Tag Archives: iraq

August 24, 2009 · 20:50

Going to War: A Reflection so Far, Memories, PTSD and hopes and fears Past and Present

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As I have been writing of my experience in Iraq it is amazing to me the amount of emotions that I have experienced. It is strange to feel like I am back there as I write. I know that this is necessary but at times it is unnerving especially as I talk to friends who are going through much the same experience that I had coming home and sometimes worse. I have been in e-mail contact with a friend from a NATO ally who has done a couple of tours in Afghanistan. I can really feel for him as he is in a smaller military with a lot few resources that the Americans to deal with PTSD and other maladies from this war which seems to drag on without end. Another friend on the West Coast has been dealing with the ravages of both PTSD and TBI and another Army Chaplain friend who has 2 Bronze Stars to his credit deals with PTSD as well as a very rare and eventually fatal lung and brachia condition. Friends from my medical center are being deployed, I’ve been told that I am too valuable and needed where I am to deploy. I do understand that at the same time deep in my heart I want to be with my friends from my ICU as they go to war.

The emotions took a big turn as I actually started writing about being in Iraq, beginning with the C-17 ride in to Baghdad. In some sense the mirrored what I was going through two years ago. It kind of came to a head the other night when I wrote about the rocket that went over my head at Camp Victory while waiting for my ride to head to the Camp Liberty heliport. Then there was the flight to Fallujah and I can remember that flight. I have never really liked flying in general and ancient helicopters in particular. Thinking that many of the CH-46s that I flew in while in Iraq had been in service in the Vietnam era was none too comforting. They were almost as old as me. Marine Helicopters are notorious for hydraulic fluid leaks. The old joke goes” “How do you know when a Marine helicopter is low on hydraulic fluid?” “When it stops leaking” is not entirely in jest. I guess you can say that most of my career flying rotary wing aircraft in the Army and Navy has been just this side of terrifying. I manage to survive every time but it takes forever to come back down from the anxiety of the preparation for and actual flights themselves it is no wonder that I still have problems sleeping and going on alert any time I hear a helicopter overhead.

Faith at times is an ongoing struggle. While I believe I question God more, especially when I see little kids suffering or read about young men and women killed in action or maimed by combat. I find that I am less compassionate toward those who have not deployed who make suicide gestures and screw with their friends and families and then blow off help. It angers me that their narcissism takes time and resources away from people who have been in the shit who need help and have to wait to get help. I also find that religious people who have trite answers for everything really annoy me, especially those that are constantly talking about “spiritual warfare” when they have no clue about war, suffering and death. They are what Luther called the “theologians of glory” and they have no real answers, just platitudes that work fine until a real crisis comes. Despite this I believe somehow in the God who is willing to be with me in the middle of the Valley of the Shadow of Death and at the foot of the Cross.

One of the things that tears at me now is the deep division in the United States as the obviously enlightened zealots of the extreme right and left push their agendas so hard that it seems impossible to find and amicable solution. I wonder if we have entered “Weimar America.” I guess I can understand how the moderates of the conservatives and socialists in Germany were ground to dust beneath the anvil of the Communists and hammer of the National Socialists in the later years of the Weimar Republic. I really understand the military men who found both alternatives distasteful and tried in vain to seek the middle ground and maybe restore some sanity to the country. That article is yet to be written. I think I will call it “Weimar America?” What really gets me is that both the right and left have dropped all pretense of civility and are now engaging in physical altercations at political meetings or “town hall” meetings and some have even be brandishing automatic weapons near venues where the President is speaking. I have seen the results of this type of no-quarter politics in the Balkans and in Iraq. I wonder what the hell all these demigods on both sides are thinking and if they in their devotion to their alleged “principles” would attempt “to destroy the country in order to save it.” I have become ashamed of the leadership of both political parties as well as the special interest groups that drive the agendas of both extremes, especially as in the case of some who use the Christian faith to justify their actions. When I see these people in action my anxiety level often returns to what it was in Iraq and on my return. I can honestly say that the people on the extremes make me fear for my country. I feel that they are pushing us to the abyss and that I can’t do a damned thing to stop it. I’ve matured enough to know it is not simply the fault of one side or the other; as both are at fault and it seems that the most extreme on both sides have actually been wanting this to happen, at least from my viewpoint as a passionate moderate.

I have come to realize that my true countrymen are those that I have served with to defend this country and protect others abroad, especially as the insanity continues to spread. Though I struggle and have to deal with emotions as if they were brand new every day just as I think that I am getting better I know that I have to keep going. I owe it to my brothers and sisters from the current war and wars such as Vietnam. Sometimes I wonder if all of us PTSD afflicted vets are the only sane people in the country. We are a brotherhood. “We we happy few, we band of brothers.”

brothers

I’m glad that I have friends, especially vets from Iraq, Afghanistan, the Gulf and Vietnam. Limey and Barney with the Hue City Vets, Ray and Charlie the Vietnam Veteran of America brothers who man the beer stand on the concourse behind home plate, and so many others like my trusty assistant Nelson Lebron who helped keep me safe and sane in Iraq.

In the middle of all of this I grieve for my Vietnam Vet and retired Navy Chief dad who wastes away in a nursing home with end stage Alzheimer’s which according to his doctor should have killed him months ago.

I’d better stop while I’m ahead. I need to catch myself, maybe have a beer and focus on some baseball for a while before I get ready for work. I have duty tomorrow and I expect that I will be busy the next couple of days. I hope when I get off Wednesday afternoon that I will be able to see the Tides play. I can use the view of the diamond at Harbor Park that helps calm my soul about now. Maybe between no and then I can get in with my buddy Elmer the Shrink.

pub2

Pray for me a sinner,

Peace, Steve+

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Filed under alzheimer's disease, Baseball, iraq,afghanistan, Military, Political Commentary, PTSD, Tour in Iraq, vietnam

Tagged as afghanistan, automatic weapons, baseball diamond, c-17, camp liberty, camp victory, ch-46, fallujah, foot of the cross, harbor park, icu, iraq, Martin Luther, nato, nelson lebron, norfolk tides, PTSD, radical groups, spiritual warfare, struggles with god and faith, theologians of glory, united states, valley of the shadow of death, vietnam, vietnam veterans, we happy few we band of brothers, weimar germany, weimar republic

August 22, 2009 · 20:21

Going to War: It was Just a Rocket and a Night Flight to Fallujah

Typical LZ at Night

That evening Nelson and I said farewell to our new friends at Iraq Assistance Group, went and got chow at the large Camp Victory chow hall. What is interesting on some of the larger bases is just how well fed the troops are. Of course there are those who are better fed than others who could use the “wide load” convoy signs hanging off of their asses. The main chow hall at Victory has a number of serving lines and drink, salad and dessert islands. It has the main serving line, a fast food short order line, a Mongolian BBQ line as well as variations of Giros, Indian food, pizza bar and of course soft serve as well as Baskin and Robbins Ice Cream. Breakfast is another “feeder” with almost everything imaginable to eat. I am not a big breakfast eater by and large so for me black coffee, hot or cold cereal and fruit was a normal breakfast. After dinner we went and finished our packing and waited for our ride to take us to the Camp Liberty airfield. Had I been stationed at Camp Victory I would have probably outgrown my uniforms as I look at food wrong and can add a pound.

We had a very late flight, about 0200. Since you normally need to manifest for a flight two hours prior it means that you back up at least a hour before the manifest time. This particular evening there was not much cooling going on and there was little illumination which meant in most places it was very dark. Especially in troop the billeting areas. We dragged our gear to the entrance to the billeting area. Nelson went back to his tent and I plopped my ass down on my bags. About 2300 I heard and felt a rush over my head. It was a rocket, probably a 107 mm rocket which is one of the most popular indirect fire weapon used by the insurgents or possibly a 122 mm rocket. Both are former Soviet systems and not very accurate but still the fact that a rocket has buzzed me was disconcerting. A few seconds later I heard an explosion. I later heard the rocket had continued on and hit an uninhabited area of the camp. Soon after it went over my head a very young looking soldier came running up to me in his PT gear with an M-16 at the ready. He shouted “Sir, what was that?” The young man appeared to be a bit scared to I simply quipped “Only a rocket son didn’t hit us.” He seemed to relax just a bit and I said “You okay son?” the good thing about being as old as I am that you can get away with calling the young guys “son” because in most cases they I’m old enough to be their father. I stay in game too much longer and the new kids could be grandchildren. This young soldier said, “Well sir I’m on the quick reaction force and that sounded close.” In the background to the east machine gun and small arms fire could be heard. A pair of gunships buzzed us going the general direction of the gunfire. Baghdad was definitely not a violence free school zone. I replied to the young soldier. “Son, if I were you I’d report to where you need to go, better grab your helmet and flak.” The young man looked at me in the dark, assuming I was a Marine officer since I was in my Marine Desert digital cammies, saluted and said “Yes sir” to which I replied “be safe soldier and God bless, keep up the good work.” Once again he thanked me and hurried off into the night.

CH-46 Landing

A few minutes later, Nelson who has been in some pretty sporty situations in Afghanistan including once where he took out a knife wielding assailant at a checkpoint in Kabul with his fists, came up to me. “Hey Chaps, did you hear that rocket? Sounded like a 107.” I said to him, “Shit brother, it felt like it went right over my head. “ He responded quickly “Boss I think we’re in a war here.” And I said “sounds like it partner, definitely sounds like it.” Then he said “Chaps, you wouldn’t believe what I just saw.” I said “Really, what?” And he told me the story. “I was over looking for our boy when I needed to go to the head, so I opened one of the port-a johns and when I opened it saw this guy and girl having sex in it, like they didn’t have the door closed and you know how nasty those things are.” I said “Partner you’ve got to be kidding me” and Nelson said “Chaps I wouldn’t do that to you, those people looked at me like I was stupid when I opened the door and I just said excuse me and closed the door. That place stank sir; I don’t know how they were doing it in there.” I replied “Partner, I guess after a year of more here some folks will take whatever they can get.” “But, you’d think that they would find some dark spot rather that a port-a-john,” replied a thoroughly disgusted Nelson. As I laughed at the misfortune of my little buddy, bodyguard and protector I simply said “There’s no accounting for taste my friend, no accounting for taste.”

We sat on our gear and waited, and waited. The time when we should have been picked up went by and after about 15 minutes of chatter about not being picked up on time, Nelson said. “Boss you want e to go find our ride?” I responded that I wanted him to as it was so dark that he might not know where to find us. A few vehicles had come and gone but none were our assigned wheels. Finally after about 45 minutes our ride showed up, Nelson had found him on the other side of the compound in his truck listening to AFN radio. He had come to the wrong side of the billeting area and was chastising me for not being there. I said, “Sergeant, I said to meet us over here and I’ll be damned f we have to lug our gear a couple hundred yards to make you happy.” I paused as he started to interrupt and then cut him off “Sergeant, don’t go there, you’re talking to a field grade officer who wasn’t always a chaplain, you went to the wrong place and you didn’t take the initiative to try to find us. We had to find you so don’t push your luck.” He replied, almost dejectedly, “Yes sir” and I said, “consider this matter ended, get us to the airfield, we have a flight to catch.” Nelson and I piled our gear into the back of the truck, got in and rode the airfield.

The Camp Liberty airfield, which deals exclusively in rotor wing aircraft, is one of the busiest heliports in the world. Hundreds of flights go through it every day. They are primarily Army, but a fair amount of Marine aircraft pass through as well. We were flying Marine air tonight. When we got to the heliport our chauffer had a difficult time finding a place to park. Eventually we sort of double parked and Nelson and I and Nelson and I unloaded our gear with a bit of help from our chastened chauffer got up to the manifest desk where we were greeted by a civilian. He took our names and our mission number and then took out a marking pen and wrote it on the back of our hands. I found that that at each place this was the primary way to identify who was getting off where or if you should even be on the aircraft. I found a seat and then because I couldn’t get comfortable walked outside for a while. Nelson on the other hand, ground his gear, threw himself upon it pulled his cover over his eyes and took a power nap. He can sleep almost anywhere.

With about 10 minutes to go I woke up Nelson, and I find it amazing how he can wake back up the way he does. When I take a nap I am useless for about 30 minutes after I wake up as my body tries to figure out what time it is. We both took turns guarding our gear as the other hit the head, once again a darkened port-a-john that stank to low hell. When done we staged our gear near the lineup point. Our mission was called and we lined up with about 30 others, a mixture of Marines, Sailors, contractors and a few soldiers. We geared up, securing helmets, flaks, our packs as well as our massive EOD issue sea-bags. Nelson helped me with mine as we got ready to walk, once was over my back and the second strapped across my chest, actually going from my chin to just above my knees. Many of our fellow passengers had very little gear, and one fairly large contractor offered to help me with my gear. I took him up on it about half of the 100 yards to where our bird had landed.

Watching our aircraft come in, a flight of 2 Marine CH-46s which date back to Vietnam service I was amazed at how surreal they looked coming in out of the night, their haze gray fuselages almost having a ghostly appearance as they set down. Of course we had the bird that was farthest from the line up point and I was really glad for the help of this generous contractor. As we loaded our bags onto the aircraft, stacking it in the center of the deck with everyone else’s gear, we each took one of the jump seats along the side and strapped ourselves in. Sweat was pouring off of me and I felt totally winded, no amount of running, pull ups, pushups and crunches had prepared me to lug our heavy and ungainly gear around. The dimly lit troop compartment was hot and I looked around the aircraft. I noted the machine gunners in the front doors and the crewman in the back who took a seat with a 240 series machine gun mounted on a swivel. It reminded me of the films I saw of the inside of World War Two B-17s, except that the flight suits were different. The crew gave the let the pilots know that we were ready, and I wondered what we were heading into. Nelson got my attention and gave me a “thumbs up” and I returned it as the lights went out that our flight lifted off.

CH-46 Door Gunner

Banking around to the left the 46 gained altitude and flew back across the camp as it did so I got my first view of Iraq after dark. As we flew into the city of Baghdad there were lights and sometimes lit streets. In a few places I could see the flashing lights of emergency vehicles. We soon began to descend into the city surrounded by tall buildings, mainly hotels and government buildings and I knew that we were in the “Green Zone.” We sat down on a small landing pad, the dim lights came back on and a couple of passengers got out of our bird which a couple of more boarded the flight. The scene from Camp Liberty was repeated and gear was off and on loaded, passengers boarded and debarked from the flight and the lights went off and the bird lifted off. Gunners took their positions and chatted on their headsets obviously scanning for threats and assessing what was going on, or they could have been talking about the new video game one of them had bought at the exchange.

Banking left we gained altitude heading east, with Baghdad fading into the night the lights of the communities along the Euphrates came into view as we flew on toward Fallujah. For me it was a fascinating experience, surreal and a bit of anxiety making but interesting as I thought of the history of the ancient civilizations who had settled here, the Assyrians, Babylonians and Persians and the fact that the faith of the Christian Church through Abraham and later the people of Israel began here with Abraham’s obedience to the Lord.

The flight only took about 16-18 minutes and we flew into Fallujah. The bird sat down on a large tarmac and the crew motioned us to get up grab our gear and get off of the aircraft. I was praying desperately that it would not be a long walk to the terminal from the helicopter pad. As we hauled our gear off the 46 to get to the terminal I was about tapped out. The 46 had landed about 100 yards from the terminal where our ride waited. It might as well have been 100 miles. I loaded one bag on my back and commenced to drag the other. Nelson was ahead of me and realized that his old Padre was not doing well. I was about halfway to the terminal when Nelson showed up with a Marine on a John Deere Gator. My gear was loaded aboard the Gator; I gave a hearty thank you to Nelson, the Marine and to the Deity Herself as I dragged my sorry ass to the terminal.

The Fallujah terminal like most terminals at heliports in Iraq was a plywood building constructed by the Seabees. It was well lit inside, had air conditioning which I sucked up and a large refrigerator with bottled water stashed in it. Once inside I took off my helmet as we checked in at the desk. By now it was about 0245, I had been up since 0530 the previous day, done PT a Camp Victory, had a rocket fly directly above me and dragged 200 pounds of gear more places than I wanted to in 100 degree heat and I was a spent round. War is a young man’s game and even though I am in good shape for someone my age, the key is that I am in good shape for someone my age, not a young guy. Sweating profusely I found a liter bottle of water and downed it. About that time a large African American 1^st Class Petty Officer came in the door. RP1 Donnie Roland was the LPO of the II MEF Forward Chaplain’s office and worked for Mike Langston. Donnie, who is now a Chief is a guy that you definitely want on your side. He hooked us up. Normally personnel in a transient status in Fallujah are housed in tents with cots in varying degrees of disrepair. Donnie got us rooms in the VIP quarters, nicknamed by the Marines the “Ramadan Inn.” The place had once been the haunt of Uday and Qusay Hussein, Saddaam’s sons. It had a pond in the center of the court yard and was reputedly a place where they would entertain senior members of the Ba’ath Party amid scenes of debauchery. We were given a small room that had a desk and two small Iraqi beds, both of which had thin concave mattresses which had little support but were a definite step up from a cot. Sheets, pillows and a blanket were included. Our gear took up the majority of the room but it didn’t matter. After a shower I crashed hard. The bed might have been from a 5 star hotel, all that mattered at 0330 was that I could get to sleep. RP1 Roland told us that Chaplain Langston said that we should get some sleep and come in when we could. With outgoing artillery fire going off in the background I laid my worn out body down on the waiting mattress, I thought about the day and it came to me that the rocket that had went over my head could have killed me and a chill went down my tired spine. Another salvo of artillery lashed out at the enemy, and my mind drifted back to the present. I was now in Fallujah. One more stop on the way to my war, Nelson was already asleep, I am amazed at his ability to go from 0-60 and 60-0 so fast. More artillery fire boomed and as a former forward observer I found outgoing artillery fire to be comforting, amid it’s lullaby I went to sleep.

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Tagged as .50 cal machine guns, 107 mm rocket, 155mm artillery, abraham, afn radio, assyrians, babylonians. persians, baghdad, camp liberty, camp victory, ch-46, fallujah, green zone, helicopter gunships, II MEF forward, iraq, iraq assistance group, john deere gator, m-240 series machine guns, marine pattern digital uniform, nelson lebron, pot-a-johns, qusay hussein, ramadan inn, saddam hussein, uday hussein, us army, us marines

August 20, 2009 · 23:57

Going to War: Baghdad, Briefings, Coordination and Connections

This is the 10th installment of my “Going to War” series which Chronicles my deployment with RP2 Nelson Lebron to Iraq in 2007-2008. This installment deals with our time at Camp Victory in Baghdad as were prepared to go west. For other segments go to the “Tour in Iraq” link on the sidebar.

Sitting on Saddam’s Throne

Following our arrival at Camp Victory Nelson and I continued to get our bearings. We went to the Iraq assistance Group where we checked in and began to meet the people who were going to be assisting us as we got ready to do our mission where we met with the Chaplain, Major Peter Dissmore, the Chief of staff, Colonel David Abramowitz and the Commanding General. We received briefing and coordinating assistance from a number of the G-Shops in the IAG, the Chaplain and the Multi-National Corps Iraq Chaplain Office.

The visits with all were cordial and my long Army career as a Medical Service Corps Officer and Chaplain allowed me to have a edge in working with the Army because I knew the system, the language and the culture. Now the IAG was run by the Army but was a joint command with Navy, Air Force and Marine staff in addition to the Army. The IAG at least then was the coordinating office for the teams of Advisors and trainers working with the Iraqi Army, Border Forces and National Police. Another command worked with the Provincial Police and other security forces throughout the country.

While we had an idea where we would be working before we deployed that we would work with the Marine and Army advisors in Multi-National Force West, we received the word that we would be going there. MNF-West operates in Al Anbar Province which at that time was still a very dangerous place, although there were signs that things might be beginning to turn around. It was funny as during our pre-deployment preparation and training took place almost everyone who heard that Nelson and I were going to Anbar expressed concern as the battle there had been very difficult since the U.S. led invasion.

The actual briefings and preparations did not take long, but the important part was building relationships that would assist us in our mission as it developed. The two key people at IAG for our mission were Chaplain Dissmore and Colonel Abramowitz. Chaplain Dissmore a chaplain of the Assemblies of God denomination, graduate of Princeton and ethics instructor at the Army Engineer school had been deployed like us as an individual augment as had Colonel Abramowitz. We got along with both very well as we got details of the mission. Colonel Abramowitz took a liking to us, especially Nelson, a fellow New Yorker. Abramowitz is an Army Aviator and the son of an Army Infantry Colonel. He is a big man, about 6′ 6′ or maybe taller and reminds me of a Jewish version of Patton. When he found out that Nelson was a fighter and had multiple championship belts he had to “Google” him. Nelson told him to “Google Nelson Lebron, kick boxer.” When Colonel Abramowitz did he was amazed that Nelson was the real deal. He became one of our strongest advocates in Baghdad. We talked baseball of course the good Colonel being a Yankees fan. Another group of men who were invaluable to us were two former Iraqi Army and Air Force Generals who had fled the country during the reign of Saddaam after the the Gulf war. Both helped us considerably as we gt to know more about the make up of the new Iraqi Army which after a couple of years had been purged of many of the opportunists and political hacks who had come in after it was re-established. Many of the officers replacing the problem children were career military men, secular in outlook who had served since the Iran-Iraq war of the 1980s are well as in the First Gulf War. These men wanted the chance to get the Iraqi Army back in shape as a fighting force, but faced opposition from certain political and religious groups in the country not to mention the insurgents who desired to undermine the effectiveness of this force from the beginning.

Almost immediately after meeting with the IAG staff we were on the phone with Navy Captain Mike Langston the Chaplain for MNF-W and II Marine Expeditionary Force Forward and his deputy Commander J. Hedges. They were excited to have us coming to their area. When Chaplain Dissmore informed them that they had the choice of a Navy team or an Army team they of course picked us. This was also the intent of the IAG who realized that a Navy team would understand the more Marine oriented advisors and chain of command out west. When Chaplain Langston heard that the team was composed of Nelson and me he expressed great pleasure as Nelson had served with him in Afghanistan and I had served with him at Second Marine Division. As a result we had a great amount of trust placed in us because of prior service together as we were both known quantities. Relationships matter in the military and this time they were a great help to us.

Dundas and Fallah Meeting with General Falah

One of the things pointed out to us was that we were the first Navy team assigned to doing this type of mission since Vietnam. Most of the Army teams doing the mission were reservists and according to the information that we were given were struggling. A team that had been dispatched out west prior to us had been sent back early because of their ineffectiveness. I had already known that we were the first Navy team to do this mission since Vietnam and had taken the time to read the histories of the chaplains who served in this “niche” role in that war. Likewise being a history major and working on a second Masters in Military History I had been doing a lot of study on counter-insurgency and revolutionary warfare. Not long prior to our deployment the Army and Marine Corps had issued a new manual on the subject. When I read it I was surprised to find that I had already read many of the primary sources used in its compilation. These are things that while not directly related o being a chaplain are things that help give a chaplain “street cred” and an ability to adapt to the culture and understand the language of the men that he serves with. I did not stop being a Priest in this, but I knew where we fit and understood what the advisers on the MiTT Military Transition teams, mission was and challenges that they faced. This again put us ahead of the power curve going into the mission. I do not think that any Religious Ministry or Army Unit Ministry Team has been as well prepared for this kind of mission than we were.

While at Camp Victory I met several old friends and acquaintances from Army and Navy service, as well as a Marine Corps Officer with who I had attended Command and Staff College. One, LCDR Andy Wade who I had served with at 2nd MARDIV was completing a tour with the MNC-I Chaplain Office. Two of the Army Chaplains had been in my officer basic course and one, an Orthodox Priest was a friend from the Army Chaplain Officer basic course at Fort Monmouth NJ in 1990. Peter Batkis was a newly commissioned 1LT when I went to the basic course and was the room mate of my good friend Fr Jim Bowman. He was now a Lieutenant Colonel and Chaplain for the 18th MP Brigade. The other former classmate had been with an advisory team elsewhere in country and not had a good experience. I was shocked to see how he had aged and how badly he wanted to get out of country.

While at Camp Victory we continued to get ourselves ready to go. Our flight to Fallujah was arranged by the IAG staff and we began the process of waiting. While waiting we were able to get some PT in and on the morning of the 8^th of August (7 August in the States) while at breakfast I saw Barry Bonds hit home run #756 to break the record of Hank Aaron. What I saw at Camp Victory amazed me. The place was a veritable “little America” complete with the largest military exchange in country, about the size of a small Wal-Mart with a separate market for Iraqi vendors and, American fast food outlets housed in white trailers outside the exchange and a host of other exchange services found anywhere in the world, except to much of Al Anbar where we were heading. It was kind of surreal, all of this Americana plunked down in there heart of Iraq, surrounded by blast walls and guarded with multiple check points. Parking lots were filled with a mixture of tactical and non-tactical vehicles and every military person was armed. Helicopters overflew the area regularly, both transport aircraft and gunships, the gunships which flew what would have at one time been called a “Combat Air Patrol.” Additionally there was the ever present noise of small arms fire, distant explosions and sirens of various emergency and police vehicles. The weather while 6-8 degrees cooler than Kuwait was still very hot and we were constantly picking up liter bottles of fresh water to stay hydrated.

Additionally we received the tour of the Al Faw Palace which was one of Saddaam Hussein’s major residences which had been taken over as the headquarters of Multi-National Force Iraq. The palace was abuzz with the activity of the MNF-I staff. In the lobby of the palace there is a throne given to Saddaam by Yasser Arafat in which almost everyone going through Camp Victory gets their photo taken in.

On our 4^th day in country we got word that we would fly that night. Nelson and I got ourselves packed, made final preparations and coordination with the IAG staff and waited.

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Tagged as afghanistan, army engineer school, baghdad, camp victory, captain mike langston, chaplain Peter dissmore, colonel david abramowitz, fallujah, fort monouth nj, iraq, iraq assistance group, multi-national corps iraq, multi-national force iraq, multi-national force west, second marine division, us air force, us army, US Navy, usmc

August 12, 2009 · 22:45

Going to War: Flying Into Baghdad and a Blast from the Past

050 Outside the Al Faw Palace, Camp Victory the HQ of US Forces and Former Haunt of Saddam Hussein, the Palace was Named after the Victory of the Iraqis over the Iranians on the Al Faw Peninsula toward the end of the Iran-Iraq War. The Palace sits in the middle of a lake

We made the trip from Camp Virginia to the Ali Al Salim airbase to catch our flight to Baghdad. As usual there was the seabag drag to the waiting baggage trucks, an accountability formation in the blazing sun and the shuffle, this time in full protective gear to our buses. Riding in a foreign tour bus in full “battle rattle” is even more uncomfortable than the regular ride. Packed tightly into the buses the air conditioning of which did little to help after coming in out of the heat, we took our places jammed into the bus and once again with armed personnel in the bus and convoy escorts as we pulled out of the high security entry control point at Camp Virginia and drove to Ali Al Salim. The trip was uneventful and rather boring as there is not much to see between the two bases except sand and occasional nondescript buildings.

Ali Al Salim is a large Kuwaiti and American air base and logistics hub for air movement operations in the Arabian Gulf. We arrived there and once again formed up, went through a staging area where were we were able to pick up some water from one of the ubiquitous pallets of bottled water and waited inside the terminal. Some folks grounded their packs and used them as pillows or recliners, others found seats in the waiting area and others looked around to see how the Air Force lived. A couple of TVs set to AFN played as we chatted, wandered or dozed. It was not long before we were moved to yet another staging area and began to get our aircraft briefing and manifested for the flight. Our group that had began the trip at Fort Jackson was a lot smaller now as the sailors who had gone on to the Horn of Africa, Afghanistan and those assigned to Kuwait were no longer with us. As we trundled down the tarmac we were guided into position directly behind the aircraft. We filed into a waiting C-17 Globemaster and sat down in airline style passenger seats which can be added or subtracted by in 10 passenger pallets as needed for the particular mission. Additional permanent seats lined the bulkhead. Our gear was loaded at the aft end of the aircraft as we took our seats. We pretty much filled the seating which at maximum load is 134 passengers and we waited for the aircraft to load. A loadmaster came through to check that we all were wearing our personal protective gear and had our seat belt fastened. The C-17 unlike many military aircraft has at least an asthmatic air conditioning capability once the cargo door is closed. Unfortunately when the door is open it is pretty much like whatever conditions are outside, in our case 130 degree heat with the exception that the sun was not beating down on our heads and that there was no air movement. It was just a tad hot inside the aircraft. Eventually the cargo ramp and door were closed and the aircraft prepared for takeoff. With the door closed we began to feel a little bit of relief from the air conditioning.

For a large cargo aircraft the C-17 has a pretty smooth take off, the four Pratt and Whitney PW2040 engines producing 40,400 pounds of thrust each pushing the hug aircraft which is capable of transporting an M1A2 Abrams Main Battle Tank or 3 Bradley Fighting vehicles into the blue Kuwaiti sky. In a few minutes the pilot announced that we had crossed into Iraqi Airspace and that it would take us about 45 minutes to arrive in Baghdad. When the announcement was made there was an almost collective deep breath knowing that we were now going into the war, this was no longer in our future we were there. I could feel the adrenalin being released into my body and can remember how quickly I became instantly aware of every noise or movement on the aircraft.

Arriving in the skies above Baghdad International Airport our aircraft circled and received permission to land. Due to the possibility of enemy fire the approach to airports in Iraq is not like you would experience at a commercial airport in the United States, Europe or most other parts of the world. Unlike most airports where there is a long and slow approach to the runway the descent is a steep spiral as the aircraft comes down from altitude to land. If the airfield is under fire the aircraft will not land. Once we were down we had been briefed to be able to move at a brisk pace in case the airfield came under fire, something that was happening on a relatively frequent basis in 2007.

The tail ramp and door opened as if they were a gigantic rearward facing mouth, or maybe like one of those weird fish that have teeth in their ass. I think I remember some weird science show that talked about such a creature, if there isn’t one there should be. As soon as the ass-backward maw opened a rush of hot air killed any semblance of what had been an almost bearable air conditioned compartment. Gear in hand we filed out of the aircraft heading for the ramp. Just for your information, it is easy to slip on these ramps; I came close to such an event but caught myself just in time so I didn’t go ass over tip down the ramp. Nelson certainly would have made me pay for such a breach of protocol. As we left the aircraft a ground crewman directed us out of the jet blast area and another led us to the terminal. At the terminal we were greeted by Staff Sergeant Assi, the Chaplain assistant for the Iraq Assistance Group and an RP assigned to the Multi-National Corps Iraq Chaplain Office. Sergeant Assi was a mobilized reservist originally from Nigeria. At least here our gear was palletized and was brought to a gear staging area. Once it arrived we gathered a total of 4 EOD Issue super-seabags, two regular seabags, our packs, Nelson’s rifle case and my computer bag. We were assisted by Sergeant Assi and the RP who helped load our stuff into the back of the white Chevy SUV that they were driving. One thing about military vehicles in Iraq that are not tactical vehicles is that there is a strong chance that they are the color white. The white paint contractor at GM must be making a killing on vehicles destined for the Middle East. Once we were checked off the manifest as having a ride were able to depart walking out through rows of Califonia and Jersey barriers.

The ride was interesting as we wove our way around the ever present California and Jersey Barriers as well as “HESCO’s,” which are large wire and canvas containers standing anywhere from5 to 8 feet tall filled with dirt, rock and sand. All of these are designed to minimze the effects of incoming ordnace by preventing the explosive force of them and teh associated shrapnel from spreading outward. We transitioned through a number of checkpoints where armed soldiers kept a wary eye out on our way to Camp Victory. Victory which is the home of Multi-National Force and Multi-National Corps Iraq lies next to Camp Liberty. They are on the north side of Baghdad International Airport. As we looked across the runway the only aircraft visible were military transports and contracted cargo carriers. Unlike a major airport its size anywhere else in the world Baghdad did not have regularly scheduled airline service from any major carrier yet. We wound our way around the compounds which blended together almost as one, much like the suburbs of the San Fernando Valley in Los Angeles. Passing palaces and villas that ringed a lake in the center of the compound we continued on. In the center of the lake connected by a causeway sat the massive Al Faw Palace, built by Saddam Hussein to commemorate Iraq’s victory in retaking the Al Faw Peninsula at the close of the Iran-Iraq War, a victory that resulted in Iran deciding to cut a peace deal with the Iraqis. Despite a Shi’te majority in Iraq there is no love lost between Iraqis and Iranians. Iraqi Arabs refer to the Iranians almost contemptuously as the Persians. This goes back centuries to the times when Persian occupied parts of Iraq and treated the Arabs badly.

We turned down an asphalt road which quickly became a packed clay and gravel road over which a tanker truck sprayed water to keep the dust down. into a pulled up to a wooden building near a tent city where personnel coming in and out of theater were billeted at Camp Victory. Row upon row of tents, each surrounded by a HESCO barriers were to our right. The ground was a mixture of hardened clay and rock which when driven over or walked upon emitted a cloud of dust which Sergeant Assi told us turned to a sticky goo which is almost impossible to get off of boot when it rains. Overhead helicopter gunships patrolled the skies occasionally flying quickly to the sounds of gunfire just off the base not far from where we were. In the background we could hear the sound of heavy machine guns and automatic weapons. Not far from our billeting area sat a Navy Manned CWIS, or as we call tehm Sea Whiz. This is a 20mm gatling gun which directed by radar is designed to shoot down incoming missiles or rockets. Nelson and I looked at each other and almost on cue he said, “Chaps I think there might be a war going on out there.” I looked back and said, “Don’t you know it partner.” The area to the east of the tent city was bordered by a line or shower trailers and heads, all protected by the large 15 foot high California barriers. To the north of the tents lay a large Dining facility or as the Army calls them, a DFAC. After getting signed in we drew an odd mixture of linen for our beds. I ended up with a couple of sheets, pillow cases and a multi-colored comforter. If I recall Nelson got some superhero on his blanket, which suits him fine as he is a big comic fan and can tell you more than you can imagine about all the different super-heroes. Instead of being together Nelson was assigned to a tent for NCOs and I ended up further away in a tent for field grade officers.

Once we had secured our stuff we met back together and walked to the DFAC for dinner. This DFAC was not as large as it appeared as it had a large protective roof designed to keep mortar shells and rockets from impacting the building itself. Two Ugandan soldiers working for security on the base checked our ID’s after which we washed our hands as we entered the building.

Upon entry we were almost overwhelmed by the amount of food present. These DFAC’s were definitely feeders and the number of soldiers that should have been wearing wide-load signs across their asses was amazing. But then who could blame them, many were on a second or third trip to Iraq of 12-15 months each. Maybe for the first time they were not in some isolated FOB with a poor quality of life, in a place which all things considered safe except for the occasional incoming rockets and mortars. The quality of the food was better than in Kuwait as was the dinning area.

As I was finishing stuffing my gear underneath my bed a young Army Major came into the tent. He looked at me and I looked at him as if we had met before and we greeted on another politely. I saw his shoulder patch which identified him as a member of the Maryland Army National Guard. We struck up a conversation and I asked to what unit he was assigned. He replied that he worked at the National Guard Bureau and had been attached to the Maryland unit as an operations officer for the deployment. He remarked that I looked somewhat familiar and I asked if he had ever served in the Virginia National Guard. He replied that he had and I asked what unit. His response about floored me “1^st Battalion 170^th Infantry” located at Fort Belvoir, Virginia just south of D.C. I told him that I too had been in the battalion and then he figured out where he knew me from. With a look of near amazement on his face he replied “You were our Chaplain back in 1995!” I patently acknowledged this fact while he continued saying that he had been the TOW Anti-Tank Missile Platoon Leader in our Headquarters Company. Our conversation meandered through old times at AP. Hill Virginia, talking about our careers, people that we knew and life in general. After a couple of hours we both realized that we needed to take care of a few personal things to settle in for the night. Eventually my old lieutenant fell asleep and I began what was to become a persistent pattern of insomnia which plagues me to this day. Since I couldn’t get to sleep I walked through the darkness to the DFAC which had a late meal. I was standing in line amid a few Americans, some British soldiers and contractors when Nelson appeared beside me. He said “Hey boss, can’t you sleep?” I said “nope” he said “me too, so I thought I would get some chow in this place.” We had our meal together and when we were done picked our way through the darkness over the rough ground to our tents aided by our red lens flashlights. After looking for about 5 minutes we found Nelson’s place and I headed off to my hooch only becoming disoriented once. Patently the Deity Herself must have kept me from tripping on a tent rope or some hole in the ground and I arrived back in my place at about 0145 and finally got to sleep.

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Tagged as afghanistan, afn, ali al salim air base, army deployments, baghdad, baghdad international airport, bradley fighting vehicle, c-17 globemaster, camp liberty, camp victroy, camp virginia, dfac, fort jackson sc, hesco barrier, horn of africa, iag, iraq, iraq assistance group, jersey barriers, kuwait, los angeles, m1a2 abrams tank, maryland natioanl guard, mnci, multi-national corps iraq, natioanl guard bureau, san fernando valley, tents, virginia national guard

August 8, 2009 · 13:08

Oh Lord Stuck in Lodi Again….Gordon Klingenschmitt does Lodi

gjk Gordon Klingenschmitt after his Court-Martial Conviction (Virgina Pilot Photo)

Just about a year ago, I set out on the road,
Seekin’ my fame and fortune, lookin’ for a pot of gold.
Things got bad, and things got worse, I guess you will know the tune.
Oh ! Lord, Stuck in Lodi again.

“O Lord Stuck in Lodi Again” Credence Clearwater Revival, words and music by John Fogarty

Failed Navy Chaplain defrocked Evangelical Episcopal Priest, Convicted Criminal, Right Wing D-Lister and narcissistic professional protester Gordon James “Chaps” Klingenschmitt pops up in the most unlikely of places. If it was not pathetic it would be really funny.

The reason that I write this today is irony of Gordon getting stuck in Lodi and the my relationship to Lodi. You see Gordon showed up at yet another protest in a small town to battle a city council about people praying “in Jesus Name” as part of official city events such as city council meetings. The city is Lodi California, just up the road from where I went to junior and senior high school, where I got my one high school football tackle in a real game and where my dad is finishing his days in a nursing home going through the ravages of end-stage Alzheimer’s disease. Lodi is a small town, with historic German and Italian communities which is famous for wines and sits in the heart of the San Joaquin valley. It is the home of the very popular Lodi Grape Festival. It was a pretty conservative town; well let’s say it used to be a town that had strong ties to the John Birch Society and other ultra-conservative organizations. It was not very welcoming to outsiders and minorities. Well times are changing in Lodi. It mow has significant Hispanic and Asian populations as well as other minorities including Moslems. Lately tension has been building and once again a battle is going on about faith in the public square.

nuke the whales

Now I’m an easy guy. I really don’t get offended by anyone praying in whatever name they choose to do so as long as they are respectful of others and don’t try to use the government to promote or enforce their particular religious views on others. Unfortunately this happens all of the time and people who do it world-wide to be on the more evangelical and fundamental wings of their religion. Personally I wish the climate were such that anyone of any faith could pray in whatever name that they chose to do without everyone getting their BVD’s in a wad.

opus & krishna

Until the advent of the Moral Majority and other conservative Christian political-social activist groups there was an understanding in the United States of getting along in the public square. Protestant-Catholic-Jew we were all Americans. Only groups such as the Ku Klux Klan had problems with this. Our tolerance extended to others who came to this country as immigrants resulting in what was called the “Melting Pot.” We were an amazing society and our ability to have people of widely differing religious and political beliefs living together in peace was the envy of the rest of the world.

Our societal demographics have changed. Minority populations have increased and with them a corresponding increase of religions which were not part of the historical “Protestant-Catholic-Jew” paradigm of American religious and cultural life. This has brought about a clash between the more conservative and fundamental Christians who see this as a threat to the United States being a “Christian Nation” and undercutting its historical and cultural foundation. My purpose here is not to argue that at all. I can see the positive benefits of and want to maintain the underlying western cultural foundation of our country. At the same time I want others to enjoy the right to practice their own religion freely and not have individuals of any religion use the government to enforce their religious or non-religious beliefs on others. I think what made us such a great country was our ability work through these things peacefully. The greatest example in my mind of religious people working together were the “Four Chaplains” of the troopship Dorchester when it was torpedoed by a German U-Boat in 1943. There were two Protestants, a Catholic Priest and a Jewish Rabbi on the ship. At the time most Protestants either did not believe Catholics to be Christians and saw them as an Alien and possibly hostile religion. Catholics had not yet admitted that Protestants were “separated brethren” and Jews where just kind of tolerated. When the ship was torpedoed and began to sink there were not enough life jackets. So the chaplains gave theirs to soldiers in need and were last seen praying with arms linked as the ship went down. Such actions as this are what made our country great. We need men and women like the Four Chaplains and not Gordon “Chaps” Klingenschmitt. On a side note to this you can call me a heretic but I doubt that God is sending any one of these men to hell because they did not fit somebody’s theology of how someone is saved when they died doing what Jesus said: “Greater love has no one than this, that he lay down his life for his friends.” (John 15:13 NIV) I think anyone who has served in combat understands this better than people who enjoy the fruit of liberty without ever having paid more than taxes for it.

The Four Chaplains

I have served in an ecumenical setting with a wide variety of ministers for almost twenty years. In the setting that I work mutual respect of each other as clergy, respect and toleration of differing views are essential to ensuring that those who serve together in war are not trying to kill each other in peace. For the most part we do this pretty well and it is a joy to serve with clergy from different faiths and care for God’s people regardless of their faith. I heard the story of a man who is a bishop in his church who when he was in Navy basic training received a phone call from his mother at the administrative office. While talking to her she died. He credits a Jewish Chaplain with caring for him and helping him through that difficult time. When my dad was deployed to Vietnam and I had a Sunday school teacher tell me that he was a “baby killer” it was a Roman Catholic Navy Chaplain that cared for me and my family and helped me not give up my faith and a Latter Day Saint (Mormon) Chaplain who ensured that I didn’t get thrown out of the Army in Chaplain School due to my big mouth and temper. In none of these cases did the clergyman attempt to use the opportunity of crisis to convert us or to denigrate our faith. Unfortunately this is what Gordon did in his Navy career and other like him do in whatever environment the live and serve.

What I see happening today is that the extremes, be they religious fundamentalists or all varieties, strident secularists or aggressive atheists all want the government to enforce their beliefs on everyone else. Such is a recipe for disaster. One only has to look to Nazi Germany, Theocratic Iran, Saudi Arabia, the former Yugoslavia and the ex-Soviet Union and post invasion Iraq to see what happens when one group or another chooses to use the government or violence to enforce or propagate their religious, political, social or racial beliefs on others. Having been to the Balkans and Iraq I have seen the results of this. If you go to the Rhine River Valley in Germany you can still see the ruins of castles destroyed during the 30 years war, a war based on governments using religion or region using government to enforce their will on others. We are now seeing a rise in private militia groups and others who are arming themselves for conflict. Likewise there are those stoking the fire by urging secession or even revolt and these include people who call themselves Christians. A current of discontent kind of like the toxic sludge under New York in Ghostbusters II is bubbling under our feet and is now beginning to burst to the surface as people from the left and right clash at their Congressional representative’s town hall meetings. The fact that these are turning violent means that we are crossing a line that we may not be able to turn back from. Voices of moderation and those seeking compromise, accommodation and tolerance are being drowned out, just as they were in Wiemar Germany when Nazis and Communists battled in the streets and attempted to take over the power of government.

Now I do see how people can feel threatened when there is rapid sociological and demographic change in a country. So in some ways I can understand why people are protesting in Lodi. My problem is that the leaders of this “movement” are fringe players using fear to fan the flames of their cause. This is the case with Klingenschmitt who has routinely obfuscated, distorted and spun things to promote a fiction that he has been persecuted for his beliefs when in fact he was constantly using his public office to promote himself, his personal (not even his church’s) beliefs and denigrate those of others while giving lip service to toleration. Since being convicted by court-martial, not for “praying in Jesus Name” but for disobeying a lawful order not to speak at a partisan political event, Klingenschmitt has constantly painted himself as a victim of persecution and spokesman for a movement. In doing so he has engaged in character assassination of former commanding officers and command chaplains and launched a campaign of “imprecatory prayer” (prayers of harm and judgment) upon his opponents. I am sure that he has significant financial benefactors who make these possible; benefactors who share his goals of a Christian theocracy among them the Ultra-conservative “News” site World Net Daily.

The irony and sadness of Gordon’s trip to Lodi is that like the character in the song Oh Lord, Stuck in Lodi Again he is stuck and will unfortunately pursue this until he destroys himself, his families and others. Unfortunately, Gordon and those like him as well as his opposites on the extreme left are leading us to destruction as a society unless the moderate majority that wants to live in peace begins to stand up before it is too late. God help us all and bless our Great Country.

Peace, Steve+

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Filed under History, Lies of World Net Daily, Loose thoughts and musings, philosophy, Religion

Tagged as balkans, bvd's, christian nation, communists, creedance clearwater revival, dorchester sinking, fromer yugoslavia, ghostbusters ii, gordon klingenschmitt, imprecatory prayer, iran, iran theocracy, iraq, john birch society, ku klux klan, lodi california, lodi grape festival, militia movement, moral majority, nazi germany, nazis, oh lord stuck in lodi again, protestant-catholic-jew, soviet union, the four chaplains, wiemar germany, World Net Daily

August 6, 2009 · 23:59

“You can observe a lot just by watching” Yogi Berra….How PTSD has made me a lot more Observant

human condition

I love Yogi Berra quotes. Somehow so much of what he said, even most of the things that he never said really resonate with my warped mind. Somehow the illogical logic makes sense and I stop and say, damn…why didn’t I think of that?

I quote him here because it is absolutely amazing how much more observant I am in daily life having served in Iraq and come home with a nice case of PTSD, a bit of anxiety, hyper-vigilance and insomnia. I used to fret about the PTSD, anxiety and the rest of the stuff. It did bother me and I guess it still does, but the insomnia gives me time to write and the hyper-vigilance really helps on the Interstate Highways of the Norfolk, Virginia Beach and greater Hampton Roads metro area.

Now I have been noticing this in the past month more than even at the height of my crash. Back then I had all these things but was way too gooned up to even figure out what they meant. I was talking with my Vietnam Veterans of America buddies Ray and John the Beer Men the other night at Harbor Park. They man the beer stand behind home plate that sells Gordon Biersch Märzen and Bock, Yuengling Lager, Shock Top, Miller Lite and Micholob Ultra. I of course will have either the Märzen or the Yuengling depending on my mood, since the Märzen is a premium beer you get less of it for the same price. Anyway I digress….I was talking to these guys, both of who served in Vietnam about how much more aware of what is going on around me than I was before. And it seems that although I seem to be doing better most of the time that I am more geared up than I was a few months ago. I am noticing everything and when I’m driving I can sense the danger of the idiot driver careening across four lanes of traffic not signaling and talking on a cell phone while eating a hamburger even before I see him. This was the case on my way home several times this week. I could sense things going on before they happened. It used to be prior to Iraq that Judy would see or sense these things before I ever would; now the foot is in the other shoe. Ray and John tell me, as does Elmer the Shrink, that this is a normal reaction to perceived danger. Now I do understand his intellectually, I have read books and gone to seminars about PTSD and Combat Stress at the same time what is going on still makes me think. I was telling Ray and John, half-jokingly that it was almost like “using the force.” I mentioned to Judy and a friend that it almost seemed that I could drive with a blindfold and still get through safely like the Jedi train the Padwan’s to do. Of course I am not stupid and will never try this out unless perhaps I buy an x-box or wii with a driving program and do it in the comfort of my living room.

1001 In a CH-46 over Al Anbar in a rare day flight

So with the hyper-vigilance I am in the zone so to speak. My mind and body feel more closely connected than ever before. I notice changes in my body, hear better and am alert to anything. Now lately I must be even more spun up than before and I don’t rightly know what is causing it. I will have to go down and discuss this with Elmer the Shrink. The part that is different now is that my spunuppedness now includes a pretty good startle reflex. This is new, I had a bit of one probably since I was halfway through my tour, and now it is much worse. So I’ve been thinking about how my dad came back from Vietnam. Before he left he was pretty intense but he could relax. Unless he was really provoked he seldom got angry.

After he returned from his Vietnam tour and then deployed again for 11 months barely five months after his return from Vietnam he was way different. He was much more angry, drank heavily, and his startle reflex was out of this world. He would talk about being “nervous as a cat.” He never talked to a pastor or therapist about anything, never re-connected with the people that he served with and did not go to veteran groups for any real socialization. He seldom talked about his experiences and when he did he shared little. I think I can understand why now, the thoughts, feelings and sensations are intense and often unnerving. Sometimes they are downright frightful. Maybe that is why it is so hard to get to sleep.

mental floss

I have become very aware of surroundings as well as myself and that has made me better at my vocation as a chaplain and Priest. I notice body language, eye movement, choices of words as well as non verbal cues when talking with a person and I can sense things going on in ways I could not have done before. So I observe a lot more simply by watching and I hope that I have not contributed to any lack of miscommunication by my readers tonight in writing about this rather surreal subject.

Peace, Steve+

Post Script: The Tides might be getting things back together, they won their third straight and are back to 2 games behind the Wild Card Gwinnett Braves and 3 games behind Division leading Durham.

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Filed under Baseball, iraq,afghanistan, PTSD, vietnam

Tagged as gordon biersch marzen, harbor park, hyper-vigilance, i-264, insomina, iraq, norfolk drivers, norfolk tides, PTSD, startle reflex, vietnam, vietnam veterans of america, yogi berra, yuengling lager

July 31, 2009 · 14:55

Going to War: Planes, Pit Stops, Patriots and Pubs… the Flight to Kuwait

WWII Troopship USS Cape San Juan 1943

Going to war now days is certainly different than it was a generation or two back. Back in World War II and Korea the primary manner in which troops deployed to and returned from war was on a troopship. Troopships in the Second World War ranged in size from the great British Ocean Liners the Queen Elizabeth and Queen Mary down to small and often ancient passenger ships. As the war went on the United States adapted a number of ship designs to serve as troop transports as well as built ships specifically designed to transport troops to combat. There was one thing that all of these ships from the might Queen’s to the lowliest tramp steamer had in common was that they were really crowded. Every in of space that could be made to fit a bunk was used. The Queens, which in peacetime might carry 1500-2000 passengers routinely carried up to 15,000 troops. Talk about cramped quarters, these ships made the steerage passengers on the Titanic look like executive class travelers. The smaller the ship the worse the ride and many times soldiers would spend their entire voyage seasick.

qeen mary troops Troops on RMS Queen Mary

Well times have changed. We still have ships that carry troops, amphibious ships that can hit from both sides of the plate which carry the Marine Corps Expeditionary Units on their deployments. However, it is seldom that much more than a MEU is ever carried to a war zone. In the Gulf War and Build up from OIF a good number of Marines were brought over that way, however many of these in the Gulf War never went ashore and were kept at sea to keep the Iraqis thinking that they would be used in an amphibious operation. The bulk of the troops who have deployed since Vietnam have done so by air, either military aircraft operated by the Air Force such as C-130s, C-141’s, C-5A Galaxy’s and C-17 Globemaster’s or alternatively civilian contract aircraft mostly run by non-scheduled airlines which specialize in just this sort of thing. Airlines such as World Airways, North American Airlines, Miami Air, and the now defunct ATA have been the primary carriers of troops dating back to Vietnam while other commercial airlines also do charter work. When large numbers of aircraft the DOD activates the CRAF, the Civilian Reserve Air Fleet, which is composed of aircraft from the major airlines used on an emergency basis.

world airways dc10 World Airways DC-10

The military and chartered aircraft are the closest things now in the world of transportation to the old troopships. On military aircraft troops often fly with cargo in large cavern like fuselages on seats that can be reconfigured to about any way imaginable. The -17 is the luxury bird of the military air fleet, but certainly not a paragon of comfort when fully load with troops and gear. Of course the military aircraft were designed for utility and maximum use of passenger and cargo space. The charter aircraft are a different matter. Most of the aircraft used regularly by the charter carriers for deployments are older DC-10s, B-757s and occasionally a B-767 or L-1011. With rare exception these aircraft are configured to get the most passengers on the aircraft, comfort is not terribly important. There is no such thing in these aircraft as a true “First Class or Business Class section, merely front of the aircraft or back. The seats are the same and as far as leg room there is no such thing as “Economy Plus.” Simply put we are in steerage almost any time we get on one of these aircraft.

We loaded our gear onto waiting trucks at Fort Jackson and boarded military operated “Blue Bird” buses like you send your kids to school on. Unlike your kid’s bus these are white and driven by soldiers that are in some kind of transient status or Army civilians. The air conditioning on a hot and humid southern day is asthmatic at best, especially when the busses are full of troops who are much bigger than the kids these buses are designed to carry. I guess it could be worse; we could be traveling in the old un-air conditioned cattle cars. When we got to the airport we did not go to the commercial side, but rather to the private side. Our aircraft, a white World Airways DC-10 sat on the strip in front of the tiny and woefully undersized terminal where most of us ended up waiting in the open and un air conditioned hanger, our Desert Uniforms sticking to our bodies in the sultry South Carolina summer. We formed up, the baggage trucks arrived with our sea bags and we were organized into teams to load the aircraft. You guessed it, no airline staff to do this, just us. Now since there were a couple of hundred of us finding enough people to do the work was not much of a problem. Nelson and I both volunteered and with the others we stripped off our tops and in our brown t-shirts we organized for the task. The small guys like me and Nelson got to go up into the belly of the aircraft where we waited for guys on the ground to send the bags up the conveyor. Bag after bag they came, most were the tradition sea bag or duffel bag, but others like Nelson and my bags were oddly shaped and some were even large cases issued by individual’s units. Weapons cases were also loaded, each weapon locked inside a lowest bidder plastic case that certainly would not last more than a few trips across the pond. As we loaded the aircraft a rain shower passed by, the humidity was atrocious and the heat did not subside very much. Eventually Nelson looked at me and asked, “Boss you alright?” I assured him that I was and we kept loading the aircraft until there were no more bags to load, shoving bags and stacking them so that nearly every inch of space was taken in the baggage compartment.

One done loading we mustered again. The pilots arrived and began their inspection of the aircraft. At this point we were informed that there was a mechanical problem and that we would have to wait. A couple of more hours waiting around the terminal we finally began to board the aircraft. Finally we got underway and found that we had to make another stop. We had to land at Pope Air Force Base in order to pick up an Army Transportation unit heading into theater. The flight up was short and we expected that after a short delay we would again be in the air. We were wrong. We de-boarded the plane to allow it to be fueled. As we waited in the terminal, once again a rather Spartan affair we found that the crew had exceeded their allowed flight or work hours and that we would have to remain overnight. Unfortunately the contracting staff at the Air Mobility Command had not anticipated this situation and we were stuck. We had already been up most of the day and there were no sleep facilities in this terminal except wooden benches and concrete floors. With our gear loaded aboard the plane and unavailable it looked like things would not go well. Vending machines were quickly emptied and like any sailors marooned anywhere we made the best of things. Sailors broke out decks of cards, DVD video players, made phone calls home or found places to try to sleep on the benches or against terminal walls.

At first it didn’t look like we would be getting any assistance from the Air Force. However, we were fortunate to have as our senior officer and Officer in Charge a Navy Captain who was a jet fighter pilot and wasn’t going to let “his” sailors let overnight in such conditions while still in the United States. After a while our Captain secured box lunches and pillows. He then continued to push and eventually some contracting weenie was rustled out of his waterbed and got us rooms at a Hampton Inn somewhere in Fayetteville. As the hands on the dial of my watch worked their way past midnight the ubiquitous Blue Bird buses pulled up to the terminal. A few people elected to stay behind and for some unknown reason the Air force required some of our sailors to watch the aircraft. Mind you they could only watch it. Our weapons were stowed in the belly of the aircraft. The irony was that the airfield a Pope is secured by USAF Air Police and probably one of the most secure places in the area. The Captain lost that argument and a number of sailors volunteered to remain along with sailors who had somehow made themselves comfortable and didn’t want to move. In my younger days I would have been with them, but I had tried to sleep on those same benches when I went to Jordan earlier in the year I knew that I couldn’t hang with them.

The rest of us mustered again, accountability checks were made and we loaded ourselves on the buses. T rip took about 15 minutes and we were deposited at the hotel. It was about 0130 by this time. The hotel staff was great. Since like our toiletries like most everything else we owned were safely secured in the belly of our aircraft we were now tired, hungry again and pretty stinky. The hotel night manager opened up his stocks and gave us toothpaste, tooth brushes and shavers. He also gave away snacks. I think I got a muffin out the deal. We stood in line and since there were a lot more of us than rooms we were assigned 4 to a room and at 0200. My roommates were four youngish junior officers. There were two beds and a cot in the room, and since none of us wanted to share a full size bed, something I think was a good idea not to do, two got the beds, one got the cot and the third grabbed all the extra linen and a comforter and lay down on the floor. The young guys deferred to my age when I volunteered for the floor, they told me that “because you are a lot older than us sir you get a bed.” I felt like applying for the AARP at that moment but I took a bed which felt really good as I sunk into it and passed out.

We had to be up early to head back to the airfield, the time in bed was too short but better than I had hoped and the shower was great. I felt almost human and was glad that I had packed a clean undershirt socks and briefs in my backpack. We got back to the terminal and box lunch breakfasts were on hand. We still had about 4 hours before the flight and it was Sunday morning so Chaplain Fauntleroy and Chaplain Rodriquez and I arranged to conduct two services. Kyle and Dave did a more Evangelical style service while I celebrated a short field Eucharist. We did this outside the terminal, the weather was not too bad, and probably half of the sailors as well as a good number of the soldiers who had joined us participated. Since there was no Catholic Priest my service was better attended than I thought it would be as in such times I usually pick up a few Episcopalians, Anglicans and Lutherans and maybe a stray Catholic. In these settings I do not interrogate the people that show up as to their background, I do ask that if they are not baptized Christians not to partake of the Eucharist, but figure that God and His grace in the Sacrament will do what needs to be done. I learned this from a Missouri Synod Lutheran Chaplain in Germany supporting the Bosnia operation. Since the Missouri Synod practices “closed communion” meaning that you have to be Missouri Synod to take communion in their church I asked what he did in field settings or chapels where it was not a denominational service. He told me, with great wisdom “Steve, you have to trust that God’s grace in the Sacrament will do His work.” That was an epiphany and I have never forgotten it.

The services concluded we again mustered and finally were able to board the aircraft. We had a stop at Portland Maine to refuel the aircraft in preparation for the trans-Atlantic flight. Now this is a highlight for any serviceman or women being deployed or returning home. The folks in Portland, veterans groups like the VFW, American Legion, Fleet Reserve and Marine Corps League have banded together to meet flights as they come in. They have been given a space in the terminal in which they have computers, cell phones, land line phones and calling cards for troops. They also hand out small “goodie” bags with snacks and home baked cookies. These folks and their counterparts at the former Pease Air Force Base are amazing. It is an example of small town America at its best. Some are World War II vets, others from Korea, Vietnam and Desert Storm. They are still others who have never served but feel an obligation to help. They span the political, religious and ethnic spectrum of the country. After they personally greeted each of us as we entered the terminal, they had a small ceremony and thanked us for our service. Many engaged us in conversation and their hospitality was simply amazing. The Maine Troop Greeters have greeted over 800,000 troops from over 4000 flights in the past six years. They are Patriots in their own right and what they did for us was amazing. I felt a wave of emotion go across my and my eyes get a bit moist as these wonderful people, young and old greeted us, shook our hands and blessed us. It is something that until you experience it you cannot comprehend and I wish that the men and women who served in Vietnam had been greeted like this. It makes you feel that you are not completely alone.

maine troop greeters 1

maine troop greeters 3 Maine Troop Greeters

Eventually I decided to wander the terminal to see what was available. I saw a small pub which featured the local micro-brew ale which our good Captain permitted us to have since we were still in the Continental United States. I had a sandwich and chips as well as two pints of this local Amber Ale which would be my last drink until the Marine Corps Birthday in Ramadi. The brew was quite good and if I saw it again I would probably buy some. We were then called back to the aircraft. Our flight to Germany was uneventful and we landed deep in the night in Leipzig where a small area had been set up for refreshments, souvenirs, television, games and internet access. We were not allowed any alcohol at this stop as we were now under an 8 hour flight to Kuwait. Our stop completed we got back on the aircraft for the flight to Kuwait which awaited us with temperatures of 120-135 degrees. Something that I wonder how the Deity Herself allows unless it is to give us a chance to preview hell.

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Filed under iraq,afghanistan, Military, Tour in Iraq

Tagged as aarp, afghanistan, air mobility command, ale, american legion, ata airlines, blue bird buses, boeing 757, boeing 767, c-130, c-141, c-17, c-17 globemaster, c-5A, columbia sc, craf, dc-10, fayetteville nc, field services, fleet reserve association, fort bragg nc, fort jackson sc, gulf war, hampton inn, holy eucharist, iraq, kuwait, l-1011, leipzig germany, maine troop greeters, marine corps birthday, marine corps league, marine expeditionary unit, meu, miami air, north american airways, oif, pease air force base, pease greeters, pope air force base, portland maine, ramadi, rms queen elizabeth, rms queen mary, troopships, usaf air police, vfw, world airways

July 25, 2009 · 23:46

Offensively Offending the Chronically Offended

We live in a country that has transformed itself into one of the thinnest skinned, easily offended and offendable bunch of folks in the world. It doesn’t seem to matter what political affiliation, religion, race, gender, socio-economic group or Dodger’s fan a person is now days they are bound to be offended at something. However, we now seem to live where almost everyone is offended at something and it matters not a whit what it may be, hell I even offend myself sometimes. There are some people who almost seem to live with a chip on their shoulder. They are the chronically offended who are quite often easily offensively offended. While most of the time trying not to give offense I have been known to offend the chronically offended, the merely offendable, and even the totally unaware with twisted or sarcastic comments and oddball humor which Judy tells me is not always as funny as I think it is. Nonetheless there are patently many people who are both chronically offended and very angry. I am assured by the Deity Herself that such is not a good and virtuous combination. Especially on those occasions when I am one of the guilty parties questioning the parentage and Oedipal tendencies of the idiots who move across four lanes of traffic without signaling on I-264. At times I wish this was Iraq in 2007 so my turret gunner or RP2 Lebron could shoot them. Thankfully my newly honed skills using the force that I developed in Iraq, which I am told is actually hyper vigilance, does allow me to sense and avoid these Kamikazes before I even see them.

I remember once when I was a civilian hospital chaplain and stopped by a grocery store to pick up some food to take to work. An older gentleman was going toward the sliding automated door and out of simple politeness I said “Sir, please, after you.” Hell, the way I walk, which is as those who see me rapidly racing down the long halls of our medical center without breaking into a jog can testify is pretty fast, it was a safety thing too. I could have run the gentleman down had I not stopped to let him through first. That would not have been cool. I could have seen the newspaper headline in that town:

LOCAL HOSPITAL AND ARMY RESERVE CHAPLAIN SLAMS ELDERLY MAN TO GROUND TRYING TO BEAT HIM THROUGH KROGER DOOR

That would not have been good. The man, instead of smiling and thanking me stops in front of the door, turns around and says: “Why are you calling me sir? Why are you disrespecting me?” He said it very loud, very sharply and I was wondering what the hell was going on. So I kind of defused the situation by using humor. I said, “Sir, I call everybody sir, even ma’ams.” The man cocked his head, gave me the most confused look that I could imagine shook his head and went through the door. I didn’t know that being polite and respectful could be taken as offensive and disrespectful. Maybe when some young guy does that to me someday I will understand. Of course only after whack him with my tazer from my motorized scooter because I think he is being disrespectful and watch him writhing in pain and twitching all over the place.

I knew a young Chaplain who was spouting off in a public forum once in a manner that did not offend me, but which I thought if certain other people read it could affect him and his career in a negative manner. This is no one that I have worked with past or present, only someone that I happen to know in passing. I was concerned for the young man, so I contacted him just to let him know to be careful. I was surprised at the venom with which he reacted to my comment which was only meant to help keep him out of potential trouble. No good deed goes unpunished. Maybe he will go to a self-help course, but then again, selves are very difficult to help.

Now I think everyone at some time has been offended by something or someone. Crap we are human; we can’t help but be, though I do find the Romulan that resides in me very appealing. However, to live my life is a perpetual state of offendedness is something that I refuse to do, even though I both give and take offense probably every day, especially during the morning or afternoon commute. Hell, judging by the number of people I have lost as friends on Facebook after I have written articles on this site I know I give offense, even when I don’t mean to. Mea Culpa, mea culpa, mea culpa, pray for me a sinner.

Our offendedness is not helped by the litigious nature of our society where lawsuits are as common as business suits. Someone gets offended and someone sues them. Then someone else gets offended and sues and pretty soon Anne Coulter and Keith Olberman are mud wrestling on Larry King Live, while the ladies on The View come to fisticuffs. Pretty soon offensensitivity reigns and it is like half the country are Frank and Estelle Costanza. What is bad about this is that people are now so spun up by the loudest and most shrill accusatory voices in the media and society that it is hard to turn off. Politics especially has become venom filled and hatred driven. A lot of our electorate is now so polarized and offended by anything anyone else says that there is almost a civil war going on. Albeit this is a without weapons marching armies and crashing cannon, but instead one waged with great energy on the airwaves and the internet. There is occasional talk of secession or armed revolt by one side or the other depending on who’s in power. Politicians and political parties are no longer opponents, they are mortal enemies. Often times interest groups within the various parties opt for a no-quarter approach to how they do business to advance their cause and push their parties further to the extreme. Caricatures and sound bites suffice for truth for many people regardless of them being on the left or right wing of the body politic. It is true at least as far as practice that the extremists in both major parties have more in common with each other than they do the middle where traditionally most Americans live.

Thus with a highly divided, hypersensitive and easily offended populace we are heading for big trouble unless people stop taking themselves so seriously and get about with finding a way to cooperate and make things work. I know that is important to remain principled, but there is also a duty to be civil and respectful even when critical of a person’s position or presentation.

I was reminded of this fact recently when I criticized a pastor’s non-theological remarks on this site. My criticism was unduly harsh and cynical in tone. When this was pointed out I modified the article to make the same point without purposely sky lining the individual in what could be seen in a disrespectful, uncharitable and even un-Christian fashion. I may be a passionate moderate but it is important for me to keep a sense of decorum in what otherwise could be an unseemly brawl. The criticism of how I handled the initial post was valid and sometimes I have to tell myself that restraint, respect and civility is a virtue, even if I think I am right. So please don’t take offense if you deem me offensive or if I have offended the chronically offendable. After all, restraint, respect and civility are one the one thing that separates us from the Cable News Media, prickly pundits and Talk Show Hosts.

Peace, Steve+

Post Script: A friend sent me an e-mail which made a point that I want to ensure that my readers understand. He reminded me that people “would really discern the difference between having a “bad day” response to a situation and those who, perpetuate the historical hatred both past and present of our nation….And then attempt to minimize actions/responses through humor or referring to others as “hypersensitive….this article missed the mark and seemingly inferred …a mocking of responses toward inequality and hatred.”

Of course I assured him that in no way was I at all minimize such actions or refer to those who have been the target of hatred, injustice and discrimination as “hyper-sensitive” or mock actual repsonses to inequity and hatred, regardless of who it is directed toward. That is something that I could never do. The post is a more humorous look at how divided our country has become and how in our dividedness everything is now offensive to someone. Peace, Steve+

2 Comments

Filed under Loose thoughts and musings, philosophy, Political Commentary

Tagged as anne coulter, bloom county, chaplains, dodgers, facebook, frank and estelle costanza, i-264, iraq, kamikazes, keith olberman, larry king live, offensensitivity, opus, politicians, romulans, turret gunner

July 23, 2009 · 19:34

Loose Thoughts: Can Somebody Tell Me What Sleep is and Why the Old Crap? Why not New Crap?

bean church 1 Mr Bean Trying to Stay Awake in Church. I can Really Relate See the video at

http://video.google.com/videoplay?docid=-7178785146631188901&ei=UthpSvKcCpv-qAOCyJAd&q=mr+bean+in+church&hl=en

Tuesday and Wednesday were days where the old Crap both my own life and others kept rising to the top. My current and crap, which in reality is my old crap move to the present are my PTSD related issues or maybe it’s the whole damned subscription. My stuff came up, because as Elmer the Shrink says that they have been suppressed by my brain and get dredged up by stuff that triggers them. Thus it is kind of involuntary, something that I hate. I am a deliberate and logical person and I don’t like this stuff coming up and screwing with my life, which right now is pretty busy and stressful.

Tuesday night I had the “privilege” of getting two and a half hours of sleep after a great seminar on Caregiver Operational Stress management and intervention. I was proud of myself. I actually got through an entire daylong seminar without an immediate PTSD meltdown during the seminar. That last three times I have attended classes or seminars dealing with things related to or that touch on my stuff it has been like a old pitcher who has seen better days getting chased from the mound at Yankee Stadium in the first inning giving up 7 runs without recording an out. Tuesday it was hard but it was like getting a complete game and the win. This was a big accomplishment for me as I have not been able to do this since before I went to Iraq. However, the subject matter did kick up a bunch of my stuff from Iraq and getting to sleep was really; I mean really fun….not. To use the old pitcher metaphor I may have got the win but my arm and body need some time to recover, only instead of the arm and body it is by pea-brain. So Tuesday I didn’t get to bed until 2:30 AM and was back up at 5:00 AM so I could come to work and take the duty for the house in addition to my regular duties.

Now I don’t mind having duty, especially at night when I get a chance to round through our hospital wards and spend time with staff, especially the folks in the various ICUs and units that are not part of my daily routine. Yesterday I had a couple of meetings today, a long one in the morning and a couple in the afternoon. The last meeting was like one of those afternoon classes that I dreaded back in college and seminary; the kind that I took because I was either working or wanted to sleep late, but which kicked my ass. One time in seminary the “Z Monster” grabbed me after eating a big burger at lunch before going to class. That afternoon in Philosophy of Religion the Professor, Dr. Yandall Woodfin, decided to enlighten us with a slide show of various art masterpieces and the religious and or philosophical meanings that could be ascribed to them, I think there were several slide trays of them as this was in the technological dark ages before Power Point poisoning. I was sitting in the front row, my desk almost under Dr. Woodfin’s nose just slightly to the left of the slide carousel. The lights were turned low so we could see the pictures better and the temperature was just warm enough in the classroom to make me even more sleepy. As all the blood in my body rushed from my brain to my burger locker I began to struggle to stay awake. It was like Mr. Bean trying to stay awake in church http://video.google.com/videoplay?docid=-7178785146631188901&ei=UthpSvKcCpv-qAOCyJAd&q=mr+bean+in+church&hl=en I was fighting hard but the “Z Monster” won. I was doing the “bob, jerk and sleep” for about 20 minutes when finally catastrophe hit. I flipped my desk; it was a rollover accident without a roll bar, but it was amazing that I did not hurt myself and just how fast I recovered. I had that desk righted and had my ass back in it before anyone knew what hit them. My fellow students tried to restrain their laughter as the unflappable Dr Woodfin kept the lecture going without missing a beat. I don’t know if it was years of training or the fact that he was in his “teaching zone” but his focus was amazing as he showed absolutely no distraction by my roll over.

I had similar experiences in other academic and military settings, but while I may have fallen out of my seat I never again flipped a desk. However today was tough. I had been pumping myself with caffeine all day long and evidently it was not having the desired effect. I got to the NOD (Nurse of the Day) meeting where the on call people meet with representatives of the nursing units to get an idea what is going on in the hospital at large. Today I took my seat and the “Z Monster” showed his well disguised face and zapped me. Pretty soon I was fighting to stay awake. I was pinching myself, shrugging my shoulders, sucking down my Coke Zero just to stay awake, a couple of times I caught myself about to fall forward in my chair, thankfully I didn’t snore…yes I have done that in meetings or classes too. When the meeting ended I was more than happy. I slowly rose from my chair, shook myself out and downed the last of my Coke Zero. When I got back onto the ICU I got second wind and was good the rest of the evening, made all of my rounds and finally feeling that things were okay for the night trundled off to the chaplain call room to try to sleep. I got in the bed, pulled the threadbare hospital sheets and too small blankets over me, arranged the flat pillows so they resembled a real pillow turned off the lights and close my eyes. Unfortunately though my body was toast my brain did not want to turn off, it was like the brain had a mind of its own and was going to keep my body up even though my body was saying “Oh God let me sleep.” I was so tired that I couldn’t even write myself to sleep like I normally do. Even my entreaties to the Deity Herself seemed to go unanswered, so a laid there, turned on the television and surfed the paltry selection of channels that Mordoc the Preventer of Information contracted to get finally flipping between late night talk show hosts on the major networks other than Conan O’Brien I didn’t know who the majority of these guys were, one of them who followed Conan started kissing the camera in the middle of his monologue. I rapidly changed channel as that was frightening. Finally about 2:30, which must be the new 11:30 for me, I drifted off to sleep to be awakened by the 0600 test of our Code Blue response pager. I did my duty turnover, pumped myself full of caffeine checked on the ICU and PICU, visited some patients, consulted the staff, answered some hot e-mail and calls regarding our incoming Pastoral Care Residents and realized that my body was starting to tell me that I was done. I trudged down to our main office, sat down with the boss who asked why I was still at work, discussed a couple of issues with him and got sent home where I kissed Judy, pet the dog and threw my ass in bed. I feel slightly more human now and pray that the sleep I got this afternoon does not mess up going to sleep tonight.

bean church two

While thinking about how my old crap was exhumed by the class, something that Elmer the Shrink says that my brain has been suppressing, I got an e-mail from a pastor who has syndicated opinion column for a number of newspapers here in the USA. The guy used to write some pretty good stuff that was encouraging, inspiring and occasionally thought provoking. But something has changed and his articles have become often become almost venomous. I guess that he’s really angry about something, probably Obama and the Democrats. I understand that that is his right as a citizen, there are a lot of people unhappy with the President and Congress, my mother is one of them. I talk to my mother almost daily almost and for eight years she bitched about Bush and the Republicans and now she is bitching about Obama and the Democrats, but she represents herself, she is not a pastor, she holds no church or public office and thus can do whatever she wants.

Anyway this pastor chose to write an article full of anger and poisonous invective, but not at anything happening now. He chose to dig up old crap with no relevance to the Gospel, or to anything that is happening now. He chose to write about a doctoral seminar that he attended several years ago. He discussed a situation where a non-US citizen pastor of an American church in a graduate program was criticizing the USA as a major source of the world’s problems. Now I might take offense if someone did that, I would defend my country and I might depending on the situation confront him during or after the class. However, this chose to drag this up when it seems totally irrelevant to anything going on now. I really don’t think that anyone is concerned about how a foreign pastor pissed this minister off years ago. People are scarred spitless of the Commie North Koreans, Iranian nukes, Pakistani nukes, the expanding war in Afghanistan, the price of gas, the economy and a hundred other very real crisis’s. But this pastor decided to tell how a long time ago he responded in a class to a guy who dared to criticize the USA. But this wasn’t the worst of it, this guy ended the column with a particularly acidic comment that was like cup of “America Love it or Leave It” with a shot of Drano. There was no redemptive point to the article; there was no humor, no spiritual lesson, just a very angry and bitter screed about something that happened in a classroom among a bunch of doctoral students which happened four years ago at the height of the insurgency in Iraq. I did not think that the article was befitting of him and hope that his ministry is not filled with stuff like this as it is poison. Like Drano it will clean you out, but it will leave you empty inside. If this were an isolated occurrence with this pastor I would chalk it up to him having a bad day, but he is trending this way and I’m afraid that if he continues to do so he will hurt his church and the broader Christian church by becoming identified more with a political message than his faith. In fairness I don’t know what caused him to write the article, maybe something triggered him and caused this to kick in. I do want to be fair to him. I do plan on discussing the matter with him because I actually do care.

Now I’m sure that there are people who think that I’m full of crap too, and I’m okay with that, because I know that I have issues and rough edges and sometimes push the envelope. At the same time I do try to find a point of contact in the present and write, even when I am critical of a person or institution. I do not believe that anyone or any institution is totally bad or good, even people that I disagree with are like broken clocks, they are right twice a day.

I hope to sleep tonight and I hope none of my old Crap or anyone else’s old Crap shows up tonight. Unfortunately Crap tedns to rise to the surface.

Peace, Steve+

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Filed under iraq,afghanistan, leadership, Loose thoughts and musings, philosophy, PTSD, Religion

Tagged as combat operational stress management, conam o'brien, congress, democrats, economic crisis, elmer the shrink, insomina, iranian nukes, iraq, mordoc the preventer of information, mr bean, mr bean at church, mr bean in church, north korean nukes, operational stress, pitcher, power point poisoning, president obama, PTSD, yamkee stadium, yandall woodfin, z monster

July 22, 2009 · 00:01

My Brotherhood of War

Dynamic Duo RP2 Nelson Lebron and Me- The RST-2 “Desert Rats”

Back in the mid 80s shortly after I was commissioned as an Army Officer there was a series of historical novels by W.E.B. Griffin called the Brotherhood of War. The series traced the paths of several Army officers as well as family and friends beginning in World War II. I am not much of a reader of fiction, but this series, as well as Anton Meyer’s Once an Eagle well captured the unique culture of the career professional soldier through both war and peace. They treated their subject respectfully while also dealing with the effect of this lifestyle on families as well as the soldiers, reading Once and Eagle I feel that connection with the fictional Sam Damon, the hero of the story and revulsion for the character of the self serving careerist Courtney Massengale.

I’ve been a military officer in both the Army and Navy now for almost 26 years with nearly 28 years total service. It is part of my heart, soul and being. I was born for this, just as Babe Ruth, Willie Mays and Ted Williams were born to be baseball players. I grew up in a Navy family as a Navy “Brat” living up and down the West Coast and the Philippines and all I can remember from the earliest age wanted to be in the Navy Officer and later Navy Chaplain. My dreams came true. The first 17 ½ years of my service was in the Army, something that that initially my retired Navy Chief Dad had problems with, however he made his peace with it and was proud that I served and proud of the fact that I had made Major. However, in 1999 in order to return to active duty I resigned my Army Reserve commission as a Major and entered the Navy Chaplain Corps as a Lieutenant with no time in grade. Outside of marrying my wife Judy, who somehow did not kill me when I did this, going in the Navy was the best thing that ever happened to me.

134 LtCol David Kuehn and Me

Part of my time in the Army and Navy has been my time in the Chaplain Corps of each service. I have been a chaplain for 17 years come September. My best friends in the military are other chaplains, some from my own church and some from other communions. The ones that I have the most connectedness to are those who have served in combat, especially those who served in Iraq, or ships in the war zone conducting various combat and maritime operations even when we were in different places. In Iraq I was blessed to have Fr Jose Bautista-Rojas and Chaplain Pat McLaughlin supporting me at my base of operations. There were others besides these men and many who were not chaplains. In Baghdad I had the staff of the Iraq Assistance Group Chief of Staff Colonel David Abramowitz and Chaplain Peter Dissmore and Captain Mike Langston at II MEF Forward. Likewise I had Colonel Scott Cottrell and Colonel John Broadmeadow at 7th Iraqi Division Military Training Team, my friend LtCol David Kuehn at 3rd Brigade 1st Iraqi Division Military Training Team, LtCol Stephen Bien with the 2nd Border Brigade and a host of others about Al Anbar Province. As important if not more was my assistant RP2 Nelson Lebron, a true hero and friend.

chaplains and rp2 lebron at TQ Nelson, Fr Jose Bautista-Rojas, CDR Pat MCLaughlin and Me at TQ

Back in March of this year I was with a number of chaplains from my church gathered for our annual conference. Some of these men I have now known for at least 10 years, some more. I’ve seen the young guys start to age and others retired from the service. We have grown together; we at least in most cases have come to love each other as brothers and friends. What has made this conference different from past gatherings is that all of us have had one or more combat deployments or are getting ready to go for the first time or back for another tour.

nelson and me flight home Nelson and Me in the Air Everywhere

We have shared our stories but now they are the stories of men who have all seen war. In our careers we have all experienced success, as well as heartache. Due to our duty we have been often isolated from the church and each other. We all came back from the war changed in some way. Some of this is due to health related issues stemming from our service and for others things that we have seen or experienced. Of course each of us has had different types of experience in country, but nonetheless our experienced changed all of us in some way or another. For me the events have been trying to make sense of the torrent of emotional, physical and spiritual distress that I have had to deal with. While I have made a lot of progress in some areas, there are a lot of places where I’m still sorting through things as are a number of my friends. I can say that I often feel alienated from my own church. When I read things that some of our bishops write or say I know that I do not belong. Based on my service in combat and to my country for almost 28 years and 13 years as a faithful priest I have tried. The fact that with the exception of some of my fellow military priests I have no relationships with anyone in my church, I was at one time banned from publishing by a former bishop. I was forbidden to have contact with the priests of a my old diocese when I was stationed in it by the same man. The civilian diocese that I transferred to has had nothing to do with me for the most part since I was transferred to Virginia and since I moved here no one has bothered to say a thing to me. None of this was because I didn’t try and the thing is I don’t care anymore. I just plan on caring for God’s people where I’m at and building relationships with people who bother to invest in my life here. I haven’t the spiritual or emotional energy to keep trying to make something happen with people who obviously don’t care about me and haven’t for years.

This year our gathering was marked by a lot less light heartedness. There was a lot less bravado than years past, more reflection, less intense discussion of the theological issues that have divided the Christian Church for centuries. I know for myself I don’t have the energy to spend battling people over things that the rest of Christendom hasn’t been able to settle on. For me I’m okay with the Canon of Scripture, the Creeds and the first 7 Ecumenical Councils, though I have a great love of the Second Vatican Council. If people want to fight the other fights they can go ahead without me how many pins you can stick in the head of an Angel.

As far as health concerns I know that at least two of us have confirmed real live PTSD, and one with a case of TBI. Based on the way others act I’m sure that almost all have at least a combat stress injury, and maybe a couple more have PTSD. One young Army Chaplain has an Iraq acquired constrictive bronchiolitis, or bronchiolitis obliterans which has no cure. This young man has won two Bronze Stars and now has the lung capacity of a 70 year old man. At best he can hope that his lungs will not worsen and only age at a normal pace, which means in 10 years he has 80 year old lungs. This young man is a Priest who I have mentored, coached and been a friend and colleague of since before he was ordained. He is looking at something that will kill him; it is just a matter of when. He is going through all of his medical boards now at Fort Hood and expects that in six to eight months that he will be medically retired. It seems to me that a hero is being kicked to the curb by the Green Machine after laying himself on the line for his country. He was treated by many people in the Army Medical system with suspicion and made to prove that he was sick at almost every point until a high ranking medical officer found out about his case and sent him to civilian specialist for evaluation.

While I was at our conference I had a major PTSD meltdown where I basically hid in my room of a day and a half, sneaking out at night to gather with just a couple of my friends by the pool for beer and Krispy Kreme Doughnuts. Unfortunately we could only get the store bought ones because the hot and fresh glazed go great with a good pilsner or lager.

We have several Chaplains who have won Bronze Stars for their service in combat. I was awarded the Defense Meritorious Service Medal for what I did in Iraq. I treasure that award because it cost me something to get, I still have a lot of Iraq with me and I always will. Some day when all is said and done I want to see some of my Iraq military friends again and visit the country as part of a journey of discovering the ancient.

Some of my friends and I have experienced the indifference of the medical and administrative parts of the DOD and VA systems, including sometimes people in our own military service. When I returned I found my personal and professional belongings crammed into a trailer with those of my assistant because the office space was needed and we were deployed. There are things which I considered important that are still missing and likely never to be found. I know that it was not intended to hurt because the space was needed because of major unit re-stationing. If I was the Commanding Officer I would have probably done the same thing and since I have had command I know that mission comes first. You try to take care of people but some things fall through the crack. That is simply part of life.

On the other hand some of my friends have had experiences where they felt the cold indifference of bureaucratic systems often staffed by personnel, military, DOD Civilians or contractors who act if the returning or injured vet is there so they can have a job. To be sure there are a lot of very caring people in our organizations, but these coldly indifferent people seem to show up all too frequently. This unlike what happened at my unit is intolerable.

What touched me about my unit was once it became clear that I was a PTSD casualty they did everything to try to get me help. My first Commodore, now Rear Admiral Frank Morneau pulled me into his office to make sure that I was alright and that I was getting the help that I needed. The man who replaced him Commodore Tom Sitsch asked me a question that was totally legitimate. “Where does a Chaplain go for help?” When I went to Portsmouth Naval Medical Center I was strongly supported by both my department head and his deputy. I wish that everyone who came back like I did had the support of both line officers and Chaplains in their immediate chain of command. It makes all the difference in the world.

The chaplains that I have served with in Iraq are part of my brotherhood, be they from my church or not. I believe that most of us who have gone to war have by and large matured. We saw death and destruction and were exposed to danger from enemies that could strike in the most unexpected moments in the most unexpected ways. We have experienced sometimes difficult adjustments to life back home, a knowledge that we are different and that we are even more cognizant of our own obligation to care for God’s people. Our brotherhood has deepened as a result of war, of that I am sure. We are truly brothers.

Peace, Steve+

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Filed under healthcare, iraq,afghanistan, Military, PTSD, Religion, Tour in Iraq

Tagged as 1st iraqi division, 2nd iraqi border brigade, 7th iraqi division, afghanistan, Army, army chaplain corps, bronchiolitis obliterans, brotherhood of war, captain frank morneau, captain tom sitsch, church, constrictive bronchiolitis, defense meritorious servce medal, ecumenical councils, eod group two, II MEF forward, iraq, Krispy Kreme Donuts, navy, navy chaplain corps, once an eagle, PTSD, second vatican council, tbi

Tag Archives: iraq

Going to War: A Reflection so Far, Memories, PTSD and hopes and fears Past and Present

Going to War: It was Just a Rocket and a Night Flight to Fallujah

Going to War: Baghdad, Briefings, Coordination and Connections

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Oh Lord Stuck in Lodi Again….Gordon Klingenschmitt does Lodi

“You can observe a lot just by watching” Yogi Berra….How PTSD has made me a lot more Observant

Going to War: Planes, Pit Stops, Patriots and Pubs… the Flight to Kuwait

Offensively Offending the Chronically Offended

Loose Thoughts: Can Somebody Tell Me What Sleep is and Why the Old Crap? Why not New Crap?

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