More, Please

I'm starting to notice that my time in between posts is slowly drifting apart. This isn't intentional; I have just been extremely frustrated and I am trying to take a step back before blasting my frustration into the blog and turning it into a wordy bitch session. That being said, I need to write about a conversation I had with my Iraqi counterpart this past morning.

It was a dusty morning, already approaching 95 degrees at about 8:45am. We were driving through the depot, talking about how to better organize certain warehouses and what work needed to get done. The conversation then turned to physical improvements that needed to be done, and I got excited because this is an area I have been working since we arrived here. We have already rebuilt the guard houses that used to be falling apart, impressed with them; he stated that the warehouses needed to be fixed in a similar fashion. I happily responded that we have already contracted out the work, which would begin soon, and that they would be as good or better. He then declared that we need power; I again responded excitedly that we have plans to run power all throughout the depot, including street lamps and power to all the warehouses. In addition, I continued, we are going to have the roads repaired and the spaces in between each warehouse graded and leveled for drainage. On top of all that, we have another project for a central receiving and shipping point which will include new offices and a consolidated operations center.

I'm not sure what kind of reaction I was expecting, but I do know I wasn’t expecting what followed.

"What about water", he asked through the interpreter.

I was confused, and asked "Water? What do you mean? Drainage?"

"No", he replied. "Water from pipes. To all the warehouses."

I was stunned. "No, there are no plans to run water mains to all of the warehouses, sir. We've spent close to $100 million on the improvements I just talked about, and if we wanted to run water mains it would easily be double that. There just isn't enough money."

He looked disappointed, and replied simply "Well, we need it. We should have water mains here."

I was still bewildered by this request. "Sir, I've been over this with your boss. We talked about all of the improvements we'd need to make in order to run this depot more efficiently. Water mains are a luxury, and are so expensive that their cost cant possibly be justified."

He just shook his head, clearly not happy and disappointed. At this point I was starting to get angry, so I simply looked at my interpreter, shook my head and said nothing. I thought angrily to myself, Water mains? Is he kidding me?? Everywhere I have ever been, to include the US, we use bottled water. We provide them unlimited bottled water here. There is no need to wash in the warehouses since the living quarters are located somewhere else. I couldn't stop thinking about this verbal exchange all day. This wasn't the first time I've received feedback like this. Here we are in Iraq, pouring 100s of millions of US dollars into their military, their government, and their infrastructure; and yet, the only response I get from many when we describe our improvement projects is almost disappointment that we aren't doing MORE. It is the same with our role as advisors. We are constantly being asked to do MORE, to provide MORE fuel, MORE new equipment whenever theirs breaks, MORE work out of our own Soldiers.

This is what frustrates me, because I still feel like the more we give, the more they expect and the more they want. What I need to do is try and understand things from their perspective more. For example, water is a big deal to the Iraqi's. They grew up without having much water in their homes and learned from an early age to hoard it and store it whenever its available. Of course my counterpart is going to request it when he hears how much money we are spending on other things. That being said, they also need to understand what's important and what is nice to have. I still feel like we are failing in conveying mission criticality to them; too often we are scrambling to get things done and they are standing by watching. How do we solve this? How do we change our perspective to understand them better and not get so frustrated by their constant clamoring for more? We could leave, but I still don't think that’s the right answer (Actually we can’t leave, but you know what I mean). Problem is, I don't know what the right answer is, and I don't think anyone else does, either.

The reoccurring question

The sweat rolling down my back had turned from a leaky faucet to the Tigris River by mile 1. It was 122 degrees out and I couldn’t help but think that I was wearing an oven as opposed to body armor. As the sand blew into my face and the hotspots on my feet grew into raging inferno's, I again asked myself, "What the hell am I doing here?"

The past couple weeks have been interesting. Not really a good interesting, although we did have our moments of laughing at the absurdity of our situation. No, it was interesting because I think I can now write a book on poor leadership and failed execution, from the top of the chain straight through to us.

It began on a Thursday night, when my favorite senior advisor came knocking on my door at 10pm demanding that I write a justification for why we need vehicles, phones, and computers. Not liking the dumbfounded smirk that overtook my face, he snapped and mumbled something to me that I am sure would have pissed me off had I been paying attention. I, however, was too lost in my own thoughts, which were screaming at me to make a smart-ass remark like "No problem, Sir! I'll get the justification for why we need oxygen to you right after that!"

It wasn't a hard document to write; we are the main logistics hub of the Iraqi Army, so without simple communications like computers and phones we would be almost completely ineffective. Vehicles are needed in part because we have live 3.5 miles from the depot, and in part because the depot itself is over 5 sq. miles. Without vehicles we would have to walk to each of our 70+ warehouses, which would take an unnecessary amount of time and be really inefficient. So I wrote the justification, and the next morning we lost everything.

There are alot of things that need to be explained here. I'll start with how and why we lost all of our stuff. Apparently, a general from cubicle-land (i.e. the IZ) ordered that all outposts where Americans were advising Iraqi's must turn in their vehicles and equipment to the Iraqi Army. This order sat in limbo for a couple of weeks and then all of the sudden people starting saying, crap - he's serious. Our leader's crap he's serious moment apparently came at 10pm on Thursday night when he asked for the justification. I can tell you from past experience that trying to justify something the night before is usually a bad idea. As it turned out, this experience held true.

I can understand why the general wanted this. Since we are embedded with the Iraqi's we are forced to use much of their equipment to help them do their mission. Problem is, we are doing most of their mission. So by turning everything back in and leaving us helpless, we more or less leave the Iraqi's to do their own mission. Here's the problem with that, though: All of our orders come from the American Headquarters! So, in order for the Iraqi's to do their own work, they'd have to be able to coordinate with the American HQ element, which, of course, they can’t do. So for 5 days, we walked to work, advised the Iraqi's on what we thought needed to be done, and the walked home. It was almost impossible to get anything done since we essentially blacked out from communications, and therefore had no access to real-time logistical requirements. I didnt really mind the walking part; there are thousands of other troops here who have to do alot of walking in alot more dangerous situations, so if this is as bad it gets for me I am a very lucky man (although those of you who know me also know that I am dying inside here and would give my left nut to be on the streets!)

After 5 days of absolute mission failure, our command decided that we needed at least basic access to phones and computers. Brilliant! They also gave us American-bought vehicles for transportation, although I am still walking occasionally. I like walking with my Soldiers - it's sucks, so its bonding time. There is alot of work to be done now, since we fell way behind during those 5 days. There is also talk of us moving from an advisor role to full time operations, since the Iraqi logistics system is still perceived to be broke. However, I still struggle to understand how we can advise them when we operate under an American command. No progress is going to be made until the American staff starts advising the Iraqi staff, and logistics are coordinated by the Iraqi's, not the Americans. It's odd how no one seems to realize this. It will also be extremely disheartening if we have to take over daily operations. This will set us back at least a year and will throw out almost all of the trust we’ve built with our counterparts. I do agree that things here need to be done differently, but much of that has to do with leadership (both sides). The Iraqi leadership is, well . . .shady, to put it nicely. In any event, I hope someone up higher soon realizes this and doesn’t set us back in our advisory roles.

I hope to update again soon and post new pics, especially since its been about two weeks since my last post. Until then, I am going to practice biting my tongue a little more!

Summertime Blues

BOOM!-thud-
ughhh . . . I groan and roll over to look at my clock.
BOOM!-thud-
It's 3:15am, and the Artillery detachment is sending out some care packages to our boys outside the wire. No surprise there; the artillery men send out their lovin' every night, and since we are almost right next to them I get to hear every round up close and personal. The only question is what time and how often. The nightly barrage goes on...

-thud- BOOOM!!
I couldn't tell if I was dreaming or I heard rocks being thrown at my wall. I wipe the haze from eyes and check my clock - 1 something AM. I sit up to drink some water and then I hear something I wasn’t expecting:
WAHHHH "INCOMING! INCOMING! INCOMING! All personnel take cover!" WAHHHH! "INCOMING! INCOMING! INCOMING!"
ughh. . .why are you yelling at me to take cover after the fact? I wonder to no one in particular. I step outside (probably not what I am supposed to do) to a hazy, smoke filled night. The moon is slightly orange and is casting an eerie glow over the gravel lot outside my building. Someone else is up too.
"Hey, glad the Big Voice told us to take cover 30 seconds AFTER the fact", Nap calls to me.
"Ha - yea - good thing", I reply before I make a quick stop in the porta-pottie and go back to sleep minutes later.

These are a couple typical nights for us here. Nothing exciting, just the sounds of the battle going on around us. Our job isn't out there at night; it begins the next day with our Iraqi counterparts. Everyday we work with them, side by side, imparting what knowledge we have and trying to help them do their part better. Many nights I wish I was out there with my coalition counterparts, fighting a battle I know a little better; but I'm not, and many days it’s hard for me to accept that my battle is in getting the Iraqi's to sustain themselves without our help.

The other night my LT buddy and I were sitting outside, watching the Apache's fly overhead and listening to the artillery go out (at least, we always say its outgoing). We started talking about how far from home we are and what we're doing here. (I am 6,300+ miles from home, by the way). The conversation started off almost philosophically:
"Dude, do you know how far from home we are?” he asked me.
"6,322 miles", I replied.
"Yea, that’s far. What the hell are we doing here? Do you know how hard it would be for us to get home if there were no planes?"
I paused. "Probably close to a year. We'd most likely have to hump it up to the Mediterranean Sea, catch a freighter, and then sail the Oceans home."
He sighed deeply. "Yea. That would suck. Can you imagine being a roman back in the day? Or trying to get back to America at that time?"
"Yea, but if we were trying to get back to America then, we'd most likely be American Indians and we'd have no business here in the 1st place."
"True enough", he answered, and there ended our deep philosophical discussion.

After we pondered that for a minute, we started talking about whether what we're doing will have any benefit to us in the civilian world once we're done. I wished I could have answered him positively, but I just couldn't, really. He is a Construction Engineer, and I am a Chemical Engineer. We're both advising the Iraqi Army on logistics. We tried to find some benefits; he is heading up a major project to issue the entire Iraqi Army M-16s, and I am handling contracts totaling 100s of millions of US dollars. Still, it’s hard to say how that will help us advance to the next level in our civilian jobs. I personally feel like I've taken at least a two year step backward; the promotion I worked two years for was rescinded because I couldn't fill it due to my recall, and I was just notified recently that our plant is undergoing major layoffs. The layoffs shouldn't affect my job, since I am on military status, but I know it will probably take at least a year to get back to where I was before I left. That's not even getting into how people will feel that I still have a job because I was on military status. I know, and most people wont come out and say that, but realistically, deep down, some will be thinking it.

We ended the conversation on a positive, though. We are here doing what not many other people get an opportunity to do. We're basically helping to build an Army from the ground up and learning alot about ourselves and others in the process. Heck, if we ever go into consulting we will honestly be able to say that we have done consulting work under the harshest conditions and across seemingly insurmountable cultural differences. So we ended by saying that we were underglorified, underpaid consultants, and that if all else goes to crap, at least we have that. Yea . . . Sure . . .

The Onion

The honeymoon phase is over. We are slowly realizing that this place is sort of like an onion - everytime we peel away one layer, we discover another layer underneath - and they all make us want to cry. For example, a few posts ago I wrote about my frustration with the Iraqi major who insists on turning away all of the supplies before they even enter our compound. I couldn't figure out why he was so stringent on the quality of products, and it was driving me crazy. He was turning away perfectly good supplies for no reason! One day I'd finally had enough. In the 115 degree heat, we spent 45 minutes climbing in and out of trucks looking at what we were about to receive. Everything looked good to me, no different then what we'd get on the coalition side of base. The Iraqi's, however, didn't think so, and tried to turn the trucks away. After a heated argument, I made them allow the trucks in because I wasn't going to be responsible for jeopardizing the drivers’ safety. Seeing my frustration, one Iraqi that I trust pulled me aside and gave me some inside info, which was later verified through another source who came to me in confidence. Apparently, there are some Iraqi's here who demand bribes from the drivers in order to let them into our compound to deliver their supplies. Most drivers pay, because if they are turned away they face the repercussion of not being paid by their employer, with the added danger of having to drive the dangerous roads. So, now I have to figure out how to stop this. It seems to be a directive from some of the top officers, which makes changing the procedure difficult. Some people think it’s just a cultural thing and there is nothing we can do to stop it. Great attitude! Let’s promote corruption by taking the attitude that if we can’t stop it, ignore it! Well, I refuse to accept this and am currently looking for ways to catch them in the act. Easier said then done, though.

To further improve my morale, I learned the reason I was called up was due to gross personnel mismanagement by the reserve unit I am attached to. Here's the story, confirmed by the unit: When notified to deploy, the 104th scoured their list of qualified candidates and cross leveled and determined that they didn't have enough Captains to fill mission requirements. They put a request into Human resource Command (HRC), who proceeded to fill the unit needs by recalling the requested officers from the Inactive Ready Reserve. The rest is obviously history - I got my telegram and reported as ordered and here I am. Here's the catch, though. After receiving the requested fill from HRC, the 104th realized that they did in fact have enough officers to fill the mission. So, they contacted HRC and told them that the IRR recalls were no longer necessary because they had enough people. The response from HRC: Sorry, too late. You asked for them, so you got them. So what did the 104th do? They sent home their own people. *Note* - This happened while were still in Ft. Riley, so I try not to dwell on this too much, but I do find it disheartening at times, particularly when I talk to Rachael or my parents and think about how much I miss them. Oh well - just another stepping stone in life I guess. This time next year I'll be laughing at the situation and have an even further appreciation for all that I'm blessed with in life!

New friends

There are things I really missed about the military. One of the biggest things is the camaraderie that you tend to develop with your co-workers. This proved to be true again at Fort Jackson. In just a short time, a group of about 14 of us became fairly close friends. We are all captains, and we all got out for different reasons. We were from different branches - Logistics, Communications, Infantry, and Armor. Yet, we all ate together everyday; we hung out together at night, and when we had a free night, we went into town and had a good meal and some drinks. After a week, it seemed as if we all were old friends. The hardest part about going to Fort Lee was leaving these guys and girls. Luckily, 6 of us were going to Fort Lee together. Two more will go to separate places and re-join us at Fort Riley, where we are supposedly meeting up with the unit we will go to war with. Not so luckily, the others are going to completely different places, probably ending up in Afghanistan. We exchanged emails and phone numbers, and have kept good contact so far, but we all know it will never be the same. There are bonds formed between people who go through similarly tough situations, and everyone can relate somehow. The bonds you form with your teammates during pre-season conditioning; the bonds you form with co-workers on tough road trips; the bond you feel with your family after someone close to you dies. We all know that the bond will always remain, but it’s never the same as when you are toughing it out together. As a good friend likes to say, such is life.