We had another day and evening of rain, followed by about an hour of thunderstorms. You know what that means - MUD!
Let me paint a picture for you. There are main roads, sidewalks in the main areas of the palace, however, in the living area, they are on the opposite side of the living area and would add about an extra 15-20 minutes to the morning walk to work. The only thing that separates my living area and a road is a large 15 foot deep ditch/drain. So for me to get to that road, I must walk through about 60 yards of mud. Slipping and sliding and some of you know that I am clumsy and trip over my own feet. This is a daily challenge. It sounds funny that I am complaining about mud, but it is not like the mud that you experience in the states. The soil composition here is completely different. As you walk, the mud will accumulate on the bottom of your boots with each and every step. Before you know it, you have grown about 3-4 inches. I thought to myself, I will just use the curb to wipe some of the mud off. This helps, but most of the mud stays in the tread of the boots and then tracks mud all through the palace.
Help is on the way!
Thankfully, my father-in-law Gayle Ellis Sr. sent me a boot scraper in the mail. It was a great gift to receive here and many people asked if they could use it.
Wait, that is not all he sent. For those of you that know him, know that he is quite the prankster. When I was opening the box, I had a visitor in the area, COL Rich Cardillo standing by. So, I open the box and pull out a couple of bags of beef jerkey, but underneath was a long black plastic comb. Laughter filled the room as I read the note that was with it. "Maybe you can use this to scratch your head or back" ha ha lol. Well, most of you know that I do not have hair - any. This added to the joke, and yes, everyone enjoyed it.
There was a couple of days where our access to the blogs were blocked. I contacted the helpdesk and provided the CG's blog policy that they said they were not aware of. It was turned back on soon after that.
Friday, January 27, 2006
Wednesday, January 18, 2006
The Palace Tour
Its not very often that someone offers to give you a tour of the al Faw Palace. Today was one of those days.
The corps historian from Fort Bragg offered to provide our office a private tour. We accepted. This gentleman is also a professor of history at the University of Kentucky. Go big blue!
The Qasr al Faw Palace was one of Saddam's newer palaces. The Al Faw Palace is named after a southern town that was occupied by the Iranians and then won back in a bloody siege that cost thousands of lives. It is set on an artificial lake, so still it looks like blue-green glass. All around the lake are Roman-style villas. Saddam reportedly had the palace built to commemorate his nation's "victory" over Iran. He would bring guests there to watch or hunt the wildlife and relax by the lakes.
We start out in the front of the palace, where there are writings on the doors and on the columns. He pointed out that the markings on the columns and also throughout the entire palace are saddam's initials. If you look at the center of the top, you will see a green circle, the initials are there.
Next he led us in side and told us about a particular chair that is now a "tourist" attraction. People from other bases come to see it and have their picture taken in it. It was 
a gift from Yasser Arafat to Saddam.
After a few jokes about the chair, we move onto the center of the palace where a huge chandelier hangs in the middle of a large walking area. He cautioned us about walking under it, since the supports are not the greatest example of construction. However, around the chandelier, there are words that say in Arabic, God is Great and also there are short writings about how God will grant Saddam victory.
After hearing all about the chandelier, we were let to the top floor
where we were shown the writings throughout the entire palace
with Saddam's initials incorporated into the wood carvings. After
walking a couple of hallways, we were escorted to the roof. As you can see from the picture to the right, the only way to get there was a very small door that led to this ladder which leads to the roof. We are lucky since a very limited number of people are allowed to go up there. The gentleman that was providing the tour was able to answer a lot of detailed questions as we went around.
Now once we are on the roof it is bright with a strong breeze blowing, the sky is a very rich and beautiful blue. There are some white clouds, but mainly a very clear day. We could see to the center of Baghdad and for miles around. It was a pretty amazing feeling.
As you can see from some of the pictures, it was a sight to see. I have attached a few more pictures for you to see.
The corps historian from Fort Bragg offered to provide our office a private tour. We accepted. This gentleman is also a professor of history at the University of Kentucky. Go big blue!
The Qasr al Faw Palace was one of Saddam's newer palaces. The Al Faw Palace is named after a southern town that was occupied by the Iranians and then won back in a bloody siege that cost thousands of lives. It is set on an artificial lake, so still it looks like blue-green glass. All around the lake are Roman-style villas. Saddam reportedly had the palace built to commemorate his nation's "victory" over Iran. He would bring guests there to watch or hunt the wildlife and relax by the lakes.
We start out in the front of the palace, where there are writings on the doors and on the columns. He pointed out that the markings on the columns and also throughout the entire palace are saddam's initials. If you look at the center of the top, you will see a green circle, the initials are there.
Next he led us in side and told us about a particular chair that is now a "tourist" attraction. People from other bases come to see it and have their picture taken in it. It was 
a gift from Yasser Arafat to Saddam.After a few jokes about the chair, we move onto the center of the palace where a huge chandelier hangs in the middle of a large walking area. He cautioned us about walking under it, since the supports are not the greatest example of construction. However, around the chandelier, there are words that say in Arabic, God is Great and also there are short writings about how God will grant Saddam victory.
After hearing all about the chandelier, we were let to the top floor
where we were shown the writings throughout the entire palacewith Saddam's initials incorporated into the wood carvings. After
walking a couple of hallways, we were escorted to the roof. As you can see from the picture to the right, the only way to get there was a very small door that led to this ladder which leads to the roof. We are lucky since a very limited number of people are allowed to go up there. The gentleman that was providing the tour was able to answer a lot of detailed questions as we went around.
Now once we are on the roof it is bright with a strong breeze blowing, the sky is a very rich and beautiful blue. There are some white clouds, but mainly a very clear day. We could see to the center of Baghdad and for miles around. It was a pretty amazing feeling.
As you can see from some of the pictures, it was a sight to see. I have attached a few more pictures for you to see.
Friday, January 13, 2006
A Busy Week
Hello all. I have neglected the blog this week as I have been spending many hours welcoming in the new personnel as they arrive. We have a vehicle and when they arrive, we load their bags into the truck (2005 Ford Explorer) and take them and all their gear to the front door so they did not have to walk. Most of the time they arrived in the middle of the night/morning and the rain came down with them. It was a long week, but we are glad to have everyone here.
On a somber note, I recently visited the sight where SFC Paul Ray Smith fought and died for his country. He was posthumously awarded the Medal of Honor.
http://www.whitehouse.gov/news/releases/2005/04/20050404-5.html
The area now is within our compound and people drive by it often. There are no markers, other than the bullet holes in the tower where the Iraqi insurgents were posted. His actions reminds us of why we are here.
On a somber note, I recently visited the sight where SFC Paul Ray Smith fought and died for his country. He was posthumously awarded the Medal of Honor.
http://www.whitehouse.gov/news/releases/2005/04/20050404-5.html
The area now is within our compound and people drive by it often. There are no markers, other than the bullet holes in the tower where the Iraqi insurgents were posted. His actions reminds us of why we are here.
Sunday, January 8, 2006
Muddy Days
It is officially the rainy season in Iraq. The rain is not what's so bad, its the flooding and the mud that accompanies it. The soil composition is not good for absorbing water. It just pools and becomes slop.
We awake to a light sprinkle that seems innocent, but it is not. I walk out of my trailer and step immediately into a nice puddle of clay-like mud. It sticks to you boots, then as you walk through the gravel, it picks up every rock it can. By the time you get to where you are going, you have grown a couple of inches. Then it is time to scrap the mud off your boots. That will consume about 10 minutes upon every entry. You never can get all the mud off, so every place you enter has a muddy path.
Please help me make a "stop the rain" wish.
We awake to a light sprinkle that seems innocent, but it is not. I walk out of my trailer and step immediately into a nice puddle of clay-like mud. It sticks to you boots, then as you walk through the gravel, it picks up every rock it can. By the time you get to where you are going, you have grown a couple of inches. Then it is time to scrap the mud off your boots. That will consume about 10 minutes upon every entry. You never can get all the mud off, so every place you enter has a muddy path.
Please help me make a "stop the rain" wish.
Saturday, January 7, 2006
Let's Go Shopping
Blackhawk. Sounds official doesn't it? Well, it isn't. Blackhawk is a market for people to purchase, let's say, less than legitimate copies of the latest movies, t.v. series, X box & play station games and many other items. Since there are no copyright laws in Iraq, none apply. I am sure it is more complicated than that, but let me take you into the market they call "Blackhawk".
There are a couple of us that load into a vehicle and go for a drive through the muddy gravel roads. There are pot holes and quick drops in the road which make for an interesting ride. There are ravines on both sides of the road and fields with strange weeds and grasses about 3 feet tall. There are palm trees in the distance and occasionally, a wild animal (mostly foxes) will run across the road. As we pull up, you can see the many smirks and smiles on the soldiers faces as they prepare to exit their vehicle and help the Iraqi's local economy.
I have a tour guide/experienced shopper show me around the place. It is contained in about 3 buildings, 2 of them are one-story and the other one is a two-story. The first place we visit has a line of patient shoppers. All of them are anxious to see what new collections are inside. To enter, you must wait until another one exits; it works like a well oiled machine. After just a couple of minutes of waiting, it is my turn to enter. I walk inside and am immediately blown away by the number of DVD movies available for purchase. If you have ever entered a fireworks stand in Tennessee, you will know exactly what I am talking about. They are everywhere, all in plastic sleeves with a printed/copied cover, just no cases. Looking up, down and in both directions, all I see are DVDs and soldiers. After about 30 minutes of browsing, I select several great deals and get in line to pay. When I get to the "register" there is one man standing on the other side of the counter. He has a small box with a lid that he opens and closes during every transaction. Inside the box you can see a large mix of cash, with no organization whatsoever. It is as if someone threw all the money in the air then gathered them up and shoved all of into the box. Now, imagine that you are waiting for your change...can you see where this would be interesting?
I complete the transaction and move onto the other buildings. As I walk from one building to the other, there are soldiers with bags in hand and smiles on their face. They are talking to their buddies about the great deals they just got. Of course, I am doing the same thing.
I enter the two story building and in every single room, there are vendors ready to make a deal. I forgot to mention that you can haggle with them, but you kind of feel guilty since you are only paying about 1/3rd of what you would normally pay. On the first floor, there is coffee shop with a lot of customers - soldiers. In the other rooms are Nike shoes, Leather Coats, fake Rolex watches and the like. After browsing through as much as I can take, I move back to our vehicle and wait for the others and marvel over my purchases.
There are a couple of us that load into a vehicle and go for a drive through the muddy gravel roads. There are pot holes and quick drops in the road which make for an interesting ride. There are ravines on both sides of the road and fields with strange weeds and grasses about 3 feet tall. There are palm trees in the distance and occasionally, a wild animal (mostly foxes) will run across the road. As we pull up, you can see the many smirks and smiles on the soldiers faces as they prepare to exit their vehicle and help the Iraqi's local economy.
I have a tour guide/experienced shopper show me around the place. It is contained in about 3 buildings, 2 of them are one-story and the other one is a two-story. The first place we visit has a line of patient shoppers. All of them are anxious to see what new collections are inside. To enter, you must wait until another one exits; it works like a well oiled machine. After just a couple of minutes of waiting, it is my turn to enter. I walk inside and am immediately blown away by the number of DVD movies available for purchase. If you have ever entered a fireworks stand in Tennessee, you will know exactly what I am talking about. They are everywhere, all in plastic sleeves with a printed/copied cover, just no cases. Looking up, down and in both directions, all I see are DVDs and soldiers. After about 30 minutes of browsing, I select several great deals and get in line to pay. When I get to the "register" there is one man standing on the other side of the counter. He has a small box with a lid that he opens and closes during every transaction. Inside the box you can see a large mix of cash, with no organization whatsoever. It is as if someone threw all the money in the air then gathered them up and shoved all of into the box. Now, imagine that you are waiting for your change...can you see where this would be interesting?
I complete the transaction and move onto the other buildings. As I walk from one building to the other, there are soldiers with bags in hand and smiles on their face. They are talking to their buddies about the great deals they just got. Of course, I am doing the same thing.
I enter the two story building and in every single room, there are vendors ready to make a deal. I forgot to mention that you can haggle with them, but you kind of feel guilty since you are only paying about 1/3rd of what you would normally pay. On the first floor, there is coffee shop with a lot of customers - soldiers. In the other rooms are Nike shoes, Leather Coats, fake Rolex watches and the like. After browsing through as much as I can take, I move back to our vehicle and wait for the others and marvel over my purchases.
Friday, January 6, 2006
Chow Time
One of the few reasons people here smile is because of "chow", aka breakfast, lunch and dinner. The dining facilities here are about half the size of a football field. There are concrete barriers guarding all sides of the building and the sidewalks leading up to the main entrance. Follow me inside and I will explain what you would see if you were here.
As I walk up I am greeted by military members in full gear with loaded weapons, they check my identification closely and wave me in. We turn and move down a smaller sidewalk and enter through the doors, we walk immediately in the wash room which is about 15'x15' with sinks, soap dispensers, paper towel holders and trash cans. It is decorated with signs that tell everyone that they must wash their hands prior to entry into the main dining facility. I walk up to the sink, careful not to lean too close because I will get wet from water splashed from previous visitors. I wash up and go to grab a paper towel, but they are not the texture or strength of normal paper towels, they are very thin white paper that is easily comparable to tissue paper. As I dry my hands I notice that the paper is sticking to my hand and is falling apart. Leaning over the trash cans with others, we pick off the extra paper that has decided to take a ride on my hands.
After picking off all the tissue paper, we move into the main dining facility where there is a soldier whose job is to press the clicker in his/her hand indicating that another person has come by to be treated to a period of fine dining. Once past the "clicker" it is time to pick up a tray, followed by a plastic plate (hey Margi, it has three dividers so the food won't touch) and a plastic fork/spoon/knife pack complete with a normal napkin, salt and pepper. As I move toward the serving line, I notice a small display to the right which features special meals from different countries. This special area is self serve, but sometimes has the best food. I move past there and a gentleman with a white paper hat, white starched shirt complete with a bow tie is waiting to take my order. They have about 15 or so of these guys all along the serving line. All of them smiling and all of them saying, "Yes Sir, how can we help you?" in a foreign accent. Always a smile and always a greeting. (You can't get this in some of the best restaurants in the states.) I move to the center of the room where there is a long salad bar with all the salad items you could want, pasta and at the end, they have a taco bar. Past the taco bar is about 5 large glass/self serve beverage refrigerators. They contain sodas, gatorade, juice drinks and about any other beverage you could imagine - except bottled water. This is funny because in every other location on the post, there is free water; everywhere. So why not here? I am not sure, but since they have comment cards on the table, I am going to request it. I have been forced to drink my second favorite beverage - Orange Gatorade. It is tough, but I will try to manage. I move to find a seat in the NFL room. NFL room you ask? Yes, they have a NFL, NBA, and MLB rooms. They are completely decorated in their appropriate sport except for the additional decorations from the foreign governments that are here. Some from England have added Rugby and Cricket to the NFL and MLB rooms.
Once I have found a seat, I notice another area in the back of the dining facility. What? It can't be, Baskin-Robbins ice cream complete with a person to serve you and next to him on display are all the toppings you could imagine for ice cream. I must avoid this area, as it will draw you in like a large magnet. SFC James Smith is here with me and we have brief discussions on how long the other person will be able to hold out. It is a tough battle...
We finally make it to our seats, well within view of the numerous jumbo t.v.'s around the room. We see familiar people as we eat, some we actually know and others that we seem to pass or see sometime during the day. The food here is good and there is plenty of it.
Chow time is a good time as you can forget about what is going outside the complex and can just relax and talk to others going through similar experiences.
There are a lot of good people here trying to do good.
As I walk up I am greeted by military members in full gear with loaded weapons, they check my identification closely and wave me in. We turn and move down a smaller sidewalk and enter through the doors, we walk immediately in the wash room which is about 15'x15' with sinks, soap dispensers, paper towel holders and trash cans. It is decorated with signs that tell everyone that they must wash their hands prior to entry into the main dining facility. I walk up to the sink, careful not to lean too close because I will get wet from water splashed from previous visitors. I wash up and go to grab a paper towel, but they are not the texture or strength of normal paper towels, they are very thin white paper that is easily comparable to tissue paper. As I dry my hands I notice that the paper is sticking to my hand and is falling apart. Leaning over the trash cans with others, we pick off the extra paper that has decided to take a ride on my hands.
After picking off all the tissue paper, we move into the main dining facility where there is a soldier whose job is to press the clicker in his/her hand indicating that another person has come by to be treated to a period of fine dining. Once past the "clicker" it is time to pick up a tray, followed by a plastic plate (hey Margi, it has three dividers so the food won't touch) and a plastic fork/spoon/knife pack complete with a normal napkin, salt and pepper. As I move toward the serving line, I notice a small display to the right which features special meals from different countries. This special area is self serve, but sometimes has the best food. I move past there and a gentleman with a white paper hat, white starched shirt complete with a bow tie is waiting to take my order. They have about 15 or so of these guys all along the serving line. All of them smiling and all of them saying, "Yes Sir, how can we help you?" in a foreign accent. Always a smile and always a greeting. (You can't get this in some of the best restaurants in the states.) I move to the center of the room where there is a long salad bar with all the salad items you could want, pasta and at the end, they have a taco bar. Past the taco bar is about 5 large glass/self serve beverage refrigerators. They contain sodas, gatorade, juice drinks and about any other beverage you could imagine - except bottled water. This is funny because in every other location on the post, there is free water; everywhere. So why not here? I am not sure, but since they have comment cards on the table, I am going to request it. I have been forced to drink my second favorite beverage - Orange Gatorade. It is tough, but I will try to manage. I move to find a seat in the NFL room. NFL room you ask? Yes, they have a NFL, NBA, and MLB rooms. They are completely decorated in their appropriate sport except for the additional decorations from the foreign governments that are here. Some from England have added Rugby and Cricket to the NFL and MLB rooms.
Once I have found a seat, I notice another area in the back of the dining facility. What? It can't be, Baskin-Robbins ice cream complete with a person to serve you and next to him on display are all the toppings you could imagine for ice cream. I must avoid this area, as it will draw you in like a large magnet. SFC James Smith is here with me and we have brief discussions on how long the other person will be able to hold out. It is a tough battle...
We finally make it to our seats, well within view of the numerous jumbo t.v.'s around the room. We see familiar people as we eat, some we actually know and others that we seem to pass or see sometime during the day. The food here is good and there is plenty of it.
Chow time is a good time as you can forget about what is going outside the complex and can just relax and talk to others going through similar experiences.
There are a lot of good people here trying to do good.
Thursday, January 5, 2006
Living Quarters?
It has been 7 days since my departure. I have moved into the trailer and have settled into a routine. The trailer I live in is surrounded by 14-15 foot high "Alaska" barriers. When I say surrounded, I mean completely surrounded. There is gravel surrounding the trailer and all the roads between them. I will post a picture here soon so you can see. Standing in front of the trailer you will see black metal steps with railings leading up to the two doors one that enter into each half. They are all plain white and nothing special about them other than the dust that covers every inch of them. When you walk in you will notice the fake wall paneling and inexpensive flooring. The room is dimly lit and has the smell if dust in the air. I have a bed that sags in the middle and is small. My feet hang off the end when I lay completely flat and it has a wooden support box under the center of the bed. There are two wall lockers in the center of the room facing opposite directions and it also acts as a room divider. There are no decorations, no pictures on the walls. However, I have a small dorm refrigerator to keep my bottled water cold - Yippee!
I miss you all.
Wednesday, January 4, 2006
The Trip Here
It is 3:30 am on one of the last few days of 2005. The alarm goes off and after a night of intermittent sleeping, I feel the weight of what is about to happen. In less than an hour I will be leaving for no less than one year. I feel a sense of heat go through my entire body, you know - the same feeling you get when you are publicly embarrassed, this is immediately followed by an overwhelming feeling of guilt. Questions start to race through my head, "What am I doing?" "How will Margi handle the separation?" "How will I continue to be a part of the family while I am so far away?"
I get up and stumble into the bathroom, shower and prepare for the departure. Margi is being supportive, but obviously sad. We pass each other several times and do not say anything - we know that if we speak it will only bring tears. There is a quietness in the house that you will only experience this early in the morning. It is snowing lightly, it is cold and very dark. A slight breeze stings my face as I carry my bags outside and load them into the car. I know that with each bag that is loaded, I am that much closer to leaving.
It is now 0400 and time to tell the kids goodbye for at least a year. It is a feeling that is indescribable; the hurt of leaving them, the emotions that take every bit of energy to control and the fear of not coming back to see them through life. All this races through my mind as I lean over to kiss them. As I was began to lean over, CJ awoke and sat straight up in his bed, threw his arms around me and started crying. He asked me over and over, "Why do you have to go?" I try to answer, but my throat was so dry with a lump so large I could only mumble a few words. I then go into to see Brittany, I knew she was trying to be strong and hold back the tears. She gives me a big hug and quickly goes into CJ's room to comfort him.
It was time to go and I did not want to.
Margi and I get in to the car and drive very slowly down the snowy road. It is incredibly quite with the discussion being sparse and the topics limited to the separation. (This is the first time in my career that I will have been away from the family for a year. Previously, the longest separation was 6 months and that was difficult enough.) We arrive at the departure location, I get out, go around the car and greet Margi with a hug that I wish could last forever. I forget all about the cold air, the snow and can only focus on the tears traveling down her face. I want to tell her that everything will be okay, I hold her tight and am finally able to tell her that it will all be okay. I quietly ask her to drop me off and I state that it would be best for both of us for her to go back home and take care of the kids. It was a quick decision, but I just did not want the separation period to linger. I give her one final kiss and tell her I love her.
I miss her.
I pick up my bags, load them onto the bus and walked into the holding area located in the post gym. The gym is old, has a weathered yellow look, it is filled with other personnel preparing to deploy. The USO playing a strange mix of music which is muted by the crying in the background. There was an air about the place that is hard to describe. I sit with MAJ Lear and SFC Smith, we make small talk while we wait for our names to be called. While waiting, COL Miller, my boss, drops by to bid us farewell and wish us luck on our journey. I know it is surreal for her as she will be joining us there soon.
Finally, at 0645 a.m. an announcement comes across the speaker letting us know it was time. We stand up in groups and slowly shuffle through the exit of the gym and begin loading the busses. After a few minutes of sitting still and waiting for the last few people to finish loading, we begin the 2 hour trip to the airport.
Once we arrived at the airport we were pleased to see that we would be flying on a commercial plane instead of a loud and cold military aircraft flight. As we fill the cabin with military personnel and all their gear (including weapons) I quickly realize that it will be a tight fit. There are stewardess' helping us with our seating and she informs us that there will be two inflight movies. The trip was somewhat uneventful except for the overwhelming guilt I felt for leaving my wife and kids for such a long period. My eyes began to water and I could feel that uncomfortable ache in my throat. I had to visit the restroom to compose myself.
The plane lands at about 1100 p.m. and the doors open filling the cabin with an odd unfamiliar smell. It is cold and we are tired, it has been a long day and we want to go to sleep. Instead, we are ushered into a large tent used as a holding area. It has concrete floors, numerous benches made with 2 by 4's, it is about 40 degrees and cold. Centered in the front of the room is a t.v. with a small gaggle of people who are semi in-charge of our processing. We are there for several hours and trying different methods of staying warm. We walk, we jump, but nothing helps. We are anxious and reluctant while we wait to get to the next step of the journey. It seems to take days before the announcement that we would be leaving soon came at around 0530 a.m. Two hours later we depart on a military aircraft with seats that would barely hold a young child. We are crammed in with all our gear, including two weapons. We had a smooth landing and quickly exited the rear of the plane to bright Iraqi day. The sun is bright and the air is crisp, but the trip is not over yet. We have to gather our belongings and move onto armored busses nicknamed "rhinos". We drive down a very dusty, pot-hole covered road. We travel under a famous supply route and when the bus stops, we are so relieved that we are finally hear. It has taken over 30 hours by bus and plane to arrive at our final destination - Baghdad, Iraq.
I get up and stumble into the bathroom, shower and prepare for the departure. Margi is being supportive, but obviously sad. We pass each other several times and do not say anything - we know that if we speak it will only bring tears. There is a quietness in the house that you will only experience this early in the morning. It is snowing lightly, it is cold and very dark. A slight breeze stings my face as I carry my bags outside and load them into the car. I know that with each bag that is loaded, I am that much closer to leaving.
It is now 0400 and time to tell the kids goodbye for at least a year. It is a feeling that is indescribable; the hurt of leaving them, the emotions that take every bit of energy to control and the fear of not coming back to see them through life. All this races through my mind as I lean over to kiss them. As I was began to lean over, CJ awoke and sat straight up in his bed, threw his arms around me and started crying. He asked me over and over, "Why do you have to go?" I try to answer, but my throat was so dry with a lump so large I could only mumble a few words. I then go into to see Brittany, I knew she was trying to be strong and hold back the tears. She gives me a big hug and quickly goes into CJ's room to comfort him.
It was time to go and I did not want to.
Margi and I get in to the car and drive very slowly down the snowy road. It is incredibly quite with the discussion being sparse and the topics limited to the separation. (This is the first time in my career that I will have been away from the family for a year. Previously, the longest separation was 6 months and that was difficult enough.) We arrive at the departure location, I get out, go around the car and greet Margi with a hug that I wish could last forever. I forget all about the cold air, the snow and can only focus on the tears traveling down her face. I want to tell her that everything will be okay, I hold her tight and am finally able to tell her that it will all be okay. I quietly ask her to drop me off and I state that it would be best for both of us for her to go back home and take care of the kids. It was a quick decision, but I just did not want the separation period to linger. I give her one final kiss and tell her I love her.
I miss her.
I pick up my bags, load them onto the bus and walked into the holding area located in the post gym. The gym is old, has a weathered yellow look, it is filled with other personnel preparing to deploy. The USO playing a strange mix of music which is muted by the crying in the background. There was an air about the place that is hard to describe. I sit with MAJ Lear and SFC Smith, we make small talk while we wait for our names to be called. While waiting, COL Miller, my boss, drops by to bid us farewell and wish us luck on our journey. I know it is surreal for her as she will be joining us there soon.
Finally, at 0645 a.m. an announcement comes across the speaker letting us know it was time. We stand up in groups and slowly shuffle through the exit of the gym and begin loading the busses. After a few minutes of sitting still and waiting for the last few people to finish loading, we begin the 2 hour trip to the airport.
Once we arrived at the airport we were pleased to see that we would be flying on a commercial plane instead of a loud and cold military aircraft flight. As we fill the cabin with military personnel and all their gear (including weapons) I quickly realize that it will be a tight fit. There are stewardess' helping us with our seating and she informs us that there will be two inflight movies. The trip was somewhat uneventful except for the overwhelming guilt I felt for leaving my wife and kids for such a long period. My eyes began to water and I could feel that uncomfortable ache in my throat. I had to visit the restroom to compose myself.
The plane lands at about 1100 p.m. and the doors open filling the cabin with an odd unfamiliar smell. It is cold and we are tired, it has been a long day and we want to go to sleep. Instead, we are ushered into a large tent used as a holding area. It has concrete floors, numerous benches made with 2 by 4's, it is about 40 degrees and cold. Centered in the front of the room is a t.v. with a small gaggle of people who are semi in-charge of our processing. We are there for several hours and trying different methods of staying warm. We walk, we jump, but nothing helps. We are anxious and reluctant while we wait to get to the next step of the journey. It seems to take days before the announcement that we would be leaving soon came at around 0530 a.m. Two hours later we depart on a military aircraft with seats that would barely hold a young child. We are crammed in with all our gear, including two weapons. We had a smooth landing and quickly exited the rear of the plane to bright Iraqi day. The sun is bright and the air is crisp, but the trip is not over yet. We have to gather our belongings and move onto armored busses nicknamed "rhinos". We drive down a very dusty, pot-hole covered road. We travel under a famous supply route and when the bus stops, we are so relieved that we are finally hear. It has taken over 30 hours by bus and plane to arrive at our final destination - Baghdad, Iraq.
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