Scott in Iraq -- News and Notes
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October 31, 2005 ~ Halloween
Friends,
It is shaping up that Scott's unit might be coming home sometime in mid-winter. Events can change things though. The Army has advised family members that in preparation for the unit's return home early next year they have set November 25th as the last official day you can mail packages to the soldiers. However, the post office is recommending that you mail it by November 12th if you want it there in time for Christmas. Overseas mail is very slow and it's even slower during the holidays!! so plan ahead! As of right now, the last day to mail letters is December 5th.
Please keep in mind that Scott will only be allowed ONE duffle bag with him on the plane home. Please do not send him anything that won't fit in this ONE duffle bag or that he can't eat or leave behind for the next guy. He has told us that he lacks for almost nothing. Thanks to all of you who have sent him CARE packages!
We have chatted with Scott some over the last few weeks. We went a month with no word at all. He is holding up OK, but is sick and tired of the place beyond description. Our visit with him in August was so nice and Marti and I just keep willing the days to pass faster so his homecoming is here. He has been busy doing night patrols and tower or gate duty around the city. I can't say much beyond that for as Scott says that's OPSEC.
Thanks to all or you who have dropped him notes and signed his guestbook, he really enjoys reading over all the notes and kind words. It is amazing and wonderful for us to see so many old friends of Scotts who have found this site and reconnected with him!
To all of you, your love and support has made this time much more bearable for us and Christy!
Thanks!
Ed and Marti
Ps his birthday is November 11. He will be 25. Sheessh!
hello everyone.
here's another update from wonderful Sadr City.08APR2005
we are currently having a couple day break from patrolling as the residents of Sadr City have themselves a 'million man march' (no kidding that's what they're calling it) in honor of the dead cleric Mohammad Sadr Sadr. He was the father of the current cleric Moqutada al'Sadr who now leads the Mahdi Army, hates America, and is worshipped by the citizens of this fair city. They believe him to be a man named Mahdi, who is a warrior prophet destined to herald the return of THE PROPHET, Mohammad. (you may have heard of him, founder of Islam and all). this is all sorta the same as somebody being named head badass to fight the infidels in preparation of Jesus' return. now, while Moqutada, or Mooktie as the people call him, is a respected, (and feared) cleric, he is also a radical semi-crazed maniac. His father however was a wise and peaceful man murdered by Saddam. he is the one that the city is named for and worthy of such. the people here love and respect him infinitely.
so basically I told you all of that to tell you that I’m hanging out in the barracks right now because there's this big march this weekend and we are hanging back out of the spotlight so as not to impose too much.
the stated aims of the march are to honor the dead Sadr, to honor martyrdom/sacrifice (more on this later), to celebrate the fall of Saddam, to proclaim that Iraqis don’t support terrorism, and to demand a permanent date for the US, (that's us...little joke there get it U.S...U S...us… hahaha this place makes you a little crazy) to leave Iraq.
the amusing part is all three of these tie in together well for the commonly called-for jihad against the great Satan America. so who knows what they will really get worked up about this weekend. we shall see.
either way things promise to be interesting as always.
since I last wrote I have added bricks/rocks to my 'hit me in the head on patrol' collection (the last half brick having broadsided me in my right ear/skull), I have been shot at in the middle of the night a couple more times, splashed on the face with sewage whilst outrunning rock chucking Haji kids, and been part of a major illegal gun bust we did this week. this of course in addition to the normal host of Army stuff, to include lifting weights, griping about the people making decisions, and goofing off with the guys in my unit. all of which have come in good measure. I am still enjoying myself, my capacity for stupidity tested often but still in tact. I enjoy the hell out of patrolling and being in the city, even as things grow more tense.
which leads me to my main topic here, which is some commentary on Islamic culture and the role of Islam in the culture, at least as far as I have been able to tell so far.
. . . . .
Scott ruminates on why Muslims are different
or
Hey! they don't even eat bacon over here!
or
The rock chucker phenomenon
a sorta essay brought to you by: I MISSED CHOW productions
all opinions following do not necessarily represent the opinions of the President, Secretary of Defense, or any number of people who are not generally in touch with reality.
Islam IS THE LIFEBLOOD OF THESE PEOPLE.that is the first thing that must be understood when talking about the nature of Iraqis and the way they deal with the world. much is made of the divisions between Sunni, Kurd, and Shiite, and the divisions are great and powerful, but first and foremost all of them are Muslims. the argument that this is not a war on Islam (as the west proclaims) or a Crusade by the Infidels (as many here proclaim) is both inherently true and false. NO, America is not here to oust Islam from the hearts of the Arab people. we are not here to impose Christianity on them as well as democracy. we go out of our way to respect the religion of the Iraqis sometimes even to the detriment of our own goals/tactics. We go to great pains not to spend a lot of time in front of or around Mosques, we give space to their women and act as near to Islamic custom as Americans can be expected. for example, we are not rolling Humvees and Bradleys around their march this weekend out of respect for the man they are honoring and the importance he has to them religiously.
but, we do not understand them and their beliefs either, not beyond the comprehension of difference. it makes no sense to us why their women must walk behind, why they step into the sewage filled streets rather than pass us on the sidewalk, why they blast their prayers and mosque messages from loudspeakers throughout the day, why the hate beer and whiskey, why on earth they would not eat bacon. and these are the simple things. these are things which can be understood as simple difference, while strange, to be expected from another culture/religion, not concepts like martyrdom which are complicated and full of shadowy misunderstanding.
take for example the martyrdom of Hussein Ali. Hussein Ali was an Imam (respected cleric, important religious figure/prophet sorta) and probably the single most important figure in Shia Islam after the Prophet. his martyrdom is the subject of a number of holidays in Shia Islam, a number of the holidays often involving discussion of sacrifice and the best ways to make sacrifice for him. well current world politics being what they are many Shiite Clerics, Moqutada al'Sadr being the foremost in Iraq, consider the presence of Americans on Iraqi soil to be the ultimate blasphemy short of burning a mosque, touching their women, or....throwing bacon at them. thus we are an excellent target for sacrifice in honor of Hussein Ali, who as a martyr for Islam, sacrificed so much. now, this concept is not foreign to westerners, it can readily be seen in the story of Jesus and his sacrifice for the sins of man. difference being, in the west when a minister says Jesus died for your sins now shoot these people, or bomb this guys house, or don't eat bacon, we as westerners generally agree that the minister in question is a crazed loon. not so here in sunny Sadr City. these people eat this stuff up. but where does that leave Scott, western soldier in the army of the great Satan? while I understand the semantics of this concept I do not understand why these people consider it an acceptable practice. I have a factual understanding, an understanding of the events and reasons, but not of the feeling, not of the emotion, passion, that would drive someone to strap bombs to his chest and try to blow up my Bradley, or to shoot at me knowing I and my buddies are going to fill him full of holes. I do not understand how they are willing to face down something so much greater with such conviction, simply because 1000 years ago a man was tortured and died.
this is the great example of course. martyrdom is complicated enough to deal with but the Hussein Ali thing goes down to simple day to day living. the people of this city in particular plaster stickers and posters with his likeness EVERYWHERE. I mean literally any place that something can be stuck or hung it is. cars, busses, trucks, walls, light posts, windows, stalls in the market, bikes, the ground, telephone lines, furniture, the outside of old refrigerators that don't even work, the INSIDE of refrigerators that don't even work. you could not believe it until you saw it with your own eyes. and not just one sticker, but as many as they can...everywhere. (you have to pardon me but this part just confounds me!) and the worst part is that because he is such a wack job Moqutada takes advantage of it. so along with all the Hussein Ali imagery there are a nearly equal number of images with Moqutada and his father AND Ali. thus drawing the correlation between the three, thus driving the people to listen to al'Sadr, thus believing him when he tells them that killing Americans and being killed by Americans is one and the same as Ali and his fathers sacrifice. which of course it is NOT.
but you can't tell that to the people of Sadr City, and you can hardly explain it to the average American soldier. which brings us back to the fact that this is not inherently a war against Islam, but it is at the same time because the people are so devout in the Islamic faith.
next topic is the begging problem. everywhere you go, the children and teens beg for anything and everything it is even remotely possible you might have stashed somewhere or on your person. I have had people ask me incalculable times for the following:
chocolate: ‘mista mista chocolate? give me chocolate!’
a soccer ball: ‘mista mista football? give me football mista!’
money (US); ‘mista mista money? am baby, give me money mista!’
my watch: ‘mista mista clock?’ (they grab at my wrist I smack their hand.)
water
candy in general
dip/chewing tobacco
cigarettes
toys
pencils
my sunglasses
my gloves
my boots
my helmet
my body armor
my rifle or machine gun
my grenades
the gum I am actually chewing at the time
to take a picture of them
to buy their little brother or sister
to shoot my rifle or machine gun in the air
to pick up their trash
to clean up their streets
to give them a joband finally
to go home.
this can be alternately a heartbreaking and infuriating scenario. there are children whom I wish to help. children who obviously have nothing and are there because the think I can help them, that I can give them a chance at something nice, at least for that moment. MOST of the little bastards (excuse me as I get a little heated on this topic) are dressed in good clothes, are relatively clean, and obviously getting fed somewhere. ALL of them have had two years of experience with American soldiers. They know that while we do on occasion have some of these things for them we do not role around with piles of crap to give to screaming, pesky kids.
But they beg anyway.
They beg because they can. Because now they are free to do so. They beg because we came here and knocked down Saddam with the promise of a better life. We are so radically different to them, so foreign in all ways that I think to a certain extent they really believe we can give them the things they ask for at any time. That’s the only explanation I am willing to believe. It’s to hard to think that they really are so selfish, so self serving, so ignorant that they think otherwise.
But then the bricks start to fly.
The phenomenon of brick chucking is not hard to grasp. It happens all around the world when there is an occupying/powerful military/police force. It happens in America too. But here it has been refined to a science. I can only think that perhaps it is worse in the West Bank and Gaza, but that’s just because the Palestinians have years more practice. The children who chuck bricks and rocks are always, with out fail, the very same children who were just smiling and trying to talk to you, trying to get things from you, applauding you when you take their picture. They quite literally wave with one hand and throw their rocks with the other. This has reached unbelievable extremes that I cannot explain very well. It really is something you have to see to believe. I have now a collection of bricks and rocks (previously mentioned) which I have been struck by. This includes the first three to hit me in the jaw, back of the head, and chest respectively. Plus the one I kept after yesterday’s patrol which blindsided me in my right ear/skull. I am proud of my collection. I laugh at my collection, because it really is funny.
When we first got here the rocks infuriated everyone. Especially the machine gunner in our rear Humvee as he is the most exposed to the chuckers. We tried stopping our convoys and chasing the little bastards, tried speeding back towards them, tried talking to the adults, tried throwing candy right as we left. NOTHING WORKS. In fact they have only gotten worse, more bold, less scared of us. They know that our hands are tied, essentially the know we are not going to shoot them. That is the only thing that absolutely scares them. If you can make it clear to them that you might mow them down in a hail of machine gun fire, they will take pause. But when you don’t they are charging right back at you, full speed ahead.
So what does this mean. It is I think simply another demonstration of the abyss that lies before us and the Iraqi people, the abyss in understanding. The children do not really know why we are here, they don’t understand the greater political questions. They simply know that the living man they worship the most, Moqutada Al’Sadr, says we don’t belong here, that we are an enemy, that Hussein Ali wants them to sacrifice. So, unable (generally) to shoot RPGs at us, they throw rocks.
And, they are kids. Hell when I was a kid we would, on occasion, throw rocks at each other, sometimes at cars. Randomly. From hiding. Running like hell afterwards praying to god our parents didn’t find out. But the adults here hardly care. They stand by and watch. On occasion an adult will make the effort to try and stop the hundred plus kids, but what can one old man do, really, while all the fathers and older brothers stand by and watch, or in some cases, tell the kids when we are coming and when to throw?
So we suck up the rocks, and bricks, and bottles, and rotten fruit, and paint cans full of oil, and in my singularly lucky case, the trash cans that the heave at us daily. And we drive on.
I have changed my philosophy on dealing with the rock chuckers. Now, rather than trying to take cover from the rocks, I stand stone still and let them throw. I dodge the biggest ones when I see them, but otherwise I don’t move. Since changing my strategy I have been hit in the head more, but when that brick hits my helmet and I don’t move or yell, you can see the kids think twice. You can see them thinking ‘damn, I just hit him in the HEAD with A BRICK and he didn’t care’. On occasion it has stopped them from throwing. But mostly it makes me feel better about the situation. When they miss me, I taunt them, making fun of them for NOT being able to hit me. And sometimes, to really freak them out, when they make a particularly good throw and I am feeling saucy, I demonstrate my skills as a former All Star Little League Catcher and Right Fielder, and I pluck that rock right out of the air. This instills both instantaneous awe and fear. The kids generally panic when I pull their well aimed rock from the air like a piece of fresh fruit, holding it up so they all can see.
Ha ha ha! you little rock chucking Hajis. I have won.
And then I take a brick in the jaw I didn’t see coming. And whether I move or not, it still really hurts.
What all of this means? I don’t know. The phenomenon of begging Haji kids and rock chuckers has no easy answer, just as the concept of martyrdom has no easy understanding. In the end it comes down to the fact that Saddam is gone and we are telling these people they are free. So they do what they damn well please, because to them, that is freedom. If Saddam was still in power this never would happen because he would have gunned down the kids where they stood, or arrested their parents and buried them in a mass grave, or gassed the whole of the city.
There can be know doubt about that. It’s what he was doing before we got here.
And as hard as this can be to deal with, as much as it hurts the pride sometimes, that is something to be proud of.
That is something worth a couple rocks in the face.
So where does this leave America, the people of Iraq, and more specifically, me, my buddies and the people of Sadr City Baghdad?
who knows?
it leaves me, here, at war, or some permutation of it.
it leaves them, here, at war, or some permutation of it.
the difference is I am coming home to America.
they are still here in Iraq, trying to learn how to be free.
trying to keep their neighbor from murdering them for not following Islamic law.
trying to decide if it really might have been easier under the yoke of tyranny,
than in a world where freedom is equally dangerous.
Trying to decide if they really want to live like this.But I will be at home with my beautiful wife drinking a cold beer.
and of course...I will be eating bacon.once again, from the front lines.
.scott.
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March 10, 2005
hello to everyone.
this is just a brief note to let everyone who has not actually heard from me no that i am in fact alive and well.
i've been working nonstop and spent alot of time out in Sadr. it is not a place that can be described easily. if you have ever seen one of Sally Struthers' CCF commercials where she walks around with hundreds of children who live in sewage and refuse infested slums then you have some picture of what the city looks like. i had seen photos but to see and smell it first hand is a whole new experience entirely.
in answer to some questions, yes i am pretty comfortable. the billions of dollars the President handed to Halliburton, KBR and their various subsidiary companies go a hell of a long way towards making us as at home as possible. still corrupt, but i can appreciate it in this case. the food is pretty good and varied; i can shower and tend all my bathroom needs in doors with a near constant supply of hot water. (don't drink it though its full of e. coli) sand and dust is a constant pain, but i have yet to encounter a serious sandstorm, part of this is because the city provides some cover and the season is not entirely here. it has rained off and on for about a week turning the entirety of the FOB (forward operating base) into a giant mud hole. the dirt and sand and dust is all so damn fine that it creates unbelievable thick, slippery, and sticky mud. this is an enormous pain. for those of you aware of my sometimes problem with tripping and falling, no i HAVE NOT beefed into a mud whole yet.
i am in the city, as i said, alot on a variety of missions. i have worked both as a Bradley and Humvee driver as well as a dismounted ground pounder. (which is my absolute favorite much to the dismay of my wife and parents). on the ground we meet mixed receptions. lately people have been more standoffish and cold. we are not sure why but have suspicions, none of which are very positive. there are children EVERYWHERE, most of whom do not go to school. they alternate between begging for chocolate and anything else you may have and throwing rocks/bricks at us. sometimes its is literally the same kid who was just smiling and giving you a thumbs up who is now trying to take your skull off with a brick, and yes i mean a real honest to god hard brick sized brick. if anything some of these kids should be brought to America to pitch in the Majors. i'm sure George Steinbrenner could afford some haji kids as well as Randy Johnson.
needless to say it can be very tense. you have to handle the kids in a variety of manners, some rough, some not, while continuing to watch your ass and your buddies. the city is a 360 degree fight so you have to be on you toes.
i have yet to be in a fight. my vehicle has been shot at by random people in the night, but nothing very dangerous. i heard our demolitions guys detonate an IED the other night, which was pretty cool...loud as hell.
again, all and all i am well.
i would say don't worry about me but that's foolish. just know that i am on point and doing my job as are the guys i am with.as far as care packages are concerned, there’s not much i need. cookies are always good Gramma L, and anyone who might like to bake. the only thing we really pine for that we can't get over here are American cigarettes. (yeah i know i know) otherwise send whatever you like. creativity, as always, is key.
thanks to everyone for your thoughts, wishes, and prayers. i really do appreciate them all. if you are into the prayer thing then i would say to remember my beautiful, strong wife Christy when you think of me. in a lot of ways she has a harder job than i do, and i am more thankful for her than anything else here.
thanks again, i hope you are all well. and here's to hoping that when baseball starts in another couple weeks the Orioles don’t get the crap kicked out of them right from the very beginning.
.scott.