One Bill in Baghdad

Baghdad Bulletin #30: Love in the Time of Mortar Shells

2006-07-28T03:05:00.000+04:00

Greetings everyone!
First off, thanks to Chrisi West for introducing me to the works of Senor Marquez, otherwise I never would have had such an oh-so-clever title. Secondly, sorry to all the people to whom I have not written back. Work here is insane. I look longingly back at the 70 hour workweek I had when I first came back. Thirdly, this bulletin is mostly my inner life and the effects of being in Iraq for coming up on a year, and features none of the following: explosions, antics of TCNs (although there are a whole bunch to write about, which I will share with everyone in #31), pigeons being harmed, jackal sightings, or complaints about the DFAC food (well, OK, there's one, but it's subtle). I know that's what most people like to hear about, so if you're one of those people, you may just want to hit the delete key right now.

I'm coming up on a year spent in Baghdad (excluding two R & R excursions, one of which I didn't really know was going to be just "R & R" at the time). I turned twenty-six the day I arrived here; my twenty-seventh birthday is coming up fast. I know - I'm getting old. That's not what brought me to my current introspective state, though. It's that I was just reminded that my life has mostly been on hold while I have been over here, while life back home keeps going on without me. I know, I'm shocked too! How could life continue without Bill in the mix? Somehow, it does, though. Single friends have married; old girlfriends have found new boyfriends; couples have had children and become families. I hear about all this secondhand, the diluted vitae of lives diffusing into my own experience. Life here is routine, predictable outside the less-and-less-frequently occuring insurgent attacks on the base, and based solely on work and efficiency. There are parts of this I enjoy, like not having to do my own wash or cook my own food, and feeling like I'm making some tiny, tiny difference here, but there is so much I'm missing out on.

People seem to think that the hardest part of being here is being away from your family and your friends, or living in fear that a stray bullet has your name on it, or giving up good food and replacing it with DFAC food spiced up with the occasional MRE. For me, though, none of these things has been as hard as knowing that I've voluntarily taken myself out of everyday life.

I talk with older soldiers and contractors, people who have spent a good portion of their life on the road. Almost all of them tell me how lucky I am not to have a family back home, no children crying on the other end of the phone or wife worried sick over you. I feel bad for them, I really do. However, a part of my mind thinks that at least they have someone to go home to, someone to talk to about what happened to them that day, or about some interesting thought they had that day. I'm a Type-A personality, at heart.. it's as if they've already accomplished a goal, "find appropriate girl, settle down" that I have no chance of beginning to accomplish over here. Dating in Iraq is like playing Monopoly but only being allowed to own Baltic Avenue. There's no use crying over spilt milk, of course, but I wonder sometimes about the path I have chosen in life. I've taken the road less travelled so many times, but I wonder where this last fork is taking me.

Two of my relationships have been wrecked, at least partially due to my being in Iraq. I don't know if they would have lasted had I not gone, but my being here certainly didn't help (and I was smart enough not to get into a relationship on my last R & R). Of course, this is all peanuts next to so many other people I've talked to, dealing with divorces, or infidelity, or worst of all, the death of their loved ones. Still, it makes me wonder what my life would have been like if I hadn't come over. Would I have been happier? Would I have been wiser? Is this experience helping me out in the long run, or hindering me? Am I really helping out my country, or just deluding myself? I really don't know. These questions never seemed to bother me before, but I've been contemplating way too much for my own good lately.

I've been putting my life on hold, but now I've got to start making decisions about life after Iraq. Knowing what I should have done at previous forks in the road is only helpful in determining what future forks I should take. And that's what I'm going to do.

---
Next one won't be so sappy, I promise. Plenty of wacky hijinks.

Bill

Baghdad Bulletin #29: Dispatches from the Not-So-Front-Lines of the War in Iraq

2006-07-09T21:48:00.000+04:00

Greetings all!
After receiving orders from a reader to write more Bulletins, I'm obliging. Hopefully she is no longer considering sending me to Gitmo.

MORE ANIMAL TALES, BUT NO DUCK TALES
The jackals are either getting more fearless or more numerous, because I keep running into them. Last night, I ran into one next to the co-ed latrine. I think he was hunting the cats that live under it (cats live under all the latrine trailers now, having emerged from hibernation or hatched or whatever cats do). Either that or he was hoping to find something other than wet paper towels in the garbage can. He ran away when he saw me... right into the rest of the LSAs! Where all the OTHER humans are!

The pad is now infested with small geckos. I can't even walk from one trailer to another without getting hassled about car insurance.

You know those big black beetles I described way back in the day? One crawled up on my foot when I was standing still for a few seconds. I was kind of curious as to what he would do from there, but then he tried crawling up my pant leg and I had to flick it off. Now I know why soldiers blouse their boots.

HAIRCUTS
Another day, another walk up to the PX. I still don't know why they put it in the middle of nowhere, next to the motor pool, but there are some mysteries us contractors are not meant to know. Today was no ordinary walk to the PX, though... it was the day I finally got a haircut! I had been looking like a hippie long enough (I define "looking like a hippie" as "having more than half an inch of hair"). Long story short, due to always getting the bad barber and being too polite to turn him down, I now look like Play (from Kid 'n Play). I think I'm just going to shave it all off. Sigh.

INDIAN GUYS. PFFT.
We have a Green Beans next to our pad, which has provided countless grams of caffeine to me since they opened up. Diluted in coffee, of course - they don't sell the hard stuff straight. The particular TCNs who work there at night are very chatty Indians, and we usually have a conversation whenever I go in there for my nightly fix. We've discussed why DC is called "DC," how to make the time go faster, what things are like where we're from... all sorts of random late-night BSing.
Today, I went in at 4 PM (sorry.. 1600) because I was seriously dragging after only a few hours of work. In my defense, we were outside setting stuff up, and it is well-known that the Iraqi sun is a soporific (and I had a double dose today, due to my walk up to the PX for the haircut). On the plus side, if any of you ladies out there like farmer's tans, I am rocking one hardcore. I sure am glad that I don't get sunburnt, or I would be red as a maraschino cherry right about now. Anyways, the main point of this paragraph is that I was tired and needed coffee.
Now, this "night guy" now works a swing shift, so I only get a chance to see him every once in a while. I've only seen him once since I got back, and that time I was in a hurry to get some work done so didn't stop to chat.
As soon as he sees me, he says, "Hello sir! Long time no see!"
I reply that it has been, but it's good to be back.
"Yes, it is nice here! I see you are now very fat, sir!"
I was taken aback, and thought that maybe I had misheard him (which is a very real possibility.. I once thought someone was telling me "chocolate bunny " when he was actually telling me to take out the trash or something).
"Excuse me?" I asked.
"Before your vacation, you were very skinny. Now you are nice and fat!"
Oh great. Guess I'm going to have to do the whole anorexia thing. At about this point he corrects himself, "Not very fat, just more fat! Very healthy! Very perfect weight for a man!" The other man chimes in that indeed, I looked perfect. Remembering the other Indian guys who are always embracing in the latrine trailer, I grabbed my double cafe mocha and backed slowly away. I knew I should have ordered the standard coffee instead of a froufrou drink; it's giving the TCNs wrong ideas about me.

GETTING SERIOUS FOR A MINUTE
Last night, we heard (and felt.. it shook the trailers) the bombing of the al-Timim Mosque. Today, Shi'ite militia are killing random Sunnis in Baghdad in retaliation. I know you read about all of this stuff in the news, but it still shocks me that things like this are happening in this day and age, and it really hits home when it's happening this close. On a day-to-day basis, it's sometimes easy to forget that you're actually in Iraq... for me, it's like living in a little bit of America that is somehow cut off from the rest of the contiguous US. Kind of like being in Hawaii, but less tropical paradise and more hellish desertscape. Things like this - and knowing the stories of what's going on right outside these walls - really makes me sit back and wonder about the situation, and about humanity in general.

Baghdad Bulletin #28: Getting There is Half the Hassle

2006-07-09T21:40:00.000+04:00

Hello Everyone!
I hope that everyone had as exciting a June as I have had. If not, well, at least your stress levels are probably less than mine, so be thankful for small favors. I had a month back in the States for R & R, but I'm back in the land of sand and acronyms.

GETTING THE HECK OUT OF DODGE
Let me set the scene for everyone. It was late May. I had finished my second four month tour here and was ready to leave. Good Lord, was I ready to leave. I had eaten every vegetarian meal in the DFAC about forty times, heard enough explosions and low-level noise (generators and air conditioners are omnipresent here) to do some damage to my ear drums, and had enough stress-produced adrenaline poured into my system to run a couple of dozen marathons. I found myself fantasizing about walking in Patapsco State Park, of stopping to eat at Taco Bell, of shopping at a Wal-Mart. I wanted to go home.
My flight date finally arrived. I go out around lunchtime and do all my signing in and whatnot, and prepared to sit down for a good, long while. See, the Marines have "semper fi," but the army has a more meaningful credo: "hurry up and wait." They will make you show up at 4 in the morning to wait around for something that they know is going to happen at 3 in the afternoon. I think it started as sadism on the part of several high-ranking officers under General George Washington, but is now considered "tradition." We all sat down on the picnic benches on the pavilion, letting the triple-digit temperatures cook us like Christmas geese. The estimated flight time came and went like a summer romance. I read "The Hunt for Red October" and drank like a fish, a fish at severe risk of drying out. They repeatedly sent us out the tarmac, where there was no shade, so that the asphalt could reflect light and heat at us, for an hour or so at a time. Did I mention we had to wear our gear? Ever wear a helmet and flak vest in the sun, on asphalt, when it's 109 degrees out? I looked like I had just jumped out of a pool.
Finally, about ten hours after getting there, they told us the plane had been on the ground in Kuwait for hours and was not picking us up. We should all go home and they would try to fly us out tomorrow on a space-available basis. Show-time was 0600. It was already past 9 in the evening. This also meant that I would have to re-schedule my commercial flight out of Kuwait (harder than it sounds.. I had been having AMEX troubles recently. Kids, Contractor Bill says always turn in your expense reports on time, and MAKE COPIES.)
I go to the DSN line and try to get a hold of my fellow Northrop folks to pick me up. Nobody answered. I kept ringing numbers until I got in touch with somebody from another company, who volunteered to come pick me up if I couldn't get in touch with my Northrop comrades. Finally, the Northrop SUV pulls up and I go back home. On the way, we see the other contractors coming to pick me up, and signalled to them that I was in our vehicle. I could feel the love.

GETTING THE HECK OUT OF DODGE (REALLY, THIS TIME)
After a bare minimum amount of sleep, and waking up before morning chow, and not having eaten anything except an MRE around 4 PM the day before, we head out to the airport. To sum it all up, I felt like crap. Whatever, though, I'm hardcore (borderline dehydrated, but hardcore). I signed in and it looked like I would be sitting for a while longer, so I grabbed an MRE. Of course, there is a corrolary to the Army's credo - "Whenever you think you have time, you will be rushed." Right after the boil bag got my pasta to a nice temperature, the crew said to get to get out on the tarmac with your gear. Sigh. I wolfed down the vegetable pasta and head out to the tarmac, where we got on the plane almost immediately. I did, however, make sure to head to the Port-A-Potty before getting on.. if there's one thing I know about C-130s, it is that you do NOT want to try to use the "facilities" on one. Trust me about the quotes around "facilities." A Port-A-Potty is a veritable throne compared to them.
Since the C-130 is made for cargo, the temperature is pretty much unregulated. It was hot going in, and after seventy or so people clambered on, with 20" of shoulder space for each person, and seats so close that everyone's knees were getting too well acquainted with the crotches of the people next to them, the body heat was making it hotter. Fortunately, I sat across from a rather petite Asian AFC who wasn't taking up too much room. Unfortunately, she was dozing and her rifle (M-16? M-4? I can't remember) kept falling into my lap. Uncomfortable.
I wasn't feeling too great, probably due to not being used to sitting outside all day in triple digit temperatures and not getting enough to sleep. It was hot and humid in the cargo hold of the C-130, my earplugs were bothering me, and the guy on the other side of the webbing behind me kept bumping into my back. It was a miserable two hours. As we were landing, I started to feel queasy so I asked for an air sickness bag. To cut down on the suspense, yes, I used it. Again, since one of the few women on the flight was across from me, and there is about 13" of space between seats, I ended up using the air sickness bag basically in her lap. Then I had to hold it until we disembarked. Embarassing.
The rest of the trip was pretty boring, except for being stuck in Frankfurt Airport for about 10 hours. I hate that airport. Hate it, hate it, hate it. Yet, for some reason, it loves me, and clutches me to its bosom every time I go through. I found a semi-abandoned hallway, stretched out, and read for a while. This semi-abandoned hallway would serve me well in the future as a place to get some privacy from the hordes of people transiting through Frankfurt.

AMERICA ROCKS
That is all I will say about my time back in the States. There are GIRLS there. And DANCING. And ALCOHOL. And NO EXPLOSIONS. And GOOD COFFEE. And ROADS YOU CAN DRIVE 75 MPH ON. ROADS LABELED WITH MPH AND NOT KPH. You have no idea how good you guys have it back there.

GETTING THE HECK BACK INTO DODGE
Now I was supposed to go back sometime last week, but two weeks ago I got an email from my boss that I had to leave that week (that is, I lost a week where I thought I would be in the States.) Darn. I spent an oh-so-fun week taking care of work business, catching up with friends, and basically getting no sleep.
Saturday, I have a last lunch in the States with Brent and KJ, and Brent gives me a lift from my house to the airport. As he is dropping me off, I realize that I don't have my tickets. They're not e-tickets either, they're paper tickets, so I need them to get on my flight. Darn. He drives me back to my house to get them and then to the airport, while I worry about being late for my flight. This would turn out to be quite an ironic worry.
There is an absolute crush of people at the USAir gates, with absolutely no rhyme or reason behind the chaos of the lines. I pick one, basically at random, and end up standing in that line (with eight people in front of me) for FOUR HOURS. See, it turns out that last weekend, the Northeast had more rain than it has had in quite a long while. This, understandably, causes delays in flights. Another flight before me was cancelled, and my flight was delayed. USAir wouldn't let me check in at the kiosk due to the delay (it said I might miss my connecting flight and thus would have to speak to a representative). I was treated to crying from infants, amiable and predictable small talk to those around me, and the occasional supernova of rage in the mostly tranquil blankness of irritability. Finally, I get up to the front, where the representative told me that 1) she had been on duty for seventeen and a half hours and 2) she couldn't help me. She did point me to someone who could, a representative I will call Probably Gay Airport Guy (PGAG). PGAG scheduled the same trip for me the next day. Hooray, one more day in the States! I didn't have a phone to get someone to pick me up, so Daddy Northrop treated me to a cab ride home. The rain was coming down torrentially by this point, and people were going down I-95 at 20 MPH while the cabbie did his best to keep us going 65. I listened to him rant about slow drivers and watched other cars' indicator lights flashing like fireflies in the mist.
After spending one more night dancing, I slept in on Sunday, then headed to Barnes and Noble to have one last coffee and read some books. My roommate drove me to the airport, where the line went by relatively quickly (only about half an hour). I was checked in! Hallelujah! A guy cut in front of me at the security checkpoint, and I was half-tempted to ask him if saving thirty seconds really was worth going to Hell over, but I was too overjoyed to actually be checked in twenty-four hours after first arriving at the airport. Realizing that I hadn't eaten anything that day except for some cereal in the morning (and the cream in my coffee, but I don't think that counts), I went and got some pizza at one of the little airport eateries. There were no tables, so I ended up sitting down with a husband and wife who were actually a superintendent and principal of different schools. I was especially sure not to do anything that might merit detention.
I sat down at my gate, reading the first book of His Dark Materials (by Philip Pullman.. excellent books, by the way, highly recommended) and watching the girl across from me jab at her salad with a fork (it took her about an hour and a half to finish the salad). Finally, we got notice that the flight was delayed and we would not make any international connections. We dutifully got into line, with me and another guy trying to herd people into one long line that split into three. We were somewhat successful. Quite a few people are assholes and we didn't have firearms to enforce our will.
As people stuck in airports are wont to do, we talked to each other about where we were going, where we were from, how long we were going to be wherever we're going, and what we were going to do there. After that, we waited another two hours in line to reschedule our flights. After two hours and only moving up about five spots, I decided I was going to try another counter. I found another USAir gate attendant, who told me she couldn't help me because they had their own problems. Chagrined, I returned back to the first gate and resumed my original spot in line (which had not moved in the half-hour or so I had been gone). I announced my story and response of the gate attendant to the other people in line. It was met with general amusement. After another two hours or so, one of the ladies said we could go out past security to the front check-in desk to reschedule flights. I did so, if only for the change of scenery. I walked out with one of the ladies I was talking to in line, and as we arrived, PGAG showed up and said "You again!" I was becoming a legend of BWI, like Tom Hanks in The Terminal.
I arranged an eight-hour layover in Philadelphia the next day, so unless the flight the next day was delayed more than eight hours, I should be able to make it. On Monday, I arrived on time, only to have the lady tell me that my flight wasn't delayed today.. it was cancelled! Fortunately, there was enough of an uproar among people that they chartered a bus to take us to Philly. It's a good thing for USAir, because I think I saw some peasants with pitchforks and torches.
Once I was in Philadelphia and checked in, I had hours to spare. They had booked me on an earlier flight because of some issue or other, but that still meant four hours of sitting around. At the security checkpoint, a younger Chinese girl was being berated by the security guard.
"I'm sorry, you need a boarding pass to go past here. You need to check in," the security guard explained.
The Chinese girl responded quietly. I couldn't hear what she was saying, but she was definitely upset.
The security guard sighed. "I can't leave my post," she said, speaking slowly. "I'm sorry. You need to go to Terminal A. Next building."
"I'll help her, I have nothing to do," I said to the security guard.
"Oh thanks hon, she needs to go to the American Airlines check-in in Terminal A."
She thanked me and I picked up one of the Chinese girl's suitcases. I asked her where she was going. Her English wasn't very good, but she showed me the ticket she had. The flight she was scheduled for was leaving in about two minutes. Crap.
We ran to Terminal A, only to encounter a long line in front of the American Airlines counter. However, we could see from the list of flights that the plane was delayed.. she might be able to make it! While in line, I asked her why she was late. It turns out she had been in line for USAir, "because America, USA, same thing, yes?" Turns out, no. She didn't understand when the counter lady told her the problem, so she thought she was done and went to the security guard. Long story short, I acted as a translator between her and the ticket counter lady, who originally said that because she missed the flight with a nonrefundable ticket, she was going to have to buy a new ticket. I talked her down to a $100 re-booking fee, but that was the best I could do.
I got to Frankfurt, hung out in my hidden, now fully-abandoned hallway, and continued reading. Eventually, I ended up in Kuwait, where I went from air conditioning to 109 degree temperature at 8:30 at night. I do so love Kuwait. Then there was a couple of hours of sleep and another ride in a C-130, but without the sickness this time. There was a massive guy with a massive suitcase sitting across from me, whose body armor kept slipping onto my lap, but really that was a minor annoyance compared to last time.
... and then hooray.. I was back in Iraq. Four more months of bulletins for you!

NOW I KNOW I'M IN IRAQ
Last night, we heard the warning siren. Rob came into the trailer and said that there was some SAF (small arms fire) near the DFAC, they were cordoning off the area and not letting anybody out. Thus, dinner might be a little late. To amuse ourselves, we spent time freaking out one of the new guys. We let him know that if anyone got shot on the way to the DFAC, then we would eat a quicker dinner than normal so he could get to the hospital sometime that evening.

Baghdad Bulletin #27: I'm Comin' Home

2006-07-09T21:37:00.000+04:00

Hello everyone!
I have been working insane hours, so I apologize for not writing more often. However, let me give everyone a summary of the last month here: I faced down a jackal, dived behind a wall to avoid a firefight, came back to my workplace to find five or six bullets embedded in the sandbag barriers around us and several new holes in the canopy above us, had a suicide bomber go through one of the gates nearby (it was on CNN, even), heard from one of my Northrop co-workers about his convoy being hit by an IED (he was not hurt, but unfortunately the driver of the HUMMVW behind him was killed), was made fun of by some sergeant for admiring a tank, got dumped by my girlfriend, found a ten dollar bill in a parking lot, found some Saddam money, developed a taste for banana juice, hit by AMEX for several hundred dollars, fought a charge by some ISP for 35 dollars, been woken up by KBR fixing the air conditioner more times than I can count (ever try to sleep in a metal box with no air conditioning, in the sun, with the door open, when the temperature is in the triple digits?), trained my replacement, and finally signed up to come back over and do it all again.

I'm leaving Iraq in a few hours, and by Friday evening should be back in the States. I am taking a month off to basically do nothing... just visit friends, recover from working the last 110 days straight and failing to get anywhere near enough sleep. Since I am giving you all the month of June where I have no plans, I expect each and every person on this list to buy me a beer at some point!

In fact, on that note, since I no longer live in my old house, could someone who knows where my new house is give me directions to it from 95? I just realized that I have no idea where I am living now. Thanks, and I hope to see you all soon.

Baghdad Bulletin #26: Takin' Care of Pigeons and Workin' Overtime

2006-04-28T20:41:00.000+04:00

Greetings all!
Let's get right to it, shall we? It's been a while, and I know you are all just aching to know how life is going for everyone's favorite software engineer in Iraq.

ONE MORE REASON I AM GLAD I AM A VEGETARIAN
The lakes around here are off-limits to all personnel. Rumors abound about what horrors you will visit upon your corporeal self (and perhaps even your spiritual self) from drinking from them. Rachel had once told us that someone got their feet wet in it once and after a week had to be shipped home. People have said that the bottom of the lakes are filled with the skeletons of Uday's victims. The water is definitely disgusting.
I have taken to stealing a hot-dog bun from the chow hall at dinner and feeding the fish. It's a great way to decompress a little from the stress of the day (and prepare for the stress of the evening). There are Saddam bass (that is the slang name for them, I don't know what the binomial nomenclature term for their species is), pike, and catfish eels (this is my name for them.. imagine a catfish head with long whiskers, trailing off to an eel's body, all entirely black except for some brownish markings on the face). They are fun to watch swimming around in the muck of the artificial lakes.
Anyways, lately I have seen the TCNs outside of the DFAC with fishing poles. When they catch a fish, they celebrate and take it back into the kitchen area. For those of you remember the whole "don't eat seafood in the desert" Bulletin where Rachel got sick, we may have a theory on why that happened.

ONE MORE FISH STORY
I went to a different palace for a meeting last week, and stopped to take a look at the famous fish that were near the entrance. Wow. You know, the words "seething wall of flesh" are bandied about an awful lot nowadays, so much so that they may have lost all meaning. That is the only way to describe what I saw that day though. Fish were being pushed out of the water by other fish; some were flopping onto land; others were swimming on top of the other fish and half in the air. This is what happens when fish learn where the food comes from, as people stop by before entering the palace and empty any food they have in their pockets into the waiting bellies of the fish below.

WHO'LL STOP THE RAIN?
Back when I was still on night shift, and all was right with the world, except for the occasional jackal or incoming round, the rain started. It sounded like a torrent on our metal roof, but it was actually just a light drizzle. Soon, however, this changed to a raging storm, with water leaking in all of the various holes in the trailer that were unnoticeable until they were stress tested in a tactically wet environment. I put bottles where I could, swept out as much water as I could, and wondered if sitting in a big metal box in the desert while lightning crashed all around was the smartest thing to do.
The rain calmed down a bit at around 0600 and Randall and I went to chow. On the way down, we watched lightning streak across the sky. Due to the dust in the air, the lightning appeared purple, like one of those lightning balls you buy at a gift shop in the mall. It was still dark (this was the day we "sprung forward" for Daylight Savings Time), and I stopped to use a Port-A-Potty. My personal business was illuminated by purple flashes of light in the dark Port-A-Potty. Breakfast was in silence as the DFAC had lost its satellite connection through which it usually plays AFN News or music.
Later on that day, I get off my shift and head back to my hooch (after finding out that the trailer was properly grounded, so I had no real need to worry). I enter the room only to find water everywhere. Both of my roommates' beds had makeshift buckets protecting their bed from the deluge, but one was ready to overflow, and other holes had sprung up in other places. I feverishly went to work finding discarded nut cans, sawing bottles in half, and other fun things to stop the flow of water. For a week afterwards, the room smelled like mold. Ahhh, the pleasures of living in Iraq.

TAKIN' CARE OF PIGEONS...
On the way back from the DFAC the other day (ever notice how my stories usually involve food in some way?), I came across a baby pigeon who must have fallen out of the nest. Now, pigeons grow up very fast.. within a month of getting out of the shell, a non-expert probably could not tell the difference between him and a three year old pigeon. Thus, he was still a relatively big bird. He was hiding in a crook of some stairs and a concrete platform. Still, he couldn't fly and was trying to avoid people with his wobbling gait and hiding as best he could.
"Poor pigeon," I thought, and went into the building he was in front of, to ask if anyone had food for him. We couldn't find anything, although D (he with a hatred of sparrows) informed me that scientifically speaking, pigeons were not birds but pests. I went back to my work trailer, and the only thing we had that I thought he might possibly be interested in eating was potato chips.
However, he refused to eat the potato chips no matter what format I presented them to him. I tried putting them down his throat, crunching them up in front of him, or putting the whole thing in front of him and walking away. He refused to eat. I then thought that maybe he was still being fed regurgitated food, so I went to get some water to wet the potato chips with.
When I came back, he had ambled back over to his original hiding place by the stairs, and some of the contractors from the Palace were pointing at him. Then one kicked the pigeon and made fun of how it got in a fight. Now if there is one thing that gets me angry, it's bird abuse. I understand people killing birds for food, or because they are harming property or life, but the lowest form of life, in my opinion, is a man who feels the need to pick on some defenseless animal or person strictly for entertainment value.
"Hey you, quit kicking the pigeon, it's just a baby!" I told them sternly. To my surprise, they did stop and asked me how I knew it was a baby. I showed them the different feathers, how the pattern was different from an adult bird, and how it wasn't quite full-size yet. They walked away, a bit chagrined at having been called out on their sadism, and I tried feeding the pigeon bits of waterlogged potato chip. He still refused to eat anything from me, so I herded him over away from the sidewalk and crunched up some potato chips next to him. That was all I could do.
The next morning, he wasn't there. I haven't seen him since.

...AND WORKIN' OVERTIME
I've been working insane hours lately. Insane as in complaining about people who are only working 70 hours a week slacking off. Insane as in, wake up, go to work, fall asleep, and repeat. However, it all paid off when we presented the results of our work to the general on time. Someone complimented one of the LTCs I work under, and he replied, "It was all Bill, he was a one-man wrecking crew to get this done on time." Afterwards, the general came up and gave me his coin! Ahh, recognition.

MISCELLANEOUS
I am back on day-shift once again. This has meant that I can't concentrate on anything for more than three seconds before someone calls me, comes in to inform me of a problem, or yell at me that something is going wrong. On the plus side, I have been getting tan again, including a ring around my neck where my ID collar rests while I am out in the sun. Kind of an odd tan line.

I have identified the species of ring-necked dove that has overrunthe base. It is actually the Eurasian Collared Dove. Thank you, Wikipedia! On another note, mating season has begun for them, so the base has become a giant singles bar for the doves. The air is filled with their cooCOOcoo cries as the male birds illustrate their sexual appeal by sticking their neck out and cooing. Note to men: this does not work as well on human females.

I have successfully grown my first bit of facial hair. I now have a soul patch! I plan to shave it off before I get back to the States, but I feel that I can now cross "grow facial hair" off my list of things to do before I die.

One of the women.. ok, the ONLY woman who works in my trailer has been called back onto active duty. This means that she gets to go back to the States from Baghdad, get briefed on what life is like in Iraq, then get flown BACK over.

The sinus infection took its own sweet time in clearing up, but now the only pressure in my head is from the relentless demands of the officers and my bosses. That, however, is easily cleared up with some Advil.

We had someone up here to do inventory from Kuwait, and I went with him to several other bases. One DFAC had an excellent Indian layout, with various types of curry, palak paneer, and dhal. Very tasty. I cannot wait to eat Indian food at an actual Indian restaurant again.

Bill

Baghdad Bulletin #25: Bugs Over Baghdad

2006-04-28T20:40:00.000+04:00

Greetings everyone!
I realize it has been a while since I wrote, and you all have my humblest apologies. The reason is that I have been pretty sick (damn you, Iraqi germs that my American immune system isn't used to!), but I will write all about it in this bulletin.

OVERHEARD CONVERSATION
I was walking from breakfast the other morning, and ended up behind a 1LT and a PFC, whose mouth was agape at the wonder of our FOB. She was brand-new to Iraq and our base, or so I gathered from the conversation. It's funny how dangerous this place can sound when you throw in all the stuff that has happened and leave out all the long stretches of tedium.

P: Did you hear that boom this morning?
L: If I had to remember every boom I heard here, I wouldn't have any memory left to get anything done! *laughs*
P: So they're pretty common.
L: Oh yeah, we hear them all the time. Not so much happens to us, though. We had a mortar hit the trading post a couple of times, and one of the PXes, some IEDs nearby since we're so close to Irish, stuff like that, but most of the explosions are EOD [US forces blowing things up that may be a threat].
P: *sort of a shocked look*
L: We're pretty safe here, though. I'll tell ya, their bombs don't really impress me. What impressed me was back in December, when the Iraqis won some soccer match, you could see them shooting up in the air all around the base. It was like a huge fireworks display.

Ahh, memories.

BILL VISITS THE TMC!
I was feeling pretty sick. Standard head cold symptoms, but it just wasn't going away with the normal regimen of Advil, Sudafed, and orange juice. Finally, on Sunday, after a week with a cold and longer than feeling just plain out-of-sorts, I broke down and went to the TMC (kind of like the doctor's office for the base).
After double-checking with Chris that they didn't need anything other than my military ID, I trudged on over, only to see a sign that said CLOSED - WILL RE-OPEN 27 MAR @ 0900 - EMERGENCIES CALL XXX-XXXX. Oh great. This wasn't quite an emergency (I would say that in Iraq, as long as you are self-mobile, you probably are not going to be first on the emergency list) so I was stuck for the time being. I went back to my hooch and passed out for around 15 hours.
Waking up and feeling even worse, I came into work anyways. Don said he could cover my shift, but I was not about to make him work a 16 hour day. As Rachel had said before, "we knew when we signed up this wasn't a job you can take sick leave from." My work was incredibly unproductive, involving mostly me staring at the wall and wishing silently for release.
Finally, it's 0900 the next day and I could go down to sick call. My throat dry and my voice hoarse from the constant coughing of the last week, I explained the problem to the receptionist guy. I then had to fill out a sheet where under complaint I wrote "head cold (???)". So far, it was not like TV had told me it would be, with wisecracking doctors alternately joking and philosophical, and definitely no "Hot Lips" Houlihan.
After a few minutes of waiting (and attempting to return banter with the sergeant who was in with shin splints, at which I failed due to both my feeling miserable and inability to speak clearly), a medic led me into the actual doctor's office. By the term "doctor's office" I refer to one cot out of several. The sergeant with shin splints got the cot next to me, and I got to hear all about the problems he had running. I was suddenly glad that my problem was not of a more embarassing nature when I realized that privacy was non-existent here.
After telling the medic several of my symptoms, she told me what the rest would be, guessing that I had a sinus infection. After answering her in the affirmative that the symptoms matched up, she told me that this was a common problem, as things one never knew one was allergic to pop up here in great frequency. Seeing that, some bacteria found my sinus cavities as a great place to settle down and raise some baby bacteria, and I worsened this by not going to the TMC earlier to evict them, as the medic repeatedly told me.
She gave me a bunch of pills, but no lollipop. In fact, she specifically told me that despite the gel-caps looking like you should chew them, on no account should you. This was due to the fact that they would numb your whole mouth. She then warned me that if I did do this, I should go back to the TMC, where she and the other medics would all laugh at me.
Two days after starting the pill regimen, I am starting to feel like a human again. I'm still somewhat zombie-like, but at least the craving for human brains has settled down a bit.

THE BUGS ARE BACK IN TOWN
It's springtime, when a young dragonfly's heart (or whatever insects have in place of a heart) turns to love. Yes, all of a sudden, massive dragonflies are all around the base (their bodies are about the size of my pinky finger, with a good 5 inch wingspan). I keep expecting to see leprechauns riding them like horses or something. Even more fun, they are usually found buzzing around in couples. How sweet.
There has been a sudden upswing in the number of cats around, as well. I don't know why this should be.. I assume that dragonflies migrate or hibernate or die after laying eggs or something (thus explaining their absence over the Iraqi "winter"), but I am pretty sure cats do none of these things (feel free to prove me wrong, bio majors). I can only assume that with the introduction of a sergeant-major who is less inclined to kill cats, they have been breeding prolifically and will soon overrun us. I get to hear some late-night catfights, too, which is a sound that I will not miss when I head back to the States.

PIGEON-KICKERS
As I've mentioned before, we have these interesting ring-necked doves that basically fit in the same ecological niche as pigeons here. One of the Triple Canopy guards was going down the sidewalk, kicking them and cursing them out as he went along. Obviously, any man that can beat a one-pound bird in single combat must be pretty manly. I have seen more pigeon abuse here than anywhere else in my life, as people feel they must prove their mettle by going up against these terrors of the sky.
One of the SAIC guys is also a bird man, and he told me about how those cute little sparrows are actually an invasive species from Europe and kill other birds because their beaks are harder.

BILL MESSES EVERYTHING UP
Long story short: engines need coolant, even generator engines. Even if the SOP does not say to check the coolant level, you probably should, or else the engine will shut down due to overheating and a mechanic will come and tell you how dumb you are. Just an FYI.

MISCELLANEOUS:
I can't believe I'm 26 years old, with a decent job, living in a bunkbed in a trailer that I share with seven other people. I had a better living situation in COLLEGE, for goodness' sake, when I was scraping by with a part-time hourly job at the hospital. On the plus side, it's not a tent, I do have A/C, and I'm not as far from the latrine as I was the last time.

Well, I've procrastinated long enough; I've got more work to do. Have a good one, everybody.

Bill

Baghdad Bulletin #24: A Day in the Life

2006-04-28T20:35:00.000+04:00

Hello everyone!
I realized the other day that, despite writing down numerous "special" things that happened, I have never given a run-down of what a typical day is like for me over here. I figure this way, you can all see what a regular day is like, and compare any special events to what normally happens.

10:30 PM: Alarm goes off.
10:40, 10:50, 11:00, 11:10, 11:20, 11:30: Alarm goes off.
11:35: Crawl out of bed. Bunkmate looks up from watching Family Guy on his DVD player and tells me he turned off the air conditioner because he was starting to get frostbite. Also notes that I was curled up in fetal position in corner of bed furthest from alarm clock. Grab towel and plastic bag full of toiletries.
11:40: Arrive at shower trailer. Wondering why my bunkmate was looking at me sleeping. Double-check that this, in fact, the MALE SHOWER and not the FEMALE SHOWER before going in (I've learned my lesson on THAT).
11:45: Quickly turn off shower as all hot, warm or even slightly-above-freezing water is gone after three minutes. If I forgot to bring my towel, this is about the point I would realize it.
11:50: Get back to trailer and change in dark, using little LED light around my neck to find socks, underwear, etc.
Midnight: Arrive at work and hear about what has happened since I left twelve hours ago. This usually includes an officer wondering why something is not working or is not done, and who places the blame squarely on me.
12:10 AM: I head to the DFAC to get food before it closes. Midnight chow consists of all the food that people did not want to eat earlier in the day, re-cooked for extra sogginess. Consequently, breakfast usually consists of cereal and a PBJ.
12:30: Back to work. Check stock prices. Wonder why market has not realized the merit of the stocks I own and sent them up 20% since yesterday. Read email. Wonder why more people have not written me. Remember then that I need to write them, too. Feel guilty for not writing more emails.
12:35-1:45: Stare at computer while drinking caffeinated beverages in a desperate struggle to stay awake.
1:45: Bemoan lack of Vitamin D from never seeing the sun.
1:46-2:59: Stare at computer while drinking caffeinated beverages in a desperate struggle to stay awake.
3:00: Protein drink time. Read note from C: "Bill sorry stole more of your protein."
3:05-4:00: More staring at computer, interspersed with heading outside to look at OTHER computers. Sometimes I stare at wires, too.
4:00: Cough. Wonder how much dirt is in my lungs and how long it will take to work its way out of my system once I'm back in the States.
4:01-6:00: Stare at computer while drinking caffeinated beverages in a desperate struggle to stay awake.
6:01: Head back to DFAC for breakfast. The early bird gets the not-quite-as-overdone eggs! Utter quick prayer to God regarding the bounty of the pancake bar that He, in His wisdom, has provided via the cafeteria workers. While eating, watch AFN News to see what the big news is back in the USA. Did you know there was something going on with transferring some port business to a different foreign company? Also that apparently some storms hit the Gulf Coast last year?
7:00: Back to work. Curse lack of diet sodas for me to expropriate. Eyes hurt at about this point, but I am a man with iron will and return to staring at various computer screens.
8:00: C comes in to start his shift. Usually looks for about three seconds at something I am working on and realizes that what I am doing will eventually cause a system failure, security violation, or worst of all, absolutely no effect. C then goes off to breakfast, while I start over on whatever it is I was doing.
10:00: My shift is over, and I go back to my place to change into gym clothes. Get to listen to other night shift worker in trailer cough and turn in his sleep. Take vitamin and mineral supplements. Have long ago ceased to care about mixing stuff in cup due to need of cleaning cup. Now scoop mix into my mouth, then drink water and swish it around in mouth before swallowing. Yes, it is like Lord of the Flies here.
10:15: Arrive at gym, where my confidence is regularly destroyed by soldiers bench pressing twice my weight.
11:30: Take shower to wash off sweat and aura of failure.
11:45: Head back to work for post-workout protein shake. Listen to supposedly witty comments regarding my arrival in the middle of the day (e.g. "Shouldn't you be asleep by now?", "Whoa, guess I'm here really late, Bill's here!", and "Did you mix up AM and PM again, Bill? You really should switch your clock to military time.")
11:50: Avoid getting pulled into working some problem that is occurring, most likely as a result of either my actions or negligence the previous night.
Noon: Eat lunch. Cafeteria workers smile at me when I ask if the beans have pork in them. I presume they think I am Muslim. Usually eat with a group of other contractors. If I don't see anybody I know, re-live days of high school and sit by myself in corner, reading.
12:30 PM-3:00: Go home, play some Game Boy, and read some more. Become more depressed about state of the world. Drink less water so I don't have to wake up to go to the bathroom later.
3:00: Attempt in vain to fall asleep.
4:00: Actually fall asleep. Dream of women, beer, and sleeping in.

So there you have it... hopefully now everybody has a baseline on what a normal day is like for me. I know that *I* do, finally!

Bill

Baghdad Bulletin #23: FOB Hijinx!

2006-04-28T20:29:00.000+04:00

Hello everyone...
Well, that last email was a bit of a downer, wasn't it? I plan on responding to everyone who wrote me back, but first, I wanted to send out a happier email to show everyone the FUN side of working in Iraq! This email will contain only the positive parts of being stuck in a desert for several months.

YOU GET TO BE CONFUSED BY FOREIGN LANGUAGES!
The traffic signs look like standard American traffic signs, but have Arabic translations below the English text. There are two "slow" signs near our LSA. Yes, they both say "SLOW" in English but the Arabic on both of them is completely different. I wonder what secret messages they actually say, or if one means "slow down" and the other means "this means foot OFF the gas for a second, stupid driver"?
On that note, did you know that Arabic is read from right to left, but numbers are written left to right? Believe it or not, it's true!

YOU GET TO HEAR ABOUT OTHER PLACES!
I was talking to another contractor, and mentioned that one of the places I would like to see is Korea. He suddenly got an odd look on his face.
"Trust me," he said. "I was there for four years. You don't want to go to Korea."
"Why not?" I asked, perplexed.
"All the women there will try to have sex with you," he replied.
"And this is a bad thing?"
He nodded. "You don't know how much trouble you can get into. Some sergeant marries a Korean girl, but then she finds a lieutenant and cheats on him. Then she sees you, and thinks, hey, a contractor, he makes even more money! So then she tries to get with you, and you have her husband AND her lover coming after you."
I asked him if he had any firsthand experience of this, but he pointed to the wedding band on his finger. Still, that was an awfully specific story he gave me...

Note to all the Koreans and anybody else offended by reading this: I say this only for the humor effect and mean absolutely no disrespect for Korean culture, I've never even been there, and the only bad thing I personally could possibly say about Korea is that I think that kim-chi is not actually food, but some sort of elaborate joke played on foreigners. Please don't sue me. Thanks.

YOU HAVE NOTHING TO DO BUT WORK OUT! AND NEITHER DOES ANYONE ELSE!
I believe I have mentioned that my off-time mostly consists of reading and going to the gym. Everyone seems to talk about it, too, because hey, what else are you going to talk about? Korea? Yeah right, you'll probably end up getting sued.
About two weeks ago, C and his workout buddies (I work out alone, since I do night shift, and the only one here at night besides me is the token SAIC guy R, who vowed after getting out of the Army that he would never exercise again) were eating lunch and he got an ice cream sandwich. He was mocked mercilessly for not adhering to a diet consisting entirely of egg whites, chicken breasts, and protein shakes. He took the ribbing, and the next day D saw him getting a scoop of ice cream at lunch when he was by himself, and then the next day someone else saw him get some. So they made up sheets that had a picture of Chris with the tagline "HAVE YOU SEEN THIS BULLDOG EATING ICE CREAM? IF SO PLEASE CONTACT THE ICE CREAM POLICE" and their office number. They then posted these signs all over the base. They then told the ice cream server guy not to let C have any ice cream if he asked for it.

"You know, if this was in the States, you wouldn't rag on someone for two weeks for eating ice cream." -C
"You're right, but we've got to make our own amusement here. Ragging on you is good for at least one week, maybe two." -R

WE HAVE SOME AWESOME DFACS! YOU DON'T HAVE TO EAT MRES ALL THE TIME!
For example, as I've mentioned before, every Wednesday is steak and seafood night (which doesn't affect me too much, but hey, it makes other people happy). Tomorrow night is "Magolian Grill" which I can only assume means "Mongolian Grill" which I can only assume means "the stir-fry concoction that is nothing at all like what Mongolians eat but Americans call it that anyway." They have also taken to giving us free PowerGel, which is this sugar and caffeine laden goo which you can take when working out for extra energy. These sit next to the year-expired PowerBar Harvest bars, but they're not even expired yet (well, OK, most of them expire this month, but still.. not expired!).
Recently, they have also added a pancake bar at breakfast, which is the greatest thing ever in the history of the world since at least the invention of the wheel. Every morning there are pancakes, french toast, waffles, several fruit toppings, butter, maple syrup, powdered sugar and various other random things for one to feast upon. They also have little packaged mini-bagels "stuffed with peanut butter and raspberry jam." They are using a different dictionary than me, because their definition of "stuffed" means "containing a thin, almost invisible layer of." Still, free bagels.. count me in!
The other night I came in late and just missed midnight chow. However, we have a box of MREs around here that we keep in case of emergencies (and yes, this was an emergency). Unfortunately, there was only one vegetarian MRE left, and it was already opened. It was opened and someone TOOK THE CRACKERS. Now seriously, why would open up a MRE package just to take the crackers? I could see stealing the dessert, but the CRACKERS? On top of that, it was the bean and rice burrito, which is the worst-tasting MRE main meal I have ever had. Still, this beats being hungry (see, remaining positive!). I smeared the peanut butter on top of the dessert (chocolate brownie), hoping that karma would catch up to the Cracker Thief. Actually, though, peanut butter + MRE chocolate brownie = pretty tasty.

"Back in the States, a breakfast like this costs eight, nine bucks easy." -me, referring to my Diet Coke, scrambled eggs and aforementioned pancakes with strawberries
"And here it only costs the government thirty!" -D

YOU GET AN ENDEARING NICKNAME!
I am a hardcore fobbit. A fobbit is someone who works inside the wire, that is, on a FOB (Forward Operating Base). This is not actually used as a term of endearment.

YOU GET TO HEAR ALL ABOUT CURRENCY EXCHANGE RATES!
My brother told me about people dabbling in Iraqi currency. I read the article, but considering the wide spread in bid/ask prices for dinars, the overall low liquidity, the lack of major banks accepting them, and the lack of places to spend them, I told him it was pretty high-risk and I didn't see much upside. Although now that I'm thinking about it, I guess I could go buy some falafels at the airport.
Anyways, I was talking to the people who work in my trailer about this burgeoning dinar trade, and the various problems associated with it, and they all just stared at me. Turns out about half of them had bought dinars an investment. Hmm. Color me embarassed.

PT IS A WALK IN THE PARK!
C told me this story. A woman comes into the gym, wearing her Army PT uniform (PT is physical training.. you know, running, doing push-ups, whatever else it is that they do in the military whose chief purpose is to make you sweat). She goes to one of the sit-up benches, and adjusts it so that she is leaning back. She then looks around and pulls out a PSP (PlayStation Portable, a handheld video game system) and starts playing video games!
Once again, Full Metal Jacket has lied to me about the rigors of military life! *

* Yes, I know those scenes in FMJ were from basic training, and that they were Marines and not Army. Please ignore that and let me make a joke. Thanks again.

YOU LEARN TO APPRECIATE THE SMALL THINGS!
I was talking to a sergeant taking a class in the trailer next to mine, and he said, "it's great being on this base, because there's so much empty space. Less chance of a mortar hitting near where you are."

WHEN BAD THINGS DON'T HAPPEN, YOU'RE HAPPY!
I got a call from C just as I was getting back from the gym today (yes, I have one of those new "cellular" phones now!). The reception was kind of bad (but I am not knocking Iraqna, they provide some darned fine phones and service), but after the normal pleasantries I asked him what was up. "We've got... an issue. Can you meet me at my hooch, I'll explain on the way." Oh great. My mind was filled with disaster scenarios... our trailer got hit, the entire system crashed hard, the general personally called for my expulsion from base for conduct unbecoming a contractor...
Anyways, I head down to where C lives and wait.. and wait.. and wait. All the time, the disaster scenarios are becoming more complex and disastrous in my head: I had a bounty on my head after someone misspelled Bill Laboon as "Bin Laden," the insurgents had learned to harness the power of the atom, or that over the last four hours, the United States had become a post-apocalyptic wasteland bearing an odd resemblance to the world of "Mad Max" and we were all going to start our lives anew as brickmakers in the relative peace and prosperity of Baghdad.
C finally shows up, smiling and with a box in his hand. "Dude, check it out! I just got a shipment of cigars in! Want one?" I replied that I didn't smoke, and was that the only issue?
"Oh yeah, I just thought you would want one. They're really good."

YOU'RE A WALKING AD FOR JOINING THE MILITARY!
My mom pointed out that she joined the military and during the same time I was listening to bullets fly over my head, she was moving stuff from her office to storage space. I think they should use this in TV commercials.. "Join the military, or you might end up in Iraq, anyways!" It doesn't have quite the same ring to it as "Be all you can be," but perhaps they can modify it a bit. I'm putting it out in the public domain, they're welcome to it if they want.

That's all for now. Hey, only two more months and I can tell you all these stories in person, and who wouldn't like that?

Bill

Baghdad Bulletin #22: Sectarian Violence, Up Close and Personal

2006-04-28T20:26:00.000+04:00

Hello everyone!
Let me apologize for the delay in sending out this update... I worked 90 hours last week, and the furthest thing from my mind was writing a Bulletin. I'm going to start with what has happened to me recently, and then theorize a bit on what exactly is going on.

WHAT DOES A BULLET GOING BY SOUND LIKE?
My shift starts rather late in the day, so it's dark out by the time I wake up. I was running even later than normal this day, and decided to skip the shower (it's not like I'm going on any dates here, anyways). I carried my toothbrush and toothpaste to the central latrine (since it is on the way to work), and started brushing my teeth next to an older terp (interpreter) who was engaged in the same hygiene practice. As soon as I started brushing, I heard the crackle of automatic rifle fire.
"That is close, is it not?" the interpreter asked me.
"Mrf funf leuh ergs, fo," I replied, then spit out my toothpaste. "It sounds like our guys, though."
"Yes, but I worry about the guys who they shoot!" he said, laughing. At that point, another one of the interpreters rushed in (they all seem to be rather old) and was talking rapidly to the first one in Arabic. I picked up "Allahu akbar, Allahu akbar, Allahu akbar" and wondered what was going on. The first interpreter explained that insurgents were storming the base. Both interpreters left with a larger group, none of them laughing anymore. Great.
I walked to the chow hall, careful to stay behind the barriers. I heard two bullets whiz past my head, above me, one after the other. You could hear the occasional fire of our 50-cals on the wall, but there was an absolute ton of other small-arms fire that sounded different. There were three explosions from the time I left the latrine to the time I got to the chow hall. Right by the wall of our base, I could see tracer fire going in both directions, away from us and towards us. Just great.
The guard at the DFAC was staring over at the spectacle. I asked him if he knew what was going on. "Looks like we're under attack," he said, unperturbed, "when they celebrate, it's not like this."
"Oh yeah, I was here when Iraq won that soccer game. They fired mostly up in the air, then, and if you look at the trajectories now, they're almost horizontal."
The guard nodded. "Plus, if you listen, they're yelling out some Hajji talk."
I listened, and indeed, you could hear "Allahu Akbar! Allahu Akbar!" repeated over and over again over a loudspeaker. If you don't know, this means "God is Great!" If you head on over to al-Jazeera and watch some of the videos the insurgents release, it's one of the things they say when say, detonating an IED. Tonight was definitely not shaping up to be a good night in Baghdad.
I wished the guard well and headed to work, staying behind the barriers, and thanking God and the local logistics crew for finally putting up the dirt barriers around our pad. The fighting died down after about an hour, and the next day I found out that it was actually fighting over one of the mosques directly outside the base. We only fired on people if they got too close to us, apparently, and there was plenty of bullets whizzing around everywhere. Kind of an anti-climactic end to the story, but it just goes to show you how much the society is breaking down over here after the bombing of the Golden Mosque.

ANOTHER SUICIDE BOMBER
This morning I was finishing up some security work on one of the computers when the vehicle I was in shook. I was startled, but again following the rule of explosions (if you heard it, you're OK!) I ignored it. After about a minute, though, C came into the van and asked me, "did you feel that?" After answering in the affirmative, he said that was some sort of concussion (not sure if meant compression or if that is some sort of military term) from a huge explosion. One of our gates got hit by a suicide bomber.
I don't think people understand how powerful explosions can be. In the movies, if you're not within five feet of the blast, it's almost like it didn't occur. We were well over a mile away, and it was powerful enough to shake trailers and for us to feel a change in air pressure.
Things seem to be getting worse here instead of better, lately, at least from my admittedly myopic viewpoiint.

FOX NEWS IS REALLY UPSETTING ME
The only TV I have watched since I got here is what's on in the chow hall.. so either AFN Sports (read: ESPN) or AFN News (read: either CNN or FOX). Some talking head (I have no idea who) was talking about how "liberals just want to understand the enemy." This enraged me, so please excuse the following rant. I promise, I am less biased afterwards.
"Liberals want to *understand* the enemy?" Well duh! Every friggin' soldier here does! How can you fight something if you don't understand it? Look at Ahmadinejad (President of Iran), offering to sponsor a holocaust cartoon contest because he thinks that will anger us. Will this upset Western folk? No, they'll just ignore it like they do the pablum from other hate groups. Western society has a natural immunity to speech we don't like, because we are constantly subjected to it. It's just like your immune system... teachers never get sick because their immune systems are constantly fighting off the germs their students are giving them.
On the other hand, look how upset we get when we hear about, say, stoning a woman to death for adultery. We have different cultures. It's like trying to go hunting grizzly bears with a .22, or squirrels with a grenade. You NEED to understand the enemy to appropriately meet the challenge. This does not negate the fact that the enemy is, in fact, the enemy!

WHAT TO DO
Suicide bombing campaigns occur because one group of people wishes another to leave what it regards as its homeland, always when the other party is a nominal democracy and almost always when the occupying party is of a different religion (the notable exception being the Kurds' suicide bombing campaign against Turkey). These are facts; I am putting no spin on this whatsoever. Please feel free to correct me if you have any information to add. From here on out, this is speculation, but I believe it is well-grounded in the facts.
This is because democracies are uniquely vulnerable. Do you think Kim Jong-Il would care if he lost a couple of hundred people to suicide bombings every year? Of course not. Whatever he was doing, he would continue doing it. However, democratic leaders must maintain popularity in order to be elected again (thus the paucity of democracy vs. democracy wars). A war must not only be winnable, but POPULAR with a democracy to continue. Suicide bombing campaigns, due to their relative effectiveness, make wars less popular. However, Americans seemed willing to deal with the deaths of soldiers and the possible short-term loss of safety involved with a war as long as we were doing it for "selfish" reasons to improve our long-term safety. I see this at the original run-up to the Iraq war, as Bush channeling Kissinger's realpolitik. Now, however, our goal is to build democracy in Iraq. Although this may have long-term goals and rewards, we are not going to see them immediately. I see this as Bush moving to a more Reagan- or Wilson-esque idea of diplomacy... the USA is to be a city on a hill, a beacon of democracy for all to see, and we will do what is morally right instead of what gains us the most.
Sounds great, in theory. It even works sometimes (Reagan, arguably). What it usually does not do, unfortunately, is make a war more popular. In a democracy, wars are fought in the participants' heads. No matter what the outcome, I see this war becoming less and less popular in the voters' minds.
Anyways, my main point is that to eliminate suicide bombing, we need to stop one of the things that makes suicide bombing so prevalent:

1) A force seen as an "occupying power" by the enemy (yes, yes, I know we are not an occupying power. I am speaking from the INSURGENTS' point of view).
2) A society that condones suicide bombings
3) The lack of an entrenched, determined populace ready to accept many deaths and/or democracy
4) The difference in religions, cultures, and values between the West and Islam

Some of these are impossible to be rid of (I don't think that we want to give up democracy to rid ourselves of suicide bombers). However, from my research these seem to be the ways that suicide bombing campaigns have a chance of ending. If anyone has ideas, I would love to hear them.

----

And that about covers it. Everyone stay in touch, it's always good hearing from people back in the States over here in the sandbox.

Bill

Baghdad Bulletin #21: Baghdad Six and Iraqi Kids

2006-04-28T20:23:00.000+04:00

Greetings everyone!
Sorry it's been so long since last I wrote... things have been rather busy over here. I thought I could just lay around and soak up the Iraqi sun, but alas, 'tis not to be. I am working night shift again, 12 hours a night, and of course we work seven days a week. Please remember that when you are taking off early on Friday to go to happy hour down at Duclaw.

KUWAIT TO IRAQ
My last night in Kuwait was relatively uneventful. I went to the gym after realizing that I had forgot my headphones to my iPod. However, in my little "welcome note," the hotel propagandist mentioned that headphones were available at the reception desk in the gym. Crazily enough, I believed that this meant that you could rent or borrow them. Silly me. They could be had for the low, low price of 2.500 Kuwaiti dinars (approximately US$8.56). As if! I would just listen to the background mu.. wait a minute. No background music. There was a big sign posted, "Due to the death of our dear Sheikh, music is prohibited from being played this month in Kuwait." Along with the prohibiition of alcohol, I get the sense that Kuwait City will NOT be the next big hotspot in the nightclub circuit. I went down to the "actual weights" segment of the male gym. Actually, the one gym had NO WOMEN ALLOWED posted, but I did not see a NO MEN ALLOWED sign on the other gym. However, I saw a bunch of women going in, and I was not about to risk being attacked by hordes of angry Kuwaitis upset at my shameless picking up and putting down of heavy things in front of the opposite sex.

Unfortunately, the male gym reeked of body odor and overworked chlorine, so I went to the aerobics room (it was almost midnight, so there were no aerobics classes). I did the basics - sit-ups, push-ups, etc. and noticed some jump ropes. Having never jumped rope before, the idea came upon me to learn tonight. Despite my truly awe-inspiring ineptness at the beginning, I was doing OK at the end and could do 20 or 25 jumps before my legs became tangled in imitation plastic rope. I chalked the night down as a success.

I had to leave the hotel at around 0300 to get to the air base to head back into Iraq. We get there and immediately and politely file onto a waiting plane and arrive in Iraq comfortably. Of course, this is a blatant lie. We sit around for two hours with little to no direction on what to do, until the flight manifester comes and tells us that due to the fact that he brings everybody in - the UN, State Department, soldiers, even, God forbid, the occasional journalist - he cannot tell us when we are leaving or getting in until we get on the plane. We are loaded onto a bus which proceeds to sit there idling for half an hour (during which time I started reading Jitterbug Perfume, having secreted the novel in my jacket earlier because if there is one thing I have learned, there will be boring stretches of time over here). The manifester comes back and passes back the uniform military IDs and a rainbow of passports, and we head to chow, where we have about five minutes to eat breakfast. I had pancakes, eggs, and fruit salad. It is very easy to get fresh fruit and vegetables here, so I have been eating them often. I still find it amazing that I can show a guy my ID card and I get free access to an all-you-can-eat buffet. The mind boggles.

We pass through row upon row of C-130s, which are ungainly-looking prop cargo planes. The C-5 is a monster cargo plane that demands respect; the KC-135 has the classic look of a plane that yeah, it can carry cargo, but it can just as easily be a passenger plane. The C-130 has none of this bravado. Its goal in life is to deliver cargo, and it will do this without worrying about comfort, grace or dignity. This sounds romantic, but you have not ridden on one. Since my last trip on one survives in my mind mainly for "how badly I had to pee," I forgot how crowded they were. This one was more crowded than most. Despite the guy saying "tall people get near the front of the plane, otherwise you will have no legroom," I ended up in the back of the plane, next to the same jerk as I sat next to on the bus, a tall guy who felt that his legs had to be at a 50 degree angle to each other the whole time. This was bad enough on the bus, but on the plane... I can't even describe how cramped we were. My knees touched the seats across from me, where someone else was sitting. There is 20" of space for you, lengthwise, which means you are pushing against everyone else's shoulders. Any time I moved, I kicked someone. My knees were together. I was able to put one of my legs underneath the seat of the guy across from me, but it would fall asleep. Imagine fitting four people in the back of a Honda Civic. Now imagine four more people in a seat that is about 20" across from the first one. All of the guys are at least 6' tall. I bent over and kept reading Jitterbug Perfume (which kept my mind off things mostly - it is a good book, I highly recommend it - but then someone would kick into me and ruin my mental revelry).

We get off and unload, end up driving some people from another military command than mine over to where they will be working.
Summer (the girl): I was going to talk to you on the bus, but I saw you were from a different command.
Me: (throwing down bag) We gon' have to scrap? We can throw down right here!

We caught up on old times, what had happened, why nobody ever sent my bag back, etc. It's good to be back!

BOOM!-SHALAKA-LAKA
We've had a couple of mortars hit recently. One was across one of the artificial lakes from us, about a quarter-mile away. One was by our living quarters. Rachel and I were walking back when we heard it.

Rachel: "That better not have hit my hooch! I don't want to have to wear these same clothes until I leave!"

Another time, I was walking back from the PX (which is about a mile up the road from my hooch) when I heard a huge THWUMP behind me. Following the rule of ignoring explosions - "If you heard it, you're okay, so nothing to worry about!" - I kept walking. About a minute later, an MP came by with his lights flashing, then several fire trucks. Finally, I saw another MP being blocked by a Gator (a little golf-cart looking thing). The entire way up the road, this MP was trying to get past the Gator, had his lights on, honking his horn, swerving across the road as the driver obliviously continued on. When he got close, I noticed he was wearing hearing protection. I tried to motion for him to move over, but nobody pays attention to the dumb contractor who is not nearly cool enough to have a Gator and thus has to use his own legs like a sucker.

KIDS, I DON'T KNOW WHAT'S WRONG WITH THESE KIDS TODAY
Rachel went on a tour to the various guard towers, where aside from protecting us from insurgents and other malcontents, US soldiers put up with the Iraqi children. There's a bit of a run-down area near one side of the base, so the children make it their daily amusement to come over and mock the Americans. Among the various amusing incidents:
1) Iraqi kids apparently have nothing better to do all day but to hang around the guard towers and alternately tell the Americans, in heavily accented English, how they will "f*** America with my big dick! big like donkey dick! f*** you Americans!" and ask for Pepsi and candy bars.
2) They throw rocks all the time at the Americans, and the Lt. Col. in charge has ordered the soldiers not to shoot (unless they are shot at or something). So the kids are pretty fearless, throwing rocks because "The Captain tell you not to shoot us! ha-ha!" (they call their commanding officer The Captain. Not known: who they call Tenille). Of course, the Americans have a secret weapon.. they can call the ISP (Iraqi Security Police). They don't like to do that because the Iraqi police come and beat the kids to a pulp. However, it works as a threat.. "hey kids, we're going to call the police!" and they shut up for a few minutes until they realize the police aren't coming and go back to begging for Pepsi and throwing rocks.
3) They offered Rachel fifteen dollars to marry one of them. They said, "You are so beautiful! Take off your hat!" so she did and said "You only think I'm beautiful because I'm the first American girl you've seen!" She then turned to a soldier to ask, "are they like this all the time?" but before she could, a piece of fruit went sailing past her head and the Iraqi kids were laughing. "Don't turn away from them even for a minute," said the guard.
4) The guard soldiers sit there for twelve-hour stretches, enduring insults all the time. Seven days a week, now that some of the forces have "drawn down." You always hear about how we are reducing the number of troops in Iraq. This just means that the ones who are here have to work more. You also hear about how "heartless American occupiers killed innocent poor Iraqis..." Now, not that I am condoning the killing of kids who are just yelling and throwing rocks, but after twelve hours, if someone throws something that looks like a grenade... I can see a situation like that getting out of hand very quickly.
5) At another post, she saw three Iraqi kids walking along near a shepherd with his sheep. The one kid threw a rock at another, knocking him to the ground. Soon they were all throwing rocks at each other. One kid was hiding behind a sheep, and another threw a rock at the sheep, causing a loud "BAA!" and a rapidly moving sheep, and prompting the shepherd to finally yell at them to go play somewhere else.

BAGHDAD SIX AND STARING AT THE WALL
I believe I have mentioned the almost complete lack of women over here, although it is somewhat better at my base than others. This gives some, though certainly not all, women an attitude, which can usually be nullified by letting them know that you have no interest in them ( e.g. passing references to having a girlfriend). Anyways, I think the trick is to let it roll off your back, but other people have different ideas.

The gym here has two sets of equipment, a set of treadmills that face the wall, and separated by a walkway, a large clump of stationary bikes. When you're on the treadmills, as I tend to be, your view is, of course the wall (if you guys are lucky, you can hear my little spiel on this when I get back. I was cracking up the specialist sitting next to me at chow). When you're on the bike, however, you see people coming in, and your natural instinct is to see who it is. At least, that is C's instinct.

After several times of this, the woman on the bike next to him told him "you don't have a chance."

C took off his headphones and stared at her. "Excuse me?" he demanded.

She did not comply, but rather replied "I said, you may as well stop looking at me like that, because you don't have a chance with me."

"Look," C explained. "You might be a Baghdad six, but you're an America two, which means I would have to be drunk or desperate to try to get with you. Seeing as I am neither of these things, I'll just let you know that I was looking at the people coming in." He then calmly put his headphones back on while the woman tried and failed to think of a comeback, and continued his workout.

This led us to wonder what the ratio is of a woman's looks is to their location. Is a Baghdad Six a Fallujah Seven? A Ramadi Eight? A Basra Four? Is there some sort of algorithm we could develop to figure this out? These are the things that happen when engineers discuss.. well, anything.

INTO THE SUNSET
The other morning was Rachel's last time at work. I came in a little early the night before to relieve her so she could get a bit more sleep. We drove her out out to the airport and made sure she was checked in. Nothing else, really, to report, except that I am now the only one left on my base who was here when we set up the system. Suddenly I feel like playing "Dust in the Wind."

MISCELLANEOUS QUOTE
"Did you hold up the Cookie-Mart?" -Rob, on the large number of cookies on Craig's desk

That's all from everyone's favorite software engineer turned war correspondent. See you all in a few months!

Bill

Baghdad Bulletin #20: Back in Iraq

2006-04-28T20:17:00.000+04:00

Greetings everyone!
Well, it had to happen sometime.. I am heading back to the land of pleasant living (wait, that isn't Iraq, that's the slogan on the side of National Bohemian beer cans). Not only do you people in the States not have to deal with me for another couple of months, but you also get to have the pleasure of deleting my hand-crafted, authentic weekly emails! If you forget the story, or who this "Bill" character is, or are just coming in late, feel free to read the archives posted at: http://billiniraq.blogspot.com and peruse some pictures at http://photos.yahoo.com/wlaboon.
WHAT HAPPENED TO THE EPILOGUE YOU PROMISED?
I never wrote it. I was going to come up with a clever excuse (one of my cockatiels ate it), but instead I will just give a quick run-down of my last few days from the last trip.
I packed up all my stuff and lugged it down to work (have you carried close to your own body weight for almost a half-mile? Good times, good times). Waited for the plane to take me to Kuwait. We took a C-130, which is a snub-nosed little thing with propellors. We walked behind the propellors where the wind was almost blowing us down. Luckily, we were all wearing our IBA (individual body armor) so it was that much harder to blow us down. It was about this time that I realized I had to use the bathroom (note my subtle foreshadowing of impending doom).
The C-130 was outfitted with "parachute seats"... just a long line of fabric webbing where everybody sits down next to each other. You are facing some guy across from you, as well as butting knees with him. There are no armrests (although I got a spot where there was a gap in the webbing and thus had some room on one side of me). Now, they tell you about how the plane goes up quickly and circles around (so as to avoid enemy fire, it gains height over the base). I was prepared for this. What I was not prepared for was the three or four seconds of free fall at the end of this pattern. I grabbed the seat instinctively, as did the Army major sitting next to me. An airman sitting across from us, having been through all of this many times, smiled at the wussy contractor and Army officer.
As the flight went on, I kept thinking, I should ask where the bathroom is, or if they have one. But then my brain kept retorting, you're almost there! Why bother the flight crew? Well when I finally my brain decided to stop ignoring the signals from my bladder, I did ask if they had a bathroom, the guy said, we're preparing to land right now, just wait. As soon as the door opened, I slowly filed out of the plane (important tip: do not start running around or moving out of turn when on a military airbase) and scanned the place for port-a-potties. Found some. Life was good.
"Come on, " someone yelled, "get on the shuttle to the LSA." Sighing, I got on the shuttle to where we would be staying, a group of tents in the Kuwaiti desert.. just kidding! I am a contractor, and they put me up in a five-star hotel. I did nothing for a day except swim, lounge on the beach, watch TV, and eat amazing, amazing (non-chow hall!) food.
FORGET THE HISTORY. WHAT'S HAPPENING NOW?
Right now I am sitting in a hotel writing this email out. I am going to copy and paste an email to Jacki about what has happened so far because, let's face it, typing is for suckers.
I missed the plane, so I had to take the next flight. No biggie, except that last-mintue change triggered the algorithm for "potential security risk" and I was singled out for additional screening. Luckily, my papers were in order and I was allowed to go without getting the "rubber-glove treatment." Several amusing things happened on the way over, including:
1) a wrong turn that almost led me out into Germany instead of my connecting flight
2) learning that, in Germany, one waits to use the bathroom on the plane, because the ones in the terminal are the size of a Chiclet. I assume they need the extra room for signs, because every word in German is > 50 characters, e.g. Spartenstrassefarbenplatzschoendankedanke (German for "the")
3) having 25% or so of the Frankfurt to Kuwait connection having the same carry-on bag as me (they are a hot item at the base PX)
4) Laughing many times over the word "Dulles"
5) Sitting next to a little Asian girl (as in, like six-seven years old) on the DC to Frankfurt hop. I HAD SO MUCH ROOM. I figure this is karma, after the 400 pound man and the 6'4" sailor on my last two flights.
6) Being told in German where my seat is, and understanding!
7) Wondering who buys those $295 language classes at the airport.
So I discovered to my chagrin that 1) I do not have my Kuwaiti power adapter here 2) my laptop had about 20 minutes of power on it 3) I forgot to tell the supervisor that I arrived in Kuwait! This, along with the protestors downstairs...
WAIT, WHAT, PROTESTORS?
Well, that was rude, Mr. Rhetorical Question Chapter Headings man. Last night, while trying in vain to get to sleep, I heard honking and chanting downstairs (I do not understand Arabic, so from here on out I will replace their chanting with the opening words to the Laverne and Shirley theme song). I look out my window to see several hundred people blocking the highway and road, saying rhythmically, "shlemiel, schlimazel, hasenpfeffer incorporated!" Police were out, yelling back at them over loudspeakers (again in Arabic). Some people dispersed, but most stayed. I was thinking, hmm, thank goodness we have concrete barricades all around our hotel (isn't life in the Middle East wonderful?)
This continued for about an hour. I went to the lounge and asked if anybody knew what was going on, but our best guess was more of the comic protests (which are occuring all across the Muslim world - latest news is here - http://msnbc.msn.com/id/11269770/). I went back to bed, although sleep did not come as I was jet-lagged, wondering how i could contact my supervisor, and hearing first the protestors, and then the honks of horns as the cars worked their way out of a massive traffic jam. I was too tired to do anything strenuous, so my night consisted of me playing The Legend of Zelda, watching some immediately forgettable movies, and reading. If there is one thing that one learns as a field guy, it is how to kill time. And I am a ruthless, efficient assassin of time, baby.
For breakfast, I had a cheese omelette, a wedge or hunk or slab or chunk or whatever of brie cheese, some French imitations of doughnuts, orange juice, and kiwi juice. Yes, kiwi juice. It looked like a Shamrock Shake from McDonalds, plus a bunch of black specks floating in it. But it was tasty, even better than the banana juice I had in Moscow.
That's about all I have to say for now (and by that I mean, I am hungry and going to have dinner). I hope everyone stays in touch, it is great receiving your emails while I am over here.
Fiiman illah (goodbye in Iraqi Arabic),
Bill

Baghdad Bulletin #19: Winding Down (19 Dec 2005)

2005-12-19T14:36:00.000+03:00

This is it, guys.. my last bulletin from Baghdad. I'll write an epilogue when I get back to the States. Thank you all for your support and kind words, and special thanks to everyone who sent me a care package or gift. Not much has happened since the last update, but I've included some final amusing incidents to tide you over until you get to see me again in person.

THOUGHTS ON THE VOTE
Yay, democracy! That is all.

I know you were all expecting some deep thoughts on this, but I can't think of anything that hasn't been said on CNN or MSNBC. Sorry. In fact, there probably aren't any deep thoughts in this entire bulletin.

UPDATES ON OLD BULLETINS AND OTHER MISCELLANEOUS ITEMS

I read in the Stars and Stripes that forty-six Baghdad residents were injured by falling bullets from the soccer game celebration.

More kitties! There is a family of cats that lives under the chow hall (and who are very fat, for cats here - the TCN garbagemen feed them the wasted food on the garbage trays). There are two entrances in the chow hall, one for military and one for civilians. The TCNs closed off all the exits from underneath the chow hall to the military side, so SMAJ wouldn't see the cats. Unfortunately, it look like he found out and put a cage trap on the civilian side. Whenever the cats go near the cage, the TCNs hiss at them, making sure that they remain afraid of the cage. Smart thinking!

Not counting this current email, I have sent out 32,950 words in my Baghdad Bulletins... about the size of a 115-page novel.

Pigeons - I will miss the ring-necked doves that are over here, their little cries are more musical than the "regular" pigeons (rock doves) in the States. I have noticed that they all leave their sleeping quarters on the palace at approximately the same time every day. Every one of them takes off about fifteen minutes after the sun comes up. On the way back from chow this morning, I saw two pigeons fighting, and after the one won the battle, he walked around all the other pigeons with his wings outstretched, like "you want some of this, too?"

There is a sink on the roof of one of the buildings here. I've always seen it, but didn't pay much attention to it. I assumed it was just sitting there, left over from someone cleaning the building out or something. Yesterday, though, my curiousity got the better of me and I climbed up the stairs to the roof. The water smelled funny, but the sink worked! Now I am left to wonder why Saddam installed a sink in the middle of a roof.

KBR has put up a "winter wonderland" outside the chow hall with gingerbread men, Santa and his sleigh, and snowmen. Rachel has put Christmas lights up on the generator housing, as well as an eight foot tall inflatable Frosty the Snowman. It's hard to get into the season, though, when people wear a t-shirt and shorts to work.

I took a walk around the base today, right by the walls to the outside. It's amazing how close we actually are.. I could hear Iraqi kids playing games on the other side of the wall. I got Chris to take a picture of me up in one of Saddam's old guard towers, pretending to address a vast, adoring throng of my minions. I found some TCNs rowing down a canal, cutting up the cattails and burning them. I found a building that had a sign on it that said BOMB HERE... I am not sure if that meant there was a bomb there, or if someone wanted a bomb to land there. I didn't go a-knocking, either way.

Did you know? The slang word for a translator (interepreter) is "terp"... just like the College Park team nickname!

THINGS I HAVE LEARNED HERE
1) The standard NATO phonetic alphabet. Now I can say my last name is LIMA-ALPHA-BRAVO-OSCAR-OSCAR-NOVEMBER!
2) How to drive a standard transmission vehicle. That one should not panic, despite your repeated stalling, you can't get the vehicle into first when there is a Humvee with a .50-cal waiting behind you. That when you are driving around in an empty field and keep stalling out, the guards will figure out that you are not a terrorist because terrorists are somewhat competent.
3) "All Army women are either married or lesbians." -anonymous
4) Do not ever, ever, ever discuss pay with a soldier or airman. Let them complain. Stand quietly by until they are done.
5) All soldiers could be making either 80k or 100k if they weren't in the military. Every one of them. Do not attempt to discuss with them, this is a fact of life.
6) Tracers are tracers because there is a bit of paint on the tip that burns off as it travels (thanks, Paul).
7) The military basically forces you to get married. Soldiers get more bonuses for getting married than for getting shot at. I'm not sure what this says about the hazards of marriage.
8) I was going to say, Jody is an asshole, but I don't want Jodie K. to take offense.
9) Latrines smell horrible. Port-a-potties smell worse. Using a port-a-potty in the dark and in the heat really, really, really sucks.

MISCELLANEOUS QUOTES
"Boys are for fun, girls are for marrying." -Arab proverb, supposedly

(pulling hundreds of pounds of wire around to set up the system)
Me: "I can just see my Dad now.. 'So Billy, four years of college and here you are lugging wire around in the dust... how much did you pay for college again?'"

(after doing some nifty UNIX tricks)
Rachel: "Hey, that's pretty cool."
Me: "Finally, all those lonely Friday nights in high school have paid off!"

(after saying something that shows that I am stressed out)
Chris: "Dude, you need to go home and get laid."
Me: "I've been saying that since September!"

I don't know the name of the funny chow hall guy, so I will call him Achmed.
Me: "I'll have some vegetables." (pointing to mixed vegetable tray - corn, lima beans, peas, etc)
Achmed: "How many? Two?" (he puts two pieces of corn on the tray and hands it to me)

Some contractor: "What's that?" (points to quiche)
Achmed: "Egg pie, sir. Like cherry pie, but no cherries. All eggs."

Me: "Can I have some waffles?"
Achmed: "How many? Eight?"
Me: "No, just two."
Achmed: "Eighty-two waffles? You are very hungry, sir!"

Chris: "There's a sign at the recruiting office... Hot Girls - Air Force / All Others - Any Other Service."

------
The following is from my friend Renee, please take a moment to read it!

Can you do me a favor when you send out your next or last newsletter to all of your friends and family? Can you please tell them about the "Any Soldier" website? The site is: www.anysoldier.com
It's a site where you can get the names and addresses of soldiers serving in Iraq and Afghanistan who are looking for support for either themselves or the guys in their divisions who never get any mail from home. I've had three soldier pen pals through that site over the past two years and they were all very appreciative. One of them I still keep in touch with! The site was created by a father of a soldier serving in Iraq and in the beginning, the site was only created for his son and his son's division, but then some of his son's friends from other divisions wanted to be added, and from there it grew into thousands of soldiers. The father who runs it is a great man and is doing this for free (I've talked to him on the phone before since he lives near DC and I was going to help with some other project but it didn't work out). The soldiers who sign up for this site can post photos and updates for their supporters. It's a really great way for Americans to connect with the troops and support them and understand what they're going through. Take a look and if you think it's appropriate, it would be great if you could spread the word.

See you all shortly back in the land of the free and the home of the brave,
Bill

Baghdad Bulletin #18: Bullets, Bullets, Everywhere (14 Dec 2005)

2005-12-16T04:49:00.000+03:00

Greetings from my penultimate week in Iraq!
Last week, I was wondering if anybody was still interested in reading my stories. It seemed like things had gotten pretty boring. OK, we had a VBIED (car bomb) attack the other day, and someone threw a garbage bag full of explosives over the wall, injuring two soldiers, but I wasn't there, just heard the booms. "Wow, Bill, thanks for writing about something we could read about on CNN. Why don't you tell us more about that time you met the head of security in the bathroom and he was asking you about satellite dishes? At least you had firsthand knowledge of that." Is anything I do interesting to the people back home?
I was reminded of the Chinese curse, "May you live in interesting times." (yes, I know that this is not an actual Chinese curse, and Chinese people probably think Americans are ignorant because we believe it is, but it's a darned good curse, nonetheless). Because times were about to get very interesting, indeed.

INTERESTING TIMES
Taptaptap. Taptaptap. I was reading in my bunk, having just woken up and not ready to face the day, when I heard a gentle tapping at my chamber door. At least, it sounded like a gentle tapping. I get out of bed and go to the door to see who could be visiting me, and I heard the noise again. That's when I realized it was gunfire, but much closer than normal.
As I walked to the door, the gunfire increased in volume and intensity. It almost sounded like a really big pan of bacon frying, or someone dragging a heavy load across a gravel road. I opened the door and saw the night sky lit up with gunfire. Most people don't know this - I certainly didn't before I came over here - but about one of every ten bullets in an automatic weapon is a tracer, so you can see where you are shooting. The sky was lit up all around the base with tracer fire. I remember thinking it was just like the Tet Offensive scene in Full Metal Jacket. There is some heavy s*** going down, I thought. Maybe the locals have finally grown tired of having this base here and have come to drive us off.
Realizing that there was very little I could do, that the soldiers probably had it all under control, and that my parents would never speak to me again if I were killed by a stray bullet, I locked my door and went back to my bunk. It was probably the safest place to be in my room, since any bullets would have to go through either a jersey barrier or the roof and a matress to get to me. I kept reading and listening to the increasingly loud barrage of gunfire.
(Meanwhile, back at work)
Rachel, Chris, and Jef were watching a movie in the generator housing when Rachel heard a noise. "Is that gunfire or someone knocking to get in?" she asked. Jef opened up the door and quickly found out that it was gunfire. He said you could see tracer fire all above the vehicles. He and Chris stood there watching it for a while (Rachel was here when our vehicles got hit, so she realized how close we actually are to the outside and stayed in the housing).
One of the other contractors came up to the housing. "All right, we're being evacuated!" he yelled over the background clattering of AK-47s and 50-cals. "We're going to a hard stand, if you got your gear, grab it and let's go!" Gear, in this case, being the flak vest and kevlar helmet. They travelled down the sidewalk in single-file to a building that was considered safe and waited out the firefight.
(Back in Bill's hooch)
After about a half hour, I really had to go to the bathroom. The gunfire seemed a little quieter now, so I decided to risk it. I went out, making sure to stay behind the Jersey barriers on my way over, and used the latrine. Some contractors were out there discussing what was going on, but they didn't seem to have any better idea than me... probably less, since they were all subject to the rumor mill. "Well, at least they're using up all their bullets," said one old contractor as I was passing him.
As soon as I got back to my room, I heard the Big Voice (the guy on the intercom). He said, "The base is not under attack. Repeat, the base is not under attack. This is Iraqi celebratory gunfire." I found out later that Iraq had won some soccer game, so they were celebrating in the traditional Iraqi way of firing their guns into the air. Some bullets were shot good-naturedly at our base, and our soldiers started firing back with their machine guns. Just another cultural misunderstanding between the Americans and Iraqis.
Of course, those bullets have to come down somewhere, sometime, probably travelling at terminal velocity (I don't really feel like doing the physics to figure it out). I took a walk around the lake the next day, but couldn't find any bullets.
After thinking about it, I realized that I had just learned a very valuable lesson about Iraq. It's hard to comprehend just how many people have guns.. it seems every adult male in Baghdad does. However, only a few of them shoot at our base, which means that for the most part, people are not upset enough to attack us, despite having the means to do so. On the other hand, it also means that we had best not upset the Iraqis more than we have to.

AND THEN THERE WERE TWO
We are now down to only two of the seven folk who came over on the cargo plane, myself and Rachel. I am leaving in about a week's time, so soon it will only be Rachel. It's a quite melancholy time, but luckily I have been working so much that I rarely notice that. Being over here is much like being in Rick's Cafe (from the movie Casablanca)... you meet many people, but you know that it is temporary. Everyone is here for a purpose, and almost everybody is just waiting to get to America somehow.

BATHROOM GRAFFITI
People can be quite clever about graffiti in a combat zone. I think that seeing how men think when free to put down their innermost thoughts without fear of reprisal might help people to understand what it is like over here more than my words, written with the knowledge that they are for public consumption, ever could.
Some of these can be a bit risque, so I advise my more sensitive readers to shuffle on down to the next paragraph. When we left the base, Jef wrote in the dust on the jerry can on the back of the car, "DON'T SHOOT - I'M FRENCH." When you close the door in one stall, the door says "Flush twice, it's a long way to the DFAC (chow hall)." One of my favorites is written with a sharpie on the far stall.. it says "Yes, your wife IS f***ing that guy." Infidelity is a favorite topic in the graffiti world, but never mentioned in day to day conversation. It happens often, especially in a deployed soldiers' world. Apparently, at boot camp, they will make people sing "jody calls," which are all about a guy named Jody, who is the [expletive deleted] back home who is busy gaining carnal knowledge of your significant other while you are being forced to push-ups by some sergeant with a high-and-tight.

WORKERS
Before he left, Woody mentioned that the workers they hire locally are usually the cream of the crop... very smart electricians, talented chefs, master masons, etc. However, he noticed that the KBR guys in charge of them usually have no knowledge of the skill, but sit around with a clipboard and yell at them anyways.
Is that a metaphor for life, or what?

Bill

Baghdad Bulletin #17: Every Day A Tuesday (5 Dec 2005)

2005-12-16T04:47:00.000+03:00

Happy Monday Everybody!
I would like to ask for your forgiveness in advance if this email is a little more cynical, a little less light-hearted than usual. There's been a ton of issues here, I haven't had a good night's sleep in about two weeks, and I am crankier than a drunkard chained up outside the Bacardi distillery.

THE GOOD NEWS
I won't be staying that much longer over here. I plan on being back in the States by Christmas. So my family is going to have to put up with me for at least ONE holiday this year. Now I learned long ago that people don't give much of a damn about my feelings, but I do feel a bit disappointed. In a lot of ways, I like it over here. I have a few friends, I like the work, I like the money, and I don't even mind the background noise of small arms fire and the occasional explosion. Also, as much as I complain about the food at chow hall, I probably am eating healthier here than I was at home. On the other hand, being here has taken a lot out of me; this project has taken a lot out of me. My normally tyrannical superego has been caught sleeping on the job lately, and I am not as pleasant a person to be around that I normally am. I need a break.

CONTRACTOR ARRESTED
We got new, more fearsome guards a while back. The old guard heading out of my base was usually an old, Southern Guardsman. He would remember who you were, always cheerful, always smiling. I remember having some country song playing on the radio, and he barely looked at my badge, saying "Anyone who listens to country is all right in my book, go on through." These new guys are the no-nonsense guards you see in movies, square-jawed and humorless.
Some contractor rolled up to the gate, and they asked if they could search his car. "Sure," he said. They found a hundred bucks' worth of real beer in the trunk. He acted like he didn't know whose it was, but the guards saw through his act and arrested him for violating General Order #1. He put him in handcuffs and put him in a Humvee. As they were taking him to the military police station, one of the guards leaned back and talked to him.
"Hey, man, you think you can get me a job with your company?"
The contractor just stared at him. "Yeah, put your resume between my handcuffs so I don't forget you," he replied.

MAIL
First off, a few days ago I received the new Coheed and Cambria CD from Aja, my fashionable and more-famous-than-I-will-ever-be friend from Hollywood. There is nothing like emotional prog-rock to make a run go smoother. Thanks, Aja!
As I may have mentioned earlier, I have taken to working nights to stay on time with the East Coast (and also because there are far fewer interruptions at 3 AM than at 3 PM). I got up the other day around 5, and went down to dinner (I now eat my meals in reverse order.. a breakfast of curry and rice first, then a sandwich for lunch at midnight chow, then a dinner of eggs and pancakes at 6 AM). J and R were hinting around that I got some mail, but they refused to tell me what happened to it. Finally, under my relentless interrogation, it turns out that Betty had brought me some mail, but they didn't want to unlock the door and actually set the package down inside. Instead, they decided they would throw it over the fence onto the pad ("hey, it's from Amazon, books can survive a tumble"). Unfortunately, they failed to make a high enough parabola, and it got caught on the concertina wire, and, like a disc on that Price is Right "Plinko" game, kept bouncing down through the razor ribbon until it got stuck in the middle. They decided that the best way to get it down would be to throw rocks at it (have YOU ever tried to stick your hand through concertina wire and barbed wire?). After a while, the security guards came over and video taped this mishap (with someone yelling at them not to throw rocks around the equipment).
The box survived unscathed, as well as the various books and CDs inside. Good packing job, Amazon!

POLITICS AND PHILOSOPHY
I have noticed in my time over here that my political outlook was changing, a slow rightward creep. It made me really stop and wonder, how much does your environment influence your thinking? If I continue hanging out with soldiers all the time, will I start listening to Rush Limbaugh and extolling the virtues of pre-emptive strikes? If I leave here and go join the Peace Corps, will I start reading Che Guevera and protesting for a living wage?
I've always imagined myself as being above all that, not picking a political stance because that is what my friends think. I think, though, that the events you experience weld your neurons to a particular way of thinking. Is even my seeming independence a product of my upbringing? After all, one of my parents is a Democrat and one a Republican (they say it doesn't matter if they vote, because they will just cancel each other out). Is even my ability to see the other side of an issue a result of this? How much of what we think is influenced by what we experience? I like to think that there are objective answers out there; I am still convinced that there are, but I am getting less and less certain that I will ever see things in a less subjective light.
Am I convinced that what I am doing is right because it is, or because I am already a part of it and, subconsciously, I bias things in my head so it appears that whatever I do is right? I still believe in what I am doing right now, don't get me wrong. I've just lost some faith in my own intelligence - or anyone's intelligence - for determining correct answers.

QUOTES:
"What do you call people from Qatar? Cutlery?" -me
"How can you get only one letter in a crossword puzzle?" -me, looking at a crossword puzzle that, indeed, only had one letter filled in
"That was very Steven Seagal." -Woody, about how I flipped my badge to go outside my hoodie

"It just feels like there is nothing to look forward to, and nothing to look back upon.." -me
"Every day is Tuesday!" -Woody

MISCELLANEOUS
I saw some fighters the other night. I believe they were F-16s, but it was night out, . They had their afterburners on, screaming through the night, probably scaring the bejeezus out of the insurgents below. That is, if the insurgents had any "bejeezus" in them. It was very cool to watch, very "Top Gun."

Bill

Old School: Contractor Boot Camp

2005-11-30T03:19:00.000+03:00

This is from my old blog, from 20 June or thereabouts. If you're interested in how the military prepares contractors to go to foreign places, read on. If not, then go buy me a Frappacino, because I would kill for one right now.

---

So I went to the Contractor Boot Camp (it's really not called that, that's just my nickname for it) where for a week I got to stay with a bunch of soldiers and whatnot and get prepared to head OCONUS (Outside CONtinental US.. i.e. overseas). I learned quite a bit about the military, and how God apparently likes to taunt me. You'll see how in a moment. Now keep in mind, I don't want this to sound like complaining... I try to see the humor in these sorts of situations. =)

Two Saturdays ago, I went out dancing, just like every other Saturday night. I came back, happy and ready to put the last finishing touches to my packing, when I could NOT find my passport. Now remember, I had just moved, and I remember picking up my passport and thinking that I needed to put it someplace safe. This EXACT SAME THING happened to me during my trip to Thailand. Finally around 2:30 AM, after tearing apart my room, I think, maybe I took it to work. I drive to work and sign in (around 2:45 AM.. my flight leaves in about six hours). Tear apart my cubicle. No passport. I come back home, and think, hmm, didn't I put it in a book? After going through two long shelves of books, I find it. I go to sleep around 4:30, only to get up two hours later. No problems finding J and G (two of the people I am heading overseas wth), but J got a first-class seat somehow. The airline makes this up to me by not putting my luggage on the plane. I sit around waiting for another hour and a half until it makes its appearance. We hop in the rental cars, and drive down to Columbus.

It's raining "like a sumbitch" as pull into the fort. We park our cars and finally find our way to the correct building, where we are the last people allowed to be on the regular schedule (W ends up on the late schedule and is doing 18 hour instead of 14 hour days the rest of the week). We get more wet, grab some food, and collapse in a days inn. My days inn room did not have a working drain, or several other amenities, and the cleaning personnel would come in despite my PRIVACY PLEASE banner on the door. I assume they thought that things would be more interesting on rooms with the banner posted. We got in around 10:30, after cleaning up for bed, unpacking, doing email, it's almost 11:30, I had about two hours of sleep the night before, and I had formation at 0600 which meant that I had about five hours to sleep. Obviously, nothing else happened that day because I went straight to sleep.

Next day - we learn the meeting of "hurry up and wait." Don't want to get into too many specifics, but imagine waiting in line, then waiting in line, then waiting in line, then waiting while sitting down. Then waiting while standing up. Then waiting while eating some MREs. Waiting while reading. Waiting while watching TV. Waiting while chatting with the guy next to you. This sums up the first two days. Of course, one of the questions they kept asking me (blood type) I had no idea. Who knows their own blood type? In the military, EVERYBODY. I finally find out the answer to that burning question (B Positive... I actually like that, it sounds like a boy band).

We go through classes, they run out of vegetarian MREs, but whatever -
"Aren't you going to ask for an MRE without meat?" -J
"I'm a vegetarian, J, not a whiny little bitch." -me

It continues to rain off and on. Luckily I brought my poncho. Unluckily it makes me look like a nine year old boy playing soldier. I don't seal my canteen properly, leading to a wet left side of me underneath the poncho. Yeah yeah. Around this time, I got to talk to a lot of Iraqi linguists being used as translators. This was really interesting to me (I always thought different cultures were interesting, and this is one people don't know much about). I would join the army if their unofficial motto ("Go to exciting places, meet interesting people, and kill them") would drop the last part. There were some Assyrian Christians who used to live in Iraq.. I did not know of this subgroup of Christianity, but they are very proud.

"Would you like a bible to take over?" -Chaplain
"No, I prefer to read it in the original." -a woman Assyrian

"What Osama did to you on September 11th, people like him have been doing to us for hundreds of years. I will do whatever I can to help kill the people who did this to us." -an Assyrian guy

On the way back, we got caught in traffic for an hour, then our flight was delayed, then when I got back, the TSA had opened my bag for inspection ("Military duffel bag! I wonder what's inside?? Let's see!" and long story short, I think some TSA employee in Atlanta has a new gas mask that is fitted to my head. I'm still trying to get it back, but I'm being given the runaround. It's great exercise. On the plus side, I got to bitch with some soldiers at BWI who came up to me when they saw my duffel bags and thought I was one of them. They seemed a little more standoffish when they found out I was a contractor, but they were still interesting folks to talk to.

Baghdad Bulletin #16: Sleep is for the Weak

2005-11-28T01:18:00.000+03:00

Hello everyone!

FIRST, THE BAD NEWS
Actually, this might be good news for the people out there who either really, really like these emails or really, really dislike me. I've decided I am going to stay on for a little bit longer over here. The exact amount of time has not been determined yet, but I will be dreaming of a sandy Christmas this year.
Why, oh why, would I want to stay in this country? After all, I have said that "Saddam should be happy we took this place off his hands." Most of my readers are probably sick of hearing me complain about the bathrooms here. I'm 26 years old and sleeping on a bunkbed, for goodness' sake. Oh, and besides all that, I'm surrounded by people whose fondest dream is to shoot me and destroy everything I stand for.
I think it's because everybody dreams of belonging to something that's bigger than themselves, of working to create an impression on this world in some way, no matter how small. Not to denigrate any of the work I did back in Baltimore, but here I can see the difference I'm making. This is history in the making, and I am part of it! A tiny part, to be sure, but a part nonetheless. This constantly amazes me. When the shower suddenly turns ice cold, then scalding hot... when we are without Internet or TV access for a day... when the guards have me take off my jacket to prove I'm not carrying a bomb, and it's freezing out... I think, "yeah, life sucks right now. But I wouldn't change it for the world."
I was thinking about this last night. Have all the wars we've had started because people just wanted to do something that they would be remembered for? Is that the ultimate reason why wars are fought? Even Saddam Hussein has said, "I don't care what people think of me now. I care what people 500 years from now will think of me."

ANOTHER BOX!
We have a doorbell that plays the theme to "The Lone Ranger." I was working in the trailer by myself, mentally involved in some problem or other, when I heard the song. Grumbling about my disrupted concentration, I went to the guard shack to let the motherf... errr, gentleman in. It turned out to be a soldier I had never seen before, and he was carrying a box. He won the conversational quick-draw, speaking before I could say anything.
"Yeah, I'm looking for a Laboon." The sentence was a statement.
"You found one," I replied to his non-question question and in return he gave me the box. Huzzah, a care package from Joyce. Cookies, marshmallows, and a mix CD. I haven't received a mix CD since I was in college! Not to mention, getting a care package automatically makes you that much cooler in the eyes of your fellow workers. Thanks, Joyce.

FIRST AND GOAL
On Thursday, we had the Thanksgiving Football Tournament. Rachel, Jef and I met outside the Fishbowl Gym, along with Betty, Christy and a few other enlisted folk who I had never met before. We drove down to the field in our incredibly dirty SUV, where the MWR folks had set up a nice football quadrilateral. I think they meant it to be a rectangle, but it was dark when they did it, so some mistakes were made.
Seeing as how it had been about a decade or so since I last played a game of football, and most of my teammates were in the same boat, we practiced a bit before the game. Throwing drills and whatnot. I was waiting my turn when I noticed Rachel was down on the ground, and people were surrounding her. The MWR folk were calling for a medic, and everyone was ordered off the field. Rachel had a previous knee injury, and she had aggravated it running around. Jef drove her to the TMC (army hospital), where they fixed her up with an Ace bandage, crutches, and best of all, percocets. She spent the rest of the day in a painkiller-induced haze.
I was still there, though, and we had to show up the other team. We had nine players and there are seven positions in "Baghdad Rules" flag football. Consequently, the last ten minutes of the game I was pulled out so other people can play. I was on defense, and up until this point we were holding the other team to an 8-6 lead. Then, in the last ten minutes, the other team walloped us, ending with us losing 22-6. Despite our loss, we were in high spirits since we were not shut out. Lacking Gatorade, Christy and Cheryl poured water over the head of Betty (our team captain).
There was a reporter there from a San Antonio newspaper, doing one of those "troops have fun on Thanksgiving even though they're away from home" stories. Of course, she steered clear from me, since nobody cares about workers in Iraq unless they're wearing a uniform.

RACHEL'S INJURY: AFTERMATH
Since Rachel is the social butterfly of the group (and gets bonus attention for having two X chromosomes), everybody comes up to Rachel and asks how her leg is doing. Greg said that we should rename the base to Camp Rachel and set up rachel.com to constantly update people on her status. By the way, she is mostly fine now and even walking without a crutch.

DINNER, DANCING, AND CONVERSATION
It turns out that I cannot be trusted on to correctly determine the date, since the Polynesian dancing I had talked about missing was actually a day later than the day I thought it was. After eating, I went to the frontmost table in the chow hall to see the dancers. The rest of the Northrop crew was on one side of the table, but there was no room for me. I ended up sitting at the other side of the table, which was filled with really high-ranking folk. Two full-bird colonels, a lieutenant colonel, and a first sergeant (I have become quite adept at reading Army rank insignia). The first sergeant was talking to a specialist sitting next to me, who kept giving the most smart-ass answers to any question he asked. "Where are you from?" "America." "Where did you go to school? "America." "You thinking of going officer?" "No, because they just give orders, NCOs get stuff done."
I was talking to the lieutenant colonel, who was explaining how civil affairs operates. These are the people working with the Iraqis on creating a functioning society. You never hear about these guys.. the ones who apologize to the families of civilians American forces have accidentally killed. The ones who make sure that a neighborhood gets running water. The ones who secure schools so that Baghdad children can learn in a safe environment. It was really great hearing about all the positive things he was working on, as opposed to people shooting other people. Civil Affairs soldiers are the soldiers who are winning the war for hearts and minds. They are the soldiers who will win the war on terror, if it is at all winnable.
On top of it all, the dancing was excellent. I had never seen real Polynesian dancing. Who would have thought I would have my first glimpse of it in Baghdad?

SLEEP IS FOR THE WEAK
After staying up until about 3 AM working on something (yes, I actually do perform some work here, despite all my time at the chow hall and various recreation activities), I found myself not at all tired. I told this to Woody and he said, "you know, you don't HAVE to go to sleep." By George, he was right! I didn't go to sleep, but stayed up the rest of the night surfing Amazon and doing some other random things. I finally fell asleep around 10 AM. My internal schedule has been messed up ever since.. one night I'll sleep five hours, then the next, fourteen. Another reminder that I'm not in college, and can't be pulling all-nighters for fun anymore. When did I get so old?

BILL TRIES TO MAKE BINGO SOUND EXCITING
Christy and Betty had guard duty at the chow hall tonight. Christy told me, "Don't blow up the DFAC tonight!" I replied that I would never do such a thing on her shift and get her in trouble. As I was leaving, she thanked me for restraining myself and Betty reminded me that tonight was Bingo night. I went back to work and did boring work-related things for a while, then headed down to the Lions' Den (the MWR building) for a rousing night of the favorite sport of senior citizens everywhere.
I sat at a table with Betty, Christy, and some old lady, who seemed to be the only one enjoying bingo in a non-ironic way. The caller was the lady in charge of the Lions' Den. Greg had earlier said of her, "don't tease your hair anymore, or it's going to bite!" Christy was getting into it, yelling various curses or praises under her breath, depending on the situation.
B-2. "Yes!" O-69. "That's what I'm talking about!" O-64. "That's NOT what I'm talking about!"
Betty won first, then Christy. They both picked out Operation Iraqi Freedom t-shirts. After a few more turns, I won! Woo-hoo! I went to pick out my prize. I had my choice of various AAFES rejects.. burgundy "Who's Your Baghdaddy?" t-shirts, some lime green polo monstrosities, and... wait! A pearl in this sea of oysters! A "Royal Australian Navy" baseball cap! After enduring some ribbing from the Army personnel for picking up a "Navy" hat, I sat back down and continued to play until we were kicked out so people could watch the Steelers game. The old lady at our table won, as well. We were quite the lucky table.

MISCELLANEOUS
James left us to go to another Middle Eastern country. He says it sucks even worse there.
One of the air conditioners here has taken to spitting ice late at night when it gets cold. It is quite fun to watch.

That's about all for now. You should check out http://billiniraq.blogspot.com for the archives, or http://photos.yahoo.com/wlaboon for pictures of the football game, a very bad reindeer, and Christy imitating the Thanksgiving pig.

-Bill

Baghdad Bulletin #15: Turkeys and Jackals

2005-11-24T00:45:00.000+03:00

Happy Day Before Thanksgiving, Everyone! Spare us a thought, we will be working when you sit down for your turkey and cranberry sauce tomorrow.

Just so you know, I am now putting up all my "Baghdad Bulletin" emails at my brand-new blog. I tried putting them up on my old Friendster blog, but the Internet filtering software considers Friendster a "dating service" and does not allow access to it. I tried telling the SSO (Site Security Officer) that I put a disclaimer up on my profile that "I do not use this service for dating. I prefer to meet women the old-fashioned way - dead drunk in a bar." He didn't go for it. So I put up a new one at http://billiniraq.blogspot.com. Anyways....

JACKALS IN THE NIGHT, EXCHANGING GLANCES
Walking back home the other night through the Kafkaesque labyrinth of Jersey barriers and trailers to get back to my home at A-86/01, I encountered another jackal. Perhaps it was a wild dog... it was 0430 in the morning, I was tired and it was dark. The thing was hiding behind a barrier, and waited until I was about two feet from it before it darted out and ran to the open area between B and C rows. After pausing to realize that no, it did not bite me, I continued on my journey. One block later, I accidentally stumbled upon his SECOND hiding spot, and he jumped out again, again running away from me. I have since taken to walking home in the center, because it's all gravel and any animal will be able to hear me coming well before I get to its secret hiding place.

A TRAVESTY OF TOILET DESIGN
Our bathrooms are absolutely horrible. I know, I've talked about this before, but really, the toilets must have been designed by a deranged man intent on revenging himself on mankind for some bathroom-related slight. There are workers in there 12 hours a day doing things and yelling at each other in Urdu and Arabic, yet well over half of the toilets are broken at any one time. Yesterday, I was taking a shower, and when I was done, there were two workers staring at me, waiting for me to get out. They had taken down all of the shower curtains except mine (presumably for cleaning, but God knows what they do with them) and were anxious to finish up. After testing all of the showers at the closest shower trailer (involving intricate and time-consuming scientific tests), I have finally settled on one shower that has ample water pressure, but the drawback is that by the time I am done with the shower I am ankle-deep in lukewarm water. This is a price I am willing to pay for adequate pressure.
Today, none of the toilets were flushing correctly. One of the KBR supervisors came in, a big black guy, and looked around at the sad state they were in. He yelled out to his (local) workers, "All right, boys, get your gloves on!" This made me laugh. Then again, I also laugh at the Downrange (http://www.downrangeweb.com) comics. The general has a devil's tail! The "new guy" is a smiley face!
I know I have been on a military base too long when I find "Beetle Bailey" funny.

MORE FUNNY QUOTES
We were discussing how uncompassionate Rachel is. James chimed in with, "Bill isn't compassionate either, he just does stuff so he can write it down in his blog and have girls back home think he is single-handedly winning the war in Iraq."

We share a trailer with some SAIC folk. One night, when I was surfing the Internet and they all seemed to be doing real, actual work, we heard a loud, close explosion. Much louder than normal, this one made the trailer shake.
Lori: "Well, that one made me jump."
Ed: "We've got plenty of desks if you want to get under one."

When you spend pretty much all of your waking hours with the same group of people every day for a few months, you tend to pick on each other quite a bit. It comes with understanding what buttons you can push on people. Here's a quote from one of the recent "pick on Bill" days.
Rachel: "Every once in a while I have this nightmare where I'm a huge nerd, and then I wake up and check my arm and breathe a sigh of relief that there's no binary tattoo there!"

PUTTING UP WALLS
They (whoever "they" are) have been putting up these 12 foot tall Jersey walls around our hooches. There were some before, but now they are adding more, from all angles and not just in the areas pointing to the outside. Human lives not being a particular concern to them, they set up these multi-ton, precariously balanced concrete death-walls while people are sleeping inside the paper-thin metal trailers.
They have a huge crane that does this (those concrete walls are heavy). They drove this crane in between the central male and female latrine/showers, which are connected with four-inch diameter plastic pipes. Needless to say, the PVC pipes were no match for the 15-ton crane, and they shut down the female latrines there for a few days to fix the damage (apparently, we do not use the cream of Iraq's construction workers).
Rachel lives right outside the female shower and latrine, and she was complaining that she now had to walk to the end to go to the bathroom. I was like, "Poor Rachel, I'm supposed to feel sorry for you for doing something I have to do EVERY SINGLE DAY I AM HERE? Want a cookie?"
In related news, this morning there were like ten explosions in a row. In my sleep-addled state, I thought that it was just the crane putting up more of those Jersey walls. When I explained this to James, he said, "yeah, they're dropping concrete barriers from Blackhawks a hundred feet up. With explosives in them."
It strikes me as symbolic of how we live here.. putting up walls to protect us from everyone around us. Don't get me wrong, I'm glad they're there... I am not a fan of having mortars hit with nothing but the walls of my trailer to protect me. However, it seems like that is the US Military (and by extension, US) way of fixing problems in the Middle East... separation. Israel is doing the same thing with its wall to separate them from the Palestinian territories. There is an ongoing debate on having a wall across our border with Mexico. Is this causing more harm than good? Ordinary Iraqis see us hiding behind our walls instead of being out there with them.

WORKERS
I make light of the workers sometimes, but it's all in good fun... more about showing the differences between our cultures than actually mocking them. I am sure I do a lot of things that they make fun of me for (in Arabic, of course, so I don't understand them). They must have a warped view of how Americans live though... they seem them as not ever being the guys cleaning up the crap in the bathroom, or serving food, or sweeping the streets. We must seem so arrogant to them, or if we try to be nice, condescending.

FOOTBALL
I am now on a football team, called the "Secret Squirrels." I asked what the team name means, but was told I was not authorized to know. Damn security regulations. We were practicing in front of the Fishbowl Gym, on the road. It was like being a little kid, we'd have to yell "Car!" and then "Game on!" Of course, there were more than just cars on the road, so our yells also included "Humvee!" and "Crane!" Our first game is tomorrow... wish us luck.

That's about all for now. Hope everyone has a happy Thanksgiving...

Bill

Baghdad Bulletin #14: I Love The Rainy Nights (18 Nov)

2005-11-23T04:16:00.000+03:00

Greetings once again...
No deep thoughts here today, just some amusing highlights from the week. There are also a few more pictures up at http://photos.yahoo.com/wlaboon.

I LOVE THE RAINY NIGHTS
The days of arid conditions are over. About two weeks ago, when I was leaving the shower, I noticed that the ground was slightly damp, and realized that it was raining. Very light drizzle, but rain nonetheless. Then a few days ago, it started raining and kept raining off and on for about a day and a half. Never terribly hard, but relatively continuously. Luckily, I have my hoodie to protect me from the rainfall!
One of the vehicles' wheelknobs (this is a word I made up, the entry ways have those turning wheels like on submarines to get in and out, it's a wheel acting like a doorknob, hence "wheelknob") is covered with black disgustingness. I never noticed it before the rain, so my first theory was mold or something that grows only when there is moisture in the air. However, Woody said he noticed it before and thinks it is antifreeze. This story probably has no relevance or interest to any of you, but I've been dying to use the word "wheelknob."
Apparently, the rainy season is starting now, though, so we go from trying in vain to keep the dust out to trying in vain to keep the mud out. To every thing, there is a season, and a time for every purpose under Heaven.

BOMB DAY
A suicide bomber hit one of the gates here two days ago. They locked down two of the bases and double-checked all the Iraqis on base. If you weren't in at that time, you weren't getting in. I feel kind of bad for the locals, I don't think the Iraqis get vacation pay if they miss work due to a bomb day.
Jef and I were supposed to head down to the Green Zone, but that kind of put a damper on things. Also, there were supposed to be cheerleaders over at Victory that day, but nobody wanted to leave our base to see them except me. Figuring it wouldn't be as fun by myself, I spent an evening watching Seinfeld episodes and writing manuals for the field service folk who will come here after me. That was fun, too.

UNDER ARMOUR IPO
If you don't know what Under Armour is, it's a Baltimore-based company that makes sports apparel. Under Armour shirts are basically form-fitting undershirts that wick away sweat. I've never worn one, so I can't attest to their abilities, but they are very popular among the soldiers here. They are having their initial public offering, and several of the soldiers here are vying to get in on it. I met a couple of the investment-oriented soldiers when they were overheard them talking about buying a natural gas company that I was in the process of increasing my position in. Lt. T told me that he wanted his contribution to Iraq to be his creation of a Baghdad Investment Club.
So, yesterday was the big day. Lieutenant T had told me the day before that he was putting in upwards of 20k into this. Sgt S, who is really into IPOs, was putting some money in as well. I saw Sgt S at 1730 (5:30 PM, which would make it 9:30 AM EST.. the opening of the NASDAQ trading day), sitting at a computer in the Internet cafe, waiting for UARM to become an active symbol so he could buy some. I passed by a few other times and I saw him, sitting there, waiting, waiting. "Stock there yet, Sar'n't?" I'd asked, and he would shake his head like a wizened old man disappointed with the way his life had turned out. Several of his friends were waiting to buy the stock as well, but they slowly drifted away, one by one, not willing to waste time in front of the computer monitor when there was work to be done.
Later that night, about 3 AM, I saw him up and about, away from the monitor. "Hey, what price did you get in at?" I asked him. He responded that someone had read an article about them re-pricing the IPO shares, but later when he actually read the article, the last sentence was how they were going to issue the shares to the public on Friday now! He was so pissed off at the guy who told him about the article without having told him that they weren't even going to be issuing the shares that day. So he was sitting there all day for nothing.

SUPPORT FROM THE REAR
Rachel's mom had been telling her that her grandma wanted to talk to her, since she hadn't stayed in touch as much as she would like (I think this is a common complaint about us contractors in Iraq from our families). So Rachel called up, and here is a transcript of the conversation.
RACHEL: "Hi Grandma!"
GRANDMA: "Rachel! Good to hear from you! I hear you're in Iraq!"
RACHEL: "That's right, Grandma."
GRANDMA: "Oh, I hear they have bombs there. Is that true?"
RACHEL: "Umm, yeah."
GRANDMA: "OK, I have someone on the other line, so I have to go. Bye!"

I can just imagine Rachel sitting there with a shocked look on her face, as her grandma decides to talk to a telemarketer instead of her granddaughter in Iraq.

CHOW HALL FOLLIES
There are signs up for the "Thanksgiving Feast" we are having on (remarkably enough) Thanksgiving Day. Among the delicacies will be "strawberry decries," "pena colandas," and Thanksgiving Treat. I wonder who the strawberry will be decrying. Apparently tonight there is a Polynesian dance, which I just realized that I am missing because I ate too big of a lunch and am not hungry enough to go to dinner. Also, they have decorated our chow hall with streamers and cardboard turkey cutouts on the wall. Rachel suggested we surreptiously change the "ONE PERSON TAKE ONLY TWO ICE CREAMS" with one of the turkeys saying "Don't 'gobble gobble' up all the ice cream!" We are so witty.
The cafeteria folk are much friendlier when it is midnight chow time, I guess because there are fewer of us so they get to know us, and because they are giddy because they are almost off work. I always try to stop and chat with the security guard, too, since he always looks so bored late at night. There's so much camaraderie amongst the night owls. Anyways, last night I got an omelette and went to put some ketchup on it. James came up and asked me why I was putting barbecue sauce on my omelette, was that a Pittsburgh thing? I did a double-take and one of the workers laughed, pausing from his routine of cleaning the napkin holders, and said "no ketchup! only barber coo sauce!" It actually wasn't bad, though.
Later, with a soda can in hand, I tripped walking from the chow hall back to work. Nothing was hurt but my pride (there were a bunch of contractors standing around, but I did my best to blow it off.. I asked them, "since when are there TWO steps there?") I didn't notice at first, but there was a pinhole leak in my soda, which was slowly but surely coating my hand with Diet Coke. I stopped and stared at the pinhole leak, and took a picture, because it looked pretty neat.

ANOTHER IMPONDERABLE
If a Major outranks a Lieutenant, why does a Lieutenant General outrank a Major General?

That's all for now. Hope everyone enjoyed it.

-Bill

Baghdad Bulletin #13: Baghdad at Four in the Morning (14 Nov)

2005-11-23T04:15:00.000+03:00

ALCON:
Today, I found out about an excellent introduction for emails. Military people, when sending out mass emails, often start out with "ALCON," which is short for "ALL CONCERNED," as in "to whom it may concern." A soldier never met a phrase he didn't want to acronymize (and yes, I realize that ALCON is not, technically, an acronym, but I think you all know what I mean).

X-RAY SPECS
Being in the desert and all, many soldiers wear sunglasses. They tend to be wraparound Ray-Ban types, the more to inspire fear in their enemies as well as keep out harmful UV rays. I have found out, in the course of my time over here, that there is a persistent rumor among the Iraqis that these sunglasses are actually X-ray specs. That's right; they believe that the sunglasses enable the soldiers to see through clothes. It's not one of those urban legends that everyone repeats and nobody really believes, either. Soldiers report men hustling their wives inside when they approach so as to preserve their dignity. One soldier talked about how, after much badgering, he let a little boy wear his sunglasses, and the boy kept insisting that he turn them on.
After discussing this with my co-workers, chuckling with a casual dismissal of the enemy as technologically backward, I began to think... they have so many misconceptions about us. I wonder what we don't know about them?

HITTING CLOSE TO HOME
I heard from my friend Renee, the one who I met at the airport when she arrived in Baghdad. She had previously stayed in the Amman Grand Hyatt. This, of course, was one of the hotels hit by suicide bombers several days ago.
If nothing else, being in Iraq has taught me about the randomness of life. Stories abound about someone surviving unharmed when his neighbor bought the farm, and vice versa. When I hear about the debate on intelligent design happening back in the States, I sometimes wish that the people arguing that life could not possibly occur randomly would come over here for a few months. They would realize what all can happen due to random chance.

SYSTEMIC CORRUPTION
I have talked to some of the people who work on giving aid to the Iraqis. The Iraqis express an odd dichotomy of being grateful for the money and talk about building a better Iraq, while simultaneously pocketing money and keeping it from the grantees to whom it rightfully goes. It is understandable that people would try to keep money (we live in an imperfect world, and crime does pay) but the strange thing is that they don't see anything really wrong with it. They are proud to be stealing from "the Americans" as some sort of invisible entity, but don't connect that with the Americans they talk to who give them this money. They love the Americans who come to help them; yet they have no problem stealing from "the Americans," and expect the American aid workers to still give them money, even knowing this.
I know that you hear about this on TV, and the American stereotype of the aid grantee is a corrupt warlord siphoning off the generosity of the American government. Still, hearing about it makes my blood begin to boil a bit. I can only imagine Iraqis viewing our strength as a weakness; our attempts to help them are seen as us throwing our money away, a drunken Uncle Sam too engrossed in the revelry of imperialism to see what is slipping from his pockets. Re-reading that, I can't believe this still surprises me. I need to become more cynical.

BAGHDAD AT FOUR IN THE MORNING
I won't bore any of my readers with the technical details, but instead of spending my nights as God and the circadian rhythms of my body intend (in sleep), I have been working well into the wee hours of the night. I shouldn't complain; one team here has been working to get a room wired up with cables and has been working the last twenty-seven hours straight. One of the members came through the lab a few hours ago and kicked a stale, pre-packaged doughnut over the makeshift walls. This breakdown in mental processes is why most people do not work such hours.
However, I have learned what this city is like at night, and for that I am thankful. Gunfire tends to cease late at night; even insurgents have to sleep sometime, and they probably want to get some shut-eye before the muezzin calls them to morning prayers. The desert is a land of extremes; it is hot during the days, but frigid at night. I use the term frigid deliberately, both in that it is cold (even wearing my hoodie, I am shivering by the time I get home) and that things seem frozen. The stars are remarkably clear, due to the lack of light pollution. I haven't seen so many stars since I camped out in the Gobi.
Or maybe I am just noticing them again.

NOOBS
How to tell if someone is new to Iraq:
1) They walk around with a flashlight everywhere, instead of just accepting the occasional stumble
2) They feel the need to comment on every single gunshot or distant explosion they hear
3) They get upset when they get dust on their clothes
4) They actually take steps to avoid getting dust on their clothes
5) They are intimidated by guards with M-16s
6) They are still happy

Yes, I was guilty of all these at one time. And I'm just kidding about the last one.

BILL EMBARASSES HIMSELF, OTHERS
I came into the office one day and asked Woody to hand me my hoodie. Now, as most people know, a hoodie is a hooded sweatshirt. Woody had never heard this term, and accused me either of making it up or learning it in kindergarten. He said that they were called sweatshirts. We argued for a while (mostly because there was nothing better to do). Later that night, a guy asked me where I got my "sweatshirt" (it has an American flag and "Operation Iraqi Freedom" on the back.. I guess he wanted one for his kids or something) and Woody claimed that was one point for sweatshirt.
The next day, a new guy showed up at the pad, and Woody and I were standing around. The new guy was wearing a hoodie. Right after we were introduced, the following exchange took place.
ME: So what do you call this?
NEW GUY: What?
ME: This. (pointing at hoodie)
NEW GUY: Umm.. sweatshirt.
WOODY: HAHAHAHAHAHAHA.
Epilogue: Woody now calls all sweatshirts hoodies, to remind me constantly of my failure to win the battle for hearts and minds. I heard later that the new guy was telling people he thought I was a kook.

CONSUMERISM
All of the TVs here show AFN, the American Forces Network. Where regular TV has commercials, AFN has public service announcements. They let people know that their spouse or other significant other still loves them (not sure how they know that, but the television would never lie), to listen to your kids when they are under stress, to let people know about the benefits of being a soldier, whatever. The TV is always going in the chow hall, so I get to see quite a few of these PSAs.
ME: "You know, I miss commercials. I'm going to go back to the States and not know what to consume!"

That's about all for now. I hope everyone is having a good time back in the States, and I will rejoin you all in a place where gunfire is the exception rather than the rule in less than a month!

-Bill

Baghdad Bulletin #12: Veteran's Day Spectacular (11 Nov)

2005-11-23T04:11:00.000+03:00

Hello all..
I don't know truly spectacular it is, but it's time for everyone's favorite semi-regular update from the Paris of the Tigris, the Mighty Metropolis of Mesopotamia, the San Francisco of Sand... Baghdad! Honestly, I have no idea what people like to read about.. my take on the situation over here, the everyday annoyances and overall lifestyle here, or just waiting for another set of photo links to show up. I'm trying to keep all of my readers happy, so I apologize in advance if I tend to skip around a bit. This email becomes more serious the further along one gets, so if you only like the depressing stuff, skip a few segments ahead.

BILL'S FASHION FAUX PAS
I have been working evenings, in order to stay in the same time zone as the people on the East Coast. Due to this, I am no longer getting up at 0430 to work out, and so I don't work out with the Major any more. I go to the gym late at night, around 10 or so, which is what I did back in Baltimore. I still work out as though the Major is around (well, maybe I make it a LITTLE easier on myself).
Anyways, I was finishing off on the decline press when a guy asked me if I was done. I replied that I was, he told me to leave the weights on. Then, as people are wont to do around these parts, he asked me where I was from. With all due respect to my Pittsburgh heritage, I answered "Baltimore."
"Really?" he asked. "Because most people in the states, even blind ones, wouldn't be caught dead wearing black socks with shorts. I thought you were one of those Brits."
Chastened, I mumbled something about not taking white clothes travelling. When I told this story to James, he mentioned that he had noticed that about me as well, but was waiting to run out of other things to make fun of me for before mentioning it.

CH-CH-CH-CHANGES
The airport duty-free stopped selling liquor. The kitties get killed. We are now limited to two drinks and two ice creams at the DFAC. The big DFAC stopped serving the good two-cheese pizza and replaced it with the crappy personal pizzas, reminiscent of the ones served to us in elementary school on Pizza Day. All sorts of new security measures have been put in place, making each day a new annoyance.
"Did you ever notice," I observed to a co-worker, "that every change around here is for the worse?"

THE DECLINE AND FALL OF BILL'S HUMOR
We hang out at work often, even when we're not working, because it's a place to be that is not our hooch. If someone needs us, they know where to find us, plus there are other people there to distract from their duties and drag them, kicking and screaming, to watch a movie. One day, I was reading "The Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire" while Rachel repeatedly said, "Bored, bored, bored, bored." I was giggling over some of the eloquent and subtle wording of a more enlightened age ("When attempting to explain the rapid growth of Christianity during the first few centuries Anno Domini, an historian must obviously explore past the primary cause, the manifest correctness of the doctrine of the Gospels, and explain the secondary causes.." etc.) I tried to read some of these examples to her, and she just stared. Then she picked up a pen and paper and wrote:
"Dear Grandma, How are you? It's a very dull day. Bill is reading a book called 'The Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire' to me. It is very dull, but he thinks it is funny. From this, you can see how dull today is."
The funny thing is, she actually finished up that letter and mailed it to her Grandma.

THE GORDIAN KNOT OF THE MIDDLE EAST
I realize that there is a tendency among persons in the media, politicians, and others to simplify the situation over here. This is understandable, yet regrettable. People have more pressing things to worry about than what separates a Iraqi-Chaldean from an Iraqi-Assyrian, or even to dig deep enough to realize that they exist. However, I think that the events in Amman show us that there is more to this conflict than "good democrats versus evil terrorists."
As you probably know, terrorists operating under the banner of al-Qaeda in Iraq, which is led by Abu Musab al-Zarqawi, conducted suicide bombing attacks against three hotels in Amman. Why Jordan? Jordanian-bown Zarqawi has an issue with the Jordanian monarchy, which jailed him for many years (sorry, I can't remember off the top of my head), and views them as a "buffer" for Israel. Jordanians are demonstrating in Amman, showing their resolve against Zarqawi.
This is being spun as part of the dichotomy of the Middle East - the fringe element of terrorist fundamentalists who reject any belief outside of their own Wahabbist tradition, versus the ordinary Arab on the street who just wants to live his life. Why did al-Qaeda in Iraq bomb in Jordan? It is because their goal is to continue the Sunni jihad unto a final reckoning, an Islamic Armageddon. There are many groups in Iraq who are fighting us only until we get out of Iraq; they are anti-American, but not interested in sustaining a life of endless jihad. There are countless insurgency groups.. it is not "us vs. al-Qaeda in Iraq." I started to describe some of the various factions and beliefs of the various groups, but it is a bit too much for me this late in the evening. Suffice to say, there are many, many groups out there, some with conflicting goals, some overlapping, but all of them participating in this seething mess.
What is the way out? I don't see bold strokes from any potential heirs of Alexander coming to much good. It's a bit depressing, but I find myself thinking about it often. There is no one who can offer a surrender to us, no Hitler to stop the madness with his own bullet in his Fuehrerbunker. We are not fighting against people; we are fighting against ideas, virulent ideas which take hold in the mind of people from all walks of life (contrary to popular belief, not all suicide bombers are those who see no hope of a better life; many are quite well-off). How does one fight against ideas? It's a slow, painful process, doomed to repeated setbacks. It is the progress of humanity. It is a virus that can seemingly never be eradicated (even today, in the United States, we still have Ku Klux Klan members); but it is a virus we must fight.
Sorry for the rambling. I honestly forgot where I was going with this.

...MOST IMPORTANTLY
Please, everyone, thank a veteran today. Being over here, I have caught but a pale glimpse of what these people have been through, are going through, and will go through. The offices I work in and visit have memorials to the people who have died doing their duty to their country. People who are brave and selfless enough to serve their country have been cut down in the prime of life, or even before their adult lives had really begun. Every person here lives with the knowledge that there, but for the grace of God, go they, and no one knows what tomorrow will bring. Even those who have never heard a shot fired in anger have suffered, as wars sunder those who fight from their loved ones at home. I don't pretend to understand everything they have been through, but I do know that they deserve our thanks.

"It is only those who have neither fired a shot nor heard the shrieks and groans of the wounded who cry aloud for blood, more vengeance, more desolation. War is hell."
-General William Tecumseh Sherman

-Bill

Baghdad Bulletin #11: Reflections (8 Nov)

2005-11-23T04:09:00.000+03:00

Greetings once again..
I'm going to start off with some of the deep thoughts that I'm going through over here, which automatically gain more weight due to the fact that I am here. Sometimes, I wonder about that.. do I really know more about Iraq just because I'm over here? I think I've become less and less culturally sensitive the more I am around military folk all day. There is a wide gulf between myself and the local workers, who are treated as second-class citizens. You never see any locals without a soldier standing guard over them. I try to talk to people to get a feel for the place, but I also try to take everything I hear with a grain of salt.. no man can speak freely when there is another man with a rifle standing nearby. In other words, if you don't care about my assessment of the current situation, feel free to skip the first vignette.

IRAQ: A NEW METAPHOR
It seems to me that there are several well-known metaphors for the current conflict in Iraq. Right-wing folk will make comparisons to World War II; Saddam Hussein was, and remains, an incredibly evil man, and whether or not his ability to do harm to other nations was at the same level as Hitler's, his intentions certainly were. Left-wing folk make allusions to Viet Nam conflict; the United States is battling an underground insurgency, where it's hard to tell friend from foe. Military folk will sometimes compare this war to the Korean War, where they are hemmed in by rules, regulations, and the struggles of fighting a politically correct war against a politically incorrect opponent. I was discussing the conflict here with Greg and realized that there is a war metaphor that makes much more sense, and has for some reason been overlooked by the media and people at large.
"You know," I began, "This country would have it made if the insurgency died down. There's plenty of things to attract tourists, they're sitting on billions of barrels of oil, there are plenty of well-educated people here. If only they would let us help them, they would have it made!"
It was at that moment I had a sense of deja vu. I am sure that everybody has heard of the "Free Tibet" movement, a favorite liberal rallying cry. The People's Republic of China invaded (or liberated, depending on who you ask) Tibet over 50 years ago, under dubious circumstances. Everybody on a college campus agrees that Tibet should be free to develop in the way it sees fit, it seems. I had a conversation with a Dr. Yu, a medical doctor from Sichuan province, about this back when I worked at UPMC.
"Americans don't realize everything we have done for the Tibetans. They were under the rule of a theocracy, basically a dictatorship. We have brought them roads, electricity, and are helping them towards a decent standard of living. We did not invade Tibet.. we liberated them."
I remember thinking that he made a good point, but asking what gave a third party the right to intervene? He said that it was the duty of a country to liberate the oppressed peoples around it. A powerful, secular country invades a smaller country of people who are strongly religious in a different manner than the large country, ostensibly for liberation of its people, but with underlying strategic reasons. The parallels here are too obvious to ignore, yet I have never heard any columnist talk about this, any senator mention this in a speech, any newspaper article go over this. Is this because we are doing exactly what China did to Tibet, and nobody wants to compare us to China? These are difficult questions, and the answers, if any hard and fast answers exist, promise to be even more difficult.
Would the Iraqis be better off, materially, if everybody here accepted the current government and the help of the Americans? Undoubtedly. Will this happen? I doubt it. Lawrence of Arabia, when working with the Arabs against the Ottomans, said that even though it took three times longer for the Arabs to do things themselves, it was the only way to make permanent changes. Changes passed down as law from elsewhere are ignored.

HALLOWEEN PARTY
We had a small Halloween party, where we all dressed up as military contractors in Iraq. We drank cranberry juice, near-beer and Red Bulls and listened to the hum of the A/C units for background music. It was four guys. Let nobody tell you that the nightlife in Baghdad is not kickin'. There are several pictures online at http://photos.yahoo.com.
In other candy-related news, Rachel came into the guard shack the other day and told me that Betty, a PFC around here, told her there was a box for me at the mail stop. I quickly gave up my plans of going to dinner, my mind intent on what could possibly await me at the mail stop. Anna had sent me a package full of vegetarian goodies, I guess because she was sick of hearing me complain about the lack of vegetarian options at the DFAC here. Singing "I got a box, I got a box!" I descended back down the guard shack and feasted on chocolate covered soy beans. Life is good. Thank you, Anna.

RIDIN' WITH THE CAPTAIN
Captain T used to help us with our wiring and whatnot. He has been transferred to another program, but still works in the general area. He stopped by a few days ago to see if he could keep his movies in our guard shack. We were not about to complain; more movies in our guard shack means more movies for us to watch. He asked if anybody wanted to head over to the big PX, because he didn't feel like heading over by himself. I needed to pick up some protein bars (this was before Anna's "big box of soy" came through), so I volunteered to head over with him.
Captain T is an ex-Marine, now Army, and the type of guy who can talk for three or four hours without any input from listeners. Luckily, he has his share of interesting tales to tell and information to give. I'll try to transcribe the major points of his monologue as we headed over the PX.
"So back when I was in the Marines, I was DIESEL.. you know, the girls can't help but like a guy in a uniform, know what I'm sayin'? Man, I had one waiting in the back, then I would go out the front door and get with another one! Those were the days, I was skinnier than you are now. You have a nickname? No? Everybody should have a nickname.
"That's where General X lives. That's where General Y lives. I got to visit there once, man it is HEAVEN. They live like kings here. That exit is where my buddy got killed. I know his wife, she's like a niece to me. IED hit his Humvee, molten steel went right through his neck like THIS," (he imitates a spray of steel going through his neck), "and hit the gunner in the leg. Gunner got lucky, steel was so hot it cauterized the wound. My buddy died instantly though. Nobody else in the vehicle was even hurt. When it's your time, it's your time.
"See those barracks? When the old division was here, I knew a guy who went home on leave, he came back and a mortar shell was on his bunk. Went right through the roof, didn't explode though, it was a dud. Just sitting there on his bunk.
"Oh, looks like the hajjis are acting up again. They're trying to shoot at us, let's get inside, don't want anything to happen on a PX run, ha-ha. No, those aren't flares, they're tracer fire! Weren't you in the Army? Or you just like having that cheap haircut?"

THINGS I WILL NOT MISS ABOUT IRAQ
1) Smelling like chlorine after every shower.
2) Walking a quarter-mile to go to the bathroom because all the nearer latrines close down at the same time for maintenance.
3) Using dish washing liquid instead of soap to wash my hands at the DFAC.
4) Using toilet paper to dry off my hands after washing them at the DFAC.
5) Eating vegetable curry at least once a day, every day.
6) Drifting off to sleep with a .50-cal singing a lullaby.
7) Seeing the same couple of square miles every single day of my life.
8) Picking the sink with the fewest dead mosquitoes in it.
9) Communal showers. The fewer naked men I see in my life, the better.
10) Eugene Sheffer and his stupid crosswords! It's spelled "BOK choi" not "BAK choi!" And how does "former states?" translate to "saith" and not "south?" Not that I take crosswords too seriously or anything.

-Bill

Baghdad Bulletin #10: Iraqi Jambalaya (2 Nov)

2005-11-23T04:04:00.000+03:00

Hello everyone..
I find myself with a few minutes of time and several anecdotes to share, so I thought I would send out a mid-week Bulletin. I know that this is highly unorthodox, but hopefully there will be no hate mail directed towards me for flooding your inboxes.

MORE FOOD STORIES
Did you ever wonder where food goes when it goes past its expiration date? In my naivete, I had always assumed that the stores threw it away. Apparently, however, they send it to Iraq for the soldiers to eat. The PX is peppered with notices that "The Surgeon-General of the Army has determined that this product is safe to eat past its expiration date - 60 DAYS." Occasionally, when something is so obviously past its expiration date that they can no longer pretend that it is of good quality, they sell it for 10 cents. Seriously. There are bins of shaving cream, Power Bars, and candy bars for 10 cents each, all of which are months past any of the various dates printed on the packaging.
When the food gets so past the expiration date that the collective conscience of the AAFES management will not allow them to sell it at any price, they give it to the chow halls to give away. I guess that AAFES seriously overestimated the per-capita Snickers consumption of troops in Iraq, because right now we are being deluged with free, seven-months-past-expiration Snickers bars. I go to check my email, there is a box of Snickers bars. I go to the gym.. Snickers bars. Someone dropped off two boxes at our office. There is a giant bowl of Snickers bars as we leave the chow hall.
Rachel was eating some fried scallions (Wednesday is surf and turf day!) at lunch. She mentioned how they "melted in her mouth." After about four, she realized that this was because they were not entirely cooked. "No, no, it's supposed to be like that, it's Iraqi sushi!" I said. She said she had lost her appetite after that, and I chimed in again, saying, "Being a vegetarian isn't looking so bad now, huh?" At dinner, we sat with some other contractors, one of whom said, "My rule is 'never eat seafood in the desert.'"

BILL LOOKS DIFFERENT
I had the barber just clipper off all the hair on my head. The barber gave me a mohawk before cutting it all off. I looked pretty bad-ass, and thought about keeping the mohawk, but in the end decided to just cut it all off. I have discovered that girls will ask you to rub your head when you're bald. Unfortunately, I have also discovered that guys will ask the same favor.
Another major, the salsa instructor, stopped me on the road and asked if I got the haircut because I missed my time in the service. I told him that no, shampoo is just expensive nowadays. People assume I am prior military because pretty much all of the contractors here are. The soldiers have a bias against contractors to begin with, so I don't disabuse them of this notion.

WORKOUT NEWS
Now I know that you all could care less about the specifics of my gym life, but the Major who has been pushing me had some more good quotes. It's been an interesting little foray into life in the military.

MAJOR: "OK, you're going to run four miles tomorrow."
ME: "I'll do my best."
MAJOR: "I didn't say you'll do your best, I said you were going to do four miles!"

ME: "It's a lot harder to push yourself when someone's not yelling at you." (e.g. "you're pathetic!" "come on, wimp!")
MAJOR: "I'm not yelling at you, I'm just telling you the facts about yourself. That's the Army way!"

MAJOR: "OK, you're going to do pushups 'til you can't do any more. Then you'll do three more."

MAJOR: "When you can't sleep because your muscles keep clenching up, and you try to stand but can't, then you'll know you've had a good workout. That's the goal."

2 COOL
We saw a guy in a leather trenchcoat, which is so against the Standard Contractor Uniform (polo shirt or t-shirt, cargo pants or jeans) that we had to make fun of him mercilessly. We are soooooo like the mean girls clique in high school. "OK, what kind of person wears a LEATHER TRENCHCOAT in the DESERT?" was my (admittedly uncreative) comment. Jef compared him unfavorably to Neo (from the Matrix) while Greg thought he was more "trenchcoat mafia."

THE GREEN ZONE
Jef headed down to the Green Zone. He signed up for a helicopter flight the night before. He said it only took a few minutes, and he got some pics, as he was sitting right next to the opening (all of his shots have the side machine gun in the corner). Apparently, the feel is very different over there. We have mostly TCNs (third-country nationals) here.. there aren't that many Iraqis at my base. He said that for every TCN here, there are four or five Iraqis there. They also have alcohol there. Also, he said that there is much more of a threat there, and you can feel it.. people are on edge. Military convoys come flying out of nowhere and stop for no one. Explosions are heard in the distance. Mortars are much more frequent. We've actually got it pretty good where I'm at.

INTER-SERVICE RIVALRIES
Jef had to head out to tend to another system, this one at a location staffed by Air Force personnel (ours is staffed by Army). The Army guys told him he had to talk to the Air Force Security Guy so he would be on the list to go over there (apparently the military doesn't just let you go to any base you want to in Iraq without autorization).
AF Security Guy: "Sorry, sir, you're not in the system."
JEF: "Look, I have this badge..."
AF Security Guy: "Then you shouldn't need to come here."
JEF: "But they said they wouldn't let me back without this authorization."
AF Security Guy: "I don't know what to tell you, Sir."
Jef: "Look, they're *ARMY*.."
AF Security Guy: "Oh! In that case, let me help you out..."

The Army has the same view of the Air Force, who they call the "Chair Force." Oh, the witticisms you hear in a combat zone!

In other news, I'm more than halfway done with my deployment here. It's all downhill from here on out! See you all in December, and if you want a postcard from Baghdad, send me your address and I'll send one out (they're free!).

-Bill

Baghdad Bulletin #9: Head of the Class (30 Oct)

2005-11-23T04:01:00.000+03:00

Greetings once again...
I hope this email finds everyone well. First things first.. if you're the type of person who, despite my dazzling prose, only reads these emails in hopes of seeing pictures, I added some new photos at http://photos.yahoo.com/wlaboon. It's the Iraq album. Can't miss it. Now, for the more literary among my readers...

CLASS
I finished up class this week, which means that my days of getting up at 0600 are OVER! Now I am getting up at 0430! Our class covered a variety of different software applications, and seeing as how I am a software engineer, I had quite an advantage in understanding what was going on. So I spent a lot of time BSing with the soldiers in the class, including one guy whose opinions were the stereotype of a rabid Rush Limbaugh fan. He spent quite a bit of time explaining to us the various things that should happen to Cindy Sheehan, despite the fact that nobody showed the slightest inclination to listen to him. It didn't help that he didn't have two neurons to rub together in his skull, and would mess up rhetorical questions.
TEACHER: "So when Person A calls Person B, what kind of connection would we have?"
LIMBAUGH CLONE: "Umm.. transaction?"
TEACHER: *stifling laugh* "Telephone call."
Rachel was complaining about him after class one day, saying how he kept repeating the same point over and over again, regardless of the lack of people caring. I replied, "yeah, a lot like you, except that occasionally you have a valid point." Burn!
Helicopters were always flying over class, so we were used to occasional noisy interruptions. One day, however, we had some more unwelcome auditory intrusions..
TEACHER: "OK, so if you double-click"
*BOOM*
TEACHER: (ignoring it) "so double-click the icon, and"
*BOOM*
TEACHER: "Sounds like mortars, nothing to wor-"
*BOOM*
TEACHER: "Like I said, nothing to wor-"
*BOOM*
TEACHER: "OK, let's wait for the insurgents to get it out of their system."

BILL FOLLOWS DR. FAUSTUS
On Sunday, we got out of class early, and I sat at our office doing the big Sunday crossword puzzle in the Stars and Stripes (our daily dose of US propaganda and source of puzzles). The system was running fine. It was a beautiful day, in the 70s and sunny, and Jef had bhangra music playing. One of those days where the world seems perfect, and any imperfections you happen to see are just scratches on your eyeglasses.
Of course, this peaceful idyll was not to last. When I went to the gym that night, I ended up talking to a guy who said I should show up at 0500 the next morning, and he would show me some tricks for training. We traded names, but he ended up heading out to Ramadi for a few days and I was sick for a few days, so we didn't run into each other at the gym until later that week. When I finally did see him, he put me through a physical Hell that was torture enough, but peppered with the occasional mental and spiritual insult. "What? You can't run six miles?" "Well, I've been sick the last few days..." "That's pathetic. Just pathetic. You're just lazy. Did you ever do a real day's work in your life?" etc. After two hours of working out before hitting breakfast, he reminded me again of my various physical and mental shortcomings and said, "OK, now every morning run as many miles as you can, do pushup pyramids whenever you think about it, and we'll go from there. This was an easy workout, we'll get a little more involved next time."
I have not had a painless moment since.

METAPHOR
The palace we work at is falling apart. At least, part of the marble facade is. They blocked off the path around the side where a sporadic cascade of marble is ongoing. They blocked it off with some tapes, which everybody but the occasional junior officer ignores. They also blocked some construction areas off with tape, which we blithely walk through on cloudy, moonless nights with no flashlights. OSHA would have a field day here.
I touched upon it a bit up there, but everything is dark here. I assume the blackout is to protect us from the mighty Al-Qaeda Air Force.

RAMADI
I got a chance to talk with another contractor who just got back from Ramadi. Ramadi is one of those places you hear on the news, over in the al-Anbar province. There is quite a bit of unrest there, and they are not afraid to take it out on the local American contingent there. The base, from what I understand, operates in a kind of "Wrath of God" mode.. if they figure out where a shot is coming from, they level that coordinate with artillery fire. The contractor told us that he learned to differentiate from our fire and theirs. There were some stories of people who the constant shelling was getting to.. one officer slept under his bunk, and had piled sandbags on the bed. I figure he would have more of a chance of dying by overestimating the load that the bed could bear than getting hit with a mortar. The contractor also said that overall, he felt very safe there, if only because nobody was complacent there. Everybody was keyed up and ready to respond.

MORE BULLETS
I've basically given up on bullet stories, because actually they're pretty boring. "So I heard some gunfire today. Didn't hit us." What else can you say? But this is a funny one, in my opinion..
Greg was heading to chow when he heard "vvvvvvt!" then another "vvvvvvt!" As we learned at contractor boot camp, this sound signals a bullet flying close by. Using all of the wit that got him this far in life, he headed behind the concrete barriers of the chow hall, where he saw Combat Rob (one of the soldiers around here). He asked Greg which way the bullets came from, and Greg replied, "See the way I'm running? Do a back-azimuth on that!" Combat Rob grabbed his buddies from the chow hall and went to mete out some American justice, simultaneously cursing the insurgents for making him miss breakfast.

MISCELLANEOUS:
The highest ranking person I have peed next to is a two-star general.
Best simile I have made up (talking about how I won't be able to hold on to my alcohol back home): "I'm like a fat kid on the monkey bars.. I can't hang."
We have all become obsessed with SuDoKu.

Bill

Baghdad Bulletin #8: Outside the Wire (21 Oct)

2005-11-23T04:00:00.000+03:00

Greetings from Baghdad! It's been an exciting week, so let's get right to it...

IRAQI WEATHER
Saturday morning, I woke up to.. nothing. No alarm clock, no explosions, just had enough sleep. This is an amazing gift. I got up to go to the bathroom, beautiful blue skies, it was still early (around 8 AM) so it was cool, about room temperature. Baghdad weather just didn't get any better. I took a shower and came back my room and read for a while, since I didn't have anywhere to be yet.
I decided to wear a long-sleeve shirt today, look a little classier. Nice button-up work shirt. I open the door, notice that things are darker than normal as I open the door, and step out into a dust storm (sandstorm, but everything here is dust, despite its nickname of "the sandbox"). If you've ever wanted to experience a dust storm, I recommend you go into a small closet, close the door, open up a vacuum cleaner bag and put it in front of a fan. Eventually lick the floor. Congratulations! You now know what a dust storm is like. I could taste the grit collecting on my teeth, and everything smelled like dirt. It lasted all day. This has started the cooling-down process.. every day has been windy since then. It's also turned much cooler.. I am wearing a sweater today. I made the mistake of going to the shower this morning at 6 AM wearing only shorts and a tank-top. Walking back, wet from the shower, most of my skin exposed.. man, my nipples could have cut glass. I think I am going to go shopping for a robe. I've been told it gets below freezing here in the winter, although it didn't snow last year.

OUTSIDE THE WIRE
My friend Renee had told me that she was coming to Iraq, as well. After accusing her of stalking me (because we always seem to end up in the same place.. Pittsburgh, Baltimore/DC, Baghdad), I told her I would come out to visit her when she arrived here. One problem: she was coming in on a civilian flight from Erbil (Kurdistan - Northern Iraq). This meant that I would have to leave not just the base, but Americana military protection altogether. I prepared by getting Jef, a pretty adventurous FSR, to come with me (be my battle buddy, as the saying goes). This is always a good idea. We asked around at the Palace about getting to the airport.. directions, safety, latest news, etc. Then we hopped in our vehicle and drove.
We left at the Aloha gate, so called because 1) it is staffed by Hawaiin National Guard soldiers and 2) one of the jersey barriers has Aloha spray-painted on it. In this case, it's the Aloha that means good-bye, as we got onto a side road and started seeing Iraqi flags on buildings instead of American flags with the occasional UK or Australian one. Finally came to a fork in the road, and the directions were kind of unclear. We went left. We ended up running into an Iraqi roadblock, and Jef asked them how to get to the airport. They told us, in broken English, "two way, two way" and pointed back towards the base. We told them we wanted to go to the civilian side. "Two way, two way." Hmm.. still not sure what they meant by that. We went back towards the base and ended up back at the Aloha gate, so we turned around (probably arousing the suspicion of the Hawaiin troops there, but oh well). This time we went right, which took us directly to Route Irish. Hooray! The Highway of Death, here we are! The road was almost empty.. it was like the Baltimore Beltway at 3:30 AM on a Tuesday, only fewer cars. Another dust storm had been going all day (sorry, forgot to mention that earlier), so we were careful making a left turn in case a driver couldn't see us. Oh, one thing.. if an Iraqi driver flashes his lights at you, it does not mean "go ahead" like it does in America. It means "look out or I will hit into you at 95 kilometers per hour." FYI, in case anyone else finds themself driving on an Iraqi highway.
Jef studiously avoided all of the random debris in the road (possible IEDs) and sped fast (never ever stop on a road in Iraq. ever. if you're riding on the rims, keep riding them. just keep going.) and eventually we got the airport, where we passed through an Iraqi checkpoint. Went through abandoned gates and saw ads from the Palestine hotel (where that Spanish journalist was killed during the war when US troops thought hostile fire was coming from it). We parked the car, Jef asked me to remind him to check for a car bomb when we got back (see, we remembered what we learned at Contractor Boot Camp!) Went through two more checkpoints, got frisked, then arrived at Babylon Terminal, Baghdad International Airport.
The place was stuck in 1975. The marquee didn't work.. it showed flights from before the first Gulf War. The pay phones were all torn out, leaving empty shells like large helmets. We asked around to find out when the plane from Erbil was coming (since the marquee was down, and there was no information desk). You got info by asking other people.. I think it was all founded on rumours. The place was deserted.. there was a big terminal, with maybe 15 people waiting, and a few workers floating around. The restaurant was closed. We found some other folk waiting for the flight to Erbil, who said should be in shortly. We amused ourselves by going around and taking pictures in front of various Baghdad International signs (note this for later).
Finally a security guard told us all flights were cancelled due to the dust storm. I found out later that Renee's flight eventually ended up in Amman, Jordan, where she got to spend a night in a 5-star hotel, courtesy of her company. I cried a little inside that night, sleeping in my bunkbed with the taste of stale macaroni and cheese still in my mouth despite repeated brushings.

BATTLE CASUALTY
I've been jogging at night, since there are no sidewalks here and Humvees aren't known for their friendliness to pedestrians. So after the adventure with at the airport, I went to the gym and then for a jog around one of the lakes here. The moon is full so light was pretty good. I was humming to myself and must have zoned out after about a mile, because the next thing I know I am flying through the air and instinctively putting my hands out to break my fall. I hit knee first, then scrape my left elbow and right hand on the asphalt. A speed bump had been in the way of my running, and I hadn't seen it. Damn.
I tried to stand up but wasn't able to.. my right leg wasn't responding. Crap... and here I am running at a time when I knew I would not see anyone! I dragged myself to the side of the road and rested in the dirt, thinking "Oh great.. I am going to be sent home from Iraq, and people will ask me 'What happened? Suicide bomber? IED? Insurgent gunfire?' and I will have to tell them that my war wound came from me tripping over a speed bump." Oh, also I was thinking "OW." Luckily, it turns out that the paralysis was temporary.. I must have hit the leg equivalent of the funny bone or something. I limped home, walked it off, and by today am feeling perfect again. My only souvenirs are some road rash, a dirty shirt, and some neurons in my brain that are very dedicated to remembering where, exactly, that speed bump is.

BACK TO THE AIRPORT
I got an email from Renee that she would be on the eight o' clock flight into Baghdad tomorrow (=Thursday). Hooray! I will have a chance to see her after all! I get up at 0630, ready to face the day and see Renee. I was up late working that night (there are always issues!) so I was running on Red Bull, Diet Coke, and chow hall pancakes. A good combo. I go to the palace to find someone to go with ("who wants to be my battle buddy??") since Jef wasn't up yet. I check my email and realize that Renee is LEAVING at 8 AM, Amman time, and getting here at 11. Sigh. I wasn't ready to work quite yet, so I watched Mr. Bean and the beginnning of Hitchiker's Guide to the Galaxy. Mr. Bean.. the show you can watch on mute!
Jef shows up, and we get ready to leave at 1030. Rachel said she wanted to head outside too but Jef and I decided it would be best not to wake her if she wasn't up yet (she works night shift). We head out to the airport, go out the American checkpoint into Greater Baghdad then through the Iraqi checkpoint at the airport. No problems, easy as pie. We get to the airport and the terminal is CROWDED. Maybe 150 Pakistanis (Jef said he thought they might be Sri Lankans or Indians... sorry, my Indian and Pakistani friends on the list.. sometimes I can't tell who is from where!) were sitting around waiting and talking. Renee was nowhere to be found. About five minutes after we got there, a big white guy came through and clapped his hands, and yelled out "OK time to go!" and ZAP, like a genie just granted someone's wish, they all got up and headed out the door, leaving an again almost-deserted terminal. Still more crowded than yesterday.
Some of the shops were open today, so we looked to see if they had anything of interest. Not much unless you like those "look at me I'm an expat!" vests that British explorers always seem to wear. Finally, Renee's flight came in and I saw her coming over to the glass to wave! I was excited to see her... you don't get a chance to see many old friends when you're over in Baghdad! She came out and we hugged, introduced her to Jef, etc. and spent a bit of time catching up. She had two Iraqis, Yua and Hatham (I'm sure I am spelling those wrong) with her from Erbil as well as a fellow aid worker from France. Renee wanted to get a picture of all us together, but then a security guard came up and told her that if they catch someone taking a picture, they take the camera. Security precaution. So it was good that Jef and I got those pictures yesterday when the airport was deserted due to the dust storm, because nobody else is going ot have pictures there except us! We are so special.
Yua ended up being quite the chatty guy, who told us all about life in Kurdistan, how he came to Baghdad International Airport on the day the suicide bomber hit it, life under Saddam, etc. A big guy in an Under Armour shirt came up and asked us if we were the group heading out to >the place Renee is staying<. He was the convoy driver. She said yes, and he said, OK six of you? And Jef joked, yeah, we're coming, we can be your point man. And the guy said OK, you should get a sidearm. We explained we were joking, we had our own vehicle, but I missed a free ride down into Baghdad in an armored convoy. Oh well. Renee asked him how the drive over was, and he said not bad, just some small arms fire. He explained how that is good because Ak-47s can't penetrate through the armour, so it's safe. He'd been driving around Baghdad for seven months. It's funny when having your car shot by an AK-47 is a "good drive." Welcome to Baghdad, I guess. Renee made it safely to her compound, and hopefully I can go see her tomorrrow before she leaves Baghdad to head up North again.
Jef and I left and came back on base and went to the military side of the airport. We checked to see if Tom got on his flight OK, because it was delayed due to the dust storm. When we checked, he was safely in Kuwait. Jef tried arranging to get on a helicopter to head down into the green zone, but was unsuccessful. Anyone can request a ride if they have a military ID card.. whether or not they give it to you, that's the question. =)

HEAD OF THE CLASS
I am currently taking a class for users of the systems we are putting together. They think being a software engineer sounds interesting and neat. While I like my life, I just can't imagine people living in Baghdad think that sitting in a cubicle hitting keys makes for an exciting life. The grass is always greener, I guess.

GENERAL ORDER #1: NO KITTIES
The sergeant-major has captured all the kitties and put them to sleep. Rumours were spreading that they were taking away the cats so they wouldn't eat the poisoned pigeons, but this was just one of the many many rumours that float around when nobody tells you anything. Rachel was able to get the info out of the SGM. Apparently some Marines in Afghanistan kept a dog and it gave 79 of them rabies (that dog gets around), so they are killing all large mammals near military installations. I think it is because general order #1 is "no kitties."

FUNNY NAMES
One of the neat things about living on base is that you see a lot of interesting people. Soldiers have their last names and rank insignia on display for everyone, but those who don't, we have to make up names for them. One guy is "Mullet-Man" who has the "business in the front, party in the back" look down to a science. We made up a life story for him, that he has come over here to drive fence posts into the ground. "Yep, I drove posts into gravel, dirt, dust, cement.. hell, I drove posts into ice one time. Told 'em that when the ice melted, the posts would fall down, then 'long comes spring and guess what, they fell down." There is also Dale, a guy who talks like Dale from "King of the Hill" and his co-worker, who of course we call Chip (Chip and Dale). And we've seen Colonel Sanders, Sergeant Biggerstaff, Specialist Hor... these names may make us laugh more than you, but you haven't been stuck in a desert with no entertainment for a month and a half.

MISCELLANEOUS
I saw another funny shirt today.. "If you ain't Sunni, you ain't Shi'ite!" I can't imagine any place where it is appropriate to wear that shirt, but it did make me laugh a bit.
The Pakistani workers at midnight chow have begun making fun of my food selection. "OK that's good.." I say as he piles three metric tons of macaroni and cheese onto my plate. "No that is not good! That is not meal! You need to eat more! Meatloaf.. good! Fish.. good! Chicken nugget.. good! Macaroni.. not good!" Very few people eat at Midnight Chow, so they have to amuse themselves somehow, I guess.

That's all for now. Hope to hear from everyone about life back in the States!

-Bill

Baghdad Bulletin #7: Bullets and Ballots (15 Oct)

2005-11-23T03:55:00.001+03:00

Hello everyone...
Thanks for reading another email from everyone's favorite software engineer in Baghdad. As some background, today is the day that Iraqis go to the polls to vote on a referendum for the new constitution of the country. Right now, the airport is closed, all the Iraqi borders are closed, there's a curfew and increased security presence everywhere. Last night, the insurgents cut power to most of Baghdad. This is all news you can get from the papers - if you're interested, here is a link - http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/9659209/
So here are some more vignettes about life in an entirely new kind of war zone..

THOUGHTS ON IRAQ
One thing that I've noticed is that the soldiers tend to use the term "hajji" for both the insurgents and the locals. As in, "let's go to the hajji-mart!" which is the bazaar, and "Hajji's cooking something up" which means that the terrorists are coming up with a new plan. It seems to me that not differentiating between ordinary Arab Muslims and insurgents is a recipe for disaster in the type of war we are fighting over here. Our job right now is to help the locals. We are all doing whatever we can to that effect. However, an enemy with no sense of conscience is hiding in the populace. That does not mean that the populace is the enemy. I understand the frustration of our troops, and I don't know what can be done about it, but it bothers me as symbolic of the larger war.
On that note, Rachel and I had an interesting conversation the other night coming back from Flintstones Palace..
R: "This is just like the Revolutionary War. The British wanted to fight like gentlemen; the colonists fought to win. You can't fight a war politely."
Me: "Yeah you can. You just can't win it."
Not to say that we are incapable of winning the war.. I just mean that we need some new paradigm of warfare, which honestly I am not smart or experienced enough to dream up.

LAST NIGHT, SHE SAID, OH BABY I DON'T FEEL SO WELL
Last night I got to watch tracer fire and flares from the guard shack. Also watch the Dave Chappelle show, season one. And eat cookies and drink water. Do Friday nights get any better? Apparently they do, because I also got to eat the big chow hall. In keeping with the military's "put meat wherever they can" philosophy, there were huge hunks of pork in the "macaroni and tomatoes."
I am waiting for the beef-flavored Kool-Aid, chicken pancakes, and chocolate ice cream with bacon.
Two nights ago, G, W and I were talking outside the vehicles when we heard gunfire, much more than normal. Hearing the occasional potshot is nothing new, but this seemed to be a back-and-forth battle. It would die down and come back in full force a few minutes later. We were relatively safe, being behind the vehicles.
After a while, Rachel came back, looking a little annoyed. "I was stuck behind a barrier, and every time I thought the shooting was over, I would get up, and it would start again! I've been sitting behind that concrete barrier for like half an hour!" We laughed, even though in retrospect it really isn't that funny.

FROM A DISTANCE
J and I were on top of the palace, fixing a satellite dish. I was looking out over Baghdad.
Me: "Man, it looks so peaceful from up here."
J: "Yeah, everything looks peaceful from miles away."
Me: "Hey remember that song 'From A Distance'.. 'from a distance, there is harmony, and it echoes through the laaa-aand."
J: "Yes, but I would never, ever mention it, let alone sing it in public. And I hope you never do again."

MAIL CALL
So two days I get an email from someone in the mail room, saying he was recently contacted and told that I had left Iraq but he had a package for me, did I have a forwarding address? I responded back that unfortunately I still am in Iraq, where can I get this package? It turns out that some *bad name here* came down to get mail for my project, had not heard of me, so told the mail clerk that I must not work there anymore. Instead of, you know, asking around to see who I was, or even thinking, hey, there is more than one company that works here, maybe this guy is from one of them. Grr. It will be a dark day if I ever find out who it was.
Anyways, the mail clerk sent it back to the mail sorting center, where the guy looked my name up on the base directory and emailed me. We asked the clerk where the place was and she said "Right across from the Pizza Hut" (there is a Pizza Hut on one of the other bases). So we go there, didn't see anything, finally find some lieutenant who directs us to the wrong post office. I joke that any mail that they can't find the recipient, they just stamp "KIA" (Killed in Action) on it and return it. We hurry to get to the place before it closes, bouncing around from building to building like a pinball being hit by a drunkard, until we finally find the right place. Which does not open until 5:00 PM. It was 3:30. We go home but later come back and get the package. It was from my mom and full of treats.. I've already eaten the cup of Chips Ahoy (I miss chocolate chip cookies) and my co-workers have put a big dent in the Swedish Fish. Thanks Mom! (and Liz and Som and everyone else who put stuff in.. your personalized thank you letters will arrive shortly)

PIGEONS
Monday night, coming out of the palace, my lightning quick reflexes failed me and a pigeon pooped on my head. I went to the latrine and cleaned myself off, but I was hoping to avoid being hit by any projectile, from a weapon or a pigeon, during my time over here. Alas, 'tis not to be.
The general who works in the palace also got hit by a pigeon, but he took it much worse than I did. He told the guards to get rid of the pigeons. They started leaving out poisoned corn. So the pigeons would eat it, then shortly afterwards fall to the ground, desperately trying to control their muscles through neurotoxin-clogged synapses, twitching maniacally in the dry Iraqi dust, only to inevitably meet their Maker as the heart ceases its duties. Now, OK, I can be a bleeding-heart liberal sometimes and I don't like to see needless cruelty - don't we have enough death and dying in Iraq as is? - but this next part would anger anybody. They didn't clean up the pigeons they killed. The birds would descend to the ground, die, and decompose. Finally, I got sick of it (not literally sick) and went out around our pad and put all the dead pigeons in a box and threw it away. There were two pigeons who had died, one on top of the other, like Juliet over the body of Romeo.

THE KITTY WILL BE COURT-MARTIALED
I believe I've mentioned the family of cats that live under the palace. Well, they became a sort of unofficial mascot.. people were leaving water out for them, and we would give them chunks of chicken from the chow hall. One day, however, a sign appeared by the kitty door -
DO NOT FEED PLAY WITH OR OTHERWISE BOTHER THE CATS
DOING SO IS A VIOLATION OF GENERAL ORDER #1 AND YOU WILL BE SUBJECT TO UCMJ ACTION
ANY QUESTIONS SEE xxxx (big guy on base)
There was some good-natured kidding around about how General Order #1 is really "No fun of any kind." Anyway, that makes sense, don't mess with the wildlife. However, then the same people decided to capture the cats and deport them to who-knows-where. They got the mama cat and two of her three kittens (one other kitten is MIA) and put them in a cage. The one kitten would meow to the others in the cage but kept running away when people would get nearby. We plan to put pictures of the kitten on milk cartons with the caption: "Have you seen this kitty? If so, report to your nearest military policeman. He is in violation of General Order #1. Considered fanged and dangerous."

FRESH MEAT
We got a new guy, Jef. He has been a field guy all his life and just came from a year in Korea.
ME: "How's it going, Jef?"
JEF: "Another beautiful day."
ME: "I can tell you're new here."
On another note, we are losing Tom. He is returning home Wednesday.

THE IRAQ CRUD
I was warned about it, and it's happening.. the Iraq Crud. It's the feeling of not wanting to be here or do anything. If it was up to me, I would probably spend the entire day in bed. Of course, it could be just burning out due to the fact that since the summer started, I've only had like five days off of work. The word "weekend" brings up vague memories of times when I was not working, but these may be the results of a fevered imagination. A day without work.. that's just absurd!
(this morning)
ME: Happy Saturday, Greg.
GREG: What's so happy about it?
Ice cream makes me feel better, but that is a temporary fix. On that note, they have weird ice cream here. One is the "Columbia" bar which is like a fruit bar with cream in the middle, shaped like a space shuttle. Very odd. Also they have ice cream sandwiches but they are tiny, like half the size of American ones.

MISCELLANEOUS
Military hair cuts cost $3.00 on base. A personal pizza from Pizza Hut is like seven bucks!
The bottom floor of Flintstones Palace has flooded and rats live down at the bottom. We saw them.
I have been drinking too much soda, not enough water. I have been trying to drink more water. But soda is FREE! And it tastes so good! And I need stimulants to keep awake!
There are more pictures up at http://photos.yahoo.com/wlaboon, and even more are on the way.

Until next time...
Bill

Baghdad Bulletin #7: Bullets and Ballots (15 Oct)

2005-11-23T03:55:00.000+03:00

Hello everyone...

Thanks for reading another email from everyone's favorite software engineer in Baghdad. As some background, today is the day that Iraqis go to the polls to vote on a referendum for the new constitution of the country. Right now, the airport is closed, all the Iraqi borders are closed, there's a curfew and increased security presence everywhere. Last night, the insurgents cut power to most of Baghdad. This is all news you can get from the papers - if you're interested, here is a link - http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/9659209/

So here are some more vignettes about life in an entirely new kind of war zone..

THOUGHTS ON IRAQ

One thing that I've noticed is that the soldiers tend to use the term "hajji" for both the insurgents and the locals. As in, "let's go to the hajji-mart!" which is the bazaar, and "Hajji's cooking something up" which means that the terrorists are coming up with a new plan. It seems to me that not differentiating between ordinary Arab Muslims and insurgents is a recipe for disaster in the type of war we are fighting over here. Our job right now is to help the locals. We are all doing whatever we can to that effect. However, an enemy with no sense of conscience is hiding in the populace. That does not mean that the populace is the enemy. I understand the frustration of our troops, and I don't know what can be done about it, but it bothers me as symbolic of the larger war.

On that note, Rachel and I had an interesting conversation the other night coming back from Flintstones Palace..

R: "This is just like the Revolutionary War. The British wanted to fight like gentlemen; the colonists fought to win. You can't fight a war politely."

Me: "Yeah you can. You just can't win it."

Not to say that we are incapable of winning the war.. I just mean that we need some new paradigm of warfare, which honestly I am not smart or experienced enough to dream up.

LAST NIGHT, SHE SAID, OH BABY I DON'T FEEL SO WELL

Last night I got to watch tracer fire and flares from the guard shack. Also watch the Dave Chappelle show, season one. And eat cookies and drink water. Do Friday nights get any better? Apparently they do, because I also got to eat the big chow hall. In keeping with the military's "put meat wherever they can" philosophy, there were huge hunks of pork in the "macaroni and tomatoes."

I am waiting for the beef-flavored Kool-Aid, chicken pancakes, and chocolate ice cream with bacon.

Two nights ago, G, W and I were talking outside the vehicles when we heard gunfire, much more than normal. Hearing the occasional potshot is nothing new, but this seemed to be a back-and-forth battle. It would die down and come back in full force a few minutes later. We were relatively safe, being behind the vehicles.

After a while, Rachel came back, looking a little annoyed. "I was stuck behind a barrier, and every time I thought the shooting was over, I would get up, and it would start again! I've been sitting behind that concrete barrier for like half an hour!" We laughed, even though in retrospect it really isn't that funny.

FROM A DISTANCE

J and I were on top of the palace, fixing a satellite dish. I was looking out over Baghdad.

Me: "Man, it looks so peaceful from up here."

J: "Yeah, everything looks peaceful from miles away."

Me: "Hey remember that song 'From A Distance'.. 'from a distance, there is harmony, and it echoes through the laaa-aand."

J: "Yes, but I would never, ever mention it, let alone sing it in public. And I hope you never do again."

MAIL CALL

So two days I get an email from someone in the mail room, saying he was recently contacted and told that I had left Iraq but he had a package for me, did I have a forwarding address? I responded back that unfortunately I still am in Iraq, where can I get this package? It turns out that some *bad name here* came down to get mail for my project, had not heard of me, so told the mail clerk that I must not work there anymore. Instead of, you know, asking around to see who I was, or even thinking, hey, there is more than one company that works here, maybe this guy is from one of them. Grr. It will be a dark day if I ever find out who it was.

Anyways, the mail clerk sent it back to the mail sorting center, where the guy looked my name up on the base directory and emailed me. We asked the clerk where the place was and she said "Right across from the Pizza Hut" (there is a Pizza Hut on one of the other bases). So we go there, didn't see anything, finally find some lieutenant who directs us to the wrong post office. I joke that any mail that they can't find the recipient, they just stamp "KIA" (Killed in Action) on it and return it. We hurry to get to the place before it closes, bouncing around from building to building like a pinball being hit by a drunkard, until we finally find the right place. Which does not open until 5:00 PM. It was 3:30. We go home but later come back and get the package. It was from my mom and full of treats.. I've already eaten the cup of Chips Ahoy (I miss chocolate chip cookies) and my co-workers have put a big dent in the Swedish Fish. Thanks Mom! (and Liz and Som and everyone else who put stuff in.. your personalized thank you letters will arrive shortly)

PIGEONS

Monday night, coming out of the palace, my lightning quick reflexes failed me and a pigeon pooped on my head. I went to the latrine and cleaned myself off, but I was hoping to avoid being hit by any projectile, from a weapon or a pigeon, during my time over here. Alas, 'tis not to be.

The general who works in the palace also got hit by a pigeon, but he took it much worse than I did. He told the guards to get rid of the pigeons. They started leaving out poisoned corn. So the pigeons would eat it, then shortly afterwards fall to the ground, desperately trying to control their muscles through neurotoxin-clogged synapses, twitching maniacally in the dry Iraqi dust, only to inevitably meet their Maker as the heart ceases its duties. Now, OK, I can be a bleeding-heart liberal sometimes and I don't like to see needless cruelty - don't we have enough death and dying in Iraq as is? - but this next part would anger anybody. They didn't clean up the pigeons they killed. The birds would descend to the ground, die, and decompose. Finally, I got sick of it (not literally sick) and went out around our pad and put all the dead pigeons in a box and threw it away. There were two pigeons who had died, one on top of the other, like Juliet over the body of Romeo.

THE KITTY WILL BE COURT-MARTIALED

I believe I've mentioned the family of cats that live under the palace. Well, they became a sort of unofficial mascot.. people were leaving water out for them, and we would give them chunks of chicken from the chow hall. One day, however, a sign appeared by the kitty door -

DO NOT FEED PLAY WITH OR OTHERWISE BOTHER THE CATS

DOING SO IS A VIOLATION OF GENERAL ORDER #1 AND YOU WILL BE SUBJECT TO UCMJ ACTION

ANY QUESTIONS SEE xxxx (big guy on base)

There was some good-natured kidding around about how General Order #1 is really "No fun of any kind." Anyway, that makes sense, don't mess with the wildlife. However, then the same people decided to capture the cats and deport them to who-knows-where. They got the mama cat and two of her three kittens (one other kitten is MIA) and put them in a cage. The one kitten would meow to the others in the cage but kept running away when people would get nearby. We plan to put pictures of the kitten on milk cartons with the caption: "Have you seen this kitty? If so, report to your nearest military policeman. He is in violation of General Order #1. Considered fanged and dangerous."

FRESH MEAT

We got a new guy, Jef. He has been a field guy all his life and just came from a year in Korea.

ME: "How's it going, Jef?"

JEF: "Another beautiful day."

ME: "I can tell you're new here."

On another note, we are losing Tom. He is returning home Wednesday.

THE IRAQ CRUD

I was warned about it, and it's happening.. the Iraq Crud. It's the feeling of not wanting to be here or do anything. If it was up to me, I would probably spend the entire day in bed. Of course, it could be just burning out due to the fact that since the summer started, I've only had like five days off of work. The word "weekend" brings up vague memories of times when I was not working, but these may be the results of a fevered imagination. A day without work.. that's just absurd!

(this morning)

ME: Happy Saturday, Greg.

GREG: What's so happy about it?

Ice cream makes me feel better, but that is a temporary fix. On that note, they have weird ice cream here. One is the "Columbia" bar which is like a fruit bar with cream in the middle, shaped like a space shuttle. Very odd. Also they have ice cream sandwiches but they are tiny, like half the size of American ones.

MISCELLANEOUS

Military hair cuts cost $3.00 on base. A personal pizza from Pizza Hut is like seven bucks!

The bottom floor of Flintstones Palace has flooded and rats live down at the bottom. We saw them.

I have been drinking too much soda, not enough water. I have been trying to drink more water. But soda is FREE! And it tastes so good! And I need stimulants to keep awake!

There are more pictures up at http://photos.yahoo.com/wlaboon, and even more are on the way.

Until next time...

Bill

Baghdad Bulletin #6: Pictures! (9 Oct)

2005-11-23T03:53:00.000+03:00

Hello everyone..

Just to whet your appetite, I uploaded some pictures to Yahoo of my
time over here. More will be forthcoming...

http://photos.yahoo.com/wlaboon

-Bill

Baghdad Bulletin #5 - Welcome to Ramadan (8 Oct)

2005-11-23T03:46:00.004+03:00

Hello everyone..
Greetings from the land of sand, dust, and really angry guy!

RAMADAN
It's now Ramadan, so all the Muslims are abstaining from eating, drinking, smoking, and sex during the day. My understanding is that in order to obey the letter of the law, if not the spirit, they spend most of the day sleeping then party all night. That's just a rumor I heard though, so don't put too much stock into it.. I am not trying to defame any devout Muslims out there.

U-2 IS NOT JUST A BAND
The other day I was heading out of my hooch (= "bunk" or "bedroom") and I noticed that a greater than average number of people were wearing their kevlar ("helmet") and flak vest ("bulletproof vest"). Marty, a contractor from a different company out here, saw me and said "Hey Bill, we're at U-2 today! It's the first day of Ramadan!" U-2 means Uniform Protective Posture 2, which means that at all times we have to be wearing our kevlar and flak vest while outside. They won't let you into the chow hall without it. Grumbling, I headed back to my hooch to put on the protective gear. Then when I get to the chow hall, it's grab and go only... no sit-down. So I get some vegetable curry, rice, and a grilled cheese and take it to work with me.
I come in and have everyone laugh at me and take a picture, since I looked so goofy in the outfit. Pics are forthcoming. I was the only one in the room who isn't prior military, so I guess I just don't know how to wear it and look cool. I think it's something they teach you in boot camp. Oh well, I don't care if I look cool as long as I don't get shot.

WHY IT PAYS TO LEARN TO READ ENGLISH
We have a trading post with the locals here on camp (the big one is a few camps over). They sell the standard stuff.. video games (amazingly cheaper than the ones back home.. I wonder if the fact that they say "MIKROSOPHT X-GAME FOR THE BOX OF X!" on them has anything to do with it), movies (ditto... I wonder if the fact that they have "TERMATOR TWO - JUDGES DAY" on them has anything to do with it) and hardware (what is a "MONTOR FOR DVDS"?).
Well the insurgents knew to hit us where it hurts, and they sent a mortar at it this week. Probably would have hurt a lot of people, except the place was closed when they hit it. Guess some insurgent somewhere is wishing he knew how to read timetables.

THERE ARE BETTER PLACES TO HIDE, SIR
Rachel came and got me the other day and said, "Bill, check it out.. the insurgents have found the underwater pathway!" It turns out that she was walking past the MWR building and noticed something odd in the canal. Some lieutenant colonel apparently drove his SUV into the canal. Took them all day to get it out. On that note, did you know that Humvees can keep going even if their entire hood is underwater? Those things are amazing! J pointed out to me though that none of them are in the same configuration.. all of them have different things on them, no two are alike. Just like snowflakes.

THE STORY OF SNIPER ALLEY
We have a road here called Sniper Alley (I've been meaning to take a picture of myself next to that sign). There are some apartment buildings that basically overlook the road, so this is probably the closest to Baghdad you can get and still be on the base. I heard the story of why it is called Sniper Alley and why we don't worry about being sniped there anymore. Here is the story.
Soldiers kept getting sniped when they drove on Sniper Alley (this was before it was called Sniper Alley, but I don't know what it was called beforehand.) Some brass got sick of it and went to the apartment buildings and called a meeting. "Now we have a problem here," he announced. "Either the shootings stop, or we just level this whole place down. We'll give you one week."
The next morning a crowd of elders showed up with several corpses. Through a translator, they said, "Problem solved."
The shooting stopped. They have a different style of justice here than we're used to.

FLINTSTONES PALACE
I finally got a chance to see Flintstones Palace. It looks like a whole little palace in the style of the Flintstones.. sorry Jen I couldn't see if they had trained dinosaurs to do the dishes. It was crazy though, everything looked like a fake caveman house! It reminded me kind of like Noah's Ark at Kennywood, for my Pittsburgh readers out there. I got some pics.

BUILDING A MYSTERY (AND THEN SOLVING IT)
I believe I have mentioned the towers of black smoke that suddenly erupt from nearby, and then go away. Well one was nearby (probably less than a mile) and I got permission from my boss to go check it out. So I head on over, thinking, oh crap, we've been bombed, haven't we.. after all, one of the quick reaction forces guys said they had a motto, "white smoke good, black smoke bad." This was very black smoke.
So I get there and... it's the waste disposal facility. They're just burning garbage. So I guess I don't have to worry so much about that black smoke now.

I SHOULD HAVE LISTENED TO THE WORKERS
Remember last week when I was making fun of the workers for going way out of their way to make sure I didn't get hit by pigeon droppings? Well, yesterday heading from work to the latrine, I came THIS CLOSE to getting hit. As in, I saw the droppings fall right in front of my face and hit the ground like three inches from my shoe. Only some crazy fast moves, a la Jet Li in "The One" (or Neo in the "The Matrix", take your pick), prevented me from joining most of my compatriots in being a new home for pigeon poo.

YOU NEVER MISS IT 'TIL IT'S GONE
After a week of eating only vegetable curry or cheese and rice, with salad on the side, I was getting really really sick of food in general. And I was eating way too much dessert because I wasn't getting filled up by the same thing for lunch and dinner every day. Our chow hall has run out of everything good a vegetarian would like... tofu meals, chocolate milk, veggie calzones... ahh my stomach rumbles just thinking about them!
So yesterday G and I head over to the big chow hall one base over, and I ate so much my stomach was bulging out, and I just didn't care. I had chocolate and strawberry milk, macaroni and cheese, cheese pizza, refried beans and a veggie calzone, and two banana/strawberry fruit smoothies for dessert. Then I had some quiche. It was without a doubt the best meal of my life.
It reminds me of a story from a girl I knew in Mongolia. She was a Peace Corps worker, and for her last day there she scraped up the ingredients to make a chocolate cake for her going-home party. She invited her Mongolian friends to have some. Now if you don't know, Mongolian cuisine is incredibly bland and consists mostly of boiled mutton. Sometimes flour is put around the mutton, if they're feeling in an especially festive mood. So the Peace Corps girl told me how the one woman was actually CRYING, the cake tasted so good, she had never had anything like it, she had went her whole life never knowing something could taste as good as that chocolate cake.
That is how I felt.

MISCELLANEOUS
Tonight is the salsa dance again. I am hoping I will have time to go, but it is looking doubtful. I hope that people at the Promenade don't get too upset that I forgot all the moves to all the dances because I never have time to practice. In my defense, I think I'm pretty hardcore for finding time to practice at all.
Cocoa Puffs is the best cereal ever.
They still have pull-off tabs on their soda here.
I am pretty sure the lady who is in charge of the Internet cafe is Bulgarian.
One of my friends may be stopping by to visit me! No, not for vacation, but as a stopover on her way up to northern Iraq. But if anyone does want to spend their vacation visiting me, I'm not going to stop you. Just call you friggin' crazy.

Well that is all for now. I hope this email finds everyone safe and happy, and I will be seeing everyone in only a few months! Until then,

Bill

Baghdad Bulletin #5 - Welcome to Ramadan (8 Oct)

2005-11-23T03:46:00.003+03:00

Hello everyone..

Greetings from the land of sand, dust, and really angry guy!

RAMADAN

It's now Ramadan, so all the Muslims are abstaining from eating, drinking, smoking, and sex during the day. My understanding is that in order to obey the letter of the law, if not the spirit, they spend most of the day sleeping then party all night. That's just a rumor I heard though, so don't put too much stock into it.. I am not trying to defame any devout Muslims out there.

U-2 IS NOT JUST A BAND

The other day I was heading out of my hooch (= "bunk" or "bedroom") and I noticed that a greater than average number of people were wearing their kevlar ("helmet") and flak vest ("bulletproof vest"). Marty, a contractor from a different company out here, saw me and said "Hey Bill, we're at U-2 today! It's the first day of Ramadan!" U-2 means Uniform Protective Posture 2, which means that at all times we have to be wearing our kevlar and flak vest while outside. They won't let you into the chow hall without it. Grumbling, I headed back to my hooch to put on the protective gear. Then when I get to the chow hall, it's grab and go only... no sit-down. So I get some vegetable curry, rice, and a grilled cheese and take it to work with me.

I come in and have everyone laugh at me and take a picture, since I looked so goofy in the outfit. Pics are forthcoming. I was the only one in the room who isn't prior military, so I guess I just don't know how to wear it and look cool. I think it's something they teach you in boot camp. Oh well, I don't care if I look cool as long as I don't get shot.

WHY IT PAYS TO LEARN TO READ ENGLISH

We have a trading post with the locals here on camp (the big one is a few camps over). They sell the standard stuff.. video games (amazingly cheaper than the ones back home.. I wonder if the fact that they say "MIKROSOPHT X-GAME FOR THE BOX OF X!" on them has anything to do with it), movies (ditto... I wonder if the fact that they have "TERMATOR TWO - JUDGES DAY" on them has anything to do with it) and hardware (what is a "MONTOR FOR DVDS"?).

Well the insurgents knew to hit us where it hurts, and they sent a mortar at it this week. Probably would have hurt a lot of people, except the place was closed when they hit it. Guess some insurgent somewhere is wishing he knew how to read timetables.

THERE ARE BETTER PLACES TO HIDE, SIR

Rachel came and got me the other day and said, "Bill, check it out.. the insurgents have found the underwater pathway!" It turns out that she was walking past the MWR building and noticed something odd in the canal. Some lieutenant colonel apparently drove his SUV into the canal. Took them all day to get it out. On that note, did you know that Humvees can keep going even if their entire hood is underwater? Those things are amazing! J pointed out to me though that none of them are in the same configuration.. all of them have different things on them, no two are alike. Just like snowflakes.

THE STORY OF SNIPER ALLEY

We have a road here called Sniper Alley (I've been meaning to take a picture of myself next to that sign). There are some apartment buildings that basically overlook the road, so this is probably the closest to Baghdad you can get and still be on the base. I heard the story of why it is called Sniper Alley and why we don't worry about being sniped there anymore. Here is the story.

Soldiers kept getting sniped when they drove on Sniper Alley (this was before it was called Sniper Alley, but I don't know what it was called beforehand.) Some brass got sick of it and went to the apartment buildings and called a meeting. "Now we have a problem here," he announced. "Either the shootings stop, or we just level this whole place down. We'll give you one week."

The next morning a crowd of elders showed up with several corpses. Through a translator, they said, "Problem solved."

The shooting stopped. They have a different style of justice here than we're used to.

FLINTSTONES PALACE

I finally got a chance to see Flintstones Palace. It looks like a whole little palace in the style of the Flintstones.. sorry Jen I couldn't see if they had trained dinosaurs to do the dishes. It was crazy though, everything looked like a fake caveman house! It reminded me kind of like Noah's Ark at Kennywood, for my Pittsburgh readers out there. I got some pics.

BUILDING A MYSTERY (AND THEN SOLVING IT)

I believe I have mentioned the towers of black smoke that suddenly erupt from nearby, and then go away. Well one was nearby (probably less than a mile) and I got permission from my boss to go check it out. So I head on over, thinking, oh crap, we've been bombed, haven't we.. after all, one of the quick reaction forces guys said they had a motto, "white smoke good, black smoke bad." This was very black smoke.

So I get there and... it's the waste disposal facility. They're just burning garbage. So I guess I don't have to worry so much about that black smoke now.

I SHOULD HAVE LISTENED TO THE WORKERS

Remember last week when I was making fun of the workers for going way out of their way to make sure I didn't get hit by pigeon droppings? Well, yesterday heading from work to the latrine, I came THIS CLOSE to getting hit. As in, I saw the droppings fall right in front of my face and hit the ground like three inches from my shoe. Only some crazy fast moves, a la Jet Li in "The One" (or Neo in the "The Matrix", take your pick), prevented me from joining most of my compatriots in being a new home for pigeon poo.

YOU NEVER MISS IT 'TIL IT'S GONE

After a week of eating only vegetable curry or cheese and rice, with salad on the side, I was getting really really sick of food in general. And I was eating way too much dessert because I wasn't getting filled up by the same thing for lunch and dinner every day. Our chow hall has run out of everything good a vegetarian would like... tofu meals, chocolate milk, veggie calzones... ahh my stomach rumbles just thinking about them!

So yesterday G and I head over to the big chow hall one base over, and I ate so much my stomach was bulging out, and I just didn't care. I had chocolate and strawberry milk, macaroni and cheese, cheese pizza, refried beans and a veggie calzone, and two banana/strawberry fruit smoothies for dessert. Then I had some quiche. It was without a doubt the best meal of my life.

It reminds me of a story from a girl I knew in Mongolia. She was a Peace Corps worker, and for her last day there she scraped up the ingredients to make a chocolate cake for her going-home party. She invited her Mongolian friends to have some. Now if you don't know, Mongolian cuisine is incredibly bland and consists mostly of boiled mutton. Sometimes flour is put around the mutton, if they're feeling in an especially festive mood. So the Peace Corps girl told me how the one woman was actually CRYING, the cake tasted so good, she had never had anything like it, she had went her whole life never knowing something could taste as good as that chocolate cake.

That is how I felt.

MISCELLANEOUS

Tonight is the salsa dance again. I am hoping I will have time to go, but it is looking doubtful. I hope that people at the Promenade don't get too upset that I forgot all the moves to all the dances because I never have time to practice. In my defense, I think I'm pretty hardcore for finding time to practice at all.

Cocoa Puffs is the best cereal ever.

They still have pull-off tabs on their soda here.

I am pretty sure the lady who is in charge of the Internet cafe is Bulgarian.

One of my friends may be stopping by to visit me! No, not for vacation, but as a stopover on her way up to northern Iraq. But if anyone does want to spend their vacation visiting me, I'm not going to stop you. Just call you friggin' crazy.

Well that is all for now. I hope this email finds everyone safe and happy, and I will be seeing everyone in only a few months! Until then,

Bill

Baghdad Bulletin #5 - Welcome to Ramadan (8 Oct)

2005-11-23T03:46:00.002+03:00

Hello everyone..

Greetings from the land of sand, dust, and really angry guys!

RAMADAN

U-2 IS NOT JUST A BAND

WHY IT PAYS TO LEARN TO READ ENGLISH

THERE ARE BETTER PLACES TO HIDE, SIR

THE STORY OF SNIPER ALLEY

The next morning a crowd of elders showed up with several corpses. Through a translator, they said, "Problem solved."

The shooting stopped. They have a different style of justice here than we're used to.

FLINTSTONES PALACE

BUILDING A MYSTERY (AND THEN SOLVING IT)

So I get there and... it's the waste disposal facility. They're just burning garbage. So I guess I don't have to worry so much about that black smoke now.

I SHOULD HAVE LISTENED TO THE WORKERS

YOU NEVER MISS IT 'TIL IT'S GONE

That is how I felt.

MISCELLANEOUS

Cocoa Puffs is the best cereal ever.

They still have pull-off tabs on their soda here.

I am pretty sure the lady who is in charge of the Internet cafe is Bulgarian.

Well that is all for now. I hope this email finds everyone safe and happy, and I will be seeing everyone in only a few months!

Baghdad Bulletin #5 - Welcome to Ramadan (8 Oct)

2005-11-23T03:46:00.001+03:00

Hello everyone..

Greetings from the land of sand, dust, and really angry guys!

RAMADAN

U-2 IS NOT JUST A BAND

WHY IT PAYS TO LEARN TO READ ENGLISH

THERE ARE BETTER PLACES TO HIDE, SIR

THE STORY OF SNIPER ALLEY

The next morning a crowd of elders showed up with several corpses. Through a translator, they said, "Problem solved."

The shooting stopped. They have a different style of justice here than we're used to.

FLINTSTONES PALACE

BUILDING A MYSTERY (AND THEN SOLVING IT)

So I get there and... it's the waste disposal facility. They're just burning garbage. So I guess I don't have to worry so much about that black smoke now.

I SHOULD HAVE LISTENED TO THE WORKERS

YOU NEVER MISS IT 'TIL IT'S GONE

That is how I felt.

MISCELLANEOUS

Cocoa Puffs is the best cereal ever.

They still have pull-off tabs on their soda here.

I am pretty sure the lady who is in charge of the Internet cafe is Bulgarian.

Well that is all for now. I hope this email finds everyone safe and happy, and I will be seeing everyone in only a few months! Until then,

Bill

Baghdad Bulletin #5 - Welcome to Ramadan (8 Oct)

2005-11-23T03:46:00.000+03:00

Hello everyone..

Greetings from the land of sand, dust, and really angry guys!

RAMADAN

U-2 IS NOT JUST A BAND

WHY IT PAYS TO LEARN TO READ ENGLISH

THERE ARE BETTER PLACES TO HIDE, SIR

THE STORY OF SNIPER ALLEY

The next morning a crowd of elders showed up with several corpses. Through a translator, they said, "Problem solved."

The shooting stopped. They have a different style of justice here than we're used to.

FLINTSTONES PALACE

BUILDING A MYSTERY (AND THEN SOLVING IT)

So I get there and... it's the waste disposal facility. They're just burning garbage. So I guess I don't have to worry so much about that black smoke now.

I SHOULD HAVE LISTENED TO THE WORKERS

YOU NEVER MISS IT 'TIL IT'S GONE

That is how I felt.

MISCELLANEOUS

Cocoa Puffs is the best cereal ever.

They still have pull-off tabs on their soda here.

I am pretty sure the lady who is in charge of the Internet cafe is Bulgarian.

Well that is all for now. I hope this email finds everyone safe and happy, and I will be seeing everyone in only a few months! Until then,

Bill

Baghdad Bulletin #4: Preparing for Ramadan (2 Oct)

2005-11-23T03:44:00.000+03:00

Hi all...

We're waiting for people to respond to us before we can continue our work, so I figured I would take some time to send another email. Quite a bit has happened since the last email.

FIRST, THE BIG NEWS

On Friday evening, Rachel and I were returning from the chow hall when we heard small-arms fire from the west (Baghdad). Sounded close by. We joked about it ("did they open up a new firing range down there?") and then we got to the SAIC building. They told us that we should stay away from the water, because there was hostile fire and it was coming from that direction. So we took the other way around to our pad (concrete pad where we have the systems).

I stopped at the latrine on the way back, and when I come in there are several captains that I have never seen before. I go up to J and ask him what is happening. He answers, "haven't you heard about the bullets?" I say that I haven't, so he shows me.

While we were at dinner, several bullets hit where we work. One went through two trailers (unoccupied at the time) and hit one of the two vehicles we work in. Another bullet hit the other vehicle we work in (one of us was in it at the time). Another, or possibly the same as the second bullet, went through one of the walls of our power shed and lodged itself somewhere inside the second wall, causing us to temporarily lose power (it was fixed shortly).

So W (who was in the van at the time) now has the dubious honor of being the first field service person to be in a vehicle that took a direct hit.

Saturday morning, I was woken up by several explosions. Sounded further away than the ones I normally hear, so I went to sleep. I kept hearing them while we were working. Found out later there was a rocket attack on another part of our camp that morning.

We are earning our hazard pay. =)

RAMADAN

Ramadan starts in a few days. al-Zarqawi (leader of al-Qaida in Iraq, top lieutenant of bin Laden) has stated his intention for a Great Ramadan Offensive (this is on cnn.com). Oh goody. During Ramadan, Muslims are not supposed to eat or drink during the day, and we are not supposed to eat or drink in front of them. I don't know how seriously anyone is going to take that.

NIGHTLIFE AND WILDLIFE

J and I ran into some wild dogs right by our bunks going home last night (standard 14 hour day yesterday). Immediately beforehand, we heard music coming from the salsa dance (I missed salsa this week.. working).

J: It's Saturday, isn't it? I was hoping not to be reminded of that.

SHORT PEOPLE RULE HERE

Or at least, it sucks to be a tall person. The thing is, I am not immensely tall.. there are a lot of taller and bigger folks here. But the bed is too small for me, I hit my head on low-lying lights and emergency exit signs, and if I look straight at the bathroom mirror while standing up, all I can see is my chest and below. One time I scraped my head on some low-hanging barbed wire. But really that was my fault.

I would love, just one time, to be able to take a shower and have the nozzle be above my head without me crouching down. Also on that note, the shower curtain comes up to about my mouth. So if I am taking a shower, and someone of at least average height is across from me taking a shower, we are looking straight at each other. This is awkward. If I were six inches shorter all I would see if curtain. That would be ideal.

WE ARE THE CNN TEAM

We were tasked to provide CNN ("you're comms guys, right? TV is basically telecommunications.. get to it!"). We spent forever getting CNN to work, ended up having to go down the hajji mart and buying a DirectTV-like dish and getting it from there. They didn't know the azimuth, elevation, offset, or even what bird we should hit. We found out (with the help of a compass, a sat-meter, and taking readings from other people's dishes) how to get it. After 14 hours of sheer torture, we got it working. We were excited beyond all human comprehension, and went home to sleep, happy that we fought the impossible foe and defeated it.

Then the captain told us they weren't sure they were going to want to pay 20 bucks a month for CNN.

We spent hundreds of dollars on equipment and who knows how much time getting it to work (and remember, time = money). I made a big CNN logo on the whiteboard. We are going to take a picture of us next to it in the standard "newsman" pose. Again, it helps to have a sense of humor here.

On the plus side, the same feed that gives us CNN gives us Cartoon Network. So even if they don't want it, we did get a chance to watch cartoons for half an hour last night. Huzzah for cartoons!

WORKING WITH THE LOCALS

The Iraqis here all seem to be very nice. We have quite a few who work here. But I have to say, they have not quite mastered capitalism yet.

There are a group that come around and clean up the pigeon droppings on the side of the palace. There are usually about 20 or so of them, three of whom are working at any given time. The rest of the guys (they are always guys.. I've seen exactly two Iraqi women the entire time I've been here) are sitting around talking and hugging each other (they have a very touchy-feely culture here). Until I walk by. Now I know that they are cleaning the pigeon droppings, that I should walk around the side, and I do, but the pigeon-dropping cleaners all stop, while five or six of the formerly slacking off workers come over to tell me to stay away from the pigeon droppings, sir, why don't you walk this way? This way, sir. Then they wait until I am a good hundred feet away and continue their work. I mean, I appreciate their zeal to keeping me out of the way of the pigeon droppings, but they go pretty overboard.

Then this morning, I got up a little later than normal because we were up late getting CNN to work. So I go to take a shower.. my shower is closed. I go the midway shower.. closed. I go all the way down to the other end shower, which is packed because all the other showers are closed for cleaning. As I am finishing up my shower, they come in to close it up for cleaning. Why don't they do this in shifts?

Then when I walk back to my bunk, there is a group of them cleaning up my aisle, and I don't want to get dusty because I just took a shower. So I walk down the next aisle, and there are guys sweeping the dust up there too. Same with the next aisle. I finally just go up an aisle, where the workers all stop to stare at me with icy glares, how dare I interrupt their work? I'm thinking, maybe if you didn't make a solid wall of people coming down the aisles, then I could go by and not disrupt you.

Also you can't give the thumbs-up signal here. It is like giving someone the finger. The equivalent is patting your heart twice. FYI, in case you ever have to deal with an Iraqi.

MISCELLANEOUS

I've been amusing myself by replacing song lyrics from back home with local references. I particularly like "Iraqi Grammar" (like "Country Grammar".. "say hi, to the Hajjis still in the slammer, from Abu Ghraib to Fallujah, Ramadi back down to al-Iskandriya"). I don't care if you don't think I'm clever, I'm having fun.

Thanks to everyone for their words of encouragement and well-wishing. I appreciate it.

Bill

One Month in Baghdad, and the World's Your Oyster (29 Sep)

2005-11-23T03:40:00.000+03:00

Hi All!

So I'm going to revert from my previous "diary" style entries and just go back to amusing anecdotes, incidents, and observances of my time "over there" (well, actually, it's "over here" for me).

GLORIES OF CAPITALISM, PART I -

One of the soldiers set up a big Internet satellite uplink here, and charges people $50/month to connect via wi-fi to it. Apparently it's costing him 3k a month, but he is making 5k. He is in no hurry to go home. This is why it is good to have technical knowledge.

GLORIES OF CAPITALISM, PART II

When I first showed up on base, I went to get my linens and the guy asked me, "what do you want, teddy bears or flowers?" I thought he was joking. I thought wrong. I did, indeed, have the choice of bed sheets with flowers on them or with teddy bears (or Power Rangers). This is what happens when you accept the low bid on a government contract, KBR will go out to Wal-Mart and buy whatever is cheapest and give it to the folks. It is an amusing image, though, of a soldier, decked out with kevlar, flak jacket, DCUs, etc relaxing on a Care Bears bedspread.

By the way, I picked the flowers.

BILL'S WILD KINGDOM

Animal life is different over here. The equivalent of our pigeon is a ring-necked dove that, aside from looking nicer, seems to fulfill the same role as a pigeon in any city in the States. None have jumped up on me like the pigeons in Pittsburgh have tended to do, fortunately. However, I ran across a snake (brown with black spots, thin, about 3 1/2 feet long) on the path, and it slithered away quicker than any snake I have ever seen (and I have seen many snakes in my time). My guess is moving on the sand is easier than moving through grass or water. All the artificial lakes around here are said to have piranha, the better to dispose of the bodies of the enemies of Saddam. So I have not taken a dip in any of them. The fish are crazy, too.. if you throw in bread near the shore, they will fight for it and jump up ONTO THE LAND TO GET IT.

Me: "Hey! You fish belong in the water! Get back!"

There are some huge carp around too. You can see them swimming around sometimes. There are also beetles which are HUGE, bigger than my watch. I took pictures to prove it. In cute news, there is a family of cats (a mama cat and maybe four young'uns) who live near our pad. R (one of our group) feeds them milk every night because they look so thin. They live under a "porch" of the palace, and the soldiers made a little protective door thing for them. I think they got one of the doves, though, because there were a bunch of feathers around that little door this morning. Also not all of the soldiers are nice to the cats, some jump on their home and scare them out. But we do our best to give them food, also it's good to keep them around because they keep worse things away ( e.g. jackals).

SALSA SHARK

I went salsa dancing again on Saturday, but it wasn't as fun this time. I was just too tired. I as going to go to the "Polynesian Dance Lesson" on Monday but work got in the way. Darn work! Always getting in the way of my dancing! =)

THINGS THAT MAKE YOU GO "BOOM"

R met one of the UXO (unexploded ordnance) guys. These are the guys that blow up malfunctioning bombs, car bombs, etc. He was telling her how they will drag the cars off base and the kids are all waiting for them, and they will run in and grab tires off the car WHILE IT IS STILL BURNING. They are desperate for money. It is very sad. But you come back and these cars are stripped clean ten minutes after you leave them.

I was up late because we were working a problem with Baltimore, and I know you folks don't like to stay past six to help us poor folks in the field. =) So I got up at like 0800, went to breakfast (just so I could have my morning eggs and pancakes.. no Dad they're not as good as yours), then went back to bed. BOOM! About twenty minutes after I fell asleep was an explosion, followed quickly by a second BOOM! I had previously been advised "if you hear an explosion, and you're OK, well nothing to worry about!" so I went back to sleep. Less than hour later BOOM! BOOM! two more explosions in rapid succession. So I am a bit tired today from all the explosions, they make it difficult to sleep.

Something I've noticed about explosions - they have more bass and seem shorter in real life. Definitely sound different than ones in the movies. Or maybe I just need a better sound system back home.

BUGS

Bugs are everywhere here. Every morning I have to decide which sink has the least amount of dead bugs in, and that will be the one I brush my teeth at.

I PREFER SNOW DAYS

I heard this from a friend - when the Iraqis can't go to work because of a particularly bad bombing, they call it a "bomb day."

BLATANT COPY AND PASTE FROM A PREVIOUS EMAIL

Someone had asked some questions that I think everyone would like to hear the answers to, and I am copying and pasting to save time. Sorry if you expect all original content -

"I live in a four-bunk room, but right now there is nobody else in there with me! Ha-ha! When I first moved in there were two others but they both moved out.. so now I get to sleep on the bottom bunk and leave the lights on whenever I want. It is heaven. Well, as close to heaven as one can get when you have to get up in the middle of the night and walk for friggin' ever to get to the bathroom and the bathroom is crawling with mosquitoes and there are literally dozens of dead mosquitoes in the sinks. I get to dress in civvies, usually a t-shirt or polo shirt and cargo pants.
It is so fun to go to the gym and to work, because everything is in one of Saddam's old palaces. I think that it is expressing the wrong message to the Iraqis though.. you know, we come in, take over his palaces, and live where he was living. I think we should give them as amusement parks or something, I don't know, let the Iraqi people enjoy them. I think that is the plan eventually."

MISCELLANEOUS:

R came all the way to Baghdad to pick up a Kansas City Chiefs mug she found at the Hajji-mart.

J and I spent one of the nights watching "Sealab" episodes, eating Chips Ahoy and drinking Beck's "near-beer." (non-alcoholic beer)

The chow hall now has Red Bull! Who needs sleep?

That's about it. Sorry I haven't been writing back as much as I should. I'm trying. And I do appreciate everyone sending me e-mail. =)

-Bill

Bullets, Bombs and Ballroom (20 Sep)

2005-11-23T03:38:00.000+03:00

Hello Everyone!

Another week in Baghdad has passed here, so I thought it was time to give everyone an update. This time I'm going to try to put it in order, but I tend to go on tangents, so I ask for your forgiveness ahead of time.

THURSDAY -

After we set up all of our systems (at least from a power perspective), we of course realized that we had generators blowing hot air directly into the air conditioner ducts. This (of course) necessitated moving these things. This involves putting them on little skates and pushing them around manually. We had already done this with 15-ton vehicles, so it was pretty easy to do with the much lighter generators. But now I can say that I have physically pushed a vehicle that weighs more than a dump truck with my bare hands. Well others helped too. But still.

FRIDAY -

Friday I got to check out the PX (the "army store", where they sell toothpaste and granola bars and whatnot). I bought some of the latter, plus some deodorant, alarm clock, all the necessities of life. They are pretty well-stocked here.. I was amazed when I was getting some ice cream for dessert and I was thinking, man, too bad they are out of whipped cream. But geez, here I am in a warzone, and I'm so comfortable the only thing I'm hoping for is some whipped cream for my ice cream. I believe this day was when I saw several columns of black smoke rising from the city. I climbed up on the trucks for a better view, but to no avail. My roommate was telling me of a Korean girl he works with, who says you can tell the difference between her and the guys because when she hears an explosion, she goes down to the most protected room in the place and the guys all go up to the roof to take a look-see.

On that note, some people were surprised by the sense of humor I have about life over here. But that's kind of the way it is. Just like EMS people are going to make morbid jokes to help them deal with the fact that they are constantly seeing death and disability, people here have a bit of a cynical sense of humor about things. This can be seen in the popular T-shirts around here. I saw a heavy-set man with a shirt that said "FAT PEOPLE ARE HARD TO KIDNAP", a presumed reservist with a shirt that said "ONE WEEKEND A MONTH, MY ASS!" and a bunch of people with shirts that say "WHO'S YOUR BAGHDADDY?"

This is the day I finally got a chance to use the gym. It's beautiful, it overlooks the lake and everything in it It's the "fishbowl" building where everything is in the "fish" motif.

SATURDAY -

Saturday I took a field trip to some other bases, one of which had the best chow hall ever. I was able to sate my hunger with mixed Mexican and Indian food (when I go back I'll try the Chinese line.. I hear they have good vegetable stir-fry). On that note, I found some fellow vegetarians here (and a vegan(!), who says she has lost about 15 pounds while she has been here, because they put butter on everything). They pointed me to where to get the meatless meals.. and my protein intake has risen dramatically. Their "soy beef and brocolli" is excellent.

We also got to see some bombed out Russian tanks (rumor is that they were shot with depleted uranium, so don't go near them, it's a radiation hazard) and visit the bazaar, which the soldiers call Hajji-mart. "Hajji" may be an offensive term, I don't know, but it's what the soldiers call the locals, and no one seems to say it with malice. On that note, since I talk with the military folk often, I've come to pick up some of their slang, which I will detail in some sort of special supplement later. Anyways, the bazaar was kind of cool, bunch of locals selling pirated movies, hardware, pretty much anything you want but can't get at the PX. Very weird system though.. you find what you want, tell the guy at the booth, he gives you a paper, you go over to a centralized place to pay it, then they give you a receipt which you take back to the guy at the booth.

ME: "You know, this is how the Soviets did things at their shops, and look what happened to them!"

Went to the gym again that night. Also I walk everywhere. By the time I come back I will be in pretty good shape, I think.

Here is the exciting part.. there were salsa lessons that night! I was able to go for the lessons, but had to leave for the dance. It was actually semi-popular, and had a pretty even ratio of males to females there (everything else on this base, the males outnumber the females about 10 to 1. I couldn't stay for the dance because I had to go back to work, but I got to meet a few people. And who would have expected there to be salsa dancing in Iraq?

Interesting conversation this day -

*gunfire starts, then stops*

RACHEL (dripping with sarcasm): "Uh yeah, that's the firing range."

ME: "I was told there was a firing range near our bunks."

RACHEL: "I think they tell that to everyone their first day so they don't freak out."

SUNDAY-

About the only thing I remember this day is Major G making fun of my jackal story (apparently the jackals are rare, it was a fluke that I kept running into them the first few days). "By the time you go back, you'll be telling people about the massive, three hundred pound jackals with rabies, blood on their lips, chasing you down and nipping at your heels..."

MONDAY-

I drove one of my fellow workers to the PX so he could pick up cigarettes, and when we came back a generator was off and fuel was on the ground. Turns out the darned thing had started spraying fuel from a dry-rotted hose. Luckily, we have one of the gods of field service with us, and he fixed the generator within fifteen minutes.

I dropped my clothes off at the cleaners' today, where a smiling, cheerful older Filipino lady questioned me mercilessly about my life as I filled out the paperwork. "So.. where you from? Where are you now? What do you do here? When did you come? When are you going back?" It's so nice not to worry about laundry.. they even fold your clothes for you! I picked them up today, but haven't checked if anything is missing.

I wore my "UMBC ballroom" shirt to the gym and then went back to the pad because we had a discussion with other contractors. It was either "eat" or "change clothes" and I was hungry, so you can guess what I did. Later on, it turned out that I had the keys to the door when they technically should have been hanging by the door (I had a good excuse, I was labelling them!) but that is the background to this story -

Me: "Yeah, I had the keys, I'm guilty."

Major G: "Well that's the second time today you've been guilty."

Me: "What was the first?"

G: "When you put on that shirt!"

Me: "Hey, I gotta represent my roots."

G: "Actually, anyone who wears a shirt like that around here, and especially to the GYM, must have balls THIS BIG. So I'm glad you're on the team."

TUESDAY-

Got up at 7, and spent all morning guarding the "Pac-Men" (again, the term around here for the laborers, I guess most of whom are Pakistani, if it's derogatory I'm sorry). Around noon, wasn't feeling well so went to sleep during the day. I guess the heat was getting to me. I woke up, took a shower and picked up my clothes from the other day (not a bad turnaround time, eh?) On the way down to work, I noticed some more of the columns of black smoke down in the direction of the city. I'm not sure if they are bombs, or fires, or what, but they appear irregularly and go away, so I'm guessing the former.

And that brings us up to now. Other than a little exhaustion, things are going great. I've been trying to respond to everyone who emails me (sometimes it takes a while... sorry.. I had no idea so many people would want to talk to me =) ) and I'd love to keep hearing about what's going on in the States while I'm here.

-Bill

Greetings from Baghdad (14 Sep)

2005-11-23T03:29:00.000+03:00

Hello Everyone!

I hope this e-mail finds everyone well. This is everyone who I could think of who might be interesting in my experiences while I am over here. If you don't care to hear what is going on with me, then feel free to delete this or ask me to stop sending you junk mail. On the other hand, feel free to forward this to anyone who might be interested.

FIRST THINGS FIRST - I am having major trouble with my phone. I am sorry if I haven't called you or if I haven't answered when you called. I borrowed a sat phone to let my parents know that I got in OK, but other than that I haven't made any phone calls, so don't feel left out.

So I've been here long enough to settle into a routine, if "routine" is the right word. It's not as bad as you hear on the TV, but it's not home, either. I'm not good at chronological stories, so I'm going to list some good things and bad things and I'll probably just segue into some specific instances.

Things that are not cool:

COMBAT DROPS - In order to stay high and safe as long as possible, airplanes - even cargo planes - come in at a very steep angle right before the runway. It's like being on a roller coaster. During the day, they say to sit on your flak vest because the locals like to take shots at the underside of the plane as it goes by. We came in at night under blackout conditions. About halfway through the drop, pressure started building behind my eyeball, and I was experiencing some really bad pain. It kept getting worse until I landed, and it didn't get better until the next day. I think it was just some pressurization issue, but man, it sucked. I don't recommend it.

HEAT - It was 108 degrees in the shade today. We are working out in the sun. No matter how much I drink I am still dehydrated.

JACKALS - They roam the base, but they are usually more afraid of you than you are of them. Last night, going home around 3 AM local, I ran into a pack of them (about 7). I slowly backed away and went back to the enclosure, where me and the guard stayed behind the fence and took pictures. None of them turned out, unfortunately.

VEGETARIAN OPTIONS - There are very few. I have been pretty creative with my main courses.

NO ALCOHOL - General Order #1 - no alcohol in the combat zone. Luckily I had one final drunken night messing with freshmen before getting here.

MORTARS - They fire them at us. It's been pretty quiet here so far, but I've heard several already. I don't think I need to explain why they suck. There are other explosions too. Also I live by a firing range. I guess it's desensitizing me.

Things that are cool:

FOOD - Other than the lack of veggie options, food is GREAT. Salad bar, mini-pizzas, Baskin-Robbins ice cream, all the gatorade, fake beer, and soda one can drink.

SEEING SADDAM'S OLD PALACES - Most of these are re-furbished, but remain wonderfully tacky. The weight room is called the "fishbowl center" because everything is in the design of a fish - fireplaces, stairs, everything. he also built a complete life-size replica of the Flintstones house. Seriously. There is also a "Victory over America" palace, and little murals everywhere of how he kicked our butts during Gulf War I, ha-ha.

THE VIEW - We work by an artificial lake. Amazing view.

WORK CONDITIONS - I can walk to everything! PX, gym, movie theater, rec center, internet cafe, work.. I can walk to it all!

PRIDE - Knowing that we are helping the Iraqis by being here. There are many where we work. People forget how most Iraqis just want to have a job and provide for their families.

There are alot of other things I want to talk about, but my time is running short. I hope to hear back from everyone.. it is a litte bit lonely over here. But I will be returning in only a few short months, and I will see you all then.