Patton, I was not!!!!!!

For the last month that I was in Iraq, my job was to stay alive, teach the new guys what to do, how to do it and who to trust. One of the things that I will always be proud for is that my jail was never investigated for inmate abuse. I had told my soldiers from day one that abuse will not be tolerated and us, as Americans, would never use those tools to gather information. My officers have been working with the Iraqis for the whole year trying to change their ways and be a little more civilized in their methods. Now and then we would get a prisoner that had been abused and we would take care of him and give him medical care until he was well enough to be sent to jail. That was the American way and the Iraqis could not understand the reason to waste money and resources on a piece of shit that had killed Iraqis in the first place. But they were just waiting for us to leave so they could go back to the old ways, the same thing that their culture has done for 1500 years. So, there I was teaching the new soldiers how to deal with the issues when I get a call from my guard at the jail with an emergency. I ran to the jail from my office and saw that there was an Iraqi shaking on the ground and the guards rubbing his chest, like they all do when somebody is sick. I asked what was wrong and the interpreter tells me that the fucker has DTs, So we called the ambulance to come pick him up, while we were waiting for the ambulance to get there, I had to find out if this inmate was a terrorist or just a common criminal.
He was a common criminal so his escort to the hospital consisted of a couple vehicles. I was coming down from the second floor, my boots making that sound of warriors over metal steps, the sound of leadership in combat, 20 Iraqis were downstairs waiting for my decision, the only things missing were the silver helmet, a pair of binoculars and some trumpets announcing my arrival. I looked regal..... until I gave that last step as my foot missed the next to last step and fell flat on my face. My ankle sounded like a twig breaking and the pain shot straight up my leg all the way to my freaking teeth. In less than a second I was up and with the little bit of air inside me and as much dignity I told the 20 Iraqis waiting for my decision to take the fucker, that it was all right. My ankle felt on fire and I just stood there in one place letting the pain just pass through. All the Iraqis went to get in the vehicles or back to the jail, and the interpreter leans over and tells me "You just lost some major cool points." I was going to tell him to go fuck himself but I was using all the energy that I had so I wouldn't cry. Once I was able to breathe again I went to see the doc and he gave me some stuff for the pain and swelling.
My ankle hurts still and I think that it was God telling me that I was getting too big in my own head.
Life in Iraq was never boring.

Good night.

?????????

What to write?
I have a million stories in my head but tonight I want to tell you that I miss Iraq. Tonight is warm and windy, the wind invites me to sit outside and remember, remember names and faces, smells and laughter.
I have friends and brothers in Iraq, friends that I will never forget and I know that the next time I see them I will be dead.
I miss my friends Hassan and Ali. I wish I could call them and say hello to Suhail, and Yasser and Nick and all the Colonels and tell them that I have NOT forgotten about them. I wish I could tell them that my children love to hear my stories about them. Their favorite story is the one about the first time I ate with the Iraqis, I sat down on the floor to eat with them, even before I've taken my last bite on my plate my stomach was screaming and I ended on the toilet for three hours, I even sat there through an attack!!!!! After that it was just avoiding some foods, but because most of the stuff was so freaking good, it was hard to stay away from them and not eat them. Many times we would just eat the food and pray to God. That is when we discovered that God has a sick sense of humor. Sometimes I would race my boss to the toilet, I was faster but he was stronger. Many times we would find that all three toilets were taken and would do the dance outside the toilets trying to hold it. The stories from Iraq that never make the evening news.
Good night.

15 years ago....

About 15 years ago, I spent a whole year on the land known as South Korea. I was in Camp Stanley, the only place on earth where you can go up hill both ways. Korea is cold and hot and beautiful and the majority of Koreans don't want us there. There are three things to do in Korea; go to the field and play soldier, get drunk, and travel up and down the Peninsula. That is what most soldiers spend their tour of duty in Korea. I, on the other hand, found something else to do. I found an old Korean named Master Han. He was my kickboxer instructor. From the first time I entered his gym I was hooked. So he started to train me four hours a day, every weekday, 6 hours on Saturday and 8-10 hours on Sundays. I was training hard because I wanted to learn what he was teaching.
About five months into my training I had to run 2 miles for my military Physical Fitness Test. My time was less than 10 minutes and I was so freaking happy I went out that night and drank a few beers with my friends. That was one of the few nights I went out, because kickboxing training was taking so much of my free time.
One beautiful summer night in Korea, I was stuck with what we call "courtesy patrol." That means that we walk all over the place and go into the bars to make sure that everybody is just having fun and there are no fights and Korean Nationals are not taking advantage of drunk soldiers. About three A.M. I received a call that there were three US Soldiers at the gate who have been detained by the Korean police and need to be handed over to US authorities. That was us on the courtesy patrol. I got to the gate and saw all three soldiers, of athletic appearance, that looked like they had gotten their asses kick but a lot of people. On the corner of the room was a short Korean, about 70 years old and it looked like he was very mad.
The Korean Police told us in English that the three Americans were coming back from town after a night of drinking and didn't want to pay for a cab, so they decided to jump an old man, take his car, drive it to Camp Stanley, and stop a few hundred meters from the gate, leave the car there and walk on the camp and go to sleep. The three IDIOTS didn't notice that the old man was closing his shop for the night, his shop had a Korean sign and an English sign. It said: "Lee's Aikido Academy." The old man was Master Lee and he had been a master for about 20 years. According to the Korean police it took Master Lee less than ten seconds to put down the three American thugs on the ground. I looked at the three idiots and couldn't help it and started to laugh. The three idiots said that they were sorry and were going to pay a fine and pay some money to Master lee. Master Lee said that He didn't want money, just an apology from all three of them. The police also said that they were not going to press chargers. My LT, a West Pointer of about 230 lbs of football, told them that they were lucky and he was just going to report it as a minor confrontation with a national. A few days later, my Master and I went to visit Master Lee because I wanted to meet him. Master Han and Master Lee had been friends for a long time and both had served in the Korean Army. As we entered his gym, I saw one of his new students; it was idiot number three, one of the soldiers that had tried to jump him a few nights before.
Tangent!!!!!
Master Han was a sergeant Major in the Korean Army and held a very high rank in Tae Kwon Do discipline. I was invited to his home many times and I grew to respect this man as a father, just like in the movies!!!!! In one of the visits he showed me his photo album from Viet-Nam. He showed me the picture of his tent, his friends, his first kill, and many other dear moments. In one picture he showed me his old training technique; he had one metal skewer THROUGH the muscles of each fore arm and hanging from them were two sand buckets. Thank God he never trained me like that.
Back to the story:
So my whole year in Korea was about drinking a few beers, doing kickboxing, going to the field a lot and falling in love with a girl from Israel that had gone to Korea to shop. That story is for another time.
Good night.

The death of Big Bob.

In the early fall of 2000, the family and I were getting ready to go to Germany for a tour of duty and after the hell of working in New York, we were traveling to visit our families. We drove to Georgia for a few weeks and then back north to Maryland to visit my parents. Off I95, we turned going to the Potomac River Bridge. It was late at night as we were driving through that very dark part of Virginia which is full of revolutionary and civil war history. On one of the longest and darkest part of the road, my five year old girl told me, out of the blue, that she saw angels inside the car. I looked at my wife with a strange look, I slowed down the car and coming out of a turn at 55 mph I saw two reflective little lights on the road, but I was too close and going to fast to stop and I felt something hit the car, the air bags came out, I saw the passenger bag deploy and crack the windshield, I waited for my ears to pop, because I have heard that they did when the windows were closed and the airbags deployed, but my ears never popped. The whole car smelled as burnt powder. I stopped the car and pulled over, my wife and I got the children out, within seconds there was a set of lights of a truck coming from the same direction of the accident. The driver had his family with him and after checking that everybody in my family was all right he told me that there was a big dog about 50 meters from us and it was what I had ran over. So he and I went back to see and, nope, that was not a dog, that was the biggest beaver that I have ever seen. We cleared the road and left it on the side for the police. The young man asked me if I was military and told me that there was a Navy base a few miles up the road. So we got back in our car and followed him to the Navy base, I told the guards at the gate what happened and I went to check for a hotel room. I checked in and when I was asked for the rank I showed my promotion orders to a senior enlisted rank. I was told that because of the rank I was getting a cottage and if I needed anything I could call for it. I also called my parents and told them that we might need a ride next day, we were just about 60 miles from my parents. I called GEICO to informed them that I had ran over a beaver and my car needed repairs, major repairs. GEICO asked me if my family needed medical attention, a car was going to be waiting for me at my parents house, was I OK?, etc. I FUCKING LOVE GEICO!!!!!! They paid for everything!!!!! When My family and I got to the "cottage" the Navy was providing for us, I noticed that it had to be a mistake, that was not a "Cottage" it was a fucking house. It was a river front house with a full kitchen, WITH FOOD already. It was very dark but we could smell and hear the river very near to us. Five minutes later I saw an Officer was at our front door, my wife opened the door to find out that the post commander had sent a Medical Doctor to make sure we were fine, he did a quick check up for all of us and left. GEICO was calling again to tell us that in the morning a tow truck was picking up my car and that they were paying for the accommodations. Because it was already late and the kids were asleep, we went to bed. The sound of the river was so soothing that I went to sleep as soon as my wife was done with me. As soon as we walked into the cottage, we have felt ghosts inside and we wanted to give them a show. The morning came, and we were awaken by the voices of people talking outside our "cottage." The wife and I went downstairs made some coffee and went outside to see what was happening. The place was beautiful, the river was about 20 meters from the "cottage." There was a man with a camera taking pictures of my car and some Military Police hanging around. I asked them what was going on and I was told that the beaver from last night was "Big Bob" and according to te Park Rangers it was the biggest beaver in the state of Virginia. The park authorities have been trying to capture it because it was creating havoc by obstructing small, side roads. My parents were there early that day and we went home to tell the story a few times to the rest of the family. My poor car took about three weeks to get it fixed, but it made it to Germany and I still have it. Some times, when it is hot enough I can still smell the beaver under my car.

Good night.

Scarier than an IED!!!!!

Ladies and Gentlemen
There is something that terrifies me more than being hit by an IED. About two years ago in a family outing my then nine year old little girl asked "how are babies are made?"
Well, I told her the same thing my father told me when I was her age and asked the same question. I told her that because Mom and Dad loved each other so much and wanted to share that love with a baby, I placed a small seed inside Mom's belly and she nourished the baby and kept her warm for nine months until she was ready for the outside world. I was so proud of myself and I gave a look of pride and satisfaction to my wife that was on the passenger side. No two minutes later she asked me "how did you get the seed inside Mom?" I don't remember what I told her then, but I know that my answer was not to her satisfaction. Today she is 11 years old and she is hanging out with 14-15 years old because there is no other girls of her age in the neighborhood. In my house I overheard one of older girls saying something like she was not giving it to her boyfriend and he was breaking up with her. Once they were gone for the night, my little girl and I sat down and had a long and hard conversation. She was also a little uncomfortable to the fact that she was discussing it with me. But we made deal; she will be able to tell me anything. I will also going to find, from my medics, the most graphic VD video that the Army has and show her the part of sex that nobody likes to talk about.
My little girl is growing up and her hormones are starting to kick. I hate knowing that I am educating her and some other is going to benefit of all the things I have taught her. She started to cook at 7, I bought her a telescope when she was five. In Kansas we used to go out in the summer nights and point the telescope at the stars. I told her about the beautiful stories of the heavens, the reason behind their light, the moon, the sun and the shooting stars.
She has been told that a person will be judge in "heaven" by the good done in life and NOT by believing in a religion. To me religion is a sin, if you need religion to believe in God then you have failed in life and God.
Sometimes I feel like crying when I see my 11 year old baby growing and growing and getting to the point where I am going to be in the position that I might have to shoot one of her male friends. I am well armed and for the love of my baby I would NOT hesitate on shooting any piece of crap that hurts my baby.
If she ever does illegal drugs, I would call the police on her and find the son of a bitch that sold/ gave it to her and make him suffer in more ways than one. I will not post her bail and I would let her stay in jail for as long as it takes. I have done my part and I have been there to teach her the good and the bad. If she makes the mistake of drugs, she will pay for her mistake. I love her and I know that it would kill us, but she made the call and she will pay for breaking the law.

Good night.

Just trying to laugh!!!!!

When I was working in Germany, we did a lot of NATO exercises. A lot of nations sent their troops to play wargames in a building with no light, poor ventilation and people that think garlic is a cologne and wearing deodorant is a sin. Well if you have ever worked in an international organization you might get a laugh at of this:
Heaven is:
British Police officers
French Cooks
German Mechanics
Italian Lovers and
Everything is organized by the Swedish.

Hell is:
German Police
British Cooks
French Mechanics
Swiss Lovers
and everything is organized by the Italians.

Well I hope you like it.

A bit of my history

After a long tour of duty in the city of New York I was ready for a vacation and wanted to take my family to a different country. I left New York for a tour of duty in Germany in the summer of 2000. We landed in Frankfurt early morning, we had to get a bus and drive all over the place until we found our post and hotel. I was jetlagged so I told the wife to get some sleep and I was going to take the kids for a walk. The town was small but very picturesque, the streets were full of the late afternoon activities and smelled like food had fallen from heaven. Food was in my mind when I found an Ice Cafe. I entered and asked for a menu, the owner looked at me and spoke Spanish, it turned out that he was Italian and after the war, he stayed in Germany and started a business. Once I had the first taste of that ice cream I fell in love with it. It was the best freaking ice cream I had ever tasted, it was the best thing I have ever tasted with my pants on. I finished my ice cream and took the kids and went to get mom. Mom was not too pleased that I had woken her up, but with the understanding that she could shoot me if the ice cream was not what I was saying it was. We stayed at the ice cream place for four hours trying everything we could. Because there was a car race in the town we were asked to move to another hotel about 30 km away. I failed to mention that the first hotel room was no bigger than a closet and the bathroom was smaller than a closet. When we arrived to Kusel and found the room we couldn't believe that the room was smaller and that there was no bathroom. We had to go down the hall to use the facilities.
Jelagged still, we slept most of the day and then decided to go to the hotel restaurant and have something to eat. We found other American couples there, one was from Hawaii with two boys and two dogs, the other from Ohio with no children, all military. With nothing to do we started to order beers and talk about were we have been, the Army, the trip to Germany and other stuff, meanwhile the kids are running all over the place chasing the dogs. A very large German lady comes to us and tell us that breakfast is served at 0700 and the children must eat. Drunk as hell, having a great time we tell her that the children will be there in the morning. At about two in the morning we decided we had enough to drink and we need to get to bed. The children and the dogs at this time are asleep on the chairs, next to the bar.
Next morning at 0730 I feel hard knocks on the door, when I open the door, there is the large German woman from the night before telling me "Your children must eat NOW!!!!!" I got dressed and got the children and went downstairs, to my surprise I see the Hawaiian guy with his two kids.
That was our introduction to the German culture. Our favorite pass time in Germany was to pack the car and drive. When we got hungry we just pulled over and ate. If we liked the town we stayed for the night. Most Germans are rude to strangers, unless you have a baby in your arms, then they become long lost relatives. My youngest was crying in the supermarket once when a German lady came over and with her hands told me that she was picking the baby and was going to help. She did and the baby didn't make another sound.
I will tell more about that great trip next time.