Dorothy: "Don't be silly, Toto. Scarecrows don't talk!"

HELLO! I hate to have to keep apologizing for the delay in new posts...but here I am again. Please don't give up on me, I'm doing the best I can. It's been a busy, exhausting and at times rough several weeks. Today was supposed to be an easy day with nothing on my schedule but "try to look busy" work. Before I knew it, I had a series of surprise events on my schedule that ended with meeting the Deputy Prime Minister of Iraq Barham Salih.

The random series of powerful people that cross my path of life here happens so fast, sometimes I don't realize the significance of the moment until I think about it afterwards. The other day I literally bumped into the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff Chairman General Peter Pace in the hallway.

I just happened to be in the right place at the right time and he walked up to me, shook my hand and said "How are you young man?" Then he gave me one of his Challenge Coins.

People here are crazy for coins. I'll get into that in another post.

Less than 2 minutes before I saw General Pace, Iraqi Prime Minister Nouri al-Maliki walked right by me with a very large security team. He didn't stop to say hello. The other week I helped make minor edits on the scripted statement for one of the several commanding Generals who announced U.S. troops would need a minimum of two more years here to allow Iraqi security forces to be trained and ready to take over. Within 24 hours that was THE Iraq news headline of the day. Every day, at nearly every turn I am a witness to history in the making. But because it's so common for everybody here, many don't take time to notice. I am still in awe of it.

The biggest challenge lately is sleep. Not enough and not quality. My brain feels mushy. I find it harder to concentrate and tougher to absorb information. Everytime I write or read something these days, I have to look at it 2 or 3 times to make sure I'm not glossing over a mistake or a critical fact. This is noticeable and annoying to me, as my reading comprehension has always been superior. The sleep issue is a combination of environment and stress.

The environment is just plain noisy and disruptive. It's not easy to stay asleep with helicopters literally flying so low over your hooch every night you feel like you're caught in an earthquake. And they ALWAYS fly in pairs. So when you feel the rumble of one going by, you have to sit there and wait 10-15 seconds for the second one to shudder past before you can express your verbal displeasure and try to get back to sleep. On top of the helicopters you have the window size A/C units that pump chilled air into each and every hooch on the compound. You have no choice but to keep it running 24/7 and every time the compressor kicks off it thumps the entire trailer with a sound almost identical to an incoming round.

That brings me to the stress part, there has been a lot of incoming lately. Sometimes it's close, sometimes it's far, sometimes it's very close. The smoke plume pictured below is from a rocket that hit about 200 yards from my office.

But more often than not the IDF just hit dirt, leaving a hole that looks something like this one below. This strike was about 50 yards from my office.

One day recently we had an unprecedented barrage of mortars come into the IZ. I was in my office alone. It started with the alert system blaring it's siren and The Big Voice shouting "Incoming, incoming, incoming!" Within seconds the explosions started. They hit the earth, or their unfortunate targets, with massive concussions. The blasts started about 1 mile away and started creeping closer and closer, like the giant footsteps of Godzilla storming through town. Very quickly it sounded like the big green lizard had come to see me personally. But this attack was different. It didn't stop after a few seconds. The blasts kept pounding and pounding around us. I lost count at 18 explosions as I ran for the hallway and the supposed safety of an interior corridor. I stood out there with dozens of people from a half dozen other offices. We were all grim faced, not really talking, just looking down or looking up and shaking our heads. Many people had their arms crossed. After about another minute the last echo from the last thunderous blast withered across the horizon. The whole group expressed a lot of verbal displeasure over the extent of the attack and that was before anyone knew the full scope of the casualties. This was the single largest attack against the IZ in the past 3 years. The final count was 42 mortars...18 wounded...3 killed.

I've been lucky for the most part with the incoming. Actually, not even for the most part. I've just been damn lucky. There have been several close calls. Just in the past month a 122mm Chinese made rocket landed 20-feet behind my hooch. I wasn't there and it didn't go off. I'm still trying to figure out if that's a good sign or a bad one. The EOD (Explosive Ordinance Disposal) team was pulling it out when I was getting home after a long day. This is the hole the digging and the rocket left behind.

My neighbor was visibly shaken by all this. He was in his room when it hit. If the rocket had exploded it would have undoubtedly thrown red hot chunks of deadly shrapnel right through both of our tincan-like trailers. My neighbor probably would have been injured or killed.

When the trailers do take a direct hit from a rocket, the structure is normally flattened.

There is another attack in which the outcome has really stuck with me. It was in the early evening several months ago. I had just walked out of the back of the Palace to head to the DFAC for dinner. The sun was setting and there were a lot of people milling around the area. I was just stepping into the dining hall when an explosion shook the building like a nearby crack of thunder. It was close enough that I could feel the percussion wave of the rocket's blast as I rushed further inside. Another group of people practically fell through the door behind me to get under cover. At first I brushed it off, no big deal. These things happen pretty frequently over here. Rockets fall, they explode, we move on. After eating I headed for my hooch, walking back the same way I'd come to the DFAC. The road was blocked by emergency vehicles and IZ Police SUV's. Marine Guards had set up a perimeter around where the rocket had landed and EOD crews were clearing the scene. I got a peek at where the rocket hit before one of the Guards told me to keep moving. They were doing everything they could to prevent a crowd from gathering. The rocket had hit a tree about 10-15 feet off the ground and exploded in a burst pattern that is pretty uncommon. It threw shrapnel in every direction, ripping through trees, trailers and anyone in the way. I didn't see anyone being treated, but knowing the number of people that were out there at the time I was pretty sure someone got injured. Then it occured to me...I had missed the impact by a slim 45 seconds. I had passed that exact spot as I walked toward the DFAC. 45 seconds. I thought a lot about how little time that was. If my routine that day had adjusted even slightly, I easily could have burned through an extra 45 seconds. Even so, it didn't phase me too much, I just shrugged "huh, close call", then headed for my hooch to get some rest.

I didn't realize how close until the next day. They announced in our morning meeting that two people had been killed by the rocket. One civilian contractor and one Army soldier. As I listened to my boss tell us what happened my sensations began to swirl. His voice faded as the one in my head began to scream "Holy s#!t, that WAS a CLOSE call. 45 seconds...45 F#$@&N seconds!" A quick phone call, a loose shoe lace, one more email to read.....45 seconds is 1/1000th of 1 grain in the sands of time. I had come within 45 seconds between life and death.

As the anxiety faded, reality dissolved back into focus in front of me. My boss was talking about the two people killed. The female civilian worked in the housing office. She was well known and well liked. The soldier was Master Sergeant Sean Michael Thomas.

He was considered a solid leader and a great friend. I did not know him, but I would later come to learn we had a lot in common. We knew many of the same people, we both had young daughters and we were both signed on for a 1-year tour in Iraq. The parallels may seem slight, but his death has really stuck with me. I attended his memorial service. The small chapel was filled. People were left standing against the walls and hanging in the doorways. No one wanted to miss a chance to show their respects. There was music and prayers and friends who spoke of what a good man Master SGT Thomas was. The most powerful moment in the service was the end. It was Final Roll Call.

Everyone is asked to stand and one of the lead officers, in his best Drill Sergeant voice, begins yelling out the names of fellow soldiers in the command.

"Sergeant Jones!"

"Here, sir!"

"Lieutenant Meyers!"
"Here, sir!"

"Corporal Smith!"

"Here, sir!"

"Master Sergeant Thomas!"

.....silence.....

"Master Sergeant Sean Thomas!"

.....silence.....

"Sean Michael Thomas!"

.....silence.....

Many people in the chapel were prepared for the Final Roll Call. Most were not. It was truly overwhelming and still upsets me to think about it. The silence hit like an emotional sledgehammer. For several people it was too much. Tears started flowing. Some had to sit down before the call was even finished. Others slipped out the door. I felt like I was going to throw up. Fortunately, the lump in my throat kept it from getting very far.

For Master SGT Thomas death had come too soon. A man on a mission and with a purpose. A man whose wife and daughter are left to follow their own path through a life of pain, veiled by the loss of a husband and father.

I am still numb at the thought of how 45 seconds in life can make such a deadly difference. I am also humbled by the thought of doing everything I can to make sure I make it home, safely, to my wife and daughter. But in the IZ, we all accept the risks.

Here is a link to an article about Master SGT Thomas by The Military Times

http://www.militarycity.com/valor/2659521.html

Lawmakers in D.C. are also working to name a Post Office after Master SGT Thomas in his hometown.

http://www.govtrack.us/congress/billtext.xpd?bill=h110-2765

Thanks for reading my blog. I promise I will make a greater effort to update this more frequently. I am going to try for at least one update a week. I will do my best.

Still to come....Nightlife in the IZ.

Tinman

All materials copyrighted and not for further distribution.