Tag Archives: iraq

July 21, 2009 · 09:31

Revisiting the Demons of PTSD: Returning to Iraq in Virginia a Year and a Half Later

Today I am attending a conference on Caregiver Operational Stress Control. This brought out my “demons” as I was faced with the stories of others who had been to the same places that I have been in Iraq, and experienced similar things that I experienced on my return. This is a re-posting of something that I wrote in March at the very beginning of this blog. At that time I had very few readers.

I am glad to be at this training today. I needed to take a Xanax when I arrived because I don’t do well with these kind of events anymore. The intial session and a video of Dr Heidi Kraft talking about her expereinces at Al Taqaduum where I was based out of. I was scheduled for another meeting but I knew that I needed to be here. So I asked my Department Head who was going to the meeting if I could stay and he allowed me to do so. God bless him.

I received a note from a new friend in another country’s military, a physician with multiple tours in Afghanistan. He is dealing with many of the things that I discuss in this essay and had a bad day that took him back to Afghanistan. I am sure that he is not alone as I deal with many people in my Medical Center who have similar experiences. Yesterday I was walking down a hallway near our Operating Room and I saw a pretty good sized blood spill on the floor. I was surprised at my reaction as I kept seeing it in my mind the rest of the day and flashbacks to Iraq and the TQ Shock Surgery Trauma platoon where I was pulled into a couple of the last major mass casualty events where 10-15 Marines or soldiers came in at a time. I began to see those wounder Marines on the tables and can visibly see those Marines, their wounds, even tattoos… I hope this helps break the code of silence. I wrote this on a particularly rough day and will repost some of those early essays as they are still very relevant. Peace, Steve+

964 Trying not to Show my Stress and Exhaustion after 2 weeks out while in between flights at Al Asad

The feeling of abandonment and aloneness, separation and disconnection run deep for those returning from unpopular wars in which the majority of the citizens take no part. The effects are devastating. It is estimated that at least 100,000 Vietnam veterans have taken their lives in the years after that war. Last year the Army had its highest number of active duty suicides ever recorded, January and February of 2009 have been banner months for Army suicides. Of course as I noted in my previous post these numbers don’t include reservists and Guardsmen who have left active duty or veterans dischaged from the service. Neither do they include the host of service men and women who died from causes undetermined.

Many veterans attempted to return to “normal life” and family following the war. Many only to have marriages fall apart, continue or leave untreated alcohol and drug addictions acquired in country which often follow them back destroying lives, families and careers. Most felt cast aside and abandoned by the goverment and society. Many got through and return to life with few visible effects, but the scars live on. My dad would never talk about his experience in the city of An Loc in 1972 where he as a Navy Chief Petty Officer was among a small group of Americans operating an emergency airstrip in the city which was besieged by the North Vietnamese and Viet Cong for 80 days. I do know that it affected him, he wasn’t the same when he returned, he was a lot more tense and had some problems initially with alcohol. He never talked about his time there.

I have seen the effects of this in so many lives, I remember a Vietnam vet who attempted to kill himself with a shotgun blast to the chin in Dallas during my hospital residency. He forgot to factor in recoil and blew off his face without hitting his brain or any major arteries. He survived…talk about having something to be depressed about later. I have seen the tears as veterans rejected by the country during and after than war begin to seek community with their wartime brothers, men who had experienced the same trauma followed by rejection and abandonment by the people that sent them to Southeast Asia. One only has to talk to veterans of the Ia Drang, Khe Sahn, Hue City, the Central Highlands and Mekong Delta or read their stories to know what they have gone through. LTG Hal Moore and Joseph Galloway in We Were Soldiers Once..and Young and We are Soldiers Still have deeply penatrating and soul searching views of Vietnam as does Bing West in The Village. Bernard Fall does the same from a French perspective in Hell in a Very Small Place and Street Without Joy. Alistair Horne’s book A Savage War of Peace discusses and tells the story of many French soldiers in Algeria, who fought a war, won it militarily and had their government abandon them, bringing out a mutiny and coup atempt by French Soldiers who had fought in Indochina, were almost immediately back in action in Algeria with little thanks or notice from thier countrymen. Abandonment is an ever present reality and “demon” for many of us who have served regardless of our nationality, French, Canadien or American who have fought in wars that have not engaged the bulk of our fellow citizens. Go to the Vietnam Veterans Memorial in Washington DC and tocuh it, trace the outline of a name, look upon the makeshift memorials and tokens of remembrance left by comrades who came home and understand the sorrow and the sacrifice.

Unfortunately we would like to think that this is something out of history that we have learned from and applied the lessons and in doing so no longer have an issue. Unfortunately this is not the case. There are many, depending on the study anywhere from8-20 percent of returning Iraq and Afghanistan veterans who suffer from some type of PTSD, Combat Stress reaction or other psychological malady incurred during their tour. Similar numbers are reported by the Israeli Armed Forces in from the 1973 War forward. The British are seeing the same now as their veterans return from war. Canadian Forces assigned to the UN command during the Rwanda genocide suffer horribly from PTSD. The mission commander, LTG Romeo Dalliare now a Senator in the Canadian Parliament is a leading spokesman for those who suffer from PTSD. His book Shake Hands with the Devil is a study of how military professionals were exposed to atrocities that they either were forbidden to stop or lacked the combat power to do so even if they wanted to. These men and women tell their story in a video put out by Canadian Armed Forces.

105 Convoy along Route Uranium

I am not going to rehash stories that I have recounted in my other posts dealing with PTSD here, but both I and many men and women that I know are scarred by the unseen wounds of this war. We gladly recognize, and rightfully so, those who suffer physical wounds. At the same time those who are dying inside are often ignored by their commands or if they come out are shunted into programs designed to “fix” them. In other words make them ready for the next deployment. I am not saying here that there is an intentional neglect of our service men and women who suffer from PTSD and other issues. I do not think that is the case, but it is a fact of life. The military is shorthanded and stretched to the breaking point. Many Army Soldiers and US Marines have made 3-5 deployments since 2003. The Navy has sent over 50,000 sailors, not including those assigned with the Marines into “Individual Augmentation” billets in support of operations in Iraq, Afghanistan, the Horn of Africa and other fronts in this war. The Navy personnel, as well as Air Force personnel who perform similar missions often do not have the luxury of going to war and coming home with a particular unit. We serve often in isolation and incredibly disconnected from our commands, our service is often misunderstood. Now there are efforts by the services and some commands to do things better to support our sailors, some of these at my own hospital. However as an institution the military has not fully made the adjustment yet.

Many sailors feel abandoned by the country and sometimes, especially when deployed by the Navy itself. I have debriefed hundreds of these men and women. Almost all report anger and use terms such as being abandon, cut off and thrown away by the service and the country. Those from all services who work in unusual joint billets such as advisers to local military and police forces in Afghanistan and Iraq feel a sense of kinship with each other, often feel a connection to the Iraqis and Afghans but are often not promoted or advanced at the same rate as others who have served in conventional forces in traditional jobs. There was a film called Go tell the Spartans staring Burt Lancaster about Army advisers in the early stages of Vietnam. If you see it and have been to Iraq with our advisers you can see some of the same dynamics at work.

At this point we are still engaged in Iraq and Afghanistan. These wars divided the nation and the veterans, though better treated and appreciated by society than most of thier Vietnam counterparts have no memorial. Words of thanks uttered by politicans and punits abound, our Vietnam era and other fellow veterans in their latter years come to the airports that we fly in and out of to say thank you, but our numbers are rising, the war rages on both in country and in our minds and lives are being lost long after soldiers have left the battlefield.

not a happy camper Not Doing Well on Leave about 5 months After my Return from Iraq

We have to do a better job of ensuring that those who sacrifice so much do not feel that they have been cut off and abandoned while they are in theater and especially when they return. When it is time we need a memorial on the Capitol Mall for those who served in these wars. I don’t know when that will be, but I do hope to see it in my day. Sure it’s only symbolic, but symbols can be healing too, just look at the black granite wall rising up from the ground and going back down into it, filled with the names of those who gave their lives and made the supreme sacrifice in Southeast Asia. Simply known by most as “the Wall” it has become a place of healing and rememberance. A place to say thank you, goodbye and amen.

Peace and blessings, Steve+

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Tagged as a savage war of peace, abandonment, advisers, afghanistan, al anbar province, al asad, al taqaddum, alistair horne, an loc, battle of hue city, bernard fall, bing west, burt lancaster, canadian armed forces, code of silence, combat operational stress management, combat stress reaction, dr heidi kraft, go tell the spartans, hal moore, hell in a very small place, horn of africa, ia drang, individual augmentee, iraq, joseph galloway, khe sahn, mass casualty events, military suicides, navy, PTSD, rawanda, romeo dalliare, rwanda genocide, sailors, shake hands with the devil, street without joy, the village, us marines, vietnam, vietnam veterans, vietnam veterans memorial, we were soldiers once and young

July 19, 2009 · 15:17

Tom Watson: Gentleman, Champion and Supporter of the Troops

Tom Watson and Me

Shaking the Hand of Legendary Golfer and True Champion Tom Watson at Al Taqaddum Iraq 24 Nov 2007

My dad was a golfer. He began golfing as he was in his last few years in the Navy. Before he started golfing he was constantly watching it on TV when no baseball was on. When he retired he began golfing in earnest. It remained a lifelong passion of his even after he contracted Alzheimer’s disease. He developed as a golfer and by his early 50’s had developed a decent handicap. He also would help out as a volunteer at major tournaments at Pebble Beach. Dad loved golf, but as with everything in his life he took it very seriously. Sometimes when I visited home on leave dad would take me golfing and let me use his old clubs. Well, since I would golf once every three to five years I would not do very well. Before long he would be preaching at me and berating me because he said I had natural talent to hit the ball well and was wasting it. Those were always interesting outings, as my brother Jeff can testify to himself.

Anyway, back in the 1970s when I was still living at home dad would frequently watch golf on TV. One of his favorite players was Tom Watson. Back in those days because of dad I was familiar with almost every major figure in the sport. However they were not the same to me as like baseball players. Baseball was more of my sport, though I did and still do appreciate golf and now that my shoulder is getting healed up from the beating it took in Iraq I am going to be getting out on the course on a much more frequent basis once the Minor League Baseball season is over. The last time I was out in California my brother told me the same thing that my dad did about my ability to hit them ball. I trust Jeff as he is a very good golfer and had coached golf at the high school level. I think I am even more attuned to what I’m doing on the golf course because of Iraq and my PTSD. I am much more in tune with what my body is doing at any given point of time. I can now feel when a shoulder dips or I pull up on a shot as well as a number of other things that I never noticed before when I would go out on the course.

Because of dad I have retained a latent interest in golf. So when I heard that Tom Watson was in the lead at the British Open while listening to my local ESPN Sports Radio 1310 on the way home from having the Undead Tooth of Terror extracted my ears perked up. I had met Tom as well as a number of other golf legends in between missions at Al Taqaddum Air Base which was my home away from home while deployed to Iraq. Tom and several others came through on a tour. Now celebrities would make the rounds of Iraq and Afghanistan and I am grateful for them coming to visit, especially when things were not going well and a lot of guys were still getting killed and wounded. Many times I was out in the far reaches when people would come through so I didn’t see many of them. My friend Father Jose Bautista-Rojas was an escort for some dignitaries who accompanied the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff, Admiral Mike Mullen on his tour which included Lance Armstrong and Robin Williams. Jose got to spend some time with them and got me baseball hat signed by both. He said that Robin said that “I had better be praying for him.” I thought that was both funny and kind. I did meet Chuck Norris when he made his 2007 trip through Al Anbar visiting Marines. He shook about every person’s hand and had pictures taken with them and he didn’t just go to the big bases, but some of the little remote places that I went. I would have liked to meet Robin. I have heard from a number of folks that he is great to military folks. One thing that I noticed about the celebrities that came out, no matter who they were or what their politics, they were generally very friendly and seemed to care. Celebrities take a lot of knocks for many reasons, some justified and others not, but when they come out to a combat zone it is appreciated. I remember my dad talking about the Bob Hope tour that came to his ship off of Vietnam which included Sammy Davis Junior and Charro.

Anyway, I met Tom at Al Taqaddum in between mission’s right after Thanksgiving on November 24^th 2007. He and his group comprised of him David Feherty, Butch Harmon, Joe Inman, Tom Lehman and Howard Twitty were some of the finest and kindest men I have ever met while deployed. These men took time with every Marine, Soldier and Sailor who came to see them. They not only signed items but they gave away more things to our folks than I have seen given anywhere. I received a hat signed by Tom and the others from the Rider Cup Team, and a picture signed by all, personalized to me. That was really cool. While talking with Tom I told him about my dad and his condition as well as my brother. I asked if it would be possible to get something signed for them. Tom got with the other guys and had a hat signed for my brother and each of the golfers inscribed a person message to my dad on the pictures. They all expressed their well wishes to him and prayers for his health. I was really touched by what gentlemen all of these men were.

I watched the last part of the British Open today pulling for Tom, but unfortunately he lost in the playoff to Stewart Cink after making bogey on 18. The golf miracle story ended with Tom finishing in second place, but even still he was not expected to do what he did even a week ago. I really felt bad for him as he stood with tears in his eyes. Despite the fact that he finished second Tom Watson to me is a gentleman, sportsman, a supporter of us who serve in unpopular wars, a man of compassion and a true Champion. God bless you Tom and thank you for what you did for my dad while I was in Iraq.

Peace, Steve+

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Tagged as admiral mike mullen, al anbar province, al taqaddum, alzheimer's disease, bope hope uso tours, british open, butch harmon, charro, chuck norris, david feherty, fr jose bautista-rojas, howard twitty, iraq, joe inman, lance armstrong, marines, pebble beach, pga, PTSD, rider cup team, robin williams, sammy davis junior, stewart cink, tom lehman, tom watson, vietnam

July 17, 2009 · 23:14

Going to War: A Bus Ride to the Carolina Countryside

This is part four in my “Going to War” series. Previous parts are noted here:

Part One:Going to War: Reflections on My Journey to Iraq and Back- Part One

Past Two: Going to War: Interlude July 4th 2007

Part Three: Going to War: Wills, Living Wills, Immunizations Gone Bad and Christmas in July

Part Four: Going to War: Last Night together and a Kiss Goodbye

Nelson and I staged our gear as we waited for the buses to arrive to take us to Fort Jackson South Carolina where we were to receive our training for the deployment. As we talked other sailors arrived and gear was stacked in rows of sea bags just off of the sidewalk. Nelson’s parents, brother and sister were on hand to see him off. His brother is a First Class Petty Officer and his dad a former Vietnam era Marine Recon NCO who made several deployments “in the shit” as many Vietnam vets call tours in that combat zone. They were really nice folks. Over the years I had heard much about them. They are close to each other and all are supportive of Nelson.

Nelson is a career amateur boxer; kick boxer, martial artist and more recently MMA fighter. He is active in children’s martial arts instruction and has been on Team USA and fought internationally. During his Afghanistan deployment before he and I hooked up again he helped coach the fledgling Afghan National Boxing Team. His last major title was just this year when he won the Arnold Schwarzenegger Classic. The guy has more titles than you can imagine, his title belt collect could fill a room. However, he was raised by a boxer, his dad. His dad taught him and coached him growing up and helped Nelson win multiple New York State Golden Gloves titles. His dad is a congenial man and who was very friendly, speaking English with a heavy Puerto Rican accent. Nelson’s mom speaks some English. Nelson tells a great story of the only time he was knocked out in a fight. This happened at the Fort Apache Gym in the Bronx after Nelson had gone picking on his little sister when Nellie was about seventeen. Nelson’s dad found out, told him to put on his gloves and get in the ring. Nelson proceeded to talk trash to his dad as he got ready to fight and the first round got quite a few hits in on his dad. In between rounds according to Nelson’s account he told his dad to quit, that he was too old to be in the same ring with him. Nelson said that his dad simply commented “I was just letting you taste the water.” The second round began and Nelson was hit by a combination from his dad, which he says “rung his bell” and made him “see stars.” He remembers trying to get up and not being able to while his dad was talking trash to him. I cannot do the story justice but meeting Nelson’s family was a joy.

So we waited while the other sailors gathered, some individually and some with family. Some stood alone as couples while others mingled with each other. For most this was a new way to see their sailor deploy. No pier side goodbyes, no banners, no manning the rails by the crew as the ship was nudged away from the pier by tugs. When you have a “normal” deployment of a ship or something like a Marine battalion it is a big deal. Media is there, sometimes there are speeches, but most of all there is the understanding that we are all in this together. The families say goodbye to their Sailors, Marines or Soldiers who are going to war together and leaving some kind of familiar support system for the families. This is not so when you deploy individually. We may have been going off to train together, but few would stay together on the deployment. Normally as a chaplain you are a known quantity to the people that you go to war with. I was going to war with Nelson but we would not remain with any sailors who were going through this process with us. I know that was the case for others who would serve in isolated posts, often without any other Navy personnel, mostly working with the Army in support roles, and specialized roles such as the Electronic Warfare Officers detailed to work on defeating IEDs and roadside bombs. As others said their goodbyes and hugged each other I thought of Judy and knew that she was going to be down for some time but I felt that for once that she had an adequate support network.

I looked at our gear as opposed to the others. Our gear was in different deployment bags, ours were large and rectangular and more of a coyote or sand color while most everyone else had traditional green sea bags, or what are known in the Army as “duffle bags.” We had all of our personal protective equipment or the EOD/Special Warfare type while others would receive some variation of Army issue at Fort Jackson. There are pros and cons to such a arrangement. The pro is that we had great gear certainly some of the best in theater. The con was that we had to lug the great gear everywhere we went going to and coming back from war. This would get old, but the benefits do outweigh the advantages when you are actually in a combat zone.

Finally an officer came out and began calling role and giving us our signed “official” orders. After we were accounted for we were told to load our gear on the buses that would take us to Fort Jackson. I think there were four or five of these chartered tour buses which as it turned out would be the first of many tour buses, roll calls and gear loads in the coming months, especially as we entered and exited theater. Nelson and I got on the same bus which was not full and took seats near the front. I got a seat alone because I was the senior officer on the bus and a chaplain to boot. This was not because I asked for it or hogged the seat. It is actually fairly typical in such a setting where young enlisted guys don’t want to sit next to an officer and some are afraid of chaplains because of experiences that they have had in civilian churches. Some of the young folks have never darkened the door of a church and many of those that have been in church have been burned in relationships with pastors or really over the top religious people. I have found in my career that until they get to know a Chaplain a lot of them will be very careful in how they approach a chaplain, even those with a vibrant faith. Some are afraid that the chaplain might try to convert them or disapprove of the manner in which they live their lives. So as a chaplain I need to be cognizant of this fact and be friendly and caring without scaring them away. Of course I did build relationships with a quite a number of these sailors during the next few weeks but on this bus I was still an unknown quantity to them. Sitting alone however was good for me since I general despise bus travel regardless of the company I keep. For some reason my height works against me, I can never get my feet comfortably on the ground on these new tour buses and I have a terrible time getting comfortable. Since bus travel takes forever to get anywhere the discomfort is palpable. Now I did a three month tour on buses in 1979 while touring as a spotlight tech for the Continental Singers and Orchestra across the US and in Europe. Somehow the old Greyhound buses were more comfortable than the new tour buses. Maybe I’m just nostalgic but they somehow fit people like me better than the fancy new buses.

When you travel by bus with a bunch of sailors, the majority of whom are at least 20 years younger than you, the experience can be entertaining to say the least. Part of course is a generational thing. I am from the 60’s 70’s and 80’s. These guys and gals are from the 90’s and 2000’s. Music is different, culture is different, and the internet, cell phones, i-phones and Blackberries have revolutionized communications and life. The trip was a chance for me to observe a lot about these sailors just by watching. Some had their portable i-pods and MP-3 players going, others spent time talking on cell phones, a few read or talked among themselves, but the sailors near me gravitated to the DVD movie which was 300 the comic book style account of the Spartan’s defense of Thermopylae against the Persians. As the Spartans made their stand I could see the young sailors who were going to war taking inspiration from King Leonditis of Sparta. Since we were going into a place where 50-100 Americans a month were being killed and many others wounded and maimed I could understand the need for inspiration along with entertainment.

The bus ride itself was a lot like what I imagine that Minor League teams take in the Carolinas like in the movie Bull Durham, the coaches and older players mixed in with a lot of young guys. The older guys staying pretty quiet and to themselves and the young guys having fun, playing games and joking around with each other, We made a couple of stops, one at some little Interstate town with a fair amount of gas stations and a few fast food places. About half the folks went to the McDonalds where we pulled in while the rest ran down the street to the Burger King and Taco Bell. Once everyone had their fill the buses pulled back out onto the interstate. When we finally got near Columbia the buses got of the Interstate highway and onto some small two lane state highway. We drove down this road about twenty to thirty minutes and pulled into what appeared to be a tiny out of the way base. I wondered where the hell we were. Fort Jackson is a fairly large training base where thousands of recruits are trained every year. Where we were certainly was not the Fort Jackson that I had imagined.

Instead of the main post we were at the South Carolina National Guard training facility called Camp McCready. It is here that the Naval Expeditionary Combat Command has a training center set up with the Army to train sailors in basic combat tasks.

Our welcome that first night was simple. We formed up, checked in, got our linens for our standard issue military beds and were marched to dinner at the chow hall or in the Army vernacular the DFAC by our newest and bestest buddies, our Army Drill Sergeants. In the chow hall or DFAC we were met by a civilian running the line. I can’t remember his name but this guy was really nice and put the RED in “Redneck.” He made jokes with everyone that came through the line, asked where people were from and what they did. When he found out that I was a chaplain he began to ask me for a joke every meal thereafter. As Nelson and I sat down for chow with a couple of other sailors we looked at each other. He said: “Boss I don’t think some of these guys know what is coming.” I said “I think that your right partner, hopefully they adjust and do well.” The other sailors, both more senior petty officers nodded in agreement.

Going back to the barracks I met some of the other officers enjoying their first night at Camp McCready. More sailors to fill out the class were due later coming in from San Diego. I introduced myself to a number of the officers near me and when lights out was called lay down on the same type of bed that I had first encountered some twenty five years before at Camp Roberts California and Fort Lewis Washington. I swear the sheets, blankets and pillowcases were of the same vintage. Despite that I fell asleep fairly quickly.

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Tagged as 300, Army, bull durham, camp mccready, camp roberts ca, chaplain corps, chow hall, continental singers, deployment, dfac, electronic warfare officers, eod, fort lewis wa, fot jackson sc, golden gloves, ied, iraq, king leonditis, Military, minor league baseball, mma fighter, navy, navy expeditionary combat command, nelson lebron, schwarzenegger classic, south carolina army national guard, spartans, vietnam, vietnam veterans

July 14, 2009 · 21:37

Going to War: Last Night together and a Kiss Goodbye

This is part four in my “Going to War” series. Previous parts are noted here:

Part One:Going to War: Reflections on My Journey to Iraq and Back- Part One

Past Two: Going to War: Interlude July 4th 2007

Part Three: Going to War: Wills, Living Wills, Immunizations Gone Bad and Christmas in July

Now the time has come to leave you
One more time Let me kiss you
And close your eyes and I’ll be on my way
Dream about the days to come, When I won’t have to leave alone
About the times, That I won’t have to say

Oh, kiss me and smile for me
Tell me that you’ll wait for me
Hold me like you’ll never let me go
Cause Im leavin’ on a jet plane
Don’t know when I’ll be back again
Oh babe, I hate to go

From “I’m Leaving on a Jet Plane” by John Denver

The night before leaving on deployment and the actual day of departure are some of the hardest that any military couples or families experience. This has certainly been the case with us and this was no different. This time I was not merely going on a ship and being part of a boarding team, the latter which Judy did not know until about halfway through the deployment, but this time going boots on ground into the most bitterly of Iraq’s contested provinces, Al Anbar. The last night together was rather somber to put it mildly. Judy and I went out to dinner on Friday night. Since I knew that I would not be having a good beer for quite some time we went to Gordon Biersch. For us Gordon Biersch is generally a good time kind of place. That last Friday it was not a festive occasion, it was almost like a wake. Judy and I were both quite subdued. In between the silence Judy talked about her fears about the deployment while I tried to reassure her that everything would be fine. My reasoning was that since I had taken out the extra life insurance that I would be okay. For me such logic makes sense. If I don’t get it I will need it and if I do get it I won’t. It’s kind of like Yogi Berra who said “You should always go to other people’s funerals; otherwise, they won’t come to yours.”

After dinner and for me three half liter glasses of Märzen we went back home where I finalized my packing. I ensured that all my field gear, uniforms and clothing were packed and rechecked my EOD issue protective gear. I then packed my Mass kit, Bible, Prayer Book and my Marine Pattern camouflage reversible desert/woodland stole. The stole was special as Judy had made me a few years back from woodland and desert pattern shirts which were way too big for me. My final check were my books on counterinsurgency, a few DVD movies and music CDs and my hygiene items. I wrestled the big bags down the stairs and put them in the back of my Honda CR-V so I wouldn’t have to fight them in the morning. That accomplished Judy and I just sat together, she was feeling pretty low. On the other hand I was a mix of conflicting emotions. I was excited by knowing that I was going to get to do what I had trained all of my life to do, but very cognizant of the reality that it would be tough on Judy. The last couple of deployments had been very tough on her. When I deployed to support the Bosnia mission as a mobilized Army Reservist and newly ordained Priest we had three of my relatives in Huntington West Virginia die. One was my maternal grandmother “Ma Maw” who Judy had become very close to over the past couple of years. They had become buddies and Ma Maw had taken Judy in not as my wife, but as “her” granddaughter. Ma Maw’s death hit Judy very hard and my mom and uncle in the midst of their grief over the loss of their mom understood the depth of the relationship between Judy and Ma Maw and as a result pretty much treated Judy as an unwanted outsider. In the week before Ma Maw’s death Judy tried repeatedly to get Ma Maw to go to the doctor only to be ignored. The morning of Ma Maw’s death Judy called me in Germany to call Ma Maw and insist that she go to the doctor. I called and insisted that she go to the Emergency Room but she refused and said she would call her doctor. That night she died. I had lost my grandmother and could not go back to help and Judy had lost a woman who had become closer to her than her own grandmothers ever had been. In 2001 during my deployment with 3^rd Battalion 8^thMarines to Okinawa, Japan and Korea we lost our 16 ½ year old Wire Haired Dachshund Frieda. Judy did her nest to keep Frieda alive for me, but there was nothing that could be done and finally with Judy being worn down to nothing herself, she was persuaded to have Frieda put down. My 2002 deployment on USS HUE CITY to the Middle East and Horn of Africa came less than six months after my return from Okinawa and was also very difficult on her.

With all of this in the background we spent our last night together. I barely slept as did she. I had a light breakfast and then accompanied by a friend from choir we drove to the base. Saturday morning traffic is generally not too bad so our trip was uneventful, but really tense. You could cut the tension between us by now with a knife. It was about the time that we were nearing the base Judy said something that I took really wrong and sarcastically snapped back “Well I’ll just get blown up by an IED then.” That really hit her hard and I knew immediately that I had blown myself up with the comment. I should have known better, after all I’d deployed a lot and taught pre-deployment classes talking about the emotional cycle of deployments. But the stress on both of us the preceding weeks had taken its toll and both of us were on edge. For two months we had ach in our own way imagined the deployment wondering just what I would face when I got to Iraq, the unanswerable questions of what might happen over there and Judy’s great fear that something might happen to me.

We got to the base pretty quick, though the tension made me feel that the trip was three times as long as it was. As we pulled up in a parking spot near the baggage drop off area we sat there for a few minutes. I got out of the car as did Judy. I asked if she wanted to wait a while with me and with tears in her eyes said that she couldn’t handle the wait. After I unloaded my gear with the help of Nelson who was already there with his gear stacked. He looked at Judy and said, “Don’t you worry ma’am we’ll do good and I’ll keep him safe.” Judy gave a soft “thanks” and gave him a hug. With my gear now next to Nelson’s I went back to Judy. We looked at each other, embraced and kissed each other. We parted and then she went back to the car, handed her friend the keys and they drove off. As she left I said a prayer under my breath and asked God to keep her safe while I was gone. Then I turned to Nelson and said, “Okay partner, let’s get this done.”

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Tagged as 3rd bn 8th marines, al anbar, deployment, gordon biersch, gordon biersch marzen, honda cr-v, i'm leavin' on a jet plane, ied, iraq, japan, john denver, life insurance, okinawa, pre-deployment classes, south korea, uss hue city

July 12, 2009 · 23:59

Going to War: Wills, Living Wills, Immunizations Gone Bad and Christmas in July

This is part three in my “Going to War” series. Previous parts are noted here:

Part One:Going to War: Reflections on My Journey to Iraq and Back- Part One

Past Two: Going to War: Interlude July 4th 2007

One of the sobering things as you get ready to go to war is issues that deal with your possible dismemberment, disability or yes even your death. In the month or so before going to Iraq Judy had me take out an additional life insurance policy that doubled what the military would provide in the event of my demise. Part of our processing to go to combat was a will and power of attorney update. We had not updated our wills since well before coming to the Hampton Roads area so I took advantage of this time to get it done. The will itself was pretty easy since we have no children and have not been married to anyone else. That was the easy part. The next part was dealing with power of attorney. We did a couple of them, a General for most stuff and a couple of specific POAs for various things. I also had to do a medical power of attorney. The medical power of attorney is something that I routinely deal with at the hospital. I have dealt with them before in other places. At the same time they become somewhat disconcerting when you are getting to go into a combat zone where there is heavy fighting going on and that you know that you will be in places that the enemy likes to attack and by the way, you are as a chaplain unarmed.

When doing a Medical Power of Attorney I am always reminded of the episode of Seinfeld where Kramer sees part of a movie called The Other Side of Darkness which supposedly is about a lady who ends up in a coma. Since Kramer doesn’t want to be in a coma he makes his own Power of Attorney for Jerry to be his representative. Jerry refuses and Kramer gets Elaine to go to a lawyer played by Ben Stein to get his “living will” done. Without going into too much detail the interview with the Ben Stein is funny as hell as in his monotone voice he asks Kramer what he would want to do if….and Kramer turns to Elaine and asks “what should I do?” Of course after Kramer makes this out he sees the rest of the movie only to find out that the lady in the coma comes out of it.

I digress, but anyway sometimes when you fill one of these out you pray that you get it right so no one offs you before your time, but also so you don’t end up like Karen Anne Quinlan or Terri Shaivo. All I could think of when doing this was me being so badly wounded that people were telling Judy that there was only a fifty- fifty chance of me living but only a ten percent chance of that and did she want to pull the plug. While this is going on I could just see me unable to respond trying to say “give me one more at bat skip, just one more chance…please.” This may not seem like the most spiritual thing for a Priest to be saying but I don’t want to be with Jesus or in Purgatory before my time.

Legal matters finished we had matters of health and preventive medicine to accomplish. As always when you deploy the military ensures that you are vaccinated against about everything imaginable including typhoid, anthrax, smallpox, malaria, yellow fever, certain regional diseases and probably some that I have forgotten. Many I had received at different times, including my first Anthrax vaccine which I injection was done into my muscle. This time the corpsmen given the shot did it sub-cutaneous which means just below the skin. Well something happened and the little reaction area became a big one that night. My bicep felt like someone had shoved a baseball in it and the sucker hurt like hell. By the next morning I knew that my reaction was not “normal” being that the first one I had did not do this. I thought back to the Anthrax scare right after September 11^th 2001 and I didn’t want to take any chances regarding something that the media said could be dangerous. Who knows, what if they had messed up and given me a bad batch or even a weaponized form of the vaccine. Hell, just because I’m paranoid doesn’t mean that they are not out to get me. If I was going to die for my country I didn’t want it to be from a reaction to a vaccine and not something heroic that would actually matter to someone and maybe even get a ship named after me. So I went back to the immunization section, excusing my way past the queue of sailors waiting to get PPD’s read I went to the desk. I figured that I wasn’t going to wait in line behind people with routine stuff when things looked like they were getting sporty for me. It’s called triage. The Corpsman at the desk was polite and asked what he could do. I told him that “I think I’m having a reaction to the Anthrax vaccine.” He gave me a funny look and asked whoch one in the series this shot was. It was the second and I said. “This didn’t happen the first time.” He told e to show him my arm and then with a look of surprise on his face said: “Obviously sir the first time you had no antibodies to Anthrax so it had nothing to react to….” I was thinking “no shit Sherlock” when the young man went to get his Chief. The Chief came in, looked at my arm and said: “Gee sir it looks like you are having a reaction to the shot.” Wow, he could have floored me with that bit of news. So he took me back to his office and started having me checked to make sure that I didn’t have a fever or a number of other things, like if I was dizzy or was having trouble breathing. No I was neither dizzy nor experiencing breathing difficulties but was simply in pain, a bit scared and a lot pissed. After his battery of questions and the phone calls asked me “do you think that you are safe to drive?” At that point I would have said anything to get the hell out of there and get on with what I needed to do to make sure that I wasn’t going to die. So I said “of course I am.” He asked if I was sure and I reaffirmed this to him in a convincing enough manner for him to send me over to Portsmouth. Now Portsmouth Naval Medical has a small office manned by a couple of nurses whose job it is to report bad vaccine reactions up to the FDA and God only knows who else. These ladies were very pleasant and when they got a look at my arm they were impressed. Once again I heard Yes sir you are having a reaction.” Once and I got another battery of questions and they took a couple of pictures of the baseball sized knot on my left bicep. Another couple of phone calls later I was told that I would be okay. I was told by the ladies that he next shot of the series would have to go into the muscle as this batch had encapsulated itself in my arm instead of going to the rest of my body. I was then told to take some Motrin for the pain and swelling and do a lot of push-ups, pull-ups and massage to help the area dissipate faster. My fears eased and I left the hospital and reported back to the processing site where all of my fellow sailors had already left for the day.

Another tense and sleepless night was spent with Judy and I with the emotional distance still there. We talked about various things but nothing serious as I don’t think that either of us was able to vocalize well what we were feeling. Even Molly seemed differed, I’m sure that she sensed that something was going on as I had continued to pack and re-pack my gear from EOD. Molly does not like it when either of us pack as it usually means that one or both of us is leaving her employee for a time, we being the well treated and loved hired help. So the next morning I repeated my “Groundhog Day” trek back to Norfolk Naval Station fighting the idiots driving to work on the I-264, I-64 and I-564 battle zone where matching wits with the witless I safely picked my way through traffic while drinking my black coffee.

Arriving for our next to last day of processing we checked and re-checked paperwork, received our signed wills, living wills and powers of attorney. That morning I met with Father Pat Finn a mobilized reservist and Episcopal Priest from South Carolina and we had a nice chat where we were joined by Fr Steve Powers retired Navy Chaplain and Rector of St. Brides Episcopal Church in Chesapeake. Following that I was asked to assist with a sailor who was having some personal difficulties getting ready for the deployment. These tasks completed I went back to muster with the others and sat down next to Nelson my ever faithful assistant and body guard extraordinaire. We were then told that we would collect the gear that we were being issued. We gathered outside where we lined up and were given a sea bag in which to put our issue. There were boxes of stuff everywhere and a couple of civilians and sailors stood by to ensure that we got what we were going to get. Uniforms with all of our name tapes rank insignia and qualification pins sewn on as well as more socks, t-shirts and other assorted gear. Our stash was a bit lighter than the others as we already had much of what was being issued and did not need the issue boots having already been issued non-issue boots courtesy of EOD. When this was done and we were released I told Nelson to go home as his family was coming into town from New York. Taking the newly issued gear home I again went to packing and repacking and took Judy out to dinner after which we spent our time alone together pondering the future.

Peace, Steve+

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Tagged as anthrax vaccine, Baseball, ben stein, coma, deployment, elaine benes, eod, hospital corpsmen, immunizations, iraq, jerry seinfeld, karen anne quinlan, kramer, living wills, naval mobilization processing site, navy chaplain, norfolk naval station, portsmouth naval medical center, powers of attorney, seinfeld, september 11th 2001, st brides episcopal church, terri shaivo, weaponized anthrax, wills

July 10, 2009 · 16:54

Brothers to the End…the Bond between those Who Serve Together in Unpopular Wars

This story shall the good man teach his son;
And Crispin Crispian shall ne’er go by,
From this day to the ending of the world,
But we in it shall be remembered-
We few, we happy few, we band of brothers;
For he to-day that sheds his blood with me
Shall be my brother; be he ne’er so vile,
This day shall gentle his condition;
And gentlemen in England now-a-bed
Shall think themselves accurs’d they were not here,
And hold their manhoods cheap whiles any speaks
That fought with us upon Saint Crispin’s day.

From the Speech of King Henry V at Agincourt in Shakespeare’s “Henry V” 1599

We have a new Greatest Generation whose accomplishments will likely go unheralded by history and unlike the “Greatest Generation” of World War Two not receive the full honors and accolades due them. The brothers, and for that matter sisters as well who have served in the current War on Terror, Iraq and Afghanistan campaigns have now been serving in a war that is now twice as long as the American involvement in World War Two. Many, like me have been in this since the beginning and many have made multiple deployments to the combat zones. And many of us, if not most of us would go again; I know that I would because part of me is still in Iraq; for me this war is still un-won and un-finished.

With MTT near Syria Advisers out on the Badlands of Al Anbar

With no disrespect to the Greatest Generation of World War Two, all of the current Soldiers, Sailors, Marines, Airmen and Coast Guardsmen are volunteers, as are the members of the Reserves and National Guard. Likewise this generation has for the most part fought the war alone as the vast bulk of the country has lived in peace untouched by any inconvenience to daily life such as gas and food rationing, requirements to work in war industries and the draft as were citizens in World War Two. In the Second World War there was a sharing of the burden which in large part has not occurred in this war. While many have pitched in to help and volunteered to help veterans and their families the vast majority of people in this country are untouched by the war, not that there is anything wrong with that. This is simply a comparison of the situation that those who served in World War Two and the present conflicts faced. So I have to say that our “Greatest Generation” is only a small part of the generation, as the line in Henry V “we few, we happy few who fought together….”

Dynamic Duo Brothers

These Soldiers, Sailors, Marines and Airmen from the United States as well as our Allies who serve alongside of us are my brothers and sisters. I am friends with military personnel from the UK, Canada and Germany who have served in the various combat zones or at sea and met quite a few others from France, the Netherlands and Australia. Of course my Iraqi friends who I served with while with our advisers in Al Anbar province who are not only trying to bring peace and stability back to their country but have to worry about their families being targeted by terrorists.

There are a number of things that unite us in this relatively small brotherhood. However, I think that this brotherhood could also be extended to our brothers who fought in Vietnam, French, Vietnamese, Australian, South Korean and American, the French who served in Algeria and the Americans and others that served in Korea. All of these wars were unpopular, had little support on the home front and often left returning veterans found themselves isolated and their sacrifices either ignored or disrespected. For those Americans who serve in the current wars I can say that at least to this point the public has been much more supportive than they were to our Vietnam brothers, many of who were even disrespected by World War Two vets who had fought in “a real war.” I cannot count the Gulf War in this list as it was hugely successful and the returning vets were hailed as conquering heroes with ticker tape parades.

advisers convoy prep Getting Ready for A Mission

Our shared brotherhood includes our scars, physical, psychological, neurological and spiritual. Those who served on the ground in Iraq and Afghanistan as well as those who served in Vietnam, French Indo-China and Algeria have the common shared experience of fighting people who don’t necessarily like foreigners no matter how noble our intentions and who have a long history of outlasting people that they believe to be invaders or occupiers. We have had to fight wars with no front lines, no major units arrayed against us, but rather asymmetrical threats propagated by creatively devious foes who use low tech easily available technology and a willingness to sacrifice themselves and others to force attempt to kill us. Thus we have cleverly designed and often quite powerful IEDs or Improvised Explosive Devices which can obliterate a HUMMV.

374 Prayer Before a Mission

These threats create a situation where there is no front line and thus where every excursion outside of a FOB (Forward Operating Base) or COP (Coalition Outpost) is automatically a trip into a potential danger zone. Enemies can infiltrate bases posing as local nationals in either military uniform or as workers, rockets and mortars can be lobbed onto even the largest and most secure bases at any time and any vehicle driving by you on the road could be loaded with explosives and just waiting to blow you up while insurgents with automatic weapons and Anti-Tank Rocket Propelled Grenades (RPGs) have taken down helicopters. When you have taken fire on the road, in the air and had rockets whiz by you this becomes a reality that you never forget.

helos at night A Familiar Sight to Me, Flying at Night AP Photo/David Guttenfelder

As a result we do not only have men and women with physical wounds, but wounds that have damaged the psyche or the soul. PTSD is very common either from a direct encounter or the continual wear and tear of being in a danger zone wondering if you were to get hit that day every day of a tour. I have lost count now of people that I know who have mild to severe symptoms of PTSD. Traumatic Brain injury is another condition men and women attacked by IEDs, mortars and rockets experience. Likewise there are the injuries that shatter the soul. These are the images of ruined buildings, burned out vehicles, wounded bodies, injured children, refugees and wars desolation that can leave a person’s faith in God, or ideals that he or she believes in weakened or even destroyed. There are many idealistic and patriotic military personnel who because of what they have seen question God, their National Leadership and even themselves. I cannot get the image of a refugee camp on the Iraqi Syrian border full of Palestinian refugees who have nowhere to go; they had been invited to Iraq under Sadaam and have been sitting on the border trying to get home for years now. The Palestinian authority wants nothing to do with them.

237 Iraqi Kids in War Torn Village on the Euphrates

These men and women are my brothers and sisters. I have seen quite a few of my ICU staff deployed this year with more getting ready to go. These are my friends and I do get concerned for them and pray earnestly for their safe return. I wish that I could go with them because I know them and have already walked with them through the dark valley of the shadow of death in our ICU. We already have a bond that will not be broken.

It is now two years since I was in the process of leaving for Iraq and a year since my PTSD crash. However, I still would do it again in a heartbeat. There is something about doing the job that you were both trained to do and called to do that makes it so. Likewise the bonds of friendship and brotherhood with those who you serve are greater than almost any known in the human experience. Shared danger, suffering and trauma bind soldiers together, even soldiers of different countries and sometimes with enemies. I remember the conversation that I had with an Iraqi Merchant Marine Captain on a ship that we had apprehended for smuggling oil violating the United Nations sanctions. The man was a bit older than me, in his early 60s. He had been educated in Britain and traveled to the US in the 1960s and 1970s. He had the same concerns as any husband and father for his family and had lost his livelihood after Sadaam invaded Kuwait in 1990. He was a gentleman who provided for his crew and went out of his way to cooperate with us. In our last meeting he said to me: “Someday I hope that like the Americans, British and the German soldiers at the end of the Second World War can meet after the war is over, share a meal and a drink in a bar and be friends.” That is my hope as well.

In the final episode of the series Band of Brothers there is a scene where one of the American soldiers, Joseph Liebgott who came from a German Jewish family interprets the words of a German General to his men in the prisoner compound. The words sum up what the Americans had felt about themselves and likewise the bond that all soldiers who serve together in war have in common, if you have seen the episode you know how powerful it is, I ended up crying when I heard it the first time and cannot help but do so now that I have been to the badlands of Al Anbar Province.

“Men, it’s been a long war, it’s been a tough war. You’ve fought bravely, proudly for your country. You’re a special group. You’ve found in one another a bond that exists only in combat, among brothers. You’ve shared foxholes, held each other in dire moments. You’ve seen death and suffered together. I’m proud to have served with each and every one of you. You all deserve long and happy lives in peace.”

A Chance Meeting with our EOD Mobile Uniit 2 Brothers

May God bless all of especially my brothers who served in with me in Iraq or have served or are serving in Afghanistan; as well as my brothers who fought in Vietnam, Indochina and Algeria. We may never get a victory parade, but we have each other.

Peace, Steve+

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Tagged as afghanistan, al anbar province, al qaida, algeria, asymmetrical threats, band of brothers, fob, french indochina, gulf war, henry v, hummv, icu, ied, improvised explosive devise, iraq, kuwait, PTSD, rpg, sadaam hussein, the greatest generation, traumatic brain injury, united nations sanctions, veterans, victory parades, vietnam war, war on terror, we happy few we band of brothers, world war two

July 8, 2009 · 20:45

Sometimes You Wanna go Where Everybody Knows Your Name

The hit long running comedy Cheers set in Boston Bar is something that I have grown to appreciate more and more throughout the years. It comes from the community of disparate people who find refuge in that bar each with their own lives and stories which all intersect at Cheers. The lyrics to the theme song from the show sum up where I sometimes find myself in life, especially coming back from Iraq.

Making your way in the world today takes everything you’ve got.
Taking a break from all your worries sure would help a lot.

Wouldn’t you like to get away?

Sometimes you want to go

Where everybody knows your name,
and they’re always glad you came.
You wanna be where you can see,
our troubles are all the same
You wanna be where everybody knows
Your name.

You wanna go where people know,
people are all the same,
You wanna go where everybody knows
your name.

The last verse to the song “Where Everybody knows Your Name” never aired on the show and continue….

Be glad there’s one place in the world
Where everybody knows your name,
And they’re always glad you came;
You want to go where people know,
People are all the same;
You want to go where everybody knows your name.

The need for community is something that I didn’t think that I really needed for most of my life. It took a huge amount of time isolated in the military as well as coming back from Iraq with a nice case of PTSD to realize that I could not exist without some kind of local connection. This is something that when I returned from Iraq I knew that I did not have. For a good amount of time this didn’t matter because I was always on the road or deployed. It is easy to cover up the need for local relationships and community when you aren’t around.

For me this isolation really began when we moved to the Hampton Roads area back in 2003. I was assigned to a command where I was on the road a lot. However I sought to make build relationships with the local mission of my church in our area as well as other local clergy. After a clash with the local idiot masquerading as a priest I was forbidden by the bishop to have any contact with any of his priests or parishes. I guess since that bishop didn’t get my tithe that I didn’t matter. A couple of years later both the bishop and the idiot priest had left our church for happier hunting grounds. So when I came back from Iraq in 2008 I was isolated. I had transferred in October 2006 from a Marine Command where I felt absolutely comfortable to a different command where I was new and about everyone else was going about 95 different directions. The command chaplain who I had come on board under in the larger command had transferred during my deployment, while the one officer that I had developed a relationship with at my new command was deployed a couple of months after me. When I returned from Iraq even my office had been packed up and I had no-where to work from for over a month. My belongings, including many military mementos and awards were crammed into a trailer and it took almost a year to find the majority of them. A couple of items were not recovered. So on the military side I was pretty isolated and feeling pretty down. As I said I had no church ties from my denomination anywhere near me and had not, due to my own pathology and hectic travel and deployment schedule did not establish a relationship with another church until this year. Other friends had transferred over the years and I had one other chaplain in the area that I can call a friend. We have known each other since 1999 and our wives are best friends. Apart from that I was about as isolated and alone as I could get. It was then with my PTSD kicking my ass that I knew after all these years that I needed to be in community and in relationships with people locally. It was no longer good enough to simply check in with guys that I had known for years but who lived far away.

It took a while to get from knowing that I needed something until I was able to get established in a number of places and begin to build my local ties. The first two places were Harbor Park where I see the Norfolk Tides play and the local Gordon Biersch Brewery Restaurant. Harbor Park was something that I went to before Iraq as I love baseball. I was no stranger there, I’ve been around long enough to get to know staff, vendors and ushers and have met the General Manager Dave Rosenfield on a good number of occasions as he walks the concourse among the Harbor Park faithful. However something happened when I came back from Iraq. In most places I could not handle crowds, even going to church at the fairly large Catholic Church where I occasionally attend with Judy who is a member there. It is large and rather busy and since I only know a few people there I get a bit anxious, even though I love the Pastor, Deacons and the few people that I know. However every time I would step onto the concourse at Harbor Park and the lush green field came into view I could feel stress and anxiety leaving my body. Somehow almost magically I am at peace when at a ball game. I felt the same thing even in crowded Major League Parks at San Diego and San Francisco when I made trips to the west coast. When the season ended last year it was terribly difficult as the PTSD and Anxiety, nightmares and chronic pain were still raging. When this season came around and with Harbor Park now on my way home from work I knew that I needed to get a season ticket. I cleared with Judy and for the first time in my life I had a season ticket. Since the season began in April the Park has become more of a place of refuge and place of fellowship with some great people. Seeing Elliott the Usher, Ray and John the Vietnam Vets at the Beer Stand behind the plate, Kenny the Pretzel Guy, Skip the Usher in the section above me, Mandy up in the Tides Store my next seat over neighbor Barry, Barry’s daughter Julie, Tina and her husband, the Judge and others has given me a sense of community that is like a comfortable pub.

The same has been true at the Gordon Biersch Brewery Restaurant has become another place where I feel at home. I think this began with Kira, the choir child from Judy’s Church as well as guys like Mike, John and girls like Kai Ly who been incedible. We began by being frequenters of the dining room but have over the past several months moved to the bar as it is a bit more laid back and we get to know more people. Now the noise can occasionally be a bit much, but the kids who work there are really great to be around. I was just recently inducted into the Stein Club. Both Harbor Park and Biersch were important because even though the people that I met were those in the intersection they were places and people that began to get me back in touch with community.

Another really key part of building community for me is my work at Portsmouth Naval Medical Center. Somehow I am at home in the surreal environment of the ICU and PICU and the great folks who work on those floors. On call I am beginning to feel the same way about our NICU. The relationships formed in these areas as well as with my fellow chaplains have become especially important. My boss and some of our other chaplains have really helped me through some really rough times since I got here as I have dealt with the PTSD and other issues from Iraq. As I have made the adjustment to being back in the hospital setting I realized just how much I enjoyed the challenge of Critical Care chaplaincy, the care for patients, families and especially the staff and residents. I am at home here.

The final piece fell into place a few months ago, that was beginning to worship at St James Episcopal Church in Portsmouth. I had met the Rector (Pastor) of the Parish, Fr John at the hospital as he visited two of his parishioners who were patients in my ICU. We not only met but we became friends and he invited me to St James. Now Fr John is from Nigeria and the parish is predominantly African American, West Indies or Nigerian. The church reminds me a lot of East Side Presbyterian Church in Stockton CA which I attended with Judy. The liturgy while Episcopal is punctuated with familiar hymns and Old Negro Spirituals. The Church itself was founded in the 1890s as a place for African American Episcopalians to worship, Jim Crow being quite strong in those days. When I first went there I wondered about the wisdom of it but I knew that I needed a place to worship outside my little guestroom altar. I didn’t know what to expect, but the folks at St James love worship, music and have enfolded me, a Priest from a different communion into their community and for the first time since I came in the Navy, and certainly since I came back from Iraq I feel a sense of connection with a local parish. One thing that I believe is quite significant is that prior to the Civil War my familyowned slaves in what was then the western part of Virginia. I even met a man from Liberia who has my last name. His family went from the United States, to Canada, back to the UK and then on to Liberia before his family came back to the United States. His brother even serves in the US Navy. I’m sure at one point Cecil Dundas’s ancestors once were owned by some part of my family in Virginia. But we are both of the Dundas family and I think that is pretty cool. Small world.

I don’t necessarily think that I am alone in the search for community. I think for a lot of people they would want to find such a community in church, but from what I am seeing across the denominational spectrum and the move to large churches or mega-churches I am seeing more lonely people who attend church regularly but never feel a sense of family or community. Some of the things I hear from these lonely and disconnected Christians remind me of the lyrics to Abba’s hit Super Trouper:

Facing twenty thousand of your friends
How can anyone be so lonely
Part of a success that never ends
Still I’m thinking about you only

Part of this I think is that many churches have places more value on “Church growth” and programs than they have on people. There has been a shift, especially in larger churches to proliferate programs which take up a lot of time, but don’t foster relationships. Often the senior pastor is unreachable and untouchable in large churches. Someone may get contact with a staff pastor, but often this is even driven down to minimally trained small group or home group leaders. The churches themselves are so large it takes a long time for a new person to get to know anyone. Now large church can do a lot of good, but I do think what they lack is intimacy. Some home groups have this but others are train wrecks full of pretty bad juju. So I wonder if this is a part of the isolation and disconnection of people. Just a thought….

It has take me about five years to get connected in this area. The cool thing now is that there are a number of places where I can go where just about everybody knows my name. Slowly but surely I’m getting better as I get more connected. I now have the beginnings of a community which is rich and diverse, military and civilian and have the blessing of friendship with so many people that that make up the communities of which I have become part. The Deity has a wry sense of humor to take this introverted rugged individualist to put me into community with such a great bunch of people. She had to about throw me under the bus to do it, but I am glad that she did.

Peace, Steve+

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Tagged as Baseball, black episcopalians, bosnia operation, cheers, civil war, community, gordon biersch, hampton roads, harbor park, icu, iraq, norfolk tides, picu, PTSD, slavery, st james episcpal church, where everybody knows your name

July 4, 2009 · 23:57

Going to War: Interlude July 4th 2007

This is the second installment of my account of my account of mine and RP2 Nelson Lebron’s deployment to Iraq in 2007.

Our mobilization proceeded the next couple of days as we received our immunizations, were issued DCUs and other clothing needed for the deployment. Nelson and I of course were already well outfitted by our unit, EOD Group Two. In spite of this we drew additional uniforms, brown t-shirts, socks and a host of miscellaneous gear. Thankfully as I have mentioned, EOD had outfitted us well including boots of our choosing, not the standard issue boot being provided to the rest of the sailors. I had a pair of Blackhawks and a pair of Magnum 5.11’s, both much more comfortable than those issued. Wills and powers of attorneys were drawn up by JAG officers, our “page 2s” the record of who we wanted notified in the event of our demise were verified and updated, new dog tags ordered and a myriad of forms filled out, sometimes for the second or third time. In the weeks prior we had completed a fair number of online courses on Navy Knowledge Online to orient us to operations, health and safety issues and for Nelson classes on the M-16A2 and M9 Pistol. The 4^th was a day off, probably more for the staff then for 120 or so of us getting ready to go overseas.

After completing everything we needed on the 3^rd I went home and Judy and I took in the Norfolk Tides game against the Syracuse Sky Chiefs at Harbor Park. Before the game I chatted with Tides General Manager Dave Rosenfield and let him know that I would be missing the rest of the season as I was going to Iraq. Dave is a good guy and since at the time things were not going well, we were experiencing heavy casualties which were being displayed on every broadcast news outlet available to humanity, I could see the distress in his face as he told me to “please take care of yourself and be safe.” My usher buddy Skip, a retired Navy Chief and a number of vendors, Kenny the Pretzel guy and others wished me well. As the National Anthem Played that night I stood at attention, my Tides cap over my heart as the anthem was played. It was one of the most emotional anthems I have ever experienced. It was not that it was sung by a star or even played that well, but it was that I was going to Iraq to serve in an unpopular war, ordered by a once post 9-11 popular President whose star had fallen because of how Iraq was turning out. The war was presented as lost and a disaster and here I was getting ready to go after volunteering to go to Al Anbar Province, the most contested and violent part of Iraq. The surge was just beginning and the Anbar Awakening was yet to be noticed by anyone. Al Qaida Iraq and other insurgents were taking a severe toll in Al Anbar. I had been told by Chaplain Maragaret Kibben that the mission was to get out bewyond the wire when no one was getting to take care of the advisers. I imagined being convoys and my vehiilce being hit, and at the same time still knew that I had to go. Tears were in my eyes as I mouthed the words to the Star Spangled Banner looking at the flag flying above the scoreboard above right center field. Judy stood next to me. It was then that some 26 years of service came down to the real world. Even though I had been to the Middle East numerous times and even served on a boarding team in the Northern Arabian Gulf, this was different. I was preparing to go “into the shit” as my Vietnam era brothers would say. In fact I was going out not with a unit, but as the first Navy Chaplain to serve directly with advisers since that war accompanied by the most prepared assistant in the world. I was pretty sure that I was the most prepared Chaplain for this assignment, I was as ready as one could be for deployment. I was physically ready, in some of the best shape of my life, I had graduated done everything that I could thing to do to be ready. I had even made sure that I read Chapter 5 of the History of Army Chaplains in Vietnam as part of the massive amount of reading that I did for the deployment. Part of this chapter dealt with those men who served in this capacity then. We watched the fireworks show that followed the game and

The Tides would go on to win the game 4-3 and I would go home with Judy. The 4^th was spent continuing to get ready even though I was theoretically off for the holiday. There are always checks and double checks to ensure that everything is just right when you deploy. This was really hard on Judy as she watched me getting ready. When you deploy, especially to a combat zone there is a certain amount of emotional detachment that most couples go through. It is a form of self preservation, you tend not to want to ask or deal with the hard questions of what happens if….

Of course Judy had in the previous months insisted that I take on additional life insurance which I did, just in case I would get schwacked in Iraq. I’m rather superstitious and felt that while this was a good move to protect Judy that it might be inviting trouble for me. We had of course talked a bit about the deployment; I was much more excited than she could ever be. The lot of the military wife in wartime is to endure her husband’s choice to serve their country in time of war. As deployments draw closer the emotional distance widens even as emotions deepen. It is the inverse of what happens when emotions deepen as people come together. That last 4^th of July was one of being alone together even as we went to of friend Pat and Jim’s house for a cook out. Following that we went home and spent a quiet evening before going to bed. My DCUs from EOD hung on my closet door as we turned off the light and spent a fitful night sleep.

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Filed under iraq,afghanistan, Military, Tour in Iraq

Tagged as 4th of july, 9-11, advisers, al anbar province, anbar awakening, blackhawk boots, boarding team, dcu, deployment, emotional distance between couples, eod, eod group two, harbor park, history of the army chaplain corps in vietnam, iraq, m-16 rifle, m-9 pistol, magnum 5/11 boots, middle east, military wife, national anthem, navy knowledge online, norfolk tides, northern arabian gulf, operation iraqi freedom, president bush, star spangled banner, syracuse sky chiefs, vietnam

July 2, 2009 · 23:29

Going to War: Reflections on My Journey to Iraq and Back- Part One

Two years ago today my assistant at EOD Group Two, RP2 Nelson Lebron and I began our Iraq adventure. This is the first of a series of posts which will be published periodically to tell our story. While they will not be daily posts, they will be sprinkled in on this site on a regular basis. Hopefully they will be something that will help those who have not been in the remote parts of either Iraq or Afghanistan what it is for Navy personnel to go to war, not as ship’s company, not with their own unit, but as individual augments to other commands. This is a different way to go to war…this is our story.

July 2^nd 2007: I rolled into the parking lot for the Naval Mobilization Processing Site (NMPS) Norfolk. As usual parking on Norfolk Naval Station was a bitch to find. It had been a number of months since I had to make this commute having transferred from the Marine Security Force Battalion where I had served the past three years but thankfully I remembered to leave early because traffic was as gooned up as ever going down I-264, I-64 and I-564 to head into the base. At that point I really missed my designated parking spot back at the battalion.

I looked around and finally found a spot and then after wandering around a bit found the NMPS offices. I walked upstairs to the classroom in which we were to meet was located and found it empty, save for a couple of NMPS staff members. I reported in my DCU’s, or Dessert Camouflage Uniform issued to me by EOD Group Two. They are an older type uniform and unlike the Marine Pattern Digital Camouflage are not wash and wear. I had worn them in March when I went to Jordan for the Jordanian Army/ UN Peace Operations Training Center course on Iraqi Culture, Religion, Politics and Language. In fact until the Marines came out with their digital uniforms they were common to all of the services. I looked around the empty classroom with every table stacked with folders filled with a butt-load of paperwork. I found a spot, not hard to do with so many to choose from and sat down. I took an aisle seat about three rows back and plunked my EOD issue Blackhawk backpack down, grabbed my Book of Common Prayer and did the morning office before anyone else arrived while drinking the large cup of black coffee I had gotten across the street.

Shortly thereafter others began to arrive in twos and threes, most dressed in utilities or officers in khakis. A few Seabees had woodland BDUs on and a couple of folks wore DCUs which were obviously from previous deployments to the sandbox. RP2 Lebron, who I will now refer to as Nelson from this point forward then showed up and we waited for the orientation and administrative stuff to start moving. We surveyed the situation and looking upon our fellow sailors realized that this would be a different deployment.

What we noticed as we talked the varying ranks and uniforms really jumped out at both of us. Most of our fellow sailors had never been deployed even in peacetime in such a manner. Most of those who had deployed had done so on ship with the exception of the Seabees and maybe a Corpsman or two. They spanned the spectrum of age, rank and rating. There were the officers, mainly Lieutenants, Lieutenant Commanders and Commanders. We also had one Captain. These officers were Line Officers including Surface Warfare Officers and Aviators as well as a number of Doctors and Medical Service Corps Officers and some other Staff Corps officers. The enlisted likewise spanned the spectrum of the Navy. Fire Control Technicians, Operations Specialists, Gunners Mates, Boatswains, Yeomen and Storekeepers, Intelligence Specialists, Corpsmen, and even Culinary Specialists. They had qualifications as Submariners, Enlisted Surface Warfare, Aviation Warfare among others. Some like me and Nelson had volunteered, others were voluntold. The one that brought us all together was that we were US Navy Sailors and going to war, not with the shipmates that we had served with, but with strangers, well except for me and Nelson.

Now Nelson and I have deployed a lot and had served together in Okinawa and at EOD where I did a “drug deal” with his chaplain and the detailer to get him to EOD. The guy is a hero, in the year and a half prior to our deployment he had been deployed to Afghanistan where he as an E-5 was awarded the Defense Meritorious Service Medal. On his way back from Afghanistan he was pulled off of his flight to the states and sent back to his old ship, the USS Trenton to assist in the evacuation of Americans and others from Beirut. I think that he has done about nine or ten deployments now. Unfortunately this has actually hurt his career since the biggest part of making rank as a Navy enlisted man is to do well on the advancement exam. Unfortunately there were many times when he was forbidden to test because he was deployed, and when eventually allowed to test during a deployment was not provided the appropriate materials to study. Even if he had them it would have been difficult since we were always on the road, just as he was in his last four or five deployments.

Nelson is a NY Rican and both a New York Golden Gloves boxing champ, a high school valedictorian, a full contact kick boxer, martial artist, MMA fighter and has fought on Team USA and won last year’s Arnold Schwarzenegger Classic. He is the real deal. Proficient in many weapons systems from his service with the 3^rd Recon Battalion, 4^th Marine Regiment and Naval Special Warfare he is the ideal body guard for any Chaplain going to do the job we had been given to do, to work with Marine and Army advisers supporting two Iraqi Divisions. Our mission would evolve and expand once we got there, but we didn’t know that yet.

As people filed in a Chief Petty Officer brought us to attention, the processing site Commanding Officer came in and spoke with us and then led us in the Sailors Creed. With that we set down and began to get our orientation to how our mobilization, training and movement would unfold as we got ready to go to Iraq.

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Filed under iraq,afghanistan, Military, Tour in Iraq

Tagged as 1-64, 3rd recon battalion, 4th marine regiment, afghanistan, beirut, camp zaqah jordan, dcu, deployment, dessert camouflage uniform, eod, eod group two, full contact kick boxing, golden gloves, i-264, i-564, ia duty, individual augmentee, iraq, marine pattern digital uniform, marine security forces, mma, naval mobilization processing site, naval special warfare, naval station norfolk, navy enisted ratings, nmps norfolk, okinawa, peace operations training center, religious program specialist, sailors creed, seabees, team usa, united nations, US Navy, uss trenton, woodland bdu

June 30, 2009 · 21:17

The Gifts of PTSD: Insomnia is a Terrible Thing to Waste and the Hidden Value of Hyper-vigilance

On Board a 53 out near Syria

I’ve been asked by a number of people at work just how I manage to find the time to write the way that I do. The answer, which I have said to all of them is simple…insomnia, which it turns out is not necessarily a curse, but for me in some ways is a gift. I find that insomnia really is a terrible thing to waste. Until I went to Iraq I went to bed at a decent hour every night and seldom did I have problems sleeping. At the same time my life while busy pursuing work, military and professional education as well as academic degrees was full but not completely fulfilling. I had always wanted to write on a variety of subjects to include military history, theology, ethics and baseball. In fact someday I hope to get published. However back then I was always too distracted to write what I wanted to write. I could t stay on task for anything other than things that would seemingly directly affect my military career, even my marriage.

Convoy On Route Michigan

Iraq changed that more than I thought it could. I got back, fell apart about 90 days after returning home and despite pushing myself harder at work, ministry and academically I was not making it. Nightmares, dreams, chronic pain and anxiety, stress reactions even in church about crippled me. About the only place I felt some peace was at the ball park. Somehow the sight of that great field and the infield diamond settles me. Sleep deprivation became a very real and persistent part of my life. I guess it was the fact in Iraq that we did most of our travel at night by helicopter, usually CH-46, CH-47 or CH-53’s and had very irregular schedules. Likewise when we came back to base there was another little issue. The pad for the Army Medivac Choppers, or “Dustoff” was about 200 yards from my quarters so all night long I was subjected to the constant noise from these aircraft. If I hear a UH-60 Blackhawk or SH-60 Seahawk at night I still get a startle reaction. Outgoing artillery fire and occasional fire, explosions and sirens in the adjacent town of Habbinyah were staples of life. When bored I would stand outside and watch illumination rounds going off the highway just outside our entry control point or wander over near the Shock Surgery Trauma Platoon facility where “Dustoff” was waiting on the pad. I’m sure that working a number of mass casualty events and seeing our wounded Marines and Soldiers being treated as well as Iraqi civilians including kids had to affect me. These Americans and Iraqis were out driving the same roads that we would drive on a regular basis and the sight of their shattered bodies went through my mind every time we went on a mission.

As I got deeper into my tour I found that no matter how tired that I was I had great difficulty getting to sleep. I’m sure this was due to our operational tempo, odd hours, demanding travel, sleeping conditions which varied at every location and occasionally getting shot at. The most cool of those were when our Army CH-47D talking off from Ramadi , took fire from the ground and proceeded to pop flares, take evasive action while the tail gunner opened fire with his M240 series machine gun. Since I was sitting two seats from the tail gunner and saw, heard and smelled the gun as it fired I’m pretty sure that it happened. However, when I called the Army squadron to see what happened they denied that the event happened. I hear that was not an uncommon occurrence. So anyway by the mid-point of my tour I was no longer sleeping so I would sit up and play games on my computer, such as chess and Ma-jong. It is amazing how good you can get at stuff like that through sheer repetition. It was playing these games that I would wear myself our enough to sleep since I usually did an hour or two of PT during the day or late evening when not on the road. It is comforting when you are running near the perimeter on a cool Saturday morning and hear explosions and exchanges of automatic weapons fire going off about 2 km to your right.

So now despite my cool concoction of meds I still have difficulty getting to sleep. In order to sleep I have to wear myself out and when I am done I take my meds and crash. If I take them before I am exhausted I see little effect and I am not about to start mixing them with the good beer that I enjoy so much. I do not drink crappy beer thank you. Maybe it will be time to go back to the doctor when my provider’s relief arrives in August or September. I probably need to talk to my buddy Elmer the shrink again soon. Elmer is great but my schedule has not lined up well to see him the past couple of weeks between leave, call schedule and the emergency root canal. I probably have to go back in on that sooner than my appointment as I still am having some pain and wonder if there is an infection there.

Since I don’t believe in wasting time I have decided to be productive when I can’t sleep. I started writing as I finished my class requirements for my latest Masters Degree. I still need to do the comprehensive exams but will wait until September so as not to mess with any home games the Tides have left. I began writing as a means of both helping me and disciplining myself to write regularly. I have several book ideas but have never been able to get any off the ground because I could not stay focused. This website helps me do that and has got me thinking creatively again. So my answer to how I can find the time to write is simple, if I have 20 or so extra hours in the week late at night that are going to be there no matter what I do, then I shouldn’t waste them. So my point is that insomnia is a terrible thing to waste. It could be worse. I know of other vets who can’t sleep either due to war experiences and some have fallen off the deep end with self destructive behaviors at least I am not doing online gambling, porn or other distractions that have helped continue to ravage some of my brothers and sisters who have served in Iraq, Afghanistan and Vietnam. I have found in a strange way that the chronic insomnia has been a gift which has enabled me to gain insights on life and experience that I had never been able to put down before. It has forced me to take advantage of time that I would otherwise waste web or channel surfing until I fell asleep. It is interesting to see what comes out of your computer when you are trying to write while falling asleep.

Here is an example that I found and saved a few weeks ago: “Manages not only check their the firduk about what they fell than…”

I have no earthly idea what it means or what a “firduk” is or what “manages would “not only check their the firduk” means and I don’t want to find out. God only knows what it means but it reminds me where a half-asleep Jerry Seinfeld wrote down something that he saw on TV that he thought was funny. He spent the show trying to see what he wrote and then finally saw what he actually heard. He discovered that it was not nearly as funny as he thought.

Another gift I have been given with my PTSD is that of hyper-vigilance. I am much more alert and observant than I ever was. This is on the road, in crowds or even as I do my job in the hospital. I have begun to notice the little odd things that are clues to other possibly more significant issues. This probably has saved my life on the road on several occasions since I returned as I have a much great “feel” for what is going on around me than I have ever had while driving. There have been at least three times where I “felt” the danger of another vehicle and took evasive action to avoid a collision before I heard or saw it. Of course the colorful euphemisms which poured out of me on these occasions were quite memorable, I think the best being “You Oedipal Mother F—-r!” when some asshole almost plowed over me in a grocery store parking lot not far from home.

So, despite the inherent problems that PTSD, insomnia and the other maladies I have incurred have caused me, the Deity Herself has also given them to me as a gift. For which I am strangely grateful. Even a few months back I saw them as a curse, but now they have become a source of blessing. Like Commander Spock might say to Captain Kirk after observing a human idiosyncrasy “fascinating Captain, fascinating.”

It’s a Gift…Enjoy

I’m back on duty tomorrow for another overnight. This will be a long week, 3 duty nights out of 5 work days. Thankfully I will not have duty again for two weeks after Friday.

Peace, Steve+

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Filed under Baseball, Loose thoughts and musings, philosophy, PTSD, star trek

Tagged as afghanistan, ch-46, ch-47, commander spock, dustoff, habbinyah, hummv, hyper-vigilance, insomina, iraq, mass casualty events, medivac, mh-53, PTSD, ramadi, route michigan, seinfeld, sh-60 seahawk, shock surgery trauma platoon, star trek, uh-60 blackhawk, vietnam, writing

Tag Archives: iraq

Revisiting the Demons of PTSD: Returning to Iraq in Virginia a Year and a Half Later

Tom Watson: Gentleman, Champion and Supporter of the Troops

Going to War: A Bus Ride to the Carolina Countryside

Going to War: Last Night together and a Kiss Goodbye

Going to War: Wills, Living Wills, Immunizations Gone Bad and Christmas in July

Brothers to the End…the Bond between those Who Serve Together in Unpopular Wars

Sometimes You Wanna go Where Everybody Knows Your Name

Going to War: Interlude July 4th 2007

Going to War: Reflections on My Journey to Iraq and Back- Part One

The Gifts of PTSD: Insomnia is a Terrible Thing to Waste and the Hidden Value of Hyper-vigilance

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