Haiku

My friend and co-worker, Huey, is getting ready to re-deploy (that is, go home) after a year here. It's his second full tour in Iraq. Aside from being a well squared away Army captain, he's also our shop's Information Management Officer (IMO), a thankless computer help job. The System Admins grant IMOs limited administrator access to take care of minor problems and install software on our computers. Unfortunately, being an IMO makes you the target of stupid questions like, "My monitor won't turn on," or "I can't receive any more email."

In honor of Huey's departure, below are some computer related Haiku that I came across on the blog of OpenDNS, a DNS service company based in San Franciso:

“Evening Reflection”
—————
Moon shines on water
Crickets chirp in the tall grass
Damn, it’s my pager

“Server Room”
————–
Summer clouds float by
No, it’s smoke from the Dell rack
Watch out for halon

“With No Power Comes Great Responsibility”
—————
A quiet peace comes
Beeps and fans fall silent now
Power supply fails

“On the Help Desk”
—————
The one true answer:
“Try turning it off and on”
Words of great wisdom

“The Last Day”
—————
Where is that backup?
I swear it worked yesterday!
Work on resume.

Change

Postings to Iraq are cyclical by nature. Army Brigade Combat Teams are posted here for between fifteen to twelve months. Individual Augmentees, like myself, are here between six to twelve months. One colonel I know characterized our experience here by saying, “We haven’t been in Iraq for five years; we’ve been in Iraq one year five times over.” The exceptionally complex nature of both the conflict here and the organization of the US forces and diplomatic mission poised against it make short tours (ones of six months or less) nearly ineffective; it takes one almost three months just to figure out what’s going on and how one fits into the greater picture.

With cyclical postings come cyclical relationships. I arrived just as the guy I replaced, Jack, was leaving. We had nearly a week and half for a turnover which, by Navy standards is pretty good, but only served to hint at how much there was to know about this place. I spent nearly the first three months reacting to my environment and trying to learn what it was I didn’t know. It’s not unlike the five stages of grief: Denial (“What the Hell am I doing here?”); Anger (“Why the Hell am I here?”); Bargaining (“Just let me survive until mid-tour leave.”); Depression (“Man, it really sucks here.”); Acceptance (“What the Hell; it will be alright.”)

Jack was well liked and all of my then co-workers were sorry to see him go. Jack, of course, was ready to leave after being here a year. Since then, I have experienced a kind of special, wistful jealously watching other co-workers get within 30 days of redeployment back home.

This spring, many of my co-workers will redeploy. My roommate, an Air Force captain, was here for just a four month tour and will leave at the end of April. My immediate boss, a Marine Corps lieutenant colonel on his second tour in Iraq, arrived last December on a five month tour and already is getting ready to leave next month. My other teammate, an Army captain also on his second tour in Iraq, has been here a year and also will leave next month. Given the recent tempo of attacks by Shiite extremists on the International Zone, all are palpably relieved to be leaving soon. I envy them. But there is a small light in the tunnel: in early May I will take my mid-tour leave to see my attractive wife and precocious two-year old son. So I have my own countdown, of sorts, going just like those preparing to leave for good.

The departure of both my teammates leaves me as the continuity guy. It’s a sobering thought when I think of how especially well informed my army co-worker is about the nuances of this place; he knows where to go in both the virtual and physical realms in response to the most arcane operational questions. I wonder if I will get that smart eventually. I hope so.

I had thought of trying to go six or even seven months here before taking leave; I was told by many taking leave later makes coming back more psychologically palatable with less than half of the tour remaining. As it is, I’ll come back to five months remaining, technically less than half. I know everyone who has gone on leave tells me it’s hard to get back on the airplane coming back here.

Flies

With the return of hot weather, a plague of flies has descended on Iraq or at least to every bit of outdoor space in the International Zone. This is a new phenomenon to me as one who arrived here last November when it was cold. Those who have been here longer fully expected it and were not surprised at their return.

“Where did they come from?” I ask. “The eggs are dormant during the winter. When the weather warms, they hatch. Just like the mosquitoes.” Oh, great.

Common house flies in North America are docile compared to these pests. They aggressively fly around your head, taking special pleasure to land on your cheek or neck. Back home, a simple wave of the hand is all that’s needed to dismiss them. Here, it is taken as a challenge. The flies here are oblivious to danger and bent on harassment. They seem smaller, more nimble, more evolved.

My torment reminds me of a seminal poem by Charles Bukowski entitled, “Two Flies.” My friend, and then co-worker, Bill first made me aware of this poem in 1996. It’s worth quoting in its entirety:

Two Flies

The flies are angry bits of
life;
why are they so angry?
it seems they want more,
it seems almost as if they
are angry
that they are flies;

it is not my fault;
I sit in the room
with them
and they taunt me
with their agony;

it is as if they were
loose chunks of soul
left out of somewhere;

I try to read a paper
but they will not let me
be;

one seems to go in half-circles
high along the wall,
throwing a miserable sound
upon my head;

the other one, the smaller one
stays near and teases my hand,
saying nothing,
rising, dropping
crawling near;

what god puts these
lost things upon me?
other men suffer dictates of
empire, tragic love...
I suffer
insects...

I wave at the little one
which only seems to revive
his impulse to challenge:
he circles swifter,
nearer, even making
a fly-sound,

and the one above
catching a sense of the new
whirling, he too, in excitement,
speeds his flight,
drops down suddenly
in a cuff of noise

and they join
in circling my hand,
strumming the base
of the lampshade
until some man-thing
in me
will take no more
unholiness
and I strike
with the rolled-up paper –
missing! –
striking,
striking,

they break in discord,
some message lost between them,

and I get the big one
first, and he kicks on his back
flicking his legs
like an angry whore,
and I come down again
with my paper club
and he is a smear
of fly-ugliness;

the little one circles high
now, quiet and swift,
almost invisible;
he does not come near
my hand again;
he is tamed and
inaccessible; I leave
him be, he leaves me be;
the paper, of course,
is ruined;

something has happened,
something has soiled my
day,
sometimes it does not
take a man
or a woman,
only something alive;

I sit and watch
the small one;
we are woven together
in the air
and the living;
it is late
for both of us.

--Charles Bukowski

Dead Guy Quotes

“Live as brave men; if fortune is adverse, front its blows with brave hearts.”

-- Cicero (106 BCE – 43 CE)

What Kids Send Us

Recently, we received a big shipment of kid’s art from several schools in the Great State of Texas. An enterprising staff officer took the time to post them in the hallway outside our offices. A few of the pieces caught my attention; I love the genuine nature of kid’s art. My attractive wife tells me our two year old son is very much into drawing but, at his formative skill level, is only able master squiggly lines at the moment. The art sent to us is mostly from second and third grade classes and carry many encouraging messages. My favorites appear here.

Come Home Soon – I love the sentiment and appreciate the metaphor of aliens, who must also be far from home, standing next to their space ship waving hello

I (heart) Monkeys – This has nothing to do with wishing us well but, having grown up with a little sister, appreciate the duality of the sentiment and aspersion to the artist’s sister.

Our Country Will Win – This one speaks for itself.

Thanks, Kids from Texas. You are Great Americans.

Teflon

In the battle of political and military wills that transpired last week between Iraqi president Nouri al Maliki and Shiite Cleric Moqtada al Sadr there was a clear winner and loser. Maliki’s foray into Basrah wasn’t well planned and the fledgling Iraqi Army did not perform as well as he hoped; some members, no doubt Shiites, laid down their arms, refused to fight, or defected to the Jaysh al Mahdi (the Mahdi Army) they were sent to fight against. Maliki expended an enormous amount of political share during this endeavor and now is on the defensive.

As the Iraqi Army fought al Sadr’s Mahdi Army last week, Maliki moved between demanding the Mahdi Army disband to offering them money for heavy weapons. In the background, Iran is widely rumored to have brokered negotiations between the Maliki government and al Sadr himself. A ruinous Shiite versus Shiite conflict would not be good for all concerned: Maliki’s Dawa Party, al Sadr’s Office of the Martyr Sadr (OMS), and Iran, which extends enormous influence in Shiite Iraq. Ultimately, al Sadr called for a truce before things really deteriorated giving Maliki a political way out and avoiding a potential military disaster.

What’s next is anyone’s guess but al Sadr clearly emerged stronger. He is either very intelligent or extremely lucky; it’s probably a little of both. After all, in 2004, the Mahdi Army fought an intense battle with the US Army in Sadr City incurring heavy casualties. In August of last year, the Mahdi Army fought against a rival Shi’a militia resulting in over fifty dead Shi’a civilians. In both cases, al Sadr knew when to throttle back the violence, calling for political discourse, and ordering the Mahdi Army to lay down their weapons and mingle back into the civilian populace of Sadr City. Remarkably, al Sadr emerged stronger politically after each episode of violence. The episode in Basrah is no different. Now Al Sadr and OMS appear positioned to increase their political reach in the Iraqi provincial elections next October.

Elephant

The phrase, “seeing the elephant” has many meanings. In the US, it usually refers to describe the experiences of war and soldiering and was first used colloquially by soldiers writing letters during the Civil War.

There are other origins: The article I link to tells the story of the Emperor Charlemagne, who became obsessed with the idea of seeing an elephant when it was described to him by traders arriving from the Middle East. With the help of an exiled Arab lord and a trader named Isaac, an elephant was obtained in Baghdad, of all places, and was brought by land and sea to Aix (modern day Aachen, Germany), where the Charlemagne resided. The elephant was a big hit in the Frankish world and many people traveled miles to “see the elephant.”

Seasoned, combat veterans still speak of “seeing the elephant” to signify they have “shared the incommunicable experience of war,” as Oliver Wendell Holmes wrote shortly after the Civil War. In this case, seeing is experiencing all the emotions of war: boredom, panic, fear, helplessness, camaraderie, and honor. Serving in the Green Zone is not combat but it is a combat zone, as evidenced all too well during the past week. Those who were here last summer, the last period of heavy indirect fire in the Green Zone, say this past week has been much worse. For one thing, there have been more casualties and the fire is more accurate.

The first heavy barrage I experienced came in February, the day after Moqtada al Sadr announced a six-month extension of the cease fire. That next morning we were attacked with several rockets fired by disgruntled elements of Jaysh al Mahdi (JAM), the Shiite militia controlled by al Sadr. It came in the early morning hours, waking me up. As I rolled to the floor of the trailer, I heard the impacts of the rockets in the distance; I had no idea how close but I could hear them. That’s the moment I heard the elephant.

Since getting back to Baghdad from Qatar on the 28th, I’ve heard that same sound again and again. I asked an Army captain co-worker of mine, who survived an IED on his un-armored HUMVEE in 2003, if the barrage over the last week counts as being under fire. He said yes, it does.

So, at least I've traveled miles and heard the elephant.

In the Middle

So why is the International Zone getting pummeled by Iranian manufactured rockets and mortars? Just before Easter, Iraqi Prime Minister Nouri al Maliki, who is a Shiite heading the Iraqi Dawa Party, traveled to the southern Iraqi city of Basrah to oversee military operations against Jaysh al Mahdi (JAM), the Iranian supported, armed component of the Office of the Martyr Sadr (OMS), a political organization headed by Moqtada al Sadr (MAS).

A majority of JAM fighters consists of Shi’a youth who feel disenfranchised by the Government of Iraq (GOI), which coincidentally is headed by another Shi’a political party, called the Dawa. The so-called Sadr Trend, a loose affiliation of Shi’a political parties headed by OMS has a minority representation in the Iraqi Council of Representatives. Open source estimates of total JAM members throughout Iraq go as high as 40,000 to 60,000 irregular fighters armed with light weapons, machine guns, RPGs and networks skilled in the emplacement and use of Improvised Explosive Devices (IEDs).

Although JAM ostensibly is an armed religiously-oriented militia it also is an extensive criminal enterprise. Various JAM cell leaders regularly engage in extortion, intimidation, kidnapping and reprisal killings as a way to make money (for background, just watch any episode of “The Sopranos”). This is historically so in the Al Basrah province in the south of Iraq. Maliki has always had his eyes on JAM in Basrah and has wanted to neutralize their influence. Ned Parker, of the Los Angeles Times puts it well:

“Enmity has long festered between the two sides: one a ruling party that has struggled against the widespread perception that it gained power on the back of the U.S. occupation, the other a populist movement that has positioned itself as a critic of the new order.”

The GOI military operation he initiated last week just before Easter in hindsight seems ill-conceived and poorly planned. In any case, irregular JAM fighters put up much more of an effective defense of their turf in Basrah than anyone in the GOI anticipated, effectively grinding the Iraqi Army to a stalemate.

MAS watched this all unfold from Iran, where he is undergoing additional religious studies (MAS’s goal is to become a full Ayatollah like his late influential father, Mohammad Baqir al-Sadr). Reacting to the ensuing conflict, MAS issued various statements last week that JAM should resist both the Iraqi Army and “the occupiers,” his favorite allusion for Coalition Forces (CF). The JAM elements in and around Basrah immediately took up arms against the Iraqi Army while those JAM elements surrounding the International Zone here in Baghdad interpreted this announcement to begin wholesale indirect fire (IDF) on CF and GOI targets. I suppose they feel they are just doing there part.

Coalition Forces find themselves in an indelicate position, caught between providing support to the GOI and not wanting to get involved in a sectarian conflict between rival Shi’a organizations (Dawa versus OMS). Fortunately, a furious, behind-the-scenes political negotiation ensured this week between MAS and the GOI brokered by Iranian officials. MAS agreed to reign in JAM providing several political demands were met. Two days ago, MAS ordered yet another cease fire which appears to be slowing taking effect in Basrah and Baghdad. This hints that some of his demands will be met by the GOI while providing enough of a face-saving end to the crisis from the GOI’s point of view.

Welcome Back

I returned to Baghdad on 28 March to find continued mortar and rocket attacks on the International Zone in full swing. After arriving at Baghdad International Airport (BIAP) in the morning, I tried to catch a helicopter over the International Zone, which lies about twelve miles east. All things considered, I didn’t want to risk a ground transit on the Rhino Runner, which wouldn’t have left until late in the night anyway. I found space on a departing helicopter after only an hour’s wait. The brief flight was uneventful until we attempted to land. We were about fifty feet from touchdown near the Embassy when I saw people on the ground running into bunkers. Then I saw the impact of a mortar or rocket off towards the bank of the Tigris River. Before I had time to process the image, I felt the increased G-force as the helicopter pilot applied power and got us the Hell Out Of There. As we banked around, the impact area came into view as a big white cloud of smoke. I couldn’t tell if anything had caught on fire or not; we flew low and fast back out over the Red Zone (the area outside of the International Zone).

We flew back to BIAP where we landed at a landing zone supporting one of the many bases that make up Victory Base Complex (VBC). I chatted with an Army colonel who also was trying to get to the International Zone in order to attend a meeting. He was based out of Diwaniyah, a city to the south of Baghdad. We chose to wait outside despite the heat as we knew the situation was fluid and that flight officials often weren’t able to make announcements in the waiting tent. The wash of the four helicopters waiting, rotors running, on the landing pad actually created a sort of breeze as we sat in the shade of tall concrete T-walls. After about thirty minutes, we received word that the landing zone near the Embassy was now re-opened and that flights were resuming. We hopped on the first helicopter and took off. We landed at another nearby landing zone in VBC where we took on six more soldiers with packs as passengers. We took off and headed towards the International Zone. I sat towards the front as was offered a headset. I listened to the reports as the control tower at the Embassy Landing Zone came back up and advised they had received an “All Clear.”

We landed without incident and I jumped off the helicopter with my backpack and walked briskly towards the Embassy. Along the way, I passed a duck and cover bunker and saw an impact crater from a rocket. I asked the Peruvian Triple Canopy guard standing nearby about it in Spanish who told me the impact occurred early on Easter morning. Thankfully, no on in the bunker was hurt seriously.

I got back to my office, exhausted, but happy to be back despite the sounds of rocket and mortar impacts in the International Zone.