|
|
| Tuesday, 8-Feb-2005 00:00 |
Email | Share |  | Bookmark |
|
Note from Andy (via Mary)
|
|
Due to operational considerations (whatever that means) I will continue blogging my deployment on the following site: http://tdsjag.blogspot.com
|
|
|
|
|
|
| Sunday, 6-Feb-2005 00:00 |
Email | Share | | Bookmark |
|
Blind Blogging with NO COFFEE!!!
|
|
I sit in the waiting area of helipad waiting for my flight to be called. Smoky and the Bandit plays on the TV. I’ve actually never seen this classic. I can barely here because of the prop noise that seems ubiquitous over the camps at Baghdad and even more so around the airfields. My name gets called by a female sergeant with five other soldier’s names. She doesn’t say anything. We just follow her outside and into the prop wash of a Blackhawk. I am wearing full battle rattle for the first time. I am struggling with a two rucks and a duffle bag. I get in the front left. The co-pilot has an Orange County Sheriff’s Dep’t patch glued to his CVC helmet. I haven’t flown in a Blackhawk that I can recall since 1987 at CTLT at Ord. I can’t remember how to get the racecar type belts on. The left side gunner that I sit beside shows me in pantomime. We take off. For some reason, flying in helicopters is not scary in the least the way airplanes are. I think it is because there’s no going faster and faster and faster hoping there’s enough speed to get off the ground. You just gently lift off.
As soon as we are up, the gunner is all business. We zoom over the wall of Camp Victory and into Baghdad. The gunner is all-business. He scans every building, every street with both with his eyes and his M-60. It looks just like that scene from Blackhawk Down just before the Blackhawk gets hit. The pilot follows the nap of the earth—which is pretty flat. We skim the ground, the trees. This whole country seems strewn with high power lines. We approach below the level of the lines and swoop up. Then the bottom drops out like a roller coaster as we come down the other side. This country is much more green and beautiful the Kuwait. In some places there are groves of beautiful palms. We fly over these in a zigzag motion while the gunners search everywhere in case there’s a bad guy. We see kids on a makeshift soccer field in the middle of nowhere. They wave.
After 45 minutes, we land at Camp Iron Horse. This is mandatory stop because the pilots have been flying for over 5 hours. We stay there for an hour and get chow. I eat with a Air Force LTC that is on the flight with me. He turns out to be the Division ALO (Air Liaison Officer). A good person to know in the future. We take off again after dinner. It is now dark. We fly lights out. The crew wears NVG’s (night vision goggles). I don’t worry about getting shot down anymore. But I do wonder about the power lines. I thoroughly enjoy the ride but think of how much more I’d like to be home with Amy and the girls and boy.
As with every other place I have been, I land in the dark in seeming chaos and mud. I call CPT Gilaburt on a DNVT line. The connection is awful. I wait for him to borrow a vehicle to pick me up. While I wait, I realize that I have flown to Tikrit with Dave Scott’s room key in my pocket.
CPT G picks me up and dumps me off in my new digs. They are trailers not unlike those in Baghdad. I am assigned to slot 150. I walk in and one half the trailer is a mess. The other half—presumably mine--consists of dirty linoleum of some sort of ugly Asian pattern, a broken single bed, and mattress stolen from an old trailer in West Virginia. The whole place is reminiscent of living in one of those storage rental places. I sit on my bed for a full ten minutes and just stare—wondering what I am doing here. I take a picture of my roommate’s stuff and go to sleep.
I wake up today and stumble out of my hooch and look around. This is helmet only country and weapons always on your person. I wear a leather holster that I bought at the Bazaar—handmade in Baghdad. Speicher used to be an Iraqi Air Force base and the Iraqi Air Force Academy. The Army has named it Speicher after an American fighter pilot that was shot down in ’91 in Iraq. He’s still considered MIA. The place has been shot up and bombed into oblivion. It’s like wandering around a movie set. There’s one of those tile pics of Saddam. And a soccer stadium that’s been shot and bomb and shot. The stone seats are full of strafe marks and the announcer’s grandstand is broken to pieces and has rebar sticking out like wild hairs in the sky. I still feel depressed about being here. I find an AT&T phone trailer. I have the card I got in Germany still in my pocket. I call home and talk to Amy for exactly 12 minutes before it cuts off. She senses that I am depressed about here. But I can’t explain why. Because I really am not sure.
I eat lunch. Drink coffee and suddenly feel much more positive. Maybe its two days without coffee that is the problem. This is truly a muddy boots assignment and I am excited to be here. What’s next?
What’s next is an email from CPT Russell P. Thomas. CPT Thomas says “Sir, I have no idea who you are, but I am a field artillery officer. I have taken over an empty tent at Camp Beuhring in Kuwait. In this tent are three duffels and trunk with your name on them. Any idea why?” This is not welcome news. These were supposed to trek up here with one LT Badilla of the 42nd. It has nearly all my belongings. And all my coffee. I have clothes for five days here. There is no washing machines or dryers. All must be sent out with the Hajji men for cleaning. Back into the survival mode.
|
|
|
|
|
|
| Saturday, 5-Feb-2005 00:00 |
Email | Share | | Bookmark |
|
Blind Blogging via Mary
|
|
“SCAN - FOCUS - ACT”
-poster in the Coalition Café, Camp Victory, Baghdad
Iraq—definitely a new state of existence. Much more like a combat zone.
I waited at the A-Pod in Kuwait—at the little VIP lounge that you’ve seen pics of before. Beside it was a tent. GP Medium. We were briefed, “This tent has nice carpet and a comfy couch . . . and it’s not ours so stay out.” 4 and half hours later, I was wheels up, crammed into a C-130 with a bunch of civilian contractors and some three star general who showed up at the last minute. For those of you who don’t know what C-130 looks like. It is a short squat cargo plane that has one of those ramps that drops in the back. It has the aerodynamics of an iron with wings. You sit in 4 rows of jump benches that are made of cargo webbing and run the length of the plane. Two sets of benches on the left side of the plane face each other and the two on the right do too. The facing benches are so close to each other that everyone’s knees overlap and touch the knees of the guy across from you. Not real comfortable. You get stacked into the plane then a forklift brings the palletized bags and sticks them in the back. I read Aron Ralson’s (the guy who amputated his own hand) amazing story in Outside on the way over. The flight wasn’t bad at all, except for the flatulence problem someone had. The last time, I was on C-130 was at jump school preparing to jump out. Somehow, for me, flying into the combat zone was less stressful, though I did notice several civilian types donning their kevlar’s and body armor as we descended. I’ve noticed since I’ve been here that several people have their blood type embroidered onto their body armor and helmets or just inked onto them.
Like I did in Kuwait, I arrived in Baghdad at night. So right from the start everything is alien bec. you can’t orient youself very well. We landed at Baghdad Int’l Airport (which has the bizarre acronym BIAP with the more bizarre pronunciation of BI-OP). My first impression was how muddy everything is and then how chaotic everything is. Picture a big outdoor event like a concert where it rains buckets and picture the mud and you have the camps at Baghdad. The mud sticks to your boots with the gravel that has been laid to “fix” the problem and it builds up until you feel like you are wearing heavy metal platform boots. The flight line is separated from everything else by concertina wire with a gate. You wait by the gate in the mud until a forklift comes with a pallet that has your gear on it. Then everyone scrambles to scrounge through it to get their bags. When I arrived, elements of 3rd ID where also arriving. So those soldiers were everywhere adding to the confusion. I found a found in “Tent 1—the terminal” and called the JAG guys here to let them know I had arrived and then waited in the extremely crowded “Tent 2,” the waiting area. This tent was jammed full of 3rd ID soldiers which all their NODs and weapons and gear and tracked in mud. Then, smack in the middle of this primitiveness was a large screen TV broadcasting ESPN SportsCenter.
After about an hour, the Senior Defense Counsel (SDC), CPT Dave Scott came to pick me up. He’s a former infantry CIB guy. We went to the office (near BIAP on Camp Victory—which are trailers surround by cement barriers and bunkers. They are right beside Saddam’s mosque and the courtroom where his preliminary hearing occurred a few months back. SSG Daugherty was there desperately trying to get me a flight to Tikrit. Apparently, even tasks that seem simple are hard here—made more difficult bec. of very slow computers (might have something to do with the LAN lines that are laid across the surface of roads?) and phone lines that often don’t work. CPT Scott—after figuring out that I am “a pretty cool guy,” decided to let me crash in his room instead of dumping me off in one of those transient tents.
The trailers here—and there are acres and acres of them—are the size of a contractor’s trailer at a construction site. They have 3 doors cut into them for entry into three two man rooms. Each is completely surround with concrete—Texas Barriers or boxes made of fencing and full of rocks. A few places even have barriers that are bigger than Texas barriers—they are about 15 feet high and look like segments of the Berlin Wall. Latrines and showers are several yards away in separate trailers. You can only get there by traversing lots of mud. You get dirty just getting to the shower. Then you get clean and get dirty again going back to you room.
In spite of all the cement here—obvious evidence that safety is an issue—people here don’t seem that concerned about dying. The TDS people I talked to last night seemed to be most concerned with backsplash in the portajohns (if you’re not sure what backsplash is, let your imagination run wild). And if they are killed, they pray it’s not when they are in the portajohn.
CPT Scott had to leave early this morning to fly for witness interviews somewhere else. I got up and one of the first things I heard was gunfire. Here everyone carries their weapon everywhere. You can take your weapon and rounds in every building. And you don’t have to use the clearing barrels if the weapons status is green. It’s like an ant hill there are soldiers and vehicles everywhere and in motion everywhere. I even saw and Estonian soldier today. And it looks like a combat zone. Besides being dirty, many of the building and walls and bridges are combat damaged.
SSG D worked on getting me a flight to Speicher and I was able to wander around and see the sights in daylight. There is water everywhere here and trees everywhere. For me it’s great just to see the trees. Camp Victory is home to one of Saddam’s main palaces which sits on a beautiful lake. This whole area was some sort of animal preserve with beautiful buildings scattered throughout. I took a few pics this morning, but doubt that I will be able to post them. Can’t even get on the blog site right now. Hopefully, I can get this up via Amy or Mary.
Just got word from SSG D that she found me Blackhawk flight to FOB Speicher, leaving tonight and making several stops along the way. So next dispatch will be from my new home.
|
|
|
|
| Thursday, 3-Feb-2005 00:00 |
Email | Share | | Bookmark |
|
Next Stop Baghdad
|
|
This is it. My last day here in Kuwait. Tomorrow I fly to Baghdad and from there to Tikrit. I'm really looking forward to a change. I've spent the last couple days tying of loose ends like dismantling my office, mailing books and case files north, drawing ammo, packing, meeting with clients and coordinating flights.
Yesterday, the TDS office took a rare day off for "organizational day." Ellis, Emery, Deichert and I went to KNB. I had to meet with one of my "leftover" clients (meaning I will have to come back down here for trial if his case gets that far.) Then we ran the pier out into the bay. I took a few pics, but mostly let Christian Deichert use my camera. He's a huge photographer type and his camera has not arrived from his place in Germany yet; so I let him use mine. He has some great pics from around the world on his website. There's a link on this page under my favorites. Then we ate food at the KNB haji fallafel (or whatever it is) stand. They bake the bread wraps right there and have that great meat like the Turkish places in Germany. It was great just to eat food that doesn't taste like mess hall food.
I tried to draw a basic load of 9mm ammo today. But the guy was like, "We're out of ammo. Here's 10 rounds I have left in the bottom of the box. Good luck." So I am left with the proposition of borrowing ammo. for my first Iraq foray.
I also went to the confinement facility to visit two of my clients. That place looks like Stalag 17 meets Angola Prison. It's several tents surrounded by triple strand concertina stacked six feet high. The prisoners kind of just shuffle around the enclosure. They are supposed to be gainfully employed. But from what I saw--there was not much there there. The "gate"/"guardhouse" is makeshift structure made of plywood and two by fours. Even the door and lock are homemade. I turned over my knife to the guards, but no metal detectors here. I really think escape would prob. be pretty easy. But both the guards and the prisoners know there's no place to go. Generally, no one stays there more than 30 days. They are moved either to Germany or the States depending on room in Army facilities.
I'm booked on a flight for tomorro, but they never tell you when the flight is leaving because of security consideration. You call the night before you are to leave. They give you a "show time." You show up and wait an undetermined amount of time (can be several hours) and then fly.
|
|
|
|
|
|
| Tuesday, 1-Feb-2005 00:00 |
Email | Share | | Bookmark |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
| Monday, 31-Jan-2005 00:00 |
Email | Share | | Bookmark |
|
Iraqi Elections
|
|
Yesterday I woke up and ate breakfast while watching CNN World with thier pool of reporters scattered across Iraq. They were without exception breathlessly predicting great violence. They were hunkered down using only remote cameras at the time. They were like sharks trolling for blood in the water. It was really pathetic. I am pleased to say that--though there was some violence-- the elections were successful, and for the average soldier, it was just another day in Iraq. The turnout was actually larger than was expected. I hope that indicates to average American out there that the insurgents do not have a chokehold on the country.
Today was my last C-M of the term and my fourth in 5 days. The case involved a young soldier that essentially embezzled $6k from the Army finance office where he was employed. He hid the money in ceiling tiles above his head and even changed some of the bills into smaller more portable denominations. He was exposed to 10 years, but we were able to negotiate a 12 month deal. There were only three witnesses and the case only lasted about 4 hours--short even for a guilty plea. He received a 7 month sentence.
I have a few loose ends to tie up down here. Then later this week I fly to Tikrit. The MJ said to tell everyone back home that my next trial will be tried in one of Saddam's palaces.
|
|
|
|
|
|
| Saturday, 29-Jan-2005 00:00 |
Email | Share | | Bookmark |
|
Another Day of Justice
|
|
Yesterday was a day off for the court and a day for me to catch my breath and start getting ready for the next one on Monday. Today, CPT Jason "the tool baby food" Gerber, one of my colleagues stationed in Taji, Iraq, had a larceny guilty plea. I made my client for monday's trial (also a larceny) sit through the entire case. That's generally a good idea when you can make it happen bec. it allows the soldier to see first hand what he is about to go through. They end up being much more comfortable that way and the case ends up with fewer glitches. The case today was interesting in a few respects. The accused was a Nigerian immigrant that had stolen a credit card number from her roommate and had used it about 65 times. The MJ took a recess for CPT Gerber to explain to his client the "additional" forfeiture that could occur by virtue of her plea--namely, that she could face additional hurtles to citizenship and possibly be forced to leave.
I spent the rest of the day trying to prep my guy to make his statement. These statements they make are important but require a lot of work. You're often taking a 20 year old kid that has never been in a court room before and putting him on the stand. If they aren't prepped right, they predictably get that deer in the headlights look and answer everything monosyllabicly. Or worse they totally leave the reservation and snatch defeat from the jaws of victory. Tomorrow, I'm going to Doha to prep witnesses for the case. Then will come back to work with my client again. Then we're on.
A navy officer, Kevin, wrote about me one his blog http://www.chinpokomon.com/ and said that I am "cagey" about the details of the courts-martial. He's right. I'd love to give all the details but there are a number of considerations at play--most importantly, the attorney-client privilege and the risk that saying "too much" about the gov't will hurt your client in post-trial actions.
Also, note that SPC Ellis, my 27D for another couple of days, has his blog up and running. http://kakijag.fotopages.com/
|
|
|
|
| Saturday, 22-Jan-2005 00:00 |
Email | Share | | Bookmark |
|
|
|
22 January 2005:
Yesterday was one those kind of blah, homesick days in which I got very little accomplished. Went for a hard run in the afternoon, but that didn’t shake it off. So I ate a steak and 3 lobster tails—still no dice. So I call home and talked for about 1.5 hours and that did the trick. I do miss home. Got back to the office that night to an e-mail from the CJA’s office that said I need to vacate my office by 1300 on Monday. Keep in mind, I have trial on Wednesday. They have not plan to find me another office—internet hookup etc. I’ve jacked around since I got here—moved from space to space and had three computers substituted one after another—each taking about a half day to get set up on the network. But enough is enough. The JAG Corps is set up logistically in a way that works in peacetime when there are enough resources to go around—the controlling regulation requires the government (i.e.—the prosecutorial side of the house) to logistically support TDS. But when there aren’t enough resources, we get treated like redheaded step children. For example, in this case, the TC in this building has a palatial office. Was there any discussion of his moving or consolidating his office with someone else? No. So enough of this rant. I’ll continue as the situation develops—but as of Monday afternoon, I am homeless again.
However, as I was walking to the get my laundry, I heard a negligent discharge. (I know the sound, I thought I was back home last night). My suspicion was confirmed in the MP blotter this morning—M240, grazed someone’s face. So my day was a lot better than some soldier’s.
This morning, I got up at 0645 to run the SGM’s Run-a-Muk run. It was pouring rain, but ran anyway. . . another t-shirt for the kids. Spent the afternoon prepping an expert and inspecting bootlegged alcohol at the evidence locker.
|
|
|
|
|
|
| Thursday, 20-Jan-2005 00:00 |
Email | Share | | Bookmark |
|
inauguration fat and trials
|
|
20 January 2005:
Working toward trial term next week. ‘nuff said. MJ keeps moving the dates—we now start on Wednesday. And will go from the 26th through the 31st. Saw the inauguration playing in the messhall tonight. Seem very far removed right now. Trying to keep running, hopefully all the way through trial term. Still tipping the scale at a fat 190.
|
|
|
|
|
|
| Wednesday, 19-Jan-2005 00:00 |
Email | Share | | Bookmark |
|
|
|
Here are some really spectacular photos of a Silver Strand Beach on KNB. Not a place where soldiers are allowed to hang out but too beautiful not photograph.
19 January 2005:
There is not in all of America a more dangerous trait than the deification of mere smartness unaccompanied by any sense of moral responsibility.
--Theodore Roosevelt, Abilene, KS, May 2, 1903
Hey, three days have passed, and I can’t remember everything that’s happened in the interim. I know there was a shootout between the Kuwaitis and an alleged terrorist group on 7th Ring on Monday I think. That’s a road that I often travel. Then today I was returning to Arifjan and suddenly the gate shut down, soldiers slapped their magazines in their weapons and all the hajji truck drivers were forced to get out of their vehicles. I nonchalantly got out of our NTV (military speak for SUV—means Non-Tactical Vehicle) to see if I could get some intel. Apparently, some TCN guys had an ammo container on their truck and they were supposed to. The bomb dogs smelled explosives, so everything shut down while the truck was towed into the desert for a thorough search. I never heard anything else, so I guess all is well.
On a related note, my friend and colleague, CPT Robert Kincaid III, who works in the Baghdad Office was on his way through Kuwait—after attending JAOAC. He showed me some pictures of suicide bomber that had been taken out by a sniper with a .50 cal in Baghdad. Pretty amazing shot over one kilometer away. Basically, all that was left was a body with the bomb vest and pile of mush where the head used to be. For the first time since Vietnam, we have many snipers that have multiple kills. Just a couple days ago, there was a blurp in the Stars & Stripes about the longest confirmed kill—some guy took out two guys about 1.3 kms away that were mortaring one of our FOBs.
Basically, the last few days have been spent like the next several will be—on trial prep. Doing things like meeting with clients and making sure they will be provident to their plea. Calling parents of clients and sometimes telling them for the first time exactly what it is that their son did. Lovely stuff. Monday was a horrendous work day bec. for 12 hours before the web came back up to full speed, it was slogging along at about 14.4 kps. I felt like the whole day was going in slo mo. Tuesday was when CPT K showed up. He crashed in a spare bunk in my bay and we ran a couple of times. He’s a reservist too. Before mobilization, he lived and practiced in OKC—he’s done a little corporate defense and then went to plaintiffs’ work. He a big bald Scotch Irish guy that Ellis has dubbed the White Morpheus. He’s working one of the higher profile murder cases in Iraq but has done a fantastic job of keeping the media circus at bay (e.g. by not returning e-mails from Sam Donaldson). Ellis and I took him to A-pod this morning and dropped him off. They we swung by Doha and picked up CPT Dygert who is coming to Arifjan from Germany. He will fill the void when I go up north.
|
|
|
|
|
!!!! Thank you for the picture dedicated to us 
! I miss you a lot 
!!!!!!!!!
!!!!! I miss you 0) !!!
!!!!!
!!! At least the water is nice though,huh 
?