Who Fights This War: 4th Tour at 26 Years Old

Today I met a maintenance sergeant, a tall, very upbeat guy from the New York City area. He has "sleeve" tattoos: colorful ink all the way from his shoulders to his wrists. He recently turned 26 and is new to helicopter maintenance, but likes his work. He may try to get civilian work in this field after the deployment, but also hopes to get work as a National Guard technician. Or maybe he will find another unit that's deploying. That would make four deployments. This current deployment is his third. In 2004-5 he was in Iraq as a medic. Within 12 months he had a tour in Afghanistan as an infantryman, returning in 2007. He could not find steady work in 2008, so he volunteered to deploy again, which included retraining as an aviation mechanic. And you should not feel bad for him. By all indications I could get, he thinks this is a perfectly good way to make a living. I have talked to many soldiers in their 20s on this deployment who have no ambition to higher education and simply want honest work with their hands. One of the reasons this long war could be fought is the years and years of declining employment opportunities for blue-collar workers. If President Obama manages to end the two wars he inherited, he will add new pressure to the unemployment bubble. It seems pretty sure if the wars don't end and blue collar jobs with a living wage don't return to America, this young sergeant will turn 30 in Afghanistan on his fifth deployment.

Book Groups and the Education Center

A couple of weeks ago I was worried I was giving a Pollyanna impression of life in Iraq. During the last two weeks you could wonder if chicken shit and job confusion are the sum of my days. That would be just as wrong. Yesterday, after all the job drama was over, I finished my work in the motor pool, then spent a couple of hours before dinner transferring and shrinking photos for the company newsletter.

At dinner I saw a young woman in my squad eating dinner with two older female sergeants. This might be the third time I have seen them as a dinner group in the last week. The young sergeant-to-be is 23 and will be a lot better off with female mentors.

Next was the first meeting of "Beyond Narnia" as CS Lewis reading group I started. There were four soldiers at the first meeting and four more who should be coming next week. Three of the four people were from the Dante group, so the fourth, a chaplain with a unit that arrived recently, introduced himself, then I told the group about CS Lewis's life and work after which they asked questions for about 20 minutes. It was a lot of fun. One asked about Shadowlands (the CSL movie) and about his family. Another asked for more details about CSL's conversion.

We will be reading the book of essays titled The Weight of Glory and out first essay will be "Learning in War Time." Thanks go out again to the father of one of the lieutenants in our unit who sent us most of the books. Three more were sent by Brigitte Van Tiggelen, a historian who regularly visits the library/museum where I work.

Today I worked in the motor pool until 3pm then drove over to the repair hangards on the other side fo the base to shoot pictures of a CH-47 Chinook helicopter going through major maintenance. I got some good shots of a crew removing the rotor hubs from the top of the bird. Tomorrow I will get more shots of the overhaul work.

After the photos, I went to the education center. I helped a couple of soldiers with word problems then spoke to the woman who coordinates the tutoring sessions. Barring schedule changes, I should be able to volunteer an hour on Tuesday and two hours on Thursday.

At the Dante group tonight, the first order of business was voting on the next book. Aeneid won by one vote over Purgatorio. But everyone agreed we would go back to Purgatorio after Aeneid. We should be able to read Inferno, Aeneid, Purgatorio and start Paradiso before I rotate out, and maybe someone else can take over.

We got our first question for the translator tonight. Tony Esolen, who translated the version we are reading, agreed to take questions by email if I can't answer them. Tonight's question: Cleopatra and Dido are suicides, why are they in the higher part of Hell where Lust is punished (easier punishment) not five levels down with the suicides?

Life is mostly good.

My Job, or Jobs

With my squad leader getting knee surgery 6,000 miles away, I am in charge of the nine members of 4th squad. But with additional duties, leaves, and temporary assignments, my squad is usually three or four specialists, one of whom should make sergeant soon and maybe another before the tour is over.

So that is job one. Job two is being sergeant tool bitch which lately mostly means taking care of the operating system of the big tool box--the compressor, generator and such--and making up hand receipts to inventory all the special tools stuffed in Conex containers. But a big part of this job is actually being in the motor pool from 7am to 3pm every day except Thursday and every 4th Sunday.

Job three is where it gets messy. My company commander and first sergeant want me to do various extra duties within the company, first and foremost the next issue of the newsletter and also serve as Morale, Welfare and Recreation sergeant. The battalion commander wants me to do public affairs for the battalion. Although there are no official hours for the battalion job, it ends up conflicting with the motor pool.

I have a chain of command and for those of you who work in a modern multi-tasking office setting, I suppose you would assume I manage my own time and balance the needs of one job against the other and do the best I can at all of them.

I tried that.

The result was a rather loud discussion with the battalion motor officer last week about how much my presence was required in the motor pool.

My platoon sergeant regularly reminds me that my squad comes first.

The first sergeant is emphatic that the company comes first.

I spoke with the sergeant major at the battalion today about where I might be shooting photos for the battalion in the near future, taking for granted I would be working for the battalion.

My company commander told me how important it is for the team to stay together and he said my first priority is my duties as a leader in the motor pool and company welfare activities.

Today I walked into the DFAC at 1pm. The battalion commander was eating lunch with his assistant. The BC said, "Hey Goose, come over here." So he asked my about bicycling--he has a bike here also--then said "How come you don't want to work for me?" He had gotten the idea I did not want to work for the battalion. I told him otherwise but said I was expecting all of the "senior guys" (He's in his early 40s) to work out what I should be doing. I like my work for the battalion, but it is work. I can't do it as an et cetera that does not intrude on the motor pool schedule.

Sometimes it's fun to be popular.

Lately it's not.

Did I mention that everyone in my chain of command is expecting me to be doing all of my assigned work. This is not a civilian job where I try to get the best results with limited resources and get rated as such. I am really expected to obey all of those guys. They all have said what they want. I think they have all been around enough to know what they are telling me is in direct conflict with what five other people are telling me. But each assumes because he said it, I am doing it.

Jobs one and two are a full-time job for the other three squad leaders. The BC asked me today if I was politicking. I could honestly answer I was not. I want someone to decide what I am supposed to be doing and what I am not supposed to be doing. And then I will do whatever they decide for just five and half more months.

Then we go home.

I'll let you know how things turn out.

Eviction Notice

Today my roommate and I returned to the CHU just a few minutes apart around 130pm. I was shooting pictures at the Softball Tournament, he was coming back from being in the motor pool since 7am. I was the first to see an all capital letters paper taped to our door that began:

IT HAS COME TO OUR ATTENTION THAT ONLY ONE SOLDIER IS LIVING IN THIS ROOM. THIS ROOM HAS BEEN DESIGNATED FOR IMMEDIATE OCCUPANCY BY A SECOND AUTHORIZED SOLDIER. IF AN UNAUTHORIZED SOLDIER OR CIVILIAN IS LIVING IN THIS ROOM HIS OR HER BELONGINGS WILL BE REMOVED. . .YOU HAVE 48 HOURS TO REPORT TO THE BILLETING OFFICE AND RESOLVE THIS MATTER.

"IT HAS COME TO OUR ATTENTION. . ." are they kidding? How? Do they have spies? "They" is, of course, the garrison, who you will remember from all my other posts about Chicken Shit are responsible for health and welfare issues and for security.

My roommate and I are each either side of six feet tall, either side of 200 pounds and come in two distinctly different colors. Any idiot who could tape a sign to a door on a Sunday morning could have visited us in the evening, knocked on the door and determined that there are, in fact, two armed maintenance sergeants from Echo Company living in this CHU and have been since May 3.



Why the accusation followed by threats? Well certainly our garrison is to effective communications as Richard Simmons is to masculinity. But the accusation that followed does have a practical advantage. While my roommate and I are clearly right, we both know that even if the garrison won't bother to contact us personally they will have no hesitation to fulfill the vague threat on the door.

Since I have a bike, I rode the half mile to the billeting office as instructed and let my roommate chill out. As it turns out, my roommates hand receipt (the piece of paper which says you are occupying the room) is missing, s he also needs to walk over to billeting within 48 hours or find himself evicted for no reason except that paperwork which is not his responsibility to maintain is missing.

When I asked billeting about the threats on the door, a civilian employee rolled her eyes and said, "Garrison" under her breath. I asked nothing else. She said my paperwork is in order and my roommate will have to walk over and straighten his paperwork out--within 48 hours.

If You Love Kitties, Don't Read. . .

My wife sent me a lovely email about my son Nigel. He loves animals. My wife found a mouse nest in the garage and let Nigel care for a baby mouse. He spent much of today with the mouse, watching it in its new clear-plastic-container home. Nigel is a sweet kid. Luckily for him, his eyesight and hearing will not allow him to join the military when he gets older. Because animal lovers have a tough time in this crowd.

Now we switch to tonight's dinner. In the usual random way that dinner groups form by whoever recognizes each other siting together, I was sitting with two senior female sergeants: by senior I mean in rank, they are both in their mid-30s. We were joined by our commander and executive officer: two Penn State grads who are 25 and 24 respectively. One of the sergeants brought up our commander's age. I thought I was twice as old as he is, but it turns out I am three years older than twice as old as he is. So then everybody played a game of "What was Sergeant Gussman doing when I was born?" The youngest guy added "What was sergeant Gussman doing when my mother was born? I was four at the time."

With everybody laughing the topic switched to animals in Iraq. The commander had not seen any cats here, only insects and reptiles. One of the sergeants had been assigned to a remote fueling site early in the deployment. The site had a mascot, a small kitten. Fuelers work 24 hours filling helicopters with JP-8 fuel. Their primary vehicle is an 8-wheel-drive, all-terrain HEMMT fuel truck. During one of the night fuel missions the kitten was hiding under one of the HEMMT's six-foot high tires when the truck rolled out.

The next day a very sad sergeant announced with tears "We have lost one of our team." Soldiers started looking around to see who was missing. Then the sergeant said, "Fluffy got run over by a HEMMT last night." According to my witness everyone was relieved at first then started yelling at the sergeant for scaring them and saying, "IT'S ONLY A F#$KING CAT. . ." and other variants on that theme, before they started making jokes about him.

Which led to stories about other fuelers who captured a camel spider (the local scorpion) and how cool it is to watch when these scorpions catch a lizard and how the exactly scorpion eats the lizard.

I am glad my son the animal lover will be a civilian.

Extremes

Last night I spent the best two hours since I left America. I was at the Army Education Center which does not officially open for another month, but they are holding sessions to help soldiers study to improve their GT score--the overall score that determines whether you qualify for some of the really good jobs the Army offers.

Last night I spent two hours helping soldiers solve equations with parentheses, powers, roots, multiplication, division, addition and subtraction--which is the order they are solved. These equations included decimals and fractions so I also was helping with converting fractions, finding common denominators and so forth.

If that doesn't sound fun, then I have not done a good job telling you just how strange it is to move from the very quiet home I live in and the very cooperative place where I work to this Lead-Follow-or-Get-Out-of-the-Way environment I am in now. We hear every day we are all leaders. Many of us translate that into trying to dominate everything they are involved in. So last night I was in a room with a dozen men and women who simply wanted to learn something. Not one soldier said, "When I was in Afghanistan in 2004 we did powers before parentheses and our sergeant major said 'Only a one-handed piano player at a cheap whorehouse would solve the parentheses first.'"

And today is my 12th wedding anniversary. I won't be spending it with my wife--which I have known for a while now, but today, like all the other occasions I will miss this year, reminds me with particular clarity that I volunteered for this--for good and ill. Happy Anniversary Annalisa. I'll be home for the next one.

No Bike Race

NOT HAPPENING AT TALLIL ALI AIR BASE

One of my big goals, hopes for this deployment was to organize a bike race in Iraq. In case you think this is indicative of severe mental defect or some history of intoxication, a race did not seem crazy to me. Until this month, I thought it was very possible.

First, I was initially supposed to go to a huge air base near Baghdad with paved roads, including a six-mile loop around the air field. At the last minute we were re-assigned to another huge base in the south. Here at Tallil Ali Air Base, there is a 15-kilometer perimeter road which is mostly paved. Some of it is bumpy, but a few miles are very smooth. I can ride the loop on a road bike slowing for the dirt stretches and the worst bumps. It's no problem on a mountain bike.

Speaking of bikes, I estimate there are about 300 to 400 soldiers, airmen and civilian workers with bikes. There could be more. But whenever I ride in the main area of post I see other people riding and bikes chained up at various buildings. Until mid-July there was a group of airmen that would ride together every week. So there were people riding around post and there are a few who ride with me for speed once or twice a week.

So I hoped to have a race/ride. I figured I could find 20 people who would want to race and maybe another 50 to 100 who would ride the perimeter of the post with Military Police at the intersections. I pitched the idea to the garrison MWR (Morale Welfare Recreation) people within a week of my arrival. They thought it was a great idea and encouraged me to get a proposal together, but the new garrison would be taking over while I was home on leave in June, so I would have to propose the idea to them.

After a few delays, I had the meeting two weeks ago. At the meeting I was asked about my strategic plans for perimeter security, about the number of soldiers I could guarantee would participate, and about safety. At one point in the discussion on perimeter security I looked down at the sergeant stripes on my chest and said, "I am a squad leader with five soldiers. What can I do abut perimeter security?" But they wanted food and a party at the end like the 15k running race that happened on July 11. The running race had 400+ participants and, for most people, running 15k is a big deal. Riding 15k is not a big deal. The slowest riders can do it in an hour. the winner of the race would have finished under 30 minutes.

So I was looking at a small, first-time event that would bring out the bicyclists on our big air base and help to form a cycling community. They were looking for an event that is way beyond my resources. There was a follow-up email asking me to provide all the things I could not provide: guaranteed participation, perimeter security strategic plans, etc. I answered the memo then the next day sent another memo withdrawing my offer to organize the race.

When you answer a question and the same person comes back asking again all the questions for which they did not get the answer they want, then the choice is give in to the demands or fight. I chose to walk away. It was awkward, but I have other things going on with MWR that are going well and I don't want to get in pissing contest over a single event. The MWR sergeant who manages most of the programs has given me a room for a Dante book group and a CS Lewis book group (starting Monday) and set me up with the new Education Center (opening soon) to possibly serve as a writing tutor one night per week. They also got lights for the softball field which is what the soldiers in my company cared about more than anything else, and they may let one of our sergeants be the "Commissioner of the Softball League."

So given all that I don't want to fight over the bike race. And I got to do three races while I was home on leave and one in Oklahoma, so I have already done four races despite the deployment. Not such a bad year.

(And for those who know something of my riding history, the garrison also wanted me to guarantee that an event with most of the participants on Wal-Mart-quality, sand-coated Huffys would be safe. All I could do was smile.)