Patience

A hot-tempered man stirs up dissension, but a patient man calms a quarrel.
Proverbs 15:18


Patience is a virtue I do not pretend to possess.
Lots of time in life, this has led to unhappiness.
Today I prayed for a little patience in the hopes of some peace.
I pray that my ruffled feathers and anger will shortly cease.


I pray for understanding as I carry on this day.
I pray that the ones who make me mad stay out of my way.
I hope that God can hear me as I plead from here below.
I say that he can give me what it is I need to grow.


Lord if it is your will, I leave this in your hand.
With your help I will get through it, yes I know I can.
With you on my side there is nothing I can't win.
And all the folks in the congregation reply with a big AMEN!

Give one another day

I woke up this morning and I was still here. I was hoping that my bad dream had ended. I keep thinking that just maybe if I sleep a few minutes longer that I will wake up in my big bed at home with my beautiful wife beside me, but it has not happened yet. 

I have found encouragement through the words of my Friend John P. He is a Christian and has challenged me to study my Bible. He attends the Church of Christ services with us and asks all kinds of questions, as he comes from a Baptist background. (he also attends a Baptist Service). I really like his questioning as it sheds a new light on what is biblical and what is "just because." 

As I study and learn more about religion I find that all religions have their "just because" elements. As people walk through life they chose a religion that fits them and soon they will see that the "just because" in some denominations outweigh the scriptures.  I have moved around to many different Churches in the last twenty years of my life and sometimes I moved because of the "just because" and other times because of someone preaching opinion or talking down on people.

 Religion is a choice, you can choose wherever, whenever and however or chose not, but you have still made a choice. God knows your heart and that is what will count in the end.

They call the winds . . .

I remember while in Iraq the winds would blow and the sand too but yesterday here was something that made the wild winds of west Texas looks like a summer breeze. The winds beat against the sides of the building but I really had no idea of the fury until I stepped out to walk to dinner last night.

Since the exit to our building faces south and the winds were from the North it really did not hit me until the bottom of the stairs. As I stepped out the wind hit me, the sand hitting hard against my face. It felt like little needles sticking me. I turned out of the sand to face the opposite direction only to find that the wind was almost lifting me in flight. 

After walking slowly to the chow hall, we get in out of the weather and  I begin to speak, only to find the crunchy residue of the sand lining the inside of my mouth. Yuck, I wonder how much of this stuff is stuck in my lungs. We grab our trays and find a seat.  The chow hall that is closest to us is a great big tent.  We could hear the winds whipping the tent flaps and canvas. Numerous times during our meal I just knew the tent was coming down. The wind would lift it about 6 inches and just almost clear the support poles. Wow what a day. .

This morning the tent was still standing and the temperature 20 degrees cooler to start the day. Winter is still coming and it is riding the wind to get here. . . . .

And a baby was born..

Yesterday for me (Today for you, 22 Oct 2010) Brianna Nicole was born. She was brought into this world at 7 Lbs and was 19 ¼ inches long. I was not there “of course”, it seems that I miss them all. Well I just want to congratulate Russ and Jessica on the newest member of their family and want to also tell GRANDMA ROSARIO congratulation as well. (I will probably here about that one)…. Haha

This day is Great……

Love you ALL…

There's no place like home

(More from my friend John P)

Here is a little something you can ponder on today.  Dorothy, from the Wizard of Oz, might have had it right when she said, “there’s no place like home.”   Home is a very interesting concept from my Afghanistan point-of-view.  We have all heard the old clichés; home is where the heart is, home is where you feel loved, or home is where you go when all your work is done.

I am a staff officer in the United States Army.  I am paid to sit behind a desk and take care of administrative…“stuff.”  My day is filled with routine, and monotony remains my greatest battle.  Yet without the repetitive action of soldiers like me, this massive machine we call the military would not work.  Each morning, my life consists of reporting to my desk where I faithfully perform my duties.  As I do, I often consider the lives of our combat soldiers.  Like me, these men wake up every morning.  Unlike me, they strap on 50 pounds of gear, mount up on their vehicles, and go out to face our enemy.

Day after day these amazing soldiers place their lives on the line.  The mental fatigue that they work under is unfathomable.  As soldiers try to determine who is the ally and who is the enemy, the stress of combat compounds.  The young Afghan boy who grins and waves today could well be the one that fires a rocket propelled grenade at you tomorrow.  Adding insult to injury, these men live with the memory of friends who at one time walked by their side through the battlefield.  Some have been killed in action, many have been physically maimed, while others have been mentally wounded and sent home.  These warriors try to act tough and they pretend that it doesn’t bother them.  But, late at night I can hear them as they shed the hard tears of broken men.  How do we as soldiers keep going?  How do we not give up?

We carry on because we know a simple truth.  We know that this battlefield is just a temporary home.   While stationed in Afghanistan, we will do great things for our country.  We know however, that soon all our work will be done and we will go to our real home; where our heart is.

Does any of this make sense to you?  Can you see the connection?   I know that each of you live in your own personal war zone.  Every day you wake up and put on your battle gear.  Maybe it’s a hard hat or a business suit, a briefcase or an apron, either way; you go into your own battle.  You are physically confronted with people who wave at you in the hall and then as you turn the corner they attack you from behind with hateful words and actions.  This is also true in the spiritual realm.  The bible tells us, that like the soldier, we face an enemy who wishes to steal, kill and to destroy us. If you let him, this enemy will use the selfish nature of people to steal your joy.  Then, while you are down he will use things like the abuse of alcohol or the false comfort of inappropriate relationships to destroy you.

Think about it.  Can’t you recall friends who once walked by your side through the battlefield of life.  Some, the enemy has killed in action; many have been spiritually maimed, while others have been emotionally wounded and have quit trying.  So, how do you keep going?  How can I encourage you not to give up?

There is a verse from the bible that I really like.  It is found in 2 Peter 1:5-8 “For this very reason, make every effort to add to your faith goodness; and to goodness, knowledge; and to knowledge, self-control; and to self-control, perseverance; and to perseverance, godliness; and to godliness, brotherly kindness; and to brotherly kindness, love.  For if you possess these qualities in increasing measure, they will keep you from being ineffective and unproductive…”  Go out there, be effective, be productive, make a difference in this battlefield we call life.

Billy Graham once said, “My home is in Heaven. I'm just traveling through this world.”  This same thought was echoed in a song performed by Carrie Underwood.  The chorus says:

This is my temporary home
It's not where I belong
Windows and rooms that I'm passin' through This is just a stop, on the way to where I'm going I'm not afraid because I know this is my Temporary Home."

As soldiers, we are committed to doing great things as we pass through our temporary Afghan home.  I challenge you to do great things as you pass through this temporary home we call life.

I close with a thought that I have often shared with my children.  This thought may prove to be the greatest advice that I have ever given anyone.  It applies to relationships, jobs, church and to every other aspect of your life.    “Leave it better than you found it.”

A Combat Soldiers Prayer

Dear Lord,

Keep us safe today as we go through our daily turmoil.

Keep the drivers of the vehicles alert as they make their way through the treacherous country-side. Lord let the bullets be off the mark as the bad guys try to take us down.

Lord keep the children in this country safe from the mines that they might grow to appreciate what it is that we are doing here. Let these children find that killing is not a way of life that it is a choice.

Heavenly Father please keep all soldiers safe from our enemies no matter where they are in this Combat theater. And Lord it is in your hands so if you could possibly see fit could you please let the IEDs and VIEDS and HME placed on the roads to kill American soldier be either duds that miss or could you please blow them up with the people who emplace them to ensure that they will not be able to emplace them anymore.

Lord if it is in your will please keep us safe and our families safe so we can experience that joyful reunion that we all look forward to on a daily basis.

Lord forgive the things that come out of my mouth as bad things happen and help me to walk with you and keep my sanity. It is in your heavenly name I pray.

Amen

Jerry's Excellent Adventure.. part 2

Sunday is kind of a slow down for the unit. We still have some jobs that must be done but most people try to take it slow on Sundays. Since I traveled on Sunday I got the feel for the area. It is truly in the middle of the desert. There is nothing around the base except desert. Off in the distance you can see a town/city/village. Not sure which one they call it. It appears to be fairly large but cannot tell and since there is a Taliban presence I have no urge to venture out there for a better look. I am good right here inside the wire. 

So over the next few days we identify the fact that the last unit left us with numerous issues to clear up. The main person who caused these issues is best described as a "kid with Daddy's credit card in the mall for the first time". He was ordering/buying for everyone on the base. His record keeping skills.... Well did not exist. In fact there was talk of recalling him back to theater to clean this up. But would you want an idiot trying to help fix something he messed up. NOT ME.. So we developed a tracker. 

We talked with the Contracting offices and the Theater office and got an idea of what shipments have been ordered and are in bound. There is a lot of "stuff" on the way in that was paid for with last year's funding. After getting the poor unfortunate supply Sgt. lined out on what needs to be done and giving the "Cluster O' Colonels"  a briefing on how to fix the unit's property errors, as well as having a talk with another "Light Colonel" about the same issues, I am ready to get back to my own bed.. or at least the one that I will occupy for the next 9 months or so. 

That afternoon I report to the terminal with one thing on my mind. I want to fly on a smaller helicopter, if possible. A black hawk is a lot smaller and has been on my "bucket list" for a long time. I have been told stories such as people get sick from all of the movement of these smaller air craft. Not me, this was a great experience. The flight back seems to take forever and there were times when I actually thought the engine had changed pitch and we might be "going down". 

At one point high above the desert floor. I saw God's wonder in this country. It was an awe moment for sure and lucky for all it was a Kodak moment. The picture was taken at about 1800 hours local time from roughly 7 thousand feet. At one point I had begun to think God was not allowed in this country as he is not allowed in our schools back home but you can clearly see in this picture he is here with us...

This was a Good week.......

Jerry's Excellent Adventure.. part I

Beep beep, beep, time to rise and shine. I did not sleep a wink. I was too busy thinking about today's upcoming events. It is 4 am, quick shower, bags packed, journey begins soon. Check in at the terminal then sneak away for my early morning drug.... COFFEE.....

When they called my id, I respond with "here". Soon it will be time to go. In my 22 years of military service I have had three opportunities to do what will finally today become a reality.  We board the bus for a short trip down the runway. Today's ride, purely by choice, what looks like a bus with propellers on top. A Chinook helicopter... I believe it to be the largest helicopter in the Army's fleet, but not really sure. After arranging us passenger in order by last stop to first stop, we board this rickety looking bus.  First the engines start and the thing shakes like it is coming apart, kind of like a lawnmower with a bent blade from when your oldest son hit a tree stump with it - Oh, where was I? It shook, it shimmied and I was a bit nervous, then without warning straight up we went. Wow, what a feeling!

All three gunners actively scan the area for any threats until we are at a safe altitude. The mountains surround us and I wonder if a Rocket Propelled Grenade RPG could hit us from them. The trip is a courtesy trip to help out my unit down south. We were left with an ugly waste of tax payers' dollars to clean up and the unit needs guidance. My lack of sleep the night before this trip can be attributed to thoughts of "Blackhawk Down". Helicopter crash on the news, young - OK, old  soldier on a mission to help out his unit, crash lands in a helicopter and has to fight his way back to safety. It would make a great movie but thank God I arrived safely.

As we are flying over the country I am inspired by the beauty of this place and wonder how God could let these people suffer through all of these years of war. Will they ever know the feeling of freedom, as defined by you and me, or will they always be oppressed. God can save them but they do not believe in him. (Maybe some do.) Their homes are built into the walls that surround their property. At one point I was reminded of Long Beach CA. The box houses built practically one on top of each other going up the hillside much like the homes, on the coast surrounding Long Beach. The big difference is no color, mostly desert tan homes made of mud or adobe or something. Some of the houses are white but very few. From my perch high above I can see people moving around but none really seem to have a purpose except for the occasional goat herder. Is this the reason they plant bombs? I heard that the Taliban will pay money for attacks on American Soldiers. What would you do to support your families if you too lived in a poverty stricken nation? One of my soldiers told me that the kids in these communities beg for pens and pencils, when they go out. Not so they can use them but so they can sell them.  What happens when we leave and there are no soldiers left for them to kill? Back to extreme poverty?

As we fly I am impressed by a young Army SGT, as he sits at his perch. With his tether in place, he lowers the back ramp of the helicopter and then walks out to the Edge of the ramp and flops down with his feet dangling high above the country side. Altitude was probably about 3 thousand feet, not me no thanks I am securely strapped to my seat. We make a couple of stops and then arrive at my destination. What a ride!

Good Day Family and Friends:

From my friend, John P -

As Christmas is approaching, people have begun to ask, “What can we send you and your fellow soldiers that will bring a little joy in to your lives?”  I certainly appreciate your desire to bless the lives of our soldiers.   So here is the quick down and dirty on Packages:

Hint #1 - There are no wrong answers (just some more logical than others)

Hint #2 - Remember that chocolate and 120 degree temperature do not work well together.

Hint #3 - Travel size bath products are cute but don’t last long.

Hint #4 - If you DO NOT want it, there is a good chance the soldier will not either.

Hint #5 - If you DO want it, there is a good chance a soldier will like it also.

Hint #6 - A soldier will eat the entire box, bag, container, or package in one sitting.  And no, it doesn’t matter what it is.  With this said, single servings are better than bulk purchase.

I well remember a package I received while I was in Iraq on my last deployment; an entire case of the most wonderful Girl Scout Cookies.  How much do you really know about the ever delectable Girl Scout Shortbread Cookie?  Let me break it down for you…

On the label you will find enlightening data explaining that there are 4 cookies in each serving (Ha Ha).  This means that there are 11 servings in each box and at least 15 boxes in each case.  Doing the math, you will discover that someone blessed me with the gift of 21,450 calories and 990 Fat Grams.  Can you feel the love?  Well, if you can’t, I promise that with one hug around my waist and you would have certainly at least felt the love handles (reference Hint #6).  We calculated that it would only take me 53 hours to walk off those extra calories on a standard treadmill.  But, I am glad to report that we have found a secret in dealing with issues like these.  If the cookies are broken in shipment, it is a scientific fact that all of the calories leak out.  This was a wonderful revelation for Chief Warrant Officer JPB or Mr. B as I call him.

It was mail call last Thursday when I noticed that Mr. B was walking around just a bit on edge.  As the letters and packages were passed out he fidgeted around like a 5 year old at Grandma’s house on Christmas Eve.  Then it happened, they called his name.  I saw him close his eyes as if in prayer when he took the package and held it in his hands.  He slowly turned it over and let out a “WOO HOO” that shook the building.  The package was from Grandma and Christmas had indeed come early!

Like a surgeon, Mr. B cut loose the tape, being ever careful not to shake, bump or disturb the stability of the box.  With trembling hands he carefully pulled out the green aluminum container, removed the wrapping and discovered it was what he had been waiting for, Grandma’s homemade Peanut Butter Cookies… that had been smashed into 100,000 tiny pieces.  I’m not sure but I think I saw a tear in his eye as he sat at his desk frozen in shock.  Then, almost imperceptible at first, the corners of his mouth began to slowly turn upward.  A gleaming twinkle flashed from his eye as he spotted it; in the back corner, beneath the crumbs, a whole cookie.  No, there was not a single cookie, but as the crumbs were brushed away there were 2…3…4… no, 5 whole cookies.  He held up his treasure for all to see just like Mufasa holding up Simba in the Lion King.  There were whole cookie and they were all his!

It was later that evening, in honor of Grandma, that I gathered up the broken cookie pieces and placed them in a zip lock bag.  You must understand that we are trying to eat as healthy as possible during our deployment and we have reserved only Sunday night for ice cream.  As we sat at our table the next Sunday evening, our bowls contained a single scoop of vanilla ice cream.  I took out my zip lock and began to sprinkle Grandma’s homemade Peanut Butter Cookie Crumbs into each of our ice cream bowls and I explained the science behind the calorie leakage phenomena found in the broken cookie.  As we took part in this little pleasure, we thanked Grandma and the US Postal Service for a job well done.

With love handles and a sweet tooth,

MMMM COOKIE

Today, in excited anticipation, I watched as the mail soldier brought the packages in. I watched as one for you one for him and then only one left.  I waited to see if perhaps my name would be called. It was wooo hooo now just have to close my eyes and pray that it is from....... is it.... could it be.... YES it is.... it is the package from Grandma and Aunt June.

First a quick smell of the box. I am not sure what I expected to smell but it smelled like cardboard. I scurry off to my office like the kid who stole a cookie out of the cookie jar and was worried about
getting in trouble. With my mouth watering and as other soldiers look on I cut the box open. 

As I slide the tray out I look and think oh my gosh they are all broken. It is a tray full of crumbs. Perhaps that is why Grandma and Aunt June put the spoons in the box. As I take the tray out with a slight hint of sadness in my heart I see it. In the back corner it appears. Is it real? I grab what appears to be a large piece from the crumbs, Wow! It is a whole cookie! Wait, there are more in there. After I "dust" the crumbs I find about two dozen cookies that are quickly devoured by all of the soldiers here. Each one said to tell "Grandma" we said thank you...

Grandma and June, thank you very much for both packages. We will put the items in the one to good use and the cookies, well, they arrived around 1 o'clock today and they are gone. Thank you, the 176th ALOC Soldiers.

"Yeah! Right!"

We need more high paid civilians and less soldiers.

This week's blog is twofold. First it seems that the military should change its name to the civilian Army or something. There are more civilians here than service members. They run everything from the dining facilities to the Gyms to the Phone centers to the sleeping arrangements for the soldiers. They are everywhere. Some of them know their jobs and that is great. Some of them DO NOT know their jobs and make it difficult on us. I am tired of trying to convince a civilian that he or she is wrong and that the Regulation says so. One of these civilians and I got into a pretty heated discussion about his ignorance. He is supposed to be the "all knowing" and instead and is the "make it up as you go" person. If there are rules in place then these civilians should have to follow them.

Now on sleeping arrangements, we live in 20 foot metal boxes. There are two sets of bunk beds and three wall lockers in each room. The clearance from the top bunk to the ceiling is 2 and 1/2 feet except where the A/C is ducted into the room and then it is only 1 and ½ feet. Now we are being told by a civilian and One Army guy that we must put three people in this tiny room. We will not talk about the fact that some of us are experience the old age syndrome and just the thought of climbing on a top bunk makes my hip pop out of socket. Here is a thought put these rule makers, three per room, where they live smelling soldiers feet, flatulence and body odor after a hard day. Make them stay in this room for a year at a time and see how long it takes them to change the policies.

The next topic is one that I have spoken of many times. I am a National Guard soldier. I joined the National Guard to guard my nation, not to come to a combat zone. I however "stand ready to defend my country against enemies foreign and domestic". I am here where Active Duty units are and I think we are pretty darn successful at the job we are here to do.

I AM TIRED of the Active Duty looking down on us like we are plague or not worthy to stand on this ground. They look at the Unit patch on your sleeve before they speak to see just how they will speak to us. I am tired of the stupidity that is thrown at us because we are National Guard.

Let me say MR. ACTIVE DUTY soldier if it was not for us you would be in Combat Zones more often. We fill in with rotations that give you an earned break. So before you look down on me know that I have 21 years of faithful military service, I have been to both Combat Zones and I know my job just as well as you do. So I recommend you show US  the same respect as you show your active duty counterparts. Cause you never know when you will need us to have your back.

Sorry for the angry words but ENOUGH is ENOUGH....

The Other Side . . .

Below is the take on the events of the last few days from my friend, John P. -

In the last five days my unit has seen four soldiers killed in action.   Tomorrow morning we will have our third Ramp Ceremony for the week.  The Ramp Ceremony, by design, is performed to show the highest level of respect for those who have died in battle as their bodies are loaded on the plane that will fly them home.  There is an intensive effort here to bring honor to these men and women who gave the ultimate sacrifice for their country.  While the ceremony is designed as a tribute to the fallen soldier, deep down I know that it is actually for me.  With each ceremony, I have realized that its personal impact on me is cumulative.  Each event brings a point of closure, but at the same time, an intensifying reality check on how fragile life actually is.  I am surrounded by a constant reminder that we have no promise of tomorrow, much less next week or next year.

On a normal day I sit at my desk and listen to people complain;  I have to walk too far to use the latrine, there aren’t any paper towels, the a/c is not cool enough, or someone tracked dirt in my office.  All of this absurd whining takes place in the safety and the security of our office building.  Meanwhile, our soldiers are putting on their gear and fearlessly driving into the local towns and villages to face a hidden enemy.  Their only goal is to do the right thing.  Every day they go out.  Sometimes, they come back.

Today another American soldier was lost.  I wonder if his baby daughter will ever understand why her daddy died in Afghanistan.  Will she ever be able to grasp the complexity of war?  Can she tell the difference between an insurgent and one who fights for freedom?  Will that little girl care about the politics or will she just cry when her daddy doesn’t come home for Christmas?  What peace will that beautifully wrapped Christmas present bring her, when she holds it instead of holding her daddy?  But, in the end, her daddy is gone and he won’t be home for Christmas.

The Ramp Ceremony brings a momentary lull to an airfield that operates at full capacity 24 hours a day, seven days a week.  There is a sense that time stands still as the massive C-17 Cargo plane pulls into place.  The plane sits on the tarmac in an eerie silence as the rear aft door slowly drops.  In the distance you can hear the vocal commands of the honor guard and you can almost feel each step as 30 soldiers march their way toward the rear of the plane.  They methodically separate into two columns and cordon a path of honor for their fallen comrade.

The order is given to “Present Arms” as a vehicle slowly pulls forward with one more American hero.  Arms are raised in salute as eight fellow soldiers, in drilled precision, move forward and take charge of the casket.  As the flag draped casket is slowly marched toward the plane, the drum like sounds of boots echo across the airfield.  You hear the voice of the detachment commander, “left, left, left…” as he leads the procession toward the rear of the plane that will take this soldier home for the last time.

As these days have passed, I find myself almost feeling guilty if I laugh or smile.  Yet, I remember the words of John 10:10 when Jesus said, “I came that you might have life and have it abundantly.”  I often ask myself where the realities of war and the call for abundant life come together.  I pray that someday, I will find that answer.

Tonight I will pray for a mother that I do not know.  Tonight I will cry for a child that I have never seen.  Tonight my heart will break for a world that does not realize the magnitude of what they just lost.

A DAY IN THE LIFE…

I started today like all the rest, hit the snooze button at 0455, twice and got out of bed at 0505. Took my shower as quickly as possible to ensure I am conserving as much water as possible, since there is a water shortage. After getting dressed I left my room and walked to the office. It is only about a 5 minute walk but I really enjoy starting my day off looking at the beautiful mountains, that have now begun to show a light sprinkling of snow. Winter is coming.

This morning I have to go and escort about 1 million dollars worth of property to the air terminal for shipment to another FOB (forward operating base), so it is important that I get my coffee started early. I drank my coffee while checking my email. When I first arrived the internet was not working. During our search for the issue we found a cable unplugged and plugged it back in, and got the internet back up. I talked to my lovely wife for about 20 minutes or so and then made my way to breakfast with a friend but had to eat quickly since I had an appointment. Oatmeal and a bagel with peanut butter and jelly and some bacon was breakfast today.

I arrived back at the office and loaded up with two other soldiers, my clerk and the transportation NCO. After a twenty minute drive around the Air Strip we arrived at the pickup site. We had to track down the forklift operator and the truck driver since they of course went to the wrong place. There are not street signs here, no addresses, just landmarks and made up names like the CRISP yard or NETA yard. No one knows for sure where these names came from but we continue to use them as a means to get around or identify a location. After all was loaded on the truck then it was off to the Air terminal to ensure the load gets manifested on the earliest flight possible. Sounds like it might take two weeks for this cargo to make its way 2 or 3 hours south.

Since the transportation NCO has the “ball” now, we decided to leave the keys to the truck and walk back. Walking is a normal occurrence. In fact I walked through a pair of boots shortly after arrival. They were not new by any stretch of the imagination but they would have lasted another couple of years stateside. After our twenty minute walk, we arrived back at the office to the bad news.

COMMUNICATIONS BLACK OUT.

Blackouts are usually the result of two things, either the net is down and we must wait for repair, or the death of a soldier. Unfortunately this time it was the latter. Two soldiers in our Brigade were killed in action and another two were injured when the vehicle they were driving hit an IED. Now the somber mood is all around us. I did not know these soldiers yet, they were my brothers. One soldier has a family member in the same unit. Can you imagine? The depressing feeling is with most of us. I feel guilty if I smile. I feel sad if I laugh. I feel wrong for being where I am. I know that feeling guilty is not going to make anyone come back to us. I know there was nothing I could have done. But the big question I have is WHY IN THE HELL ARE WE HERE…..

We are told that we are here to “win the hearts and minds”. Well right now my heart goes out to the soldiers of the unit and the family members of the soldiers killed here. My mind is going off the deep end wondering what we are doing here. If we were not here we would not need to clear the routes, we would not need to have soldiers out there looking for the bombs that often times kill or injure them. So winning the hearts and minds is the mission but how are we supposed to win the hearts and minds of people who want to kill us. I hate to say it but I think we either need to go back to the “all or none” combat concept or get out of here. I do not wish to kill people, I do not wish to see people killed but I am really tired of being here while America people are killed. It is like being in a bad movie, bear with me for a minute. Let’s say that you are in a movie or just live in a bad neighborhood. Every time you go to the grocery store someone dies. You visit twice a week and people die, you visit once a month people die, how long would it take before you decided you would not do business in that place anymore. We have been here for eight years now…

Last night, standing on the flight line, watching the green then white then green of the strobe light rotating. After a quick train up, we are ready. The flag draped caskets of my brothers arrive ever so slowly in the back of three “spit shinned” HUMMVs. In three caskets are two soldiers, the reality of war has really hit home. In attendance one soldier, tears in his eyes, obvious pain in his heart, walking towards the plane carrying his own father. Extreme sadness turns to extreme madness as an Airman disrespects the ceremony by dipping snuff and spitting in a bottle while in formation. I see red. Our lives must go on but never will they be the same.

Eleven thirty now, head on my pillow and thus ends an emotionally charged day. Maybe God will make tomorrow a better day for us all.

Sorry for the rant, my apologies for scaring anyone, my condolences and prayers go out to the families of the injured and deceased but once again I must ask….. WHY IN THE HELL ARE WE HERE.