DIGIJOURNAL 005--25 NOV 2006

DATELINE: 25NOV06 PB PALIWODA

Dear Friends,

Much has happened since my last entry, so much in fact that I do not know how to put it all together. In order to make it simple for everyone, I will try to list things, in no particular order, in bullet format.

Thanksgiving
We had a wonderful Thanksgiving at Patrol Base (PB) Paliwoda. It was great for two reasons: (1) our cooks and not contractors made turkey, ribs, steak, ham, greens, green beans, shrimp cocktail, fried shrimp, pies, ice cream, mac and cheese, mashed potatoes, yams, stuffing, gravy, bread, and other things I cannot remember (2) we spent it with our other family, our Army family. I never get too down when I spend an important holiday away from home. I have spent so many away from my family that I have lost count, but no one should feel sorry for me. I get my motivation from watching how other soldiers come together to help one another out. There is a long-standing tradition that the officers and senior enlisted serve the troops on special days. Myself, the commander (LTC Kevin Dunlop aka “The Long Man”), and the S3 (MAJ James Throckmorton) served. I had the stuffing, mashed potatoes, and gravy, which few soldiers were taking. I assured them that they contained zero calories and carbs, and then I shamed their sense of patriotism for not having stuffing. As always, they found it rather easy to blow off the chaplain. I had fun, got a few laughs, and gained more esteem for our cooks. The other nice thing about Thanksgiving is that everyone was an American for a day. We invited our Iraqi Army counterparts, our interpreters, and our local shop owner to join us. They loved the food, although they were hesitant at first. At least I was able to get them to eat the stuffing.

Christmas Trees
I am tracking that three full-size Christmas trees are on the way for our soldiers. If anyone would like to speak for any more, we could use four more full-size trees with the lights and decorations. We have a Special Forces detachment that lives on our base. They are out of Florida, and I told them that I would try to get them a tree. We have a Civil Affairs detachment that lives near us, a military training team out of Arkansas that works with the Iraqi Army, and our First Sergeant would like a tree to put outside in the common areas. I know it is asking for a great deal, but if someone feels motivated it would be greatly appreciated.

NYFD
Our Civil Affairs detachment is out of NYC. CPT Anthony Coppola is in charge. He is a great guy and a Fordham grad. He also gets the sympathy vote for being one month away from ever being recalled again when Uncle Sugar called him up, putting his life and wedding on hold. He is obnoxious, hilarious, professional, and a great guy to have around. He told me that DeWitt Clinton High School (where my Dad went) is right across from Fordham. (Dad, is that correct?) The team’s most fascinating member is SGT Cummins, a 43 year old Irishman who came to NYC when he was 22. SGT Cummins has been a member of the NYFD for eleven years, and he was there when the Towers went down. He lost 17 guys from his firehouse, and the only reason he did not perish was that he stopped at the firehouse before heading downtown. He wanted to be in Iraq to help the people, which says a great deal about him and the community that produced him. I sat for four hours, drinking tea, listening to his stories. He is like Forrest Gump--he has met everyone and done everything.

IEDed
I would define the trifecta of combat experience over here like this: receiving direct fire (i.e. gunfire), indirect fire (mortars), and an Improvised Explosive Device. During my last tour, fortunately, I neither encountered an IED attack nor received direct fire, and, while I was not the most traveled guy in the battalion, I did get out quite a bit. I did witness the impact of an incoming mortar attack. The closest blast was 250 meters away, thus, with the effective blast radius of a mortar usually being fifty meters, I was not in any great danger. Paul and I get out a great deal because we have soldiers in three different locations. We try to make visits every week. During our last trip down to LSA Anaconda, a terrorist detonated an IED between the vehicle in front of us and our vehicle. Again, we were blessed, because no one was hurt and no vehicle incurred damage. We responded according to our training, and the combat patrol leadership did a good job of doing the right things. The entire thing was rather surreal. The bomb (probably a mortar shell) left a five foot crater in the road. My prayer is that I do not complete the trifecta during this tour.

Boxes and More Boxes
Thank you, thank you, and thank you to all who have been sending us stuff. We have been able to get it distributed to our soldiers. I am taking pictures, but you should see the faces of our guys when I come around. Pretty soon they are going to start calling me Santa. I always stress that the stuff is not because of me but because of you. What really touches them is that they have not been forgotten, no matter what they read or hear in the news.

Chaplain Kamal
Two weeks ago I had the opportunity to meet my counterpart in the Iraqi Army, CH Kamal. He is the only chaplain in the Iraqi Army. We sat down to chai tea (which I could drink forever) and discussed things that we could do together in our area. He is a Shia, and we talked about that as well. While some in the media may paint a picture of the Shia and Sunni at each other’s throats, the truth is somewhat more complex. CH Kamal said that the two groups have lived peacefully side by side for decades. They have intermarried and work in the same places. Some even worship in the same mosques together. This internecine warfare is really a glorified land and power grab that has little to do with religion (see Northern Ireland). The outside insurgents want to stir up trouble between the communities. Our job is to prevent that from happening while showing the Iraqis how they can protect themselves. I look forward to more chats with him and the possibility of he and I doing some local service projects together.

Lunch with the "Long Man"
Our battalion commander is 6’4” tall. When he stands next to the Iraqis, he looks like a giant, and, because of this, they have begun to refer to him as “The Long Man.” Two weeks ago I volunteered Paul and me for a combat patrol into the city of Balad, a primarily Shia city very friendly to us. When we arrived, Warhorse 6 (WH6 is the radio call sign for our commander) drafted me to be his “aide” so I could jump in with him on the lunch. We were at the radio station where he delivered his weekly address. I had taken off my cross, trying to look captain-ish, but WH6 kept referring to me as “chaplain,” blowing my cover. After the address and the obligatory meet and greet with the local city council, we sat down for a huge, 10 dish, home-made Iraqi meal. I have mentioned in previous letters about how hospitable the Iraqis can be. I also mentioned the customs of eating out of a communal dish, washing your hands after you eat, and breaking apart your neighbor’s food and handing it to them. Well, since I was still recovering from the food poisoning I contracted the last time I ate (it was the fresh vegetables washed in Iraqi water), I tried to slip away, but the Long Man snagged me. We sat down, and I tried to remember the lag time between eating and the gastrointestinal nightmare that inevitably follows, hoping I would get back in time to take some Imodium (by the way, whoever invented the stuff should get the Noble Prize). The problem with me is that I love Middle Eastern food, and these dished were prepared by the councilmen’s wives. They did something unusual in that they gave us spoons. As I was sitting there eating away, contented by my lot in life, the Long Man leaned over and gave me the instructions that would make this meal an even more interesting, dynamic experience. For you see, I am very left handed when it comes to eating, and I eat left handed, but in Arab culture the left hand is the unclean hand (I leave it to your imagination in the land of no toilet paper how that appendage received its designation). If you eat communally, the left hand is a no-no. So in one simple movement of the spoon from my left hand to my right, I went from a dexterous, suave, “European” style foodie to my two year old son. As I attempted to use my right hand, I found myself dribbling rice all over the place. The only solution I could come up with was to lift the spoon, hold it steady, and then move my whole head towards the spoon to take a bite. While our hosts were gracious, I am sure they thought, in the words of my Command Sergeant Major, that I “had done lost my mind.” After the meal, we adjourned for chai tea, which I drank while ignoring the rumblings in my stomach, and I watched WH6 “dance like a butterfly and sting like a bee” while he spoke with the council. After a few hours, we returned to base (and in time for Mr. IM), and I watched Paul and he watched me, expecting me to disintegrate into a whimpering pile of jelly, wanting my blankie and my mommie. I must say that I enjoyed the afternoon, and I am very fortunate to have a commander who includes me in his activities and, more importantly, supports my ministry.

Signing Off
Well, I have spent too much time already writing this. I should be working on my sermon. You are too gracious for reading all my blab and rant. Please keep our soldiers and the Iraqi people in your prayers. They are doing great things. And we thank you for your support.

Gratia et Veritas
Warhorse Archangel