Let's Not Joke About Ebulla

This past weekend, U.S. military officials announced that the 34th Infantry "Red Bull" Division headquarters, along with hundreds of other National Guard and Army Reserve units from across the nation, were no longer slated to deploy to the West African nation of Liberia this spring. This essay was written prior to that announcement.

Sgt. 1st Class Katz is preparing to go to Africa. It'll be her fourth deployment. The Minnesota National Guard's 34th Infantry "Red Bull" Division headquarters has been alerted for the Ebola-response mission to Liberia. The mission is called "Operation United Assistance." I tell her it'll be a good mission—a good story. She tells me something she remembers me saying once, regarding going to Afghanistan with the division's 2nd Brigade Combat Team (2-34th BCT).

"You said something about how everything kind of fell into place, for both you and the unit," she says. "How the Red Bull boasted the longest-deployed units to Iraq ... the largest deployment of Iowans since World War II ... one of only three National Guard brigades to own battle space in Afghanistan ... This might be the only time anyone would ever see something like this."

In typical sentiment, Katz says she doesn't want to go, but also that she wants to go. I understand the push-pull, topsy-turvy, mixed feelings about pending deployments. It's heady stuff, being called up to help change the world. Citizen-soldiers get to see history in the making. It's also a burden, however. Family and friends worry. Life and job get interrupted. Embrace the suck.

"Still," I remember my father saying once or twice, "it has a certain appeal ..."

I remember Papa Sherpa coming off a U.S. Air Force Reserve rotation to Operation Desert Shield. Soon after, he put in his retirement papers. He had started his active-duty military career during the Vietnam War, as a navigator on a C-130 Hercules, flying tactical airlift missions. After a variety of other platforms and missions, he ended his career in the same way.

After his paperwork had already been filed, however, the military mission to Somalia popped up. At the time, I was relatively new to the service, and was wearing Army greens. Off at months of Army training, I'd missed the war in Kuwait. That was on my mind when I asked Dad if he regretted putting in his papers, and potentially watching his former colleagues lift off without him. "You know," he said, "this might have been one to miss ..."

"All this has happened before, and all this will happen again." The same Army officer who once tagged me with the "Sherpa" nickname was the one who recommended that I watch the rebooted Battlestar Galactica, while we were both deployed to a peacekeeping mission to the Sinai Peninsula. From that science-fiction program, I first learned the mantra of the eternal return: "All this has happened before, and all this will happen again."

Of all the lessons I learned in the Army, that phrase explains the most.

After I graduated, I swore that I'd never come back to Iowa, but I did. I returned to Iowa after Army communications school, and joined the Iowa Army National Guard. I worked a couple of community and metro newspaper jobs, and made the jump to trade magazines by the mid-1990s.

My first editorship? I kid you not: It was a trade magazine for managers of corporate, hospitality, healthcare, institutional facilities and campuses. The now-defunct publication was was called—again, I am not making this up—"Maintenance Executive."

How's that for high-falutin'?

My interest in writing about best-practices and lessons-learned stems from that experience. Twenty years ago, I was writing about the threats of Ebola, as well as other emergent diseases, on behalf of those professionals most likely to clean it up. In one memorable columnist's portrait, I was photographed wearing a suit and tie and my M17A2 protective mask. I'd borrowed the latter from my locker at the National Guard armory.

For magazine cover-story, I interviewed Richard Preston, author of the non-fiction book "The Hot Zone." Preston tells stories of three strains of Ebola, each named after the place of its discovery: Ebola Sudan, Ebola Zaire, and Ebola Reston (Va.). My family and friends took to naming the seasonal flu after the person who'd first discovered it: Ebola Jeff, Ebola Scott, Ebola Sherpa ...

Hilarious, no? I kill me.

So, Katz is off to war again. And Ebola doesn't look like as much of a joke as it was when I was young and immortal. But the Red Bull is, once again, present at the fulcrum of history. People like Katz don't want to go, but they don't want to stay at home, either. This will be the first time I'll see a Red Bull friend of mine move out smartly, post-Afghanistan.

It's not a war, but neither is it business as usual. The Red Bull is again on the attack.

Two thoughts haunt my hours:

"This one might have been one to miss."

"All this has happened before, and all this will happen again."

'Free Beer' for 34th Inf. Div. Assoc. Members Sept. 24

Instead of "Attack! Attack! Attack!", how about "Beer! Beer! Beer!"?

For more than 67 years, through events and memorials, the 34th Infantry Division Association has helped remember and celebrate the history of the 34th Infantry "Red Bull" Division. As it seeks to better serve the needs of 21st century citizen-soldiers, veterans, and their families, the association's national headquarters has announced two prototype "meet-ups." The concept is inspired by the Iraq and Afghanistan Veterans Association's (I.A.V.A.) "VetTogether" events.

One event will take place in Iowa on 7-9 p.m., Wed., Sept. 24. Details are pending for another, planned in the Rosemount, Minn. area.

Currently serving "Red Bull" unit members and veterans of all eras, ranks, and military specialties are invited to these events. Friends and spouses are also welcome to attend.

"Instead of 'VetTogethers,' we're calling our events 'Bull Sessions,' partly because we want to hear what people have to say about the future of the 34th Infantry Division Association!" says Iowa event co-host Charlie Sherpa, writer of the Red Bull Rising blog. "We're planning our 2015 projects calendar—as well as for the upcoming division centennial in 2017—so here's a great opportunity to offer ideas and suggestions in an informal setting."

Upon arrival and check-in with event hosts, lifetime and new members of the 34th Inf. Div. Assoc. will receive a token for one free beer, well drink, or soft drink. Lifetime memberships in the organization are only $100; an annual membership costs only $10. You can purchase a membership on-line here, or at the event.

The Iowa event will be conducted at:

1908 Draught House
8789 Northpark Dr.
Johnston, Iowa
Click here for map.

A Facebook event page for the Sept. 24 Central Iowa meet-up is here.

The 34th Inf. Div. Assoc. Facebook page can be found here.

Public TV Project to Tell of 'Red Bull' in WWII Italy

A World War II dog tag of U.S. 34th Infantry "Red Bull" Division citizen-soldier Bernard Bonnema, great-grandfather of Staff Sgt. Dillon Jennings. A current member of the division, Jennings recently toured the Italian battlefields seen by his Bonnema. Jennings was joined by a Twin Cities Public Television team, which is producing a documentary called "Through a Soldier's Eyes," due in November. PHOTO: Twin Cities Public Television

Twin Cities Public Television producer Luke Heikkila recently appeared on the network's weekly news magazine show "Almanac," and briefly described an upcoming documentary project regarding the U.S. 34th Infantry "Red Bull" Division" in World War II Italy.

Originally organized of citizen-soldiers from Iowa, Minnesota, and North and South Dakota in 1917, modern units in the Iowa and Minnesota National Guards continue to wear the "Red Bull" patch.

The 8-minute segment of the June 13 TV program is available FREE on streaming video here.

Heikkila followed Staff Sgt. Dillon Jennings and other current members of the 34th Inf. Div. on a recent trip to Italy. The group toured battle sites such as Anzio, Monte Cassino, Volturno River, Hill 810, and others. The resulting documentary, "Through a Soldier's Eyes," is slated to air in November 2014, around Veterans Day.

Jenning's great-grandfather, Bernard Bonnema, served in a "Red Bull" unit in World War II Italy. "I don't have any service photos of him. I remember him more as a grandpa than his military service," Jennings tells Heikkila in the "Almanac" report. "My grandfather was probably a pretty good reflection of guys who served in that war—you know, the quiet professional—who never really talked about what they did. I don't fault him for that. I wish I had a chance to pick his brain about it, knowing what I know now. But I think he left enough for us to get a sense of what he did when he was younger, and I think this'll be pretty important for our family in the future ..."

A veteran of two overseas deployments himself, Jennings didn't make the connection between his own service and that of his great-grandfather, until after participating in the record-breaking 22-month deployment of 1st Brigade, 34th Infantry Division (1-34th Bde.) to Iraq in 2006-2007. He tells Heikkila:

When I first got in, the 34th Division was just the unit I happened to serve in. [I]t just didn't happen to have any have any special meaning to me until I got back from my first deployment. That was 22 months long, so it was a very long deployment ...

My mom had actually given me all the paperwork for my great-grandfather, and I'd come across my his discharge paperwork. I found out, in reading, that he had been with the 34th Infantry Division. At the end of our deployment, there was a big emphasis on the connection between our unit and the 34th in World War II—because ours was the longest deployment in Iraq, and theirs was the longest deployment in World War II.

For his part, Heikkila was struck by the dramatic terrain that Midwestern troops once fought and crossed. "As a flat-lander, I just love elevation," he tells "Almanac" hosts Eric Eskola and Cathy Wurzer. "You look across the valleys, and it's just stunning. But then you realize that the Germans were entrenched in those mountainsides. They really had the advantage of elevation. As the allies were coming across those valleys, they could really see them coming for days."

*****

BONUS: TV PRODUCER TALKS ABOUT MEDIA EMBEDS

In a later "Almanac" segment, Heikkila shared with Dave Gillette a few insights about embedding with military units in Iraq and Afghanistan. The 5-minute chat is available FREE via streaming video here.

"When you're over there without a weapon you're called a '+1,' because you're a guy without a weapon, and someone with a weapon needs to look out for you," Heikkila tells Gillette. "You walk on his or her right-hand side, always walking slightly behind them, because if they swing around with a weapon, you can't be in the line of fire. I'm a +1, always walking about half-a-step behind someone whose job it is to keep the TV dummy safe."

TV Stations Nationwide to Broadcast 'Red Bull' Movie

"Memorial Day" (2011), a 2011 feature-length movie with a story regarding the connections between a grandfather's experiences in World War II, and those of a U.S. 34th Infantry "Red Bull" Division citizen-soldier in 2005-2007 Iraq, will be broadcast 7 p.m. CDT Memorial Day (May 27, 2013).

In Minneapolis-St. Paul, tune into WUCW, digital channel 22.

In Des Moines, Iowa, tune into KCWI, digital channel 23.1.

According to the movie's official Facebook page, the film will also be broadcast on other affiliates of The CW network nationwide that same day.

For previous Red Bull Rising blog coverage of the movie, click here and here.

New 'Red Bull' Pathfinders Lead the Way!

Forty-one members of Iowa and Minnesota National Guards recently graduated from an intensive three-week U.S. Army "Pathfinder" course designed to make them experts in conducting day and night helicopter operations. A majority were members of Iowa's 2nd Brigade Combat Team (B.C.T.), 34th Infantry "Red Bull" Division.

Pathfinders are a specialized group of soldiers who establish day and night helicopter landing zones and parachute drop zones, conduct sling-load operations, and provide air traffic control and navigational assistance to aircraft.

Graduates of the Pathfinder course wear a distinctive torch emblem on both their dress and duty uniforms. According to the U.S. Institute of Heraldry entry regarding the badge, "The wing suggests flight and airborne capabilities; the torch symbolizes leadership and guidance implying pathfinder combat skills."

The Pathfinder course was conducted at Camp Dodge Joint Maneuver Training Center, Iowa, and taught by a taught by a cadre of active duty U.S. Army Soldiers from the Warrior Training Center, Fort Benning, Ga.

During this time, the cadre also taught a 10-day Air Assault course, in which approximately 160 soldiers learned how to rappel out of helicopters, prepare cargo loads, and overcome obstacles related to helicopter operations.

For more photography of the Pathfinder course, posted on Facebook, click here.

Editor's note: This Red Bull Rising blog-post is compiled from reports and captions by the Iowa National Guard. Photos are by Army Staff Sgt. Chad D. Nelson.

Military Alumni Groups Serve to Keep History Alive

34th Inf. Div. Association member Bill Baker addresses a "Gathering of

Red Bulls," during the 34th Infantry Division Association's recent

65th Annual Reunion, Johnston, Iowa Oct. 5-7. Photo by Ashlee Lolkus

In World War II, Bill Baker of Indianapolis, Ind. was a member of the 185th Field Artillery (185th F.A.). He had been a switchboard operator for a newspaper company when he voluntarily enlisted in the Army. "I figured, 'Well, I'll try something similar,'" he says. He ended up in Army communications, someone trained to install and maintain field telephones.

Baker started his Army career at Camp Crowder, Mo. "There, they were asking people to join the Air Force. I had always, as a kid, wanted to do that. I admired those guys and their planes. I passed the test, and eventually got down there to Kelly Field. I washed out, much to my chagrin. I had some health problems—sinuses, and you can't have problems with that up in the air—and so they sent me back to the Signal Corps. I got overseas in 27 days—in a ship packed with guys, unbelievable situation, ran out of water, didn't know where I was going—and I found myself in Italy."

"They needed someone up there on the line," he says, "so they sent me up there to the 34th Infantry ... Great bunch of guys. I was a wireman, so they put me on the line with the [Forward Observers]. That's where I spent all my time. Luckily, I survived." Baker left the service in 1945 as a staff sergeant, a section chief in the 185th FA.

There are hundreds of stories like Baker's, but fewer every year.

More than 60 citizen-soldiers, veterans, and family members of the 34th Infantry Division Association attended the organization's 65th Annual Reunion last weekend, Oct. 5-6, 2012. The association's Des Moines Chapter hosted this year's event.

Two former U.S. Army Signal soldiers,

Bill Baker and Randy "Sherpa" Brown.

Photo by Ashlee Lolkus

At the "Gathering of Red Bulls"—a Friday-morning reunion tradition in which attendees informally introduce themselves and tell stories—the energy in the room feels a little diminished. The spark is still there, but it's getting harder to stoke the old fires.

This is the first reunion that Baker has attended.

There are a handful of younger Red Bull soldiers who are also present, but, as a whole, the herd is pretty gray. Iraq- and Afghan-era soldiers and veterans who might be attracted by history, camaraderie, or remembrance are either unaware of the group's existence; unable to attend due to family, church, drill, and other commitments; or haven't yet been away from the Army long enough to realize they miss it.

Even the original "Red Bull" soldiers of the association, some die-hards note, didn't start meeting formally until a few years after their war had ended. They're hoping that the massive and multiple "Red Bull" mobilizations of the 21st century—since 2001, there have been at least five brigade-or-higher deployments from Minnesota and Iowa, and even more smaller-sized missions—will one day result in more attendees.

"Old soldiers never die," U.S. Army Gen. Douglas MacArthur told Congress before he retired, "they just fade away." So do many of their organizations.

An estimated 790 World War II veterans die each day, reason enough for historians to lament over the stories that are being lost on a daily basis. As noted in an Aug. 25, 2011 newspaper article, many veterans organizations are choosing to get out of the reunion business. The alumni of the 84th Infantry "Railsplitters" Division, for example, decided that 2011's event would be their last. Recently, the national U.S. Submarine Veterans of World War II took similar action.

Even the 38-year-old Tri-State Chapter of the 34th Inf. Div. Association has decided to dissolve. Only three WWII-era veterans attended the chapter's reunion last summer. The 76 Tri-State members, dispersed across states east of the Mississippi River, will become part of the association's at-large national membership in late 2012 or early 2013.

The national Red Bull association, for now, seems healthy enough. There are 759 members, of which 390 are "life" members. The membership dues are kept low to encourage membership, but barely cover costs. In the past year, the organization operated at a slight loss. There's still money in the checking account, however, and savings enough for a rainy day. The group doesn't over-exert itself. It holds an annual national reunion, and sends memorial wreaths and flowers to three overseas cemeteries. It maintains a website, and sends out newsletter three or four times a year. So, while there's concern about the future of the organization, hope is still a viable course of action.

The Red Bull's historically midwestern roots, after all, continue to result in new potential members. Unlike units that disappeared when the Army downsized after World War II, the Red Bull Division continues as an actively drilling and deploying entity. (Granted, the patch did go away between 1963 and 1991, during which time many Iowa and Minnesota National Guard soldiers were part of the 47th Infantry "Viking" Division.) Fathers, sons, mothers, and daughters continue to join and serve in Red Bull patch-wearing units in Minnesota, Iowa, and North Dakota, as well as affiliated brigades in Idaho and Wisconsin. Maj. Gen. Richard C. Nash, the adjutant general of the state of Minnesota and a former Red Bull division and brigade commander, has recently encouraged the creation of a new Minnesota-based chapter of the 34th Inf. Div. Association.

A list of objectives found in 34th Inf. Div. Association's by-laws starts with this mission: "To foster and perpetuate the camaraderie of brothers-in-arms of those who have served with the 34th Infantry Division since its organization." There may be a laundry list of projects to do in the future, given sufficient time, energy, and money—history books and workshops, monuments and movies, heritage tours and museum displays—but all things flow from this first statement of purpose.

Benjamin Tupper, author of "Greetings from Afghanistan" and "Dudes of War," recently wrote about his experiences attending the annual reunion of 42nd Infantry Division veterans. Tupper is a veteran of the Afghan War, and is still in uniform as a member of the New York National Guard:

[W]hen we gather, the discussion will eventually return to the disparity in how the greatest generation and the latest generation of veterans cope with the after-effects of combat. The WW2 vets wonder why they could go off and beat Hitler with his tanks, Luftwaffe, and naval vessels, and come home emotionally fine. Why, they ask, are my peers, who are fighting a ragtag band of Taliban with rusty rifles and homemade booby traps, coming home with PTSD and other mental health problems in much higher numbers?

It was during one of these very discussions that a regular attendee at our reunion, a WW2 vet we call Shorty, put a big crack in the stoic mythology of WW2 veterans unencumbered by the ghosts of war.

Shorty confessed to our group that he had been plagued by nightmares for years when he came home from WW2, but had kept it a secret. This news was a surprise to everyone present, because Shorty had never mentioned this before to the group, and despite his diminutive nickname, he was nothing short of a combat decorated hero. I think we all had always taken Shorty to be one of those stalwart guys who successfully packed away his traumatic memories when he came home from war. [...]

We knew Shorty had been battling a handful of debilitating medical ailments for years, and it impressed everyone that he still had the stamina to travel across the country every year to reunite with his wartime buddies. But for me, what stood out most was Shorty’s example of resilience; a man who stared down terminal illness, the German Army, and the equally formidable ghosts of war, and lived to tell the tale.

Iraq veteran and writer Matt Farwell has described making similar connections with veteran and journalist Bob Kotlowitz, who wrote a military memoir titled "Before Their Time." Here's something Farwell said about their relationship:

Bob’s kind ear and understanding were a lifesaver. We swapped stories and I peppered him with hard questions and listened closely to his hard answers and advice. Here’s a representative sample off the top of my head.

Me: “Does it ever really go away?”
Bob: “No. But you learn to deal with it.”
Me: “I just don’t want to be this angry and bitter and sad in 40 years, the veteran stereotype, you know?”
Bob: “I don’t think you will. I hope not.”

As more old soldiers fade away, experiences such as those of Tupper and Farwell will become all the more rare. That's too bad, because no one can talk to a soldier like another soldier. Military alumni associations aren't the VA Medical Center. They're not the local VFW or American Legion hall. Maybe those are good things. Reunions can be safe, apolitical, multi-generational places in which to share and remember experiences. They can connect us with our collective past. They can also inspire our collective future.

In a dinner speech last Saturday, Command Sgt. Major Joel Arnold, now the top enlisted soldier in the 34th Inf. Div., recalled that he had first come to a Red Bull reunion as a battalion sergeant major. It was just prior to shipping out with Iowa's 1st Battalion, 133rd Infantry Regiment (1-133rd Inf.) in 2005. The "Ironman" battalion was soon to be part of the Minnesota National Guard's mobilization of 1st Brigade Combat Team, 34th Infantry Division (1-34th BCT). At 22 months, 16 of which were in Iraq, it would become the longest deployment of any U.S. Army unit to Iraq.

"We got to meet some of these fine troopers, and especially to talk with some of the older soldiers and members of the association," says Arnold. "We really made a great connection. They really impressed upon me the importance of the Red Bull legacy. Every conversation I had with people at the time carried with it the same message: 'When you go over there, make us proud.'"

"That simple message has been one that has stayed with me through two subsequent deployments to Iraq and Afghanistan, and it's a message that I've related to countless soldiers at the battalion, brigade, and now the division level," he says.

Recently, I came across this quote from Michael Norman's 1990 memoir of Vietnam, "These Good Men: Friendships Forged from War." It resonates with me, because it speaks of trust, and memory, and reunion.

I now know why men who have been to war yearn to reunite. Not to tell stories or look at old pictures. Not to laugh or weep. Comrades gather because they long to be with the men who once acted at their best; men who suffered and sacrificed, who were stripped of their humanity. I did not pick these men. They were delivered by fate and the military. But I know them in a way I know no other men. I have never given anyone such trust. They were willing to guard something more precious than my life. They would have carried my reputation, the memory of me. It was part of the bargain we all made, the reason we were so willing to die for one another. As long as I have my memory, I will think of them all, every day. I am sure that when I leave this world, my last thought will be of my family and my comrades. ... Such good men.

We were Red Bull soldiers once, and young. We remember each other when we were at our best, and when the times were at their worst. We tell stories about each other, and about those who are no longer with us. We compare notes between generations, but do not envy each others' experiences. You had it worse that we did, some say. It does not matter if they are right. The conversations matter more than the conclusions.

Think of us all, every day. Make us proud.

"Attack! Attack! Attack!"

Iowa Brigade Welcomes New Command Team

Commanders of Iowa's 2nd Brigade Combat Team, 34th Infantry "Red Bull" Division, past and present. From left to right, Maj. Gen. Timothy E. Orr, the adjutant general of the state of Iowa; Col. Ronald Albrecht; Col. Benjamin J. Corell, the outgoing 2-34th BCT commander; Col. Michael G. Amundson, incoming 2-34th BCT commander.

*****
Editor's note: Earlier this month, elements of the Iowa Army National Guard's 2nd Brigade Combat Team (B.C.T.), 34th Infantry "Red Bull" Division (2-34th BCT) conducted annual training at Camp Ripley, Minn. and Camp Dodge, Iowa. This was the first "normal" annual training since 2009.

At annual training in 2010, some 3,000 citizen-soldiers of the 2-34th BCT prepared for deployment to Eastern Afghanistan. The unit returned in July and August 2011, too late for those soldiers who had deployed to conduct annual training.

The 2-34th BCT often informally calls itself as the "Ryder" brigade, a reference both to its peacetime radio call sign and to World War II division commander Maj. Gen. Charles Wolcott Ryder. Ryder commanded the U.S. 34th Division from May 1942 to July 1944, through operations in the North African and Italian campaigns.

In U.S. Army radio-telephone tradition, the commander of a unit is usually designated by the numeral "six." Hence, the 2-34th BCT commander referring to himself in this article as "Ryder-6."

*****
'Ryder Brigade Welcomes New Command Team'
By Staff Sgt. Chad D. Nelson
2-34th BCT Public Affairs
Iowa Army National Guard

The 2nd Brigade Combat Team (B.C.T.), 34th Infantry "Red Bull" Division (2-34th BCT), held consecutive "change of command" and "change of responsibility" ceremonies June 18, 2012, during annual training at Camp Ripley, Minn.

Col. Michael G. Amundson took command from Col. Benjamin J. Corell. Command Sgt. Maj. William L. Adams assumed responsibility for the soldiers from Command Sgt. Maj. Joel M. Arnold.

Maj. Gen. Timothy E. Orr takes the brigade colors
from a smiling Col. Benjamin J. Corell,
outgoing 2-34th BCT commander.
U.S. Army photo by Staff Sgt. Chad D. Nelson

Assisted by Arnold, Corell commanded 2-34th BCT when the unit deployed to Eastern Afghanistan. It was the Iowa National Guard’s largest deployment since World War II.

During a 2005 to 2007 deployment with Minnesota's 1-34th BCT to Operation Iraqi Freedom, Corell and Arnold had also previously served as command team of Iowa's 1st "IRONMAN" Battalion, 133rd Infantry Regiment (1-133rd Inf.), headquartered in Waterloo, Iowa. Arnold was also first-sergeant of Bravo Company , 1-133rd Inf., when Corell commanded the unit on a 2003-2004 peacekeeping rotation to Sinai, Egypt with the Multinational Force and Observers (M.F.O.).

Arnold was recently assigned as the 34th Division's command sergeant major. The unit is headquartered in Rosemount, Minn.

The Camp Ripley event was unique, in that it consisted of both a change of command and a change of responsibility. However, Maj. Gen. Timothy E. Orr, the adjutant general of the state Iowa and previous 2-34th BCT commander, was quick to note how it was a fitting marriage: “It isn’t about individuals, it’s about teams.”

During his speech, Orr commended the outgoing command team of Corell and Arnold. “Your duty performance was just absolutely outstanding,” he said. Orr noted the challenges of moving more than 3,000 troops to Afghanistan, and leading them in the execution of "full-spectrum operations"—everything from training Afghan police to closing with and destroying the enemy.

“You brought that brigade,” he said. “You prepared it, you organized it, you trained it and you led it into combat. You took care of the soldiers, you brought them home and you reset them,” Orr said.

Orr also addressed the capabilities of the incoming command team.

This is a team that has been around awhile; they grew up in the brigade,” Orr said. Amundson, Corell’s “right-hand man,” deployed to Afghanistan as the deputy commanding officer of the brigade. Adams most recently served as the command sergeant major for the 1st Battalion, 168th Infantry (1-168th Inf.), Council Bluffs, Iowa. During the Afghan deployment, Adams served as command sergeant major for 334th Brigade Support Battalion (334th BSB). Both the 1-168th Inf. and 334th BSB are 2-34th BCT units.

“This brigade is in great hands,” Orr said.

The incoming command team plans to build upon the foundation created by the outgoing team.

Col. Benjamin J. Corell presents a saber to incoming Command
Sgt. Maj. William L. Adams in a "change of responsibility"
ceremony conducted June 18 at Camp Ripley, Minn.
U.S. Army photo by Staff Sgt. Chad D. Nelson

“[Arnold and I] sat at Bagram Air Base and talked a lot about the things he did to improve the brigade. I will stand before you and tell you those things are going to continue. The standards we lived up to, we’re going to carry on and improve upon,” Adams said.

“[Corell’s] mentorship and guidance over the last two years has been instrumental in my development as an officer and a future commander,” Amundson said.

Arnold also took note of Corell’s guidance and sense of teamwork.

“From the very first time we worked together, Corell said, ‘We are a team; we make it happen together.’”

Arnold also took this opportunity to impart some final words of wisdom.

“The road is now yours ... You’re going to take your own road, but remember: Excellence is contagious and success breeds success.”

During Corell’s remarks, he reflected on the tremendous responsibilities involved in deploying a U.S. National Guard infantry brigade combat team.

“Major muscle movements ... seminars, Leadership Training Programs, individual medical and training requirements, collective training requirements, logistical validations, issuing equipment, Rapid Fielding Initiatives, the list seemed to go on and on,” he said.

After moving 3,000 citizen-soldiers to annual training at Camp Ripley, Minn. in June 2010, to mobilization station at Camp Shelby, Miss. in July 2010, to Fort Irwin, Calif. and the National Training Center in September 2010, and to combat in Afghanistan and back, Corell looks back fondly on his command.

“It has been a great ride. It’s time for me to move on. For the last time, ‘Ryder-6, out!’”

Movie Review: 'Memorial Day'

Less than 30 days remain until the release of "Memorial Day," a Minnesota-based feature film starring Jonathan Bennett, James Cromwell and his son John Cromwell.

Originally titled "Souvenirs" and filmed in 2010-2011 by a Minnesota-based production company, the movie alternates between the fictional stories of U.S. Army Lt. Bud Vogel, an 82nd Airborne Division "All-American" soldier fighting in World War II Holland, and U.S. Army Staff Sgt. Kyle Vogel, a Minnesota Army National Guard "Red Bull" soldier fighting in Operation Iraqi Freedom. The narrative is driven by a front-porch conversation between grandson and grandfather that takes place on a summer day, after the 13-year-old boy finds a G.I. footlocker full of memorabilia.

In the "Memorial Day" publicity trailer, James Cromwell's character tells his grandson:

I didn't loot. And I didn't steal. I collected things that would help me remember. What I didn't count on was: They don't let you forget.You found the footlocker, Kyle, so ... I'll make a deal with you. Pick any three, and I'll tell you the story behind each one. God willing, you won't have to experience any of these things yourself. But if you do, you'll be ready.

The film is itself a memory-provoking artifact, a device by which someone might unlock conversations with a family member or friend about their military experiences. In press materials, director Sam Fischer writes:

In the bigger picture, I want this film to enhance the very meaning of the Memorial Day holiday in America—so that in addition to being a day of remembering, it also becomes a day of sharing memories. Veterans from World War II to the present are rarely forthcoming in telling their stories. We need to ask—almost insist—that these brave men and women share their experiences, and then we need to do them the honor of sitting back and listening. [...]

I hope [the film] can serve as a conduit to opening footlockers around the world and releasing the amazing stories locked inside. As one Army major said about the movie: "I don’t know when I’m going to tell my kids about my combat experiences, but I’m going to start by showing them this film.”

The $4.2 million film was shot using often-regional actors and extras, locations, and equipment. Production quality is excellent, and performances are generally above-average. Occasional moments feel a little stiff, but the overall movie is propelled forward by a lot of heart. Were it to air on cable television, it would easily feel at home on either the Hallmark or History channels.

There are a few scenes involving bloodshed, but the action is kept tight and small. (The Internet Movie Database lists the movie as Rated "R" for some war violence.) Media-savvy junior-high and high-school students should have no problem digesting the scenes, and moving on to consider the larger moral questions embedded in the story. Without spoiling the narrative, here are a few starter questions for the classroom or the front porch:

• How did the grandfather's experiences in WWII Holland compare/contrast with those of his grandson Kyle?

• How do you think 13-year-old Kyle's conversation with his grandfather affected his own decision to enlist?

• How did his grandfather's stories inform Kyle's actions or opinions as a citizen-soldier?

History buffs will find little to complain about. The helmet patch sported in 2005-2007 Iraq by the Minnesotans and Iowans of 1st Brigade Combat Team (B.C.T.), 34th Infantry "Red Bull" Division are nowhere to be seen on screen, but Red Bull enthusiasts will still thrill to see many actors wearing a bull patch on each sleeve—the so-called "steak sandwich" or "double-bull." Plus, there's at least one classically bullish line of dialogue: "Talk like a Red Bull, yo."

So, pull up a footlocker. Pre-order "Memorial Day" via Amazon as a DVD and Blu-ray. It ships not later than May 29. According to the film's Facebook page, you may also be able to find it via AAFES, Barnes & Noble, Netflix, and Walmart.

Most of all, start talking about the movie. Like a Red Bull. Yo.

*****

For more Red Bull Rising background and links regarding "Memorial Day," click here.

Disclosure: The Red Bull Rising blog received a copy of this film for review.

Coming Soon: A 'Red Bull' Feature Film!

"Memorial Day," a Minnesota-based feature film starring Jonathan Bennett, James Cromwell and his son John Cromwell will be released to video on Memorial Day 2012. It is available for pre-order through Amazon as DVD and Blu-ray, and ships May 29.

Originally titled "Souvenirs" and filmed in 2010-2011 by a Minnesota-based production company, the movie alternates between the fictional stories of U.S. Army Lt. Bud Vogel, an 82nd Airborne Division "All-American" soldier fighting in World War II Holland, and U.S. Army Staff Sgt. Kyle Vogel, a Minnesota Army National Guard "Red Bull" soldier fighting in Operation Iraqi Freedom. The narrative is driven by a front-porch conversation between grandson and grandfather that takes place on a summer day, after the 13-year-old boy finds a G.I. footlocker full of memorabilia.

In the "Memorial Day" publicity trailer, James Cromwell's character tells his grandson:

I didn't loot. And I didn't steal. I collected things that would help me remember. What I didn't count on was: They don't let you forget. 

You found the footlocker, Kyle, so ... I'll make a deal with you. Pick any three, and I'll tell you the story behind each one. God willing, you won't have to experience any of these things yourself. But if you do, you'll be ready.

The movie premiered to an audience of Minnesota National Guard personnel and families Sat., March 31, at Riverview Theater, Minneapolis. It was also simulcast to five overseas locations, where 23 citizen-soldiers who were background actors are currently deployed with the 1st Brigade Combat Team (B.C.T.), 34th Infantry "Red Bull" Division (1-34th BCT). The unit of approximately 2,700 members is nearing the completion of a 2011 deployment to Iraq and Kuwait.

A total of 39 Red Bull citizen-soldiers—the equivalent of an Army platoon—were "extras" during filming of "Memorial Day." Still more Minnesota Air and Army National Guard personnel supported the movie's production with time, expertise, and equipment.

In World War I, the 34th Infantry Division (34th Inf. Div.) was first organized with U.S. National Guard troops from North and South Dakota, Iowa, and Minnesota. The unit was then nicknamed the "Sandstorm" Division, although the distinctive "Red Bull" shoulder-sleeve patch was created during this time. The patch, designed by 34th Inf. Div. soldier and Regionalist painter Marvin Cone, depicts a red bovine skull superimposed on a black water jug. The unit officially took on the "Red Bull" moniker during World War II. On modern battle dress uniforms, the patch variously appears in subdued colors of olive, tan, or sage.

In the "Memorial Day" film, the black-and-sage Army Combat Uniform "Red Bull" patch really pops off the silver screen. And any Red Bull soldier and buff—past, present, and this one included—is likely to thrill at the sight of so many "steak sandwiches" running around. There's even a line of dialogue that calls attention to the patch!

Coming soon: A Red Bull Rising blog review of "Memorial Day"!

Disclosure: The Red Bull Rising blog received a copy of this film for review.

*****

WHERE TO VIEW THE 'MEMORIAL DAY' MOVIE

The official movie website is here. There's a publicity trailer posted there.

There's also a blog written by screenwriter Marc Conklin here.

And a Facebook page here.

And Twitter here.

There will be limited screenings and festival showings leading up to the May 29 release date, including a spot at the 2012 G.I. Film Festival in Washington D.C. on May 19.

The film will also be shown as part of the 2012 Minneapolis-St. Paul International Film Festival, April 21, at the St. Anthony Main theater. The three-week festival is billed as "a celebration of independent filmmaking from around the globe will include some 250 documentary, narrative, and short films from more than 60 countries," including those made in Minnesota. Click here for festival details.

The film will be shown at the Newport Beach Film Festival on Sat., April 28 at 3:45 p.m., Triangle Square 6, Costa Mesa, Calif. Click here for festival details.

Or, as previously mentioned, pre-order the movie through Amazon as DVD and Blu-ray. The discs ship May 29—the day after Memorial Day.

*****

FOR MORE ON THE MAKING OF 'MEMORIAL DAY'

"Filmmakers turn Minnesota into a war zone," Minneapolis Star-Tribune, Jan. 19, 2011

"‘Souvenirs’ almost a wrap: Movie filming turns game preserve into WWII Holland," Mankato (Minn.) Free Press Oct. 3, 2010

"Minnesota's Red Bulls to be brought to screen in 'Souvenirs'" St. Paul (Minn.) Pioneer Press via Minnesota Public Radio, July 26, 2010
July 26, 2010

"Movie featuring Minnesota National Guard films in Mankato," Minnesota National Guard news release date July 24, 2010

"Unlikely film-maker hopes to put the Valley on the big screen: ‘Souvenirs’ is a family drama with a military backdrop" Mankato (Minn.) Free Press, July 4, 2010

Some making-of videos of "Memorial Day" (then known as "Souvenirs") involving WWII re-enactors are available on YouTube here, here, and here.

Poetry Contest for Minnesota Mil-Kids

The office of U.S. Sen. Al Franken, (D-Minn.), a former writer and performer on "Saturday Night Live," has announced a creative way to celebrate April as both Military Child Month and National Poetry Month.

(In addition to being the cruelest month, April 2012 may mark an early return of some of the 2,700 citizen-soldiers of the Minnesota's 1st Brigade Combat Team, 34th Infantry "Red Bull" Division. At least, that's what some news reports have begun to indicate.)

According to a press release, Franken is hosting a poetry contest on a theme of “My experiences as a Military Child.” Children of military families from Minnesota are encouraged to enter poems of not longer than 300 words. Deadline is April 16.

Entries should include the following information:

• Name of entrant
• Parent/guardian name
• Postal address
• Telephone number
• Name of entrant's school
• Age category (Kindergarten to 6th grade; 7th to 9th grade; or 10th through 12th grade)

The entries will be judged on relevance to theme, creativity, judges' impressions, fluency, structure, and technical excellence.

Ten winners in each category will receive an invitation to Franken’s St. Paul office to meet him, his wife Frannie, and special guest judges including:

• Minnesota Commissioner of Veterans Affairs Larry Shellito
• Minnesota Poet Laureate Joyce Sutphen
• Adjutant General of the Minnesota National Guard, Maj. Gen. Rick Nash
• Minnesota Commissioner of Education Brenda Cassellius
• Minnesota author Kao Kalia Yang
• Minnesota Lynx Coach Cheryl Reeve

The top poems in each age category will be framed and displayed in Franken’s office in Saint Paul, Minn. and in Washington, D.C. Each winner will also receive an autographed book by Garrison Keillor, famed Minnesota author and host of the radio program “A Prairie Home Companion."

For more information, see the press release here. Submit entries to:

poetry@franken.senate.gov

or to:

Office of U.S. Sen. Al Franken
c/o ‘Poetry Contest’
60 Plato Blvd., Suite 220
Saint Paul, Minn. 55107

WWII Red Bull blog: 'Well, Happy, and Safe'

Journalist Kurt Greenbaum of Chesterfield, Mo., is using a blog to explore and archive a series of letters penned by his family during World War II. U.S. Army radio operator Frank D. "Babe" Mauro of Mount Kisco, N.Y., was eventually assigned to the Anti-Tank Company, 168th Infantry Regiment (168th Inf.), 34th Infantry "Red Bull" Division (34th Inf. Div.).

Babe would serve in both North Africa and Italy, and promote to the WWII-era rank of "technician fifth grade," a non-command rating also called a "tech corporal."

To read the "Well, Happy and Safe" blog, click here. The blog also appears under that "Love, Honor & Support" blog-roll in the right-hand column of the Red Bull Rising blog.

Greenbaum never met his uncle, who would have been age 70 when the journalist first began the personal preservation project in the late 1980s. As Greenbaum wrote in a 1995 magazine article:

When my maternal grandmother died in 1988, and my mother finished going through her belongings, she found an old train case stuffed with letters. They were letters from my grandmother’s son Babe, letters he had written from basic training and from Italy as he served in the U.S. Army infantry during World War II.

At one point, I think during a visit to my parents for Christmas, I made photocopies of all the letters, indexed them, and read them. In part, I was inspired because my grandmother had always stared at me, shaking her head at what she believed was the walking ghost of her son. I never saw the resemblance, but she did.

The blog takes its name from a recurring phrase in Babe's letters. Greenbaum muses:

From [the] 45th letter on, nearly every letter [Babe] writes will begin with those words. 'I am well, happy and safe.' He has landed in Italy. He is in the Infantry. He is now in combat as a radio operator for an anti-tank company. He is well, happy and safe. [...]

I wonder if it’s a technique that he uses, just to get his pen on the paper and start writing something. Does he dash off that first line just to get the juices flowing, hoping that something else will follow?

Or is he really just that upbeat about his situation? Does he love being in the army so much that he really does feel well, happy and safe?

Is he just trying to set his parents’ minds at ease? Babe wrote that letter four days before his 19th birthday. Relax, Mom and Pop. I’m thousands of miles away on foreign soil wearing a uniform and carrying a firearm. You haven’t seen me in eight months, since I shipped out for basic training. Yes, I’m still only a teenager.

In World War I, the U.S. 34th Inf. Div.—then nicknamed the "Sandstorm" division—comprised U.S. National Guard troops from North and South Dakota, Minnesota, and Iowa. The Midwestern connection continues to the present. The division headquarters is now part of the Minnesota National Guard, and is located Rosemount, Minn. Present-day units that notably continue to wear the "Red Bull" sleeve insignia include Minnesota's 1st Brigade Combat Team (B.C.T.), 34th Inf. Div. (1-34th BCT), and the Iowa National Guard's 2nd Brigade Combat Team, 34th Inf. Div. (2-34th BCT).

The 168th Infantry Regiment's lineage is currently maintained by the Iowa National Guard's 1st Battalion, 168th Infantry Regiment (1-168th Inf.), headquartered in Council Bluffs, Iowa, and a subordinate unit to the 2-34th BCT.

In his letters, Babe took great pride in the 168th Infantry's connection to the 42nd Infantry "Rainbow" Division, a headquarters that still exists within today's New York National Guard. The division was named by Gen. Douglas McArthur in World War I, who noted the National Guard division would stretch like a rainbow across soldiers from 26 different home states. (See comments section here for more information about the origins of the Rainbow division.)

On Aug. 7, 1943, Babe wrote from North Africa: "The same old story; I changed my address again. At least, though, I finally got assigned to a regular outfit, and boy, what an outfit. It’s the best on this side and I don’t mean maybe. It’s got a history that dates way back to the Rainbow Division of the last struggle."

The distinctive unit insignia (D.U.I.) of the 1-168th Inf. incorporates a rainbow element to this day.

Hometown News ... from Downrange

Love it or hate it, a deployment turns an overseas patch of dirt into something akin to a high school, or a hometown. You spend a lot of time on the same ground, with the same people, doing a job that no one understands, speaking jargon and language foreign to anyone who doesn't wear the same uniform. There are inside-jokes, pep rallies, and lots of rules to follow. Some bonds are made, some friends are lost. Then, one sudden day, you leave.

Everyone leaves it behind, but everyone deals with it differently. Some people want to forget it all. Some people can't help but remember. Some people want to relive the stories of glory and war, over and over again.

Still others try to hold on in a different way, and keep an ear tuned to what's happening back in the old neighborhood. If you've ever wondered whatever happened to the star quarterback, the class clown, or the prom queen, you know what I'm talking about.

So it is with me. In 2003, I deployed to Egypt as part of a multinational peacekeeping force. I saw a lot, learned a lot, made a lot of friends. I had experiences I would have never had unless I'd joined the Iowa National Guard. Ever since, I have had an interest in political and cultural happenings there. I didn't realize I was so transparent until my grade-school daughter started checking out library books on ancient Egypt, and the lives of children who live there today.

"Someday, Daddy, can we go to Egypt together?" she often asks me.

Inshallah, Sweet.

The National Guard is something of a small community, too. There are interstate rivalries, to be sure, and occasionally quirky differences in character and capabilities. Given that the National Guard is now considered part of an "operational" reserve—one routinely called upon to augment active-duty forces—rather than as a "strategic" one of last national resort, keeping track of which brigade is doing what mission has become a little like following hometown sports.

Readers of the Red Bull Rising blog, for example, will remember that the Iowa National Guard's 2nd Brigade Combat Team, 34th Infantry "Red Bull" Division (2-34th B.C.T) was the second U.S. National Guard brigade ever to deploy to Afghanistan as a "battlespace owner"—and the first to be configured for that mission from the start.

Following the Red Bull is one of the reasons I continue to take an interest in all things Afghanistan. And Iraq.

In 2009-2010, Vermont's 86th BCT had successfully transitioned from its role as the headquarters of Combined Joint Task Force Phoenix to become a battlespace owner.

Currently, Oklahoma's 45th Infantry "Thunderbird" BCT is in Eastern Afghanistan, operating on some of the same ground as their Vermont and Iowa predecessors.

In 2011, another Red Bull brigade—the Minnesota National Guard's 1-34th BCT—deployed to Kuwait and Iraq. At the last minute in 2011, some elements of Oklahoma's 45h BCT were diverted to Kuwait to serve alongside the Red Bull. After U.S. troops left Iraq in December 2011, the Red Bull remains in Kuwait to serve as part of a 15,000-soldier regional reserve.

Jonathan Raab is a New York National Guard soldier currently on his second deployment. In 2011, New York's 27th Brigade Combat Team had been preparing for deployment to Afghanistan. The brigade went as far as the National Training Center, Fort Irwin, Calif., before taking an unprecedented pause over the December holidays. Thousands of citizen-soldiers were caught in a limbo between mobilizing and deploying. As Raab wrote in a December 2011 essay published by Stars and Stripes:

They told us we were not going to Afghanistan, but that we might go elsewhere. The new rumored deployment date was far enough down the road that I’d run out of money well before then; I had just enough time to find a new job or a new place to live, to get settled back in with my friends, family and girlfriend, and to get on with life before having to let go of everything and everyone all over again.

Raab has since learned he will deploy not to Afghanistan, but to Iraq, in a mission similar to that currently performed by the Red Bull and Thunderbird soldiers there. Raab has a blog called "With a Bible in My Ruck," which I hope will continue. Consider this recent excerpt:

This is a non-combat mission. We'll be training and pulling guard duty for a year. Am I happy that my comrades won't be coming home killed or maimed? Yes, praise God for that. But as an infantryman and a soldier, I can't help but feel like I don't have utility in a peacetime mission. I feel unnecessary. I feel like I'll be in football practice for a year with no chance to get in on the game. That's irrational, I know. But there it is.

I wouldn't be honest with you if I told you that I wanted to go at this point. My article in the Stars and Stripes 'Ruptured Duck' Blog sums up how I feel about the situation and its uncertainty. Ever since we were cut loose in November, I used that time to find work and plan for my life. With this deployment, however, that's over. I'll be going overseas for a mission that I did not want or volunteer for, and I'll be returning to an even more difficult job market.

For more official detail on missions and units comprising the 27th BCT deployment click here.

In yet another sign that the National Guard fight is changing in Afghanistan, Arkansas' 39th BCT was recently notified that its pending deployment has been cancelled.

Deployed with the Ohio National Guard's 37th Infantry "Buckeye" Brigade Combat Team (I.B.C.T.), "Old Blue" is a senior non-commissioned officer (N.C.O.) with 29 years of experience. He's on his third deployment to Afghanistan, and his third military blog, "Afghan Blue III."

He's previously served as a trainer with Afghan National Police (A.N.P.) in Kapisa and Nuristan Provinces. He's also had eyes on Helmand Province in Southern Afghanistan, where he worked with British soldiers.

Like Raab in Kuwait, Old Blue has found himself pursuing a different mission than the one for which he and his buddies had prepared. The brigade to which he is assigned will not be conducting "full-spectrum operations"—a term that includes everything from humanitarian assistance to finding and killing bad guys—but will instead be performing "security force assistance" (S.F.A.)—advising and resourcing their Afghan counterparts. (It could be worse/better: Some Buckeye soldiers were diverted to Bahrain.) Still, he is a believer in counterinsurgency ("COIN"), and sees his new role as part of a process. He writes:

My quest in Afghanistan parallels my nation’s quest; finding a new role in an increasingly globalized world. [...] [I]f the United States can assume the role of mentor, advisor and enabler of development, perhaps future conflicts can be avoided altogether. Insurgencies can be avoided and terrorism prevented from developing.

In the meantime, I will do what I can to help speed success in Afghanistan. I believe that success can best be accomplished through the adaptive and intelligent practice of population-centric counterinsurgency.

I am the father of four children; two girls and two boys. I live in Cincinnati, Ohio. My intent is that someday my children will visit Afghanistan as tourists, not as soldiers.

Inshallah. And roger that.

*****

Both the "With a Bible in My Ruck" and "Afghan Blue III" blogs have been added to a "News & Views from Downrange" blog-roll on the right-hand side of Red Bull Rising. Both writers have also been featured on Garry Trudeau's/Doonesbury's "The Sandbox." If you know of other blogs written by citizen-soldiers currently downrange, please recommend them to: sherpa AT redbullrising.com.

Red Bull in Iraq: 'Crossing the Finish Line'

As yet another American administration attempts to close a symbolic door on war in Iraq this month, the soldiers and families of the U.S. National Guard's 34th Infantry "Red Bull" Division are, no doubt, waiting for the next boot to drop. They've sacrificed many months and miles, lost friends and family, to the wars in Iraq and Afghanistan. And many of them are still in the fight, regardless of speech or ceremony.

The 1st Brigade Combat Team, 34th Infantry Division (1-34th BCT) was there in 2007, during the "surge" in Iraq. Its extended 22-month Iraq deployment is the longest of any in the U.S. Army.

Now, the Red Bull is again present at the historic critical point, facilitating the drawdown from Iraq, as the 1-34th BCT moves and protects U.S. military personnel and equipment moving into Kuwait, currently deployed to Kuwait.

The following essay—"Crossing the finish line after eight long years"—was released through Army public affairs channels, after being written by a soldier traveling with Delta Company, 1st Combined Arms Battalion, 194th Armor Regiment (1-194th "CAB"). The 1-194th CAB is part of the 1-34th BCT.

The 1-34th BCT is anticipated to return to Minnesota in summer 2012.

For video and text coverage of convoy security mission conducted by the Red Bull's Alpha Company, 2nd Battalion, 135th Infantry (2-135th Inf.), click here.

*****

By Capt. Michael Lovas
1st Brigade Combat Team, 34th Infantry “Red Bull” Division
Minnesota Army National Guard

CAMP VIRGINIA, Kuwait, Nov. 11, 2011--The war in Iraq has most certainly been a marathon. As any distance runner knows, even though you finish the race and cross that line, you are not done yet. You need to catch your breath and reset before you leave the race area. Welcome to Camp Virginia, one of the bases in the Kuwaiti desert where soldiers and equipment come to catch their breath and await their flight home. While the fight continues in distant lands to our east, after eight long years, the guns here will soon fall silent and it will be all quiet on the western front.

Eight years of war has led to a large, well-established footprint by U.S. and coalition forces. A significant amount of equipment and resources that were moved into Iraq now needs to be moved out of Iraq. To accomplish the largest draw down of military personnel and equipment in nearly four decades, convoys are organized, gun truck escorts are spun up to provide security, routes are planned, and equipment is packed. Think of it as Uncle Sam's moving crew with an armed security force.

I rode along in one of the gun trucks, as part of the Convoy Escort Team (C.E.T.). This is a group of armored gun trucks in the Mine-Resistant Ambush-Protected ("M-RAP") family of vehicles, itself a product of eight years of war. The group I'm traveling with is Delta Company, 1-194th CAB, based in St. Cloud, Minn., and led by the CET Commander 1st Lt. Christopher Bingham, an armor officer from Sartell, Minn. This is their story:

We started on Nov. 13 at 10:30 a.m., having already received an intelligence and pre-mission briefing the night before. We arrive at the trucks to load our gear before moving to the weapons vault to draw our weapons for this week-long journey. The destination for this mission is Contingency Operating Location (C.O.L.) Warrior, a round-trip journey to Kirkuk, Iraq over 1,000 miles in distance. To get there we'll travel by Main Supply Route Tampa, a well established paved highway and one of the main highways through Iraq. We'll travel up through Kalsu, Taji, Saddam Hussein's hometown of Tikrit, before arriving in Kirkuk.

We began our journey by heading north to Camp Buehring to link up with the transportation battalion we'll be escorting, as well as the trucks contracted to assist with the draw-down driven by third country nationals. Known as "white trucks," these trucks are flatbed trailers used for hauling equipment, shipping containers or vehicles out of Iraq. Bingham described how working with TCN drivers can be challenging, "We have drivers from Pakistan, India, the Philippines, countries in Africa, so there's definitely a language and cultural difference. Having to work with them in the event of an emergency, whether it be a breakdown or altercation with the enemy, how they react is different every time and some of the things we've seen them do just kind of makes you scratch your head, they'll definitely keep you on your toes."

After nearly three hours at Camp Buehring, we headed up the road to Khabari Crossing, known as "K-Crossing" or "K-X." Khabari Crossing is the border crossing into Iraq where convoys are lined up and checked by both Kuwaiti and U.S. Navy customs going in and out of Iraq. As we pulled in we topped off our fuel as well as the spare fuel cans, known as Jerry Cans, we'd need to top off in Iraq during the journey between bases. With the draw down taking place, there are fewer places to stop for fuel, so you have to bring extra in case you are delayed reaching your destination. Once complete, the vehicles are lined up, checked, weapons mounted in the turrets, and a final coordination meeting held.

We go through the route, latest intelligence information, go over safety procedures and say a group prayer for protection before crossing into Iraq. We put our body armor on, weighing about 65 pounds. We don our Kevlar helmets, eye protection, flame retardant gloves, and strap in for the first leg in the long journey. To equate what this feels like, drive from Minneapolis to Chicago with a two year old child strapped to both your chest and back with a sack of potatoes on your head, and you can't take them off. After all is set, Bingham gives the command to move out. As wheels begin turning, he calls out the procedural security checklist, ending by confirming we are all buckled in with our NASCAR-style 5-point harness seat belts, playfully stating, "And the kids are tucked in."

At 5:30 p.m. we cross the border and enter Iraq, loading magazines of live ammunition into our individual weapons. Inside the truck you can hear the click of the magazine being seated in each of our weapons. You instantly recognize that this is not a training range back at Camp Ripley, Minn. with green inanimate pop-up targets, this is the real thing. Welcome to war.

Three hours later, we stopped on the side of MSR Tampa to conduct a "hot splash," adding fuel from Jerry cans with the truck running. Stopping in Iraq is full of concerns for possible threats. While we stop, our gunner, Cpl. Andrew Matthews, an infantry sniper from Elk River, Minn. is actively scanning in his turret, the truck crew's external eyes and ears. "I like it," he says. "I can see what's going on and if something happens I can handle it properly."

Fueling procedures entail holding the fuel can with one hand while keeping the other hand on your rifle. Once complete and back in the truck, we find out there is an issue with one of the white trucks, prompting what turns into an hour-and-a-half unexpected delay. The truck crew keeps the mood light and passes the time with conversations ranging in topics from Christmas music, to the best dining facility in Iraq (waffles made at Camp Adder was the winner), to sports and the upcoming Monday Night Football game featuring the Packers playing host to the Vikings, to the history of the area and current events.

Finally, at 3:00 a.m., we arrive at Forward Operating Base Kalsu. We are given a large tent with no working heat. On this cold desert night, we dress in layers and lay down on our cots. We're told the dining facility caught on fire the day prior, so we have to eat prepackaged military field rations called Meals Ready to Eat (M.R.E.). Delta Company's 1st Sgt. Dale Klitzke, a tank soldier from Woodbury, Minn., adds a surprising comment about the draw down: "I've had two deployments to Iraq, and this is the first time I've had to eat an MRE."

It's also a blackout base, meaning that to prevent sniper and mortar risks, no lights are turned on at night, causing everyone to travel with a flashlight to find their way. We stay at FOB Kalsu until 8:47 p.m. As we leave, we hear over the radio a convoy was hit by an Improvised Explosive Device (I.E.D.) with casualties on the road we will travel through in Baghdad. The level of alertness increases even more while our thoughts, and prayers, turn to those hit.

Driving through Baghdad means traffic, just like any large city in America. Unlike in America however, Iraqi drivers often decide they don't want to wait and will cross over into oncoming traffic, throw on their hazard flashers driving against traffic before crossing back over. We drive past bullet riddled street signs and mosques adorned with fluorescent lights, similar to those seen on casinos in Las Vegas. We sit in stopped traffic while the scene of the IED strike is cleared; carefully scanning all around our trucks for signs of what the crew dubs "shenanigans." It's serious business, and you can tell the camaraderie of this crew is strong.

From time to time, someone will make a radio call pointing out their observations; movement on the side of the road, vehicles approaching, and description of people seen in the area. Cars cross from the northbound lane we are in over to the southbound lane to travel against traffic while southbound trucks, cars, multiple High-Mobility Multipurpose Wheeled Vehicles ("Humvees") full of Iraqi army soldiers, even a scooter with two Iraqi soldiers on the back travel south, heading right at these impatient drivers as they try to navigate their way north, erratically dodging each other. Meanwhile an Iraqi policeman shines a green laser at drivers to get their attention while all this is taking place. We all just wait for what seems like an inevitable crash.

Tension is broken with comments of disbelief in what we are seeing on the road, "Imagine this happening during rush hour on 35-W (I-35W is a major Interstate highway in Minneapolis). We witness a near miss between a car trying to wedge its way between two southbound vehicles traveling in neighboring lanes, causing swerving all over the road to avoid a head-on collision. Someone keys the radio adding his commentary, "You just can't make this stuff up."

We reach Taji in the early morning hours, grab a bite to eat at the dining facility before bedding down in a barn-like heated structure where soldiers are gathered around a TV to watch the Green Bay Packers play the Minnesota Vikings on Monday Night Football. We leave Taji at 6:30 p.m., traveling through areas with young military-aged males standing around in groups while our gunners scan attentively in their turrets. They notice every detail, every person, and after traveling these roads multiple times, notice even when rocks and garbage are moved. We get word we have a friend upstairs, an Apache helicopter gunship is following us, providing a security blanket in the air. Suddenly, a white truck makes a wrong turn off the road causing the convoy to stop while a gun truck diverts to turn them around, another unexpected delay in travels.

Different areas of Iraq have different feelings towards the United States. Some are favorable, some are not. Tikrit, home to former dictator and president of Iraq Saddam Hussein, is the latter. We are greeted with an Iraqi Police checkpoint, one of many of these along MSR Tampa, and a sign written in both Arabic and English welcoming you to Tikrit City. It is calm, almost seeming too calm for 11:00 p.m. We continue to be attentive to our surroundings, relaying observations throughout the convoy. We drive past a riverside palace Saddam had in Tikrit, cross the Tigris River and drive through some sort of marketplace area. Suddenly, we are called to stop. A fist-sized rock has been thrown through a white truck's window, hitting the driver in the head and he needs medical attention.

Rock-throwing is regular threat. We are not talking about pebbles you skip across a calm lake on a warm summer day. These are usually big rocks, bricks, chunks of broken concrete or cinderblocks, varying anywhere in size from fist size to bowling ball size, or even larger. Calling it a rock is metaphorically like saying the Titanic bumped into an icy object in the night. Boulder tossing may more accurately describe this act. They are hurled at the white trucks in anger that the drivers are assisting Americans. They also know their rocks will do little if any damage to the armored behemoths we drive. Our combat medic sprang into action providing medical aid to the driver. As a young specialist, Tyler Sparks is a motivated soldier from St. Cloud, Minn., who loves his job and that he can help people in need. He assessed the situation and treated the driver for a cut that will need stitches at the medical facility at COL Warrior once we arrive a few hours later.

Two hours later we stop again, another white truck is having mechanical troubles in a very hilly area in this more-northern region. White trucks frequently break down because they are not well maintained, are often jerry-rigged in some fashion and regularly run on bald tires. Their standards are significantly different from U.S. standards. We have also now lost our air cover and we see lightning in the distance. At 3:07 a.m., we finally arrive at COL Warrior, but it takes 2 hours to finally get through the gate. There is a language barrier and confusion between us and the Ugandan TCNs contracted to secure the gate. Frustration builds as we sit waiting hungry, cold and tired; however knowing we are safely at COL Warrior helps ease the tension.

We park our trucks and head into the dining facility for breakfast. At 6:07 a.m. sirens suddenly sound, warning that incoming mortar fire was detected. Eight mortar rounds land in COL Warrior, one only about 300 meters away from the reinforced dining facility that we safely sat in waiting for the all clear to sound. Later we see explosive ordnance disposal clearing the mortar that landed near us.

Our convoy came to COL Warrior to haul equipment out of Iraq. With the shifting of the draw down timeline over the last few months while the US military presence in Iraq was discussed, adjustments to the plan to leave Iraq have been frequently made. This has led to confusion over what equipment to take, when to take it, and what equipment will simply be left behind and turned over to the Iraqis. Cost-analysis is conducted to determine what it would cost to haul items out and ship them elsewhere in the world, including the risk to soldiers' lives, rather than leaving it. But everyone is still amazed by the amount of stuff left behind. Only half of the white trucks and transportation trucks are loaded; there will be more to pick up as we travel south in Taji or Kalsu.

Information reports indicated enemy mortar attacks were likely in the morning; stemming from tribal disagreements. We are told senior U.S. commanders have recommended that anyone that can leave tonight do so, even going so far as to line up F-16 and F-18 planes to provide air support for those convoys that can head out the gate tonight. This information convinces us that we will need to leave COL Warrior earlier than expected, even though it means traveling through areas that are unfavorable to the U.S.

We decide to mitigate any additional risks by leaving quickly, at midnight, in order to avoid morning traffic in Tikrit. The leaders hastily assemble the best plan possible based on knowledge and experience. No one doubts the plan, confidence is high. Everyone is rolling tired, but there is no option for more sleep. Everyone is on high alert nonetheless, hoping for a calm drive, but not fully convinced we will have one. Welcome to life in a convoy escort team.

"I'm constantly war-gaming in my head how I'm going to maneuver my trucks and how we're going to react to any possible scenario that might come up‚" states Bingham. He is active on the radio, maintaining contact with his gun trucks and with the transportation unit we are escorting. Cpl. Matthews, our gunner, is actively scanning, checking every object on the side of the road, every bridge, relaying his observations. The other gunners do the same, sharing their observations over the radio.

The smell of burning tires fills the air. Tires are regularly burned in large batches and the smell is easily identifiable with how common the practice is. To our relief, we arrive at Taji at 6:55 a.m. after a calm, non-eventful drive. We clear our weapons and refuel our trucks. You always fuel your truck and prepare it in case you need to leave quickly or react to a situation. We sleep and prepare to leave later that evening.

As we get ready to leave we learn we would not be rolling out tonight and we turn around and head back to get some more rest. In the Army, change is constant, and soldiers constantly adapt and overcome, adjusting to always accomplish the mission. Soldiers start joking that as soon as we lay down we'll get word to leave tonight. It's almost like they experienced this before.

True to form, not 15 minutes into unloading the trucks, we get word to pack back up; a change in plans now has us pushing to FOB Kalsu tonight to pick up a load there instead. The soldiers look dejected, yet you could tell they saw this coming. Lt. Bingham comments, "We haven't had a hard [start] time yet, especially lately." This has led to frustrated soldiers and challenges in mission planning. But they are used to this by now and there is no time to dwell. What might have been is quickly forgotten about as attention is immediately turned to what needs to be done to prepare, and conversation shifts to other topics.

We don't have a time yet as to when we'll leave, but we sit waiting. Soldiers comment how the draw down seems very reactionary in nature; loads aren't prepared or fully allocated. The previously light-hearted and high-spirited mood faded quickly as fatigue sets in. Yet despite all of this, soldiers find humor stating that this is the Army and nothing new to them. One jokes, "This plan probably briefed well in a good-looking PowerPoint."

We finally leave Taji at 11:22 p.m. and get to FOB Kalsu three hours later. Seven convoys arrived at FOB Kalsu, so we sit at the gate waiting our turn to enter. We learn we will stay at FOB Kalsu for 24 hours. It is a nice extended rest that is needed by all. Some take advantage of the extra time and go to the gym ahead of the eight to ten hour drive back to K-Crossing. We leave at 3:54 a.m. traveling south, ready to be home.

Almost three hours later, a white-truck driver signals he has a breakdown. The third-country national (T.C.N.) drivers got out, looked at the truck, then almost in a pre-planned choreographed manner, they knelt down and began praying. We realized we were duped; the break down was a feint in order for the drivers to take a prayer break. Chuckling, we decide to make the most of the stop and conduct a hot splash.

Prayer time finishes, fueling is completed, and we begin to move again. We are within eye sight of the Ziggurat of Ur. Dating to the Biblical times of Abraham more than 4,000 years ago, the Ziggurat of Ur is one of the oldest buildings in the world still in existence. It is impressive to see, even in the distance. We finally reach K-Crossing at 11:08 a.m., Nov. 19, six full days after we left Camp Virginia. Days have run together, only separated by legs of the journey and timelines rather than what a calendar says the day is. We clear Navy Customs, refuel our trucks and leave for Camp Virginia 40 minutes after arriving at K-Crossing. The convoy will take the equipment we escorted to Camp Virginia or another base in Kuwait to await movement out of the region.

In a few days, these soldiers will do this process all over again, going to another base in Iraq, providing security for equipment leaving after eight years of war. "I really enjoy it," says Lt. Bingham. "It's always different when we go out, we're always stopping at a different base, meeting and working with a lot of different people when we go out. We've been all over the country of Iraq. It's never boring; it's never the same mission twice."

Along with the other Red Bull soldiers, Bignham has observed many changes during the draw-down process. "The bases have become very bare-bones. Before, the bases we'd stop at would have a fully functioning PX (Post Exchange, an on-base store), gym, eating establishments on the base, billeting was always guaranteed. But now when you go up, you never know where they are at in their closure period, whether hot meals are available, showers, so it forces us to be proactive in what we bring. We never used to have to bring cots or MREs, but now that's a staple we have to bring."

These soldiers have a front row seat in history, witnessing the biggest military draw-down since the end of the Vietnam War. Every day more soldiers and equipment cross the finish line, one step, one convoy closer to the end. After an eight-year marathon, soon it will be all quiet on the western front.