Entry # 70: September 15, 2006

Camp Slayer, Baghdad, Iraq

My computer was kidnapped. The reason being, my platoon sergeant’s computer crashed, so therefore mine is the only one she can use. The rest of our computers are now classified beyond you’re not even cleared to know how high. But all is well in Baghdad land. Well, for me anyway. The residents are still swimming in a pool of discontent. As the popular saying goes, the natives are restless…very restless.

Some of you may have heard in the news about a report regarding the current situation in the Al Anbar province. Some say it was very bleak, that the situation was overblown by the intelligence officer who wrote. I’ve read the report, talked to my Soldiers who were in Ramadi and it’s right on. It’s classified so I can’t divulge the information contained within it, but Anbar is bad ju-ju. To put it into perspective, Baghdad is a McDonald’s playground in comparison, albeit one with bad dudes hiding in the ball pit with AK-47s.

Ever hear of the term “Fobbit”? Stop right there. It’s not the little dudes with gross hairy feet in Lord of the Rings, but it is a play on the word hobbit. A fobbit is a Soldier who never leaves the FOB (Forward Operating Base), meaning one who doesn’t go into the city performing patrols, missions, and raids. It is a derogative term, but a term that does not apply to me. My platoon and I have captured more than our fair share of HVTs (high value targets) since we arrived here in the Stagnant City.

Let me tell you a little tale about when LT Long went on a very, very important raid. The story begins when one of my Soldiers and myself are headed out to capture a bad guy. We’re almost to the objective when we get a radio transmission ordering us back to receive a new mission. At this point, I’m ticked off. I had planned the mission we were on and I was angry because, well, the Army doesn’t really follow orders. So we head back, get our new orders and head back out. The target is muy, muy importante. We get to the objective, raid the house, get the guy outside and cuff him. My vehicle commander and I head back over to the house and are about to go inside when one of the infantry guys—who didn’t recognize the two of us in the dark—asked us to guard the family in their courtyard while they question the guy. Of course, my vehicle commander darts into the house to gather evidence and other things of interest and guess who is stuck outside guarding a couple of teenagers, two elderly women, an elderly man, and a baby. I couldn’t laugh at my predicament at the time because I had to play the part of the tough, unforgiving Soldier. Besides, I wasn’t about to let myself get bum-rushed by this unruly bunch. After about five minutes of the baby crying, the two ladies begging me to sit down and relax, and the teenagers eying my every move, a couple of the infantry guys finally walked in. They gave me a confused look, and then I said, “It’s about frickin’ time” and subsequently dashed into the house to do my job on the scene. And so the Soldier’s life continues…