Art La Flamme

5 days, 4 runs, 30 miles. My soles are like alligator skin. I managed to get a blister on the arch of my foot. My pi?ce de r?sistance is a blister on a blister, on a blister that has now popped.

But these aren’t complaints; this is my reality. I’m a runner, and these things won’t stop me.

I haven’t really talked much about the Long War recently. Been kind of busy with it.

A few pieces have been in the press recently. I am not going to try and sum them up, but am going to recommend going and making the time to read them.

Read this, then this, and then this. Below, there’s a letter from the Director of National Intelligence — so yes, this is kind of serious stuff going on.

Don’t be the one, twenty years from now, who remembers that there was talk of interrogation and torture. Be the one who read up on it, developed and informed opinion, and who can talk about what it means to you and how you view the US.

Need more information? Here’s the Taguba Report entry on Wikipedia, and info on Abu Zubaydah and KSM.

(more…)

I suspect that what I am about to say won’t be for everyone. Go ahead, skip this one. I won’t be offended.

(more…)

First Day of Spring

On this, the first full day of spring, it’s hard to find signs of the season, partly for being in Iraq, party for being in the middle of a drought. I looked high and low, and found these flowers out by a helo pad, flowers tall enough to gently sway in the breeze.

Sunrise in Tikrit

What was old is new again.

I am running. I doubt I’ve mentioned this to many, but it’s true. Last week was about 15 miles total, including an awesome 8 miles on Saturday. This week, I should push pass the 20 mile mark, with a 10 miler scheduled for Sunday, once this storm and the dust passes.

I am trying to get back to the point of regularly running half marathon distance runs. Yes, 13.1 miles. I want back the strength, I want back the solitude, I want back the peaceful bliss of running for a couple of hours here and there.

In 2005, I did not run. I could not run. The year ended with a Doc telling me he’d fixed me, and that I could maybe run 2 or 3 miles, but never, you know, a 10km or anything like that.

2006 was the year I took flight, and started running. I ran, really to see if I could break something — which I didn’t.

By 2007, I was a running fool. I ran all kinds of crazy distances, and did all kinds of crazy things people don’t normally do — like going to Luxembourg to run a nighttime marathon, and finding a favorite run that happened to be seven (yes, 7) miles up the K?nigstuhl to the mountaintop, and then back down again. I closed out the year leading 23 others half-way across Romania to run full and half marathons.

And then poof, I ran very little in 2008. I closed out 2007 with Achilles tendon problems, and I really had to get off of them for good. I made a couple of tries to return to running, always too soon, and always with the same painful results. I ran some when I was in Georgia (the state, not the country), but damn if that heat wasn’t a killer.

I’d written off running in 2009, figuring the workload or the heat would be the death of me. But I’ve needed something, and I finally realized that I needed to hit the road again. It probably helped that I’ve spent the winter reading the tale of Jack, a runner and blogger from SW Germany who ran through the worst of the winter months in order to hit the marathon circuit early and hard this year. Very inspiring, that Jack character.

I could have returned to running more and harder earlier, I suppose. This is, after all, just my third week of hard, disciplined running. I had started to get up and run — sometimes. I had started to arrange to run at lunchtime — sometimes. The problem always was the rhythm; I have had such a varied schedule that I could not go the same mornings, or the same time of day. And with the weather here, even if I did find the right day and time to go, there could well be horrid weather outside. In other words, it wasn’t going to be easy.

There’s too much work, too much stress. There’s too much food too easily available, that is too bad for me. There’s too many projects, too much pressure. Too many snacks and cookies and waaaay too much chocolate. And though an Army may march on its stomach, our days too often begin and end with coffee. Strong, strong coffee.

And all of these things – all of them — do not bode well for a guy who wrestles with the demons of PTSD.

So, easy stopped being an excuse. I returned to where I belong, the open roads of the early morning, waiting for the sun to creep up past the horizon and start to warm the land. And it feels great.

I have to run in my Army exercise gear, and not my preferred civilian running attire – I might not like it, but I can live with it. I have to run through some pretty marginal conditions sometimes, to include strong winds carrying silt and dirt – I might not like it, but I can live with it. And invariably every time I run, I then am rushed to get cleaned up and get on to something for work – I might not like it, but I can live with it.

I am running. And it feels good to be alive again.

Water gathering dust

I find great irony with this — water collecting dust. Partially because I’m in Iraq, and partially because there’s a drought on.

I have been in Iraq now for over 100 days. I was in Hawaii for 4 or 5 weeks before coming to Iraq, and in Georgia (the state, not the country) for the 110 or 120 days before Hawaii. Since June, I’ve seen the wife and kids for all of 4 or 5 weeks. I am 100+ days into a year-long tour in Iraq.

I don’t think anywould would fault me for being bummed, or bitter, or a sour-puss. Not just being apart from my family, not just the stress of being here, but also because of the death and destruction that continues on — at a greatly reduced rate — here in northern Iraq.

But this time here in Iraq has actually given me a great sense of optimism. I know I wrote about it some, with regards to the elections. The Awakening worked; the tide has turned on those who would wage war on the Iraqis. The elections went off very well, with certification of the results expected next week. The Security Agreement, between the sovereign nations of Iraq and the US, has been implemented, and seems to be working well. And the President has laid out a time line for US troops leaving Iraq.

Yes, there is still death and destruction. Yes, there is still violence. Yes, there are still those who would overthrow the Iraqi government, or fight American forces until the last one of us leaves.

But really, at long last — Iraq is doing pretty damn well. I smile a lot here. There’s open discussion. There’s rule of law. There are police on the streets, and food on the shelves, and children in the schools again. As someone who has read way to much about the 90+ years of this country, I really feel that Iraq is on the verge of a great new dawn. And that is an awesome feeling.

So, I’m happy. I still wish I was in Hawaii, drinking a beer and bouncing kids on a knee or something, but it’s a great time to be here, to be a part of all this and to see such an awesome change overcome a society.

In case you missed it, just over 24 hours ago IHEC announced the results of the 31 January provincial elections here in Iraq.

In our area, 3 of the 7 provinces held elections. The three provinces in the Kurdish Regional Government (the Kurdish semi-autonomous region, on which I could yammer for 14 days straight) did not, nor did At-Tam’im / Kirkuk, due to continue discussions about Article 23 and the road ahead for Article 140.

For the three that did have elections, the Sunni did well. The Sunni had boycotted the 2005 elections — the last provincial elections. In Ninewa, home of Mosul and a lot of the attacks these days, one Sunni party (the al Hadba Gathering) took the majority by themselves. They will have a lot of work to do, right away, to bring the necessary change signaled by the votes of the people. In Salah ad Din, Sunni parties across the board did well, and they’ll need to work together to come up with a coalition of some kind — ditto for Diyala.

So, they were good, peaceful elections with good, peaceful results. I am proud today, proud to be here, proud to play even a small part in all this. Very cool.

I have been looking forward to day all week long. I was hoping that today would be the day that the IHEC — Iraq’s Independent High Electoral Commission — would announce the preliminary results of the 31 January provincial elections, held in 14 of the 18 provinces in Iraq, and 3 of the 7 provinces up here in the north.

It would be a glorious day. Glorious.

The last provincial elections were in 2005. To my surprise, and to that of the world, the Sunnis opted to boycott. Sure, they are a minority in this country, in comparison to the 65% or so that are Shi’a, but still, they have large percentages of the population in a bunch of the provinces.

They could have made a difference.

But they boycotted.

And wow, do they regret doing that. In the years since, they have realized (I think) that this was about as stupid a thing as any group could do — not being a part of the political process means having to take whatever shit the other folks decide. Yeah, that’s not so cool, especially when the Sunni ran the country before and folks were willing to dole out a little payback to the, all the more since the Sunnis were outside the political process.

But in the years since then, I loved, loved, LOVED watching the awakening. Sahwa. In staying out of the politics, the Sunnis were also hammered by Al Qaeda in Iraq (AQI), and it got to the point where the Sunni leaders — not political leaders, but social and tribal leaders — said that enough was enough, and they approached the Americans and the Iraqi Security Forces. And the Sons of Iraq were born. The Sunni came back into the fold, and became part of the solution instead of being a part of the problem.

This just blows my mind. No representation in the government, hated for what the last regime had done, bad mouthed for having Ba’thist ties, despised for just being followers of their Sunni faith. And they did what was right, in reconciling their differences and working for a greater Iraq.

And this year, in forming political parties and looking for their future within the framework of the Iraqi society.

31 January, something like 50 to 60% of the eligible Iraqis went and voted. Seriously — 60%? America would divide by zero before it would turn out in those numbers to vote, even if the ticket was Gore/Jesus Christ. But turn out they did.

So, I’ve really, really been looking forward to this day.

I haven’t cared what the results would be, but rather how the people would respond. I want to see the excitement in their faces when the hear the news that their party got 17% of the vote in this province or that one, and that their party and their candidates would get 3 or 5 or 10 seats on the Provincial Council. I wanted to feel the rush, their sense of ownership, of involvement.

Because if you’re excited about politics, and actively taking part in the political party, you are investing in your country and your society. You again believe. You have faith, you have hope in what your people can do, and life will get better.

Today was to be an important day for me.

Right up until just after lunch, when someone — reports now indicate it was a woman — in northern Diyala apparently walked into a restaurant and detonated some sort of belt or vest of explosives.

My first thought? Mother fuckers! Can’t we just have a good day in this country, and not have is scarred by the violence?

A few hours later, the preliminary results were released, and it has been a good day. But it’s been a good day marred by this tragedy.

It pains me when there’s loss of life here. This country has made such strides in the years I’ve been watching. It’s changed so much since my first trip here, back in the mid 90′s. I am captivated by this holistic transformation it has undergone, and continues to undergo. There is such potential here, such beauty, such a future.

And there are setbacks.

I don’t pretend to fully understand what drives someone to do something like this. I am male, I am American, I am shaped by the things I have seen, the things I have done, what I have learned along the way. It’s not Arabs doing this, it’s Iraqis. It’s not Sunnis doing this, it’s Iraqis. And it’s not even just women doing this, as men have done it here, too.

I have seen examples — too many of them — of what my peers will do in times of war. When the grenade is thrown through the hatch of the HMMWV, and the gunner yells GRENADE before dropping onto it, pulling it tight. The explosion kills him, but his buddies live. The guy who stays on the heavy machine gun to literally hold off the waves of attacking enemy, long past the point where he himself could escape, because he knows that if he lets that gun go silent, they will all die because his soldiers need just a little bit more time to prepare their defenses. In the end, he dies of his wounds, but his soldiers live.

These are things I understand. Deciding on actions that have a reasonable expectation of causing your own death, usually so that others may live. Firemen running into a burning building, police charging a gunman, spectators diving into an icy river after a car goes off the road and is submerged.

But this is the exact opposite. Something that means so much to someone, that they will take action that they reasonably expect will cost them their lives, in order to take the lives of others.

I want to understand. I really, really do. And I’m trying. But it’s hurting my head, trying to reconcile things that are held in a different light by others, given different values than I would give them or that my culture would give them.

When I ask myself, what would drive me to do this, I come up empty. Would I kill Hitler this way, if I had the chance? I couldn’t do this to people just eating lunch.

But some people would. And today someone did. Damnit. Today, of all the fucking days.

They’re going to the polls today, and I’m pretty excited about. It’s election day here in Iraq, with the citizens taking to the polls to elect members for their provincial councils. It’s these councils that will decide upon the new governors (and a few other key provincial leaders). The last time the Iraqis did this was in late 2005.

They’re going to the polls today, and there is no doubt — this is their election. We, the Americans, just happen to be hanging out. It is their doing, lock, stock and barrel. Their security, their plans, their officials, their sites. If you think we’re here to help the Iraqis learn the joys of democracy, watch today and smile.

They’re going to the polls today, in keeping with the fine Iraqi tradition of voting. I was speaking the other day with a woman born and raised in Kirkuk, just after someone had tried to assert that this was Iraq’s first real chance to vote. She and I had a good giggle over this; Iraqis have voted ever since Iraq was created, except during times of occupation by others. Sure, us westerners might take issue with how elections were done esp. late in the Saddam era, but still, they had elections much as Egypt still has elections. Iraqis are very clear on what it means to go and vote. And today, they’re going to be out in HUGE numbers.

They’re going to the polls today, and for thousands upon thousands of them, there is nothing that will stop them from voting. In 2005, not far from here, there was a polling (as they call their voting) site not far from here that came under attack by a sniper. The polling site was a building with a few rooms for voting, so the masses were formed in a long, long line outside. The sniper had lined them up in the rifle sights, and started firing. While the Americans rushed to kill the sniper and end the threat, the Iraqis waiting to vote had just taken a knee, and waited in place. Quickly, the sniper was out of the equation, and the silence of the day had returned; the people literally stood back up, still in line. Ask yourself if casting your vote means that much to you; it means that much to the people here.

They’re going to the polls today, and more than anything I wish I could go and walk among the crowds. I’d love to ask them how they feel today, if they’re excited, who they’re voting for and why. I’d like to ask them about the changes of the last 10 years, and of their hopes and dreams for the future. I’d like to ask them about their children, and what they see in their Iraq. I’d like to be able to share in the joy of the day, because it is going to be a glorious day, for sure.

They’re going to the polls today, and more than anything in the world I wish I could share this with my wife. During the ground war, I held back so much. The death, the destruction — those are things you want to keep from your loved ones. I did not want her to ask me how my night was going, and hearing the words fall from my mouth about how many we’d killed, or that the hunt was going well. I want her to see and hear and smell the freshness of this land, of the uplifted spirits, and the sense of limitless future and optimism that comes from standing with your peers to decide your fate, your future. These are the days of glory, the best it can be, when a man of violence is given the chance to also be a man of peace. I don’t want her to know how many widows can look to me with blame, but to know that I am capable of service not just to her and our children, not just our people and our nation, but to so many others.

They are going to the polls today, and I am going to go to the office and make a lot of PowerPoint slides. For the Iraqis, today is the pinnacle, a high point. For me, I am already onto the next giant rock that needs to be rolled up a hill, surely to just roll back down when I am almost there. They will enjoy the quiet time, their national holiday, and surely be at home with family and friends and maybe even a nice meal. And I, I will change fonts, and add transitions, and arrange colored boxes, all in support of the free will of the people.

They are going to the polls today, and I want you to know that it’s a damn great day.

I had a coworker ask me today why I’ve been so pissed off the last couple of days.

It was as if time stopped. The words just hung there in the air, like cigarette smoke on a cold day. Pissed off? What the hell was he talking about?

13 years later, or what was probably only a second and a half, I spat out something about just having a lot on my mind lately. No, not angry, just lost in thought. Preoccupied.

1. Saying that, I realized later, probably made me sound like one of those guys you watch closely, because he probably just got a dear John letter or something. Take his ammo — he’s got a lot on his mind. I suck with words. Really. Yes, there is irony in a guy writing that on his blog. But I am horrible when it comes to interacting with others verbally. Speeches? Well, other than the before-mentioned nervousness and tendency to have my heart race abnormally fast, I do just fine. But waaaaay too often, just talking one on one, especially under pressure, words fail me. You might not think it, you might not notice it, but I sure do. I suck.

2. I take too long in responding to people. I know this. I’ve had this issue for a long time, but only really zeroed in on it a couple of years ago. Sure, I can brush it off a lot of the time, saying I’m deaf (I am) or something, but I know that what I think is an OK time to think about the question posed is outside the social norms for most Americans. My brain is like a virus, and it’s off and running all the time; if I wasn’t conscious of the need to actually answer people, you could probably ask me a question and then have to wait like 5 minutes while I thought it over and came up with an answer. It’d be a good answer, just not a wait-5-minutes answer.

3. I totally suck at answering rhetorical questions. Too often I’ll just miss the whole set of indicators that a question is rhetorical. My roommate thinks it’s pretty funny, I know, because he’ll just throw a question out there, and I’ll answer it. Or try to. And no sooner do I start than I realize that, uh, no, I really wasn’t suppose to. Did Iron Man, the song, come out before Iron Man, the cartoon hero? What’s making that damn glitching sound at the beginning of this MP3 file, and how the hell do I remove it? Did I just rip my shorts in the crotch?

4. I’m an introvert. Seriously. Stop laughing. It’s true. All those Myers-Briggs type tests all come back with the same two things: I am an analyst, and I am an introvert. And being deaf, these days I literally have missed the phone ringing on my desk. I tend to crawl inside, and ignore things. Well, ignore everything. Does that make me seem mad, or angry, or upset? I hope not, but I can see how it might.

5. I love the problem, and really am interested in the problem more than I am the answer. When the answer arrives, usually the problem is over. And, well, the fun stops. I love problems. There, I said it. I love problems. When things don’t work, I get to tinker. When things don’t make sense, I get to ponder. I favor the abstract, too, because then it’s all about the logic in the answer.

6. I joke with my wife that I probably have Asperger syndrome. I know what you’re thinking — it’s not nice not joke about that. But I didn’t say that I joke about Asperger syndrome, I joke that I probably have it. But it’s only a half-joke. The more I read about it, the more I realize that it could well be used to describe me.

7. On Sunday, while sitting in a briefing (in the peanut gallery seats), I got so fed up with the bureaucracy, I decided to take on a project, with or without the support of the unit I work in. Seriously, I have probably lost my mind. I am either going to be run out of the Army, or people are going to see that I am undertaking this mother-of-all-projects, realize that it is absolutely the right thing to do, and join me as I charge at a freakin’ windmill. Right now, I have three converts — one of whom does not have a choice, because she works for me. How big is this undertaking? I could employ 40 people, all day every day, to nug through this, probably for a month solid. And then we’d spend the rest of the year changing Iraq. Yep — done lost my mind. Why have I been a bit out of it lately? I’m trying like hell to wrap my head around a set of issues, in order to get to the root of the problem, so I can then force an American Army Division to go forward and do my bidding, in support of the people and government of Iraq. Preoccupied is probably a pretty accurate description….

So, there it is. My day, and seven things related to it.

Interesting article, here.

I read a lot of articles about PTSD and the military, and I had seen one other one on GEN Ham and his problems. From this observer, I’d guess he had PTSD, but hey, if he wants to call it something else, so be it.

I think it’s awesome that he’s willing to talk about it.

I am not surprised that he doesn’t see it as a big deal.

Now, how many other of our senior leaders are going to open up and talk about their stress and their combat experiences?

How much does this rule?

A ton. That right there, my friends, is 11 pounds and 12 ounces of cookie nirvana.

It’s 9:15pm / 2115 on New Year’s Eve. I’ve stopped by the room long enough to see if I had an email response or two on something near and dear to me (yes — I got about 8).

And now I will go back to the office.

I will ring in the New Year with PowerPoint 2007. Uh, not a good sign.

Last night, my boss handed me a project.

There are grad students out there right now, I am sure, who are pondering what to focus on for their thesis or dissertation. One or more will pick this exact subject, and then they will spend months and years pouring over it all and figuring out what it means.

Me, I get 48 hours. And I just slept for 6. Damnit!

Because dropping off presents in this rough neighborhood sometimes means needing a back up piece.

I’m assuming he’s got spare ammo in the sleigh, too.

And here are the gingerbread men. I saved a couple for this morning — more photos later, maybe.

Oh, and Santa brought me a nose zit. Gee, thanks, man.

Inspired by this. Yes, it’s tongue-in-cheek.

1. Review the year that is about to end. Write down some of the highlights of all the good things that happened to you. Be sure to include all the basics like no more dishes, not choosing what to wear, never choosing shat’s for breakfast, lunch, or dinner, or fond memories of yesteryear when you only had an 8 hour work day.

2. Share and celebrate your successes this year with your family and friends. Oh, wait. OK, try celebrating it with a bunch of semi-strangers who are armed to the teeth, amped out of their minds on caffeine, and probably wound a weeeeeee bit too tight. It’s almost the same, I swear.

3. Send greetings of appreciation and thanks to those people who have helped make this year special for you. Do it two weeks ago, because the mail takes that long. Be sure to use paper from the laser printer, because, well, it’s that or TP. Forget stamps — just write “free” up in the corner instead, and see if that works.

4. Review your current to do list for work. Be ruthless and eliminate as many unnecessary or futile tasks as you can, without doing them. Don’t worry — someone will put them right back on your list for you in the morning anyway.

5. Finish off any unresolved matters. Like Kurd-Arab tensions, Article 140 and 23, the problems with kerosene distribution, health care reform, the American auto industry, SEN Obama’s vacating Senate seat, and the future of Lebanon and the West Bank.

6. Clear up some clutter. Start with MSR Arizona and then move on to MSR Tampa. Not just the trash — go big and see about the rubble, too. Maybe the intersection at 8th and Nebuchadnezzar, because it really looks bad right now. It sure could use some flowers.

7. Go through your important paperwork and bring it up to date as much as possible. Start with your powers of attorney, and then your Soldiers Group Life Insurance. And make sure you’re getting your combat pay, etc.

8. Review how you have spent your time this year, and identify those things that have been draining your energy. Don’t bother writing them down — you are in the Army, after all, and it’s not like you can really do much about it anyway. Begin to say NO this year to things that you don?t really want to do. Wow — I almost said that with a straight face. Say no… yeah, that’s a good one.

9. Be different and do something new. Because the Army loves that. A nice broach? A ribbon in your hair? Grow out some mongo porkchop sideburns. Streak. Stop wearing your reflecting belt over one shoulder, but instead as a thong. Sleep in. Salute with your left hand, Benny Hill style.

10. Start walking every day for at least 20 minutes until the New Year begins. Be sure to wear at least 100 pounds of extra gear — water, ammo, armor, steel plates, grenades, a tourniquet, etc. Because it’s not the walking that’s as important as the effort you have to put into each. damn. step.

11. Rest and relax. Sit back and turn on the TV, and realize that you get no channels. Open your fridge and pour yourself a nice, cold….. water. Drag that chair outside and enjoy the dust and flies.

At 1005 the other morning, I was sitting in a conference room, listening to my heart. It was beating strong. It was beating a bit fast. More than anything, I wanted to put two fingers to my neck to better gauge what it was doing.

In minutes, it would be my turn to speak. No overhead projector, no big screen with my slides. Two senior officers sat at the head table, flipping through slide packs. Buried in there were four slides of mine — Northern Iraq 101. No chance to read from a script — I’d be cold-stone-talking about it, solo.

We all get the jitters before events. Pre-wedding jitters, the jitters before while waiting for the big race, the stomach butterflies waiting for that big test in third period. It’s natural. It’s the anticipation of what is to come, that moment when it will all begin.

I get that a lot. I talk and brief for a living. I don’t write long analytical pieces, I don’t make fancy slides. I do best sitting with folks, and talking them through complex ideas using the simplest of terms.

I should be good at this. I need to be good at this.

So, sitting there, I was wondering just one thing: Would my body drop into fight-or-flight mode, and dump a ton of stimulates. All that endorphin, from when your mind decides that survival is on the line, and it concludes that stimulants are what you really need.

Why? It’s called hypervigilance, and it’s a part of PTSD.

It wasn’t always like this for me — the worrying and waiting not just of what I am about to do and about which I am nervous, but the dread that my body is really sensitive to stress. This is one of those lively byproducts of PTSD — my fight-or-flight trigger has been out of whack. Like a lot of folks with PTSD, it goes off at inappropriate times – too early.

And sitting in a conference room, waiting to talk about a topic I know well, is not an appropriate time. Jitters, yes — my body getting the sudden sensation that it’s time to get up and go? No.

It is a wildly shitty sensation. Waiting to do what is a key part of your very career and capabilities, and waiting to see if your body is going to illogically go postal on you.

Can I influence it? Sure. Is it a problem? No. Do I have it under control? Yep. But it’s a daily struggle, something for which I start every day with just a clean slate. In a flash, it could be back, and with the stress levels up being back here, I am ever vigilant about it. If I had a good day yesterday, that’s fine, but I start all over again today. And I don’t see it ever going away.

It is, as I understand it, the kind of daily struggle that recovered alcoholics face — one day at a time, with a very conscious effort.

I don’t normally talk about this stuff, but I am going to try and write more this year, and specifically talk about what it’s like to come back to war with PTSD. I don’t think it’s something that people talk about, mainly because I know I don’t talk about it. It’s my own quiet struggle, something I have to live with and something for which there just isn’t a reason to talk about it.

(PS — I kicked ass at both briefings)

When I left then-FOB now-COB Speicher in early 2004, things were different. This place was different, I was different, Iraq was different. What’s different?

I can blog. Which means a bunch of other things have changed, too. Like heat. I have heat this winter, which is cool is ways most of you would not really grasp. That winter, I slept in a sleeping bag, on a cot that was missing parts and was thus not fully set up or functioning (and really, how hard is it for a cot to be fully functioning?) Now, I have a bed and sheets and laundry that someone else does, and as best I can tell, they use a washer and a dryer.

I have electricity. Back then it was small generators and wires run everywhere. No power where we slept. Internet access? I think they had it in the HQ building, but I don’t remember seeing it. I bought a cheap card so I could make phone calls at the MWR — Morale, Welfare and Recreation — tent, but that was about it. My mail never made it to me — I had Xmas and presents in Kuwait weeks later.

I packed so much crap with me this time, bringing it with me vice having stuff mailed in. Vitamins. A ton of toiletries. Blank CD’s and DVD’s. Extra locks. Books. Spare everything. Back then, I had one ruck sack, one duffel, and one foot locker. I’d pick up a book, read it, and then exchange it wherever I found the next one.

I am not loaded down to the gills with a shit-ton of gear every day. I wear my regular Army uniform, a hat that sure looks like a baseball cap but that I can’t actually call a baseball cap, Combat Boots, and I carry a pistol. No turtle-shell like helmet. No body armor. No 1000 pounds of bullets and grenades and things that blow up or shoot sparks into the sky. Basic clothes, a pistol in a holster, and a little green book in which to take notes. Hell, this time I even brought my fancy watch to wear every day!

And my work. Yikes, it’s different. Somewhere along the way, I became a lover, not a fighter.

Lastly, things get to me a lot more. That’s the PTSD, I know. Every morning, I sit in to hear the briefing to the general about that’s new in the world. Two things get me. The first is the tale of the hero of the day. They are awe inspiring. Professionalism, dedicated, conviction, willingness to do extraordinary things to protect others — American and Iraqi.

The other is on those sad occasions when the Chaplain talks about a Soldier who has given their life in service to the country. That just hurts, and I well up every damn time. I use to not do that — I had ice in my veins, for sure. But damn, it hurts now — it hurts a lot.

And as an aside, thanks for all the emails. Keep ‘em coming. Send your questions — I’ll answer what I can.

So, yeah. Bird Day.

Three things:

1) I am thankful for my wife. Wow, she puts up with a ton of crap, just because I choose to be in the Army. I could make decent money, if I wasn’t in the Army. I could come home at a decent hour, if I wasn’t in the Army. I’d be home right now, if I wasn’t in the Army. I’ve come dangerously close, time and time again, to putting the needs of the Army ahead of the needs of my wife and my family. Time and time again, the Army has called, and I have dropped everything to answer the call, always knowing that my wife will hold down the fort, raise the kids, pay the bills, and fight the good fight while I go off and do whatever it is that I do. She rules. Every damn day I am thankful she’s in my life.

2) I am thankful to be right here, right now. I am thankful just for the chance to serve our nation. Today, the Iraqi parliament voted to approve the draft of the Status of Forces Agreement (here). This is awesomely cool, for about 45 different reasons. We’re all moving beyond the days of a UN-mandated American presence, into an era of American troops being here under terms agreed upon by two sovereign nations. Wow — that just blows my mind. In the coming weeks, the Iraqis will have their next round of provincial elections — the second time the Iraqis have done this. Consider this: Iraq became a nation at the end of WWI, and it was a monarchy until 1958 when a coalition of groups overthrew the king. After ten years, Saddam emerged to grab control of the country, and ushered in his era of totalitarian Ba’athism. After the 2003 invasion, Iraq had the one round of elections in 2005, but that really was done with a lot of hand holding. So, here we are — the Iraqis are about to do it again, and I expect that they will do it all on their own. Wow. I find that to be incredible. I am thankful to be here, and to have even the smallest of roles in this amazing period of Iraqi history.

The Descent into Baghdad

3) I am thankful to be able to run. I was going to say that I was thank for my run today, but really, it’s more than that. Some of you may know that I don’t run just for exercise; I run because I have PTSD. Yep, post-traumatic stress disorder. It’s like being an alcoholic — I will always have to deal with it, and I will deal with it, one day at a time. When I started showing signs, back in 2003, I was such a physical wreck that running wasn’t an option. A two mile run would kill me for a week. Two years later, when I admitted defeat and decided to do something about the PTSD, I had found a new doctor / physical therapist who had patched me up enough to run again. He, of course, thought I’d be good for a couple of miles, tops, but that sounded like crap and I set out to prove my wrong. And the running helped the PTSD. It helped a LOT. Folks with PTSD are often treated with all kinds of drugs, none of which I wanted. None of which I thought I would need, if I could get my body to produce the same ones naturally. To produce the same ones, by running. And so I ran. A little here, a little there, and then poof, I ran a marathon. Injuries aside, I’ve been running ever since, through good times and bad. Today, I took off and ran 10km — 6.2 miles. And yes, I was in pain every step of the way. Which is fine — with this broken body, I will be in pain every day of the rest of my life. No need for it to keep me from doing what I want and need to do. I ran today for no reason other than it was a Thursday and Thanksgiving and I could sneak out to do it. And it felt great. I don’t ever want to go back to being so broken and such a mess that I can’t take off and run like I can now. Running is such a positive part of my life, that I can’t see living without it. I’ll likely run for the rest of my life. And to have found running, and learned the positive role it has in my life, it priceless.

So, there you have it. A guy in Iraq, who could easily be wallowing in the misery of being away from my family and all that crap, and I have three great reasons to be thankful just to wake up and start another day.

Lavatory

I’m going to head back to my hooch now, and maybe watch a movie or something. Enjoy your bird day. Be good.