It just kinda makes me laugh, because these friends have no idea of what I actually do and where I do it. I don’t blame them, I really don’t understand the 9 to 5 lives back home.

The only reason I know its Saturday here is because the Chaplin brings bags of popcorn to all the units. Literally, Saturaday is the only day of the week I can honestly say I know what day it is. Sure, I can tell you its the 22nd POD (period of darkness) or the 26th POL (period of light). But what the hell is the day of the week? I kid you not. Until the Chaplin walks in with popcorn, I don’t know if it’s Wednesday or Sunday?

Well, everything’s the same here. It’s still freak’in hot.

I guess the stock market is crashing back home, and everybody is worried if Tiger Woods will have enough money to split and still survive, and if Lebron James is going to stay in Cleveland. All very important stuff which crosses our eyesight for about a millisecond, then fades away into the minutia.

Our issues that replace those otherwise exceptionally important topics are things like: What is for chow? My air-conditioned is out. The internet is down. The aircraft is broken. The Team wants us to do WHAT? The printer just ran out of ink. (Mission products chew up ink and kill trees one sheet of paper at a time.)

It’s funny, when I do come home, it really takes a week just to feel normal again. Normal for me seems to be a moving target to lock-in on. You kinda have to readjust to the new scale of importance and forget about the picture in the rear view mirror. Gotta forget about sand storms, living on the ass back end of the clock, freaking 12 hour missions, rubber chicken for dinner (again!), rumors about “NEW DAWN“, and when this is all gonna be over.

Anyway, I’m thread drifting. I really do hope you all have a fantastic Fourth of July with watermelon, hotdogs, apple pie, fireworks, beer, and baseball. Have fun, but please don’t send any pictures. Have a blast, but please don’t let us know about it. I’m just looking forward to popcorn on Saturday (thanks Chaplin) to figure out what day of the week it is.

Peace – J

We usually go to sleep at the same time, get up at the same time, shower at the same time, exercise at the same time, and eat at the same time. We eat the same menu that we’ve eaten for the last 4 tours.

We bitch about the same stuff and watch the same movies that we’ve watched the last 4 tours.

We see the same people from the other units that we’ve seen every year for the last 7 years. Never see each other back in the States, just here. Keep wondering if we’re the only ones participating.

We see the same TCNs when we drop off our laundry, and the same TCNs when we get our hair cut.

We have the same uniform/ ball-cap/ reflective-belt issues with the same “Uniform Police” that we’ve had for for the last 7 years.

We fly over the same crappy little cities and crappy deserts, drive through the same guard shacks that are guarding nothing; but the guards are still there. We get mortared from the same ass-clowns at the same time we have been for the last 7 years. Just not mortared as frequently.

We scare ourselves in freaking brownout landings just like we’ve done for the last 7 years. More helicopters have been lost to brownout conditions in the two theaters than to enemy action. That’s why it scares the shit out of us. In the last 10 feet above the ground, when the downwash kicks up that miserable dust and you can’t see crap, you need faith that what you saw at 50 feet is the same level field you are about to impact in the next few seconds.

We say the same thing after we’ve completed a brownout landing. After a gathering of wits and pulling pitch out of the zone, it’s; ” I NEVER F%$#ING WANT TO DO THAT AGAIN!” But yet we do it again the very next night. Institutionalized habits.

We come back from missions, check email to see if anybody has included us on the “Remember List”, and repeat the same thing; “If you want to get emails, you gotta send emails.”

Anyway, the whole process is like watching reruns. There are no real surprises. And we already know the ending, we hope.

Peace – J

So that is great. Congratulations!

To celebrate this auspicious occasion – we get BEER. The Army has issued a temporary suspension of General Order Number One (a- b – xyz?? I can’t remember which one it is). This suspension authorizes forward deployed troops to ingest alcohol.

Intoxication control measures have been implemented, and as usual they are designed to take the fun out of it. Each soldier (the “Ingestee”) will receive one beer.

• Ingestee must first check in to a DFAC (official Dining Facility) and present their ID card.
• Ingestee must then sign for such beer.
• Ingestee then can consume the beer right there, and cannot share the beer or give it to another person.
• Upon completion of said beer, Ingestee must return the empty beer to the front check-in desk, whereupon they will be given their ID card back.
• And now, after the one beer, the Ingestee must be driven back to place of duty.

So we didn’t get any beer. It wasn’t worth the effort. Their tactic to take the fun out of everything worked again. Happy Birthday Army. Thanks for the shitty party. Please don’t invite me to the next one.

Really folks, let’s look back at our relationship with war and beer; WWI, WWII, Korea, Vietnam. They all had beer and bars. It made fighting a war worth fighting. But now since we’re in a Muslim country, and we don’t want to upset their religion – NO BEER!

Which is a complete joke. They sell alcohol in downtown Baghdad. They have a duty free shop in the Baghdad Airport. They have bars in Baghdad! Other countries allow their warriors to consume alcohol (UK, AU, PL, & DE) while they were here. The US? Sorry guys, that would be way out of control.

Remember that we have a pretty good track record of winning wars while drinking; the aforementioned WWI, WWII, Korea, and kind of a tie in Vietnam. (Not the soldiers fault there – way too political to ever win.)

But lets get real. If you’re going to half-ass a beer day for the troops, please don’t even bother.

Peace – J

Hell they even have a name for our new mission. After September 1st, Operation Iraqi Freedom (OIF) will become [roll the drums], “NEW DAWN”! That’s right, New Dawn. They’re already working on a new ribbon or medal or some such trinket; for people who like those things.

I want to read the back of the cereal box for this new product, and see what ingredients are in the New Dawn Corn Flakes. I hope it explains when we can expect our New Dawn asses to be back home. We need to get ready to invade Canada!

And I want to know the New Dawn rules. Is it another catch and release program? Or are we just operating on butterflies, unicorns and rainbows?

Anyway, I will salute the flag and drive on. They pay generals and presidents to worry about things like that.

Peace – Jamie

After 110 it really doesn’t matter. Then the weather briefer is just bragging. I love the weather guys here. It’s actually a fairly easy job in the summer:

“Well guys for your mission…. Let me see… It’s gonna be FREAKIN HOT!” (End of brief.)

The only good thing I can say about the heat is that it makes a 100 degree day feel like autumn.

With the heat comes other things. Since everybody is hot as hell, all the air conditioners are turned to “MAX COOL”. Well that’s great, except that it causes increased demand on the power grid, which leads to rolling blackouts. That in turn means rolling air conditioner outages.

Picture this. You’re in the middle of your sleep cycle. Off to dreamland, with your air conditioner keeping your room like an ice cave. Awesome. Then it happens. The Silence. You awake to the deafening silence of NO ELECTRICITY – NO A/C. You lay there hoping that it’s just a bad dream, or hoping that at any moment the sound of that beautiful magical machine that keeps your winter wonder land from turning into a flaming hell-box will magically come back on.

But it doesn’t.

So your next move is the only thing you can do. The Emergency Procedure. As soon as the heat sinks down to the bed level, you roll out of bed, and lay on the floor with your refrigerator door open (those little 2 ft x 2 ft models) . You have now bought yourself 30-45 minutes of sleep, and hopefully by then the electricity comes back on.

Anyway, to end, it’s freakin hot here.

Peace J

I hate the death ticker statistics broadcast by the news channels. It just seems kinda morbid. Like keeping a sporting score to figure out the cost of the war. Sure, run a financial ticker and see the monetary cost of the war – that’s a tangible number. But the loss of a soldier’s life, and the effect on his/her family and friends can’t be captured on a graph, or a ticker, or etched in a granite wall. And it certainly shouldn’t be some politician’s backdrop for a speech.

I don’t like the phrase “ultimate sacrifice” either. To me it’s just a catch phrase that came out of a focus group and has been media managed, like a bright red paint job on a sports car. Nothing more, nothing less. But people sure like to throw it around.

Then there’s the posthumous awards given to individual soldiers. I think it was Napoleon that said “Men will die for little pieces of ribbon and medal” Believe me, dying for your country has nothing to do with little pieces of ribbon and medal.

But above all, Memorial Day just reminds me that I miss my friends.

Peace – Jamie

[For war cost ticker, see: home page, sidebar. - ed]

We’ve already been taking actions to initiate the thing.  We insulted the Canadians by carrying their Maple Leaf flag upside down during a world series.  We hate losing to them in Olympic Hockey. We steal all their best hockey players to play for the National Hockey League.

But they’re not totally innocent in this Call to Arms. They’ve made a mockery out of American Football.  (Check out their Canadian Football rules – it speaks for itself.). They have drifted from the purity of English speaking only, to include French.  (Do you really want me to explain that slap in the face to you? I thought not.)  They use “eh” entirely too much, and have surreptitiously crossbred that word into some of our Border States (MN, ND, MI, etc). The list continues.

But here are my TOP TEN REASONS we should go to war with Canada:

1. They’re right there!  No Long C-17 Flights over an ocean to invade.  You could drive your own car.
2. I am sick of the desert. Let’s try something different.
3. Most of them speak English. NO Terps (interpreters) required.
4. They all drink booze up there, so we could too, and nobody gets all religiously offended.
5. The “Mounties” have really cool uniforms and hats, and they all ride horses.  That’s almost reason enough to invade.
6. When we win we can get rid of the Loonie – and give them actual dollar bills to use.
7. Canada call’s strippers “peelers“???   We would change that!
8. After our victory we could move the Border Patrol all the way up north to make sure the Russians don’t move in.
9. It will take our minds off the United States economy.
10. WHY NOT INVADE CANADA? (rhetorical question – requires no answer.)

Ah, yes, I am just kidding.  But to update you on my Desert Paradise…. this place blows. I am so ready for a change of scenery that I here I am contemplating invading our neighbors to the north just to get the hell out of here. Lately its been dusty, windy, and about a 110 degrees. And yeah, its a dry heat – but it still blows.

Peace – J

[J - Wars are wonderfully huge employment generators, with unlimited, unchecked, and unquestioned government spending allowed. (At least for a while.) It's a great idea to soften the big transition of everybody coming back to North America! -ed.]

Funny thing, I was in Vegas during the week before I left this time. While there I met a couple from my home state of Texas. We traded the small talk – where are you from, what do you do etc., blah, blah, blah.

They said, “Hey we’ll be in Austin in a few weeks, we should grab some beers.”

I said, “That would be great, except I’m leaving in a couple of days to get back to the four letter Sand Box”.

Their reply was, “Oh? Do we still have guys over there?”

I had to break the news to them; “Yeah, we’re still there.”

I also recommended some newspapers to read and Cable TV channels such as CNN, FOX, CNBC etc. [Bloomberg & MSNBC - ed.] that they might use to keep current on world events.

Over here is the same as it ever was. The only thing that’s changed since February is that they’ve moved a few T-Barriers around. There must be a freaking million T-Barriers here at all the bases and Green Zone areas. (T-Barriers stop the shrapnel spray from mortars, so they’re good to have.) I predict in 20 years, when we finally do leave this tropical paradise, the people will set up amusement parks with mazes made from T-Barriers. Kind of like the corn field mazes we have back in the States during the fall season.

Let’s see, what other updates? Really nothing has changed. We seem to still be under the same hunting rules as before, the “Catch and Release Program”. There are still disgruntled people out there doing bad things.

There’s a quote from one of America’s forward thinking intellects, Rodney King; “Can’t we all just get along?” To the Sunni, Shia, and all the factions in between, I would like to provide some advice:

Chill out for the next 12 months. Let us get the hell out of here. Then get back to your killing ways. P.S. – enjoy your freedom.

I really have been here way too long. I called the Joint Chiefs of Staff the other day, and requested the next conflict we enter should either be with Canada or Mexico so that we can stay in our own time zones and go home for the weekends. [Only joking!!! - ed.]

Peace – J

Anyway, let’s talk about what’s popular over here now. Meetings seem to be very popular. Lots and lots of meetings. Meetings to talk about meetings. Meetings to set up other meetings. It’s easy to forget that it’s a war zone, except for the fact that everybody is wearing some sort of camouflage. Which is interesting since each branch of the service is here, and we’ve all decided to wear different camouflaged uniforms. It’s like an Army Surplus Store fashion show.

Modern Warfare 2, the Playstation/Xbox game, is popular of course. Bickering among us is also a popular pastime. Especially for those of us who know that we’re always right. Of course everybody here believes that they’re right, so the bickering continues unabated. Food …. The same. Let me see…. It seems that really nothing has changed since I left in the middle of November. Almost like I never left. Yes, that’s a bit disturbing.

Of course just like last year, if I am not temporarily gainfully employed, I shall be here to watch The Super Bowl. And the best part about The Super Bowl is the commercials, which are not shown over here. In their place are Armed Forces Network commercials about brushing teeth, changing socks, and other really good information targeting those of you who grew up in the Appalachian region. Still, the information redundancy is a bit trying.

Among some of the things forgotten that are quickly remembered upon return? The 200 yard sprint to the bathrooms and shower trailers. Or how pale you get when you never see the sun. Or a $3.50 haircut.

I really have nothing to complain about. This place now has all the comforts of home. Which for me is disturbing, but not worth complaining about.

This is the worst time of the year though. I’m not into basketball, Nascar, or hockey, and there’s only a couple of weeks of football left. Hopefully baseball spring training will hurry up and get here. At least we can start watching and see who will pop positive for steroids this year. In my very humble opinion, I wish they would all do steroids. Who wouldn’t like to see a 105 mph Fastball or a 500 foot towering home run?

Blog drift. Sorry. Anyway, that’s all I got tonight.

Peace – J

I’ve seen the transition from flip-flop shower shoes (the accepted norm in 2003) to the current accepted norm, CROCs. We’ve gone from MREs to chow-halls, dirt to sidewalks, and from eating whatever you could scrounge to the “Hand-washing Police”. Now we have 24-hour laundry service and people walking around in ironed and starched uniforms. There’s cable-TV, wireless Internet, and cell-phones.

I remember when it was one SAT-phone call a month for 10 minutes – if you were lucky. Now we have guys calling their wives everyday; video conferencing and online chatting with them. The care packages crack me up. At the beginning of the war, you couldn’t get crap. Now we get so much stuff we send it to food kitchens back home in the States.

I saw a weird thing today at the shower. One of the Air Force guys literally has a tackle box for a shave kit. Something like the kind that you would use for keeping household cleaning supplies. But he had an assortment of loofahs, wash-buffs, and body wash products; literally a freaking men’s aisle of stuff from a local Walgreens. He actually had a PVC expandable rod that he put at the base of the shower. I had to ask (I didn’t want to ask), “WTF is that for?” “Oh!”, he said, “That’s to keep the shower curtain from blowing in.” Tomorrow he may have a Sherpa carrying crap for him. Nothing surprises me now.

It’s just freaking crazy. This war has officially been civilized. I think it’s either time to go home, or I need to jump theaters in order to feel normal again. To get back to MRE’s, wearing the same dirty flight suit for a week, and washing it in a bucket.

I don’t get it. I was in the party that just wanted to win the war and get the hell out of this third-world. Now it seems that people are trying to make it like home. Bizarre.

Peace – J