BABY STEPS (PT II)

When we returned to my parents’ house and settled in for the evening, I made a slight detour to visit a rather acerbic friend of mine and we chatted over a couple of beers. I’d mention more details but he being such a fiercely private person, he’d probably boycott me for life. He is a living breathing Holden Caulfield. We awoke the next morning to the smell of an honest to God home cooked breakfast. Wow, mom made biscuits, cinnamon rolls, thick cut bacon with brown sugar, toast, and coffee. So what you say, well I have long since viewed breakfast as that extra 45 minutes of sleep you get when you hit snooze and dream about eating. I ate and ate and ate, being adequately stuffed we visited some, then DJ and I started to pack. Saying our good-byes we loaded up the Jeep and headed for the airport.

When we got to the airport we found our flight was delayed, this of course aggravated me to no end, I’d lose 3 hours of my leave to an airline SNAFU. So be it, time to hit the bar. DJ and I enjoyed a drink, OK OK, since DJ is again reading my blog here is the deal. I was starving at the airport, I tried to go to Mc’Ds but the service industry is anything but service oriented. The kids at the counter seemed to act like by them doing their job, they were doing me a favor. My frustration levels were pegged in the red zone. We decided on the bar, as my wife being keenly aware of my swift mood swings (mad and unreasonable to insane bouts of blind aggression and contempt for incompetence) so we sat at a table and waited, and waited, and waited for a waitress who was over worked, underpaid, and over aged (not to say I am bigoted to the elderly, nay don’t be ridiculous) however I wouldn’t put say Stephen Hawking in the pit-crew at the Indy 500. To each his own design or something to that effect, at any rate we finally got our food and drink, and all was right with the world. When the plane arrived we boarded and headed for home. I couldn’t help but feeling like I was leaving an old friend behind. One that I’d slighted for far far to long (MBN & MWG know to what I speak). Being in St Louis with my wife made the past all seem real but real in a new perspective. I saw it for what it was, a window to my life that was merely for reflecting upon. I could no longer open that window, nor would I wish to revisit those days of my youth. For what purpose would it serve? I had a new lease on my past one gained from looking at my life through the eyes of my wife as days of old were revisited from the very friends and family who’d lived those days with me. Hearing stories about me from my dearest friends, and how they viewed me was honestly quite refreshing. I was such a bitter teen, so much anger bottled up inside, I am amazed I was able to overcome it. When we landed we took a cab home, dropped our bags and went to collect out dog. It was good to have her back, we drove home and again I was hit by a sense of claustrophobia being in traffic. Quickly regrouping and realizing that nothing was going to explode, and no shooting was going to erupt around me, I eased back into my seat and scratched the dogs ear. Reaching home, we collapsed and I fell immediately asleep, again mercifully, peacefully I slept.

We spent the weekend just catching up, we lounged around did some shopping saw a movie "Millions" I recommend it by the way. We saw Larry David in the theatre that was odd. In seeing him in person, I don’t think he wears make-up on camera; and the camera really does add 10lbs. That man is rail thin. After the movie lunch, and home. Time for a nap; as an aside, if I could go back in time I’d tell myself to sleep as much as humanly possible. Whenever, wherever I could. The one thing that is in shortest supply here in Iraq is sleep. That evening we were to have drinks with some close friends, MAJ K’s wife, Uncle Suthy, Nallyman, Mapel, Katie, Kama, Koster, Jody, J&A, and R. It was a nice gathering. Much beer was consumed, and good food with great friends. P.F. Changs Santa Monica is a great place to eat and the service is well, what service should be. However the best part of that meal was DJ and I didn’t pay!

The next part of the vacation was a couple of days in Cambria California. (It will be in the photo album) It was a nice get-a-way place. We were able to have the dog with us, and that was nice. We went walking, ate some good food, and toured the area. The trip was capped off with a nice walk along the coast. The sea air was refreshing and we just stared at the waves for what seemed like hours. I’d forgotten how tranquil the ocean is. I was thinking about things in my life I hadn’t remembered in over 2 decades. Sites, sounds, and smells all came flooding back into my mind like the waves crashing into the shore. I saw old, friends long forgotten, I saw playing in snowdrifts in Syracuse NY on a snow day. I remembered my first schoolboy crush, one Christine Lannassa, I remember giving her a remembrance of me before I moved to St Louis in 1982. I remembered my best friends from St Rose Of Lima, Chris Decker and Jason Solerno, memory is such a powerful and mysterious thing. It was nice to see those faces again if only in my minds eye. I decided I’d wasted enough time with echoes of a distant shore from my mind, I came back to the moment and DJ and I walked hand in hand which was nice as we were literally one of three couples as far as the eye could see on this stretch of land. The next morning we pack up the car, and headed back to Venice. Along the way we stopped in San luis Obispo to see a dear friend of mine, Mr. Incredible (see pics) City Councilman Brown. This gentle giant was in Officer Candidate School with me, however his calling was not in the military. He is a gentleman, and an honest to God honest and honorable politician. He was mad as hell when I said I wanted to run for congress. He wants me to be his Chief of Staff (CoS) when he runs for and wins a state Senate seat. This is hilarious to me for one reason if you can see the pic this is for your edification). The nan stands at 6 feet 6 inches tall. I am a 1 foot 2 inches shorter than he is. This giant wants little me to be his bull-dog CoS. There was an instance at OCS where he was the company commander and I was his First Sergeant, basically the exact set up he wants for his senate race. It was my fire and fury there that he saw in me what a Senator needs to be able to say but can’t, what he needs to be able to do but can’t. Well Mr Brown, I am that guy. So if Rep Waters beats me, I am your guy.

We had lunch with our next-door neighbors, it was nice, and they have been just great to DJ while I have been away. They have dogs, and they get along with our dog so it is nice to have people that DJ can socialize with. I got a call from MAJ K, telling me that our battalion had taken another serious casualty SGT Ferguson had been severely wounded and that my roommate LT Murph had been wounded while administering first aid to SGT Ferguson.

^{Dj and I were walking on the Promenade in Santa Monica when I took the call, my mood visibly changed for a moment and as I hung up she asked what had happened. I told her and then we got coffee. She asked if I was ok, and I said yes. It was just a reminder though of what I was going back to all to soon. Was I ok? Not really, but what the hell could I do about it. Only a matter of time and it would again be my reality. At that moment though I couldn’t have been any farther from the war, or caring about it. Save for the fact that my friends were still fighting and dying there. God how I hate this war, I hugged my wife and told her I loved her. The mood of my vacation changed at that point, I began to mentally get ready to go back to the death, the destruction, and the emptiness of it. I began to detach from home, and prepare once again for war.}

There were so many people I wanted to see while I was home, but time was totally against me. Mike G(of CA) I thank you for the book, it is indeed quite excellent. Josh (the infidel), thank you for the toys, and the book, it is equally excellent. These two books are probably the best I have read in well over a decade.

"Go tell the Spartans, stranger passing by, that here, obedient to their laws we lie."I wrote a post a few (seems like forever) months ago about Thermopylae. Many American’s out there claim to love America, to love Democracy. Yet do not support this war. I have said time and again that I hate this war, but here I sit in the middle of it discharging my duty. I continue to study the ancients, and as much as I love all things Roman, the Spartans have always always always fascinated me. There was nothing like them nor has there been anything to compare to them since. They were a class of warriors who never were afforded the chance to join in democracia, however they fought savagely and to the last man to protect an ideal they would never be allowed to benefit from.

Honour ante omnia…honor above all.

Forgive me I digress, quote from the "Incredibles",

"You caught me monologuing!"

Well, the remainder of my trip is between DJ and me, sorry. But it was time spent wisely, planning for the future and hoping for a chance to realize that future. On the day I was to leave I loaded my kit into the car and we headed for LAX. Saying goodbye to my wife well I’ll just say it was unpleasant, and when this deployment is over I hope to never have to do it again. The uniform is getting put on a hangar and hung in the back of my memory. That too is another matter. When I entered the terminal I went to the 1st class or "Ambassador" line and was told to go to the other line (the one that was a mile long), my BS meter pegged red nearly instantly. I asserted to the customer (HAHAHAHAHA!!!!!!!!) service rep, for American (YOU SUCK) Airlines that I was told by the military who has a contract with American (YOU SUCK) Airlines that service personnel were to be treated as 1st Class passengers, and not wait in any line. This particular customer (HAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!!!) service rep apparently did not receive the memo, and she directed me to the line. Not losing my bearing (this took huge amounts of discipline) I turned about and headed for the line. To my amazement though, when I got to the end of the line people began to part, and allow me to pass. As I passed each person, I stood a little taller, and a little prouder. Small children looked up at me with big eyes, and people patted me on the back, and others chose not to look at me all together. Some looked at me with contempt, but the days of spitting on soldiers are long since over. Although I hate being here, I love my country, and I have the utmost respect for this profession, despite the left-wing vomit spewing from the swear they call a mouth of how soldiers here are murdering scum, and how we are stealing from Iraqi people, and how we shouldn’t be here.

On one occasion while I was home I was discussing the war with a friend, and a man and his wife who were obviously eavesdropping decided to attempt to chime in, with his "educated" but not experienced opinion. My response to him was (since I promised Father Bob I wouldn’t curse anymore) shall we say at best impolite, at worst down right hostile. I glared at him for what seemed like a long moment, and asked him if this was because of being on the ground in Iraq, and developing a feeling about it or was it from some website he’d visited? When he didn’t answer I told him to shut the **** up, glaring at him again this time with all the disgust I could muster, and all the contempt I could project he slowly looked away as one might slowly back away from a rattlesnake. I winked at his wife, who sheepishly almost imperceptible smiled back at me. I had grown weary of the place so I motioned for the check and left. I don’t think I’ll go back there, the clientele left a stench on my clothes I can’t get out.

The flight back was unremarkable save for that 2 sleeping pills and some anti-jetlag pills helped me sleep for nearly 19 solid hours. I was recharged when I got off of the plane in Kuwait, but once I got to BIAP (B’dad Int’l Airport) and had to sit there for three days, I was as if not more tired then when I left. The elation I felt when I got home was now replaced with the exact polar opposite emotion of being back in Iraq. Once I got back to my unit, I was pleased at the reception I’d gotten from my comrades. Much had changed, much of it disturbing. Not entirely unexpected but disturbing nonetheless. MAJ K, told me that we were going out the next day, my stomach tightened and I felt the nausea coming back. All I could picture were the photos of our soldiers injured and killed in IED explosions. Welcome back to the war. I withdrew for the evening and headed back to my room. I got there and LT Murph (Irish) was there he had a huge burn on his calf; it was given the circumstances of his getting it a minor wound. It was good to talk to him about it, and I suspect he was glad to get it out there with a friend. I joked about his injury, and we called it the Kerry purple heart (bad enough to leave a mark, but not bad enough to leave an emotional scar). Murph really did a good thing; I think he probably saved SGT Furgeson’s life, his quick thinking, and leadership, and taking control of the situation rather than it taking control of him went a long way to getting the man back to some emergent care. I went to bed, missing my wife, hating being here, and feeling a little embarrassed for feeling sorry for myself. Sleep came finally, but it wasn’t the same.

I awoke and went to work, packed my gear, and got into a HMMWV and re-entered the food chain. We had a meeting with the PUK, (The Kurds) they are great people, dedicated to their people, and loyal Iraqi’s. Getting out of the HMMWV in their compound was a great relief, we’d made it without incident. Our meeting was as always productive, without confrontation, or stress. We ate lunch, drank chai (tea) and spoke of the future. One of the Kurds has a little girl who is simply a gem. She was mad at me and refused to look talk to me. She thought that I was my predecessor, and when her father came up to my vehicle and hugged me she was expecting to see the other soldier so when she saw it was me, well let’s just say I’ve seen that look on more than a few women’s faces. It would have been hilarious had it not been me. She wouldn’t even take chocolate from me. Next week, I’ll try a toy, I’ll keep my fingers crossed. On the way back to base nothing blew up, and when I got out of the vehicle the nausea had gone, sadly so did the euphoria I had when I was home. I’d been back physically but now mentally I was back in the war.

On a more somber note, many of you may have seen on Thunder6’s blog about the SGT Ferguson Trust Fund. If not here it is. Please if you donate, include a note stating that you wish your donation to go to the trust. SGT Ferguson is in stable but critical condition, his wife is now faced with maintaining the family home in CA, but traveling back and forth to Bethesda, taking care of the family and calling across the country for information about her husband. I am writing letters to the phone companies, and cellular companies to donate minutes to his wife but I won’t hold my breath for that. At any rate here is the information;

SGT James Matthew Ferguson Trust Fund

C/O Washington Mutual Bank

325 East F. Street Suite A

Oakdale, CA 95361

Well, my hand and heart grow weary so I’ll end this post until tomorrow.

RDC

"Go tell the Spartans, stranger passing by, that here, obedient to their laws we lie."

Comments

[Boquisucio]

I just want to thank-you for your, observations. It brings a personal voice to the good work that we as a nation are doing in that part of the world. Godspeed.

Five years ago, I took my bride to up Route 1, and hit Santa Barbara, San Luis Obispo,Cambria & San Simeon. Your comments on Cambria transported me back to that shore, and the tranquil power that the ocean has on one's soul.

[AFSister]

I'm glad you didn't disclose *all* of the details of your time with DJ...LOL!

I hope you don't get too used to patrol, but you do get over the naseau it causes. That can't be good.

Be sure to keep us updated on the political run, ok?

[Laurie]

I don't remember how I came across your site... but thank you!

"If there is no struggle, there is no progress. Those who profess to favor freedom, and deprecate agitation, are men who want crops without plowing up the ground, they want rain without thunder and lightning."

- Frederick Douglas

[DJ]

It was good to relive some of these moments with you Tdinppqz. We will live through this. DJ