A few days before Thanksgiving, Scott reported that the mess hall (cafeteria) was advertising a "Hawaiian Thanksgiving"--not a turkey, giblet, or cranberry on the menu! When it came time to head to lunch, he and his roommate decided they just couldn't replace cranberries with pineapple and gravy with poi. They started a pilgrimage, if you will, for a more traditional dinner.
There are five mess halls on base and each serves their own menu from day to day, meal to meal. They decided to walk from hall to hall until they found one staffed by people who knew what Thanksgiving is about. They eventually found it complete with turkey, stuffing, potatoes, even green beans with almonds! But, alas, there was no cranberry relish. Thus became the quest for their evening meal! I never heard if they found it.
Just in case, I had sent a Thanksgiving-in-a-box:
Turkey Jerky
Sweet Potato Chips
Craisins
Pumpkin Muffins
It wasn't really anything like the real deal but I figured if he had been in the field, it would have been better than a Swiss steak MRE!
We hope your Thanksgiving was blessed. We have much to be thankful for including your love, support, and most of all, your prayers! Thanks!
Saturday, November 29, 2008
Sunday, November 23, 2008
Holiday Greetings and Reflections from Iraq
Scott sent a letter in four parts: an opening salutation, a description of his work, a reflection on his disposition, and an indication of the future. Each part is posted below as a distinct entry. I hope you find his insights as engaging, sobering, compelling, and enriching as I do.
Greeting (Part 1 of 4)
Feast of Christ the King, 2008
Al Asad, Iraq
“I had much to write to you, but I would rather not write with pen and ink; I hope to see you soon, and we will talk together face to face.” (III John 1:13-14)
“At the same time, prepare a guest room for me, for I am hoping through your prayers to be granted to you.” (Philemon 1:22)
By some miracle of God I got a day off today. It is my second day off since getting here a couple months ago. I decided to spend it writing a letter to all the people who have written me or prayed for me while I’ve been here. I feel terrible that I am unable to return your mail and well-wishes individually at this time, but I feel blessed for the kindness all of you have shown me! You are wonderful relatives and friends! My plan is that when/if I get another day off, I will phone all those who have written me here.
This is a three-part letter. The first section is a general portrait of my work here within the boundaries of rules and security limitations. The second section is my frame of mind. The third section is the future. Please do not feel like you have to read the whole thing. Skim it or discard it if you want! We can catch up in person in the spring when I’m back home! That would be infinitely more entertaining, I’m sure!
Happy holidays! – In Christ Jesus, Scott Ramsay
Al Asad, Iraq
“I had much to write to you, but I would rather not write with pen and ink; I hope to see you soon, and we will talk together face to face.” (III John 1:13-14)
“At the same time, prepare a guest room for me, for I am hoping through your prayers to be granted to you.” (Philemon 1:22)
By some miracle of God I got a day off today. It is my second day off since getting here a couple months ago. I decided to spend it writing a letter to all the people who have written me or prayed for me while I’ve been here. I feel terrible that I am unable to return your mail and well-wishes individually at this time, but I feel blessed for the kindness all of you have shown me! You are wonderful relatives and friends! My plan is that when/if I get another day off, I will phone all those who have written me here.
This is a three-part letter. The first section is a general portrait of my work here within the boundaries of rules and security limitations. The second section is my frame of mind. The third section is the future. Please do not feel like you have to read the whole thing. Skim it or discard it if you want! We can catch up in person in the spring when I’m back home! That would be infinitely more entertaining, I’m sure!
Happy holidays! – In Christ Jesus, Scott Ramsay
Reality: Iraq is Hard Duty (part 2 of 4)
“Behold, the day of the LORD comes, cruel, with wrath and fierce anger, to make the earth a desolation and to destroy its sinners from it. For the stars of the heavens and their constellations will not give their light; the sun will be dark at its rising and the moon will not shed its light. I will punish the world for its evil, and the wicked for their iniquity; I will put an end to the pride of the arrogant, and lay low the haughtiness of the ruthless. I will make men more rare than fine gold and mankind than the gold of Ophir.
And Babylon, the glory of kingdoms, the splendor and pride of the Chaldeans, will be like Sodom and Gomorrah when God overthrew them. It will never be inhabited or dwelt in for all generations; no Arab will pitch his tent there, no shepherds will make their flocks lie down there. But wild beasts will lie down there, and it houses will be full of howling creatures; there ostriches will dwell, and there satyrs will dance. Hyenas will cry in its towers, and jackals in the pleasant palaces; its time is close at hand and its days will not be prolonged.” (Isaiah 13:9-12, 19-22)
Exhaustion. Mind-numbing exhaustion. Up for thirty hours or more of loading and unloading trucks, driving truck, and that most quintessential of military activities: “standing by.” Sentence fragments. But then the zoned-out mind thinks in sentence fragments. Prowords, comm, truncated thoughts ala Orwell’s 1984. Wired awake, road hypnosis, mesmerized. The thought occurs to me that you could get almost anyone to do almost anything if you deny a basic need long enough – rest, freedom from pain, bathroom privileges, water, food, you-name-it. Just dangle that carrot in front of the donkey. But I don’t think on this long – thinking hurts. Being. Pure being.
My mind drifts on to what I put in my combat pack. I almost packed a stuffed ladybug that my daughter had sent me in an Operation Homefront box. It was either the ladybug or all my ammunition. The thought to leave some ammo at “home” and pack the animal was almost a rational one at the time; tired people don’t think straight. In the end every round I have squeezed its way into my pack. (As corny as it sounds, I had made a promise to a guy I don’t even know at Don Sommermeyer’s birthday party that I would never get an “I don’t give a care” attitude over here, and that was the tipping point for the ammo over the ladybug.) I bid the stuffed ladybug adieu and left it standing sentry over my gear at Camp Cupcake.
Stay awake. Have to stay awake. Yawns. Micro-tremor in the eyeballs. Pale skin. Bags under the eyes. The temperature never seems right when you’re at the brink of collapse. Twenty hours awake and on duty. Thirty hours awake and on duty. Forty hours awake and on duty. (Of course there are rules against all this but they can be waived in wartime.) Finally the head bob.
I know all the tricks. Keep pumping caffeine into your system. The military has this energy drink called Rip It. They also give you this espresso stuff called Shock – it comes in Mocha or Latte cans that look like automotive fluid containers. When this quits working you get your a-driver (assistant driver) to talk to you. Keep shifting in the seat. Keep moving your head around. Then you blast the air conditioning until you’re frozen (the windows don’t open on most tactical vehicles). Then you try pain, which is actually pretty effective – everything from pressing on nailbeds, rubbing my sternum, pinching myself hard, et cetera. After that you make up some bologna excuse for why the convoy has to stop – convoy commanders are loath to stop in “Indian Country” – and you get out and walk around the vehicle checking your cargo straps for ten minutes while Al Qaeda is supposedly zeroing in on you and your position. The remedy of last resort for head bobbing is this nasty chewing gum called “Stay Alert.” I cannot convey in words how disgusting this stuff is; it is absolutely enough to make a maggot retch. The longer you chew it, the more bitter it gets. It comes with a cheerful endorsement: PROVEN EFFECTIVE AND SAFE BY WALTER REED ARMY INSTITUTE OF RESEARCH. Great. The same people who brought us the anthrax vaccine are now in the gum business. I would have hated to be taking care of the monkeys the day they fed them this awful/offal stuff – thousands of hyper-energized, ticked-off lab primates simultaneously shoving their fingers down their throats. I must confess that when I’ve chewed Stay Alert my first instinct is always to look for a dead camel on the side of the road, hoping that if I could just chew on its moribund mohair fur and some desert lice, I could just possibly get the taste out of my mouth.
At some point in these marathon work stretches, my mind always wanders to a cousin of whom I have no memory: Allen Adams. I haven’t heard anyone speak his name in years – you know how it is with the names of those long dead, it is almost taboo/eerie to speak their names even when one is alone. Anyway, he tried driving from Nebraska to Wisconsin or some such thing and fell asleep at the wheel a few miles from home. He thought he could drive a few more miles but he died instead. I bet he was a good guy; I bet he THOUGHT he could make it. And I bet I’m no less human than he was. A big thing touted around here is that last month there were more non-combat deaths than combat-related deaths in Iraq. Awesome. The U.S. pushes people beyond human limits more often than the enemy kills us. Strange thing to brag about.
At last the outpost. Usually some forlorn spot in the desert although one time I did drive to one of Saddam’s old palaces. The opulence of the palace, contrasted with the squalor and poverty of the nearby cities (I am not allowed to name them but they are some of the most notorious names on the planet), makes one boil with righteous indignation. And then again the thought occurs to me that if most of the world walked through most of America they’d probably be indignant. In a philosophical tone I tell myself, “The despot is dead. Tried and executed. Why begrudge him this monument to his megalomania?”
But today it’s an outpost of the plywood and canvas variety. Time to bed down for the day like a vampire or some creature nocturnal anyway. There always seems to be a rodent-infested tent set aside for travelers to make up food at any hour. None of it really appeals but I force something down to accompany that mashed-up protein bar I squirreled away in a pocket. Rodents. I don’t like rodents. Besides being vectors of disease they attract snakes. Iraq has forty or so venomous snakes – asps, adders, cobras, who-knows-what’s. Supposedly two of the asps are so deadly that they won’t even send a Medevac if one of them bites you. (You’re already dead so why risk a helicopter crew’s lives?) I think in reality somebody would call for a helicopter anyway – no one out here has a PhD in zoology and reptile identification. I find a GWOT cot. Good. I hate the Vietnam ones that are still floating around – they have this metal bar that goes across the small of my back. I put my rifle beside me and then: Collapse – utter, total surrender to physiological reality.
You always seem to wake up a few hours later; you never seem to be able to get back to sleep. The reasons vary – air ops, heat, cold, millions of flies, tentmates, residual caffeine, a full bladder, a cough, who-knows-what. Today I wake up sweating to death and my sleeping bag sticking to me. The power’s been off for a couple hours and there is no air conditioning. I stare at the ceiling of the tent and all its holes letting the daylight in. Most of the holes are taped; the age and type of the tape makes for different colored holes. The effect is that of a planetarium. The red hole is Mars. The next is Betelgeuse. The one over there is the Morning Star. A landing helicopter swoops in so low and loud it feels as if it will land in the tent itself. My planetarium shakes violently to and fro. At last the Day of the Lord, when the firmament will shake and pass away with violent intensity and heat. Isaiah, Zephaniah, the rest of the prophets – they were right, I knew it! Well maybe not, the helicopter passes and “the heavens” return to their previous serenity.
Dust everywhere and in everything. Moon dust. Dust like talcum powder six inches deep. Dust midway up the boot or higher generates suction to the ground. And merely walking around generates a cloud up to one’s waist. Dust even has a smell to which I have still not quite accustomed myself. They call it the Sandbox for a reason. We are naturally filthy. Water is in short supply. Some outposts have showers. This one does not so I make do with some baby wipes and a liter of bottled water. I offload my truck.
Now I have to do the pre-trip checks on my Oshkosh truck. My truck is my life out here. The fluids and everything had better be right. Get some fuel. I walk past a pile of unexploded ordnance – IED materials. This stuff’s the real deal. No one hauls that stuff very far or keeps it for very long. A guy I knew from my squad at the Green Bay reserve center got killed by an IED over here – Chuck Kiser from Cleveland, Wisconsin. He was in the Naval Reserve with me and then joined the Wisconsin National Guard. It makes you think. A recent Navy Times had an article stating that two years ago they were finding/exploding 2600 IED’s a month in Iraq and that now they’re finding around 550 a month and they tend to be less lethal. How comforting. I generally spend my last several minutes of freedom on the hood of my vehicle reading the Bible. I’ve been into Saint Paul’s letters lately.
A couple last checks of my gear and it’s time to put on my “battle rattle.” The whole get-up must weigh fifty pounds. Groin protector. Bulletproof vest. Kevlar helmet. Flameproof flight suit and gloves. Ballistic glasses that look like something Robin wore on the ‘60’s TV series “Batman and Robin.” Sometimes a wire hanging out of my ear, sometimes not. Oh well, there’s no one here to witness how patently ridiculous I look except for a desert fox and her kits. And those bats. And that scorpion.
Back out into the desert night. A patch of earth lighter than the other terrain – I don’t like that. Natural calcium deposit? That ubiquitous greenish clay stuff? Nighttime mirage? Freshly disturbed earth concealing an improvised explosive device? Green cheese? The Sea of Tranquility lies just beyond the horizon you know, or so the landscape suggests.
At last Camp Cupcake, my home away from home. Fuel up. Check in. Go home for some sleep and be back later the same day for more loading and unloading trucks and cargo.
The typical workday is about 13 or 14 hours long at Camp Cupcake, longer when I’m away from here. I have not written one note/letter since getting here. I apologize to all who have written me and “heard” silence in return. I just have no time at the end of any of my days here. I have been in Iraq for more than two months and I have had two days off… and they weren’t “really” days off. I truly love all of you and appreciate the time and effort it takes for you to write me. I will try to call everyone who has sent me anything at some point. Lord-willing, I will return to you in the spring and we will celebrate together. Thank you.
In the meantime, meditate on these words of beloved Saint Paul, “I coveted no one’s silver or gold or apparel. You yourselves know that these hands ministered to my necessities, and to those who were with me. In all things I have shown you that by so toiling one must help the weak, remembering the words of the Lord Jesus, how he said, ‘It is more blessed to give than to receive.’” (Acts of the Apostles 20:33-35)
And Babylon, the glory of kingdoms, the splendor and pride of the Chaldeans, will be like Sodom and Gomorrah when God overthrew them. It will never be inhabited or dwelt in for all generations; no Arab will pitch his tent there, no shepherds will make their flocks lie down there. But wild beasts will lie down there, and it houses will be full of howling creatures; there ostriches will dwell, and there satyrs will dance. Hyenas will cry in its towers, and jackals in the pleasant palaces; its time is close at hand and its days will not be prolonged.” (Isaiah 13:9-12, 19-22)
Exhaustion. Mind-numbing exhaustion. Up for thirty hours or more of loading and unloading trucks, driving truck, and that most quintessential of military activities: “standing by.” Sentence fragments. But then the zoned-out mind thinks in sentence fragments. Prowords, comm, truncated thoughts ala Orwell’s 1984. Wired awake, road hypnosis, mesmerized. The thought occurs to me that you could get almost anyone to do almost anything if you deny a basic need long enough – rest, freedom from pain, bathroom privileges, water, food, you-name-it. Just dangle that carrot in front of the donkey. But I don’t think on this long – thinking hurts. Being. Pure being.
My mind drifts on to what I put in my combat pack. I almost packed a stuffed ladybug that my daughter had sent me in an Operation Homefront box. It was either the ladybug or all my ammunition. The thought to leave some ammo at “home” and pack the animal was almost a rational one at the time; tired people don’t think straight. In the end every round I have squeezed its way into my pack. (As corny as it sounds, I had made a promise to a guy I don’t even know at Don Sommermeyer’s birthday party that I would never get an “I don’t give a care” attitude over here, and that was the tipping point for the ammo over the ladybug.) I bid the stuffed ladybug adieu and left it standing sentry over my gear at Camp Cupcake.
Stay awake. Have to stay awake. Yawns. Micro-tremor in the eyeballs. Pale skin. Bags under the eyes. The temperature never seems right when you’re at the brink of collapse. Twenty hours awake and on duty. Thirty hours awake and on duty. Forty hours awake and on duty. (Of course there are rules against all this but they can be waived in wartime.) Finally the head bob.
I know all the tricks. Keep pumping caffeine into your system. The military has this energy drink called Rip It. They also give you this espresso stuff called Shock – it comes in Mocha or Latte cans that look like automotive fluid containers. When this quits working you get your a-driver (assistant driver) to talk to you. Keep shifting in the seat. Keep moving your head around. Then you blast the air conditioning until you’re frozen (the windows don’t open on most tactical vehicles). Then you try pain, which is actually pretty effective – everything from pressing on nailbeds, rubbing my sternum, pinching myself hard, et cetera. After that you make up some bologna excuse for why the convoy has to stop – convoy commanders are loath to stop in “Indian Country” – and you get out and walk around the vehicle checking your cargo straps for ten minutes while Al Qaeda is supposedly zeroing in on you and your position. The remedy of last resort for head bobbing is this nasty chewing gum called “Stay Alert.” I cannot convey in words how disgusting this stuff is; it is absolutely enough to make a maggot retch. The longer you chew it, the more bitter it gets. It comes with a cheerful endorsement: PROVEN EFFECTIVE AND SAFE BY WALTER REED ARMY INSTITUTE OF RESEARCH. Great. The same people who brought us the anthrax vaccine are now in the gum business. I would have hated to be taking care of the monkeys the day they fed them this awful/offal stuff – thousands of hyper-energized, ticked-off lab primates simultaneously shoving their fingers down their throats. I must confess that when I’ve chewed Stay Alert my first instinct is always to look for a dead camel on the side of the road, hoping that if I could just chew on its moribund mohair fur and some desert lice, I could just possibly get the taste out of my mouth.
At some point in these marathon work stretches, my mind always wanders to a cousin of whom I have no memory: Allen Adams. I haven’t heard anyone speak his name in years – you know how it is with the names of those long dead, it is almost taboo/eerie to speak their names even when one is alone. Anyway, he tried driving from Nebraska to Wisconsin or some such thing and fell asleep at the wheel a few miles from home. He thought he could drive a few more miles but he died instead. I bet he was a good guy; I bet he THOUGHT he could make it. And I bet I’m no less human than he was. A big thing touted around here is that last month there were more non-combat deaths than combat-related deaths in Iraq. Awesome. The U.S. pushes people beyond human limits more often than the enemy kills us. Strange thing to brag about.
At last the outpost. Usually some forlorn spot in the desert although one time I did drive to one of Saddam’s old palaces. The opulence of the palace, contrasted with the squalor and poverty of the nearby cities (I am not allowed to name them but they are some of the most notorious names on the planet), makes one boil with righteous indignation. And then again the thought occurs to me that if most of the world walked through most of America they’d probably be indignant. In a philosophical tone I tell myself, “The despot is dead. Tried and executed. Why begrudge him this monument to his megalomania?”
But today it’s an outpost of the plywood and canvas variety. Time to bed down for the day like a vampire or some creature nocturnal anyway. There always seems to be a rodent-infested tent set aside for travelers to make up food at any hour. None of it really appeals but I force something down to accompany that mashed-up protein bar I squirreled away in a pocket. Rodents. I don’t like rodents. Besides being vectors of disease they attract snakes. Iraq has forty or so venomous snakes – asps, adders, cobras, who-knows-what’s. Supposedly two of the asps are so deadly that they won’t even send a Medevac if one of them bites you. (You’re already dead so why risk a helicopter crew’s lives?) I think in reality somebody would call for a helicopter anyway – no one out here has a PhD in zoology and reptile identification. I find a GWOT cot. Good. I hate the Vietnam ones that are still floating around – they have this metal bar that goes across the small of my back. I put my rifle beside me and then: Collapse – utter, total surrender to physiological reality.
You always seem to wake up a few hours later; you never seem to be able to get back to sleep. The reasons vary – air ops, heat, cold, millions of flies, tentmates, residual caffeine, a full bladder, a cough, who-knows-what. Today I wake up sweating to death and my sleeping bag sticking to me. The power’s been off for a couple hours and there is no air conditioning. I stare at the ceiling of the tent and all its holes letting the daylight in. Most of the holes are taped; the age and type of the tape makes for different colored holes. The effect is that of a planetarium. The red hole is Mars. The next is Betelgeuse. The one over there is the Morning Star. A landing helicopter swoops in so low and loud it feels as if it will land in the tent itself. My planetarium shakes violently to and fro. At last the Day of the Lord, when the firmament will shake and pass away with violent intensity and heat. Isaiah, Zephaniah, the rest of the prophets – they were right, I knew it! Well maybe not, the helicopter passes and “the heavens” return to their previous serenity.
Dust everywhere and in everything. Moon dust. Dust like talcum powder six inches deep. Dust midway up the boot or higher generates suction to the ground. And merely walking around generates a cloud up to one’s waist. Dust even has a smell to which I have still not quite accustomed myself. They call it the Sandbox for a reason. We are naturally filthy. Water is in short supply. Some outposts have showers. This one does not so I make do with some baby wipes and a liter of bottled water. I offload my truck.
Now I have to do the pre-trip checks on my Oshkosh truck. My truck is my life out here. The fluids and everything had better be right. Get some fuel. I walk past a pile of unexploded ordnance – IED materials. This stuff’s the real deal. No one hauls that stuff very far or keeps it for very long. A guy I knew from my squad at the Green Bay reserve center got killed by an IED over here – Chuck Kiser from Cleveland, Wisconsin. He was in the Naval Reserve with me and then joined the Wisconsin National Guard. It makes you think. A recent Navy Times had an article stating that two years ago they were finding/exploding 2600 IED’s a month in Iraq and that now they’re finding around 550 a month and they tend to be less lethal. How comforting. I generally spend my last several minutes of freedom on the hood of my vehicle reading the Bible. I’ve been into Saint Paul’s letters lately.
A couple last checks of my gear and it’s time to put on my “battle rattle.” The whole get-up must weigh fifty pounds. Groin protector. Bulletproof vest. Kevlar helmet. Flameproof flight suit and gloves. Ballistic glasses that look like something Robin wore on the ‘60’s TV series “Batman and Robin.” Sometimes a wire hanging out of my ear, sometimes not. Oh well, there’s no one here to witness how patently ridiculous I look except for a desert fox and her kits. And those bats. And that scorpion.
Back out into the desert night. A patch of earth lighter than the other terrain – I don’t like that. Natural calcium deposit? That ubiquitous greenish clay stuff? Nighttime mirage? Freshly disturbed earth concealing an improvised explosive device? Green cheese? The Sea of Tranquility lies just beyond the horizon you know, or so the landscape suggests.
At last Camp Cupcake, my home away from home. Fuel up. Check in. Go home for some sleep and be back later the same day for more loading and unloading trucks and cargo.
The typical workday is about 13 or 14 hours long at Camp Cupcake, longer when I’m away from here. I have not written one note/letter since getting here. I apologize to all who have written me and “heard” silence in return. I just have no time at the end of any of my days here. I have been in Iraq for more than two months and I have had two days off… and they weren’t “really” days off. I truly love all of you and appreciate the time and effort it takes for you to write me. I will try to call everyone who has sent me anything at some point. Lord-willing, I will return to you in the spring and we will celebrate together. Thank you.
In the meantime, meditate on these words of beloved Saint Paul, “I coveted no one’s silver or gold or apparel. You yourselves know that these hands ministered to my necessities, and to those who were with me. In all things I have shown you that by so toiling one must help the weak, remembering the words of the Lord Jesus, how he said, ‘It is more blessed to give than to receive.’” (Acts of the Apostles 20:33-35)
Reality: Iraq is What You Make of It (part 3 of 4)
“For thus said the Lord GOD, the Holy One of Israel, ‘In returning and rest you shall be saved; in quietness and in trust shall be your strength.’ Therefore the LORD waits to be gracious to you; therefore he exalts himself to show mercy to you. For the LORD is a God of justice; blessed are all those who wait for him.” (Isaiah 30:15a, 18)
I go to church every chance I get over here. Catholic church. Protestant church. An empty church. It doesn’t matter. I read a short section from _My Utmost for His Highest_ and get on with my day.
I like the camaraderie and rapport among me, my brothers-in-arms, and my sisters-in-arms. The Navy isn’t as “serious” as the Marine Corps, for which I am grateful! We joke, we tease, we involve ourselves in each other’s cares and home lives. I have a good laugh several times a day. No matter how sleep-deprived we are, we take time to celebrate birthdays. Most of us use first names.
I run three times a week – Monday, Wednesday, and Friday at 5 AM. I really don’t have time to lift weights.
I try to call my wife everyday when/where there are phones. It is good to connect with her, America, and my chattering daughter. Internet service is very spotty and slow but better than nothing.
The money for being here is good. The money is not worth it, but the money is good. We have an exchange at which to buy mundane items. There is an AT&T phone center five minutes from my room and I can call America for 19 cents a minute. My longest call – forty minutes – was still less than $8. Calling people is money well-spent. $100 a month buys a lot of sanity.
I have been gone for more than five months now. I should be home in three and a half months (early March?). Time does indeed pass….
They do have some cookouts and other diversions here – “mandatory fun,” as it’s known. At the end of one work project, I chipped in $20 to buy a goat. The goat cost $100 total. Courtesy of our interpreter and his knife skills, that goat went from drinking water to being killed, skinned, and gutted in under two minutes. By the time I got back to the tent from working that day everyone had eaten the goat! I didn’t even get a bite, but the junior troops had fun and that’s what was important.
I did an individual “shout-out” for the Wisconsin Badgers and a group shout-out for the Army-Navy football game. I am guessing the U of Wisconsin put me on a 3 AM women’s field hockey re-run since no one saw it – either that or the football season was so dismal that the Cheese State has collectively quit watching Badger games. The Army-Navy one says that the midshipmen will show “them” how it’s done on the field and the Seabees will show them how it’s done in the dirt. There are a bunch of trucks and about sixty guys in it. The usual: “Go Navy, beat Army!” I should be toward the front on the right of the TV screen. I am wearing a flight suit and a hard hat. Of course, neither one may ever get played. But it was something to do other than work! We had a Halloween party and we will have a Hawaiian Thanksgiving – whatever that is! Counterintuitively most of us are looking forward to Thanksgiving, Christmas, New Years, and Valentine’s – we’ve known for months that they’re benchmarks on the calendar that will bring us closer to coming home….
As for the inherent dangers of this place, I was in a place where there was daily gunfire for a week and a half. I don’t think any of it was actually aimed at us – at least it wasn’t very accurate. It was very close only twice. We all hit the deck and took cover. Everyone in my group remained very loose and very focused – exactly what you want in a situation like that. A couple of the guys half-my-age were busting my chops that the Iraqi children were lying flat on the ground for a few full seconds before I was. I told them they’re a lot younger than I am, they’re not wearing all the gear I am, and they’re a lot closer to the ground. Within a half hour of both incidents, we were all laughing and working hard again. One of the convoys I was on had a near miss with a small IED also. I have nothing but praise for the Iraqi army – they’ve been great. My roommate’s also worked with them extensively on a different project and he thinks a lot of them too. Both interpreters I’ve dealt with have been some of the most idealistic and hardest working people I’ve ever met.
Camp Cupcake has two Subway’s and a coffee shop (the Green Bean). Neither of the Subway’s have any vegetables – ever. Meat, cheese, black olives, salad dressing, and bread. That’ll be $9, please.
There was a dreadful Pizza Hut and a nauseating Burger King but they both closed. I predict a spike in the local varmint population. One night I stopped by the Burger King, waited a half hour for my camel burger and fries, and then I asked for some mustard. I always eat mustard with my French fries. Burger King’s slogan is, “Have it your way.” Well this Burger King crew was the same one from when Saddam Hussein and sons ran this base. I’m guessing that back then it was known as Burger Dictator. The employee had one of those yellow squeeze mustard bottles two feet from him but he wouldn’t give me any mustard. Finally he told me he was going to Pizza Hut to get my mustard and stormed off. I waited for fifteen minutes wondering how Pizza Hut would have any mustard. He finally emerged with one of those clear plastic Solo cups from Pizza Hut, squeezed some mustard into it, and sent me on my way. Why he didn’t just put it on my fries or on a napkin or something, I will never know. My food was in the backroom, not under a heat lamp, and ice cold by the time I got it. The meat tasted like it had been frozen and thawed a dozen times – so nasty I didn’t even finish it. All that and a pop for $11. But the fries and the mustard were divine!
There’s kind of a b-list of celebrities that make their way here once a month or so. The former lead singer from Creed was supposed to come here and put on a concert at the soccer stadium on base (supposedly the same soccer stadium where Uday Hussein had his Olympic soccer team executed for losing a match). He got cancelled because of a sandstorm. The American Gladiators were here too (some TV show), but I had to work. They had put on a pugil stick demonstration at one of the other bases in the region but one of the Marines beat up a gladiator so bad that they decided against doing anything more than autographs and pictures. It seems to me that somebody else came here as well but I cannot remember.
I love hiking and the outdoors. The desert and its creatures have their own austere beauty. One scene indelibly etched into my mind is the Euphrates at dusk. Strip of blue desert river, strip of green fertility, and then khaki cliffs. Orange full moon coming up over the horizon. The Muslim call to prayer from so many mosques in the distance. Feral dogs baying to the mysterious tones of Islam….
I love the Navy. Of course I have days when I hate the Navy. I have done some very cool stuff over the years, including on this deployment. Hopefully someday I will be able to give you more details…. In any event I am in good spirits and dealing well with it all, I think. In three and a half months I will be home. In five and a half years I will retire from the Reserves. Keep paying your taxes everyone because I am going to collect a reservist pension someday for going through all this!
I go to church every chance I get over here. Catholic church. Protestant church. An empty church. It doesn’t matter. I read a short section from _My Utmost for His Highest_ and get on with my day.
I like the camaraderie and rapport among me, my brothers-in-arms, and my sisters-in-arms. The Navy isn’t as “serious” as the Marine Corps, for which I am grateful! We joke, we tease, we involve ourselves in each other’s cares and home lives. I have a good laugh several times a day. No matter how sleep-deprived we are, we take time to celebrate birthdays. Most of us use first names.
I run three times a week – Monday, Wednesday, and Friday at 5 AM. I really don’t have time to lift weights.
I try to call my wife everyday when/where there are phones. It is good to connect with her, America, and my chattering daughter. Internet service is very spotty and slow but better than nothing.
The money for being here is good. The money is not worth it, but the money is good. We have an exchange at which to buy mundane items. There is an AT&T phone center five minutes from my room and I can call America for 19 cents a minute. My longest call – forty minutes – was still less than $8. Calling people is money well-spent. $100 a month buys a lot of sanity.
I have been gone for more than five months now. I should be home in three and a half months (early March?). Time does indeed pass….
They do have some cookouts and other diversions here – “mandatory fun,” as it’s known. At the end of one work project, I chipped in $20 to buy a goat. The goat cost $100 total. Courtesy of our interpreter and his knife skills, that goat went from drinking water to being killed, skinned, and gutted in under two minutes. By the time I got back to the tent from working that day everyone had eaten the goat! I didn’t even get a bite, but the junior troops had fun and that’s what was important.
I did an individual “shout-out” for the Wisconsin Badgers and a group shout-out for the Army-Navy football game. I am guessing the U of Wisconsin put me on a 3 AM women’s field hockey re-run since no one saw it – either that or the football season was so dismal that the Cheese State has collectively quit watching Badger games. The Army-Navy one says that the midshipmen will show “them” how it’s done on the field and the Seabees will show them how it’s done in the dirt. There are a bunch of trucks and about sixty guys in it. The usual: “Go Navy, beat Army!” I should be toward the front on the right of the TV screen. I am wearing a flight suit and a hard hat. Of course, neither one may ever get played. But it was something to do other than work! We had a Halloween party and we will have a Hawaiian Thanksgiving – whatever that is! Counterintuitively most of us are looking forward to Thanksgiving, Christmas, New Years, and Valentine’s – we’ve known for months that they’re benchmarks on the calendar that will bring us closer to coming home….
As for the inherent dangers of this place, I was in a place where there was daily gunfire for a week and a half. I don’t think any of it was actually aimed at us – at least it wasn’t very accurate. It was very close only twice. We all hit the deck and took cover. Everyone in my group remained very loose and very focused – exactly what you want in a situation like that. A couple of the guys half-my-age were busting my chops that the Iraqi children were lying flat on the ground for a few full seconds before I was. I told them they’re a lot younger than I am, they’re not wearing all the gear I am, and they’re a lot closer to the ground. Within a half hour of both incidents, we were all laughing and working hard again. One of the convoys I was on had a near miss with a small IED also. I have nothing but praise for the Iraqi army – they’ve been great. My roommate’s also worked with them extensively on a different project and he thinks a lot of them too. Both interpreters I’ve dealt with have been some of the most idealistic and hardest working people I’ve ever met.
Camp Cupcake has two Subway’s and a coffee shop (the Green Bean). Neither of the Subway’s have any vegetables – ever. Meat, cheese, black olives, salad dressing, and bread. That’ll be $9, please.
There was a dreadful Pizza Hut and a nauseating Burger King but they both closed. I predict a spike in the local varmint population. One night I stopped by the Burger King, waited a half hour for my camel burger and fries, and then I asked for some mustard. I always eat mustard with my French fries. Burger King’s slogan is, “Have it your way.” Well this Burger King crew was the same one from when Saddam Hussein and sons ran this base. I’m guessing that back then it was known as Burger Dictator. The employee had one of those yellow squeeze mustard bottles two feet from him but he wouldn’t give me any mustard. Finally he told me he was going to Pizza Hut to get my mustard and stormed off. I waited for fifteen minutes wondering how Pizza Hut would have any mustard. He finally emerged with one of those clear plastic Solo cups from Pizza Hut, squeezed some mustard into it, and sent me on my way. Why he didn’t just put it on my fries or on a napkin or something, I will never know. My food was in the backroom, not under a heat lamp, and ice cold by the time I got it. The meat tasted like it had been frozen and thawed a dozen times – so nasty I didn’t even finish it. All that and a pop for $11. But the fries and the mustard were divine!
There’s kind of a b-list of celebrities that make their way here once a month or so. The former lead singer from Creed was supposed to come here and put on a concert at the soccer stadium on base (supposedly the same soccer stadium where Uday Hussein had his Olympic soccer team executed for losing a match). He got cancelled because of a sandstorm. The American Gladiators were here too (some TV show), but I had to work. They had put on a pugil stick demonstration at one of the other bases in the region but one of the Marines beat up a gladiator so bad that they decided against doing anything more than autographs and pictures. It seems to me that somebody else came here as well but I cannot remember.
I love hiking and the outdoors. The desert and its creatures have their own austere beauty. One scene indelibly etched into my mind is the Euphrates at dusk. Strip of blue desert river, strip of green fertility, and then khaki cliffs. Orange full moon coming up over the horizon. The Muslim call to prayer from so many mosques in the distance. Feral dogs baying to the mysterious tones of Islam….
I love the Navy. Of course I have days when I hate the Navy. I have done some very cool stuff over the years, including on this deployment. Hopefully someday I will be able to give you more details…. In any event I am in good spirits and dealing well with it all, I think. In three and a half months I will be home. In five and a half years I will retire from the Reserves. Keep paying your taxes everyone because I am going to collect a reservist pension someday for going through all this!
Reality: An Uncertain America is Better Than the Sandbox (part 4 of 4)
“The wolf shall dwell with the lamb, and the leopard shall lie down with the kid, and the calf and the lion and the fatling together, and a little child shall lead them. The cow and the bear shall feed; their young shall lie down together; and the lion shall eat straw like the ox. The sucking child shall play over the hole of the asp, and the weaned child shall put his hand on the adder’s den. They shall not hurt or destroy in all my holy mountain; for the earth shall be full of the knowledge of the LORD as the waters cover the sea. In that day the root of Jesse shall stand as an ensign to the peoples; him shall the nations seek, and his dwellings shall be glorious.” (Isaiah 11:6-9)
“Christ is the light
Which illuminates our existence.
Before this light
The darkness of evil and war and sin
Will not prevail.
Even death is defeated
For God’s love is eternal.
He desires Communion with us
And makes us enter
Beyond death
Into His eternal life.”
(A Carthusian prayer; my favorite prayer, in fact)
My mind wanders to America from time to time. I dream about holding Gianna and Amy. I dream about lighting the Advent wreath together. I think about the Mississippi River and its ghostly silhouettes in the snow and in the fog. I think about gun season and family gatherings. I miss my neighbors talking in the street. I’d like to go camping. I’d like a day off. I can smell my garden and my lawn….
I received a well-meant suggestion that I should stay here for another tour because the economy is so bad at home. All I can say is I am definitely coming home when they say I can go home!
Thanks again and God bless, Scott Ramsay
“Christ is the light
Which illuminates our existence.
Before this light
The darkness of evil and war and sin
Will not prevail.
Even death is defeated
For God’s love is eternal.
He desires Communion with us
And makes us enter
Beyond death
Into His eternal life.”
(A Carthusian prayer; my favorite prayer, in fact)
My mind wanders to America from time to time. I dream about holding Gianna and Amy. I dream about lighting the Advent wreath together. I think about the Mississippi River and its ghostly silhouettes in the snow and in the fog. I think about gun season and family gatherings. I miss my neighbors talking in the street. I’d like to go camping. I’d like a day off. I can smell my garden and my lawn….
I received a well-meant suggestion that I should stay here for another tour because the economy is so bad at home. All I can say is I am definitely coming home when they say I can go home!
Thanks again and God bless, Scott Ramsay
Wednesday, November 19, 2008
Up On The Rooftop...
Scott and the other E6's (other guys at the same rank) are planning a surprise Christmas party for the junior troops. He called and asked me to send a Santa Suit. Apparently, the tradition that started at the Salm Family Christmas parties when he needed no extra padding will continue in Iraq, but much extra padding is now required! And while he wont likely find any chimneys to slide down, he is likely to be up on the rooftops quite literally. He officially finished his "project" today and thought he would be reassigned to the truck driving position he was in. Instead, he has been assigned to a steel worker position not unlike the one he had in Greece (during the Kosovo deployment). So he will likely be up on the roof tops--or at least the steel frames supporting them--in the very near future.
Monday, November 17, 2008
Moonrise Over the Euphrates
Scott isn't able to report much about the events of last week, but he did write a description of his surroundings one evening.
I watched the moonrise at dusk over the Euphrates. Desolate cliffs in the backdrop and a thin, green strip of life in the middle. Jackasses brayed in the distance. Feral dogs bayed to hypnotic tones of the Muslim call to prayer from so many mosques.
Saturday, November 15, 2008
Thursday, November 13, 2008
Incommunicado
From the generic nature of my less frequent posts over the past week or so, you may have guessed by now that Scott is incommunicado currently. As soon as I hear or read, I'll post. In the mean time, I find learning more about his command through the Ombudsmen (basically liaisons between the command and the families), the family grams, web searches, etc. helps me feel connected to Scott, so I'll keep posting related interesting tidbits as I come across them.
Monday, November 10, 2008
Workin' Hard
Scott's battalion sends out a family gram every six weeks or so. It contains letters from the commanding officer and from the heads of each company. It usually also has a few photos. The latest gram included this picture of Scott.
Sunday, November 9, 2008
More Seabees in the News
One of the guys Scott spent a bit of time with when they were still in Gulfport is making state news in Vermont.
http://www.foxnews.com/wires/2008Oct19/0,4670,DeployedAuditor,00.html
http://www.foxnews.com/wires/2008Oct19/0,4670,DeployedAuditor,00.html
Saturday, November 8, 2008
NMCB-27 On-line
I just stumbled upon the website for the battalion with which Scott deployed.
https://www.seabee.navy.mil/index.cfm/47920
https://www.seabee.navy.mil/index.cfm/47920
Tuesday, November 4, 2008
15 Seconds of Fame
Scott and his follow truck drivers just filmed a commercial that is set to air during the Army/Navy game on December 5th. The game will be broadcast on CBS and kick-off is at noon.
Look for an ad with troops in front of a fleet of trucks. Scott will be in the lower right-hand corner wearing a flight suit and a hard hat.
GO NAVY MIDSHIPMEN!
Look for an ad with troops in front of a fleet of trucks. Scott will be in the lower right-hand corner wearing a flight suit and a hard hat.
GO NAVY MIDSHIPMEN!
Monday, November 3, 2008
Scott was in the chow hall when he a conversation caught his attention not because of what they spoke about but because of the language they spoke in: Turkish. Apparently there is a small contingent of Turkish forces on base. Scott introduced himself and explained that he had studied in Turkey. They quickly realized that Scott had been to many of the places they were from. He was surprised at how easily he was able to slip back into the language and really enjoyed the conversation.
Sunday, November 2, 2008
For the first time in weeks, Scott had a couple of "free" hours today and planned to use that time to finally respond to so many of you who have sent letters, emails, packages, etc. Unfortunately (fortunately?) he ended up sleeping 14 hours last night which meant two things: he didn't get to write his letters but he got some much needed sleep and feels as if his cold has finally broken.
Please know that your thoughts, prayers, letters, emails, etc. do not go unappreciated. Both Scott and I are constantly uplifted by your generousness of heart! We keep you in prayer and pray you may be blessed as you have blessed us!
Please know that your thoughts, prayers, letters, emails, etc. do not go unappreciated. Both Scott and I are constantly uplifted by your generousness of heart! We keep you in prayer and pray you may be blessed as you have blessed us!
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