3,652 Days

Reposted with permission from Matt Dickerson. Read the original here! 

The following is a personal message to all of those who think we should just pull our troops out of the Middle East theater of operations because "We've been there too long, and nothing is happening."
   
      On a warm Tuesday in September 2001 our worlds were turned upside down by a group of men who would rather kill thousands of innocent people through cowardice, than stand toe to toe with the men and women sworn to defend their home, family, and nation. These are the same types that would rather blow themselves up in the middle of a busy market place, or plant a car bomb in the middle of a residential area. These are not conventional enemies. They have no uniform, no unit, only a distorted message of hate told to them by even bigger cowards in a mosque somewhere.
   
      To those who think we should be nicer to them, to those that think we are still the aggressors, to those who feel that we as a nation are still at fault, imagine this for a second, these people are the enemy. Since G.W. Bush was in office, we have maintained a detention center at Guantanamo Bay in Cuba. This is where high profile detainees were brought to be interrogated so that maybe one day we could eradicate the terrorists who want to see America burn alive. Random idiots walking the street do not get sent to Gitmo. These are people who have extensive knowledge of terrorist networks, people who are one with the enemy.
   
      Everyone is up in arms about the "acts of torture" performed on these high profile detainees. Saying it is un-American, saying it's illegal, saying it's inhuman. Know this, keeping them awake for long periods of time, waterboarding them, possible small voltage electroctuion is far easier on them than anything they would do to us. They get three meals a day, a right to practice their religion, and a bed with a roof over their head. That is a vacation for them. If the shoe was on the other foot, they would torture us, behead us, disembowel us, tie us behind a truck, drag our corpse through the streets, and hang us from a bridge to rot for everyone to see. They would video tape the whole thing and give it to al-Jazeera, who would promptly put it on primetime news to feed the rest of the Middle East with a sense of pride.
  
      These people do not deserve to be treated as equals. They should not be treated as we would treat each other, nor should they be treated like we would treat POW's from a legitimate enemy. They deserve to be tied to a chair and be forced to watch someone execute their entire family. They deserve to be tortured. They deserve to be terminated with EXTREME predjudice. These people are not human beings. Unfortunately, our nation has been burdened with the responsibility of babysitting the rest of the planet for some time now. So this equal treatment will never happen.
   
       To those of you who don't have the inner fortitude and patience to help our country see it's way through this difficult time, to those sounding the alarm to bring our boys home, just remember: The enemy is still out there. They will not stop until one of us are gone. Until we become a nation without concern for anyone else but ourselves, they will continue to find ways to attack. We all may not want the responsibility of being the world's police, but it is a responsibility we are stuck with until we decide to no longer take the responsibility. If we pull out now, our troops would have died for nothing. Our brothers, sisters, fathers, mothers, sons, and daughters who bled in the sand thousands of miles away will have died in vain. they will have died in vain because as a nation, we would have failed them because we cannot agree, and we cannot pull together.
   
     We are at war with an enemy, whether we as people asked for it or not. It was thrust upon us by ignorant cowards and we cannot back down. We must press on and continue to attempt to rid the planet of this disease known as terrorism. This will not be a quick process, as the last decade has shown us. Show some unity for our nation and the troops still putting boots on the ground for our safety. September 11th should not be the only day we pull together as a nation and set aside differences. Memories of 9/11 should burn inside of us every day, like an eternal flame that will never be extinguished.

10 years later.....a look back

10 years ago, today, I was woken up by my mom, saying "come watch the news!" She had a look I'd never seen before on her face. When i walked in the bedroom and rubbed my eyes, looking at FoxNews, the Fire Technology student in me said "Oh, New York's on fire." So matter-of-factly like i was talking about the Great Chicago Fire, or how San Fran burned after the 1906 quake, or the Great Fire of London. Then the replay. Over and over. First one plane, then the 2nd one, hitting the building and exploding through. It was an explosion that surpassed anything Hollywood special effects could even imagine! The Thick black smoke against a pure blue sky. A blue that the entire US looks at on January 1 as the Rose Parade rolls through Pasadena and North LA. A blue that Southern Californians know ONLY exists after Santa Ana winds roll through blowing out all the smog. A "Catalina Day" or a "Downtown Day", speaking of when you are in the foothills of Orange County and can see IN DETAIL the buildings in downtown LA. A sky so clear, so pure, so innocent. Then the news came from DC, another airliner, this time in the Pentagon. And another, downed in a Pennsylvania field, speculated to be headed to the White House or Capitol. So surreal. A story line movie scriptwriters would have been either scoffed at or paid handsomely for. This was worse than Pearl Harbor. Not one, but 4 coordinated attacks against both military and civilian targets. War had come screeching into the United States at 600 miles an hour, fully loaded with jet fuel.

Responding were the boys in blue. Underpaid, overworked, but dedicated to the death to their job. Cops and firefighters. New York's Finest and Bravest. Men who months prior were criticized for excessive force were being praised for their selfless attitude. Men who people were too busy to pull over so the engine and truck could pass, grasped and reached out as they ascended the stairs, determined to reach the top. They went as far as they could, grabbed whomever and however many they could, and made the long trek down. Some made it out, and went back in for round 2, determined to go the distance or get knocked out trying. These men were warriors, fierce in their attack. They saved who they could and desired to grapple with the beast burning on 6-10 floors. These were bloodthirsty men, craving the taste of Satan's fire and willing to beat him at all costs. Then at 9:59, all hell broke loose. concrete and steel acted like pipe cleaners, bending, twisting, breaking. The fatal ballet was reaching its apex. The tower twisting on itself, spiralling like a giant corkscrew into the basement below. And while that happened, FDNY and NYPD and PAPD STILL ran up the North tower, striving to try and save more lives. 29 minutes later, the WTC basement swallowed up the North tower as well, claiming even more souls. 2,819 lives silenced in the two 12 second collapses. 343 fellow firefighters called home. 23 NYPD officers on final patrol, and 37 PAPD who will never be at roll call.

Support and unity. 2 things never seen since WW2 and the "support the war effort". Stores couldn't keep American flags in stock. Betsy Ross would be proud. The Stars and Stripes, the international symbol of freedom, was back with a vengence. The whole country rallied around their neighborhood firestation. People finally took notice of the emergency vehicles responding to calls. Gone was the image of firemen getting a kitten out of a tree, in was the superhero. Superman couldn't hold a candle to these real life heros. Women loved them, men envied them, kids wanted to be them, still. Many flocked to recruiting stations eager to get some, to get revenge for their country. No draft necessary, the all volunteer military saw unprecedented numbers. And the gloves were off.

Its odd to think that on that day, I was already working to become a firefighter. Seeing those brothers killed in 12 seconds, made me stop. I asked myself "what am i doing? Knowing that death hovered, waiting for me, on every call, is this STILL the life and career i want?" And the answer was a resounding yes. Scratch that. I still remember thinking "FUCK YES!" without a doubt. What happened 10 years ago steeled my reserve and determination. I was not gonna take no for an answer. I would become a firefighter by any means necessary. Its even more surreal to think that 10 years later i'm not a firefighter, but instead have too gone to the recruiter and signed my life on the line, vowing to protect the nation I love and adore, the freedoms most Americans take for granted. I'm fighting alongside some of those same people who joined 10 years ago, and are still pushing back, giving our enemies what for and not going quietly into the night. I may never become a firefighter. My options are open, from working at becoming a flight medic on a MEDEVAC chopper, to taking 2 more years to go off and fight in the 'Stan, to getting out and still becoming a Firefighter. Each day I remember 9-11-01. its interesting, that the number you call when you need help is 9-1-1. You call, I come, I fight, I win.

Hooah, Semper Fi, Fir Na Tine, etc. It all different, but its all the same! Never Forget!

Laughter is the best medicine....but medicine still works

Crazy things happen when people are tired. Some get grumpy, some get quiet. Soldiers, get goofy.We joke and harass and pick on each other. At some point, everyone is a target. its like a verbal game of "Hot Potato". Most everyone can dish it out. Some just can't seem to take it. They try and "sound" logical in their banter, but while they try and prove their point, my whole crew is laughing up a storm. Pranks abound. Chem Lights (chemical light sticks) grow wings and fly, alighting on the roofs and turrets of our other vehicles. Water bottles, while not as common, make for a bigger splash. My team leader, the other day, for example, channeled Jennifer Beals and "Flashdance". We were in the motorpool waiting for the mechanics to dispatch our vehicles and simple spraying of water became a full blown water fight. each person trying to up the ante on each other. A whole water bottle, then a bottle from the cooler, then a bottle filled with ice and water from the cooler, topped off with an ammo can of ice and water from the cooler. Needless to say it was entertaining to watch, kept everyone from over heating, and passed the time.

Generally the Iraqis tend to give our convoys a wide berth. However, the other night, one Iraqi was a tad too impatient. Ignoring the traffic that stopped so we could cross the road, AND the previous 2 Caimans that had already passed, he decided to make his move. In doing so, he took the Rhino ALLLLLL the way down the side of his BMW. He smashed his mirror, shattered drivers window, rear passenger window, rear sail window on the rear passenger door, and the whole rear window. It also looked like T-rex tore through the D-pillar sheetmetal. Fortunately, no one was injured or killed. Yet, after we took pictures of the damage, got driver's statement, etc, we got a call from the IA (Iraq Army) Checkpoint up the road asking why we killed someone? That guy told the IA that coalition troops shot and killed someone in his car. Unbelievable.

With the end of Ramadan, we encounter more people on our nightly patrols. More people waving, and more people glaring. many of the areas we go through are controlled by Al-Sadr. His followers do not like us. The kids wave and want candy, but the adults seem to just want us out. We're doing more patrols that start while the sun is up, so we get to see more of what our area looks like. All farm land. Not as hot, but clearly more humid sometimes. Night time sees much cooler temperatures though.

So now its September 10. Been away now for almost 2 months. That 2 months of talking to friends and family back home have seen a rollercoaster of emotions. From a total communications black out with my now-ex-girlfriend, to her breaking up with me, to being 100% ok with that and having a total weight lifted off my shoulder. Then i met someone who i click with. Never met before, but can talk to for hours. I can laugh about the most random things. I've heard it said "You will find something when and where you least expect it". Sounds like a fortune cookie. It also is true. When you stop trying to force life, and force your hand, and just live, that's when it seems like life turns around and rewards you. And so, for now, while i'm stuck in this shit-hole (sorry mom) of a country, with people who would like us better if we were dead, its nice to have that ray of sunshine that always wants to be there to talk to me, and i can talk about anything with and just laugh with. Family is one thing, but to have that ASIDE from family, that's when you've found something special. So to you, Lord, I truly thank you for the things and people you have blessed me with .

Time Has Come Today

So time seems to fly by here. Perhaps it’s the fact that i have been going out every night on patrol so my days just are one big blur of food, work and sleep. Rather than in Kuwait where I was just waiting around for something to do, nowadays, I scramble to find enough time to do what i need to do before rolling outside the wire again. But I love it. I was never cut out for the rigid walls of a clinic or aid station. I do my best when my back is against the wall and I need to think outside the box. Best is when I just get to relax and not do anything, cuz when Doc works, it’s usually a bad day. So far, no bad days. Interesting, yes, but not BAD. One night on patrol, we made a left on ASR Dell. 3 Caiman MRAPS made it across a narrow little bridge. Ours did not. The left rear tires had the roadway give out and they slid into the canal. The frame kept our truck from sliding any further. When recovery got out there with the M88 (think Tank Tow Truck) they hoisted our truck up in the air and swung it back onto the roadway. We continued on without incident.

Our patrol area or AO (Area of Operations) consists of 95% farmland with these narrow dirt roads that have canals on either side. These canals are for irrigation and are anywhere from 6-30 feet down from the side of the road. Turning around is an interesting prospect, sometimes taking HOURS for 4 trucks to completely turn 180 degrees and move out. To our north, there is a town. We drove up there one night and haven’t really explored it yet, but around our FOB, pictures of Al-Sadr are up EVERYWHERE, especially in this town. The looks we got were half bewilderment and half “Go F yourself!” I actually look forward to pressing into the town and establishing a presence.  Currently we’re merely learning the roads in our AO. Which are hardball (paved) and which aren’t. During the day, one might mistake where we are for Viet Nam. The fields with grass, cows and little farm huts. Only when you see the farmers is it clear we’re in South WEST Asia, not South East. That has to be my biggest surprise. I thought I was going to be in desert like the Sahara, and here I am surrounded by what is almost describable as lush fertile countryside. We’ve rigged up an old headset to play our iPods through the j-boxes (junction boxes). Every soldier in the truck has a headset linked to an intercom system. You talk into the mic and everyone in the truck hears you. All the while, music plays in the background. You have a switch on the cord that lets you key the radio to transmit to the other trucks or back to base. The J-box allows you to switch which radio will be keyed, if any, and volume. My truck runs about 3 iPods in rotation, giving us a nice wide range of music. Mostly its country and rock and blues with a little hip-hop thrown in for good measure. A song everyone knows comes on and we all sing, through our headsets. It’s quite comical to hear. Sounds like a karaoke bar in the truck.

We’ve dismounted a couple times to check out suspicious activity, and I go with the guys, usually. The other night we got a report of a house with a lot of traffic at it. So we sent our dismounts to go check it. As medic, I have to stay with the CCP or Casualty Collection Point. It sucks, but for now, that’s where I stay. Plus the rules have changed. While we tactically move to our objective, once we get there its handshakes and pleasantries with the suspect.  No assaulting the house, kicking in the door and zip-cuffing the people there while we search and question them. Times have really changed. What day is it again? No one ever truly knows. You need a watch that tells you what day of the week. I guess that’s good. Makes my time go by faster. Hopefully the infantry guys will loosen up and let Doc out of his cage to play more often!

Mesopotamian Mystery Meat and Mexican Street Tacos

When you're in Mexico, invariably you have tacos from a street vendor. Tasty carne asada in tiny diced pieces cooked on a flattop griddle. So succulent and tasty you fail to notice the lack of feral animals lurking around his stand. Am i saying you just ate dog or cat? Can't prove it, but everyone pretty much agrees on it. Then returns for 5 more plates and a Fanta in a glass bottle. Same thing here. a T-bone steak for Surf n Turf that has a 7" vertical bone (ala T-bone) but yet lacks the top of the "T", making it more of an I-bone steak. I don't think Apple has copyrighted it, so I'm safe. This made me wonder. Was this truly beef? Or was it a much larger beast that may or may not have a hump on its back and likes to spit when angry? No, NOT Rosanne Barr. I'm talking camels. Having been in the Middle East, i figured i'd see at LEAST one, which i did, in Kuwait. Guy was offering free camel rides. Who wouldn't? But here in Iraq, they are surprisingly nil. Which again brings me to the meat question. There are also no cows (and yet no Chik-fil-a?!? WTH?!? EAT MOR CAMEL). Additionally, they must have some freakazoid chickens. i got a DRUMSTICK with a 6 inch bone! Not the size of a turkey leg, but thinner than a chicken and 2x as long. Truth be told, i did NOT eat "chicken" that night. So it seems i'm relegated to my egg white omelett for breakfast, and a panini for lunch and dinner. not too shabby.

On a different note, I've left HHC and the aid station and am now attached to Charlie Company again. Its nice comin home to my guys, even if i am in the attached A Co platoon. i'm home here and ready to go on missions. The aid station is too slow for me and slow=burn barrel. Yup, the resident firefighter took up the job to burn all English documents and paperwork, classified and unclassified, as well as any other combustibles I could dig up. My parents remember this part of my personality fondly. Remember those halogen desk lamps? Before they had the glass pane, they had a wire screen. Incidentally, you take a piece of paper and that wire would burn it and poof, fire. For an 8y/o kid, this is freakin AWESOME!. They will also remember me trying to light a paper towel off the HVAC's pilot light in the garage. For years they had me convinced i almost blew up the house. Then i enrolled in fire tech classes and learned that since a flame ALREADY existed, any gas present would already have burned. Therefore, only problem would be if i dropped a flaming piece of paper on something combustible. I digress. The point is, i do what i do best. Burn stuff then put it out. No, not an arsonist. I'm a professional controlled burner.


Even without having been outside the wire yet, i'm reminded about the area i'm in and the Biblical and historical significance of this place. On the FOB we have the "Babil Reconstruction District". Seeming benign, most people don't understand the true significance of Babil. The Tower of Babil was a MASSIVE undertaking, where humans desired to be on God's level and thus built a tower to the heavens (without modern equipment mind you). In their desire to be near God, they weren't seeking Him, but rather seeking to BECOME Him. God destroyed the tower, gave them different languages and scattered them to the corners of the earth. Before this, Man was centrally located HERE and all spoke the SAME language. So to see "Babil Reconstruction", it make one think about what is truly going on here, physically AND spiritually.

Until next time, Graverobber out!

Ride of the Valkyries

COS Kalsu, Iraq. It's cooler here than in BIAP or Camp Liberty. Which while isn’t saying much, speaks volumes. Camp Liberty was humid. There was moisture around in little canals everywhere. Our LT, who was there in 04, said Camp Liberty is located in the former hunting preserve of Saddam Hussein. He irrigated the whole area, making the vegetation lush and beautiful so his flunkies and he could hunt wild exotic game. Everything from antelope to lions. The flight from Kuwait was uneventful. Taking off was like leaving John Wayne Airport on a normal day, and the landing was like coming in to John Wayne during the Santa Ana winds. STEEP, needless to say. We rode (flew? Rode? Same difference really?) in a C-17 Globemaster jet. I’ve seen these built and flown in and out of Long Beach Airport, but it’s totally different and quite surreal to be in full gear, walking up the loading ramp of a HUGE transport jet, past 2 giant pallets of duffle bags, only to sit in normal airline seats. The military doesn’t care if you buckle your seatbelt, listen to your iPod while you take off or land. Basically, the FAA doesn’t exist with these cats. As I was walking up to the plane, off to my left were 2 bunker/hangars. US munitions made short work of these during Desert Storm. Strange to see them still bombed out 20 years later and not recycled yet or rebuilt. The interior of a C-17 is amazingly stripped down, wires and hoses and fluid lines going every which way in a chaotically organized manner. Running down the length of the fuselage on either side are cables, the manual cable back up controls to the hydraulic and redundant hydraulic flight control systems.  While I tried to find an appropriate song to listen to on my iPhone while taxiing and taking off and finally settling on Fortunate Son, my buddy nudged me and showed me his selection: Ride of the Valkyries. One-upped. So while spending just over 24 hours in Camp Liberty, once again it was time to get moving. Too bad I wasn’t racking up frequent flier miles, because July would have been a goldmine! Getting to the airport, we wait at the convoy loading area. A list of names are read off and bummed, 11 others and myself have not heard our names meaning we’d have to wait 3 hours until the convoy came BACK from Kalsu. Sergeant takes us aside and says “You 12 are lucky. You get the Chinook ride!” SCORE!! So at 2145, we load up on 2 Chinooks and head south. I got the best seat in the house, aside from the tail gunner or pilot. Tail gunner sits in a chair on the edge of the tail ramp and chills out while scanning for threats. I got to share in this view. What is a 1.5-5 hour (depending on traffic and route safety) convoy ride in a cramped MRAP, turned into a 20-30 min (MAX) ride over the country side? Thinking back to my flight from Kuwait, those 2 songs both immediately came to mind. Makes me wonder how soldiers back in 1965-1975 felt staring out the tail ramp of a Chinook or the doors of a Huey flying across the rice patties of Viet Nam. Up there, in relative safety, above the tripwires and makeshift bombs and booby traps of an enemy that didn’t fight fair, didn’t fight using traditional and accepted Western tactics. Up in the air, you feel invincible, safe, and unbeatable. Still, in the back of your head, you know you’re not. So you soldier up and disembark your chopper to await the unknown as you settle into a country side that you know doesn’t like you and wait.

I'm not delivery! I'm DiJourno!!

In "Good Morning Viet Nam", at the very beginning when Eddie Garlick picks up Adrian Cronauer, he says "You'll get used to the heat, sir!" Adrian's response is "Hot? This isn't hot, this is the setting for London Broil!" Today, my friends, is one of those days. Its not much hotter than Phoenix or Death Valley, and there's no humidity, which is good. But at the same time, it seems more intense. Maybe because when you look at a globe, Kuwait is at roughly 27 degrees North Latitude, and Phoenix is at 33 degrees North Latitude. Therefore, while temperature is the same, I'm closer to the sun here in Kuwait. Think of it as a giant oven. The whole oven maybe 350 degrees, but if you put your pizza on the bottom rack, its gonna take longer to cook than on the top rack. Thusly, the 125 here feels more intense. I don't think anyone TRULY acclimates to these temperatures unless they live here, and even then i'm not sure. When you're cold, you can layer up. but when you're hot, you tend to run out of layers and then you're naked and still sweating your tail off. I'm starting to feel like a brisket. Low heat, long time in the smoker. I'm stuck in Kuwait for a few more days, marinating at 125. Throw on some BBQ sauce or a dry rub and I'm pretty sure I'd take first place at the Texas State Fair.