SGT Kellena Leech, one of the 314th PAOC soldiers, put together the video at the bottom of this page (click on the link to see it on Youtube — sorry, not viewable on U.S. government computers).

When I talked to her about it, I knew our family and friends back home had to see it.  First, because it reminds all of you that we will be coming home — maybe not as soon as we all hope, but eventually (those extra couple days caused by sandstorms, paperwork and the unexpected are trying on all of us).   When we finally do see each other, it will be worth the wait.

Second, I wanted to post it because a couple of you requested to see what kinds of things Soldiers do here during their “free time.”   The options are definitely more limited than they are almost anywhere else (except our brothers and sisters in Afghanistan).  SGT Leech captures lots of those available options…and reinforces what I have said many times in this blog:  the Soldiers of the 314th had a great attitude during this year.

Third, I think you will agree that she did a great job.  But then again, all of our Soldiers did.  They went above and beyond expectations, or as our unit motto states:  Maximum Effort, Minimum Delay!

Finally, I must warn you to get the tissue before you watch it.  Maybe it’s just because I have been here, but I think some of you might get a little misty, especially if you listed to the words.  I think all of you will imagine it your own loved one in her video.

Mele Kalikimaka e Hauoli Makahiki Hou!

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WetKTxxTzjo

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).

Just a game of dominoes?

A few days ago, SGT Kellena Leech sent me a picture.  I immediately knew I was drawn to the picture, but I was not sure why.  I think that sometimes we have an subconscious attraction to  a thing and we don’t understand why until we take a minute of introspection.

She has asked me if the photo would qualify for a Public Affairs contest we have for the best stories, photos, TV and radio products, graphic arts, and special projects that support our mission in Iraq.  Although I liked the picture, I could not in good conscience say it met the submission criteria.  However, I did want to talk to her about the program, her picture and why I liked it.

I sat down with SGT Leech last night to do just that, and I was forced to put into words what had drawn me to it.   As I began to talk to her, the words about the picture began to come to me. 

“I think this picture is symbolic of a lot of things that we and the Iraqis are experiencing here,” I told her.  “Sometimes art says things that represent more than we think.”  I thought out the expression that “a picture is worth a thousand words”, but it seems a little too cliche.

The picture itself was taken a few weeks ago outside the Combined Press Information Center.  Most days the local Iraqi men who work the custodial and maintenance section here gather after lunch for a friendly game of dominoes.  They sit on an old picnic table that has seen better days.   The same could be said for the dominoes that they use — a little dirty and ragged around the edges, but they are the best that can be found.  That does not seem to both the men at the table.  They are making the best of what they have and the circumstances of their lives. 

“To me, that picture tells a story,” I explained to SGT Leech, thinking back to a class I had taken a couple years ago that focused on the use of metaphors to explain life.  “The table and the dominoes seem to be symbolic of Iraq today.  Things are a little ragged around here”.  I guess living through decades of oppression followed by six years of war and related violence can do that to a society — and its picnic tables. 

“Even the way those dominoes are placed says something to me,” I added.  “They seems to be just thrown onto the table without much precision.  You can see they are in the right place, but there is not much attention to detail.”  The same could probably be said about the way many things have happened over the past six years — we and the Iraqis have put things in a place hoping they would work, but they have not been precise.

The final symbol in all of it for me, and maybe the one that is most ironic, is that the story this photo tells is being told with dominoes.   They are keeping track of who the winner is , but this game is more than that.  The Iraqis may not have same expression that we do about “domino effect,” but it probably does not escape Americans.   It might be just a game, but if one falls, so goes many others. 

As I finished my conversation with SGT Leech, I left thinking about all the other things I see every day that are affecting me — things that I need to spend a little more time considering.   I thanked her for taking the picture and let her know it had a great impact of me. 

“Keep taking those pictures,” I told her.

Early this month, I finalized my leave plans with the decision to take a few days in “The Big Easy”  — New Orleans, Louisiana. Of course the days will be spent taking in historical tours & swamp rides & nights will be remembered on Bourbon Street, but my stomach will more than likely be the highlight of the whole trip.

I’m going home to Mississippi first to get some of my mom’s egg pie and ox tails & potatoes, then my dad’s chitterlings, turnip greens & spaghetti. I’ll take a few days in Tuscaloosa wrapping up some of Dreamland’s ribs, Wright’s bologna breakfast, & Melton’s EVERYTHING (especially mac-n-cheese & collard greens [neck bones on the side].)

Now I’ve been making sure I take on extra ab workouts to help my stomach prepare for my “Sip/Bama” tour, & still have plenty room for the creole capital of the world! Of course I’ll take in plenty of gumbo, jambalaya, & all things that can be seasoned by whiskey. However, all I really want right now is a hot dog…

In Columbus, MS there is Skeet’s hot dogs whenever you get the craving & I’m sure most people are familiar with Pete’s in Birmingham. You may argue, but the best hot dog I’ve ever had was the $.75 dog from Gray’s Papaya in Manhattan, NY. WOW!!!!

Ya know, throw on a little mustard & sauerkraut & you’ve got a frank! Well I thought I’d be able to at least get one of the chow hall’s beef/pork dogs with kraut when SPC Gardner & I headed out for midnight chow last night. I had tortured myself the whole way there because I just knew they’d have a dog; they serve them everyday at almost every meal. I know you’ve probably guessed by now & no, they didn’t have my hot dog! Of course my heart was broken & my stomach disappointed because I had to settle for a mere ham & turkey sandwich instead.

Oh, if only I could order online!!!

THE RESULTS ARE IN!!!  Thanks to SPC Hope, Mr. Cat is pleased to announce his new “American” name: Kamar .

SGT Leech shares a treat with Kamar.

Kamar, which is Arabic for moon, is a yellow-haired tabby cat who still joins me most evenings for dinner. SPC Hope suggested the name because of Kamar’s “moonlight visits” to my office.  But (duh duh duhnnnn,) the saga continues.

All my life I’ve always had cats around. My mom, my sisters & I could narrate the never-ending soap opera with them over the years.

It all started with my grandmother’s cat Jane, then our adopted tabby Donovan (who died of a heart attack in 95,) then my teenage best friends Yogi & Scari, who dated & produced generations leading to the present man of the house, Bud (who is currently dating a younger woman who just had babies.)

SGT Leech hard at work, Kamar looking for a treat!

Now, it’s only right that the storyline would follow me here… Maury says: THERE IS ANOTHER MALE!!!

That’s right, there’s another cat meeting me for dinner when Kamar isn’t around & his name is Gravy! (My neice Hannah named him that for some strange reason Gravy & I bond on nights when Kamar is away on guard duty (or so I’d like to think) & is obviously a war vet who is disabled because of his damaged left eye.  Gravy doesn’t speak as much English as Kamar but I understand him just the same.

...and here's Gravy!

The two haven’t been around at the same time but in the words of SGM Falardeau, hopefully, “It’s all gravy!”

It’s been weeks since I’ve blogged but I’m just getting used to the new change of schedule. I’m working night shift now & that has created a whole new world for me. (thanks Aladdin

When I arrive, its almost evening & when I go out for lunch, all i see is the moonlight shining. I don’t get to see or do as much in the daytime as I did when we first got here but that’s exactly where it gets interesting…

You see, every night I have a friend that stops by to visit. He doesn’t speak much English besides “meo’am”- which is supposed to be ma’am, and the occasional nod but he still stops by every night & catches dinner with me.

He actually looks quite American; long torso, blonde hair, green eyes, but his looks aren’t too deceiving. Last night, he just so happened to run into Lt. Col. Perez while I had stepped out of my office which, as you can imagine, was quite the surprise.

SPCs Lee  & Gardner both talk to him & do their jobs of escorting him my way if they see him. I even call home & talk to my mom about him as I’ve grown pretty found of him. His name? He hasn’t told me yet, but I call him, Mr. Cat. : )

Mr. Cat, or maybe you have a better name?

He’s a yellow haired tabby cat who swings by for my dinner leftovers every evening around the same time. I’m careful not to touch or get too close to him or he me but we both light up & seem to enjoy each others prescence.

I wrote home to my neices asking them to help me name him & maybe you can too. So if you have any suggestions, let me know & when dinner time comes, I’ll be sure to ask my new friend what he thinks about it.

After leaving Ft. Dix and heading to Kuwait, I couldn’t help but have a million thoughts running through my mind.  Since this was my first time ever outside of the U.S., I was amazed at every stop we made!

One thing I noticed so vividly was the flight of birds, no matter the country. In Iceland and Germany, there were temperatures in the teens at least and snow visibly on the ground, but birds were still flying high.

Now you tell me, where do birds think they are?

Do they have some sort of map that says, “this is the southern most part of Iceland” or this is the U.S.?  Do they migrate closer to the equator during winter months or are they loyal to their country? Do they sing songs with German accents versus a southern tune? Just wondering…

At the same time, I saw a vehicle I had never had use for.  Thank you mister snow mobile! Before we pulled into our terminal in Leipzig, there were workers clearing the way for a safe arrival amidst inches of snow. I’ve always wanted to play in the snow & have a “White Christmas.”  So there he was, not John Deere but a new breed I’ve never seen before.  I call him, “Mr. Snow Mobile!”

There were toilets that flushed the wrong way, jack rabbits that hopped long, high, and super fast, and a German breakfast we shared complete with brats and hot mustard. It all made me think, “this must be what Wyoming is like…”

To top it all off,  and to finish our trip, we arrived in Kuwait just hours after I saw for the first time a glowing red sunset.  It capped off the trip. I encountered a U.S. sunset when we left Ft. Dix, the darkness of an Icelandic sky, the German sunrise, and then a sunset that only God could have colored.

So, I guess I’ll never have to ask again, “which way the sun sets…”

One of my best friends asked me if anything was the same here as in the states. If the books, calendars, and tv stations were similar, or the food, homes, or clothes were the same.

The books here are read from right-to-left instead of our usual left-to-right. The calendars are much the same except for the numbers I can’t read. The tv stations we get are all AFN, so theeeeerrrreee great! Then the food, homes, and clothes vary  by location.

Two things I can say has proven to always be the same in every place we’ve gone: the cereal and always Coca-Cola.

Every morning for breakfast, I grab a milk that has an outer appearance, one side English & one side Arabic. Then I grab a familiar cereal and get a touch of home before I start my day.

For lunch, I usually have a water with no label at all on it and sometimes I have the boxed juice that seems to always be 100% juice. Sometimes I grab a new soda to try out, but when I want to feel like home, I grab that red can and taste a somewhat familiar cola.

Now, it tastes more like a diet for us but its still a Coke. Always….

When I was growing up, I lived next to a train route that made me immune to the sounds of almost everything while I sleep… Well everything except helicopters.

If you’ve ever seen Forrest Gump and the scene where he and Bubba arrive in Vietnam, that’s just what I always feel like when I get back to my room here in Baghdad. It’s almost like I know someone will start playing “Fortunate Son” by Creedance Clearwater Revival just to relive the moment.

It makes me feel like I’m, ya know, “fighting,” until of course it’s time to go to sleep. Then I’m mad and up all night trying to listen to my prayers, my Ipod and the sheep that I try and count on  a regular basis.  

DOESN’T WORK!!!

Didn’t really sleep last night thanks to Rambo and company but I’ll be grabbing some chai tea and cream before bed tonight.. Wish me luck!!

The other day, I shared with some of my sorority sisters (Epsilon Sigma Alpha International) the fact that I never got the chance to finish college. I attended Stillman College in Tuscaloosa, AL for 3 years as a ROTC cadet before I enlisted and went off to basic training.

When I graduated basic and arrived at AIT at Ft. Gordon, Augusta, GA, I was able to travel back to Stillman to see my best friend Lionel graduate with honors after only 3 years as a student. It of course was a bittersweet moment. Of course I was proud, but I was losing my best friend to his new-found adulthood, whereas I had become a soldier and adult of a different breed;  he had accomplished the task we had both sought after while my dream lies deferred.

I never thought I’d know how it feels to not complete a task, especially as great as earning a college degree but, I do. In short, you feel failure.

There are many soldiers that share my defeat.

Jen, my ESA sorority sister from California, and an active participant in our “Hope for Heroes” program for our troops, wrote words of encouragement that made all the sense in the world. The only way I can describe it is, “Yes I Can!”

Here’s what she said:

“Good news is that college is always waiting for us to finish no matter what
our age is when we do.

What college teaches us is to enhance the knowledge we already know, tweak it into a field of interest so that we may better the lives of others in
those fields that may otherwise never have known the information existed in the first place. And after you have put in hundreds if not thousands of
hours of hard reading, writing,sitting, standing, and paying - they invite
you to attend your graduation to receive a piece of paper to tell you that
you have the right to earn a few hundred dollars more then if you had not
received further education… and then you are not even really guaranteed a
job in that field because either the information you have been studying so
hard and for so long is now obsolete, or the field is.  In this economy it
could be both.

What you are doing right now is just as, if not more, important than what
college can teach you, and I am a big fan of college (graduated in Irvine,
CA, May 2007 - major: ECE, minor: math). You are learning a different sort of life experiences, team support, and security for all mankind regardless of
their reasonings.  You are assisting in  changing the views of others about
themselves and about the people around them, erasing the negative banter
that they were taught for years of who others are and that everyone who does not believe and/or think in the same manner that they do is wrong or evil. You are helping to teach compassion and understanding, to believe in oneself and know that it is not a weakness to need the support of others… That sometimes it does take a village to raise a child, but not always, sometimes it just takes a kind heart and a deep love for human kindness to raise a child up. And since we are all children of one God or another, it is only fitting that we should all want to play together and get along regardless of the language barriers we have all grown up with for centuries. Especially
when our families from all over the world came to the America’s seeking a
different lifestyle then the one they had in the other countries from which
they came, and for one reason or another were closed off from these family
roots, and thus forth came the myth or belief that all Americans are evil
people.  Yet, by having men and women like yourself in these countries
helping to secure their children’s lively-hoods to form a more unified
government where “everyone” is considered important and needed, you are in fact helping every families history to be healed, and mankind to be united
in a form of freedoms that they would otherwise never have, and that is
“peace.”

In away you are replaying out a part of American history in other countries.
You are fulfilling a position that many great men and women from our past
had set forth to change during the 1950’s, 60’s, and 70’s - that being
equality of all mankind regardless of age and gender, to pursue what ever
makes them happy without causing prejudice against his/her fellow mankind.

People hate Americans because of their blindness to the truth, and their
fear of change. Americans give everything they have, right or wrong, they confront and challenge change, and they protect everything change stands for - FREEDOM. Other countries do not think/feel that freedom is worth the death of our loved ones, yet it is you men and women (centuries before / after) that prove the others wrong time and time again. Because you go in, you see, you educate the present peoples, you assist with their needs, and sometimes you die for their changes too. They ask us why we call this freedom, and we explain because you choose this way of life, you are not forced into signing up and training for this line of work, you chose to face these challenges and give back to so many and receive so little from the few who know, understand, and support you in your calling, because you are not forced into signing up for the people you share land with.”

See you soon college degree!!!

Thanks Jen… Jonquil Love

If ever I felt compelled to talk about a subject, it is now. At the dawn of a new era with our Commander-in-Chief, Barack H. Obama, and the nation in which we call home changing for the better, race has been, is, and seems to always be an issue.

The U.S. Army sees green, Air Force sees blue, and with soldiers, sailors, airmen, and marines combined, we glow a purple ray never to be reckoned with. However, being one of many pigmently diverse soldiers in our army, I seem to always stand out amidst the crowd.

Now, maybe it was just Mississippi where black kids and white kids would often choose not to sit at the lunch table blending together. Maybe it was just my church where “missionary baptist” specified the black church from the “southern baptist” congregation. Then again, maybe it was just my ears and eyes that saw a separating line between what is considered the majority versus minority of people in America.

In just a few short months, I’ve had more people come conversing with me about the inauguration of our country’s first “bi-racial” president, expecting a voice with the “black” point-of-view.

My grandmother, who was mulatto (bi-racial, much like President Obama) and my grandfather who was an American Cherokee Indian, came from two totally different worlds but yet were both stereotyped because of the pigment of their skin. Now I stand as a descendant from them to be contrasted with other people of the colored persuasion simply because of an outer similarity.

Now, some say that this will never change… I’ll always be black and white will always be white. Maybe, but the evidence of greatness coming forth when the two combine is among us and has a name: Barack Obama.

Through our president, we see a blend of races and nations, generations to generations and the prophecies and predictions from the past fulfilled. We see women grabbing new found glory in Michelle, children carrying a since of pride in Sasha and Malia, and our men believing once again that they can rise to the occasion no matter the wealth, class, or location they’re from, or even the race they claim.

Yes, it’s true that just a few short years ago, President Obama’s father wouldn’t have even been allowed to eat in some of our restaurants, nor would his mother been able to marry his father in some of our united states. However, in the same years, my mother, as personal as that is, created change by intergrating a white-only college in a small town in Mississippi which is now a university open to all.

Just by looking at these examples, I see change.

I walk the streets every day seeing dark- and light-toned Iraqis alike laughing and talking with the darkest of the Ugandans and the lightest of the Austrians, the reddest of the Peruvians, and the tannest of the Asians, and I watch. I observe the mix of a common people striving for the advancement of one world, one spirit of freedom.

So, just in case you wanted to know my thoughts on our new president because of our similar skin tone, I’ll simply say, “Change has come to America, and the race is already won.”

My mom used to always tell me, “no matter where you are, look at the moon and know it’s the same moon I’ll be watching….” Those words have gotten me through some very emotional periods (i.e.- my first semester in college, of course basic training, and now my first tour of duty.)

I guess the only difference now is that the moon I look at happens to be up the same time the sun is staring at my mom. The 9-hour time difference between me in Iraq and my mom in Mississippi makes it hard for us to ever be on the same am/pm scheme.

When I get to work in the mornings, she’s “supposed to be” in bed asleep. When I get off in the evenings, she’s on her way to work to nurture young minds. Even when I can grab a cell phone to call home before I go to bed, she’s in the middle of her day and most of the time actively occupied by her 6th, 7th, and 8th graders.

So, each night, I look at the sky, watching the same stars I can imagine Aladdin saw on his magic carpet ride and I say goodnight to the Arabian sky and send the moon to meet my mom across the miles….

In my three enlisted years of serving in the United States Army Reserve, I’ve had the pleasure of working with units in different areas of Alabama.

My first, the 75th Combat Support Hospital, a Tuscaloosa, AL unit under ARMEDCOM, welcomed me after basic training (Fort Jackson, SC) & advanced individual training (AIT) at Fort Gordon’s Signal Center, Augusta, GA.

However, after approaching my two year mark as a Signal Support specialist, I felt the need to broaden my soldier skills & take on a second military occupational specialty (MOS).

It couldn’t have been a better choice!

My journey quickly landed me a Public Affairs slot with the Regional Support Group- East of Hoover, AL.

Much like the new kid arriving on that first day at school, I was anxious but observant when MSG Charles Blackshear called to interview me for the job.

Even though I had gleaned my interview skills in grade school at West Lowndes High in Mississippi, I was convinced that this was the Master Sergeant I needed to impress. Indeed, he did the just that.

MSG Blackshear has been by far the most impressive non-commisioned officer I’ve ever come in contact with & one of the very reasons I’ve gathered the strength & courage to step up to the call of deployment.

He epitomizes the role of the NCO by always standing ready for his soldiers. If ever I needed advice or simply questions answered, I knew I could run to him.

He’s had years of elite presidential service so even his record stands at best. Motivation was his key & military discipline were his words. For these and countless other reasons, I strive to be the best NCO I can be now & throughout my career.

I am not deploying with MSG Blackshear by my side, for now, I ready to battle with the warriors of the 314th PAOC. I am forever grateful & will continue to carry not only the NCO examples, but the entire spirit of the RSG-E as I safely deploy to serve our country.

To all RSG-E, especially Colonel Roper, 1st SGT Player, Major Fells, Mrs. Gavin, MSG Sanders, SFC Rommett, SFC Clark, SFC Mitchell, Mrs. Robinson-Johnson, Ms. Hedgemon, Lt. Col. Magee-Elliott, SSG Gladney, and others, but especially MSG Blackshear,  thanks for everything; I salute you & I’ll see you when I return!