DIGIJOURNAL 015--30 MAR 2007

DATELINE: 30MAR07 LOGISTICAL SUPPORT AREA ANACONDA

“The only statistics you can trust are those you falsify yourself.” --Winston Churchill
“Idealism increases in direct proportion to one’s distance from the problem.” --John Galsworthy

Dear Friends,

I have continued to violate the first rule of blogging—keep your site updated (EDITOR'S NOTE: and it hasn't been entirely his fault; I've been slow to post what he has written due to Uncle Sam's requirement that I pay him mo' money by 15 Apr). I have been running, and flying, all over Iraq visiting your loved ones. I even had a chance to spend a couple of days with Dragoon (D Co.) up at Brasfield-Mora. They are well. I just opened and sorted numerous boxes this morning, and my hope is to get my correspondence up to date. Inshallah. Thank you for keeping us in your prayers.

IRONY
During my travels, I tend to make note of the New Mexicans (where I am from) I encounter. While our state has grown (we are the big square state between Texas and Arizona, we do not have an embassy, and we use the dollar), we are still few in number. Keeping track of NMs does have its hazards, like discovering one of our older lieutenants graduated from Valley High School in Albuquerque…ten years before I graduated from HS. Two of our soldiers in Chaos (C Co.) are Navajo Indians, one is from Gallup (we have three Navajo in our battalion, Yah-ta-hey!).

I looked up but could not grasp the verbal definition of irony, so here is my word picture: SPC E, a Navajo, wearing a 1st Cavalry patch. Now 1st Cav is cool, but it was initially formed to fight the Indians. Now, I am not going to go down the politically correct trail, but SPC E and I did have a good laugh. He shared that last time he was home he bumped into one of his friends at the mall. He was in uniform, and she asked him what unit he was in. She shriveled up her nose in disapproval when he told her. He shrugged and said to her to think of it as the “horsie” division. Excellent: horsie division. The conversation then turned to talk about green chile, sandpaintings, taking tourists for all their worth, genuine tribal dances, fry bread, and more reminiscences about “back in the day.”

The other image of irony is the fact that we, the Army, have to buy sand…in a desert. The truth is that one needs a particular kind of sand to make the most effective sandbags, but it is still ironic.

TRIP TO DRAGOON
Had the opportunity last week to travel to Brasfield-Mora to see D Co. What an interesting trip.

The helicopter (Blackhawk) trip up was a non-event except for the flirting between door gunner and Public Affairs NCO. To begin with, I do not like flying…in anything. While I am not afraid of heights, I am afraid of the reality that I am not in control of my destiny, especially when I do fly. It is for this reason that I did not like airborne school (although I was afraid to admit it), why I went mechanized, and why, knowing God’s sense of humor, my next unit will probably be on jump-status (since I am airborne, albeit five jump chump category, qualified). All I can think of once we our airborne is how gravity is so unforgiving, so I take occasions of my flight as prayer opportunities to grow my faith. After the routine take off, we did something different. This is no big secret, but we tend to fly close and fast to the ground, which is why I noticed when we climbed to five thousand feet after wheels up. Reaching final altitude, we hovered for a couple of minutes (with me telling myself that it was probably an optical illusion and that the ponderous pace from my perspective was in reality quick at ground level) then went nose down and dove. Adding to all this fun was my position next to the right door gunner (in a Blackhawk there are two), placing me in close proximity to the window, allowing me to feel the rushing air next to my face as well as to have a clear view of the approaching earth. The rapid descent reminded me that I had forgotten to eat breakfast, which was a good thing. We did level off close to the ground, and I turned my head to the left in time to see the left door gunner flirting with the PAO NCO. He had her plugged into the intercom, and I am sure he was laying on the charm (look at me, door gunner guy, I am so dangerous). Ladies, I do not seek your sympathy, but instead I want to acknowledge the Scripture “vengeance is mine saith the Lord.” I consider it justice received for all the times (I, of course, never did this) that some loathsome male has given you continued, unwanted attention after your numerous hints to him to drop dead.

After a day’s stay at Speicher, saying hello to SFC B (who is doing an excellent job), we left for Warhorse. This is the FOB outside of the city of Baqoubah, which, for all the wrong reasons, has been in the news. The soldiers there are doing a great job, but the mood is somber. They have taken many casualties. I did get to say hello to some of my fellow chaplains, who are also doing a great job as well. The next day…on to FOB Brasfield-Mora for two days with Dragoon.

The Dragoons are doing exceptionally well, despite the fact that they are tankers (armor guys used to riding, well, tanks to the field) attached to the light-fighting 2-505th of the 82nd Airborne. The 2-505th have treated D Co. very well, are good guys, and are very thankful for D. We did much visitation, and I took many pictures. The highlight picture was the 0200 liftoff of the Chinook helicopters loaded with D Co. doing an airmobile insertion. They even had Eddie the wonderdog (bomb-sniffer) with them. The mission was a success, and everyone made it back safe. The added trip-bonus was 1SG Q and I (combined age of 79) defeating SGT J and SPC F (combined age of 52) in two on two hoops, thus proving that age and treachery will always overcome youth and ability. As FOBs go, B-M is much improved (it was a dump last time, OIF II, I was here). D Co. is slowly trying to replace the 82nd color scheme (red and blue) by painting everything either red and white (colors of Cav) or black and gold (colors of 1st Cav). I wish I could get out and see them more often.

SOCCER WITH INTERPRETERS
My spirit is willing, but my flesh is weak. I played soccer with the interpreters and a couple of our soldiers a few weeks ago while I was at Patrol Base O’Ryan. I am sure it looked funny to 1SG F when he saw me fall on my face trying to wow my opponents with my moves. I can still picture all the things I used to do in high school, but my body no longer follows my commands. I am not fleet of foot, but I more than make up for it in body checking, pushing, and fouling…unintentionally. While it did occur to me that CSM N would literally give birth to a small mammal if he found out I blew my knee out playing soccer (my wife would roll her eyes, nonplussed), I soon forgot the consequences of my foolishness. It was great. It felt like prayer. Reminded me of the scene in Chariots of Fire where the future missionary and English 200- and 100-yard-dash Olympic competitor, Eric Lidell, was chided by his sister for running too much instead of focusing on his theological studies. He stated that God had made him to serve, but He had also made him fast. Well, I am not fast, but soccer is sublime when played. And, for a moment, as I played with the Iraqis, the war no longer seemed like an ever present reality, haunting every moment. I did not have to worry about their hidden intentions, plots, or schemes, and instead could focus on making a pass, heading a ball, and running down a forward (literally). Well, I paid for it the next day…the next three days. I coped by ingesting large quantities of infantryman’s candy (ibuprofen) and pretending that my twenty year high school reunion was not this summer. I can almost hear my wife rolling her eyes as she reads this.

PRAYER BEFORE BUBs
One of the honors that I feel I receive for serving with such fine people is that I do get to close our Battalion Update Briefings with a short prayer. I have included some of my latest below. My posting them is really for the families back at home to get an idea of some of what is on our hearts and minds throughout the day. I used to say them as they came to me, but I felt led to write down something more coherent.

As far as prayer goes, I am not going to get into the fact that public prayer has been part of the public square since before Jeffferson even began to think about the Constitution, nor will I digress into the entire church and state thing. I like to remind folks who want to codify partisan (key word being partisan) prayer into the public record that there are places where my family’s particular faith outlook would be considered in the minority, and I would not want someone else’s particular spiritual perspective (including militant atheists, keyword being militant) foisted upon my children. Nor do I think, like the Boston newspaper columnist Ellen Goodman and the other usual suspects have claimed, that our founders ever believed or intended for this to be a secular nation.

Recently there has been much ado about a Navy chaplain claiming that his chain of command attempted to limit his being able to pray in the name of Jesus. He made it sound as if there was some great purge underway of Christian chaplains from the Navy. I do not know about the Navy, and, although I was not physically there, I do know some of the specifics. This chaplain decided that it would be appropriate, during the Navy’s version of a Memorial Ceremony, a mandatory formation, to deliver a very pro-Christian, call-to-question-one’s-salvation type of message. Now, as a civilian pastor, I think that one should be able (unless you are a hate-mongering, Saudi trained Wahhabist [then you should be deported], or a bigoted, racist-spreading polemicist [see Aryan Nation, Rev. Phelps, Nation of Islam, et al] then you should be ostracized and monitored) to preach according to personal dictates, including political issues (with my personal opinion being that politics and the pulpit are usually not a good match). As a chaplain in my non-mandatory Christian services, I will adhere to my evangelical roots. However, Memorial Ceremonies are mandatory, are for the soldiers attending, and are not rooted in a religious service. Therefore, chaplains or anyone else speaking should refrain from making personal religious testimonies. The Navy chaplain was asking to be looked at, chose his own hill to die on, and then subsequently protested in front of the White House…in uniform.

Some may howl at his persecution and my statements, but first let me suggest that we ask this question: why do we have chaplains in the first place? Aside from ensuring religious freedom and access, aside from all the legalese, the chaplain is present; I am here, as a witness to God’s undying love for all our soldiers. Dogma is important, but no soldier ever has told himself, before running in the face of death and destruction, “I am not going to go save my buddy because he is not (fill in particular faith, gender, race, class, sexuality, etc.).” Why would a chaplain ever (intentionally) say something hurtful to a soldier, especially if the soldier was forced to listen?

This particular chaplain did not and does not get it. The longer I see their raw courage and unselfishness, the less I am inclined to see any of our soldiers, no matter what they believe, what they have done, and who they are, in other than in a faithful and awe-inspiring light.

I will share this story before I list two of the prayers. After I was accepted to seminary but before I left active duty (back in the horse drawn days I was an FA officer…serving under Napoleon), my battalion commander asked me to pray before a dining in. Somewhat surprised, I said a short grace and closed with “in Jesus name” like I usually did at church. Afterwards, in a non-threatening way, my Battalion S3—a man I greatly respected and admired—reminded me that not all are Christian (he is Jewish). I have never forgotten how ashamed I was that I might have offended or hurt him (in actuality, I did neither). But I have never forgotten his words.

So no matter what you or your soldier believes, know that his chaplain never forgets to pray for him (and you). And I will never intentionally put him in a place to ever feel ashamed for who he is, what he believes, or where he is from.

Protect Our Soldiers
Lord,
Protect our soldiers from evil
Keep their actions safe
Give their leaders wisdom
Free their families from anxiety
And use them to bring peace to this land. Amen.

Thank You for Courage
Lord,
We give You thanks for the courage of our soldiers
We ask that You give us ears to listen to one another
Patience with the frustrations of the deployment
Grant hope to our families back at home
And continue to watch over our words and deeds
Protecting us from evil both within and outside the wire. Amen.

Gratia et Veritas
Warhorse Archangel