tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-159212732024-03-21T09:18:21.531-04:00The Daily GrindThe Daily Grind served as my personal journal during previous military deployments to Iraq. Dormant for some time, I've dusted it off for my latest deployment to Afghanistan. The posts contained herein are solely based on my personal observations and do not represent the official views of the U.S. Marine Corps.VMICraighttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18093462130476461928noreply@blogger.comBlogger86125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15921273.post-62837114409112944192012-02-04T12:25:00.001-05:002012-02-04T12:25:53.226-05:00Who knew Kabul got this cold??<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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A little early morning exercise today, February 4th, 2012. Things started out nicely with just a few inches of snow on the ground but quickly turned to near whiteout conditions within an hour and a half. Who knew it would get this cold in Afghanistan? I was certainly surprised. <br />
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<br /><div class="blogger-post-footer">This blog contains the authors personal observations only and does not represent the official view of the United States Marine Corps</div>VMICraighttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18093462130476461928noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15921273.post-90412346640554690022012-01-15T07:13:00.004-05:002012-01-15T07:14:29.966-05:00The Tigger House, Kabul<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Similar to the compassion I felt for the stray animals I encountered in Iraq, I have grown fond of the helpless cats and dogs wandering around Afghanistan. Unfortunately, the residents of Kabul are no different in their treatment
of animals than most Muslim societies that consider cats and dogs dirty
and unworthy of being pets. Here, there are stray dogs and cats wandering
the city in large numbers. Many appear injured and malnourished,
often limping and sometimes missing legs or ears. Both children and adults alike ignore the animals or throw rocks at the strays. It's horrible
to watch such maltreatment of man's best friend. <br />
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One
of the agents living at my compound is deeply concerned with the
rescue of these wonderful animals. Amazingly, he found a local
shelter situated deep within the city called the Afghan Stray Animal
League (http://www.afghanstrayanimals.org/mission_1.html). The shelter
is known locally as the Tigger House and is operated by an American who
solicits private donations and adoption fees in order to keep the
shelter running. She has a small but dedicated local staff who care for the animals that
are brought into the shelter until such time that they can be adopted by
American service members or other willing families.
Although the shelter appears disheveled and dirty compared to
our own standards, the dogs and cats brought to the shelter are safe and cared for until a home is found for them. The shelter has saved dozens of
animals from cruel abuse and worse, from being sold to locals who purchase them for the sport of dog fighting. <br />
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Yesterday, Brandon, Michelle and I brought a litter of 7 pups to the
shelter. The pups were born just outside of our compound and were fed by
Brandon and some of the other residents until they were weaned.
Unfortunately, they had grown to the point that local Afghans were
taking interest in them for dog fighting, so Brandon asked if I would
ride shotgun as we drove into the city to the Tigger House. Driving
through the pothole-lined streets of Kabul while trying to keep 7 puppies from
throwing up in your lap was challenging but worthwhile knowing that these dogs have a future ahead of them that is not filled with violence and hunger.<div class="blogger-post-footer">This blog contains the authors personal observations only and does not represent the official view of the United States Marine Corps</div>VMICraighttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18093462130476461928noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15921273.post-89164449479921382222012-01-15T06:49:00.000-05:002012-01-15T06:49:54.831-05:00Flying in Style<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Last week, I flew south from Kabul to Camp Leatherneck in the Helmand Province. As the liaison officer to a civilian federal agency, I was fortunate to fly aboard a government owned Beechcraft King Air
twin turbo-prop. It was certainly luxurious compared to the standard C-130 transport commonly used in theater. When fully loaded with pallets of
gear and equipment, troop space aboard the C-130 is usually limited and one often ends up facing another Marine or soldier in a cramped, parallel series of troops seats, your knees interlaced between
the knees of the guy in front of you. Sometimes the C-130 flights are
empty and one can stretch out along the canvas troop seats lining the sides of the fuselage. Conversely, the massive C-17's are much more spacious than the relatively compact C-130's and have removable rows of seats like those found in a commercial airliner. The seats can be added or removed depending upon the load. In addition to troops, the C-17's and the even larger C-5 routinely haul large quantities of equipment across the theater. <br />
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While the King Air may only seat 8 passengers, its twin turbo props permit the bird to fly at nearly the same speed of the
C-130 Hercules. During this
particular flight, just myself and 2 DoD analysts were headed to Camp Leatherneck. Needless to say, it is a comfortable ride that is
usually reserved for VIP's and distinguished visitors; 95% of the troops in theater
will only fly aboard the larger strategic aircraft and won't have the opportuntity to enjoy this incredible perk!<br />
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From the air, I observed the ridge line that lies along the northern edge of our compound, the same ridge line I've climbed several times since my arrival. The
recent blast of precipitation over the last 2 days has since hidden the treacherous peaks under a soft blanket of snow, belying the dangers hidden within the Hindu Kush. <br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg53qDzrjDrEa5FA5xoeB-JN4wsREmOuPdZ28glk053jwDkZgjksoID8u6Pyzeit0woh_ClLtbpDajMAOnoPF_cmk03bRZhE3mw3V6h3Ltuz2jovs8X9rREM1uxq0GrYQfzz3HUJw/s1600/moutain+snow.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg53qDzrjDrEa5FA5xoeB-JN4wsREmOuPdZ28glk053jwDkZgjksoID8u6Pyzeit0woh_ClLtbpDajMAOnoPF_cmk03bRZhE3mw3V6h3Ltuz2jovs8X9rREM1uxq0GrYQfzz3HUJw/s320/moutain+snow.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="blogger-post-footer">This blog contains the authors personal observations only and does not represent the official view of the United States Marine Corps</div>VMICraighttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18093462130476461928noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15921273.post-53302379326859680872011-12-30T02:08:00.001-05:002011-12-30T02:18:04.985-05:00The Lads of Lima Company<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; font-size: large;"><b></b></span>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span class="pageContent" style="padding-top: 0pt;"><b><span style="font-size: x-small;">By
Cpl. John Scott Rafoss, HQMC </span></b></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span class="pageContent" style="padding-top: 0pt;">HELMAND PROVINCE, Afghanistan - Dec. 25, 2011
— We “yomped” forward. Carrying two days of rations, including six liters of water and hundreds of machine gun
rounds, mine detectors, grenades, ladders, radio equipment, heavy
javelins, and other explosives; their packs were heavy. My pack was just
the bare necessities – water, a few meals, and my camera.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span class="pageContent" style="padding-top: 0pt;">The sky was gray. It was raining, muddy and cold. I’m tired. Everyone
else must have been tired, too, but the Royal Marine Commandos are
elite – they weren’t showing it.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span class="pageContent" style="padding-top: 0pt;"><br /></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span class="pageContent" style="padding-top: 0pt;">“That’s what we do, we yomp,” said Sgt. Noel Connelly, of the Royal Marines.. “Just like the Falklands in ‘82. We’re bootnecks.
That’s what bootnecks do… yomp.”</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span class="pageContent" style="padding-top: 0pt;"><br /></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span class="pageContent" style="padding-top: 0pt;">We stopped and rested on the side of the road. Reports over the radio
were saying the tanks couldn’t get through because insurgents have dug
ditches in the road. The tanks had to find a new route and that would
take time. So we waited and endured the mud and cold rain.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span class="pageContent" style="padding-top: 0pt;"><br /></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span class="pageContent" style="padding-top: 0pt;">“Hey USMC, do you want a smoke,” said Connelly, platoon sergeant for
Royal Marine’s 9th Troop, “L” Company, 42 Commando, as he took out some
English cigarettes. “These are healthy cigarettes.”</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span class="pageContent" style="padding-top: 0pt;">We all huddled underneath improvised cover and the Royal Marines
talked about football in England. They asked me questions about the U.S.
Marine Corps – What is my training like? Is boot camp like the movie
Full Metal Jacket? “What do you do?” said Cpl. John Owens, an assault engineer nicknamed Johno.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span class="pageContent" style="padding-top: 0pt;">“I’m a combat correspondent,” I replied. “I’m what the Americans call a POG – personnel other than grunt.”</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span class="pageContent" style="padding-top: 0pt;"><br /></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span class="pageContent" style="padding-top: 0pt;">“Well, you aren’t a POG right now,” said Johno, as we looked down at our muddy boots. “You’re with us now, mate.” After smoking about four cigarettes, we got the call to move forward.
The tanks had found a route through a field. So we picked up our packs
and started to yomp to the village of Zargon Kalay. Our superiors said
Zargon Kalay is filled with die-hard enemy insurgents, but they said
that about the last village and nothing happened.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span class="pageContent" style="padding-top: 0pt;"><br /></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span class="pageContent" style="padding-top: 0pt;">The mosque, which is in the center of the city, was becoming more
visible with every step. We were a few hundred meters away when Lima
Company split up into different parts of the open ground in front of the
village. It was farm land. 9th Troop moved to the right flank and we
maneuvered along the edge of an irrigation stream.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span class="pageContent" style="padding-top: 0pt;"><br /></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span class="pageContent" style="padding-top: 0pt;">We approached a compound and the bootnecks at the front of the patrol
positioned themselves on the roof to get good arcs for their machine
guns. The rest of the platoon waited in the open outside of the
compound.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span class="pageContent" style="padding-top: 0pt;"><br /></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span class="pageContent" style="padding-top: 0pt;">I sat by the edge of the irrigation stream, bored. All of a sudden
something flew past my head and it had a distinct sound. It was the
first time I heard that sound. Cracking and whizzing – bullets sound a
lot different when they are coming at you.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span class="pageContent" style="padding-top: 0pt;"><br /></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span class="pageContent" style="padding-top: 0pt;">Without even thinking, I jumped into the irrigation ditch. I looked
up and saw Marines jumping off the roof. The trees behind them were
being ripped apart.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span class="pageContent" style="padding-top: 0pt;">My heart was pumping while I sat in the stream. I looked at the
plants in front of me and thought about staying alive. “Am I dreaming?” I
thought. “This can’t be real. A picture isn’t worth my life.” I was embedded with 9th Troop, Lima Company, 42 British Royal Marine
Commando during the 18-day combat operation known as Sond Chara, which
is Pashtun for Red Dagger. An outsider, and the only reason I was with
them is because of my eagle, globe and anchor, and my camera.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span class="pageContent" style="padding-top: 0pt;"><br /></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span class="pageContent" style="padding-top: 0pt;">It all started like the beginning of an American football game – like
we were getting ready to run on to the field. We were all pumped up in
that helicopter. We felt like Spartans during the Battle of Thermopylae.
But this wasn’t a game, or a movie, or a book about legendary battles
in the past. This was now.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span class="pageContent" style="padding-top: 0pt;">I felt like I was in a Higgins Boat heading toward Normandy. I looked
up and saw the crew chief scanning the horizon for insurgents with his
night vision goggles.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span class="pageContent" style="padding-top: 0pt;"><br /></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span class="pageContent" style="padding-top: 0pt;">We landed in the desert and it was quiet. I couldn’t see anything.
Everyone else had night vision goggles. I didn’t even have a night
vision lens for my camera. All of the bootnecks were silhouetted and we
moved towards an Afghan compound a few hundred meters in front of us.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span class="pageContent" style="padding-top: 0pt;"><br /></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span class="pageContent" style="padding-top: 0pt;">We stopped in our tracks when we heard gun shots in the distance. It
was Kilo Company. They landed about an hour before us and they were
already in a firefight. There was a lot of gunfire. But this wasn’t the
O.K. Corral, it was Helmand Province.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span class="pageContent" style="padding-top: 0pt;"><br /></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span class="pageContent" style="padding-top: 0pt;">“They have a casualty,” whispered one of the radio operators. “He was hurt from the back blast of a javelin.” My stomach started to sink when I heard that. But I kept quiet and
kept moving forward with the bootnecks. Johno blew a hole in one of the
walls of the compound and the bootnecks rushed in to the clear the
compound of insurgents, but there were none.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span class="pageContent" style="padding-top: 0pt;"><br /></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span class="pageContent" style="padding-top: 0pt;">I moved in and dropped my pack immediately. I was already tired and
we were only two hours into the operation. I took a seat by one of the
walls, and one of the Marines on the rooftops opened up his machine gun.
An Apache came in and dropped a bomb on top of the insurgent vehicle he
had stopped. The sky glowed from the burning car and I listened to the
rounds cook off in the car.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span class="pageContent" style="padding-top: 0pt;"><br /></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span class="pageContent" style="padding-top: 0pt;">“This isn’t normal,” I thought, and tried to get some sleep.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span class="pageContent" style="padding-top: 0pt;"><br /></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span class="pageContent" style="padding-top: 0pt;">We stayed at the compound for a couple of days and were mortared
everyday, but I was slowly getting used to the bootneck lifestyle. We
were given orders to take the village we called KK. We left at about
four in the morning. It was about an eight-kilometer hike, yomping
through the farming fields, with a break about halfway. My boots were
covered in mud. I tried to scrape it off, but the mud had a funny smell,
and when I brought it up to my nose, I realized it was manure. We
picked up our packs and yomped on.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span class="pageContent" style="padding-top: 0pt;">We got to the village and everything seemed normal. Children were
running around playing. Afghan men were working in their fields.
Tractors were transporting goods. Camels were walking by bundled up with
supplies. The locals said the insurgents had left the day before. So it
was a good day – a quiet day. We rested in the village and got ready
for the next hike.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span class="pageContent" style="padding-top: 0pt;"><br /></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span class="pageContent" style="padding-top: 0pt;">We hiked another eight kilometers to Forward Operating Base Argyle.
When we got there, we stayed on the outside of the FOB inside an old
fortress, which was built by Alexander the Great thousands of years ago.
It was a beautiful ancient fortress. We rested there for a day and
started yomping again, this time about six-kilometers hto the Village of
Zargon Kalay.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span class="pageContent" style="padding-top: 0pt;">After we were shot at in the field near the irrigation ditch, we
moved forward to another compound. I set my backpack down by a wall and
moved into one of the rooms to take a break and eat. Then I heard the
cracks again.The insurgents were dug in and were firing rocket-propelled
grenades, mortars and small-arms fire.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span class="pageContent" style="padding-top: 0pt;"><br /></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span class="pageContent" style="padding-top: 0pt;">A Royal Marine ran inside to get supplies. Connelly asked him what
what the situation was outside. With typical combat humour, he replied,
“We’re all going to die!”</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span class="pageContent" style="padding-top: 0pt;"><br /></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span class="pageContent" style="padding-top: 0pt;">I was shaking. I’m not sure if it was because I was cold and soaked
from the irrigation ditch or because I was scared. When the fighting
died down a little bit, I ran outside for my pack. I needed my smokes.
When I got to my backpack there were bullet holes all over the wall
above it. I grabbed it and ran back inside.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span class="pageContent" style="padding-top: 0pt;">We drank tea and listened to artillery, tanks and helicopters take
down the insurgents in the village. It sounded like they were using
everything they had in the UK arsenal.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span class="pageContent" style="padding-top: 0pt;"><br /></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span class="pageContent" style="padding-top: 0pt;">I wasn’t used to this kind of thing. In my mind, this was the kind of
stuff soldiers and Marines did in Vietnam, World War I and World War
II. I didn’t realize how bad war could be in Afghanistan. I was used to
drinking coffee at the beer garden in Kabul or eating at Pizza Hut in
Kandahar. I normally took pictures of handshakes and ceremonies, not
combat.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span class="pageContent" style="padding-top: 0pt;">We got the order to move forward to the next compound. But there was a
problem. We had to move through an open field where an hour ago, little
lead hornets were buzzing around. But one of the bootnecks had a good
idea.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span class="pageContent" style="padding-top: 0pt;"><br /></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span class="pageContent" style="padding-top: 0pt;">We popped smoke grenades and ran behind tanks. The first try didn’t
work, because when we went into the open, we were fired on. But it
worked on the second try. We ran for our lives behind those tanks. I
thought it would make a good picture, so I put my head down next to the
tank’s exhaust and took pictures with my camera over my head. I wasn’t
even looking at where I was shooting.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span class="pageContent" style="padding-top: 0pt;"><br /></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span class="pageContent" style="padding-top: 0pt;">“This is World War II shit,” yelled Connelly, as we ran behind the tanks. He was joking, but I didn’t laugh.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span class="pageContent" style="padding-top: 0pt;">We made it to the next compound, and puffed down cigarettes. It was
the best cigarette of my life, but it was hard to smoke because my lungs
were filled with tank exhaust.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span class="pageContent" style="padding-top: 0pt;"><br /></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span class="pageContent" style="padding-top: 0pt;">7th Troop moved into the outskirts of the village that night and we
stayed back as over watch. We listened to them fight. They were getting
some – we had already gotten ours.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span class="pageContent" style="padding-top: 0pt;"><br /></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span class="pageContent" style="padding-top: 0pt;">The next morning we moved forward into the village. We met up with
7th Troop at a compound. They pushed forward street by street and made
it a few blocks away from the Mosque and now it was our turn to move
forward.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span class="pageContent" style="padding-top: 0pt;"><br /></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span class="pageContent" style="padding-top: 0pt;">The village was quiet. Everyone had fled and I hoped the insurgents
were all dead. We moved into a burned-out school right across the street
from the mosque. I tried to get pictures of the Marines patrolling
though the mud, but getting good images was the last thing on my mind.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span class="pageContent" style="padding-top: 0pt;"><br /></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span class="pageContent" style="padding-top: 0pt;">We started taking small-arms fire from the west of the city. We moved
through the village, forward to the sound of the guns. I thought human
beings are supposed to run away from the sounds of guns, not yomp in the
mud toward it. I thought to myself, “these Lima Company bootnecks are
the real deal.”</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span class="pageContent" style="padding-top: 0pt;">I looked up and watched a javelin missile fly high up into the sky.
It was shot off by Marines on the roof of the school, who had locked
onto the insurgents. I was happy the javelin did all of the work for us
and we moved into a compound behind the mosque and stayed there the
night.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span class="pageContent" style="padding-top: 0pt;"><br /></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span class="pageContent" style="padding-top: 0pt;">“We still have the Triangle of Death,” said Johno, as we smoked cigarettes in the compound. “It sounds like a video game,” I joked. “The Triangle of Death … the last level of Operation Sond Chara.”</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span class="pageContent" style="padding-top: 0pt;"><br /></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span class="pageContent" style="padding-top: 0pt;">The Triangle of Death is an area about four kilometers behind Zargon
Kalay. We called it that, because on the map, it looked like a triangle.
Reports were coming in that all of the insurgents were fleeing there.
That made the Triangle of Death Taliban land.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span class="pageContent" style="padding-top: 0pt;">We hiked through more of the surrounding villages before reaching the
Triangle of Death. But the insurgents had heard about Zargon Kalay and
many of them were fleeing for their lives.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span class="pageContent" style="padding-top: 0pt;"><br /></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span class="pageContent" style="padding-top: 0pt;">In the early morning hours of Christmas Eve, we headed into a village
we called Yellow Four. It was the beginning of the Triangle of Death.
However, it had been quiet for the past few days and I was beginning to
think the insurgents had learned their lesson.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span class="pageContent" style="padding-top: 0pt;">Yellow Four is a little village holed up next to a big river with a
big rusty crane in the center for exporting and importing goods. On top
of the crane was a huge white Taliban flag. It seemed like an old
trading port. But when we got there most of the villagers had fled.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span class="pageContent" style="padding-top: 0pt;">We moved into the village with ease and took positions at an Afghan
compound below the crane. I was pretty tired and I grabbed a few
blankets to get some rest.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span class="pageContent" style="padding-top: 0pt;"><br /></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span class="pageContent" style="padding-top: 0pt;">“It seems pretty quiet; hopefully they won’t attack us. What do you think?” I asked Royal Marine John Baiss, 9th Troop medic. “They are just observing us right now,” he replied. “Give it an hour.”</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span class="pageContent" style="padding-top: 0pt;"><br /></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span class="pageContent" style="padding-top: 0pt;">I didn’t want to believe him so I put my head down for some rest. An
hour later I woke to gunfire. Smalls arms fire, rocket-propelled
grenades and mortars were everywhere. I immediately put on my flak
jacket and Kevlar helmet. I grabbed my rifle and camera and then
sprinted outside to see what was happening.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span class="pageContent" style="padding-top: 0pt;">“Someone put a wet on,” yelled Connelly, in the beginning of the
firefight. We all laughed a little bit. A wet is British slang for tea.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span class="pageContent" style="padding-top: 0pt;"><br /></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span class="pageContent" style="padding-top: 0pt;">Bootnecks were on the rooftops shooting and screaming. They were
climbing on top as fast as they could to get more rounds downrange. “I see them … I see them,” screamed Lance Cpl. Paul, as he unloaded his machine gun. “They are in the tree line.”</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span class="pageContent" style="padding-top: 0pt;">I was getting used to gunfire, so I was confident when I started
snapping away – trying to get some images of the lads in action.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span class="pageContent" style="padding-top: 0pt;"><br /></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span class="pageContent" style="padding-top: 0pt;">I climbed up on the rooftop with the help of some of the bootnecks
who pushed me up. I crawled up next to Paul and tried to get a view of
the insurgents in front of us. There was a ceiling of small-arms fire
over our heads. I looked up and saw a rocket propelled grenade fly over
our heads. I followed it with my eyes in slow motion.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span class="pageContent" style="padding-top: 0pt;"><br /></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span class="pageContent" style="padding-top: 0pt;">“Get a … LASM down there,” someone screamed, which is like a rocket launcher. Lance Cpl. Ben Whatley grabbed his LASM and went forward. We all bent down because of the backblast.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span class="pageContent" style="padding-top: 0pt;"><br /></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span class="pageContent" style="padding-top: 0pt;">“He’s hit, he’s … hit,” screamed one of the bootnecks on the ground. I looked up and saw him lying motionless in front of us. Once the bootnecks next to me saw what had happened, and with out
hesitation, they stood up and moved forward through the small-arms fire
to save him.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span class="pageContent" style="padding-top: 0pt;"><br /></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span class="pageContent" style="padding-top: 0pt;">The firefight went on for about half an hour more. The bootnecks kept fighting, knowing their friend was badly hurt.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span class="pageContent" style="padding-top: 0pt;"><br /></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span class="pageContent" style="padding-top: 0pt;">We found out a few hours later that Ben was dead.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span class="pageContent" style="padding-top: 0pt;">After Christmas Eve, we no longer called it the Triangle of Death … just the Triangle.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span class="pageContent" style="padding-top: 0pt;"><br /></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span class="pageContent" style="padding-top: 0pt;">On Christmas morning we moved forward into the heart of the Triangle.
We yomped toward the white flags – insurgent flags. We were surrounded
by white flags. This was their stronghold. It is a very eerie feeling
walking through open ground, seeing white flags in every direction.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span class="pageContent" style="padding-top: 0pt;"><br /></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span class="pageContent" style="padding-top: 0pt;">But it seemed the Taliban had learned their lesson once more and we
weren’t attacked that day. So we moved into a compound for rest and to
get good arcs for our machine guns on the surrounding area.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span class="pageContent" style="padding-top: 0pt;">It didn’t feel like Christmas.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span class="pageContent" style="padding-top: 0pt;"><br /></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span class="pageContent" style="padding-top: 0pt;">Once in the compound, Marines Greg Bennett, a machine gunner, and
Denbigh Hopkins, an infantryman and former South African hunter, had
smiles on their faces. In the back of the compound was a room filled
with turkeys.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span class="pageContent" style="padding-top: 0pt;"><br /></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span class="pageContent" style="padding-top: 0pt;">“Looks like it’s going to be Christmas after all,” said Capt. Oli Truman, commander of 9th Troop, Lima Company, 42 Commando.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span class="pageContent" style="padding-top: 0pt;"><br /></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span class="pageContent" style="padding-top: 0pt;">That night we sat around the fire, ate grilled turkey and enjoyed each others’ company. “Camaraderie is very important,” I remember hearing Paul say with his
face glowing from the fire. “We should do this more often. It’s good
for the troop.”</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span class="pageContent" style="padding-top: 0pt;"><br /></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span class="pageContent" style="padding-top: 0pt;">It wasn’t the best Christmas I ever had. But, spending Christmas with
bootnecks out in combat, I grew a better appreciation for it.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span class="pageContent" style="padding-top: 0pt;"><br /></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span class="pageContent" style="padding-top: 0pt;">The lads of Lima Company are special. They have something most people
in the world will never have or understand – their brotherhood. </span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span class="pageContent" style="padding-top: 0pt;"><br /></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span class="pageContent" style="padding-top: 0pt;">And the next day we yomped forward …</span></span><br />
<br /></div>
<span style="font-size: large;"><span class="pageContent" style="padding-top: 0pt;">
</span></span>
</div><div class="blogger-post-footer">This blog contains the authors personal observations only and does not represent the official view of the United States Marine Corps</div>VMICraighttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18093462130476461928noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15921273.post-23956103671920701892011-12-30T01:44:00.004-05:002011-12-30T01:45:50.846-05:00<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhy6sMS51JSNeMe-dd2CnHgIBb7bSWOt9J6c61twhjRhfya6XyJP8o0LnH43I9URiohT4nDTFZrj_JOFx8Ne-ZItvbafjctwC2_buiqnpgfiP_OkB1Gml04wgwG_PX6Ha6pfAF1vw/s1600/XMAS2.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhy6sMS51JSNeMe-dd2CnHgIBb7bSWOt9J6c61twhjRhfya6XyJP8o0LnH43I9URiohT4nDTFZrj_JOFx8Ne-ZItvbafjctwC2_buiqnpgfiP_OkB1Gml04wgwG_PX6Ha6pfAF1vw/s640/XMAS2.JPG" width="640" />Christmas Morning in Afghanistan, Dec, 2011 with a few of the DEA Kabul Country Office Agents</a></div>
<br /><div class="blogger-post-footer">This blog contains the authors personal observations only and does not represent the official view of the United States Marine Corps</div>VMICraighttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18093462130476461928noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15921273.post-39282376485442597052011-11-26T04:05:00.001-05:002011-11-26T05:13:01.983-05:00Climbing the Moutain<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjogpeub1VPuHJy4UbUyX7i64mdTSdqf8Z3pHojiAbcdsqA7Etq_1IWIsYtTwrMjHo1ZkHAx3StpoJwC7VV3tdE8T-XhydHuwH4PQjTVI7vaEC2FScUXEumvkpRTspqPdDWEPyKaw/s1600/view.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjogpeub1VPuHJy4UbUyX7i64mdTSdqf8Z3pHojiAbcdsqA7Etq_1IWIsYtTwrMjHo1ZkHAx3StpoJwC7VV3tdE8T-XhydHuwH4PQjTVI7vaEC2FScUXEumvkpRTspqPdDWEPyKaw/s320/view.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
<span style="font-size: large;">For a bit of local adventure, I
joined one of my DEA counterparts this morning to climb the mountain ridge
located behind our compound in Kabul. Locally, the Asmai and Sherdawaza mountain
ranges dominate the landscape, ringing the city of Kabul in all directions. <br /> </span></div>
<div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
<span style="font-size: large;">
A view of the surrounding mountain ranges reveals a staggering number of
peaks already covered
in snow. Surprisingly, more than 49 % of the total land area in
Afghanistan lies above 6000 feet elevation. Here
in
Kabul, the elevation averages just over 5,800 feet, with the mountain
crests adding
to the total. The average elevation in the state of Virginia is only 950
feet, which
certainly requires a temporary adjustment period that one definitely
feels when engaging in physical activity.</span></div>
<div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /><span id="goog_68365163"></span></span>
<span style="font-size: large;"><span id="goog_68365164"></span>The mountainous areas are mostly barren, or at most remain sparsely
sprinkled with trees and stunted </span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiv0_F8_x5ffty0G-EI5nBC-njiDWw2EAUXJUZq0NcroKsKGw4jygAbhEBC26gQRZXpcdAe0XBLuY0q_2xbJA9pBXPgZVNr_tBaGk_KijbEP8P2Uw_mjIHCHdzlvJV-G7D2vZH8rQ/s1600/rock+wall.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiv0_F8_x5ffty0G-EI5nBC-njiDWw2EAUXJUZq0NcroKsKGw4jygAbhEBC26gQRZXpcdAe0XBLuY0q_2xbJA9pBXPgZVNr_tBaGk_KijbEP8P2Uw_mjIHCHdzlvJV-G7D2vZH8rQ/s320/rock+wall.jpg" width="320" /></a></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
<span style="font-size: large;">bushes. True forests, found mainly in the
eastern provinces of Nuristan and Paktiya, cover barely 3% of the
country's area. Even these small reserves have been disastrously depleted by
the war and through illegal exploitation, with less than one million acres
surviving today.</span></div>
<div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
<span style="font-size: large;">During our climb, we passed several rock walls and </span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8-Jt7oqrooaYblGO4UCodhAsLQwaxchSO4bWBNiAj8bm0K1CzskupdeA8ooKU6-sXgDl886TeWFR_svsP1aIjmqhLjQsXdOslF_wsUKEGCPHMBefgyhrfSu1Qf66-JTUiUbRsnw/s1600/rounds.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8-Jt7oqrooaYblGO4UCodhAsLQwaxchSO4bWBNiAj8bm0K1CzskupdeA8ooKU6-sXgDl886TeWFR_svsP1aIjmqhLjQsXdOslF_wsUKEGCPHMBefgyhrfSu1Qf66-JTUiUbRsnw/s320/rounds.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
</div>
<div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
<span style="font-size: large;">hand-dug gun
emplacements that were once used for cover by the mujahadeen during
their fight
against the Soviets. The ground remains littered with all types and
sizes of rifle
casings, while signs warn of the dangers of straying off
the trail as you climb toward the crest. A local goat-herder discovered the unfortunate result of straying too far from the path when one of his goats stepped on
an unexploded land mine and blew itself up. I am unaware
of anyone human doing the same thing.<br /> </span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvbBMJgVRoRjcHpKX37AtcLUJZ9_BrC1eGPFCCWnIcbwSufEVpYpZ7YiV5gO5rqBnLE_GaS8rLuJatGZtGQ77L8gMJC9C3DaGHz1ZmJtOrdjWlEWtgy5qvNUEGNU-Zgj38KI8r1A/s1600/warning+sign.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvbBMJgVRoRjcHpKX37AtcLUJZ9_BrC1eGPFCCWnIcbwSufEVpYpZ7YiV5gO5rqBnLE_GaS8rLuJatGZtGQ77L8gMJC9C3DaGHz1ZmJtOrdjWlEWtgy5qvNUEGNU-Zgj38KI8r1A/s320/warning+sign.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
<div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUSmECODVJ55I-8diEJNmW97QZUt3JR0EBH_vdCpLX43eaHkUq6rnWVS_kjFObXEW-rWI_KeMJqxk2j6MrtJ4BHrDEYyodwVt6SNpEOt_iV4FCv3IcfJgQo0C-irz0MWx_bYisnw/s1600/at+the+crest.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUSmECODVJ55I-8diEJNmW97QZUt3JR0EBH_vdCpLX43eaHkUq6rnWVS_kjFObXEW-rWI_KeMJqxk2j6MrtJ4BHrDEYyodwVt6SNpEOt_iV4FCv3IcfJgQo0C-irz0MWx_bYisnw/s320/at+the+crest.jpg" width="320" /></a><span style="font-size: large;">Along the way, I
stopped numerous times to
take in the view of Kabul, hardly believing that the city I was seeing
was the same one I'd driven through. From
6,000 feet, it looks like a typical sprawling city spread out over thousands of acres, a thin layer of smog
hanging
heavily above it. From my vantage point, I could clearly make out the Kabul International
Airport and saw at least a half dozen jets, both military and civilian,
climbing slowly toward us as we continued our ascent. <br /><br />
From atop the ridgeline, the view of the surrounding area quickly
deteriorating as the morning progressed. The haze seemed thicker the
higher we
climbed and obscured the higher mountain tops in the distance. On the
opposite side of the ridge, a vast expanse of desert plain lay before
us, apparently an unfriendly area to our coalition forces. <br /><br /> The previous
night’s rain had made the usually dusty climb more tolerable than normal, however,
resulting in a number of other adventurers braving the cold to reach the peak.
Joining us at the top were several Brits, one Lithuanian, a team of FBI agents, and
several contractors, many of whom were also on their first trek up the
mountain. Although some of the climbers had dressed in PT gear, I noticed most
were armed, with some even wearing their armored vests. By the time I had reached the
top, I was certainly glad I’d left my vest behind. <br /><span id="goog_68365189"></span><span id="goog_68365190"></span><br />
While taking in the view, we noticed several individuals climbing an area of
the mountain that was unmarked and without trail. Using the magnified scope atop
my rifle as a makeshift set of binoculars, I determined the people were simply collecting
firewood and placing it in cloth bundles strapped across their backs. I had no idea where they came from and even
less of an idea where they were headed to after reaching their limits. </span></div>
<div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
<span style="font-size: large;"> </span><span style="font-size: large;"> </span></div>
<div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
<span style="font-size: large;">The walk down the mountain proved tougher than the walk-up, at least on
my knees. Regardless, it was much quicker than I anticipated,
with </span><span style="font-size: large;">plenty of time left for breakfast. Unless the weather fails to cooperate, I'll likely make this a routine event. </span></div><div class="blogger-post-footer">This blog contains the authors personal observations only and does not represent the official view of the United States Marine Corps</div>VMICraighttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18093462130476461928noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15921273.post-13611936788778946102011-11-22T11:30:00.000-05:002011-11-22T11:30:50.524-05:00A Change in Scenery<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPWGGpkL6e-hTZK7Ho6iNdBwcn4K8Rhe47tmKMpoGXr9xJ3rg61bYFdqB2dtu3Jy_Mq0KLMQ8U-lA_xvaQVquEtqhflfCDQEJtiHm117DyxZPmi0fDCY9uY4ut0YeUoSWsx_WIoQ/s1600/Kabul_International_Airport350x262.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><br />
</a></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPWGGpkL6e-hTZK7Ho6iNdBwcn4K8Rhe47tmKMpoGXr9xJ3rg61bYFdqB2dtu3Jy_Mq0KLMQ8U-lA_xvaQVquEtqhflfCDQEJtiHm117DyxZPmi0fDCY9uY4ut0YeUoSWsx_WIoQ/s1600/Kabul_International_Airport350x262.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPWGGpkL6e-hTZK7Ho6iNdBwcn4K8Rhe47tmKMpoGXr9xJ3rg61bYFdqB2dtu3Jy_Mq0KLMQ8U-lA_xvaQVquEtqhflfCDQEJtiHm117DyxZPmi0fDCY9uY4ut0YeUoSWsx_WIoQ/s320/Kabul_International_Airport350x262.jpg" width="320" /></a><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; font-size: large;">I recently moved from 350 miles N from Camp Leatherneck to Kabul. At first glance, Kabul international airport seems very modern, as there are actually several civilian aircraft parked along the runway. The airport is partially blocked off to allow military aircraft access, with restrictions set in place to separate military from civilian aircraft.<br />
<br />
Despite the initial appearance from the outside, it more closely resembles third world airport inside, with few amenities, most of which are in place for official military use only, such as encrypted telephones, weapons and baggage transfer points, ID card scanning stations, etc. Outside the front doors, the mountains loom ahead, very steep, jagged and foreboding - some already covered in snow at higher elevations. Lately, the airport has been relatively safe, whereas the American Embassy endured a 20 hour attack in September.</span></span><br />
<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtuvFuJbzCa3kmkTVumbgkFpncG1el9R4JcACl3duxzwsGWW0pLy4UPTX4WjgMdJEy4wNmvtarTeZ6TRUHsrrKsToR4QthCq3zeXT3NqMTe1b6gmyB9UVI-ckeQhAgpHk3q4WBlg/s1600/Kabul.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtuvFuJbzCa3kmkTVumbgkFpncG1el9R4JcACl3duxzwsGWW0pLy4UPTX4WjgMdJEy4wNmvtarTeZ6TRUHsrrKsToR4QthCq3zeXT3NqMTe1b6gmyB9UVI-ckeQhAgpHk3q4WBlg/s320/Kabul.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; font-size: large;">Leaving Kabul International Airport, the environment quickly turns sour. The roads I traveled were full of deep potholes, no pavement anywhere to be seen once I left the airport perimeter. A variety of "businesses" inhabits the slums and shanties sitting off the sides of the road, with a crazy mish-mash of buildings, garbage, trash piles, junk cars, and rubble </span></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; font-size: large;">all mixed together in some odd form of apparent civilization. I actually think it's worse than Iraq...there is still much destruction left over from not only recent fighting, but from the Soviet occupation 20 years ago. I am told that the opposite side of town is much more modern, but I have yet to see it.</span></span><br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjySgH6nBeeBWF0olmgqtqtblWI1Xv-He7ah1hkStU3O7DGq49giuqlhYSCxrkKaz39cuQw8QrTctg-kjhJd1LpCPcARlR37DmHrmJagPJj0d_xD_2lvS8H6zm3YGi7cotbDeqHw/s1600/Kabul_City_Traffic.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><br />
</a></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjySgH6nBeeBWF0olmgqtqtblWI1Xv-He7ah1hkStU3O7DGq49giuqlhYSCxrkKaz39cuQw8QrTctg-kjhJd1LpCPcARlR37DmHrmJagPJj0d_xD_2lvS8H6zm3YGi7cotbDeqHw/s1600/Kabul_City_Traffic.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="210" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjySgH6nBeeBWF0olmgqtqtblWI1Xv-He7ah1hkStU3O7DGq49giuqlhYSCxrkKaz39cuQw8QrTctg-kjhJd1LpCPcARlR37DmHrmJagPJj0d_xD_2lvS8H6zm3YGi7cotbDeqHw/s320/Kabul_City_Traffic.jpg" width="320" /></a><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; font-size: large;">There was significant traffic getting out to the compound where I currently reside, with cars jockeying for positions to pass each other on the roadway, all trying not to bottom out in some of the largest potholes (more closely resembling craters) I've ever seen; cars were sometimes spaced 2 to 3 wide across the road; at other times, there might have been 4 or 5 side by side, each headed different directions, a near disaster. Here, the biggest car wins, and most of them are owned by westerners - military, contractors, or government of some sort. </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; font-size: large;"> <br />
Throughout the drive, I viewed a variety of compounds obviously built for coalition forces or foreign contractors. They are obvious, as all are surrounded by huge walls, concertina wire and hescoe barriers to discourage attacks. Host nation guards are visible at most gates and block entrance to the compounds. Regardless, you never feel absolutely safe in this environment. </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; font-size: large;"> <br />
Situated on the slope of a large mountain, my particular compound lies at nearly 5000 feet elevation and has a great view of Kabul. Nearby, the mountain steeply rises another 1000 feet where an ANA (Afgh National Army) outpost rests along the ridge line looking directly down at us. </span></span><br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPzDUkAXDn1-MSXolo1itItFjIHaICSgb72LJnF8x2Gio9KT7UIqnTOIHoI-ahlof1DqP3jU73KmU20froNTrUwj2KWP7SJmgXi35-ruVvnpl9PGWWtG7xhftUAr6VBQTzCrJiaA/s1600/mountain.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPzDUkAXDn1-MSXolo1itItFjIHaICSgb72LJnF8x2Gio9KT7UIqnTOIHoI-ahlof1DqP3jU73KmU20froNTrUwj2KWP7SJmgXi35-ruVvnpl9PGWWtG7xhftUAr6VBQTzCrJiaA/s1600/mountain.jpg" /></a></div><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; font-size: large;">The mountain is littered with unexploded ordnance left over from the soviet invasion. Just last month, a goat allegedly managed to get away from his herder and blew itself up after stepping a few feet off the well traveled trail leading up the mountain. Several of the compound residents here have climbed the same mountain, but make the climb with body armor, long guns and a heightened state alert for safety sake. It makes the climb a little harder, but the view is apparently worth the climb.</span><br style="mso-special-character: line-break;" /> </span><div class="blogger-post-footer">This blog contains the authors personal observations only and does not represent the official view of the United States Marine Corps</div>VMICraighttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18093462130476461928noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15921273.post-43241034821180956982011-11-18T08:38:00.000-05:002011-11-18T08:38:55.172-05:00The Long Road Ahead<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <o:OfficeDocumentSettings> <o:RelyOnVML/> <o:AllowPNG/> </o:OfficeDocumentSettings> </xml><![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:WordDocument> <w:View>Normal</w:View> <w:Zoom>0</w:Zoom> <w:TrackMoves/> <w:TrackFormatting/> <w:PunctuationKerning/> <w:ValidateAgainstSchemas/> <w:SaveIfXMLInvalid>false</w:SaveIfXMLInvalid> <w:IgnoreMixedContent>false</w:IgnoreMixedContent> <w:AlwaysShowPlaceholderText>false</w:AlwaysShowPlaceholderText> <w:DoNotPromoteQF/> <w:LidThemeOther>EN-US</w:LidThemeOther> <w:LidThemeAsian>X-NONE</w:LidThemeAsian> <w:LidThemeComplexScript>X-NONE</w:LidThemeComplexScript> <w:Compatibility> <w:BreakWrappedTables/> <w:SnapToGridInCell/> <w:WrapTextWithPunct/> <w:UseAsianBreakRules/> <w:DontGrowAutofit/> <w:SplitPgBreakAndParaMark/> <w:DontVertAlignCellWithSp/> <w:DontBreakConstrainedForcedTables/> <w:DontVertAlignInTxbx/> <w:Word11KerningPairs/> <w:CachedColBalance/> </w:Compatibility> <m:mathPr> <m:mathFont m:val="Cambria Math"/> <m:brkBin m:val="before"/> <m:brkBinSub m:val="--"/> <m:smallFrac m:val="off"/> <m:dispDef/> <m:lMargin m:val="0"/> <m:rMargin m:val="0"/> <m:defJc m:val="centerGroup"/> <m:wrapIndent m:val="1440"/> <m:intLim m:val="subSup"/> <m:naryLim m:val="undOvr"/> </m:mathPr></w:WordDocument> </xml><![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:LatentStyles DefLockedState="false" DefUnhideWhenUsed="true"
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</style> <![endif]--> <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOwS7IUdKhxcn3QXqUOuiijdPGt1uPt8WwUBep15mpQ0GMA3pRUHKLk0RuR4ztD759x1Z0bb0oDcviZI19phCvGnD03JNNqX96KoS56eB89f4c56M6PZDHU1B_2xk9fRtdDS8DCg/s1600/embed.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOwS7IUdKhxcn3QXqUOuiijdPGt1uPt8WwUBep15mpQ0GMA3pRUHKLk0RuR4ztD759x1Z0bb0oDcviZI19phCvGnD03JNNqX96KoS56eB89f4c56M6PZDHU1B_2xk9fRtdDS8DCg/s320/embed.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="line-height: 115%;">I am currently serving with some superb U.S. and British officers in the Current and Future Operations section, where operational orders are drafted developed and published. These guys are the truly brains of the command and conceive all of the rough draft orders and concepts of operations that upon approval, form the basis of operations conducted by the combined military forces utilize in this region. <br />
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The office is a pressure cooker, with planners putting in 12-16 hour days every day of the week. What keeps them going is a bottomless coffee pot and a great sense of shared humor among the members of the group.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgW_RsO8eljALkKrprEt3P_qW3d-KfJ5r5njOuafmefxJQ9i-MLkwufAZrJWoHErqO23sGF9WogQMbR39_PaEgOY-U1-lp16W90mlN8b-LSigBDjK4_7qG9pYiKhSFnc3ev6bKfjQ/s1600/embed+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="206" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgW_RsO8eljALkKrprEt3P_qW3d-KfJ5r5njOuafmefxJQ9i-MLkwufAZrJWoHErqO23sGF9WogQMbR39_PaEgOY-U1-lp16W90mlN8b-LSigBDjK4_7qG9pYiKhSFnc3ev6bKfjQ/s320/embed+2.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="line-height: 115%;">Nothing in a military environment is executed without a written order, and in Afghanistan, our forces have to coordinate closely with higher headquarters in Kabul, as well as the Government of the Islamic Republic of Afghanistan, referred to as GIROA. it's a very complicated and extremely cumbersome process, but somehow it works. <br />
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This command's particular region of interest lies within the Helmand Province, one of 34 provinces in Afghanistan. It is one of the largest Afghan provinces and arguably the most unstable. To make matters worse, the Helmand province yields the highest quantity of illicit opium, morphine, and hashish in the country, all of which funds the insurgency and the Taliban via illegal "taxation" of the farmers. The illegal flow of narcotics out of Afghanistan destabilizes the government and hinders the transition of military operations from coalition forces to the Afghan National Security Forces, or ANSF. <br />
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Each regional command (RC) has thousands of soldiers, Marines, and coalition forces working as mentors/trainers and partners to the ANSF. The ANSF not only includes the Afghan military, but also incorporates the various Afghan National Police forces, including the Afghan national police, civil order police, counter narcotics police, and even local and tribal police. The poppy problem alone is enough to keep the police forces busy, which make the training and mentoring piece a huge task as we lead them to self-sufficiency.<br />
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Back to the officers of the FOPS section - one particular Marine officer assigned to assist in the transition of counter-narcotics operations from the coalition forces to the Afghans is Major Sean Dynan, an Annapolis grad who has is on his 5th deployment. A former company commander right here in Helmand, his company operated only a few miles away from where we currently work. In 2008, Maj. Dynan had a PBS reporter embedded with his company. Although reporters often sensationalize their experiences or inaccurately portray their subjects, this particular PBS reporter appears to have conveyed a very realistic and accurate portrayal of what is still occurring on a daily basis in Helmand Province. The report shows how military operations have radically changed from the WWII, Korea and Vietnam eras, when the military man was simply a war-fighter. Today, our Marines are not only war-fighters, but also peace-keepers simultaneously filling military, civil, law enforcement and humanitarian roles. <br />
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Although the video is nearly 3 years old, it could have been filmed yesterday. The situation portrayed in 2008 remains the same in much of the Province. You'll see The blurred civil-military mission continues in Afghanistan today. </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="line-height: 115%;"><br />
Here's the link: <a href="http://www.pbs.org/now/shows/428/index.html">Reporter Embed in Helmand </a></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; line-height: normal;"><br />
</div><div class="blogger-post-footer">This blog contains the authors personal observations only and does not represent the official view of the United States Marine Corps</div>VMICraighttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18093462130476461928noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15921273.post-6064448722704749942011-11-11T06:53:00.000-05:002011-11-11T06:53:11.987-05:00Happy 236th Birthday<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicKF23UaD4G56xkmf0BGZYmzJtqMaQhrBiHybb9hYSMaRHK4Ln4YAb4fhjiVN-VXE-5-qRV_Z7gSGrSSBZLjrZZ7j-ZTamAbc0j1Ks-0jEr_Fzo_TeoSxZJWwdD72iPOt-EjZ2yw/s1600/mm_happy-birthday-usmc.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"> </a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3r1W6PikNT5-it90bATT3NhJ51uTrrmA6rFfpXNHMqqKL1E7YD4MzK8X_K2k4I9v-Gb9TE_1WczL1J2RD9pqNiP4PyDy4xUwg0pBIQGwlS9x4Q_bq4A2pMwnaNHK6b32wxzq3Vw/s1600/cake.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3r1W6PikNT5-it90bATT3NhJ51uTrrmA6rFfpXNHMqqKL1E7YD4MzK8X_K2k4I9v-Gb9TE_1WczL1J2RD9pqNiP4PyDy4xUwg0pBIQGwlS9x4Q_bq4A2pMwnaNHK6b32wxzq3Vw/s1600/cake.jpeg" /></a></div>Yesterday was the 236th anniversary of the founding of the U.S. Marine Corps. The Corps is rich in history and tradition and all Marines begin learning our traditions the day they enter boot camp or Officer Candidate School. Ask any Marine who Chesty Puller is or why we wear a blood stripe on the side of our dress trousers and they'll know. There's not a Marine alive, past or present, who can't recite the Marine Corps hymn word for word. <br />
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One of our yearly traditions involves taking a moment to celebrate the founding of our Corps, better known as the Marine Corps Birthday. No matter where Marines are stationed, you'll certainly hear them wishing each other happy birthday. If circumstances arise, the celebration will often include some sort of cake cutting, even if it is simply a pound cake pulled from an MRE pouch in the field. It's a day we all reflect on our heritage and honor those who served in the Corps before us. I've spent a several birthdays deployed - Iraq, Liberia, Turkey - and we've always celebrated the birthday in one form or another. This year was no different. <br />
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Due to the size of the FOB (Forward Operating Base), several different celebrations occurred yesterday. Despite the immense walls that ring the FOB's outer perimeter, most of the units have internal compounds that are also surrounded by Jersey barriers and concertina wire for added security. As such, each unit is somewhat cut off from the other, hence the decision to hold multiple celebrations.<br />
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Sure enough, the 2nd Marine Division (MARDIV) held their own celebration within the larger Marine Expeditionary Force (MEF) compound. The celebration was held outside during sunset, with great care taken to ensure the traditional pom and circumstance held back at home was included. A color guard was present, as was a small band put together for the occasion. A series of rough-hewn benches were hastily constructed for Marines and their guests to sit on and were filled to capacity. <br />
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The MARDIV even set up a large video screen to play the Commandant's video-taped 236th B-Day message - if you have a moment, please take a look - it's a great video and helps explain to those who've never been part of the Corps why we Marines are so proud of our service <a href="http://www.marines.mil/usmc/Pages/2011MarineCorpsBirthdayBall.aspx">Commandant's Birthday Video</a>. <br />
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During the ceremony, the 2nd MARDIV Commanding General (CG) was the guest of honor. Behind the General, an honor guard marched out and the flags were retired for the evening. Following the presentation of the Commandant's video message, a birthday cake measuring at least 6' long was carried out of the building and in placed in front of the gathered crowd. As tradition goes, the Guest of Honor received the first piece; the oldest Marine present received the second (he was 55), while the 3rd piece went to the youngest Marne present, born in Sept, 1992. <br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuPIiQXVxJK6S67xOZW-O0msVmmvwe9MDuSQF4rMdtlGXL76lZInWcA6DdyBW70fk1MBww7pwzI2aOUIZSRk-MVZGME2v0ZRTHYDzXThyphenhyphentHmGsa58VfgXR-lS7oa-c2VMIZAHzMg/s1600/mm_happy-birthday-usmc.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="256" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuPIiQXVxJK6S67xOZW-O0msVmmvwe9MDuSQF4rMdtlGXL76lZInWcA6DdyBW70fk1MBww7pwzI2aOUIZSRk-MVZGME2v0ZRTHYDzXThyphenhyphentHmGsa58VfgXR-lS7oa-c2VMIZAHzMg/s320/mm_happy-birthday-usmc.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>It was a nice ceremony. Having attended many variations of Marine Corps birthday celebrations, from simple cake cutting at a friend's home to the Commandant's Ball in Washington, D.C., the 2nd MARDIV celebration was more than acceptable. The CG reminded everyone, whether they were a Marine who'd just returned from patrol or a clerk working administrative issues aboard the Camp that they were all part of the continuing legacy of the Corps. He reminded us thank our families for their sacrifice, as they are the ones left behind, taking care of things at home. I thoroughly enjoyed the event, which renewed my faith in the Corps and the bond I feel toward my fellow Marines, past and present.<div class="blogger-post-footer">This blog contains the authors personal observations only and does not represent the official view of the United States Marine Corps</div>VMICraighttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18093462130476461928noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15921273.post-46959169141832843612011-11-09T08:03:00.004-05:002011-11-09T12:34:05.358-05:00Heroes<div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 130%;">This morning, I read a tattered news article that was tacked to the wall inside our compound. The Marines chronicled in the story are heroes. Heroes are not celebrities. They are not sports figures. They are men like Lance Corporal's Dominguez and Love, the men whose photographs appear on the front page of the article. Please take a look... </span><span style="font-size: 130%;"><a href="http://www.armdynamics.com/caffeine/uploads/news/latimesmarines2-18-11.pdf">Heroes</a></span></div><div style="font-family: verdana;"><span style="font-size: 130%;"><br />
</span></div><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; font-size: 130%;">The fight rages on in the Sangin District. There, heroes are common. We call them Marines.</span><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: 130%;"><br />
</span><div class="blogger-post-footer">This blog contains the authors personal observations only and does not represent the official view of the United States Marine Corps</div>VMICraighttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18093462130476461928noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15921273.post-10099120574931102602011-11-08T23:28:00.000-05:002011-11-09T03:58:33.607-05:00Chance Encounter<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Nov. 3, 2011</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="line-height: 115%;">Before
leaving the transit base in Manas, Kyrgyzstan, I was grazing at the chow hall
salad bar and noticed a long-time friend standing directly in front of me,
completely oblivious to my presence. It was Col. Ken Desimone, my counterpart
from the Inspector General’s Office at Camp Lejeune. Ken had deployed to
Afghanistan last March as the Officer in Charge (OIC) of the Provincial Police
Training Team in Lashkar Gah, Afghanistan. During his tour, the Police Station
where Ken and his team were living was hit twice by suicide bombers, both times
killing a number of Afghan National Police Officers whom Ken’s team was
mentoring. As Ken later noted, it was sheer luck that neither he nor his
Marines were injured or killed, as the building was nearly destroyed by the
force of the blasts. After each bombing, the Afghani Police rebuilt the
station, which still remains a favorite target of insurgents. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="line-height: 115%;">Since
meeting each other as young Lieutenant’s in 1988, we have managed to stay
in touch and have since served together in a variety of units and locations. In
2005, I ran into Ken in Fallujah, Iraq, where both of us had deployed in
support of Operation Iraqi Freedom. At that time, Ken was serving as a mentor
to the Iraqi Border Police, which later became the subject of a story I wrote
and subsequently published in Leatherneck Magazine. A draft version was posted
to this blog in 2006 - <a href="http://vmicraig.blogspot.com/2006/05/to-border-amigo.html">Leatherneck Border Story</a></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="line-height: 115%;">As Ken glanced up from his salad-filled plate, we couldn’t
help but laugh aloud at our surprise encounter. For the remainder of the
evening, we swapped stories and quickly caught up. </span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjalVImdNzzLfOH6d8jsNewPtXQIHBNovd4nTuMV46z5fb0qFaMVC6W1gEN8h7uGQFuxLuvOZgMCIjvlld2GNYWuDaphzFizyVxDvfaJ9f9NW8Hv7Cp16JxT93k_YXAPk1YUexJzQ/s1600/DSCN0002.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="167" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjalVImdNzzLfOH6d8jsNewPtXQIHBNovd4nTuMV46z5fb0qFaMVC6W1gEN8h7uGQFuxLuvOZgMCIjvlld2GNYWuDaphzFizyVxDvfaJ9f9NW8Hv7Cp16JxT93k_YXAPk1YUexJzQ/s200/DSCN0002.JPG" width="200" /></a><span style="font-size: large;"></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="line-height: 115%;">In Iraq, Ken joked that based upon our assignments at that
time, he was a “meat-eater,” whereas I was simply a “leaf-eater” (similar to
the long-standing argument that grunts, or Marine infantry, are superior to Marines in combat service support roles). This time, however, Ken acknowledged that our
chance meeting at the salad bar was a sure sign that he too had finally become
a leaf-eater. </span></span></div><div class="blogger-post-footer">This blog contains the authors personal observations only and does not represent the official view of the United States Marine Corps</div>VMICraighttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18093462130476461928noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15921273.post-60461575385619103022011-11-02T23:16:00.002-04:002011-11-22T11:38:27.312-05:00The Waiting Game<div style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">
Nov. 2, 2011</div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">We arrived in Kyrgyzstan at 4:30
a.m. following a 14 hour flight, with an anticipated 24-96 hour layover before
heading on to our next destination. Our current location is strictly a
way-point where forces temporarily halt en route to Afghanistan, although the
newly elected Kyrgyz President, Almazbek Atambayev, has decided that the base
may close by the end of 2014. As noted in today’s edition of Stars and Stripes,
the base is used by both the military and civilian airlines, which certainly is
a cause of conflict among the Kyrgyz citizens.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpVzvIiSBQzwwNwC2RiR3fuLHHxFdFr_UzFVbp9cRTrycoBILav6m7McQqvI84w2zUyo2Au0B0W-MbHzUPYAkgYIV1D8z3HtX4jt91TlXacGZlD0kBl5-EbbkxnygCQ94hm9M7tA/s1600/bags.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><br /></a></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">It's very cold here – the temps were
in the low 30's when we arrived and never rose above 45 degrees the rest of the
day. Upon landing, we were shuttled to a large Quonset hut where we received an
in-brief and temporary lodging. It took approximately 3 hours for our gear to
be moved from the airstrip to the staging area, where we found that it had accidentally
been combined with another unit’s baggage. It was quite frustrating to sort
through 600 identical bags in order to find your own. There's no Delta baggage
crew here to do that job, but thankfully the Marines jumped in, took charge,
and had the bags separated and identified within 30 minutes. As we sorted our
gear, I was thankful to be wearing a cold weather jacket, as the weather was "bone
chilling" cold. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Time drags by at waypoint locations.
For the transient service member, there is little to do but sleep, eat, and
perhaps read a book or check your e-mail if an internet drop is available
aboard the base. As was the case in Iraq and Kuwait, the Kyrgyz base provides
several Morale, Welfare and Recreation (MWR) tents for transients to relax,
catch a movie, and order a coffee. These days, it seems rare to find a base or
FOB without internet access, and it is not untypical to find troops “Skyping”
their loved ones via video-chat, a technology that would have been unimaginable
a mere decade ago.</span></div>
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<br /><div class="blogger-post-footer">This blog contains the authors personal observations only and does not represent the official view of the United States Marine Corps</div>VMICraighttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18093462130476461928noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15921273.post-29834066852673123242011-10-24T09:28:00.002-04:002011-10-24T09:40:17.137-04:00Mules and Packhorses<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><b><i><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">“On the field of
battle man is not only a thinking animal, he is a beast of burden. He is given
great weights to carry. But unlike the mule, the jeep, or any other carrier,
his chief function in war does not begin until the time he delivers that burden
to the appointed ground…In fact we have always done better by a mule than by a
man. We were careful not to load the mule with more than a third of his
weight.”</span></i></b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 115%;">-
S.L.A. Marshall, The Soldier’s Load and the Mobility of a Nation, 1950</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNIYXyVduk-068OliRL84S0v1F0c6ojVyM1kP35Gcd9BdSN8n2k5JUo4j29EkOJBtiGDOlh5p8-voIGaWPTD7b8U9uFWxqmdtSVz7HVDaYSnRhpcwQgzYjbs8fel66mCuonQ_LHw/s1600/DSCN0032.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNIYXyVduk-068OliRL84S0v1F0c6ojVyM1kP35Gcd9BdSN8n2k5JUo4j29EkOJBtiGDOlh5p8-voIGaWPTD7b8U9uFWxqmdtSVz7HVDaYSnRhpcwQgzYjbs8fel66mCuonQ_LHw/s320/DSCN0032.JPG" width="320" /></a><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 115%;"> </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 115%;"> Before packing... </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large; line-height: 115%;">In preparation for deployment, we were issued our gear/equipment
from the CIF, or consolidated issue facility. Every Marine who has previously
deployed knows the drill…it’s the same at every supply point, be it a Battalion
warehouse or a base facility the size of the CIF. Show up, stand in line and
wait…then wait some more. No matter what time of day or day of the week, it is
almost guaranteed that a line has already formed at the door. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large; line-height: 115%;">For current deployments, the CIF regulates the type
and quantity of gear a Marine draws from the facility. Unlike the hodge-podge
collection of “off-the-shelf” equipment individually purchased by Marines
during the early days of OIF/OEF, today’s gear list has been refined and contains
equipment that rivals the Blackhawk, Bianci and Safari-land items that Marines
had added to their combat load over the last decade. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large; line-height: 115%;">Gone are the days of H-harnesses, butt packs, ALICE
packs and MOLLE packs. These days, Marines draw the same high-speed gear that was
previously available only to professional mountaineers or expeditionary climbers.
Today’s gear list includes improved load bearing equipment (ILBE), a fancy name
for mountain backpacks. It also includes arctic parkas, booties and mittens;
flame resistant outer-garments and fleeces of varying colors and thickness. No
longer does a Marine have to scrounge for gear that’s appropriate for the
varied climates of a particular geographic region. It’s all available at the
CIF.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large; line-height: 115%;">Enhancing the load is the addition of modern,
technologically advanced protective gear, or PPE (personal protective
equipment). Flak vests are relics of the past, replaced by modular tactical
vests (MTV) complete with enhanced small arms protective inserts (E-SAPI) that
weigh over 30 lbs. combined. The inserts are basically bullet-proof plates that
protect the torso of the wearer. The plates may be heavy, but they’ll stop a
bullet from most enemy rifles. Tack on the weight of the vest and the various attached
accoutrements such as ammo magazines and your IFAK (improved first-aid kit) and
you easily add an additional 45 lbs. to your torso. Of course, this doesn’t
include the weaponry, clothing and personal items a Marine also carries into
theater.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large; line-height: 115%;">In 2003, the Corps drafted a combat load report that
reported the average weights of gear that a Marine takes on deployment. The
typical Marine carries 48 lbs of gear in his assault load, which is the average
amount of gear carried during combat operations. The approach march load, part
of which is shed before entering a combat situation, was estimated at 71 lbs. Considering the existence load, or the total
amount of gear that a Marines takes with him on deployment averages 138 lbs, is
it any wonder that many Marines and soldiers alike suffer from back and
shoulder injuries? Although the quality of today's gear has vastly improved, the
Marine’s ability to carry that gear into battle has not changed in 235 years. Although
S.L.A. Marshall noted “we were careful not to load the mule with more than a
third of his body weight,” we have yet to find a more efficient - and plentiful
- means of carrying equipment to the battlefield besides the grunt on the
ground, the true packhorse of the Corps. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 115%;"> ....and after. </span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMPqY25CHo9NCHkGyfKZJ8kOBbpdDPU1nFwilwHYPd3sAOYcT6ew6mmtURtUjzR8_gmIkvtB7yl2MKeavq2QtgaA3OTpoPbJFk8uRA1g_pAHmrFl3-GAEjOJ4A9fVfFjpB-cM58A/s1600/DSCN0033.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMPqY25CHo9NCHkGyfKZJ8kOBbpdDPU1nFwilwHYPd3sAOYcT6ew6mmtURtUjzR8_gmIkvtB7yl2MKeavq2QtgaA3OTpoPbJFk8uRA1g_pAHmrFl3-GAEjOJ4A9fVfFjpB-cM58A/s320/DSCN0033.JPG" width="240" /></a><div class="blogger-post-footer">This blog contains the authors personal observations only and does not represent the official view of the United States Marine Corps</div>VMICraighttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18093462130476461928noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15921273.post-74743641263132372272011-10-20T10:51:00.000-04:002011-10-20T13:52:48.549-04:00Activation<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_vIMc0iqqsUWiMPmNVlDSfg2WFbOnJu_30nqw3-0VKbE22uAHW1XsTr7Sx8J6CJmSscJBzxodAaL8qUNQ5J1GiksLX3gycD_HipHEL3jGS1QayqyzTJNt5_oqXu78-kaptx9gSQ/s1600/DSCN0009.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_vIMc0iqqsUWiMPmNVlDSfg2WFbOnJu_30nqw3-0VKbE22uAHW1XsTr7Sx8J6CJmSscJBzxodAaL8qUNQ5J1GiksLX3gycD_HipHEL3jGS1QayqyzTJNt5_oqXu78-kaptx9gSQ/s320/DSCN0009.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_iBvLl8JcOhFrTXb-VOvkO4VhnM3Jy5NKhmlvb0i9bvgOGRXsm4UCuqCsnZiMaqNmGIMY_pu_vnUbv6tEl7Dq2vTvN7UnK7NIS009Snaheno_f3Wbz-hJYNtVx7Yqp0eAQXAi2g/s1600/DSCN0008.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_iBvLl8JcOhFrTXb-VOvkO4VhnM3Jy5NKhmlvb0i9bvgOGRXsm4UCuqCsnZiMaqNmGIMY_pu_vnUbv6tEl7Dq2vTvN7UnK7NIS009Snaheno_f3Wbz-hJYNtVx7Yqp0eAQXAi2g/s200/DSCN0008.JPG" width="200" /></a>After a 5 year respite, the Corps has finally decided to activate me again for deployment overseas. Although this was mostly a result of my own doing, I am excited, albeit somewhat anxious, to once again deploy in support of our global war on terrorism. My role has certainly changed, as I have moved on from my previous billet of USMC Field Historian. However, I will continue to post weekly observations "from the front" in order to provide an on-ground perspective of life in an active theater of war, without the typical political or media spin found in stories published at home. To be continued....<div class="blogger-post-footer">This blog contains the authors personal observations only and does not represent the official view of the United States Marine Corps</div>VMICraighttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18093462130476461928noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15921273.post-91671342087832513322007-04-11T23:44:00.000-04:002008-12-09T21:42:19.543-05:00A Test of Faith<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgm4YHVn960sTrtGm-lUNp94fXEQqYqYTc2qqtAOJ4TzjID0e6VgEZ8gXa0OndPSkQgwXb-E-rNiam0wskAXYkElsFqtyy_fGNfUo9j6KelJtfqwPQ7yqaVcm0lX9IDm6nvotePkQ/s1600-h/RCT+8+Chaplain+Oasis.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgm4YHVn960sTrtGm-lUNp94fXEQqYqYTc2qqtAOJ4TzjID0e6VgEZ8gXa0OndPSkQgwXb-E-rNiam0wskAXYkElsFqtyy_fGNfUo9j6KelJtfqwPQ7yqaVcm0lX9IDm6nvotePkQ/s320/RCT+8+Chaplain+Oasis.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5052655367375442386" border="0" /></a><br />The evening was warm, virtually indistinguishable from the night before. It was the fall of 2005, just a month away from the first national elections in post-Saddam Iraq. A dozen young Marines relaxed inside the open porch of the Oasis, a crude plywood shack that served as chapel, watering hole and gathering spot for the Marines of Regimental Combat Team 8 aboard Camp Workhorse, a small "warrior base" nestled inside the larger confines of Camp Fallujah, Iraq. Amid the haze of half-smoked cigars and cigarettes, a single officer sat quielty, listening to the ebb and flow of conversation, knowing full well the good humor belied the events experienced by the Marines of the RCT over the previous days and weeks.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi26IXFE4IMQugndGtEWnNVmkqfYgo288XnBjqH1WKnF1EL60n1aIrgVBbfHuhJJNNJdOYzmCSeuU1u0LQffNy5CTBl3AdjSWgvVKtArYPzVI30SEdKB9dMhebAMCeC_VYxL7ortg/s1600-h/White+CDR+DC.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 299px; height: 224px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi26IXFE4IMQugndGtEWnNVmkqfYgo288XnBjqH1WKnF1EL60n1aIrgVBbfHuhJJNNJdOYzmCSeuU1u0LQffNy5CTBl3AdjSWgvVKtArYPzVI30SEdKB9dMhebAMCeC_VYxL7ortg/s320/White+CDR+DC.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5052383641974493602" border="0" /></a>United States Navy CDR Dale C. White, then-Chaplain for RCT-8, 2nd Marine Division (forward) had become a father figure to most, a man whom many Marines would seek for guidance, comfort and encouragement. Despite his rank, the cross on his collar made him the most approachable officer in the battalion, which the Commander understood as one of the most important aspects of his job. From the moment he'd arrived in Iraq, Chaplain White knew his duties were much more involved than simply providing spiritual services. "I had probably 150 Marines from 8th Marine Regiment when I was at Camp Lejeune,” recalled White, a New York native. “Now I'm the pastor for 1200 Marines, because of all of our attachments (to include) tanks, tracks, the batteries, counter-battery, CEB...none of them came here with a chaplain. That was a surprise to me. I'm doing far more counseling, marriage counseling, coping with combat stress and those types of things, than I had expected." White waved at a young Marine strolling past, a freshly filled coffee mug in hand. "We've got an ongoing coffee mess from 0530 on," White says in response to the passerby. "We started brewing just one pot of coffee a day, now we're up to about twenty." Like many other men of the cloth, CDR White quickly became a shoulder to lean on, a man who'd listen without interruption, an officer whom junior Marines felt comfortable approaching despite the rank on his collar. "To realize someone (of such) rank is here to care for them," says White, "is a blessing. Here at the battalion, there's no bad time to talk. Come in whenever you want. If it's two in the morning, my RP (religious perogram specialist) will come and get me."<br /><br />Since the creation of the first Continental Navy, chaplains have honorably served the United States Naval forces . Strictly noncombatants, they carry no weapons and are virtually forbidden to engage hostile forces. They include, but are not limited to Roman Catholics, Methodists, Lutherans, Baptists, and Protestants, as well as those of the Jewish, Hindu, Buddhist and Muslim faiths. Normally accompanied by an enlisted religious program specialist, or RP, they serve in every major Marine Corps unit at home and overseas. Inevitably, serving chaplains have died in action, sometimes in significant numbers. The U.S. Army and Marines lost 100 chaplains killed in action during WWII, a casualty rate greater per capita than any other branch of the services except the infantry and the Army Air Corps. Many have been decorated for bravery in action (five have won Britain's highest award for gallantry, the Victoria Cross). The Chaplain's Medal for Heroism is a special U.S. military decoration given to military chaplains who have been killed in the line of duty, although it has to date only been awarded to the famous Four Chaplains, all of whom died in the USAT Dorchester sinking in 1943 after giving up their lifejackets to others. (1)<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPqZV81t-Y_0bWstKrqbSEHrZ8Ot68xE1s45mTovSK_1f1MbM53G4j0Z5AFhAUQZWOxrYj2btu3uWoekVNvK9qDswlCeFjZK4D75QJ6alIIJYBpJStHEsZvUWx7wWngWWgJIvb-w/s1600-h/Weaver+Capt+BJ.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 287px; height: 215px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPqZV81t-Y_0bWstKrqbSEHrZ8Ot68xE1s45mTovSK_1f1MbM53G4j0Z5AFhAUQZWOxrYj2btu3uWoekVNvK9qDswlCeFjZK4D75QJ6alIIJYBpJStHEsZvUWx7wWngWWgJIvb-w/s320/Weaver+Capt+BJ.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5052383418636194194" border="0" /></a>Over the last 4 years, Operation Iraqi Freedom has offered no exception to the dangers facing today's Navy chaplains. Captain Bryan Weaver, former Division chaplain for the Second Marine Division (Fwd), Camp Fallujah, Iraq in 2006, commented on the effects of combat on Marines and Sailors who've served in Iraq. "Men who come out to a combat zone either find their faith or they lose their faith. Most Marines who come to a combat zone will use the opportunity to do a lot of soul searching. Even I do that. It's a great opportunity for reflection…and for honing our spiritual disciplines and spiritual direction. That's what I bring to the table as Division chaplain - I provide spiritual direction to the Regimental chaplains, who in turn to do so for the battalions." Reflecting upon his own experience in Iraq, Weaver continued. "When a chaplain goes out to a forward firm base or the front lines, the morale increases. We bring a sense of hope and stability to the Marines. It really encourages the Marines...it provides a sense of home (to them). It's important to be seen, not holed up behind a desk somewhere.” Captain Weaver paused, searching for an appropriate explanation. “It's leadership by example. I subscribe to MBWA - ministry by walking about. Men need encouragement. They feed off of that. Life out here is hard. A chaplain brings intangibles to the table - enthusiasm, attitude, spirituality. You can't put your hand on it, but you know when it's present."<br /><br />Weaver's view of chaplains at war echoed the sentiments of New York Times best selling author Stephen Mansfield, who commented on the state of the military chaplains during a 2005 interview with the National Review online. Remarking on the progress they've made over the last three decades, Mansfield stated "Military chaplains are not chosen according to a denominational quota system as they were during the Vietnam era. They are chosen according to a “best qualified” standard. This means that the chaplains serving today are deeply committed to ministering to the fighting man and woman and have met very high standards for entrance into the corps. Some of them are even decorated warriors themselves who left the military and then returned as chaplains. They are doing a hard job gloriously." (2)<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjm7H0VBaZoIFDJpgCh-obCzVHu4fYsOf5Pv1ctYRWT4bppTWmGzqAvHXyULonFA8iYGrWes_YSsJxDxw_xrJsO9Kd-vfrMz4oIu4bgXOqUtKB3acGoFyI3uNYRT7xtacsSo3GWuQ/s1600-h/Stewart+LT+WM.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 294px; height: 220px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjm7H0VBaZoIFDJpgCh-obCzVHu4fYsOf5Pv1ctYRWT4bppTWmGzqAvHXyULonFA8iYGrWes_YSsJxDxw_xrJsO9Kd-vfrMz4oIu4bgXOqUtKB3acGoFyI3uNYRT7xtacsSo3GWuQ/s320/Stewart+LT+WM.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5052383221067698562" border="0" /></a>Doing a hard job gloriously came easy to LT William Stewart. Assigned to the II Marine Expeditionary Force (Fwd) in 2005-2006, LT William Stewart found himself ministering primarily to US Navy Seabees assigned to the tactical movement teams (TMT) of Naval Marine Construction Battalion 22. Originally enlisting in the Navy in 1984, Chaplain Stewart served as a religious program specialist for 5 years on active duty before entering the Naval reserves in 1989. Following the 9/11 attack on the World Trade Center and the Pentagon, Stewart applied for the US Navy Chaplain Corps and was subsequently assigned as Chaplain to his former unit, NMCB-22. "A lot of the duties are typical of what you think a Chaplain would be doing," stated Stewart. "I provide services, bible studies, prayer meetings and counseling. (In Iraq), I also do a lot of what I call movement prayers for TMT's, basically convoy escorts. You never know when there's going to be a convoy leaving the wire. I try to do a prayer before each of these if I'm available. It doesn't matter what time they leave, day or night, because I found that it really comforts folks to have that prayer.” LT Stewart smiles, recalling the reactions of his sailors. “Goodness, the stories of people coming up to me, saying "Chaps, I know that prayer saved us today"... is very humbling to me, because I don't feel like I have that much power. But I guess that person I'm praying to upstairs - hopefully, he did see them through - they believe in that, they trust in that; it gives them confidence."<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyzZtLMENBcJwcmqTSZOY9kJU5pJ4mk6ZaxpS-bZf-b2JWyH_fejW8sbmD2DDuNNw0hFBRmrWTmIJbu6ksSqyfVnWXuit_BJyFNKfKO60A4iSkVbCgndTkygNCglmeaDGVYOrIvA/s1600-h/Crittendon+LT+BK.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 295px; height: 221px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyzZtLMENBcJwcmqTSZOY9kJU5pJ4mk6ZaxpS-bZf-b2JWyH_fejW8sbmD2DDuNNw0hFBRmrWTmIJbu6ksSqyfVnWXuit_BJyFNKfKO60A4iSkVbCgndTkygNCglmeaDGVYOrIvA/s320/Crittendon+LT+BK.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5052382971959595378" border="0" /></a>Despite their commonalities in faith, the chaplains of OIF hail from a wide variety of backgrounds. LT Brian Crittendon was a former Marine Corps CH-46 pilot in the early 1980’s. Resigning his commission in 1985 to become a civilian chaplain, he spent 13 years as a civilian pastor before deciding to return to the military. In 2004, LT Crittendon reported to the Second Marine Division at Camp Lejeune, only this time in the uniform of a sailor, not a Marine. Deploying to Iraq in 2005, LT Crittendon set up shop inside a derelict rail car at the abandoned Al Qaim train station, commonly referred to as the “soul train” by resident Marines. Ministering to the men of 3rd Battalion, 6th Marine Regiment, Chaplain Crittendon faced one of his toughest days in November, 2005 when an insurgent ambush wounded 12 Marines and killed 4 of their comrades from 2nd Battalion, 1st Marine Regiment. Rushing to the forward rescuscitative surgical suite (FRSS), Chaplain Crittendon prayed over the dead and wounded. “I had two primary roles while I was down there. One was to minister to those who were hurt...to make contact with them, pray with them, encourage them and to bring them as much comfort (to them) as I can. The other is to keep an eye on the staff and to be a presence there (for) the spiritual encouragement of the staff." Crittendon continued. "There were points where I was putting my arms around surgeons and nurses and technicians who were having a long day....we stopped and I held prayer for everybody who was involved." Crittendon recalled the moment the Regimental Commander walked into the FRSS, encouraging his wounded Marines as surgeons struggled to save a fellow Marine who ultimately passed away from his wounds. "I view these men as being, in a sense, ministers to their country," said Crittendon of the Marines with whom he serves. "They have a mission...they've been called as much to their job as a warrior as I've been called to be a minister." Crittendon quickly changed the topic with a lighter comment . "The good news story for me, especially as a minister, (was when) a young man found his faith and asked me to baptize him a few hundred yards from the Syrian border, with his company...it will always be a highlight (for me) as a Christian minister."<br /><br />Evey chaplain who experiences combat ministry comes away with a greater appreciation for the men and women they serve. "There's no doubt that being in combat, with rounds coming and IED's going off, that those Marines have a very different life than sailors on a ship," explains Chaplain White of RCT-8. "It's life or death (here). Whereas I can go on a cruise and come back with everyone alive, that's not the case here. There is definitely a level of committment and a level of risk that far exceeds anything we've had on a carrier.<br /><br />Even though you could lose your life on a flight deck very easily, the rubber meets the road here.<br /><br />1. Wikipedia Online - Military Chaplains<br />2. NRO - God and Man on the Front Lines, a Q&A by Kathryn Lopez, May 27, 2005<div class="blogger-post-footer">This blog contains the authors personal observations only and does not represent the official view of the United States Marine Corps</div>VMICraighttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18093462130476461928noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15921273.post-1170387877384589572007-02-01T22:44:00.000-05:002007-02-01T22:44:37.403-05:00A Coveted AwardThe famous French Emperor and General Napolean Bonaparte once declared "A soldier will fight long and hard for a bit of colored ribbon." A European tradition usually reserved for royalty, the wearing of medals was uncommon among US Military pesonnel until the late 19th century, when civil war soldiers were awarded unofficial badges by local commanders, a practice later formalized by the services as a means to recognize the bravery and accomplishments of a military service member.<br /><br />Having fallen out of favor since the civil war, the practice of beestowing unofficial awards upon deserving Marines has never completely disappeared. An number of unoffical decorations have been awarded to Marines over the last century, signifying a shared experience or common bond that will never be formally recognized by our Corps. Despite their unofficial status, however, these awards are often more coveted than all others combined.<br /><br />One such example is the George Medal. Legendary among 1st Marine Division veterans of Guadalcanal, only about 50 were cast in Australia before the mold gave out. According to retired Marine Col. Brooke Nihart, a Navy Cross recipient and historian who recently passed away in August, 2006, the George medal commemorated the difficult situation of the division during the early days on Guadalcanal, when ammunition, food, and heavy equipment were short and the Japanese plentiful. The Marines faced increasing Japanese air attacks and surface action which left the division in a tight spot.<br /><br />In the recollection of then-Captain Donald L. Dickson, adjutant of the 5th Marines, the Division G-3, then-Lieutenant Colonel Merrill B. Twining, resolved to commemorate the occasion. Twining told Captain Dickson, an aspiring artist, what he had in mind. Captain Dickson went to work designing an appropriate medal using a fifty-cent piece to draw a circle on a captured Japanese blank military postcard.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/7210/1491/1600/147264/medals.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/7210/1491/320/83426/medals.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br /><br />When the division departed Gudalcanal and finally reached Australia, a mold was made by a local metal craftsman and a small number were cast before the mold became unserviceable. Those wanting a medal paid one Australian pound for it and received a certificate as well. The medals are now an even greater rarity than at the time. In recent years, reproductions have been cast, and can be identified by the different metal and a poor definition of details.<br /><br />The obverse design of the medal shows a hand and sleeve dropping a hot potato in the shape of Guadalcanal into the arms of a grateful Marine. In the original design, the sleeve bore the stripes of a vice admiral, intended to be either Vice Admiral Robert L. Ghormley, ComSoPac, or Vice Admiral Frank Jack Fletcher, Commander Joint Expeditionary Force, but the final medal diplomatically omitted this identification.<br /><br /><br />Also on the obverse is a saguaro cactus, indigenous to Arizona, not Guadalcanal, but representing the code name for the island, "Cactus." The obverse inscription if Facia Georgius, "Let George Do It." Thus it became known as the George Medal. The medal's reverse is inscribed: "In fond remembrance of the happy days spent from Aug. 7th 1942 to Jan. 5th 1943. U.S.M.C."<br /><br />Much like Lieutenant Colonel Twining, US Marine Corps Major Joe Winslow hoped to commemorate his wartime experience. However, Major Winslow's would occur nearly 60 years later in 2004, far away from the island of Guadalcanal. Instead of water and jungle, he was surrounded by sand, and the enemy were not Japanese. They were insurgents and were battling Marines of I MEF (Fwd) on the streets of Fallujah. <br /><br />As the MEF slowly pushed through the city, then-Captain Winslow recalled the unique, historical significance of the George Medal and was inspired to create a similar award for his fellow Marines who'd already served or would soon serve in the billet of Field Historian during Operation Iraqi Freedom. A unique, independent position carried out by only one or two Marines at a time, the Field Historians traveled throughout the theater, recording the oral histories of Marines engaged in combat operations and combat service support, while simultaneously collecting documents and artifacts for archiving at the Gray Research Center and the National<br />Museum of the Marine Corps in Quantico.<br /><br />Captain Winslow hand sculpted his concept in plaster, pouring a firing mold from concrete and other materials found at the MEF headquarters. The medals' design was based upon an Iraqi army badge, with a Marine Corps eagle, globe and anchor super-imposed on a Persian star, surrounded by palm fronds. The colors of the suspending ribbon are scarlet, black and silver, which respectively represent the blood of Marines shed in OIF, the lives given in support of their fellow Marines, and the Field Historian's fidelity to history. Captain Winslow's first prototype was cast in Fallujah using silver sent from a texas silversmith. The remaining<br />versions were later cast at home by a Marine Corps Guadalcanal veteran.<br /><br />Dubbed the Military Order of St. Nicholas, the medal was presented by Major Winslow to 13 Field Historians during their 231st Marine Corps Bithday celebration in Fredricksburg, VA, all of whom had previously deployed to Iraq is support of the Global War on Terrorism. Each recipient received a certificate which declared them a "companion" in the Order. The award was named after Colonel Nicolas Reynolds, the former Commanding Officer of the Marine Corps Field History Unit who assembled the first team of Marine Corps Field Historians to deploy to Iraq. Since the start of OIF, approximately 15 Marine Corps Field Historians have deployed to Iraq.<br /><br />Like the George Medal, the Military Order of St. Nicolas will be shared by a finite group of people for a limited period of time. Worn only at events or gathering attended by members and of the Field History detachment, the Military Order of St. Nicolas will forever serve as a reminder of time spent in the Al Anbar Province of Iraq, watching and recording history in the making.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7210/1491/1600/ball06027.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/7210/1491/320/520952/ball06027.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;"></span><span style="font-style: italic;">The George Medal Information was obtained directly from a US Marine Corps Historical Division WWII Publication on Guadalcanal.</span><span style="font-style: italic;"></span><div class="blogger-post-footer">This blog contains the authors personal observations only and does not represent the official view of the United States Marine Corps</div>VMICraighttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18093462130476461928noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15921273.post-1161912040577812152006-10-26T21:18:00.000-04:002006-10-26T21:20:40.603-04:00The Men and Their Stories - Wounded Part 4 (Final)<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7210/1491/1600/Minney%20HM1%20GE.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7210/1491/320/Minney%20HM1%20GE.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a>Although the majority of the Camp Lejeune wounded warriors claim the title "Marine," a few of the residents prefer the nickname "Doc." Hospitalman first class (HM1) Glenn Minney is one of the few sailors who've come to call the wounded warrior barracks their home. A Navy reservist, Minney enlisted in 1985. "Doc" Minney was activated and deployed to Iraq in January, 2005. While serving with 3rd Battalion, 25th Marine Regiment, he was wounded by mortar shrapnel while standing atop the Haditha Dam, a 10 story high facility that serves as a Forward Operating Base for Marines and Corpsman stationed near the Euphrates River Valley. "It was a typical, hot day in Iraq. I had to go out to one of the CONEX boxes to get supplies for the Battalion Aid Station...and the dam came under mortar attack. I was out on the 10th deck on a catwalk and a mortar round went off about 30 feet in front of me." HM1 Minney remembered running back inside the dam, the unit going to General Quarters as four additional rounds exploded near the dam. At the time, he did not know he was injured. "My vision was a little blurry and I had a severe headache, but I didn't think much of it," Minney stated. The next day, however, his eyes started bothring him, and he began receiving treatments for pink-eye. Unknown to the "Doc", however, both retinas in his eyes had become detached from the concussion of the blast. Blood vessels had ruptured, allowing the vitrouse fluids to leak from his eyes. "I started developing tunnel vision, and it was slowly closing in, becoming pinpoint. I talked to my Battalion Surgeon, and sat him down in private and told him 'I am going blind'." Medevac'd to Al Asad, then to Balad, an opthamologist recommended immediate evacuation to Hamburg, Germany for surgery. His first surgery lasted 3 hours, and he received two more operations before heading home to the United States. On September 2, 2005, while convalescing at home, his vision again went black and he required additional emergency surgery. Still on active duty orders, he was offered the opportunity to move into the wounded warrior barracks in the fall of 2005. "At times, you can't talk to your spouse, your mother, your father, friends, about things they've never been exposed to. Being around people who've been there, and having the medical facility...that's the benefit to having the wounded warrior program. Care is first priorty, whether it be mental, physical or social - we go out of our way to hit all those avenues."<div class="blogger-post-footer">This blog contains the authors personal observations only and does not represent the official view of the United States Marine Corps</div>VMICraighttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18093462130476461928noreply@blogger.com36tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15921273.post-1161651120881938312006-10-23T20:49:00.000-04:002006-10-23T20:52:00.900-04:00The Men and Their Stories - Wounded Part 3<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7210/1491/1600/Dmitruk%20LCpl%20PD.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7210/1491/320/Dmitruk%20LCpl%20PD.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a>LCpl. Peter Dmitruk, an 0311 with Kilo Company, 3rd Battalion, 6th Marine Regiment, arrived at the Wounded Warrior barracks in September, 2005. Having graduated from boot camp less than one year earlier, he returned to Camp Lejeune with a career's worth of experience. Deployed to the Syrian border in the summer of 2005, LCpl. Dmitruk became accustomed to the daily grind of snap vehicle check points, presence patrols and security patrols around town. Having just returned from patrol to his company's battle position, he was reaching into his pack which he'd tossed atop the hescoe barrier that provided cover for him and his fellow Marines. "A mortar had fallen pretty close...I didn't hear the mortar, but I felt it. It felt like I kinda got punched. My arm flew up into my body. I looked down and it was mangled...kinda looked like it had gotten caught in a shredder. I could see the blood, which looked like arterial bleeding." A company corpsman laid him down and injected LCpl. Dmitruk with morphine. "I remember laying down on the stretcher, apologizing to everyone for getting hurt. I didn't want to leave." A medevac helicopter landed shortly thereafter and took him to the forward resuscitative surgical suite (FRSS) at FOB (forward operating base) Al Qaim. "I remember asking the Batalion Commander if I could stay...one of the medical officers (was) there; I could see he shook his head, so I knew I was going home. He said 'this is your time to heal, you've done what you can'." His injuries resulted in the introduction of a titanium plate into his arm, a necessity after losing nearly five inches of bone. Skin was grafted from his leg to cover the wounds and hasten the healing process. Following numerous surgeries, LCpl Dmitruk moved into the Wounded Warrior barracks in January, 2006 and has since realized the significance of living there, vice convalescing at home or in his unit's barracks. "I realized that when I'm here (in the wounded warrior barracks), healing is the number one priority...you'll always find a way to get to your appointments. That's the reason you're here, to heal and to get better."<div class="blogger-post-footer">This blog contains the authors personal observations only and does not represent the official view of the United States Marine Corps</div>VMICraighttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18093462130476461928noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15921273.post-1161127297820519942006-10-17T19:19:00.000-04:002006-10-17T19:21:37.833-04:00The Men and Their Stories - Wounded Part 2<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7210/1491/1600/Tussey%20LCpl%20PG.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7210/1491/320/Tussey%20LCpl%20PG.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a>Born and raised in Augusta, Georgia, LCpl Phillip Tussey enlisted in the Marine Corps in October, 2003. His first duty assignment with Kilo Company, 3rd Battalion, 8th Marine Regiment would prove to be his most memorable. Deployed to the city of Ramadi, Iraq in the winter of 2006, LCpl Tussey was on foot patrol in one of the most dangerous cities in Iraq when a sniper's bullet found its mark. "I felt something sting my leg. I tried to stand up...I fell to the ground, trying to get myself back up...I put my hand on my thigh and (pulling) my hand back, there was blood on my hand. I knew I'd been hit." The bullet had hit him inside his left thigh, 8 inches below his hip. Two fellow Marines picked up LCpl Tussey and put him in the back of a hardback HMMWV, his squad still under fire. Spent .50 cal cartiridges from the M-2 Browning machine gun atop the HMMWV turrent were hitting him in the face as the gunner provided covering fire to his squad. "They started medevac'ing me. There was only a driver and a gunner in there, so I picked up the radio and was calling the Staff Sergeant, telling him that we were up and that we needed to roll." Despite the pain from his shattered leg, LCpl Tussey remained conscious until he went into surgery at Charlie-med, Camp Ramadi's field surgical unit. Flying out of Ramadi the same evening, he traveled through Baghdad and Balad before flying to Germany, where he spent the following four days in a morphine induced haze. "They put a rod from my hip to my knee in my leg and two screws in my hip to hold the rod in place," described Tussey, who has endured numerous surgeries since his wounding. He's been at the Wounded Warrior barracks since June 28, 2005. "I can't really do much right now, because of the crutches," says LCpl Tussey, although he has not let his limited mobility keep him tied to the barracks. In July, 2006, he traveled to the National Naval Medical Center at Bethesda, MD with Lt. General Amos, former Commanding General of II MEF, to visit other wounded Marines and sailors returning from Iraq. Encountering a wounded Corpsman from own unit, Tussey recalled the Corpsman's comments upon seeing the unexpected visitors. "The (wounded) Corpsman that we knew couldn't thank us enough. He was so happy (to see us). He said 'you don't know what this means for y'all to come see me.' "<div class="blogger-post-footer">This blog contains the authors personal observations only and does not represent the official view of the United States Marine Corps</div>VMICraighttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18093462130476461928noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15921273.post-1160774167565591552006-10-13T17:13:00.000-04:002006-10-13T17:26:53.666-04:00The Men and Their Stories - Wounded Part 1<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7210/1491/1600/Shareno%20Cpl%20MS.0.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7210/1491/320/Shareno%20Cpl%20MS.0.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a>Corporal Aaron M. Shareno deployed to Iraq on July 18, 2005 with 2nd Battalion, 2nd Marine Regiment (2/2). Serving near the city of Karma, Iraq, Cpl. Shareno was 5 months into his deployment when he was wounded by a suicide vehicle-borne IED on December 14th, just 11 days before Christmas. His platoon had established fighting positions near a palm grove, approximately 25 meters from the edge of the road, when an insurgent drove his vehicle into the side of a 7 ton truck, detonating the explosives and instantly vaporizing the vehicle. The explosion sent shrapnel and chunks of metal through the air, knocking Cpl. Shareno and other Marines to the ground. "I got blown forward and a piece of shrapnel traveled through my palm and blew out the left matacarpal in my thumb - just shattered it," recalled Shareno. "When I got blown forward, I remember thinking I'm dead...I fell to my side and felt something was funny, not right...I saw my thumb drooping down...blood flowing out of my palm. It nicked two arteries in my hand. I put pressure on it below the wrist to stop the bleeding." Cpl. Shareno lauded the fast reaction of the Corpsman who treated him on the scene, but could not remember his name. "If I saw his face, I could recognize (him)", Shareno said. "He slapped a tournaquet on my hand...it was a unique experience." Medevac'd to Camp Fallujah Surgical, then ultimately to Balad and Germany before flying back to the United States, Cpl. Shareno regretted not being able to finish his deployment in Iraq. " I was a little shook up...more angry than anything...I (was) two months out (from leaving); ready to reenlist (when) I get hit. I just wanted to finish my pump, I wanted to reenlist and I wanted to continue on with my Marine Corps career." Now at the Wounded Warrior Barracks at Camp Lejeune, Cpl. Shareno is much less angry and is not letting his injuries get in the way of his career. "I plan on retiring from the Marine Corps," says Shereno. "I'm staying til I don't have fun anymore. Right now I'm having tons of fun."<div class="blogger-post-footer">This blog contains the authors personal observations only and does not represent the official view of the United States Marine Corps</div>VMICraighttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18093462130476461928noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15921273.post-1160493728152187652006-10-10T10:55:00.000-04:002006-10-10T11:22:08.480-04:00Wounded Warriors<a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7210/1491/1600/MAXWELLHALL1.1.jpg"><img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7210/1491/400/MAXWELLHALL1.1.jpg" border="0" /></a><br />In August, 2006, I had the honor of spending a week with 40 of our wounded Marines and sailors at the Wounded Warrior Barracks, Camp Lejeune, NC. All returned from Iraq sooner than expected, the result of a well-aimed sniper's bullet or the peppering blast of an IED. Despite their wounds, the Marines continue to march, all of them looking forward to the day they can join their comrades back in their old unit. Some, unfortunately, will never realize that dream, while others will return to duty for yet another tour in Iraq.<br /><br />The photo shows Lieutenant General Amos (right), former Commanding General, II MEF, at the ribbon cutting ceremony of Maxwell Hall, the official designation for the wounded warrior barracks. LtCol Tim Maxwell, himself recovering from wounds in Iraq, stands atop the stairs with his wife and child. Tim is the mastermind behind the barracks concept and is owed credit for giving our wounded Marines a place they can call home during their recovery process. Here is my version of this success story:<br /><br /><strong>Wounded Warriors<br /></strong><br />“My hands were in flames, and my whole face was in flames”, said Sgt. Jason Simms, recalling the fateful day in July, 2004 when his light armored vehicle was struck by the blast of an IED, or improvised explosive device. He was nearing the end of an 8 hour patrol with Delta Company, 2nd LAR Battalion, when his life changed forever.<br /><br />“My hands suffered third degree burns…and my face took second degree burns. I took three bullets in the right leg, with shrapnel through my tendons and arteries” says Simms, sitting comfortably inside the II MEF wounded warrior barracks at Camp Lejeune, NC. Still recovering from his wounds, the Sergeant motions toward the passageway where Marines begin to congregate prior to their afternoon formation. “Everyone here has been wounded. I think the most important thing here is we were all wounded and we can all understand each other.”<br /><br />The wounded warrior barracks is home to over 40 Marines and sailors of the II Marine Expeditionary Force, or II MEF. Located at Hospital Point aboard Camp Lejeune, the barracks formerly served as a bachelor officers quarters. In September, 2005, however, the BOQ was transformed into a home away from home for Marines and FMF corpsmen returning early from Iraq, their trip the courtesy of an Iraqi sniper or the blast of an IED. The newly renovated barracks provides the sailors and Marines a place to rehabilitate, allowing them to and focus on their medical needs rather than their next field evolution or unit training class.<br /><br />The injured Marines and sailors are officially assigned to the Wounded Warrior Support Section, one of two sections comprised within the II MEF Injured Support Unit, or ISU. Established with the goal of tracking all injured II MEF service members and providing support to them and their immediate families, the ISU was developed in 2005, subsequent to a realization that some injured Marines and sailors were convalescing at home or within a variety of military and civilian medical centers, effectively cutting them off from their Marine Corps family.<br /><br />Lieutenant General James F. Amos, former Commanding General of II MEF, recognized the need for a program that would track each and every wounded Marine and sailor coming home from the Middle East. Scribbling notes on personalized stationary, MajGen. Amos penned the following end state: "We will stay plugged in to every single wounded Marine who has been evacuated to CONUS for rehabilitation...until such time (sic) he no longer needs our assistance." According to the General's hand written memorandum, tracking and communication were the key elements that would lead to the successful formulation of the ISU. Later refining his end state by issuing a formal CG's intent, he wrote "I intend to develop an all encompassing program that provides continual support to all injured II MEF service members until such time as the service member no longer desires the support. This continual support will also extend to his or her immediate family. The program is directed to be a "one stop" shop for all injured II MEF service members, staffed with resident experts capable of finding solutions to all inquiries. It will provide continual command care and concern to the injured service member and their families throughout their transition to either continued military service or to the civilian community."<br /><br />And so began the Injured Support Unit. Initially staffed with both recalled reservists and active duty personnel, its dedicated members made numerous liaison visits to wounded Marines in Military hospitals and VA centers across the country. Whether tracking the flight status of an injured service member from the time of injury until his return to CONUS, or assisting him in separating from active service, the ISU involves themselves in every facet of the Marines rehabilitative process to include the complicated logistics of family travel, convalescent leave, and follow-on medical treatment and rehabilitation, as well as VA transition and the medical evaluation process.<br /><br />Since its inception, the ISU has tracked and assisted more than 2,000 wounded Marines and sailors. Unfortunately, not all of the injured Marines or sailors return to Camp Lejeune to rehabilitate among their fellow Marines and sailors. Many remain bed-ridden or continue to receive therapy at other locations, such as the National Naval Medical Center in Bethesda, Maryland or the military burn center at the Trauma Institute of San Antonio, Texas. Regardless of their location, the men and women of the ISU spend countless hours making telephone calls and personal visits to each and every Marine, ensuring no one falls through the cracks.<br /><br />According to Major Daniel Hooker, Assistant OIC of the ISU, the unit quickly established a routine and developed primary points of contact at every hospital and trauma center known to treat wounded sailors and Marines. Referring to the ISU as the II MEF Chief of Staff's "hip pocket artillery" when it comes to injured support issues, Major Hooker emphasizes his primary goal: "Whenever we thought about the Commanders intent, it was simply, do we have an accurate list of the present physical location and contact information of all our wounded and are we actively helping them?"<br /><br />"We have two main sections of the ISU" says Hooker. "The Injured Support Section...they handle the separate subsets of our wounded, which includes the medically discharged; the very seriously injured; the seriously injured; and the not seriously injured. The other main section is the wounded warrior barracks, also called the Wounded Warrior Support Section. In the barracks side, everyone has been wounded except the Lieutenant, while on the (ISS) side, no one has. Part of that was by design, in terms of the staff of the barracks. There could be very effective leadership and mentorship of wounded (Marines and sailors) by Officers and SNCO's that had also been wounded, in that they could serve as role models and could provide living proof that you can overcome your challenges, even severe wounds such as those LtCol. Maxwell sustained. He has served as an inspiration to the men, who in most cases, and as far as the residents of the barracks go, were less severely wounded than he was."<br /><br />Major Hooker was referring to LtCol. Tim Maxwell, the Officer in Charge of the Wounded Warrior Support Section. As the chief advocate for the development of a medical rehabilitation platoon, a place where Marines and sailors could live in an environment shaped by their experiences in battle and their struggle to recuperate, LtCol. Maxwell was himself seriously wounded by an IED while serving as the Operations Officer for the 24th MEU. Shrapnel from the blast tore into his skull, leaving him with traumatic head and brain injuries. Unwilling to give up his struggle to stay Marine, he learned to walk, then talk, besieged by therapy and rehabilitation. Despite permanent damage he suffered, his injuries are relatively unnoticeable to the average person. He has since regained his speech and his health continues to improve with each passing day.<br /><br />It was LtCol. Maxwell who first suggested the central billeting concept, a place of cohabitation for injured service members. In addition to enhancing the II MEF tracking capability, the central billeting concept would reduce the Marine's feeling of isolation and provide an environment for shared experiences, as well as creating an opportunity for smoother transition back to their unit or when separating from the Corps. Most importantly, the barracks would provide a consolidated location where specialized services, medical oversight, and morale enhancements could be offered under one roof for the collective benefit of all wounded service members. Maxwell summarized his idea - "The concept was simple...let's just keep the guys together, so they don't have to spend time alone."<br /><br />LtCol. Maxwell's cadre wear many hats while working in the barracks. They serve as ad hoc parents, mentors and role models, all but one having been wounded in the war on terrorism. "The units are not set up to help some of these Marines who need long term care, but (who) are not going to stay in a hospital...it's a full time job doing that," mentions Gunnery Sgt. Barnes, Staff NCOIC of the Wounded Warrior Support Section. Pondering the benefits of the wounded warrior barracks, Gunnery Sgt. Barnes finds merit in the collective healing concept. "It's something I know because of all the doctors appointments (I required) and the amount of drugs I took for awhile," Barnes explains. "It's not a unit's lack of compassion or understanding, it's a lack of time to focus on those issues. Units don't have anything dedicated or set up to take the young Marines to their hospital appointments. Their hearts are in the right place...they want to be able to do that, but they have one focus when they get back, and it's not to heal...it's to rebuild and to get the unit ready to fight again."<br /><br />Gunnery Sgt. Barnes stresses the wounded Marines aren't babied at the barracks. "I only give them compassion when they need compassion. I don't feel sorry for them because they got hurt...I got hurt. I don't expect anyone to feel sorry for me, either. If you need help getting your pant leg on, well...that's not something you need to feel sorry for anybody for. It's just something you need help with...it shouldn't be embarrassing. You're still going to have to look good in your Alphas. They are required to be at work. We have a ton of jobs we get them involved in. The sergeants I've got here are squad leaders; they work around their doctors appointments. It shows them they can still do it."<br /><br />Resembling little like the billeting at their parent unit, the wounded warrior barracks provides its inhabitants with private rooms, complete with individual bathrooms and separate living space. The barracks itself is modified with handicapped ramps and wheelchair accessible entry points. The barracks personnel were recently provided a beautiful stainless steel propane grill from the 2nd Marine Division Association, now permanently installed outside the barracks entrance. More important than its physical features, however, the barracks offers the wounded a place to share their experiences with others who’ve endured the same hardships and who share the same need for additional surgery and treatment.<br /><br />"It's almost like being in Iraq" says LCpl. Brandon Love, a SAW gunner for 2nd BN, 2nd Marine Regiment who suffered severe shrapnel wounds in Al Karma, Iraq in September, 2005. "You find out about these guys...everybody has seen combat. Most everybody has seen their buddies get injured if not killed, and everybody here was injured. Those three things make us more alike than most people realize, regardless of where we are from, what our MOS is...the brotherhood and the camaraderie is the most beneficial thing." LCpl. Love's comments were quickly echoed by LCpl. Bruce Schweitzer, injured in March, 2006 while serving with 3/8 in Ramadi, Iraq, "They focus completely on your injury. It's all about your injury. They want to get you healed up and get you back with your unit."<br /><br />General Michael Hagee, Commandant of the Marine Corps, had this to say to the staff of MARINES, the Corps Official Magazine in September, 2005. "Our Marines are just that; Marines to the core. Some have lost limbs or sustained other types of serious injuries, but amazingly they're trying to recover as quickly as possible so they can get back to their units. They don't slow down when thrown a curve ball and their resiliency and determination are breathtaking. When I talk to one of these Marines and they explain how they want to continue with their service, I want to make sure the Marine Corps takes the right steps to make that happen." Apparently, II MEF has taken the first steps and is continuing to march.<div class="blogger-post-footer">This blog contains the authors personal observations only and does not represent the official view of the United States Marine Corps</div>VMICraighttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18093462130476461928noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15921273.post-1159386654157793522006-09-27T15:36:00.000-04:002006-09-27T15:50:54.203-04:00The Best and Worst of Iraq, Marine style...I received this via e-mail the other morning and thought I'd share it with you...a great read! It took me right back to Fallujah and Ramadi, places I don't miss in the least. Enjoy.<br /><br /><em>A Marine Intel Officer in Al Anbar Shares Some Thoughts<br />From the net...courtesy of Reads...</em><br />Classification: UNCLASSIFIED<br /><br />All: I haven’t written very much from Iraq. There’s really not much to write about. More exactly, there’s not much I can write about because practically everything I do, read or hear is classified military information or is depressing to the point that I’d rather just forget about it, never mind write about it. The gaps in between all of that are filled with the pure tedium of daily life in an armed camp. So it’s a bit of a struggle to think of anything to put into a letter that’s worth reading. Worse, this place just consumes you. I work 18-20-hour days, every day. The quest to draw a clear picture of what the insurgents are up to never ends. Problems and frictions crop up faster than solutions. Every challenge demands a response. It’s like this every day. Before I know it, I can’t see straight, because it’s 0400 and I’ve been at work for twenty hours straight, somehow missing dinner again in the process. And once again I haven’t written to anyone. It starts all over again four hours later. It’s not really like Ground Hog Day, it’s more like a level from Dante’s Inferno.<br /><br />Rather than attempting to sum up the last seven months, I figured I’d just hit the record setting highlights of 2006 in Iraq. These are among the events and experiences I’ll remember best.<br /><br /><strong>Worst Case of Déjà Vu</strong> - I thought I was familiar with the feeling of déjà vu until I arrived back here in Fallujah in February. The moment I stepped off of the helicopter, just as dawn broke, and saw the camp just as I had left it ten months before - that was déjà vu. Kind of unnerving. It was as if I had never left. Same work area, same busted desk, same chair, same computer, same room, same creaky rack, same . . . everything. Same everything for the next year. It was like entering a parallel universe. Home wasn’t 10,000 miles away, it was a different lifetime.<br /><br /><strong>Most Surreal Moment</strong> - Watching Marines arrive at my detention facility and unload a truck load of flex-cuffed midgets. 26 to be exact. I had put the word out earlier in the day to the Marines in Fallujah that we were looking for Bad Guy X, who was described as a midget. Little did I know that Fallujah was home to a small community of midgets, who banded together for support since they were considered as social outcasts. The Marines were anxious to get back to the midget colony to bring in the rest of the midget suspects, but I called off the search, figuring Bad Guy X was long gone on his short legs after seeing his companions rounded up by the giant infidels.<br /><br /><strong>Most Profound Man in Iraq</strong> - an unidentified farmer in a fairly remote area who, after being asked by Reconnaissance Marines (searching for Syrians) if he had seen any foreign fighters in the area replied “Yes, you.”<br /><br /><strong>Worst City in al-Anbar Province</strong> - Ramadi, hands down. The provincial capital of 400,000 people. Killed over 1,000 insurgents in there since we arrived in February. Every day is a nasty gun battle. They blast us with giant bombs in the road, snipers, mortars and small arms. We blast them with tanks, attack helicopters, artillery, our snipers (much better than theirs), and every weapon that an infantryman can carry. Every day. Incredibly, I rarely see Ramadi in the news. We have as many attacks out here in the west as Baghdad. Yet, Baghdad has 7 million people, we have just 1.2 million. Per capita, al-Anbar province is the most violent place in Iraq by several orders of magnitude. I suppose it was no accident that the Marines were assigned this area in 2003.<br /><br /><strong>Bravest Guy in al-Anbar Province</strong> - Any Explosive Ordnance Disposal Technician (EOD Tech). How’d you like a job that required you to defuse bombs in a hole in the middle of the road that very likely are booby-trapped or connected by wire to a bad guy who’s just waiting for you to get close to the bomb before he clicks the detonator? Every day. Sanitation workers in New York City get paid more than these guys. Talk about courage and commitment.<br /><br /><strong>Second Bravest Guy in al-Anbar Province</strong> - It’s a 20,000 way tie among all the Marines and Soldiers who venture out on the highways and through the towns of al-Anbar every day, not knowing if it will be their last - and for a couple of them, it will be.<br /><br /><strong>Best Piece of U.S. Gear</strong> - new, bullet-proof flak jackets. O.K., they weigh 40 lbs and aren’t exactly comfortable in 120 degree heat, but they’ve saved countless lives out here.<br /><br /><strong>Best Piece of Bad Guy Gear</strong> - Armor Piercing ammunition that goes right through the new flak jackets and the Marines inside them.<br /><br /><strong>Worst E-Mail Message</strong> - “The Walking Blood Bank is Activated. We need blood type A+ stat.” I always head down to the surgical unit as soon as I get these messages, but I never give blood - there’s always about 80 Marines in line, night or day.<br /><br /><strong>Biggest Surprise</strong> - Iraqi Police. All local guys. I never figured that we’d get a police force established in the cities in al-Anbar. I estimated that insurgents would kill the first few, scaring off the rest. Well, insurgents did kill the first few, but the cops kept on coming. The insurgents continue to target the police, killing them in their homes and on the streets, but the cops won’t give up. Absolutely incredible tenacity. The insurgents know that the police are far better at finding them than we are. - and they are finding them. Now, if we could just get them out of the habit of beating prisoners to a pulp . . .<br /><br /><strong>Greatest Vindication</strong> - Stocking up on outrageous quantities of Diet Coke from the chow hall in spite of the derision from my men on such hoarding, then having a 122mm rocket blast apart the giant shipping container that held all of the soda for the chow hall. Yep, you can’t buy experience.<br /><br /><strong>Biggest Mystery</strong> - How some people can gain weight out here. I’m down to 165 lbs. Who has time to eat?<br /><br /><strong>Second Biggest Mystery</strong> - if there’s no atheists in foxholes, then why aren’t there more people at Mass every Sunday?<br /><br /><strong>Favorite Iraqi TV Show</strong> - Oprah. I have no idea. They all have satellite TV.<br /><br /><strong>Coolest Insurgent Act</strong> - Stealing almost $7 million from the main bank in Ramadi in broad daylight, then, upon exiting, waving to the Marines in the combat outpost right next to the bank, who had no clue of what was going on. The Marines waved back. Too cool.<br /><br /><strong>Most Memorable Scene</strong> - In the middle of the night, on a dusty airfield, watching the better part of a battalion of Marines packed up and ready to go home after six months in al-Anbar, the relief etched in their young faces even in the moonlight. Then watching these same Marines exchange glances with a similar number of grunts loaded down with gear file past - their replacements. Nothing was said. Nothing needed to be said.<br /><br /><strong>Highest Unit Re-enlistment Rate</strong> - Any outfit that has been in Iraq recently. All the danger, all the hardship, all the time away from home, all the horror, all the frustrations with the fight here - all are outweighed by the desire for young men to be part of a 'Band of Brothers' who will die for one another. They found what they were looking for when they enlisted out of high school. Man for man, they now have more combat experience than any Marines in the history of our Corps.<br /><br /><strong>Most Surprising Thing I Don’t Miss</strong> - Beer. Perhaps being half-stunned by lack of sleep makes up for it.<br /><br /><strong>Worst Smell</strong> - Porta-johns in 120 degree heat - and that’s 120 degrees outside of the porta-john.<br /><br /><strong>Highest Temperature</strong> - I don’t know exactly, but it was in the porta-johns. Needed to re-hydrate after each trip to the loo.<br /><br /><strong>Biggest Hassle</strong> - High-ranking visitors. More disruptive to work than a rocket attack. VIPs demand briefs and “battlefield” tours (we take them to quiet sections of Fallujah, which is plenty scary for them). Our briefs and commentary seem to have no affect on their preconceived notions of what’s going on in Iraq. Their trips allow them to say that they’ve been to Fallujah, which gives them an unfortunate degree of credibility in perpetuating their fantasies about the insurgency here.<br /><br /><strong>Biggest Outrage</strong> - Practically anything said by talking heads on TV about the war in Iraq, not that I get to watch much TV. Their thoughts are consistently both grossly simplistic and politically slanted. Biggest offender - Bill O’Reilly - what a buffoon.<br /><br /><strong>Best Intel Work</strong> - Finding Jill Carroll’s kidnappers - all of them. I was mighty proud of my guys that day. I figured we’d all get the Christian Science Monitor for free after this, but none have showed up yet. Talk about ingratitude.<br /><br /><strong>Saddest Moment</strong> - Having the battalion commander from 1st Battalion, 1st Marines hand me the dog tags of one of my Marines who had just been killed while on a mission with his unit. Hit by a 60mm mortar. Cpl Bachar was a great Marine. I felt crushed for a long time afterward. His picture now hangs at the entrance to the Intelligence Section. We’ll carry it home with us when we leave in February.<br /><br /><strong>Biggest Ass-Chewing</strong> - 10 July immediately following a visit by the Iraqi Deputy Prime Minister, Dr. Zobai. The Deputy Prime Minister brought along an American security contractor (read mercenary), who told my Commanding General that he was there to act as a mediator between us and the Bad Guys. I immediately told him what I thought of him and his asinine ideas in terms that made clear my disgust and which, unfortunately, are unrepeatable here. I thought my boss was going to have a heart attack. Fortunately, the translator couldn’t figure out the best Arabic words to convey my meaning for the Deputy Prime Minister. Later, the boss had no difficulty in conveying his meaning to me in English regarding my Irish temper, even though he agreed with me. At least the guy from the State Department thought it was hilarious. We never saw the mercenary again.<br /><br /><strong>Best Chuck Norris Moment</strong> - 13 May. Bad Guys arrived at the government center in the small town of Kubaysah to kidnap the town mayor, since they have a problem with any form of government that does not include regular beheadings and women wearing burqahs. There were seven of them. As they brought the mayor out to put him in a pick-up truck to take him off to be beheaded (on video, as usual), one of the bad Guys put down his machinegun so that he could tie the mayor’s hands. The mayor took the opportunity to pick up the machinegun and drill five of the Bad Guys. The other two ran away. One of the dead Bad Guys was on our top twenty wanted list. Like they say, you can’t fight City Hall.<br /><strong><br />Worst Sound</strong> - That crack-boom off in the distance that means an IED or mine just went off. You just wonder who got it, hoping that it was a near miss rather than a direct hit. Hear it every day.<br /><br /><strong>Second Worst Sound</strong> - Our artillery firing without warning. The howitzers are pretty close to where I work. Believe me, outgoing sounds a lot like incoming when our guns are firing right over our heads. They’d about knock the fillings out of your teeth.<br /><br /><strong>Only Thing Better in Iraq Than in the U.S.</strong> - Sunsets. Spectacular. It’s from all the dust in the air.<br /><br /><strong>Proudest Moment</strong> - It’s a tie every day, watching my Marines produce phenomenal intelligence products that go pretty far in teasing apart Bad Guy operations in al-Anbar. Every night Marines and Soldiers are kicking in doors and grabbing Bad Guys based on intelligence developed by my guys. We rarely lose a Marine during these raids, they are so well-informed of the objective. A bunch of kids right out of high school shouldn’t be able to work so well, but they do.<br /><br /><strong>Happiest Moment</strong> - Well, it wasn’t in Iraq. There are no truly happy moments here. It was back in California when I was able to hold my family again while home on leave during July.<br /><br /><strong>Most Common Thought</strong> - Home. Always thinking of home, of Kathleen and the kids. Wondering how everyone else is getting along. Regretting that I don’t write more. Yep, always thinking of home.<div class="blogger-post-footer">This blog contains the authors personal observations only and does not represent the official view of the United States Marine Corps</div>VMICraighttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18093462130476461928noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15921273.post-1154731135805852652006-08-04T18:06:00.000-04:002006-08-04T19:57:34.360-04:00"We're surrounded - that simplifies our problem!"<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7210/1491/1600/chesty1.0.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7210/1491/400/chesty1.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><span style="font-style: italic;"><br />When an Army Captain asked him for the direction of the line of retreat, Col Puller called his Tank Commander, gave them the Army position, and ordered: "If they start to pull back from that line, even one foot, I want you to open fire on them." Turning to the Captain, he replied "Does that answer your question? We're here to fight."<br /><br />- Chesty Puller At Koto-ri in Korea</span><br /><br />Lewis Burwell Puller, a native of West Point, Virginia, enlisted in the Marine Corps in 1917, shortly after completing his "rat year" at the Virginia Military Institute. Yearning to join the fight in Europe, he left his VMI classmates behind and attended Marine Corps recruit training, hoping to join the fight against the Germans. Unfortunately, he never saw combat during the world war and was placed on the Marine Corps inactive list due to post war drawdowns. Unsatisfied with civilian life, he re-enlisted in the Corps and got his first taste of combat in Haiti. It was the begining of a long line of military campaigns in which he'd participate. By the end of his 37 year career, Lt. General Lewis "Chesty" Puller had earned 14 personal decorations, to include five Navy Crosses, the Distinguished Service Cross, the Silver Star, two Legions of Merit with "V" device, the Bronze Star with "V" device, the Air Medal and the Purple Heart.<br /><br />"Chesty" Puller became more than a hero; he was an American legend. His gruff, give 'em hell attitude was admired throughout the Marine Corps. His bravery and his nickname were known to millions of Americans on the home front. He was a man's man, a Marine' s Marine. For all his renown, however, there are few permanent monuments to "Chesty" Puller. One of the few is in the Hall of Valor at the VMI Museum. There, thousands of visitors come each year to learn about the VMI men who've made our nation great. "Chesty" Puller's medals are on display along with those of other famous VMI graduates, to include Admiral Richard E. Byrd, General Lemuel C. Shepherd, and others. Even some students who didn't graduate, such as General George Patton, lamented on VMI until the day they died. <span style="font-style: italic;">(paragraph courtesy of http://www.polaris.net/~jrube/chestpul.htm)</span><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7210/1491/1600/chesty2.1.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7210/1491/320/chesty2.1.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a>On June 29th, I was honored to assist the Marine Corps Museum with the retrieval of several dozen personal items belonging to LtGen. Puller. The items, located at the Marine Barracks at Naval Weapons Station, Yorktown, VA, included a complete set of the General's personal decorations, his original promotion warrants, an engraved Mameluke sword, a satin Lieutenant General's flag, and other items loaned to the Barracks in the mid 1970's by Mrs. Virginia Evans Puller, Chesty's widow. Displayed in "Puller Hall," the items have been remained in Yorktown for thirty years.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7210/1491/1600/chesty4.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7210/1491/320/chesty4.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a>In February, 2006, Ms. Puller passed away at the age of 97. At the request of the Puller family, the Marine Corps Museum began efforts to account for items that had been loaned to the Marine Corps by Ms. Puller and distributed among various Marine Corps commands. Working closely with the Yorktown Marine Corps Security Force Company Commander and XO, the Marine Corps Museum curator obtained a complete list of items displayed at Puller Hall and tentatively arranged to have the items transferred to the Museum on behalf of the Puller family. By June, the only task remaining was the retrieval and subsequent transfer of the items from Yorktown to Quantico.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7210/1491/1600/chesty5.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7210/1491/320/chesty5.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a>Sadly, the items had suffered the harmful effects of heat and sun damage while displayed at Puller Hall. Decoration ribbons had faded, as had photographs and flags that had become sun-baked behind the glass display case. Though beautifully displayed, the items were in need of restorative care, which will certainly occur once returned to the Museum. Assisted by the Marine Corps Security Force Supply Sgt., I carefully removed each item from the display case and packaged them in boxes, checking the items against the curator's list. Satisfied I had retrieved everything, I nervously departed the Weapons station with a priceless collection of artifacts in the back seat of my POV. As a fellow Marine and VMI alumnus, I 'm sure the General would have been satisfied to know I had been entrusted to care for his belongings, if only for 24 hours.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7210/1491/1600/chesty6.0.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7210/1491/320/chesty6.0.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a>Of all the items, my favorite artifact was Chesty's engraved mameluke sword, presented to the General in recognition of his valor in Haiti, where he'd served as an enlisted Marine with the Gendarmerie d'Haiti, a military force operating in Haiti under a treaty with the United States. Most of its officers were U. S. Marines, while its enlisted personnel were Haitians. Spending almost five years in Haiti, he saw frequent action against the Caco rebels before returning the the United States in 1924, where he was immediately commissioned a Marine second lieutenant. The sword was in beautiful condition, a truly significant piece among the Puller estate items.<br /><br />For those who weren't aware, the mameluke sword was originally adopted for wear by Marine Corps Officers after it was presented to Lieutenant Presley Neville O'Bannon, who led seven Marines and an odd assortment of mercenaries and cut-throats in a bayonet charge against a Tripoli fort on April 27, 1805, securing the surrender of Jessup, the bey of Tripoli. Hamet Karamanli promptly took as ruler of Tripoli and presented O'Bannon with his personal jeweled sword, the same type used by his Mameluke tribesmen. Today, Marine officers still carry this type of sword, commemorating the Corps' service during the Tripolitian War, 1801 - 05. Appropriately, the actions of O'Bannon and his small group of Marines are commemorated in the second line of the Marines' Hymn with the words, "To the Shores of Tripoli".<br /><br />Arriving safely at the Marine Corps Museum, I gently unpacked and inventoried the items with Ms. Jennifer Castro, the museum curator and caretaker for the incredible assortment of artifacts held in the museum archives. In addition to her curator responsibilities, Jennifer is heavily engaged with the Marine Corps Heritage Foundation's National Museum of the Marine Corps, which will open on the 231st birthday of the Corps on Nov. 11, 2006 - you may have seen it while driving on interstate 95 near Quantico and Dumfries. It will soon display historic memorabilia of Marines past and present, which may one day include the documents, flags, decorations and sword belonging to the General we know simply as "Chesty."<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7210/1491/1600/chesty03.0.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7210/1491/320/chesty03.0.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br />Ribbon Cutting at the VMI Hall of Valor<br /></div> L-R: Virginia Puller Dabney, Senator Linda T. Puller, Martha Puller Downs, General James L. Jones, Mr. Gordon W. Wagner, and Major General Josiah Bunting III.<div class="blogger-post-footer">This blog contains the authors personal observations only and does not represent the official view of the United States Marine Corps</div>VMICraighttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18093462130476461928noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15921273.post-1147817838988001482006-05-16T17:48:00.000-04:002006-05-16T18:25:07.556-04:00Protecting America's Heroes<a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7210/1491/1600/badgegl1.3.jpg"><img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7210/1491/200/badgegl1.2.jpg" border="0" /></a>Criminal investigations…foreign counterintelligence…polygraph exams…dignitary protection…these are just a few of the jobs performed by Marine Corps special agents of the Naval Criminal Investigative Service (NCIS).<br /><br />The NCIS is a unique federal law enforcement agency comprised of special agents, investigators, forensic experts, security specialists, analysts, and support personnel. Headquartered at the Navy Yard in Washington, D.C., it is the primary law enforcement and counterintelligence arm of the United States Department of the Navy. The NCIS maintains a worldwide presence – its special agents operate from 15 field offices, including one operational unit dedicated to counterespionage, and more than 140 individual locations around the globe.<br /><br />As the investigative arm of the Department of the Navy and the Marine Corps, NCIS special agents deploy to locations most federal agencies fear to tread. You’ll find NCIS special agents serving aboard aircraft carriers or aboard the ships of an Expeditionary Strike Group (ESG). They currently serve among the Marines and sailors of the I Marine Expeditionary Force (MEF) in Iraq, as well as in Afghanistan and among the Marine expeditionary units (MEU) in the Atlantic and Pacific and Persian Gulf. Forward deployed to dozens of countries around the globe, NCIS special agents strive to prevent terrorism, to protect the secrets of the Navy and the Marine Corps, and to reduce crime through a proactive and highly regarded criminal investigative program.<br /><br /><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7210/1491/1600/pierce%20brown.0.jpg"><img style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7210/1491/400/pierce%20brown.jpg" border="0" /></a>Unknown to many Marines and civilians alike, a small cadre of Marines work alongside the civilian special agents. They carry the same badge, conduct the same investigations, and testify at the same court hearings. They are Marine special agents, a few men and women of NCIS who’ve been individually screened and selected to serve the Navy and Marine Corps in a unique and exciting capacity. Previously assigned to the Criminal Investigative Division (CID) office at a major Marine Corps installation, the Marine special agent, once selected, is assigned to an NCIS field office or resident agency, such as the<br />Carolina Field Office located at and Camp Lejeune, N.C. or the Marine Marine Corps West Field<br />Office at Camp Pendleton, Calif.<br /><br />Indistinguishable from a civilian special agent, the Marine special agents are treated as equals within the organization. Though technically employed by the Marine Corps, they no longer stand formation or uniform inspection. Instead, they stand duty, responding to crime scenes and engaging with commands who’ve fallen victim to a criminal act. They carry their own caseload of criminal or foreign counterintelligence investigations, working the cases from inception to prosecution. Often cooperating with other federal, state and local law enforcement agencies, the Marine special agents build a network of contacts and associates to further assist them in the conduct of their investigations.<br /><br />According to Colonel John Forquer, the current military assistant to the NCIS Director and commanding officer of the NCIS Office of Military Support, roughly 65 Marine special agents and six counterintelligence Marines now fill the ranks of NCIS. They are joined by 130 Navy reservists and approximately 200 active-duty sailors performing various administrative, counterintelligence and analyst duties roles throughout the agency.<br /><br />Despite the change in their working environment, the Marine special agents are still required to participate in PFTs, qualify with their firearms and meet the height and weight standards required of Marines in uniform. They still abide by professional military education requirements and are screened for promotion. Although they’ve traded their uniforms for a coat and tie, they remain Marines underneath and as such, are expected to meet the high standards of performance, physical readiness, and conduct.<br /><br />With today’s demanding operational tempo, it is very likely that they will be deployed in support of potentially dangerous assignments and duties. Marine special agents were the some of the first NCIS special agents deployed to Iraq at the start of Operation Iraqi Freedom in 2003. From OIF I to present, over 32 former and current Marine special agents have deployed to Iraq to support the war on terrorism.<br /><br /><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7210/1491/1600/SSgt%20Jeremy%20Arellano%20-%20protection%20local%20mosque%20-%20Al%20Basrah%20Iraq%203.0.jpg"><img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7210/1491/400/SSgt%20Jeremy%20Arellano%20-%20protection%20local%20mosque%20-%20Al%20Basrah%20Iraq%203.jpg" border="0" /></a>Leatherneck NCIS agents have conducted investigations into criminal misconduct of Marines and sailors, ranging from common theft incidents to sexual assaults. They’ve spent countless hours investigating non-combat related deaths and allegations of detainee abuse. They’ve embedded with other NCIS special agents at locations such as Camp Fallujah, Camp Blue Diamond, Tikrit, Taqaddum and Al Asad. Five Marine special agents are currently assigned to the 2006 deployment cycle in support of OIF and Operation Enduring Freedom in Afghanistan: Master Sergeant Tim Fowler,<br />Gunnery Sgt William Link, GySgt. Mark McLawhorn, SSgt Michael Payne and Sergeant Jeffrey Farmer.<br /><br />Marine special agents have also served on personal protection teams in the cities of Al Hillah and Al Basra, protecting high-level dignitaries of the Coalition Provisional Authority (CPA) and the United Nations from potential threats and harm. Since the start of OIF, Marine special agents have subsequently deployed to Afghanistan, Kuwait, Bahrain, Djibouti and numerous other locations in the war against terrorism. First to fight, the Marine special agents are always at the tip of the NCIS spear.<br /><br />MSgt Tim Fowler, a Marine special agent from the Washington Field Office, is an NCIS subject matter expert in the field of computer forensics and computer crime investigations. Deployed by NCIS to Iraq during OIF I, MSgt Fowler utilized the skills he practiced as a NCIS special agent to assist various governmental agencies with the screening of computer materials seized across the area of operations. Traveling across Iraq in a variety of military and civilian vehicles, his actions and incredible successes on the battlefield earned him a Bronze Star with combat “V”. MSgt Fowler is currently deployed with NCIS to Afghanistan in support of OEF, continuing the fight against terrorism.<br /><br /><p><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7210/1491/1600/Mt_Ghar_3_10_06%20020.1.jpg"><img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7210/1491/400/Mt_Ghar_3_10_06%20020.jpg" border="0" /></a></p><p align="center"><em>MSgt Tim Fowler, Marine Special Agent, atop Mount Ghar, Afghanistan</em></p><p>GySgt Dan Carlin, a Marine special agent at the Carolinas Field Office, volunteered to serve on a dignitary protection team in the city of Al Hillah, Iraq during OIF 3. Part of a nine-man team dedicated to providing personal protection for the CPA ambassador in south central Iraq, “Gunny” Carlin often found himself dual-hated as a gunner and team navigator, using the land navigation skills he learned as a Marine to navigate around the small towns and villages between Baghdad and Hillah.<br /><br />MSgt Patty Lyons, a Marine special agent from the NCIS Resident Agency in Quantico, deployed to Iraq in support of the NCIS criminal investigative mission, spending the bulk of her time with the Third Marine Aircraft Wing at Al Asad. Her assignment took her on dozens of “milk runs” aboard CH-46 Sea Knight and CH-53 Super Stallion helicopters to Al Asad, Taqaddum, and Camp Fallujah during her deployment, investigating crimes including arson, assault, bribery and graft. </p><p>Special Agent Doug Einsel, the supervisor for the NCIS detachment at Camp Fallujah, Iraq during OIF 4-6, said NCIS special agents, both Marine and civilian, are dedicated to supporting the MEF in Iraq, providing criminal investigative support and force protection methodology to the MEF. Working closely with the MEF antiterrorism/force protection (ATFP) cells and force-protection units established at each of the camps, the NCIS agents seek to identify physical and counterintelligence vulnerabilities which could jeopardize the health and well-being of Marines located at or transiting to the camps.<br /><br />Formerly military police investigators (MOS 5819) or criminal investigators (MOS 5821), the Marine special agents receive their entry-level law enforcement training via the Marine Corps MOS training program at the Army’s Fort Leonard Wood, Missouri. Following their acceptance into NCIS, they are required to attend six weeks of specialized training conducted at the Federal Law Enforcement Training Center (FLETC) in Glynco, Georgia. Operated by the U.S. Department of Homeland Security, FLETC provides law-enforcement training to 81 partner agencies, to include the U.S. Marshals Service, the U.S. Secret Service, the U.S. Border Patrol, and the Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco and Firearms.<br /><br />The newly selected Marine special agents learn the “ins and outs” of felony level investigations and how to operate in a civilian environment. They use this training time to sharpen their skills and to learn some advanced techniques for conducting crime scene examinations and interviews, enabling them manage a felony investigation from crime scene to courtroom.<br /><br />For those special agents engaged in the war against terrorism, FLETC is creating a Counterterrorism Operations Training Facility to augment their already robust training center, situated on the grounds of the former Brunswick, Ga., Naval Air Station. The $50 million facility will recreate various settings, both foreign and domestic, that agents might encounter in the field, including urban and rural neighborhoods, subway stations, buildings and roadways. Within the facility, a mock Middle Eastern training village was constructed, providing students a realistic environment simulating the urban environment of Iraq. At least 13 organizations at FLETC, including NCIS, currently send graduates overseas in direct support of the war on terrorism.<br /><br />Post academy training for both Marine and civilian special agents covers a variety of subjects, including but not limited to legal instruction, forensics, crime scene processing, firearms, driver training, computer crimes, illicit narcotics, child pornography, larceny, and a host of other activities prosecutable under the Uniform Code of Military Justice and the United States Code. If necessary, Marine special agents are granted relaxed grooming standards for certain activities, such as narcotics or gang investigations. Blending into their surroundings aboard base or out in town, the Marine special agents are an inseparable part of the NCIS team. </p><p>Seamlessly integrated into NCIS, the Marine special agents are enthusiastic about being part of the NCIS team. According to Col Forquer, the special agents in charge of the NCIS field offices are quick to tell you that the Marines assigned to the field offices are a critical part of their team. “They have an outstanding work ethic and eagerly take on the tough assignments. They are true professionals, absolutely dedicated to the mission. But if you asked a Marine special agent, he or she’d just tell you that it’s all in a days work.”<br /><br /><strong>Leatherneck Editors Note</strong>: <em>LtCol Covert served as one of two U.S. Marine Corps Field Historians deployed to Iraq during OIF 4-6. Traveling throughout the Al Anbar and Babil provinces, he collected 240 taped interviews of Marines, sailors and soldiers engaged in combat operations, security and stability operations (SASO) and combat service support. The interviews, along with corresponding photographs and documentary materials, are permanently archived at the Marine Corps Historical Division at Marine Corps Base Quantico, VA. In his civilian career, LtCol Covert is a Supervisory Special Agent for the Naval Criminal Investigative Service in Norfolk, VA.<br /></p></em><div class="blogger-post-footer">This blog contains the authors personal observations only and does not represent the official view of the United States Marine Corps</div>VMICraighttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18093462130476461928noreply@blogger.com248tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15921273.post-1147039693365953952006-05-07T17:58:00.000-04:002006-05-07T18:08:16.206-04:00To the Border, AmigoWell, it's been awhile since I posted and I certainly didn't think I'd post again after returning from Iraq last February. However, at the prompting of a couple of friends and a few former readers of this blog, I figure I'd give it a shot and continue adding a few stories from time to time. Certainly not to the extent I posted while deployed, but I hope to add some interesting insights from time to time.<br /><br />The following piece is a story I submitted to "Leatherneck" magazine for publication. I've been notified by the editor that it will probably appear in the August issue. For preview by fellow milbloggers and non-subscribers to Leatherneck, here's my first attempt at publication:<br /><br />Standing upon the roof of a small border fort, five dust covered Marines scan the horizon, searching for signs of life across the sandy, barren desert. Joined by an equal number of Iraqi border police, the Marines and “jundee” discuss an upcoming patrol along the expansive border. The Marines belong to the Multi-National Forces West (MNF-W) border transition teams, or BTT, which operate along the Iraqi borders of Syria, Jordan, and Saudi Arabia.<br /><br />Unique to OIF, the primary mission of the BTT Marines is to support the manning, training and equipping of the Iraqi Department of Border Enforcement, or DBE. One of several fledgling law enforcement organizations within the newly formed Iraqi Ministry of Interior (MOI), the DBE operates 43 border forts along 900 kilometers of border. <br /><br />Tasked with staunching the flow of illegal aliens, foreign fighters, smugglers and insurgents into Iraq, the DBE remains a separate entity from their Iraqi Police (IP) counterparts, a separate law enforcement organization within the Ministry of Interior. Similar to the U.S. Border Patrol, the border policemen of the DBE exercise powers of arrest along the border, while the IP operate in the cities and towns located in the interior of the country.<br /><br />Deploying to the border for weeks at a time, the BTT Marines work with and live among the Iraqi Jundees at the various forts. Supported by the addition of embedded Arabic interpreters, the BTT’s began their initial operations during the spring and summer of 2005. “Our job (was) to assess the operations and logistics at the forts, using the assessment as a baseline and trying to improve from there”, said Major Michael Casey, Border Transition Team Chief, during a September 2005 interview. “We spent a lot of time working with the jundees one on one, teaching leadership and basic military skills.” Classes on patrolling procedures, weapons maintenance and hygiene (were) routine. “We try to infuse the (warrior) ethos” Casey said. <br /><br />The BTT Marines quickly found they had their hands full. “When we first got there, the area was the wild west,” said LtCol. Kenneth DeSimone, II MEF DBE coordinator from February through September, 2005. “We were told they (the Iraqi border police) were equipped and trained. But in reality, they had no uniforms, weapons, or vehicles. There was little or no comm – no radios or phones. It was a very spartan existence.” “It was straight from a scene out of an old French foreign legion film,” DeSimone continued. “Many of these forts are located in extremely desolate locations. The forts have turrets and shooting ports and look like miniature versions of a medieval castle. It may be the only real building within miles – there’s a surreal aspect to many of these locations.” <br /><br />Prior to the arrival of the BTT Marines, few border forts had hosted permanent coalition staff. Some received sporadic visits from U.S. Army advisory support teams, as well as hosting officers of various U.S. civilian organizations such as the U.S. Border Patrol and U.S. Customs and Border Protection (CBP) Agency. Assigned to remote areas like Waleed and Trebil, the officers deployed in 4-man teams, each comprised of two Border Patrolmen and 2 CBP Officers. Still, the lack of permanent coalition presence was a continuing issue. <br /><br />Filling this void were the Marines of the BTT. Having Established the original Border Transition Teams by late spring, the Marines set out to assess the effectiveness of the existing Iraqi border police and to determine the readiness of their forts. Traveling hundreds of miles in small convoys, they moved in self-sufficient detachments initially containing M-1114 up-armored HMMWV’s (high mobility multi-purpose wheeled vehicle) and an accompanying logistics train comprised of a 7-ton MTVR (medium tactical vehicle replacement) or LVS (logistics vehicle system) filled with supplies and equipment. <br /><br />The initial assessments uncovered a variety of challenges. The Iraqi border police typically relied on the leadership of border police officers to make the day-to-day decisions. Few, if any, leadership roles were delegated below the rank of officer and many of the border police failed to show for work on a routine basis. Sanitation concerns were almost non-existent at most forts and training was not being conducted on tactics, patrolling or standardized law enforcement techniques. <br /><br />According to 1stLt. Braulio Lopez, logistics advisor for Border Transition Team 4 during OIF 4-6, the assessment phase paired up members of the BTT with individual policemen at the forts. The teams assessed not only the training and effectiveness of the border police, but also reviewed the maintenance of the buildings, the condition of their vehicles and the functionality of the weapons at the forts. Often lacking electricity, heat, water, and vehicles, the forts were initially ineffective. <br /><br />One major obstacle hampering the efforts of the border police was the lack of vehicles assigned to each fort. Many forts had only one vehicle, usually a run down SUV or pick-up almost in a state of disrepair. Proper equipage became an immediate priority for the BTT, resulting in the delivery of new vehicles, uniforms, weapons and other equipment to the forts. “We constantly emphasized that they open lines of communication with their own chain of command, the Ministry of Interior,” Lt. Lopez noted. “It was important that they start to rely on MOI for issues rather than relying on us for everything.” <br /><br />Getting the equipment to the forts and keeping it maintained was the greatest challenge following the assessment phase, said GySgt. Shawn Dellinger, Operations SNCOIC. “We showed them how to improvise, to adapt, to utilize the equipment they already had…when a piece of equipment breaks, (how to) keep it maintained and fix it.” From 4-wheel drive vehicles to communications gear, GySgt. Dellinger said the establishment of an effective preventive maintenance program by the border police went a long way in the ensuring the success of the DBE. <br /><br />Dellinger indicated the lack of NCO leadership among the Iraqi units was the root of the problem that allowed the maintenance and equipment issues to flourish. “There is no staff or NCO leadership when the officers are not around, no enlisted leadership whatsoever. An officer has to make the decision. An officer goes out on patrol, an officer tells them to clean up, to wake up…they don’t make a move without an officer present. If the officer didn’t give approval, they don’t do it….it’s a habit from the old regime,” Dellinger stated. The solution was teaching the border police the concept of the non-commissioned officer. “Our biggest challenge was showing them that we, as staff NCO’s, have responsibility, have leadership, make decisions and go out there to get the mission done without having to have an officer present.” (4)<br /><br />The training phase started slowly but rapidly gained momentum. The first several days were spent teaching sanitation fundamentals. From trash collection to hygiene trenches, the Leathernecks imparted the philosophy of cleaner, more sanitary workplaces. Operational lessons followed, including instruction on basic patrol fundamentals at the fire team and squad levels. Getting the border police to leave the confines of the border fort and conduct proactive patrols, either by vehicle or afoot was a success in itself. The active patrols were outwardly displaying a law enforcement presence not previously seen on a regular basis. <br /><br />The BTT also developed leadership courses using the 14 leadership traits taught to Marine officer candidates and recruits, focusing on judgment, initiative, and integrity. Classes on motor transport maintenance, driving techniques, and basic logistics issues helped fill the day, each lesson resulting in a more empowered border policeman. <br /><br />In order to formalize a more permanent training regimen within the ranks of the DBE, the Falcon Academy was established in An Najaf by the fall of 2005. Akin to “train the trainer” programs found throughout the US Marine Corps, the Falcon Academy provided a structured environment to train senior border policemen as instructors and mentors, giving them the ability to become training representatives at their respective border forts. The week-long border training initiative provided instruction in logistics and medical issues as well as courses on leadership, communications, and weapons handling. BTT Marines organized and taught the courses, developing the curriculum and perfecting the syllabus. “We empowered the senior sergeants, the class commander and squad leaders, giving them the ability to make decisions…and provide consistent sustained training…they just ate it up”, said GySgt. Dellinger. Given the responsibility to make decisions on their own accord, “…they were leading the way.” <br />“Taking and using our procedures, ” Dellinger said, “was one of the greatest success stories of the Academy.” <br /><br />During a Falcon Academy graduation in September, 2005, Maj. Gen. Hussain Aooyz Al Ghazali, commander of the 5th Border Patrol Regiment, addressed the students. “Take what you have learned here and teach the others you work with. There are no contracts between Saudi Arabia and Iraq to keep the insurgents from crossing the border.” He continued, “You are policemen, protecting our borders. You are very important men, carry yourselves high due to the position you are in.” <br /><br />LtCol. DeSimone stated it was difficult to maintain a constant finger on the pulse of each fort. An average of 20 kilometers spanned the distance between each of the 43 border forts, and communication between forts was spotty. Manned by 20-25 border police, the area of coverage for each border fort was immense. “We flew to one desert town where they had never seen U.S. forces before…they thought we were Spanish.” Regardless, DeSimone remained positive in his assessment of the DBE and the future of the Iraqi border police. “The border police have successfully made arrests and have taken people into custody,” DeSimone commented prior to his departure from Iraq. “We are bringing the ISF (Iraqi Security Forces) to a point where they can conduct their own law and order operations. Nobody knew how bad a shape they were in until we started poking around the border, hitting the border forts and meeting with the Iraqis. Since then we’ve been pushing out vehicles, uniforms, improving their pay and their life support. We’ve been getting them into training academies and are bringing them up to better standards that what they were before.” <br /><br />LtCol. DeSimone believes the BTT’s role is vital to the success of Iraqi government. Commenting on the state of the Iraqi justice system, he opined the DBE is more effective than the courts they serve at this point. By the end of his tour in Iraq, Desimone saw radical changes in the effectiveness of the border police forces. “The border police are locking people up and are becoming more and more effective daily. We measure their success on how many arrests they make and how many people they are stopping and interdicting. They’ve come a long way – from guys in Metallica t-shirts and flip-flops to what we’ve got now – jundee in uniform, armed, conducting patrols and making arrests. We hope to see the same level of forward progress with the courts in the Ministry of Interior. It will take some time.” <br /><br />Today, the BTT Marines of I MEF (Fwd) are focused less on assessments and basic equipment issues and spend the bulk of their time teaching advanced marksmanship techniques, patrolling, weapons handling, and internal security. The changes over the last year have been dramatic and continue to improve daily with the continuing efforts of I MEF (Fwd). During his turnover with I MEF in January, 2006, Major General Stephen Johnson, Commanding General of II MEF (Fwd), commented on the status of the Department of Border Enforcement. “The Department of Border Enforcement forces have grown over the past several months. The Iraqis, in coordination with the coalition forces, have built a number of border forts or installations along their border in the areas that we are responsible for - the border with Syria, Jordan and Saudi Arabia. Those border forts are manned. The border police continue to go through training….there are now two brigades out there making progress in returning control of the border to the Iraqi government and to the Iraqi people. It’s not a unilateral effort. They are partnered with Iraqi Army forces on the border and are also getting support from coalition forces as well. It’s a three-way effort out there, and the Department of Border Enforcement forces are showing improvement.” (8)<div class="blogger-post-footer">This blog contains the authors personal observations only and does not represent the official view of the United States Marine Corps</div>VMICraighttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18093462130476461928noreply@blogger.com7