Regurgitations IV

[Editorial note: This is the droid that I was looking for, my last installment of emails sent to select friends and family from Iraq. I apologize for the delay; I wrote this draft on November 10, and have updated it with the few emails I sent after that.]

Dylan vs. Momzilla! And other happenings.

For those who read the blog and receive the emails, yes, I have fixed some of my more egregious typos here. I also added in the lines that were inexplicably lost from the end of "Saddam's Revenge."

Previously.

Harvest Fruit Medley! My favorite!
Monday, October 27, 2008 16:31

After trading several emails titled "The USO loves me, even if you don't," I have provisionally decided to trust my mother again. Two packages arrived from her today. (And one from the Costellos. Tell them thanks.)

I say provisionally, because I have not decided yet how to regard the presence of a certain food clearly intended as a joke. On the other hand, this is the woman who keeps asking me if I want salad at every dinner despite my streak of 523 actions in the anti-affirmative (i.e., "no"), so perhaps she was serious. Seriously delusional.

Now that I know the dark conspiracy of mom, apple pie, and the brigade mail platoon is not out to get me, I remind you all that my birthday is November 14th. Packages and cards sent immediately will probably reach me in time, or soon enough after. That address again:

2LT Dylan LASTNAME
Team Demon Dog (PB H*well)
FOB Warrior, APO AE 09338

I have been asked by some what I actually want to receive out here. Now that we have washers of a sort installed, laundry soap is actually the most precious commodity. I think I owe one of my specialists four cartons of cigarettes or the equivalent for the double scoop I borrowed from him. Random cheap "classic" DVDs are also worthwhile: I was amused to get Spaceballs in my surprise box today, and someone with surprisingly good and unlikely taste put "Midnight Run" up on the big screen the other night.

As far as food goes, random chocolate or potato chip type stuff would be welcome, but instead of name specific items that might be repeated too often, I'd rather have variety and the opportunity to shake my head over your poor but well intended culinary choices. I may be stuck in Iraq for a year, but at least I can take comfort in the fact that I'm not the kind of person who would normally choose to eat Chex Mix. Or, god help me, Harvest Fruit Medley.

(Seriously, Mom of the Year.)

Mom responded with reply-all:

Okay, Dylan, I just remembered what the hell the harvest fruit medley is.

When I read your email I thought I had sent you some random grocery store package of dried fruit, which by the way, I could not remember sending (because I know you hate dried fruit). So, I went back to look at my customs receipts and then EUREKA! I remembered that I had sent you a package of candy corn with those cute little candy pumpkins and Indian candy corn, which by the way, I ALWAYS bought those and had them in a candy dish at Halloween for whoever wanted them.

I cannot believe that (1) you have such feelings of disdain for them (2) you can't barter them for something of equal or greater value and (3) you should be totally grateful to have a mother who tries to bring a little bit of the holidays to you in BFE!!! (As I am sure you are not carving jack-o-lanterns and making costumes right now!) So, when you get the box with the scarecrow, don't EVEN give me any shit about that! I think you should have a little bit of home and childhood memories of holidays past, even if they were traumatic! To this day, Julia still has nightmares about those frigging marshmallow Peeps at Easter!

So, in conclusion, I think the harvest fruit medley was timely and traditional. Somewhere in your unit is a soldier who is cursing his mother for not sending him the candy corn harvest fruit medley! Find him and REGIFT! You will be a better person for it. I love you more than the USO does. Afte rall, they won't be sending you a scarecrow!

Love, Mom

Counter-battery:

Re: Harvest Fruit Medley! My favorite!
Tuesday, October 28, 2008 21:19

Mommy Dearest:

I am regifting the Harvest Fruit Medley. To you. When I come home on mid-tour leave in May. But don't worry, it will be no more inedible then than it is today, because it most certainly IS random dried fruit, not traditional Halloween candy, unless banana slices are a previously unknown Celtic treat that unexpectedly became spooky and terrifying to anyone but me. But I thank you for your strange contribution, as it has entertained me greatly. Perhaps we should blame the Ogre for sabotage?

In answer to your previous email: The only problem with Chex Mix is that it contains Chex and is a mix. I happen to like steak, chocolate ice cream, and Dr. Pepper, but that time I mixed them all up in the blender was not one of my prouder moments.

I look forward both to your scarecrow and the alleged Halloween candy. One of my soldiers received Halloween decorations over a week ago, and he and his roommates have been in the forefront of mocking my glum face after every previous mail delivery. Hopefully the 'crow comes with a kung-fu grip so I can turn it loose to wreak my revenge.

This is almost as much fun as publishing break-up emails. I'd better go delete one of my old gmail accounts before I give into temptation.

Love,
Dylan

We return to our regularly scheduled emails:

The sound of silence
Sunday, November 2, 2008 23:16

Much of my life here is defined by noises, both real and metaphorical.

On the latter front, enemy activity around here is relatively quiet. In every direction around us our sister companies are coping with guys tossing armor piercing grenades at their vehicles and setting several road side bombs a week (so far with no casualties in our battalion), but, except for a couple of bombs safely found and cleared this week, very little has happened in our area of operations.

Then there are the real noises. Like Foghat.

Yes, Foghat. As in the band. My room has a glass window that divides it from our Morale, Welfare, and Recreation (MWR) room. A plywood panel that blocks about 0.05% of the noise, an obscuring cloth, and three feet of space separate it and my head from a 36" flat screen TV and an Xbox.

I can handle the guys who blow shit up on Call of Duty 4 at midnight. They listen when I explain matters, and have even started turning it down on their own initiative as it gets later. But the fools who get off guard duty at 4 a.m. and start playing terrible songs on Guitar Hero have already failed at life before I can even stagger from bed, around three corners, and make dire threats.

As my roommate noted: "If sound travels through it, I'm pretty sure 9mm rounds will, too." An excellent point, but maybe we should try a sign first.

Bad rock anthems aren't the only sounds around here that get my pulse pounding. Over a week ago some idiot threw a box of ammunition, including a 40mm grenade launcher round, onto our trash pile. Which. We. Burn. Regularly. I just barely avoided crashing into my commander and our most permanently angry sergeant when I rushed outside to see what the hell was going on.

We had a similar recurrence last night, when around 1:30 a.m. a moderately large boom sounded outside. Of the surprisingly large number of people still awake who crushed into the command post afterwards, most guessed gunshot, while I voted small explosion, although I couldn't see how a grenade got lobbed over the wall, and it certainly wasn't a mortar.

My final guess was that a tower guard negligently fired a single shot on his M240B medium machine gun, which just might have been loud enough. I don't blame him for lying about it; the truth that he was trying to stroke out the fake chords to "Slow Ride" on his trigger guard so his fingers would be limber for my unwanted wake up call in a few hours might have finally led me to test the bullet resistant qualities of plywood.

* * *

Wail to the chief
Thursday, November 6, 2008 9:55

I have been consistently amazed how little political commentary I hear in the Army. As arguably the most racially egalitarian organization in the United States but with a pretty strong misogynistic streak, I heard a moderate amount of Hillary hate during the primaries, but almost nothing about the presidential election. Most yesterday professed indifference, or would have if they'd said anything at all.

Most. One of our mechanics said with snide sincerity something about having a Muslim for president. Our (black) First Sergeant explained that Obama is a Christian, as you'd know if you followed the Reverend Wright racist whacko religious inspiration scandal. I explained that Obama is a supremely cynical atheist opportunist who found it politically opportune to join a radical Christian church that met his political/social/emotional needs until it was no longer convenient.

[paragraph deleted]

As usual, the Onion had the best post-election analysis: "Black Man Given Nation's Worst Job."

http://www.theonion.com/content/news_briefs/black_man_given_nations

I also enjoyed the following election day analysis from Fafblog, my favorite hilarious source of left wing satire. I recommend reading the whole thing; the photo and caption are particularly priceless.

http://fafblog.blogspot.com/2008/11/fafblog-election-day-special-know-your.html

Fafblog Election Day Special! Know Your Swing States

Well it's sure been a whirlwind two-and-a-half years, but election day's already here! Before Campaign '08 finally wraps up let's stop and take a last look at the swing states we'll be hearin about all night long.

IRAQ
Population: 29 million
Big issues: gas prices, the economy, explosion reform
Major swing demographics: Joe the insurgent, Joe the government-employed death squad member, Joe the sad bandaged child with one remaining limb
Electoral votes: 0
Leaning? maybe Nader

AFGHANISTAN
Population: 31 million
Big issues: the environment (curious rain of missiles and bullets, possibly linked to human activity)
Major swing demographics: poppy farmers, wedding survivors, Reagan Taliban
Electoral votes: 0
Leaning? might write in Ron Paul

Fafblog's McCain Interview was brilliant, too.

http://fafblog.blogspot.com/2008/11/fafblog-interviews-john-mccain.html

FB: Well you make a pretty convincing case, John McCain, but why shouldn't I vote for a president who has even more experience being tortured, like Congressman Sheikh Mohammed or Senator Jesus or that guy who gets his head exploded at the beginning of Scanners?
MCCAIN: Because I know the problems Americans are going through right now. The American people are angry, my friends. They're hurt. They've been beaten by their captors for five and a half years. And they need a leader who's willing to stop federal tax dollars from going to research harbor seal DNA.
FB: We might lose our jobs and we might lose our homes and we might have to sell our youngest, weakest children to black market organ scavengers for a cardboard box and a can of refried beans, but we'll always be safe in the knowledge that our taxes aren't going to further our understanding of marine biology.
MCCAIN: Oh, and that's just the tip of the iceberg, my friends. Do you realize that federal earmarks last year directed literally thousands of your tax dollars to children's hospitals? Think about that now! Hospitals! For children!
FB: Now look John McCain, everybody wants to shut down children's hospitals, but how're you really gonna do it what with all the Washington gridlock and the Beltway infighting and the fatcat lobbyists from Big Children? I mean Ronald Reagan promised us he'd destroy the government and twenty years later we're still stuck with a functioning public sewage system.

I will never vote in my life.

* * *

Saddam's revenge
Tuesday, November 11, 2008 8:28

It often seems like my main function around here is comic relief and morale boosting. On the latter front, for example, last night I used the Army's multibillion dollar integrated vehicle tracking and communications system to send a text message to our platoon that is out roughing it for a couple of nights. I felt it was important for them to know that they'd missed a dinner of steak, crab legs, and fried shrimp; by inspiring their hatred of me the men can more easily forget the discomforts of deployment.

Mission accomplished. The platoon sergeant sent back a text message calling our cook some pretty inventive names, presumably for his menu schedule, and then got on the radio to tell everyone in the command post to do pushups until he gets back. My name was apparently mentioned as well, but the exact instructions on what I should stick where were rendered incomprehensible by a combination of spittle and static. I slept soundly last night in the knowledge that the warm glow of anger would keep him comfortable through the cold night.

But sometimes I'm funny, too, although not always for reasons I myself understand. One of the biggest laugh getters was my observation that Iraq is pretty much indistinguishable from the seedier parts of Mexico. Every unhappy family may be unhappy in its own way, but every crappy country appears to be crappy for pretty much the same reasons. Cinder block houses, trash in the street, tacky color schemes (the big shot in the nicest town we oversee lives in a huge house of by American standards average quality that is painted an alarming pink), and mobs of kids trying to hustle you. Although, I confess I do prefer "mister, give me" to "chiclet?"

The local food, which I've eaten on three trips to attend local district council meetings, is in quality and aesthetics reminiscent of real Mexican food I've had. The massive slabs of bread even resemble tortillas, albeit shot full of steroids after being cross-bred (not "bread," Claire) with a 21" pizza. Seriously, I've thought about bringing a piece of bread home with me to use as a blanket.

In addition to the standbys of rice, chickpeas, and hummus, they've given me chicken, lamb, some sort of huge grouper like fish from the Tigris river, and what one of my interpreters assured my commander and I with good cheer was "just meat." We tried it and agreed that it did indeed taste like just meat, although it looked vaguely beefish. "Just meat" is now what I call every particularly bad or overcooked piece of animal flesh our cooks inflict on us.

The most straightforward Mexican comparison, however, is the commonality of gastrointestinal difficulties one may suffer from eating the food and drinking the water. The bitching and moaning about this from everyone around me in the first couple of weeks was disgraceful. In my role as morale booster I let them know it. In between dashes to the toilets they all assured me I'd suffer the same if I kept eating the food.

"I don't think you appreciate the squalor and filth I inhabited in Colorado Springs. My system can handle anything!" Especially steak and crab legs.

* * *

I'll be home for Christmas
Friday, November 21, 2008 11:47

I get 15 days of leave during my tour in Iraq. I requested June, was given May, was then switched to January, and then a week ago was told I was going in December. Tonight I learned I begin the trip back on December 10. I'll probably hit the US on the 12th or 13th; whenever I arrive, I don't get on a plane back to Iraq until 15 days later.

I know where I'll be on December 25th, and one or two other locations in TX I'll be visiting, but I'm open to invitations to travel anywhere else. I'm willing to do one cross country plane ticket. Let the bidding begin!

* * *

All quiet on the northern front
Friday, December 5, 2008 2:52

I haven't written in a while because there's not much to say.

As I had to explain to our battalion intelligence officer, who also feels I don't send enough reports, nothing of consequence ever seems to happen here. There are people occasionally shooting and throwing grenades at soldiers in our battalion, but none in our company area. There are roadside bombs in our company area that are found or explode weekly, but always involving our engineers who are looking for them or our supply guys bringing me seven new boxes of stuff (the same intel officer asked about rumors I was receiving an absurd number of packages in the mail).

Since the first week my company has had zero direct enemy contact. They're out there, but they aren't, so far, very effective.

Our focus is on civil stuff. The platoons drive around our attached civil affairs team to do assessments of utilities and infrastructure projects that the Iraqi government may want to undertake, and our company commander "mentors" a couple of sub-district councils, sort of like small county governments.

As the extra officer without a platoon, I'm supposed to be doing intelligence work, tracking bad guys and coordinating information flow. Except there aren't many bad guys, they aren't up to much, with the new Status of Forces Agreement and the political situation leading up to it we're fairly circumscribed in what we can do about them without Iraqi government pre-approval, and for a month [something happened which made my job difficult but doesn't need to be on a blog].

I will gladly vote myself the most expendable officer in the battalion. It's probably a good thing that I'm going on leave early.

It's an even better thing that I learned a week ago that they're moving many of the lieutenants around to new jobs. One of the primary reasons is to get the fire support officers some platoon leader experience. Probably in February I'll be put in charge of a tank platoon that doesn't have any tanks, to lead them out on these civil affairs and information gathering missions. It will almost certainly also involve a new company, in a new area, on either a somewhat better or much worse base. I may be the only LT in the entire battalion who is mostly happy about the change.

But before I know the details I'll be back home for 15 days. I should land in the US somewhere in the 12-14 December time frame. I'll reactivate my cell phone and get back in touch with all of you. We have had three phones out here, but the CST +9 time difference and total lack of any privacy when talking has made me reluctant to use them.

Let the record show that four hours after sending that last email, a patrol was hit by a bomb for the first time. No casualties, no damage.

I have a gift.