The great debate...orange mint or watermelon hookah tonight? (Photo by SPC Brittany Gardner)

When I joined the Army Reserve on August 17, 2007, I knew there was a good chance that I would be deployed. Originally, my intention for joining was to become a “weekend warrior.” My plan was to use the G.I. Bill to earn my Master’s degree and pursue a civilian career as a high school teacher. I never thought that the Army would become such a big part of my life. That was until I got the news that I was being deployed to Iraq.

Life for me has been a roller coaster since I joined the Army two years ago. I have bounced from state to state, taking part in numerous Army trainings and development schools. I have learned more over these past two years than I learned during four years of college. Most of what I have learned has been in the area of personal growth as a result of being away from the comforts of civilian life. Being in Baghdad has given me a lot of time to think about what is important to me and what I want out of life.

I had no idea what to expect the night I arrived in Baghdad. We convoyed into the city during the wee hours of the morning. After several long days of traveling, my sleep deprived mind was running wild wondering what was on the other side of the Rhino’s bulletproof windows as we traveled down the rough, war-torn roads of Baghdad. In full battle rattle and weapon in hand, I stepped off the Rhino and my eyes were immediately dawn to a severely bombed-out building. It was at that moment that I realized what I had gotten myself into.

I had heard tales of deployments from other soldiers, each one being unique and sacred to the voice from which it was told. I had no idea what my day-to-day life would be and what kind of story I would have to tell when I got home. I spent the first few months trying to make sense of the cultural differences between the coalition forces and the local nationals. After realizing that this was an unobtainable goal, I decided to just go with the flow and take each experience for what is was. Most of the time, these encounters would become stories that we would laugh about for months to come.

We had been taught several cultural awareness classes before the mobilization. Upon arrival in Baghdad, I decided to enroll in a biweekly Arabic class to follow up on what I had already learned. Ironically, I have learned more Spanish than Arabic as a result of my daily interaction with the Peruvian guards who operate the many checkpoints throughout our FOB. However, my limited Arabic vocabulary has not been a complete waste. I have grown to love the Arabic version of MTV I’m able to watch at the local chai and hookah café. The vast cultural differences between American and Arabic MTV have provided many smiles to the face of this tired, homesick Soldier. There is no better way to end a long day than to sip warm chai, pass around the hookah and watch old Britney Spears videos with an Arabic twist.

Spending time at the café will remain one of my favorite memories of this deployment. I spent many nights there hanging out with fellow Soldiers, interpreters and local nationals. We would tell stories about home, recount the day, play cards, dominos, and laugh at corny jokes while the Arabic hip hop music fought for our attention in the background. Often the café would play an Arabic movie and we would make up dialogs and story lines to go along with what we were watching since we only understood about five words of the movie. I’m pretty sure we were nowhere close to the plot, but it was always good for a laugh.

Having the opportunity to laugh was the key to surviving this deployment. It is so easy to get caught up in the mundane tasks and become homesick. But over the past year, the 314th Soldiers became my extended family and a network of support. Like any family, we often got on each other’s nerves, encroached on each other’s space and often wanted to kill one another. But at the end of the day I knew that each and every one of them had my back and would be there for me in a heartbeat.

I also had to get used to being away from all of the comforts of home. Before this deployment I never realized all the simple things in life I had taken for granted: a private shower without shower shoes, a full-sized bed, cable television, etc. The thing I miss the most about being home is the freedom to go and do whatever I want.

Of course, this deployment did have its perks. I met a lot of interesting people, cruised the streets of Baghdad in my combat mini-van, bought a lot of bootleg DVDs and made a lot of friends that I will have for a lifetime. This deployment also gave me the gift of time. While too much time away from home can lead to loneliness, it can also give you the opportunity to figure out what you want to do for the rest of your life. Through the haziness of the sandy skies and the orange scented hookah smoke, I was able to find clarity and set goals for myself.

I am looking forward to taking what I have learned over this past year and applying it to my daily life back home. I still have a lot to learn but I know that if I can survive a year in Iraq, I can handle almost anything. But for tonight, I will fall asleep to the sounds of Blackhawks flying overhead and the nearby mosque playing the evening prayer. It’s just another Arabian night.

Today, one of our interpreters came into my office and asked how I was.  I gave the stock answer: “I can’t complain.” 

The truth is that I am often seen mumbling under my breath about something that irks me. 

After he left, however, I thought about my statement, and some of the things that have happened here in Baghdad over the past few months, and how insignificant my troubles seem in comparison to the events that are affecting people like these:

-  One of custodial staff is a local Iraqi (there are about 10 total).  He’s a wonderful man…a father of four children who drags himself out of bed at 4 a.m. every morning (and I mean EVERY morning — he has no weekends off).  He traverses the red zone (where all the bombs explode) and makes his way to the Combined Press Information Center to spend his 10-hour work day providing grounds maintenance (in extreme heat) and cleaning up after we fortunate American Soldiers leave here in a few weeks.  Unfortunately, he will stay.   Thanks to a bomb that exploded in August, the car that brings him here to work is even less dependable than it was before.  And, how much do you think he makes for all his troubles?  Less for a full day’s work than most of our Soldiers make in one hour working entry-level jobs.

-  Another man I know asked the Americans if he could build a restaurant on one of our forward operating bases about a year ago.  We told him yes, so he spent, by his estimate, about $200,000 creating a very nice building.  Then, we changed the rules and told him he could not open the building.  We told him the food from the local economy is not safe to feed American Soldiers, even though this man has catered all the special events at the CPIC for Soldiers and our guests, and no one has ever become ill.   He is a gracious man who always smiles….maybe because he knows that a frown may ruin any chance he has of someone, anyone, changing the rules again and letting him open his restaurant.

-  A local Iraqi woman who has visited the CPIC wants nothing else but to be a journalist.  She wants to make this country live up to promises of freedom.  She wants to be able to tell the stories that need to be told, but she cannot.  She fears for her life if some of her stories are printed.  Whether or not the fear is real or imagined is not important.  The truth is that Iraq has been the most dangerous place for journalists for the past six years.  When we dedicated the Combined Press Information Center to all those who had died to guarantee the freedoms of the people of Iraq, the number included more than the 4,300 American sons and daughters…it also included the more than 250 media staff that have died here since 2003.

With all this conflict and pain, and the hundreds of other similiar stories I’ve encountered over the past 10 months, you would think that I would become jaded and disillusioned, but just the opposite is true.  I realize that there is pain and suffering everywhere….Iraq is no different than any other place…but there is something special here that keeps me from mumbling too loud when I get upset. 

But, more than the acts of our own Soldiers, I am humbled by the generosity and resiliency of those with even less to give.  Today, our custodial staff — including the man I mentioned at the beginning of this blog — dug into their pockets and, with cooking assistance from their wives, brought our staff a delicious meal of barbequed fish, freshvegetables, stuffed grape leaves, baked bread, and a local dish with rice, dates, and nuts.  As we lined up to take part in this feast, they stood on the side refusing to eat until all of us had our fill. 

As LTC Perez has stated to me on several occasions, our CPIC is an oasis in many ways.  It seems to me that all those who come here have found a way to peacefully coexist and support each other.  So, I really have no right or need to complain.  We might not be able to change the overall course of the nation of Iraq, but together we have all changed the course for many of those who have passed through our doors.  Although we are all ready to leave Iraq, I hope each of us can bring some of that back with us.  Now I ask you, how could I complain about that?

Donzens of individuals and groups -- most strangers -- have sent us boxes of treats to make our time pass by quickly.

SPC Gardner and SGT Lee put smiles on the faces of children at the refugee center.

1LT Larrew poses with some of the friends he has helped during his year in Iraq.

SGT Leech's special friend visits her for a midnight snack (she wants to tell everyone she NEVER touched the cat since that is against the rules and could transmit disease).

Imagine waking up one morning only to realize that nothing is the same as the day before.

For some this could mean not waking up to their spouse or not savoring that first cup of coffee as you sit in the sanctuary of your own kitchen. The desire to walk 10 feet to your own bathroom and splashing clean, sanitary water on your face is becoming a distant memory. The sound of your dog’s feet hitting your polished hardwood floor as she follows your every move, hoping you will have time to take her on a walk before work is gone.

It has been replaced by the sound of your neighbor’s boots striking his dingy gray floor, which is separated from yours by only a thin layer of wood paneling. When you step outside your door, suddenly you realize that your plush green lawn has been replaced by gravel. The clean, crisp air has been transformed into a transporter of dust that penetrates and consumes everything it touches. Furthermore, your neighbors beautifully furnished homes have been replaced by the image of endless rows of mud-stained trailers. Instead of grabbing your car keys and driving your air conditioned car to work, you grab your hat as minor defense to shield you from the relentless sun as you begin your journey by foot. These are just a few examples of how it feels as a deployed soldier.

Before this deployment I never realized all the simple things in life I had taken for granted: a private shower without shower shoes, a full-sized bed, cable television, etc.

Yesterday I was suddenly struck with an overwhelming craving for a buffalo chicken wrap from a local restaurant near my home in Birmingham, AL. Ordinarily, I would jump in my car and make the three-minute drive for instant gratification. If I didn’t feel like leaving the couch, I could just order dinner and have it delivered straight to my door. As I daydreamed about this, I began to realize how easy everything was at home and how I had taken things for granted in the past.

The thing I miss the most about being home is the freedom to go and do whatever I want. I would frequent my favorite hangouts, visit with friends and attend every family event. I have always been the friend and relative who never missed a birthday, special occasion or important sporting event for one of my nieces or. I have been away from home for only four months and I feel like I have already missed so much. I wasn’t there to join the rest of my family as they sang “Happy Birthday” at my only nephew’s first birthday party. I missed the day I became a great aunt and have only seen my beautiful great niece Sarah in pictures. I was not there to comfort my family when my brother had emergency surgery or when my uncle fought for his life in a cold hospital room. These are just some of the bigger events.

So what keeps a soldier motivated? I think it’s different for all of us. For me, I pray constantly and try not to lean on my own understanding. Many times I selfishly pray that the phones and internet are working so that I can call home and let my family know that I’m ok and that the bombing they heard about on the news was nowhere near us. I have to remind myself to take the time to thank God that we are safe and haven’t had any major encounters like many of my other deployed friends. I mostly pray for personal strength as well as peace and understanding for my family. I also pray that all of the personal sacrifices myself and fellow soldiers have made will make a difference in the world. I believe that the idea of being part of something bigger than ourselves is what keeps most of us motivated.

We also have to stick together. Like it or not, we are a family now and we have to be willing to support each other. A few weeks ago, I was greeted with open arms by a fellow soldier who was walking toward me. We gave each other a quick hug and then walked away without saying anything at all. We didn’t have to. Afterwards, I went back to my desk and wondered how long it had been since he had received a hug from anyone. It’s not exactly “warrior” to go around hugging people all the time but personal contact is a necessity everyone yearns for no matter how “Hooah” they claim to be.

Now as I crawl into bed, I hear helicopters traveling in pairs as they zoom by, shaking my entire CHU. Maybe tonight will be a quiet night with no sirens and I will have peaceful dreams about chicken sandwiches, swimming pools, and civilian clothes. I will have the peace of mind trusting and believing that all of this is not for nothing.

As much as I miss home, things could be a lot worse. I have my moments of wondering why we are here but I can honestly say that if I could go back in time, I would still choose to come on this deployment. I have learned so much and have experienced so many things that I would never experienced at home. But I still want a buffalo chicken wrap.

SPC Mary Lee's bags -- ready to go last year in her barracks room at Fort Dix, NJ. (Photo by SPC Mary Lee)

SPCs Brittany Gardner and Mary Lee share some presents with local Iraqi children. (Photo by SGT Emily Anderson)

Most children under the age of five have only lived in a military occupied Iraq. Before I came to Iraq, I would hear on the news, various reports of the Iraqis opinions of American Soldiers. Some were heartwarming stories about the military building schools and providing medical care while others were not as positive. I always said that I would love the opportunity to make a good impression on the Iraqi people if given the chance. I want to do my part in building a bridge between two cultures who have historically not been allies.

Although I am not able to build a school, neighborhood, or hospital, I feel that I can still make a difference here, even if it seems small. Interacting with the children and their parents reminds me that we all want basically the same things out of life: love, security and happiness. Seeing the looks on the children’s faces when we give them a small toy makes me feel that I helped provide some of those basically necessities. Over time the toys will surely lose their luster, but I hope their memories of us will last forever.

According to our countdown calendar, we have completed 20% of this deployment. It seems like just yesterday that I was getting on a plane for Kuwait. I remember getting off the Rhino in Baghdad and seeing all the bombed out buildings. I had a moment of wondering what in the world I had gotten myself into. It almost mimicked the feeling I had when I got off the bus at basic training and the drill sergeants started yelling at me. In both cases, I had no choice but to adapt and overcome.

Everything felt better the next morning when I was able to meet the unit we would be replacing. I was not expecting to be driving around the IZ in a Suburban or a Ford mini-van.  I was also shocked to find out that contracted Peruvian and Ugandans, not U.S. soldiers would be providing security at the checkpoints.  I came to Iraq assuming Arabic would be the predominate language, only to find myself learning more Spanish and Swahili.

Sometimes I feel like this deployment is a social experiment. Baghdad has become a melting pot of cultures and beliefs. Every day I see something else that makes me remember how far away from home we are. I described this place to my mother as a Biblical scene with a modern military twist.  Baghdad is full of beautiful architecture behind the t-walls and concertina wire. I have enjoyed learning about the history and seeing the ruins of a fallen dictatorship.

Although this deployment isn’t exactly what I expected, every day is a new adventure. With adventure comes experience. So, in keeping true to our experience…..

See you later, Tutaonana (Swahili), Maasalaamah (Arabic), Hasta luego (Spanish)

Dec. 30, 2008 will remain one of the most memorable days of my life. Our SGM put together a field trip to New York City for all members of the 314th. We were able to see the Empire State Building, Ground Zero, and the Broadway musical, Spamalot. Everyone in New York City was so nice and gave us the red carpet treatment all day. Everywhere we went, people were either stopping us to take pictures with us or giving us a round of applause. I think we actually got more attention than Britney Spears for a day. I learned that chivalry is not dead, at least not in New York City. One couple gave up their $250 front row Spamalot seats so that two of our Soldiers could sit down. Most of us had to stand during the show, but it was more than worth it. The temporary leg discomfort led to permanent, wonderful memories. After the show we went on stage to meet the cast of Spamalot. They were all very nice and thanked us for our service.

The day was also a little emotional for all of us. Visiting Ground Zero reminded me of the reason I put on this uniform every morning. I will always remember standing there with the other members of the 314th as we held an American flag in front of Ground Zero. Suddenly the sidewalk filled with people taking pictures with us and thanking us for our service.

Perhaps the highlight of my day was when I overheard a group of young girls talking on the street. As myself, and three other soldiers walked by, one girl turned to her mother and said, “I want to be just like them when I grow up.” It’s so flattering to hear that someone looks up to you for the good things you do these days. I know the 314th will probably never make the cover of People Magazine, but that’s ok. Being a soldier is often a thankless job but moments like these make it all worthwhile. We put our personal lives on hold only to deploy to countries that hate us for no other reason than the color of our skin and uniform we wear. Why do we do it? We do it to protect and give hope to people like we encountered in New York.

So thank you again SGM Falardeau! It was a blast!

Delirium Has Finally Set In

As we try to survive the last few hours of our 96 hour MRX, I’m noticing signs of delirium around me. We are all overcome with the excitement of our upcoming Christmas leave. On one side of the room, Christmas music is being played on LT Larrew’s laptop. To my right, SPC Richardson practices his version of Kermit the Frog’s, ”It’s Not Easy Being Green,” on his guitar for a performance we will all hear later today. However, all sounds are muffled by the music video SPC Hope and I are making with my new camera. Imagine show tunes, amateur choreography, two tired Specialists with mild ADHD and perhaps you can imagine the vision that will forever be ingrained in my mind.

Throughout this exercise, we have all been able to get to know each other in an office setting. With video and still cameras constantly rolling, I feel as though we are filming our own version of “The Office.” I figure if Steve Carell can, why can’t we? NBC might not be interested, but there will always be YouTube.

I can only compare this feeling to that of when I was a kid in school and trying to make it through the last day before summer vacation. Of course, this vacation will only be a few days long and instead of preparing for another year of school, we will be preparing for war. Needless to say, the holidays will be even more special this year.

So…we continue to work. The happiness and excitement cannot hinder the mission at hand. After all, we are the Army. We are always on duty, always focused, and ready to tackle any situation. We are Public Affairs, hooah! We fire accurately, speak professionally, and always make our deadlines. We live by the grace of God, the Soldier’s Creed, and last but not least…the AP Stylebook.

During our past few weeks at Fort Dix, we have undergone many types of training. So far, we have spent most of our time brushing up on our warrior tasks. Afterall, we are soldiers first, journalists second. We have shot every weapon imaginable, kicked down doors, rolled over in a humvee simulator, etc. Now that we have completed all of our warrior skills, it’s time to focus on the Public Affairs aspect of our job. For the next three days, we will be given various tasks and scenarios much like we will see in Iraq.

As I sit in my climate controlled office, I have the opportunity to watch the same people who reacted to simulated ambushes, set up a flawless press conference. It’s a surreal feeling to know we may be sitting in our offices one minute and could find ourselves in a hostile environment the next.  It’s times like these that I realize how dynamic our job really is. In my profession, success is measured by staying alive and protecting those around you.