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June 12, 2004
Six shopping months until Christmas . . .
. . . and it's not too early to be thinking about Toys for Tots. This program that collects new, unwrapped toys during the fall and winter months to distribute as Christmas gifts to needy children around the communities in which the campaign is conducted. Last year, over 5.7 million children benefitted. According to the Toys for Tots Web site "The 2003 U.S. Marine Corps Reserve Toys for Tots Campaign was the most successful campaign in the 56-year history of Toys for Tots. Local campaigns were conducted in 456 communities covering all 50 states, the District of Columbia and Puerto Rico. This was 42 more local campaigns than the previous record."
Last year in the 29 Palms region, Toys For Tots collected more than 29,000 toys to distribute to 13,000 children throughout the high- and low-desert communities.
It's not too early to think about this Christmas - I'm buying one or two new gifts each month for the Toys for Tots campaigns in my area. With all the deployed and transferring Marines, there will be an increased need this year for help. "We anticipated a multitude of fundraising challenges based on our experiences during 2002," said retired Lt. Gen. Matthew T. Cooper, president and CEO, Toys for Tots, in a letter to the volunteers. "Concurrently, we were uncertain about the availability of Marine Reservists to conduct the annual campaign due to impending mobilization and deployment to the Middle East for combat operations. This apprehension gave us a special sense of urgency about the 2003 campaign."
2003 was a success but 2004 will also be a challenge.Military and civilian volunteers will be needed for collecting and sorting toys, and fundraisers. Last year, private businesses in our area put out collection barrels for toys that were then delivered to reserve Marine units. I buy a couple new toys each month for Toys for Tots - it's a good thing and deserves support.
Posted by Deb at 04:36 PM | Comments (3) | TrackBack
Change of Command
Lt. Col. Scott Mykleby, commanding officer of the Marine Unmanned Aerial Vehicle Squadron 1, prepares to pass the flag to Lt. Col. John M. Neumann, a New Ulm, Minn., native, during a change of command ceremony at Twentynine Palms on June 9. Lt. Col. Mykleby had these parting words for his men;
"Watchdogs, when you go back down range you stick close to Lt. Col. Neumann; pay attention to what your leaders are telling you and remember your training. You guys are going to continue to set records like you have during the last few years here. My spirit goes with you when you go back down range."
Posted by Deb at 04:33 PM | Comments (1) | TrackBack
Battlefield Medics
My son, currently training at MCAGCC at Twentynine Palms for his return to Iraq this summer, called last night to describe his most recent adventure. He went through a couple days of combat first aid training - one of the tasks involved learning how to insert IV lines. The Marines practiced on each other - Shane's partner missed the vein the first time, hit it the second time, and drained a pint of saline into his arm muscle the third time. Shane said he felt like Popeye.
When it was Shane's turn to practice, he hit the vein the first time but when he removed the tube, the needle stayed in the vein. He said the place looked like a slaughterhouse as the patient said, "Hey, let's see just how much blood I have." I asked Shane what lesson he took away from this and he replied, "The human body is like a balloon and it can burst."
Marines in Iraq are practicing too. Here, Sgt. Donnie A. Crumley, a mechanic with the motor transportation section, IMEF HQ, waits as fellow mechanic Cpl. Carlos Santiago inserts an IV into his arm during the combat life savers course held at Camp Fallujah.
Posted by Deb at 04:28 PM | Comments (2)
This is what an IED explosion looks like
MWSS 374 Marines take cover as an IED is detonated in Khaldiya, Iraq in a cooperative operation with Iraqi police. The Marines, from the MCAGCC in Twentynine Palms, CA have been in Iraq since early this year.
Posted by Deb at 04:02 PM | Comments (4) | TrackBack
New MilBlog
Via Blackfive, here's a new weblog worth reading: GI Jill's Adventures in Baghdad.
Posted by Deb at 03:43 PM | Comments (1) | TrackBack
June 10, 2004
Five Days in Fallujah
If you haven't picked up the July/August edition of The Atlantic Monthly, add it to your shopping list. And, pick up a few extra copies to send to deployed Marines - there is an excellent article by correspondent Robert Kaplan who describes the courage of the 1/5 Marines who went into Fallujah under the command of LtCol. Brennan Byrne, following the horrific ambush and murder of the civilian contractors. Here are a few excerpts from the article.
The briefing on April 2 at Abu Ghraib's Combat Operations Center was low-key and terrifically businesslike. The taking of a middle-sized city of 285,000 is an amazingly complex affair. Was there enough barbed wire on hand to create makeshift detention facilities? "We need wire, wire, and more wire", Byrne said, "and that means we needs lots of stakes and pile drivers." Were there enough interpreters, MREs, mineral-water bottles, ammo, power amps, blue force trackers, and so on?
This would be an incredibly complex operation without the complications of enemy combatants. But the Marines were up to the task.
The process was like writing and performing a symphony; its complexity demanded that the main briefings be "fragged" out into smaller ones dealing with different aspects of the task. . . . All the elements came together fast, owing to a factor largely missing from civilian life: the incontestability of command. Meetings quickly resulted in priorities that in turn quickly led to decisions. As soon as the ranking officer decided on something, the debate moved on to the next point.
The strategy was clear to Kaplan.
One officer told me, "This is a flash-bang strategy. Stun the bad guys with aggressive fire, then Psy-ops the shit out of them, always coming back to the theme of the inevitability of the superior tribe."
And the Marines were clearly the superior tribe.
"Gents, let me tell you what this is really about," Byrne said. "It's about killing shitheads." He made reference to the Commanding General, or CG, of the 1st Marine Division, Major General James N. Mattis. Mattis, who constantly drilled humanitarian concerns into his men, nevertheless knew when the time had come for pure aggression. "The CG", Byrne went on, "has changed the Op Order from 'capture or kill' the enemy to 'kill or capture. He wants the emphasis on 'kill'".
At 1:00 a.m. on April 5, the Marines stepped off. A few hours later, Kaplan wrote:
At dawn, coughing and freezing, I walked over to Byrne's Humvee. He was sitting in the backseat, his head half hidden inside a balaclava, shivering and coated with dust like the rest of us, and listening and talking to three different radio nets at once. Military command is about making split-second executive decisions, the consequences of which might psychologically immobilize your average CEO - and making those decisions during periods of extreme physical discomfort.
Leadership lessons learned in the Corps translate well to the outside world. I've lost count of the times that, upon seeing my Proud USMC MOM sweatshirt or pin that proclaims My son is a U.S. Marine, that a CEO or industry executive has come up to me and quietly said, "Semper Fi".
Kaplan was preparing a MRE when the Marines he was with came under RPG and small-arms fire.
The fire directed at us did not let up. Over the ICOM, Smith learned that it was coming from a mosque on Michigan, about 300 yards away. The mosque was promptly targeted for a possible air strike and everyone began a fast march towards it.Smith did not have to order his Marines straight into the direction of the fire; it was a collective impulse - a phenomenon I would see again and again over the coming days. The idea that Marines are trained to break down doors, to seize beachheads and other territory, was an abstraction until I was there to experience it. Running into fire rather than seeking cover from it goes counter to every human survival instinct - trust me, I was sweating as much from fear as from the layers of clothing I still had on from the night before, to the degree that it felt as if pure salt was running into my eyes from my forehead. As the weeks had rolled on and I had gotten to know the 1/5 Marines as the individuals they were, I had started deluding myself that they weren't much different than me. They had soft spots, they got sick, they complained. But in one flash, as we charged across Michigan amid whistling incoming shots, I realized they were not like me; they were Marines.
Later, a large Iraqi family was ordered to leave their apartment so that Marines could search the building. Through his interepreter, Captain Jason Smith explained why to the head of the family:
"Sir, we are truly sorry that we had to ask your family to leave the building. You can all go back in now. We will compensate your for the inconvenience. We are United States Marines, a different breed than you are used to. We do not take kindly to people shooting at us. If you have any information on the Ali Babas, please share it with us. If you know any of the Ali Babas personally, please tell them to attack us as quickly as possible so that we may kill them and start repairing sewers, electricity, and other services in your city."
That's part of the first day. Buy the magazine and read the rest.
Posted by Deb at 10:56 AM | Comments (1)
Family Day with the 6th ESB
Last Sunday, Janise, Connie, and I spent the day hanging out with a few good Marines during Family Day for the 6th Engineer Support Battalion, 4th FSSG at Swan Island in Portland. We enjoyed lunch, connected with Marines and their families, and visited with dedicated volunteers from various support groups (Key Volunteers, Marine Corps Auxiliary, etc.) The Marines work hard and they also play hard – this day was a chance to unwind and share a bit of their lives with family and friends. We had a wonderful day and are appreciative of the hospitality shown by the 6th ESB. Here are a few pictures and Janice’s summary of the day’s events.
| The 6th ESB stands in formation as colors are presented during Family Day. |  |
 | Hungry Marines and their families line up for BBQ hamburgers and hotdogs. There was plenty of food and it was all good. |
| LCpl David Martin and his younger brother Mark. |  |
 | Many Marines are dog lovers and English bulldogs top the list of favorite breeds. The character traits of strength, perseverance, and tenacity are common to both Marines and their four-legged friends. |
| Connie and Deb selling sweatshirts and t-shirts as a fundraiser for troop support activities. |  |
 | A Young Marine playing with her baby sister. |
| Janise with her son, Lance Cpl. David Martin. |  |
Opening of Family Day with the 6th Engineer Support Battalion, 4th FSSG at Swan Island, June 6, 2004 began at 10 am sharp, with a "Family Formation" The colors were posted and the new Presidential Unit Citation colors, awarded to this unit in support of the 1st Marine Unit, were added to the Unit Flag. The 6th ESB was recognized for providing instrumental support for the success of the 1st Marines for operations between March 13 and April 22, 2003 during Operation Iraqi Freedom. Captain Renaldi asked the Marines to remember their contributions they made in freeing a country from 30 years of tyranny as they wear the Unit Citation Ribbons on their uniforms.During the opening ceremony, awards were presented to 4 Marines for their outstanding contributions during Operation Enduring Freedom and Operation Iraqi Freedom.
The families of fallen Marines from our local Portland/Washington area were recognized. These Marines and their families will never be forgotten - they are "our family". As the Sgt. Major read the names, there was a moment of silence.
* Captain Aaron Contreras, died March 30, 2003 in a helicopter crash in Iraq
* L Cpl Cedric Bruns, died May 9, 2003 in a vehicle collision in Kuwait.
* Cpl Travis Bradach-Nall, died July 2, 2003 from a land mine explosion in Iraq.
* Sgt. Curtis Jones, died April 4, 2004 of leukemia in Oregon
* L Cpl Bob Roberts, died May 17, 2004 due to hostile fire in Iraq.Before the unit command was turned over again to squad leaders, we were told that this unit stood just as thousands of others did this very day in 1944, doing the very thing they have been trained to do. He was referring to defending freedom on foreign soil,. Today marked the anniversary of D-day, when France was liberated from Nazi Germany, and over 1,000 US Marines lay down their lives. The opening remarks expressed sentiments and similarities in what was needed to keep freedom, and the highly skilled and trained men and women who carry out that duty. On Monday, nine US Marines from the 6th ESB left for Iraq to join others already redeployed from the unit to continue this quest. We wish them well and God's Blessings!
Posted by Deb at 10:54 AM | Comments (2) | TrackBack
June 09, 2004
Courage Under Fire
This is another epic tale of battlefield bravery. One Marine down. Another Marine who realizes he's wounded when the sweat running down his face turns out to be drops of blood. A third Marine who, although shot, elects to stay and fight with his men. And, a Marine who drops his flak jacket and carries the first Marine through inaccessible terrain. These are awesome men.
| With bloodstains visible on the lower portion of his left trouser leg, Sgt. Anthony Viggiani of Strongsville, Ohio, pauses to look at the camera moments after a fierce firefight with anti-coalition militia in central Afghanistan. "Despite recommendations from his fellow Marines, Viggiani refused to leave his platoon and seek aid at BLT 1/6's mobile command post. With a small dressing and a few aspirin, Viggiani shouldered his rifle and trudged further into the rugged mountains in pursuit of Taliban and ACM fighters." | 
Photo by |
 Photo by Gunnery Sgt. Keith A. Milks | 1/6 Marines, Charlie Company, First Sgt Ernest Hoopi carries Lance Cpl. James Wood of Tampa, Florida over rough Afghan terrain . Moments earlier, Wood was shot in the leg by anti-coalition militia in central Afghanistan. |
Lance Cpl. James Gould says the 7.62mm round that punched through his right calf felt like a sledgehammer blow.Several meters away, Gould's fire team leader, Cpl. Randy Wood, watched in horror as Gould fell to the ground as additional rounds impacted around the fallen Marine, pinging off rocks and kicking up small geysers of dirt. Unmindful of the enemy fire, Wood raced to his Marine's side and together, the two took cover behind a rock both described later as looking a lot bigger than it actually was.
"It didn't really hurt that much at first," said Gould, a 20-year-old native of Tampa, Florida. "I thought I'd been hit by a piece of rock or something and the next thing I knew Corporal Wood was right there with me."
As Wood began tearing at Gould's trousers to get at the wound, he felt warm liquid pouring down his face and at first discounted it as sweat until he saw drops of blood plunking to the ground.
"That's when I first felt it," said Wood, who until then was unaware a ricochet had sliced through his cheek below his left eye. "As soon as I saw the blood it started to burn."
The two Marines, riflemen in Charlie Co., Battalion Landing Team 1st Bn., 6th Marines had just earned the dubious distinction of being their company's first wounded in action since the unit's arrival in Afghanistan as part of the 22nd Marine Expeditionary Unit (Special Operations Capable).
Advancing along a steep, rocky hillside in pursuit of anti-coalition militia (ACM) fighters during the latest offensive against enemy fighters in south-central Afghanistan, the two had been shot by an enemy sniper hidden in a cave on the hillside opposite a small valley.
"All the other Marines started returning fire to cover us," said Wood, who hails from Cowpens, S.C., "and we started looking around for doc [Navy corpsman attached to their platoon]."
"I raised my head one time and the guy [ACM fighter] hit the rock right in front of us so we were pinned down pretty good."
Further up the hill, Hospitalman Brian Imber braved the incoming fire to reach the two Marines, but it was slow going.
"I knew I had to take care of my Marine," said Wood.
While Wood was digging bandages out of Gould's first aid kit, Imber reached the two wounded Marines.
"There wasn't enough room for all three of us behind the rock so we ordered Doc to stay where he was," said Gould.
With Imber shouting instructions, Wood hastily treated Gould's wounded leg as rounds continued to impact around them. Checking to ensure there was both an entrance and exit wound, thus verifying the round had passed through the leg, Wood wrapped a bandage around Gould's leg.
Meanwhile, other Marines from 2nd Platoon poured rifle fire at the ACM sniper's cave until the matter was finally settled with a hand grenade. A closer examination of the cave later revealed there were in fact three ACM fighters in the cave. A fourth ACM fighter was discovered killed by rifle fire approximately 50 meters up the valley and another was found badly wounded. A third Marine was also slightly wounded in the fight.
With the enemy dispatched, the full focus of the platoon turned to the wounded Marines. While the third injured Marine, Sgt. Anthony Viggiani of Strongsville, Ohio, was allowed to remain in the fight with his platoon, both Wood and Gould were ordered back to the operation's mobile command post for further treatment.
The subsequent evacuation of the pair became perhaps the most difficult part of the day.
In their pursuit of the enemy, Charlie Co. had pushed far up and into a rugged mountain pass and with Gould unable to bear weight on his wounded leg, the area inaccessible to helicopters, and the use of a stretcher down the steep and rocky slopes out of the question, the solution lay on the shoulders of Charlie Co.'s senior enlisted Marine.
Pukalani, Hawaii native First Sgt. Ernest Hoopii, without hesitation, dropped his flak jacket, handed off his rifle, and picked up the wounded Gould. With elements of Sgt. Ryan West's rifle squad providing security and escorting two battlefield detainees, Hoopii carried Gould down the mountain on his back, stopping only once or twice for small breaks.
"That was the hardest hump of my life," said the 42-year-old Hoopii.
For nearly two hours in the sweltering Afghanistan afternoon sun, Hoopii carried Gould down the mountain, until he passed the duty off to 2nd Lt. Michael Keller and a pair of Afghan Militia Force (AMF) soldiers. Eventually, Marines would hire a local farmer's donkey to carry Gould on the final leg of his journey.
"Hey, you do what you gotta do to take care your boys," Hoopii said humbly as he chugged water from a proffered canteen.
In time, Wood returned to 2nd Platoon while Gould was evacuated to Forward Operating Base Ripley and then Kandahar Air Field where he is well on his way to a full recovery.
Thanks to Gunnery Sgt. Keith A. Milks for his battlefield reporting. I wonder how many acts of bravery go unreported because no one writes them down.
Posted by Deb at 11:58 AM | Comments (7) | TrackBack
It's about time
Check out this story in the June 14 issue of The National Review.
Ask Americans to name some of our soldiers in Iraq and chances are they'll readily identify Lynndie England, Charles Graner Jr., Jeremy Sivits, and Ivan "Chip" Frederick II. The three major networks have run over 200 stories on the detainee-abuse scandal, making the seven disgraced soldiers assigned to Abu Ghraib the most recognizable faces of American service in Iraq. The media's line of attack against the war is revealed in its selective coverage of our soldiers: All villains and victims, no valor. Not one of the heroes decorated for bravery in Iraq has received a minute of coverage from ABC, CBS, or NBC. National newspapers have run hundreds of stories on the scandalous service of the Abu Ghraib seven, but have made no mention of another seven whose stories of service could be recounted with Steven Seagal cast in the lead. In early May, Marine Captain Brian Chontosh, Marine Lance Corporal Joseph Perez, and Marine Sergeant Marco Martinez were awarded Navy Crosses for extraordinary heroism, an award second only to the Medal of Honor. Army Sergeant Gerald Wolford, Army Sergeant Major Michael Stack, Marine Staff Sergeant Adam Sikes, and Marine Corporal Armand McCormick ? and 123 others ? have been awarded Silver Stars for outstanding valor in combat. The stories of these courageous men represent the dedication of the tens of thousands of soldiers serving bravely and honorably in Iraq far better than the actions of a derelict nightshift in two isolated cell blocks.
The stories of that outstanding valor follow. Read it all.
Thanks to digital-marine for the link.
Posted by Deb at 09:27 AM | Comments (3)
Commitment is love acted out
Chaplain Steven P. Unger has been on the ground in Iraq for 4 months, caring for the souls of our troops. Here are his Memorial Day observations.
30 May 2004Dear Friends,
This is my third letter from Iraq. I have been working myself into the right mood to do this. Today is the day. In my last two letters I have leaned toward being as upbeat as possible. This time will be different; today I want to talk about Memorial Day, but I will start off by giving my perspective on the Abu Ghraib prison problem.
First off, the investigation into the abuses at Abu Ghraib began back in January. That is why the first court martial was ready for trial in May. The senior people here knew about the investigation; the rest of us didn't. By the time the media "broke" the story, the investigation was almost done and the soldiers who had committed the abuses had already been rotated home.
Second, I (we) don't see all the news coverage that you in the states see. I do see some Fox News and CNN. Fox editorializes toward the right wing; CNN is the voice of the anti-war movement. I wonder that if CNN had been around in 1942 we might all be speaking German and Japanese. I can tell you this, everything I have heard on CNN is so biased, negative, and out-of-touch that I will never watch CNN for the rest of my life. That being said, when the rest of us found out about the abuses we were shocked and sickened. I think maybe more so than people back home because we are here; these are the people I see every day. The people I see every day who are going out to fix: schools, hospitals, reservoirs, power plants, and sewer systems. They do these things risking sniper fire and hidden explosives. These soldiers are not a handful of bad apples like those at Abu Ghraib, these soldiers number into the thousands. Now think for a second, how much have you seen about that on the news? I believe Abu Ghraib should have been reported, but when I see the fixation of the media on the actions of a few, when the courage shown in reconstruction and the restraint shown in combat by thousands of our people is never shown, I
believe this is inexcusable. For the real story of what our people are doing here, go to www.cjtf7.com/index.htm. Click on Coalition News and then Humanitarian Efforts.Third, what happened on that cellblock of Abu Ghraib is what happens when leadership is not out walking around. That is true in the military or in college dorms. I haven't seen it reported in the news, but other soldiers turned in the soldiers who did this. If the dirt bags that committed those abuses had been turned loose among the troops here it would've been ugly. I haven't heard any comments about them coming from soldiers that didn't express a hope that they would get the maximum punishment. A few leaders need to get demoted too.
As per the "outrage", if you were "outraged" by this, good. I was. However, I would like to ask Arab governments and our own media elites, "Were you just as outraged by what happened under Saddam? If so, you didn't show it."
Here is what people need to understand: the interrogation of prisoners of war is a little tougher than what the typical thug gets by the local police. I went to Survival, Evasion, Rescue, and Escape (SERE) School back in 1995. I am more proud of completing that course than anything I have ever done. Also, I would never do it again. After playing hide and seek with "bad guys" in California in March, we all got caught, knocked around, froze, went hungry, sleep deprived, threatened with worse, and then interrogated. Here's the deal: when interrogation is done correctly, people don't break so much as they leak. (The purpose of SERE is to teach you how not to leak. That is the classified part of the school.) The interrogator wants them to leak in a way so that the prisoner doesn't even know he is leaking. When someone breaks, as opposed to leaking, they usually give out a data dump of gibberish and then physiologically shuts down. A good interrogator avoids that. If you hurt them or scare them too badly, they quit leaking. Interrogators ask the same question about ten times, ten different ways. Disoriented people leak and they don't even know it. What most Americans think of when they think of POWs being interrogated is what they remember of our pilots in North Vietnam. The abuse our people went through in Vietnam wasn't to get intelligence; it was to exploit them for propaganda purposes. I mention this to put the term "abuse" in context. When a terrorist here in Iraq or jaywalkers back in the states report jailhouse "abuse," what does it mean? When we catch a guy red-handed restocking his weapons stock and question him, withholding his TV privileges isn't enough. He won't be happy, but neither will he be destroyed or scared for life. He will tell his buddies, "I didn't tell them anything." In fact he will have told us a lot.
As I said, I had to work myself into a mindset to talk about this. To work around horror without out letting the horror seep into your soul is a spiritual battle. This week I worked with a National Guard soldier who had to clean up after a convoy of civilian aid workers were killed when an Improvised Explosive Device (IED) went off on the road into Baghdad. He is a carpenter in civilian life, but this week he was out on a highway picking up arms and legs while watching out for snipers. He was cleaning up after monsters. Some other young Americans were put in charge of guarding monsters and then became monsters. Care of the soul is serious business. That is part of the reason why I became a Navy Chaplain.
The other reason is the people. The folks I have known in the military are more interesting to be around than anybody else I know. This leads me to Memorial Day. Earlier this month I went to Camp Cooke at Taji. (To lend perspective, Taji is really north Baghdad; I am in west Baghdad.) The 39th Brigade (Arkansas National Guard) is stationed there. I didn't know any of them, but I wanted to see my home-state Guard here in Iraq. So I badgered my way into flying up there for two days. They are stationed in the old Iraqi army air defense school. Unlike downtown Baghdad, the old air defense school was turned into rubble. It is getting better, but it was like living in a junkyard.
Their first month in Iraq was tough. These soldiers patrol the roughest part of Baghdad. While I was there, the Chaplain of the 39th told me this story: One of the old troopers who came was a 52 year-old Sgt. who had already done his 20+ years and had retired. But his son was in the 39th, and when the father found out they were coming over here, he reenlisted. On their first week in country, Camp Cooke was attacked by rockets and the first rocket that landed killed the father.
I was born in 1958 and came of age when the Vietnam War and the anti-war movement were both in full swing. It has taken me years to put this into words, but I believe that as bad as that war was, the legacy of the anti-war movement was worse. The anti-war movement gave rise to the moral superiority of non-involvement and non-commitment. While that may have worked to help draft-dodgers sleep at night, it's not much of a strategy of how to go through life. Taken to its logical conclusion the message is: don't commit to your county, don't commit to your spouse, and don't commit to your kids, church, or community. Don't commit to cleaning up your own mess or any cause that demands any more from you than rhetoric. This was the mindset in which our country was firmly stuck. Until 9/11, some woke up. Kids came down and joined the service. To the dismay of some of their teachers, parents, and the media elites, they came down here and raised their hand in front of the flag. And they are still coming to the shock of the non-committers. The Marines have more enlisting than their two boot camps can handle.
And we are all here together for Memorial Day 2004. Old National Guardsmen, grandfathers, and single moms, Texans and Mexicans, Surfers and Rednecks. A few weeks ago an Illinois National Guardsman, mother of three, was hit six times, saved by her body armor, but lost part of her nose. She stayed on her 50 caliber, firing on the bad guys, protecting the convoy. She said she was thinking of her kids and the guys she was with. Commitment is love acted out. It is sad that the non-committers missed that. They and their moral high-ground haven't been near a mass grave. The kids I see and eat with every day still want to help this country, in spite of getting shot at while doing it. That is love acted out. You either get it, or you don't.
During my time in Iraq I won't be able to see any of the Biblical sites that are here. But a few weeks ago in Taji I got to stand on some holy ground, where a father died when he went to war just to be with his son.
Sincerely yours,
Steven P. Unger
LCDR, CHC, USN
Multi National Corps-Iraq
Posted by Deb at 08:36 AM | Comments (1) | TrackBack
June 07, 2004
He'll always be 28
Sgt. Allan Walker and Sgt. Scott McLaughlin served together as drill instructors at the San Diego Marine Recruit Training Depot. They drank together, served together, shared their lives. Then, Sgt. Walker went to Iraq with the 2/4 Marines. On April 6, he was killed in the Al Anbar province of Iraq. A day later his best friend, Sgt. Scott McLaughlin, wrote these words.
He said he wanted to be a writer, and he drank Tullamore Dew in his barracks room. His favorite pair of shoes has been high-top Chuck Taylor's for as long as I can remember. He loved The Templar's, Pennywise, Bad Religion, and Dropkick Murphy's. Allan was the only person I think I'll have ever met who was able to sleep through the fire alarms in any of the squad bays on the Depot or up at Weapons and Field Training Battalion.He would quote such random authors on such random subjects, that I often wondered what he actually preferred. He never told any of us when his birthday was, but he always seemed to know it was ours. The posters on his wall always
fell down, were ripped beyond repair, and were borderline pornographic at times, but he kept putting them back up, as if changing them, or throwing them away would somehow lessen his worth.He never expected to get paid back, and he'd spend his last $7.50 to buy the two of you Irish Car Bombs, or pints of Guinness. He always sent his hats home early, and never missed a series duty. His laundry was always on his couch — always. And who owns a 13-inch TV these days? His driving skills left much to be desired; in fact, I have never felt more in danger than when he was driving. The guy was no Fittipaldi.
I have to pause and say that I don't write. I never have, and I don't really have plans to after this. I'm not sure why I'm saying this. Maybe it's the wine. Though this is an alien thing for me to do, I have to do it, and I have to share some things with you all.
If you say you knew Allan, you're a liar. I can't even say that I knew him. Leonard didn't know him, and neither did Leo, April, Stephanie, Zeke, Andy, or anyone else whose heart he touched. It would be selfish of me to even suggest that I knew Allan. You see, Allan was so much more than any of us could ever imagine.
His heart and his soul were larger than … Well, I can't even think of what they're bigger than. He was always the first one to back you up, or say he'd back you up, or stand by your side when you thought you might need back-up, or lurk somewhere near when it was possible that there might arise the occasion for back-up to be necessary. His love for his "Friends" (those of you who allowed him into your heart, and likewise yourself into his vast love) seemed to be unending. Every time he allowed himself into our lives, he allowed us to truly live.
Allan was always the first one to throw down what he was doing and focus on what was going on with us. He came to my apartment all the time. And now, even though it's only been one day, I've looked at my back gate where he used to wait for me to let him in, and I can't help but start to cry. I drive in my car, and every CD I listen to is a CD we listened to. I barbecued chicken last night and I cried because I barbecued chicken for the two of us all the time. We drank beer on my balcony and played Cranium with my wife and her friend. I hummed a song, and he guessed it right.
I always talked to him about my problems. Allan never was judgmental, and he was such a voice of reason that my problems paled in comparison to the bigger picture only he could see. When I walked into the Locker Room, the first person I saw was Zeke. For those of you who don't know Zeke, he's definitely not the person you'd expect the following to come from. He wrapped his arms around me and held me in an embrace that leveled me. And there we stood – two Marines, two warriors, drill instructors, men, whatever you want to categorize us as, we stood there and didn't say a damned word, and we cried in each other’s arms. Two men crying in each other’s arms. Our wives watched us, and our friends watched us, and strangers watched us, but we didn't care.
I only went to the Depot to use Mapquest that day. I never expected it to turn out the way it did. As I was driving by the base theatre, I saw some friends walking from RTR and only slowed to say “Hi.” In the next seven seconds, my life was rocked, and I'll never be the same again. I don't need to tell any of you who read this what I was told. It's the same thing many of us wish we’d never known.I actually told Laurie I wish I never knew Allan died. I wish I just thought he forgot me somehow and went on with his life and got married, had babies and touched more lives. I wish I could imagine him making someone happy when his bald head should have been gray. I wish I could have imagined Allan sitting in his garage listening to Pennywise on a vintage cd player at a time when music is beamed into your head through radio waves. Or going to a bookstore and seeing a book with his name on it. Or reading in a newspaper, when my eyes aren’t so good anymore, that Allan Walker, who was born April 9, 1975, died from complications of something or other, in such and such a place and was survived by so many grandkids. I wish I could read about him starting such or such company, or him being the recipient of such and such award.
You know, I really don't care anymore. I miss him damn it. I'm sitting here trying to help myself deal with this by writing this to all of you, and sharing my life with Allan, however short it was.
I always imagined that my friends from childhood would be my groomsmen, but here I was, asking him. I didn't even give it a second thought. Somehow I just knew it would be right. Somehow I just knew that he was right. And on the big day, even though he wore the disco outfit the night before, Allan was an hour late to the suite to get ready. It was classic Allan though. He was late the day that my life with him started, and he was late the day my new life would start. I could only laugh and give him a hard time about it. He felt really bad though, and you could tell. He held himself responsible for everything, big or small.
April just told me his birthday was tomorrow. He would've been 29 tomorrow. Well, by Iraqi time, he would be 29 as I write this. HAPPY BIRTHDAY BROTHER. HAPPY BIRTHDAY BROTHER. HAPPY BIRTHDAY.
I'm staring at the cursor blinking, and I'm suddenly grasped by the thought that somehow my life will be that of the cursor. Forever blinking, waiting for him. It’s silly. We went to Plum Crazy in Pacific Beach and got really drunk. I put about two hours of songs in the jukebox, and NOFX and Van Halen played forever. Alan and I played pool poorly and gave each other play punches in the arm when we'd make or miss a shot. It really didn't matter. I think it was just the contact of two friends that drove us on.
I can hear my wife in the other room talking to a friend about Allan’s death. She said, "Out of all the Marines, it was him."
The new Spiderman trailer just premiered, and it features a line from Tobey McGuire, "No matter what I do, no matter how hard I try, it'll always be the ones I love who will pay." Allan and I watched the first Spiderman movie all the time during our last cycle as seniors.
Is this going to get any easier? Mack's Ally was supposed to be the bar we were going to open when we retired. It combined my nickname, Mack, with a play on his first name, Ally. Outside his barracks room we even mapped out the floor plan. Johnny Cash, NOFX, and Pennywise were going to be the first CDs on the jukebox, and no Will Smith was allowed. We had plans, man. We had plans. How do you expect me to go on? You never said goodbye.
The news is talking about tragedy this and conflict that. Laurie's crying on the couch, and I'm holding tears back as I type. I am a selfish bastard. I am more concerned with how Allan's death will affect me than I am with how his loss will affect the rest of the world. He had so much to give and so much to contribute and so much kindness and understanding and wisdom and love and heart and friendship and laughter.
I just saw that one of my recruits died with Allan. Isn't that something. Maybe Allan died trying to save him. Maybe I failed somewhere. But that's just me being selfish again.
I am not a writer, and I didn't know Allan, but I was his friend, and he was mine, and indirectly I am yours and you are mine. The cursor still blinks on my screen, and as hands shake over the keyboard, the news keeps spewing unimportant crap, and Allan is still 28, forever. I'm 29, and one day I'll be 70. Allan is 28. Every April 9th, he'll be 28. I miss you brother. We had plans; we had plans. Happy Birthday Brother. Happy Birthday.
At a memorial service for Sgt. Walker, Sgt. McLaughlin, a bandsman when not on the drill field. played Taps on his trumpet in honor of his fallen brother. “I hadn’t touched my trumpet in years,” said McLaughlin. “But I wanted to do this for Allan and his family. I wouldn’t have the ceremony any other way.” Photo by Sgt. Ethan Rocke
Posted by Deb at 01:07 PM | Comments (9) | TrackBack
June 06, 2004
A moment in the life of an Iraqi
Yesterday, my brother saw the American soldiers passed through a man whose car was trapped in a hole and the man was looking left and right and bewildered, the American soldiers stopped there and got down their vehicles and started to lift the car helping the poor Iraqi who was alone, my brother stopped beside them immediately, took the camera and said: ‘ can I take a photo’ they said: ‘ OK’ then my brother clicked the camera’s button..click..click click.. What’s up? Nothing happened ! He opened the camera....... NO BATTERIES!! ..GOD.. He said ‘ I looked like an idiot’! ‘I forgot the batteries at home..’..!!However.. Imagine that..
‘It was so wonderful’ my brother said.
Posted by Deb at 08:36 AM | Comments (10) | TrackBack
Camp Blue Diamond update
Civilian casualties are an unfortuate aspect of any war, but this one had a happier ending than most. A few weeks ago, Marines and enemy forces were engaged in hostilities near a Ramadi farm. The family cow got caught in the crossfire and was killed - a bad situation made worse since the farmer was a on a special dairy diet and the cow kept him alive by providing milk and cheese. In most cases, the military compensates civilians for damages caused, but this case was a bit different. The farmer needed a new cow instead of cash, but there are rules against direct buying of goods. However, the Marines came though - with a bit of help from Jim Hake at Spirit of America.
Lt. Col. Alan G. Burghard Sr., the commander of 1MARDIV Government Services Team knew that Spirit of America had donated school, dental, and medical supplies as part of nation building activities. And the Marines are good at asking for what they need. But they'd never asked for a cow.
“I related the story to Jim and I got a one-sentence response,” explained Burghard. “He said, ‘Buy the cow.’"
So, the farmer now has a cow that provides the dairy products he needs. Extra milk and cheese can be traded or bartered. The cow may be the start of a small herd.
“What we’re doing isn’t just building bridges,” Burghard added. “It’s building bridges between people. Creative solutions are being found by units.”
Posted by Deb at 07:41 AM | Comments (2) | TrackBack