Right or wrong, our country.....

Well, another long period of time between updates….not that I am busy or anything! The reality of it is that you have a couple of options – work yourself silly, collapse into bed every night and toss and turn while you think about all the personal stuff like letter writing, phone calls, and presents for people back home that should have been taken care of before you hit the sack. OR, work 12 hours a day, workout, get that personal time to do everything, then toss and turn when you go to the rack, because you are gonna get reamed for all the paperwork you didn’t get to the day before, as well as dealing with how lonely you feel now that you reconnected with everyone you miss. No rest for the wicked I guess!
This is gonna be a bit more observational – not any real news about my situation or daily travails. We have access to AFN – Armed Forces Network for TV at work, and on our desktops we can check in with CNN or Fox news, and in the chow hall they have TV’s as well. We obviously have internet connections, but the majority of folks get their news from Stars and Stripes – it’s easy to pick up on your way to eat, it’s free and portable too. There were two interesting articles as of late though. The first is one about Cher - http://www.stripes.com/article.asp?section=104&article=37757&archive=true She apparently has turned into quite the crusader for the troops – even testifying before congress on the need for the Marines to buy better Kevlar helmets. She has decided to lend her “recognition” to the cause and is very supportive of troops in the field. She is against the war however – a growing dichotomy that we see today in society. “Lets support the troops, even if we don’t believe in this war”. This is apparently to make up for the travesty of how our returning soldiers were treated after Vietnam.
It is an interesting viewpoint. When you dig into it however, it reeks of liberalism, social decay, and elitist garbage. If I understand the argument correctly, what we are telling the returning men and women is that we don’t agree with the government’s decision to send you over there, and we hate the idea that you may have killed civilians and enemy terrorists. We feel uncomfortable being an occupying force and really don’t want us to deploy troops anywhere because we all just need to get along. I personally will not volunteer to go to war, and don’t really understand why you did. (unless of course you only did it for a college education or job skills). Finally, we understand that you are too poor, destitute, stupid, or otherwise ignorant of the worldly issues and why war really is outdated and couldn’t help yourself because the evil military complex ordered you to fight, and therefore you had to do it. We forgive you, and pity you, but still support you, just not the government.
If that is the “support our troops” concept used by the left, they can keep it. Clausewitz said that war is just the logical extension of a government’s policy. Carrot and stick so to speak – you work to influence others to your way of thinking with the ultimate threat being a tomahawk missile landing in your living room. Trust me, no military member wishes for war, and relishes battle. That once again is Hollywood. Your average military member wishes, hopes and strives for peace, but understands that when duty calls they will be ready for war. It speaks volumes about those that have the Hollywood version of “support our troops”.

1SGT Ben Grainger understands this. While a “little” tongue-in-cheek, he has started his own “pseudo-religion” of Americantology: http://www.stripes.com/article.asp?section=104&article=37864&archive=true. Very simple, very direct, little proselytizing. We are here, deal with it. We don’t like to kill people, but in defense of our country we will. Very reminiscent of Commodore Stephen Decatur – hero of the Barbary Wars (i.e. where the reference to Tripoli is drawn from in the Marines Hymn – “From the halls of Montezuma, to the shores of Tripoli…”) “Between 1816 and 1820, Decatur served as a Navy Commissioner. During his tenure as a Commissioner, Decatur became active in the Washington social scene. At one of his social gatherings, Decatur uttered an after-dinner toast that would become famous: "Our country! In her intercourse with foreign nations may she always be in the right; but right or wrong, our country!" (Reference - http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Stephen_Decatur) It is interesting to note in the story how he has come under fire for being “insensitive”. First of all, I have never known any Marine to be especially concerned about being “sensitive” to the needs of the bastards shooting at them. Second of all, it furthers the earlier point of why we are here – we aren’t here to be sensitive, we are here to kill terrorists, and create enough peace to allow the natural desires of families and societies to better themselves. The Soldier, Sailor, Airman and Marine on the ground understand that, are proud to serve and don’t want your pity. Support is great when it is heartfelt, and for the vast majority of people, that is what we see – nervous wives, concerned fathers, worried grandmothers, brothers and sisters at home. Worried for their loved ones, worried that one day they will see the base chaplain pull into their driveway. But through all their worry, they are proud that their Marine, Sailor, Airman or Soldier is making the selfless determination that there really is a greater good, a higher calling, and a call to duty that requires their service. That is the support we relish – admiration of a job well done, not the empty belief that we are but a collection of ignorant puppets strung along by an evil scheming government. I for one will be looking to join the local chapter of Americantology when it starts up – hell, I may just look to spread the “good word” on my return. Because no matter whether or not I tend to agree with the direction, leadership, or policies of my country, right or wrong she is my country.

Comings and Goings

Hi all -
Well here it is - the day after the last post - it seems like this day has lasted a week! (ha ha ha) I apologize for how delinquent I have been. What a long strange trip it's been however (to quote the Dead)
It started out with me pencilling into my schedule lunch with the Majority Leader of the US House of Representatives, Congressman John Boehner. Actually, the Congressman was good enough to share some of his time at lunch with fellow "Ohioans". Not really sure if I count, cuz I vote in Wyoming, but since I graduated from there it was pretty cool. He was running late, stuffing his face and generally jet lagged. It is nice to see however the real person that does exist in government now and then. I would imagine a completely different scenario with someone who has obvious ambitions and wants to turn everything into a photo op. We bonded over talk about how many cans of Skyline Chili we have back at the ranch (he was down to his last in his DC apartment!) All in all a good time.
The bulk of the last couple of weeks has been a blur of VIP's arriving, good friends leaving, and general chaos. We get cocooned out here however. I watch TV on my desktop from time to time, and we get opportunities to check the Drudge Report, etc, but for being in the center of the world's hotspots it seems about as far from a war zone as you get. I mean there are mortars, and you hear the occasional explosion, but reality rarely seeps in. As for the inhabitants of this country, you can plainly see that families still look out for their kids.
The cold hard reality does seep in however - you choose how much or how little you want to get involved. As we were eating lunch with Congressman Boehner, one of the other attendees (a Marine of course) spoke about how he and a few other Marine Staffers on his last tour took turns monitoring the radios over at the CASEVAC stations. When a report came in of a Marine being medivaced, they would take turns showing up to talk to them. More importantly, they all made sure that they had cell phones with them. If they got the opportunity, and things didn't look good, they would even dial the phone and hold it for these guys for just one last chance to hear a loved ones voice. The thing that really got me however, is when he told the story of one kid that had lost a foot and an arm, but calmly and coolly told his wife that everything was fine and he was only scratched up a bit. Better to get myself into the best shape I can first than have her worried to death with nothing to do about it he said. You truly can get as deep or as shallow into this war as you want to be.
Even when you are really mad, frustrated, pissed off at the world though, you routinely see things here that not only make you laugh, but really make your brain cramp if you think to hard about it. First, there is the Public Transportation.... Yes, those are our troops, bumming a ride away from the dining facility, to avoid having to walk in the 113 degree heat.... Then, you pass the lake. Now this is Saddam's Al Faw Palace lake. His grand strategy involved flowing rivers, fountains, etc. When we first arrived, those that went swimming came out of the water with strange skin rashes. I would not want to be the poor bastard that had to dive in here for something lost...who knows how many of Saddam's rivals are there. In the meantime, because the water doesn't flow, the grass grows, so we hire a "Navy" of locals to take their boats out to get the "harvest" of kelp. I am sure they have been in this business for a long time, but it makes you wonder...
Finally, I would be remiss if I didn't mention my new digs. I moved out of my Conex box last week. A friend had a half a trailer open - still with plumbing - but bigger, in a better location, and with a window! No Bearnice didn't shrink - the room is that much bigger. Bearnice also picked up a new pet - his name is Scrappy. We found him on top a gun turret on a HMMWV that had been turned in and left behind. It seems that he was a mascot of a gunner, but had been left behind to guard the truck. He was dirty and a little faded when I got him, but after he was washed up, he looks pretty good. And he can keep Bearnice company while I am gone! Yes, I do sleep with two stuffed animals. Not the big tough image you would have for a Naval Officer, but you do what you have to in the desert! Well folks, thats it for now - take care!

The view from the front line - enemy intel provided by the New York Times

A quick and dirty one that you probably already have seen - I will get a full post with pictures off tomorrow....

Lt. Tom Cotton writes this morning from Baghdad with a word for the New York Times:

Dear Messrs. Keller, Lichtblau & Risen:

Congratulations on disclosing our government's highly classified anti-terrorist-financing program (June 23). I apologize for not writing sooner. But I am a lieutenant in the United States Army and I spent the last four days patrolling one of the more dangerous areas in Iraq. (Alas, operational security and common sense prevent me from even revealing this unclassified location in a private medium like email.)

Unfortunately, as I supervised my soldiers late one night, I heard a booming explosion several miles away. I learned a few hours later that a powerful roadside bomb killed one soldier and severely injured another from my 130-man company. I deeply hope that we can find and kill or capture the terrorists responsible for that bomb. But, of course, these terrorists do not spring from the soil like Plato's guardians. No, they require financing to obtain mortars and artillery shells, priming explosives, wiring and circuitry, not to mention for training and payments to locals willing to emplace bombs in exchange for a few months' salary. As your story states, the program was legal, briefed to Congress, supported in the government and financial industry, and very successful.

Not anymore. You may think you have done a public service, but you have gravely endangered the lives of my soldiers and all other soldiers and innocent Iraqis here. Next time I hear that familiar explosion — or next time I feel it — I will wonder whether we could have stopped that bomb had you not instructed terrorists how to evade our financial surveillance.

And, by the way, having graduated from Harvard Law and practiced with a federal appellate judge and two Washington law firms before becoming an infantry officer, I am well-versed in the espionage laws relevant to this story and others — laws you have plainly violated. I hope that my colleagues at the Department of Justice match the courage of my soldiers here and prosecute you and your newspaper to the fullest extent of the law. By the time we return home, maybe you will be in your rightful place: not at the Pulitzer announcements, but behind bars.

Very truly yours,

Tom Cotton
Baghdad, Iraq

Fair Winds and Following Seas to a Brother in Arms

Last weekend, I took my friend Huan Nguyen to the BIAP (Baghdad International Air Port) military terminal and put him on the plane. I was glad but bittersweet. You see, I was sent here early to relieve him. Normally, as part of the military you get used to arrivals and departures - your own happens roughly every three years, and within a command there is always someone coming and going. Usually as well, people are far more sad to see your replacement leave, and you personally can't wait for them to get the hell out, because the longer they stay, the harder it is for you to take the reins. This was different though.
Technically, you could say I only knew Huan for about three months. I arrived on April Fools day, and he left in the middle of June, and except for a few emails upon me receiving orders, we were strangers. But I feel that I have known him for most of my life. You get that when you run into those people whom you can call "old souls". You see, Huan is the embodiment of someone called to duty in service of his country.
As you can guess, Huan wasn't born in the US. He was born in Vietnam, back in a time when that didn't have the nicest of connotations. While we share the same rank, he continues to serve in the reserves at 45 years old. As an early teenager he was beaten, tortured and part of his family were murdered. He escaped the hell he was living in and emigrated to the US, to live with his extended family. As many immigrant stories go, he learned english from sesame street, and studied hard, eventually going to college, earning a degree or two and becoming a productive member of society. But that wasn't enough.
While most of us look to college and jobs as stepping stones, Huan looked at them as gifts that needed to be repaid. He joined the Naval Reserves in some small effort to pay back his debt for America allowing him to become a citizen. Then the war came. August would have made two years that he had been away from his family. August of 2004, Huan was sent to Japan for six months to help push papers for an organization that had a need since one of it's own had been called to the front. Following that hitch, he volunteered to come to Iraq.

Huan more or less singlehandedly built an organization from the ground up, that one day people will say turned the tide of this conflict. Not only was he recognized by his command, but by practically every other Army organization in the theater that had worked with him. People would call here - not asking for someone familiar with CREW systems, but asking for Huan.
Keep in mind, that while most of us over here count days till our return, Huan actually almost fought to stay here and help wherever he could. Not that he didn't miss his family. Nor was he an opportunist looking to build a career out of military contacts - he holds patents with his "real" job at General Motors - they even supplemented his income with what he was "losing" by going on active duty. He just felt that at this time in his life, he could save people in the battlefield, help defend his country, and pay back the nation that had offered him hope and prosperity.
There are many many times a day when I wish I was home and out of this place. But it is at those times that I remind myself of the wonderful opportunities that I have to support my family, live in a land where I don't have to worry about roving gangs of armed militia, and where I have the freedoms to pursue life, liberty and happiness, and remind myself that this is just but a small sacrifice I make to pay back the debt my country has given me.
Huan, have a seat, hell - have a real beer! Put down your pack and rest my friend - consider your debt paid - your shipmates have the watch.

Hallmark, what have you done?

Ladies and Gentlemen -
If this works, I want my Mother to get some royalties out of this! She went to the store to try and find some hallmark cards for the occasion of "hope you have a happy anniversary, even though you are in a war zone, and your family is worried about you back at home". So she sent this letter....Reprinted with permission of the author!

Hallmark, Hallmark, what have you done?
I looked for a special card and I could find none!
You’ve always been there for me,
With cards for one and all.
Birthdays, weddings, retirement,
thank-yous, and passing-the-bar.

You have cards about movie stars, politics,
Divorce, and bodily functions.
Cards about weight loss, getting older,
Getting treatment, and luncheons.
You remember Father’s Day, Mother’s Day,
Kwanza, and Diwali.
You recognize nurses and bosses,
Kittens and collies.

You cater to swingers, doers,
Golfers, and losers.
Hair dressers, bus drivers,
Teachers, and boozers.
You counsel about moving, moving on,
Moving up and moving out.
Of your care and concern,
There is no doubt.

You care deeply, openly, simply and truly,
Your concern is honest, greatly, justly and duly.
Imagine my surprise then
When a card I could not find.
A card for our military men and women
Who are all on our minds.

You may be quite liberal,
And politically correct.
Just remember our men and women in uniform
Provide you the freedom to do what you elect.
These military folks don’t like being away from home
And they don’t like the war.
They miss their families, their friends, their pets, their comforts,
Down deep in their core.

So I implore you, O’Hallmark the great
Show us what you’re made of, show us that you rate.
Produce a line of "Freedom" cards that will show support
For our men and women in uniform and their families still at port.
To start a "Freedom" line is not only the right thing to do,
But think of the revenue it would produce for you!!

Happy Father's Day!!

One of the benefits of working this much without a weekend, is that time FLIES!! It just seems like yesterday I was making my Mother's day entry. One of the first casualties of war they say is innocence. While I have yet to see any "action" per se (and hope never to have to - submariners on the front line just sounds like a bad storyline!)I can definately see the effects. This is a country of walls, barriers, checkpoints and wire. It also is a country of Moms, Dads, Brothers, Sisters and Family. When I look at the role models I have in my life for men, I can truly say that I am blessed. I can only hope that I can live a life half as good as my Dad, and my 'second' dad, or as Shannon says "my Bob".
There are times when I feel down, depressed, mad, and angry at the world. And then I think of how old I am in relation to the boys, and get caught off guard - all those memories I have of what I was doing and how I was feeling when I was their age and what perceptions I had of my Dad. I remember being mad at him, for being in awe of him as he coached baseball, of how easy he made it seem to be a dad, to be in charge, to be a man.
I now realize that he felt the same things I am feeling today - scared, nervous, worried, concerned, lacking confidence and like everything is a charade. But that doesn't matter. What does matter is that there is a job to do, with people depending on you. That the only thing in the world that matters is your family. That you will do anything in the world to give them a better life and to keep them safe, even if it means leaving them to go halfway around the world to fight evil.
Derek and Aleks - you boys make me so proud, and a guy couldn't ask for better kids. I am so happy to be your dad. Bob - thanks for being a role model, and treating me as your own son. Brad - happy almost Father's day on your latest addition - I can't wait to hear the news tomorrow! Jon - welcome to the club! Enjoy the diapers and the 3AM feeding and the hassles of dealing with car seats - they grow up too fast. Dad - thank you for teaching me how to be a man. Not by hiding your feelings, or being stoic, but for enjoying life, cussing, yelling, laughing, and living. If anything my time over here has taught me is that (pardon the blatant copyright infringement Mr. Brooks) life is not tried, it is merely survived if you are standing outside the fire. Thank you for teaching me how to laugh about getting burned!

Ding Dong the Witch is dead!

Sorry to start out with such a graphic image, but this is a really big thing here. I totally agree with our Commander in Chief here, but it was a definite boost to the old spirits here when the news came out. I happened to be driving around Log Base Seitz at the time. It is a logistical base on the edge of camp where there are a lot of mechanics and techs. I had asked for directions when I went in the gate, and an Army SGT came over and gave me directions. At the time, his attitude was locked on, very professional and straight forward. All around good kid. So later, as I was driving out and heard the news, I pulled up to the checkpoint (which people don't normally do, so it drew the attention of the multiple guards there - most of them privates / Specialists). I started telling one of them about the news, and he had an "Oh that's nice" sort of reaction, but when the SGT came over and I told him, he practically was doing backflips. Fist pumping, hooting, jumping up and down. It was nice to make someone's day here.

So what does this all mean to the troops? Yes, there is an insurgency still out here, and the websites are going crazy - we hear translations of them in the Stars and Stripes all the time. I am a big fan of energy however - you can feel it, you can sense it. If nothing had happened and we wouldn't have gotten the bastard, then things would have just "gone on". That is what stage of the war we are at right now - making progress, doing good work, but for the most part putting in time until something happens. Well, something DID happen. You can feel it. It is like a momentary big sigh of relief. While not necessarily physical, there is an emotional energy building here. Unless someone steps up quickly and is more bloodthirsty, evil, insane, etc, fill in the evil blanks.....I think we may have turned a corner. While they will never be totally gone (how many of us can say we killed ALL the cockroaches in our house?) they are without an energy source themselves.

Who knows what the future may bring, but for right now, things are starting to look up.

Happy Anniversary Baby!

Ok, to all the "other" readers, I will apologize up front, but this may get mushy! Between the post by Bearnice and this one, there hasn't really been any "hard" news, but we can get back to that later...
Shannon, you always say that "one of these days" you may let me off the hook for my embarrasing and awkward moments, like at our wedding reception when I totally blanked the idea that I had the opportunity to publicly proclaim my love for you, and chose instead to say a bunch of things about family and friends.....well you can see that with the whole www.world watching, that I hope this makes up for it.
I may be here half a world away right now in the middle of a combat zone, but I still find myself thinking of you - Looking at the bombed out former palaces of dictators past, and think how I am going to describe a particular arch, or mosaic, or artifact. I don't see the war or the bad stuff that often - not because it isn't there, but because I find myself looking for things that are good in my life to tell you about.
It is so incredible when you realize that your life can be made so good, not because you are living in paradise, but because no matter how crappy your situation may be, you have someone to share it with......wait a minute, that didn't come out right. Maybe what I am trying to tell you is that while this may not be ideal right now, at least we still have each other. And while we are apart for almost all the holidays this year, we still have next year, and the year after, and many many more holidays, events, good times and bad times to share, but the key is that we will share them together.
Anniversaries don't mean that we celebrate another year gone by, it means that we revel in the wonderful life we will have together. As I sit here in my time zone, and you in yours (not quite the 7th yet!) I can't help but feel close to you still. And to the whole world, while I may have missed some previous opportunities to get things right, I am making it known now, that I am the luckiest man on earth to have such a wonderful, strong, and amazingly beautiful wife to share the rest of my life with.

Happy anniversary Shannon
Love always,
Vince

A note from Bearnice

Hi All -
You may not know me, but my name is Bearnice. Vinny has been soooo busy that he asked me to say hi. By the way, hi Bearnie (he is my boyfriend that stays at home with Shannon!) Yeah, he doesn't talk about it much, but the big, tough submareeeener brought a teddy bear along with him! Anyways, he asked me to show you his HOOCH - or rather the box that he stays in when the sun sets....




First of all, it IS a box - CONEX box to be specific. One of them shipping containers you see on the big ships. While it looks (and is) small, it does have a toilet and shower in the middle which he shares with one of the other guys. The Command Master Chief - CTTCM Doug Boswell - lives on the other side of our box - he is always muttering something about how late Vinny comes in waking him up.


Sorry I don't have more pictures of our courtyard, the area outside of where we live is a NO PICTURES zone. After he already broke the first camera, I think he would really be in trubble if he gots the new one taken away!
Anyways, there isn't much to look at - we have a frigerrater, mucrowave, a puter desk that always has some stuff on it and a bed!













Vinny said sumthin about covering the walls with all his cards and pictures, but we will have plenty of time to do that. One of his favorite new pitchers is the ones he gots from Shanny and her new haircut. He looks at that all the time.
.
While not that much to describe, it is a lot better than the desk he wurks at for most all the time. Tho it is about as messy as the one he has in our hooch Well I hope you likeded the tour. Write soon. Hi Bearnie! Smootch!

Love Bearnice

Happy Mother's Day

Happy Mother's Day! For one of my presents (hope everyone got their flowers - thanks hon!) I had to go out to a suburb of Baghdad called Rustimyah on the Southeast side on Tuesday....so I didn't tell you about it until well after I got back! Howz that for a present! Before I go on as well, I wanted to insert a link into here from the American Spectator - Ben Stein wrote an article, that I think Stars and Stripes picked up. There are just some things in it that coupled with life here are hitting home... http://www.spectator.org/dsp_article.asp?art_id=9633
So, flying to Rustimyah. Tuesday started out easily enough - rolled in to work, checked email, started to track down a couple of things, when we got the word that we had to send someone out to Rustimyah to collect some data from a vehicle.
By way of explanation, my job here as engineer constitutes everything that involves the guts of the electronic devices we manage, and until more of our folks get out into the field - sometimes it involves going myself. So, in the course of about an hour, it was a mad scramble to pack an overnight bag (just in case!), grab my gear, and drive to the airport with Drew, my trusty sidekick and civilian engineer from the contract office, who probably makes twice as much as I do!
We waited around the Baghdad International Airport (military side) for about an hour, before we almost missed the flight, because the coordinator forgot about us. Midday, we boarded a "air convoy" of two UH-60 Blackhawks, complete with twin gunners for an exciting 15 minute flight to the other side of the city.

You will never get this view of a city, unless you spend time as a traffic observer. We were about 200 feet off the deck at the highest - we had to keep hopping over power lines in order to keep a low enough profile to minimize attacks. From this vantage point, we saw large palaces built by saddam, and mini-palaces of mud and brick built by families wanting to afford their kids the opportunity to play outside, but not be targets. Granted, much of this is traditional arab culture, but it is eerie to see city streets virtually empty midday.
We landed in Rustimyah and immediately were whisked away (in a SUV so overarmored that every speed bump we went over, the shocks bounced for 3/4 of the next block!) at 5-10 MPH a couple of blocks down the road to the HQ for the unit we were working with. Talk about an impressive bunch of guys. All starved and clamoring for information about the gear we provide. Wanting not only reassurance, but information and to tell their stories about what they had found out. IED's are such a big thing here, that when I meet with units, they are full of ideas and suggestions on how to win this fight.

This particular unit, the 49th MP brigade (I feel comfortable passing this out for two reasons - these guys are AWESOME, and also, this particular incident was reported in open press) just impresses the hell out of me. They had been hit particularly hard. Two KIA in one vehicle, one WIA seriously, but the driver walked with only a few scratches, and was back on the job in a couple of hours. While they all dealt with the pain and heartache separately, I am sure, these KIDS are tough. They look like kids, they sound like kids, they listen to Eminem, country, hard rock, heavy metal, and music that every 20-25 year old stateside listens to. Just don't expect to walk away in one piece if you happen to run into one of them in a dark alley if you happen to be a 6'9" Terrorist with a kidney problem.
So after working on one vehicle, and having eight others show up for additional help, we finished up and processed the data and made our way back to the airport to await our return flight...... unfortunately, it seemed that since we flew standby, we weren't scheduled for a return flight until almost midnight..... the following day!

So we were checked into the Rustimyah temporary housing facility. Formerly an Iraqi Hospital. Keep in mind, under Saddam, hospitals were not places of "care". We were escorted into the basement floor. Granted, it was dry and a cot (yes, I didn't have enough space to accomodate my sleeping bag - a mistake I will not make again). No blanket, no pillow. Our escort cheerfully let us know that when they first took over the "hospital" the basement was full of about 3 feet of water.....and dead bodies. And with a cheery goodnight, off he went. Luckily, the only spirits that haunted me, seemed to be in my lower back and neck. Sleep was tentative, but eventually fruitful.

The next day, we spent walking the base - a couple of interesting interactions and shops. It was nice to see that marketing is alive and well in Iraq! The basement of the hospital was also occupied by a handful of shops, and an internet cafe, so we got some time to spend there - interestingly enough when you type on an arabic keyboard, it looks exactly like the cuss words I am thinking about! In some cases, better than saying something like @#$%!@#$!
Our return trip was exciting, but dark, so no pictures. When you figure the number of flights going on every day, and the number of stops these pilots have to make on a typical route, and the number of routes they fly daily.... They take a huge risk without even flinching. It's funny too how we try so hard - mostly subconciously - to put people into boxes and classify them. I sat there on the flight back watching one of the gunners - the lights were out, and the only things I could see on him were his eyes - he had a mask over his face, and the low level Night Vision Goggles
(NVG's) lit his eyes and nose in a green light. It occurred to me shortly into the flight, that I couldn't in the light determine what race "classification" he was. Not that it really mattered, but we as humans have such a need to put people into categories, and bring into the discussion all of our "baggage". If anything you do soon realize however, that it doesn't matter - he had on the same uniform I do, and we are on the same team. The military to a broader extent, and combat to a smaller extent does that to you - there are no atheists in foxholes, and no klansmen in a combat zone I guess.

So anyways, I got back safe and sound, if not a little stinkier and tired. Things have returned to normal in the short term...as normal as you can be here. I sit here now on Mother's day thinking of all the time past where Mother's day seemed by comparison so much more low key and empty. Today however, when I think of those outside the wire on a mission, in a helo, or standing watch somewhere, I honor the mothers (especially my own, my wife, my sister - her first official one - Angie, your next one, Mom F. too!) for their support, sacrifice, and patience in waiting for their sons and daughters to return. We are taking care, "staying stron" and take today to honor your sacrifice. Happy mother's day

Building up my Karma

Sorry folks, no pictures tonight, just a story. This one starts back in around 1989, mid summer. They say that you have to give back what you get. The concept of paying it forward from the movie was nice, but generally speaking we are only so thoughtful of others when it doesn't interfere with our own lives too much. That is when you have to reassess things and strive to go the extra mile.
This particular summer, I was returning from a summer cruise. Actually, I was leaving one cruise at the Naval Academy, and transitioning to another...or so I had thought. Two weeks underway on the USS Groton, two weeks in La Maddelena, Italy. My next stop was supposed to be Kiel, West Germany, but the XO told me it wasn't in my orders, so he had planned to send me back and that the Academy would send me to my next stop.....more likely, he didn't want to spend the travel $$$.
The reservations made by the boat, only got us as far as Rota, Spain where we were laid over for four days (Brad, feel free to insert a comment about dancing with a tranny here!) We caught a C-130 back to Norfolk (only 18 hours!!!) and rented a car from there to Annapolis. We crashed at my sponsors at 2:00 am, unannounced, tired, but somewhat happy to be back. Over the next day or so, I found out that I wasn't going to West Germany, that I was going on a YP cruise in a month, and that I was on leave from that point until a month later. The plan at this time was to get a hop on a plane to Wright Patterson AFB and get home as soon as possible.
By the time I got to Andrews, it was around 3:00pm, and after checking in (wearing a really sweaty dirty set of whites!) I find out that the last plane has departed. Ever resourceful, I manage to book a reservation out of BWI for 6:00pm.....unfortunately for me, BWI is about 35 miles away, and it is moments before the DC rush hour. So I cruise out of the building and see an Air Force Officer walking to his car. On the chance that I can chat him up, I run over, only to find myself saluting a full Air Force Colonel. Screwing up my courage, I explain the situation. Thankfully, after a short phone call to his wife to hold dinner as he was going to have to travel 35 miles in the wrong direction on the beltway......he drove me to the airport.
So why is this story in my Iraq blog? Turns out seventeen years later (gawd has it been that long?) I find myself driving back to the office at 10:00pm at night, only to be flagged down near the helipad next to my building. Five army personnel ranging from Major to Sgt are suited up in Kevlar and flak jackets. Seems that they had been waiting at the bus stop for 30 minutes. Their helo flight had been cancelled, and they were due out to the Airport at midnight for the once a night liberty flight back to Kuwait, so they could go home for their mid-tour two week R&R. They only wanted a hitch to the PX, where they thought they could catch the bus.......
So what about the paperwork, stress, and other crap I had to do? It was a nice night, and a 35 minute drive around Baghdad Airport with five poor souls just looking to get home turned out to be a hell of a lot more rewarding. They say payback is a bitch, but sometimes it can really be rewarding, especially if you are returning favors given to you for no good reason.

Going outside the Wire

Ok, rule number one of leaving the security of your little encampment....don't tell your parents about it until after you return safely!!!!! Yes, folks, my little ol blog here will be the trigger that ignites a nuclear warhead over Cincinnati when my folks explode into a tizzy of worry. But now that I am back ok.....
Last week we had some testing data to collect, and the confines of our camp didn't yield the right conditions, so we decided to try the International Zone, or IZ. you may remember this scene of the "Crossed Swords". It was Saddam's parade deck, symbolizing their "victory" over the Iranians in the late Eighties.
You may have heard about "Route Irish". Last year, it was the most dangerous road in the world. Because of it's importance and the focus on it, it is now pretty safe. It was a real gut check however to be hunkered down in the uparmored Hummer with my Kevlar and Body Armor, but still passing that sign....
Anyway, we ran up there, and out the little .... I can't call it a window... they call it transparent armor, because it is a couple inches thick of bulletproof glass....I got to see "real" Iraqis out there. It makes me wonder about the hearts and minds battle though. Here we are in our armored tanks, passing little kids playing soccer and waving....
Anyway, once into the IZ, we swooped into the parade deck, took control of one Hummer, and let the other trucks go relax for a while. The area is fascinating - Saddam had questionable tastes in decor and style, but you never could say he didn't think big. You have probably seen this area in the older footage of military parades and the like, with Saddam giving his best beauty queen wave.
So we got done with our testing, got back alive with plenty of time for me to change my underwear before dinner! Afterward, we had a meeting at the palace, and I couldn't resist this shot - Now you can say that you have officially seen one of Saddam's guest bathrooms! Once again the ego of this idiot was incredible. Look at all the marble and gold filagree while his people starved! It is almost embarrasing to walk into one of these rooms and close the oak door.... Even rich people have to poop though....
So to calm the nerves, I went out on a valid mission, I came back safely, and all those young professional kids I spoke of last time are locked on and ready for anything. And yes, their professionalism and courage made me feel like a little girl for feeling scared. I thank God that they deal with what we put them through so coolly and bravely. I don't see many trips in the near future, and compared to most, I will be relatively stable and safe. I can't tell you that I will never roam outside the wire, but when I do, it will be done with the utmost care and concern....and an extra pair of underwear!

Holy Moses we have an update!!!

18 April 2006 – Hello to one and all. I apologize profusely for my neglect of correspondence over the past….two and a half weeks? To date I have received one care package from Shannon and the boys, as well as a very nice letter from John and Peggy Millman (thanks guys!) and a number of other nice emails which I have promptly ignored under the strangely perverted idea that “sometime” in the future, I would have….what do you call it…..”Time” to answer them. For this I am truly sorry, because I know that unless I strive to become a better pen pal, I won’t have anyone with which I can correspond. So here goes….
The flight into Baghdad was mysterious, scary, exciting, and strangely familiar in it’s standard military inefficiency. Myself and my traveling partner (also destined for my command) were told that we were leaving early, so we were whisked off to the terminal at about 1300 to “register” for the flight, with instructions to have our bags outside the tent at 1700 where we would be picked up….1715 rolls around (with a 1730 check in time….) A frantic and annoyed phone call later only to find out the folks arranging the flight were “assuming” the other had made arrangements for us to get to the airport….We got there just in time to throw our worldly possessions on top of the pallet of bags and get ready for a departure any moment. We got into the
bus at 1030, went to the tarmac, climbed aboard only to walk right off, because they “confused” our departure with another flight….we finally left at Oh-Dark-thirty and slipped into the icy blackness of the moonlight night and promptly went to sleep.
The landing while interesting and a little roller coaster like (we had one yakker!) was mildly interesting. We stumbled off the plane, waited to “get scanned into country” then wrestled with bag netting until we got our stuff. The welcome party of one (lucky bastard on duty – something that I would be repeating two weeks later!) was nice, informative, and bleary eyed. It made for an interesting introduction into county. Following a bumpy ride to base, check in to a rainy cot in a tent, and a mad dash to the phones to let Shannon know I was alive, we passed out at 5am until almost noon.


A word on the camp, or camps rather. After the invasion, the area was quickly cordoned off into about 10000 small camps, FOB’s (forward operating bases) and operational areas. As more folks have moved in, and not exactly wanting to risk your neck to work an admin job on the other side of the airport, they wisely decided to expand the barriers out, so each of the good sized camps are connected by a serviceable, partially paved, mostly potholed road with Saddam’s original barrier wall to the outside. Since that first night I have come to calm myself with several hundred trips back and forth on that road, but finding out on a moonless night two weeks ago that the only thing separating me from “hoardes” of Al-Qaida zealots was a cement block wall and contract (read mercenary) security from Africa at either end of the roads at various checkpoints, had me convinced that I had landed in lala land.


Since that first night however, things have steadily gotten better, and busier. People here are very open and welcoming. I spent only one night in the tent. While the waiting list for permanent trailers was a month or two, I was “helped” into a trailer at the other end of a nearby base with a handshake agreement until I was settled. Before I knew what was going on, I had a cell phone (of course, with Iraqna’s service, it serves well as a paperweight!), Toyota 4-runner, and a desk! My office didn’t have air conditioning, and after squeaking a bit, this wheel now has the best a/c in the building! Now if I can only do the same with internet in my trailer! I have moved out of the trailer too – I had to play musical “cribs” with a CDR who was returning from R&R, but once he moved out, I have settled into his CONEX box. Yes, I live in a shipping container. My room is about 7’ by 14’ with an AC, Fridge, Microwave, and most importantly, running water, toilet and shower! I don’t have to worry about walking through the mud and the muck to get to the latrines!
My days are now filled with meetings, hours on the computer, driving all over this base to arrange, and supervise testing, system installations, and attending more meetings. I am averaging about 20 hours a week in one Video Teleconference or another. It’s funny how quickly you can adjust to things though. I don’t even scratch my head anymore when I am saluted by a soldier wearing PT gear, no hat, yet carrying a Squad Automatic Weapon. Or better yet, seeing marvelous palaces made of marble serve as meeting rooms for the most dull and dreary plans. I can’t say that Saddam had any concept of good taste or décor, but some of the handiwork is truly fascinating. Giant chandeliers, detailed mosaic work, and the strangest names for streets – Sniper alley refers to a stretch of road on a nearby camp whose travelers were routinely exposed to sniper attacks from a nearby apartment building which had a clear view of the route. Not so anymore. Gotta love gallows humor though. Funny as well – when I was stateside at Fort Jackson, the graffiti on the walls of the latrines was annoying. Here, it has significance, much the same as Kilroy did for generations past.
Everything is simultaneously important, significant and serious, but also silly, ridiculous, and full of irony. Maybe it’s that reminder of potential life and death that tempers your attitude, but helps you to revel in the absurd. Nighttime can be spent outside looking at the stars, marveling at the city outside the walls and the beauty of the occasional 50 Cal tracer string you see in the distance. Last week, a couple of mortar rounds dropped into the edge of camp. Two concurrent observations were made – an acquaintance was not allowed in the dining facility because he didn’t have a flak jacket…..incoming rounds have a tendency to suspend logic! The other observation is the enemy tactics. We think they hate the portapotty contractor (I don’t blame them!) They plant a tube in the bushes, and then somewhere down the road, walk by, drop a round and run. Their training and knowledge of parabolic trajectories is lacking however, because the tube is permanently aimed at the porta potties. Severity of the mortar fire is rated on a scale of how many shitters get demolished during the attack! I guess that is all much the better that I have indoor plumbing!


Tonight, as we were coming back from chow, we realized that we had missed most of a Charlie Daniel’s concert. We did manage to make it back in time to hear Devil Went Down to Georgia! He was in country here with Dave Price – a New York disc jockey who made a report on the today show earlier. From the critique, he really laid it into those who say the war is going poorly. That is nice, because as much as you can desensitize yourself to things, we are taking hits about one a day from IED’s. The PAO releases reports on a daily basis – one here, one there. I would like to think that I will have a hand in fixing things, and for every moment that I feel bad about not being home to coach little league, or fix up the house, or even just snuggle up with Shannon, I look at these amazing, weird, motivated, crazy kids wearing Kevlar, flak jackets, carrying serious hardware, all while goofing on the way to the chow hall. They may not agree with things, they may not like their situations, but they are living. That is a lot more than can be said for many back home.
How many times do you go to the malls, and see the bored looks, the lazy strolls, the self absorbed passing time? Waiting for what? Here, we are going 20 hours a day – some of it wasted, some of it lost to the abyss of meetings, but altogether we are alive. Some of these kids realize as well how tenuous that is, and are determined to treat it as precious as diamonds. One final example – Huan and I had to go tour an Entry Control Point – access to the base recently. Since you are NEAR outside, but not necessarily in sight of the outside, we were armored up, with our weapons locked and loaded. We walked around, took pictures, and discussed the layout with the folks in charge of that part of security. All during this time, we were “shadowed” by an Army SPC. At first glance this soldier looked serious – ballistic glasses, M16, gloves. The soldier never looked at us, but wherever we walked was always between us and the outer gate, facing outward, even to the point of walking backwards at times. No one ordered the soldier to do this, but it was expected – someone was escorting us and covering our backs. This soldier stood about 5’8” or so, set jaw, no emotions. As we walked back to the inner perimeter, and back to the main trailer, the soldier relaxed a bit, started to smile, struck up a conversation and even laughed and joked a bit. SHE had been doing this job for about six months – was a truck driver by training, but had been pulled into security because of the need. The transition was amazing – this effervescent, young girl
(yeah, I know I am showing my age by referring to a 22 year old woman as a girl) just moments ago had been cold as steel and a warrior. This is someone who won’t go back home, and hang out waiting for something to happen. Once you have routinely stared at the uncertainty of life, death and roadside bombs, you learn not to wait for life to happen to you. I look at it this way – when or really if, someone ever would ask me how the war is going, I would answer that it doesn’t matter. Wars are planned and administered by Generals and their bean counters. By that measure, I could take or leave it as to our success. That is not why 99% of the kids over here are over here. They are doing this because while the conditions suck, they love their comrades, they like the professionalism and traditions of their duties, and because on some level they are adding meaning to their lives. The Iraqis not trying to blow us up realize this and from what I have seen in my limited exposure appreciate the fact that someone so young is willing to do this. For that reason, we can have no other option but to succeed.
So before I get more philosophical, I will sign off, and let Shannon hack this to bits with editing and insertion of my pictures. Hope all is well and keep the mail coming. I will strive to give weekly updates. In the meantime, take care, and live the lives we are blessed with!

Holding pattern.......

Hi everyone,

Sorry Vince hasn't been able to update this yet, he is having difficulty getting computer access up and going over there. He wanted me to pass on that he is doing ok, and adjusting pretty well. At least the phone calls are regular! Hopefully within the next week he will not only have a computer in his office but have his laptop hooked up in his room so he can get on here and tell us all about his big adventure. For now stay tuned......

Thanks,

Shannon for Vince

We have an address!!!

Vince called today and finally gave me an address so we can start the downpour of mail!

LCDR Vincent Vanoss
MNC-I C3 Task Force Troy
Camp Victory
APO AE 09342-1400


Thanks,

Shannon for Vince

In Iraq...

Vince just called and has made it safely into Baghdad and Camp Victory. He was exhausted and had been up over 24 hrs. so the conversation was brief. He said the internet over there is as good as we had heard so he should be up and going on here before long. Not much else to tell for now, but he will be on here before long to fill us in on all the details.

Thanks,

Shannon for Vince

Highway to Hell....

If I could put theme music to this, then AC/DC would be a good choice. I write this at 1 Am on april fool's....how appropriate! Just trying to get caught up, cuz what a week it has been!

25 March – Some people call it fate, others speak of destiny. I get the feeling from time to time that there is a galactic network in which we are all connected and/or ensnared. When things are going bad, you feel trapped and caught, and Mr. Murphy tends to have his way with you. When things are going well however, we see the nets. Like grouper, or schools of fish, we learn to live with the great nets, and sometimes even to ride them for a while. It is amazing that I am at 32,000 feet above the Atlantic ocean, on my way to Iraq, via Kuwait, via a 28 hour layover at Sigonella Naval Air Station in Sicily. I am listening to Jimmy Buffet sing about Changes in Latitude, while reading his book, “A Salty Piece of Land”, which happens to be about a displaced cowboy from Heartache, Wyoming who has fled to the Gulf of Mexico in search of adventure, in love with the sea from the first sight, and is not really sure of where he is being led on a big adventure.
Leaving never gets easy. As a matter of fact, it gets harder because as time goes by we only become more aware of the ravages of time and how short our time on this ball of mud may be, or more importantly, the time left for our loved ones. I can’t imagine how hard this must have been for my Great Uncle Jeff. For those reading this who aren’t familiar with the story, he was my Grandma’s little brother. They had a big family – six or eight kids I think. Anyway, he left to go fight the Japanese in the South Pacific, while everyone else stayed back to manage the ranch. He would write with stories and scant details, but when he put the date in the upper right corner of the letter, if he closed the top of the number four in the date (i.e. 1943) then they were to go to every tenth word and write down the first letter to spell out secret codes as to where they were. By the end of his hitch, he had become quite the codemaster, I am sure. He always claimed that McArthur was an idiot. “Every time we landed on an island, there were two ways to attack – up the smooth beach, or up a cliff, and that bastard always had us go up the cliff”. In this age of cell phones, computers, MP3 players and the like, I wonder how they ever got by being away from family. Hopefully, Uncle Jeff has had the opportunity to make amends with the General, and is now enjoying his ranch in a better place… (albeit with unlimited water rights, huh?)
We landed for about an hour in St. John’s Newfoundland – the easternmost point in North America. I got a brief chance to talk with Shannon before we took off – not sure how much I will be charged for roaming, but it was worth it. Although now she says that Derek’s job will be to make sure that she is never out of arm’s reach of her cell phone for the next year!!! There were snow drifts on the tarmac, and a very light snow dusting was falling as we got back on the plane. It is an interesting way to travel – 64 of us all in the same uniform. To a limited extent, we loaded our own bags. There are two MP dog handlers with us, so while we waited in the terminal, the dogs were out exploring their surroundings. Get this – they took up a collection while in flight, and had the pilots call ahead for pizza delivery. It wasn’t dominoes, (and that is probably a good thing) but it reinforces that network concept – while we may all be different and run to our own set of internal songs, some things like pizza are universal.
I was going to say that we all run on our own internal clocks, but in Jimmy’s book, Tully Mars (the cowboy) speaks of a conch shell that his dad gave him when he was eight years old. His dad and a war buddy (a medicine man from Montana) taught him that if he held it to his ear, he would hear the songs of the ocean. It wasn’t that the music was in the conch shell however, that it was that the music was already inside of him – the shell just brought it out. I first heard that song riding a laser sailboat in the Arabian Sea, while staying with a Brit family on a band trip back in 1984 or so. On and off again, I have heard it, and its unmistakable call. Maybe that is what this is all about. On the surface it has to do with saving lives, and fighting terrorists. What it really is about however is the networks, wanderlust, the call of the ocean, and the occasional conch shell. Whatever it may be, the journey of a thousand miles has begun.

26 March – Oh what an adventure. Once again on the plane, winging our way past Mt. Aetna away from Sicily to uncertain adventure in Kuwait. By way of note, we “misplaced” two of our fellow adventurers – four were late, unshaven, and slightly under the weather, two were MIA, one of which was Raj. I sure hope that he is OK… or that it was worth it!
Sigonella was a good reprieve. We left the BOQ tired, but determined to fight jet lag at about 1130. The bus service was poor to non existent, but there is an interesting trick to the area – we were on NAS Sigonella, Base #2. The newer and better equipped base is Base#1. So you walk out to the front gate, and hold up one finger to the string of cars, and a fellow shipmate offers a ride! NAS #1 was nice, but like any base, a little boring. 50 euros later (split amongst the seven of us) and we found ourselves in the old city of Catania. An ancient roman costal outpost, a newer Italian port of call, it is a mixture of old an new. We spent about six hours, walked at least five miles and took a ton of pictures from the old town square with it’s brown gothic stone reliefs to the ancient roman ampitheater in the center of town, to the old opera house where Maria Callas once performed. We visited a Greek Orthodox church, the Catania Catholic cathedral where the composer Bellini is laying in state, ate sinful chocolate filled treats, drank real espresso, and took in the atmosphere of Italian culture. I took pictures like a Japanese tourist on crack, but if this were to be my last cultural experience for the next year, I wanted to make it count. My only regret was that thanks to timing, commutes back to base, and the fact that we were all dog tired, I never got my authentic Italian dinner – instead a fair calzone, and two beers back on base. Ah well, maybe while on my next visit.
So here I sit once again, winging my way towards an uncertain future. What Iraq holds for me, and how much my immediate and for that matter long term future will be affected by these next few months should be significant. Once again, Jimmy Buffet seems to be guiding my thoughts and playing the soundtrack to my life. From his book “A Salty Piece of Land” – “there will always be those who feel more comfortable not venturing from the warmth of the hearth, but there are those who prefer to look out the window and wonder what is beyond the horizon. There is no beauty like that which overtakes us by accident.” Or more succinctly put, “Just remember that contentment is a quality best suited for cows – not cowboys.” This cowboy’s pony is headed east, for better or worse. Strangely enough, my MP3 player on shuffle just started playing Toby Keith and Willie Nelson’s “Beer for my Horses”. Funny how the galactic fishing nets just seem to move you along….

27 March - Arrival in Kuwait, or Adventures in Army Bureacracy!!! They have a "grid" of tents here ordered by letter and number, neatly assigned to rows. We show up, and have all our bags loaded into a truck, where we smartly proceed to the air base. As we pass concrete bunkers that look like (and later confirmed) that they had been punched clean through by Tomahawks from 15 years ago (my god, has it been that long???) and never fixed. Not sure what to be more impressed with, the accuracy of the weapons, their penetrating capability, or the steadfast and determined Kuwaiti spirit to never have them repaired!!!! Once in the compound, we offload and claim our bags into nice neat little piles until we are told that we can wait around for an hour until the Gator trucks can come pick them up and take them to our tents, or we can hump them there ourselves....45 minutes later, drenched in sweat, I finally assemble my bags in a tent with eight others.

28 - 31 March - Change.....whatever..to the schedule. Today, we were told that we would be processing pay data, and turning in our travel claims.....only to be told that we have four hours to pack our campout gear for three days, because we are training in the desert!!! Can you say Fun? Last time I checked, I was a submariner for a reason - hot coffee, hot showers, and Air condamnditioning!!!!. Yeah, I know I whine, but if I didn't then this blog would be pretty boring. So we pack up and head out to the desert, where a company made of ex Army types are teaching us everything we ever wanted to know about convoy operations, but were afraid to ask. We get classroom training on types of IED's (improvised Explosive Devices), convoy tactics, close quarter marksmanship (shooting, while walking, running, and all sorts of interesting stuff), and communications. All in all, pretty good training. It was all the MRE's, living in a tent with fourty of my closest buddies, not showering, not shaving, and having the constant river of sweat run down my back that I can do without. On a serious note, God Bless the Army for taking that off of our hands - there are actually those that enjoy this crap and want to do it. It is because they like to sweat and stink, that the rest of us can shower and remain cool in peace!

1 April - 0139 hours. Lots of stuff going on, and I am just wrapping this week up. I would love to post pictures, but for some reason, the website (or my computer) is slow today. I am still looking into a means of sharing pictures, and I might have found it, I just need time to work out the bugs. When I do, you should enjoy the pictures of Sigonella, etc. In the meantime, I may be winging it to Baghdad tomorrow or Sunday. More to follow of course, but until further news, I will be seeing you!

Safe in Kuwait

Sorry this is slow in coming, it has been a crazy week here. Vince made it safely into Kuwait, and is currently somewhere out in the middle of the desert camping out and getting some advanced training for the next few days. On Monday we were actually both able to get our webcams up and working for the first time, it was so wonderful to actually see Vince's face. It made all the difference in the world, especially to Aleks. Aleks and Vince spent alot of time making funny faces back and forth at each other, while Derek typed messages for both of them.

Vince had a wonderful time seeing the sites in Sicily, but I will save that update for him to tell you about. They had one whole day at Sigonella and he said he took a ton of pictures to share with us of ancient Roman ruins and all sorts of cool stuff. Hopefully with a little luck Vince will be able to get on here and update by sometime this weekend. Thanks for the continuing support!

Shannon for Vince

On his way....

I got a call from Vince about 7 tonight. Just a real quick 3 minute call to tell me they had made it as far as Newfoundland and were refueling. Next stop is the Azores for another refuel, then on in to Sigonella, Sicily by early Sunday. Vince was in good spirits, the flight was going well, and he was happy to finally be on his way to do something important. I will keep everyone updated as the week progresses, I anticipate at least 1 or 2 weeks until he is fully up and capable of posting here again himself. I can't thank all of you enough for your wonderful phone calls, e-mails, and other support. Because of all of you I have faith will get through this together!

Shannon for Vince

Last few hours stateside

Sorry folks, no pictures today, but I will try and document the trip. We leave tomorrow for Iraq at 1100. probably 16 hours on the plane to Sigonella, Sicily, a day layover, then on to Kuwait. I got a couple of days training there, followed by some admin, then on to the sandbox.
Crazy last few hours packing, along with the worlds Longest After Action Report and feedback....funny when you give everyone a voice to provide input, they ALL tend to use it!!!!
But I am packed now, and getting ready to box up the puter. Hopefully it won't be too long till I get to use it again, as I hope to get caught up the second week in April. Not to worry, I should be back on line in no time. Fair winds and following seas to all, and here's to a successful journey!