Nah, democracy will never take hold, there’s just no place for it in fundamental islam. Turkey is democratic, but they’re about as close to true islam as turkey bacon is to pork. All that is above my pay grade, but I get really agitated when folks who have no personal stake in this war beyond a portion of their taxes and a hatred of anything with Bush’s name on it start griping about how the whole thing is a waste of their time and money. Too damn many good men and women have given their lives trying to fix that mess for anyone to trivialize it down to “we’re only there for oil”. If that was true, gas would have been this cheap back when we were controlling the oilfields, not now that we’re turning the country back over to the Iraqis. It’s not political for me, it’s not something on CNN I can blast POTUS for next time I’m feeling like I need to beat my chest. It’s intensely personal. I lost good friends there, and called in way too many medevacs for ones who are forever changed, but still so damn proud of the job they did they’d kick your ass for suggesting they wasted their time. I wrote a blog while I was there about my little chunk of Iraq. I just re-read it, and I can’t wrap my mind around what we did, and who I had to be to do it…life is too safe here to compare.
14 MAR 2007
I’ll tell you what I can about my little piece of Iraq. I’m at LSA Anaconda, near Balad, which is north of Baghdad on highway 1. The post is fine, much better conditions than the previous 2 times I was in the mideast with the Marine Corps..I have my own room in a trailer, heat/ac, AFN television, fridge, microwave, and a somewhat decent satellite web connection that I pay $80 a month for, and share with 25 other guys. We are combat engineers, normally responsible for emplacing/reducing minefields and wire obstacles, which translated into Operation Iraqi Freedom means Route Clearance. We drive slow and hunt IEDs. We spend countless hours on patrol, rotating with our other platoons to provide near continuous presence on around 50 kilometers of the most traveled highway out of the biggest logistical base in country. We stagger our times, routes, and composition randomly to keep the enemy from patterning us, and we try to pattern the enemy as they do much the same with their schedule. We roll out in mine protective vehicles of South African design, (they’ve been featured on numerous news stories, and shown on the internet, so I’m not giving up any secrets here) called RG-31s and Buffalos, augmented by up-armored HMMWVs. The first part of our route, immediately outside the base, is always full of children during daylight hours, begging. I felt sorry for these kids when we first got here, but that quickly subsided as I realized that
1:These kids aren’t hungry, this is all farmland and there are sheep and cattle everywhere.
2: The only reason these kids are begging is that Americans have taught them if they look pitiful, they get candy.
3: Their parents are encouraging this, and then planting bombs later.
4: They will steal anything not bolted to your truck if you let them get close enough, and
5: That WAS the “shocker” that 4year old was flashing at me…
F*ck ‘em, they’re baby terrorists.
Most of the convoys in and out of here drive as fast as possible, hoping to outrun the speed of explosion, I guess…we rarely do more than 10mph. We are TRYING to find the bombs…it’s really like a deadly game of “Where’s Waldo”...you concentrate as hard as you can on the patch of ground outside the thick bulletproof window, scanning quickly as far out as you can see for rocket tubes and then back close for disturbed earth, trigger wire, pressure switches, a bush that wasn’t there yesterday, a piece of curb that is just a little different color than the one next to it….anything that’s not exactly as it was the last time you were here. You notice things like a pringles can, cheese flavored, the plastic lid is gone, but the foil is still on it, and that end is pointing towards the road…is it trash, or a bomb? Can they put enough explosives in there to harm me? ok, it didn’t blow up…and it stayed exactly the same for 8 days. On the 9th day, it was turned 90 degrees…so we interrogated it. It turned out to be a pringles can, nothing more. You stare into blast holes in the road left by prior explosions, looking for anything out of the ordinary, but mostly just listening to gut feelings…“Hey, check out that hole, it just didn’t FEEL right…” and a lot of times, that instinct was right, and some asshat buried a couple of 152mm artillery shells in there. Sometimes we find them, we spot tiny command wires glinting in the sun from 50 meters away, and safely dispose of a bomb meant to kill someone…sometimes they find us..we can stare as hard as we can, but sometimes, it’s just too well hidden, or it’s right where you weren’t looking at that instant, and the next thing you know, your radio is crackling with the patrol leader asking if everyone in your vehicle is alright, but you don’t answer until the third time, because your ears are ringing so loud you don’t hear it. Some days are boring, no finds, no detonations, and nobody shoots at you. My wife and mother call these good days…I guess I do too, but it’s like being a firefighter with no fires…we need something to validate our being here. Some days we get all the validation we need, and wonder if we’re equal to the task, as medevac helicopters are landing, our buddies are bleeding, and we can’t find a damn triggerman to shoot. A doctor I spoke with put it very well, I thought…one of the most basic human instincts is the “fight or flight” reaction…we spend our time with people actively trying to kill us; we can’t flee, and many times there is nobody to fight. If we don’t see someone we can reasonably assume is the one trying to kill us, we can’t just shoot at the most convenient person, as badly as we would like to sometimes. We have to be better than that, or we are no longer professionals, just thugs with bigger guns. The easiest thing to deal with is when they just start shooting at us from somewhere along the side of the road, and we can shoot back…projectile therapy. When we get blown up, and can’t find anyone to hold responsible, anyone to make pay, it gets….frustrating. We keep going, they keep planting them and we keep hunting them. We keep going, in the hope that the other guys out there will succeed in THEIR mission, and find the ones who build the bombs…until then, we will do everything we can to make our little piece of Iraq safe.