Seasons

Now that it's November, the weather in Basra, Iraq has turned. The air has cooled and the dust storms of the summer are a thing of the past.

Blackhawk rides have become bearable, not leaving you sapped of energy and sweating through all the layers of your clothing and body armor by the time you land.

Waking up at 0330 to go running this morning was actually a bit chilly with the temperature around 60 degrees. The entire 23 mile run while watching the glorious Arabian sunrise coming over the sands and oil-field fires stayed comfortable, with the muscles getting tired before heat injuries occurred. That would have been a rarity during the summer months when it felt as though you could reach out and touch the scorching sun. Now sweat stays on clothes and your shoes stay wet for hours instead of seconds.

The skies have cleared up as the dust seems to have cleared out. Orion and Gemini are among my companions on the walk home from work many evenings. The cool breeze contrasts the former hot winds and sometimes I just stop and pause to stare out amongst the stars as I dream of home.

One season closer to getting back.

My First Marathon

Saturday 12Sep09. A relatively easy day with 2.5 hours in a helicopter, two hours of weightlifting at the gym, and 8 hours in the office. The plan after work was to run 16 miles at a sub nine-minute pace due to the relative coolness of 93 degrees. Previous farthest run was 15 miles.

At 2116 (9:16pm) we began our run, and found exceptionally ideal conditions. We ran a 5-mile loop, a 7-mile loop, and another 5-mile loop. Finishing these at a 8:57 pace, my friend and I were quite happy. Displaying a slightly confused perspective of distance, I said, "Let's just keep running, we're almost at a marathon." My friend disagreed and went back to his CHU to sleep, but I decided it would be worth it to keep going.

I ran another 3.5-mile loop, which covered 1/3 of the remaining distance, and realized just how far there was yet to run. However, since I had told my friend that I was going to run a marathon, I knew I had to finish it.

Becoming more mentally impaired and hitting a wall at around 21 miles, I slowed down considerably and began taking breaks every mile or so for a minute or two. My stomach was churning in pain after I would run for about a mile and forced me to stop for a bit for it to recover. I was now only running a half-mile loop around our living area over and over to make sure that if I did trip or pass out, I wouldn't be too far from home or from people. Without anyone else around, I resorted to praying and talking to myself to pass the time.

Finishing at 0219 (now 91 degrees out), with 4:32 of run-time and 31 minutes of total stop-time, I cheered for myself and then walked over to a colleague's CHU to drop off my Garmin for him to use the next morning. Feeling pretty fine, I went home, told my roommate who was still up watching movies, and then walked to the shower trailer and got ready for bed (noticing in the shower I was still talking to myself, I think that I need to eat more during the next time I run something like that).

Asleep by 0300, I slept in until 1300 for the first time on the deployment. On waking up, I felt fine and went into work. That evening Tom and I ran a 5k in 26:15 (8:13 pace) and are now training to run a marathon in the future a little faster. I figure if I am lucky enough to be in the shape I am without injuries right now, I have to take advantage of it and try as hard as I can to capitalize on the opportunity.

"Whatever you do, work at it with all your heart, as working for the Lord, not for men." -Colossians 3:23

The Desert

To describe an experience in Iraq, or any other theater, one of the most basic elements is the climate. Though one can never do justice to an area with simply words, I will try my best to convey some of my memories here.

Background

Balad is 42 miles northwest of Baghdad. LSA Anaconda is shortly outside of town and covers an area of 15 square miles. 22,000 people lived on the base, and we were attacked by mortars or rockets an average of twice daily during my time there. It lays in the heart of an area known as the Sunni Triangle, which is where roughly 80% of attacks against coalition forces occurred during my time there. To the right is a picture of me holding some shrapnel from a mortar round that almost hit me. (http://www.globalsecurity.org/military/world/iraq/balad-ab.htm)

We wore boots, socks, full pants, DCU top (long sleeve, button up), belt, body armor (30 pounds, thick and doesn't breathe), 210 rounds of ammo (7 pounds), M16 (7.8 pounds), 2 liters of water (4.5 pounds), helmet (3.5 pounds), and sunglasses. Other incidentals to carry included food, pictures, books, Ipods, and anything else someone might want to have with them.

Description

Scorching heat, 120 degrees in the shade. Felt like well above that. We lived in tin shipping containers where the A/C worked half the time. The problem was that the A/C primarily worked when it wasn't too hot, because once it got unbearably hot the generators that powered them would stop working. Computer parts, flash drives, and other things with meltable components can't be stored in pockets or in hooches for too long lest they melt something. I generally did my work at night and would try to sleep in the day. Sweating through the mattress and hallucinating from the excessive heat and exhaustion in a state of half-sleep, half-awake that plagues a person for weeks at at time.

The ground there was a hard rock and dust mixture that we described as moon-dust. The dust was extremely fine, similar to flour. If you stepped on a pile of it it would all fly up into the air. The ground beneath it was as hard as cement. Mortar rounds that caused craters a foot deep and several feet across in Minnesota barely made a dent in the ground in Balad. In this way we were not in a traditional desert, as there wasn't really much sand to speak of when compared to Kuwait or other areas.

The sun didn't stop shining for months at a time. There were a few months when no clouds were visible at all. It never occurred to me that clouds might be something rare to see. Then during the rainy season (January and February 2005 when I was there), we had floods and had to dig trenches to divert water. 

Overall, these parts of the experience were amazing, living in a new climate with new challenges and opportunities. During times when it was peaceful and we didn't have something to do, it felt in many ways similar to how studying abroad or vacationing would feel.

Dreaming of Iraqi Culture

Every day that goes by is one day closer to leaving. On the other hand, it is one day closer to going on a remarkable journey to a foreign land.

The leadership opportunities and cultural immersion will hopefully be an unbelievable learning experience that I will be getting paid good money to go through. The last time I deployed, I made the mistake of overlooking a lot of these great chances to learn the culture and practices of the Iraqi people.

Similar to studying abroad, I will be given the chance to see how people outside of our culture interact with each other as well as how they feel about their own experiences and world events. I am currently trying to learn their language and culture to prepare myself in order to interact with them as richly as possible. 

The Iraqi people have gone through tremendous hardships from 'Saddam' to 'The Invasion' to the 'Civil Unrest' that continues to take the lives of thousands. Some of the best western art and culture was born out of strife and hardship, so I don't doubt that the same might be true for the Iraqis. 

Morbid Math

Looking at going back to Iraq, many people feel as though you might be fearful for your life. Sometimes I am. This doesn't seem to me to be a rational thought, however, when I look deeper into the numbers behind OIF deaths:

[assuming that every job in country is equally dangerous, which obviously is not true. However, due to the high degree of indirect fires (rockets, mortars, etc) a lot of it is just luck of the draw.]

Assumptions

• There have been 4,185 American troop deaths in iraq (http://www.icasualties.org/oif/USDeathByMonth.aspx) at the time I write this
  
• There are 144,000 American troops in Iraq currently (it has been about this for most of the time) (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Multinational_force_in_Iraq)
  
• Let's assume average troop is deployed to Iraq for one year (I could not find exact number for this, but a wide majority of soldiers in Iraq are Army, which generally have 1-1.5 year tours, while Marines, Air Force, Navy, and Coast Guard generally serve shorter tours)

Average Death Rate

Average deaths/year = total deaths/years

= 4,185 / 5.5

= 760

This is somewhat skewed, as the deaths show sharp increases (Apr04: 135, Nov04: 137, Jan 05: 107, Oct06: 106, Dec06:112, Apr-Jun07: 331) and decreases (Several months below 40, including all months since Sep07 with the exception of Apr 08 with 52) (http://www.icasualties.org/oif/USDeathByMonth.aspx)

Another problem with this math is the skewed proportions based on region, area, and job. However, I don't have precise enough data to account for these yet.

Chance of Dying during Deployment

So at 760 deaths/year, and an average deployment lasting one year with 144,000 troops:

Chance of death (if randomized) = deaths/troops

= 0.528%, or 1 in 189

So rationally speaking, this is a pretty low chance of death. This of course in no way helps to console the friends and families of the 4,185 US soldiers who have died, the 445 Contractors who've died, the tens of thousands (or more) Iraqis who've died, and of course other coalition forces, journalists, or others who have also died.

Being told you're getting deployed

This story is the beginning of a new chapter in my life:

(some names of people and units changed to prevent OPSEC problems)

A MUTA7 National Guard weekend in October. That means Thursday through Sunday, longer than your average weekend. Colder than normal, mid 50's maybe, and raining. Kind of miserable all around, I can feel my socks and boots are wet just from bringing my bags in to the barracks from the trucks through the grass. I feel the muscle in my left shoulder tighten up from the flu shot we got around 930 when we got in that night. Luckily I got all my homework for the weekend done by Wednesday so I don't have to worry about that here.

"Hey, Staff Sergeant Hedlund," I hear from off to my side, it's hard to see who it is because of a light behind them, I walk closer.

"Oh, hey, what's up," as I get closer I notice it's SFC Johnson, our full-time guy.

"I need to talk with you later."

"I'm free now, what's the problem," I reply, thinking about what he might need to talk to me about. Did I forget to do something? Did one of my soldiers screw up? Maybe some admin stuff just needed to be filled out.

"87th pulled you from the unit. Effective today." he said, non-chalantly, as though this sort of thing happened all the time. I instinctively sort of looked at the ground as I thought about the reasons this could happen. Of course there was only one that I could think of.

"...Oh, really...How come?" I finally ask, hoping there's something I'm missing.

"Another deployment, but you still gotta stick around for the weekend."

"Okay, you have any info about it yet?"

"Sounds like southern Iraq, and on the plus side, it's an E-7 slot. That's all I got," he said back as he started to walk away.

"Alright, thanks." I walked away, feeling like I got hit with a train. What would this mean? What do I do? What is 87th? Why would they pull me for an E-7 slot (I'm currently an E-6, or Staff Sergeant)? Too much to think about. I can't begin to understand what it means. My thoughts turn off.

Well, I have to keep an upbeat positive attitude for the rest of the weekend for my soldiers. Can't let them down, can't let myself down. 

There'll be plenty of time to think. Maybe it's for the best. I guess I'll have some more stories to shape my character...