Extremely Sick in Baghdad with Suspected E Coli Poisoning

30 Aug 2003 (now early morning 31 Aug, 0120)

I haven’t written in a few days because I caught a vicious illness, from where I do not know, but I suspect it came from water at the Ministry of Oil. I will complete my thoughts tomorrow, as tonight I must rest. I talked to you Nora, and you made it home safe. I love you so much!! I long for you so dearly, I could die for missing you!

Fucked Up Soldiers and Conversations; Back at the U.N. Following the Attack, Encounter with a Frenchman

24 AUG 03

I’m a bit angry at my mom right now, and sad at the same time. She’s saying, “I know what war is like from TV,” and other things, more about politics and all – she’s so cold. I don’t even think we can communicate. Somehow, I wish we wouldn’t. I’m in a good mood though, I talked to you twice today, and I’m in such a good mood for it! I read for two hours some old letters from you too. I feel more and more that this time is going to go by fast. I love you Nora.
Today I went back to the U.N. with the chaplain and Major Stanton. We entered the CMOC (civil affairs) compound and parked on the backside of the U.N. HQ. I noticed some destroyed U.N. vehicles placed in a parking lot. The U.N. flag was also still at half-staff. We walked over to the back gate of the U.N. and it was busy with some press and workers coming and going. We walked in and I noticed the men and young women well dressed, then you notice many of them wearing bandages over their head, eye, or wrist. Many were showing signs of having been injured. It was strange to think they were functioning after such a disaster. You could tell there was an air of healing and resolve. We saw some people returning from the airport. They had been evacuated. A lot of the operations had been moved to tents. We ere standing near a check-in tent, and there was a Swedish flag and map. I saw some trucks from Sweden. That was interesting. We went over to a tent and found Mr. Maler. He’s an American of high stature (it seemed) working for the U.N. mission. He wore what seemed to be designer kakis and a grey t-shirt, some gray hair, smart-looking glasses, shoes of a style familiar to me from Germany. He hadn’t shaved in a day or two. His scalp showed small dark red cuts, his wrists were bandaged. I looked around his office, and there hung a U.N. flag, and over his desk a picture of Kofi Annan, U.N. Secretary General. I thought about my boss’s picture, a goofy-looking George Bush Jr. back on the wall in Friedberg. I liked Annan, I thought it was beautiful to see his African face put in a place to be seen, by a staff who obviously respect him. The man, Mr. Maler, spoke clearly, we shook hands, and he offered the chaplain and I a juice. The chaplain was the only chaplain at the bombing site, and he had done the last rights for about 14 people that day. We wanted to do a follow up. I wanted to see for myself how everyone was doing. Major Stanton’s dad had worked a month ago with the U.N., and Major Stanton came to deliver his and his father’s condolences.
The American came around to telling his experience, “I was sitting in the cafeteria, and all of a sudden, there was a blast. I got hit, obviously (gesturing towards his wounds), by some glass. You can’t even see the bruises on my back. One girl had the imprint of a chair in her back. The amazing thing is that they had just applied a film to the glass in the room. That ended up keeping the glass intact, although it broke. It didn’t fly out. Had I been in my office though, I would have caught the blast, and the
3 cm thick of glass in the window. I couldn’t find my driver, so I went out to the yard in the front.[1] You know how that looked, not good. So I checked the faces of the dead, many with awful wounds, and didn’t find any of my staff. My driver ended up wandering away from the compound in shock, waking up the next morning. I lived in Manhattan, 300 meters from the World Trade Center when it was attacked. After seeing that amount of destruction, nothing shocks you. BUT (he said to refocus us), we will rebuild, we’re going to carry on. I am going to head back to Brooklyn soon to see my wife soon. We have to go on mandatory 2 weeks vacation to recover.” He maintained his composure, but you could tell his cool was agitated a bit.
“So are you retired military?” the chaplain asked.
“No, I was in the military for 4 weeks though. It was in 1972 and I was drafted. Then, I was at Jacksonville station, and they told us to go home. The war was being drawn back. They didn’t want us anymore. So, we left. And that was my short stint in the military. I joined the U.N. in 1982,” (I believe that to be the date).
I wanted to be him. I just wanted to ask him, ‘How do I do what you did?’ The semiformal atmosphere barred this though. We then left his tent, and went to visit the security chief. He’s a retired Special Forces officer, and is very fond of Major Stanton’s father. I guess they share some experience from Vietnam. The chief greeted us three.
“Pleased to meet you, Corporal.” WOW, that flattered me. It shouldn’t have, but it did. Reminded me of the days at VMI. Anyways, at one point, I looked over at a man, as we all did, and he winked at us. I found that curious. He started to talk in a French accent, just enough to call to mind comedians and cartoon skunks. I was amused at this, so I wanted so much to hear what he wanted to say.
“I want to join the American Army!” he said as he ate an Army (U.S.) ration.
“And why is that?” Major Stanton asked.
“You have the best food for an army!” he proclaimed. I had to laugh a bit at this. He continued, “I was 20 years French special forces – never had food this good, na!” He winked at us again.
“Tell that to our soldiers, they can’t stand those things,” said the chaplain.
“Hmmm!” said the Frenchman, while shrugging his shoulders as if to say, “Well, I like it.”
“Do you think the French army will ever come here?” Major Stanton asked, trying to push a button, but only in a friendly way.
“No, No,” said the Frenchman, “Never! Never in Iraq. See, we are in Afghanistan, Congo. We are all over.” He seemed to say, “Look, we’re already engaged extensively. It’s not like we don’t participate in anything.”
This answer made its point, and the major disengaged from him, only because we had to be on our way. I looked at one desk in the tent, and a woman was sitting there typing, but with 50% of her head bandaged. It looked painful. She looked like she was on the edge of tears, and I told myself to look away almost as soon as I saw her so she wouldn’t feel like a freak show. If it weren’t for the mass of gauze bandage and an eye cup bandage, I wouldn’t even have noticed her. It was just amazing she was still working.
Well then we left the tent and headed back towards the truck. Conroy was there waiting and our scout truck escorts. I noticed a woman, middle-aged, Iraqi, and round, sitting in a chair and surrounded by reporters recording her. She spoke while starring at the ground. Maybe she was giving an interview. We continued on.
“You just missed it,” Conroy said plainly. “They just brought out two coffins with U.N. flags over ‘em and put them in the back of a pick-up truck. That’s the mortuary. The press were taking pictures of it.”
I looked over at the gate and it was crowded by press. Eventually we drove out the gate. Past the press, I just looked at them blankly. I didn’t feel like giving them any read on how I felt right then. I felt like saying, ‘Let them rest in peace! Don’t you have something better to do than take photos of coffins baking in the sun in the back of a truck?!’
For now my account will have to stop. I need to go to bed. I love you Nora, I so truly do.

I was waiting to use the satellite phone when I had a conversation with a fellow soldier about the internet. He went on to tell me about a site he had been going to that showed the body of a decomposing woman. The pictures were displayed in stages of decomposing, culminating with a badly decomposed corpse. The pictures were apparently taken in a wooded area. He found this extremely amusing. What he found most amusing though, was what he claimed to be an oriental man eating a human fetus. He swore that the pictures were genuine, and swore that they were the coolest things that he had ever seen. I sat there across from him in disgust. What was happening to us? Had we always been this messed up? Was I just now noticing that some people are seriously fucked up because I am spending more time around them than I was in Germany?

[1] Bodies were placed on the grass courtyard in front of the complex.

United Nations Headquarters in Baghdad Bombed; Patroling the Streets that Night, Going to the wounded U.N.

19 Aug 03 (Now 0120 20 AUG 03)

It’s late, and I’ve just returned from the U.N. HQs Baghdad. I’m also lying in bed, listening to the BBC on my headphones. The U.N. HQs was bombed today, in a terrible, insane act. I don’t know where to begin. Today I have almost completed your birthday presents (I’ve spent all week drawing art for your cards) and today I decided that I would start a letter again, finally. Right when I was about to start, one of our tower guards reported a large explosion. Then the report came in from Major Stanton that an explosion had gone off, around the UN building. I couldn’t believe it. As events unfolded, I was working the radios and coordinating efforts along with LTC Jagger, CPT Smalls, and SSG Lawson. It was a non-stop activity trying to establish security and provide aid. The details are plenty, so I will stick with impressions.
When the attack occurred, just 3 miles away, I was in shock. It made no sense that the organization that would help Iraq should be attacked. I wanted to go to the scene, but I had to do the coordination at our headquarters because the pace was too fast for anyone else to handle. I was able to go on the 2000 departure with LTC Jagger and our XO Major Day and our scouts. Usually we all stay at the HQs, as a rule. Major Stanton conducted the ground coordination, along with CPT Powers.
Before I go any further I had a rare nightmare two nights ago. Something was wrong with my stomach and I had to go to the hospital here in Baghdad, across the Tigris River. Knight 3 said SPC Manson should drive me, and I knew this was ridiculous, because he’s a dangerous driver, and it was pouring rain outside, at night. I was missing you terribly! Then I couldn’t understand why they would pick him to drive me there. So he ended up driving a M577[1] vehicle and we began sliding. We got to the Tigris River bridge by the palace, and Manson hit the guard rail of the bridge and drove us off the bridge, and we plummeted into the river. I grew so angry, at the Army, at the decision to let him drive, that his stupidity would kill me, and that I would die and leave you! All of a sudden, I yelled as loud as I could and woke up. But, I had actually screamed aloud in reality, waking up some guys in the room. I was embarrassed. I have never done that ever in my life. I woke up and my heart was racing. I explained to the guys in the room my dream, they laughed for the next few days. It was a major event for me though. I miss you so much Nora, you should know how much!
Well, tonight was eerie. The streets were glistening in the night from the oil slicks or something, producing the same visual effect as the rain on the streets in my dream. It was dark, strange tonight, exactly as in my dream. I began to wonder if that was a bad thing, a bad omen. But I set my superstitions aside, again as in the initial drive to Baghdad, put my faith in God. The CO, the XO, scouts and I got suited up and rolled out. As we exited the camp, we passed the field surgery hospital, where the mortuary is. There are usually caskets crudely made of pressboard sitting about the shack outside the hospital. We drove by, and I’ll never forget, through the glow of outdoor overhead lights and flashlights of medics working on row upon row of casualties laying on cots, and medics working hurriedly, holding up IV bags, as we drifted past. Near the gate were U.N. trucks and civilian and Army trucks parked. It was so surreal, I had just been working on the bombing response, saw it on TV as I was talking to the very units on the TV, and now saw the casualties, some of them. I could tell Knight 6 did not want to go to the explosion site. We first went to Assyrian Democratic Movement complex, then to another neighborhood in sector 23. We dismounted (out of our trucks) and went on foot through the neighborhood. We were shining our lights all around looking for any gunmen, but remained friendly. I pulled rear security on our foot patrol. So many families came out to say hello, little boys and girls came out and followed us. They seemed so appreciative that we were there. Every person said hello, was friendly. We went back to our trucks, then drove around. Everyone, young and old, were out to wave hello. Some of the people looked so westernized, even looked American! Even the elderly folks. The homes too were very nice, above or at U.S. standards. They were quite respectable.
We then drove to another part of town. I have never seen such poverty in my life. Market stalls made of trash, open sewage running in the streets. People laying around in the streets just to stay cool. It was so dark, like a dream, down Arab streets, alleys so small, so basic. Every now and then I would pass a small child and shake his or her little hand and whisper, ‘Salam, Hello,’ and they were in awe. I doubt they could see my face. It was so dark. You feel as if God has put you in this place to learn something. Backstreets of an Arab city at night, kids at your feet, stepping through sewage. I had to ask, ‘Are they happy because they’re free? Can they perceive a difference in their lives? Are they simply happy that arrogant Saddam is gone. Or, are they kissing our ass?’ It didn’t matter to me, I only knew I was there, and I accepted that – not as an American – but as Dan, as me. You do feel like a superhero sometimes to these kids, they do seem to love you. We actually thought we’d get some negative feedback from the people because the U.N. was blown up. We didn’t get that though. We returned to our trucks. The whole time I was looking at the homes in the slum, and thought so much about you and me and how lucky we are. I love you. We then got a call that we needed to pick up the chaplain from the U.N. compound.
I remember the U.N. so clearly, affectionately. Tonight as we approached the U.N. we passed a checkpoint of MPs, a tiny black female sitting behind a machine gun waved us through. We continued down canal road slowly to the perimeter wall (east side) of the U.N. The gloomy lights revealed a U.N. flag at half mast, and rubble. Debris littered the side of the road. Civilian cars, perhaps those belonging to the dead, sat by the side. FBI trucks were there, tons of land moving equipment sat idle (as it was late). (I’m so upset about it right now). Exhausted soldiers lay around on their trucks trying to sleep, their dumb, yet sad expressions sat on their faces. We got the chaplain, he was troubled. He told us he had done the last rights for 13 or so dead. I said a Hail Mary and prayed for the dead. I felt like I was at a graveyard. We didn’t want to stay at the compound any longer. We returned to the HQ (our HQ) and we all stood around the TV watching live BBC footage of another bombing in Israel. It’s unreal, bombing of any kind is unacceptable. I noticed some buildings bombed by the U.S. tonight. I just became more confused. All the rubble looked the same. Why the U.N. though? We stood around watching the footage of the U.N. compound, the BBC reported the rescue was ongoing – BUT, that wasn’t true at all. All activity had ceased. Tens of generators and mast lights sat there unused when we were there. The chaplain said all activity stopped when we left. That angered some of us. The chaplain and I spoke and I almost began to cry, as he reluctantly spoke of the young, pretty French and Swedish women he gave last rights to, who he consoled as they realized they couldn’t feel their legs, as some came back to life. He mentioned several times, “I never want to see that again, ever.” You could see in his eyes he had seen death. He described crushed, burnt, bursted bodies. He told about the young Europeans with crushed heads and missing faces. A crater 5 feet deep left by the explosion. The diesel engine from the truck bomb thrown 200 meters away. Major Stanton was there too, yet it seemed he was more moved by the adventure of it all, I wonder how he can be so basic sometimes. I don’t understand him. For many people here, this is no big deal, but for people like me and people on my level and what not, this has been a terrible day, and the loss is enough to bring tears to my eyes. We glanced back at the TV, and I saw a clip showing that soldier I mentioned a month ago in my journal who mentioned waving to married women to Conroy and me in front of the U.N. – he was on TV with his rifle drawn and telling people to stay back. I looked back at the chaplain. I even wanted to go to the field surgery to pray by someone’s side, but I doubt it would be allowed. Tonight I pray, for peace. All this violence is coming out of Satan, all of it. God has given us his law. To deny that law is to welcome evil, to harbor seeds of destruction. It’s a shame so many people died today, people who really wanted a better world for all. Their lives I will never forget. I love you Nora.
[1] Box-looking tracked vehicle

Special Forces Allegedly Steals Mother's Gold from U.N. Employee; My First Nightmare in Iraq

16 August, 2003

This morning I came into work and was there was already a report of a dead body found. Early this morning, at around 3 a.m., I had another nightmare, and woke up yelling. I woke up some others in my new room too, a bit embarrassing. I dreamed that I yelled, but I had also yelled in reality. I have never done that before. I remember in my dream I was sick, something in my stomach. I remember being with you, then taken away. They said SPC Manson was going to drive me to the hospital here in Iraq. It was dark and raining. He’s not a good driver, and sure enough, we went off the road. That was when I yelled. It was so much anger and stress and longing for you, all let out at once. I sat up and couldn’t believe it. The night before last I had another nightmare that I couldn’t find you. I was just back from Iraq, and we wanted to go to a dance, like a high school dance or something. You and your classmates were gone, only some where there, at this hotel conference center place. I was calling for you and looking and I couldn’t find you or get in touch with you on the phone. I was so upset. I know it was just a dream though. I think it’s just because I couldn’t get in touch with you because the phone here isn’t working. It’s been hard, I almost cried when I thought about it. I was worried about your voice too, because you sound nervous or uneasy. I hope all is OK. This internet phone is tricky, sometimes it works. Sometimes not. It’s just good to hear your voice. I love you! I worked on your birthday picture too. I’m putting a good package together for you! It’s tough being away from you.
Here’s a story I just heard. “We were at the Friedberg Fest, and there was a big bowl that people were pouring all kinds of alcohol in it. One of our guys pissed in a Corona bottle and poured it into the bowl. Well, it got all mixed and one guy drank it! Just all ARRRR and scarfed it down!” said the scout. “Then the new guy Dyke, when he first got here, one of us jerked off in his drink, then he drank it! He never knew!” I couldn’t believe that. That was the second such story I had heard in a year.
One case I was interested in this week was a raid conducted by Special Forces in A Company zone. The raid ended up targeting the wrong house. As the team entered the house, the Iraqi man inside fired a pistol at who he thought were Ali Babba. They used explosives to get in. He then retreated with his mother to a neighboring house by going over the roof. The Special Forces cleared the house and left. They left behind a mess, and left with the mother’s gold, large amounts of cash, and other items. It turned out the man is a computer specialist and works for the United Nations. So now our Major Stanton is trying to get to the bottom of what happened. They have to go all the way to CFLCC[1] to begin to find out what happened.

[1] Coalition Forces Land Component Command

Watermellon Patch Destroyed, Choy's Care Package Insecurity

August 14, 2003

The phone is back on! It was permanently blocked, but I kept calling division (two tiers above my level) and pestering them. I called Baghdad International Airport and there is the HQ for the 1st Armored Division and signal command. The restriction to Germany and the U.S. was permanent since 3 days. I called, and the lieutenant on the other line knew me! It was 1LT Bodanis, an LT friend of mine. He’s a great guy. Anyways, he said yesterday he would help out, and I got 2 more calls from a warrant officer and another LT. They asked what number I wanted to have access and said they would lift the restriction on our line. Sure enough, this morning, I got through on my first try to Frankfurt and talked to Ronja for a second. LT Orr and Sergeant Lawson couldn’t believe it, I was proud of myself. I believe you should take matters into your own hands and not take no for an answer (as long as you are morally right). Most of the time, you get results. If you really want something, go to the top to get it. LT Orr was like, “Thompson, you are PFC Wintergreen, from the book Catch 22!” I’ve never read it, but I can imagine.
I got to call you!!! I LOVE YOU! I got 6 packages, and they made (still are!) me so happy! YOU ARE THE BEST! I went to go pick them up, and Sergeant Choy and Sergeant Albert walked by. Sergeant Albert was like, “T, you’ve got a lot of packages!” Sergeant Choy tried to stare at me, but I just stared back and grinned. He got scared and looked away. He’s really hateful. Today, we think he poured gas on the watermelons and killed them. There’s more to that story, but he’s lost everyone’s respect. I’m 90% sure he did it, everybody else is 100% sure. I got so extremely angry, it became peace, I calmed down. I realized he doing that just made him look even worse. What goes around comes around. I’m not worried about it, life will deal with him. Such a child, jealous because I got packages with Mrs. Choy’s return address – from you! Oh well, it doesn’t matter, we’ll be OK. It was all OK. I got to talk to you, and it was so good! You sent $20 in the package, and that was enough to call you on the internet! I was pretty gray the last few nights for wanting to speak to you! God it was so good! I love you, and today all I could think about was you going to Paris on the train. I was excited for you! I’m going to try to call you now!

Taking Khalid "The Tank" to High-Security Facility, 129 Degree Heat, Photo Op with a Dead Iraqi, Losing My Mind

12 Aug, 2003

I miss you so much Spatzibobbes! I am pretty exhausted mentally and physically. The phone isn’t working, and it’s driving me completely nuts. I went to the internet café and spent 4 bucks on using the computer, and it didn’t even work. The Iraqis are getting arrogant though, charging big prices for little service. I miss you Nora! I want you to know all is OK.! I just got back from BIAP, and it was sooo hot, 129˚ F. I drank a lot of water before leaving. The drive went well, my passenger was a fat man in a man dress named Khalid “The Tank.” He was a colonel in the Iraqi Security Agency, or something to that effect. He’s supposedly notorious here, for signing off executions for over 2,000 political dissidents. His house was raided by us a few nights ago, but he wasn’t found. His brothers and cousins were there, so they were brought into our prison. He turned himself in and in exchange he asked that his relatives be released. Well, we took him to a special facility where colonels and above go. We walked to the barbed wire fence, to the sally port, and there I saw young men in boonie caps and desert uniforms. They had large batons in their hands, and one even had a shotgun. They looked pretty intimidating, standing as if waiting to beat him (I doubt if they beat these guys).
The Tank was huge. The head guard would grab Tank’s hands and yell at him in English to assume different positions. At one point, his massive ass had to sit on the burning pavement so they could search his sandals. I stood there, again, just to see. I want to see how all of this works. Then they brought him into the prison. I saw these guard bubbas and then looked at the Tank. Dogs run with dogs, fight with dogs, die like dogs. The Tank was amongst fellow dogs. It’s amazing how life sorts people out.
We then left Tank, and went to the airport terminal, not the main terminal, but the HQs of Iraqi Airways (now our 1AD headquarters). We had to drop SFC Mayer off so he could fly home. He’s been away from his family for over a year – at least. He’s a nice guy. He was saying,
“I would take leave to go home 3 weeks earlier, but my kid will be in school. What’s another 3 weeks?” You hear Army people talk about family and time as if time has no end. 20 years here, 6 there, month or two over there. It’s all numbers. You totally become numb to the human cost of relationships. If you are working to support a family, what sense is there in staying gone all the time – as if you have no family. I don’t know. SFC Mayer’s been married 14+ years, so that time away may seem small compared to the time he’s been married. He’s a good guy. It’s good he’s going home, I was happy for him.
I went over to the LAV vehicle – yup, it was A CO. 4th LAR, and that was Jimmy’s battalion. He’s in B CO. though. It turned out that there is a Burger King at BIAP, right there at the HQ. There’s an outdoor burger stand there. I waited about 30 minutes to complete my order. Some people had ordered it looked to be 50+ Whoppers. It was amazing. So, I ordered some food for the guys I work with (they gave me some money) and got some extras to hand out. I got my order and then went to the warehouse PX. Their souvenirs were $10 for cheap, but pretty, stuff! You know, you can get the same stuff from an Iraqi, for a lot less. I also wanted to get a love card for you, but they never carry love cards. Not even in Kuwait. I always thought that was strange. I guess I’ll have to make one! Well, I got you a birthday card, the best one I could find. Funny stuff about dogs. I dunno! It’ll have to do! A man was in line with a large box. Well, it turned out it was a satellite dish! The PX is selling satellite dishes, TVs, DVD players, you name it. People are getting a lot of money here, so I guess it’s to be expected.
After doing all of this in the heat (you get used to it, it almost feels healthy!) we got back in our trucks, and got ready for the drive back to camp. I said a quick Hail Mary and missed you so much. Nora, you would be amazed –really. I forgot about the danger of going to camp, there had been a lot of IEDs on this route already. I blocked all of that out and concentrated on security around the truck, staying fast and controlled. Sure enough, we got back without any problems. The people weren’t waving though, just looking on.
Tonight, the phones are still down, and I need to talk to you so much! I am going to keep working on it. Tonight there was an armed robbery of a house and I got a report from a unit that witnessed it. I called the regiment, and within 5 minutes I had a helicopter on the scene of the crime and I put him in contact with the ground unit. The chopper found a car fitting the description of the car used in the crime (VW Passat, white 1984) and he walked the ground troops in to the car’s location using the radio. I monitored and alerted another platoon that they may be needed as backup. Major Day sat across from me and just listened along with some other command TOC personnel. The major just nodded his head to let me know he could see my course of action unfolding. That way I knew to stick with the plan and not interrupt what was going on.
Well, the suspense was building as the helo pilot guided the ground unit towards the location of the car. It turned out to be a false lead though. I exhaled deeply.
“I’m sorry, but I can’t look for anymore VW Passats, we’ll be here forever,” the pilot radioed. What he said was true. He needed fuel too.
‘Roger, understood. Thank you much, over,’ I replied. Apache and Nightstalker (MPs) also thanked the pilot.
Then, Knight 6 (Colonel Jagger) called in to say that they found someone beat up. It turned out he was riddled with bullet holes. He radioed he was going to take the body to the hospital.
“Let me see your camera, I’ll get you a cool picture!” said a scout excitedly to Conroy. So Conroy gave him his camera. When he ran back to Conroy after being gone for a few minutes, he said, “I got you a picture of dead guy!” Conroy didn’t seem to be happy about this. Just another piece of meat.
Lastly, I thought of something the other night when I was on the phone with you. We’ve got locusts all over the place, and everyone’s been killing them left and right. I just catch them and toss them at Captain Smalls, it freaks him out, it’s hilarious! Well, I don’t even think to kill them, I have no reason to, they don’t annoy me. One actually landed on my hand, and on my finger. I looked at it up close – and it didn’t fly away. I ended up holding the creature to my eye for about 20 minutes. It was so amazing to see it breathe, and clean its legs and wings, totally amazing. Such a small thing, yet complex. I never thought to smash one, but neither to actually look at one up close. So, I thought that’s a lot like life, it’s mundane unless you take a closer look – especially in the natural world, like looking in your eyes – that’s special, a miracle! Well, I got a bottle and put grass and some branches in it. Then I put the cricket in. I left the bottle sideways and it stayed in there for a long time hopping around. He could get out if he wanted, but it stayed. That was neat. Well, I remember days ago I was sitting in the phone room (our supply office) and I was tempted to step on one, but I stopped myself. That was interesting, because I almost did something I wouldn’t normally do, just because there were so many of them everywhere and dead ones laying about. Just the fact that there were so many, actually inadvertently devalued the worth of the insects. Yeah, this sounds crazy, but it was an interesting encounter. When we talk about 2,000 dead, people aren’t repulsed by the thought, as in war, but one person killing another singularly is a crime. Hmmm. I dunno. Just something I thought of.
God Spatzi! I need to talk to you! I’ll find a way, I always will! I love you always, I can’t wait to come home to you! I LOVE YOU!

Attacks on the Rise; Bremer Plantation Gets Hit, Prisoner Escapes

7 Aug 03

Another day almost gone. I got to talk to you for almost 3 hours total today! WOW! I feel a difference too! It’s so great laughing with you on the phone! I feel like I’m right at home, God I miss you so much! Time will go by fast though.
Well this morning I got up and mopped the floor so the guys could get some extra rest. I had a good laugh though. It seems one of the prisoners escaped this morning from the “prison” – guarded by 2 guards and a sign “If you try to escape, you will be shot.” Well apparently, no one else even noticed that he escaped until Major Stanton saw a scantily dressed Iraqi running about the camp like a lost animal. The major then asked for the prisoners to be counted, and sure enough, there was one missing. Not only was he missing, but he escaped our perimeter fortress of concertina wire and machine gun nests. I thought he must have been quite agile, and tough – because he left all his clothes behind! So this little naked Iraqi man runs free today. He was one of the guys who was drunk off his ass last night, captured for running a checkpoint and crashing into the Hummer. He tried to resist arrest, so he caught a fist to the face and got a black eye. Well, I guess this morning he sobered up and dashed for freedom. I had to laugh so hard, even though it’s a bit serious that he could have fired our unmanned .50 cal machine gun just around the corner, or give away our weaknesses. Well, SSG Choy is in charge of the prison. This made the escape even batter, especially since Pingdong Choy is walking around at almost all hours in PT (Physical Training) uniform, not the duty uniform. To add to this, he had put one of our intel informant prisoners (who was going to point out black market arms depots) onto a truck along with other criminals to be taken to a prison camp. The intel officer, Captain Jasper, went to ask for the prisoner, only to find that he too was gone. It became apparent Pingdong wasn’t doing his job, he’s busy sleeping all day and getting fat.
There were a lot of attacks today in the west, they always seem to be in the west. IED, machine gunnings, RPG attack near the Bremer plantation. We’ve been lucky, very lucky.

The Nasty War Begins; The Dream of Conquest and Celebration Comes to an Abrupt Halt

6 Aug 03

I’m sitting at my desk right now, it’s about 3:14 p.m. on a Wednesday afternoon. I’m waiting for another call reporting a murder, or another disaster. Coldplay’s “Yellow” is playing right now and I am thinking of you so much. The past few days have been pretty busy. I’ve been checking on the puppies, they’re doing really good despite the extremely hot temperatures. I’ve been feeding the mom, and she’s been very grateful. Usually, I feed her Jambalaya MRE, and she eats it in about 5 seconds flat. It’s really amazing seeing how life works, with the puppies, the watermelon plants, the kids. You don’t even realize the earth is constantly growing, life is dying, and life is renewed. Then you think about what a miracle life is, how it grows, develops from a single cell to complex organism. Science can explain how it happens, but why does life happen, what force drives it to reproduce and grow, move towards its individual destiny? I believe it’s God. Despite all the trouble in the world, there is new life growing and blooming. That’s the beauty of life, and it’s a positive force, not completely destructive. It’s refreshing to see these things even though I deal with death almost every day. There is a beauty to be found always – and that to me is God.
Well, I said I was waiting for something to happen, and it did. The ice factory was robbed and one person was shot. Charlie Company broke down 300 meters from the crime scene, so they weren’t able to respond. It was in another unit’s sector though, we were just doing them a favor. The past two days have been tragic though. Most notable was the IED explosion last night.
“KNIGHT X-RAY – SHADOW ZERO!” SSG Skaggs called me on the radio. I could tell by the tone of his voice that something was wrong. “IED! JUST WENT OFF!” An IED is you nemesis here. You can’t see them, and you only know that they are there once they explode. They sit on the side of the road and are often detonated by remote control. We haven’t been targeted yet, but almost every unit has had someone killed or wounded. We are in the middle of Baghdad and haven’t had any problems (well, no one killed or wounded). Well, Shadow 0 and the other scout truck were just up the road from our camp on “Canal Road” when they were traveling in the middle lane going north. They then switched into the left lane and attempted to pass some cars. At some point, they came abreast of a semi-truck full of bricks. This is an account of what happened from SGT Sill:
“We were driving along at about 60 MPH then we go to the far left lane. All of a sudden there was a shock and all was brown – like a flash from a tank firing. I couldn’t hear a thing, my ears popped and a rock hit me right in the jaw. When the explosion went off, it rocked the trucks and made us swerve to the left. I couldn’t hear, but we kept speeding ahead. I looked back and saw a semitruck slowing down to stop. He was hit.”
What happened was someone targeted our trucks to kill. It seems our trucks were able to escape the explosion because the brick truck was between them. We never found out what happened to the truck driver. Our guys escaped though. We have been so blessed.
“Did someone hear an explosion?” someone asked as they came into our office from outside. This time it was our guys. Thank God they are safe. Most IED, RPG, Grenade attacks are fatal. I radioed Apache section and they headed for the explosion area to search for attackers. Also, I got 2 helicopters to help, so we were all working together to find someone. Well, we didn’t find anyone. Apache on the ground did find an abandoned building that overlooked the explosion and a room with cots and wire inside. A possible outpost. Apache continued their search. Palehorse (the helicopters) then called me and told me a mob of people were surrounding one man at the power sub-station (this time was dark). The pilot told me the surrounded man was waving to the helicopter. So I sent Apache there to help the man. They arrived minutes later. It turned out the Iraqis were angry because they had no power. We actually had Iraqis angry at us at our camp because we have power and they don’t. We have power because of generator power. They think we took their electricity. The reality is that they lost power days ago because they’ve been splicing and dicing wires hooked to the main power grid. Most Iraqis pay for electricity, and these angry people are squatting on former Army housings and they steal power. They are starting to complain more, but they don’t realize how much worse it could be.
Well, in the past 2 days, I’ve been working a lot with helicopters and people on the ground it’s pretty interesting. What’s sad is that it’s usually because of a murder. For the past two days, I’ve dealt with 4 murders, 3 or 4 attempted murders. 2 days ago, I got a report of 3 dead bodies that were drug into the streets. It turned out to be two women and one two year old boy. They were shot to death by someone, and that person dragged the bodies into the street. It was horrible. Ironically, the first group of soldiers on the scene were the same group of soldiers I talked about earlier, with the demon-like laughs. Well, that was gone from their faces now. I felt sorry for them a bit. They had seen something so horrible – some reality hit them that beating Iraqis hadn’t.
“I’ve got pictures of the murders, the kid’s face is gone,” said the MP. He looked disturbed. Some crime like this would be on national news in the U.S.A. Here, it is just another day. I can’t imagine what would drive someone to be so violent. This place spawns it, the heat, the insecurity, the lack of law.
The next day, the locals outside our fence got into a fight because one of them wanted to marry one girl. I don’t know the details, but I know our guys went to tell the crowd to go away, then, before we were able to do anything, one of the men involved in the fight pulled out an AK-47 bayonet and stabbed the man in the left shoulder.
“Call an AMBULANCE!” Sergeant Smith yelled to me on the radio. I got them and the MP’s. The stabbing victim was treated and arrested, both of them. This was only the beginning though. Already, before my shift, we were chasing a black Mercedes with a helicopter piloted by the wife of the commander of the Apache scout unit doing the ground chase. The Mercedes was suspected of firing an RPG or setting off a bomb that hit an MP Hummer and damaged the armored truck, nails stuck in the tires. The people inside were all shocked by the blast. They were evacuated. This all happened at our police station at sector 14, Alpha Company’s area. The police station has been a constant target for mayhem. As the day developed, this was reported to me:
“Knight X-Ray, we are observing a dead body, appears to be a woman, in the middle of the street. She’s still being shot at.”
‘This is Knight X-Ray,’ I said, ‘you report that the dead body is still getting fired at?’ I couldn’t believe they were shooting an already dead woman.
“Roger, the body is still getting fired at,” the pilot said.
Then, the report came in that 2 women were killed, and two men injured. The coordination involved in handling a helicopter squad and ground units is something I like doing, if it’s to catch a murderer. Our guys got on the ground and found there was one woman killed, her blood-covered body baking to the street. The other woman wasn’t dead, she was wounded by some grenade shrapnel to the abdomen. As soon as our evacuation team arrived, the helicopter was able to leave to fuel up. The woman piloting the helicopter was the wife of the commander on the ground. Around, or at some point, the Associated Press showed up. This was a good chance to tell the story of husband and wife warriors.
“Ask Apache 6 if the Associated Press is still there, that would make a good story – she can come in and land, haha!” said Knight 5. It was funny, and he was joking, of course about her landing. The mortars[1] got the wounded woman they thought was dead. As the medic went to cut away the injured woman’s clothes in order to get to the severe wound underneath, her son came up (the woman was already put in the back of an armored personnel carrier) and became animated, protesting dramatically, signing the medic that he shouldn’t cut her clothes away to get to the wound. So the medic carefully cut a patch of cloth off to get to the serious wound. The mortars then drove to the Army hospital at our camp and turned her in for treatment. I believe her son was able to go too. Later on in the day, I got a report that Apache:
“We’ve got a severely injured male, his hands and feet are tied up. It looks like he was thrown from the fourth story,” he told me. “Request permission to take him to the hospital.”
‘Roger,’ I said, ‘Take him.’
I got on the radio with A Company and coordinated for the Iraqi Protection Force to go to the hospital to see if they could get information from the victim. We are trying to involve Iraqi police more and more. It seems that they are doing better and better. That is a relief. The Iraqis say crime is always bad this time of year, because of the heat.
Also, I saw the Goof Troop gearing up. The same group – SSG Ramos, SGT Rush, SFC Smith along with a group of unwilling S3 shop irregulars. Some shots were fired at a wedding. Shooing a rifle in the air is normal here, but the Goof Troop wanted to crash a wedding to make Baghdad safer. Luckily they got there too late and everyone was clear. Glory would have to wait another day.
I called you, Spatzi, and it was so good to talk to you. I cried so hard, and it’s been a while since I’ve done that. It’s so good to talk to you Nora, especially on a day like this. You need to know beauty exists, that the world of relative peace I left is still there, and that you are safe. I love you so truly. Nora, you are the best, you should know that. You’ve done so much for me.

The Tactical Operations Center (TOC) is the nervous system of the battalion. Even though it sounds embellished a bit, it is true that during this period, for many hours during the day, the TOC sat empty. Senior leaders were usually busy in the city, but the enlisted supervisors spent much of the time sitting outside and smoking cigarettes and causing a raucous. They were on vacation, away from their wives and domestic responsibilities. Foley and I sat before the battalion radios for hours on end moving combat forces according to the commander’s guidance and approving and disapproving requests from commanders on the ground. There were honestly some hairy situations where Foley and I would look at each other and make split second decisions for our units without anyone else knowing about it. We could move tanks, move helicopters, move men...all at the push of a microphone button. Of course, this was never done arbitrarily. It was also never done, during this time, with the oversight of a sergeant. The leadership seemed pleased with the results though. Foley would never get over the fact that he could manage such a task.

[1] “Mortars” can also be used to refer to soldiers in the mortar platoon