Day 253

When I signed up to be an infantryman two years ago, I was designated 11 X-ray. That means they can make you a regular foot soldier (11B) or they can make you a mortarman (11C.) I was trained as a mortarman. It's a pretty cool job; we fire a giant cannon with a range of four miles or so. In the current war however, the mortar is rarely used for combat missions. This leaves me and my crew looking like Maytag men on some days.

The leadership in our company has been trying to keep our nine man squad busy as the commander's personal security when he goes out on patrol. Four of us must stay back at all times on what's called the hot gun, ready to fire the mortar at any time of the day or night at whatever the target may be. Besides that I do a guard shift twice a day at the front gate, receiving visitors and keeping watch.

The local people come to the gate sometimes if they need something. One day a woman in the traditional black garb that covers the entire body approached the gate. I called for the interpretor on the radio and he arrived in a few minutes. She wanted to know the wherabouts of her son who was treated for wounds from a suicide vest. The last time she heard from him he was being treated at a U.S. medic station, but she did not know where. I'm not sure we could help her.

There is an Iraqi Army soldier at the gate at all times as well. They show up in mix and match surplus military gear left over from Desert Storm and play with their cell phones. I usually stand behind the small hesco barrier filled with sand and look through the frame of bullet proof glass that has been posted on top. Sometimes I get tired of that though, it seems unfair, and I sit to the side of the barrier with the IA soldier and talk a bit. This can be an interesting experience, because they speak only a little English and I know only a few words in Arabic. There is a lack of things to talk about as well, we're just bored. So we come up with simple things. Their favorite question is, "Ma'dam?" meaning are you married followed by "Baby?" which means do you have kids. From there they move on to their own marital status and state that it is good to have kids and am I happy to be single. Sometimes the guys have multiple wives and a whole bunch of kids. I have learned to count to 30 in Arabic and know basic words and phrases like sun, rock, alibaba (terrorist), and I'm bored.

I start my two hour guard shift at 0600. It's a bit cold when I wake up and the sun rises as the guard shift ends, providing a bit of warmth. There is a 50ft. wide corridor leading from the gate to the road 200 meters out to stop any hostile intruders. The whole thing is filled with trash, spools of concertina wire and stray dogs. I stare at this image waiting for visitors or possible enemy. The town is all around us, there are houses and people and various kinds of commerce here and there. Our building is right in the middle of this small city called Baqubah.

Sometimes the CLC (concerned local citizens) come by to talk, but they aren't much help. They're untrained civilians licensed to carry AK-47's. One day they were all lined up outside to have their pictures taken and get their licenses. I brought out a few sodas for them and they passed them down the line, each taking a sip. These people are poor. The IA guys get paid better than the townspeople, they get around $600 a month and think that's great. Even $100 a month is a lot here.

I'd like to wish a Merry Christmas to all the folks back home and good luck with the snow up north. I wish I could be there, but I guess this is more important. I'll still get presents mailed over here which is a consolation. Thanks for reading my blog and happy holidays!