Ups and Downs

Last week I mentioned that I have been sending friend messages to my high school classmates on Facebook. After 38 years away from Stoneham, I am missing my childhood home in a way I never thought I would. I suppose getting homesick in Iraq is about as surprising as getting thirsty in a desert.
Today I got a brief message from one of my high school classmates thanking me for getting in touch and asking me to Google his son. His son was killed in action in Baghdad in 2006. I read the many messages from his friends and family on the memorial web site. Seems clear from the messages he was a good soldier and a good man also. He was 22.
Before I went through the pre-deployment processing and training for this trip, I made three visits to Brooke Army Medical Center, which everyone refers to as BAMC--pronounced BAM-See. BAMC is the treatment and rehabilitation center for those who lose limbs. I was in San Antonio for four days, had some free time and thought I ought to go and see what this war really costs.
I talked to parents at BAMC. But they are different than the parents of the dead. Even when their child is maimed, he or she is alive. The parents of the dead have only memories. I have other friends who have lost children. Two men in our unit lost children during this deployment. I went to one of the funerals when I was home on leave.
Part of what we are here for is to comfort each other when we face grief. On this day after Thanksgiving, I am very thankful for four healthy children. And I will put the grieving parents I know at the top of my prayer list.

I Won the Race--Story in the New York Times "At War" Blog

The race went off fine. My runner and I won the team competition. And the story is on the "At War" blog in the New York Times!!

Here's the link to the story with photos.

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Among the hundreds of things I miss about home during my year in Iraq is the Turkey Day bike race in Lancaster County, Penn. This unofficial final race of every season draws 50 or more racers from around the county, and it shows which cyclists kept up with their fitness routines since the end of the season in September. So when I finally got a chance to organize a bike race on Tallil Ali Air Base after six months here, I wanted it to be on Thanksgiving Day.

As far as anyone on the base knows - and there are civilians who have been here since late 2003 - no one has ever organized a bicycle race at Tallil base, or as the Army calls it, Contingency Operating Base (COB) Adder. To the purist, the Task Force Diablo Biathlon was not exactly a bicycle race, but bikes raced in it and bikes crossed the finish line, so it was a bike race.

A biathlon was also an easier sell at Garrison Command because the cyclists don't ride in packs. In July I tried to organize a race for Labor Day weekend. I had a promoter, Rich Ruoff, who put the race on his Web site and was going to handle registrations online. Bike Line of Lancaster gave me two boxes of prizes. I could get medals from the KBR people who organize the running races. Everything was set, but then I met with a sergeant major (who has since left) and the race was over before it started. He wanted me to guarantee participation of at least 100 entrants and guarantee their safety - a tall order for a bike race.

The current garrison sergeant major was stationed in Italy and rides a Colnago road bike himself, so he was more amenable to hosting a race. Early in November, we had a meeting at Garrison, got the green light and started to put together road guard crews, medics and advertising.

Everything was in place, then the day before the race it rained. Real rain. After six arid months here the roads were awash in mud. Tallil has about 20 squat, dirty trees in 20 square miles of base and no grass. As soon as it rains, the armored trucks and fuelers with their four-foot-high tires drag mounds of mud onto the road. I rode that morning and found myself and my bike caked with mud by the end of the ride. I thought the race might be canceled. But by afternoon the sun was out, and an east wind was drying the mud.

We had both team and solo racers. The really cool people race solo. (I have a heel spur and raced as part of a team.) Being half of a team also solved a problem I had with organizing a bike race and riding in it. I was worried about winning my own race. But since I was in the "less cool" category I did not worry. We also kept the distance short -5k run, 15k bike - which favors the runners.

At 5:00 a.m. I walked the ¼-mile to the start/transition area at the House of Pain gym. I walked both of my bikes because my commander, Lt. Col. Scott Perry, was borrowing my single-speed mountain for the race. By the end of the race he wished it had gears.

The coffee shop is just 200 meters from the House of Pain so I could start the day caffeinated. The road guards started arriving right away and the medics followed soon after. By 5:45 there were only 20 competitors. Five minutes later we had the safety briefing and I gave the race instructions. I thought I was very clear. But not everyone listened.

At 6:10 a.m., 30 racers started the 5k run. Ten were doing only the run. Six of us stood at the side of the road and watched the runners disappear in the pre-dawn gloom of this cloudy morning. We were the riders in the team event. Around the edge of the House of Pain parking lot, leaning on the concrete blast walls, sat two dozen bikes - from a perfectly clean 20-speed Giant carbon road bike with bladed spokes to a $100 mud-covered PX special.

After the runners left, I did a few sprints to get warmed up. There's just no way to be a race organizer and warm up. As the race timing clock neared 18 minutes, my partner, Sgt. Derek Miller, made the final turn on the 5k run. When he finished, I took off riding as hard as I could into a 10mph east wind. Our main competitors were a pair of Air Force security police. Their runner was nearly a minute behind mine, but their rider had gears and I was on a single-speed road bike. As it turned out, the only other rider I saw was the guy on the 20-speed Giant. He was coming toward me when I was just past half way. He yelled, "Am I going the wrong way?" I said yes and kept pedaling. He won't do another race without riding the course first.

At 50:12, I was the first finisher. The Air Force team was two minutes behind. The next finisher was the overall solo winner, Maj. Joel Allmandinger, followed by two more solo competitors. Their race for fourth was the best race of the event. The two riders are both colonels, Colonel Perry, who commands the aviation battalion, and Lt. Col. David Callahan, the deputy commander of the armored brigade at COB Adder. The pilot beat the tanker in the run, but Colonel Perry was on a single speed mountain bike. He was O.K. on the first part of the course riding into the east wind, but on the south side of the course the tank commander could change gears and was going 6 or 7 mph faster with the tail wind. Colonel Perry got passed on the south side. Colonel Callahan stayed ahead until the finish.

After the race I handed out the helmets, gloves and water bottles from Lancaster Bike Line and the medals from KBR. I am hoping we can do one more race on December 19th.

Sgt. Neil Gussman rejoined the Army in 2007 after a 23-year break in service. He blogs every day about his experiences as a 56-year-old soldier at http://armynow.blogspot.com. Sergeant Gussman is a Category 3 masters racer. He has done more than 120 races since he turned 50, including three while he was home on leave in June.

For Nigel--A MEDEVAC Blackhawk Takeoff--Afternoon, into the Sun

Who Fights This War?--Coming Back to Iraq

When the IED exploded it ripped through the left side of the humvee. The vehicle commander and the other passenger were shaken but not badly injured. The driver, 19-year-old Spc. David Broome was not so lucky.

His legs and hands were bleeding. His right thigh was badly damaged.

Medics were at the site in moments. They stabilized Broome, then loaded him in an M113 armored personnel carrier for transport to a MEDEVAC site.

After that short ride, Broome began a long journey from rescue, to recovery, to return to duty.

He was flown by Black Hawk to Baghdad hospital and initially treated for what he remembers as two or three days.

After that, he was transferred to the hospital at Joint Base Balad, where further treatment was performed on his badly injured right thigh. The next stop was the Army hospital in Landstuhl, Germany, then Fort Gordon, Ga.

In all, Broome was a patient in four hospitals for nearly two months before going home to begin the rehabilitation process.

After several surgeries and treatments, he regained the use of his right leg, but some of his thigh muscle is missing so he has limitations.

In 2008, when the pre-mobilization training began for his current deployment to Contingency Operating Base Adder with Task Force Diablo, Broome looked at deploying a bit differently from most Soldiers.

He knew how dangerous duty in Iraq could be. But he also was ready to go back.

“I’d say I am 50/50 about being outside the wire,” said Broome. “Part of me wanted to get back out on the road and see how much had changed from 2005, but part of me is happy to stay here on Tallil.”

At 23, Broome already has six years of service. The Manayunk , Pa., native enlisted at 17 after being a member of the Junior Reserve Officers’ Training Corps (JROTC) at Roxborough High School. He went to basic training in June 2003, and then to advanced training in 2004 to become a human resources specialist.

In January 2005, he was mobilized with the Pennsylvania National Guard’s “B” Troop, 1st Squadron, 104th Cavalry Regiment.

In June 2005, he was in Ar Ramadi.

Two of the biggest battles of the war were fought in Ramadi. According to Michael Fumento, who wrote about 101st Airborne operations in Ramadi, the phrase “The graveyard of the Americans” was scrawled on the walls of the city of 400,000.

Broome was assigned as a human resources specialist, but spent less than a week in that job.

“They needed more soldiers on patrol, so I was attached to a Vermont line platoon,” Broome said. “My truck commander taught me room clearing, convoy route security and detainee operations.”

“We responded when the gate got attacked,” he said. “We were attached to a Marine unit for missions.”

Broome served four months on security and patrol duty until he was injured and evacuated from Iraq.

“I know this tour is rough on some of the first timers,” said the Purple Heart recipient, resting his hand on his right leg as he spoke. “But compared to my first tour this time is cake for me.”

100k on Sunday, PT Test on Monday

On Sunday my bike buddy had to cancel our plans to ride 100 miles, so I decided to ride 100km. It was a beautiful day yesterday so I did three laps of the base then stopped for lunch. I did another lap then met up with the HHC first sergeant to make sure of road guard placement for the race on Thursday. My first sergeant was part of the meeting also. He told me that I had to take the PT Test in the morning--this morning. So I decided to finish the 100km and use 6.2 of the last 15 miles to time myself on the bike distance for the PT Test.

So I got up at 0440 and went to the gym to take the PT Test at 0530. The first event is the pushup. I need to do 56 in two minutes to max--get 100 points for the event. I got 49. Not bad. I was tired. I have done 56 when I felt really good, but after the 100km ride, I did not feel "really good." The situps were next. I needed 66. I got 66 in a minute, 50 seconds. Because I am over 55 I can take an alternative to the run. For the bike I have to ride 10km in 30 minutes. I am not allowed to change gears--which is fine since I have single-speed bikes. I rode the 6.2 mile course with 7 turn arounds in 20:03 on the road bike. For the PT Test, I ode the mountain bike and finished in 22:37.

I expected to have a full day's rest before the PT Test. I didn't. It's nice to know that I can score 288 out of 300 on a day when I am tired and haven't had much sleep. But I was wiped out afterward. I worked in the morning, but felt like I had cotton inside my skull. I took a nap at lunch.

Now I have to just be cool till Thursday morning and the race.

The Kid Who Wanted to Play Army

I recently sent a bunch of "friend" messages to high school classmates who are on Fcebook. I left home when I enlisted almost 40 years ago and have been mostly out of touch with Stoneham ever since. But now I am looking forward to my 40th reunion in 2011.

Being over here made me think more about high school and how life twists and turns. In September, when I started writing stories that got picked up on the Web across the world, my friend Meredith Gould reminded me that "wherever you go, there you are." Taking a year off from public relations had the result of me getting more stories published than in any two-month period in my life. So I go 6,000 miles from my writing job and--here I am.

Steve Thorley, a neighbor on Oak Street who graduated in 1973, wrote to me on Facebook remembering me as the kid who always wanted to play Army--even when the other kids had moved on to stick and ball sports. At six or seven, I was the kid with the toy gun. And here I am, fifty years later, back in the Army and carrying a gun, when every other soldier in my age group has long since left the Army or is retired. I left the Army in 1984 because I wanted to be a writer and thought the commitment the Reserves required would mean I could not both become a writer and be a soldier. Turns out I would have been OK.

My wife Annalisa, following Steven Covey and philosophers all the way back to Aristotle, thinks we are defined by out habits. CS Lewis agrees. He says real virtue must become habit. It must not be simply an act of will, but virtue should train the will to respond correctly.

I have written recently that I had a soldier's reaction in situations where a public relations manager would do something different. My habits right now say I am a writer and a soldier and they do not seem mutually exclusive. So I am both the man who is observing intently to get the right detail for the story or the right picture to go with it. And I have the habits of a man who safely carries a weapon everywhere every day and who reacts to do the right thing for his soldiers first and get the story second.

“Country” Calls Iraq Home Since 2004

One stop on the same mission in the last post Camp Echo. When we landed, the crew told me there would be grilled steaks waiting for them after they got their paperwork and loading/unloading completed. I was skeptical, but when I came back from a visit to the Charlie MEDEVAC TOC (Tactical Operations Center) a smiling man with a big black cowboy hat, an enormous belt buckle and, according to the Alpha crew, an even bigger heart, was grilling steaks outside the blast wall.
That man was James “Country” Curtis, 46, of Olden, Texas. Curtis has been the passenger terminal manager in Diwaniya since June of 2008. Curtis controls the airfield and does what he can to help soldiers passing through Camp Echo “enjoy the time they spend here.” The Alpha crew definitely enjoyed Country’s cooking. It’s a skill he has had a long time to perfect. Except for R&R leaves home, Curtis has worked in Iraq since February 2004. “I was a truck driver at the base in Babylon,” he said. “When that closed we took over the former Spanish base here at Diwaniya. I drove trucks till last year when I started working at the airfield.” Curtis plans to return to Texas next year, maybe to work his farm, maybe to drive trucks, maybe both. “That’s next year. I’ll see what happens when I get back home.”

The fuel crew at Diwaniya is very good at their work according to the air crews. They roll out to fuel the birds as soon as they land. And they dress so brightly only one wears a PT Belt.