Sunday, October 26, 2003

My phone rang early this morning, way before daybreak, alarmingly waking me from a sound sleep. It was one of our interpreters, informing me that the Rasheed Hotel had been attacked again, but she was all right. Visions of the explosions raced through my mind, knowing that I had been there just a few hours earlier for a late night swim.

My mind was also full of precautionary defense measures that might have been taken to prevent such an attack, not knowing how the explosion happened or who were the culprits. For all I knew, measures were taken but things just happen anyway here in Baghdad.

Every time I start to feel that things are settling down into some form of normalcy, I am reminded of the stark reality of this place. There is a constant concern for what might happen at any given moment not sure if we ever want to let our guard down.

The events on any given day can cover the full range of possibilities from the very worst to the very best that life can offer. Take yesterday for example. It was just another Saturday, not unlike any other day we might experience, long and busy.

The day started out early when I received a call from a Colonel in charge of a team tasked with determining our "Lessons Learned" from this conflict. He was leaving early in the morning but hoped to have a chance to talk before departing. He initially was interested in listening to my perspective regarding the lengthy process of getting the generals released but also had various other topics to inquire about.

I threw my clothes on without showering due to the lack of water in my trailer. We chatted candidly in my office as I shed light on numerous topics I felt he should know about, sparking his interest with each mention but pressed for time due to his scheduled departure. He asked me to follow up in email with him and said he had a plane to catch.

No sooner had he left then what was supposed to be a quiet day of mostly report writing turned into a jammed up day of activity. Source after source came in with hot information, needing immediate attention. One source called up saying he had just been in a car accident, but still needed to talk, hoping to get to me by some other means.

At noon I dashed out the door remembering another group of generals were scheduled to arrive out at the North gate. As I went through the checkpoint I noticed out of the corner of my eye two pilots, who were waiting to see me, with new information about large stockpiles of gold and money. I called up to the office to see if someone else couldn't come down to check them through.

I dashed out to the North gate to welcome 6 more of the generals I had been instrumental in acquiring their release. As with the first group of 6, they were all dressed up in their finest apparel, creating quite a contrast in my mind from the way I remember seeing them just a few months earlier. They looked great now all clean shaven, except for their mustaches, with fresh haircuts and a noticeably different twinkle in their eyes.

I embraced them one by one expressing my happiness in seeing them released now as free men. We joked and laughed, recalling funny times mutually shared at the POW camp. It was quite a moment one definitely I will never forget.

Other sources had also shown up now mixed in with the group of generals, looking in wonderment as if they were expecting to get a hug too, perhaps thinking this is how I greet all of my sources. Not wanting to leave them out, I complied with their expectation.

Up in my office the generals and I chatted about life since their release and reviewed what was now going to happen to them. One officer, who is partly responsible for rebuilding the new Iraqi military, spoke to them for about an hour, reviewing a variety of issues anticipating their questions and concerns.

Realizing that most of these men had driven for hours to arrive in Baghdad for this appointment, I decided it might be a good idea to have lunch together over at the Rasheed Hotel, where there is an Iraqi restaurant, with a pretty good selection of the indigenous cuisine.

With my interpreter in hand I grabbed the two waiting pilots and the 6 generals, loaded everyone on the Chief Wiggles Fun Bus and headed over to the restaurant. We had a great meal together, not that the food was that great but it was great having that time together to reminisce, to talk about their families and what might now become of them. 

On our return trip back to the North gate I told them to take a couple of toys, which I leave a few boxes off on the bus for such special occasions, home to their children (all of them have small children). The toys were like icing on a cake, really capping off a great reunion with the meeting, the food, and the toys for their kids. With a noticeable smile on their faces, we embraced one more time, we said our goodbyes and wished them all well in their new life.

As I pulled into the parking lot the mail truck was waiting for me with another load of about 25 boxes of toys from all of you. With the pilots assistance we tossed the boxes on to the bus, grateful for another bunch of toys to pass out.

We noticed as we walked into the palace that it was dinnertime already, people now waiting in line to get into the dining facility to partake of that fine delicious cuisine, others already well into devouring their meal. We decided to grab some ice cream as a special treat for all we had done so far that day.

I got a call from Chief Authentico wondering if by chance I was going out to the North Gate and if so would I take one of his sources out. Upon finishing the ice cream I had already received a call from the guards that the car-accident-source had finally arrived and needed to be escorted in from the North gate. 

On my way out, I decided to cheer up my happy-bus-passengers with a little Good Luck Genie, or Chief Wiggle activity, stopping along the way to pick up people along the side of the road. We picked up two guys carrying a propane tank, a mother and her children who had just been to the market, all carrying their loads on foot. I had my interpreter pass out toys to the kids before letting them off at their stops.

Bringing the car-accident source into the palace, I inquired if he had eaten anything all day, knowing that he hadn't I took him and his helpers in for dinner, the pilots also now hungry decided to join in.

After eating I called the Special Forces Team leader to join us in my office to review some new intel regarding the whereabouts of an individual on the most wanted list. They planned out their raid for the next night, going over the details and responsibilities of each person.

It was now about 9pm, the day nearly spent but not over. I was determined to go for a relaxing swim to unwind and decompress from the hectic days activities. Changing my clothes, I dashed out to the parking lot where I came upon one of our sources experiencing car trouble, so I paused to help him with his dead battery.

Ok, now I wasn't going to give up, even though it was now almost 10pm (the pool closes at 10), The Tennis Guy and I were still going to go swimming. We arrived right at 10, but the lifeguard agreed to let us swim a few laps, which totally elated us. Yes all things are possible.

As I dove into the cool waters of the unheated pool I felt as if the stress of the day was just washed away, allowing my heart and mind to slow down, as I felt invigorated with every stroke. The day was over, sleeping the only thing left to do, of course after listening to some music in the club for about an hour. Midnight and Good night.

That is how one normal day went for me. Each and every day being somewhat different as you can imagine, with all the variables we encounter here.

I have a good friend who is still down at the POW camp where I used to live who makes Ranger or SF bracelets out of 550-cord, which many of us have been wearing. Over time many of the young military police guards, seeing mine, have expressed an interest in obtaining one. Fortunately, my friend has continued to make them so that I can pass them out as a small gift to those desiring one.

The point of this is that even something so insignificant as a 550-cord bracelet, can have special meaning and be of great worth to some of our soldiers here. It becomes a token of appreciation and of gratitude for their willingness to serve. To man the post, to stand the watch, so that we might sleep at night knowing they are there.

You can imagine the danger the guards at the checkpoints or guard stations are placed in each day as they deal face to face with the Iraqi people, not knowing if the next person or next car will be the one that takes their life. We should all be grateful there are people like them to be on the wall watching out for our safety.

(Numerous explosions are going off around the city tonight as I type)

This evening I hooked up with a Canadian journalist who has a column in their national paper. She took three of us out to dinner, Baghdaddy, our Iraqi interpreter and myself, to get a glimpse of our world, the real side of the Iraqi story the way we see it. We all came to the conclusion that this is a very complicated situation, one where there is no easy fix or immediate solution.

Once she returns home she has promised a copy of her article to put on my site. It was great discussion and time well spent.

She was not necessarily interested in what my job is, but more about how I feel and what I think of being here. She is looking for the inner perspective, not the superficial news of another killing or another attack, the complicated-messy details of what we are really facing here. I am sure you will find it interesting reading, so hold tight till it comes out.