I have a friend who is stationed in Iraq currently and I receiced an email from her. She was my class validictorian, with her being in Iraq and the rest of not,
I am not sure it speaks poorly of my class
or if she hasnt done quite so well since High School.
The email gave a nice flavor of what the troops are enjoying and I thought I would share it with all. I XXXXXX'ed her name out since I am posting this in a public forum.
I really dont want to hear a debate about whether or we should or shoudlnt be in Iraq, I just thought the email was an interesting read from a females point of view in Iraq.
30 May 2003
Time for another update from Tikrit, Iraq. Memorial Day came and passed without notice, not very memorable, certainly no picnics. My forays onto the Internet are few and far between, and the couple of times I've been able to check email it's been so slow I often can't open or reply to any messages in the time allotted to me. So forgive me if you've written and haven't heard back from me yet. Someday I hope to have enough access to catch up with the real world.
We got electricity to our mini palace, of course subject to brown-outs like everyone else, and also running water most of the time. But we just had a catastrophic failure of the generator which powers the building, so we are back to square one for several days. We have no water without electricity. Big bummer. Even when it's on, I am still doing laundry by hand, and eating exclusively MREs and T-rations which I find extremely unappealing, am getting eaten alive by mosquitoes (no glass for the window in my room), and sweating so much that I'm wondering how I'll manage when it really gets hot. See, life in a palace isn't all it's cracked up to be! I'm torn between being, on the one hand, mad that we were never issued the Kevlar plates for our flak vests, and on the other hand am grateful for this gross oversight as the vests are extremely hot and heavy even without them. And most of my mail is still not getting through to me. Okay, enough griping about how rough it is
I haven't had to fire my weapon yet, so it can't be too bad.
I am now assigned to work with an infantry brigade. We are operating counter to doctrine, and probably common sense, in that our functional specialty teams have been split up and the individuals farmed out to the 3 brigade combat teams in the division. (I realize this doesn't mean too much to those of you not in the Army, hang in there.) When I am not ham-strung by lack of vehicles or personnel to provide force protection (security), which is most of the time, my mission is still to work with the police in Tikrit and the province of Salah Al Din in which we live. Okay, enough griping about my job.
When I'm not griping about things (something that I, like all soldiers, do very well), I am meeting and getting to know some interesting Iraqi people. Some of the people we spend the most time with are our interpreters. Our interpreters are primarily obtained through the local university or the hospital/medical school, as these are the key pools of English speakers. Their English skills vary widely, however, as does their ability to work effectively as interpreters. In one meeting with the heads of the police departments, the interpreter himself started to direct the meeting according to his interests and opinions until I shuffled him out of there. Another time, every time I asked a question the interpreter would answer, "I don't know," and I would have remind him to ask the person to whom we were supposed to be speaking. My regular interpreter is better than that, fortunately. My personal interpreter has been a doctor that I met on a visit to the local hospital, Dr. Wassim Jasim. He has changed his schedule with the hospital to evenings so he can work with me during the day. He's very supportive of American objectives in Iraq and very much against the previous regime. He had refused to report to work for the Army after graduating from medical school and was thus imprisoned and tortured. He had been in prison just one month, fortunately, when Saddam emptied the prisons last October in a general amnesty. Even though he faces criticism from some and even possible reprisals, he is helping us because he thinks it is important to help us communicate effectively with the people in our efforts to bring democracy to Iraq.
Many different people are coming forward to help us, of course many with their own agendas. My doctor is not in a prominent position or from an established family, so I find it easier to accept him at face value. However, many are those in various positions of influence, tribal or previous government, or both. We work with them but have to maintain a healthy skepticism to some degree. I recently had dinner at a village home of Dr. Sammi, a former official in the oil ministry who has a Ph.D. in geology from University of Texas at Austin. He is helping us solve some problems with the oil refineries and distribution. He is from an influential and heavily landed family, probably wants a job in the new administration, and his cousin is a sheik (tribal leader) who wanted to be the new governor of this province (but someone else was chosen). Dr. Sammi is currying favor with the Americans but of course he has many personal and family interests at stake. It is interesting to note how his family interacted with the previous regime. Many held various positions at various times in the government, but supposedly the tribe was not particularly supportive of or popular with Saddam. He apparently had chosen this village as a site for a nuclear reactor, just to get rid of them and take their land, when his plans were foiled by the first Gulf War.
Anyway, back to the dinner, not only was it interesting but it was wonderful to have regular food for a change. Roast chicken, grilled sheep ribs, fresh and pickled vegetables, roasted sweet onions so mild you can eat them like an apple, piles of the customary flat bread; I especially enjoyed the sheep liver, which was grilled with some flavorful spices. (I never thought I'd say something like how much I liked eating sheep liver.) I was there with some guys from the area's infantry battalion, including the battalion commander, who philosophized about the new Iraq until late in the night with our host and an ever-changing crew of neighbors and villagers who wandered in and out to see what was going on, all of whom continually smoked wretched Arabic cigarettes. Many tiny cups of tea later, we were finally on our way after midnight, after I had been presented with a gift of a tea samovar in honor of being the first (and only, so far) American woman to grace his home in 30 years.
So far I have not noticed any problem in dealing professionally with the Iraqis as a woman. The men are definitely more polite and respectful to me than I was treated by Arabs when visiting Israel and Jordan a couple of years ago. I'd like to think it's not just because I'm carrying a loaded weapon in this case! I am treated very courteously, but I think I am still a curiosity to most people by being a woman in uniform. I was in Kirkuk one night and stayed at the vehicles to pull security while my guys went into a restaurant to buy some food for us. (Obtaining real food is a major preoccupation for me, unfortunately one which so far I haven't been able to indulge often enough.) A curious crowd of men gathered around, finally someone was found with enough English to ask, "Are you woman or man?" I answered, "I am a woman, of course!" (I prefer to think it's fairly obvious, even in uniform, but I'll give them credit for lack of imagination.) Much amazed murmuring ensued, fortunately it was not at all hostile since the crowd grew even bigger once word got out of my answer. Here in Tikrit, however, I am becoming a more regular public figure. I usually work from a building out in the town. People come there to talk to the Army, file complaints or claims, or snitch on where "bad guys" are hanging out. Once your name gets out, there is no end. All kinds of people show up, claiming to have an appointment to see Major XXXXX. I have also taken photos of several hundred police, so I guess you could say I have instant name recognition among certain circles in town. I was at a private dinner in an outlying village at which the new governor was also a guest. I had never met him before, but when he walked by me he nodded at me and informed me that he had brought the new province police chief with him and that I should meet him. (Another highlight of that dinner was being presented with the great delicacy, "fat from sheep's tail." It was considerably less tasty than liver, I'm sorry to say.)
When we first got the police back to work here, there was a lot of media interest, and I was photographed and interviewed by reporters from the AP, Newsweek, and Army Times, as well as the Army's Public Affairs. I don't have any idea if anything ever got printed, and the press seems to have moved on, at least for the time being. Fine with me, I'm not feeling very photogenic these days. (It's hard to fully remove "ring around the collar" when washing uniforms by hand. Plus, my hair is a mess--I really need a haircut!) The majority of the work with the police is now being handled by the MPs (Military Police), now that the bulk of their combat missions have come to an end. As I do less with the police, I will get more involved in other aspects of our civil-military operations.
Slowly normal life is being restored here in Iraq. Sometimes the pace of progress seems agonizingly slow, or even reversing, but when you step away from the confusing details for a while one can see that a lot of work is getting done. There is still ample opportunity for danger, but most of us are not too bothered by that. A couple of nights ago I couldn't sleep because of the heat and was sitting out on the balcony between midnight and 1 a.m. I heard the launch of an RPG (rocket-propelled grenade) from outside the perimeter and found myself more curious than anything else: Hmm, I wonder if I should duck? I saw the flash of the impact before I heard the explosion, a good 300 meters away. Didn't hit anything, most of them don't.
I hope these notes I send out give you a flavor of what my life is like here in Iraq and are at least somewhat interesting. I don't want to bore with too many details, or too many gripes. On the other hand, I want to gripe enough for you to feel just a little bit sorry for me! However, I admit that on the wide scale of human suffering, I don't have too much to complain about. Besides that, I volunteered for this and have no one to blame but myself.
I have gratefully received a couple of care packages so far, thank you to members of my home unit, the 364th Civil Affairs Brigade. I am especially hungry for salty snacks as opposed to sweets, since I'm sweating so much of it out. Also eager for news, as we're still pretty cut off from the world, even my short wave radio doesn't pick up much here even compared to Kuwait.
Hoping this finds everyone well--
XXXXXX
Email from friend in Iraq
OceanBlue
Linear Mode
