"Tuesday 29 June 04 0053 Hours
My, oh my. Just got in from the Monday dayshift on the BIAP (Baghdad International Airport) flight line. Work wise, it was not too bad. War-wise, it’s getting a little more interesting for us Air Force and Air National Guard.
First off, the rumor that I heard from the Security Forces troop, about the SAM (surface-to-air missile) turns out to be unfounded. Another rumor he told me, was that Highway 1 (right on the other side of the barriers facing my tent) would be opened to the public June 30th. I asked our Flight Superintendent about that and he said probably not. I found the idea of the public (potential terrorists), right on the other side of the wire particularly disturbing. Especially since most of us Air Force children are not armed and we do not pull guard duty. Any bad guy who gets into this camp will be able to do much damage.
My Army training always stressed security as everybody’s job. It’s 24/7, 360 degrees. The Air Force really does not teach that. It may be in some manual, but we do not practice it. We Air Force personnel are to depend on the Army and our own Security Forces personnel to do that for us. This makes me really uneasy.
Our defense is based upon mandatory wear of flak vests and carry of the k-pot. And stupid alarms which sound after a rocket or mortar attack. The alarms surely let our terrorist enemies know they have succeeded in hitting us. I’m sure they use that intel to adjust their fire.
Today started out with a bang quite literally. At 0515 an explosion hit with such force nearby, that I felt the concussion, and it seemed to rock the tent. It was scary. My heart was in my throat. Then the usual alarms sounded. I just laid in bed. Didn’t get up. Didn’t put on my vest and helmet. When alarm green was announced (all clear), went to check in (for accountability- great concept- just wish they could find a way to do this without tipping off the enemy that they scored). Went back to bed to catch up on my sleep a little. Did a little math as I was dozing off. Figured that even if they can hit a tent with a rocket, they can’t get all of us at once. Some may die but most should survive. Hope I’m in the majority. And I’m doing what I can to stack the deck in my favor. Placing my flak vests around me where I sleep.
Right after the early a.m. rocket attack, you could hear a lot of jet noise. Like it was circling. I thought that was odd. As it turns out, seems there was a reason for the early rocket attack and corresponding jet activity.
When I went to the flight line to report for duty, the scene was a little different. Helicopters, Humvees, men with gun-slinger rigs, and long lines of armored SUV’s were gathered around the Group Building. I asked the guy at the gate what was up and he told me there was a DV (Distinguished Visitor) present. I figured it must be somebody really, really, important. Because I was on duty when (at different times) Paul Wolfowitz and General Abizaid came thru. Something obviously was going on.
When I got to the Ramp Tent we sat down to eat. Ellen came in and sat with us and started reading a press report off the CNN website. Apparently, the CPA had turned over the sovereignty of Iraq to the new interim government, in a secret ceremony two days early! The CPA pulled a fast one on the terrorists. I gathered that they did it in the wee hours of the morning (2021 note: which they did, at like 3am, or thereabouts). Then Bremmer and a whole host of civilian brass hats decided to haul ass out of Iraq before any terrorists could mess up their escape. I think that explained the early attack, the jets responding (which never happened in any other of the almost daily attacks), and all the hullabaloo at the Group Building. Those geniuses who created this mess are safely out of here. And we are left holding the bag.
We had a fair amount of activity on the flight line today. Not crazy but fairly steady. On one C-130 we had to offload a couple of civilian SUVs. I have proven to be a steady had the wheel on these vehicle on and offloads. So there I was. In the airplane. Inside a vehicle with the loadmaster just starting to guide me out. All of a sudden Ray appeared from the outside of the cargo ramp. Of course with all the noise and being inside a vehicle, I couldn’t hear him, but I could see he wanted me out of there quick. As I was noticing this, everybody else disappeared real quick.
I (not wanting to be inside an aircraft when there could be the threat of a fire) flipped off the key, set the e-brake, and got out all in one motion. As I caught up with Ray, he yelled that a rocket just hit, and we ran for the concrete barriers. I saw the cloud where it hit, and a whole bunch of folks hauling-ass towards the Group Building. Behind the concrete barriers I pulled out my camera and took a picture of Ray and he took one of me. We looked at them afterwards and laughed at our expressions.
The rest of our shift was pretty uneventful. Thank God. I’m back in my tent now. For some reason the thought of getting hit here in the tent bothers me a lot more than the thought of getting it on the flight line. Intellectually it doesn’t make sense. Getting hit out on the ramp where there is no cover and a lot of fuel would obviously be worse than getting it in the tent. The tent is sandbagged (sort of) and I have my jury-rigged flak vest protection. Somehow, it’s emotional. This is where I write. I rest. I keep my possession’s. And this is where I find the peace which sleep brings.
Me and Ray taking cover.
30 June (early a.m., 01 or 0200 hrs)
The 29th was really slow work-wise. Checked e-mail, wrote letters, and went over to the old terminal building to look for souvenirs.
I escorted a couple of Army guys across the runway. They had a big flatbed with a couple of pallets of Javelins and Stingers. They were going to the “Hotspot” to load up a “Hammer Mission”. I hung out a little and chatted with them. They were telling me stories about attacks on their compound. I told them about rocket attacks on our area. From the hotspot we could see lots of flashes out to the west.
A few loud booms today. Complete with the associated concussion which you feel rather than hear. One occurred right at midnight as we were getting off duty. We walked outside and could see a whole series of flashes on the horizon to the north. Quite a light show.
4 July 04 0145 hrs
Today - 3 July - was what I would call a normal day here. Got up around 9am. Showered (3 minute shower). Went over to the Haji gift shop. Stopped by the morale tent to call home. Talked with the wife and kids. They all said I sounded tired. I was. Sidenote to the phone call: The operator at Travis (where we have to call thru) said to me, “Have a happy holiday”. This puzzled me a little. Took me a second to figure out what she meant.
Events of the last couple days- Saddam passed thru on his way to and from court. He went over to Camp Victory in a helo. I thought that was funny since Victory is about a five-minute drive from here.
-On the 30th in the a.m., Log Base Sietz got nailed by something like 12 mortar rounds. They are kind of between us and Victory. 11 guys got wounded and there was a big fire. I took a picture of the fire.
-I was talking to one of the TCN Escorts the other night. He told me that the rocket attack on the 28th actually hit the west wall, just a little south of my tent. I told him I’m in A23 and he told me A21 got hit by debris from the blast. I thought that one was close. It scared me when it hit. It was really loud.
Fire over at Log Base Sietz.
Flying our flag on the flight line, Fourth Of July.
Thurs 8 July 04 0045 hrs
Today (7th) I was off duty. Did my laundry before I went to bed last night. Also spent some time reorganizing my things in my tent area. Somebody swiped a new anti-perspirant I had on my top bunk (turns out it wasn’t stolen, I found it a few days later). My top bunk is used to store all my duffle bags and I had a kind of a shelf area on a piece of cardboard, where I left out a few things, nothing valuable. Just foot powder, antiperspirant, and the like. So I put all my stuff under lock and key. Hopefully that will keep the dishonest a little more honest.
I put on my uniform and headed over to the flight line, looking for somebody to go to Camp Victory with. Smitty agreed to go. We drew weapons. Scrounged some ammo. Five rounds each. Headed out in the ramp truck.
At Victory we went to the BX. Got some patches and a soda. And a new antiperspirant. Checked out the bazaar across from the BX. Bought a few cheap switchblades, an AK bayonet, and a couple of cheap Chinese Arab-style knives for the kids.
In the BX parking lot I saw a couple of Humvees which were really loaded down. Two machine guns on top of each one. Crossed sabers painted on the side. I figured they were Scouts, so I asked. Turns out they were all m.o.s. 19D. I told them I was 19D in my Army days. Asked them if I could get a picture of their Humvees. They were really cool – told me to climb into the turret and they took a picture of me, with my camera. I took a group photo of them by their vehicles.
Back to Sather. Cleaned and turned in our weapons. Stopped at the ramp tent to check e-mail. Headed over to the Camp Sather Barber Shop (located inside a Conex box) and got my hair cut. The barbers are all from India. After they cut your hair they give you a neck massage – complete with these funny things they do – kind of like smack you in the head like the Three Stooges, or something. All for $3.00.
Went to the Chapel. Ate some pop tarts and coffee. Smitty showed up. We grabbed some guitars in the Chapel and jammed a little bit.
Back to my tent. Secure my things. Off to the gym tent. Ride the exercycle. Back to the Chaplains for more coffee. Back to my tent for a little nap.
The last few days have been relatively quiet here at Sather. There were some exposions over on the commercial side. We could plainly see where they hit, but since they were outside our sectors, we went from alarm red to yellow pretty quick. We are seeing more flashes at night it seems. Over in the east. The side of BIAP which faces Baghdad. I believe the west side faces open country.
Today, as Smitty and I headed out for Victory, there was a sandstorm. I think they closed the flight line for a time. I had sand in my hair and in my ears all day from it."
Scouts at Camp Victory.
Sandy Skies.
The song, "Man On A Mission"
*Note on the title "Happy Holiday": I clearly remember being confused when the operator said, to me, "Have a Happy Holiday". Being too preoccupied, tired, busy, or scared, I didn't even realize it was a holiday. The confusion and irony of this seems apropos to the stories in my Iraq Journal.
I posted Entry # 8 "Happy Holiday", to commemorate the July 4th holiday in 2021. The following entries are previous stories I published last year...
The Iraq Journal. #1, 2004
The Iraq Journal is a blog of my writings, which are a record of my time deployed with the California Air National Guard, in Iraq in 2004. Also included are photos from the trip, with thoughts and recollections added in 2019 and 2020. 
447th AEG OIF 2004 Baghdad Iraq
Coming Home was written before the Iraq War, during my time in the Army National Guard. I felt it is still a good companion for the photo slideshow of pictures I took in Iraq.
Salty Rose, 2020
The Iraq Journal. #2. How? Why?
On December 29th, 2004 (after I got back), I started copying notes from the journal I kept while in Iraq, putting them in Word-files, with pictures I took. The initial entry which I have for you here, below, was written then with recollections to set the stage for the rest of the journal. I’ve decided to share it here in the Blog. I may consider some edits upon reviewing the entries, but for the most part I’d like to keep them as written. Even if some of it is hard to understand, or politically incorrect. It is what it is. War sucks. So, the warts in my writing back then, hopefully stay. The original idea of even keeping a journal was to have a historical document. I wanted to record events. Not my feelings. But war is a powerful thing. Feelings did creep into my writing in some cases.
These experiences have certainly shaped the person that this artist is, my world view, and the art I create and the songs I produce. An artist friend also has encouraged me to share some of this stuff. He thinks people might be interested. He likes the story of wandering around Saddam’s Al Faw Palace. But it's not a harrowing war story, a lot of it is pretty mundane. If your looking for a Rambo story, sorry to disappoint. So without further ado-
"Notes on my 2004 rotation at Baghdad International Airport. Dec 29,2004
January 22nd 2004, I reported to Channel Islands Air National Guard Station for a one-year mobilization to support Operation Enduring Freedom. Altogether there were 24 people from the 146th Aerial Port Squadron who were activated for this deployment. We were sent to Travis Air Force Base and attached to the 60th APS. We trained with the 60th from February thru May and then deployed to Baghdad International Airport, Iraq with a group which was half National Guard and half Regular Air Force, folks from the 146th and the 60th.
I arrived in Baghdad on the afternoon of June 9th 2004. We had stopped at Al Udied Air Base in Qatar where we changed into our desert uniforms and got on the C-130 which flew us into Iraq. I noticed on the flight in, that about 30 minutes out of Baghdad, the Loadmasters on the plane’s aircrew put on their flak vests. The ride into Baghdad was sort of a roller coaster ride. When we got to BIAP (Baghdad International Airport) our team chief Ray greeted us on the flight line-He was part of the group which had got there the week before. It was hot. Not as hot as it was in Al Udied, but hot.
On the first day we experienced an attack. We were eating lunch at the Army’s chow hall at Camp Striker when a rocket hit close by outside. Close enough that a lot of the Army guys ran to the windows to see what was up. I asked an Army SFC what happened and he told me that it sounded like a rocket.
The chow hall was staffed by TCN’s (third country nationals). We’d just call them Haji’s. There was a hand washing area outside the chow hall and the thing which really struck me as odd about it is there were paper towels-which were the consistency of toilet paper. Most of the food seemed to be boiled. There was plenty of it. Some of the products-like sodas-were the Haji version with Arabic writing on the side. All the Army troops were carrying weapons. We had to wear flak vests and carry our helmets with us.
The BIAP area consisted of the Air Force Camp Sather, 1st Armor Division’s Camp Striker, 1st Cavalry Division’s Camp Victory, Log Base Seitz, Camp Slayer (which consisted of a bunch of civilian agency’s), and a few Special Forces camps-one called Magic Mountain and a fort next to our camp which was called Task Force 626 or something like that. We heard that Saddam Hussein was being held on BIAP and I suspected that Task Force 626 was holding him. That fort was very heavily fortified. In the center of BIAP is (was) the old ‘Saddam International’ Terminal. There was an Army Logistics camp on that side of the airport when we first arrived. They had a chow hall called the ‘Bob Hope Chow Hall’. A Burger King too. Also, a PX and Bazaar, run by AFFEE’s and the Haji’s.
Everyday we’d hear distant explosions. Something was always burning and there were palls of smoke rising into the air. At night we’d see flares and see flashes on the horizon. There were frequent controlled detonations by EOD. There was also a range in the vicinity of Camp Striker which made a lot of racket. Sometimes I’d wonder if the gunfire we heard was the range, or something else.
While I was in Iraq I kept a journal..."
Now, lets go back to 2019.
So, 12-29-04, that's how I set the stage for the rest of the journal, after I got home. In the photo below is the first actual journal entry I made 3-1-04, while I was at Travis AFB in the run-up to the actual deployment.
In the next Blog entry, I will have the first journal entry that was written in-country.
The Iraq Journal #3. USAF & UXO's. 10 & 15 June 2004.
The following are the first entry's I did in country. As members of the California Air National Guard, we ended up with the Active Duty Air Force, for OIF (Operation Iraqi Freedom). Our initial activation orders said OEF (Enduring Freedom, which meant Afghanistan). But once we got to Travis AFB, we were assigned to a group called Team Panther, which was slated for duty attached to the 447th AEG (Air Expeditionary Group) at Baghdad Airport. BIAP, or Baghdad International Airport (formerly Saddam International Airport).
(Like the introductory paragraph above, the journal is probably loaded with acronyms, and/or military slang. I might get tired of translating. Or I might assume anybody actually reading this has enough interest in things military that they can decipher and understand it. So I apologize in advance if it's hard to read.)
The first couple weeks at BIAP I was assigned to a group called the ATOC or Air Terminal Operations Center. Kind of a pencil pushing job. Probably due to my having been a construction superintendent as a civilian. It was actually very demanding for me as I spent the first ten years of my military career in the Army Guard. By the time 911 rolled around I had only been in the Air branch for two years. So in spite of being a Staff Sergeant, I was somewhat deficient in the ways of the Airman. To this day, I still maintain that those first couple weeks in country, were the hardest I'd ever worked in my life. So, with all that said, let me take you to Baghdad Airport 2004...
"10 June 04. I arrived in Baghdad yesterday, on June 9th 2004. Got here late in the afternoon. Wasn't as hot as Al Udied Air Base in Qatar. But it is hot.
15 June 04. Right now I'm laying in the little gazebo outside the Camp Sather Chapel. A series of explosions just went off and the camp sounded the Alarm Red. The explosions seemed like there was three off to my left and three off to my right. I'm wondering if I heard the report of what ever fired them, and the report of the rounds landing. The 'alarm black' sounded and sweep teams moved out to search the area for any UXO's. One of the sweep team members just walked by and gave me a bottle of water and said "make sure you hydrate, Sir". Nice. The real goofy part is I'm less than 50 feet from a real nice bunker with a concrete lid and thick walls made of dirt. I started to head for that when the 'alarm red' sounded. We are given instructions to lay down immediately to take cover during an attack. A guy (or a group) in the 'smoke pit' saw me heading for the bunker and they yelled at me to get down. So I did. I think I'll take the opportunity to stretch out a little bit as my back's been real tight since I got here five days ago.
When the 'alarm green' was announced, and we could come out of cover (or lack of cover as the case may be), everybody who was not on duty had to go report in at the logistics tent. For accountability. After that I went over to the smoke pit by the Chaplains tent to talk with some folks gathered there. Most were off duty and in civies. One young Airman said that the corner of the spec-ops hanger got hit.
Side Note- I think my second night on duty, I was over by that hangar. There were two C-17's and they were loading up a Blackhawk and two Little Birds. Actually it was three helo's and a bunch of spec-ops troops off loaded, and three helo's and a bunch of troop up load. These characters looked like something right out of Blackhawk Down. (2019 edit: Rangers from Task Force 626)
Quick rundown of event's this last week. 9 June late afternoon we landed. Processed in. Got our duffels, an MRE, and a ride in a piece of crap truck to a rats nest of a tent. Nice. I was lagged out from three or four days of travel. It was pretty depressing. 10 June meeting with the new Chief. He gave us the camp rules. I asked a buddy what he thought and he said, "sounds like he wants to burn someone". Those were my sentiments also. We got a chuckle out of that. After that we hitched a ride over to the Army chow hall at Camp Striker. While there, on our first full day in Baghdad, we experienced our first mortar (or rocket) attack. It shook the chow hall, and a lot of the Army folks left, in kind of a hurry."
Ok, back to 2019. That'll conclude the journal for today. In the next entry, I describe actually taking good cover during an attack, instead of dropping out in the open. (I knew better, and felt pretty stupid for dropping out in the open.)
First Armor Division, Camp Striker, Baghdad Airport, Iraq, 2004
Salty Rose, 2019
Iraq Journal #4. Alarm Red. 16 June 2004.
Continuing the journal entries. In entry #2, I describe the BIAP area. In #3, I cover the first journal entry I made in-country. Todays entry, #4, was written at the end of the first week...
To re-cap part #3, we were instructed to lay flat on the ground during an attack, and during an afternoon attack I was caught out in the open. A mistake that I vowed not to repeat.
Today, in looking over this next entry, I noticed the profanity and political incorrectness had started creeping in. Some of my sentiments from that time, seem a little rough, in hindsight. Oh well. I've decided to present it the way I wrote it and not clean it up. War is hell...
"16 June 04
4PM (1600hrs) Been here exactly one week. During this week we had four, no five, alarm reds. Two yesterday. The afternoon attack that hit the Spec-Ops hangar. Then, that night at 2125hrs, there was one which was the closest yet. It made a real distinct "crack" sound. I was over by the Group HQ, getting ready to do PT, when it hit. This time, I didn't wait for an alarm. I said, "fuck this, I'm going to the bunker", and I took off. I didn't get very far before the alarm sounded. So I took cover behind the revetments (edit: these were known as Hesco Barriers) along the side of the base post office tent. Turns out the rocket hit right outside the PAX Terminal.
We were told in our intel briefing before we deployed that we could expect to be mortared, but that the Hajji's can't aim, they just shoot wild and randomly. We think that's B.S. The rounds always seen to land very close to something important. I know I ought to wear my helmet and flak vest more often but it's so damn hot. But two (mortar rounds) with-in the last 24 hours hit with-in 3-4 hundred meters of where I was.
Side note: As I write this I am in my tent, off duty, about to go to sleep. It sounds like the 4th of July outside. I'm not exaggerating. I hear some kind of boom off in the distance, at the rate of a couple, every minute. Sometimes there's a lull, but then it starts up again. We're told most of that noise is ranges, or EOD- I wonder... As you drift off to sleep you hope you have an uneventful slumber. Motherfuckers.
I've been on duty 12 hour shifts every day this week. Not sure when I'll get a break. My duties are very demanding mentally- phones, radios, computers, schedules, all kinds of questions coming at me from literally all over the world. I'm hanging in, but I don't have enough experience in the field to operate effectively, yet.
Also, this week I participated in an upload of an American H.R. on a C-130. Poor guy. It doesn't get much more real. We lined up. Deuce backed up to our lines, one on each side of side of the airplanes ramp. We were ordered to "Present Arms", and saluted the flag-draped H.R. container as it was carried past us by the Army Detail. We gathered around in the airplane and Psalms were read. Chaplain said some words. It was real sad. I can feel the lump in my throat and tears welling up in my eyes as I write this. Proper military honors. I volunteered to be in the 447th Honor Guard. I'm honored to do it. What more can I do?
This week I also saw some of the blindfolded, biblically robed, bearded, tied-up, guys wearing funny Bin-Laden type hats. P.W.'s. I don't have any sympathy for those cocksuckers. They are getting what they deserve. Hopefully.
I've seen all this in one 24 hour period- rocket attacks, prisoners of war, our fallen soldier. All that on top of the demands of my job and tent city living with the troops. I'm real tired. Time to sleep! What pleasure sleep brings."
That concludes this journal entry. Lets go back to 2020...
So now, looking back on this, I don't recall feeling this strong feeling of animosity. The animosity I expressed towards the enemy, in my writings during this time. This was a somewhat stressful experience, even in the relatively safe environs which I found myself. After all, I wasn't no door-kicker. But I guess the fact that I felt so hostile, to the prisoners I saw, is telling to the degree of the stress we were under.
That said, even some of the stressful moments had some comical elements. I didn't put every single detail into the journal but I do recall one silly episode. If memory serves (which it prolly doesn't, but I digress), I have a kind of a funny memory from the rocket attack on the night of June 15th-
There I was... I took off running for the bunker, but then dove for the Hesco's by the side of the post office. ...Now, in combat, people look for leadership. I'm not claiming a leaders pedigree. But in this specific scenario, I was apparently the first to act. I was just hauling ass to save my butt, not wanting to repeat the mistake I made earlier in the day, of getting caught in the open. Automatically a few guys followed my lead, in going for good cover. So by default I became a leader. But I didn't realize I was being tailed. When I hit the dirt, four or five guys who were following, piled on top of me. A real Keystone Cops kind of moment. ;)
Another interesting aside on the attack of 15 June- Years later, when the news broke about the WikiLeaks website, I went online to check it out. This was of course a few years after my tour. I was curious, to see if wiki-leaks was real. They reportedly released the classified Iraq War Diary. I found it online. And I did indeed find reports for a number of incidents where I was present in Iraq in 2004. I was able to verify some of these reports with notes and dates from my journal. I observed a report online for the rocket attack on 15 June, and it lines up with my observations. So I'd say, yes, Virginia, wiki-leaks is real.
(Grid co-ordinate redacted for the blog)
Here's a couple more throwbacks to OIF...
Two Members of the 146th Airlift Wing, "The Hollywood Guard"
Just after tagging the PAX Terminal at Al Udied Airbase, on the way to Baghdad. This was also on the first day we wore our desert uniforms. Since I was an artist with a sharpie, I had the honor of tagging the wall for the gang, in 140 degree Qatar.
"You guys think one weekend a month ain't shit. Wait till in turns into a one year weekend".
(Quote by SSG Sword my Platoon Sgt., back in my 1980's Army Guard days, at the 1-160th Mech Inf. in Burbank, California. Long before my Air Guard days.)
We had to carry this note in our pocket.
We were also required to carry a weapon if we left the camp. Except they didn't procure ammunition for us. So I imagined, that they gave us this nifty little Arabic note, instead of ammunition. I guess so the enemy would know where to send your head, in the event you got grabbed. These guys thought of everything. ;)
(note phone numbers etc... redacted for this blog)
Salty Rose, 2020.
01/02/2020
Iraq Journal #5. "Your Fired" & "Everybody Desires Freedom!!". 17 & 22 June 2004.
A reunion of sorts. February 2020.
Todays blog post of the Iraq Journal probably isn't going to contain any witty vignettes. It does cover one of the low points of OIF for me personally. Part of the title for this installment, "Your Fired", isn't really an accurate description of what happened. It's more just how it felt. And in the end, it really was all for the better. At least for me. And it was apropos, per our acronym, "IGM" (I Got Mine).
I'd served ten years in the Army National Guard as an Infantryman before transferring to the Air Guard in 1999. I didn't know a damn thing about the Air Force when I started there. Other than they seemed to have a higher standard of living. The first two years in the Air Guard I was drilling and doing correspondence courses, to gain (or catch up to) a proficiency level commensurate with the rank I held (E-5). Then in 2001, meaningful training took a back seat to Operation Noble Eagle the homeland security mission, and then to getting deployment checklists completed for the inevitable move downrange. When we finally got to Iraq, I was assigned to the Air Terminal Operations Center (ATOC). I guess my home-station leadership had the idea that I must be cut out for running work. My civilian occupation was 'Construction Superintendent'. Made sense that I should be able to handle the responsibilities of being an ATOC controller. The truth was, I could barely speak the Air Force's language. With all those years of Army service, I was at a distinct disadvantage in operating with-in Air Force protocols. I was a fish out of water in the ATOC. I became increasingly frustrated. I really needed and wanted to be cutting my teeth, out on the job, with the rank and file.
"17 June 04
SSgt O. my partner in the ATOC at night, has orchestrated a move for me from ATOC, to Ramp. He has a buddy in Ramp who wants to move to ATOC. I had made a wisecrack, in a moment of frustration, that maybe I ought to be in Ramp. SSgt O. acted on it. He spoke with all our NCOIC's, and then pitched the idea to me. I told all of them, in the inevitable interviews that followed, that I didn't want to be seen as a quitter. And I didn't want to be a burden on our Team Chief's, or most importantly of all, have the move adversely affect the mission."
I found out later, that unbeknownst to me, that there was rumor that the flight line at Baghdad was going to close. Team Panther being composed of troops from Travis AFB and Channel Islands Air National Guard Station, was going to be split up. The Travis guys were to go to Al Udied (in 140 degree Qatar). The Channel Islands guys were to go to Balad Air Base up north in Iraq. SSgt O. was apparently trying to help one of his 60th APS Travis buddies maneuver into a job, that would be in an Air Conditioned building, once they got to Qatar. And I thought it was all about my inadequacy's as an ATOC controller. Silly me.
I found out what was really going on, the old fashioned way. The rumors didn't pan out. We were all going to stay in Baghdad. The guy who traded spots with me to get into the ATOC, in anticipation of a move to Qatar, asked to have his job in Ramp back. I declined to trade back. I was really happy in Ramp. It was more of a 'front line' job in our career field. Working out on the flight line with the soldiers, air crews, and aircraft.
"22 June 04
0100 hrs. Just got off duty. Been working Ramp for the last few days. Its nice. I'm home there. I'm with my people. The laborers. I've been on a forklift loading and unloading C-130's and C-17's on the flight line. I think today, June 21st, was my fourth shift with Ramp. Today was pretty uneventful workwise. I worked three C-130's in the afternoon, and then went over to the other side of BIAP, where there's a nice Army PX and AFEES Bazaar. The Bazaar is a funny little swap meet where there are a bunch of Iraqi Arabs selling all kinds of junk. Coins, books, scarves, knives of all sorts, toys, and Saddam's old china and silver. I bought a genie lamp to send home to Shaylin and a couple scarves for my Mom and Debbie. I also bought a nice auto knife for myself but I lost it by the end of the day. Bummer. Oh well. Towards the end of our shift, Ray and I wrote thank you letters to a bunch of Girl Scouts who had sent us a care package of cookies and a bunch of nice notes.
This week is quite a contrast to my first weeks here. In addition to the more hospitable atmosphere of Ramp life, the enemy haven't attacked us in like four days. It's real quiet right now. I don't hear any gunfire, or anything. It's creepy. Like everybody's preparing for a big fight. We anticipate that the June 30th Government Handover is going to be bad. I suspect, and so do others who I've had hushed conversations with, that this is the calm before the storm. We are in "Condition Yellow", which I think means, "Attack Expected". We're required to wear body armor and helmets.
The last big explosion I experienced was during my last shift on 'nights'. I was sitting out on the flight line, in the van, gazing off into the distance. Waiting for an aircraft arrival. Suddenly a very large explosion interrupted my gaze. This was about 9:20 am, on the 18th, I believe. Two huge black clouds towered above the explosion. They didn't have the classic 'mushroom cloud' appearance. They sort of went straight up. A few seconds later I heard the explosion. It was pretty far away, I'm guessing, based on the delay between the sight and sound of it. About a half hour later, in the van I heard a report on the 'Radio Baghdad' news, that there was a car bombing at BIAP that very same morning which killed 12 people. I wonder if that's the one I saw.
Yesterday, the 20th, I went over to the 'commercial side' of BIAP. My mission was to help unload four C-130's which were full of Iraqi Army Officers. Fresh out of training in Jordan. Three Americans and a large group of Iraqi's. Me (with the forklift), another Air Force NCO from the CPA, and a Marine Gunny also from the CPA.
The 'commercial side' of BIAP includes a huge abandoned airport terminal. I hear it's been empty since the Gulf War. I went exploring around in there and found some old Iraqi blueprints, for the airport. I took a cover sheet from one blueprint set to put up on the wall in my construction office at home, (if I still have a job at home after being gone for a year, that is).
There were some interpreters with the Iraqis. I spoke with a young man named Salam. Traded him an American dollar for a Jordanian dinar. I also spoke with him about the current situation in Iraq. I asked him point blank, if the Iraqi's desire freedom. He answered, sort of incredulously, "Everybody desires freedom!!". I found that reassuring. He also told me what it was like living under Saddam's regime (not much, but he did describe some of how they're minds were controlled*). He also told me that the current anger among Iraqi's is due to the notion that many Iraqi's have- that the powerful America should be able to fix their problems overnight**.
I would like to expand on a couple items covered herein-
*Salam the interpreter, did describe to me that under the regime of Saddam Hussein, Iraq was cut-off from the outside world to a large degree. No satellite communications or satellite TV. Censored internet. No cell service. The regime basically had strict control of any information available to the general population. And there were other examples of what most people would consider mass mind-control or brainwashing. He told me that on Saddam's Birthday for example,when you picked up a telephone receiver, instead of a dial tone you'd hear a song proclaiming the greatness of their leader, Saddam.
This leads to, or sets the stage for the second footnote-
**According to Salam- The average Iraqi not being well educated, and being a subject of Saddam's all powerful regime, was totally astounded by the rapidity of the American victory over Saddam. To them, it appeared as if it was a magic trick. For 30 years they'd suffered. America took down the regime in a mere three weeks. Something that seemed completely impossible to them. If America could defeat the regime that quickly, surely America could fix their other problems just as rapidly. Surely they'd be easier to fix. Get the power back on, more than just a couple hours a day. Get them medicine. Fix the water and sewer systems. Get them jobs. ...It didn't happen. Weeks went by. Then months. These Iraqi's grew increasingly disillusioned. Then Iranian agents started showing up with suitcases full of money for the locals who would agree to shoot a few mortar rounds at us. Hey, if you were them, what would you do?
I also learned from these interpreters that when the regime fell, the CPA (Coalition Provisional Authority- basically an interim government set up by the Americans) disbanded the 800,000 man Iraqi Army. And one of the main functions of the Iraqi Army was to secure the borders. With no Iraqi Army, anymore, the borders were wide open. The 160,000 or-so coalition troops were largely operating in the cities. Jihadists from all over the world flooded into Iraq to fight the Infidel. (I imagined a lot of those Jihadi guys were heading for the USA to join the fun after 911, but switched gears and went to Iraq instead, to fight us). In addition to the Mahdi Army- Wahabis from Saudi Arabia, Iranians, Al Qaeda, and probably a lot of pissed-off unemployed former-Baathists- were having a free-for-all. The 'insurgency' that got rolling in 2004 was probably comprised of all these characters and more. It almost seemed like maybe this was an actual war strategy. That the "Where are the WMD's?" thing, was a ruse. From everything I was seeing and hearing, it looked more like a staged war of attrition against Jihadists, to me. But what do I know? I'm just a combat forklift driver.
Salty Rose, 2020
Team Panther tee shirt. IGM. "I Got Mine".
One of our guys (Bert), knew a rep from The Manville Corporation. Manville has 'The Pink Panther' as a company mascot. After we got home, he got us all Manville 'Pink Panther' ball caps, to go with our OIF Team-Panther tee shirts. Yeah, we musta looked pretty badass, going out on the town, with all our Pink Panther schwag on. ;)
The Airport Terminal on the 'commercial side' of BIAP.
Iraq Journal #6. The Usual Routine, Cash Money, & Paying Respects. 23 & 24 June 2004
The Baghdad International Airport (BIAP) Flight Line in 2004.
May 1st, 2003. "Mission Accomplished" read the sign above the President, as he made the speech on the deck of an aircraft carrier, declaring that "major combat operations in Iraq have ended". We'd anxiously been anticipating that we'd be going to war since September 11th, 2001. The Homeland Security Mission which we were mobilized for in the immediate wake of the attacks, we thought, was just the warm-up. Hearing that speech and seeing that sign in the run-up to our rumored future deployment, was a relief and a let-down, at the same time. Crazy.
I think some of us thought it'd be a piece of cake after hearing that news. But it was still a pretty hot topic of conversation, how we should prepare, and all. Then one day at drill, me and Ed were in our home station's chow hall for lunch. We were sitting at a table with an Aircrew guy in a 'desert' colored flight suit. We didn't know him and he had a somewhat grizzled demeanor. The flight suit and his demeanor, tell-tale signs he just got back from the 'sandbox'. But he didn't seem unapproachable, so naturally one of us asked him "What's it like?". "We heard it's pretty quiet in Baghdad now". Personally, I was probably looking for some reassurance that the war was actually winding-down. Between bites he answered, without missing a beat, in a matter of fact tone, "The flight line at Baghdad airport gets hit everyday with rockets". We countered, "still?". He just kind of shrugged, and said, "Yeah". My gut feeling was this guy wasn't 'pulling our legs'. I think we walked away muttering to each other, "was that guy fucking with us?". Turned out he wasn't.
It was the military, and more specifically episodes like this, that instilled in me the notion that "The news... ain't the news". In this world you gotta figure that shit out for yourself. Keep your eyes, and especially your ears, open. I think that's the takeaway for a lot of G.I.'s. Pay attention to the 'official word' that comes down. But fact check everything with the folks around you on the ground. Reviewing my journal entry's now I can see I was constantly engaged in this activity.
After we were mobilized for OIF, and up at Travis AFB, we got word that we weren't needed and we'd be sent home. This was after it was confirmed that we'd drew Baghdad as our duty station for our rotation. For an excruciating couple of weeks the issue was in doubt. But then all of a sudden the trip was on again. Then, after we got there and were on the ground at BIAP, the same thing kept happening. "The mission is gonna be scraped. Y'all aren't needed, we're sending you somewhere else". Made you feel like a yo-yo. I spent a lot of time worrying about stuff that never happened. Story of my life.
"Wed 6-23-2004 12:34am
Did my usual routine today. Got up. Put on my P.T. shorts and tank top, and my flak jacket (minus the plates), and my Kevlar helmet (k-pot). Went to the stinky latrine. Headed off to the gym tent. Rode the bike and stretched. Went next door to the Post Office tent and mailed a scarf to Debbie, one to my Mom, and a genie lamp I bought for Shaylin. The Post Office is going to close June 30th.
June 30th is the day the Iraqi's are supposed to start their new government. Based on that, the Air Mobility Command will shut down the operation here at BIAP. Flight operations will cease July 15th. We should be gone by August 15th. There's talk that our group (the 24 folks from Travis AFB, and the 24 from Channel Islands Air National Guard Station) will be broken up and sent off to Al Udied, Balad, and a small group will stay at BIAP. I guess much depends on how the government turn-over goes.
The first week I was here we were constantly listening to explosion's and gunfire. Plus there were the four Alarm Reds. Attacks directly on our base. This week, by contrast, has been really quiet. Way too quiet. I hope it stays like this. Most of us expect we will get hit hard around the 30th. The base is in Condition Yellow (wear of flak vest, and carry of helmet at all times, on and off duty- I wear my helmet). ...When I was over on the commercial side of BIAP the other day, the Air Force guy from the CPA told me that all their flights are canceled between June 27th and July 5th. This doesn't look good. Hope for the best
0133 24 June 04 Thurs
My camera malfunctioned about an hour ago, and I lost all the pictures I've taken since I left. I'm bummed. Oh well.
We just finished downloading 2.4 billion dollars cash off a C-17. 12 pallets stacked with money. The Korean civilian who was beheaded by terrorists the other day was also loaded up on a C-130 in an H.R. container. I didn't see him get loaded up, but was on the flight line, working the download/upload on the plane next to his. I did see the Honor Guard detail lined up, ready to pay his respects."
I thought that was an interesting little mission. A Marine Lt Col came into the ramp tent in the middle of the night and asked, "Can you guys give us a hand with a mission? We need a forklift to unload some cash off the plane when it gets here". A bunch of gun trucks showed up with a duece and a half truck. When the C-17 with the cash onboard showed up, the gun trucks set up a perimeter around it. The deuce drove in. Two Chinook helicopters then landed with-in the perimeter. We drove out with the 10K All Terrain Forklift and dropped the twelve 7000 lb. pallets on the ground by the helicopters. An Iraqi chain gang then broke the pallets down, loading the boxes of cash into the two Chinook's and the deuce and a half truck. When they were done the two Chinooks flew off into the darkness and the deuce left with the full convoy of gun trucks escorting it.
I learned that on the TV news when they'd report "Twenty Billion Dollars is being sent to Iraq for reconstruction", that meant that 20 Billion in actual cash is sent over. Physically. Dollar bills or what have you, packed into carboard boxes and palletized, is actually put on a plane and sent over. American dollars. At the time the Saddam money was absolutely worthless. And the new Iraqi Dinars weren't worth much more.
That poor Korean Guy. Kim Sun-il. He was a contractor who was kidnapped and beheaded by Zarqawi's guys. I recall walking thru the chow hall over at Camp Striker and seeing the terrorist-filmed footage on cable news, showing the absolutely terrified Mr. Kim pleading for his life. That footage made an impression on me, it was pretty disturbing. Three days later the Army found his remains. Representatives from his Korean employer, the Gana General Trading Company, were to escort his body out of Iraq on a US Air Force C-130. I heard later from some Lieutenant, the grisly details of what happened on the plane after Mr. Kim was loaded up. This happened right in front of all the G.I. passengers onboard, going on R&R or whatever, who were seated in the cargo bay (H.R. containers sometimes being tied to the floor between the rows of seats). Once the airplane doors were closed up, but before the aircraft could depart, the Gana Company folks demanded that the Aircraft Loadmaster open the H.R. container right in front of the passengers, to be certain the body in the H.R. container was Mr. Kim. They wanted to make sure that they wouldn't have to return to Mortaritaville (If they left with the wrong body, they feared having to return, to get the right one). To my way of reckoning, Mr Kim was a hell of a lot more courageous, than his employers could ever hope to be.
The next couple days would see things heat up a little more, in the run-up to the government handover. We'll look at that in Iraq Journal #7.
Peace to you and yours, till then.
Salty Rose, 2020
Link to the story of Kim Sun-il on his Wiki page.
The Story of Kim Sun-il
Neither snow, nor rain, nor heat, nor gloom of night, stays these couriers from the swift completion of their appointed rounds.
That's 7000 lbs. cash money on that pallet behind me and Mike right after we dropped it off a C-17. The Chinook that it's going into, is in the background.
Iraq Journal #7. Writing During Alarm Red & Passenger Killed On The Mambo. 25 & 28 June 2004
Mambo 32
One of the things I wanted to do during this deployment, was document the trip. With the Journal I kept and digital photo's. I would eventually end up going thru three cameras during my rotation. Anyways, after my first camera broke, I was on a mission. To get another one. We had an AFEES PX (a small store) which was basically just a small trailer, at our camp. They sold souvenir items and I remember buying a CD there (remember CD's?). But no cameras. The big PX was over at the Army's Camp Victory, where the First Cavalry Division was based at that time. I needed to get over to Victory, at the first opportunity, to get another camera. That was important to me. In today's Journal entry, from 25 June 04, I write about an off-duty day I had (first day off of the deployment for me) where I was able get over to Victory, and pick up another camera.
When one got an off-duty day, it was usually spent doing laundry. I did my laundry that day after I accomplished the camera-acquisition mission. While I was in the laundry tent that evening, we got hit by mortars, or rockets. During these 'alarm reds' you had to stay put wherever you were. And sometimes it would take a while before we'd go 'green' again. So luckily I had my journal with me in the laundry tent, and I used the time that I was hunkered down in there, to write.
As we neared the end of June, attacks on our area increased. In the Journal, the attacks seem to be the thing that got most of my attention. Around the same time, I was corresponding with folks, via e-mails. After I got home my Mother gave me copies of messages I had written her. I put them into a scrap book I made after getting home. Reading the e-mails is sort of funny... I wrote to her about the weather, the chow, made sure to mention the air-conditioning, made sure she knew we had ice cream, and that sort of thing. It was considered part of operational and communications security, not to talk about enemy activities. But the e-mails read like I went a little further, trying to put a little spin on things, to try to not worry her.
E-mail to Mom:
"June 20th 2004 2:24am
Today it is very windy here. Feels a little hotter too. The sky has turned sort of brown from all the dust in the air. I just had lunch. We have people who drive over to the Army's chow hall and pick us up a plate of food. They have ice cream too, and we keep some in our refrigerator here where we work."
E-mail to Mom:
"June 24th 2004 12:50pm
Hello Mom, this is an enormous complex-as far as the eye can see-a whole bunch of Army camps with us sort of in the middle of the whole thing. Everything is air-conditioned. I’m not sure what the tents are made of. They’re very dusty. We’re in the middle of the Army’s camps, but the Army isn’t allowed inside our camp. I’ve been on duty every day since I got here-except half a day when I switched from nights to days. The GI Mail isn’t working very well. Get my alternate address from Sean."
The Laundry Tent
From the Journal:
"Friday 25 June 04 19:23 hrs.
I’m off duty today. I got up around 9am. Put my uniform, flak vest, and helmet on, and headed over to the flight line. I was hoping somebody would want to take a trip with me over to Camp Victory so I could buy a new digital camera. Ed, Don, and Smitty decided to go. We drove in the ATOC van. None of us had been there before. We ended up driving thru the water processing area. I was surprised to see hoses sucking water out of a canal into big bladders. There were trucks lined up with “Potable Water” written on the side.
Right now as I write this, I’m in the laundry tent. It’s straight across the gravel road from my tent. A few minutes ago I heard the boom, boom, boom, boom, off towards the other end of the camp. A minute later the, “alarm red, take cover”, sounded. So here I sit in the laundry tent. Alarm black followed and I looked outside to see the UXO sweep teams moving around outside. The worst thing about these alarms is that the order goes Red, Black, then Green. Once the alarm green is sounded you have like 10 minutes to get over to the logistics tent (to check in for accountability). I’m always worried that I’ll miss the alarm green, not report in time, and then get in trouble.
Since the ‘condition yellow’ was announced last week, our officers have really been on our butts about wearing the flak vest all the time. It is a real pain for us out on the flight line as temperatures are climbing into the 110’s these days.
I hope no one was hurt in this attack. I said a real short prayer to request this.
As June 30th comes closer, we anticipate more attacks. All the Army guys we talk to say so. We also received a global e-mail from our Commander threatening us with a LOR (letter of reprimand) from the Squadron Commander, and an Article 15 from the Group Commander, if we get caught without our flak vest and helmet. There was also a mention in the e-mail about the coming “events”, which are expected with the handover of the government, from the coalition to the Iraqi people.
We hear that yesterday there were attacks all over Iraq, with three coordinated attacks on three police stations in Baghdad. From the flight line we saw flashes off in the distance last night. We also saw parachute flares and star clusters up in the sky."
E-mail to Mom:
"June 27th 2004 2:25am
Thank you for the address. May I make a request? I have a new digital camera, which I got at the Camp Victory PX (It’s the biggest PX around here). It is a ‘Kodak Easyshare’, and the instructions say to only use Kodak CRV3 lithium batteries, or two AA lithium batteries. They don’t sell them here, and it’s a pain in the butt to get over to Victory. I have some which came with the camera but I’m afraid they’ll run out-because one of our forms of entertainment here is too show each other pictures we’ve taken, on the little screen on the back of the camera. So we’re always turning our cameras on."
I feel compelled to highlight my surprise at seeing water being sucked out of a canal, for our water supply. Especially in light of the fact that I've experienced some unusual health problems in the years since. Doubtless, we showered in that "Potable Water". The water that I saw being siphoned out of the canal, on the way to Camp Victory. We were given strict instructions NOT to use the water in our latrine, to brush our teeth. You had to bring a plastic water bottle to the latrine, for water to brush your teeth with. But we did shower and shave with it. Personally, I believe this "Potable Water" from a dirty irrigation canal, is an issue, like the burn-pit issue. An environmental issue which may be responsible for the poor health outcomes for some of the Veterans of these wars. Like the rare hepatobiliary cancer I acquired. But I digress... The next Journal entry was two days later on the 28th. I didn't write every day. Some days maybe I felt there wasn't much to report. But it was probably because I was too tired.
From the Journal:
"Monday 6-28-04 2am
Word is, Fridays attack hit the flight line over by Spec-Ops. Saturday we were real busy at work. I drove a bus onto a C-17, among other things.
Sunday a.m. at 7:45 I was woke up by a very large explosion which shook the tent. It was actually kind of scary, but I just laid in my bunk. Five minutes after the attack an alarm sounded. After the usual reporting in etc... I went to the gym tent, then took a shower, and went to work.
It was a lot slower today. We loaded two ISU-90's, a Humvee, and a pallet onto the Aussie C-130, Mambo 32. After we finished the upload, it left. A little while later Ray told me Mambo 32 had returned, and we needed to go unload it. I thought that was kind of strange. But then again, the big laugh of the day was, the bus we loaded yesterday, was the wrong bus.
Turns out the reason Mambo 32 returned, was a bullet hit the aircraft on departure, killing a CPA civilian who was on his way home. He was sitting in the right/front of the cargo bay next to two other people. The bullet hit him in the head. Just missed the others. We went out to download the aircraft. As we worked our way towards the rear on the download, I was looking. When we went to push the last pallet off I saw him. Not the man but the body bag laying on the floor two feet away. You could tell the medical folks had just been there. Lots of towels, latex gloves, and things laying about.
Everyone here is affected. I think most folks are kind of scared of getting shot on the flight in or out. To see it actually happen is a little too much.
Walking back to my tent after work, I stopped to chat with an Air Force Security Forces troop who was off duty, but in full K-vest, LBE, and weapon. He told me that until July 4th they'd be packing 24-7. He also told me another C-130 was hit with some kind of SAM, and that the mornings rocket attack hit with-in 100 meters of an aircraft on the ground. Looks like game on."
The Wrong Bus
It seems odd to me reading this now. Ray telling me that Mambo 32 had returned, and I make a note in the Journal about the big joke of the day being that we loaded the wrong bus onto an airplane. In my damn Journal. It's almost like I didn't really want to write about what had happened. A VA psychologist told me that Veterans (and GI's) do have a pretty dark sense of humor. When shit like this is going down, we seem to turn to humor, any kind of humor... To get thru it, maybe? Humor and laughter are the only antidote for the unrelenting boredom and pressure, in my estimation. According to my friend at the VA, Veterans laugh at things that appall civilian's. Hell, we have to. What the hell else can you do? The guy was dead. We had to deal with it right then.
I do remember actually being pissed when Mambo 32 returned, maybe only fifteen minutes or so after departure. It was pretty hot outside. This happened mid-day, maybe 3:00 o'clock in the afternoon. Most of the C-130's we loaded around that time, only got maybe two pallets, on an upload. I believed that was so they could get up off the ground quickly. Mambo 32 had a full load, which seemed a little unusual to me. And it was a lot of work to load up. So to be told to go right back out to unload it, gave me a case of the ass. "Case of the ass" being GI-speak for being pissed off. When I got out onto the ramp, I saw Bert the Ramp Controller, and asked him what the hell was going on. He told me there was a dead guy onboard. That shut me up right quick.
Bert and I were the ones who pushed the last pallet off. We had to step over the body bag. I remember we both looked down at it, then we looked up, and our eyes met. The look in Bert's eyes is seared into my memory. I don't think I will ever forget that moment.
Nobody really knew who the guy was. Three civilian's had hopped onto that aircraft as a sort of 'opportune airlift' out of there. But before they moved him, the Australian crew took their flag down from their cargo bay (all the aircraft had a flag flying in the cargo bay), and wrapped the body bag with it before it was taken away to the camp mortuary. I admired their show of respect. Later that night, after he was cleaned up presumably and put into a human-remains transfer case, the body was going to be flown home. We learned the casualty was an American civilian. In Iraq working for the CPA. And in an almost unbelievably heartbreaking twist, turned out this man had two sons in the Army, at Camp Victory. They were on the flight line that night, and flew home with their Dad.
That concludes the Journal entry for June 25 & 28th, 2004. A lot of nights I wrote these entries usually after getting off duty. And during this time I was on the 'day shift', which meant 12 noon to 12 midnight. That is, if we weren't too busy. If the flight line was hoppin', it could turn into a 14 or 15 hour shift. So a lot of these were written at 2 or 2:30 in the morning. On the 28th I wrote at 2am. Only three hours later I would experience, what remains in my mind, the pivotal moment of the deployment (for me, that is). And that day we'd also record what may be considered the most prominent historical event during our time there. Well, historical from, a history book kind of perspective. And I'd write about those things later that night on June 29th.
All that being said, anyone who's been there, probably thinks more about the stuff that you won't see in the history books. Things like, two soldier boys flying home with their Dad, from Baghdad, Iraq, on June 28th, 2004.
Salty Rose, 2020