Good Patrol... Bad Patrol...

Before I start this entry I just want to state that I am sorry that I haven’t answered any emails this week or made any calls- we have been busy and have had most of the weeks missions shoved into the end for some reason and it is quite possible that I am more mentally tired than physically. The lack of having a set schedule takes its toll on me over here- there is no real time off and no time to just be with yourself. C’est la guerre!

So… there are good patrols, there are bad patrols and there are patrols that just suck.

I’ll explain… A bad patrol is when somebody gets hurt or we lose combat power (weapons, HMMWV (humvee), or other equipment). Patrols that just suck are what we have most of the time- you just drive around until you get blown up or shot. These are not fun, but that is the drill most of the time over here, bleh. We haven’t been blown up or shot yet- our troop has been hit with 2 IEDs since we got here and both of them have hit the same truck. Let’s all take a guess at which truck I’m not getting into anytime soon. Our patrols are longer than they should be because we are working shorthanded- so we have to stretch ourselves farther than we should- that is changing with the next week’s schedule though, the patrol length is getting cut down.

Every now and again you have a good patrols, I haven’t had completely good patrol just yet. What we have are good parts of patrols, shining moments that make you forget all of the SUCK that surrounds you. I had a moment today and one a few days ago; let’s start with the latter, as it wasn’t quite as good. Here we are on patrol through a little town- we missed whatever meal it was we should have eaten- and up walks this man with a stack of fresh pita bread that he was taking home to his family. What does he do, you ask yourself? He offers these soldiers a few pieces, a few pieces that should have gone to his kids. It was awesome; it was still warm and kind of doughy in spots, crisp in others- perfect. There we are four soldiers in our HMMWV eating this bread that this wonderful man offered us out of the goodness of his own heart, throw in a couple of fresh oranges that we picked off of a tree and you have probably the best meal I have had since I was in the States with my family.

That brings us to today, I hope you understand just how happy and excited I was at the time, I don’t think that I have smiled so much since I got here. I honestly forgot that I was in a combat zone for a little while. We stop in this little town to do a foot patrol and talk to some people. I get out of my truck and head off with a few other guys to talk to some people who live in the area- I look back to see that some kids are gathering around our trucks. I went back to make sure the guys knew how to handle the situation, you don’t want someone shoving or hitting a kid, but you don’t want a kid stealing from you. I move back to instill some words of wisdom and be back along my way. Well, I am a sucker for kids- I can’t lie and the kids here are so cute. I think that they are made even more adorable by the miserable surroundings that they are set in much of the time.

The kids are asking us questions, in broken English, and giggling when we couldn’t understand them and they couldn’t understand us. One kid on a bicycle says “mister football”, I’m like “I’m sorry I don’t have one”, he says it again and gets the same reply. He then rides off on his bike. So the kids are all trying to get us to give them chocolate and our pens. They also point at our weapons and say words in Arabic that we can’t understand. One little boy brings his little sister up and says “baby”. They ask our names and then say them over and over. Then they point at each other in turn and say “Ali Baba” which means thief- they then laugh and push like children.

A few minutes later the boy on the bike returns on foot with a soccer ball. The real fun begins; there I am in the middle of a combat zone playing soccer with these kids whom I have never met before and who I will probably not get the chance to talk to again. It was so much fun- they would throw the ball up and I would head it back to them with my helmet on- they all laughed. The thought of all of the dangers that surrounded me were gone. Until we heard some gun fire in the distance- we got all of the kids next to the walls, so that they wouldn’t catch anything if it came close. It never did and we started playing soccer again. There is however an unhappy ending to the story- like a moron I forgot to take pictures, I thought about it but then I am not extremely versed on the culture and was worried about upsetting the delicate balance of the world we had. So there I was in the middle of this town playing soccer with my M-4 slung in front of me and my shotgun hanging across my back and I was completely unawares of all the bad things that are going on around me.

Today was a good day- that one bright spot put such a smile on my face, then I get back off of mission and learn that we are on call for a b/s mission all through the night, which means I’ll probably take my boots off and lay down and hope that I make it through the night without getting my sleep interrupted. I think I am supposed to have a day off next week some time so hopefully I will be able to call home and answer some emails. If I don’t go out again tonight I should be able to answer some emails tomorrow. I hope this finds you well and close to those you love.

I leave you today with what I think is a very fitting quote from Elie Wiesel and a picture of the kids from the Ulster project playing soccer (you know- kids from Iraq and kids from Northern Ireland- two different parts of my life)

“Life is not made up of years, but of moments.”- Elie Wiesel- Nobel Prize winner and Holocaust survivor

Peace and Love- Roadshow 6

Welcome to the show...

Here I sit in central Baghdad welcoming all of you to the Traveling Road Show. You may be asking yourself, "What in the beep is the TRS?" a valid question. The TRS is the entity that a couple of my buddies and myself took to calling our adventures when I first got out of training in the military. Now a year and a half later the founders of the TRS are spread throughout the United States with one on holiday in the Middle East. The TRS was founded in drunken stupor and has reconvened in many different locations, under the influence of many different alcohols. One founding premise of the TRS is the importance of the story, without the story it is all for naught. So what if you go home with a hot chick, if there is no good story?

Well... this is to be my second attempt at this post as I managed to delete the first one, so I am sorry that this one will likely not have the fervor that the previous possessed.

And now the second attempt commences...

Seriously though the TRS is a group of guys who attempt nothing more than to have a good a time and have a few good stories to share. Only one founder of the TRS need be present for a meeting of the Road Show to convene. Roadshow 6 is currently in the Cradle of Civilization. Roadshow 7 is soon to be relocating to Carmel. Roadshow 5 is about to add the first Household 6 to our ranks, as well as be the first lawyer in the TRS. Roadshow Red 4 is working on his own Household 6 as well as a masters' degree from BSU. Roadshow Red 1 is currently in Florida chasing down crack whores with satellites or something of that sort. The last official meeting of the TRS occurred on the homestead in northern Indiana, where quite a fair bit of Guinness was drank and there were two wheeled shenanigans to the pleasure of the crowd. In attendance were RS 6, RS 7, Red 4, and Red 1- we were upset with the 5s inability to be there, but that is how 5s are, always off doing paperwork somewhere.

I can understand if you are getting the feeling that the Traveling Road Show is nothing more than a few Fraternity brothers getting drunk and hitting on co-eds- that theory holds some bit of fact, however the TRS is a means to give purpose to our adventures. The lack of a group of people with whom you can share experiences with leads someone down the paths of alcoholism and possible moral shortcomings. The TRS provides a support group for these people, also there are situations when due to uncontrollable circumstances in ones life when a person needs the ability to live vicariously through others- we also provide this. There will always be one member of the Traveling Road Show who can have a beer or seek out female companionship and it is that members duty to share the story with less fortunate members.

The importance of this group of friends to me, is what lead me to name the new Blog after our adventures. I doubt that this Blog will nothing but total drunken adventures given the fact I can't drink for a year.

I will now provide an explanation for all of the numbers that I have been using. They are Army terms all at the Troop level so I apologize for bringing you into my nightmare.

The 6: Commander- he is in charge of the troop (I do not assert total dominance of the TRS- it was mostly my idea though)

The 7: First Sergeant- highest ranking enlisted person in the troop, the commander's right hand man and honestly controls the troop as much as the commander thinks he does

The 5: Executive Officer- second officer in command usually busy with paperwork, but as a rule would rather be out with the boys

Red- 1st Platoon
White- 2nd Platoon
Thunder- Mortar Platoon

The Red 4: Platoon Sergeant- senior enlisted man in the platoon, works directly with the 6 and 7- takes care of the soldiers in his platoon

The Red 1: Platoon Leader- an LT leads combat movements of the platoon and learns from the 6, 7, and 4

So a Household 6 would be the wife of anyone of these men, because we all know who runs the home.

Hopefully this hasn't been too boring, I know that this version is not as good as the first one but I am sure that it has its own merits.

Until next time...

Peace and Love- Roadshow 6

I will be leaving you with something I wrote while in Kuwait and picture of the Iraqi Sunset.

16 December 2005

Well… this is my first Operation Iraqi Freedom entry. I am still in Kuwait prepping for our move north, the flight over here took just under 19 hours (that includes stops; there were two of those- Bangor, Maine and Shannon, Ireland). Kuwait isn’t too bad but the place is very dirty for being one of the richest countries in the world, there is trash and old tires littering the place on every inch of desert that I have seen here. The scenery here is like looking out over the ocean, minus the waves of course. Another thing when I look at the ocean I see a world of possibility and dreams; I see a new world a short sail away, there is life and new wonders to be discovered. When I look out across the desert what I see is despair, period- despair. I couldn’t live in the desert this is the worst place on earth. The weather here has been in the 75 to 80 range which is nicer than home I am sure, but I have always liked the snow and enjoyed the Christmas season.

Speaking of Christmas, when my mom, grandma and little brother were down in Texas right before I left I bought the Christmas with the Rat Pack CD, which is what I am listening to right now. The current music selection is Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas by Frank Sinatra. So these two very short paragraphs have taken me a little over an hour to write because I get thinking about Christmas time at home or other things that I would be doing at this time of year. I was thinking about watching the Christmas Story marathon with Jules, while mom can’t understand why anyone would want to watch the same movie for 24 hours straight. I hear the “you’ll shoot your eye out” line, and I think about how different it is this year- every time I leave my tent I wear ballistic eyewear and tote around a sniper rifle. The movie White Christmas lends hope to me, that maybe, just maybe it will snow here Christmas Eve. I remember going sledding when I was little with my sister on the little hill beside the house, now I climb into the gunner’s hatch of a HMMWV and sit behind a .50 caliber machine gun. As I look over the chapel schedule for our camp, I think of candle light Christmas Eve services. Fondue dinner at the Grandparents’ Freeman’s house was the dinner of choice for Christmas Eve. I think about scooping 3 feet of snow off of the driveway by hand with dad, instead of the layer of dust that covers everything here. Thoughts turn to soft and sweet Christmas kisses with a special someone, as I try to put the thought that I live in a tent with 90+ guys out of my head.

Enough Christmas memories for now, the CD is over.

Things definitely do not feel as different as what I thought they would. I am not sure what I expected but it was not this. I didn’t imagine sitting in a giant tent with the entire unit playing PSP or some game on their laptop- you just don’t picture the build up to a war to be like this; of course the large uncertainties of this war are gone, we know where we are going and that we don’t have to fight the Republican Guard on our way there. Now we still have to be on our toes on the way north, if I had my choice I think I would rather face an organized unit of the Iraqi army than these cowards that we will run into over the next year.

I need to be getting my day started, I have to go shoot the sniper rifle again today, not that I mind because it is so much fun to shoot the long rifle. The Bradley’s’ are firing today along with the MK-19s’; it should be a relatively short day.
Peace and Love-

Soli Deo Gloria


Later on during the 16th…

I was so very wrong about it being a short day; today’s range should’ve been over by one, I didn’t get back to my hooch until after seven. While we were there shooting it was a good time though. I got to fire some rounds with the shotgun and I fired quite a few rounds through the sniper rifle which is always a good time. There was quite a chorus going on at the range; the 120mm main gun of the tank, the 25mm cannon of the Bradley, .50 cals, 240Bs and 240Cs, M4s, M14s, and shotguns were all firing at the same time. I suppose we are an odd sort of person, but that is music to a scout’s ears. Of course since I thought I wouldn’t be out there long I didn’t take my iPod, which was a mistake. I very much would’ve enjoyed some musical relieve on the ride back. We had the same vehicle breakdown twice and finally we had to tow it back to the camp. Today was a typical Roughrider goat rope, it has its high points but for the great majority it stinks. An interesting side note it rained here today it doesn’t do that often.

Well… it is about time to turn in four thirty will come quickly.

Peace and Love-


Doesn't look so bad in this picture...

Soli Deo Gloria