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.