"What is Arabic humor like?" I asked one of our interpreters. "Tell me some Iraqi jokes."
He looked at me with a frozen look of horror and promised that he'd have to "research" some jokes and get back to me. He came back a few weeks later with fifteen pages of jokes he looked up on line. He translated them into English from Arabic, so here, without any changes to spelling or punctuation are the best of the best. (Hold on tight)
A wealthy person decided to gift one of the politiicans a flashy car. The politician rejected the offer fearing that it might be considered a bribe. To make it looks OK, the wealthy offered the car for only $20. The politician agreed to take two cars instead of one!!!!
Two Iraqi people were walking down the road when one of them looked into a mirror and said, "Funny, I think I know this guy!"
The other one then looked into the mirror and said, "That's me you idiot!"
Once upon a time an american met with an iraqi and told him proudly our dogs are smarter than yours....
how is that?! the iraqi replied
sit....stand....go there....come here....
the american shouted ordering the dog and the dog followed the orders
nice demo - said the iraqi, but i think our dogs are smarter than this
imposible!! said the american with amazement
OK - said the iraqi, i'll show you how that is. so he took the american to a garage and asked the american: do you see these filthy dogs lying down under the truck?
yes - the american replied, what about them?
well....they are auto-mechanics....the iraqi replied!!!
Saddam's Mosque's Khateeb, "Sheikh Ali" dies and waits in line at the "Janna" Gates. Just ahead of him is a guy in casual wear. Malak (angel) addresses this guy, "Who are you, so that I may know whether or not to admit you to Heaven?"
The guy replies, "I'm kaka Ali, Mini Bus driver from Kefri, Iraq." Malak consults his list, smiles, and says to kaka Ali, "Enter into the Kingdom."
So Iraqi driver enters Heaven and the Sheikh Ali is next in line. He stands erect. Without being asked he proclaims, "I am Sheikh Ali Imam [priest] of Jama in Baghdad for the last 33 years.
Malak consults his list and says, "I am sorry, you are on a waiting list. You have to pass some tests before you get entry to the Kingdom of Heaven."
Sheikh says, "Just a minute. That man was a Mini Bus driver, and you issued him instant entry. But I have to go through more tests. How can this be? Please double check the names."
Malak says, "Up here, we go by results. While you preached, people slept; while he drove, people prayed."
Laughter is universal but humor gets lost in the translation. I hope you found something to laugh about.
Sunday, March 22, 2009
POTUS
The president of the United States visited Baghdad today.
SURPRISE!
No, I wasn't in Baghdad. No, I didn't get to see him. No, it made no difference to my days. No one told us until after it was over, but we appreciate our Commander-In-Chief stopping by for a visit.
Okay, everyone, back to work!
SURPRISE!
No, I wasn't in Baghdad. No, I didn't get to see him. No, it made no difference to my days. No one told us until after it was over, but we appreciate our Commander-In-Chief stopping by for a visit.
Okay, everyone, back to work!
The Gate of God
Last week I visited the ancient ruins of the city of Babylon. Here are my impressions.
The first thing that struck me is how hard it is to comprehend what ancient really is. Babylon can claim its most recent history in 232 B.C. when Alexander the Great died within her walls. Go back further and Babylon is mentioned in the Old Testament, along with her king, Nebuchadnezzar, around 600 BC. Go back another 1,100 years and Hammurabi wrote the first set of codified laws between 1772 and 1750 B.C. Within this history lies the Hanging Gardens of Babylon - lost to myth, speculation, and time. And the city is even older than that; built and razed and built again for five thousand years. Walking the ruins we were reminded that there are ruins under the ruins; ten to twelve feet under what we can see. 
The ground covering the ruins is vast. It’s secured from trespassers and the only visitors seem to be the Coalition Forces or State Department, or the various special visitors to the site. However, there is potential for tourism in the next ten years that most likely won’t be ignored. The ruins themselves are truly incredible, although it requires imagination to fully appreciate them.
What you see on the ground is the collaboration of new and old. It’s a bit of a letdown initially. Babylon ruins were rebuilt during Saddam’s regime. In the 1970’s major sections were either rebuilt on top of the existing walls, or recreated altogether, as in the in the case of the blue bricked Ishtar Gate. While the original gate sits in a museum in Berlin, its recreation reveals brick over plywood and twenty years of neglect. The Ishtar Gate acts as the main entrance to the ruins themselves.
The ruins are of the southern palace and do not include Nebuchadnezzar’s palace. It’s believed that Saddam Hussein’s palace sits on top the former king’s. In the southern palace five, vast open courtyards lead to a confusing maze of small alley ways and side rooms; possibly merchant and skilled trade shops that kept the city alive. The tan brick is the only color in the courtyards that once must have had pennants, awnings, flags, and tapestries of all sort of different colors.
The quiet stands in mocking contrast in a place that once held 200,000 to a speculated 1,000,000,000 people. The only sounds you hear of your own footsteps and the reverently hushed voices of other guests. You have to add your own soundtrack of food vendors, slave traders, royal processionals, and the daily sounds that filled this place.
We stopped at the “Babylon Lion” a twelve foot tall, six foot long stone carving of a lion standing over the supine form of a man; the power of the lion over man. Or maybe it’s some divine fertility symbol. The statue we are told was taken by the Nazis in World War II and returned by the Allies. It is the stop on the tour.
It was at the Babylon Lion where we promoted two of my Soldiers, MSG Cummings and CPT Weaver, leaving them with a story for their
grandchildren.
On the way out I lagged behind and lingered. I wanted to savor the moment and imagine the this place where history is recorded in its walls, where history passed through, and where it is made even today. A place for over, fought for, and still bearing witness.
The first thing that struck me is how hard it is to comprehend what ancient really is. Babylon can claim its most recent history in 232 B.C. when Alexander the Great died within her walls. Go back further and Babylon is mentioned in the Old Testament, along with her king, Nebuchadnezzar, around 600 BC. Go back another 1,100 years and Hammurabi wrote the first set of codified laws between 1772 and 1750 B.C. Within this history lies the Hanging Gardens of Babylon - lost to myth, speculation, and time. And the city is even older than that; built and razed and built again for five thousand years. Walking the ruins we were reminded that there are ruins under the ruins; ten to twelve feet under what we can see. 
The ground covering the ruins is vast. It’s secured from trespassers and the only visitors seem to be the Coalition Forces or State Department, or the various special visitors to the site. However, there is potential for tourism in the next ten years that most likely won’t be ignored. The ruins themselves are truly incredible, although it requires imagination to fully appreciate them.
What you see on the ground is the collaboration of new and old. It’s a bit of a letdown initially. Babylon ruins were rebuilt during Saddam’s regime. In the 1970’s major sections were either rebuilt on top of the existing walls, or recreated altogether, as in the in the case of the blue bricked Ishtar Gate. While the original gate sits in a museum in Berlin, its recreation reveals brick over plywood and twenty years of neglect. The Ishtar Gate acts as the main entrance to the ruins themselves.
The ruins are of the southern palace and do not include Nebuchadnezzar’s palace. It’s believed that Saddam Hussein’s palace sits on top the former king’s. In the southern palace five, vast open courtyards lead to a confusing maze of small alley ways and side rooms; possibly merchant and skilled trade shops that kept the city alive. The tan brick is the only color in the courtyards that once must have had pennants, awnings, flags, and tapestries of all sort of different colors.
The quiet stands in mocking contrast in a place that once held 200,000 to a speculated 1,000,000,000 people. The only sounds you hear of your own footsteps and the reverently hushed voices of other guests. You have to add your own soundtrack of food vendors, slave traders, royal processionals, and the daily sounds that filled this place.
We stopped at the “Babylon Lion” a twelve foot tall, six foot long stone carving of a lion standing over the supine form of a man; the power of the lion over man. Or maybe it’s some divine fertility symbol. The statue we are told was taken by the Nazis in World War II and returned by the Allies. It is the stop on the tour.It was at the Babylon Lion where we promoted two of my Soldiers, MSG Cummings and CPT Weaver, leaving them with a story for their
grandchildren. On the way out I lagged behind and lingered. I wanted to savor the moment and imagine the this place where history is recorded in its walls, where history passed through, and where it is made even today. A place for over, fought for, and still bearing witness.
Boys and Their Toys
Sunday is a day for rest, reflection, and relaxation – even in a place called Iraq. Sunday on the day on the base is referred to as Mountain Time, for the 10th Mountain Division, who acts as our higher, higher headquarters. On Mountain Time no one comes into the office until after lunch.
Lately, Mountain Time has led to taking a day off. As a commander, I don’t have a problem with this at all. It makes no sense to make up work for people to do. I won’t do it. I simply won’t do it. If my guys don’t have missions that day, it’s okay with me. Of course I do go into the office, at least three times during the day to check email and do administrative work in peace and quiet. I’m not the only one either, at some point during the day everyone in a leadership position seems to float through the office.
Recently, some of troops have broken out their game systems and linked them into one large system. I am talking about the XboX360. For those who don’t know what I am talking about let me explain. An XboX system is a video game system that can have up to four players on a single game box on one television. Four game boxes can be linked with four televisions, thus sixteen players can play at one time.
This past Sunday, we linked up just such a system and had fifteen players at one time. The game was Halo3, one of the most popular video games in the world. Once everything was hooked up, video violence ensued. For two solid hours grown men and young Soldiers hunted, shot, sniped, punched, and blew each other up. Threats were made and later recanted. New guys, rookies, were made fun of, and old veterans showed no mercy. I dished it out as good as I got it. There was swearing, shouting, laughing and cheering.
If you were an outsider you would have thought we were nuts.
However, for two solid hours were absolutely forgot we were in a place called Iraq.
Lately, Mountain Time has led to taking a day off. As a commander, I don’t have a problem with this at all. It makes no sense to make up work for people to do. I won’t do it. I simply won’t do it. If my guys don’t have missions that day, it’s okay with me. Of course I do go into the office, at least three times during the day to check email and do administrative work in peace and quiet. I’m not the only one either, at some point during the day everyone in a leadership position seems to float through the office.
Recently, some of troops have broken out their game systems and linked them into one large system. I am talking about the XboX360. For those who don’t know what I am talking about let me explain. An XboX system is a video game system that can have up to four players on a single game box on one television. Four game boxes can be linked with four televisions, thus sixteen players can play at one time.
This past Sunday, we linked up just such a system and had fifteen players at one time. The game was Halo3, one of the most popular video games in the world. Once everything was hooked up, video violence ensued. For two solid hours grown men and young Soldiers hunted, shot, sniped, punched, and blew each other up. Threats were made and later recanted. New guys, rookies, were made fun of, and old veterans showed no mercy. I dished it out as good as I got it. There was swearing, shouting, laughing and cheering.
If you were an outsider you would have thought we were nuts.
However, for two solid hours were absolutely forgot we were in a place called Iraq.
Lost and Found
Keep your weapon within arm’s reach. This axiom is as old as Alexander the Great. To lose your weapon is to make you impotent on the battlefield. Your weapon is a part of you, an extension of the warrior.
The U.S. Army instills this concept by making recruits carry their weapons everywhere. We call it weapon immersion. In the places a weapon can’t or shouldn’t go a buddy can watch your weapon for you. In Iraq you go everywhere with a weapon. Outside the safety of the base you take a weapon and a basic load of ammunition, about 210 rounds. Some people carry two weapons; a pistol and a rifle or machine gun. Inside the wall of the base everyone carries a weapon and one magazine of ammunition.
To lose your weapon is a courts martial offense.
The following story is true as told to me over breakfast from one of the people in the chain of command.
A group of Soldiers were out on patrol. Somehow a Soldier lost his weapon, a M-4 carbine. No one is sure how it was lost; it could have fallen off the truck, it could have been leaning against the wall and in haste forgotten. Whatever the circumstances, it was not with the Soldier upon return to the base. The immediate search of the other vehicles, people, and area didn’t produce the rifle. A U.S. weapon was out among the Iraqi public.
And that’s who found it. A local Iraqi happened across it. Maybe he saw it fall off the truck, maybe he just came across it, regardless of the way it came into his possession, this Iraqi had a $400 dollar semi-automatic rifle; a prized possession in this place called Iraq.
How do we know this? It’s because whoever that unnamed person was they turned it in to the local Iraqi Police. Imagine the surprise from the police having someone turn this rifle stating that it belonged to the Americans. Now the Iraqi Police had the rifle – still a prized possession that easily could have found its way into the trunk of some policeman’s personal vehicle. It didn’t.
How do we know this? It’s because the Iraqi Police contacted the local American unit and asked them to come and get it. The rifle was eventually returned to its owner. Unfortunately, that didn’t save the Soldier from UCMJ (Uniform Code of Military Justice) action.
Iraq never ceases to amaze me with its contradictions. Despair and joy. War and peace. Life and death. Corruption and honesty. Little stories like this are what Iraq is about. Iraq is elusive to understand.
The U.S. Army instills this concept by making recruits carry their weapons everywhere. We call it weapon immersion. In the places a weapon can’t or shouldn’t go a buddy can watch your weapon for you. In Iraq you go everywhere with a weapon. Outside the safety of the base you take a weapon and a basic load of ammunition, about 210 rounds. Some people carry two weapons; a pistol and a rifle or machine gun. Inside the wall of the base everyone carries a weapon and one magazine of ammunition.
To lose your weapon is a courts martial offense.
The following story is true as told to me over breakfast from one of the people in the chain of command.
A group of Soldiers were out on patrol. Somehow a Soldier lost his weapon, a M-4 carbine. No one is sure how it was lost; it could have fallen off the truck, it could have been leaning against the wall and in haste forgotten. Whatever the circumstances, it was not with the Soldier upon return to the base. The immediate search of the other vehicles, people, and area didn’t produce the rifle. A U.S. weapon was out among the Iraqi public.
And that’s who found it. A local Iraqi happened across it. Maybe he saw it fall off the truck, maybe he just came across it, regardless of the way it came into his possession, this Iraqi had a $400 dollar semi-automatic rifle; a prized possession in this place called Iraq.
How do we know this? It’s because whoever that unnamed person was they turned it in to the local Iraqi Police. Imagine the surprise from the police having someone turn this rifle stating that it belonged to the Americans. Now the Iraqi Police had the rifle – still a prized possession that easily could have found its way into the trunk of some policeman’s personal vehicle. It didn’t.
How do we know this? It’s because the Iraqi Police contacted the local American unit and asked them to come and get it. The rifle was eventually returned to its owner. Unfortunately, that didn’t save the Soldier from UCMJ (Uniform Code of Military Justice) action.
Iraq never ceases to amaze me with its contradictions. Despair and joy. War and peace. Life and death. Corruption and honesty. Little stories like this are what Iraq is about. Iraq is elusive to understand.
Thursday, March 19, 2009
Photo Ops Part III
One of my Soldiers got to shine for our brigade commander during his battlefield circulation visit. Young SPC Garretto, gave the coammder a full briefing on an area targeted for economic development and then took him on a walking tour of the Mahawil market area.
The unknown band, "Cowboy Mouth" came to visit the FOB for a two hour concert. The music was a blend of punk rock techno country - if there is such a thing. The USO sends out comedians, music groups, and athletes to visit and raise the morale of the Soldiers. Even though we get unknown acts, the USO still does a good job of taking care of Soldiers!
Saturday, March 14, 2009
Red Air
Red Air is a status indicator we use to describe the conditions for pilots to fly helicopters in; Green is good, Amber implies caution, Red means that helicopters cannot fly. Red Air is also a phenomenon to describe the dust storms that blow in from the west.
The pictures above are of a dust storm and were taken within minutes of each other late in the day. The first shows the dust that looks a lot like fog. The graininess of the photo comes from the particulate that’s in the air. The sky looks rose colored.
The second picture used a flash (that caught the dust in the reflection) and catches the real color of the sky, an orange to reddish color. It’s an eerie color that seems unnatural, as if the picture were taken on Mars.
The wind blows that dust and it manages to get into everything and seems to pass through doors, walls, and windows leaving a fine coat of filth on everything - including our lungs.
We work, walk, and live in these conditions; they last a day or two and go away.
The pictures above are of a dust storm and were taken within minutes of each other late in the day. The first shows the dust that looks a lot like fog. The graininess of the photo comes from the particulate that’s in the air. The sky looks rose colored.
The second picture used a flash (that caught the dust in the reflection) and catches the real color of the sky, an orange to reddish color. It’s an eerie color that seems unnatural, as if the picture were taken on Mars.
The wind blows that dust and it manages to get into everything and seems to pass through doors, walls, and windows leaving a fine coat of filth on everything - including our lungs.
We work, walk, and live in these conditions; they last a day or two and go away.
It may not be Mars, but it is another world.
Sunday, March 8, 2009
WAR, Inc.
As I sit down for dinner in a larger dining facility that can seat almost 2,000 people at once; I look around I cannot help but notice that the war has gone over to the private sector. We have sold out to the lowest bidder so many jobs, tasks, and skills that I, as an American taxpayer, am repulsed.
“Contactors” is a loose term, but generally describes the various civilians who seem to number us two for every three Soldiers. By the way, we, the military, are termed, “Green Suiters” by them. They belong to companies with well known names like KBR (Kellogg, Brown, and Root), MPRI, the infamous Black Water (although they merely pass through rather than work here) as well as little known companies like Saber, and Aegis.
Contractors come from across the globe. American consultants, Ugandan gate guards, British convoy security specialists, Indian food service workers, Indonesian laborers, plus Australians, Canadians, and others all fill this FOB. Some of us have learned “thank you” in three to four different languages.
The contractors fill all kinds of jobs. We have people take our trash, empty the port-a-potties, ring up purchases in the Post Exchange, and serve as baristas in the coffee shop. The American skilled laborers provide technical expertise on communications equipments and our vehicles. They are subject matter experts in law enforcement and tribal relations. They also provide skilled expertise on electrical, plumbing, HVAC, and construction. However, they don’t do the actual work. The work is left to the laborers. A vertical construction project on the FOB has a foreman and an interpreter and a platoon of dark skinned workers.
All these contractors all Soldiers to focus on their job. Without them we’d have to fill many of tasks and thereby reducing our overall combat effectiveness. Without them our living conditions would be austere and primal at best; just ask any Soldier living on a COP (Combat Outpost). Without them the war might be shorter because Soldiers might work a little harder to complete the mission, if only to get out from living in a tent.
Of course, it’s all about the money. The guy holding the blueprints to put in a new air conditioner is making in the high five to lower six figures. Tax free. The laborers have it good too. I imagine in some cases this FOB is a huge step up from what they may be used to back home. It’s interesting to note that most American contractors I see all seem to be of retirement age. There are no family men or women here.
Of course it’s about the money and someone is making a lot off of these contracts to the government. War is good for business. For example; we are building a roof over the roof in the dining facility. The roof cost $1,000,000.00 and is meant to defend against mortar attacks. We haven’t had an attack in over twelve months (when the contract was written), but the military is legally bound to spend and build it anyway. Some may argue that one well placed mortar round is worth a million dollars and the hundreds of thousands in labor costs. Maybe they are right.
In 2010, most of the combat forces will be leaving. In 2011, the papers say we will be out of Iraq completely and these contractors will join the unemployed pool of labor back in the US.
War is business and no one should think otherwise. Although good men and women go into harms way because the volunteered and swore an oath, there will always be people who see the opportunity to make money off of it.
“Contactors” is a loose term, but generally describes the various civilians who seem to number us two for every three Soldiers. By the way, we, the military, are termed, “Green Suiters” by them. They belong to companies with well known names like KBR (Kellogg, Brown, and Root), MPRI, the infamous Black Water (although they merely pass through rather than work here) as well as little known companies like Saber, and Aegis.
Contractors come from across the globe. American consultants, Ugandan gate guards, British convoy security specialists, Indian food service workers, Indonesian laborers, plus Australians, Canadians, and others all fill this FOB. Some of us have learned “thank you” in three to four different languages.
The contractors fill all kinds of jobs. We have people take our trash, empty the port-a-potties, ring up purchases in the Post Exchange, and serve as baristas in the coffee shop. The American skilled laborers provide technical expertise on communications equipments and our vehicles. They are subject matter experts in law enforcement and tribal relations. They also provide skilled expertise on electrical, plumbing, HVAC, and construction. However, they don’t do the actual work. The work is left to the laborers. A vertical construction project on the FOB has a foreman and an interpreter and a platoon of dark skinned workers.
All these contractors all Soldiers to focus on their job. Without them we’d have to fill many of tasks and thereby reducing our overall combat effectiveness. Without them our living conditions would be austere and primal at best; just ask any Soldier living on a COP (Combat Outpost). Without them the war might be shorter because Soldiers might work a little harder to complete the mission, if only to get out from living in a tent.
Of course, it’s all about the money. The guy holding the blueprints to put in a new air conditioner is making in the high five to lower six figures. Tax free. The laborers have it good too. I imagine in some cases this FOB is a huge step up from what they may be used to back home. It’s interesting to note that most American contractors I see all seem to be of retirement age. There are no family men or women here.
Of course it’s about the money and someone is making a lot off of these contracts to the government. War is good for business. For example; we are building a roof over the roof in the dining facility. The roof cost $1,000,000.00 and is meant to defend against mortar attacks. We haven’t had an attack in over twelve months (when the contract was written), but the military is legally bound to spend and build it anyway. Some may argue that one well placed mortar round is worth a million dollars and the hundreds of thousands in labor costs. Maybe they are right.
In 2010, most of the combat forces will be leaving. In 2011, the papers say we will be out of Iraq completely and these contractors will join the unemployed pool of labor back in the US.
War is business and no one should think otherwise. Although good men and women go into harms way because the volunteered and swore an oath, there will always be people who see the opportunity to make money off of it.
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