The Spirit of an American Warrior

Wounded U.S. Navy Seal Uses Appropriate Commo...

From Blackfive -- a daily must read for anyone interested in current military affairs.

You don't need my words to help you understand what this brave warrior is all about. America is built on generations of men and women who displayed such unimaginable strength in defense of liberty.

Yet, there are those in modern America--men and women who call themselves leaders (I call them Harry Reid, Nancy Pelosi and Jack Murtha)--who view men such as this not as brave warriors and heroes, but instead as victims or dupes. I dare any of those people to cross this threshold and emerge with their self-respect intact.

This Navy SEAL is representative of the courage of a new "Greatest Generation", and I am proud to serve in support of men like him, who fight quietly and larely in secret. They do so with determination that I can barely comprehend, but which is encompassed by the SEAL Trident found on the bottom of the warning order posted above.

From the SEAL Code:

In times of war or uncertainty there is a special breed of warrior ready to answer our Nation's call; a common man with uncommon desire to succeed. Forged by adversity, he stands alongside America's finest special operations forces to serve his country and the American people, and to protect their way of life. I am that man.

My Trident is a symbol of honor and heritage. Bestowed upon me by the heroes who have gone before, it embodies the trust of those whom I have sworn to protect. By wearing the Trident, I accept the responsibility of my chosen profession and way of life. It is a privilege that I must earn every day.

...

Brave men have fought and died building the proud tradition and feared reputation that I am bound to uphold. In the worst of conditions, the legacy of my teammates steadies my resolve and silently guides my every deed. I will not fail.

Gobble Gobble

Happy Thanksgiving from Bagh-town!

Here's a peek at my Thanksgiving Dinner. I was running late (thanks to a little Thanksgiving greeting in the form of nearly 20 mortars that destroyed the non-tactical vehicle we use on the FOB, the first indirect fire attack since before Ramadan in September. Fortunately, no serious injuries were reported.) and had to sneak into the galley just after the doors closed at 8PM in order to secure my piece of Americana....and pumpkin pie.

"Dear Occupiers and Infidels...

Enjoy your Thanksgiving Dinner.

Hugs, Mookie al-Sadr."

In the eternal battle of Shrapnel vs. Suburban...shrapnel wins.

Thankfully, we have something better than GEICO. We have KBR!

Nonetheless, I managed to grab a plate of some of the basics--turkey, ham, stuffing, and cornbread--as the food was being put away! Sadly, no baked corn in sight. We even were offered the choice of eating from a plate with silverware, instead of the usual plastic. What the heck, it's a holiday, right, so why not live it up. Sadly, I had to eat by myself, as I had told my guys to go ahead and eat since I was locked down in my compound for nearly three hours, couldn't get out--thanks, Mookie (al-Sadr)--and didn't want them to miss dinner (cue the pitiful music).

The folks who work in the galley, most of whom are from India and Sri Lanka, really go out of their way on holidays--so thanks, fellas. I appreciate your service here, too!

A former colleague wrote to me yesterday. We don't communicate very often, but when I hear from Angela, there is a depth of compassion and sincerity in her writing that moves me. I know she is not a supporter of the war, but she is one of the few who is capable of supporting the warrior nonetheless. Yesterday, Angela wrote to me that:

It brings to mind the comment you shared when you wrote earlier about the military being at war while the rest of America was at the Mall. On Thanksgiving and everyday, I am grateful for your commitment, sense of duty and willingness to serve. Thank you, and thank you to all the men and women who serve (and have served) this country in uniform. Continued blessings, Angela.

Many of my friends and family ask what I would like for Christmas, and seem frustrated when I say there isn't anything that I need. But I have a suggestion. It's pretty simple, really. All that I want, and need, is nothing more than what Angela expressed to me in her note. But not for me alone.

When you see a man or woman in uniform, say "Thank you for your service." That's all it takes. Nothing more, nothing less. I don't know a single man or woman who wears the uniform that doesn't appreciate those 5 words. As they say in the Army..."too easy!"

Happy Thanksgiving, friends. I hope that you are blessed this year as I have been by the gift of our friendship.

Cautious Optimism

Even the American media are beginning to report what those of us on the ground here in Iraq have been saying for months.

Change is definitely in the air.

The exact cause, whether the quiet will hold, and whether the Iraqi government and its citizens can maximize the opportunity the quiet presents are the questions.

These media reports mirror what I hear every day from the Iraqi staff that I work with. For many, they are cautiously optimistic that change is in fact happening, and that the current lull is actually something more. But, after nearly 5 years of indiscriminate violence, my Iraqi friends seem almost afraid to voice their hope, in fear that doing so will shatter what little hope they have for peace.

For the Americans, the question front and center at home appears to be how to parlay play any possibility of military success into political advantage in both the short term budget process (which is being used by the Democrats to try to force withdrawal) and in the upcoming 2008 elections. It's clear that for those who oppose the war, the possibility of military success is an almost untenable event. It undermines their narrative, and makes Americans ask if they, in fact, have been wrong, and have put politics above victory. Ask yourself, is it possible to imagine the leadership on the left saying "Less than a year ago, we declared the mission, the war, and the fight over. Lost. We stand before you to say that we were wrong. Our military men and women have brought to Iraq what we didn't think possible."

Won't happen.

Ever.

Instead, the rhetoric of troops as victims will continue, and they will make token acknowledgement of military progress, while saying that without political progress, it is meaningless. Of course, it is incumbent on the Iraqi government to make something out of the quiet that has been handed to them at the cost of Iraqi and American blood. But, isn't it possible to do that, and still admit to Americans what most of here can see with our own eyes?

I mean, if the American media is starting to get it...how far behind can Democrats be?

From the most recent Newsweek: Baghdad Comes Alive

"For the first time in years, the Iraqi capital is showing signs of life. But the calm is all too fragile, and it's an opportunity the government cannot afford to miss."

The author writes:

"For the first time, however, returning to Baghdad after an absence of four months, I can actually say that things do seem to have gotten better, and in ways that may even be durable. "It's hard to believe," says a friend named Fareed, who has also gone and come back over the years to find the situation always worse, "but this time it's really not." Such words are uttered only grudgingly by those such as me, who have been disappointed again and again by Iraq, where a pessimist is merely someone who has had to endure too many optimists. "

And from the New York Times: U.S. Says Attacks in Iraq Fell to Feb. 2006 Level

"The American military said Sunday that the weekly number of attacks in Iraq had fallen to the lowest level since just before the February 2006 bombing of the Shiite shrine in Samarra, an event commonly used as a benchmark for the country’s worst spasm of bloodletting after the American invasion nearly five years ago. Data released at a news conference in Baghdad showed that attacks had declined to the lowest level since January 2006. It is the third week in a row that attacks have been at this reduced level."

Baghdad Jedida

New Baghdad Courthouse--Civil and Family Court

Today, I headed out to New Baghdad section of Baghdad, otherwise known as 9 Nisan, or Baghdad Jedidah. New Baghdad is adjacent to Sadr City to the southeast--the courthouse itself is about a mile from Muqtada-town, as we call it. The area is mixed Sunni-Shia, but the criminal court and its investigative judges moved to Sadr City more than a year ago, making equal protection under the law a questionable right of justice for the Sunni who must have their cases prosecuted there. The Court is moving into another rented facility nearby in the next few months.

New Baghdad is a Court of First Instance and Personal Status Court, or what we would call civil and family court. Most civil and family courts are very busy, with lots of Iraqis coming to formalize weddings and births before the court, settle business disputes, and property transactions, for example. It is also in the family courts where most women lawyers practice.

A couple walking from the Courthouse holding hands. Public displays of affection between men and women are rare, but I understand this couple mostly likely just registered their marriage or the birth of a child.

Some of the senior lawyers at the court were very wary of us, and one tried to prevent us from speaking to them without the permission of the "Chief Lawyer of all of Iraq." When I responded with "You mean Aswad al-Minshidi, the president of the Iraqi Bar? He is a very good friend, and has invited us to speak to his lawyers wherever we find them." the guy shut-up and let us in (not that he could have stopped us, but we’re not there to go kicking in doors…there are other guys around for that).

The local area is heavily influenced by Jaysh al-Madhi (JAM—Sadr's militia), which I suspect is the reason some lawyers were hesitant to speak with us, and none wanted their photos taken. That’s not to say that the lawyers were JAM—although they may have been—but JAM has its eyes and ears everywhere, and they have simply feared being seen “cooperating” with American forces.

In front of every Courthouse are "notaries"--people who draft pleadings and other legal documents. This notary has nothing more than a typewriter, a folding table and a plactic chair, but he's out there doing business every day, trying to make a living.

We found that our discussion the lawyers at the Court was not as robust as it often is. Usually, the lawyers flood us, and are eager to talk with us about the challenges of lawyering in modern Iraq. I left the room, thinking that it was perhaps my presence in uniform with weapons that was complicating the matter. When I came back after wandering the courthouse grounds taking pictures of the court’s security measures and talking with some of the Iraqis coming to the court, I found my civilian counterpart swamped with a large circle of Iraqi barristers, all making their case.

I stayed awake for this?

Michigan State 35
Penn State 31

Are there anyone Penn Staters left who cannot honestly state that it is time for a top to bottom retooling of the football program? From a season of serious disappointment on the field and gross misconduct by too many of our athletes, it's time for change.

Maybe it's just because its 3AM, have to be on duty in 4 hours, and that I stayed awake to listen to PSU throw away another victory, and settle contentedly into the fog of mediocrity in the middle of the Big Televen pack, where we are happy to let the occasional wave of being kind of, sort OK carry us into the Capital One Bowl every couple of years.

It's time, Joe. Retirement is calling your name. And sadly, it's being called by so many of who have so much respect for you. You have done more for college football, and for doing things the "right way", than any other coach in the game. But it is not solely about you, and, frankly, it doesn't seem like Penn State does it the "right way" anymore.

Success with honor? Not lately, at least not in the football program.

I'm hanging my head, because for the first time in my many years of being a Penn State fan, I can't even point to "honor" as a point of pride when looking for a bright spot in a bad season. It used to be possible to defend your staying when we had a clean program...but sadly, we have more thugs on scholarship than Miami or Florida State could ever dream of.

And we still lose.

Final Mission: The Journey Home

Early this afternoon, the military men and women of the 86th Combat Support Hospital, which shares the compound where I work, line the road and rooftops and render a salute as a helicopter carrying the remains of our battle dead depart the International Zone, beginning the journey to their place of final rest, as two more helicopters bearing wounded are inbound in the distance.

The soldier was an Army lieutenant, killed when his Stryker vehicle put itself between a fast approaching car that would not respond to the Stryker's direction to stop, and the other military vehicles very close to an International Zone checkpoint. The car was in fact a VBIED (vehicle-borne improvised explosive device), which exploded on impact with the Stryker at 8AM yesterday, killing the LT, two Iraqi citizens, and wounding an American severely. The explosion was only about 1/2 mile from my worksite, and shook the building.

The situation in Baghdad is greatly improved--but we must remember that we are still at war.

Remember our warriors, and these brave doctors and nurses.

Honor our fallen. They are our mission.

(Click on the photos--you will be able to see more clearly the military rendering a salute of honor.)

Baghdad on Fire

Setting Sun over Western Baghdad, 13 November 2007.

Ready for Work

It's hard to believe that it's been a year this week since I last suited up for work at VACO. Forget the suit, tie, and occasional cuff links, this is standard business attire for me these days. It almost looks like they're starting to make a soldier out of this sailor. (Of course, there were days at VA when I felt like I needed body armor and Kevlar, not to mention a rifle and pistol...)

I began my mobilization and pre-deployment training in October of last year, and it's hard to believe how quickly the days and weeks are passing. This week, I said good-bye to the Air Force contingent from my battalion as they began to rotate home following their six-month deployment. These airmen were a fine group, and among them I count my closest friends. They have done the Air Force proud, even if they can't hang and do a full year deployment like their sister services!

(This picture is from this morning, just before rolling out of the IZ en route to a police station in eastern Baghdad. )

Faces of Iraq--An Iraqi Policeman

If I can do anything while I am here, I hope it is to put a human face on Iraq for people at home--to make Iraq more than news clips of bombings and body counts. To that end, I'm starting to write a series called "Faces of Iraq". I hope that Faces of Iraq will bring more context to the war, and to the lives of Iraqis, than the American media or our policiticians seem able to. Ironically, in many cases, including today's post, for their own safety, I can't actually show you the face of the person I'm writing about.

To start, me tell you about Ali, an Iraqi policeman we met at a police station in the Rusafa district of eastern Baghdad during a normal security assessment visit. I was speaking to his police chief, a colonel, when he brought Ali in to meet us. Ali, 24 and a veteran of the Iraqi army, was working as a patrol officer at this station when he suffered a devasting-injury in an insurgent attack. 2 months ago, this part of Baghdad was in one of the "hottest" areas of the city(north of downtown, along a bend in the river, and just adjacent to Medical City), and a stronghold of al-Qaeda in Iraq (AQI), Sunni militias and criminal gangs. The area is better now—not great—but, better. The police tell us that while the number of sectarian murders is dropping quickly, they are being replaced by what we would call organized crime and criminal gangs, with the attendant murder, racketeering, and intimidtion tactics that accompany them. Kidnapping is a favored tactic of these thugs--which is almost always followed by execution of the victims regardless of the payment of ransom. This state of affairs is viewed as progress, which is testimony to both how desparte the situation was, and how far it has to go in parts of the city.

Even still, the nearby al-Fadl area remains out of bounds for Iraqi security forces, especially the police, with Sunni gangs and militias running it like their own fiefdom. The al-Shorja market is also nearby. One of the city’s largest markets, al-Shorja runs the length of downtown Baghdad, almost parallel to the Tigris. It’s surrounded by blast walls to keep it safe, and one of the Iraqis who works in our office said that it is very busy, although mostly with men shopping alone without families. It’s when men start to bring their families that you will know that things are improving significantly.

Battle-scarred area home to Ali's police station in the Rusafa district of central Baghdad.

Four months ago, during a patrol with his partner, a series of two bombs exploded in a local cafe. The first explosion drew in people and security forces, like Ali, trying to help when the second exploded, killing many more. In all, 11 were killed, including Ali's partner and friend. Ali lost most of left arm, amputated above the elbow, a good deal of hearing, received glass in his eyes, and shrapnel over his body. Ali's colonel wanted us to meet him so that we could see the face of the men fighting for Iraq's future.

When we first met, Ali looked terribly frightened. I don't know if it was the stress of being called by his colonel in front of 4 Americans, but he had a vacant, shell shocked, alost haunted look on his face. He spoke to us about the bombing and what he has endured since. Because of the inadequacy of the medical care at the public hospital, his family moved him to a private clinic. To date, he has spent over 3 million Iraqi dinar on medical treatment, with no relief from the government in sight. Ali fought like the soldier he was trained to be, and wonders why he is not now eligible for care at the military hospital because he simply now wears a police uniform.

When we returned to the IZ following that first meeting, I went to the Ministry of Defense-run prosthetic clinic in our compound, and they agreed to see and treat Ali. Sunday morning, I met him at the IZ entry control point, and we went to the clinic. There, with the assistance of an American technical advisor, using state of the art equipment, they scanned his arm to fit him for a prosthesis, which, insha'allah, will be ready in about 2 weeks. They will continue to assist him with rehab and to be sure that it fits well and he knows how he can use it.

After 4 hours in the clinic, Ali left with smiles and thanks for the Americans, for reaching out to help, and not just promising, with no delivery. Still, he could not take with him a copy of the photos you see above--he simply couldn't be found in the red zone with pictures of himself with Americans. And when we got close to the gate out of the IZ, we only walked so far, so that he would not be seen by other Iraqis leaving with Americans. (The bad guys do watch the IZ entry control points, to find Iraqis who work with the Coalition to target as collaborators.)

In spite of that, the empty expression that we saw at our first meeting was replaced with a smile, helped along by our very affable interpreter William, who put him at ease immediately and kept him talking throughout his visit. Ali and his wife are expecting a baby soon, a welcome blessing after his first child died of an infection at four months. Soon, Ali will go before a medical review board to determine his eligibility to remain in the police service. He has asked me to write a letter to the Baghdad Provincial Director of Police to vouch for his dedication and service. I will be honored to do it.

I hear American politicians say that we should draw our forces out of Iraq, since it doesn't seem that Iraqis are willing to fight to secure the promise of the their own liberty.

I challenge any one of those same politicians to stand beside Ali, and so many more like him, and dare to say that again.

Lasching Out at Joe--What do you think?

A friend sent me this post from LaschOut: Lasching out from Behind the Blue and White Curtain. (The "Lasch" of course comes from Lasch Hall, the HQ of the football program.) The thesis is that the game has passed Joe Paterno by, and nothing exemplifies that more than Penn State's performace in Ann Arbor last weekend.

Here's a nuggest to give you an idea of where the author is going:

I respect Joe Paterno. He can never be thanked enough for what he has done
for our fine University. Unfortunately he has become his own worst enemy
and now is hanging on to well, just hang on. He's a stubborn old man that
doesn't know what else to do with his life. He should be spending time
with his wife, children and grandchildren. Instead he has chosen to
continue "coaching" which these days seems to only consist of screaming at
officials and Mike McQueary. Perhaps Mike should simply hand Joe the
headset and remind the old coach that it's his son up in the press box calling
the plays. Of course Joe can't scold Jay; otherwise he'll be sleeping on
the couch when he gets home.

I post this simply for the sake of argument, and with the notation that "I'm not there, yet." But, the author does make some compelling statements about the overall direction of the Penn State program, and our ongoing ability to compete at the elite level.

Where I do buy into the author's premise is underuitilization of talent. Even in the dark years of the early 2000s, Penn State could still bring in the quality recruits, but seemed unable to produce much with them after they arrived. I'm no football technician, but I know enough to know that raw talent that never develops is the fault of the coaching, not the talent itself. It's for this reason that I understand why players like Chad Henne choose Michigan over PSU.

Let me be clear that there is much about "modern" college football that Penn State should do everything in its power to not aspire to. We have already ventured down the slope of over commercialization, and at times, while I love the new energy in Beaver Stadium, it sounds more like a concert than a football game. (Is it just me, or was listening to the Blue Band just fine for a Saturday afternoon?)

On a side note, the level of money-driven sports mania, which the University happily cashes in on, was recently brought home, or I should say to Baghdad, when I had to pay $9.95/month for "All Access" internet coverage via the official Penn State Sports website. All so that I could listen to streaming audio of the games while I'm in Iraq putting my tail on the line for all the millions of people who can listen for FREE on the radio at home. Of course, I paid. I didn't even really think about it very hard. That's how deep they have their claws (paws?) into me.

Loyalty to individuals is a value to be cultivated, not tossed aside when it becomes inconvenient. If that is Joe's greatest trangression, that so be it. Remember that there were many who criticized Joe for standing by Rashard Casey. And, Joe was in the right.

So, have a read. It does make you think.

For the glory,
Rob

Michigan 14--PSU 9

( S I G H )

They simply have our number, and again, we beat ourselves. But unlike 2005, there aren't calls that went a little too far the Michigan way, or mysterious seconds being added to the clock.

There were just critical fumbles, and lackluster playcalling.

And an amazing defensive performance. Again. Talk about heroes.

I had been so good all week. I didn't talk smack. I respectfully read Michigan blogs to see what they were saying, and noted a quiet unease about this match-up. Normally, I would have put a sign on my desk that changed every day that starts "Ann Arbor is (fill in the blank)." For example, Ann Arbor is...a girl I would never take home to my mother.

But this week, nothing. I was nervous about this game, and in the end, it came out much as I expected. I warned my friend Morris not to invest heavily on PSU with his sports entertainment broker (you may know that as a bookie), but he didn't listen to me, and lost big.

But still, this morning I woke up in Baghdad, and unlike most of the 5 million people in this city, could take a hot shower, relax in air conditioning, and have an easy commute to my office. And as I type this entry, I just felt the not-too-distant thud, and felt the concussion, of what was probably a car bomb. No sign of smoke from the windows, so perhaps, insha'allah, it was my imagination.

It sort of puts things in perspective. (Or maybe that's just my post-game day coping mechanism!)

More later on my Sunday morning activities.

Which one of these guys is not named Haider?

One of these guys is a Scots-Irish Presbyterian. I wonder which one?

Three of theses guys are named Haider, a very common Shia name. We all work together here in Baghdad, and in order to know which Haider is which, we jokingly refer to them as Wahid, Thain, and Thalatha (1, 2, and 3). But every morning when we greet each other, and each night as the close of the day, we call each other "my brother." To say "my friend" would be insulting to the Haiders, and I am honored to do be able to think of them as brothers.

This photo was taken two days ago, as we went to lunch in an Iraqi restaurant to celebrate our work together, and to welcome the coming of Ramadan, which starts today.

But sadly, I can't show you their faces.

Doing that could get them killed.

If you ask an Iraqi, whom do you trust? The answer will almost invariably be "No one."

Two of the Haiders live in the same neighborhood, all are Shia, yet it was months before they would tell each other exactly where they lived. The level of trust here is nonexistent, and many Iraqis now rarely share personal information with people not well-known to them. And I know that I, at the risk of seeming uninterested, am cautious about asking.

Many of our staff carry two pieces of identification--one with a Sunni name, and another Shia. A young woman that used to work with us as a translator had an identification card that listed her place of residence as Sadr City, the penultimate address if trying to prove your Shia bona fides.

NYT Graphic--Assesing the Surge: A Survey of Baghdad Neighborhoods

The following link takes you to a recent New York Times interactive graphic map of Baghdad and its neighborhoods and districts. It's an interesting snapshot of where Baghdad stands today, and how the city has changed and is changing.

Have a look at my neighbors, and draw your own conclusions.

An important day for the United States and Iraq, but is it for Iraqis?

Women Shopping in al-Kadhamiya, a largely Shia district on the west-bank of the Tigris. (Photo by Rob)

Friends,

As I write this, I am watching the beginning of Congressional hearings during which GEN Patraeus and Ambassador Crocker will testify to the military and political progress here in Iraq. I will let these men of honor speak for themselves, as it is simply not possible for me to communicate to you in the comprehensive manner the CG and Ambassador will, the state of Iraq today, and the implication for our future military and diplomatic engagement here.

In recent weeks, I have had the great honor to listen to both men speak to a small group of servicemen and diplomats. They are compelling in their assessment of progress and failure, and I have no doubt will speak with candor about Iraq's future, and America's role in securing it.

All that I can ask of our Congress is this: listen. Listen clearly. Listen intelligently. Listen critically.


And for a moment, put the interest of our nation ahead of the interests of your party and and ahead of your own personal ambition.

And while Americans have been waiting for months for "the Patraeus report," for Iraqis, it's simply Monday. While long aware that September has been put forward as a month of decision about the future of the United States in Iraq, for the Iraqis I work with, it's another day to negotiate rush hour in this car-choked city, to be concerned about providing for family, to take joy in the preparations for Ramadan, which will begin Wednesday, and to pray for their safety, and for a peaceful future.

The choas of central Baghdad traffic. Before 2003, very few owned personal vehicles. (Photo by Rob)

In the heart of the battle-scared Bab al-Muadam neighborhood, near Medical City, al-Rusafa. (Photo by Rob)

Normal people; normal lives, at least for Iraq. But set those normal lives against the backdrop of Baghdad in September 2007. In the short term, for the millions who call Baghdad home, how important is today?

Penn State-Notre Dame...Final Thoughts

(Touchdown) Jesus Wept

I think that basically sums it up.

I'm looking forward to Penn State's trip to Ann Arbor in two weeks, but as Wisconsin and Michigan both demonstrate, never take your eye off that next non-conference opponent, which for us is Buffalo. They might surprise you.

And while I am trying to remain focused on what's at hand next weekend, I thought I'd share with you some of the more creative headlines from the Michigan football media:

Maize and Boo; or,

Angst Arbor; or, my personal favorite....

CARR WRECK!

PSU 31 -- ND 10. Need I Say More?

Welcome to the White House!

That's why they call us "Linebacker U"!

The Face of Penn State Football--Success with Honor!

(Photos courtesy of The Football Letter, Penn State University Alumni Association)

Probably not, but I might just have to gloat a little...but later. It's 0530 and I have to be ready for duty in 2 hours.

Thanks Joe, the 110,078 fans in Beaver Stadium, and all the Nittany Lions. You brought pure joy to my little corner of the war this morning!

FOR THE GLORY!

Rob

Does this make me a fan?

It's 1:20AM here in Bag-city, and I'm awake, showered, rested (not really, but I keep hoping that if I say that I am, I'll start to believe it), and ready to head over to the Palace to watch Penn State take on Notre Dame, or as I call it, the Greater South Bend Parochial School for Troubled Youth.

I have been pretty quiet about this game all week, other than my mid-week gloat at the Domers loss to Georgia Tech, which, as the brother of an Tech alumna (I almost said the brother of a Ramblin' Wreck, but that just didn't sound right..sorry Jules), I am perfectly entitled to do without upsetting my college football karma.

I have absolutely no connection to Appalachian State, so for my snarky finger-pointing at Mee-choke-in's loss to the Mountaineers, I assume all risks.

Speaking of which, thanks, once again, to the wi-fi gods, I see that Michigan is having it handed to them by Oregon as the second half comes to a close. I have no claim on the Ducks, but I do have an Uncle that calls Portland home, even though he has been living in Korea for five years, and I spent a day in Medford and a night in Portland last summer. My connection to Oregon is attenuated at best, but not so much so as to put Penn State at risk tonight...insha'allah.

Honestly, I have been so excited, and nervous, about this game, and finally unleashed my Penn State pride yesterday, when I subjected everyone in my section to the rousing sounds of the Blue Band. Sadly, the music only seemed to rouse me, while amusing a couple of people, and seriously annoying others, who asked if they were going to have to listen to this all season long. For those who voiced annoyance, I threatened to voice the lyrics to every Penn State fight song known to man, or at least to me. (One of the annoyed is a Nebraska fan, who grudgingly remembers the most famous Penn State-Nebraska game in history, 1982. That instant classic featured Mike McCloskey's catch on the the Nebraska 2-yard line, demonstrated the use of our "creative" sidelines in Beaver Stadium's south end zone, and set Penn State up for its first national championship. And, at the same time, knocked the Huskers out of the running for the national title. My reminding him that Nebraska stole the 1994 championship right out from under our nose didn't seem to help. Lucky for me, he's a civilian and can't carry a weapon.)

Finally, today was my day to bust out my favorite Penn State hat around the office--my 15-year old, beat-up, broken-in, been around the world from Altoona to Afghanistan, Harrisburg to Hong Kong, Baltimore to Bahrain to Baghdad, favorite hat.

There's being nervous and cool about a game before it happens, and then there's me today. Call me overly superstitious, or blinded by the fog or war, or whatever you like, but, being mindful of my promise not the rock the football karma boat, I was playing it extra safe. Towering over one of the main streets here in the IZ is the Jerusalem Gate, topped with a replica of Jerusalem’s golden Dome of the Rock. The dome on that gate is G-O-L-D gold, my Penn State brothers and sisters, and it's been taunting me all week. I can see it from my duty station at work, and we have to drive under it to go just about anyplace. Today, I had to run over to the Al Rasheed hotel for a meeting, and I made the person who I was driving with stop, so that I could get out of the truck and walk around the dome and be picked up on the other side...there was no way that I was walking under that thing today.

Why has that thing been following me around all week!?!

My Iraqi friends just look at me like they don't get it, and with what they face just to come to work every day, I can't blame them. BUT, I do have to remind them that we had to take cover when the Iraqi national soccer team won the Asian Cup in late July because half of Baghdad decided that shooting AK-47s up in the air is more fun than clapping and cheering. Let's hope that doesn't catch on in Beaver Canyon.

So, off I go...seriously, it's almost 2AM, and I'm going to start watching the Penn State Nittany Lions whack around that little Irish dude with the funny hat and pointy shoes. And I'm going to go out and wade through a sand storm that's been blowing for about 36 hours to do it. (Take my word for it; napalm in the morning has nothing on a lung-full of Baghdad's best grit).

To Bag-town's own Golden Dome, I say "bring it on", and we'll see who's taunting whom in the morning. (Of course that "bring it on" thing hasn't worked out so well for us in Iraq...but too late, I said it.)

FOR THE GLORY!
Rob

I ask for so little, so please, allow me this one small thing

When 2 pillars of the Axis of College Football Evil go down in flames, I just can't help myself.

Appalachian State 34
Michigan 32

Georgia Teach 33
Notre Dame 3



Throw in a Free Shoes University (FSU) loss, which brings Joe back to within 2 of Bobby Bowden's win total, and it was a good weekend, indeed.

How to Make a Sailor in the Desert Happy...

Really, it's not that complicated. Add one part Penn State football, add access to the internets, fold in streaming audio of the Penn State Sports Networks and the mellifluous voice of Steve Jones' play-by-play, and I’m really one just one happy guy right now. Penn State Football 2007 is underway, and I'm listening live!

Which brings me back to one of my original questions when I started out on this mission last spring...how did people go to war without wi-fi?

Here I sit, in Baghdad, separated by deserts, oceans, time zones, lacking only tailgating and funnel cake, listening to the live broadcast of Penn State's season opener against Florida International. Without wi-fi how would I hear with my own ears, from more than 6,000 miles away, the roar erupting from Beaver Stadium as the announcer rouses the crowd of 108,000 with news that Mee-shee-gun is losing to Appalachian State 28-17? (Honestly, it's the small things like Michigan going down in flames that can bring joy to this military man's war-hardened heart!)

The guys I serve with are only beginning to understand the depth of my passion for college football, and I have counseled them that they will either come to love or hate Penn State by the time the season is over. Seriously, it's all in fun, it's (almost) never personal. It's simply something to get excited about and something to mark the passing of each week while I’m serving here in Iraq.

But most importantly, it’s something that ties me to friends and family, and that’s probably why I’m feeling it so much this year.

For my family, it's not just about going to Penn State, which every member of my family did. For us, it's about home. We moved to State College from Pittsburgh in August 1976 when my Dad left private industry and went to work for an academic research lab at Penn State. I was 10, and remember that we got to town too late that summer for him to purchase season tickets through the university as a faculty member. We answered an ad in the Centre Daily Times, and my folks bought two season tickets in the old north end zone. My first game with my Dad was the Penn State-Ohio State game that season, and it was only the first of many we have attended together. I remember PSU being trounced by some little school called Miami in 1979, and being there for Curt Warner's first breakout game.

Growing up in State College was a wonderful gift. Penn State's campus was like the nighborhood park for us, and as kids, we were pretty much free to enjoy donwtown State College in the same way that suburban kids roam the malls.

I'm sad that I won't be there this year to enjoy a day under a crisp autumn sky with you this year, Dad. But as I listen, I know you're there in the stadium cheering on the Blue and White from your seats in section WG just like you have for nearly 30 years. And I’m pretty sure that I heard a loud “boo, ref!” on that questionable interference call in the second half.

The Future of Iraq

I took these pictures today while on a mission in the Adhamiya district of Baghdad -- north of the Green Zone, on the east bank of the Tigris. We dismounted our vehicles and had to walk several blocks to access the civil courthouse, where we were to meet the judge and talk with lawyers practicing at the court. Adhamiya is the oldest part of Baghdad, and predominantly Sunni. This was our 7th attempt to visit this courthouse--previous efforts had been scrubbed due to security.

After we got back to the Green Zone this afternoon, I showed the pictures to an Iraqi national who works on our staff. Iraqis can sometimes (or most of the time!) be pretty dramatic, but what he shared with me is important, and so I thought I would share it with you.

He said,

"Look at those faces, at those children. They are the future of Iraq. Remember them in everything you do here. And remember, that in Adhamiya, one of the most dangerous places for Americans in Baghdad, the children greeted you with smiles."

Penn State Football 2007

Welcome to my autumnal obsession -- Penn State football. With every passing year, my inner Penn Stater grows stronger. And it seems even more so this year, probably compounded by the distance between Haifa Street in Baghdad and College Avenue in my hometown, State College, PA. It's also heightened by the fact that fall is without question my favorite season -- there is simply no better place than State College on a crisp, cool October day. So for me, obsessing about the Blue and White is a way of connecting to my home, and all the great things about growing up in such an incredible place. I miss it. And I will miss getting to at least one game with my Dad, like I do every year. So here's my video tribute -- the annual pre-season stadium video!

Welcome Back!

Where have I been?

That's a welcome back to me -- and an apology for being so blog-deficient for nearly 2 months.

What is truly amazing about this adventure, is the speed at which time flies by. Days very quickly turn into weeks and months -- all with some degree of confusion about how many days and weeks have acutally passed. One of my colleagues remarked shortly after we arrived in theater that "I have no idea what day it is, but I know it must be time to eat." Meals seem to be an even that marks the movement of the clock, and more often than not, are a social event. I can't even begin to count the number of times that I have joined in with a group to grab chow, when I wasn't even really hungry. But, given the wide menu of entertainment options here in downtown Bag-city, a visit to the DFAC usually fits the bill.

So, what have I been up to since I last posted in June?

Answer? Sweating. A lot.

Seriously, Iraq is hot. Even the Iraqis think it's too hot. As I have said so many times before, the next time we invade and occupy a country, can we think about one that's a little more temparate? Canada, for instance. I was just there, and if nothing else, it's certainly very pleasant...and cool.

Speaking of Canada, in addition to sweating, I was also spending an incredible 15 days on R&R. With travel to and from Iraq added in, I was gone for 3 weeks, and only arrived back 2 days ago. Being at home was just perfect. My parents and sister and nieces were at the airport in State College, PA to meet my plane when it arrived, complete with flags and a welcome home sign! After spending almost a week in State College, I spent 8 nights in Seattle and Vancouver, touring the cool, green Pacific Northwest.

Rob at the Queen Anne overlook, Seattle.

At Rialto Beach on the Pacific, Olympic National Park, near Forks, WA.

On top of Mt. Rainier!

Whistler Peak, British Columbia, Canada. Site of the 2010 Winter Olympic Games

Now that my body clock is more or less in sync with the clock on the wall, and I'm actually sleeping when it's dark outside, inside of daylight, it's time to get back down to business. (Note to self: Maybe 4 Tylenol PMs for the 14 hour plane ride to Kuwait was a little over the top.) I just have to take a couple of more days and remember exactly what that business is.

But take a minute and just look at those pictures...what an incredibly beautiful country we are blessed to live in. After being just 4 months in a country where the predominant color is brown, and all its lovely shades of tan and beige, the blues and greens of home were almost overwhelming. It's not just the breathtaking Pacific Northwest, but the gentle hills and mountains of my own Central Pennsylvania have the own peaceful beauty about them. And Canada is pretty ok, too.

Further contributing to my blog-avoidance behavior is that I have been writing in my journal quite a bit at night. In my journal, I can write about things that I simply can't post on an open forum, and for me, it's been a very important means of sorting through all that I see and do in the course of my work, and all that I read and hear in the news media about Iraq.

Those who know me well, know that I am very concerned about the level of civic discourse in the United States about the war. Our leaders in Congress, and the commentators and talking heads that appear in the media, too often present choices that are at one extreme or the other, failing to realize that most Americans know that the reality is somewhere in between. Yet, our leaders continue to offer us nothing more than all in or all out as the options, and fail to appreciate that as Americans we can not only understand that the situtation here in Iraq is far more complicated than those choices allow, but also that so many want a serious assessment of what is really happening here. I'll post more about that shortly, and about what I found in my conversations with people at home, but in a nutshell, if I can give a quick assessment, it's that Americans are simply hungry for straight talk about Iraq from all sides--they just want to know, what is really happening.

So, I'll close for today simply by saying that it is good to be back in Bagtown. Seriously, it is. What motivates me here is knowing that I have an important mission to accomplish. After being at home, I'm further motivated by the encouragement and good wishes of so many Americans who want us to succeed. With an eye toward next spring when this deployment will come to a close, I'll do my best to honor those good wishes, make a difference here, and come home safely.

You know it's hot when....

...the dogs are wearing shoes because the pavement is sizzling!

I love this pup. There are a LOT of working dogs here in Iraq -- for all the obvious reasons. Most are pretty tough looking woofers that you really wouldn't want to mess with.

But this little guy is different.

Not only is he just not the least bit ferocious looking but...he's wearing BOOTIES to keep his pads from burning on the hot asphalt. No wonder he looks so much happier than his handler (who I cropped out of the photo).

Last week we had some relief from the early summer heat. I think the high was 112. It looks like we're headed for another week consistently in the 115-117 range.

Saturday. Sunny. Extremely hot, Breezy. Temperature of 117°F. Winds 19mph NW. Humidity will be 5% with a dewpoint of 27° and comfort level of 108°F. There is a 0% chance of precipitation. High: 117°F Low: 84°F

Sunday. Sunny. Extremely hot, Breezy. Temperature of 117°F. Winds 16mph NW. Humidity will be 6% with a dewpoint of 30° and comfort level of 108°F. There is a 0% chance of precipitation. High: 117°F Low: 88°F

Monday. Sunny. Extremely hot, Dry. Temperature of 115°F. Winds 12mph W. Humidity will be 8% with a dewpoint of 37° and comfort level of 108°F. There is a 0% chance of precipitation. High: 115°F Low: 88°F

(Do you get the opinion that being a weatherman in Iraqi ain't such a tough gig?)

We were definitely up there today. When it's hot like this I can actually feel the heat on my skin through my uniform. And, for what it's worth, you really do need those big sunglasses I'm sporting (see pic in previous post)...not because they look cool, which they definitely don't, and not just because they were issued to me, which they were.

But only because they're Oakleys, and who can turn down free Oakleys. (Thank you, taxpayers!)

Seriously...the air here is so dry, and so hot, that without the wrap around Oakleys, it feels like someone is pointing a hot blow-dryer directly into your eyes.

And my Iraqi friends keep telling me it's not hot yet...

The Iraqi Monument to the Unknown Soldier

Wednesday, on our way back to our compound from one of the other FOBs in the Green Zone, we stopped at the Iraqi Monument to the the Unknown Soldier, where we met a couple of Iraqi soldiers who showed us around and let us take pictures.

Many of the monuments in Baghdad were built after the Iran-Iraq War, or during the 1990s during sancations as a way of glorifying the regine, rather than honoring its people. Most seem to be falling into disprepair now, but I hope that some day soon, they can be rehabilitated, as this monument was by US forces in time for Iraqi Armed Forces Day in 2006.

The words in italics below are from a publish guide to monuments and palaces of the former regime in the International Zone.

The repeated circular and elliptical motifs are thought to echo the ancient city walls of Baghdad, which were circular. The 550-ton cantilevered dome represents the dira’a and is 42m in diameter and follows an inclination of 12 degrees. Its external surface is clad with copper, while its inner surface features a sofitt finished with pyramidal modules of alternating steel and copper.

Beneath the dome is a red glass cube sheathed in sculpted aluminum. Most visitors mistakenly believe the body of the Unknown Soldier lies within this cube. Actually,the coffin-shaped metal box inside the cube represents the Unknown Soldier.

The steel sculpture to the left of the dome is meant to resemble the Minaret of Samarra. The Minaret of Samarra was one of the most ancient and famous sites in Islamic architecture and was patterned after the ziggurats of ancient Mesopotamia. The sculpture at the Monument to the Unknown Soldier is entirely covered with Murano glass panels fixed on stainless steel arms which light up at night in the national colors of Iraq (White, Green, Red and Black). Before the 2003 war, a spotlight shone skyward from the central tube.

(What we didn't know at the time was that just a few hours earlier, the minarets at the Al-Askariya Mosque in Samarra, just 60 miles north of us in Baghdad, were destroyed in an attack -- a reprise of the February 2006 attack that collapsed the Golden Dome of this Shia shrine and launched the current sectarian violence that grips so much of Baghdad.)

Ayuf, an Iraqi soldier, guided us through the Monument. He only speaks a few words of English, and my Arabic barely extends beyond common greetings and courtesies, but somehow, we managed to understand each other. We came back later that afternoon with two cases of cold water and some MREs for him and his fellow soldiers, along with copies of the pictures we took. Looking at this photo now, it strikes me that a few short years ago, this man would have been my enemy. I've been thinking about that quite a bit.

Where there's an anchor, there's a sailor!

June 6, 1944

Omaha Beach, Normandy.

All photos by Rob, September 2004

I wonder how many Americans woke up this morning, saw today's date, and thought of something other than Wednesday.

How many Americans saw the date--June 6--and remembered D-Day?

So much has changed in the 63 years since Operation Overlord began the final push for the liberation of Europe. So much has changed in America, and in Americans.

But in 1944, young Americans, and thousands of our allies, lept into an uncertain darkness, and began to push back a curtain of evil enveloping Europe.

A few days ago, one of my closet friends (yes, that's you Cesar) sent me an email. Cesar is a deep thinker, and a man concerned about the future of our country, and one who honors its past. Cesar is a proud American, but also a proud Cuban American--his family fled Cuba as a familiar darkness enveloped their their country. And for that reason, I believe, to Cesar the cause of liberty is especially personal, and so deeply felt.

I'd like to share Cesar's email, and let the words of two great American leaders speak directly to you. As I read what follows, my heart almost aches for men and women of such character to lead our country now. We saw that kind of leadership in the weeks and months after September 11, and we all remember the unity that came with it. As a nation, we need that feeling now, more than ever.

What follows is a radio address delivered on June 7, 1944, when President Franklin D. Roosevelt asked his fellow Americans to join him in prayer for American troops. Roosevelt's prayer is followed by what is perhaps President Reagan's most famous and compelling speech -- the Boys of Pointe du Hoc, delivered in Normandy, France, on June 6, 1984.

In September 2004, I visited Normandy. I don't know that I have ever been so in awe. To stand at Pointe du Hoc, to walk the rows of white crosses at the American cemetery, to touch the sands of Omaha Beach, and imagine the hell our countrymen faced in order to safeguard liberty--not just American liberty--is so incalculable as to defy words. While the guns went silent 63 years ago, American courage and valor echo across Normandy today.

But President Reagan made it real. 63 years later, American soldiers, marines, airmen, and sailors, face that same hell in the deserts of Iraq and the mountains of Afghanistan, and I wonder, will an American President stand before the world, and recall with such grace, our sacrifices?

Rob in the American Cemetery, Normandy.

In sending this prayer and remembrance to me, Cesar wrote "on the eve of the anniversary of what may very well be the most important date in the 20th Century, I thought I'd share this with you – the conflict may be in a different place, but ageless darkness knows no strange corners – the words of Presidents Roosevelt and Reagan are as pertinent today as they were decades ago, as we back home think of you and your brothers..."

How blessed I am to have friends and family and countrymen who remember, and who understand how important it is to us who are here in the fight, to know that we are more than a slogan...that we are remembered and honored. God bless you all.

A soldier from Pennsylvania, died June 6, 1944

http://www.archive.org/download/WWII_News_1944/1944%2006%2006_2200_CBS_FDR_D%20Day_Prayer.mp3

President Franklin D. Roosevelt’s most famous prayer came on D‑Day, June 7, 1944, when he asked his fellow Americans to join him in prayer for American troops facing the most difficult battle of World War II. As people gathered around their radios for his famous fireside chat, Roosevelt prayed,

My fellow Americans:

Last night when I spoke with you about the fall of Rome I knew at that moment the troops of the United States and our allies were crossing the channel in another and greater operation. It has come to pass with success thus far. And so in this poignant hour I ask you to join with me in prayer.

Almighty God, our sons, pride of our nation, this day have set upon a mighty endeavor. A struggle to preserve our Republic, our religion, and our civilization, and to set free a suffering humanity. Lead them straight and true; give strength to their arms, stoutness to their hearts, steadfastness in their faith.

They will need Thy blessings. Their road will be long and hard, for the enemy is strong. He may hurl back our forces, success may not come with rushing speed.But we shall return again and again. And we know that by Thy grace, and by the righteousness of our cause, our sons will triumph. They will be. ...night and day without rest until the victory. ...The darkness will be rent by noise and flame. Men’s souls will be shaken with the violences of war. For these men are lately drawn from the ways of peace.

They fight not for the lust of conquest. They fight to end conquest. They fight to liberate. They fight to let justice arise and tolerance and good will among all thy people. They yearn but for the end of battle, for their return to the haven of home. Some will never return. Embrace these, Father, and receive them Thy heroic servants into Thy Kingdom.

And for us at home, fathers, mothers, children, wives, sisters, and brothers of brave men overseas, whose thoughts and prayers are ever with them, Help us almighty God to rededicate ourselves to renewed faith in Thee in this hour of great sacrifice.

Many have urged that I call this nation into a single day of special prayer. But because the road is long, the desire is great,I ask that our people devote themselves in a continuance of prayer. As we rise to each new day, and again when each day is spent, let words of prayer be on our lips invoking thy help to our efforts.

Give us strength too. Strengthen our daily tasks. Redouble the contributions we make in the physical and material support of our armed forces.

Let our hearts be stout to wait out the long travail.To bear sorrows that may come. To impart our courage to our sons wheresoever they may be. And, O Lord, give us faith, Give us faith in Thee, faith in our sons, faith in each other, faith in our
united crusade.

Let not the keenness of our spirits ever be dull. Let not the impact of temporary events, of temporal matters of but fleeting moments, let not these deter us in our unconquerable purpose. With Thy blessing we shall prevail over the unholy forces of our enemy.

Help us to conquer the apostles of greed and racial arrogances. Lead us to the saving of our country and with our sister nations into a world unity that will spell a sure peace, a peace invulnerable to the [unintelligible] of unworthy men, and a peace that will let all men live in freedom, reaping the just rewards of their honest fight.

Thy will be done, Almighty God. Amen.

--Franklin Delano Roosevelt, June 7, 1944

Audio recording transcribed from http://www.archive.org/download/WWII_News_1944/1944-06-06_2200_CBS_FDR_D-Day_Prayer.mp3,


And, forty years later, the words of the OTHER of the two greatest Presidents of the 20th Century:
http://www.americanrhetoric.com/mp3clips/politicalspeeches/ronaldrreagandday4534592.mp3

We’re here to mark that day in history when the Allied armies joined in battle to reclaim this continent to liberty. For four long years, much of Europe had been under a terrible shadow. Free nations had fallen, Jews cried out in the camps, millions cried out for liberation. Europe was enslaved and the world prayed for its rescue. Here, in Normandy, the rescue began. Here, the Allies stood and fought against tyranny, in a giant undertaking unparalleled in human history.

View from Omaha Beach looking toward Pointe du Hoc.

We stand on a lonely, windswept point on the northern shore of France. The air is soft, but forty years ago at this moment, the air was dense with smoke and the cries of men, and the air was filled with the crack of rifle fire and the roar of cannon. At dawn, on the morning of the 6th of June, 1944, two hundred and twenty‑five Rangers jumped off the British landing craft and ran to the bottom of these cliffs.

Their mission was one of the most difficult and daring of the invasion: to climb these sheer and desolate cliffs and take out the enemy guns. The Allies had been told that some of the mightiest of these guns were here, and they would be trained on the beaches to stop the Allied advance.

The Rangers looked up and saw the enemy soldiers at the edge of the cliffs, shooting down at them with machine guns and throwing grenades. And the American Rangers began to climb. They shot rope ladders over the face of these cliffs and began to pull themselves up. When one Ranger fell, another would take his place. When one rope was cut, a Ranger would grab another and begin his climb again. They climbed, shot back, and held their footing. Soon, one by one, the Rangers pulled themselves over the top, and in seizing the firm land at the top of these cliffs, they began to seize back the continent of Europe. Two hundred and twenty‑five came here.

After two days of fighting, only ninety could still bear arms.And behind me is a memorial that symbolizes the Ranger daggers that were thrust into the top of these cliffs.

And before me are the men who put them there. These are the boys of Pointe du Hoc. These are the men who took the cliffs. These are the champions who helped free a continent. And these are the heroes who helped end a war. Gentlemen, I look at you and I think of the words of Stephen Spender’s poem. You are men who in your “lives fought for life and left the vivid air signed with your honor.”I think I know what you may be thinking right now – thinking “we were just part of a bigger effort; everyone was brave that day.”

Well everyone was. Do you remember the story of Bill Millin of the 51st Highlanders? Forty years ago today, British troops were pinned down near a bridge, waiting desperately for help. Suddenly, they heard the sound of bagpipes, and some thought they were dreaming. Well, they weren’t. They looked up and saw Bill Millin with his bagpipes, leading the reinforcements and ignoring the smack of the bullets into the ground around him. Lord Lovat was with him – Lord Lovat of Scotland, who calmly announced when he got to the bridge, “Sorry, I’m a few minutes late,” as if he’d been delayed by a traffic jam, when in truth he’d just come from the bloody fighting on Sword Beach, which he and his men had just taken.

There was the impossible valor of the Poles, who threw themselves between the enemy and the rest of Europe as the invasion took hold; and the unsurpassed courage of the Canadians who had already seen the horrors of war on this coast. They knew what awaited them there, but they would not be deterred. And once they hit Juno Beach, they never looked back.

All of these men were part of a roll call of honor with names that spoke of a pride as bright as the colors they bore; The Royal Winnipeg Rifles, Poland’s 24th Lancers, the Royal Scots’ Fusiliers, the Screaming Eagles, the Yeomen of England’s armored divisions, the forces of Free France, the Coast Guard’s “Matchbox Fleet,” and you, the American Rangers.

Forty summers have passed since the battle that you fought here. You were young the day you took these cliffs; some of you were hardly more than boys, with the deepest joys of life before you. Yet you risked everything here. Why? Why did you do it? What impelled you to put aside the instinct for self‑preservation and risk your lives to take these cliffs? What inspired all the men of the armies that met here? We look at you, and somehow we know the answer. It was faith and belief. It was loyalty and love.

The men of Normandy had faith that what they were doing was right, faith that they fought for all humanity, faith that a just God would grant them mercy on this beachhead, or on the next. It was the deep knowledge – and pray God we have not lost it – that there is a profound moral difference between the use of force for liberation and the use of force for conquest. You were here to liberate, not to conquer, and so you and those others did not doubt your cause. And you were right not to doubt.You all knew that some things are worth dying for. One’s country is worth dying for, and democracy is worth dying for, because it’s the most deeply honorable form of government ever devised by man. All of you loved liberty. All of you were willing to fight tyranny, and you knew the people of your countries were behind you.

The Americans who fought here that morning knew word of the invasion was spreading through the darkness back home. They fought – or felt in their hearts, though they couldn’t know in fact, that in Georgia they were filling the churches at 4 AM. In Kansas they were kneeling on their porches and praying. And in Philadelphia they were ringing the Liberty Bell.

Something else helped the men of D‑day; their rock‑hard belief that Providence would have a great hand in the events that would unfold here; that God was an ally in this great cause. And so, the night before the invasion, when Colonel Wolverton asked his parachute troops to kneel with him in prayer, he told them: “Do not bow your heads, but look up so you can see God and ask His blessing in what we’re about to do.” Also, that night, General Matthew Ridgway on his cot, listening in the darkness for the promise God made to Joshua: “I will not fail thee nor forsake thee.”

These are the things that impelled them; these are the things that shaped the unity of the Allies.

When the war was over, there were lives to be rebuilt and governments to be returned to the people. There were nations to be reborn. Above all, there was a new peace to be assured. These were huge and daunting tasks. But the Allies summoned strength from the faith, belief, loyalty,and love of those who fell here. They rebuilt a new Europe together. There was first a great reconciliation among those who had been enemies, all of whom had suffered so greatly. The United States did its part, creating the Marshall Plan to help rebuild our allies and our former enemies. The Marshall Plan led to the Atlantic alliance – a great alliance that serves to this day as our shield for freedom, for prosperity, and for peace.

In spite of our great efforts and successes, not all that followed the end of the war was happy or planned. Some liberated countries were lost. The great sadness of this loss echoes down to our own time in the streets of Warsaw, Prague, and East Berlin. The Soviet troops that came to the center of this continent did not leave when peace came. They’re still there, uninvited, unwanted, unyielding, almost forty years after the war. Because of this, allied forces still stand on this continent. Today, as forty years ago, our armies are here for only one purpose: to protect and defend democracy. The only territories we hold are memorials like this one and graveyards where our heroes rest.

We in America have learned bitter lessons from two world wars. It is better to be here ready to protect the peace, than to take blind shelter across the sea, rushing to respond only after freedom is lost. We’ve learned that isolationism never was and never will be an acceptable response to tyrannical governments with an expansionist intent. But we try always to be prepared for peace, prepared to deter aggression, prepared to negotiate the reduction of arms, and yes, prepared to reach out again in the spirit of reconciliation. In truth, there is no reconciliation we would welcome more than a reconciliation with the Soviet Union, so, together, we can lessen the risks of war, now and forever.

It’s fitting to remember here the great losses also suffered by the Russian people during World War II. Twenty million perished, a terrible price that testifies to all the world the necessity of ending war. I tell you from my heart that we in the United States do not want war. We want to wipe from the face of the earth the terrible weapons that man now has in his hands. And I tell you, we are ready to seize that beachhead. We look for some sign from the Soviet Union that they are willing to move forward, that they share our desire and love for peace, and that they will give up the ways of conquest. There must be a changing there
that will allow us to turn our hope into action.

We will pray forever that someday that changing will come. But for now, particularly today, it is good and fitting to renew our commitment to each other, to our freedom, and to the alliance that protects it.

We’re bound today by what bound us 40 years ago, the same loyalties, traditions, and beliefs. We’re bound by reality. The strength of America’s allies is vital to the United States, and the American security guarantee is essential to the continued freedom of Europe’s democracies. We were with you then; we’re with you now. Your hopes are our hopes, and your destiny is our destiny.Here, in this place where the West held together, let us make a vow to our dead. Let us show them by our actions that we understand what they died for. Let our actions say to them the words for which Matthew Ridgway listened: “I will not fail thee nor forsake thee.”

Strengthened by their courage and heartened by their valor and borne by their memory, let us continue to stand for the ideals for which they lived and died.

Thank you very much, and God bless you all.

‑‑ President Ronald Reagan, Normandy, France, June 6, 1984.

Rob overlooking Pointe du Hoc, Normandy.