Florida Sheriff's Deputy Matt Williams (pictured left) was shot and killed last month in the line of duty. Not only was Deputy Williams shot, but his K9 partner Diogi was shot and killed as well. As would be expected, I was saddened and angered by Deputy Williams' murder. Deputy Williams was shot and killed while backing up another deputy. His killer was stopped for a traffic violation and subsequently fled into the woods where Deputy Williams and his partner gave chase. Matt was shot eight times. Diogi was shot once in the chest. The initial deputy who stopped the killer was also shot and wounded.

"Tim, that could have been you. Are you ready to die? Are you ready to face death and not hesitate when your life is required in another's stead? What about your daughters? What about your wife?" Tough questions to have to ask yourself, yet these are the exact questions that I have been asking myself since I read the account of Matt and Diogi's murder. While I do not want to detract any attention away from Deputy Williams and his sacrifice, (please read more about him here http://www.odmp.org/officer.php?oid=18528), I do want to share with you what goes through my mind every time I mark 10-8 and begin my tour. It's this: I may give my life this day for a person whom I've never met. I may die defending someone whose name I don't even know. I may die simply for representing and upholding order and justice. And for this, I am humbled.

Do you realize that our nation's laws are what enables us to enjoy the freedoms that our country gives us? We enjoy the ability to rest in our homes because someone is out there nabbing those who would take that away from us. We travel safely down the highways to our jobs because of that officer who stops the ones who place us in jeopardy of losing that safety. In our most desperate moment ever, we know the three numbers that will send help...911. What better profession can anyone have? My family and I will sleep safely tonight because a Hero named Matt Williams was willing to fight on our behalf. Am I willing to give my life for you? You better believe it. Rest easy.

The Academy Experience (Part I)

I have hung up my cammies for the last time. Unless our President decides otherwise, I will more than likely never again wear the uniform of our nation's military. Let me be quick to say that I am confident in my decision. Let me be even quicker to state that I am even more confident in the troopers who now carry the torch and fight on our behalf.

I have moved on from the defense of our nation, to the defense of my community and the community of thousands of others. I have been hired by the Police Department in the city of Suffolk, Virginia and will soon be entrusted to protect and defend her citizenry. I am beginning week nine of the sixteen week long academy at the Hampton Roads Regional Criminal Justice Training Center. Upon completion of the Academy, I will have nearly seventeen more weeks of on-the-job training before I am turned loose to patrol the streets solo.

I am excited beyond words, yet at the same time I am as apprehensive as I have ever been. For the past ten weeks of the Academy I have been reminded that I have been chosen by a profession that may at any time require my life in the line of service. And while I am willing to sacrifice my life for those whom I am sworn to protect, I realize that some day, someplace, someone may take me from my wife and daughters. They say we public servants are an interesting breed...those of us who run in while others are running out. But that's just who we are and who I am. I do this for myself, but let there be no question, I do this for my wife and our children as well. I fight bad people who would do them harm; who would do you and yours harm. Understanding this, that there are many, many bad people who would do me harm, I see my training and my experiences in the Academy as the foundation on which my career will be built.

We are an interesting breed indeed and one which the civility of our communities depends. I am writing a new chapter in the book of my life, and I look forward to sharing my experiences.

The Final Goodbye

"The night before the burial of her husband's body, Katherine Cathey refused to leave the casket, asking to sleep next to his body for the last time. The Marines made a bed for her, tucking in the sheets below the flag. Before she fell asleep, she opened her laptop computer and played songs that reminded her of "Cat," and one of the Marines asked if she wanted them to continue standing watch as she slept. "I think it would be kind of nice if you kept doing it," she said. "I think that's what he would have wanted."
© 2005 Rocky Mountain News, Photo by Todd Heisler. http://www.pulitzer.org/year/2006/feature-photography/works/

First and foremost, my heartfelt and deepest sympathy goes out to the wives and families of these heroes. As a husband and father, I take great comfort knowing that if my life would have been required of me while fighting in Iraq, that my wife would have been given the same comfort and protection that Mrs. Cathy was given. It troubles me greatly that there are some in this country who put forth that my brother's deaths are some how the Almighty's retribution for America's moral decline. May I remind those misguided among us who argue this, that the same God said, "Greater love has no man than this: that a man lay down his life for his friends." But that's another issuealtogetherr and right now, one which I don't care to debate.

On a personal note, in earlier posts I wrote about the changes that one goes through after experiencing war...the baggage that one brings home with him. It's a struggle and it has been for me...on many different levels. I've spoken to so many others who were "over there" and in at least one aspect, we all share the same feelings; we could have done so much more while we were there. None of us wanted to die over there; all of us were willing. But when we hear/see/read about the ones who are either still there or the ones who come home in a flag-draped casket, and we are now living a life of comparative ease, somehow it just doesn't seem fair. I've resigned myself to the fact that for as long as Marines are in Iraq, a part of me will feel like I belong there fighting with them. If I were still there, I don't have a single doubt that there would be 178,000 other Marines who want to be fighting right there beside me. We are a band of brothers and none of us would have it any other way.

Linked @ http://barbette.blogspot.com/

Perspective

So I was out running this afternoon taking in the sweet, fragrant Hawaiian air (have I said today that it's great to be back in the States?) when I saw something that made me smile. I saw a man sitting by himself at a stoplight in his outrageously overpriced sportscar...laughing. Seven months ago, I wouldn't have given this man a second glance. But friends, let me tell you, these are the things that you are drawn to and that seem unique after every motorist that you have seen for the past seven months has nothing but the fear of death in his eyes...a man laughing in his automobile.

We truly don't realize how much we have been given here in America. We take so much for granted and our perception of the world is so conditioned by the lifestyles that we have been blessed with. And at the risk of sounding pious, you never can fully appreciate what we have until your comfort zone is completely shattered and you are given the opportunity to see how the other half of our world is being forced to live. It's one of those things that I can try my hardest to explain, but my words will always be found lacking. It's not the lack of rounds cracking over my head, it's not the awkward silence when I lay in bed at night or the absence of walking down the street without my rifle that I notice the most...it's being able to watch others go through their day without a care in the world. They have no worries about running over an improvised explosive device planted for coalition forces...they have no concern about returning to their home to find it commandeered by insurgents and their families taken hostage. They do not fear being displaced - yet again- as a result of an imminate offensive operation in their neighborhood to rid it of insurgents.

In all fairness, not having to worry about these things is part of the benefit of living in America. But understand one thing...our lifestyles of relative bliss came at a price. And America does not have a monopoly on her citizens being willing to shed their blood to purchase these freedoms. The majority, that's right THE MAJORITY of Iraqis are now willing to stand and face these monsters and draw the line in the sand. It is my hope that we leave them with all the tools and training necessary to carry the torch and defend their homeland and are one day able to once again see their countrymen smile as they travel down their streets.

The Return

I wrote along the many stops along our journey home. I am now back in Hawaii, and I will share more as the days progress. What follows, is a few paragraphs at different stops along the way from Iraq back to Hawaii:

It is almost over. We are at Al Asad airbase, which was once Saddam Hussein’s presidential airfield. It has been filled with American and coalition forces for some time now, and it is the primary redeployment staging area for all Marines heading back to the States. It is the closest thing to civilization that many of us have seen in six months. It is disturbingly odd to see non-tactical vehicles driving down the road on the base, the feeling of a porcelain toilet and the taste of a whopper. We have shuttle busses that take us to the chow hall, the PX and the MWR (Morale, Welfare and Recreation) center where many of the guys have taken to playing video games into the early morning hours. Me, I have slept twenty-six out of the past thirty-four hours. Administrative issues are the order of business tomorrow and the next day. We have to attend what many of the guys call the “I’m not crazy” class given by the Chaplain, Post-Deployment Health Assessments so that the Government covers their six when we come down with some crazy illness fifteen years from now and the Customs inspections to ensure that we have all hid our illegal war souvenirs well enough. Other than that, we are completely on autopilot and it feels great.

We have all shared our war stories and videos from combat operations and are amazed at how similar our experiences have been. There is one noticeable void and we have all been reluctantly hush-mouthed about it…Adam. We all feel it and it will be a long time before we are healed and over his heroic passing in Ramadi. There has been very little mention about him, and the few times I heard his name in conversation, it was said with heads hung and only referenced his absence. We all know that it wasn’t suppose to be this way. We were suppose to come together and leave together. Now, we are a man short and it hurts. I am going to miss this. This brotherhood that I have. It is not self-serving. We do for the good of the group. There are no favorites. If we lose one, we are weaker than we were before. We look out for each other and genuinely have one another’s best interest foremost in our minds. We are warriors and have a warrior’s bond which no nine-to-five could ever begin to offer. I will miss the life of a warrior. To be able to place my life in the hands of another, and have his place his in mine. To fight side by side; our only fear being that we may see one of our own fall. We all have seen one of us fall, and none of will ever feel the same.

We, in our own ways, are all scared. Husbands and fathers are afraid of being strangers to their wives and children. The single Marines are afraid of returning to an atmosphere of normalcy and relative serenity. We are all different men than we were six months ago. The thought of adaptation has become a collective, unspoken sore spot. The return will undoubtedly be easier for some than it will be for others but one thing is certain; we all long to return despite our fears. We all long for the lives that we left. Personally, I am apprehensive of the changes that my family has underwent since I left. My daughters know “Daddy” as a name and a voice that lives in the cell phone. My wife remembers me the way I used to be before war took a hold of so much of my mind. Yes, it’s ominous, but I long for it so much; we all do.

We are on the last leg of our journey; San Francisco International. I have given up on keeping my wristwatch on the correct time zone. A week in Al Asad, Iraq, seventeen hours in Moron, Spain, seventeen hours in Boston Massachussetes, three days at Camp Pendleton, California, and now a layover at San Fran en route to Honolulu. I am still very much compressed. Crowds make me extremely uncomfortable. Eccentric colors give me a headache. Driving down the street is a completely different experience that it has been for the past thirteen years. I am sure that this will all wear off in the near future, but until it does, it will be an interesting time. I have found that I prefer to either be alone, or with the other Marines. People just seem to annoy me since I returned. Of course California being the most rude and intrusive state that I have ever visited (sorry Californians) doesn’t help matters any. I have had to literally ignore a few people simply because I wanted to yank them up.

I've left one dream and entered another. It's hard to concieve how the life that I've lived for twenty-nine years could now seem abnormal. It's so different; I almost feel out of place, yet it feels so good to be that much closer to home. It feels akward writing in a barracks room as opposed to a bombed out building. It will defintely take some time. I've begun to notice how much my time in Iraq has affected me. I find myself still scanning roadsides, finding a corner in a crowded area and staring at people a bit more than I should. And as I expected, I can't bring myself to watch the news and see the Marines, my brothers, still fighting over there. I am just taking it all in right now and hoping that the sense of normalcy returns soon.

...And thus, the Chapter Ends.

This will be my last post for a while as I will soon begin the much-anticipated trek back to the States. My mind is spinning as I reflect back on everything that has transpired during my six months here and I hope that this post turns out to be more than a collection of scatter-brained thoughts and comments. It is extremely difficult to meld six months chock full of life-changing events into a few coherent, sensible paragraphs. But I shall do my best. Also, please understand that so many are giving so much here, and I do not want to give the impression that I am doing, or have done anything more than anyone else. We are all knee-deep in our duties here, and we are all facing, or will eventually face, the same realities which I am going to share.

So much has been gained here, so much has been lost. So many memories, so much I wish I could erase from my memory. Iraq will be a different country than it was when I arrived, and I will leave a different person; although how different, only time and reacquainting with friends and family will tell. But I can say without reservation that Iraq is a better country than it was before I landed. I have helped rid several cities of insurgents during all out, multi-week combat operations. It will be a long time before I fully come to grips with everything that has happened to me during these past six months. I have been introduced to and at times, fully immersed in the stark realities of war. I have seen the horrors of war. I have been shot at. I have had cars and buildings blow up all around me. I have walked down streets cluttered with the horrors of destruction. I have seen the necessity of war. I have seen children walking to their newly rebuilt school. I have seen ladies carrying their newborn babies to freshly stocked clinics. I have seen families liberated from captivity by insurgents in their own homes. I have seen both the necessity and the horrors of it, and how much it has affected me and my personality, time will tell.

I have said it before, and I will say it again…Your Marines are some of the hardest working, dedicated individuals that the world has ever seen. We have once again answered the call to duty, and performed some of the most challenging and difficult duties faced by mankind. Some of the men whom I’ve worked with here are not even a year out of high school…amazing. But yet they conduct themselves with a professionalism and maturity that is a rarity anywhere. I wish you all could witness for yourselves what it is I am trying to describe. I have been astonished time and time again by the bravery and selflessness of the boys whom I’ve fought with. Our country is in great hands and I am at peace knowing that I leave our mission here to their charge.

It is with a heavy heart that I leave my brothers here to fight without me. Part of me wants to stay here until our mission is accomplished; but the Corps has told me that at least for the time, my mission here has been accomplished. I will soon be reunited with my wife and daughters and will once again be able to continue my most important mission...being a husband to my wife and a father to our children.

Finally, I want to offer my heart-felt thanks to all those who have prayed, sent letters, packages, and thoughts my way. They have been such a support and encouragement and I can’t thank you enough. I wish you could see the Marines walking from the Post Office with a letter or package from home. It just makes you smile…it made me smile. Thanks again and please stay in the fight…we need you.

Opinion vs. Truth

As most of you know...well, you probably don't know, so let me tell you; I am not one to snub my nose at someone for an opinion that they may have, and I did not intend for this to be a website dedicated to apologetics. But a good friend directed my attention to an issue that I think deserves some attention and some thought.

Personal opinions, more importantly the freedom to express these opinions, are a part of Americana and what so many of us are fighting for. For Pete's sake, our own country's congress is divided (if not in thought and opinion, then in the chamber's seating arrangements) and to stifle the freedom of opinion in America would limit, if not remove altogether, the honest and at times, heated discourse between people of differing opinions. Although (with tongue firmly planted in cheek), while I think that The World According to Tim would be on NY Time's bestseller's list, I am grateful that people are comfortable to voice their dissent with many of my views and voice their own individual opinions. But you have to ask yourself (and this question is the whole point of this post), are you arguing in defense of your opinion, or in the defense of truth? This is a very important question, as we must not waiver in our defense of truth; opinion however, is just that.

I think that where we run into problems is when people opinionate truth. Or worse, replace truth with opinion. By this, I mean when people take truth and spin it to fit their ideas. Within this distortion, the truth found in freedom of speech becomes freedom of action; a license to do whatever you please. Separation of affairs concerning the State and the Church becomes all things State, and no things Church. Liberating oppressed countries from tyrants becomes American imperialism; truths fabricated to suit individual opinions. We have become a nation where many twist and contort the foundational truths of our Democracy to fit their personal paradigms. Listen, truth is not open to personal opinions. If it were, it would not be truth. There can only be one version of Truth. You can believe with all your heart that the sky is brown; you can even convince yourself that the sky is brown. But guess what? At the end of the day, the sky will not be brown regardless of how you spin it.

I am deeply angered and saddened when the future leaders of our nation believe that America's war heroes, my brothers, are not the sort that they wish to memorialize (see highlighted article above). I think that it is disgusting, distasteful and extremely un-American (borderline treasonous). I say pick up a rifle and stand a post. Put your life on the line and then criticize. As far as their campus, the number of memorials erected, etc., this is a valid argument open to opinion and one not in my purview. To propose however, that Col. Boyington et al are not worthy of our remembrance and memorial is insanity. One cannot argue that Americans who died to give them their right to hold opinions are not of the character and nobility to warrant memorial. It's like arguing for the abolition of oxygen on the grounds that it is unnecessary, as you inhale.

Many of these same individuals would argue that we are needlessly and haphazardly sending America's sons and daughters into harms way in Iraq. Mrs. Cindy Sheehan has asked, "How many more sons and daughters?" My answer to her? Ma'am, as many as it takes! But I digress...If her opinion is that America has waged an unjust war, again, as ignorant as I believe she and her opinion to be, I cannot criticize her for exercising a right which I fight to defend. She may have crossed certain boundaries as far as etiquette is concerned, but I am strictly speaking on her expression (and others like her) of the war and on issues open to opinion...not truth.

What I fear that we have lost in this country, is the ability to see the difference between truth and opinion. "Live and let live". "Truth is whatever you think it is." What result, other than anarchy, should we expect when everyone thinks that their opinion is truth? America is making her bed. My fear is that we will wake up too late to realize that we are sleeping with fallacies and misguided notions of right and wrong. Have your opinions. Argue them till you are blue in the face! I am fighting for this right of yours. But please, for America's sake, at the end of the day, sacrifice your opinions on the altar of truth. Just one man's opinion.

I wrote the following poem after returning from a particularly "challenging" mission.

I’m a man whose been torn in two;
giving all to my family and the job that I must do.
It is my hope that one day they will understand,
it is for them that I fight in this foreign land.

I fight for a peace that I may never see;
but to do nothing will lead to anarchy.
I hope against all hopes that we are right;
for a lasting peace, this is why we fight.

I look ahead and stare into the hollow;
I look behind me and see that my brothers, they follow.
We walk on knowing not friend from foe;
seeing the stare of death that only we can know.

Our fear of the grave long since passed;
as a childhood dream that was never meant to last.
We live now not in a world of fantasy,
but rather in the gravest of reality.

I pray only for a tomorrow, for it is guaranteed to none.
“Dear God, courage grant me. This I ask, Your humble son.”
“And if in the morning I shall rise,
onward shall I march toward the prize.”

Legions of angels gather ‘round about me;
for in His name, my enemies shall flee.
His shield I bear in battle as I go;
filled with a peace only His children will ever know.

And if on the field of battle my blood is shed,
these things I ask about me be said:
To my family, my God and my country I was true;
a man of my word, just as my father taught me, as he was too.

That I gave my life in the same way that it was lived,
in service to others, giving all that I could give.
That I left behind the most noble legacy,
a life lived for others, being all that I could be.

My Mind...My Weapon

Sleep is always elusive on the eve of a mission. On these nights, my mind is constantly going over scenarios, "what if's", IA (immediate action) drills...and over and over and over. It is a cruel combination of my survival instinct and training, and it can be extremely frustrating. But one thing is certain and will be for as long as I am over here: I will ALWAYS be mentally prepared. It's the intelligent warriors who win wars; those warriors who study their enemy's techniques, tactics and procedures; who have mentally prepared themselves for any number of circumstances and who are never, I repeat never caught without a contingency plan and a backup for the contingency.

Our minds here are the most valuable weapon that we have and are also at times, the most difficult to maintain. It's almost a battle within a battle. You fight to maintain focus, clarity of thought and mental acuity so that you will be an effective weapon on the battlefield. The world we live in, like any combat zone, is filled with life-or-death situations which require split-second decisions that must be made under the most demanding of circumstances. The time to prepare your mind for this eventuality is not when the first round cracks, for by this time, it's too late. The time to do this is when you're lying in bed staring at the ceiling replaying routes, actions on the objective, contact drills and evacuation procedures over and over and over in your head. This is what keeps your most valuable weapon in the fight when the rounds fly and what will eventually get you and your brothers home.

I will be the first to tell you that this takes its toll. I return from every mission mentally exhausted. Even after the mission is completed and I have returned to the relative safety of the wire, my mind replays the mission's events like a broken record. Every step along the way to the mission's completion is filled with lessons, reminders and unfortunately at times, mistakes. Snapshots of choke-points, possible sniper hides, rubble piles, rooftops, freshly unearthed dirt...the list goes on and on. If ignored, these images will become nothing more than mental clutter which will dirty your weapon and leave you less prepared for the next mission...if you make it to another mission. Organized however, this collage of images can assist you in becoming more cognizant of your surroundings and allow you to have an incredible amount of focus.

It's an incredibly tough task attempting to put into words the mental processes involved in fighting a war, and this may prove to be one of those entries better suited to be included in the personal journal. The reason I chose to share this, albeit somewhat ineptly, is because I feel there is a great life-lesson to be learned from my experience here...although I fear it may have been lost in my rambling. At any rate, in everyday life we all have our own battles to fight, we all have our own "missions" to accomplish. Mental preparedness coupled with ferverent prayer are, I believe, the most important ingredients to being successful on the battlefield here, and on the battlefield of life. They have both worked for me thus far, and I pray that they will continue to do so.

-Just the thoughts of a simple man.

Operation Arabian

There are many unique aspects to the dynamics of my job. I could easily make your head spin if I attempted to explain how my command structure is organized here. Unlike many military units, working dog teams do not deploy in large groups; in battalion or regimental size units for example. We deploy in small numbers and are operationally attached to other larger units. Because of our small numbers and the force multiplier that a dog team is to any unit conducting counter-insurgency operations, we are often requested to assist other units during their combat missions and operations. A part of my job here that I love, is that every mission is unique. My core mission here as a Marine dog handler is to detect and locate explosives or explosive devices and to apprehend or otherwise neutralize anti-coalition personnel...and this never changes. While my overall mission is constant, the circumstances surrounding these individual operations and missions always presents me with a fresh and unique set of circumstances to work under. No mission is ever the same. My most recent operation, "Operation Arabian" was no exception. I was attached to the 414th Stryker Brigade; an Army unit based in Alaska.

I was escorted to one of our Battle Positions under the cover of the darkness of early morning. An element of the 414th met me at the BP with several Stryker vehicles and escorted me to their headquarters. Later that day I attended the mission briefing outlining the mission's overall objectives, NAI's (named areas of interest) and other coordinating instructions. Truth be told, I was somewhat a fish out of water. I have never attended an Army mission brief before and it was an interesting time. Acronyms are as prevalent in the military as are egos; and both, at times, are equally hard to understand. I have been in the Marines for nearly eight years now and I have yet to master the art of acronym interpretation. Now, in this mission briefing, I was being exposed to a whole new lexicon. I wished more than anything that I had been issued an interpreter like our Iraqi officer counterparts. Many times during the brief, I found myself leaning over to my Army counterpart and humbly asking what this meant, or what that represented on the terrain model. By the end of the mission brief however, I had a clear understanding of our mission, timeline and the NAI's (Don't worry...you will get used to the acronyms after a while). I am not going to go into much detail about the mission out of concerns for operational security, but there were a few interesting and somewhat hair-raising moments during the mission which I would like to share.

So there we were...plodding along in our Stryker at a comfortable rate when the gunner yelled out into his mic, "STOP!...STOP THE TRUCK!", as he whipped his .50 cal around the the right side of the vehicle. At the time, I was standing in the rear gunner's hatch and had communication with the crew so I heard his gentle request. I immediately began scanning the barren landscape for any movement; ready to engage. The crew chief asked the gunner what he had. His response caused my heart to race. "Boss", he replied, "I think we just drove into a mine field". I looked outside the vehicle and saw symmetrical circles in the sand in a perfectly straight line on either side of our Stryker...our tires had miraculously passed directly in between two of these circles. The crew chief looked at me as he reached for the mic button on his helmet...I beat him to the punch. "There's no way I'm going out there with my dog Boss". "Call the Engineers", I said, "and let's back this thing out of here." It was a nerve wrenching five minutes as we backed the 23 ton vehicle. The Engineers came and determined that our "mine field" was in fact not a mine field, but rather a camp site recently evacuated by a Bedouin shepherd. The circles in the sand were all that was left of his camp and were the imprints left by his tent poles. It's experiences like this that keep you constantly on your toes and make every mission unique...and for this mission, it was just the beginning.

We completed our mission and the Troop (the Army's equivalent of a Marine company) consolidated at the predetermined rally point to begin the two hour trek back to the COP (Combat Outpost). It was light when we began our return trip, but it was getting dark when the Stryker driver realized that his NOD (night observation device) was inoperable. Murphy's Law states that whatever can go wrong will go wrong, and at the worst possible moment and I am convinced that Mr. Murphy was on that Stryker with us. Sure, we could drive with white light...and risk getting the entire convoy mortared, or we could drive blacked out and risk driving off a 30ft cliff into a wadi; neither option even coming close to ideal. We decided to drive blacked out and have the gunner assist the driver. "Right...Right...No, Left...Right...Straight...STOP...STOP". This went on for the entire two hours. Halfway into the return, I wanted to just get out and walk. We eventually made it back to the COP and were greeted with a salvo of mortar rounds fired from somewhere within the city. I saw the first flash off in the distance as we were entering the COP. Then more...and getting closer. "Incoming!", I yelled. I ducked back inside the Stryker and yanked the overhead hatch closed. To add fuel to the fire, (no pun intended), we were directly adjacent to the fuel bladders. 40 thousand pounds of fuel and a mortar strike could make for a very bad day for alot of people. In typical insurgent fashion, I was told that they ceased their attack and ran before we could ascertain where their mortar position(s) was/were. The QRF (quick reaction force) was launched and I am unaware of the outcome. The fun is never-ending around here.

This was just a typical week in the life of a combat Marine fighting to rid this country of its garbage. We will continue to take the fight to the enemy until there is no enemy, but peace. Until this day comes, we stand ready to execute tempered violence when necessary on your behalf and for the sake of our country and her citizens...the Marines always have, and we always will. Semper Fidelis.

Brrrrrrrrrrr!

It's a very cold night here in Iraq. If I had to guess, I'd say it's in the thirties. I, being the glutton for punishment that I am, just returned from a run. My lungs are hurting from breathing the freezing air, my knees are aching and my legs are screaming. I couldn't feel any better! What I absolutely love about running, especially in the cold, is that it gives me an opportunity to push myself...it gives my body an opportunity to battle with my mind. The first shots were fired in tonight's skirmish as soon as I exited my hooch and sucked in that first lung-full of frigid air. I knew this was coming and stepped off before I could give my mind a chance to convince me otherwise.

This may seen trivial to some...this whole mind/body game that I play with myself. But every battle that my body wins over my mind makes me mentally stronger. And in my environment, mental fortitude is essential. There have been so many times here that I have wanted to give into my mind when it has told me to slow down or quit. Not an option. Please don't misunderstand me...I do not have a large red "S" painted on my chest, nor do I change my clothes in a telephone booth. I am not trying to portray myself as anything other than a simple man learning lessons about what it takes to be successful in combat and in life. Every one of these lessons that I learn, by God's grace, may save lives. It may in fact one day be my own.

Today, I saw some fruits of our labors here. As I was on a patrol with the Iraqi army, I saw large groups of children walking to school. Backpacks, books, and smiles. It was a real joy. I saw an American soldier help a young girl fix her shoe which had broke sometime on her way to school; 550 cord and duct tape will fix absolutely anything! It was moving. I have said all along that among other things, this is a generational war we are fighting. These young children will one day lead this country. Every simple gesture, such as what I witnessed today, will be a memory tomorrow that will eventually lead to our long-term success in this country. It has without a doubt been a collective effort, but I gained a real sense of personal satisfaction by what I witnessed today, and I hope and pray that tomorrow will bring the same.

There is currently a very expansive reconstruction effort in Iraq currently being conducted by the coalition forces and our leadership. In many respects and in many cities, we are giving a large number of Iraqi's better living conditions than before we arrived. It is an unfortunate fact of warfare that infrastructure is often damaged or destroyed to accomplish a mission. By helping to rebuild (and in some cases, build) this infrastructure, we once again show the Iraqi people our commitment to their stability and their country's independence. It is our desire to have the Iraqi citizens to row with us, not against us and this can only be when we convince them of our intentions and show that we are here for the long haul.

Sgt Cann was laid to rest today at Arlington National cemetery. His memory and dedication go with all of us who knew him. America is a stronger nation as a result of his selfless service. He will be missed.

In Memoriam - Sgt Adam Cann/USMC

It's been a tough week for me. America lost a great warrior this week, and I lost a very close friend and fellow dog handler. On the morning of the 6th of January, Sgt Adam Cann was killed in action in Ar Ramadi while conducting security operations at an Iraqi Police recruiting station. The coward that took Sgt Cann from us, walked into the crowd of recruits and detonated his suicide vest, killing Sgt Cann and many others. Adam will be buried at Arlington National cemetery later this week. I encourage you to say a special prayer for the comfort and peace of his family.

While his brave passing has hit me like a ton of bricks, I have a cherished memory of him that I will carry with me on every future battlefield that I am on. He was my roommate at Camp Lejeune while we were preparing to deploy, and it was there that he shared with me a part of his heart. He told me that if he wasn't able to come home with us, that he wanted us to press on without him. Adam, we will press on brother. Thank you for your friendship, your courage, and most importantly, your commitment to our country and her cause. You will be missed and the torch which you have passed us will never be extinguished. Semper Fidelis, Marine. We have the watch now.

I don't want this post to focus on me, but there is a lesson that Sgt Cann taught me and one which I think we all could benefit from learning. When I was informed of his passing, I must admit, I was extremely angry. Although every American life lost here is without a doubt a tragedy, for me, Adam's death hit a bit closer to home than others. It caused me to really look inside myself, and this is when Adam taught me his lesson. It would be so easy for me to succumb to my anger and frustration and begin to question our involvement and presence in Iraq; which many are currently doing. This would undoubtedly be the easy solution. But Adam's words to me that evening in North Carolina reminded me that it would not be the right solution. I could easily redirect my anger at America, at Iraq, at our President and very easily lose my commitment to our cause. But I, and Americans as well, need to understand that our determination need not, and should not, diminish with the loss of America lives here...It needs to grow. Every American life that is lost here needs to fan the flame of liberty and cause it to burn a bit brighter. If my life if required of me here, and my family's, my friend's and my fellow Marine's commitment is not strengthened as a result, I have failed them, and in the bigger picture, I have failed America.

Enough about me...Adam, rest easy. You will always be an inspiration to me, and to those who served with you. It is my hope that one day I can visit your grave and salute you. Your sacrifice has caused our fire here to burn stronger and brighter.

The Way It Is

In Iraq, America is not fighting a traditional war. There will never be a declaration of surrender signed by our enemy conceding their defeat. Understand this...this war will not end with signatures. I say this for many reasons, but foremost is because our enemy has no true leader. Sure, they have cave-dwellers who claim to be in charge, but these cowards understand that their minions will not cease their campaign of terror simply because they have signed a document. We are fighting a war of counter-insurgency...the most difficult, and I would argue the most misunderstood and complex type of war that exists in modern times.

For the warfighter on the ground, this type of war poses so many dangers. In part because to win this type of war, you have to win the hearts and minds of the majority. In order to do this, we the ground-pounders, have to take risks. We have to come to the point where we signify to the peaceful majority that we have entered a new phase in the war...a phase of temporary co-existence. We simply cannot perpetually continue an all out campaign of destruction (which at one time, was the only way to operate) and expect to win hearts and minds of the peaceful majority. If we do not enter this phase, in the long run, only the innocents will suffer and I believe that we will have great difficulty accomplishing our goals here in this country.

Our enemies understand this. They know that by appearing as the peaceful majority with whom we must eventually ally ourselves, that this will give them a short-term advantage. This will allow their suicide bombers to be able to walk into a crowd of police recruits and detonate themselves. This will allow the VBIED's driving down the streets appearing to going to work, to destroy civilians. The insurgents understand that Iraq, with our assistance is moving forward. And they are without a doubt from time to time, going to exploit these risks that we must take to progress. In the short term, these risks may lead to more coalition casualties as we move forward. But in the long term, it is the only way that we are going to continue to move forward and eventually win this war. In a sense, the insurgents are attempting to accomplish the exact opposite that we are. We are trying, through a campaign of tempered force, to show the majority in Iraq that we are accomplishing so much here for their good, while our enemies are trying to show the majority in America that all we are accomplishing nothing.

There have been times recently here when outside the wire, I have wanted to conduct "business as usual". A vehicle driving past me while I am walking on patrol?...are you kidding me? Four months ago...not a chance. But you know what? Now I must take risks which, for as long as I am here, leads to coexistence with the peaceful majority; because that is the only way that we are going to progress and begin to win hearts and minds of the peaceful majority. It stinks, I know. I hate it. But it is simply the facts of counterinsurgency. And that is just the way it is.

Be Proud America

"I must study politics and war so that my sons may have the liberty to study mathematics and philosophy." -John Adams

I woke up this morning to the walls of my hooch shaking and the unmistakable "thud...thud" of mortars being fired and impacting. I wasn't totally convinced that I had not dreamed the sounds and shudders so I laid there giving the wall that, "Are you playing with me?" look. Nope..."thud...thud...thud...thud", this time accompanied by SAF (small arms fire). After a quick kiss from my girls [' picture], I donned my "battle rattle" and headed out to take a look-see. Bingo voiced his objection to me leaving him inside, certain that once again, he was going to miss out on all the action.

I'm sure I was a sight in my green PT shorts, green sweatshirt, untied boots and beenie on my head. But darnit, if Haji wanted to come play in our house, I sure wasn't going to be late to the party. So there I stood...waiting for the call to arms. "Thud...thud...crack...crack...crack". Closer this time. "Wait a minute..." I realized that the barrage sounded awfully close to the range. "You dummy! It's Marines on the range!" As I adjusted my gear, I of course gave the casual "machismo" look around as if to say, "Yep, just as I thought...my gear fits just as good outside as it does inside". I ducked back inside as fast as I could.

A good friend of mine returned yesterday from a coalition hospital in Baghdad. He was injured in a roadside blast from an IED. And although his wounds were not life-threatening, they were serious enough to warrant evac to Baghdad. It was great to see him return, and I wanted to share his story with you. Let me tell ya', when you drive down the roads here, the pucker-factor is very high. Some of you probably don't know what the "pucker-factor" is, but those of you who do, you can appreciate it. At any rate, as you travel down the roads here, your greatest threat is from the IED's. You are constantly on edge. And for Sgt V., I'll call him, to have this fear validated, to have looked your worse fear in the face and come back for more, is either the mark of a very courageous Marine, or a masochist. Without a doubt, Sgt V. rated the purple heart, but he did not want it. Why? In his words, "I was in the right place at the wrong time...why should I be awarded for that? It's my job." He is a great example of having the right motives. He does not do his job in search of glory or fanfare, but rather for the intangibles; those rewards that you cannot see, but in your heart, you can feel.

This story has been told many times since this war began. The names and circumstances have been different, but the moral has remained consistent. We are not here on a glory-hunt. There is no medal or piece of colored ribbon that could even come close to meaning more to us than knowing that at the end of the day, we did our jobs and accomplished our missions. Sgt V's story is a microcosm of the bigger picture here. Your Soldiers, Sailors, Airmen and Marines are accomplishing our missions while continuing the highest traditions of military prowess and soldierly virtues that has made our enemies fear and respect our nation...whether they care to admit it or not. War is a terrible thing and is without a doubt should be a nation's last option. But when a country is given no other option for a peaceful resolution to conflict, it's all or nothing. Rest assured that America's men and women are giving it our all and we will continue to do so every time that you call on us.

Say what you will about our war, but I challenge you to look into the face of any one of the Marines whom I've had the pleasure to go into combat with; search their souls and try to find anything in his eyes other than a dedication to his country. You would be wasting your time. Be proud America. Stand a little taller tomorrow when you go to work and if someone asks you why, you tell them that you live in the greatest nation on the face of the planet. Tell them that today, there are young men and women a world away fighting to preserve your way of life. Tell them that you are proud to be an American. If you disagree with this war, that is fine. No one can berate you for exercising your rights which we are fighting to defend. But unite under that banner which we call "Old Glory"...a banner which I would gladly go to my grave to defend.

(Linked at radiobs)

It's Called Commitment

I suppose there is a time where every warfighter is afraid. The soldier storming the beach at Normandy, the trooper crawling into a tunnel in the jungles of Vietnam, the Marine patroling the streets of Iraq...fear on the battlefield is nothing new. And truth be told, I am certain that I am not the only one who has, at one time or another, been afraid over here. But I want to share with you something that America knows of her Marines, but is sometimes at best taken for granted and at worst forgotten alltogether; the commitment of your Marines when faced with fear.

For the past 230 years, Marines have answered America's call to duty. Today's Marines fight with the same sense of commitment that our brothers fought with in 1775. From the first day of boot camp, our Drill Instructors taught us that regardless of the circumstances in which we may find ourselves, our bodies are much stronger than our minds and the mission must be accomplished...no exceptions! And trust me, we are on a mission and we are committed to the success of our mission; regardless of our fears, surroundings or circumstances. Because we know our enemy, his mentality and his tactics, we have the ability to constantly be one step ahead. The only thing that our enemy knows of us is that to engage in a direct confrontation will result in a very bad day for him; so they have resigned themselves to dying. In their minds, they have already lost. Their ship is sinking and the only thing that they can do is try to take as many of us down with them as is possible. Our enemies are extremely one-dimensional. Their minds are as rudimentary as their tactics. We have shown, and continue to show our enemies the commitment required to win a war. We have shown them our ruthlessness in combat, our expertise is all things soldierly and our compassion when it is called for. They are fighting a war of attrition and their only hope is that we quit; a word not found in any Marine's vocabulary.

America, your Marines will not stop taking this fight to the enemies of our country. I wish that everyone could see just a fraction of what I see here everyday. I wish that you could hear the conversations between Marines that I hear. For if you did, you would understand why we are going to win this war and it would give you an understanding of the commitment that has made our Corps the most feared fighting force on the face of the planet. And while this may not be possible, take my word for it...we are committed to you, we are committed to this cause and we are committed to seeing that when America calls on us, we will always be ready to answer her call. Semper Fidelis...Always Faithful.

(Linked at The Mudville Gazette)

Bingo's Pal

I thought I'd show you Bingo's newest buddy, Dita. She is a three year old German Shepherd and much to Bingo's delight, loves to run. She is however, much faster than my "bull in a china shop", but he loves the chase none the less.
I think I have finally discovered the secret to calming him down...a few minutes running after her.

Christmas Night

Well, Christmas has come and gone...or is it came and went? At any rate, my brothers and I here had a wonderful day...capped of by a "fireside chat" on our back porch. By "porch" I mean of course a few fold-up chairs from our local Wal-Mart with some strategically placed sandbags and our burn barrel. What is it about fire that elicits conversation? I have no idea, but our rendezvous on Christmas night was no exception. If you are hoping to read about daring missions, feats of heroism and overcoming overwhelming odds in the process...do read on.

There are so many experiences that we all have had here. Many of which we keep repressed in that little place in the mind behind the door labeled "Off Limits". I however, was content to just sit back and listen. The conversation, as it often does, gravitated toward family and home. And as I stared at the glow of the fire, all I could think of was my Father. He and I used to sit our back yard during the cold months and have a fire very similar to the ones that my brothers and I had on Christmas night. "It's not cold enough son." As a boy, I remember these words from my Father would take the wind out of my sails. Because, you see, it was during those times sitting beside a fire with my Father that I felt like he would open his "Off Limits" door to me and teach me so much about becoming a man; a lesson which I am fairly certain he never knew he was teaching. I am reasonably sure that if you asked him, he would tell you that it was a insignificant event, but it is without a doubt, one that I will never forget. My Father was sitting there with me on Christmas night, and in my silence, he was teaching me just as he did when I was a boy.

You know, - and this is my own personal opinion which you are free to disagree with if you so choose -, but I think at times I get more credit than I deserve. People thank me for fighting this war, when the people they need to thank are my parents for instilling in me a love and appreciation for our freedom, for our country, for our fellow man and for our God. They were the brave ones who went against the tide of parenting "experts" who preached the sermon of first and foremost, being your children's friend. They were the ones who made more sacrifices for their children than I could even begin to write about. Yes, they are the ones who deserve the thanks and admiration for without them, I would not be the man whom I've become...and the man who is now fighting on behalf of his fellow man.

America owes a hearty thanks to the parents of her sons and daughters. The men who made our country great would undoubtedly agree.

In the Quiet Place

For some, these days are the worst. The quiet days. Days when you run out of things to do to occupy your mind. There is no one shooting at you. You've read until your eyes hurt. Your weapon can't get any cleaner. You can almost feel it coming on. It starts with a stare at a wall, or a picture. You fight it because you've been there so many times before and you know exactly where it is going to take you. But for some reason, there are times when you just don't want to fight it. You want to lose yourself in those sweet memories of home, family and friends.

I have fought this battle more times than I can remember. I have quit fighting it because I have learned over time, that this intraspection reminds me what I am fighting for. We all surround ourselves here with as many of these memories as is possible. So much so, that it is difficult to avoid them. I keep pictures of my wife and my daughters in my helmet so that at every moment, they are there with me. I sleep surrounded by pictures of my family. When I go to sleep, it is my wife and children's faces that I see. When I wake up, they are there to smile at me and say "Good morning Daddy", and indeed every morning is just that.

It is a tough job that we do, but one that is not without reward. During these quiet moments, I am reminded of home and it has become my motivation. It has become my ally. My reward will be when I return to my family knowing that our world is safer now because of me and men like me. Men who recognized how much our country and families are depending on us to fulfill our responsibilities to them. Men who say to their families and countrymen, "No one will hurt you on my watch." I am fighting this war for many reasons. I fight for my country, let there be no doubt. But more importantly, I am fighting for my family. I fight for the world which my children will inherit from me. I fight so that one day, they will not have to. And I have become grateful for these times of relative quiet; because it is in this quiet that I can hear my wife and children thanking me. It is when I can see myself giving my daughters away in marriage. It is when I see my wife and I growing old together. Yes, it is a tough job but it is in the quiet that I am reminded of why I am here and where I find my reward...And it keeps me going.

I have no idea what this world will be like after I am gone. There will probably be many more "Iraq's" in our future. But each one that I fight, is potentially one less that I will be leaving for my children and grandchildren to fight. My parents, without a doubt, gave me a better world than the one that they were given and I will go to my grave knowing that I have done the same for my children and for theirs.

The Timid Soul

"It is not the critic who counts; not the man who points out how the strong man stumbles, or where the doer of deeds could have done them better. The credit belongs to the man in the arena, whose face is marred by dust and sweat and blood; who strives valiantly...Who knows the great enthusiams, the great devotions; who spends himself in a worthy cause; who at the best knows in the end the triumph of high achievement, and who at the worst, if he fails, at least fails while daring greatly, so that his place shall never be with those cold and timid souls who have never known neither victory nor defeat.

- Teddy Roosevelt

This is one of my favorite quotes of all time. For many reasons, but foremost because it reminds me that my life was meant to be lived with a purpose; engaged in noble causes which life presents. What a waste it is to live and never feel that you have made a difference. One of my greatest personal fears is that I will leave this earth and not have somehow accomplished something meaningful. That when my time here is finished, I will have been one of the "cold and timid" souls.

I fear that this is what is happening is our society today. So many are afraid of the possibility of defeat when faced with a challenge, that the are compelled to inaction; or even worse, inaction coupled with criticism of those who tackle the challenge head-on. I don't know about you, but I would rather fail while attempting great things, than to succeed in all things mediocre. And I believe our present situation in Iraq is a great example of this. We are helping to create a democracy. Do you realize how significant this is? America is passing on a legacy (to a willing people) left to us by great men; which I believe is our responsibility. Yet as we strive in our attempt, as we taste the sweetness of success, we are constantly reminded of that imobilizing fear...the fear of failure.

Failure to us on the ground here, is not even a remote possibility. We do not fear failure, because we are not going to fail. What we do fear however, is inaction brought about by the timid soul. We fear that America will fall prey to those who would rather risk nothing and as a result, accomplish nothing. My brothers and I fear that America will one day no longer be seen as a country of pioneers and patriots, but a nation who is no longer willing to walk to the edge and take the leap; to be willing to risk failure in search of greatness. In Iraq, America has walked to the edge. We looked down and we saw the possibility of failure in every direction. And then, with a gentle nudge and whisper from our forefathers, we jumped and began to soar. Others,(insert appropriate country's name here), froze and faced about. And you know what? That's alright. Because I believe that history will show them to be exactly what they are, timid souls. No, we don't fear failure. We fear becoming that timid soul.

Operation Moonlight

It's 1815, Tuesday evening. Bingo and I have just returned from assisting the Iraqi Army in Operation Moonlight; a "cordon and knock" mission along the Euphrates river. There were three Iraqi battalions from the 1st Iraqi Brigade involved in the operation which covered a large swath of desert on either side of the river just East of the city of Ubaydi (See picture).

I was greatly impressed with the performance of the Iraqi soldiers who bring a much needed local face to the coalition's operations. Many of the soldiers whom I served with brought a wealth of combat experience to the fight from previous operations in Fallujah, Najaf, and most recently Operation Steel Curtain within the cities of Husaybah and Karibala. Most importantly, the Iraqi soldiers fight with passion fueled by a their desire to take the torch and defend their homeland unassisted. While they are willing to serve beside coalition forces, each soldier that I spoke to about their progress told me (in broken English) how much pride they take in the defense of their country. They are also quick to tell you how thankful they are for "Ameriki's" assistance. Also worthy of note, is that Operation Moonlight was a milestone for the Iraqi army as it was the first ever brigade size operation conducted by the newly created army.

Although the soldier's tactics could use a bit of refining, they have something that you cannot teach a warrior...heart. Every one of these men would walk the four corners of the earth to defend their country. On the eve of my indoc (try-out) for the Military Police Special Reaction Team, the team's chief, a Gunnery Sergeant whom I respect greatly, told us that he could teach tactics to a monkey, but something that he couldn't teach anybody was how to have heart and determination and how to keep your body going when your mind tells it to quit. I will never forget his words..."Gents, you've either got it, or you don't", the Gunny told us bluntly. "And starting tomorrow, my job is to see who has it, and wave bye-bye to those who don't. Your mind will give up long before your body will." I did not see a single soldier during the operation who didn't have "it". They caused me to dig a bit deeper as we went tromping along across the desert.

The operation started at dawn. I was one of several Marines participating in the operation aimed at locating any anti-coalition materials or fighters within the villages and farmlands along the Euphrates. The topography of the land was mostly wide-open desert with small villages scattered throughout. The villages resembled petting zoos and had a variety of wildlife that would have made your local zoo green with jealousy. I now know why they call it the "fertile crescent" as the wildlife is without a doubt, fertile. To my dismay and much to Bingo's pleasure, they also had more wild dogs than I could count. Three-legged dogs, dogs missing ears, furless dogs...we saw them all and Bingo was determined to greet each one. It made life very interesting for me. As I have stated in earlier posts, Bingo is three going on one and taking him into this kind of environment is like taking your toddler to Chuck-E-Cheese's and making him bring his homework with him. Oil and water. He was especially fond of the lambs and baby goats, totally convinced that their retreat was an invitation to go frolic on the river's bank. But we trodded along, Bingo did in fact work and in the end, I was confident that what he and I searched was void of explosives.

The sun set on a bunch of worn out and sore-footed troops. It took some convincing on our parts to dissuade the Iraqi soldiers from lighting bonfires amidst our bivouac site. "Trust us guys, you'd rather be cold, than have mortars raining down on your heads". At times I thought that they would rather have mortars fall on their heads than be cold. But in the end, common sense prevailed and we kept warm by laughing at each other's pronunciation of English and Arabic phrases. I woke up (many times) throughout the night, sleeping only long enough for one side of my body to go numb and remind me that it was time to flip and pay the other side some attention. It was during one of these moments of reveille, that I realized why they named the operation as they did. The moon was shining low in the sky and completely illuminated the desert landscape. Had it not been so cold, I may have emerged from my cocoon long enough to take a picture, but as it is, my inadequate description will have to suffice. The morning, as it so often does, came much too early and wouldn't you know it...I forgot my snooze button!

The dawn brought little warmth, and we stepped off this day the same as we had yesterday. As we made our way through the villages, it was readily apparent that we were a novelty to the children. It did however, take some goading on out part to get them to come close enough to hand them some skittles or other trinkets. On one particular occassion, Bingo was sitting down next to me with his leash connected to a tree. A throng of children looked, pointed and laughed in our general direction...albeit at a very safe distance. Bingo was a hit and he had the children enthralled (I think it's because he had two ears). They looked, pointed and repeated "chelub", Arabic for...you guessed it, dog. Well, I thought it would be a hoot if I got him and showed them some stupid pet tricks in Bingo's not-so-expansive repoitoir...play dead, etc. I was wrong...very wrong. I have never seen kids run away so fast. I turned around and just like that, they were all gone. I was politely counseled by my Iraqi counterparts and it was a lesson well-learned...Iraqi children are afraid of dogs with two ears and four legs.

The operation ended with a great sense of accomplishment. The Iraqi soldiers rode back to camp singing as they often do, and also with the knowledge that they do in fact have "it" and are well on their way to defending their country solo. It was a good day for them, and it was a good day for the whole of the country.