Bataan

Participating in the Bataan was something I wanted to accomplish this year. Last year I met Vietnam Vet at TAPs whose father was in the Bataan and is son had died in Iraq. It was an inspiring moment and I wanted to do the walk. I honorably walked the half. Maybe next yeat I could walk the full with some preparation and discipline.

We always say keeping saying their names to keep their legacy alive. I had the opportunity to do that for almost six hours on Sunday morning and it was an honor.

First book of the deployment ... The Last Punisher by Kevin Lacz

  Excerpt:
“GET YOUR S**T! All hands to the roof of Shark House!” Marc Lee’s breathless bark snapped me out of sleep.

I didn’t think as I jolted off my cot, stuck my bare feet in my Oakley boots, and grabbed my web gear, machine gun, helmet, and night-vision goggles (NVGs). I ran hot on Marc’s heels, in nothing but a pair of PT shorts and some assault gear, as we raced the hundred yards to the roof like sharks toward blood in the water.

Impending violence permeated the Euphrates’s musty breeze.

“Muj swimmers trying to attack Blue Diamond,” Marc called over his shoulder as we hit the ground-floor entrance to the house. Camp Blue Diamond was the Marine base across the river to our east. We bounded up the stairs, untied boot laces whipping our bare shins. On the roof, we joined about twenty other Teamguys, most of us in PT shorts and bare chested, the unofficial uniform for middle-of-the-night, just-out-of-your-rack muj hunting. I saw an occasional T-shirt and had to stifle a chuckle when I noticed Guy, one of our officers, and his perfect uniform. A hodgepodge of support guys intermixed among us. When Marc said all hands, he had meant all hands. Everybody wanted to get his war on.

The Girl Who Escaped ISIS

book link

Often I am mesmerized by the written word of others.
Once again another OIF vet finds my hidden voice.
I loved and recognized the language in this book and did not want it to end.



Matthew Gallagher OIF Veteran nails it.

Iraq - My View

Thank you My Colorado View for posting my blog about my thoughts on Iraq.

The Iraq situation worsens by the day and I find myself watching the media almost as much as I did from 2003-2005. This time my approach is a little different.  Instead of just tuning in to the nightly news, I follow journalists on the ground via twitter and receive fragments of information throughout the day.  The number of deaths in Iraq in June 2014 are staggering–2,417 people.  That is the size of the population of Telluride or Buena Vista, Colorado.

The other day a coworker casually said, “I am sorry about Iraq.” I know deep down what he meant, but it struck me strangely.  The Fourth of July has taken on new meaning to me since 2009. I was leaving Kuwait to fly into Al Taqaddum, which was primarily a Marine Base in Western Iraq, and then onward to Ramadi. Home of the Wild West and where the Anbar Awakening took place.  Only later, would I learn about all of the countless battles that were fought many years earlier in Fallujah and Ramadi and the painful sacrifices made by Marines, Soldiers, Airmen, and Sailors.  I cannot even fathom how much brokenness that small piece of land holds and continues daily absorb.

My daughter was also in Army Basic Training. I had reached out to her Company Commander ahead of time via email letting him know that I would be pushing forward. He arranged for her to call me. Imagine me waiting in an airport in Ali Al Salem Air Base, Kuwait when one the newest Army Privates calls me on the 4^th of July. I remember it was a quick call but important to both of us. I was proud and she was relieved.

After nine months of living there I can say, I left part of my heart there.  I fell in love with the people and I came to respect the culture. I saw the hope in the eyes of Iraqi soldiers and the glimpse of promises in eyes of women and children. I walked away with the understanding that much like my desires; I want peace for my family, education, safety, and a future; they want the same. It might look different, but principally it is the same.

The steady decline of Iraq’s stability and security leaves me both sad and angry. Ultimately, it is the decision of the Iraqi people to decide its fate. But I am cheering for them, which equals nothing more than a silent cheer.

I am concerned for the future Iraqi women and children.  The status of women improves when their environments are stable and secure. When you are struggling to just feed your family and keep them safe, things like medical care and education become luxuries, not necessities. The rural women who take the brunt of the struggle are often neglected or abused.  The rural areas in the west were already filled with Syrian refugees and now the latest chaos within Iraq creates further confusion and steals hope from the most vulnerable people in the region.

What can I do?  I listen to some Arabic music and maybe make a cup of sweet Iraqi chai. I silently cheer, stay informed, educate others, and wait.

When Women Come Marching Home

Service: When WOMEN Come Marching Home 3 minute promo from Rock Stotter on Vimeo.

Bow to Nobody

I could not put this book down but I tried to make it last four days. I am attempting to savor something that it is not something that is hundred percent easy to ingest.

I read memoirs, a lot. Everyone has a story to tell. Brian Castner, (His Personal webpage and blog) an Air Force EOD officer tells his story is uncomfortably familiar.

On page 33 – I did not see it coming. His friend died in country. I read the last few sentences, put the book down and went to yoga.  Only to read later that he find peace in Mountain Pose - tadasana.

Page 47 – I think about this all the time. “Everything about Iraq sucked. I loved it.”
I understand that.

New Yorker Review

Read this book.

Pass this book along.

Support the Brian Castner’s of the world.

opportuniy

Wow.

I am so thankful that I committed to volunteering with TAPS -- Tragedy Assistance Program for Survivors.
website
It was on a whim that I applied way back in January. I figured why not..

I love my country

Love my brothers and sisters at arms.

Love soldiers and soldiers families.
I like DC. And DC on Memorial Day weekend.

I had the great opportunity to work with the five and six year olds and it was right where I needed to be.

As fate would have it I met a very sweet girl who was way too young to remember her dad when he gave all in Ramadi in 2006.

Yeah, Ramadi a place where I found peace for nine months and made friendships I will never forget.

I will be back – this is too great of an organization not to support.

On top of that I caught up with an old friend I have not seen in almost 30 years...

oh btw

Bread is sacred and cannot be placed in the trash or food waste!
Khobst is the same reference as Iraq but Mohammed mentioned that they do not samoon at all.
The good thing is that use and recognize the word shoof. which mean listen/look to grab the attention. I suprisingly new the words Lion and Princess assad/alymira.. both equally imporant to children and children stories - and yet it was important to us in Iraq too!