Names have been changed to protect the egos of the guilty.

Hi family-
I thought I'd try writing an entry today instead of just dropping in comments. I just finished reading today's entry on a weblog from a young Iraqi woman who isn't as famous as "the Baghdad Blogger," but I think she's more interesting. Anyway. Go read this and see if you don't get angry.

I'd like to think that these people aren't being interrogated by soldiers. I'd really like to think that they're being questioned by civilian contractors. It just pisses me off that we still have people who call themselves HUMINTers who take the word of one source and send off a platoon to go kick in doors. I've read too many stories like this to doubt their credibility: guy holds grudge, guy lies to soldiers, neighbor goes to prison, guy laughs and tells buddies how easy it is to get the Americans to do what he wants.

What's worse is that they aren't treated in a way that will allow us to make up lost ground when (as it often does) it turns out they were arrested by mistake. Interrogations are not supposed to be run the way these chowderheads are running them. Prisoner abuse doesn't happen in a vacuum--the command climate must be encouraging the behavior, either implicitly or explicitly. Most likely though, the encouragement is implicit, because Intel officers are nothing if they aren't concerned with covering their own asses and forgetting their soldiers'.

Well, life over here is getting peachier by the minute. It seems that the Army-wide mentality of laziness-driven mass punishment is always strongest right after you deploy. It's like some genetic flaw that says, "they must be disciplined! If one person is stupid and wears a towel to the shower, soon they'll all be running around naked! Gasp! Horrors! Must discipline..."

I imagine SGMs sitting in their rooms at night twitching and muttering to themselves after seeing all the slacker soldiers who just don't "get it". I feel pity more than anything at their obvious insecurity and need to compensate with brutishness.

In other news, we had a Secretary of Some Branch of the services visit. (I can't specify which branch because I guess being honest is the same as being disrespectful, so I have to be vague.) We all got our little, "Hi, I'm soldier nobody you could care less about, and this is what I do," speeches ready.

In he came, with all the division officers suctioned to his @&%. Then he did one of the rudest things I've been treated to in 8 yrs. of service: he asked me a question, then promptly turned himself 180 degrees, spoke with the officers, said goodbye to them, and never waited for my answer.

Away he walked, his rump pointed at me, as if to say, "hop on, there's still room for one more." I guess this is how they show we matter. Most of them at least try to pretend they give a damn. This guy showed his @&% to everyone that wasn't an officer. It made us all truly proud.

Enough about them. I don't have the time or space to detail all the asinine, foolish, downright ignorant crap these self-absorbed, mostly jobless, ego maniacs force soldiers to endure. If the army wants to save money, it just needs to thin the herd of bureaucrats floating like scum on the surface.

The soldiers here, even the ones I might not be overly fond of, amaze me with their ability to absorb the abuse and still get their jobs done. They bitch and moan, they flaunt the rules, but they get the job done. And so few of them will stay. If I could bet on how many would laugh when asked if they are going to reenlist, I'd be a rich man. Vegas wouldn't carry such lousy odds. You'd have to pay out when you placed the bet.

Nothing fazes anyone anymore. Incoming, outgoing, helicopters, jets, you name it and we'll sleep through it. Except for one small thing, bloated bladder. It's a catch-22. You have to drink water, but if you do, you won't get more than a few hours of sleep between trips to the bathroom. Finally, you are so exhausted from so many interrupted nights that you don't wake up to pee. I can't wait until it really gets hot. I'm not sure I can drink enough water. Maybe I should train to be dehydrated.

Well, as fun as this is, I need to get my three or four hours of sleep. Hey, when you think life sucks, think again. Come on over here and you'll find that with enough bureaucrats around, you too can be beaten down enough to not even notice you've become worth less to the Army than most of the machinery you use. Perception...heehee...I used to be free once. I think I was anyway.

Hey wife,

I love you...please edit my terrible grammar.

Hey husband,

done.

Or not.

It also says that soldiers aren't supposed to salute with anything in their mouths, which is why we aren't supposed to chew gum, either.

Hi family,

Well, here I sit in our semi-empty ACE wanting nothing more than to start working. Maybe if I start working, I'll suddenly realize its time to come home. There is no real plan for us. We just show up and kill time. The 4 ID guys just walk around us as if we weren't here. You'd swear they were just moving to another part of Iraq instead of going home.

Its not really an issue that they don't have a schedule or lesson plan. I'm certain we'll change most of it anyway. But still, it would be nice if they took a minute to go over their products. Just a smidgen of info would be good. Hell, I'd rather be sleeping or cutting my toenails. Anything but plodding in here for twelve hours of deciding whether it's been long enough to go have another smoke or to just pass out in my chair. One night I slept for almost two hours and no one said a word. Actually, that's mostly what they do on night shift.

I have stuff to actually do tonight, but of course, this would be the one night they decide to have something to do. The problem is they only have their real work info on one computer.  Yes, that's right. Just one. It's all on a hard card. All I'd have to do is have an oops with some water and their whole year would be gone. Insane in today's tech era, but true. The thought has occured to me. It would save a lot of headache.

You see, we get the dubious honor of making the changeover to our brilliant, yet broken software/database. What this means is we will database all our reports in a useless blackhole. The fun doesn't stop there though. Then we get to save the useless files as useless .rtf files and then resave them as a semi-useful text file. All this because some retired so-and-so is a consultant for a company in senator so and so's state and these so and so's convinced an army buddy of the first so and so that the current products created and used by soldiers for free weren't good enough, so they should produce special software that doesn't work and isn't compatible with anything.

Now in theory, this software will put us in synch with the rest of the intel world. But in reality, it disconnects us from anyone above us. Ironic, huh? And how much did all this cost? Well, lets just say Ferrari and leave it at that.

Never fear loyal taxpayer. We shall persevere. Even if it doesn't work, we'll still use it to hold our papers down when the sand storms come. And the super-hardened, i.e. super-expensive, boxes will make great suitcases for our stuff when we leave. Well, they will if we bungie cord them shut, because the latches break after three uses.

In other news, I'm spending lots of time wishing I was anywhere but here. I wonder how anyone could come here and even vaguely think morale is good or that these soldiers believe in this mission. I guess generals and politicians receive special conditioning that allows them to ignore anything not involving their careers, because they think everything is hunky dory. I don't think I've seen a group of soldiers or leaders care so little.

People watch movies, read magazines, and sleep at work. They look like shit. Uniforms ragged and dirty.  I've seen a guy walking aound for a week with no patches. I guess he finally got new uniforms, but just hasn't bothered to get them sewn. Three days ago, he told his SGT he'd do it.  Could you imagine this in the rear? I'm beginning to think I'm in the Twilight Zone and this is the 60's the hair is so long.

And no one says a word. But morale is "good." And people are "motivated." What a joke.

I can imagine what will happen when everyone else gets here. Everyone will immediately not give a damn. I can't wait to see all our uptight garrison weenies staring in horror at what I'm sure was once a fine-looking division.

I've forgotten where I was going with all this. Oh yes, my high hopes for the year to come. What insanity. God help the army if they try to make me stay in and come back here. They'll think the guys at M.A.S.H. were model soldiers.

Well, until next time, please send real toilet paper. I hate not knowing if the brown under my nails is...I'm joking about the brown, but real TP would be nice.

Junior/me

Hi wonderful wife & family,
 
I don't have much time on the morale computer, so here goes. 
 
Iraq is a shithole.  This should be a big animal refuge, because it isn't fit for people.  This is a bit harsh.  Witrh billions of dollars and a couple of decades it might be okay.  There are more broken cars along the sides of the road, than driving.  Trash is everywhere.  There is green, but everything about it is temporary.  Between Kirkuk and Tikrit the land is like liquid dirt with little patches of green.  Its as if someone took a big spoon and just cut it into small pieces.  Yoiu couldn't build a house there if you wanted too.  The land would just wash away.
 
This camp is huge. I figure its at least 50 square miles; probably bigger. There are huge mansions all over it where we work and live. Our final living space hasn't been determined. We stayed in the big palace on the hill where our office is. Tonight we aren't sure of yet. I am taking lots of pictures, but today has been rainy.

The chow hall has good food, but is a bit cramped. The PX is tiiiiiiny. They have CD, DVD players, X Box, but not enough of the essentials and little else.

The BEST part of this place is the Recreation/ R&R palace. Can we all say masage parlor ;-P hahahahahaha...$1 haircuts, manicures/pedicures, tailor shop, fishing, sports bar (no booze :-(     ooohhhh and the girls of football...hehehee

Okay, my time is almost up. This place is a paradox of hell and heaven. Mud and palm trees.

Take care. I'll write again soon.

Love me/Junior