness of home, with a dog in my lap and my spousal unit by my side. Even after the rigors of travel from Baghdad to home and back (8 days), I am glad I went. Not every soldier feels the same way after returning from mid-tour leave. Some have tough family situations to deal with, others just hate the travel, or more accurately the pain in the neck that is military travel. Especially when contrasted when flying First or Business Class on a major airline (like when we flew to Kaua'i), long hours on a military transport or a charter aren't very comfortable. Worse than the flights themselves are the deadly dull periods of waiting in metal and cement buildings, or tents, undergoing endless briefings and accountability formations.

One aspect of coming home demands special mention: The folks at the Dallas-Fort Worth Airport USO, American Airlines staff, and the people who happened to be in the DFW terminal when our flight arrived were all simply Class Acts. I especially appreciated having access to a private, deluxe shower at the American Airlines Admiral's Club so that I was "de-stinkified" when reunited with my sweetheart a couple of hours later. Thanks to all of you special folks!

Watch This!

2010-01-28T07:18:00.000-08:00

Every so often I have an Andy Rooney-like moment. Have you ever noticed how difficult it is to replace the batteries in watches? Jewelry stores don't do it anymore. If you try replacing 'em yourself, the watch usually has some kind of short circuit. I have about 6 decent watches here in my dresser drawer with dead batteries, and one dead watch which I apparently fried when replacing the battery. (I keep that one as a reminder not to try and replace any more batteries.) It must be a conspiracy by the watch manufacturers, so that we have to buy a new watch each time, instead of just keeping our old ones.

Gray Eagles

2010-01-18T05:47:00.001-08:00

This is a very special film. I dedicate it to SSG Donald E. Hall, USAAC, (B-24 gunner) and to my late friend, TSgt Steve Bisson, USAF.

What Does a Redundant Pirate Say?

2010-01-11T12:10:00.000-08:00

Arrrrrrrrr and Arrrrrrrrrr! That's right, friends, Your Fighting Leprechaun has finally reached that magic date for some time stateside. Don't expect any blog entries until next month. In the meantime, see if you can find me in the drawing above. Cheers!

This is My Bunker!

2010-01-09T11:29:00.000-08:00

This bunker may look pretty ordinary to the uninitiated, but when it comes to a structure that's the only thing between me and a mortar shell or rocket, there are some key features which make this particular bunker a cut above the rest. Take note of the TRIPLE layers of sandbags on the top and front, which add a substantial enhancement to its protective capability. This bunker also is bigger than the others, so instead of saying we were "cowering in a bunker", now we're just enjoying a "Personal Protective Party" with 15 of our closest Battle Buddies! Finally, many of the other "no frills" bunkers lack the walls at the entrances, but not this beauty! These entrance walls also provide a measure of privacy. (See previous post, "Bunker Boinkery" for why some find that important...but not for me, man!)

I was not expecting an opportunity anytime soon to try this baby out under "real" conditions, but the opposition must've known I was looking forward to a test drive, as they delivered a rather abrupt wake-up call this morning. I definitely didn't require any coffee afterward. By the way, it is possible to sprint at full speed while wearing "Crocs" shower shoes...

Cavalry Combat Creativity

2010-01-08T10:41:00.000-08:00

As a former cavalryman, I have enjoyed supporting the First Cavalry Division, also known as the Multi-National Division, Baghdad. They just can't help bringing a bit of dash and elan' everywhere they go. One of their chaplains rewrote an old folk tune which the 1st Cav Public Affairs folks turned into a music video...No, it's not "Iraq and Roll" music, but I think it pretty well sums up what life here is like. Enjoy!

Farewell, Aunt Barbara

2010-01-06T09:36:00.000-08:00

I've been lucky to have some pretty great aunts...(not meaning Great Aunts who were pretty, though the only Great Aunts I dimly recall meeting as a little kid may or may not have been pretty...but that's all irrelevant.)...and one of them recently left us. Aunt Barbara was one of our "fun relatives", with a perpetual twinkle in her eye, a gravel voice thanks to countless cigarettes, and a great sense of family. Her home was always filled with warmth and love, and a small measure of barely-controlled exuberance at all times. There's laughter in Heaven tonight...

In Memoriam: Deputy Kent Mundell

2010-01-05T12:04:00.000-08:00

Right now in Tacoma, Washington, a brave sheriff's deputy, and by all accounts a very good man, is being honored by his colleagues and his community. Even as far away as I am from the ceremony, there are echoes of October, 1995 in my heart. To my Honor Guard compatriots still serving, I'm rendering the slow salute along with you tonight. R.I.P. Deputy Mundell.

Not Your Typical New Year's Eve

2010-01-01T14:39:00.000-08:00

Back home, the usual SOP for celebrating New Year's Eve has been to go out for an early dinner with long-time friends, then crawling into bed no later than one minute after midnight. Yep, my spousal unit and I are pretty much the definition of "Party Animals". So, after a long, full day of work, I was prepared to happily retire to my CHU with a slice of North End pizza and a cold bottle of O' Doul's, and call it an early night. I was running out of gas real fast, and I was finishing up with my Facebook page when WHAMMMMMMM!!!!!!!!, there was a great explosion outside, the concussion toppling the paperback books I had stacked on my desk. Like a startled prairie dog, I popped open my door, seeing everyone else down the row doing the same thing. Then the "Big Giant Voice" loudspeaker broadcast the indirect fire warning (Better late than never, eh?), "BWAH! BWAH! BWAH!...INCOMING! INCOMING! INCOMING!" Knowing that these "Special Holiday Gifts" from our adversaries usually come in multiples, we all sprinted for the nearest bunkers. Once esconced inside, there was the usual joking that comes from being under enemy fire...anything to take our minds off the situation. In my bunker, we had an easy conversation starter...commenting on the variety of pajamas which folks were wearing. There were soldiers wearing Mickey Mouse PJs, Philadelphia Eagles PJs (ironically, worn by a guy named "PJ", who isn't from anywhere near Pennsylvania), "Barbie" PJs...(I didn't ask the dude where he got those, or why he chose to wear 'em, as he was much bigger than me.), and my favorite...my boss was clad in PJs with one of the 7 Dwarfs, "Grumpy", gamboling about the fabric. You can bet I'm saving up that fact for use later...

There were three more salvos of projectiles before the Giant Voice rasped, "All Clear!" (I believe the Army hired Ernest Borgnine to record these announcements.) We all wandered back to our respective CHUs...I confess in my case it wasn't for a good night's sleep, as the combination of adrenaline and plain old scaredy-cat nerves kept me up until dawn. Fortunately, New Year's Day was pretty quiet, with no investigations requiring me to be anything approaching fully alert.

The good news was two-fold: Nobody on our base got hurt, nothing vital was damaged...and the Other Team was sacked for a big loss of yardage on the play, and will be "out" for the rest of the season. (A football analogy is much more likely to pass the censor's review...but you get my drift!)
One postscript: A few days later, I was leaving my CHU, headed to work, when a giant tractor-trailer rig pulled up just outside our housing block. A sergeant wearing a combat engineer unit patch hopped out of the cab and motioned to me. "Say, d'ya have any idea where this new bunker is s'posed to be located?", he asked. I glanced up at the nice, extra thick preformed reinforced concrete bunker and huge stack of filled sandbags on the trailer, pretended to consult my pocket notebook, then pointed to a vacant spot about 20 feet from my door. "Why, right there, sergeant!" I replied with what I hoped was a straight face. "Thanks, sir!" the sergeant shouted, and I briskly strode away. By the time I got back from the office 14 hours later, there was the Taj Mahal of bunkers...minus a cot and carton of condoms, of course...just a few steps from our unit's billets. I'm still half-expecting to get a call from the MPs, asking us to investigate the theft of the Commanding General's bunker, but so far, so good! Now, all that remains is to see if I can stretch my TV cable all the way out there...just in case we get attacked during the Texas-Alabama game, or even worse, the Super Bowl.

Bunker Boinkery

2009-12-29T13:01:00.000-08:00

My Team Chief and I had to fly out to a distant FOB last Sunday to conduct an investigation. We were examining the crime scene, a reinforced concrete and sandbag bunker, and without going into details, soon realized that these bunkers are apparently the location of choice for romantic trysts. One bunker even had been equipped with a cot, pillow, an ashtray, and a thoughtful touch...a box of condoms, stolen from the medical clinic, duct-taped to the wall, with a hand-printed sign reading, "Take One...Avoid Embarrassing Questions From Your Significant Other Back Home!"

In Between Investigations...

2009-12-27T01:55:00.000-08:00

What do agents/soldiers do during the minimal downtime between solving crimes in the busiest jurisdiction in Iraq? Some, like me, write and blog. Others take online college courses. Most of us catch up on professional development reading. But the overwhelming favorite activity when there are a few spare minutes is to plan and execute a really great practical joke. Nothing mean-spirited, but sometimes they can get pretty messy.
One office favorite prank was perfected by one of our team chiefs (TC). Someone sent him one of those nylon fabric and spring steel frisbees, which twist and fold into a 4-inch diameter circle. The TC discovered if you fold the frisbee, then pack it with the small paper bits from the office shredder, it delivers a big cloud of confetti when springing open. Since everyone in the office has heavy case files on their desks, it's a simple matter to slide the loaded frisbee under the file...
These surprise attacks have been christened PBIEDs, for Paper Based Improvised Embarrassment Devices, and they serve a positive purpose in addition to the entertainment value. Everyone is now conditioned to scan their desk area for the slightest clue a PBIED lurks within. Sherlock Holmes would be proud to see the improved powers of observation demonstrated by his Army proteges. Even the most clever agent can fall prey to the PBIED. One of our best agents, who I'll call, "Raul", had for 5 months carefully avoided detonating the confetti bombs emplaced in his workspace by meticulously checking every inch of anything that looked suspicious, whenever he had been gone from his office for more than 5 minutes. That pattern eventually led to his undoing, as everyone else worked together to bag this prized trophy. One agent faked receiving a call on our "hot line" from the MP desk, and then asked "Raul" for some guidance. While "Raul" was thus distracted, another agent started feeding paper into the shredder, the noise covering the sound of yet another agent sneaking into "Raul's" office, and sliding the loaded PBIED into the Stars and Stripes newspaper "Raul" had just brought back from the mess hall. Once the device had been successfully emplaced, the distractions ended, and "Raul" was soon covered in confetti!

Christmas in the Middle East

2009-12-25T02:52:00.000-08:00

Since this is the closest I'm ever likely to be to Bethlehem on Christmas, I've been soaking up the ambience as much as possible. Last night I was scanning the skies for the Star of Bethlehem...thought I saw it, but it turned out to be a countermeasure flare from a C-17. Early this morning, as I was cat-napping through a Nyquil-induced haze, I heard the Muslim Call to Prayer being broadcast from the nearby mosque, and it struck me how non-commercial the holiday has been over here. I've been truly blessed to receive care packages from family and friends, filled with special gifts which have brought a reminder of home, and definitely chosen with a lot of thought and kindness. My sister even surprised me by sending tins of two different spice cookies which were specialties of my mom and my grandmother. Hadn't had those for over 30 years! On my desk, there's a small Christmas Tree, covered with ornaments...the smiling faces of my colleagues at my civilian job back home...All day, I just have to glance up from my case files to be greeted with Kodak grins! Sure makes it easier to be here.
So, even though I'm under the weather, forted up in my CHU with supplies of Kleenex, Nyquil (also known as the "Baghdad Buzz"), Ricola cough drops, and a way cool retro video game console complete with Pac Man, Galaga, Pole Position, Frogger, etc., I am having a very Merry Christmas! Thank you all very much for your FB greetings, emails, photos, and other creative ways to keep my spirits up! "Police Navidad!" from The Fighting Leprechaun.

And the Winner Is...

2009-12-21T11:59:00.000-08:00

No, not the latest "Sole Survivor" from this season's reality show...(though one of the very few benefits of being over here is that I got to watch the show without causing my spousal unit distress and nausea)...but rather the winner of the "Leprechaun's Loser AFN Commercial" award. For those of you who have ever experienced the dubious pleasure of watching what Armed Forces Network (AFN) replaces regular commercials with, well, those suckers haven't improved much. I swear that some of the spots AFN used to broadcast when I was stationed in Europe in the mid-70's are still airing today...and not as part of a TV nostalgia show. We have commercials promoting driver safety, good weapons cleaning and maintenance procedures, classes in blowin' stuff up, the Army Corps of Engineers (best soundtrack award goes to those folks, by the way...wish I could add it to my iTunes library), suicide prevention (a different one at least every hour...and they don't seem to be helping...), anti-drinking and driving, physical fitness, and just plain rah rah spots promoting different units.
But even with this Plethora of Pap to choose from, in my mind one commercial stands out from all the rest...and not in a good way. Here's the scenario:
A clearly over-caffeinated soldier and a frumpy civilian female walk together to the parking lot after some sort of on-base college class, somewhere in Europe. The soldier reaches his car and starts crawling around on the pavement, looking behind the wheels and under the chassis, while the woman, in a voice only slightly less annoying that Judge Judy's, asks the soldier why he always is checking his car. Her phrasing imples that she thinks he's a twitchy dude. The woman heads toward her own car, spots a big-ass cardboard box placed behind her front tire, and starts shrieking hysterically. The camera cuts to a presumed terrorist female who is watching this from her own car, finger hovering over the buttons of her cell phone, waiting for the right moment to blow up the woman, who is STILL wailing...(at this point, pretty much everyone watching this commercial is yelling, "Push the damn button, lady!")...The soldier runs over, asks the wailer, "Did you see anyone? I'm calling 9-1-1!!!" (But completely overlooks the only occupied car in the parking lot, which speeds past 'em as the soldier obliviously shouts into the phone!) Shrieking a bit more quietly, the woman turns to the soldier and asks him, "Why me? why didn't they try to blow YOU up?" The soldier turns his steely-eyed squint toward his colleague and growls, "Because I made myself into a HARD TARGET!" (Cue the porno movie soundtrack...)
While I can never do full justice to the complete and utter cheesiness this commercial exudes, you'll have to take my word for it...the sheer suckitude defies description. Oh well, perhaps it has made its way on to Youtube by now...If so, I promise to post the link, and you can judge for yourself...

The Home of Battlefield Justice

2009-12-20T05:30:00.000-08:00

This is where I work. Nice, ain't it? (Note the elegant sunshade, hand-painted sign, and the huge amount of free parking in the mud.)

Victory Over America? Not!

2009-12-19T23:14:00.000-08:00

I got to tour the ruins of one of the late, unlamented Saddam Hussein's many palaces. This one is

ironically-named, "Victory Over America", to commemorate Saddam's perception that by remaining in power after the Gulf War, he had in fact triumphed over the USA. The photo on the left is the entrance to the Grand Ballroom, which was remodeled slightly by a 1,500 lb "bunker buster" bomb in 2003. Personally, I like what they've done with the place. This palace had some Medici-like features, including the stairways being uneven in places, so anyone pursuing the dictator up or down the stairs would be thrown off stride, while the fleeing Saddam, who knew where all the quirks were located, could outdistance his enemies. This joint reminded me of Hitler's "Eagle's Aerie" in Berchtesgaden, except this is a Walmart version, with much crappier scenery.

Speaking of scenery, the photo on the right is a view toward Camp Liberty. My detachment office is located on the far side of that anthill-looking thing, called either "Antenna Hill" (no panache' there) or "Strawberry Hill", a possible tribute to Boone's Farm wine. All those man-made lakes were created by diverting Tigris River water from the irrigation canals the local farmers depended upon to grow crops, so Saddam could have houseboats and beach parties. Whatta guy! By the way, there are lots of fish, including some lunkers weighing up to 50 lbs, populating those lakes...I plan to celebrate Christmas by getting my line wet, and trying out different lures and bait contributed by my generous friends back home. "Fish On! Ho, Ho, Ho!"

Seattle Mariners Madness!

2009-12-17T19:38:00.000-08:00

One of the innoculations against complete and utter homesickness over here is following our favorite sports teams. While a very wise friend has often stated, "The only thing Seattle Mariners fans are entitled to is disappointment," I re-energized my optimism last season when Ken Griffey Jr. returned "home", the M's won a bunch of games, Ichiro was finally enjoying himself... and it continues to grow on a weekly basis. Adding pitcher Cliff Lee and infielder Chone Figgins to the lineup were brilliant moves. While anyone who isn't a baseball fan will yawn at this news, for me it's like an early Christmas present!

The Leprechaun's Lost Lunch

2009-12-16T12:34:00.000-08:00

Coming from a FOB where there was one mess hall, a Pizza Hut trailer, and an espresso stand, the stunning array of chow halls, (at least 10), fast food joints (maybe 30), and civilian restaurants (over 10) on the Baghdad Victory Base Complex is pretty darn overwhelming. While the folks in my office usually stick to either one of the two closest mess halls, when another agent and I had to drop by Coalition HQs to get some radios programmed, we figured on grabbing lunch at the Super Mega Low Mart of mess halls, which is the size of a pro football stadium, and holds almost as many people, most of them Majors or above, with a sprinkling of peons like me. The lines were longer than the commercial breaks on network TV, but we finally got a sandwich, and plunged into the maelstrom of people and tables. We plunked our trays down at a couple of empty spots, then I went in search of a diet soda. I had to circumnavigate the whole darn place before finding a cooler with a diet beverage. I backtracked to my seat, or so I thought, and soon found myself utterly lost. Must've made 4 complete circuits before I just came to a stop, staring blankly at the sea of humanity. I probably looked pretty pitiful, because a tall, wiry Brigadier General stopped, squinted at me, and drawled, "Son, you look damn lost!" I confessed my situation, which drew a laconic, "Guess you better get used to going hungry!" I gave up on my sandwich quest at that point, and met up with my colleague where we had parked the SUV. I ended up dining at the office on Wheat Thins and Crystal Light. Next time I'm faced with dining at the Coloseum of Chow, I'm getting my sandwich to go...

Return of the Leprechaun

2009-12-12T14:41:00.000-08:00

Sorry for not posting for a while...I just didn't have a lot of motivation. But, I'm back, and ready to recount what has been happening in Baghdad over the past two weeks. First of all, my investigation workload has been like transferring from Mayberry PD to NYPD. We have two teams of agents, and rotate the duty each day. We can count on the phone to ring with a "duty call" on the average of twice per day. I'm carrying a caseload equivalent in size to what the entire office had at my old FOB. Every other agent has the same load...or bigger. This requires good teamwork, and that's where my colleagues really excel. I won't go so far as to say crime scenes are now fun, but the good humor, horseplay, and tips to increase efficiency really make the long days go by faster.

I've been afforded the opportunity to expand my professional knowledge in unique ways, for instance I am now certified as a Unit Prevention Leader...more commonly known in the Army as a "Piss Tester". Yep, the Army has a pretty aggressive drug testing program which requires random urine testing for everybody...even for the highest-ranking General Officers. (How many times have we soldiers said, "Whoever thought THAT up must've been on drugs!" Well, now we'll know for sure!) The certification training included such topics as "Cleaning up spills", the "Proper Method of Observation", and my personal favorite, "Detection of the Whizzinator". It's an actual product used by dopers to pass urine tests. The Whizzinator includes a realistic looking latex wiener (comes in a variety of skin tones), a vinyl bladder which users fill with drug-free...er...liquid obtained from non-using buddies, and even a small chemical heating pad to ensure the sample is at 98 degrees. There is even a female version...don't ask!

Lafayette, We Are Here!

2009-11-24T10:55:00.000-08:00

No thanks to the brain-dead folks operating my old FOB's air operations office, I finally hopped on a flight last Monday and was at Baghdad International Airport (known in these parts by its acronym, BIAP) 20 minutes later. Before I forget, even though lots of negative comments get heaped upon the civilian contractors who work for the former Halliburton subsidiary of KBR, I need to mention some shining exceptions: The folks who operate the civilian motor pool and the employees running the Army Post Office at FOB Kalsu are dedicated, competent, non-bureaucratic, and best of all, extremely customer-service oriented...I shall really miss working with them all. Of similar competence are the men and women who keep the BIAP military helicopter passenger operations humming like a...rotor blade? (Points deducted for crap-o analogy.) TSA could really learn a thing or 50 from these professionals.

Now, on to the story at hand. I wrote about what it was like to visit Baghdad, not expecting to be taking up residence here 30 days later. Since I'm apparently on an analogy kick tonight, I'm going to compare the Victory Base Complex (VBC) to a gigunda anthill. Yeah, not fresh in the least, but if you saw the little figures scurrying around the big, bare mound nicknamed "Commo Hill", named so because it is bristling with every kind of radio, microwave, and likely TV antennae, anthill would come to your mind as well.

After a week here, I am very happy with the change. The pace is definitely high-speed...I've done more interviews in one week than I did in the previous month. We're averaging one or two new cases per day. My colleagues are pretty high-speed as well. It's definitely a fun working environment, with lots of practical jokes being sprung. I have a lot more resources at my disposal, especially a file server containing electronic case files for the past 4 years. Need an example of a crime scene sketch for a motor vehicle theft? It's in there. Reward request and poster? There are literally 50 different types available. It makes doing casework fast and efficient.

Living conditions are a bit different from FOB Kalsu...nah, they are a LOT different! The CHUs are less sturdy, and square vs. rectangular. I have bunk beds in my room, (shades of 1964!) plus a "pleather" leprechaun-sized loveseat, and a full-sized desk for my laptop and TV. My CHU is located in a sprawling housing area, sort of a "combat Levittown", and in the midst of a persistent sea of mud. Even though the last rain was a week ago, the mud is just as wet and gooey. Topping off the location's charm is the distance to the latrine, which I reach after trekking a quarter-mile through the muck...which gives me incentive to increase my sprint speed!

I'll follow up shortly with my account of touring the ruins of the "Victory Over America" Palace, (I have photos) and the Hooters Girls appearance where I was on the security detail (sorry, NO photos...)

More Stuff You Can't Just Make Up

2009-11-22T12:14:00.000-08:00

While still stuck in Lodi...er, my FOB, killing time waiting to fly to Baghdad, I bought a military history magazine at the PX. In this reputable publication, my eyes fell on an advertisement that I first thought was a parody, headlined with "The Ultimate WWII Reality Experience!" The ad continues: "Book your place now for the reality tourism experience of a lifetime. For ten days you will be an Allied Airman, shot down over Nazi-occupied Poland. Polish resistance agents will protect you and show you Warsaw, then you will be arrested by the Gestapo and sent to Stalag Luft XIX, our authentic re-creation of a WWII Luftwaffe POW camp..." (italics are mine).

Admittedly, like most boys who grew up in the 50's and 60's, I was fascinated by WWII movies and TV shows, idolized my Dad and uncles who served in the war, and built model Spitfires, B-17s, and P-51 Mustangs...and even enjoyed Hogan's Heroes for the parody it was. That said, I think this whole deal seems to cross most boundaries of good taste.
Check it out for yourselves, and let me know your opinion: www.powescapes.com

(I can see it now...in 10 years, the Iraqi Government will launch Water(board) World: Book your next vacation at a faithful reproduction of Saddam Hussein's political prison, staffed by re-enactors who might still be actual members of the Baath Party. )

Welcome to the Hotel (FOB) California

2009-11-21T07:01:00.000-08:00

Where apparently I can check in anytime I want, but I can never leave. Looks like it is going to take me 4 or 5 days to make it to my new duty station...which is less than 50 miles as the Blackhawk flies. Discussing why it's taking so long is prohibited here in Blogland, but let's just say it's not Army Aviation's finest hour...

Having said my goodbyes to acquaintances on FOB Mayberry 3 separate times now, it is getting kind of embarrassing to run in to them in the mess hall..."What, you're still here?" I've moved in to the office so as to leave my CHU vacant for my replacement, who may make it here some time tonight...hooked up my laptop to the internet connection, and have set up a cot, so there are all the comforts, yet I'm still packed up and ready to roll at a moment's notice. I'm definitely better off than the group of Air Force folks who have been waiting in the small bus station-like airfield "ready room" for the past 3 days. Those guys are starting to look like cast members on "Survivor"...except they have no hope of profiting from an immunity challenge which would get 'em on a helo.

Wish me luck...and send your happy thoughts to the Combat Stress Clinical Team and Civil Engineering Group, so that they may soon be finally voted off the "island".

NOW I Know

2009-11-17T21:43:00.000-08:00

why there are all those metal grates outside every building door here. The mud here isn't just ordinary mud...it's SUPER MUD!!!! This stuff sticks to my boots like dog poop, will not wash off, and doesn't dry out for weeks. Is this evidence of Iraqi bio-engineering? Did "Chemical Ali" figure out the formula for replicating the same mud which bogged down both Napoleon's and Hitler's armies outside of Moscow?

By the way, the metal grates don't really work all that well, but it gives the illusion that we've done something prior to tracking thick brown gobs all over the floor...

Weekend Update

2009-11-14T13:32:00.000-08:00

And unfortunately, no Amy Poehler here either...
I was informed yesterday that I am part of a "musical chairs movement", and will be reporting next week for duty in the Greater Baghdad Area. That'll place me in much closer proximity to "the flagpole" than I'd like, but it's still better than being almost anywhere in Afghanistan. The new scenery and working conditions should provide a lot of blog fodder, though I will miss the bucolic life here on "FOB Mayberry". (Photo of my new office location is posted above.)

By the way, I was going to recount my experience with an Iraqi Police senior officer the other day, but quickly realized that by doing so I would likely run afoul of Multi-National Force-Iraq blog guidelines. You can read between the lines here. At least it'll provide the basis for a great vingnette in the slowly-developing novel.

Lotsa Work, and My (Belated) Veteran's Day Commentary

2009-11-12T18:42:00.000-08:00

Greetings, Dear Readers...

Sorry for not posting in a while, but when the "new kids" arrived in town, they brought a crapload of problems with them. We'd had it pretty easy with the old brigade, which was settled in and running smoothly when we arrived. Their soldiers weren't perfect, but they didn't seem to commit a lot of serious crimes over here. That made for a boring, but perfectly acceptable situation. No more lazy Sundays watching TV and fishing lately, though, and there's no end in sight. Our office has been receiving RFAs (Requests For Assistance) from the CID office at the stateside post where our new unit is based at a prodigious rate (1-2 per day), and most of these RFAs require travel to an outlying FOB. Our "away game" schedule is beginning to resemble that of the Seattle Mariners.

Veteran's Day in the Sandbox reinforced how fortunate I am to have the very best family, friends, and colleagues possible. "How's that?" you may ask...Well, while there was a lot of nice sentiments expressed on TV shows, concerts, and I'm told places like Applebee's, Famous Dave's BBQ, Krispy Kreme Donuts, and others offered free meals to veterans and active duty folks. But while I've been deployed, y'all have treated me like EVERY day is Veteran's Day. I don't know if I've adequately expressed how much your support has meant to me, between the positive emails, letters, care packages, and phone conversations, but all of your efforts have really kept me sane and grounded during the tough times over here. I've definitely got it much easier than those of you that were engaged in active ground combat, but war is still hell, especially having to be so far away from home. By the way, in honor of Veteran's Day, our Mess Hall served free meals to everyone!

Old Battlefields

2009-11-07T12:55:00.000-08:00

My partner and I flew to a base down on the Iraq-Iran border to conduct an investigation. As we neared to within 20 miles of Iran, I looked out the door of the UH-60 and was surprised to see hundreds of old artillery emplacements dotting the flat terrain. There were even piles of shell casings, and a few gun carriages dumped in some of the more remote areas. The scene reminded me a bit of the WWI battlefield at Verdun. Of course, there was no grass growing on the trenches, and definitely no memorials. Up to the moment that I saw all these earthworks, I had only a vague awareness of the Iraq-Iran War's magnitude. This area sure looked like good tank terrain, though I don't know how marshy it was.

A Different Kind of War Casualty

2009-11-03T12:16:00.000-08:00

While the nation's attention is focused on the growing numbers of battle deaths occurring in Afghanistan (and rightfully so, as those fallen warriors deserve to be honored to the greatest extent possible), most of the general public is not fully aware of the soldiers who are dying as a result of "non-battle-related incidents." That's Pentagon-speak for any death due to accidents, natural causes, homicide, or suicide. My colleagues and I are tasked with investigating each and every "non-battle-related" death over here, and it is a tough mission, especially so for the suicides. The Armed Forces have devoted a lot of attention and effort to proactive suicide awareness and prevention programs. On AFN-TV, there's at least one suicide prevention-related public service "commercial" on every channel, every hour. The Army has developed a relevant and sensitive suicide awareness/prevention program which features interactive video and handouts, coupled with unit-level training on a regular basis. Almost every FOB has a combat stress control clinic, staffed by highly qualified psychologists and counselors.
Yet despite all of these excellent resources, young men and women continue to end their lives in Iraq, and it just doesn't make sense. Some of them are just months, weeks, or even days from going home. Many are on their first deployment. It has been really rugged seeing battle-hardened NCOs and officers, trying to figure out why one of their soldiers decided to take their own life.
Although I've seen a lot of death during my military and law enforcement careers, and grieved for friends and fellow officers killed in the line of duty, investigating these "non-battle-related casualties" has gotten pretty darn tough for most of us. I wish I had an answer...but I sure don't.

(On a very personal note, I am very fortunate to be blessed with a strong support system and coping skills, which allows me to get through all this stuff with my psyche, and sense of humor intact. I wish everyone was similarly blessed.)

Notes from a Combat Truck Stop

2009-10-31T08:59:00.000-07:00

Late Friday afternoon my partner and I got the word that we were going to a convoy support camp to handle a death investigation. We had about 20 minutes to gather our crime scene gear, grab our "Go Bag", and jump into an MRAP (Mine Resistant, Ambush Protected) vehicle convoy headed down MSR (Main Supply Route) Tampa to the camp. The MRAP is kind of like one of those mini-buses that the retirement communities use, only heavily armored, with a hull designed to deflect roadside bombs. Couldn't see much in the growing dusk as we zoomed south down the highway, but the MRAP has a surprisingly smooth, quiet ride, lulling a number of our fellow passengers to nod off. No snoozing for me or my partner (nicknamed "K-9", as she used to be an MP dog handler), since this was our first time outside the wire in a ground convoy. It took us about an hour to get to the camp, which has the primary mission of supporting the military convoys coming to and from Kuwait. "K-9" and I hit the ground running, and worked straight through the night, processing the scene and interviewing witnesses. We took a break for breakfast in the camp's small mess hall, which like a truck stop diner is open 24-7, and come to think of it, has about the same menu. The camp commander had given us a couple of CHUs, so we headed there to grab a short nap and a shower before resuming our investigation. It was just before dawn, and for the first time in Iraq I heard the Muezzin broadcasting the "call to prayer" from the minaret outside the camp walls...really felt like I was living in an arabic country, instead of a very large trailer park in southwest Arizona. My partner and I worked through lunch completing our interviews, and finished up in time to catch a ride with an armored Humvee patrol heading back to our FOB. It was a very different experience riding northward in the Humvee...a lot noisier, but since it was daylight, I could see everything around us. The civilian traffic flew by us, gents in arabic dress crammed into SUVs and tiny sedans, a few luxury Mercedes Benz cars, obviously armor plated by their low ride, and a lot of young men peddling their heavily-loaded bicycles down the shoulders of the highway. Our patrol lumbered pretty slowly by comparison to every other vehicle except the bikes, but we didn't stop for traffic slowdowns, moving instead into opposite lanes to get around jams. Every few miles I saw an Iraqi Police pickup truck posted on the side of the road, with a cop in the bed manning a light machine gun on the roof...talk about heavy traffic enforcement! There were goat and cow herds along both sides of the road, and as we approached a recently-built highway overpass, instead of a line of motor vehicle traffic crossing over our heads, it was a conga line of cattle shuffling placidly along. About midway back, we were detoured around a traffic collision...but instead of orange traffic cones, the IPs had set out big rocks and scrap metal to mark the temporary lanes. (Maybe dog agility people stole all of their cones!)
Roadside commerce is sure different in Southern Iraq; gas stations consist of a single pump in a mini-van sized shack, and the restaurants are all open air affairs, most featuring big rotisseries roasting large chunks of meat. It reminded me of travelling up old California Highway 99 through the Central Valley in the early 60's...all it needed was a couple of "Big Orange" stands to complete the picture.
I enjoyed the ride, even more so due to the lack of IEDs or other bad guy activity...it was enough to keep me awake until we got back home, secured our packages of evidence, and grabbed a quick bite of dinner before surrendering to the siren call of our CHUs.

Bummer in Baghdad

2009-10-29T09:55:00.000-07:00

Our unit suffered its first casualty of the deployment. Our battalion executive officer lost his life due to a "non-combat related incident" on Tuesday. I can't discuss details, but my deepest condolences to the XO's family, friends, and colleagues.

Some Days You're the A-10...

2009-10-27T08:27:00.000-07:00

...Some Days You're the Tank.

Live Blog From Baghdad

2009-10-22T11:27:00.000-07:00

After spending my tour of duty up 'til now in small Forward Operating Bases (FOBs), I happily volunteered to take a piece of electronic equipment up to our unit headquarters in Baghdad for repair. It was a great opportunity to see my friends from our reserve unit, and do a little sightseeing. I wasn't prepared for the amount of traffic, pavement, and huge buildings that cover the gigantic Victory Base Complex, and felt kind of like a "country bumpkin" while staring goggle-eyed at everything around me. The centerpiece is the renowned Al Faw Palace, which is opulent in a cheesy, Las Vegas sort of way. No visit to Al Faw Palace is complete until tourists have been photographed while seated on Saddam Hussein's throne. The Leprechaun couldn't resist the lure of planting his posterior for posterity...some pretty famous rear ends have occupied this surprisingly comfy piece of furniture.
Another pleasant surprise awaited me during dinner in one of the Mega Mess Halls. The USO put together a cartoonist tour to visit bases in Iraq and Afghanistan, and so I got to meet and chat with "Doonesbury" creator Garry Trudeau. Mr. Trudeau is a truly gracious fellow who has used his strip as a "bully pulpit" to increase Americans' awareness of the struggles our Wounded Warriors encounter. He drew a nice little sketch of "BD", personalized it, and presented me with a "Doonesbury in the Sandbox" commemorative coin. I'll try to post a photo of both mementos soon.
More photos from Baghdad will follow, but after a pretty sporty helo ride on the return trip, I'm worn out and gonna hit the sack!

CHU Like My Place?

2009-10-18T14:29:00.000-07:00

I intended to share photos of the metal box that is my home during this deployment, but just never got around to it until today. This is my assigned Containerized Housing Unit, or CHU...also known by equally-homey terms such as "Can" or "Hootch". A quick tour: You'll note the state of the art "Home Theater", complete with 22" LCD TV; I receive 10 channels of Armed Forces Network TV, plus I have a collection of DVDs, and an external hard drive containing over 200 movies, which play on my TV when connected to my laptop computer. The comfy chairs even have handy cup-holders! When it's bed-time for Bonzo, the surprisingly comfortable mattress, covered with the camoflage-pattern "Woobie" (that's the unofficial GI name for the quilted poncho liner, which is probably the Army's best issue item) has been kind to me. My "stuff" is inside that classy gray steel wall locker...thankfully I don't have, or need much "stuff"! My fishing pole is in the corner, ready to go at a moment's notice whenever I get free time during daylight hours...which hasn't happened lately. (The turtles are no doubt thankful for this respite!)

Well, I hope you've enjoyed the tour...Look for the 3-star rating in next month's "Michelin Guide to Combat Zone B&Bs" available at better bookstores everywhere!

Interesting Meeting

2009-10-18T13:48:00.000-07:00

I had the privilege of meeting Iraqi Major A_____, who is the "Rule of Law" for the province. Very gracious and friendly, he was at our office as part of a series of orientation briefings on the American military justice system here in Iraq. I showed him the size of the case file I'm currently working, which when stacked up is close to 24" high...the Major was amazed, and astutely asked why we haven't adopted an all-digital case file system. I learned, through an interpreter, how the Iraqi Army (IA) interfaces with the Iraqi Police (IP), which is substantially different from how the US Armed Forces work with our civilian counterparts. After a very interesting conversation, I presented Major A_____ with my CID brassard and patch from my uniform...I think he would have preferred either our super-glue fuming apparatus, or maybe my Sig-Sauer pistol...!

Dodged a Bullet (Figuratively!)

2009-10-16T09:47:00.000-07:00

I was assigned an RFA (Request For Assistance) from a Stateside Army post today. Turned out to be a "bad news/good news" deal.

The Bad News: The RFA will require interviewing up to 20 different soldiers, plus the suspect(s), all said to be located at a remote patrol base, which will require 3 days of grueling investigation away from most of my tools, such as my computer for taking sworn statements.

The Good News: After I carefully read over the documents attached to the RFA, I realized that the unit with all of the involved soldiers had re-deployed back to the USA almost a year ago...which the sending agent apparently failed to check. Oops. So, I got to send back the RFA with a polite, professional note which roughly translated to "Not it!"

All in all, it was an excellent omen for the weekend.

Nights in White Shattin...

2009-10-14T12:00:00.000-07:00

I've not been able to get back to sleep after crawling in to bed at 2300. Right after I dropped off to dreamland, some idiot pounded on my door...wrong door...then a group of idiots across the street at brigade headquarters decided to burn a pile of discarded uniforms, sending a noxious cloud of smoke billowing around our CHUs, and filling my CHU with stinky fumes. Tried 3 times to nod off, but the last attempt was thwarted by the idiots (are you detecting a pattern here?) in the CHU next to me, who decided that 0130 was the perfect time to crank up the volume in their stereo to wall-shaking levels, and then scream like maniacs being gnawed upon by badgers. Thankfully, the Major who lives on the opposite side of these mental dwarfs, and is in their chain of command, flew out of his CHU and slammed some heavy object against their door, then yelled how he was going to "rip off their heads and crap down their necks unless they all shut-the-f**k-up-right-f**king-now!" I quietly opened my own door, smiled and thanked the Major, and he very calmly responded, "You're most welcome, Agent Leprechaun," before returning to his own bed.
I love being here.

Chronicles of a Combat Zone Couch Potato

2009-10-11T03:46:00.000-07:00

After a physically and emotionally-grueling week, I decided to just grab a light dinner to go and return to my CHU and watch baseball play-off games, college and NFL football, President's Cup golf...in other words, nothing requiring cognitive thought. I was rewarded for my indolence with some outstanding sports action: Army beat Vanderbilt, Florida held off LSU, the Dodgers swept the Cardinals (I predict it'll be a re-run of the 1963 Dodgers vs. Yankees World Series, with the Dodgers taking it all...despite not having Sandy Koufax on the mound), Tiger and the American team are up by 3.5 points over the Internationals, and best of all, my UW Huskies came from behind to pull out a dramatic win over undefeated Arizona! Woo-Hoo! This should more than offset the expected drubbing the SeaHawks will take tonight at the hands of Carolina.
Come Monday morning, I'll be accelerating back up to 100 mph, so this has been a much needed respite.

The End of a Sad and Tragic Landmark

2009-10-10T04:55:00.000-07:00

I noticed this morning that the old Steilacoom Marina was destroyed by a fire yesterday. The building's demise was especially poignant for me, as I had kept my first boat there while living on one of the islands offshore, and I was one of the primary investigators of owner Paul Wang's murder back in the mid-80's. I could never visit the place without thinking how awful that winter day was, seeing Paul's body on the floor. Paul Wang was kind, generous, and friendly to all that stopped by the old marina. He didn't deserve to be brutally murdered by the two young teenagers who had decided to rob the marina store. I'll never forget how matter-of-fact the suspect that I interviewed was when he told me that they'd killed Paul so they couldn't be identified after the robbery. That was my first exposure to sociopathic behavior, and it chilled me to the bone. Those two murderers are still in prison, and with any luck will remain there until they die.
Paul's widow tried to keep the marina going, but faced an uphill battle. Maybe at long last the spirits that I always felt inhabited the place were released with the flames and smoke, and it can once again be a peaceful spot on the Puget Sound.
R.I.P., Paul...and my condolences to you, Shirley.

My Army G.A.S. Gauge

2009-10-07T10:26:00.000-07:00

is officially below "E", and I expect it to stay there for the next 8 months.

A Day in the Life

2009-10-06T14:02:00.000-07:00

This kind of schedule is becoming more typical as things get busier:
6:30 a.m. Physical Fitness Test: Sit-ups, push-ups, 2.5 miles. Aleve is my friend.
9:00 a.m. Review case files and comments from the boss...generate lots of paperwork.
11:00 a.m. Pick up a new investigation, begin to interview the victim.
12:00 noon Break for lunch...grab something a the mess hall, bring it back to the office.
1:30 p.m. Resume victim interview.
7:45 p.m. Break for dinner, and catch up on interview notes while victim is at mess hall.
9:45 p.m. Victim interview complete; set up appointments for witness interviews.
10:30 p.m. Return to CHU, catch up on emails, get clean uniform ready for tomorrow.
Midnight: Collapse on bed, get ready to do it all over again tomorrow.

Go Huskies! Beat the Fighting Irish!

2009-10-03T09:02:00.000-07:00

Given that the symbol of the University of Notre Dame is a "Fighting Leprechaun", you'd suppose that I'd be predisposed to root for the Fighting Irish. Sorry...I'm a loyal Dawg, and will be cheering the Purple and Gold on to kick butt at South Bend today! (Oh, yes, Notre Dame...Relax, Don't Fight It...It's Gonna Happen!)

Iraq is "For the Birds"!

2009-10-02T08:47:00.000-07:00

I suspect that the famous "Triangle of Death" has never been considered a mecca for birdwatchers. On the other hand, as a courtesy to two very nice people back home (Howdy, Burt and Doris!) who are VERY dedicated birders, I offer a snapshot (well, two snapshots, actually) of the bird situation here in Southern Iraq.

I noticed upon my arrival 3 months ago that there were almost no birds to be seen. With the daily temperature at 120+ degrees, I figured that birds were smart enough to hang out elsewhere. The occasional dove would fly overhead and poop on soldiers, (how's that for war zone irony?) but the absence of birds singing was pretty weird. Then one day about a month ago, as dusk approached and we made our way toward the mess hall, the sky was darkened by thousands of little birdies, all emitting shrill cries. These feathered clouds alighted on the only four eucalyptus trees in our FOB and continued their ear-splitting racket, until a controlled detonation of some confiscated enemy explosives caused every bird to take wing simultaneously and scream about 4 feet over our heads. This show now occurs almost every evening.

I snapped a photo of one of these unremarkable brown birds, sans his buddies, as he perched on the concrete blast wall outside of my CHU...I'm confident that either Burt or Doris will supply the identification once they read this. The second photo is a small portion of the nightly gathering. You'll have to take my word that the little black dots covering the branches are indeed birds. I would have gotten closer, but these birds were especially free with their droppings this evening, and I was wearing a fresh uniform! Anyway, loud as those little brown suckers are, it's nice to hear birds singing again...

Totally Cool!

2009-09-29T11:17:00.000-07:00

That's the weather tonight, clear and COOL! Official temperature at the BDOC (Base Defense Operations Center) right now at 9:20 p.m. is a pleasant 70 degrees...Heck, it almost feels like home.
It's not only cool out tonight, it is especially noisy! I must have missed the memo from the base commander ordering everyone to turn up their stereo, honk MRAP horns, crank up the Karaoke Night sound system (and the "talent" is particularly off-key this evening)...even the Iraqi Police are blasting their sirens every few minutes on MSR Tampa, and the final chorus chiming in comes from a pod of crickets outside of my CHU. Good thing I have an excellent set of earplugs, because that'll be the only way I'll be able to sleep tonight!

Fishin' on the FOB

2009-09-27T11:39:00.001-07:00

Thanks to my friends Felix and Caroline, I am now fully-outfitted to engage in some combat-zone fishing! (Thanks, you two!) Although I had planned to spend a couple of hours today angling for wiley carp and catfish, I was the Lone Ranger on the FOB this weekend, so was stuck in the office until this evening. I did manage to get my line wet, learned some helpful fishing tips from 3 civilian contactors (the local carp prefer Slim Jim chunks to anything else), and finally reeled in a big, fat...turtle! (Yep, I yelled, "Terp On!" to everyone's amusement.) I successfully released the turtle without hurting him (it?). As you can see from the photos, our fishing area has been thoughtfully equipped with protection from indirect fire, which adds to the bucolic setting. As I headed off in to the Iraqi sunset, I swore those carp were calling after me, "Bring more Slim Jims!" (NOTE: NO TURTLES OR FISH WERE HARMED DURING THE MAKING OF THIS BLOG...)

Mystery Revealed!

2009-09-24T10:38:00.000-07:00

I finally learned the name of the restaurant which provides the catering service for our dining facility: It explains a lot...

(Thanks to Dr. Bagacheezi for providing the evidence photo.)

The Amazing Leprechreskin!

2009-09-19T16:30:00.000-07:00

If you'll take note of the time that I published my earlier post, predicting that the UW Huskies would upset the USC Trojans, you will see that I made this prediction approximately 5 hours before kickoff. I do admit that this prognostication was tinged with wishful thinking, but what a kick that the Dawgs pulled it off! (And congratulations to Coach Sark...so far, you have one more "W" this season than I do, and I'm expecting to see a couple more!)

The storm that I mentioned in that same post developed into a major thunderstorm, with lightning striking the FOB, and crashing thunder so loud that stuff was shaken out of my wall lockers. This was a just plain eventful night, in a good way.

Fall Comes To Iraq

2009-09-19T09:36:00.000-07:00

Folks who have been here for a while explained that when the season changes from Summer to Fall, temperatures drop into the mid-90's, and it begins to rain. Well, it must officially be Fall, because after two and a half months, the skies just opened up with an epic deluge. Big windstorm to go along with the water, which makes for a nice change...at least until I have to slog through ankle deep mud to get to the latrine and shower. Fortunately I have all of my shoe-cleaning supplies on hand, including a good scrub brush and bucket, so that I won't track mud into my CHU. Semper Paratus.
Turned out to be the perfect evening to fort up in the hootch, munch on beef jerky, and watch college football...including the stunning upset victory the UW Huskies pulled off over USC...

A Hero, Paying Back Since 9/11/01

2009-09-15T02:02:00.000-07:00

This story has taken me a bit more time to write than usual, as the subject deserves the effort.
While awaiting a flight on 9/11, I struck up a conversation with a First Lieutenant, a fellow Army Reservist. When he learned that I was retired from law enforcement, the LT mentioned that his civilian job was paramedic with the NYFD. When I asked the inevitable question, "Were you there that day?", a troubled look crossed the LT's face as he seemed to consider how to answer. He then started speaking quietly, describing how he had indeed been there that morning, treating and helping to evacuate people from the South Tower. The LT paused for a minute, then told me how screwed up things had gotten for the first responders. He talked about how he and his fellow medics had been ordered to abandon the non-ambulatory patients, and evacuate the building immediately, as it was about to collapse. The LT said that he had protested, but in the end followed orders, and escaped minutes before the South Tower came down.
I sat there quietly, absorbing how incredibly painful this had been for this guy and his partners.
The LT bowed his head, and said he's carried the guilt with him ever since. He enlisted in the Army Reserve shortly afterward, and since 2001 has volunteered for and served 3 combat tours in Iraq, and one tour in Afghanistan, trying to make up for what happened on that awful day eight years ago. Just then, the LT's boss walked up and pulled him away, and I had to leave without saying goodbye. What I didn't get a chance to say to this hero was this..."You've paid any debt you feel you owe four times over...and you have nothing to be ashamed of."
I think anyone who understands true courage and selfless service would agree.

Inspections and Football

2009-09-12T12:39:00.000-07:00

A team of inspectors arrived this afternoon to review our operation. They'll review case files, discuss our approach to investigations, and generally figure out if our office is suffering from Cranial-Rectal Inversion Syndrome...or not. We'll get an update on the situation in Iraq and Afghanistan tomorrow, and the team leader promised to debunk any and all rumors currently flying around the theatre of operations.

In the midst of this minor pressure, once again it's Saturday in the USA, and time for college football on TV. We only get one sports channel, but I'm not complaining. Watching a game or two on the tube adds a sense of normalcy to being in this place. The UW Huskies are playing the Idaho Vandals...if the Idaho players have left their spraypaint at home, it should be a "W" for U-Dub. GO DAWGS!!!!!

"Mr. Leprechaun, this is your 0430 Wake-Up Call!"

2009-09-09T19:04:00.000-07:00

I was sleeping soundly at around 0430 this morning when I was awakened by what sounded like an incoming rocket or artillery shell...I rolled out of bed and hit the floor, only to realize (to my great relief) that it was merely one of the unmanned drones flying really low over my CHU.
Probably shouldn't have watched Apocalypse Now last night before going to bed....

More "Stuff You Just Can't Make Up'

2009-09-09T06:54:00.000-07:00

All right, here's a little something for you fans of military absurdity, which I overheard in the mess hall at lunch this afternoon:

There's this unit over here, with about 9 months remaining in-country...been operational for about 2 months...and their HQ apparently put out the word today that all end of tour award recommendations need to be submitted within the next couple of days. It sparked the following conversation...
Lieutenant: "But we haven't done anything yet...we only just now got our computers working!"
Captain: "Doesn't really matter...just write something up in bulleted format after lunch, okay?"

Coincidentally, I learned a new acronym today...FUBIJAR...as in "That's incredibly FUBIJAR!"
(F***ed Up, But I'm Just A Reservist)

Porta-Potty Pistol Procedures

2009-09-06T07:18:00.000-07:00

As most of you are already aware, I spend a lot of my time in Porta-Potties. This frequent exposure has required me to develop a regimen to keep my trusty M-11 pistol from taking a belly-flop in to the holding tank.

Remember the joke about the guy who accidentally drops a $5 bill down a porta-potty, pulls out his wallet and throws in $50, before jumping in to retrieve the cash. When he crawls out, dripping with "stuff", his friends ask him why he did what he did. The fellow answers, "You don't think I was going to go in after a measly five bucks, do you?" Well, in the Army, anyone unfortunate enough to accidentally drop their sidearm into the poop pool will definitely be expected to retrieve it...although the recovery procedures are not specified in any regulation or field manual.

Since I have absolutely no desire to muck about in the sewage, I developed a routine to prevent such a disaster. First action upon entering the confines of the Porta-Potty is to put down the lid, and only then do I remove my pistol from my belt holster, and place it next to the seat. (For those of you wondering why I even take my sidearm out of the holster, try pulling up your pants and tightening your belt with a 3 lb weight hanging on one side.) Once my pistol has been secured, then I am free to take care of business. When finished, I do the whole process in reverse before returning my pistol to the holster.

Do you think I'm being overly-cautious? Well, this morning I was kind of in a hurry. I followed the procedure outlined above, but when I drew my pistol from the holster, it caught on the hem of my shirt, and dropped about six inches...right on to the closed lid. I must be living right.

This just in...

2009-09-03T11:12:00.000-07:00

Life is about to imitate blog, as I got a "heads up" that my partner and I will be soon heading to one of the "austere" bases mentioned in the series of articles I linked to a few days ago. OPSEC prevents me from saying more, but I promise a full report once we return... (Hopefully illustrated with photos!)

By the way, I met the company First Sergeant from that base this afternoon, and this guy is one of those old school infantry warriors that I really admire. For you war movie fans, think "Sergeant Major Basil Plumley" from We Were Soldiers, only more loquatious. I'm looking forward to spending time in the front lines, though since there's no shooting going on it should be more like camping at a really low-rent RV park...

2009-09-03T10:54:00.000-07:00

The story you are about to read is true; the profanity has been modified to protect the innocent...

Okay, so there I was, sitting outside the airfield shack waiting for a UH-60 Blackhawk to arrive, enjoying the 140 degree heat, when two young female soldiers walked by. One turns to the other and said, "F-in' A, my moms liked the Marx Brothers so much, my f-in' middle name is f-in' Harpo!" The other responded, "F, girl, we learned about that dude in school, but I thought his name was Karl or somethin', not all whack like f-in' Harpo. Ain't that f-in' OPRAH spelled backasswards?" "Yeah," the first soldier said," I could just tell people that my moms digs Oprah, but she's f-in' dyslexic!"

The Leprechaun posts a "W"...

2009-09-01T12:21:00.001-07:00

Once again, I can't divulge details, but I finally solved a case. Yeah, about darn time, except it was really the only case of note that I've had so far. And I was bloody brilliant!

Okay, enough self-congratulation...except please note that as of now, I have a better win-loss record than last year's UW football team. (Open Challenge to Coach Sarkesian...Can you guys beat my record...? Please?)

How's YOUR Day Going?

2009-08-31T22:33:00.000-07:00

My day has started out just awesomely, thanks for asking... I was jazzed last night because the mess hall had actual, fresh guacamole!!!!! It is one of my favorite dishes in the whole world, and was the first time I'd seen it here. Yeah, I know, if something new, exciting, and different from the usual institutional or East Indian cuisine shows up in the mess hall, don't trust it. I get the concept of caution, and for that reason have avoided the king crab legs, "lobster" tails (still not convinced those aren't really boiled camel spiders), and when they featured sushi a couple of weeks ago, I literally ran in the opposite direction. But I ask you, how can anyone screw up mashed avocados with a bit of lemon juice, finely-diced onions, and a hint of cilantro? I can report that it even tasted just like fresh guacamole, with enough chunks of avocado to guarantee this was made on the spot. So I fell in to the clever KBR trap, downed a couple of tablespoonfuls of the stuff...and within hours I was doing performance art. "See the Leprechaun actually re-creating the May, 1980 eruption of Mount St. Helens, complete with Pyroclastic Flows and superheated gasses!" I was giving three performances every hour, and the show is still running, with no end in sight.
After returning to my CHU just now (or as I now call it, "backstage") I went to brush my teeth. I avoid the somewhat dodgy water in the latrine sinks, and have been using a combination of Listerine (to wet the brush) and toothpaste, for a result that is both minty-fresh and chemically-powerful. As I dipped my toothbrush in the giant "Osmond Family-size" Listerine bottle, one of my colleagues startled me by pounding on my CHU door, and I dropped my toothbrush into the emerald green depths. Rats! After running off my visitor, I tried retrieving the brush by fashioning a lasso of dental floss, but the floss floats so I can't get it around the end of the handle. While I was attempting this hygienic rescue, I looked down at the floor, and noticed huge globs of wet mud all over my vinyl floor and area rugs. Once again, some KBR water truck had dumped its load on the gravel outside, creating a swamp underneath the dry rocks...and the preoccupied Leprechaun, oblivious to the condition of his footwear, managed to turn a formerly clean CHU into a venue ready to host mud-wrestling...Hmmmmmm...I'll have to ponder that opportunity while getting dressed and heading over to the PX for a new toothbrush...with at least one stop along the way.

You've Got To Read This Article!

2009-08-27T11:03:00.000-07:00

I was checking out the 34th Infantry Division's newsletter today, and read some of the very best humorous writing about what it's like for the grunts (infantry soldiers) over here. These folks are all in my AOR (Area Of Responsibility), but I have it soooo much better than they do that I will feel ashamed if I complain about anything for the rest of my tour.

Check out PFC Lawrence's three articles here: www.theredbulls.org/austerehere I guarantee you will laugh and cry at the same time, and you will also understand why front line warriors have such little regard for POGs (Persons Other than Grunts)...you know, like me!
(It's okay...I've made peace with my Inner Fobbit...)

The Heat is On!

2009-08-27T04:30:00.000-07:00

That was a snappy tune from Beverly Hills Cop, and also what it's like over here. Temps have reached the 140 degree mark a couple of times this week, which is waaaaay hotter than anything I've ever experienced before. We were busy searching a bunch of CHUs for stolen items and latent fingerprint evidence day before yesterday, and had to wear latex gloves. In a number of the CHUS, the A/C was pretty anemic, so after just 10 minutes of work, we all were able to pour almost an ounce of water each out of our gloves, and we had seriously prune-y fingers, without the fun of being at a hot-tub party. When our office A/C went out for a bit, we were dripping so much sweat that we had to cover our computer keyboards with plastic wrap to prevent them from shorting out as we wrote our reports.

Whenever I think about the soldiers over the past thousand years who fought wars in the desert, without the benefit of fresh, plentiful and cold water, or air conditioning, I am humbled and amazed....and very thirsty!
Leprechaun of Arabia...

Stuff I Can't Share With You

2009-08-25T11:46:00.000-07:00

One of the reasons why the Armed Forces monitor any blogs written by us deployed folks is the concern that we will reveal unflattering or potentially dangerous information to anyone with internet access. The policy actually makes sense...yeah, somebody slap me...but this war stuff is indeed serious business. Anything published that could put our troops (including yours truly) in harms way just shouldn't be out there. Amazingly, the Army is relying a lot on us bloggers to self-censor, and by all accounts it is working pretty effectively.
While I end up almost every day with anecdotes illustrating what life is like for the average soldier here on this FOB, most of 'em just can't be revealed...at least in this type of forum. That is why I have been journaling in my pocket notebook almost daily, because if I change a few things around to protect the innocent, these'll be perfect stories for my novel.
It's almost like there is a team of comedy writers sitting up at MNF-I(Multi-National Force-Iraq) Headquarters, sending out skits for the troops to perform for our ultimate amusement...Maybe it's the AAA farm team for "Saturday Night Live"...but there hasn't been one day since arriving here that I haven't gotten at least one good laugh about "the stuff you just can't make up". I do promise to tell all of these stories someday...they may end up only being entertaining to me, but that's the risk y'all are taking by encouraging me to write!

p.s. Someday, remind me to tell you the story about the Ugandan with 70 pairs of sunglasses in his undershorts...

Home Theater, CHU-Style

2009-08-22T22:59:00.000-07:00

Okay, I admit that I had every intention of resisting the typical Iraq-tour movie mania...folks have external computer hard drives filled with up to 1,000 movies, which means that "Every Night is Movie Night" in this pretty boring place. I had several opportunities to copy some great video libraries during pre-deployment training, but figured there'd be plenty else to keep me busy. Reality intruded, and so when another golden opportunity presented itself the other day, I broke down and got a small hard drive (500 GB) from the PX, and downloaded over 300 movies. By connecting my laptop to my TV with an HDMI cable, I get a pretty good quality viewing experience. Add in a "stir-fry to go" from the mess hall, and it's showtime, folks! (I even have a couple of really bad flicks in the group, so me and my friends can do our own version of "Mystery Science Theater 3000"...)

Army 3, Computers 1

2009-08-20T09:36:00.001-07:00

Good news, loyal readers! An avenging angel of electronics, in the form of Captain "M" who is our battalion S-6 (Communications Staff Officer), flew down here last night, and by 10 a.m. had my recalcitrant laptop (aka "Stoopid Kompewter") singing a new tune. All of my required software was installed and actually works, and my printer spits out pages like the library card catalog in "GhostBusters"! She then conquered glitches in two of the three remaining machines before lunchtime...Captain "M" was finally stymied by the boss's laptop, which had the computer equivalent of a nervous breakdown moments after she powered it up. She's here for another day, and my bet is on her to wrassle and pin that last laptop before riding (flying) off in to the sunset.
Also, in the "Be Careful What You Wish For" category, all hell broke loose here over the last 3 days/nights. I'm getting lots of experience, real fast. Sure beats boredom...and sleep is highly over-rated anyway...

Bizarre Bazaar

2009-08-17T03:55:00.000-07:00

Finally made it to the FOB's Iraqi marketplace in search of a video cable. We'd been staying away from there for operational reasons, but am now able to check the place out. Reminded me a lot of visiting Tijuana in the 60's...seedy, but filled with entreprenurial frenzy. Nobody was selling Chiclets, though. And I did find the video cable I needed, and for only 35,000 Dinar. (Sounds a lot more expensive than it really is...and I love saying "Dinar".) It's like Alice's Restaurant, 'cause you can get anything you want... "Hassan" met me at the entrance to the courtyard, and served as my guide...straight to his own shop, of course. He tried to convince me that what I really needed was a cool leather shoulder holster, and a T-shirt sporting the logo, "Iraq is for Lovers". (Maybe if I wanted to co-star with Dirk Diggler in a detective film...Ha!) After I politely rejected all of the really awesome stuff that Hassan was trying to foist on me, I spotted electronic cables on the shop wall of one of Hassan's rivals, and made a break for it. (Staying fit comes in handy at times over here, as I dodged Hassan's attempt to block my path, and left him in the dust.) After a spirited discussion about cables and electronics in general, Amir dug under a stack of satellite receivers and came up with what I needed. Now this was the point where a better man would have bargained with Amir and brought the price down to nothing...but I just wanted to escape, and my new BFF Hassan was lurking outside with a whole new selection of merchandise. Besides, the cost was still less than if I'd ordered it from Amazon or Best Buy, and the experience provided me with fodder for this blog post. I also admit that it gave me just a little pleasure seeing Amir do the Iraqi version of "In your face, sucker!" to Hassan... Oh, and the cable works like a charm.

Am also in the middle of a fascinating investigation, which of course I can't talk about... but here's your fun fact for today; Compared to civilian police investigations, we generate approximately 3-4 times the amount of paperwork in the Army. ("Now remember, Agent Leprechaun, ya gotta document that you documented the documentation!") It's no wonder that so many of my active duty counterparts smoke...

Bay Watch!!!!!

2009-08-17T01:47:00.000-07:00

Just sayin' "Howdy" to an old friend... Welcome aboard!

Ode To My Boonie Hat

2009-08-17T00:58:00.000-07:00

I work out at the Gym most days,
And vow to not get fat,
Or get all crispy sunburned,
Thanks to my Boonie Hat!

For those soldiers over here who are either fashion conscious, or are blessed with sufficient quantities of melanin, they generally spurn the 2 1/2" brimmed Boonie Hat. But for those of us who sport the Celtic Glow, turning red after 30 seconds worth of exposure to the fierce desert sun, our Boonie Hats are treasured and constant companions. Yes, they look incredibly dorky, especially with the floppy brim and unstructured crown, and they take up more room in our cargo pocket when we are in the mess hall, but those are minor flaws. The alternative headgear, aka the Patrol Cap or PC, looks more like what G.I. Joe would wear, but it lacks any ventilation, and the front bill is barely adequate to shade the eyes. (Everyone here is in solid agreement about our happiness that the beret is not allowed over here!)

While my Boonie Hat is developing a battered and stained appearance, I've been reluctant to wash it for fear that it will shrink or otherwise become unwearable. (I hand-washed my patrol cap, and it shrank just enough to make it very uncomfortable...) I've ordered a spare which, if my previous experience with the Army uniform supply system is any indicator, will likely show up 10 months from now.
While before my return I will likely discard most of my already-decomposing deployment uniforms, I plan on keeping my beloved Boonie as a memento of this desert vacation...but promise not to wear it except occasionally, and only in the privacy of my home...when my spousal unit is away. The dogs will no doubt enjoy the aroma, which in a year will be similar to green tripe.