Lisa got on my case about my Christmas journal entry.
I have to admit that it was gloomy as the mood I was in. However, it reflects how I was feeling. Like anything else, mood come and go, and my gloomy mood left a couple of days ago with the delivery of the mail.
Mail is still as important as it was 40, 58, and 64 years ago in different wars in different places. Although I love skype, email, and satellite phones - there is something special about receiving a card or package. Its a tangible connection to home that means someone took the time to sit down and think about me. It means more so when it comes from people who are absolute strangers.
In the past two days I got mail. Twice. Packages. Twice!
My favorite came from Lisa. It was a package that had a dvd of Samantha's performance in her middle school's production of High School Musical. I was stunned to see how grown she was on stage. I was not stunned to see that those ballet lessons never paid off. Samantha was having so much fun up there that the smile on my face was the first true moment of joy I can remember in a while.
I want to thank the strangers and everyone from church who sent cards - especially the choir who sent a card signed by everyone.
Thanks to Greg and Marilyn who sent among other things, Scrabble! Before us old(er) guys started playing Guitar Hero III we were talking about getting a Scrabble game board. Excellent. The books and magazines make a great addtion to the library.
Thanks to Mrs. Van Dusen's North Utica 1st grade class who sent me a dozen hand made Christmas cards - each addressed to "My Buddy" with all of the classic first grade phonetic spellings that made each a treasure.
All of these gestures, big and small, meant a world to me and my mood is better. The New Year is 26 hours away. There is talk of a bon fire, camel races, and gator races. Maybe I'll stay up past my bed time and check it out.
Tuesday, December 30, 2008
Saturday, December 27, 2008
Kalsu Christmas
Christmas has come and gone on FOB Kalsu. The New Year’s Eve bon fire and celebration is just a few days away.
Our Christmas in Iraq started weeks before when we received decorations from several wonderful people back in the US. I put up my tree and decorated it with ornaments from my last tour. Other people hung lights (against the Regs), tinsel, and window ornaments around the compound.
The official tree on the FOB is this pathetic thirty foot tall Charlie Brown tree that started to literally die the moment they cut it down. The powers that be threw a long strand of white lights around it in a half hearted attempt to decorate it. The ornaments blew off in the wind storm. My holiday spirit was a lot like the tree – trying on the outside but wilting just the same.
I celebrated the reason for the holiday at a candle light service with a thousand other Soldiers. We sang song I remembered from dozens of Christmas services in the Catholic and United Presbyterian churches and praised God and reflected on all that is good, and can be good, in men. The light of all of those candles brought a warm and glow to the room.
I hung my head most of the time having just been told the news that three men died earlier in the day when their truck rolled over into a canal. All three drown, in Iraq, the day before Christmas. I thought about those families who would open their doors, most likely late in the evening or early Christmas day, to learn that it would be a long time before they ever had a merry Christmas again. Good God, can anything be worse than that news?
For Christmas I spent the day with my troops. We played secret-pass-the-present-Santa; a weird game where one person opens a present but the next person can chose that present if they want. We all laughed and joked. It was nice, it really was, a brief respite from work, patrols, meetings, war, peace, and the fact that we’d rather be elsewhere. I beat my Soldiers at Risk – which they said was a good thing that reaffirmed their confidence in me. I went to the gym and ran for 30 minutes until I worked off all of the holiday food I was eating.
I should have been running our annual Christmas Tree Trot with Lisa. I spoke to my family again and tried to open presents with TJ via skype but it fell way short of expectations. The signal dropped and dropped again and again. My frustration rose and I stopped trying altogether. Calling Samantha was equally difficult with everyone trying to call home at once. We spoke for a few minutes but ultimately gave up for an opportunity to call when the lines were less crowded. I didn’t even try to call my brother. I miss being in the proximity of my family so much that anything less than that is almost avoidable.
My Christmas ended with another small bon fire and a good cigar after dinner. I stopped by Santa because he was there. Here was a guy in the dining hall dressed up for us - no kids - just a bunch of Soldiers far from hom. It was a long day doing nothing – a well deserved nothing to recharge the batteries for the next day.
In so many ways I missed the holiday altogether. I think I missed its meaning and purpose and the joy and the wonder. I couldn’t get into the spirit for so many reasons.
Our Christmas in Iraq started weeks before when we received decorations from several wonderful people back in the US. I put up my tree and decorated it with ornaments from my last tour. Other people hung lights (against the Regs), tinsel, and window ornaments around the compound.
The official tree on the FOB is this pathetic thirty foot tall Charlie Brown tree that started to literally die the moment they cut it down. The powers that be threw a long strand of white lights around it in a half hearted attempt to decorate it. The ornaments blew off in the wind storm. My holiday spirit was a lot like the tree – trying on the outside but wilting just the same.
We spent the day before Christmas with our friends sitting around the compound. We barbequed, started a fire in the fire pit, and played with a Wii generously donated to us from a friend on the FOB. With the Wii came Guitar Hero World Tour, and a bunch of grown dorky 40 somethings got their ROCK on to Cheap Trick, Aerosmith, and Kiss while the 20 somethings played Rock Band in another room.
In some ways I just looked at this holiday as a place holder on the calendar, a mark to be checked to get closer to home. From Upstate New York I am used to snow by now, and I missed the holiday shopping, and Christmas music. None of that happened here; it rained two days before Christmas turning the place into a mud puddle and the only holiday music I heard was on the 24th and 25th.
In some ways I just looked at this holiday as a place holder on the calendar, a mark to be checked to get closer to home. From Upstate New York I am used to snow by now, and I missed the holiday shopping, and Christmas music. None of that happened here; it rained two days before Christmas turning the place into a mud puddle and the only holiday music I heard was on the 24th and 25th.
I celebrated the reason for the holiday at a candle light service with a thousand other Soldiers. We sang song I remembered from dozens of Christmas services in the Catholic and United Presbyterian churches and praised God and reflected on all that is good, and can be good, in men. The light of all of those candles brought a warm and glow to the room.
I hung my head most of the time having just been told the news that three men died earlier in the day when their truck rolled over into a canal. All three drown, in Iraq, the day before Christmas. I thought about those families who would open their doors, most likely late in the evening or early Christmas day, to learn that it would be a long time before they ever had a merry Christmas again. Good God, can anything be worse than that news?
I spoke to Lisa and TJ before I went to bed. I got up super early to say hi to Lisa on my Christmas morning, it was 5:00 am in Iraq and 9:00 pm, Christmas Eve in Florida. I opened my presents with her; a “pregnant snowwoman” ornament and Too Fat Too Fish, by Artie Lange from the Howard Stern Show. I love Artie, as does Lisa, and I knew the book would be fun to read once I woke up again. Yep – I went back to bed until 9:30 am.
I think of what I’d be doing with Lisa at 9 o’clock the night before Christmas. I’d just get in from church service with her. We’d change into sweats and a t-shirt and make a nice Manhattan with good bourbon and sweet vermouth. We’d sit for a while she finished her last minute wrapping. I’d sit on the porch by the river watching boats go by to and from the Gulf. Life would be great at that moment. What the hell am I doing here?
I think of what I’d be doing with Lisa at 9 o’clock the night before Christmas. I’d just get in from church service with her. We’d change into sweats and a t-shirt and make a nice Manhattan with good bourbon and sweet vermouth. We’d sit for a while she finished her last minute wrapping. I’d sit on the porch by the river watching boats go by to and from the Gulf. Life would be great at that moment. What the hell am I doing here?
For Christmas I spent the day with my troops. We played secret-pass-the-present-Santa; a weird game where one person opens a present but the next person can chose that present if they want. We all laughed and joked. It was nice, it really was, a brief respite from work, patrols, meetings, war, peace, and the fact that we’d rather be elsewhere. I beat my Soldiers at Risk – which they said was a good thing that reaffirmed their confidence in me. I went to the gym and ran for 30 minutes until I worked off all of the holiday food I was eating.
I should have been running our annual Christmas Tree Trot with Lisa. I spoke to my family again and tried to open presents with TJ via skype but it fell way short of expectations. The signal dropped and dropped again and again. My frustration rose and I stopped trying altogether. Calling Samantha was equally difficult with everyone trying to call home at once. We spoke for a few minutes but ultimately gave up for an opportunity to call when the lines were less crowded. I didn’t even try to call my brother. I miss being in the proximity of my family so much that anything less than that is almost avoidable.
My Christmas ended with another small bon fire and a good cigar after dinner. I stopped by Santa because he was there. Here was a guy in the dining hall dressed up for us - no kids - just a bunch of Soldiers far from hom. It was a long day doing nothing – a well deserved nothing to recharge the batteries for the next day.
In so many ways I missed the holiday altogether. I think I missed its meaning and purpose and the joy and the wonder. I couldn’t get into the spirit for so many reasons.
Thursday, December 18, 2008
Tourist Trapped
The other day I flew to a tiny base in the Karbala province in order to talk to the government reconstruction team that oversees the province and interacts with the local government on matters from essential services to rule of law.
I was a “strap hanger” of two “full bird” Colonels who were touring the area as part of their transition of command. Since they were headed down there I jumped into the entourage. My usual traveling partner wasn’t with me but I knew as long as I was with these to senior officers that I’d least get back to FOB Kalsu at the end of the day. What I didn’t do was fully coordinate my movements once we arrived at the small base. Since I knew the Colonels would be meeting with the reconstruction team I followed them instead of going off on my own and finding their office. They climbed into the back of a MRAP and so did I. My mistake.
I found myself locked into their schedule; the unwitting recipient of a tour of Karbala.
For the next six hours I rode around in the back of a MRAP looking out the window at the city of Karbala. Karbala is the sixth largest city in Iraq. Lisa later asked me, “As compared to what city in the US?” I replied, “The sixth largest city in the US!” It’s a predominately Shi’a city with 700,000 people two significant Shi’a mosques there.
From my window, Karbala was a thriving city without any Coalition Forces residing in the entire province except for those living with the ISF. There is vertical construction everywhere with enormous cranes lifting material over skeletons of scaffolding. Shops were open selling everything from children’s toys to furniture. The streets were crowded with people who looked at us curiously as we drove by. The word, "bustling" came to mind. The vibe was so different that in all my experiences in 2004-2005 and now, I would have never guessed I was in Iraq.
We stopped in several IP and IA offices to allow the Colonels to discuss the pertinent issues and look at their new equipment. We ate lunch at an Iraqi Army base. Plates and plates of rice and lamb with warm flat bread to stuff it into get it from the plate to your mouth. The gift of Iraqi food is a gift that keeps on giving. Two days later and I’m still not right. The only bright side to my misadventure was that we finished off our tour with a “market walk” of downtown Husanyia, a small city east of Karbala.
In the afternoon we parked the trucks at the far end of the market and strolled through. Well, that’s a lie, isn’t it? We didn’t just park and walk away. Actually, we got out, and walked on the sidewalk while the personal security element, ISF, and overhead attack helicopters kept watch of us tourists. The stores were still open in the late afternoon sun. The smells of sweet breads, rotisserie chicken, tobacco, and Iraqi men is enough to pull you (or push) you down the street. Men filled the market place in front of and behind the counter, haggling prices. Many times the shop owners were accompanied by their sons while old men sat outside and contemplated deep thoughts. Groups gathered to watch us or engage us when we stopped before our time ran out to fly back.
I was a “strap hanger” of two “full bird” Colonels who were touring the area as part of their transition of command. Since they were headed down there I jumped into the entourage. My usual traveling partner wasn’t with me but I knew as long as I was with these to senior officers that I’d least get back to FOB Kalsu at the end of the day. What I didn’t do was fully coordinate my movements once we arrived at the small base. Since I knew the Colonels would be meeting with the reconstruction team I followed them instead of going off on my own and finding their office. They climbed into the back of a MRAP and so did I. My mistake.
I found myself locked into their schedule; the unwitting recipient of a tour of Karbala.
For the next six hours I rode around in the back of a MRAP looking out the window at the city of Karbala. Karbala is the sixth largest city in Iraq. Lisa later asked me, “As compared to what city in the US?” I replied, “The sixth largest city in the US!” It’s a predominately Shi’a city with 700,000 people two significant Shi’a mosques there.
From my window, Karbala was a thriving city without any Coalition Forces residing in the entire province except for those living with the ISF. There is vertical construction everywhere with enormous cranes lifting material over skeletons of scaffolding. Shops were open selling everything from children’s toys to furniture. The streets were crowded with people who looked at us curiously as we drove by. The word, "bustling" came to mind. The vibe was so different that in all my experiences in 2004-2005 and now, I would have never guessed I was in Iraq.
We stopped in several IP and IA offices to allow the Colonels to discuss the pertinent issues and look at their new equipment. We ate lunch at an Iraqi Army base. Plates and plates of rice and lamb with warm flat bread to stuff it into get it from the plate to your mouth. The gift of Iraqi food is a gift that keeps on giving. Two days later and I’m still not right. The only bright side to my misadventure was that we finished off our tour with a “market walk” of downtown Husanyia, a small city east of Karbala.
In the afternoon we parked the trucks at the far end of the market and strolled through. Well, that’s a lie, isn’t it? We didn’t just park and walk away. Actually, we got out, and walked on the sidewalk while the personal security element, ISF, and overhead attack helicopters kept watch of us tourists. The stores were still open in the late afternoon sun. The smells of sweet breads, rotisserie chicken, tobacco, and Iraqi men is enough to pull you (or push) you down the street. Men filled the market place in front of and behind the counter, haggling prices. Many times the shop owners were accompanied by their sons while old men sat outside and contemplated deep thoughts. Groups gathered to watch us or engage us when we stopped before our time ran out to fly back.
Saturday, December 13, 2008
Photo Ops Part II
More photos to illustrate life in Iraq.
The MRAP comes in many different models, each made by a different company. Learning to drive it is not as difficult as you would imagine. However, once you get on the narrow roads and contend with Iraqi drivers it takes a lot of concentration in the drivers seat.
Children are still the best hope for this country. Forty years of a dictatorship is not easily washed away after five years of democracy. It will take these children, members of a tribe that is over a thousand years old, to grow up, come into their own, and learn to work with the Arab and Western worlds.
One of the biggest tragedies in Iraq occurs in the SOE (State Owned Enterises). Factory machinery sits idle while the company still pays thousands of works to stand around all day. The factory cannot compete in the regional market. The paradox is that if the company privatized then they'd have to lay off three quarters of the work force to make a profit. Many managers chose to keep people on the books.
This is a picture near my compound looking out near the helicopter landing zone. The "birds" come in day and night, mostly at night. When they do my little home shakes from the sound waves they create. Beyond the LZ is the compound trash fire. We burn out trash down wind from the base. The EPA would probably have a collective aneurysm if this was in the US.
The MRAP comes in many different models, each made by a different company. Learning to drive it is not as difficult as you would imagine. However, once you get on the narrow roads and contend with Iraqi drivers it takes a lot of concentration in the drivers seat.
Children are still the best hope for this country. Forty years of a dictatorship is not easily washed away after five years of democracy. It will take these children, members of a tribe that is over a thousand years old, to grow up, come into their own, and learn to work with the Arab and Western worlds.
One of the biggest tragedies in Iraq occurs in the SOE (State Owned Enterises). Factory machinery sits idle while the company still pays thousands of works to stand around all day. The factory cannot compete in the regional market. The paradox is that if the company privatized then they'd have to lay off three quarters of the work force to make a profit. Many managers chose to keep people on the books.
This is a picture near my compound looking out near the helicopter landing zone. The "birds" come in day and night, mostly at night. When they do my little home shakes from the sound waves they create. Beyond the LZ is the compound trash fire. We burn out trash down wind from the base. The EPA would probably have a collective aneurysm if this was in the US.
Sunday, December 7, 2008
Sitting on the SOFA
First, the Status of Forces Agreement (SOFA) is now called the Security Agreement (SA). I like SOFA better because it makes the journal title more ironic.
Second, we still do not know how the SOFA is going to affect our every day mission here in Iraq; at least not yet. We cannot talk about it to the press, which is good because all I know about it came from Fox News and since they seem to know more than we do, maybe I could ask them.
The basics are pretty straight forward. All US forces out of the cities by June of 2009 and out of the country by 2011. We will coordinate operations with Iraq Security Forces. We will turn over detainees or have to show a burden of proof to keep them in detention. These are the biggies within the entire agreement. Since the agreement was made by the US administration and the Iraqi administration I’m that its simple and easy to understand.
And it’s in the broad definitions of the words “cities” and “out of” and “operations” that the SOFA gets interesting. What defines a city in Iraq? Is it by population? Square miles? Historical boundaries? My FOB is nowhere near a city. But what about a base on the outskirts of al Hilla, or Karbala, or Baghdad? Baghdad! We’re going to leave (out of) the IZ? Leave (out of) the bases near Sadr City in the Shi’a slums of Baghdad? If it means giving the mission of security over to the Iraqis then I am all for it and wish them luck.
Thank goodness we have lawyers to sort this entire mess out! You know that the war has changed dramatically when we look to the lawyers for guidance with the day to day stuff. Our military lawyers at the highest levels are deciphering the legal implications of the SOFA. In a few weeks (because that’s all they have) they will let us know how our relationship with Iraq has changed.
I'm not worried. We will always have the right to defend ourselves. And no, I don’t think we’ll be taking orders from the ISF any time soon. In the end, the level of coordination that will come from the SOFA will only serve to get us extricated from Iraq easier rather than harder. We’d rather wave good-bye than shoot our way out.
The bottom line is that this is the mark on the calendar no one wanted to make for the past four or five years. We are leaving Iraq and barring a catastrophic incident with any one of Iraq’s neighbors, that’s not going to change. The SOFA is the beginning of the end.
However, until the SOFA turns into the SA, we’ll be sitting and waiting.
Second, we still do not know how the SOFA is going to affect our every day mission here in Iraq; at least not yet. We cannot talk about it to the press, which is good because all I know about it came from Fox News and since they seem to know more than we do, maybe I could ask them.
The basics are pretty straight forward. All US forces out of the cities by June of 2009 and out of the country by 2011. We will coordinate operations with Iraq Security Forces. We will turn over detainees or have to show a burden of proof to keep them in detention. These are the biggies within the entire agreement. Since the agreement was made by the US administration and the Iraqi administration I’m that its simple and easy to understand.
And it’s in the broad definitions of the words “cities” and “out of” and “operations” that the SOFA gets interesting. What defines a city in Iraq? Is it by population? Square miles? Historical boundaries? My FOB is nowhere near a city. But what about a base on the outskirts of al Hilla, or Karbala, or Baghdad? Baghdad! We’re going to leave (out of) the IZ? Leave (out of) the bases near Sadr City in the Shi’a slums of Baghdad? If it means giving the mission of security over to the Iraqis then I am all for it and wish them luck.
Thank goodness we have lawyers to sort this entire mess out! You know that the war has changed dramatically when we look to the lawyers for guidance with the day to day stuff. Our military lawyers at the highest levels are deciphering the legal implications of the SOFA. In a few weeks (because that’s all they have) they will let us know how our relationship with Iraq has changed.
I'm not worried. We will always have the right to defend ourselves. And no, I don’t think we’ll be taking orders from the ISF any time soon. In the end, the level of coordination that will come from the SOFA will only serve to get us extricated from Iraq easier rather than harder. We’d rather wave good-bye than shoot our way out.
The bottom line is that this is the mark on the calendar no one wanted to make for the past four or five years. We are leaving Iraq and barring a catastrophic incident with any one of Iraq’s neighbors, that’s not going to change. The SOFA is the beginning of the end.
However, until the SOFA turns into the SA, we’ll be sitting and waiting.
Tuesday, December 2, 2008
Change in the Weather
I saw my breath this morning for the first time since last winter in New York. When I arrived to Kuwait the temperatures were still in the 110°-120° range. Managing the heat is relatively easy. Drink lots of water, stay out of the sun as much as possible, and keep hard work to a minimum.
It stayed hot for a few weeks in Iraq until the temps dropped to a reasonable 80ish. That’s when the last of the summer dust storms hit. The dust that is kicked up from these storms knows no boundaries and can find its way into rooms, vehicles, and even showers. It reduces visibility to near nothing. There isn’t much worse than breathing dirt all day long.
Then the rains came. It has rained briefly a few times. One day it rained here for half a day and turned the entire base into a slick, dirty, sticky mud hole. I made the same complaint last time and anyone who has ever been here knows what I am talking about. The Iraqi earth is not sand, at least not in central Iraq between the Tigris and Euphrates. The earth here is more of a dried up river silt that when dry become as fine as talc. When it’s damp it becomes spongy and soft. When it gets wet it turns into soup. When you walk through it the mud sticks to the bottom of your boots and picks up clumps of stones and more mud. You can shake it off, scrape it off, and kick it off but the mud stays in between your treads on your boots until it decides it fall off.
Now the weather is turning once again and it is cold in the mornings when you wake up. People are starting to wear their fleece outer garments. Winter, such as it is, is coming to Iraq.
Iraq is changing too. When I arrived I was expecting a continuation of 2005, with gunfire, explosions, and high number of lethal and snatch-and-grab operations. I knew we were conducting large numbers of infrastructure projects but thought we'd need to play "dodge bomb" on the highways. I guess I was expecting a hot peace. What I discovered was much different.
Iraq is stable. That is the word that seems to fit best. The word that immediately follows the word “stable” is “fragile.” If you look at numbers then Iraq has benefited from the surge. The numbers of significant acts of violence are down across the board. The numbers of families returning to their homes has risen. The numbers of shops that are open are increasing. The nights are quiet. However, Iraq is more than a set of statistics.
Many factors can be attributed to this stability. The surge, GEN Petreaus, the SOI (Sons of Iraq) program, the destruction of al Qaeda cells, the money being poured in for infrastructure projects – any and all of these combined have brought a respite from the carnage of 2006 and 2007. A lot of credit must be given to the Iraqi military and police who have become a strong, (nearly) independent force. They take the lead on operations or calls for assistance and are backed up by our forces. They are a much different organization than existed in 2005.
Or, it could be that everyone is waiting for us to leave and as one battle hardened captain told me one night, “The Iraqis just decided that they don’t want to kill us right now.”
Within a few weeks the Security Agreement (formerly known as SOFA) will go into effect. This agreement will directly impact how we conduct our missions. There are no details whatsoever. Will we have to request permission to leave the base? Within a few months the nation will hold provincial level elections. As the balance of power shifts one way or another the fallout will be felt among the local towns and villages here. Will officials who lose vacate their seats? Within a few months the SOI will no longer receive American financial support, take a reduction in pay from the GOI, and may be put out of business altogether. Will the pick up their guns against us?Within a few years Iran is poised to come in and help their Shi’a Muslim brothers when we leave. What happens then?
Iraq might be coming out of the long cold winter to a slow rebirth or maybe this is the calm before the storm. Unfortunately the elements for one are the same as the other. It’s too early to tell which way the wind is blowing and the weathermen have been known to be wrong.
It stayed hot for a few weeks in Iraq until the temps dropped to a reasonable 80ish. That’s when the last of the summer dust storms hit. The dust that is kicked up from these storms knows no boundaries and can find its way into rooms, vehicles, and even showers. It reduces visibility to near nothing. There isn’t much worse than breathing dirt all day long.
Then the rains came. It has rained briefly a few times. One day it rained here for half a day and turned the entire base into a slick, dirty, sticky mud hole. I made the same complaint last time and anyone who has ever been here knows what I am talking about. The Iraqi earth is not sand, at least not in central Iraq between the Tigris and Euphrates. The earth here is more of a dried up river silt that when dry become as fine as talc. When it’s damp it becomes spongy and soft. When it gets wet it turns into soup. When you walk through it the mud sticks to the bottom of your boots and picks up clumps of stones and more mud. You can shake it off, scrape it off, and kick it off but the mud stays in between your treads on your boots until it decides it fall off.
Now the weather is turning once again and it is cold in the mornings when you wake up. People are starting to wear their fleece outer garments. Winter, such as it is, is coming to Iraq.
Iraq is changing too. When I arrived I was expecting a continuation of 2005, with gunfire, explosions, and high number of lethal and snatch-and-grab operations. I knew we were conducting large numbers of infrastructure projects but thought we'd need to play "dodge bomb" on the highways. I guess I was expecting a hot peace. What I discovered was much different.
Iraq is stable. That is the word that seems to fit best. The word that immediately follows the word “stable” is “fragile.” If you look at numbers then Iraq has benefited from the surge. The numbers of significant acts of violence are down across the board. The numbers of families returning to their homes has risen. The numbers of shops that are open are increasing. The nights are quiet. However, Iraq is more than a set of statistics.
Many factors can be attributed to this stability. The surge, GEN Petreaus, the SOI (Sons of Iraq) program, the destruction of al Qaeda cells, the money being poured in for infrastructure projects – any and all of these combined have brought a respite from the carnage of 2006 and 2007. A lot of credit must be given to the Iraqi military and police who have become a strong, (nearly) independent force. They take the lead on operations or calls for assistance and are backed up by our forces. They are a much different organization than existed in 2005.
Or, it could be that everyone is waiting for us to leave and as one battle hardened captain told me one night, “The Iraqis just decided that they don’t want to kill us right now.”
Within a few weeks the Security Agreement (formerly known as SOFA) will go into effect. This agreement will directly impact how we conduct our missions. There are no details whatsoever. Will we have to request permission to leave the base? Within a few months the nation will hold provincial level elections. As the balance of power shifts one way or another the fallout will be felt among the local towns and villages here. Will officials who lose vacate their seats? Within a few months the SOI will no longer receive American financial support, take a reduction in pay from the GOI, and may be put out of business altogether. Will the pick up their guns against us?Within a few years Iran is poised to come in and help their Shi’a Muslim brothers when we leave. What happens then?
Iraq might be coming out of the long cold winter to a slow rebirth or maybe this is the calm before the storm. Unfortunately the elements for one are the same as the other. It’s too early to tell which way the wind is blowing and the weathermen have been known to be wrong.
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