To My Wife This Christmas

Not enough. Simply and mindfully not enough. I have in my life a woman that remains steadfast and confident in her entire being. My deployment decision became a mutual decision that she fully supported, but I know that it has taken a toll on her. She has had to hold down the fort dealing with items that normally I would have resolved quickly and easily. Instead, she's come to rely on close friends, which is also great, but the fact that she cannot rely on my presence cannot be disputed. This woman, my wife, is my teammate and I am hers. Together, we make things work pretty darn well. In the absence of one, the other tends to struggle, even if for little things.


Christmas What Year??



Without her, I would simply starve or devolve to ramen noodles and iceberg lettuce. Without me, she has to replace light bulbs 35' in the air, disassemble, repair, and reassemble the entire pool filtering system, manage to keep two golden retriever swimmers from drowning the house, plus working a full-time job and taking care of the house and those within and a multitude of other things requiring dual hands.
Yet she has managed to find the time to send me several care packages that have sustained me physically and boosted my morale beyond mere survival into a satisfied life while on this junkyard of a post. Boxes of delights she knows I enjoy including everything from pretzels to a diffuser that makes my room smell like a spa. She has spent hour upon hour dehydrating meats of various forms, vacuum sealing them and sending them over with bags of much needed fiber to stock my fridge and supply me with high-quality meat. I've resorted to freezing the bags of jerky to keep them fresh I have so much.
My Thanksgiving sucked. I'll just put that out there. It was not good. I truly wasn't expecting it to be something incredible, but it would have been much more enjoyable had I even had a small taste of turkey. Then we rolled into what is now the Christmas Holiday season, and moral is pretty low. Not just mine either. As a teacher (or former teacher), I have loved Christmas. Decorating my room, playing holiday music for the kids you name it I love it. This year, while here in Iraq, I pre-ordered lights and streamers for the office, but around here, the spirit just seems to not be catching on.
Then my wife's most recent three care packages arrived. Each one was full of Christmassy goodies that have been spread around the office and inside my room like an indoor carnival. Crème de la crème: she and my daughter put together a project of a Christmas tree made of felt, button sewn on it in various locations, and a plethora of ornaments made of several shapes and sizes felt that hangs from each button. Then they were able to get kids and teachers from Walter Bracken to do the same and the box arrived just yesterday, 08DEC17.

I immediately hung the tree on the door leading to the hallway from my office and had several guys from my section hang the ornaments. Decorating the tree is a family event, and since my wife and daughter and grandson are so far away from me at the moment, I shared in this with the guys. I have no idea how they received it, but it meant a lot to me. At the time, I had no idea what she had done. In the care package was a tin box and a card. I figured they were "do not open until." gifts. Then I facetimed with her this morning while she was wrapping up her first and much deserved trip to Hawaii. She informed me to open the card and the tin, which spilled the beans. The tree and ornaments were destined for my room, not the office.
Had I known, I wouldn't have shared. Yup..I would been greedy and selfish and kept all that beauty for myself. My wife, my daughter, friends and kiddos from Bracken. All put effort into making my Christmas special. And it will be. I kept much of the stuff for myself, don't get me wrong. I have a little decoration going on as you can see, but I also know that as I sing my wife's praises here, I also know she does just this sorta thing: she makes people happy through her giving. She is a giver. While I would love to keep her giving all to myself, I am so proud to be able to see her efforts and so many other's efforts to hopefully bring happiness to others in this hum-drum location.
In my own little slice of in-heaven, I put to good use the vast assortment of other decorations my wife sent, plus a couple other do-dads that I ordered, and the remaining ornaments that didn't fit on the tree at work. I made myself a heater-tree, that will suffice nicely. Presents from home will be placed under the tree the night before Christmas and I might even do a live show of opening for Christmas. Thank you daughter, thank you Walter Bracken, and thank you Wife!

Deja Vu'

Sunday, November 5th, 2017. Please keep my wife and daughter in your thoughts. Debbie is sick with the flu (?) and my daughter is looking at a big repair bill since I cant help.

A memory came back to haunt me this week. Maybe not a memory as much as an impression since what arose within me this week came from my time here during my last deployment ten years ago. One of the consequences, if you will, of a deployment is the state of perpetual of tiredness.  This is the remembrance that dawned on me.

I don’t mean being sleepy. This state of tiredness has nothing to do with being tired per se. For instance, pulling the night watch eliminates sleep from the daily diet of bodily needs, producing sleepiness. This is normal and expected, and after a day of recovery, all is well. Night watch isn’t all that bad either since the building becomes a ghost town and no one makes contact with you. The following day as a day off allows for an additional respite from human contact as well. Of course, I don’t get to pull night duty.

I’m also not referring to the tired feelings of having just completed a marathon. Nope, I know that feeling all too well, and while a day or two recovery will inevitably provide a return to full-duty status, the moments after the marathon itself are exhausting. Yet, still the tired feelings are not what I’m describing.

Then quite possibly the argument comes by way of being tired emotionally. Strong argument since a deployment does wreak havoc with emotional well-being thanks to the distance from family members from whom we all gain strength. Yet this emotional state of tiredness, as strong an argument as it is, still only adds to the principle to which I am referring: a perpetual state of drained exhaustion.

Personally, I feel it predominantly in my eyes. My eye sockets have this heaviness and puffiness to them that no amount of caffeinated beverages can compensate. Even after a rock-solid 7 hours of blissful sleep, I arrive at my desk on a relatively slow admin day and the exercise in futility of keeping my eyelids above half-mast drains me. It requires herculean effort to maintain constant vigil, let alone any resemblance of situational awareness. Perhaps the events of October exposed this state of being?

October beat me down hard. 90% of my difficulties came from interpersonal conflicts and confrontations, by the numbers. In comparison, measuring difficulties using a standards of measurement of significant emotional experiences, a few events that took place this month shook me up pretty well. Maybe the events that I experienced during this month only seemed that dramatic to me and were in fact minor occasions of discomfort to others, but they happened to me.

Two major disappointments happened to me in October. The first began in September when I discovered I could participate in the Marine Corps Marathon Forward, allowing me to run the race at a post way up north here in Iraq. I checked with my travel agent guy here in the unit, who promised me he could get me to the post when the time came. I specified I could only go over three days. A week before the race, he informed me I would be gone for an indiscriminant time, possibly up to a week. I had to back out. Still haven’t completed the run.

The disappointment of not being able to participate in the MCM Forward resulted in the second emotional event of the month: hard-hit illness. I became so upset with not being able to attend the event, that I went for a long run that night. I left right after work when the parts-per-million dust and smoke particles were at their upmost for the end of the day. For a half marathon equivalent, I ran this tiny little post and by the time I wrapped it up, my gun hip was sending sharp pains into me and I could not breathe to save myself. The amount of garbage I inhaled caused a serious illness that last two weeks with a trip to the medical center and switched to a shoulder harness to heel my hip muscles. Haven't run for the last two weeks.  

I have had other significant events happen that related directly to my job. For days I had visions of appearing before a Senate Hearing. I cannot begin to describe them here, but it has been a challenging month all things considered. My morale dropped and the frequent contact I have with my wife plus the weekend visits with my daughter and grandson kept me going. And the care packages filled with jerky!!!! Holy cow(literal and figurative use) WIFE!! You made the most amazing cow jerky and I have savored every ounce. 

I stayed silent otherwise for the month. No videos posted, no blog postings. Only a few text messages back home. I withdrew, I admit, which is a signal that all is not well for this introvert. For the month of November I am determined to focus my energies on positives. My intent is to find one important item during the course of each day to be thankful for and boast about it. Today I am thankful for having the opportunity to sleep in.

Lifelong Friendships

My team went out on mission without me today. It’s only two guys, a MSG and a SSG, but their absence was felt knowing they were outside the wire. I met them back in June, home station drill, one of the first days I enjoyed within my new assignment. The first thing I told my team at our initial get together included one of my key principles of leadership: that I will approach  each of them first as a human being then rank and position held in the unit second.

I based this approach on the belief that although the unit and my team specifically have roots deeply embedded across the four corners of the nation, we all have base motivations driving us. We want to serve in the Army (or the military, for that matter) that what we do should matter, but really, at the end of the day, what we all truly want to be able to go home and be with the loved ones for whom we work.

This approach has served me well in the past, generally speaking, but has often times led to being taken advantage of. On such an adventure as a military deployment, friendship bonds potentially form that surpass levels seen in a wide variety of friendships elsewhere, simply due to the nature of the business. The bonds are not better, just different.

Such was the case, or I assumed, when I joined the team within which I currently serve. One in particular stood out as one with glaring potential for a friendship….no, wait…a brotherhood…that would last for a lifetime. As time moved forward and the unit came together in pre-deployment phase, my time with the one increased dramatically and the depth of what I believed was a real friendship developed, I opened myself up and allowed vulnerability. Then we arrived in theater, where true colors exploded all over the big screen. My value diminished to the point of an entry-level recruit in his eyes and my trust disappeared. My dedication to duty remains and though work will continue professionally, I highly doubt contact will sustain after the deployment.

Back to my team and our initial meeting. Originally there were four of us, but we lost one due to admin issues that simply couldn’t get worked out. Otherwise, he would have only added to what now have. My NCOIC resides in Brooklyn, NY and makes the personal claim politically as a liberal while I lean toward the conservative. Yet as we continue to carry on conversations and discussions, our political stances truly are not so far apart as the media would want them to be. He is married and while hasn’t ever had the need to drive a car in his life, he is driving one the biggest rigs we have in the unit quite proficiently. He also has a 3 year old little girl and wants desperately to get home safely to be with them.

I also have the token old guy working for me. Although working for me may not be the right description since he is a former Lieutenant Colonel, retired, re-enlisted back into the NCO Corps as a SSG. And is he old. I’m a spring chicken compared to this bald-headed old fart with a sense of humor as long as the day. He is humble, jovial, and smart with wisdom coming from a BC perspective on many things. I call him SSG when others are around, but “sir” comes out more often than not. His desire is to return home to his wife, kids, and grandkids too.

These two guys are making my existence here worthwhile. We have set the standard for what a mission outside the wire looks like, and the team has earned a reputation as the safest team in the unit. We have yet to miss a weekly suspense and as a team of three, ours is the strongest, most tightly knit group. These two will end up being the ones I carry with me for a lifetime, and although we are only a month into this adventure I can honestly say the only way this group will separate is failure of leadership on my part. Back to principle one: We are all human beings wanting only after putting in a good day’s work to go home and be with our families.

From left to right: SSG Tim Cyprian and MSG Victor Alicea on 11SEP2017 in front of one of our two trucks we use to drive to our secondary location for work. I was supposed to have been in this photo, but now it seems appropriate that I would have this pic.

Quick update over last two weeks

25AUG17

Today is Friday, August 25^th, 2017 and I have been in Iraq two full weeks. The first week here I spent doing a hand-off with the unit rep I replaced. My job is similar to supervising a few dealership maintenance branches. The difference being our maintenance vehicles are tanks and other combat-related vehicles. I work out of two offices. One office is found within my unit’s headquarters, where the vast majority of admin-related tasks get done. The second office isn’t really an office as much as a location. My second office requires a bit more attention to detail, so more to come.

I few events stand out in my mind during the first two weeks, which, if I were back home, would equate to an annual training and I would returning home soon. Key events: I was afforded the opportunity to be served tea in an Iraqi Brigadier General’s office. Granted, the BG is corrupt beyond measure, but still, it was a pretty cool event. His is the office that looks more like a Vegas Club than a BG’s office.

This week I took over missions. No longer baby-sat, I am in full charge of my section’s mission and we pulled it off nicely. ON Tuesday while strolling through the compound, we suddenly came across a 120mm tank round nonchalantly placed on the ground and left. What a lovely surprise.

I’ve also enjoyed a couple medical issues this week. Upon arrival in this region, my skin started to react unhappily. I’ve been experiencing acne sporadically with only my face and hands being exceptions to the rule. One pop-up on my lower left back turned into a nasty cyst that required being surgically removed on Tuesday. I have a great video of it, if you’re interested. Prior to and for the last two days, that tiny area has been a pain in my back. Literally. Especially when I put on my protective vest. THAT was a highly emotional experience.

Immediately following this event on Thursday was  the result of enjoying the dining facility’s Indian Cuisine Night with lamb curry. My stomach has not been the same for going on two days now. Keep in mind no interior latrines can be found anywhere on this entire compound. In order to get to the nearest “repository” whether I am in my room or in the office, I need to walk a solid 50-100m. And then the facilities are nothing more than a porta-pottie or latrine/shower facility.

So sums up my first two weeks, leaving out only a few things that happened that are of more interest to my military compadres than not. Overall I am doing well. Personality issues are more troublesome than work-related issues, but that’s always to be expected until the dust settles. Those are the things that stress me out at work.

On the home front, I am able to facetime using the internet I have in my room, which allows me near daily contact back home. While I miss my wife, daughter, and grandson, being able to see them while talking with them eases the homesickness. I have been authorized the taking and sending of videos to Bracken, so I can stay in contact with the kiddos and teachers, too. I find great therapy in doing such an activity. Once my back heals up (Nice marble-sized hole) I will hit the gym regularly. I am back in touch with my coach and look forward to hearing his voice in my head again too.

Friday and Sunday morning are my only days off. I am ten hours ahead of Vegas time. So, if you feel like reaching out on facetime, email me ahead of time so I can turn on my connection. It is always good to hear from the States! That’s about it for this update. Stay tuned for more news out of the desert.

From US to Iraq: Clothing and Environment. A satiricle look.

As the day started, my the normal routine of preparing myself for work seemed mundane. My coffee tasted different, as if it were made from some foreign water source. My room seemed smaller, as though it had reduced in size during the night while I lay attempting a form of sleep on a bed made of lumps and folds. Things seemed different, so I made a change to my normality by embracing the abnormality.

The previous attire held near and dear to my heart became a sudden distant past as I succumbed to the donning of a skin-tight under garment layer from toe to neck. A second layer of fabric then covered the first, yet was different from the first in several ways. The second layer covered all remaining exposed skin save for hands, neck, and face. Formulated from only the finest of non-breathable, flame-retardant, multi-use camouflaged pattern its sole purpose appeared only act as impenetrable defense against all things external.

My feet required attention. Their single fabric layer could only provide limited barriers against the onslaught of the day’s activities and requirements. They needed more. Engulfing each foot within a vessel constructed of extremely durable, highly think, and unforgiving leather attached to a brick-like sole, my feet were securely protected from the elements, though not without the highly agitating and constant rubbing over the leather against lightly covered skin through thinly made socks.

A cap covered the one area of the human body that releases the most body heat, and with the complete ensemble, I made my way into the world. Upon opening the exterior door, the initial attack came in the form of a 13.7 kazillion-candle-watt power light bulb.  The magnitude of the source scorched my retina and ice picks began to stab at the receptors deep in my eye sockets. Only another thinly constructed shield protected them, shaded pieces of plastic held together by cheap frames wrapping themselves around my head.

Suddenly I became engulfed in a heat source unregisterable on the British Thermal Unit scale, a veritable magnifying glass shining on me, similar to those I used on ants when I was a child. The protective layer I had donned now became an oven. My body began to slowly cook within its encapsulated cocoon.

The initial barrage was only half the attack. I was wittingly flanked by a penetrating wind that swallowed me whole. The oven experience turned from sauna-style heat to convection as wave after wave of recirculatory air patterns relentlessly dwelt blow after blow. Walking in the open environment provided a mental image of moving through a gauntlet of a thousand heat guns focused on my embittered torture. Breathing became a struggle as particles of stirred up dust and debris infiltrated my nose and lungs.

The mundane routine I had once known became a faded distant past with the new environmental factors now affecting me. My world has changed significantly and remembering how things once were only serves lowly feelings. So, to an end I stay focused and simply enjoy the moment and prepare myself for the unavoidable rainy season.

New Soil (Kuwait)

15AUG17

New Soil

The long walk from the terminal to the plane on 08AUG17 manifested itself quite differently this deployment, far less emotional than the first. Our plane, a United 747, waited for us on the tarmac a solid four-minute walk. While my first tour departed in the early morning hours, this walk took place in the afternoon sun and one of my fellow soldiers interrupted my solitude during the walk through unsolicited statements regarding seating arrangements which proved to be without merit. As we boarded the aircraft, a terminal official greeted us by asking our rank and directing traffic accordingly. Majors have little affluence anymore as two lower ranking soldiers were directed to first class while I received orders to the rear of the plane.

My seat ended up being the next to last seat in the tail end of the extremely long bird. Only one row sat further to the rear than did my own. I found a two-seat row next to a window on the right side of the plane facing forward and sat in the aisle seat. Next to me a joyful warrant officer that maintained his countenance throughout the flight. He kept me happy and jubilant. I think I posted a picture of the two of us on my main page.

The flight took a total 28 hours. We stopped in VA and took on additional passengers completely engulfing the plane, which I estimate to be around 350 passengers. It’s a guess, but on a 747, seats are a plenty. From VA we spent approximately 7 hours flying over the ocean. It was not harsh, as we enjoyed in-flight movies and were fed frequently. Upon landing in Hahn, Germany, the flight enjoyed a short shuttle ride to a terminal facility in a dilapidated military base terminal area with actual grass in the back yard.

Our third leg took us to Qatar where a vast majority of the passengers left, allowing for many to move about the cabin and spread out a bit. The final leg from Qatar landed us in Kuwait International Airport. After 28 hours on a plane, it is safe to say we were not happy campers. The heat welcomed us at nearly 120 degrees, which only added to the strained muscles and attitudes, but a clean, dust-free, interior holding area allowed to enjoy ice-cold water while resting on sofa recliners in air-conditioned luxury suites. (yeah…not true. Outdoor, in the heat and dust, and not really any seat except for the concrete T-barriers. And cool water? Not really. Refrigerators are everywhere, not just in Kuwait, but in Iraq too. If you take one, you replace one. But they never really get chilled.)

Tiny busses transported us from heaven to the tropical resort of Camp Arifjan to await our transportation into Iraq. I enjoyed wifi, a Starbucks, and a half mile walk to the dining facility three times a day. I also had a chance to Facetime with the family back home. The heat during the day averaged around 117. Welcome to Kuwait.

Last American Meal

05AUG17

Last American Meal

Sleep has not been an issue this week since the “episode” of the other night, and in fact, I have even been waking up early enough to log some miles on the road. By the way, I humbly thank you for the encouragement in your comments. Every word adds life to me. Thank you!

Yesterday I enjoyed supporting the APFT (physical fitness test) for the unit with some running pointers and also sharing some of the last remaining supplies of Hammer gel packs I kinda squirreled away over the last three weeks. (Which, by the way, received high praise from several soldiers, thank you Hammer Nutrition!)

This morning was another such start as even before the sun began to peek over the horizon and before few if any other soldiers were up, my Altras were softly gliding across the pavement. The ghost town of North Fort Hood felt eerily exciting at the early hour. 6 miles later a multitude of runners covered the streets conducting various forms of physical training. It was a good start.

This afternoon I had the opportunity to hitch a ride to the big PX in the sky. PX=Post Exchange, but it’s not really in the sky. It’s more like on the big side of Fort Hood, TX. Not really “like” on the big side of Fort Hood, it actually IS on the big side of Fort Hood. It’s to the south of us, so it’s known as South Fort Hood to us. So, we started calling it Southfork, after a certain Texas based TV series from the 80s. I still don’t who shot JR.

I picked up a couple items that will come in handy in the upcoming three days. First, I grabbed two back-up batteries that should suffice the journey I am about to face soon. I should only need the juice for my ipad since my phone will be off and the laptop will not be needed. I also enjoyed one last stop in the PX for some fast food. Which turned out to be…CHINESE FOOD! HA! And for dessert??? My last official American made Starbucks coffee dark roast. Deee-lish!!

Weird, right? But stop and think about it for a second. Unless I manage to get a second chance tomorrow, today was the last time for many months that I will enjoy both succulent choices that were made ON American soil. Certainly, we can assume coffee and other fast food type environments exist in foreign countries, to be sure. Yet, the simplest of ingredients will not have been secured from an American resource. Such as, of all things, WATER. (Yes, I seriously do think about things like this.)

Consider: each of us desire a specific brand of bottled water, correct? Step into any Terrible Herbst or 7-11 to get water, what do you reach for? Dasani? Smart Water? Why? Because each one tastes different, correct? So why won’t the water in a different country be reasonably expected to taste different enough to cause a variant in the flavor of the coffee, let alone the noodles that were boiled in water? Am I right? So I enjoyed my last American made Chinese food and one last American made coffee and now I can settle in for my last full day on American soil tomorrow. Hey, that just gave me an idea…I wonder what American soil tastes like compared to other country soils?

02AUG17> The Walls Caved In On Me

After a grueling day of travel pre-cursed by leaving behind my loved ones yesterday, I finally arrived back in my barracks room at 0345. I slept…kinda…for an hour or so, got up and made first formation. My day was productive as things are drawing near to our departure. Went to dinner with my fellow officers  at 1800 and came home to watch some Big Bang Theory. Called home. And finally, exhausted, I went to bed. Key detail: a couple weeks ago my battle buddy left on advance party, so I now have a large room to myself. Relaxing and peaceful not having someone else’s smelly shoes in the room. But were he here with me, tonight would not have happened.

However, not having my battle with me allowed cause an opening for my internal man to experience havoc. I still am unsure of all the factors that caused what I experienced, but I don’t recall experiencing this on my first deployment. My mind hasn’t been totally clear all day, so when I went to go horizontal (lie down), I suddenly began to feel the room spin. Not bad, but enough. Then the walls started closing in on me, and I felt it very difficult to breathe, as if the room had no air. So, considering my traveling the day before, lack of sleep, poor nutrition, water intake, etc, it stands to reason this might happen. However, couple this now with the heaviness of leaving my wife, my daughter and my grandson and it was more than I could bear while in this room.

I found myself sitting up, my hands on my knees, small light on, Chris Tomlin playing, and praying against my thoughts that were attacking me. The loneliness I felt inside this room overwhelmed me, invaded my innermost being and left me void. Empty.

I’m better now as I donned my PT gear and ran into the darkness west of my building. To escape the loneliness, I ran into more desolation, but it was freeing. No lights, no constraints, no hindrances. It was in the night, on a short run, the emotions hit again. Remembering the airport parking garage holding my grandson, who KNEW something was up, refusing to let go of me, calling out “papa” over and over. Hugging my daughter, unable to express the pride I have in her maturity in being a mommy.

Holding my wife for the second go-around, knowing that it is I who has created this hardship for her, knowing full well that I am the cause of her direct pain, brought me to my knees. I will never doubt the strength that is in my wife, the independence, the ability to ENDURE life. True, it was a mutual decision, but in the end I left her and wont again see her for ten months. That’s a lot to deal with as any military spouse knows.

Now, after clearing my head, I decided to share the effects a deployment. At times it is difficult to put into words what cannot be seen. Not just emotions, but thoughts, attitudes, work stressors all remain invisible to outsiders. I share these things with you, my little closed group of special loved ones, because you will let me.