Farmer Brown

Not everything we do in the Army is what they teach you or prepare you for in schools and training. There are times soldiers; officers, non-commissioned officers, and enlisted find themselves in jobs doing things they would never imagine doing.

Had someone told me that the first time I’d ever drive a farm tractor would be in the war zone of Baghdad, Iraq while Apache attack helicopters flew over head cover for me I would have laughed.

Among my responsibilities as a Civil Affairs officer is acting as the Agricultural Liaison in the area we work in. This job was thrust on me in December, when there was no one else available. Almost immediately I earned the moniker, Farmer Brown.

One of the projects I was responsible for was the delivery of 10 farm tractors and 20 irrigation pumps to two farmer cooperatives that are in this region. All of this equipment was part of the Oil For Food program that the former regime received before the war. The intent was for them to sell the equipment to the farmers at subsidized prices. However, even at a 50% discount most of the equipment was too expensive for many. All of this equipment has been sitting in a storage yard somewhere in Iraq for at least four years.

I heard an important statement as I learned about Iraqi agriculture; Iraq is not an oil country with farms – Iraq is an agricultural country with oil. The point is that if we can collectively get the agricultural economy up and running again so that Iraq resumes its exports to the Middle East then it can become just as financially viable as if it were exporting oil.

To that end the Army is helping the Iraqi farmers in several ways. We have provided seed and fertilizer to farmers. We have cleared once clogged irrigation canals. The U.S. Army was also able to purchase some of the farm equipment at discount prices in order to turn it all over to the Iraqis.

This was my mission last week; convoy to the storage yard, pick up the equipment, and escort it back to the FOB for distribution.

We departed at 0700 to drive to Taji to link up with the haul assets; 5 HETS (lowboy tractor trailers), one extra “bobtail” truck, and a HEMMET (cargo truck) plus our four Up-Armored HUMVEES. By 0845 we were back on the road heading south to the storage yard. In the air were two AH-64 Apache helicopters, each with its 30mm machine gun and eight Hellfire missiles. They reconned the route in front of us and provide security to what would be a slow moving convoy.

We arrived at the facility and began to move equipment. We received two 5 ton tractors and eight 3 ton tractors. They had to be jump started before they could be driven. Once they fired up the local working in the facility climbed down off of the seat and looked at me. Me?! I climbed on board and looked down. They had three separate shifting levers to make it move plus three pedals. The Iraqi eyed me, bemused. Fortunately, the gear shifts were all marked in English.

Clutch, shift, gas – GO! If my dad could have seen me!

I drove away and over to the HETS where I was expecting the HET crews to load the equipment up the ramp and on to the body of the truck. The look in their eyes said that I now had more experience driving farm equipment than they did and not one of them offered to take the wheel. Now I had to get this 5 ton piece of machinery up narrow ramps and into position so it can be strapped down. Now the soldiers were eyeing me, bemused.

Clutch, shift, gas – s-l-o-w-l-y I crept up the ramps and into place. I did my father and brother proud.

Within an hour I was a pro and everything was in place. While we loaded the helicopters continued race tracks in the sky over our position. Although it took longer than it should have, the load was tied down with thick metal chains and we were ready to drive back to the FOB. The Apaches took their places and we moved out at a slow pace.

We hit one of the main highways taking us back to the base when one of the drivers, in a moment of carelessness, failed to see the brake lights of the HET in front of him. They collided hard, disabling the trail truck. We were _ mile way from where three soldiers had died two days before from an IED. We were on a bad stretch of road in a very bad neighborhood.

We called for and received the QRF (Quick Reaction Force) within minutes. They arrived with Bradleys, M-1 tanks and more HUMVEES plus the Apaches over head. Half and hour later we were back on the road back to the FOB while the QRF remained to tow the broken truck - all this for tractors.

I arrived on the FOB and all of the soldiers who had grown up on farms were there to greet me. This time I had no trouble finding volunteers to off load the tractors and drive them across the FOB to their parking area – the long way.

Ten tractors and twenty pumps are a small gesture but a gesture nonetheless. In the long term there is a plan to get the Iraqi agri-business running again. Within a couple of weeks the paperwork will be ready to turn the tractors and pumps over to the co-ops. Until then I walk out to the parking area, climb up, and start my tractors. That’s me, Farmer Brown.

War – A Parent’s Lament

I have seen children barefoot and needy because their parents do not have work.

I have seen children doing hard manual labor that adults do not want to do.

I have seen kids swarm HUMVEEs with only two words, “Mista, Gimmee”, those words meaning candy, toys, soccer balls, pencils, the sun glasses on your face – whatever we have that they do not.

I have seen teen-agers shoveling the blackened, bloody chunks of suicide bombers off of the pavement adding the final indignity to the end of that life by burying it all by the side of the road.

There are times I have even seen the next generation of hate staring back at me as it is passed down from one to another.

There is a greater sadness than any of these tragedies of war I have witnessed here. That is not being able to be present for my own child.

Sam has been on a rollercoaster since I returned to Iraq from leave. And last week it got as bad as I hope it gets. No, my child didn’t set fire to the school or shave the cat, but she did act out in a negative way. In a way that requires the attention of all the primary adults in her life; her mother, her teacher, and me. And I am here.

Sam wants to feel in control of her life. I suppose it is fair to say that over the past four years she has had very little of it in respect to the lives her parents have led. Divorce is a tough thing for a kid. As adults try to find their way back into a new solid relationship mistakes are made along the way. Unfortunately, unlike pre-children dating, when you make a mistake there is a witness to it all.

In the defense of Stacey and me – if we made mistakes we never – and I mean ever – marginalized our daughter in the process. Our child has never had a relationship put ahead of her needs. In fact, our daughter has never gone without the love and attention she deserves. As divorced parents, Stacey and I do a fair job of co-parenting. We do not always agree, but at least we try to speak with the same voice when it comes to the decisions of raising Sam.

Being away from your family is tough and all parents deal with some form of guilt when raising a child. What parent has not worried that something they do, or fail to do, messes up their child? Those emotions are magnified when the one thing positive thing I have to show for my time on this earth needs me and I am off to war.

This is 2005, when I, as soldier, can email, instant message, and even phone home, everyday if I want to. In many respects this makes it harder because I can be there – a day, sometimes hours - after a bad day and speak to Sam. All I am left with are words of disappointment in her behavior, encouragement to do better in the future, and the words of love from a father to his little girl. It leaves me impotent to help in any other way.

I am not alone. I am sure that there is a lot of stress among the children of soldiers. Family Support groups do a good job of providing a collective center of information and assistance for soldier’s families. However, that is not enough for me today. I know Stacey is doing a good job being both physical parents right now. I know Sam’s teacher strives to help Sam make the right decisions. I know Sam has the love of my family and Lisa. All that leaves me with hope until I get home. However, it is still not enough for me today.

All war is terrible, Sam. It is most hard on the children. You, who did not choose this for me, nor would you if you could. Maybe we should let the children decide if we should ever go to war. Maybe then we wouldn’t have to pay such a high price.

Stay strong, be safe, and be good to someone. You are still my Number 1 girl.

In A Day: An Explosion, Chinese Food, and NPR

I went out of the wire on a multi-tasked mission; take NGO-man (he’s back for a visit) and a NPR reporter out into sector to attempt to generate small business stimulation, take NGO-man to the local District Council building to process small business grants, and go the IZ so that various people could conduct business at various locations.

I was not in charge of the mission so I had the rare opportunity to be the rear machine gunner on the convoy. I was also site security – making sure that the VIPs did not stray too far and that the area was secure for them to work freely. These tasks require a different type of concentration than being in charge of the mission or meeting with local Iraqis. It taps into a different level of energy and focus.

The District Council building was once Uday Hussein’s hunting club. It is a large compound surrounded by 20 ft high walls. There is Iraqi security on site as well as the addition security of a US patrol. Because of this security we parked in a non-tactical formation. For the duration of our stay at the DC hall those who were not involved in business inside lounged by the HUMVEEs.

After awhile, and typical of human behavior, several soldiers became complacent and took off their helmets to enjoy the warm spring sun. I told everyone to get back in uniform and they – willingly – put their Kevlars on. I walked away from the group when it happened.

I saw it before I heard it; a huge 60 foot black mushroom cloud. The sound wave reached me a quarter second later. Twisted pieces of metal fell from the sky moments after that. The blast came from the main highway which was 600 meters in front of me. It was an enormous explosion and the closest that I have been to one since I arrived here.

The DC building emptied in a rush as I and another solider ran in to check on the welfare of our people inside and start to roll aid towards the scene. Before we could leave we were told that the explosion had been a controlled detonation by EOD and that the people back in the TOC had failed to send a warning message.

I deflated but my system was still full of adrenaline.

When we were done we at the DC hall we left for the IZ. My reason to travel to the IZ was concluded rather quickly so I had well over an hour to kill. I found myself at the only Chinese restaurant in Baghdad – probably in all of Iraq. Chow hall food all tastes the same no matter how much hot sauce you put on it so sit down to a heaping plate of shrimp fried rice was a break from the monotony – an American, in Iraq, eating Chinese food.

I guess I find that humorous when I think back to my social studies teachers explaining the “great Melting Pot” theory of the United States when they said America was a place where a person of German decent could eat spaghetti and meatballs in Miami, Florida.

While all of this was happening we had a reporter from NPR embedded with us. He was doing a report on NGO-man and his company, VEGA. He spent a lot of time with NGO-man as we toured a factory when they make exquisite handmade furniture. He recorded me making a couple of statements about the importance of NGOs in Iraq. I also – in attempt at shameless self promotion – told him he should do a story on my web journal. I explained how the readership has grown since I started it in June 2004. So who knows, maybe one of you will be interviewed as one of my readers.

All in a days work.

Tragedy In The Family

“For he today that sheds his blood with me shall be my brother”
William Shakespeare

And his brother shall be my brother.

Brian is an officer in our unit here. Today we received the news that Brian’s brother, David, was killed in action.

David enlisted prior to Brian entering West Point. From what I gathered in my chats with Brian, there was a mutual admiration between them. When Brian went to Airborne School, David was his instructor. David pinned the silver wings on Brian’s chest at graduation.

Brian missed his brother. He commented how his brother managed to get the entire family, except Brian, together for Christmas in 2004, because he was about to deploy. Brian was hoping to get a pass while the two of them were both in Iraq so that they could get a photo together for the family.

As Brian’s extended family, we are left feeling numb and empty.

Brian came back into the Reserves after a four year separation. He came back to be, as he puts it, “part of the solution” and because he is that kind of patriotic guy. I would imagine part of it was because of his brother as well.

David was in Iraq less than two weeks after arriving with the 3rd Infantry Division when he was killed by a roadside bomb on Valentine's Day. He is one of the first causalities the 3ID has had on this rotation in Iraq.

Brian left for the airport this evening. Brian will escort his brother on the long trip home to his family for burial. I could not imagine a heavier burden as a brother, as a son, or as a soldier.

And because Brian is a soldier, and because his brother would not have it any other way, Brian will return to Iraq and finish the job he came here to do. That is what a soldier does. That’s what makes people like Brian and David a cut above the rest.

Brain joked earlier today “leave it to David to bring the entire family together again.” As the family gets ready to be together again one last time let us all remember them in our prayers.

My Friend the Enemy

I try to write about facts as I understand them in this journal. This is a rare entry where facts and my opinions collide.

Dr. Kahlid (not to be confused with my interpreter), an aquaintence of mine, was killed the other night. His body was delivered to Yarmook hosptial in the trunk of a car with two gunshot wounds to the head and one to the chest. It is unknown who did it, but I have my theories.

Dr. Kahlid came to visit us many times on the FOB. He was a businessman and a respected, educated Sunni who advised us on many matters during Ramadan and in December leading up to the month before the election. The last time I saw Dr. Kahild was in January just before I came home on Leave. He greeted me at the mosque he represents as we delivered humanitarian aide there. He went out of his way to say hello - even on a crowded Al Saidyia street. He spoke English well enough not to need an interpreter. He was a friendly and warm person every time he spoke to me. He was unafraid to be seen with American forces.

He was also the enemy.

Dr. Kahlid was somehow linked to the insurgency. As I say that, no direct connection linking him to the terrorists exists that I know of. I did run into a local national once who told me that Dr. Kahlid and his mosque were funding AIF in Falluja. I base my opinion more on my observations, "gut" feelings, and the opinions of others.

I saw the power of this man and it was intimidating. When Dr. Kahlid walked into a room imams and sheiks alike all stood for him. When he spoke Iraqis listened, their heads nodding in approval. He clearly was able to steer conversations and influnece group decisions. In the several times I heard him speak, Dr. Kahlid always gave me a bad vibe. His rhetoric made got under my skin. When he was in our company he had the audacity to tell us exactly what we were doing wrong and how we were going to fail. He accused other Iraqis, people I knew and liked, of being untrustworthy. However, the old addage "keep your friends close, but keep your enemies closer" applied - for both sides - and we all managed to get along.

I think Dr. Kahlid was a legitimate front to the real deal, real AIF. In my scenario I believe that prior to the election that he had a lot of people scared for their own lives for the outcome of the election. I believe that Dr. Kahlid thought the elections were going to be a tremendous failure and in the aftermath the right wing Sunnis would still maintain some form of control over the area. When the elections did not fail Dr. Kahlid either became a scapegoat within his own group or was targeted by the emerging Shia powerbase. In the murky waters of Iraqi political/factional/religious infighting it is hard to tell what the truth is.

So, yes, another person I know has been killed. The man was decent enough, I hated his message though. It is stange that I spent time in the casual company of a terrorist.

If Dr. Kahlid was killed by Shia then I wonder what will happen once the election results are announced. There may be a bigger issue on the horizon that will create greater chaos in the Iraq. I am concerned about a purge - 40 years of pent up Shia frustation and now the power to do something about it.

We all have our fingers crossed that the only bright, shining moment for this country has not already come and gone on 30 January 2005. In 2004, the military helped set the conditions for success for the elections. This year, the new Iraqi National Council will spell out the conditions to avoid civil war as they decide upon their constitution.

Maybe now the true test is now upon them.

Free Beers

Last night the Super Bowl was played in the US - Boston must be going crazy after the Red Sox and now the Patriots are champions.

In conjunction with the Super Bowl and in support of the troops, Anhauser-Busch donated real beer to the soldiers here in Iraq. Good propoganda for them - a chance to feel a little more like home for us.

Each soldier received two beers with dinner. Of course, Mother Army took as much fun out of as she could - the beers could only be consumed during dinner, no one could leave with a beer, no one could give their beers away to someone else...I mean they came just short of making all of us stand at attention to drink them.

However - if you were under 21 you could drink...about time too! Eighteen years old and old enough to lay your life on the line every day equals you are old enough to have two beers in my opinion.

The chow hall was full of the sounds of soldiers laughing and bottles clinking. I drank my two cold Budweisers with my meal of turkey and stuffing and enjoyed every minute of it. I enjoyed looking around and watching the troops who give so much every day enjoying their beers with their comrades. It was cool.

It was a great idea. It was great for the upper levels of the chain of command to approve it. They should do it for the holiday meals and the Fourth of July too! However, until they do I can say I was there for the one time we all drank on the front lines.

The Light At The End Of The Tunnel?

Maybe things have changed in Iraq. Here are four examples:

During the day of the election voter passed by the body of a suicide bomber who detonated himself too early. As they passed, old women spit on the corpse as they marched to the polls. (Confirmed by two independant sources)

On election day people rushed the new Iraqi Army as they drove through the local streets in their new armored vehicles. The Army was greeted with the same enthusiasm that our forces were in the days after the fall of the regime. (Witnesses by everybody)

In our area, AIF (Anti Iraqi Forces) attacked the local police station. In the past the police have run rather than fight even though many still died in the process. This time the police stayed and fought. They brought the bodies of dead and wounded AIF to the hospital and snapped pictures as trophies. (I saw the pictures)

South of here, AIF entered into a village to enact revenge on voters. They were met by most of the villagers emerging from their homes, AK-47s in hand, and killed the terrorists. (Confirmed by two independant sources)

As I hear these stories I realize they have been filtered and altered several times. However, somewhere in there are fragments of truth. What has changed in the days since the election?

In my first months here I had the opinion that the Iraqi people were sheep and we were the shepard. They acted quite helpless. They looked to us for everything from the most basic of essential services to their safety on each and every street in Baghdad. I wondered, as many of us did, how long it would take for these people to take matters into their own hands and have some ownership on their future.

It is beginning to appear as if we may have turned a corner - the Iraqi people, the US/MNF military, and even the AIF. The people here seem to be getting tired of cowering before the terrorists. Now the word is starting to get around.

News does not travel through normal channels as it does in the Western world. Iraqis are very distrustful of what they see in the media - Western or Middle Eastern. They do beleive in the rumor mill. I played my little role today by talking to some of my Iraqi acquaintences asking them if the had heard these stories - especially of the one about the villagers taking matters into their own hands. Hopefully, this little telephone game will spread into action among the people.

And there it is - if the Iraqis take greater control over their own security, coupled with their enthusiasm for the democratic process, and followed by strong leadership in the governnment - there is hope for this country. I didn't think as much back in November and December.

Sadly, as I write this I can hear an exchange of gunfire outside of my office door. This will not be easy, but then the things that are worth it never are easy are they?

Visiting Your Life

Last month I had two wonderful weeks away from Iraq. I got to go home on Leave. However there was a strange feeling that I had the entire time I was home and I have not been able to put it into words until now. Although wonderful it felt like I was a visitor looking in, just stopping by.

Don't get me wrong - I was so happy to hold Lisa, Sam, mom and dad, and see everyone else again! It was great to go to the MET in New York City with Sam and watch her run around taking in the art work. It was heavenly to spend a couple of days with Lisa away from everything else. It was great to see Pat and Amy and in a strange turn of events, Chris O'Brien. All of it - the days that were hurried and planned and the days that days that were slow and undefined - it was wonderful to be away from Iraq.

However it was a very unique experience. When someone goes on vacation they take off from work. After all, that's what vacation is supposed to be. You pack a suitcase, gather the family, get in the car and go somewhere. When you arrive there you take in the sights. Usually it is either something you have never seen before. Sometimes it is a place you are familiar with but you see it through a visitor's eyes. The latter is what happened to me.

I went home for vacation and saw everything with a sense of tremendous familiarity yet at the same time a sense of detachment. I was home from what is my current reality, which is Iraq. A reality I knew I'd need to go back to after the fifteen days were done.

Of course when you return to the FOB everyone wants to know what it was like to be home - just like they'd ask you if you had gone on vacation. This adds to this feeling that I have.

I had a nice vacation at home. I spoke the language, didn't need a map, and had a great time. Maybe I'll move there.